Intrusion (30 page)

Andrews went mute again. Maybe it was my phone. He couldn’t leave it like that. I’m a patient woman. I could last as long as my battery did.

“Please, Mrs. Buckley. Try to understand.” He was almost pleading now. I had already written off Sergeant Mark Andrews.

“Thanks for your time, Sergeant.”
 

I knew now what I had to do and how to do it.

Twenty-Six

Candy’s voice
sounded normal, buoyant and brimming with vitality. No traces of post-
Arun
blues or recriminations. Thank God!

“I’ve got some hot news, Betts.
Hot, hot, hot.”

“That’s good. If it’s only tepid, I’m not interested.” I was sitting in my CYBER-MED office—Tommy’s actually—with the door closed and Lucian’s warning echoing in my ears.

I wouldn’t make much of a spy. Creeping around, infiltrating the enemy camp was nerve wracking. I’d rather be at Sweet Nothings, testing hair mousse.

“Betts, are you listening to me? This is important.”

I shook off my misgivings like Della shedding rainwater. There are differences, of course. Della is fearless, a furry female version of Kai. I’m a plodder, more adept at planning than executing a caper. I could envision ten sensible reasons for caution and only one for action: avenging Tommy. Unfortunately, that’s all it took.

“OK, Candy. What happened?”

“Not on the phone. I’m halfway to CYBER-MED. Wait for me in Tommy’s office.”

“See you soon.” I hung up and gave myself a mental shake. It was time to marshal my wits and use my faculties. A jolt of courage wouldn’t hurt either. I traced the one link common to every CYBER-MED death: Meg Cahill. She wouldn’t soil her perfect manicure by committing the crimes, but she would enjoy manipulating the dupe who did. My lead candidate for dupe was Tony Torres. He was smart enough, possessed the necessary skills to alter the IMD settings, and had lots of surplus cash.
Arun
was the understudy. He fit the pattern even better than the Tornado but had nothing to show for it. Tommy had been friendly with both of them. Camaraderie may have killed him.

There was a third possibility too painful to consider. Lucian Sand. I’d been a fool to succumb to Lucian without firing a shot. What was that old slogan, trust but verify? Where was my due diligence? I would be disbarred for doing sloppy work like that for a client.

Life had been safe before I met him, safe and predictable. My career, Della and memories of Kai sustained me. Then Lucian exploded into my life, exposing my inner core. Emotions I’d submerged under widow’s weeds had blossomed, leaving me vulnerable.
Exhilarated.
Alive.

I was too self-absorbed to hear the knock on my door. Candy flung it open and pranced in, looking very proud of
herself
. Her eyes sparkled with the fire that a big scoop always engendered.

“I knocked, you know.”

“Sorry, I was dreaming. Come in and sit down. Tell me your news.”

She pouted for a bit, waiting for me to beg. When that didn’t happen, my esteemed partner and best friend cracked like Humpty Dumpty.

“OK, here it is. Tatiana Lake was half soused by the time I got there. Liquor does horrible things to one’s complexion.
Tattie
looks bloated now, and her skin used to be pristine.”

I tapped my foot until she got the message.

“Calm down, Betts. Let me tell this my way. Don’t worry, it’s worth it. Anyhow,
Tattie
was boo-
hooing
about Ian Cotter and how much she adored him. I played the sympathy card, you know, her tragic loss blah, blah, blah, and it worked.” Candy sighed, fluffing her perfectly coiffed hair. “She said Ian spilled his guts to her about his other clients, especially one who just wouldn’t let go. Guess who that was, Betts?”

“Dr. Meg Cahill.”

“How did you know?” Candy’s tone told me I’d robbed her of her big surprise. “Oh, well, no matter. Meg started phoning him at home, showing up without an appointment, the whole works. Ian finally got rid of her by threatening to call her husband.” Candy’s head bobbed up and down as if she danced to an inaudible tune. “Pretty interesting stuff, eh? Of course, we both made lots of cougar jokes. Imagine an old bag like Meg Cahill chasing Ian Cotter.
Big
ick
factor.”

I couldn’t share the joke. If Meg Cahill was masterminding a murder scheme, it was too awful even to chuckle about. Tommy died because of it.
Had our friend been victimized by a sex-crazed doc with an outsized libido?

Lucian had promised to question Katherine Cotter. Maybe I should confirm Candy’s findings with him. It made sense.
Wouldn’t take a minute.

I stopped myself before my fingers did the walking.

Meanwhile, Candy continued her monologue, extolling the facemask she had pressed on Tatiana Lake and the restorative powers of
Juvaderm
.

“Doesn’t Lucian know Ian’s wife?” Candy furrowed her brow for a nanosecond. “They use the same gym or something like that. Call him and ask, Betts.”

I hung my head and mumbled something really rude. “Nope, I won’t do it.”

Candy’s sigh was over the top.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.
Give me that phone.” She grabbed the receiver and dialed his number from memory.

“Dr. Sand. It’s Candace
Ott
.” Her posture, tone and facial expression morphed from femme fatale to fluff ball. “Yes, Betts is fine. She’s sitting right here.” She gave him a highly edited version of her chat with Tatiana Lake and asked about Katherine Cotter.

“Very good.
I knew you’d take care of it. Here she is.” Candy handed me the phone.

The tingling inside me wouldn’t stop. A tsunami-size thrill coursed through my body, leaving me weak. It was stupid, ridiculous and unbecoming a widow. I loved it.

“I’ve been thinking of you,” he said, “worrying. You are safe, ma
belle
?”

“Yes, Lucian.
I’m fine. Everything’s OK.” A warm glow suffused my every pore. I recalled that feeling. It had filled my heart when Kai smiled. I
masked
my tears with a cough.

“What’s wrong? You are not ill?”

“No.
Nothing like that.
I’ve been strategizing, that’s all. It’s hard work.”

“Ah, yes. Will you and Ms.
Ott
join me tonight for dinner? We will discuss everything.”

“Tonight?”
I looked over at Candy and saw her nod. “OK. Where and when.”

“My home.
I will pick up you ladies and Della at eight.
D’accord
?”

I mumbled some form of assent and disconnected.

~

Lucian lived in West Cambridge. As he swung into his driveway, Candy and I gaped at the elegant Greek revival home set on a neat corner lot in The Larches. Not what I expected from the abrasive scientist whose obsession with CYBER-MED had brought us together. Della eyed the fenced yard with a slight incline of her elegant head. She stepped daintily into the foyer like a monarch surveying her kingdom.

“Della feels at home here,” Lucian said, giving me a mischievous grin. “Maybe she should stay.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Candy gazed upward, admiring the intricate crown moldings and ten-foot ceilings. “Your home is absolutely beautiful.”

He ushered us into a walnut paneled room that served as his study. “Please sit, ladies. First we will toast our efforts.” Lucian poured each of us a flute of Cristal and sat next to me on the burgundy leather couch.
“To Thomas Yancey and those who went before him.
Justice.”

I glanced down, focusing on the creamy pattern of the
Aubusson
carpet. Those other names floated through my mind in an endless parade: Jacob Arthur, Mary Alice Tate, Ian Cotter, and of course, Lucian’s brother. We
clinked
glasses as Lucian started his narrative.

“I spoke with Katherine Cotter this afternoon at my club. She grieves still for her husband, that one.” He shook his head. “In the weeks before his murder, Ian Cotter was a very troubled man.”

“Huh,” Candy snorted. “That didn’t stop him from screwing around, did it?”

Lucian moved closer to me, close enough to heat my blood. “Katherine knew about his affairs. They were of no interest to her. She also knew he loved only her.”

He fixed me with that agate stare, calming and sea blue this evening. “Kathryn is a passionate woman, very courageous. She blames Dr. Cahill for Ian’s death and is very candid about that. Unfortunately, she has no proof, no specifics.”

Meg Cahill was the perfect murderer: steely eyed, self-indulgent and egomaniacal. I’d seen her in action when Katherine Cotter brandished that crystal shard. No cucumber was cooler than Dr. Meg. Her confederate would be carefully chosen, much as a scientist chose lab specimens. Tony Torres fit that mold perfectly.

They said nothing as I made the case. Motive: revenge and money, lots of both. Opportunity: limitless. Meg had all the medical information and was the perfect conduit for an outsider with deep pockets. Tony the technician knew just how to interfere with the IMDs. Means: Lucian himself had shown us that. For a skilled professional like the Tornado, it was child’s play. They had missed Richard
Chernikova
, thanks to Katherine Cotter’s outburst, but they’d try again. I was certain of that. More importantly, Tommy had bet his life on it and lost.

 
When I finished, Lucian sat silently. Most men with knitted brows look menacing, but he looked positively Byronic.
Heathcliff
himself paled in comparison.

“I cannot accept it,” Lucian said. “I know Tony, know his family. He would not do this.”

“Explain that extra cash, if he’s so innocent.” Candy squared her shoulders, prepared for combat. “And how come he knew about the Mercedes and the dog pictures?”

Lucian webbed his strong fingers around the champagne flute. “I cannot explain either one. I admit it is a concern. Dr.
Cahill, that
I understand. Meg is strong willed, very hedonistic. She wants what she wants. But Tony, no, I cannot believe that he would do this terrible thing.”

Pragmatism is Candy’s greatest gift. She sipped her champagne slowly as if each drop were liquid gold. When she’d drained the glass, she made her play.

“Admit it, Betts. This is all theory. You’re the lawyer, but I bet they’d laugh you out of court. Mark Andrews would bust a gut.” She shot me a triumphant look and refilled her flute.

I hate it when she’s right. It happens infrequently, but it’s still painful. The time for talking was over, eclipsed by a gnawing fear that one more life hung in the balance. If Richard
Chernikova
died because of our inertia, I would never recover.

 
I tried another approach. “OK, how about this? I read in the
Globe
that there’s some big conference coming up at MIT.
A really hot topic, the proliferation of nuclear arms in Iran and North Korea.
Chernikova’s
sure to be there.”

“So what?”
Candy sniped. “Plan on parachuting into MIT, Mrs. Buckley?”

I felt myself flush.
Damn! I’m so transparent.

Lucian stroked my cheek.
“That I would like to see.
Delicious!” He rose and beckoned us toward the kitchen. “Come, ladies, while I prepare our meal. Keep the cook company.”

We entered a fantasy kitchen straight out of
Architectural Digest
with a Sub-Zero Viking range, the works. There was even a fireplace in the middle of the room.

“Wow! Candy almost drooled. “I love it, and I can’t even cook.”

I filled an earthenware bowl with water for Della. “Let’s brainstorm about this
Chernikova
thing while Lucian cooks. Come on, Candy. Be a sport.”

She grumbled, but it was only token resistance. We claimed two stools and sat facing the well-tended rose garden. Lucian kept his back to us while chopping, dicing and slicing an astonishing array of vegetables.

“Security will be tight at that conference,” Lucian said, “impregnable.”

“Agreed.
We need finesse, not brute force.” I thought of Tommy and his passion for CYBER-MED. “How about this? We sponsor a cocktail party and tour of CYBER-MED with
Chernikova
as our honored guest.”

Dead silence. Candy‘s cat eyes widened like emerald marbles. Lucian scraped vegetables into a heavy cast iron skillet and adjusted the flame on the range.

“Impossible. Can’t be done,” Candy said. “Meg Cahill would never agree to it.”

I spun around, enraged at my partner. “Excuse me, Cotton Candy, but you’ve overlooked something. You and I are the majority partners in CYBER-MED. If we propose this gala, she has to agree. Plus, she knows something’s up. Say what you will about her, Meg’s not stupid. She’d pretend to love the idea.”