“Interesting. He’s one of the other suspects in Lulu’s murder, isn’t he?”
“Damn it, Val, I’m not a suspect. The police simply questioned me because my name was in Lulu’s date book several times.”
“You would be a suspect, my darling, if the police knew you didn’t have an alibi for the time Lulu was murdered.”
She loved the fact that she held her husband’s fate in her hands. If she told the police the truth—that he hadn’t been with her during the time he said he was—he would be in terrible trouble. She didn’t know if Randall had killed Lulu Vanderley and really didn’t care. The woman had been trash. Rich trash, but trash all the same.
Randall picked up the newspaper and held it out to her. “You should take a look at this. The reporter all but accuses Quinn Cortez of killing both Lulu and Kendall Wells. My name isn’t even mentioned in the article. That should please you.”
“Don’t get too smug, darling. Until they make an arrest in the case and actually convict someone of Lulu’s murder, you don’t dare breathe a sigh of relief.”
His facial muscles tensed.
There, that’s better
, she thought. She wanted him to worry, wanted him to suffer. Privately, of course.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He glowered at her, pure hatred in his eyes.
“Am I enjoying watching you sweat? Yes, I am. As long as your involvement in this affair doesn’t become public knowledge, I’ll stand by you and pose as the supportive, loving wife. However, if you were to be charged with Lulu’s murder, I would play the wronged, martyred wife who couldn’t believe her husband was such a monster.”
“I didn’t kill Lulu. How many times do I have to tell you?” He slapped the paper against his open palm. “This article implies that the two murders are connected and that connection is Quinn Cortez. For God’s sake, Val, I didn’t know Kendall Wells. There’s no way I can be involved.”
“For your sake, I hope the police believe you.”
“Read the article.” Randall threw the folded newspaper across the table.
When it landed a few inches short of her plate, Valerie glanced at it, then lifted her Haviland china cup and sipped on her morning coffee. Eyeing her husband over the rim of the cup, she said, “Do you have an alibi for the time when
Kendall Wells was murdered? If not, perhaps you’d like for me to lie for you again.”
He stared at her, a puzzled look on his face. “Why would I need an alibi?”
“Because it’s possible the police will find out that you actually did know Ms. Wells, that her law firm represented your friend, Tom Wilson, six months ago, when he was charged with manslaughter in a hit-and-run case.”
Randall’s face paled. “I—I’d forgotten all about that. But just because she was one of Tom’s lawyers, doesn’t mean—”
“It means you did know her. You testified as a character witness for Tom, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did, but—”
“Perhaps you and Ms. Wells became acquainted. Very well acquainted. For all I know you could have had an affair with the woman. A man who’s been unfaithful once could easily have been unfaithful twice.”
Randall gasped.
Valerie smiled. “Of course, I’d never suggest such a thing to the police. Unless…”
“Whatever you want,” he said. “Just name your price.”
“My price?” She laughed softly. “Whenever I say jump, you’ll ask me how high.”
Quinn felt like crap. He’d gotten home around midnight, undressed and fallen into bed; but he’d slept fitfully and finally gotten up at six. His life hadn’t been so messed up since he’d been a kid, fending for himself and trying his best to stay out of his mother’s way. Back then, he hadn’t been able to do anything right and that bad karma had followed him around until he’d met Judge Harwood Brown. From that day forward, his luck had changed and he had fought his way to the top. No easy task when you started at rock bottom.
He’d never been an emotional man, having learned at an early age that if you cared too much about somebody they’d
just wind up hurting you. But in his own way, he had cared about Lulu. He’d miss her. Miss all that wild exuberance. Why the hell would anybody want to kill her?
And Kendall. He couldn’t honestly say he’d loved her, but he had respected her brilliance as a lawyer and her loyalty as a friend. He still couldn’t believe she was dead. But she was gone, murdered just as Lulu had been, and if Griffin Powell’s theory turned out to be right, then both women had died because they’d been involved with him. Because they had been Quinn Cortez’s lovers.
After showering and shaving, Quinn dressed in casual khaki slacks and a button-down light blue shirt. He’d learned early on how important appearances were. Only at the ranch did he ever dress just to suit himself. At all other times, he was aware, even subconsciously, that he needed to project the Quinn Cortez image he had worked so long and hard to obtain. Judd Walker was driving in from Chattanooga this morning, and when meeting with friends, clients, business associates and rivals, Quinn always put his best foot forward. Dress for success was his motto, even in an informal situation.
Judd had told Quinn last night that he’d see him around eight this morning. As Quinn lifted the glass pot from the coffeemaker, he eyed the wall clock. Seven forty-five.
Just as Quinn pulled out a chair from the table, Jace came through the back door, today’s newspaper in his hand. He had sent Jace out ten minutes ago to find the morning edition of the
Commercial Appeal
. There was bound to be a big spread about Kendall’s murder and he’d bet his last dime that the reporters would connect her death not only to Lulu’s recent murder, but to him. After all, as everyone kept reminding him, he was the common denominator, the only link between the two women.
“Marcy and Aaron not up yet?” Jace asked as he laid the newspaper down on the table.
“I haven’t heard a peep out of either of them,” Quinn said.
Usually Marcy was up by seven at the latest and ordinarily would have had breakfast prepared. Aaron, on the other hand, would sleep until noon, unless told to set his alarm.
“Want me to wake them?”
“Yeah, if they’re not up in the next five minutes. I’m expecting Judd Walker, a lawyer from Chattanooga, to show up around eight. We spoke on the phone last night and I may be hiring him to take Kendall’s place.”
“It’s awful about Ms. Wells. I know you liked her a lot, that you two were friends as well as…” Jace cleared his throat. “Do the police think you killed her? If they do, they’re crazy.”
Yes, Kendall had been his friend. And his lover. And a basically good person. Lulu’s death had been tragic and had gotten him into a heap of trouble. It seemed impossible to believe someone so vibrant and alive was gone. He’d cared about Lulu, but not in the same way he’d cared for Kendall. In time, Lulu would have been nothing more than an old lover, but Kendall would have always been his friend.
“I’m sure I’ll wind up being a suspect in Kendall’s murder just as I am in Lulu’s, since I don’t actually have an alibi for a couple of hours yesterday evening.”
“How come you don’t have an alibi? You were here with Aaron and Marcy until you left for Ms. Wells’s house. There couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes while you were driving over there that you were alone.”
“I made a stop along the way,” Quinn said, but didn’t elaborate. He didn’t want anyone to know about the odd spells he’d had the night of both murders. Not exactly blackout spells, but something similar. Once things were cleared up about Lulu’s and Kendall’s deaths and he was allowed to return to Houston, he intended to make an appointment with his personal physician and find out if something was physically wrong with him. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe he had a brain tumor, but he’d dismissed the notion. Quinn Cortez was invincible, wasn’t he? He’d spent the past twenty years proving to the world that nothing could conquer
him, that no matter what the situation, he was the kind of man who came out on top.
“Didn’t anybody see you wherever it was you stopped?” Jace asked.
Quinn shook his head, put his coffee mug on the table and then sat. He eyed the newspaper. “Did you take a look at it?”
“Yeah.”
Quinn could tell by the tone of Jace’s voice that the news was bad. He picked up the
Commercial Appeal
and flipped it open so that the entire front-page was visible. Holy shit! It was a lot worse than he’d imagined. There on the front-page were three photographs. Kendall on the left. Lulu on the right. And smack dab in the middle was a picture of him. The headline read:
CORTEZ REAL LADY-KILLER
.
“You can sue them for slander, can’t you?” Jace’s voice quivered with outrage.
“Probably not,” Quinn replied. “My guess is that they stopped just short of calling me a murderer. There’s a thin line between journalistic freedom and slander.”
Quinn scanned the article. Just as he’d thought. The implication was that he was a suspect since the only connection between the two women was the fact that they had both been personally involved with Quinn Cortez. Although the expression lady-killer could be taken more than one way, its use in the headlines would be viewed in the worst possible light, whereas in the article, the reporter referred to Quinn as having a reputation as a charming, playboy-type lady-killer.
Quinn’s gaze paused on one particular line in the article.
Although the police are not free to give out the exact details of either murder, we have discovered that both women were murdered in the same way, leaving the police to believe the same person killed both Kendall Wells and Lulu Vanderley
.
“When Judd Walker arrives, I want to see him alone, so after you wake Aaron and Marcy, tell them I’d like all three of you to go out for breakfast. On me, of course.” Quinn folded the newspaper, laid it aside and lifted his coffee mug to his lips.
“Don’t you trust us?” Jace asked, a hurt expression on his face. “You think there are things you can tell your lawyer that you can’t tell us. Is that why you want us to leave?”
“You shouldn’t take my request personally. Stop and think for a minute. What I tell my lawyer is privileged information.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Quinn reached up and patted Jace on the arm. The boy had little self-esteem and was one of the most sensitive people Quinn had ever known. He seemed to thrive on the attention Quinn gave him. Aaron said that Jace hero-worshiped Quinn. God, he hoped not. Being a professional role model to boys like Jace was one thing, but he sure as hell didn’t want anybody imitating his actions in his personal life. He’d never done anything purposefully to harm another person and he’d always tried to be up-front with the parade of women who came and went in his life. But here he was nearly forty and he had no one truly special in his life. No wife. No children. No real family. And until recently, those things hadn’t really mattered to him.
He could easily continue being a lady-killer, going from one lovely, entertaining woman to another. Why not? Other men envied him, didn’t they? What guy wouldn’t want to have his life?
He could tell himself that Lulu’s murder, followed by Kendall being killed, had affected his way of thinking about life in general. And although that was true enough, their deaths alone hadn’t made him question his personal values. He’d been restless for a couple of years, but especially the past few months. Neither his work nor his love life gave him the pleasure they once had. And then there was Annabelle Vanderley, a lady who’d gotten to him in a way no other woman ever had. They were all wrong for each other, even on a temporary basis. The lady was a class act in every way. He on the other hand had been called a wetback, a bastard (although his birth certificate stated his parents had been married), a son of a bitch, a lady-killer, a womanizer and
even a shyster. He had made something of himself, become rich and powerful despite his humble beginnings, but all the money in the world couldn’t buy him what Annabelle possessed. Class. Real class. And it had nothing to do with how wealthy she was.
He’d done the lady a big favor last night by allowing her to read Griffin Powell’s report on him. Even after learning the truth about him, she would have still given him the benefit of the doubt if he hadn’t warned her to run like hell.
You implied that you wanted her the way you’d wanted and had countless other women. You lied to her. She’s nothing like any other woman you’ve ever known. And the way you want her is different because she’s different
.
“I’ll go get Aaron and Marcy up and herd them out of here before your lawyer comes,” Jace said. “Is there anything I can do for you before we leave?”
“I can’t think of anything,” Quinn told him. “Y’all give me about an hour alone with Judd Walker and if I’m not here when y’all get back, I’ll leave a note. I figure the police will want to question me sometime today.”
Marcy heard a loud gasp. Her eyelids flew open and she shot straight up in bed. Only then did she realize she was completely naked and she wasn’t alone. After grabbing the sheet up to cover her breasts, she cut her eyes toward the open door. Jace stood in the doorway, his hazel eyes wide and round behind his glasses, an expression of pure shock on his face.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jace asked in a trembling, wispy voice. “You slept with Aaron? I thought you loved Quinn. How could you—”
“Put a lid on it, will you?” Aaron rolled over, yawned and draped his arm across Marcy’s belly. “It’s none of your damn business who Marcy sleeps with. And hell, man, we all love Quinn, don’t we? But none of us are screwing him, so we gotta look elsewhere for our fun.”
Marcy jabbed Aaron in the ribs. Clutching his side and moaning, he scooted away from her and got out of bed. Standing there totally naked, with a morning erection, he winked at her when she glared at him.
“You’re vulgar, you know that, Aaron?” Jace frowned, the action scrunching his facial features.
Aaron grabbed his discarded pajama bottoms and slipped into them. “Yeah, so what else is new? What are you doing coming into Marcy’s room without knocking?”
“I did knock,” Jace said. “But when she didn’t say anything, I came in to wake her. Quinn wants us out of the house for an hour or so. He’s expecting some lawyer in from Chattanooga anytime now and they’ll need some privacy.”