Wrong Place, Wrong Time (27 page)

He made his way toward them, marching up to the trailer that was parked there.

A decisive knock. “Vista, it’s me,” he announced.

Shuffling sounds came from within.

The door opened, and Lawrence Vista poked his head out. “Come in.”

Edward climbed inside.

Other than being antiseptically clean and free of clutter, the place looked like any other veterinary trailer belonging to an equestrian specialist. Medical equipment, examination stalls, and floor-to-ceiling closets.

It’s what was inside those closets that made all the difference. That, and what was hidden behind the curtain.

Edward shoved his hands in his pockets and leveled a hard stare at Vista. “How close are we?”

Behind his glasses, the other man blinked. “You know the answer to that. The preliminary results were positive. We’re almost there. A few more weeks, maybe.”

“That’s not good enough. Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve got to speed this process up. I need immediate results.”

Beads of perspiration broke out on Vista’s brow. “Why? Has something happened?”

“Not yet. But we’ve run out of time.”

“This isn’t a race. We can’t arbitrarily speed things up. Not without major health risks. Plus, I need to wait a reasonable amount of time to ensure there are no adverse reactions.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Edward snapped. “I’m almost eighty. My heart’s in lousy shape. I’ve got no idea how long I’ll be here. And I need to secure my legacy. That’s what I pay you for.”

“I still don’t see the urgency — ”

“You don’t have to see it. You have to get results. Now.” Edward dragged a shaky palm over his face. “Two people close to me are dead. The cops are crawling around Pierson & Company. How long do you think it’ll be before they extend that investigation to my apartment, and then to my farm? What the hell are we going to tell them when they knock on your door for questioning — and when they can’t reconcile your extravagant lifestyle with what I’m supposedly paying you?”

All the color drained from Vista’s face. “Why would they question me? How do I factor into a murder investigation?”

“
Everything
factors into a murder investigation,” Edward shot back, struggling to keep his temper in check. “Look. Let’s not waste time bickering. Just get this done. I don’t care how. Take pills. Drink coffee. Do whatever you have to. But pick up the pace. Work twenty-four/seven. I want this finished, tested, and ready in a week. That’ll give us a month before Wellington’s big CSIO Olympic qualifying event. James
will
be winning that.”

Blake’s brows rose as he opened his front door. “Detective Montgomery. This is a surprise.”

“I doubt it.” Monty pulled off his gloves, looking past Blake and into the foyer. “You weren’t at the office. So I assumed you were here. Are you alone?”

“Yup. Catching up on paperwork.”

“Good. Then you can take a short break.”

Amusement tugged at Blake’s mouth. “Looks that way.” He stepped aside. “Come in.”

Monty was already past him.

“Can I take your jacket?” Blake inquired. He waited while Monty shrugged out of his down parka and handed it over. “I just brewed a pot of coffee. Want a cup?”

“Sounds good — thanks.” Monty glanced around. “Nice place.”

“I like it.” Blake led Monty into the living room, gesturing for him to have a seat on the sofa.

Monty complied.

From behind the closed kitchen door, a series of barks sounded, followed by a round of insistent scratching.

“My golden retriever,” Blake explained.

“No need to keep him in there. He can join us.”

“He’s pretty rowdy.”

“So am I. It’s fine.”

Blake opened the kitchen door, and Chomper exploded out, bright-eyed and panting. He spotted company and raced into the living room, sniffing Monty’s jeans and boots with great enthusiasm. Then he jumped up, paws on Monty’s lap, and began licking his face.

“Down, Chomper,” Blake commanded.

Reluctantly, Chomper obeyed, landing on all fours. He brightened up when Monty leaned over and began scratching his ears.

“Hey, boy. You’re a real ball of energy, aren’t you?”

Chomper barked. Then, bored by the inactivity, he crouched down, eyeing the bottom of Monty’s jeans.

“Don’t even think about it,” Blake warned.

The pup stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Blake.

“Sit,” Blake instructed.

Chomper scrambled around. Facing Blake, he plunked his bottom down to the floor and sat up tall, gazing expectantly at his owner.

“Good boy,” Blake praised. He walked over and stroked Chomper’s head, handing him a peanut-butter biscuit. The pup snatched it between his teeth, then rushed over to the rug by the fireplace. He lay down, giving the reward his full attention.

“Not bad,” Monty commented.

“That’s Devon’s doing.”

“Really? Does it work on men?”

Blake’s lips twitched. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, I would. She’s had me wrapped around her finger since the day she was born.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Although with Chomper it just meant enrolling him in puppy pre-K. He’s finally learning some manners.”

“He got off easy.”

“Seems so.” Blake jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ll get the coffee. How do you take it?”

“Black.”

A minute later, Blake carried out two steaming mugs, handing one to Monty and taking his own over to the leather wing-back chair positioned across from the sofa.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, sitting down.

Monty took a deep swallow of coffee, gazing steadily at Blake. “You asked for a face-to-face meeting. Here it is.”

“That was fast.” Blake glanced at his watch. “Eleven fifteen. You must have ambushed Devon as soon as she woke up. Is that standard procedure, or just when she’s been out with me?”

Monty’s brows arched. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s standard procedure. Especially when I’m not sure if I trust the guy she’s out with.”

“I’m hoping to change that.”

“So I gather. Is that to catch the murderer, or to score points with me?”

“The truth? I wouldn’t mind accomplishing both.”

“Honest and direct. Good start.” Monty gave an approving nod. “Okay, let’s hear what you’ve got.”

“What I’ve got?”

“Uh-huh. You’ve obviously given it thought. Enough to come up with what you think is my take on things. If you had time for that, you had time to work it through. Where’d you come out?”

Blake met Monty’s challenging stare. “I didn’t. I’m not objective enough. Not when my family members top the list of suspects.”

“Fair enough. So where do we go from here?”

“You talk. I fill in blanks, give you perspective, and offer insights. Together maybe we can paint a picture that neither of us could paint alone.”

Monty reflected on that for a moment. “We could give it a shot. Let’s start with your cousin James.”

A faint smile. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because you’re smart. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How much is Golden Boy capable of? Cheating? Doing drugs? Bribery and fraud? How about murder?”

Blake frowned, giving an ambiguous shrug that told Monty he’d already contemplated all this. “I don’t know. James is shrewd, ambitious, and insecure. I’ve seen him straddle the line between legal and illegal. I’ve never seen him cross it. Would he? Maybe. Depending on how high the stakes were.”

“Stop being vague. Talk specifics.”

“James wouldn’t do drugs for kicks. But performance enhancers? I can’t dismiss the idea. He’s determined to win. Is he capable of committing the crimes you just mentioned? I suppose. All except murder. I just can’t visualize him as a cold-blooded killer.”

Monty took that in without comment. “What was James’s relationship with Frederick like?”

“Strained. Frederick was more by the book than either James or my grandfather. He wasn’t thrilled with James’s cavalier approach to business. Even Philip Rhodes reined my cousin in, and Philip was a rule bender.” Blake set down his coffee mug, steepling his fingers in front of him and regarding Monty thoughtfully. “Devon knows about the extortion scheme, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.” Monty didn’t hedge. “That’s one of the things she and I talked over this morning. She wanted my okay to break confidence so she could discuss it with you.”

“And you agreed?”

“Not happily. But my daughter seems to trust you.” A weighted pause. “I hope that trust is warranted.”

“It is,” Blake answered quietly. “You’ll have firsthand evidence of that — soon. Reserve judgment till then. Establishing trust takes time.”

“Yes, it does.” Monty took another gulp of coffee. “To be blunt, I’m not convinced we have any blackmail scheme here. I’m leaning toward it all being a setup.”

“You think James staged everything.”

“In a word? Yes.”

“I can’t say that shocks me. But even if it’s true, how does it tie into Frederick’s murder?”

“Not just Frederick’s. Rhodes’s. And I’m not sure it does. The MO was wrong for blackmail from the beginning.” Monty cleared his throat. “Let’s digress for a minute. While I was questioning your grandfather, I got the distinct impression that you had your own doubts about Rhodes’s death being a suicide.”

“I did and I do. The pieces just don’t fit.”

“I agree.” Monty lay another of his cards on the table. “I’ve had Jenkins at Pierson & Company all morning. He brought in a computer whiz, who’s analyzing Rhodes’s hard drive as we speak. I’m hoping they find something.”

“Something the killer deleted.”

“Right. Rhodes’s uptight manner, his paranoia, and his phone call to your grandfather — he knew something. Something that got him killed.” Monty blew out a breath. “Tell me about Louise Chambers and your uncle.”

“They were involved. On again, off again for more than a year.”

“Did it start when your aunt was alive?”

“Not to my knowledge. But can I swear to it? No. I wouldn’t put it past Louise. She goes after what she wants. But Frederick — he’s less clear-cut. Very ethical. Not the type to have an affair. Plus, he was consumed by Pierson & Company. Between that and my aunt Emily, he had his hands full.”

Monty motioned for Blake to wait. “What’s the scoop with your aunt? Was she a shrew?”

“Not at all.” Blake shook his head. “She was frail and sickly, for as long as I can remember. Especially those last couple of years, when her health took a rapid nosedive. During that time, Frederick was totally devoted to her.” A frown. “On the flip side, I doubt they had a viable marriage during those final years. Emily’s failing health prevented it. So, could Frederick have taken up with Louise? I suppose so.”

“I didn’t know your aunt was chronically ill.”

“She had a heart condition. Even as a kid, I remember her popping nitroglycerin tablets. Toward the end, it was really bad. She was frail and weak, to the point of being housebound.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of years, I’d say. She became a total recluse. She stayed in their apartment and saw no one.”

Something was nagging at Monty. He just wasn’t sure what — yet.

“What about Pierson & Company?” he asked. “Was Emily involved in the business?”

“Nope. Not even when she was stronger. She never walked into the building.”

“Okay.” Monty processed that. “I think we’ve covered enough for now. Oh, except for one thing. Devon’s going through with her date with James tomorrow night.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”

“Because I asked her to. She’ll be wearing a wire. And I’ll be listening.”

“I see,” Blake replied slowly. “She’s hoping to get some kind of confession.”

“Uh-huh.” Monty set down his cup. “Here’s the part where you earn your trust wings. Not a word to anyone — especially your grandfather. Not about tomorrow night, and not about my suspicions that James set up the whole blackmail scheme. Edward will move heaven and earth to protect James. I won’t. Will you?”

“I’m being tested,” Blake assessed flatly.

“Damn straight.” Monty didn’t mince words. “What’s more, you can’t open your mouth even if tomorrow night turns up something incriminating. I’ll need time to get my ducks in a row.”

“And if I agree?”

“Then you pass the test.”

“Screwing my family in the process.”

Monty’s jaw set. “No one’s getting screwed. If James is innocent, he’ll walk away smelling like a rose. If he’s guilty, it’s better that I find out before the cops. I can help with damage control.”

Reluctantly, Blake nodded. “I’m counting on your discretion.”

“You’ve got it.”

“Also, I want to be kept up to speed.”

“Fine.”

Monty’s acquiescence was just a little too quick.

A corner of Blake’s mouth lifted in a wry grin. “More opportunities to test my integrity?”

“You bet. Worried?”

“Fascinated. You’d move heaven and earth for her, wouldn’t you?”

“Devon? You bet your ass. Heaven, earth, and then some. So don’t hurt her.”

“I don’t plan to.”

The fervent exchange was interrupted by the ringing of Monty’s cell phone.

He whipped it out and glanced at the display. “It’s Jenkins. Hang on.” He punched the Talk button. “Hey, Jenkins. Got something for me?” A weighted pause. “I’ll be right there.” He punched off the phone, vaulting to his feet. “Want to start keeping your mouth shut sooner than expected?”

“Yeah.” Blake was already grabbing their coats. “Let’s go.”

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, they were gathered in Rhodes’s office, along with Jenkins and his computer whiz, Len Castoro.

“It’s an Excel spread sheet,” Monty pronounced, peering at the computer monitor over Castoro’s shoulder.

“A
deleted
Excel spreadsheet,” Castoro amended. He was seated at the desk, flanked on either side by Jenkins and Monty.

“Detailing what?” Blake demanded, striding behind the desk so he could scan the information. “And how did you find it?”

“Detailing the transactions of an offshore bank account,” Castoro replied. “As for how I found it, fortunately no one’s used this computer since Rhodes’s death. I simply used special ’undelete’ software.” He pointed to the floppy disk drive. “In layman’s terms, the software scans and restores all possible deleted files on the computer’s hard drive. I monitored the process, undeleting any file that looked even remotely suspicious. I’ve been at it since seven this morning. Finally, I hit pay dirt.” He stood up, whisking the hard copy out of the laser printer and stepping away from the desk. “This transaction ledger was deleted the night Philip Rhodes died.”