by Meryl Sawyer
“It’s been rough. I almost lost Chloe, you know.”
His words smacked her like a slap across her face. He’d never felt so deeply about her, Madison thought with a stab of envy. A second later she realized that maybe there was some measure of justice in this. Chloe was ill after having a stupid, pointless procedure. Then she reminded herself that this was life-threatening. It was a moment before she could ask, “I heard she had a staph infection. Is she better?”
“Yes. She’ll be fine.”
Madison stepped inside, calling softly over her shoulder, “Here, Aspen. Here, boy.”
The dog stumbled up the steps, wagging his tail. She reached out and snapped the leash in her hand to his collar.
“You got a dog.”
“Erin’s responsible,” she replied without bothering to give him any details. Her life was no longer any of Aiden’s business.
“Look, I’m sorry about Erin. We didn’t always agree on things, but I know she was a good friend to you.”
Madison nodded and stepped inside what had been her home, with Aspen at her heels. She should have listened to Erin. Her friend hadn’t liked Aiden from the start, but Madison had been too in love to care.
“I would have come to the funeral, but Chloe was having cosmetic surgery, then she developed the infection. She was just released from the hospital last night. She’s too weak to use the stairs so she’s staying in the maid’s room.”
Madison realized he’d been speaking very softly. Sounds tended to carry in these older homes that had decorative tile on the walls and marble floors.
Aiden led her to the library just off the large living room where they’d once entertained key sponsors when they’d launched Total Trivia. She couldn’t help noticing Chloe had re-decorated the entire place. Not one stick of furniture remained from her marriage to Aiden. She had to bite back a scathing remark. He could have given her the furniture, but he hadn’t mentioned it.
They entered the library and Aiden closed the door. He punched the radio mounted on the wall and Michael Jackson’s Thriller music softly filled the room.
“The bestselling album of all time—to date,” she said automatically.
“Do you think in trivia or do you just do it to show how much you know?” Aiden asked, flipping the radio off again. Apparently he’d changed his mind about the need for music.
It wasn’t the first time he’d posed the question. When they’d been married, he’d often accused her of showing off by spouting trivia.
Aiden flopped down on the sofa. From the looks of the bed pillow and lightweight blanket, she decided he’d slept here rather than upstairs to be closer to Chloe, who was in the maid’s room off the kitchen. How sweet.
She sat in the chair next to him and began to tell him why she’d come. “I’m sorry to stop by unexpectedly, but this couldn’t wait. I’ve been the victim of identity theft. They’ve wiped out my savings account and withdrew the limit in cash on my credit cards.”
He ran his hand through his already tousled hair. “Jesus! I’m sorry. What a mess.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. Even though she’d mentally rehearsed what she was going to say, the words wouldn’t come.
“You need…money.”
“No, no. It’s okay.” Of course she needed money, but she’d rather starve than ask him for any. “To access my accounts someone would need to…”
Aiden shot off the sofa. “You think I—” he stared down at her “—took your money? That’s outrageous! Why would I? I’ve got plenty and Chloe has her own trust fund.”
“You were in my office, using my computer.”
“So? That doesn’t mean I would raid your accounts. My computer wasn’t working and you were gone.”
His indignation seemed genuine and what he said made sense.
“No, I didn’t seriously think you’d done it, but I wondered if there was any way someone at work could have gotten the information.”
“You changed your account numbers and credit card passwords after the divorce, didn’t you?”
“No,” she sheepishly admitted. “I meant to, but I never got around to it. I didn’t see any point. I knew you wouldn’t…”
Aiden dropped back down into the new, plush sofa. Her revelation had taken the steam out of him. “Someone at work?” He considered a moment. “Our personal information is in the files and on the main computer terminal. We both used the same passwords.”
“Yes, we did. I assumed you changed yours after we split.”
“No, I knew you’d never—” He started to laugh.
She couldn’t help laughing with him. For an instant it seemed like old times. They’d been happy once. Very happy, she’d believed.
The library door swung open. Chloe glided in, wearing big fuzzy slippers. Her white robe and pale skin made her seem more like a wraith than the healthy woman that Madison had last seen.
“What’s going on?” she asked in a hoarse voice.
Aiden vaulted off the sofa and sprinted to Chloe’s side, saying, “Honey, you shouldn’t be out of bed.”
Chloe leaned against him as if it hurt to stand. She dramatically whispered, “I heard the doorbell.” She glanced at Madison through narrowed eyes. “What’s she doing here?”
For a moment all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Madison and Chloe had managed to avoid each other at work since the day Aiden had announced he wanted a divorce. Madison had tenaciously hung on to her stake in the company, but she’d been forced to share its turf with her rival.
Now she was in Chloe’s home and Madison could see that even in this weakened state the woman harbored tremendous resentment. Why? Chloe had gotten her way. Did she expect Madison would simply give up and slip into the night?
“Why’s that dog here? It’ll mess up everything,” Chloe bleated, and tears sprang to her eyes.
Madison watched as Aiden kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay, honey. Madison just came by to warn us. We could have been victims of identity theft.”
Why hadn’t Aiden told Chloe the real truth? Madison was the victim. Maybe he was protecting Madison from Chloe’s anger. Pent-up rage seethed behind the tears. Her reaction to seeing Madison seemed out of proportion.
“Oh, no.” Chloe began to sob. “I can’t take anything more.”
Madison rose and tugged on Aspen’s leash, deciding to back up Aiden. “You might want to check your accounts as well as your credit cards to see if there’s been any illegal activity.”
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of everything,” Aiden assured Chloe.
Madison walked toward the front door of the home she’d once loved. Forget Aiden Larsen. No one was going to take care of her but herself.
PAUL SAT in Captain Callahan’s office and waited while the captain took a long-distance call. Callahan was in his late fifties with a trim midriff and long legs that would look skinny in shorts. He’d shaved his Friar Tuck fringe of remaining hair so he had a bare head like many junior members of the force. If it was supposed to make him more approachable, it didn’t work.
Callahan hung up and frowned at the receiver. “Okay, where were we?”
“I’m feeling great. I want to be reactivated. There’s a lot going on. You could use me.”
Callahan shifted in his chair. He pumped iron but he still had a thin man’s shoulders. “I don’t like to go against the board. If anything happens to you, then…well, shit, you know. The lawyers will jump all over us and the city will have to settle for a bundle.”
“True.” He hadn’t expected Callahan to allow him to return. “Then is it okay for me to work on the q.t.?”
The captain quirked eyebrows like centipedes. “You wouldn’t be paid.”
“I understand. I sorta walked in on a homicide. Link’s in charge of the investigation.…” He let his words hang there. Even the captain—or maybe especially the captain—knew Link’s limitations.
“I guess that’s all right,” he said. “Do you
have any hunches about the crime?”
Paul noticed Callahan didn’t ask which crime. The man hadn’t risen to his position without having a few brains. He’d read the incident reports and knew Paul had been on the scene of Erin Wycoff’s murder.
“Not really. I think a profiler will tell us the killer knew the victim and acted with such violence because of it.”
“What about the Connelly woman? She has motive.”
“Possibly, but I doubt it.” He didn’t want the captain to suspect he was involved with Madison. His father was one thing, but it would be the kiss of death for his career if the captain discovered the real reason he wanted to work on the case was to help Madison. “I was with her just after she discovered her friend’s body. I don’t think she was acting. She was stunned.”
“Okay, tell Link I said you’re to have access to the murder book and all the reports.”
Paul stood, realizing he was being dismissed. He walked out and took the elevator down a floor to the homicide division. A few guys were in the office, clacking out reports on computers, but not Link. Paul greeted the men with a wave and responded to their questions about his leg by saying he was ready to return to work.
Erin Wycoff’s murder book was in the main file cabinet. It had been updated since Paul had looked at it and contained interviews with key witnesses and friends. He scanned the reports. Other than the forensics report of dog hair on Erin’s clothes and in her car, there was no mention of Aspen. He knew he should include the tip he’d received from the Dicon Labs employee, but the woman had sworn him to secrecy for fear of losing her job.
Even if he could have included the information, Paul wouldn’t have. For reasons he didn’t want to analyze too closely, he’d decided to help Madison. He couldn’t see that involving Aspen and possibly having him returned for experiments was going to solve this case. If it did turn out to be important, he could reveal it later.
He was a little disappointed not to find more. Erin Wycoff had been killed over a week ago. The trail went cold a lot sooner than people would think. This murderer had been clever and unless they discovered the “why” of the crime, it might never be solved.
“Hey, dude, what’s the haps?” Trey Williams, one of the newer detectives, slapped him on the back.
“Not much. I’m helping out—unofficially—until the board clears me.”
“Why don’t you help me? I’ve got my hands full after last night.”
“What happened?”
“A couple of gangs shot it out. You add that to the usual shit and—” He waved his hand at a stack of files.
“Anything interesting, unusual?”
“Not really, unless you count someone putting down a man the way you would a dog or horse.”
“What?”
“Someone gave a guy a shot of succinylcholine chloride. At one time, it was used to put down animals and is still found in vets’ offices,” Trey informed him. “It paralyzes the heart and lungs in half a minute. Sometimes it’s used in the emergency room. It breaks down in the body very quickly. That makes it hard to detect. We wouldn’t have known what killed the man except a nosy neighbor heard a scuffle in the apartment next door and called 911. The killer heard the sirens and dropped the syringe in the alley behind the building.”
“No prints on the syringe?”
“Nah. We couldn’t get that lucky.”
“Did you check to see if it’s the type of syringe vets use or the type doctors use?”
Trey banged his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Great idea! Why don’t you look through the files to see if anything else jumps out at you?”
Paul agreed and went over to Trey’s desk and flipped through the incident reports that would become murder books as soon as they were written up. He wasn’t really interested, but he didn’t want to appear overly involved in the Wycoff case.
Keith Brooks Smith. That was the man who’d been put down like an animal. If the neighbor hadn’t alerted the police, it might not have been listed as a murder.
Interesting.
Something flitted through his brain like a few bars of a song his mind was struggling to remember. Did he know this man? There wasn’t much in the report, but Paul didn’t think he’d ever met the dead high school teacher. And Smith was a common name.
He set the report aside and rifled through the other incident reports. A gang shoot-out. What else was new? The name kept playing through his mind.
Keith Brooks Smith, Keith Brooks Smith, Keith Brooks Smith.
Why was this man’s name so familiar? It was, yet Paul couldn’t place it. It had to mean something.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PAUL COULD TELL by the look on his father’s face that Mike was more than a little surprised to see him again so soon.
“Did you get reinstated?” he asked.
Paul shook his head. “No. Captain Callaghan gave me permission to help with the Wycoff case, but he can’t formally reactivate me until the board gives its okay. Could have legal repercussions.”
“Right. Chalk up another one for the lawyers.”
“I came by to look at the New Horizons files.”
“They’re in the security offices at Holbrook Pharmaceuticals. Remember?”
“I assumed you made copies.”
“I would have, but Tobias Pennington was hell-bent on getting his staff to sift through the files.”
Paul dropped into the chair he’d used earlier that morning. He’d fought the traffic all the way back here for nothing. “Aren’t you still working the case? You’re paying me to make sure Madison Connelly agrees to be tested.”
“Right,” his father said in a level voice. “But in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m shorthanded. That’s why I offered you a job.”
Paul hadn’t realized this, but he kept his surprise out of his expression. He’d half hoped his father had hired him to help him out while he was on leave. He should have known better.
“Wyatt’s security staff is sorting through the records. They’ll prepare a list of names—in case the Connelly woman can’t donate—and Tobias Pennington will contact other candidates they find. I’m helping only if someone is difficult to locate.”
“Makes sense,” Paul conceded.
“Why? Has something come up?”
“I’m not sure. I wanted to check on a name in the files. Did you compile a master list of the names at least?”
“Of course.” His father sounded offended.
“Could I see it?”
Mike stood up and walked over to the wall of metal file cabinets. He retrieved a manila folder and handed it to Paul.
“What are you looking for?” his father asked.
“A Keith Brooks Smith was killed last night. I thought I recalled that name from the files.”
He checked the names on the list in the file folder he’d been given. “Here it is. Mrs. Keith Brooks Smith received Wyatt Holbrook’s sperm. She was pregnant on the first try.”
“Her husband was killed?”
“No. The murder victim was too young. I’m wondering if it could be their son.”
“Smith is a fairly common name. Must be thousands of them in the greater Miami area.”
“True, but the exact same name? What are the odds?”
His father shrugged and he could almost hear Madison telling him coincidences were much more common than you’d think. She was damn cute when she took on that soapbox attitude.
“Didn’t the jacket on the dead man have his next-of-kin info?”
Paul smiled inwardly. His father had left the force over five years ago, but he still called files jackets the way guys on the force did. “No. The dead man was ID’d with his driver’s license. Next of kin hadn’t been established. The man could have been married. The wife would need to be notified.” He handed his father back the file. “I’ll check at headquarters later. If it is the same guy, then I’ll let you know so he can be removed from the contact list.”
“If it’s
the same guy, I’m not liking this. We’ve got two dead in the Boston area. If this guy’s the third…”
Again Paul kept his smile to himself. Mike had been an ace detective and still reacted like one. “Exactly what I was thinking. But before we worry about it, let me verify it’s the same man.”
JADE RUSHED into Madison’s cube, waving her hands and saying, “You’re not going to believe how cool this is. You’re, like, going to be blown away.”
Madison almost said she couldn’t take any more, but then she recalled Chloe whining those same words to Aiden. She braced herself. “Blow me away.”
“Guess who’s here? So totally cool.”
Madison craned her neck to see the front of the office where the reception desk was located. A tall, dark-haired man in a navy blazer and open-neck light blue shirt was waiting near Jade’s desk.
“Who is he?” More trouble? she wondered.
“Luis Estevez.” Jade whispered the name with something bordering on reverence. Why was she surprised? The man was well-known because he owned a number of nightclubs. Madison suspected Jade spent a fair amount of time at trendy clubs. “Aiden had an appointment with him. He must have forgotten, with Chloe so sick and all.”
Great. In addition to the clubs, the Cuban venture capitalist headed Allied Miami Bank. Total Trivia didn’t seem to be a big enough operation for Estevez to be interested. It had to be the gambling angle. What was Aiden thinking?
“Explain to him that Aiden’s wife is ill and he’ll have to reschedule the appointment.” That would buy her time to discuss this with Aiden.
“I did, but he insists on talking to you.”
Honest to God. Just when you thought things couldn’t get much worse, they did. “All right. Send him down.” She swiveled in her chair to pet Aspen at her feet. What was she going to say to the man? Listen to him, then tell him you’ll take it up with Aiden.
Luis Estevez was a lot younger than she expected, Madison realized when he walked into her office. He’d made money in loans in Little Havana, parlayed that into clubs, then bought Allied Miami Bank. It sounded as if it should have taken years, but Luis Estevez appeared to be just closing in on forty. She didn’t know a lot about the man, but rumors had floated around town for years that he was “connected” and laundered money from South American drug dealers. Maybe that was why he was interested in Total Trivia. It could be a way to launder money.