Intrusion (26 page)

The sofa enveloped me in a velvet cocoon as Lucian caressed my every part. I bit my lip to avoid crying out. It was maddening, pulse-pounding torture, and I wanted more. He winced as I raked his back with my nails. How incongruous to see those pale pink nails raise welts on his skin.
That shade was way too neutral, a relic of the starchy Elisabeth of yesteryear.
They should be blood red talons with a touch of black. Chanel’s Vamp nail varnish would be perfect.

“Your skin is silk, pure silk.” Lucian slowly stroked my collarbone until I moaned. “Are you ready? Tell me and I will stop.”

I gritted my teeth, unwilling to yield to him. My body was wedged against the sofa’s arm, and it wasn’t comfortable. There was only one answer, one I’d tried to avoid.

“Follow me.” I took his hand, leading him and Della up the stairs. The bed was waiting, clothed in layers of down and fine Italian sheeting. Queen sized. Kai hadn’t wanted anything larger. “I need to touch you in the night, Lizzie Mae,” he’d said. “I need to know you’re there.”

I turned down the comforter and switched off the lamp. Lucian slid in beside me and held me tight.

~

I spent the next morning working feverishly and mooning about Lucian. Did he really love me? Did I care? Despite my growing attachment to him, I couldn’t banish one nagging thought: Lucian met every test for the outside man in the murder scheme. His motive, if he did it, was revenge, the destruction of CYBER-MED, pure and simple. I was collateral damage, an unavoidable wrinkle in an otherwise flawless plan.

I moped through a dreary lunch of fat-free yogurt and broth, hoping that I was wrong. When Candy’s call came through, I almost spilled my guts.
Almost.

“I’m a genius,” she trilled. “Tell me that, or I’ll clam up.”

“OK, you’re a genius. Now earn your keep. What’s up?”

She immediately sensed my mood. “Oops. Someone’s awfully grumpy. What’s the matter, Betts? Didn’t the Love Doc put out last night?”

“Don’t be absurd. Now what’s going on?”

“Terrell Tate.”

“Who?”

Candy’s sigh was bigger than Brooklyn. “Mary Alice Tate’s nearest and not so dearest. My assignment, remember?”

“Sorry.
Temporary amnesia.
Tell me everything.”

It’s difficult to pin Candy down when she’s on a roll. She spends plenty of time on the setup,
backstory
and secondary characters. By the time she reaches the main event, you’re either exhausted or asleep.

“It wasn’t easy,” she said. “Only a skilled trickster could even try.” She waited, as if expecting applause. “I took the direct approach—after a few cocktails, of course.”

I gasped. “You confronted a potential murderer? Candy!”

“Keep your shirt on, Betts. I’m smarter than that. I spent thirty minutes bitching about my partner, what a millstone you were, all that money you siphoned off.”

“You used me as the tethered goat? How could you, Candy?”

She ignored everything. “Goat, smote. Bottom line, I got results. By martini three, Terrell confided in me.
Seems she had a similar problem, someone who tried to muscle in on the family fortune.”

“Mary Alice Tate?”

“Right you are. Anyway, Terrell found a contact at CYBER-MED, someone who
outed
Mary Alice and blabbed about her DNA match. Mary Alice was a flake, of course.
World class.
She
offed
herself when the money spigot turned off, leaving Terrell rich and relatively blameless.”

“Oh, my God, we were actually right. Did she say who her contact was?”

“Nope, only that it cost her half a million bucks. Cheap at the price, Terrell said.”

A sinking sensation overwhelmed me. That kind of money could easily buy a Porsche, fine clothes and a big bank balance. A degree from MIT meant that the skills were a foregone conclusion.

“Still there, Betts?
I done
good, right?”

“Yeah, sure.
One more thing,” I said. “How did Terrell get connected to CYBER-MED?”

“She was a bit vague about that. Some chance meeting at a charity event.” Candy paused. “Oh, I remember. It was that
Joslin
thing you went to, the diabetes charity.”

Now I really needed to think. Half of CYBER-MED attended that event, but a big bucks donor like Terrell Tate was unlikely to mix with the staff. That left
Arun
Rao
, Meg Cahill and Dr. Lucian Sand as my best bets. Tommy may well have sensed something that night. He had probably been right there, front and center, observing his future murderer.

I had no one to confide in. Candy knew everything, but like me, she was personally involved. I needed someone with a clear head and some sense of objectivity. Only one person met the test

My next call was to Rand Lindsay. I acted nonchalant, saying that I wanted to verify some of the firm’s charitable donations. Can’t screw with the IRS, you know.

“How can I help you, Miss Elisabeth?” His soft southern accent reassured me. At least one member of my new business team was friendly. Rand quickly promised to unearth the information and send it to my
iPhone
.

“And Rand,” I said, “keep this between the two of us. No one, not even Dr. Cahill or
Rao
, needs to know.”

“What if the Sandman asks?” He couldn’t suppress a giggle.

“No one.”

~

I didn’t take his call. I was way too busy on a day like this to chat with Lucian. Besides, last night’s tryst had roiled the waters, threatening the balance of power in our relationship. Who needed love? I was doing just fine.

Something about Tommy’s death list bothered me. I retrieved it from my safe and scrutinized all four names. Excluding CYBER-MED, what common factor linked all four? It must be fairly
obvious,
the old hide in plain sight thing that my man Poe wrote about. Tommy with his puzzle obsession would be on that like a seal on a fish. Why, oh why didn’t my friend give me more clues?

I jumped when my
iPhone
buzzed. Rand Lindsay’s message jolted me out of my stupor, putting me on high alert. He’d attached a list of ten names, CYBER-MED’s attendees at last year’s big shindig. As a bonus, he’d included names of anyone else who sat at the head table. My stomach lurched as I scanned the familiar names. He was there big as life: Lucian Sand. There were other suspects, of course. Meg, Carter and
Arun
had all trooped in to honor the charity. Seeing Tommy’s name gave me a temporary twinge. I felt that same way every time I heard Kai’s name.
Emptiness.
Unrelenting sorrow.

One small surprise.
Tony “Tornado” Torres had attended last year.
Funny.
He’d said only the single guys got tapped for duty. That thrust him right back into the murder mix with everyone else.
I texted Rand with a request to do a full bio and background check on Tony Torres including bank records.
Top secret.

The honorary guests were also an interesting crew.
“Oh, my Lord.”
I muttered a really bad word under my breath as I scanned their names. I’d almost missed it. The additions to the head table included Terrell and Mary Alice Tate, Judge and Mrs. Jacob Arthur, Mr. and Mrs. Ian Cotter, and the Honorable Richard
Chernikova
.

That was it, the missing link. Each of the victims, plus one intended target, had broken beignets together that night. The murderer was almost certainly among them. Tommy must have noticed it, pieced it together and signed his death warrant. Six months later he was gone.

Somewhere, somehow, Terrell Tate made a contact that night. Her pseudo-sister Mary Alice took her own life eight weeks later. I got a sudden brainstorm and tapped into Google. One by one I checked the
Globe’s
obituaries for the three victims. Just as I thought, they had died in order: Tate, Arthur and Cotter. I shivered, taking solace in a big swallow of espresso. My theory was just supposition, but it made sense. Mary Alice Tate was a test case. The murderer tried a relatively low risk strategy that netted him or
her a
cool half-million. No doubt the Evil Empire ran on referrals. That was standard business practice everywhere, even at Sweet Nothings.

Candy had one more guest on her agenda. This afternoon, she was scheduled to meet Tatiana Lake about a fashion shoot. My ears rang as I imagined the distortions Candy was spreading. Oh, well, it was in a good cause. If Tatiana Lake and Terrell Tate ever compared notes, they’d have a consistent story.

 
When the phone rang, I answered it automatically.

“You will not take my calls,” Lucian said. “Did I frighten you last night, ma
belle
?”

I’m a dreadful liar. Visions of mortal sin, eternal damnation and Sister
Adelma
zoomed through my mind.

“Not at all,” I said. “I’ve just been busy today.”

“I sensed it when I said I loved you. You weren’t ready. It was too soon. No matter. I am a patient man. I can wait forever if need be. Do not shut me out.”

“Don’t you ever work?” I asked him, changing the subject. His supreme self-confidence made me cranky.

“Ah. You would not want a lazy husband. Not a worker like you.”

“Husband!
I never …”

I imagined his cocky grin as I sputtered. Lucian was downright annoying. His hubris was off the chart.

“How can I help you, ma petite? I am at your service.”

“You met every one of those victims at the
Joslin
last year.
That’s when all this started.
Tommy caught on somehow.”

“You suspect me, no?” He paused. “Ask me anything. I have no secrets from you.”

I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. Tommy’s murder cried out for vengeance or at least justice.

“You’ve got plenty of money, more than any professor should have. The murderer probably cleared at least four million dollars tax free on his hits.”

Lucian’s voice was gruff. “You would prefer a poor man, Elisabeth? One who needs your
fortune.
I see.
How much easier to reject such a man when he loves you.”

I hate stammering. It’s very unbecoming in a business executive.
“No, not at all.
You’re wrong.”

“Nevertheless, I will tell you. You must trust me, ma
belle
. You are at your computer? Look up this website: Sandblasters, An Innovation Factory.”

“What is it?” My fingers flew over the keyboard.
“Some kind of brain trust?”

This time, his mirth was genuine. “You might say that. I hold twelve patents on various computer algorithms. They have been quite successful.”

My face felt warm again, but I forced myself to speak. “I’m sorry, Lucian. Forgive me.”

He made a strangled sound. He was laughing. Lucian Sand was mocking me.

“What’s so funny, Dr. Sand?”

“You.
You are so brave, my Elisa, confronting a man you thought was a murderer and all to avenge your friend. Such loyalty is priceless. We all need friends such as you.”

We spent a moment considering his words.

“I must go,” Lucian said.
“A graduate seminar.”

“Me, too, or Candy might fire me.”

“Until the next time.
Take care,
mon
ange
.”

Twenty-Three

“OK,” I said
after Candy
chowed
down. “Tell me everything.” She had bribed me into having a late night snack at one of Boston’s toniest restaurants.

Candy gulped her martini and reprised her showdown with Tatiana Lake.

“Not as satisfying, I’m afraid. I tried everything I could think of, but I couldn’t crack her.
Tattie
stuck with her story that Todd Brantley knew about her affair with Ian and didn’t really care. She cried on my shoulder a bit and told me they have a sham marriage. Todd keeps a mistress in every city.” Candy gave us an eye roll. “Goodness, that boy must have energy.”

“Why stay married? They both have money.”

I knew the answer even before I heard it.

“She loves him,” Candy said. “Who knows why, but she does. So I guess we struck out on that one.”

“Not necessarily. Ian
Colter
pissed off a string of husbands. Not everyone’s as forgiving as Todd Brantley. We have to expand our search. Wasn’t Ian’s wife at the head table?”

“Yeah,” Candy said. “That’s kind of odd putting an exercise guru at the table with the Secretary of State. After all, this is Boston, not Hollywood.”