Likely Suspects (23 page)

When I arrived
at Martin’s house, I expected to see Marcal in the garage or Martin working in his second floor office. Instead, no one was to be found. I tried to keep my paranoia down to a minimum as I went up the stairs to the fourth floor. I knocked on the bedroom door.

“Martin?” I called through the door.
I heard movement inside and waited, resisting the urge to pull out my gun. Martin opened the door, wearing nothing but a bath towel wrapped around his waist. “Sorry,” I said, flustered. “I just wanted to let you know I was back.”

“It’s okay.
” He smirked, clearly amused by my embarrassment. “I just came in from a swim and was going to take a shower. If you want, you can join me to make sure it’s safe.” He cocked an eyebrow up and grinned wolfishly. He was going to be just fine.

Gracing him with my
withering stare, I turned back to the stairs. “Maybe next time,” I mocked serious.

“Te
ase,” he called, shutting the door. Depressed Martin was bouncing back, even if it meant he was turning into womanizing Martin. In his case, having extreme mood swings was a beneficial thing.

I took the stairs down to my
guestroom to hang up my jacket and freshen up. Opening the closet, my dirty dry cleaning had been taken away, and brand new clothing now stood in their place, tags still attached. I went into the bathroom. The towels had been changed, and everything had been tidied up. On my way out of the room, I noticed my sheets had also been changed, and the carpeting had been vacuumed. At least Martin was on the level about Rosemarie being here earlier.

I
rummaged around in the kitchen, still waiting for more calls to come in. The role I had initially adopted as Martin’s assistant wasn’t as much of an act as it was intended to be since a large portion of my job revolved around making calls or waiting on calls. Opening the refrigerator door, I made myself some lunch. The fridge had been restocked with freshly purchased items, and the pantry closet had also been replenished. If he had gone out while I was gone, I was going to kill him. Taking my sandwich to the table, I sat down to eat. He came into the kitchen just as I was finishing my lunch.

“Food fairy br
ought all this stuff?” I asked around a mouthful of turkey and bread. He sighed and sat across from me.

“Marcal went grocery shopping.
He does that, weekly even.”

I swal
lowed. “I noticed the clothes. You didn’t have to. It wasn’t necessary.” But he waved it off as if it were nothing.

“Thought you could use
them. It’s just a couple of things to tide you over until everything calms down, consider it part of expenses and incidentals.” The events of yesterday came crashing back to the forefront of my thoughts, and I shuddered, thinking about my apartment. “Are you cold?” he asked.

“No,
it’s not that.” He understood and didn’t push the issue. “So, I went with O’Connell to check on some leads.” I hesitated, unsure what to tell him about Griffin and Denton. Maybe I needed to let things slide until something absolute surfaced. He sensed my trepidation and looked confused. “I don’t know what I should tell you and what I shouldn’t. Not anymore. It’s your business and your case, but the people involved, or who might be involved, you have personal relationships with them. Perhaps I should only give you information once it’s been corroborated.”

“I want to know,” he
stared me down, “regardless.”

“Okay.
” I filled him in on everything we learned today. Once I was finished, he was briefly lost in thought, considering all I had said.

“
Makes sense, I guess.”

“I do
n’t know.” I was being reserved. “We’ll see what he finds out. In the meantime, it’d be nice if Mark got back to us with that photo enhancement.” He let my comment go. Even though he wanted his life back, he probably wasn’t in a rush to find out, or potentially find out, people he trusted betrayed him and conspired against him.    

He was acting
a little squirrely, and I eyed him suspiciously. “I’m getting a bit stir crazy,” he admitted, and I stifled my laugh. “I know I haven’t been cooped up that long, but I’ve run out of things to do.”

“Yo
u must really suck at vacations.” He considered my comment for a moment.

“Guilty as charged.”

“When this is over, I’ll find you a W.A. meeting to go to,” I promised, but he looked perplexed. “Workaholics anonymous.” Chuckling, he took my empty plate to the sink and began cleaning the kitchen.

“Couldn’t you just take me along to your normal meeting?” he quipped.

“Ha. Ha.
I am not that bad. I’ve successfully been unemployed for a few months. Well, before this job. Thank you very much.” I stopped and considered my own words. Since when was unemployment a bragging right?

“
Normally, I have projects and hobbies and other things I can work on, but now I’m stuck.” He turned toward me, his eyes sparkling. “Maybe I’ll take up painting. Do you want to model?” I narrowed my eyes. “Just a thought.”

“So tell me something.
” I leaned back in the chair as he finished putting the dishes away. “Tell me something about you. Something real.” I was attempting to have a genuine non-case related conversation. I’d been living at Martin’s for almost a week, so maybe I should know something about my employer.

He sat down
and thought for a moment. “Well, I’m a Libra, but most people figure I’m a Taurus.” Why did I expect him to be serious about anything? “Okay, you want serious?” The way he said it sounded like a challenge.

“Go for it,” I taunted.

“I inherited Martin Technologies from my father when I was twenty-six years old. I had just completed my MBA from Harvard and had no idea what to do. I was a crazy kid, thinking I could build an empire.” He was a little lost in thought. “I made a lot of mistakes starting out, bad investments and unreliable people. Dad’s motto was if something doesn’t work, then work harder. I guess you could say I’m still doing that today.” He seemed sad.

“You have an empire,” I replied.
“You are allowed to stop working so damn hard.” He shrugged it off. “I’m sure your dad would tell you the same thing.”

He
laughed cynically. “I doubt that. He loved one thing, and that was the company.”

“What happened to him?”
I regretted asking the moment the words left my mouth. Martin frowned and barely shook his head, quickly changing the subject.

“Let’s see
, what else?” He looked at the ceiling, contemplating what to say next. “I tend to favor smartass brunettes, especially ones who aren’t afraid to call me out on my shit.” He grinned and flipped a piece of my brown hair over my shoulder.

“Don’t forget the part about how I could proba
bly kick your ass fairly easily.” I made a so-so gesture with my hand, and he laughed.

“You wish.”
I got up from the table and stood in front of his chair.

“Y
ou know what? I’ve got an idea.” I winked and went into the living room, surveying the area. Too much furniture. I opened the door to the garage and headed down the stairs. “Are you coming?”

Besides having a large garage/showroom
, the first floor was divided into a few extra rooms I hadn’t noticed. There was a small home gym, a bathroom and shower, what I assumed was Martin’s work area, complete with power tools and things of that nature, a small lounge like area, and plenty of empty open spaces.

“What do you want to do
? Inhale paint fumes or carbon monoxide?” he asked, heading down the stairs.

“We can d
o that later, when we get bored.” I stretched my arms and back, enjoying the puzzled look he was giving me. “Limber up. I’m going to teach you some basic defenses. You never know when you might need them.” I was attempting to be serious, but he laughed.

“Please,” as if it were beneath him.
I continued to stretch, and he gave in and played along. Luckily, he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans today, instead of a suit; even though, his shirt alone cost more than everything I had on at the moment. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he patronized.

“As if you could.
” I was trash talking in the hope of getting him to go along with my plan. He seemed unperturbed by my challenge. “Fine, how’s this sound? If you hurt me, you get to kiss it and make it better.” I pursed my lips and blew a kiss. He laughed, and a mischievous glint quickly crossed his features. I was aware of my flirtation, but I was just happy he wasn’t depressed. “So, let’s say I’m unarmed,” I said, circling around.

“Which you are,” he pointed out.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.

I wrapped my arm around his neck.
“And I want to strangle you. What do you do?” He attempted to shake my hold, but I tightened just slightly, unrelenting. He stopped, considered his next move, and to my surprise, tilted his body and flipped me over his shoulder. He knelt down to cushion my descent. “Impressive.” He wasn’t as clueless as I suspected.

He gave me a very smug, self-satisfied look.
“Should we go find a can of paint now?” he asked, standing up, but I wasn’t that easy to dissuade.

“Okay, let’s say,” I was trying to come up with another likely attack
scenario, “I have a knife, and I lunge at you.” I found a piece of window chalk to use as a prop. “Now what do you do?” I stabbed at him with the chalk. He stepped back, and I pursued.

“
I don’t want to hurt you,” he insisted, continuing to step away.

“
I’m trying to stab you to death, gut you like a fish and filet you, so do something.” He reached for my wrist, and I blocked his hand with my non-knife hand and stabbed him with the chalk in the chest repeatedly.

“You stabbed me.” He
clutched his chest.

“Be serious,” I tri
ed to overlook the theatrics, “if I’m coming at you with a knife, more than likely, you’re going to get cut by a few swings here and there. You need to protect all vital parts of your body.” I was in lecture mode.

We continued to go over
defenses, ranging from knives to guns to means of escape and the best ways to incapacitate an attacker. My training at the OIO wasn’t a complete waste after all. Martin was a quick learner; although, I suspected Mark must have given him a crash course in all of this before, probably after the kidnapping attempt.

After a final takedown
, I was lying on the floor. Martin had me pinned. His once charcoal gray shirt was now mostly chalk white with a few streaks of charcoal that had somehow managed to remain unscathed. I was equally streaked with the car chalk, and I slapped my palm against the ground.

“I give up,” I exclaimed, laying my head back against the
floor. He was too triumphant for my taste, so I waited for him to lean back before flipping him over and pinning him to the ground, using my body to keep him from moving. “Never underestimate your opponent,” I whispered in his ear.

“But you gave
up,” he protested.

I leaned back,
so I could look into his eyes. “Things are never that simple,” I clarified. He attempted to roll me off, but I had strategically pinned his limbs. It was going to take more effort if he wanted to shake me loose. Luckily for him, I heard my phone ringing. “Lesson’s over for today.” I got up and ran up the steps.

“Parker,” I answered
, slightly out of breath.

“Denton admitted to being at the Cat’s Cradle with Griffin,” O’Connell informed me.
“He says he left Saturday, just like Ilene told us. We have no hard evidence or valid reason to hold him, so we had to let him go about an hour ago.”

“W
hat about the money?” Martin came up the stairs. He had taken off his t-shirt and was assessing the chalk stains. “Sorry,” I mouthed. He waved off my apology and continued to listen to my half of the conversation.

“Still working on getting a court order for the records, I’ll let you know what happens.
I did my best not to tip him off in case he is involved.” O’Connell blew out a breath.

“
But by bringing him in for questioning, he might be suspicious.” I didn’t like where this was heading.

“
Keep your head down for a while, just to be on the safe side,” O’Connell suggested.

“You got it.
” I hung up the phone. “Nothing conclusive, yet,” I told Martin. “O’Connell brought Denton in as a potential witness in Griffin’s murder, but he had to release him. We’re still waiting for enough evidence before we can make him an actual suspect.”

“Take off your shirt,” he said
seriously, but his eyes twinkled just slightly. I looked at him like he was insane. “You’re full of chalk.” I looked down, noticing I was, in fact, full of chalk.

I sighed.
“Fine.” I went up the stairs to my room, and he followed close behind. Pulling my shirt over my head, I tossed it in his general direction. “Here,” I said, walking into my room and shutting the door, so I could dress in private.