by Polly Holmes
Clair’s stomach dropped. “No, I didn’t kill James Hapworth.” Why does everyone think I could do such a horrible thing to another human being? “But someone is trying to make it look like I did.”
His back suddenly stiffened, his gaze firing daggers at her. “That’s not my problem.”
His words ignited the fire in her belly. “I think you have information that may help prove my innocence.”
A chill skulked up her spine as he slowly moved toward them. Her body tensed and within seconds Mason was in front of her, shielding her from an advancing man that could break her in two without putting a hair out of place. She took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to push her fears aside.
Mason cleared his throat. “Mr Edwardson,” he said, sticking his hand out mid-air. “My name is Mason Hapworth. James Hapworth was my father.” Edwardson stopped, a frown creased his forehead. “We were hoping you had some information that can help piece together what happened in time to stop an innocent woman from going to prison for a crime she didn’t commit.”
He nodded and finally shook Mason’s hand. “Kent Edwardson.”
Without even realising it, her eyes dropped from Kent’s eyes to the contoured lines of his chest.
Mason’s lips thinned. “If it’s not too much trouble, do you think you might consider putting a shirt on? Men’s bare chests aren’t really my thing.”
“Oh, sorry, man. It doesn’t take long to work up a sweat, especially with the sun so hot this time of day,” he said as he covered up. “I’d like to say I’m sorry for your loss, but as far as I’m concerned, James Hapworth was as dirty as they come.”
Clair eagerly side stepped around Mason. “Really? Why do you say that, Kent? It is okay if I call you Kent isn’t it?” She asked, fluttering her eyelashes in his direction.
“Of course.”
She glanced toward Mason and his blue eyes widened. A knot of frustration formed in her belly. So, what if she had to flirt to get answers? She’d try almost anything to stay out of jail. Almost.
Mason continued. “Apart from helping Clair prove her innocence, I’m looking into his business affairs and not all is what it appears to be. What was the nature of your interactions with my father?”
Kent’s expression darkened. “We made a business transaction together, but turns out he’s a thief, or should I say was a thief. He stole a hundred and fifty grand from me. He gave me this big spiel about an investment in some apartments by the waterfront that were going to bring in millions for investors and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”
Clair’s brows knitted together. “Apartments?”
Kent huffed. “Apparently, it was hush-hush and he dished me some garbage about it being invitation only for the selected few.”
“So, why the sudden change of heart?” Mason asked.
“My wife’s father is ill. Cancer. We need the money for his treatment. The thing is, my wife doesn’t know I gave it to him.” Kent picked up pieces of chopped wood and started piling them by the fence. “I know it was a stupid thing to do.”
“So, you’re not building extensions out here?” Clair asked, disappointed that her information was incorrect.
Kent’s hearty laugh filled the stilled air. “I hardly think so. Where on earth did you get a crazy idea like that?”
Clair frowned and embarrassment clawed at her chest. That’ll teach me to believe everything I hear.
“So you asked my father for your money back?” Mason asked.
Kent threw another log on the pile. “Damn straight I did. Last week. He had the gall to feed me some bogus story about how the deal fell through and the money’s vanished on the other end and it had nothing to do with him. More like he’d pocketed it for himself.”
Clair pushed for answers. “So, you decided to take matters into your own hands and when you didn’t get the answers you wanted, you flew into a fit of rage, you retaliated and James ended up dead.”
“What?” Kent erupted in fits of laughter and the log of wood he held, thundered to the ground. “That is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. I didn’t kill him. Oh, I wanted to, believe me, but I didn’t.”
Adrenaline coursed through her body. “Maybe you didn’t mean to.”
He shook his head. “You’re wrong. Why would I kill him? I can’t get my money from him if he’s dead. Besides I wasn’t even in town. I went to see my wife in the Blue Mountains. She’s staying with her parents while her father has treatment. We both accompanied him for his first treatment and there are a number of people who can verify my presence, including the staff at Nepean Hospital. I only arrived home late last night.”
Clair’s body deflated as if she’d been hit in the gut with one of Kent’s blocks of wood. Now what? Her gaze caught Mason’s and he looked just as disappointed as she was.
“Do you know a man by the name of Roland Trent?” Mason asked.
Kent shook his head. “Nope, is that the other man they found murdered?”
Mason nodded. “Yes.”
“If you want to point your finger at anyone,” Kent said, as he continued to stack wood. “I’d be looking at that partner of his, Norman Gorson. He claims to not know anything about the deal. When I caught up with him to find out what happened to my money, he tried to tell me he had no idea what I was talking about. You can’t tell me business partners don’t talk.”
Mason’s brow creased. “I wasn’t aware he had a partner.”
Or a wife for that matter, Clair thought.
Kent huffed. “You and most of the town. If I had to guess who had the most to lose, it would be Norman. Maybe he killed him.”
Clair’s mind sped into overdrive as the cogs of information slotted together. Maybe the woman he was meeting had something to do with this real estate deal. James suckered people into investing in a bogus real estate scheme, and then stole their money. Norman found out James was embezzling money from the business, confronted him and killed him.
“Thank you for your time, Kent,” she said, thrusting her hand in his direction. “We’ll let you get back to your wood chopping.”
He threaded his hardened calloused hand in hers and shook it. “You’re welcome. Good luck. Hope you find the culprit before it’s too late.” He turned towards Mason and shook his hand. “I’d hate to see jail come between you two lovebirds.”
Clair froze and she felt the blood drain from her face in spades. Lovebirds? She was about to correct him when the deep timbre of Mason’s voice assaulted her ears.
“Oh, we’re not together,” Mason said as he sidestepped away from Clair. “I just don’t believe in sending an innocent woman to prison for a crime she didn’t commit.”
His words crushed her heart, as did the sudden distance he put between them. Gee, no need to sound so happy about it. His actions and words confirming what she’d already suspected back in the shop. He wasn’t interested in her.
Clair couldn’t stomach one more second of this conversation. “Thanks again, Kent.” Turning, she stalked toward the car, ignoring the call of her name as it blended with the shrilling rustle of the surrounding trees.
Chapter Nine
“WHAT IS WITH you these last few days?” Charlotte asked as she measured flour for the third batch of cupcakes. They’d both agreed to head into the shop early to get a head start on the preparations for tomorrow’s gala dinner. “You’ve been a grumpy pain in my butt since Mason dropped you home the other day.”
Why did Charlotte have to mention his name? Clair’s stomach crunched, thinking of her silly adolescent behaviour the other day. She’d behaved like a school girl who had a crush on the nerdy star of the chess club. He made it clear he wasn’t interested, otherwise why hadn’t he kissed her when she’d absentmindedly thrown her arms around his neck?
“Well?” Charlotte barked.
Clair huffed and looked her square in the eyes. “Well, what?” Charlotte already thought her love life sucked, no use adding fuel to the fire.
“Don’t ignore m
e like I’m not here,” she said, adding one ingredient at a time to the bowl. “You know I’ll just keep bugging you ’til I get the truth.”
“All right, if you really want to know, I haven’t been able to find the link between Stella and Roland Trent yet and I’ve been unable to contact Norman Gorson, James Hapworth’s business partner, and I’m getting frustrated.” Clair moved over to the doorway and peered into the shop. Suzi seemed to have things under control. Great, no escape there. “I’ve tried calling him several times and it goes straight to voicemail. I even went down to his office but it was locked.”
Charlotte stopped stirring and narrowed her eyes at Clair. “I know, you’ve told me that already. There’s something else. Has it anything to do with a handsome computer programmer from Surfers Paradise that hasn’t visited the house since he dropped you off?” Charlotte said in an inquisitive tone.
Clair froze. She tried to squash the betraying blush that ran from her neck up to her cheeks but failed miserably.
“Ah ha, I was right. It does have something to do with Mason.” Charlotte pushed the bowl aside, grabbed Clair’s hand and dragged her on to the couch in the office. “Out with it.”
“Charlotte, please, we have too much to do,” Clair said hoping for a distraction.
“Pfft,” Charlotte said as she flicked her hand over her shoulder. “It can wait. Since we came in today, we’re ahead of schedule anyway.”
Her pulse sped up and her body tensed. Clair’s nose twitched remembering Mason’s strong scent. She was sitting in the exact spot Mason sat only days ago.
“Spill,” Charlotte repeated. “You know I’m a great listener.”
Clair knew her sister was the queen of persistence. “It’s nothing, really. I accidentally, maybe slightly subconsciously threw myself at Mason the other day. Actually, right here, and he couldn’t get away from me quick enough.”
Charlotte pulled back, her eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”
Clair’s heart jolted. “It’s no big deal.”
“Wait, wait, wait just a minute.” Charlotte’s flushed expression would have made her laugh if it weren’t because of the dismal state of her love life. “I’m a little confused. I think you better explain it from the beginning.”
She looked up at Charlotte’s sapphire-blue eyes. They were laced with concern, and it gutted her to know her sister worried about her. Clair flashed a comforting smile. “I’m okay, really. Mason was here in the office the other day to tell me about the conversation he overheard between Gorson and Kent Edwardson. I may have gotten a tad excited. We were sitting here on the couch when he’d told me what he heard and between the good news and him smelling so intoxicatingly good, and sitting so close to me, I kind of threw my arms around his neck and I somehow ended up lying on top of him.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped.
Embarrassment bled through her body and she grabbed Charlotte’s hands in hers. “It was the perfect moment to kiss me, and I did want to kiss him. His soft lips were inches from mine, all I had to do was lean in, but he looked alarmed more than anything and I knew I’d made a huge mistake.”
Charlotte sat still, her gaze drilling into Clair.
“Say something. Anything, please,” Clair pleaded.
“I cannot believe a sister of mine waited this long to confide in me,” Charlotte said, her words laced with hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Clair dropped her chin down. “Why do you think? I was embarrassed. I like him. I like him a lot and I thought he may have felt the same, even just a little bit. He’s been amazing with the way he’s helped me out this past week. Anyway, the last thing I should be thinking about is kissing Mason when my freedom hangs in the balance.”
“Sweetie, just because he didn’t kiss you doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you,” Charlotte said.
Clair stood, her nerves almost ready to jump out of her skin. “I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Have you considered that he might be just as nervous as you are? After all, he could have been waiting for you to make the first move.”
Her eyes widened. Me? Make the first move? She flopped back on the couch, her heart deflating like a busted beach ball. “Do you think so?”
The corner of Charlotte’s lip turned up. “Yes, I do. I haven’t spent a lot of time with him, but from what I can gather he seems shy and reserved. A computer programmer who has spent more time with his computer than with any real women. Remember how he has the Clark Kent look going on?”
Clair nodded.
“Maybe he has the disguise side worked out perfectly, but what if the real man underneath has never really ventured out of his comfort zone?” Charlotte asked, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I think there’s something there and I don’t think you should give up.”
“Really?”
“Really. In fact, I think you should take the first move and ask him to go to the Gala dinner with you tomorrow night. What harm could it do? And I’m sure you really don’t want to rock up alone.”
Definitely not. The memory of Mason’s arms around her caused a cascade of tingles to flutter in her belly. In the past, she’d been in relationships where the man took the initiative. Maybe it was time to turn the tables. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ll think about it. Right now, I think the best thing for me to do is head back over to see if I can catch Norman Gorson. I’ll camp outside his office until he returns if I have to.”
“Do you think it’s wise to go alone?” Charlotte asked, concern filled her eyes. “Maybe you should call Mason. He could go with you, just in case.”
The thought of seeing Mason again had her insides squirming. Half in excitement and half in dread. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll call him on the way. Are you sure you’ll be all right here without me?” Clair asked as she squeezed her sister.
“Of course, now on your way,” Charlotte said pulling Clair up off the lounge as she stood.
“Thanks for listening. Anyone ever tell you you’re the best sister in the world?”
Charlotte swished her wavy red locks from side to side and grinned sheepishly. “Of course I’m the best sister in the world, but don’t let Cassidy hear you say that.” Clair burst out laughing and Charlotte joined her. They linked arms and headed out to the workshop once more.
“When is that sister of ours coming home anyway?” Charlotte asked.
“I spoke to her last week and I’m pretty sure she said she was extending her stay for another few weeks. So that would make it next week sometime, I suppose.” Clair missed her other sister terribly. She gave Charlotte one more hug, then grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “I’d better go, if I want to greet Cassidy wearing my clothes instead of prison-issue green.”
****
Clair’s call to Mason went straight to the message bank. “At least I called him. Not my fault he didn’t answer,” Clair muttered to herself as she pulled up outside Norman Gorson’s office. A sliver of excitement erupted in her belly when she saw his door slightly open. Thank goodness. By the time she reached the door her heart was pounding in her head. “Hello,” she said as she slowly pushed the door open. “Mr Gorson, my name is Clair McCorrson.”
She scanned the empty office, her gaze catching the large photograph on the wall above the reception counter of a man that looked like he was stuck in the 1970s. Gorson’s name was engraved in bold lettering underneath.
Silence.
“Great, he’s not here?” So why is the door ajar? There was no use hanging around an empty office. Turning to leave, her heart lurched at the sudden mumble coming from a back office.
“Mr Gorson?” she called again, looking toward the direction of the noise. A tingle shot up her spine as the voice became louder. Finally, I might get some answers.
Refusing to miss the opportunity, Clair stepped forward, her hand poised to push the door open and her breath caught in her throat.
“Don’t you dare hang up on me, or I swear your life
won’t be worth living. You promised me no-one would be able to trace it back to me.”
Holy cow. Is that Norman Gorson’s voice? What does he mean by, “your life won’t be worth living?”
“We had a deal. You help me make arrangements and I make you a very rich man. I’m so close to getting out of this hick town, and neither you, nor James’ death is going to stop me. And don’t call me Normy.”
Clair’s hand shot to her mouth to muffle her startled gasp. Arrange what? A murder?
This was pure gold. She couldn’t believe her luck but it would all be for nothing if she got caught spying. A tall, fake potted palm to the side of the door caught her eye. Perfect. Obtrusive enough to hide behind, while still giving her a clear view of the office through the glass window.
“I told you I don’t care how you do it. Just do it.” He paused, listening. Clearly frustrated, Mr Gorson paced the office, his appearance was a little worse for wear compared to the picture above the reception desk. Sweat beaded his forehead and Clair’s stomach revolted at the enormous sweat patches under his armpits. Gross.
“Do what?” she whispered.
His arm flew in all directions, waving left and right. His face grew the brightest shade of crimson-red she’d ever seen, like a beetroot and it looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel.
“Stop saying that. They can’t be empty. The money should be there. You said it was all set and there would be no hiccups,” he snapped.
Her spine straightened and her brow creased. Money, what money? Did he mean Mr Edwardson’s money? Why would Mr Gorson have it, if he’d paid it to James?
The information swirled inside her mind like a whirlpool out of control finally coming to the only conclusion possible. Gorson stole it.
Mr Gorson embezzled the company’s money, including that of James’ that’s why when he ran into Mr Edwardson this morning he said there was no money because there is no money. The question was, did James know, and if he did, was it his undoing?
Her jaw dropped, stunned by her clever deductions.
“You better find it, or else. By this time next week, I should be sunbaking on a beach on the other side of the world. If you can’t find the money there will be hell to pay. Do we understand each other?” He slammed down the phone and fell back into his chair.
