She glanced down at his hand holding her, then up at his stern face. Jerking away from him, she almost toppled over, but righted her footing before he reached for her again.
"I'm making you crazy!" she shouted. "I'm the one who's going out of my mind. My life has turned into a nightmare. Jimmy's fans keep sending me letters—"
"Letters you don't even see," Morgan told her. "Letters that I intercept and take care of without your being bothered with them."
"And now that I have a new, unlisted home phone number, those idiots are calling my boutiques and harassing my employees."
"Since we've had a caller ID box attached to the phones, those calls have practically stopped."
"There were people picketing my boutiques this past weekend," she said.
"And the police dispersed the picketers before they did any harm."
"Well, Tony's daily condemnation of me on television as harming me. And Maxine can't stop him because he's never mentioned my name and he always refers to me as the suspect." Bethany rushed out of the living room.
Morgan caught up with her in the kitchen. She stood at the open refrigerator, her back to him. He held out his hand, but let it hover over her, not quite making contact. He wanted to comfort her, but touching her would be a mistake.
"Look, honey, you have every right to be nervous, upset and even angry. But you have to stop and think. We've been investigating every aspect of Jimmy's murder for only a week now. As difficult as it is for you, you're going to have to be patient and believe that sooner or later, we'll unearth something that will head us directly to Jimmy's real murderer."
"'Be patient'?" She whirled around, a package of sliced chicken in one hand and a hottie of mustard in the other. "If I were the only one being affected by this situation, I might be able to deal with it better. But my child is suffering and I can't bear it. God only knows what Anne Marie is putting up with at school right this minute. I want to be there with her, all the time, protecting her, defending her."
"Believe it or not, I understand how you feel," Morgan said. "When we dropped her off at school, I wanted to go in with her and issue a warning that nobody had better mess with Anne Marie Wyndham or they'd be sorry." Morgan's mouth curved into a halfhearted grin. He'd known Bethany's child only a week and yet he felt connected to the girl and as protective of her as he was of her mother. He supposed he felt that way because Anne Marie was Bethany's child, or maybe because the girl so obviously adored him. Whatever the cause, he had to admit that he was feeling downright paternal toward her.
Bethany tightened her hold on the mustard bottle. "If she comes home today, in tears, I don't—"
"She won't come home in tears. I guarantee it. You've raised a strong, self-confident girl. She went to school today prepared for whatever happens. My money's on Anne Marie. Something tells me that she's capable of giving as good as she gets."
"Oh, God, I hope so."
Bethany placed the chicken and mustard on the table, then opened the bread box and removed a loaf of whole wheat.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Fixing lunch." She opened the loaf of bread.
"Bethany, it's only ten o'clock."
She slung the loaf of bread across the room. Slices scattered on the floor. "Dammit! I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."
Caution be damned. He had to touch her! Chipping her shoulders, Morgan kneaded softly. "You're doing fine. It's only normal that you'd be nervous and scared."
Bethany leaned her back against his chest, momentarily giving in to her need for comfort. Seeking comfort from Morgan could be dangerous. But right now, she didn't care. She needed something—someone—to hold on to and keep her from drowning in a sea of fear and self-doubt.
Morgan turned her in his arms. She looked up into his eyes and knew she was lost. He offered her everything. In his arms she could find the comfort she wanted, the protection she needed, the temporary peace her mind longed for and the fulfillment her body craved. With trembling fingers, she reached up and touched his cheek.
"Morgan?"
As if on cue, his cellular phone rang. Cursing under his breath, he eased one arm around Bethany's waist, then reached inside his jacket pocket and removed his phone.
Flipping it open, he held the telephone to his ear. "I'm here."
Bethany held her breath as she watched Morgan's face for any sign of emotion. She saw none.
"Yes. Yes," he said. "No, you're right. That gives us another motive. I'll tell Bethany, but she's not going to like it."
"What is it?" She tugged on Morgan's sleeve. "What am I not going to like?"
"We still don't have any proof," Morgan said into the phone. "Keep digging. I don't want anything overlooked." He flipped the phone closed and returned it to his pocket.
"Who was that? What am I not going to like?"
"That was Dane Carmichael He's uncovered some information on Seth Renfrew."
"What sort of information?" Bethany's heartbeat drummed in her ears.
"Did you know that Seth had a sister who committed suicide twelve years ago?"
"We knew he had a sister who was dead, but—"
"Renfrew's sister was involved with Jimmy Farraday. When she caught him with another woman, she went home and took an overdose of sleeping pills. Renfrew was the one who found her body and the suicide note addressed to Farraday."
"Oh, poor Seth." Bethany gasped as she suddenly realized the implications. "This information gives Seth another motive for killing Jimmy, doesn't it?"
"We need to talk to Renfrew," Morgan said. "I want to look the man straight in the eye and have him deny that he killed Farraday."
* * *
They tracked Seth down at the Birmingham Country Club where he was having lunch with Eileen. Bethany dreaded the confrontation, but she knew it was necessary. She didn't believe that Seth had killed Jimmy, but she did think it odd that he had never told her about his sister's suicide or her involvement with Jimmy. Why had he kept such an important part of his past a secret?
"Bethany, darling." Eileen, dressed appropriately for a widow in a stunning black silk dress, grasped her daughter's hand. "What are y'all doing here?"
Ever the Southern gentleman, Seth stood. "Won't you and Mr. Kane join us for lunch?"
"Yes, thank you." Bethany glanced over her shoulder, seeking Morgan's approval.
Morgan assisted her into a chair and then seated himself across from Seth. A waiter arrived instantly and Bethany hurriedly ordered two iced teas and salads, all the while watching while Morgan carefully scrutinized Seth. Did he think he could detect signs of innocence or guilt just by examining Seth?
"This is my first day out since Jimmy's funeral," Eileen said. "Seth insisted that there was no reason for me to stay confined to the house."
"Her friends are here at the club," Seth said. "They all love her and have been so happy to see her. No one expects her to hide away."
"I suppose no one has been rude enough to ask if you think your daughter killed your husband." Lifting her white napkin, Bethany shook the starched linen apart and draped it across her lap.
"None of our friends think you killed Jimmy." Eileen curled her jeweled fingers around Bethany's wrist. "Something's wrong, isn't it? Y'all didn't come here just to have lunch with us. What is it? What's happened?"
"Nothing has happened, Mother." Bethany twisted her arm until she was able to clasp her mother's hand in hers. "Morgan has just discovered some information and he needs to ask Seth a few questions."
"Ask Seth questions about what?" Snapping her head around, Eileen glared at Morgan. "Surely Seth isn't under suspicion. He is no more capable of murder than I am."
Silence dominated the table. The faint clinking of silverware and china blended with the muted conversations of the other patrons. Bethany took a deep breath. Seth's cheeks flushed. Eileen's mouth opened in a silent gasp. Morgan remained totally unmoved, his face a blank.
"Oh, I see." Eileen sat up ramrod straight in t
he chair. "So I'm a suspect, too."
"No, Mother, of course you and Seth aren't suspects. I know that neither of you—"
"That's not quite true," Morgan interrupted. "Bethany doesn't believe either of you killed Jimmy, but as far as I'm concerned anyone with motive and opportunity is a suspect. And unfortunately, that includes both of you."
Bethany squeezed her mother's hand tightly. Eileen jerked her hand out of Bethany's. "I did not kill Jimmy," Eileen whispered as she glanced around to see if anyone overheard their conversation. "Did I wish him dead? Yes. Often. But as odd as it may seem to you, I loved Jimmy as much as I hated him. Every time he embarrassed me, every time he disappointed me, every time he infuriated me with his conduct, he promised he'd change, that it would never happen again. And I wanted so desperately to believe him."
"You stayed with Jimmy because, despite everything, you still loved him?" Bethany asked, unable to understand how her mother could have continued loving such a worthless piece of trash.
"Yes, that was one of the reasons," Eileen said.
"What were the other reasons?" Morgan asked.
"Only one other reason." Eileen stared defiantly, proudly at Morgan. "James. I remained married to Jimmy for James's sake. That poor child needed me. He still does. I knew that if I divorced Jimmy and tried to gain custody of James, I would have to air all our dirty laundry in public."
"Oh, Mother." Bethany felt a mixture of sympathy and aggravation. Eileen had been a loving and indulgent parent, but a poor role model. Eileen Dow Farraday had always lived her life with her social position foremost in her mind. Slightly scatterbrained and often impulsive, she'd made her share of mistakes, but her greatest concern had never been to correct those mistakes, only to hide them from the world.
Morgan focused his attention on Seth Renfrew. "Did you kill Jimmy Farraday?"
Seth's pink flushed cheeks darkened. He dampened his lips with his tongue, then wiped his cupped hand across his mouth.
"I did have the opportunity. I was at WHNB at the time Jimmy was shot. But I wasn't there to see him. I'd dropped some ads by for an upcoming charity event of which I'm publicity chairman."
"I'm already aware of your reason for being at WHNB," Morgan said. "But I think it's a rather odd coincidence that you chose that day and that time to stop by WHNB."
"Seth may have had the opportunity to kill Jimmy," Bethany said, "but I know he would never let me take the blame for a crime he had committed."
Releasing an indrawn breath, Seth smiled weakly at Bethany. "Thank you, my dear, for saying that, for believing that I didn't kill Jimmy."
"Bethany may believe you," Morgan said. "But I'd like for you to convince me. If I were in your shoes, with two strong motives for killing Farraday, I'd be sweating."
"What can I say or do to convince you, Mr. Kane?"
"Explain why you never told anyone about your sister Lynda's death?"
"How did you…" Clasping his shaky hands, Seth stared down at his lap. "Of course, you would thoroughly investigate anyone you suspected."
"What's this about Lynda Renfrew?" Eileen asked. "Surely, you're not referring to her—" Eileen lowered her voice to a mere whisper "—suicide, are you? Seth told me all about Lynda before I married Jimmy. He tried to warn me against marrying that womanizing jerk. But I didn't listen to him, and I've paid dearly for the past ten years."
"Mother, are you saying that you've known all these years that Seth's sister committed suicide because of Jimmy Farraday?"
"Yes, of course, I've known. Seth and I have no secrets from each other." Eileen's lips quivered ever so slightly, then she smiled at her old friend. "I know that Seth loves me, that he's always loved me."
"I hated Jimmy Farraday more than any man on earth," Seth admitted. "He destroyed my sister and he made Eileen's life a living hell. But if my love for Eileen and my need to avenge my sister's death are my motives for murdering Jimmy, why would I have waited so long? Why didn't I kill Jimmy years ago?"
"That's exactly what I told him." Bethany glared at Morgan, a self-satisfied expression on her face.
"I don't know," Morgan said. "Perhaps the right opportunity never came along. Or maybe you'd finally taken all you could bear. You knew Farraday had come on to Anne Marie, didn't you?"
"Oh, my God!" Eileen gasped loud enough that her outburst gained attention from people at the two nearest tables.
"Dammit, Morgan, Seth knew, but Mother didn't!" Bethany told him.
"It's all right," Eileen said. "I shouldn't be surprised, should I?" Reaching out, she grasped Bethany's hand. "You told me years ago that Jimmy tried to … to rape you, and I wouldn't let myself believe you. I chose to believe his explanation instead." Eileen turned to Morgan. "I didn't kill Jimmy, but I wish I had. I wish I'd had the courage to rid the world of the monster I was married to."
"I don't think Mr. Kane really suspects you, Eileen," Seth said. "He didn't come here to question you."
Bethany looked pleadingly at her business partner. "For heaven's sake, Seth, tell him you didn't kill Jimmy."
"I could say that I didn't shoot Jimmy, but there's no way you or Mr. Kane would know whether or not I was lying. I could have killed him. I did have opportunity and motive. And I could be biding my time, waiting to see if you go to trial and then I could wait even longer to see if you are convicted before I confess."
"Stop it! I know you didn't kill Jimmy, no matter what Morgan believes. You care too much for me and Anne Marie to ever put me through this torment!" Bethany jumped up from her chair just as the waiter served her salad. When she and the waiter collided, the tray he carried flipped over, dumping the tea glasses to the floor. Bits and pieces of salad flew in every direction as the bowls hurled through the air.
"I'm sorry," Bethany said as she brushed pieces of lettuce and tomato off her yellow silk blouse. With tears blurring her vision, she shoved past the waiter.
Morgan called after her, and when she didn't pause in her escape, he shoved back his chair and stood. "My accusations are nothing personal," he told Seth and Eileen. "I'm just doing what I've been hired to do and that's find out who really killed Farraday. I can't afford not to follow through on every possible lead."
Before either Seth or Eileen could reply, Morgan rushed after Bethany. He caught up with her outside. The damp residue of a scattered shower glimmered on the grass and a line mist of steam rose off the pavement. Sunshine broke through the lingering cloud cover, temporarily brightening the sky and spreading a warm radiance over the earth. When Morgan clutched Bethany's elbow, she spun away from him and walked off. He cursed under his breath, then headed after her. Every time he tried to touch her, she avoided his grasp.
"Leave me alone! Go back to Atlanta. Have your agency send me another bodyguard."
He followed along beside her as she trekked toward her Mercedes S600. Sunlight reflected off the windshield of the white coupe, hitting Bethany in the eye. Squinting, she glanced away and rummaged in her purse for the car keys.
"You're being irrational." Morgan grabbed the keys out of her hand, manacled her wrist and dragged her over to the car.
"Let go of me!" When she tried to free herself, he tightened his hold. Struggling against his superior strength, she soon tired and stopped fighting him. "Dammit, why did you have to do that to Seth?"
Morgan dragged her around the hood of the car, unlocked the door and deposited her in the passenger seat. "I'm trying to unearth the truth and sometimes that can't be done without stepping on some toes, without hurting feelings."
Bethany glared at Morgan, her jaw tight with barely suppressed rage. "The truth? The truth is that Seth Renfrew did not kill Jimmy!"
"Just because you want to believe he's innocent doesn't make it true."
Morgan closed the door, rushed around to the driver's side and got in, then sat there clutching the keys in his hand. "Renfrew never actually denied that he killed Farraday, did he?"
"I hate you for doing that to Seth." Crossing her arms ov
er her waist, Bethany gripped her elbows. She was not going to fall apart. She wasn't going to cry. She'd already cried too much as it was. Tears wouldn't solve her problems. "I don't want you to rip apart the people I love in your quest to prove my innocence."
"Who are you really angry with?" Morgan inserted the key into the ignition switch and turned over the motor. "Are you angry with me or with yourself, because deep down inside you aren't a hundred percent sure Renfrew didn't kill Farraday?"
Bethany swung around in the seat, her hazel eyes flashing angrily. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Clenching her jaw tightly, she sat there glaring at Morgan, her shoulders trembling as she tried valiantly not to succumb to tears.
Damn! He hated seeing Bethany like this, on the verge of tears and struggling desperately to remain in control. "I can imagine how difficult it is for you to accept the possibility that someone you care about might actually be responsible for putting you in this unbearable situation."
"Seth didn't kill Jimmy."
Morgan clutched the leather-covered wood steering wheel. "You can't be sure. Even if Renfrew had denied killing Farraday, you could—"
"When you asked me if I'd killed Jimmy and I told you that I hadn't, you believed me. Why can't you believe that Seth is innocent? I know, deep down inside—" she laid her hand over her heart "—that despite a few silly doubts on my part, Seth didn't kill Jimmy."
"I don't know Seth Renfrew, but I'll take your word for it that he's a good guy. He seems to be devoted to your mother … and to you and Anne Marie." Morgan turned his head just a fraction and glanced at Bethany. "I've learned that only a fool trusts too easily. Often things are not what they seem. That's a lesson I learned the hard way. I don't trust anyone. Except…" Turning back around, he stared out the front windshield, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Bethany. "The reason I believed you when you said you didn't kill your stepfather is because I do trust you. You're the only person I've ever trusted completely. I know you'd never lie to me."
Oh, dear God! Bethany wanted to die on the spot. He trusted her. She was the only person he'd ever trusted completely. He knew she'd never lie to him.
A MAN LIKE MORGAN KANE Page 14