“Now that we’ve all assembled,” Carson said, sarcasm edging his voice, “I want to know why I was not informed of last night’s attack.” His eyes were filled with indignant anger as he turned from the window to face the two men. He was impeccably dressed in a dark blue three-piece suit and his white hair shone like a beacon above it.
Jonathan shrugged and eased himself into a chair. “Obviously, you failed to receive my message this morning.”
“That’s irrelevant,” Carson remarked, standing erect with his hands locked together behind his back, looking from one man to the other. “The point is, gentlemen, I should’ve been informed immediately. You should’ve called and waited for my arrival before allowing yourselves to be questioned. I can’t possibly be expected to build a defensive case if this kind of behavior continues. You’re an attorney, Mr. Fields. You should know that.”
“Don’t blame Jonathan, Mr. Carson,” Tom said, meeting the man’s stern, icy gaze. “I’m the one who made the decision not to call you last night.”
Carson’s gaze turned glacial. “Apparently you’ve failed to realize the extent of your situation, Mr. Shear. We’re talking about the death penalty. And that’s exactly what you’ll get if you continue withholding pertinent information.”
Anger flared in Tom’s eyes. He stood with his feet apart and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m fully aware of my situation, Mr. Carson. I don’t have to be reminded.”
“Obviously, you do. I’m your consulting attorney. I should’ve been prepared for Detectives Winward and Hayes this morning. Instead, you made me look like a fool, and I don’t appreciate it.”
“They came to you?” Jonathan asked. “Interesting.”
“Of course, they came to me. Why shouldn’t they?” Carson said. His keen gaze sharpened. “What are you thinking, Mr. Fields?”
A pensive smile appeared on Jonathan’s face as he returned Carson’s stare. “Doesn’t it make you wonder what they’re up to?” he asked. “Something tells me Tom played the right game last night by not calling you.”
“In what way?”
“His actions seemed to establish a kind of truce. He answered their questions and, in return, managed to ask a few of his own. And, I must say, the answers he received were quite candid.”
Jonathan paused before asking, “May I ask what your meeting consisted of this morning?”
Carson gave a quick, agitated shrug. “They merely wanted to inform me of last night’s assault. After we discussed the details, they left.”
“Interesting,” Jonathan repeated, stroking his chin as he pondered the possibilities. “The question is, why come to you at all? It should’ve been mine or Tom’s responsibility to fill you in on what happened.”
“It sounds to me like they’re spreading the word,” Tom said. “Maybe they’ve decided to take the possibility of someone else’s involvement seriously.”
Jonathan nodded. “That would be my guess. So much has happened, how could they not?”
“Indeed.” Carson looked thoughtful. “Mr. Shear, perhaps I misjudged you.”
Tom held the man’s gaze as a soft knock sounded on the study door. Pushing aside his resentment, Tom turned toward the door and called admittance.
Kelly’s smile was defiant as she stepped into the room and met Tom’s gaze. She wore a fuzzy, pale green sweater that made Tom’s fingers tingle with the urge to stroke it, to stroke her. Her hair was pulled back from the sides, revealing dangling jade teardrops that enticed him to nibble her dainty earlobes while rubbing the fuzzy sweater. He clamped down on his control.
“I’m sorry to intrude, Tom,” she said, “but Detective Winward’s downstairs. He wants to see you.”
“Does he now?” His expression softened as he took her hand. “When did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“Kelly, have you seen Marsha?” Jonathan asked.
“She’s downstairs. We rode together.”
“You did?” he asked surprised.
Kelly nodded. “I picked her up. It didn’t make sense the both of you having a car here.”
“You’re a brave woman, Kelly,” Jonathan said, his eyes shimmering with mirth. “Marsha’s been chomping at the bit with curiosity about you and Tom. I’m glad to see you survived.”
“That’s mean, Jonathan.” Her shining green eyes betrayed her repressed smile.
Jonathan laughed and shook his head, lacing his fingers across his stomach. “Not mean, just realistic.”
Tom led Kelly into the hallway. Pulling her close, he murmured against her ear, “What are you doing here? I thought we agreed—”
She silenced his protest with a kiss. “There’s no way I could stay away,” she said against his lips. “I just couldn’t.” She leaned back in his arms and searched his eyes. “Is everything alright?”
Tom sighed. “I’ll answer that after I hear what Winward has to say.” He ran a caressing finger across her cheek. The soft, musky scent of her was intoxicating. He reluctantly released his hold. “As long as you’re here, you might as well send him up.”
She nodded and started to turn.
“Kelly?” He took her hand. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about what you did last night.”
She started shaking her head. “Tom, I didn’t do any—”
He cupped her jaw in his palm and forced her to meet his gaze. “Please. Will you talk to me about it later tonight? Will you trust me?”
She searched his eyes for a long moment then nodded. “Tonight,” she said and turned away.
Tom’s brow was drawn as he re-entered the study leaving the door open. “It would seem our meeting’s getting cozier by the minute, gentlemen. Detective Winward’s on his way up.”
“Are you going to mention your little excursion this afternoon?” Jonathan asked, keeping his tone casual.
“Probably.”
Carson looked from one to the other, settling on Tom. “More secrets, Mr. Shear?”
Before Tom could reply, Winward entered the room.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. I hope my appearance isn’t an inconvenience.”
“Of course not, Detective,” Carson replied. “Why on earth would you say that?”
“Mr. Carson. I wasn’t expecting to see you twice in one day.”
“Nor I, sir. I can’t exactly say it’s a pleasure.”
Winward dismissed the attorney with an indulgent smile and turned to face Tom. “I noticed the paintings in your Rage collection have been returned to their proper places, Mr. Shear. Did you work through the night or take the day off to ready your gallery?”
“Surely, you must know the answer to that,” Tom said. “The men you’ve had watching must’ve given you their report by now.”
“Ah. I see you’ve noticed my surveillance team. That’s quite astute of you.”
“Not really. As Jonathan commented earlier, it was halfway expected.”
“May I ask what you’re hoping to accomplish by putting my client under surveillance, Detective Winward?” Carson asked. “You couldn’t possibly believe he’d be stupid enough to commit some grievous crime while you’re breathing down his neck, could you?”
“Your client was attacked last night, sir. Or have you forgotten?”
Carson stiffened. His cold eyes narrowed as he stared at Winward. Jonathan cleared his throat, drawing attention, defusing the electric tension filling the air.
“Detective, is there a purpose for this meeting?” he asked.
“I came to inform Mr. Shear of the team I have stationed outside, but apparently there was no need.”
“Let me ask you something, Detective,” Tom said. He leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. “Is the one car all you have, or are there more?”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Shear. My men are very experienced.”
“Were your men supposed to be watching me or the house?” Tom continued, ignoring for the moment that Winward had failed to answer his question.
“Both, actually. Why?”
“Because I drove out to the Chandler residence this afternoon and was surprised no one followed.”
Tom paused as Winward glanced at the door like he’d heard something. The men watched as Winward raised a ceasing hand and stepped into the hallway. “Why, Mr. Raymond,” he said. “Isn’t this a surprise? May I ask how long you’ve been standing there?”
Michael Raymond stepped into view, sputtering with outraged embarrassment. “How dare you suggest such a thing? I can assure you, sir, I am no eavesdropper.” He took a visible hold on his composure before stepping into the room. “Please, forgive my intrusion, Mr. Shear. Things are not as they appear. I merely dropped by to deliver the documents we discussed over dinner the other night. My father was unable to get away, so I offered my services. I apologize if my boldness seems offensive.”
Tom forced a smile. “No apologies are necessary, Mr. Raymond. If you’ll allow me a moment, I’ll be happy to look over the documents you’ve brought.
“Gentlemen, Mr. Raymond’s arrival reminded me that I’ve neglected my guests downstairs long enough. If you have anything further to discuss with me, I’ll be available after my gallery closes this evening.”
“There are still a few matters that need to be clarified, Mr. Shear.” Carson cast Tom a meaningful stare, bristling at being dismissed.
“I’m aware of that,” Tom replied, ignoring the implied command in Carson’s voice as he escorted the men from the room. “In the meantime, I’m sure Mr. Fields will be able to answer any questions you might have.”
Tom caught Jonathan’s eye as Carson and Winward turned toward the stairs. “I need you to take care of Carson,” he murmured. “He’s going to ask about Merideth Chandler and I want you to play it down. Tell him as little as possible. I don’t want him interfering if she grants me an interview.”
“Right. What about Winward?”
“I’ll take care of Winward. You just smooth things over with Carson.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
When Tom returned to the study, Michael Raymond was standing in front of the painting of his grandfather’s farm. Tom motioned to a chair.
“Have a seat, Mr. Raymond.”
“Thank you.”
Michael sat and retrieved documents from his briefcase. He handed them over as Tom propped his hip on the corner of his desk.
“I must tell you, Mr. Shear, I was appalled to hear of last night’s assault and attempted theft. Nothing was damaged, I hope.”
Tom looked up from the papers in his hand. “News travels fast,” he replied.
“Especially when it’s delivered to your door by two detectives. That Detective Hayes is an intimidating sort, isn’t he?”
“They visited your office?”
“Indeed, they did. They interviewed my father, as well. It’s rather worrisome they even thought to come to us.”
“They were only doing their job, Mr. Raymond. They asked me who might have an interest in my Rage collection. Considering your father’s adamancy about my selling, I mentioned your names. I wouldn’t worry, if I were you, however. Unless, of course, you have something to worry about,” Tom said, holding the man’s gaze.
Michael’s eyes grew wide with indignation. “Surely, sir, you’re not insinuating my father and I could possibly have had anything to do with what happened here last night. The mere suggestion is offensive and—”
“Relax, Mr. Raymond,” Tom told him. “You have to understand my position. I was attacked last night. They tried to steal my collection and destroy my home. Do you actually think I’d withhold information that might help apprehend the people responsible? Think, man. My very life was at stake. Of course I’m going to do whatever I can.”
“Yes, of course,” Michael conceded.
Tom returned his eyes to the contract in his hand and tried to focus. Michael cleared his throat. “Forgive my curiosity, Mr. Shear,” he said, “but I couldn’t help overhearing Merideth Chandler being mentioned earlier. Have you by any chance spoken with her?”
Tom remained silent as he lifted his eyes and impaled Michael Raymond with his stare.
“Please, don’t take offense. It’s just that I spent quite a lot of time with the family when their son Jacob and I were boys. I grew to care for them greatly and my heart goes out to the poor woman.”
Tom moved behind his desk and sat down. “What’s your point?” he asked.
“I’m merely interested in her welfare, Mr. Shear. If you’ve spoken with her, I was hoping you’d be kind enough to tell me how she’s faring.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure, yet, Mr. Raymond. If, or when, I do, I’ll be glad to relay your concern.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate that.”
“Now, shall we get to business?”
“Certainly.”
The details of the contract were discussed. Satisfied, Tom penned his signature to the documents.
“It would seem, Mr. Raymond, we’ve made a very optimizing arrangement,” Tom said, rising from his chair.
“Yes. I want to thank you for your indulgence, Mr. Shear. I think we’ve both prospered here today.” Michael smiled as he placed the contracts in his briefcase. “I’m sure my father will be pleased.”
“I’m sure he will,” Tom said, following Michael from the study. “Would you care to stay and join me for a drink of celebration?”
Michael chuckled as he descended the stairs. “I wish I could, but I really must be heading back. I’ve taken enough of your time as it is.” He retrieved his coat and umbrella from the foyer stand. “But I’ll take a rain check. Father hated that he couldn’t be here today so he’ll probably want to join us.” He slipped into his coat and flipped up the collar.
“Anytime,” Tom replied, opening the front door. “Please, give your father my regards.”
“I will. Have a good evening, sir.”
The smile faded from Tom’s face as he watched Michael Raymond open his umbrella and hurry toward the black Lincoln parked in the wide driveway.
“Well?” Jonathan asked, appearing at his side.
“They offered a good deal. They’ll be back in a few days to look over my inventory.”
“Congratulations.” Jonathan smiled and clapped Tom on the shoulder. “Just think, I’m going to know someone famous.”
Tom’s lips twisted in a cynical grin. “How’d it go with Carson? Is he still here?”
“No. But you were right. He questioned me about Merideth Chandler.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“I told him she was a shot in the dark. That you had been refused a meeting and had given up on the idea of talking to her.”
“Did he believe you?”
“I think so. But I got the impression he might pursue the idea.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a good attorney, Tom. A good attorney will do almost anything if it’ll help his case.”
“Well, let’s hope I get to her first. What about Winward?” Tom asked, watching an older couple, walking arm in arm, emerge from the room of Life and disappear down the hallway into the room of Ice. He lifted an inquiring brow and Jonathan followed his gaze.
“Oh, yeah. They showed up while you were upstairs. Said they saw your advertisement in the paper. There’re a few others floating around somewhere who said the same thing.”
“At least something’s going right. What about Winward?” he repeated.
“He left after we came downstairs. He said to tell you he’d be back.”
“I have no doubt of that.”
Tom glanced up and smiled as a pair of students crossed the foyer. “I was told a tidbit of information you might find interesting,” he said, leaning close. “It would seem Winward and Hayes had a busy morning. Carson wasn’t the only one who received a visit. Craig and Michael Raymond were on their list as well.”
“Really?” Jonathan’s brow rose in speculation. “That is interesting.”
&n
bsp; “That’s not all. Michael Raymond admitted overhearing our conversation as I mentioned Merideth Chandler. He asked if I’d spoken with her.”
“And what reason did he give for wanting to know that?”
“He told me he had grown to care for the family as a boy and was only concerned for her welfare.”
“Did you believe him?”
Tom shrugged as he cast a glance over Jonathan’s shoulder. Marsha approached with a scolding smile.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the elusive Thomas Shear.” She sidled up to Jonathan and watched Tom with appraising eyes.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I had some business that took longer than expected.”
“How’s the head?”
“The headache’s gone, if that’s what you mean.”
“And if it’s not?” she asked.
He met the concern in her eyes. “Then you might as well give it up,” he said. “I went through therapy a long time ago. I’m really okay.”
“I know that. But you still might need to talk. I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”
Tom watched her a moment longer then heaved a sigh. His smile was soft as he kissed her cheek. “I appreciate your concern. I really do. But now’s not the time. If you really want to help, then help us figure out who’s doing this and why.”
“I intend to.”
“Damn! What a team,” Jonathan said, giving them an enthusiastic grin. “This guy doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Speaking of the team, where’s Kelly?” Tom asked, looking around.
Marsha’s eyes glistened with mirth. “She’s in the room of Innocence with Jason. That brother of hers is something else. He has women all over him.”
Tom grinned. “This I’ve got to see.”
Portrait of Rage (The Marcel Experience Book 1) Page 24