Authors: Linda Grimes
“Wow—impressive!” I said, hoping I wasn’t being rude.
He smiled, and maybe even blushed a tiny bit, though that might have been from the exertion. “Thanks. I work out.”
“Well, unless you have any news for me, I guess I better go find my brother. I only came by to drop off your chair and let you know I didn’t do anything too embarrassing while I was you.” Unless, of course, you count almost running over a law clerk as I exited the building, but no need to bore him with the details.
“If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, Thomas will be here. I’ve asked him to be an official consultant on Lily-Ann’s case. That way he won’t have to use my aura to visit the jail. Not that I mind, but I realize it can be a pain to get around in this fine set of wheels”—he smiled that Clooney smile—“if you’re not used to it. We’re going to discuss the best way to proceed if Gunn can’t be persuaded to do the right thing.”
“Let’s hope it won’t come to that,” I said. “Have you heard from Lily? Is she all right?”
“Actually, I got a cryptic text message last night from someone named Cody. Anyone you know?”
I’d given Dave as a contact at the ranch when I’d told Nigel where we’d stashed Lily-Ann. “Cody’s my security-guard-slash-ranch-hand. What’d he say?”
“‘LA is fine. Hates pony.’ LA is obviously Lily-Ann, but I’m not sure about the second part. From what I can tell, she loves all animals, so I think it might be code for something.”
* * *
I rose from my spot on the sofa when Thomas entered the room with Laura. I’d changed out of Nigel’s suit into some of Lily’s clothes. Too long for me, and a little too hipster-ish, but otherwise fine.
“Hey, new sis!” I said. “How’s the—” I stumbled over my words when I saw who else was with them. Mark.
Thomas gave me a big bear hug. I tried not to flinch when my face hit his shoulder. “Ciel? What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet Billy.”
“Um, Billy insisted on trading places. Don’t worry—we were careful.”
I glanced at Mark. I’d added the last part so he wouldn’t get mad at us for risking exposure. He kept his face carefully composed.
Thomas was immediately suspicious. “He had to know it wasn’t safe to make a switch in that room, or else I would have done it myself. He was only supposed to check on you, and tell you the reinforcements had come. What made him change his mind?”
“Well, um…”
“Sugar, are you all right?” Laura said. “You’re looking a little squinty. And your nose is bleeding.”
Crap. I wiped my nose with my hand—it was only a few drops, thank goodness—and concentrated on opening my eye more.
Mark finally approached me. “Drop it, Howdy,” he said quietly.
“I don’t know what you—”
“Cut the crap and show us. Now.” Mark again, more firmly.
I stopped the cover-up. Laura gasped. Thomas and Mark turned into twin thunderclouds.
“God damn it!” Thomas said.
Nigel, the sensible one, called his aide for ice. “You should have told me at once, Ciel. I’ll contact my doctor immediately.”
“No,” I said. “I’m fine. Really. The nurse at the jail fixed me up.”
“Your nose…” Laura said delicately.
“What? Am I still bleeding?”
“No. It’s a little … off center,” she said.
“Call your doctor, Nigel,” Thomas ordered. After a look from Laura, he added, “Please. If you don’t mind.”
While we waited, I explained what happened in the holding cell after Thomas left the day before. I downplayed it, making Itchy sound less frightening than she had been, and more like a pathetic vagrant who’d gotten in a lucky punch.
“I don’t think she was all there, if you know what I mean. Took me by surprise, is all. Once Billy got a gander at me, though, he was Lily-Ann before I could stop him, and I had to change fast so we wouldn’t get caught. Frankly, I think he’d be more useful with you guys on the outside.”
Mark had stared at my face the whole time I was talking. “He did the right thing.”
Thomas concurred.
Laura looked at me curiously and asked, “You get in any punches?”
I grinned. “Yeah. I won. Kicked her legs right out from under her. It was kind of awesome.”
She held her hand up for a high five, which I proudly gave her.
“Stop looking at me like that, Tom,” Laura said. “Girls can kick ass, too.”
“And get their asses kicked,” he said.
“And get their asses kicked,” she agreed. “Ciel, how would you feel about some serious ass-kicking lessons? From one sister to another.”
“Hell yeah!” I said.
Thomas shook his head and sighed, but didn’t raise any objections. Man, I was going to
love
having Laura in the family.
The doctor arrived before I had a chance to ask what was up on the Gunn front. She was every bit as friendly and efficient as she’d been when she’d examined my fake sprained ankle when I was being Lily-Ann. After a little probing, she said she thought it was uneven swelling that was making my nose look skewed.
“Have it checked by your own doctor in a week or two, when the swelling goes down. I’ll apply a splint for now. Be careful not to run into any more doors,” she said.
I looked at Nigel. He shrugged. Guess he thought telling her I’d been injured in a prison fight would have scared her.
“I’ll do that,” I said, and thanked her.
After she left, I started asking questions. “Anybody gonna give me an update? Have you found Gunn? Is he going to confess or what?”
“I’ve put men on watching the Conrads,” Mark said. “I think you might be on to something about the connection there. We’re monitoring all of their homes, and the office where Conrad does most of his company-related business. If Gunn tries to contact them, we’ll know it.”
“What if we show the Conrads the video? Surely they’d see it as a motive for him to hire a hit man. Maybe we could get them to help us,” I said.
Mark nodded. “Might be worth a shot. Nigel, can you set up a meeting?”
“It would be my pleasure. Especially if I can be there to watch.”
* * *
The collective horror on the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Conrad was a thing of beauty to behold. Not that I didn’t pity them as the parents of a murdered child, but it was difficult not to feel a touch of schadenfreude, especially when the
schaden
boomerangs on people who’ve dealt out so much of it themselves.
We were in Nigel’s media room. It had three rows of black leather recliners, four across, with built-in cup holders. A free space in the middle of the last row accommodated his wheelchair.
His top of the line, eighty-inch LED television—with extremely high resolution—was mounted to the back wall. Mark had asked Nigel not to dim the lights, so we all had a clear view of the Conrads’ faces when the scene of their son-in-law with Frannie played out before them. Naturally, we stopped the video before the movie scene with Angelica—it would have been beyond cruel to let them think, even for a second, that their daughter might still be alive. Not that the camera angle showed her face, but her voice would be easily recognizable. That scene was for Jackson’s eyes only, extra incentive for him to confess to hiring a hit man—the only way Billy and I had been able to think of that would see justice done without exposing adaptors to the world.
“Would you care to see it again?” Nigel asked politely when it was finished.
“No!” Elizabeth said, averting her eyes from the screen.
Joe’s mouth was set in a straight line, lips pressed tightly together. We gave them a minute to absorb what they’d seen.
Mrs. Conrad was the first to realize the truly important implication. “Does this … does this mean Lily-Ann didn’t do it?” she asked, still stunned.
Conrad, face still tight, said, “Don’t jump to any conclusions, Elizabeth. All this proves is that Jackson Gunn is a filthy cheater”—Elizabeth blanched and gave me a fearful look—“with a lot to lose if this sordid piece of smut gets out. It doesn’t mean Lily-Ann didn’t do it.”
“But, Joseph, this is exactly what Lily-Ann tried to tell us, and we wouldn’t listen, and now my baby is in that horrible place, and the whole world thinks … We
have
to get her out.” She turned to Nigel. “You have to get her out of that nasty jail
right this minute.
”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mrs. Conrad. As your husband says, nothing about this video
proves
Lily-Ann didn’t do it. After what you and your husband told the district attorney, we’re going to have to come forward with something concrete.”
“But that was supposed to
help
! Tell him, Joseph. Tell him how being harder on her was going to make her see reason, so that when she was acquitted, she would sign the agreement, and we could keep her close, and she would never, ever have a chance to do anything so awful again”—her eyes were getting wilder the more she comprehended—“but, oh my God, if she didn’t do it, then…”
She finally crumpled, sobbing quietly. Conrad remained still, not even reaching out a hand to comfort his wife.
“We can’t go back to the DA and tell him we lied,” Conrad said.
“Even though you did,” I said.
“We had no way of knowing that. Lily-Ann has always been impulsive. We’ve had to employ tough love with her, it was the only way—”
“To control her?” Thomas said, his disgust plain. He was more circumspect with his clients, but these weren’t his clients.
Joe glared at him. “Spare me any lectures on parenting. Just tell me what we can do to get this straightened out with a minimum of exposure in the press.”
Mark stood. “That’s where I come in.”
“And who are you?” Joe said.
“I’m the guy who’s going to make sure your son-in-law pays for killing your firstborn.”
“
If
he did. I’m still not convinced that because he cheated, he necessarily hired someone to kill Angelica.”
Some people just can’t admit when they’re wrong. “His whole career is at stake if Brookfield sees that video. He did it. I can’t tell you everything about how we know, but trust me, we know. You’ll help us find him?” I pressed.
He glanced at his wife, who still looked shell-shocked. “Yes. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Good,” Mark said. “First thing—do you know where your son-in-law is?”
“I do not.”
“Have you spoken to your son-in-law in the past twenty-four hours?”
Conrad squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Apparently, being the one questioned chafed. “I have.”
“In person?” Mark said.
“On the phone.”
“Did he call you or did you call him?” Mark was exhibiting great patience, I thought.
“He called my cell.”
“So you have the number he called from?”
“I do.”
“Mr. Conrad, this would be a lot more productive if I didn’t have to pull the details from you one at a time,” Mark said, sounding reasonable.
Argh. Great time to exhibit restraint during questioning, Mr. CIA Operative.
Personally, I wanted to scream at the man, and Mark couldn’t even raise his voice? Maybe threaten a little bodily harm?
I glanced at Elizabeth, who was looking pretty ghastly. Maybe Mark was trying not to upset her any more than necessary.
Conrad looked annoyed and pulled out his cell phone, scrolling through until he found the number, and gave it to Mark. Thomas jotted it down and left the room.
“That’s not his usual number. I don’t know where he was calling from.”
“Thank you. We’ll track it down,” Mark said.
“Excuse me,” Laura said. “Mrs. Conrad, are you all right? May I get you something to drink? Or perhaps I can show you where to powder your nose?”
Trust Laura to put it delicately. The woman looked like she was about to barf.
Nigel spoke up. “My aide will be happy to—”
Laura waved away his suggestion. “That’s all right. I know where it is.” She hooked her arm through Elizabeth’s and helped her stand.
“Thank you,” the still bewildered woman said, following Laura gladly.
Good ol’ Joe looked like he’d hold her back if he could. The control freak probably didn’t want her out of his sight.
“Now then, Mr. Conrad,” Mark continued, “what did Jackson want from you?”
“Want? Why would he want anything? He’s a millionaire in his own right, even if you don’t count what he inherited from Angelica. That’s why I didn’t think he had any reason to get rid of her.”
“Let me rephrase the question. What was the reason for his call?”
“He mentioned some of Angelica’s possessions. Wondered if Elizabeth and I had them.”
“Possessions?” Mark said.
“Nothing of any import.”
Uh-huh. The stock certificates, maybe? Or possibly a few stray flash drives with Angelica’s file on them?
“And what did you tell him?”
“That we’d look when we had the time.” Joe was starting to sweat. “Really, it’s nothing. Trinkets. That sort of thing.”
Thomas returned, and shook his head at Mark’s questioning glance. Guess the phone number had been a blind alley.
Mark nodded. “Okay, Mr. Conrad, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to call Jackson’s cell phone and leave a message—”
“What if he answers?” Joe interrupted.
“He won’t. Leave a message telling him to call you back as soon as possible, that it’s urgent.”
“And when he does, you’ll trace the call and find him?” Joe said.
“That’s one possibility, yes. But I’m guessing he won’t be on the phone long enough, so I want you to invite him to dinner at your place.”
“What makes you think he’ll come? He’s a busy man,” Joe said, looking uneasy at the prospect of face time with his son-in-law.
Mark looked at Thomas and Nigel. “We need to make sure he comes. Ideas?”
Thomas, after a brief pause, said, “Tell him Angelica had mailed a package to herself at the company address before she was killed, and that you think he, as her widower, should be the one to open it. I’m guessing wild bears couldn’t keep him from coming for something like that.”
“But there is no package,” Joe said, looking downright dewy on top now.
“You have a problem with lying?” Thomas said, raising one sardonic brow.
“There will be a package,” Mark said before Conrad could respond to Thomas. “We’ll fake one up.”