Hired Killer (Biscayne Bay Book 1)

by Deborah Brown

  Grey parked in the driveway and got out holding a three-bottle cardboard carrier. He attempted to hand it off to Bern, who brushed it away for a hug from Gram, who was admonishing him like an errant teen. He squeezed her hard, and she squeaked. End of lecture.

  Bern hooked his arm around Gram, and they headed off down the street.

  “Neither of you has permission to go very far,” I yelled.

  They both waved over their heads, neither breaking stride.

  Grey dropped the liquor purchase inside the house and joined Ender and I, leaning against the rear of his Escalade. “You got anything for me?” he grouched as he got closer.

  “Bern work your last nerve?” I asked.

  “One would’ve thought he couldn’t get through another day without his whiskey and tequila. I told him I’d stop on the condition of no more drinking and driving.” The irritation rolled off him.

  “No worries. I hid the ignition key, so next liquor run, he can call an Uber.”

  Grey hooked an arm around me. “Kent’s not returning my calls,” he told Ender.

  “Here’s the deal. The CFO is an acquaintance of mine and is the one that called for a referral to an investigator, hence how you got involved. He noticed the missing money and warned Kent that he better get it back in the account before it was discovered, became a legal issue, and the stock tanked.”

  “How did Kent take the ultimatum?” Grey asked.

  “About like you’d expect—blew it off.” Ender’s face conveyed that Kent was stupid. “My friend, not wanting any blowback landing in his lap, confided in a board member. The two of them cornered Kent, planning to pressure him into returning the money from his personal account if the son had spent it and then force both their resignations. Kent could retire, and no one would be the wiser.”

  “Wouldn’t that require some creative accounting?” I asked.

  Ender shot me a look that clearly said, No one’s asking you.

  “Why did Kent hire me if he wasn’t going to be cooperative? Not to mention pay a sizeable retainer for dick-around privileges.”

  “Kent put on a good show about wanting Wilson found, but it was a ruse. Wilson took off to the Caribbean, where the family owns a house, and there’s no way the old man doesn’t know. The security guard on the property would’ve called. If Wilson thinks there’s no extradition for monetary crimes, he didn’t do his homework.”

  “That says to me that Kent is buying time. But for what?” Grey asked.

  “Just the fact that he hired you makes him look proactive,” Ender said.

  I threw in my two cents. “Or he’s looking for a way to put the blame on Grey.”

  “Speaking of scapegoats…” Ender said. “My friend thinks Kent stole the money and is putting the blame on his kid. I met the kid once; he’s a worm. When the cops catch up to him, he’ll sell out whoever he has to to avoid jail. True or not.” With an apologetic look, he added, “I honestly thought this was a straightforward case. It didn’t implode until after I got you involved.”

  “I’m going to tell the old guy to stick the job,” Grey said.

  “Hold off on that. Don’t contact Kent. Let’s see how this plays out.”

  “I’ll let you know if he returns my calls, but I’m thinking that probably won’t happen.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was the start of a new week, and there’d been no calls from Kent. Grey hadn’t tried to get in touch since his conversation with Ender, and there’d been no new updates from the man.

  The offices were ready for occupancy. Avery presented Hugo with an exhaustive punch list, and he put his guys on it and got everything done in short order. Thanks to a connection of Hugo’s, the elevator was now working.

  It would be an easy move for Grey, since he planned to use the desk and chairs already there, but he hadn’t shown any interest since he started working from my home office. Avery hired a moving van, which packed up her previous office space and hauled everything upstairs.

  It was early, and I was awake and dressed in a knee-length dress and low heels. I went in search of coffee and found Grey with a fresh pot brewing.

  Grey whistled as I walked into the kitchen. “It’s a little early for an appointment.”

  “Not if it’s in Orlando and I need to be there by noon.” His blue eyes turned chilly, and I braced myself for an irritated response. “Even though I’m dressed and ready to leave, if after I tell you the plan for the day, you strongly object, I’ll call and cancel.”

  Grey mumbled something under his breath. “I thought our agreement was for you to discuss things with me before going off half-cocked. Did I misunderstand?”

  “I object to your description. That said, technically I am giving you a heads up.”

  “Are you always on the lookout for a loophole?” Grey shook his head. “I’m afraid to ask who you’re meeting.”

  “I got Jeff Graham to agree to meet me.”

  “Mindy’s father?” His tone was clearly skeptical. “Surprised you could get him on the phone.”

  “I used a friend-of-a-friend, twice-removed connection.”

  “I’m going to tell that damn Ender to stop helping you. I’d threaten to kick his oversized butt but would need to hire someone from the WWF to do it.”

  I didn’t bother to tell him that it wasn’t Ender. “You have options here.”

  “I’m pretty certain that I know what they are, but why don’t you enlighten me?”

  “We don’t have time for a detailed discussion, so tell me to butt out or hurry up and change, and while you’re driving me to my appointment, I’ll go over all the deets.”

  Without a word, he headed down the hall. I heard the shower and took it as a sign that he was coming with me.

  We were headed north on the Turnpike when he said, “So you called Graham, and he said, ‘Sure. Come on over,’ to a total stranger? Who does he think you are? More importantly, what does he think you want?”

  “I introduced myself as Brenda Jones, budding writer, and said that I was researching his daughter’s murder and wanted my account to be factual. I also said that if I uncovered any new information, I’d be happy to share.”

  “That’s nervy.”

  “Graham thought so too. When I asked if he’d meet with me, he told me to butt out and hung up.” I’d been mortified and stared at the phone, wishing I could take the call back. “To my surprise, shock, and a host of other emotions, he called back and agreed to a meeting.”

  “Interesting turnaround,” Grey grumped.

  “Or… maybe after some thought, he decided he wanted a fair representation of his daughter’s story.”

  “Who chose the location?”

  “Graham texted the address, which I googled. According to the picture, it’s a coffee shop with an outdoor patio. If we get there ahead of him, I’m going to get a table outside where I have a view of both inside and out.”

  “You’re not to go anywhere with him, no matter what he says. I won’t be far away, and if you think the conversation is getting out of hand, get up and leave, and I’ll be right beside you, telling him to take a hike.”

  “You think I can expect trouble?”

  “I just think his about-face is odd. It’s possible that he just wants some input into the project, but what else?” Grey shook his head. “When I checked into his background, he came back squeaky clean, and I couldn’t find anyone with a bad word to say about the man.” We lapsed into silence and were almost to the turnoff when Grey asked, “What are you going to ask him?”

  “I don’t want to be too invasive. I’m going to introduce myself and tell him that I became interested in the case, followed the extensive news coverage, and it inspired me to write a book.” My supposed great idea was now making me squirm at the thought of the face-to-face about to happen. “I’m interested to know if he thinks that his daughter’s murderer is dead or believes there’s someone still walking around.”

  “And did you follow the ca
se?” Grey asked.

  “You know I didn’t. I only researched and read everything I could find after the order to off you came in.”

  “You’ve been wanting an answer from me on whether I want my name cleared, and the answer has always been yes. But not if something happens to you.”

  I reached out and squeezed his hand.

  “Not to be discouraging…” There was a ‘but’ in Grey’s voice. “You could interview everyone connected to the case and not come up with a viable suspect. It’s already been done by law enforcement, and trust me, they were thorough. And if the real killer were to get wind of your project, they’d kill you… or attempt to anyway.”

  “You need someone to ask questions for you. And with you by my side, or close by anyway, I’ll be safe.”

  Grey groaned.

  “You could head up your own investigation, since you’re the experienced one. But it would require you to out yourself as alive, and that’s out of the question. Because…” I aimed my fingers and shot up the car, then let my head drop to my shoulder. Finally, a laugh.

  “I’m certain I need a therapist, but not sure how I’d explain you.”

  “I wouldn’t waste time thinking about that. Just revel in the fact that you’re the sane one.” Another laugh. I wanted to sigh with pleasure. “Until we clear your name, there’s no reason you can’t be Grey Walker for a select few and Steve for the rest, or another cool moniker. A lot of people in South Florida use one and never advertise their real name. That way, you’re not doing anything illegal.”

  “I’ve been slow to wrap my head around everything that’s happened… just sort of coasting on autopilot, but now I’m kicking my own butt into action.”

  Grey pulled off the freeway and cruised through town, easily finding the coffee shop in a trendy strip mall. He drove by slowly, and I kept my neck craned but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  “I’ll drop you off a couple of businesses down the sidewalk and go back and park across from the entrance. When you’re ready to leave, I’ll follow at a discreet distance and pick you up in front of the same store. Or I can get a table and eavesdrop. Either way, I won’t be taking my eyes off you.”

  “Not that I think you’re that recognizable…” I eyed his beard, which had grown a bit longer and suited him. “…but since this is your old stomping grounds, maybe you should stay in the car. I wouldn’t want someone to make the connection. Drop me at the ice cream store and pick me up at the same place.”

  Grey coasted to a stop at the curb. “If, for any reason, you feel the least bit uncomfortable, get up and leave.” He picked up my phone. “I called myself,” he said and handed it back. “Keep it on. Graham does anything untoward, and I’ll swoop in and rearrange his face.” He leaned across the console and kissed me.

  I got out and checked out the flavors of ice cream through the window before proceeding to the coffee shop. Grey U-turned and found a space in front. Not seeing Mr. Graham, I went inside and got an iced coffee. On the way back outside, I found him sitting on a stool at a countertop that looked out the window. Not sure how I missed him on the way in, but he had a coffee sitting in front of him, so he’d been here for at least a short time.

  As I approached, I pasted on what I hoped was a friendly smile and introduced myself, thankfully not forgetting my pseudonym, which I had to admit I was enjoying.

  “Let’s go outside.” Graham stood and held the door open.

  We had our pick of tables, since it was hot out. Except for one. Grey had decided to move closer and sat at a table at the far end of the patio, his head shoved inside a magazine. I’d ask later where the heck he got it. I was happy that Mr. Graham had suggested that we move outside, since the inside was packed and we might be overheard. I picked a table with a large umbrella.

  “I want to thank you for meeting with me,” I said, sitting down.

  Graham reached in his pocket, pulled out a slip of paper, and slapped it down. It was a blank check. “Name your price. The only reason I agreed to this meeting was to buy you off.” He withdrew a pen from his pocket. “I don’t want a book written about my daughter and the events all dredged back up again.”

  My cheeks flamed. I felt like the worst human ever. “I’m sorry,” I stuttered. “I’m not taking your money. I’ll find something else to write about.”

  “You don’t know the toll this has taken on my family. I’ve got two daughters at home to think about, and I want them to have some happiness, not have this hanging over their heads.” The sadness on his face twisted my heart. “My wife died shortly after my daughter. She was out late, driving too fast, and skidded off the highway.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  Graham scrutinized my face. “You’re not the hardened reporter I was expecting, doing whatever it takes to dig up dirt and make the story an endless headline again.”

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention…” I didn’t know what to say, since I hadn’t thought it through past getting answers to help Grey. He stared, waiting for me to finish. “Could I ask one question, and then I’ll leave?”

  A riot of emotions raced across his face, and it took him so long to answer, I thought he wouldn’t. “Go ahead.”

  “Do you think Grey Walker was the killer?”

  “Despite the news reports, I never thought he did it. I was even more sure he wasn’t at fault when I found Mindy’s journal. It was a hard read.” His jaw tightened. “My daughter had mental health issues her entire life. I’d tried to get her help, but my wife disagreed, always brushing off her erratic behavior, insisting that she’d grow up and miraculously stop blaming others for things she’d done herself. No matter how many times I’ve been over what happened, I can’t change anything. What I can do is concentrate on giving my daughters the best life possible and not let anything get in the way.” He pulled the top off his pen and moved the check closer. “I’m going to make this out to you.”

  “You can do that, but I’ll tear it up,” I said in a firm tone. “I need to take a good look at myself after this. I’m already horribly embarrassed.”

  “I do not want to go down this road again.” His voice unyielding. “I don’t want to relocate my family, but I will if I have to.”

  “You have nothing to worry about from me. I promise you, the project is dead.”

  “Mr. Graham.” A twenty-something stood in front of the table in silk shorts and a shirt. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” He dragged a chair over and sat down, staring at me as though expecting an introduction.

  I pasted on a smile and looked away.

  “Rally. Yes, it’s been a while.” Graham noticed his attention on the check and covered it with his hand. “Hope your family is doing well.”

  “Everyone’s fine.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, this is a business meeting.” Graham arched his brow. “If it’s important, give me a call.”

  If looks could kill… Rally finally stood and stumbled out of the chair. “Our families should get together.” His words rang with insincerity. He turned and flashed me an ugly stare, then scurried inside the coffee shop.

  I wondered if he planned to order something and hang around until we left.

  “I suppose it would have been good manners to introduce you, but he’s not someone you want to know.” Graham kept his voice low. “He’s a neighbor and was a friend of Mindy’s. They didn’t bring out the best in each other.” He shot a glance at the shop window.

  “Not that you need my advice, but I’d start practicing your excuse for why you can’t attend the dinner.”

  Graham laughed. “That felt good. My daughters would flip if I accepted. They think he’s creepy.”

  “Thank you for meeting me, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do,” I said with sincerity. “I give you my word that I’m moving on to a new project. I’ve realized that I’m not cut out for this. Your daughters are lucky to have a dad who’s thinking about their happiness
in such a sad time.” I grabbed my purse, and we both stood.

  “Let me walk you to your car.”

  “I saw a dress in a window down the way that I want to go check out.” I smiled, feeling my cheeks pinken.

  Graham chuckled and held out his hand. We shook.

  “It was nice meeting you.”

  “Same here.” He escorted me to the sidewalk, and we went our separate ways.

  I turned and scanned the sidewalk back to the coffee shop to see if Rally had followed us, the thought of his eyes all over me creeping me out. He appeared to have left. I didn’t break stride and went inside the store that had caught my eye earlier. As I slid my phone out of my pocket, the saleswoman who was about to approach me smiled and turned away. “You still there?” I asked Grey, noting that the screen still showed us as connected.

  “As soon as Graham pulls out, I’ll pick you up.”

  I hung up and, after a last glance around, walked back outside and met Grey, who was pulling up to the curb. I got in, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “For a damn awkward situation, I could tell that Graham left with no hard feelings,” Grey said, admiration in his tone.

  “Did you recognize the creepy guy that crashed our conversation?” I asked.

  “Rally Charles, trust fund brat from a mega-bucks family. Ran into him once, and he let me know that I was guilty as hell and would get mine.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Ratcheted up a menacing tone and told him to get out of my face before I beat the hell out of him. He ran. Before he did, I told him never to speak to me again. It was a satisfying moment. He called 911, but it didn’t go anywhere. I’m sure that, self-entitled a-hole that he is, he talked down to the officers responding, and they probably couldn’t have cared less.”

  “I was happy when Graham got rid of him, which I don’t think he expected.”

  “I kept an eye on Rally. He walked through the coffee shop and out the other exit. I stayed vigilant, and he didn’t circle back around.” Grey maneuvered into a long line of cars waiting to turn out of the shopping area. “Rally’s a blowhard, used to throwing Daddy’s name around and getting what he wants.”