3 The Chain of Lies (4 page)

“Funny thing, I sorted through yesterday’s mail and there was a letter from a storage facility. It said Evan’s annual prepaid renewal was coming due again the first of next month, so I assumed there must be a padlock on the unit.”

“There usually is. Did you know he had a storage unit?”
 

“No, I didn’t. Just one more thing he hid from me. I thought maybe the key would fit the lock, so I went by and checked it out today.”

“Did the key fit?”

“Yeah, but all there was in the place were some banker boxes with files in them.”

“I would have expected weapons, maybe, or some spy equipment—that sort of thing.”

“Me, too, but no—just files. I went through almost half of them today. It was pretty interesting reading.”

“I’ll bet. You’d better not tell anyone else about it, though. I doubt the CIA would want anyone knowing that intel is floating around out there.”

“You’re probably right. I have enough drama in my life right now. I don’t need the CIA giving me grief too.”

“Maybe you should think about moving those boxes somewhere more protected,” Colin suggested. “What about Isabel’s place? Don’t they live in a gated community? I imagine they have an alarm on their house.”

“Yes, but…”

How could she tell him she had suspicions about Isabel? That she wasn’t sure if she could trust her anymore? They had been best friends for the last five years, but lately she was starting to suspect Isabel wasn’t who she seemed, either.

“I don’t understand. What’s the hesitation?”

“You’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but—”

“But what?”

“What if Isabel is the one who’s been searching for something in my house? What if she’s not who she says she is?”

“Wow. What on earth would make you say that?”

Emily went silent. She thought of the note again that Evan had left her. In it he had told her that if she was reading the note it meant he was dead and she was to trust no one. Those words still echoed in her mind. She had learned enough about Colin Andrews to feel confident she could trust him, but Isabel was another story.

Isabel Martínez worked for the FBI as a financial analyst, but Emily was beginning to suspect she was actually more than that. The two had met over five years ago at a cooking class that Camille was teaching, shortly after Isabel moved to Paradise Valley from back east, or at least that’s the story she told. Isabel had met Alex in Paradise Valley and married him soon after.

The cooking class was where they met Maggie too, and the four of them had become fast friends. But since finding Evan’s note, warning her to trust no one, she wondered if Isabel had intentionally signed up for that class to meet Emily and insinuate herself into her and Evan’s lives.

As Emily had unraveled the truth about her late husband, she’d learned of his past involvement in the CIA, and more about his murder. She had recently discovered that his shooting might have been carried out because someone wanted to exact revenge on him as payback for a young woman’s death.

She wondered how much of her suspicions she should divulge to Colin. He’d probably just think her paranoid.
Colin didn’t know all that Emily had uncovered. She hadn’t told him about the ominous note she’d found in the safe deposit box, or the totality of the box’s contents.

“Emily?” Colin waited for her answer. “What’s going on?”

She didn’t want to go into all of it right then and there, but she knew she had to say something in response to his question. “Let’s just say with all that’s been happening lately, the black car, the break-ins, and with Isabel’s FBI friend Jethro poking around, I’m feeling a bit suspicious and uneasy.”

“That’s understandable. But suspicious of Isabel or of Jethro?”

“Both. You probably think it’s silly.”

“No, I wouldn’t say it was silly. As a cop, I know you have to sometimes trust your gut when nothing else makes sense. If you don’t want to leave the boxes with Isabel at this point, then you’d probably better leave them where they are while you hunt for a better place to hide them.”

“I appreciate the support.” Emily slid off the stool and went to the refrigerator to start her salad. “Still, I feel uneasy.”

“You’re watching for a tail, aren’t you?”

“I am, don’t worry.”

She pulled the lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers out of the vegetable drawer.

“What’s all the noise?” he asked.

“The girls are coming over for our weekly potluck and I’m making the salad. I was just pulling the fixings out of the fridge.”

“Say hello for me.”

“Speaking of the girls, I did find something in one of Evan’s boxes that I think might have to do with Isabel.” Emily tugged a salad bowl out of the cupboard and cradled the phone against her shoulder so she could rinse the vegetables off and begin chopping them on the cutting board.

“What was it?”

“A little leather address book. It had the name Izzy Handler in it, with a phone number.”

“Izzy Handler? Who’s that?”

“I think Izzy Handler might be Isabel.” Emily chopped the first tomato and tossed the pieces in the salad bowl on top of the torn lettuce.

“You think Izzy is a nickname for Isabel?” he questioned. “It does make sense.”

“Emily! Hello!” came a female voice wandering through the house.

“Hi, Isabel. It’s good to see you.” Emily wiped her hands on a towel and uncradled the phone. “I’m on the telephone,” she whispered, giving Isabel a quick one-arm hug, the phone still in her hand.

Isabel was holding a tray of barbecued chicken pieces covered with foil. Although Emily couldn’t actually see the chicken, the savory, barbecued aroma was unmistakable.

“Colin, Isabel’s here and I’m sure Camille is not far behind. Call me when you get home, okay?”

“All right. I know when I’m not wanted.” He laughed. “I love you, Emily.”

“I love you, too.” She clicked her phone off and tossed it in her purse.

“So that’s where we are, is it?” Isabel said, setting her platter down on the counter. “He finally said those three little words.”

“Yes, he did.” Emily beamed as she picked up the utensils to toss the salad.

“I assumed he would take the leap before leaving for Cali. He was acting like a smitten teenager last night at the party. I’m happy for you, girl.”

“Isabel, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Emily’s cheerful voice grew serious. “Do you think you could stay awhile after Camille leaves tonight?”

“She’s not here now. What’s on your mind?”

“Not now, she’ll be here any minute.”

“Emily! Isabel! Can someone help me?” a high-pitched voice rang out from the direction of the front door.

“See.” Emily’s head cocked slightly as she flashed Isabel her
I-told-you-so
look, and then they both dashed to Camille’s aid.

Camille had a pan of twice-baked potatoes in one hand and a large clear-plastic covered cake plate with a tall lemon crème cake in the other. “Can you guys help me out? I can’t hold onto both of these much longer. If Isabel hadn’t left the door ajar, I wouldn’t have been able to get it opened.”

“I didn’t leave the door open,” Isabel replied.

Emily took the cake, casting a puzzled glance at Isabel.

If Isabel didn’t do it, who did? And where is that person now? Did they overhear her conversation with Colin?

“Was the door open when you arrived, Isabel?”

“No, but it was unlocked.” Isabel leaned over to Emily and spoke in a low voice so as not to rattle Camille. “You want me to take a quick look around?”

“Please.” An uncomfortable chill rippled over Emily as she and Camille meandered back to the cozy kitchen. After setting the cake down, she hurried back and locked the door, trying to convince herself it was probably nothing.

“My goodness, Camille, how many people did you think were coming tonight?” Isabel chuckled as she noticed the pan loaded with potatoes on the breakfast bar.

“Sorry, I got carried away.”

“All’s clear,” Isabel whispered in Emily’s ear.

Emily nodded.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s eat. I’m hungry.” Isabel grabbed one of the plates from the table and the other girls followed her lead.

Each one filled their plate and took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Hey, did I tell you my brother is coming to visit,” Camille mentioned, spreading her napkin on her lap.

“No, you never said,” Isabel replied, enjoying her barbecued chicken leg.

“Which brother?” Emily asked. She knew Camille had several spread around the country.

“Peter, the youngest one. He’s thirty-five. He was a TV news reporter in Buffalo, but he’s been hired by one of the stations in Seattle. Peter’s taking a month off between jobs, so he’s stopping by to see me for a while. He grew up here, you know.”

“Just him?” Isabel asked. “No wife or kids?”

“No, he’s single.” Camille took a forkful of potatoes and wagged it at Isabel as she spoke. “Hasn’t found the right woman, he says.”

“When will he be here?” Emily asked, cutting into her chicken.

Camille swallowed her mouthful of potatoes. “Tomorrow.” She took a sip of her sweet tea. “I’d like to do a brunch at my house on Saturday to introduce you all to him. Can you come?” She looked from Emily to Isabel.

They both nodded at her, their mouths too full to speak.

“It’s too bad Maggie and Molly won’t be here. The last time Peter saw Molly she was in grade school.” Camille took another long drink of her sweet tea. Her phone began to buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out and read a text. “Molly says they just landed in Hawaii.”

“I hope they have a great time. I bet Maggie will be sorry she missed your brother though,” Isabel added.

“I’m not sure how long he’s staying. Maybe I can convince him to wait until they get back,” Camille supposed. “I know Molly will be disappointed if she doesn’t get to see her uncle.”

“You’ll have to get him to stay at least that long,” Emily said. “Maggie will be heartbroken she didn’t get to meet him.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to be looking for another man for Maggie?” Isabel asked.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Is.” Emily frowned. “I just meant she’ll feel like she missed out on something we all shared. You know how she is.”

“That cake looks heavenly, Camille.” Isabel glanced at the lemon cake on the counter, an obvious attempt to change the subject. “I’ll have to make sure and leave room for it.”

The subject of Maggie’s love life did not come up again the rest of the evening. After her last disastrous relationship, it was probably best.

Camille cut the cake and brought a slice for each of them back to the table.

“Mmm, looks delicious,” Isabel said with a grin as Camille set the dessert plates down on the table and took her seat.

“Any new events you’re planning, Camille?” Emily inquired, cutting into her cake.

“Why, yes, there is,” she replied, fluffing her short, spiky red hair as she sat back in her chair. “I’m planning, as well as catering I might add, an important event next weekend at the Hilton Hotel for the Zigon Corporation.”

“Sounds like a sizeable job.” Emily refilled her glass with the pitcher of iced tea on the table. “Aren’t they that huge computer chip maker south of Boise?”

“They are, and it is a big job. As a matter of fact…” Camille drew out the words as she flashed a sheepish grin at Emily and then at Isabel. “I’m having a hard time finding enough servers for the event. I was wondering if you might be able to help me out that night.”

“Now I know you’re not talking to me,” Isabel said, dipping her chin as she raised her eyebrows at Camille, flipping her long, dark waves over her shoulder.

“Emily?” Camille turned to her and pleaded, batting blue doe-eyes. “I’ve already wrangled Molly into helping me, but I’m still short handed.”

“What day next weekend?” Emily pulled out her phone to check her schedule.

“Saturday. I’d need you from late afternoon until the end of the evening. Please say yes.”

“Looks like I’m free.”

Camille leaned over and patted Emily’s forearm. “I’ll owe you, Em.”

“Big time, I’d say,” Isabel added.

“I’m happy to do it. With Colin gone, my Saturday nights will be pretty much free again. It’ll give me something to do.”

“No investigations waiting for you?” Isabel put another forkful of luscious cake in her mouth.

“After winding up the Lucas Wakefield case, I’ve only had a few small cases, but I’m sure more work will come. It always does.” Emily smiled weakly then took a drink of her tea. She hoped more work would come. At least the break in cases gave her time to dig deeper into Evan’s murder.

Once dessert was finished and conversation exhausted, Camille said it was time for her to head home. “Don’t forget brunch on Saturday—eleven o’clock.” She packed up her belongings, hugged Emily and Isabel, and went home.

Isabel lingered behind, as Emily had asked her to, and helped clear the dinner table and load the dishwasher. “Now that we’re alone, what did you want to talk to me about?”