Deception (18 page)

“I’m aware of that,” Jill said, “but this is terribly important.”

Jill’s polite plea had no effect on the woman.

“If you won’t help me, then I’d like to talk to someone in charge,” Jill said decisively. “The director of the clinic will do.”

“That would be Dr. Ronald Laken, but I’m afraid he’s in surgery at the moment.”

“Does he have an assistant?”

The receptionist glanced at a chart on the wall. “His head nurse is on duty. She might be in the OR. with him, however.”

“Would you mind checking, please?”

Moments later, Jill heard her name being softly spoken. Looking up from the magazine she had been leafing through, she saw a trim young woman in a crisp white uniform. Not particularly pretty, she had short blond hair, a pert nose and sharp, intelligent eyes. On her left breast pocket a blue name tag identified her as Cynthia Parson, R.N.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked.

Jill stood up and introduced herself, but this time, rather than keep the reason for her visit vague, she told Cynthia Parson the truth, that her father had died under rather suspicious circumstances, and that she was trying to make some sense out of what she already knew.

Nurse Parson listened attentively, even compassionately. From time to time, she glanced at the picture Jill had handed her, but showed no sign of recognition. When Jill was finished, the young woman shook her head. “I’m sorry about your father, Miss Bennett. I wish I could help you, but…” She shook her head again.

“You don’t remember him?”

“Not at all. And believe me, I would, if I had met him.” She smiled and glanced at the photograph again before handing it back. “He’s not someone a woman would easily forget.”

This time, Jill didn’t bother to conceal her disappointment. “I don’t understand. A taxi brought him here, to this address.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“How can you be so sure he wasn’t here?”

“Because I would have known. One of my duties here at Alternatives is to counsel every patient who comes in, before the doctor even sees them. If a husband, a boyfriend or a relative comes along, I talk to them as well, and make sure they know what to expect once the procedure is over.”

“Were you on duty that day?”

“I work six days a week, so unless October 3 or 4 falls on a Sunday, I was here.”

“Could you please check?”

“Of course.” Walking over to the receptionist’s desk, she spoke a few words, waited until she was handed a book and flipped through it quickly, then came back. “Both days fell on a weekday. Thursday and Friday, and I was on duty.”

Jill felt as if her hopes of ever finding her father’s killer were being shot down one by one. “Could my father have gone directly to Dr. Laken?” Jill asked. “Without you knowing about it?”

“I doubt it, but…” She hesitated. “I suppose that’s possible.”

“Then I’d like to talk to him, please. I know he’s in surgery, but I’ll wait.”

Nurse Parson glanced at her watch. “Let me see how much longer he’ll be,” she said gently. “He may be able to talk to you for a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

“Simon Bennett’s daughter is in the waiting room. She found out her father was here on October 3 and she wants to talk to you.”

In the room adjoining the OR.” Dr. Ronald Laken yanked off his rubber gloves and threw them in a special waste bin. He was a tall man with chiseled features and salt-and-pepper hair. “Damnit, Cynthia, why didn’t you tell her I was busy?”

“Because she would have waited until you were free. She’s a very determined young woman, Ron. Better talk to her.”

“How did she find out her father was here?”

“Through the cabdriver who brought him to Alternatives.”

Cynthia didn’t echo his anxiety, though she was sure she felt it even more acutely than he did. Nor did she tell him about the man who had paid her fifty thousand dollars for information that should have remained confidential. Dr. Laken would have fired her on the spot if he knew.

Ron Laken and Simon Bennett had attended Harvard together, and when his old fraternity brother had turned to him for help, Ron had assured him that Simon’s anonymity, as that of all the people who came to Alternatives, would be respected. Even now that Simon Bennett was dead, Ron Laken would not break that promise.

Within moments of their arrival, Simon Bennett’s lady friend had been admitted under the name of Julia Banks, kept overnight, as a favor to Simon who was afraid of complications, and then discharged.

At the sink, Dr. Laken had just finished scrubbing his hands. “All right then,” he said, taking the white towel Cynthia handed him. “if she’s that stubborn, I

guess I have no choice but to see Miss Bennett. I suppose the sooner I do that, the sooner she’ll leave.”

Then, with a nod to Cynthia, he walked out of his office and went to meet Jill.

Standing in the rain outside the clinic, Jill flipped the hood of her London Fog over her head and looked helplessly around. Her lead had turned into nothing. A big fat zero. According to Dr. Laken, to whom she had talked for over ten minutes, her father had never set foot in the clinic. In fact, on October 3, Dr. Laken had performed only one abortion—on a nineteen-year-old girl who had brought her young husband with her. There were no other surgeries until the following Tuesday.

Jill had no reason to doubt him. Both he and Nurse Parson seemed like good, caring people who were genuinely concerned about her problem.

But if her father hadn’t come to Alternatives, then where had he gone? There were no other office buildings on this road and several acres of bare land separated the clinic from the nearest shopping center.

Had he stopped here because he didn’t want anyone to know where he was truly going? Had he proceeded on foot? Or had someone picked him up?

So many questions, she thought, peering down the road. And not a single answer that made sense.

For a moment, she thought about abandoning her quest, admit she had reached a dead end and move on with her life, the way everyone wanted her to. But another part of her wanted to go on, to dig deeper into the secret her father had taken such great pains to hide.

No matter what he had done, he hadn’t deserved death for it.

The cab Cynthia Parson had called for her suddenly appeared and pulled up along the curb.

With a small sigh of disappointment, Jill stepped in and told the driver to take her to National Airport.

It was time to return to New York.

“I’ve always said, there’s nothing more arousing than the sight of a man with an ax in his hands.”

At the sound of the sexy female voice, Dan lowered his arms and turned around.

Olivia Bennett stood six feet away. She was as alluring as he remembered. Three years older than Jill, she was anything but the girl next door, and she knew it. Every move she made, every syllable she spoke, every glance that smoldered from beneath those thick black lashes was as strategically calculated as a military battle. To Olivia Bennett, seduction was second nature, as necessary to her as the air she breathed.

“Hello, Olivia.”

“That’s it? We haven’t laid eyes on one another in twelve years and all you can say is hello, Olivia?”

“You look terrific.” He smiled. “That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?”

“It’ll do, for now.” She made a moue that on anyone else would have looked silly. On her it looked sexy as hell. “I keep forgetting that you’re a man of few words.”

Setting another log on the old tree stump, Dan gave it a solid whack, splitting it neatly down the middle. “I wasn’t aware you knew where my family lived.”

“I looked you up in the phone book.” She waved toward the house. “Your mother is amazing. She recognized me right away.”

“She has a good eye.”

Walking over to the picnic bench, she sat down and crossed her shapely legs. Though her short skirt rode up to the top of her thighs, she made no effort to pull it down. “Why didn’t you let me know you were in town? I had to hear it through the grapevine.”

Dan split another log. Twelve years ago, when he and Jill had announced they were divorcing, Olivia had let him know that she was available and willing to mend his wounded heart, a gesture he knew stemmed more from a burning desire to have something, or someone, Jill no longer had, than from genuine affection.

Fortunately for him, rather than continue her pursuit, Olivia had fallen for an Argentinean polo player and had forgotten all about Dan. “What brings you here, Olivia? if I recall, I’m not exactly on your list of favorite people.”

She laughed, a low, throaty laugh that was meant to stir lusty thoughts. “Oh, but you are. Just because you rejected me twelve years ago doesn’t mean I stopped liking you. On the contrary, it made you an even greater challenge.”

He had to hand it to Olivia. She was brutally honest. “Actually,” she continued, “I’m rather insulted. I heard that you were interrogating members of my family as well as B&A employees regarding Simon’s death, but you never came to me.” She fluttered those dark, lethal eyelashes. “What’s the matter, Detective? Aren’t I a good enough suspect for you?”

I’ve only been here a few days. I would have gotten to you eventually.”

Rising from the bench, she took a few steps forward until she was mere inches from him. “I’m here now. So.. why don’t you go ahead and interrogate me?”

Resting one foot on the tree stump, Dan kept the ax safely between them. Knowing that Olivia was every bit as stubborn as her cousin, he decided it would be easier to humor her. “Very well, then. I’ll ask you the same question I asked everyone else. Do you have any idea who would want to kill Simon?”

“None whatsoever and I can’t believe you bought Jill’s ridiculous assumption that he was murdered. Nearly everyone I know adored him. The man was an icon, for God’s sake. One more good deed and he would have qualified for sainthood.”

“Is that how you thought of him? As a saint?”

“Hell, no. In my opinion he was a cunning, selfish bastard, and I liked him about as much as he liked me, which isn’t saying much.”

“Not to mention that you didn’t see eye to eye when it came to the running of B&A.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who told you that? Jill? Is that bitch trying to pin a murder on me now?”

“Relax, Olivia. Nobody is trying to pin anything on you. You’re the one who wanted to be questioned, remember?”

“What motive would I have for killing Simon?” she said.

“Money. I understand you stood to gain quite a bit of it in a buy out Simon had opposed.”

“Oh, that.” Olivia gave a careless shrug. “Everybody on the board was opposed to the buy out idea.

You don’t see me killing them all off, do you? Although that might not be a bad idea.” She inched Closer. “Now, why don’t you ask me something interesting-like what was I doing the night Simon died.”

Dan played along. “Okay. What were you doing the night Simon died?”

“I was in my bed. Sleeping between red-hot silk sheets and dreaming erotic dreams.” She gave him a wicked smile. “Would you like details?”

“I’d rather know if anyone was with you.

She threw him a sly smile. “No, or the dream would have been a reality.” She held up her hands. “Want to slip a pair of handcuffs on me?” she purred.

“College professors don’t carry handcuffs.”

She batted her eyelashes. “I do.”

Before he could stop her, she lifted herself on her toes and kissed him on the mouth. “So long, handsome. If you need me for anything-and I do mean anything-you know where to find me.”

Shaking his head, Dan watched her walk across the patio and down the path that circled the house. Moments later, the sound of a powerful engine roared to life and Dan picked up his ax again.

He had always thought of Olivia as a lost soul, a young woman no one had ever taken the time to understand, and because of that he had always felt a little sorry for her. One of these days, if she wasn’t careful, her craving for attention would get her in trouble.

As for being a suspect in her uncle’s murder, the thought may have crossed his mind at first, but not anymore. Olivia Bennett may be a lot of things but she was no murderer.

Eighteen

Arms folded against his chest, Dan stood in his old bedroom, studying the case chart he had tacked on the wall. A replica of the one he had used as a homicide detective, it was divided into three columns. In the left column he had written down the name of every possible suspect. In the center column he had detailed that person’s motive and opportunity to commit the crime, and in the last column he had jotted down his own personal thoughts.

Of the seven names on the chart, Pete Mulligan topped the list. He had a strong motive for wanting Simon dead, and while his wife claimed he was in bed with her that night, she could have lied to protect him. And after what Al Metzer had told him, the contractor’s motive seemed even stronger. According to the private investigator, Pete Mulligan was very much in love with his beautiful wife, more so than she was in love with him. He had courted her for years before she had agreed to marry him, and rumor had it that the only reason she’d finally said yes was that Pete had saved her father from bankruptcy.

Vivian Mulligan, whose name appeared beneath her husband’s, was also a possibility, and so was Amanda, by virtue of the fact that she hadn’t been completely honest when Dan had questioned her.

Cyrus, on the other hand, presented a conflicting challenge. Physically, he could have done it. He was strong and in remarkably good shape for a man who had just celebrated his sixty-first birthday. And he had been home alone that night, with no one to provide him with an alibi. Not to mention that he had flatly refused to talk to Dan about Simon. He hadn’t even bothered with an excuse.

“I’m not thrilled at the thought of you stirring up trouble for our family,” Cyrus had told him bluntly. “And even less thrilled that you’re back in my niece’s life. You’ve hurt her badly. Simon may have forgiven you for that, but I haven’t.”

Yet no matter how hard Dan tried, he couldn’t think of a single reason why Cyrus would want to kill Simon. While another man would have resented living in the shadow of his more talented brother, Cyrus had always seemed happy just as he was. And he had never shown the slightest desire to run B&A.