by Rayna Morgan
“Wise choice.”
He put his elbows on the desk and rolled a pencil between his fingers.
“We got what we wanted. A confession to the burglaries.”
“Shorty ratted out his boss?”
“Only after Gloria threatened to end their relationship.”
“Good for her!”
The detective rolled his eyes before continuing. “She also made me agree to let her boyfriend off with a light sentence.”
“How did she talk you into that?”
“By threatening a suit against the city for reckless endangerment.”
“Running your car over the curb was a bit over the top, but appreciated all the same. With all the cactus, you’re lucky you didn’t blow out your tires.”
“I couldn’t see if Shorty was holding a tire jack or a gun. I wasn’t taking any chances.”
“Were you afraid for Maddy’s life?”
“Or yours. Paul would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”
He snapped the pencil in two and threw the broken pieces on his desk. “Which brings me to the reason I waited for him to leave before discussing things with you.”
She raised her hands. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Then why must I keep telling you! My warnings don’t register with your sister because she’s stubborn and doesn’t like to be told what to do. I keep hoping your good sense will prevail and you’ll put an end to sleuthing.”
“You sound like Paul.”
“Don’t say that. I'd hate to be that judgmental.”
He got flustered when he considered his words.
“It’s late and I’m tired. You know what I mean.”
“I understand. You can assure my husband you gave me a stern talking to.”
Tom grinned and Lea rubbed her hands together.
“Good, that's behind us,” she said. “Now tell me about the confession.”
“It was a thing of beauty.”
The policeman leaned back in his chair and placed his feet on the desk.
“I let Gloria stay in the room to make sure her boyfriend didn’t have a change of heart. He gave us everything, wrapped up with a bow. Ian got Henry involved. In turn, Henry coerced Shorty. Shorty couldn’t afford to lose the job, so he went along. Things went smoothly the first time and they all agreed to continue. Ian, Henry, Shorty, and the appraiser.”
“So, Ian’s the mastermind behind it all.”
“I’m not convinced of that. But if there’s anyone else involved, a name should come to light when we pull Ian in. It’s surprising how fast loyalties fade when someone is staring at the four walls of a jail cell.”
“Can you keep my name out of it?” Lea asked. “I know both Donna and Ian’s wife. I’d hate for either of them to think I had anything to do with Ian’s downfall.”
“You shouldn’t feel guilty. The only person responsible for Ian’s downfall is Ian.”
She stood to leave. “I’m glad it’s over.”
“Thanks for your help, Lea. I would show Maddy my gratitude, but I walk a tight rope between thanking her for helping me solve a crime and getting mad for putting herself in danger.”
“A scenario which is not likely to change.”
“Exactly what I'm afraid of!”
Lea mumbled as she moved toward the door. “One down and one to go.”
He looked at her closely. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The burglary is solved, but the murder remains a mystery.”
“Need I remind you that murder is not your bailiwick?”
“I was referring to you, Detective.”
She reached for the doorknob.
“Hold on a minute.” He came around the desk and took a position between her and the door.
“You were right in thinking that Shorty wouldn’t hurt anyone, but don’t be naïve. Unless this case turns out to be manslaughter, we’re talking about a cold-blooded murderer who won’t hesitate to kill again. I appreciate your input on Brooke, but promise me you won’t get further involved.”
She ignored his request and resumed her seat.
“Does that mean you think her death was the unfortunate outcome of a heated argument?”
He shrugged and returned to his desk.
“The more we learn about Sandra, the more plausible it seems she angered someone enough to kill whether the act was planned or happened in the heat of the moment.”
“Who are the people on your shortlist with reason to murder her?”
Tom realized he was being drawn into discussing the case but he valued Lea’s views.
“Brooke, of course. Sandra knew enough about her friend's extracurricular activities to ruin her career. Next is Henry, worried his wife might tell the police about using her as a punching bag.”
“And Nathan.” Lea scrambled to cover her omission. “In the excitement of finding the paintings, I forgot to tell you what I learned about Nathan Logan.”
She leaned forward. “Nathan was more than a friendly neighbor.”
A catty look crossed her face. “Much more.”
He couldn't conceal his anger.
“I found out about their affair from Donna and confirmed it with Nathan,” Lea continued.
He startled Lea by jumping up and leaning over his desk.
“You talked to a potential suspect and didn’t inform me,” he shouted. “You’re unbelievable!”
“Let me explain.” She motioned him to sit down. “I doubted the story at first, but instinct told me—”
“There you go following your gut. It gets you in trouble every time.”
“You hate my wasting your time. There was no reason to tell you until I substantiated truth to the rumor.”
“You’re the only one who wasted time. Pat interviewed him. He has an air-tight alibi confirmed by his wife. Besides, you should let me decide who is or isn’t a suspect. It’s not up to you to determine.”
“You’re right.” She lowered her head to show remorse. “I should have told you after I talked with him.”
He scowled. “You shouldn’t have talked to him in the first place.”
“I’m sorry.” She clasped her hands prayer-style. “Do you forgive me?”
“Consider it water under the bridge.” He resumed his seat. “Tell me what you learned.”
Lea recounted her conversation with Sandra’s lover.
“Nathan never intended to give up his family,” she finished. “He made that clear to Sandra the night she was killed.”
“You think she retaliated by threatening to expose their affair to Nathan’s wife?” Tom asked.
“Nathan didn’t admit as much but I wouldn’t be surprised. Sandra was no woman to trifle with.”
“I’d hardly expect him to admit being threatened by a woman who was murdered,” Tom said, “but he warrants a closer look.”
He jotted a note before continuing the conversation.
“Now that we’ve solved the burglaries, we can add Sandra’s boss to people she threatened. If she suspected what Ian and Henry were doing, she could have used that information to convince them to stop or to cut her in.”
“You’re so cynical, Tom. Assuming the worst in people.”
“It comes with the territory. Hope for the best, but expect the worst.”
“I’m glad we don’t share that outlook.”
“You better look at things that way if you want to be a successful sleuth.” He shook his finger at her. “By anticipating the worst, you and your sister might avoid dangerous situations.”
She changed the subject. “Do we agree there are possibly four people Sandra threatened?”
He looked past her to the murder board in the outer room. “Actually, there may be five.”
“Who is the fifth person?”
“Someone who wanted Sandra out of the way and who may have known about her baby.”
Lea could barely contain her surprise. “Who besides Brooke knew Sandra’s sec
ret?”
The detective opened a file and flipped through the pages.
“We answered a call about a break-in at Henry’s house. It turned out to be some big shot executive, right-hand man to Andrew Carlisle.”
“Andrew Carlisle. That name sounds familiar.”
Tom looked up from the file. “How do you know the name? It came up during my interview with Sandra’s aunt.”
Lea felt her cheeks turn hot.
“It’s all right,” Tom told her. “I figured Maddy would tell you. I hope that’s the only information your sibling passed on about what happened between her and me.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
He reviewed his notes. “Brody Hall is the man sent here to bring Sandra to meet Andrew Carlisle.”
“Why now?” Lea asked.
“According to Brody, Sandra’s father is battling a life-threatening illness. Fearing he might not survive the battle, he hired a PI to locate the child he’d given up. I suppose to make amends before he kicked the bucket so he wouldn’t face the hereafter with a guilty conscience.”
“Your cynical side is showing again,” she remarked.
“Is it cynical to question why the man never attempted to find a child he abandoned until he was on his death bed?”
“Point taken. I can’t imagine Sandra was willing to forgive his grievous lack of concern all these years.”
“If you ask me,” Tom said, “she would be more likely to disclose his callousness out of spite. Inform the public of an unknown side of the revered man.”
“Undoubtedly, not the way he wishes to be remembered.”
“Which adds Carlisle to my list who considered Sandra a threat.”
Lea rested her elbows on the arms of the chair and leaned forward. “Let’s get back to Carlisle’s assistant. What was he doing at the Dade residence?”
“Looking for the letter Carlisle wrote about being her father.”
“Sandra was dead. Why worry about the letter?” she asked.
“I had the same question. Brody cited the reason you mentioned. To avoid public disclosure which might shed unfavorable light on his employer.”
“You didn’t accept his explanation?”
“I’m more inclined to believe he worried about a potential heir coming out of the woodwork at this stage of the game.”
“What are you referring to?”
“We did some research on Carlisle’s business,” the detective disclosed. “In light of his recent illness, the Board of Directors asked him to appoint a successor.”
“Let me guess,” Lea said. “His successor is Brody Hall.”
“That’s correct. Unless, of course, an heir is found before transfer of the corporation is accomplished.”
“Then Brody had plenty of reason to get rid of her. But surely, Carlisle would be suspicious of his daughter’s sudden demise after sending his trusted aide to fetch her.”
Tom nodded. “I tend to believe Brody came out here to reach an agreement with Sandra, not to dispose of her. An agreement giving him control of Carlisle's assets. He possibly misjudged Sandra in thinking she would have no interest in running a multi-million dollar business.”
“Such an arrangement may have appealed to her,” Lea agreed. “Except she was eager for babies with Nathan before her biological clock ran down.”
“Unfortunately, there’s no way of knowing Brody’s intent,” Tom said. “He clammed up the minute we took him in for questioning. I have no cause to hold him longer. Henry is refusing to press charges. I may stop at the Surf and Sand Hotel to give it one more shot before Brody leaves town. Don't hold your breath.”
Lea glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly midnight. I’ve got to go. Paul will be frantic.”
“I called earlier to tell him you’d be home soon. He’d fallen asleep watching a basketball game.”
“Good to know his concern for my well-being was superseded by a Lakers game.”
“Between you and me, much of his concern over your detective work is for show. He knows you are capable of taking care of yourself.” He smiled. “You and Maddy both.”
“Are warnings to her for show as well?”
“Paul and I don’t kid ourselves about you two listening to us.”
“That's also worth knowing.” She replaced her hand on the knob. “Good luck with your investigation. Call me if I can help.”
He grinned. “Thanks anyway, super sleuth. I think we can handle it.”
She walked to the parking lot thinking Tom needed her help whether he knew it or not.
Brody has stopped talking to the police, but I know someone he’ll be eager to speak with.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The next day, Lea completed several calls including one to KETV.
In her own mind, she had eliminated Brooke as a potential killer. Her plan would give the womanan opportunity to eliminate herself as a suspect in the eyes of the police as well.
Brooke displayed eagerness to help as Lea unveiled her idea.
Following their conversation, Lea turned her attention to the files on her desk. She worked diligently and the hours flew by. It was four o’clock when she received the message she’d been waiting for.
Brody Hall is in the bar, the message read. She breathed a sigh of relief knowing they had a chance.
She replied to the text from the front desk clerk at the Surf and Sand Hotel.
Thanks, Amber. I owe you. Dinner, your choice any restaurant. Name the place.
Lea smiled when she read Amber's response.
In 'N Out Burger.
Next, she sent a message to Brooke.
He's in the bar at the hotel. Please go ASAP.
Now, all she could do was wait and hope her plan succeeded.
• • •
Brooke read Lea’s message. The timing couldn’t have been better as she wrapped a segment on sun-bathers enjoying unseasonably warm temperatures.
She offered to buy her associate a drink knowing the cameraman would provide authenticity to the story concocted for Brody. They walked into the hotel cocktail lounge and took a table in the corner.
Brooke surveyed the room while giving the waitress her order. Her eyes stopped on a lone man sitting at the bar. From Lea's description, he was the man she was looking for.
Tasting the margarita, she grimaced.
“Too much tequila. I won’t be able to put two sentences together on my late show. I'll ask the bartender to tone this down.”
She picked up the drink, took a stool at the bar, and signaled the barman.
The young man mixing drinks acknowledged her. “I’ll be right with you, Mrs. Fields.”
“No hurry,” she told him.
She turned casually to the man next to her. “The bartender forgets I do another broadcast today. Listeners don’t appreciate a newscaster slurring her words.”
Suggesting her position as newscaster rather than weatherperson captured his attention. When he expressed mild interest with a sideways glance, she flashed a smile and extended her hand.
“Brooke Fields, KETV. Is this your first visit to our fair city?”
He reciprocated with a firm handshake. “Brody Hall. That's correct. It's the first time I've ventured outside Los Angeles. I don’t get away from Boston often.”
“All the way from Boston. Here on business? I hadn’t heard of any conventions this week.”
“My business here is personal.”
She was told he could be stand-offish, but this would be harder than she anticipated unless she appealed to his vanity.
“Too bad. I interview a lot of executives. In fact, I’m preparing a special on up-and-coming superstars in the internet world.”
His eyes lit up. He sat an inch taller. “I probably fall into that category.”
“How interesting! What company are you with?”
She expressed instant recognition when he spoke the name.
“Oh, my goodness. That’s Andrew Carlisle’s compa
ny. There are rumors Mr. Carlisle is turning over the reins of his enterprise to his brilliant protégé. Is that you?”
He beamed and accepted the accolade with the confident air of someone claiming his place in the world. “Guilty as charged.”
The possible irony of his words was not lost on Brooke.
She humbled herself to keep him talking. “I apologize for not recognizing you. If the rumors are true, it won’t be long until you become a household name.”
He had difficulty looking modest.
“I can’t imagine what business you have in our small town, but I’d love to include you in my special,” she gushed. “Any chance of that happening?”
“Sorry, but I’m scheduled on a flight. I’m biding my time waiting for a ride to the airport.”
“Could I tag along? It will take an hour to get there, longer if traffic is bad. Plenty of time for an interview.”
“Didn't you say you have a show to do?”
“I’ll arrange for a stand-in. My boss would never forgive me if he finds out I passed an opportunity to talk with the person taking over for one of the wealthiest men in the country.”
Tapping into his ego paid off. He looked at his watch. “The driver will arrive shortly. Do you have the recording equipment you’ll need?”
She patted her shoulder bag.
“I’m always equipped. Let me dismiss my cameraman and I’ll be ready to go. You won’t regret this, Mr. Hall. Thanks for giving me the opportunity.”
He puffed up his chest. “You may call me Brody.”
Brooke returned to the table and informed her associate. “If I'm not back in time, tell the station to use one of my canned shows.”
Contrary to what she told Brody, there was no need for a fill-in. Since weather in California seldom changed, segments filmed as backups could always be used.
She sent a quick text to Lea.
Brody is insufferable, but I’ll get info you need. Kick me if I act like him when I’m rich and famous.
• • •
Brooke and Brody settled in the backseat of the limousine and he closed the glass partition separating them from the driver.
“Are you comfortable, Ms. Fields?” he asked.
“Call me Brooke. I’m fine, thank you.”
She ran her hand over the leather seat. This is the way to travel. I can’t wait to be chauffeured around town. To sit back and relax in heavy traffic instead of gripping the wheel with frustration.
