Not long enough, damn it.
“Amanda, I think Noelle's hiding something.”
“Yes, I think so, too.”
He had prepared himself for the usual denials emanating from her misplaced loyalty to her undeserving sister.
But she agreed with him.
He wanted to kiss her, but Amanda didn't give him a chance. “Noelle says she's learned her lesson. She says she'll never gamble again.” The smooth forehead puckered. “She says, oh, all the usual things.”
“But you don't believe her.”
The full mouth pouted with concern. “I don't know. I want to, but I just don't know. I think she’s holding something back.”
He did kiss her then, a deep, prolonged kiss, unsatisfying because he didn’t want to stop.
Since she had voiced her doubts about Noelle, he told her about the amount Miles had paid for the studs and the amount found in Sonny's luggage. “Which leaves four and a half million dollars in bonds missing,” he ended, “along with two hundred thousand cash we know Sonny had when he died.”
Like him, she didn't understand the discrepancy, but her first thought concerned her sister. “Do you think Noelle knew? No, I don’t think she could lie as well as she did if she knew.”
Hell, Noelle had managed to lie about everything else. Why not this? “If Noelle didn't take the rest of the bonds herself, then maybe Sonny didn't tell her how much he was getting.”
“She can’t have taken them. She wants to borrow money from me for a ticket to Birmingham,” Amanda said. “If she had money, she’d use it.”
“Birmingham? Why's she going to Birmingham?”
“She wants to see Teddy. I’m hoping Edward will forgive her.”
Fat chance.
But Amanda was an optimist. He liked that.
In the back of his mind the theory, nebulous and unsubstantiated, solidified. The theory that included Lynette, Noelle, and Sonny. A theory he took care to withhold from Amanda because she would never believe Noelle could kill anyone.
When Noelle didn't return right away, he left. Better to look for more proof before confronting Noelle.
And figure out how to do it without turning Amanda against him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Amanda thought Callaway had forgiven her. He couldn't have been acting just now, she told herself after he left.
Satisfied, she resumed dusting her thimble display.
Noelle came in. Her sister, forehead lined with anxiety, let the door slam. “I saw Cal McIntyre leaving. What was he doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
“Me?” Noelle’s cheeks reddened. “What did he want with me? I thought he was through with me. I’ve told him everything I know.”
“He thinks you may have forgotten something, honey. He found out that Miles de Graffen paid Sonny five million dollars for those diamonds.”
Noelle blinked. “Five million dollars?” Her eyes grew wide and her mouth rounded. “That's a lot of money.”
Her sister wasn't acting. Noelle really was shocked.
“Part of it was found in Sonny's things, but only a little part.” Amanda took a deep breath. “Noelle, do you know where the rest of that money is?”
“Me?” Noelle shook her head violently. “No way. Maybe Cal’s lying. Who’d pay that much for a few diamonds? Sonny said they’d bring a lot of money, but it couldn’t have been that much.”
“Can you remember anything else Sonny said that might help find the money? Anything at all?”
Again Noelle shook her head. “I’m sorry, Manda. I’ve told you everything Sonny told me. We didn’t talk all that much except for going over what I had to do. What are we having for dinner? Do you want me to walk over to that Thai place and pick up something?”
She'd get no help from Noelle for Callaway.
* * * *
The brief interlude with Amanda had brightened Cal's day, but his mood fell when he entered Fair Meadows through the rear gate and saw a familiar figure on the adjoining property.
Matthew Swift.
On impulse, he stopped his car and walked the short distance to Matthew's boundary.
As he approached, he tried to look at the senator from a woman's viewpoint. The graying temples and strong face could be attractive, he supposed. His sister evidently thought so.
“Claire told you,” Matthew said, picking up on something in Cal's bearing.
“I don't approve of your seeing her, but I guess it's not my place to approve or disapprove, is it?”
A big hand swept back a silver lock of hair. “I don't approve either. Talking is one thing but trying to revive the past... I've told her it's up to her where we go from here.”
“She knows that.”
The men fell into step on the dense green turf that followed the boundary between Matthew's home and Fair Meadows.
“The journal may be lost for good,” Cal said. “All the mess, all that about you and Claire and Johanna may never come out.”
Matthew's lips drew tight. “Cal, Claire and I are prepared for whatever happens. Right now the book doesn't matter. The authorities don't know about it. They think Sonny's death had to do with the money I gave him.”
“You told them about the money?”
“They found that Claire and I had both been converting securities to cash.”
Cal came to a halt before a stand of dogwoods.
Hell, he should have thought of that. “Do they—?”
Matthew waved a hand. “It's all right. We told them that McIntyre Resorts had a chance to buy some choice land in Virginia. If they bought openly, local interests would block resort zoning so money had to be used that couldn't be traced back to the chain. Sonny was to take the cash, put it in an account of one of our proxy companies, purchase the land, and get it rezoned before the name McIntyre came into play. My portion was an investment, as was Claire's. Her being an officer and me a member of the Board gives us that prerogative.”
Cal was incredulous. “They bought it?”
“Every word. Claire thought of it,” Matthew said proudly. “She'd already thought of it when she got her money for Sonny. In case she needed to explain her actions.”
God, his own sister was as devious as the rest of her sex. How the hell did females get such convoluted minds?
“I see. Okay. Good for Claire.”
They resumed their stroll, heading back the way they had come. “So the theory is that somebody killed Sonny for the money. Right?”
“Right. Let's leave it at that.”
Something didn't ring true. Suspicion returned. “Why?”
They came to a second stop. Involuntarily, the senator glanced up and over Cal's shoulder. Cal turned and saw in an opening between the weeping cherries and dogwoods, a man moving on a hidden path.
Though he saw only the back of the man for the merest instant, he recognized Tip. Tip was walking on the gravel path leading from the road toward the pond.
The pond where Sonny Kirkman's body had been found.
He said slowly, “You saw someone when Sonny was killed, you said. You also said you didn’t recognize him but you did, didn't you?”
“Don't go there, Cal.”
“You let me believe you thought it was Tip, but it wasn’t, was it? Who did you see?”
“I told you I didn’t...”
“Who did you see?”
Matthew threw up his hands. “A woman. It was a woman's back. In slacks and a blue hooded jacket. I'd been walking, trying to decide what to do about Sonny's demands when I saw her. It was Claire. I almost went over to her.”
“You didn't?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I wanted to, but I didn't.”
Cal tamped down panic. “Why did you think it was Claire?”
“Right size. Right build. The kind of clothes she wears outside.”
“But you only saw her back.”
“Yes, but—”
“It wasn’t Claire.”
Matthew turned away. “Of course not.”
They walked in silence before Cal offered, “The jacket was blue, you said. Claire has a hooded jacket, but it's black. Besides, she couldn't have killed Sonny. She can’t kill a spider.”
Matthew took a long time answering. “I know that.”
The senator wasn't as certain as he pretended.
“I could have, though,” Matthew added, still without looking at Cal. “If I had thought it would help. I told you before, I can do whatever’s necessary to protect Claire.”
Cal believed Matthew might kill someone for Claire. What he didn’t believe, was that Matthew had.
* * * *
The next day, Monday, Cal went into McIntyre Headquarters near Georgia Highway 400. As he got off the elevator on the twelfth floor where the executive offices were located, he saw Robert in the copier nook, emptying a shredder into the recycle bin. Robert started at the sight of him, but greeted him affably.
“You must be feeling better,” Cal said. “Never saw you do your secretary’s work before.”
Robert held up the bucket. “Martha’s busy. The auditors finally finished and we have a clean bill of health, you'll be pleased to know.” He grinned. “And I got my contract offer from the Board this morning. Thought I'd clean up the office a bit before my attorney and I meet with them.”
So Robert would be the new CEO. “Great.”
The contract probably has a golden parachute clause, too, dammit.
“Anything new about Sonny's murder?”
Robert lost his affability. “No. As far as I know, they're still investigating. I think it'll turn out to be some tramp or someone else passing by. Maybe Sonny saw someone on the estate and warned them off and they killed him.”
“Maybe so.”
“What brings you in?”
“I have to pick up my golf clubs.”
“Cal, Cal.” Robert shook his head, but he was smiling again. “Spare a little time for work, why don’t you?”
In his office, Cal called his detective agency and discovered that Noelle had taken a taxi that morning to the Atlanta airport where she had been observed boarding a plane.
Noelle was supposed to go to Birmingham, but he phoned Amanda anyway to make sure.
“Yes,” Amanda told him. “I told you I loaned her money for plane fare. You don’t need her, do you? She thinks she and Edward might work things out.”
Callaway rolled his eyes, glad Amanda couldn't see. He couldn't stop himself from saying, “Strange she never seemed to care about her family before now.”
“Cal, I’ve explained. Her handicap means she doesn’t realize what her decisions involve. I think she really misses Teddy and Edward.”
He snorted.
She huffed. “She’s my sister. If she were paralyzed or had Down syndrome, you wouldn’t expect me to abandon her.”
“No. You’re right.” He might as well resign himself. Amanda would never stop trying to help her dim-witted sister.
Hanging up, he lit a cigarette. That would give Robert something else to carp about, since the building was non-smoking.
Noelle's dependence on Amanda frustrated him, but it wasn't his concern. Why should he care?
Because he cared about Amanda, dammit.
Because he was terrified that when it came to choosing between Noelle and him, as he judged it soon might, Amanda would choose Noelle.
He smoked defiantly, alternating between erotic images of Amanda, annoyance with Noelle, and worries about Claire and Johanna.
The detective agency had instructions to report everything concerning Noelle. From them, he already knew, though he hadn't told Amanda, that Noelle had bought a ticket to Las Vegas.
Not Birmingham.
From the time he'd discovered the money discrepancy, he’d worked out a scenario about Sonny's murder. A scenario he didn't much care for.
In it, Sonny met a woman at the pond, a woman who was his accomplice. Maybe Noelle had kept the other bonds for herself and they had quarreled over them. Or maybe she had found out Sonny was dumping her for Lynette de Graffen, and shot him in a jealous rage. Whatever the reason, Noelle had killed him, then taken Matthew's cash and the journal.
The scenario played pretty good.
Except that Noelle had been in Cancun waiting for Sonny when he died, so low in funds that she'd had to call Amanda for help. At least, that was her story. He had the agency checking on when she arrived in Mexico. If Noelle was anywhere near Fair Meadows that Monday afternoon, he'd go to the police.
Right now, he needed to figure out how to tell Amanda her sister might be a murderess.
As he was driving home from work that afternoon, the agency operative called. “We picked the subject up at the Vegas airport.”
If Noelle wanted one last fling at the tables, there were places closer than Las Vegas. Perhaps Edward's settlement had come through, and Noelle was celebrating.
Or maybe she’d stashed Matthew’s cash away and was using it.
The man was still talking. “…went to the Sun Strip Bank near the airport and got into a safety deposit box there. Then she checked into the Marriott. She’s booked on a flight back first thing in the morning.”