He could blame it all on Mary Lee. And sometimes, especially when he’d had too much to drink, he did blame it all on her. But when completely sober and in the cold light of day, he knew he had to accept his share of the blame. Way back when he’d been a young hotshot with great ambition, he had neglected his wife and son. His arrogance and cockiness had gotten his partner killed, had put him in the hospital and had landed him in a heap of trouble with the department. By the time he’d healed physically and emotionally, he’d already lost his wife, even if they didn’t divorce until nearly three years later.
After pulling into his parking place and releasing his safety belt, Jim removed his cell phone from its holder and hit the button that instantly dialed his ex’s home phone number. Much to his surprise, she answered on the fifth ring.
“Mary Lee?”
“Yeah. Who were you expecting, the Queen of Sheba?”
“I tried calling last night.”
“I had a date.”
“Stayed out kind of late didn’t you?”
She laughed. “I stayed out all night. Just got in.”
If she thought telling him she’d spent the night with some guy would bother him, she was wrong. He had actually given a damn that she screwed another guy only one time. The time he’d caught her in the act. After that, she could have done it with every guy in Memphis for all he cared. He just hated that Kevin’s mother had gained a reputation as a…as a what? A slut who’d spread her legs for just about any guy?
Mary Lee had always been a little wild and God knew she hadn’t been a virgin when they got married, but he hadn’t
cared. He’d been crazy about her. Hog-wild crazy. And she’d loved him, too. He knew she had.
“I just wanted to remind you that I’ll be picking Kevin up at six-thirty this evening,” Jim said. Now wasn’t the time to get into it with Mary Lee about Kevin spending too many nights at other people’s houses.
“He’ll be ready. He’s been looking forward to seeing you.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“Jim?”
“Huh?”
“I saw in this morning’s
Commercial Appeal
where you and your partner are working the Lulu Vanderley murder.”
“Yeah.”
“Lulu Vanderley was somebody real important, wasn’t she? If you solve this one and bring her killer in, it sure won’t hurt your career, will it?”
“I don’t worry as much about my career as I used to,” he told her.
“You don’t worry as much or care as much about a lot of things.”
“That’s the way life is.” He took a deep breath. “Tell Kevin I’ll see him at six-thirty.”
Before giving Mary Lee a chance to say anything else, Jim hung up. One of these days he’d be able to have a conversation with his ex and not think about what might have been. “If only” was a game for idiots.
Annabelle emerged from her white Cadillac, hoisted her leather bag over her shoulder and took a deep, calming breath. On the drive over from Austinville, she’d made a dozen phone calls, using her On-Star system, which made phoning while driving an easy, risk-free task. She’d spoken to the president and two vice presidents at Vanderley, Inc., and helped their
top PR person word a press release about Lulu’s murder. She’d also spoken to her uncle twice and it had broken her heart to hear the sound of his weak, trembling voice. Knowing that Dr. Martin had arranged for nurses to be at Uncle Louis’s side twenty-four/seven gave her some comfort.
Before leaving early this morning, she’d fielded numerous calls from local, state and even national newspapers and televisions stations. Her cousin’s murder was front-page news throughout the state of Mississippi and most of the South. Even now, a good twelve hours after hearing the news from Sheriff Brody, Annabelle was having difficulty believing it was true. Accepting the death of a family member was always difficult—she’d gone through the agony with her aunt Meta Anne’s and both her parents’ deaths and again when she lost Chris. When someone young died, someone only twenty-seven as Lulu had been, the loss seemed all the greater because you felt that the person hadn’t gotten a chance to live a full life. She’d felt that way when Chris died two years ago. He had been the center of her world for so long that shortly after the funeral, she’d fallen apart completely. But in typical Annabelle style, she hadn’t allowed herself to wallow in self-pity for very long. She’d pulled herself up by the proverbial bootstraps, dusted off her bruised and bloody emotions and thrown herself back into work. Thank God for work. It had been her salvation more than once over the years.
As she approached the Poplar Avenue entrance to the Criminal Justice Center, she recited the directions she’d been given over the telephone by the helpful police officer she’d spoken to an hour ago while she’d been en route. With her mind on other matters—finding the homicide division of the police department within this huge complex, as well as thinking about what she’d be told concerning Lulu’s murder— Annabelle failed to notice the small crowd gathering around her. Suddenly, someone shouted her name. She jerked her head up and searched for the speaker.
“Ms. Vanderley? Annabelle Vanderley?” A short, wiry man with a camera in hand moved toward her.
“Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want?”
“You are Lulu Vanderley’s cousin, Annabelle, aren’t you?” a small, slender blonde holding a microphone in her hand asked as she zeroed in on Annabelle.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” another reporter joined in the fray.
“I have no comment,” Annabelle told them. “The spokesperson for Vanderley, Inc. will make a statement at noon today at our headquarters in Jackson, Mississippi.”
“Is it true that Lulu was killed by her latest lover?”
“Was she raped and then killed?”
“How was she killed? Was she shot? Strangled? Stabbed?”
The questions bombarded her as the reporters drew closer and closer, shoving microphones and cameras in her face.
“Please, leave me alone.” She tried to move past the throng that seemed to be multiplying by the minute, but she was surrounded. Try as she might, she couldn’t find an escape route.
As if from out of nowhere a tall, broad-shouldered man cut a path through Annabelle’s tormentors, slid his arm around her waist and all but shoved the reporters aside. When they complained, he paused, faced them and snarled. With her breath caught in her throat, Annabelle took a good look at her rescuer. The fierce expression on his face would have backed down the devil himself. The reporters continued to grumble, but didn’t make the slightest move in her direction.
Whoever this man was—her protector—he took her breath away.
“You heard the lady. Leave her alone,” he said, his voice baritone deep and rich.
Annabelle sighed with relief as she offered her white knight an appreciative smile.
Who is he?
she wondered. Could he possibly be a plainclothes police officer?
She studied him hurriedly, taking in his appearance. He
was a devastatingly attractive man with wavy jet black hair and large dark brown eyes. Handsome, but not pretty. Suave yet rugged. He was dressed in an expensive navy blue suit. Tailor-made, unless she missed her guess, which meant he was rich. So he probably wasn’t a policeman. She doubted the base pay, even for a detective, was more than forty or fifty thousand a year. This man’s suit had probably cost several thousand.
He kept his arm around her waist, her body pressed against his side. Annabelle’s heart beat faster and her stomach fluttered. Sheer nerves, she told herself.
“Thank you so much, Mr.—”
“Cortez. Quinn Cortez.”
“I appreciate your coming to my rescue, Mr. Cortez.” Her gaze locked with his as they stared into each other’s eyes. He was looking at her as if he wanted to say something.
“These people can be real jerks,” he told her. “You’ve just lost your cousin—”
“How did you…Oh, you probably read about Lulu in the newspaper.”
A tall, dark-haired woman came through the crowd and walked straight up to Quinn. “I’m sure Ms. Vanderley will be fine now,” the woman said. “We have an appointment”— she tapped her gold wristwatch—“in five minutes. You don’t want to be late.”
He didn’t budge and made no move to release his protective hold on Annabelle.
“Please, don’t let me keep you from an important appointment,” Annabelle said. “I’ll be fine now. Surely they won’t follow me.”
His gaze caressed her, creating a fluttering sensation along her nerve endings. “Let me see you safely inside.”
Suddenly one of the newspaper reporters shouted out, “Ms. Vanderley, how well do you know Mr. Cortez? Obviously you don’t think he had anything to do with your cousin’s murder, right?”
What had the reporter said? Why would he think Mr. Cortez had any connection to Lulu’s murder?
Annabelle broke eye contact with Quinn and looked right at the reporter. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you and your cousin both have a romantic relationship with Mr. Cortez?” the same reporter asked.
When Annabelle glared at him, puzzled by his question, he added, “Seeing how chummy you are with Mr. Cortez and how he came rushing to your rescue, are we to assume that you two are close…friends?”
“I never—” Annabelle realized she wasn’t handling this media attack very well. Speechlessness and shock wouldn’t work in her favor.
“Ignore them,” Quinn whispered in her ear as he urged her into movement.
Escape was the best plan of action, so she allowed him to guide her toward the entrance.
“You didn’t kill Lulu, did you, Ms. Vanderley, when you found out she was sleeping with Quinn Cortez?” The blond reporter held out her microphone as she trailed behind Annabelle, Quinn and the dark-haired woman.
Annabelle turned and faced the reporter. “Go away. Leave me alone. I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t care.”
“You don’t care that your cousin was murdered or that Mr. Cortez might have been involved?” Someone in the crowd shouted the question.
“Let’s go inside and get away from them,” Quinn said. “Then I’ll explain what’s going on.”
“Explain now.” She jerked away from him.
“Don’t give them a chance to exploit you and me and Lulu,” Quinn warned.
She stood still as a statue and glared at him. “Were you and Lulu…were you—”
He spoke softly, saying the words for her ears only. “Lulu and I were lovers. We had a date last night. I’m the person who found her body.”
Although stunned by Quinn Cortez’s confession, Annabelle managed to maintain her composure. Just barely. Odd how discovering her rescuer was one of Lulu’s numerous lovers actually bothered her. And the fact that he’d been the one who had discovered Lulu’s body concerned her. Hadn’t the reporters implied that Mr. Cortez might have been somehow involved in the crime?
Was she murdered by a lover?
When one of the reporters asked that specific question, she hadn’t paid much attention. But staring Quinn Cortez in the eyes, that question suddenly became of paramount importance.
“You—you discovered Lulu’s body?”
“Please, Ms. Vanderley, you don’t want to do this here, in front of the reporters,” Quinn said.
She nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
When he gripped her elbow, she instinctively jerked away from him, but when he and his female companion flanked her in a protective manner, she followed them straight into the building. The last thing she wanted was to give the reporters a show.
“They’ll follow us,” the woman said. “You two go on ahead and I’ll deal with them.”
“Thanks, honey.” Quinn bestowed a devastating smile on his companion. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”
The woman eyed him speculatively. “Don’t get sidetracked.” She looked pointedly at Annabelle.
“I won’t.” Quinn grabbed Annabelle’s elbow and ushered her forward. “Let’s go now, while we can, and let Kendall handle things here.”
“Kendall?”
“Kendall Wells, my friend and lawyer.”
Lawyer? Did this man need a lawyer? Was he guilty of a crime? Was he a suspect in Lulu’s murder?
Despite her uncertainty, Annabelle didn’t protest his assistance in their escape from the media and willingly allowed him to lead her into the building and through the metal detectors. Neither spoke a word until they were securely inside the building and safe from prying eyes. When they reached the two banks of elevators across from each other, she pulled away from him, tilted her chin and narrowed her gaze. He faced her with the same devastating smile he’d used on his friend and lawyer. She punched one of the elevator UP buttons.
“You and Lulu were lovers?” she asked as they waited.
“Yes, we were.”
“You had a date with her last night and you found…you discovered her body.”
“That’s right.”
When the elevator doors to their right swung open, Anna-belle entered, punched the tenth-floor button and turned to Quinn, who was still at her side.
“Do the police suspect you were involved?”
“Probably. In any murder investigation, the victim’s closest relatives and friends are usually suspects, at least in the beginning.”
“You say that as if you—”
“I’m a lawyer,” he told her. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me. I’m famous. Or perhaps I’m infamous.” He grunted sarcastically.
When she stared at him, a tight knot of apprehension clutched her stomach muscles. “Lulu often chose influential, powerful men as her friends. And usually those men were quite a bit older than she was.”
“I’m thirty-nine. I suppose twelve years makes me somewhat older. But I know for a fact that she enjoyed her share of guys her age and younger.”
“You seem to know more about my cousin than I do.”
“You two weren’t close,” Quinn said. “At least not since you were kids.”
“She told you about me?”
He nodded. “Your name came up once or twice. Apparently she never mentioned me to you.”
“As you said, we haven’t been close in a very long time. Lulu and I chose very different paths in life.”
“You say that in a very superior manner, Ms. Vanderley. I take it that you didn’t approve of your cousin’s hedonistic lifestyle.”
The elevator doors opened on the tenth floor. Annabelle hadn’t even thought about the fact that they were both headed for the same floor, that they probably had the same destination.