by Lauren Carr
“Like where?”
“George Livingston’s secretary was adamant about Lucille Del Vecchio having motive to get rid of him,” Chris said. “According to her statement, he accused her of taking kickbacks and told her to clean out her desk.”
“Hours later, Livingston goes missing and Del Vecchio gives his presentation,” Helen said.
“And she becomes vice president,” Chris said.
“And the secretary who pointed the finger at her promptly gets fired,” Kevin said. “Nothing came of the kickback allegation.”
“Was it true?” Helen asked.
“It most certainly was true,” Kevin said. “The problem was that Lucille Del Vecchio is a brilliant lawyer. Graduated from Yale. As Billingsley’s in-house attorney, she had the power to approve contractors. She would only approve the contract after the contractor had agreed to pay a consulting fee to a small firm in Maryland.”
“The kickback they paid was under the guise of a consulting fee,” Chris said.
“Del Vecchio’s name wasn’t listed anywhere in the paperwork for the consulting firm,” Kevin said. “An invoice would be sent to the contractor and the bribe would go into the shell company’s business account.”
“Del Vecchio had to be connected to the consulting firm somehow,” Chris said.
“The owner listed on the firm’s paperwork was traced to an elderly widow living with six cats in Cumberland, Maryland,” Kevin said. “She didn’t even own a typewriter.”
“Who was the old woman?” Helen asked.
“Del Vecchio’s aunt. Lucille took care of everything for the old woman—including her finances.” A smirk filled Kevin’s face.
“I’ll bet Lucille’s name was on her aunt’s bank account,” Chris said.
“But she covered her tracks so well that we could never nail her for soliciting and accepting bribes,” Kevin said. “Besides, back then, we were more interested in catching the Livingstons’ kidnappers. We had no evidence connecting Del Vecchio to that or acquiring the ransom money.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Chris scratched his chin. “Just a couple of minutes ago, you described her as brilliant.”
“Witnesses placed her in the banquet room while George was climbing into Mercedes’s car.”
“I’d like to take a closer look at George Livingston’s movements before that.”
Kevin peered at him with narrowed eyes.
The sudden buzz of a phone made all three of them jump.
“Excuse me.” Kevin took the cell phone from his inside breast pocket. “I’m so sorry. I usually put my phone on ‘do not disturb,’ but I’ve been waiting—” He checked the caller ID. “I’ve got to take this. Pardon me.” He stepped outside the office and moved down the hall.
Chris turned to Helen to find her staring at him.
“Is there something you’d care to share?” she asked.
Chris stepped across the office and kissed her softly on the lips. When he pulled away, she continued to peer at him. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“And you’re late because …”
“Got a late start.”
“Who made you late?”
Chris gazed at her. He didn’t think it was possible, but she was able to narrow her eyes even more until they turned into a glare. “Have you been talking to my mother?”
“No.”
He uttered a sigh of relief.
“We’ve been texting.”
He cursed. “I told her not to tell you.”
“Since when did you become the boss of Doris?” Helen picked up her cell phone. “I can’t believe you.” She fought to keep her voice low. “You told Thomas that you would do the honorable thing and step aside to let him have me—like it was up to you two to decide who I wanted to be with.”
“Seriously? Do you honestly think after all the years that I’ve been waiting for you that I would let you go?”
“Well, that’s what you told Thomas.”
“That’s not what I told Thomas.”
“Doris said—” She couldn’t finish as his lips crashed into hers. The kiss was so deep and passionate that she’d lost her train of thought. Her knees became weak. After her mind cleared, and she regained the strength in her knees, she stammered, “Then you aren’t leaving me?”
“I love you too much to ever let you go—even in the name of being honorable.” His lips were close enough for her to feel his breath when he said, “I told him I’d think about it—not that I would do it.”
“Well, Doris said that he left thinking you would step aside so that the three of us could be a family again.”
“Don’t you think we could be a family?” He kissed her softly on the lips.
“Thomas isn’t thinking clearly right now,” she said. “There’s no telling what he’ll do when he finds out you aren’t going to back off.”
“The only way he’s going to get you back is over my dead body.”
“Okay,” Kevin’s voice spilled into the office as they heard him return from down the corridor. “That sounds good to me. Keep me in the loop. Thanks for calling.” He disconnected the call as he crossed the threshold. “I’m sorry again. I hate it when people interrupt meetings with me for phone calls. It’s so rude, but I had to take that. Where were we?”
“I think we’ve covered everything.” Helen picked up her valise. “Since you’ve exhausted the Kyle Billingsley angle, we’ll take a look at other suspects. In the meantime, we have reservations at the Spencer Inn.”
“Sounds good to me.” Wishing them a pleasant drive to Deep Creek Lake, Kevin left.
“He just showed up here,” she whispered while pushing a case of wine out from under her desk. “Guess who stopped by this morning with a case of wine for us to give Mac Faraday.”
As he picked up the case, Chris leaned across it to plant a long lingering kiss on her lips.
“Keep that up and we’re going to miss lunch,” she said.
“We’re already late.” He flashed her his most charming grin. “What’s wrong with being a little later?”
After they were back on the bypass and headed for the freeway, Chris reached into his valise resting behind the driver’s seat. Keeping his eyes on the road, he extracted his tablet and held it out to Helen. “Can you look up the case file for Patricia Baker’s disappearance for me? I’m curious to know if the police ever looked at Fallon as a suspect.”
“He was her ex. In theory, that should have put him at the top of their list.”
When their fingers touched as she reached for the tablet, they held the connection longer than necessary.
With a quick glance, he pulled his hand away at the same time as her, causing the tablet to drop to floor under his feet. “I thought you had it.” He glanced down to the floor while trying to keep his eyes on the road.
“Keep driving. I’ll grab it.” She unbuckled her seatbelt.
Chris watched her long slender body stretch out across the center console. She grasped his thigh and brought her head close to his lap.
“I see it. It’s near the brake. Can you kick it toward me?” As she reached between his legs with one hand, her other hand slid to his crotch.
Her touch exciting him, he tried to focus on the road. “This is bringing back memories of that time we went whitewater rafting down at New River Gorge.”
“Do you mean the one where we never actually made it into the river?” She sat up with her hand resting on his upper thigh.
Chris brought the truck to a halt on the side of the road. Keeping his eyes on her, he reached down to pick up the tablet from the floor. When he sat up, he found that she had slid across the seat to bring her lips close to his ear.
“That was the best rafting trip ever,” she whispered.
“We’re not a couple of horny teenagers anymore. We’
ve got responsibilities.” He gestured at their fellow traveling companion in the back seat.
Helen looked over her shoulder at Sterling. All she could see was her own reflection in his gold mirror sunglasses. “It isn’t like he’s going to judge us.”
“Mac Faraday is a busy and powerful man,” Chris said. “We can’t just blow him off.”
“I’m not asking you to,” she said in a husky voice while planting a kiss on his cheek, which moved to his jaw, and then his mouth.
One kiss turned into two and then three and then a very long four. Trapped in his seatbelt, Chris was in no position to object when she climbed into his lap.
Abruptly, there was a knock on the driver’s side window. With a start, they looked out to see a state police officer grinning at them. His smile turned to shock. “Oh, Lieutenant Clarke! I’m sorry to interrupt but—” He flushed with embarrassment. “I saw the truck stopped on the side of the road and thought someone—you were in trouble.” He stammered. “Obviously, you’re not in any trouble.” He backed away. “Have a nice day, ma’am.” He then tacked on with a wicked grin. “You, too, sir.” He hurried back to his cruiser and sped away.
“We should get going.” Chris eased her out of his lap.
Helen refastened her seatbelt. “There’s a seedy motel up the road. What do you say we check in as Mr. and Mrs. Smith?”
Chapter Fifteen
“When are you going to get a real car?” Jacqui asked Francine after they were finally heading north on the interstate to Pennsylvania.
As if interrupting her morning yoga to invite her on a sudden road trip across Pennsylvania wasn’t bad enough, Jacqui discovered that she also had to drive because Francine’s Mini-Cooper was in the shop.
“I do have a real car,” Francine said. “It may not be a fancy Beemer like yours, but she’s still a reliable old girl.”
“If she’s so reliable, why I am driving?”
“Because she needed to rest. We all need to rest occasionally when we get old,” Francine said. “Our first stop is going to be Pittsburgh.”
“Pittsburgh!” Jacqui shot a glance to her in the passenger seat. “I thought we were going north to Penn State.”
“By way of Pittsburgh,” Francine said. “There’s a writers conference in Pittsburgh and guess who is doing a presentation on literary agents.”
“Sue Richardson,” Jacqui said. “She’s got to be in her nineties.”
“Ninety-three and my sources are telling me that she’s as sharp as a tack. If we can get a few minutes with her, I’m sure she can tell us who took Mercedes’s car to frame her.” Francine gestured at the road in front of them. “We need to stop in Breezewood so I can go to the little girls’ room. Never should have drank that last pot of coffee.”
“You drink way too much coffee,” Jacqui said with a shake of her head.
“Spoken like a tea drinker.”
Even though it was early for the lunch crowd, they decided to fill up on gas at a truck stop and eat in preparation for the many hours ahead on the turnpike. When she returned from the restroom, Francine found Jacqui reading through the crime scene report from the scene where George Livingston’s body had been found.
“Are you still reading that?” Francine opened the lunch menu.
“Just started,” Jacqui said. “This crime scene report is from the copy Ray had downloaded from the FBI’s official database.”
Francine dropped her menu. “Is there a difference between the one Crane gave Chris and the official one?”
“About six more pages in the forensics report from George’s remains and the grave site.”
“That little federal twerp held out on us.” Francine leaned across the table and craned her neck to read the screen on Jacqui’s tablet.
“It’s all about saving his precious reputation,” Jacqui said. “How’s it going to look if a bunch of old geezers like us solve the big case that he blew forty years ago?”
“He needs to get his butt whipped. Did you find anything that’s going to help bust this case wide open?” Francine put on her reading glasses and tried to turn the tablet around to read it.
“Maybe.” Jacqui yanked it back. “George’s body had been buried deep enough to remain intact. That means no animals could get to him, which improved the odds of it not being discovered.”
“It only got found because they dug up those woods for the bypass,” Francine said.
“On the downside for the killer, the body was hidden so well that it preserved a lot of evidence.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“The clothes George was wearing remained intact,” Jacqui said. “Do you know how long it takes for denim to decompose?”
Francine shook her head.
“Twenty to forty years.” Jacqui tapped the report with her finger. “George Livingston was dressed in blue jeans. They also found evidence of a silk bathrobe and belt.”
“I thought George Livingston was supposed to be speaking at a big fancy banquet,” Francine said. “Unless he was planning to change—”
“He was last seen going to dinner with his wife,” Jacqui said. “Where was he going to eat that he could get in wearing a silk bathrobe?”
“No place public.” Francine picked up her phone. “I’m beginning to think he never left the Bavarian.”
They had managed to find a rundown roadside motel off an exit in Martinsburg. The neighborhood was so sketchy that they had left Sterling guarding the truck. They made love to the annoying notes of country music, Sterling’s favorite, playing on Helen’s cell phone through the truck’s open windows. The tunes were mixed with rap music from the next room. Hip-hop music from the floor above added to the symphony.
Afterwards, Chris felt Helen’s body shake with laughter. “What are you giggling about?”
“Remember junior year?” She tittered while stroking his bare chest. “When a bunch of us went for that skiing weekend at Snowshoe. We stayed in Denny’s grandfather’s cabin.”
“Yeah, we had a blast.”
Resting her chin in her hands, she looked up at him. A wicked grin crossed her face. “Whose idea was it to play strip poker?”
The memory made him smirk. “I believe it was yours.”
“Well, what were we supposed to use for betting? We had cards but no poker chips. None of us had money. No matches. Not even M&Ms. The only thing we had left was our clothes.” She reached around to grab one of his butt cheeks. “Truth is, I wanted to see you naked.”
His brow furrowed when he recalled, “We weren’t dating then.”
She snickered. “I know.”
“If you wanted to see me naked, all you’d have to do was ask.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly. With a groan, he buried his face in her hair. “As enjoyable as this is, we have to go. The Faradays aren’t going to like waiting for us all day.”
She stopped him when he attempted to sit up. Her eyes met his. “I love you.”
“I know.” He winked at her. “I’m pretty fond of you, too.”
She gave him a playful slap and they shared a laugh, which ended in an embrace. He was rocking her in his arms when she said, “I want to get married.”
He stopped.
She looked up at him. “To you.”
“I was hoping that was who you were talking about.”
They sat motionless in silence.
Finally, Helen said, “You’re leaving me hanging here.”
Abruptly, Chris pushed her off him and grabbed his pants.
“It isn’t like we haven’t talked about joining our families together,” she said over his shoulder as he hurriedly put on his pants and ran for the door. “I just think that it’s time—”
The door slammed behind him, and she found herself talking in an empty room.
“Was it somethin
g I said?” She muttered to herself, “There’s something seriously wrong with that man. I blame Doris. How many martinis did she drink?” She jumped when there was a loud banging on the door. Shrugging into her suit coat and holding it closed across her naked bosom, she padded across the floor and yanked it open.
She found Chris kneeling in the doorway. He thrust a diamond ring up at her. “Sorry I ran out like that, but I didn’t want to give you a chance to change your mind.”
Her mouth hung open as she took in the big round diamond surrounded by miniature diamonds. “Where did you get it?”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the truck, where Sterling was hanging his head out the driver’s window. “I’ve been driving around with it in the glove compartment for the last four months waiting for the right time to ask you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I figured since you brought it up, now was as good of a time to give it to you as any.”
She took the ring and admired it. “It’s-it’s beau—You’ve been driving around with it for four months!”
Still on his knees in the open doorway, he held out his arms and lifted his shoulders. “I bought it for you for Christmas, but then I chickened out after you went off about how silly your friend Claire was to hitch herself to that do-nothing bum.”
“Because Stuart is a do-nothing bum.”
“Then, I was going to give it to you for Valentine’s Day, but you picked that fight with me.”
“I didn’t start that fight.”
“Oh, you totally picked that fight. Then I was too mad to give it to you.” Still on his knees, he slipped the ring onto her finger. “What do you say? Will you marry me, Helen?”
She bent over to kiss him.
The country tune floating from the interior of the truck abruptly changed to a Faith Hill love song.
“You were the one who started that fight,” she said.
“Did not.”
“Did so.”
“Are you going to marry me?”
“I’m wearing the ring, aren’t I?”
Hearing voices of guests arriving, they hurried back into the room, where Chris called Mac Faraday to ask if they could they move their lunch meeting to dinner.