Barbara paced to a small reading room across from the entryway. So close. So damn close to freedom, I could almost taste it.
“Help me,” I mouthed to Jacks, knowing full well she wouldn’t offer any.
When it came to my mom and me, Jacks tried to be Switzerland. And when she did take sides, it was never in my favor.
I walked into the room and Barbara shut the door behind us. “I saw Martin Mathers speaking with you. You obviously upset him. What happened?”
I decided to go with my prefab lie. “He wanted to meet me in one of the rooms upstairs. I was all, ‘don’t think so, perv.’”
She nodded. “Yes, I suspected as much.”
“We done?” I asked with my hand on the doorknob.
She pulled her lips downward in displeasure. “Do you know how much we spent on your education? Yet you can’t even string together a full sentence.”
“Add it to that long list you’ve got going. Just one more thing Rose managed to mess up.”
“There’s a Huntingford Historical Society meeting tomorrow afternoon. Be at my house by noon. We’ll need to go shopping again and find something appropriate for you to wear.”
Like hell. “Sorry, I can’t. I have to work and then I’m going to Delia Cummings’ visitation. Besides, there’s nothing of interest to me at the Historical Society. Unless Delia was a member?”
“Of course she wasn’t, but Charlotte Ashby, David’s wife, will be attending. I’ll meet you there at four. Do not, under any circumstances, be late.”
I saluted her and hobbled my sore feet back to Jacks and Allen. “Let’s go.”
My second time at Bob’s Fine Italian wasn’t any better than my first. Same smell, different day. I walked through the door and let my eyes get used to the murky interior as Italian music played loudly over the speakers.
When I felt a hand grip my elbow, I almost coldcocked Andre, until I heard his voice.
“This way, Miss Strickland.”
“Why this place?” I asked. “We couldn’t meet at Denny’s and have a cup of coffee?”
“I’ve told you, I can’t be seen with you. I’m not a part of this investigation.”
I groaned a sound of disgust as he led me to the back of the room. “I think you’re being paranoid. Just tell everyone I’m the love of your life. They’ll think we’re dating.”
He stopped and leaned toward me. “No one would believe it.” Then he took off again until we stood next to a four person table.
I was starting to take his disinterest a little personally. I was looking damn sassy tonight. Not that he could actually see it.
Andre held out my chair and made the intros. “Rose Strickland, this is Gabe and Sally.”
I got a vague impression that Sally had darkish hair falling almost to her shoulders. And Gabe was tall and beefy. Andre sat next to me, his posture so straight I wondered if he’d suffered through four years of dance class, too.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” I said. In the dark, with nothing but one candle to illuminate our space, I felt like I was at a séance rather than a restaurant. A séance that required a garlic fish sacrifice.
Sally leaned forward, and as the candlelight flickered over her features, I caught glimpses of a pretty young woman. “Andre said you wanted to know about our situation.”
Gabe crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, leaving his face in the shadows. “Not much to tell,” he said.
“I understand you guys were fired for inappropriate texts?” I asked as diplomatically as I could.
Sally lowered her head. “Yeah, we’d started dating and we never filled out a form with HR. You’re supposed to in order to avoid sexual harassment cases. Anyway, we were fooling around with our phones one night, sending sexy pics and stuff.”
For a moment, I fantasized about Sullivan sending me a sexy pic. It would take a whole lot of pixels, that’s all I’m saying. My brain stalled for a brief instant before I snapped out of it. “So how did Delia Cummings find out about it? And are you sure she’s the one who got you fired?”
Gabe uncrossed his arms and rested his elbows on the table. “Sally told her great friend, Randa Atherton, what we’d done.” His sarcasm was as thick as the inkiness surrounding us.
“Randa and I were close friends,” Sally said. “I thought so, anyway. We were talking about sex one day, you know, like girlfriends do.”
I nodded, even though I’d never shared details of my sexy time with Sullivan. Not even with Roxy. Although she was my BFF, some things were too private.
“I casually mentioned that Gabe and I were dating and we liked to send sexy photos to each other. Nothing lude, just, you know…” She glanced up at Andre.
I couldn’t see her blush, but I could feel it.
“Randa went and blabbed it to Delia,” Gabe said.
Sally shrugged. “We can’t prove it, but we’re pretty sure that’s what happened. Delia was threatening Randa because she’s dating a married cop. So to keep herself out of trouble, Randa threw us under the bus.”
Old Randa was doing a whole lot more than dating a married man. I tried to banish the thought of her and Sam bumping nasties on top of her desk, but it was a challenge.
I glanced up at Gabe. “Why did Delia target the two of you?”
“She hated my guts,” he said. “She overheard me badmouthing her and Mathers one day. I was spouting off about their affair. Not very bright of me. There were rumors that he wasn’t the only man she was taking care of. I wondered out loud if the kid was even his, and when I turned around, she was standing right behind me. Next thing I know, I’m getting fired for breaking my morality clause. Rich, huh, coming from a woman who was sleeping with her married boss.”
I kept circling back to reasons for Martin being the murderer, but the same problems tripped me up every time. Everyone knew about their affair, so if Delia threatened to tell the world, it was a pretty empty threat. Yes, there was the baby, but she lost it. She could only hide that for so long.
Mathers had motive and he probably had access to her house. But why would he kill her in bed? Since there were no defensive wounds and only one killing blow, she was taken by surprise. I suspected if Mathers was going to commit such a ballsy murder, he’d have wanted Delia to see it coming.
All this time, Andre had remained silent. I turned to him. “Delia was double dipping. Do we know who she was cheating on Martin with?” According to Sullivan, the mystery man was David Ashby. But I wanted confirmation.
“I already told you, there was talk that she was seeing someone, but I don’t know who. Don’t even know if it’s true.”
I focused on Sally. “Did Delia have any girlfriends, besides Randa I mean?”
“No, Delia was a man’s woman. She didn’t have girlfriends. Gave off a real bitch vibe.”
“Was there anyone else she didn’t like, anyone who found themselves on her bad side?”
Gabe nodded. “Yeah. Captain Charles Bentley. I’ve never known such a good cop. And he was framed on bogus charges—taking bribes? Like hell he was.”
Andre had already told me this story. But according to Hard Ass, Bentley was a victim of Martin Mathers, not Delia.
“Why do you think she had anything to do with it?”
“Bentley wouldn’t give her the respect she thought she deserved for blowing her boss.”
Sally punched Gabe’s arm. “Nice talk.”
He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss. “Sorry, babe, but it’s true.” He eyed me once again. “The Captain called her the ‘concubine at the gate’. He didn’t hide his disgust for her. Word was, when the Captain went to see Mathers, he didn’t even stop to talk to her. He’d just walk right into Mathers’ office and pretend she didn’t exist.”
Sally leaned forward. “I hea
rd that Bentley found them in the middle of doing it. That’s why they had to get rid of him. Because he knew too much.”
Gabe scoffed. “We all knew it. Delia found out people’s secrets and used them. You either did what she wanted, or you got the shaft.”
“That’s true.” Sally nodded and slipped her hand under Gabe’s arm. “People would flock to her table in the cafeteria. They’d sit for three or four minutes and then leave. Like they were paying homage to her or something. I knew after the first week of working there, she was the queen bee.”
I only had one more question. “Did Delia seem interested in David Ashby?”
“Not that I know of,” Gabe said.
I hadn’t learned anything new from this little interview. Delia used her position as Martin’s lover and secretary to gain control over people. She blackmailed them into doing what she wanted, and if they didn’t comply, she eliminated them. Nice girl.
“So, what are you two doing now?” I asked.
“I’m working as a security guard,” Gabe said. “Trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. Sally’s in nursing school.”
“We’re getting married next year,” she said.
“Congratulations. And thanks again for talking to me.”
I stood and Andre did the same. He shook hands with the couple, then led the way out of the restaurant. I walked slowly because my feet hurt. The yellow parking lot lights bounced off the puddles of rainwater and I watched where I stepped.
“Why are you so dressed up?” Andre asked, gesturing with one finger to my dress.
“Country club dance.” I refrained from telling him about my run-ins with Mathers and Ashby. It would only give him a reason to lecture me and I’d had enough of that from Dane.
“Did you learn anything new? And how did your meeting with Annabelle go?” he asked.
“Annabelle’s a mess. The kids are even worse. And tonight I didn’t discover anything new.” I stopped and glanced up at him. “I really want to meet Captain Charles Bentley.”
“No. Out of the question.”
“But—”
“I said no, Miss Strickland. I have my reasons. And please don’t go behind my back on this.”
“I have to know everything, Andre. Hearing his version of events might lead me to a clue.”
“He can’t add to this, I promise you.”
I decided to let it go. I was too tired to argue, my pinched toes ached, and my night still wasn’t over. “Okay. If you hear anything new, call me.” I waved before climbing behind the wheel and took time to adjust the long folds of the dress.
While I let my car warm up, I pulled out my phone and called Sullivan. “We need to talk.”
The usual pause. “I’m at home. Do you want me to come over?”
“I’ll come to you.”
Sullivan owned a large, isolated property. Fortunately, since I was already in the county instead of Huntingford proper, it wouldn’t take long to get there.
I’d been a visitor to Sullivan’s home on two occasions, but never by invitation. More of a drop-by-and-break-in-through-the-back-door type of situation. But tonight, I needed to give him the lowdown on Mathers and Ashby. Plus I was hoping he’d have some info to fork over in return.
I wove through dark county roads to arrive fifteen minutes later. As soon as I headed up the gravel driveway, bright lights flooded the night. My feet had been given a reprieve, but now, climbing out of the car, they ached all over again as I hobbled toward the front door.
Although it was an older, traditional house, it had character. The outside was comprised of large, smooth, natural stones and wood shingles. Inside had been remodeled and rigged with a high tech alarm system.
The front door opened and Henry loomed in the entryway. Sullivan’s number one henchman greeted me with a wide grin. Believe it or not, his smile was scarier than his frown. With a crooked nose that encountered a few too many fists and a long scar cradling his left eye, Henry was a badass and a half. But he could bake a mean cookie.
“How are you, Rose?” His meaty hand slapped my back, which almost sent me toppling forward. I managed to regain my balance before I faceplanted onto the granite-tiled floor.
“Good. How are things with you?” I hadn’t seen much of him in recent months. I assumed he was busy collecting money and busting knee caps. In between baking the most mouthwatering homemade bread you’ve ever tasted.
“Can’t complain. Boss is waiting in his office.”
I shot a brow upward. “Which one?” I’d found Sullivan’s secret bedroom office by a stroke of dumb luck.
“His official office. Need me to show you the way?”
I waved him off and walked down the hall, passing the kitchen where two guys I’d never met sat at the island sipping coffee. Beefy and broad-shouldered, with necks thicker than my thigh, they were hired muscle. Here to protect Sullivan and his interests.
I kept moving, gave a cursory knock on one of the double doors, then slipped inside. It was more of a library than an office. Row after row of colorful, leather-bound books covered three walls. A natural stone fireplace stood along the fourth wall, with tall windows framing either side of it.
An enormous wood desk dominated one end of the room. Behind it, Sullivan eyed me as he strummed his lower lip.
I ignored the pain in my toes as I slinked toward him, giving my ass a little extra wiggle for good measure. Taking my time, I slipped the new cashmere coat down my shoulders and dropped it on one of the chairs in front of his desk.
His eyes darkened as they raked over me. “Very beautiful. I don’t think this dress is for my benefit, so what’s the occasion?”
“Country club dance.”
He nodded. “Ah. Martin Mathers.”
I fell onto the vacant tufted leather chair and eased back. “Annabelle Mathers, if you want to get technical.”
He raised a brow and remained quiet. But I was tired and the chair was comfortable. I could wait out his silence this time. I kicked off my shoes and sighed.
My eyes must have closed, because the next thing I knew, he was balanced on the edge of the desk. He’d pushed the hem of my dress up to grasp one of my feet and when he gently kneaded his thumbs into my arch, I moaned. “God, don’t stop.”
He smirked. “That’s what you said the other night.”
“Jackass.”
That turned the smirk into a full blown grin. “All right, I’ll bite.” He slid his long, talented fingers up to my toes. “Why are you interested in Annabelle Mathers?”
“She’s friends with my mother, who asked me to clear Martin’s name. I ran into him tonight for the first time—and hopefully the last. He said you’ll get your money and not to send your bitch to do the dirty work.”
Sullivan stilled.
I shook my foot at him. “Don’t. Stop.”
He resumed rubbing. “He referred to you as a bitch?” His emotionless voice betrayed how angry he was.
I settled my other foot on his lap. “I handled it. I saw Ashby, too. He’s a total player. And creepy. I think you were right. Delia was having her Martin Mathers cake and eating David Ashby, too. According to Randa Atherton, Delia talked about her favorite prosecutor nonstop.”
He stared at my newly pedicured toes and said nada. Finally, “Who is Randa Atherton?”
“Delia’s frenemy, who, by the way, I caught buck ass naked and going at it with a married cop.”
His fingers briefly paused their kneading. “You have such interesting days.”
“So does Ashby gamble a lot?”
“Define a lot.”
I cast him an exasperated glance. “You don’t always have to be a pain in the ass, you know.”
“Look who’s talking.” He gave my little piggy a tug. “David Ash
by comes by a floating game every couple of weeks. Doesn’t bet much, doesn’t allow himself to lose too much either. He’s controlled. Prides himself on his restraint.”
“The guy’s an Assistant PA. Why does he attend your games? Why not play a friendly round of cards at the country club?”
“One, he likes the thrill of an illicit game. Makes him feel naughty.” Sullivan’s tone was drier than the air on the barren planet of Ceti Alpha V. Damn Ax and his love of Star Trek II.
“And the second reason?” I asked.
“Ashby likes to keep tabs on what everyone else in his set is doing. For instance, Judge Keeler is a big stakes gambler. Likes blackjack. Wins big. Loses even more. But he has the money to lose, unlike your police chief. Most of Mathers’ cash comes from his wife. But her money is tied up in a trust for the kids.”
I let that roll around in my brain. “If Annabelle is footing the bill, why is Mathers in debt to you?”
“Annabelle gives him an allowance. He runs through it. But she’s not as solvent as she used to be. That kid of hers, Mason, has been to rehab three times. A nice one. By the ocean.”
I nodded. “I met him. He’s very messed up. But I like the daughter, Molly.”
Sullivan crossed his arms and regarded me. “Don’t get emotionally involved. Molly Mathers is screwed up, too. In and out of clinics for the past few years. Between all the treatment for her children, Martin’s expensive habits, and taxes, Annabelle is on the brink of becoming part of the five percent instead of the one percent. Quite a letdown.”
“What about Julia Baxter?” I asked.
“Intelligent, attractive. Comes with Keeler every once in a while. Mostly, she watches the games, rarely plays. Why?”
“I met her tonight. She’s a bitch.”
He laughed and splayed his hand across his chest. “She’s always been nice to me.”
“Uh huh. Of course she’s nice to you, you’re a man.”
His eyes met mine. “Guilty.”
As I was mentally digesting that info, Sullivan left the room and returned five minutes later with food. He put the silver tray filled with cookies and a steaming mug on his desk.
Diner Impossible (A Rose Strickland Mystery) Page 10