“Good girl.”
“Can I use your cell phone? I gave mine to Patty—or was it Mike? Anyway I don’t have it and I need to check on Patty.”
He pulled it out, handed it to her.
It took only a minute to confirm Patty was home safe and sound.
With a sigh of relief, she returned the phone. “What’s going on, Douglas? Why haven’t they arrested Harold? I know he killed Tempest.”
“What makes you so sure?” From what Max and TJ had told him, hiring Lisa had been one of the best things they had ever done. She was an expert in finances, and could get anyone to talk about anything and everything. Plus, she was as honest and forthcoming as anyone he knew. Maybe more so. Could he trust her instincts now? He looked at her again and knew he could. She was as trustworthy as his sister, TJ. And just as pretty.
“I told you. Tempest wanted a divorce. I think Harold clued into that. If she divorced him, he wouldn’t be able to siphon off the trust any longer. I don’t think she had time to change her will either. He’ll get it all. Tempest wanted to know how he was getting money out of the trust and who he was involved with. It was our job—my job, to find out.”
“And?”
“We haven’t had time to get very far. The only thing we know for sure is that Harold Wheatley is a philanderer. He tries to bed every woman he meets and drops them just as fast.” Her eyes went to his.
Douglas felt a pang of guilt. That was his reputation. Flirt with every woman he met. Date them, bed them, leave them. But his reputation was more blown up than the reality. He admitted to dating a lot of women. Dinners. Theater. Walks in the park. Picnics. But he wasn’t promiscuous. If he slept with a woman she was the only one until it ended. Not quite what everyone imagined.
TJ had found a man she wanted for the rest of her life.
Donovan had found a woman who made him so happy he carried a smile with him everywhere he went.
Douglas still played the field just as he had from high school through law school. Of course that would change after he married, but he wasn’t sure that day would ever come.
“Anything else?”
“Harold acted weird the night Tempest died—nervous. Also, Tempest told me less than an hour before she died he had been acting strange lately.”
“Strange? As in how?”
“She didn’t elaborate. Just said he was being nicer than usual. That could mean he was guilty of something or was planning something.”
“You don’t really know that, Lisa.”
“Douglas, I’m a damned good investigator. I can read people. You can do. You have to if you represent them in court. So, yes. I know what I’m talking about.”
“Did the cops ask you about Harold?”
“Not tonight. Earlier I told them just what I’m telling you. Besides, I wouldn’t say anything without you being here.”
“You did the right thing. Let me find out what’s going on. Will you be all right for a bit? Max and Darin are on their way, maybe I can get them in here.”
“What would I do without you guys?”
“You don’t have to. We’re here. You might not carry the Callahan name, but you’re as much a part of this family as any of us.” The phone lines were probably burning up right now between TJ and the rest of the clan.
It didn’t take long to find the detectives who had brought her in, and find out that this was more serious than either he or Lisa imagined.
“There is reason to believe that Lisa Kane is responsible for Ms. Wheatley’s death,” Detective Hart explained. The other detective concurred.
No way. But neither of them knew Lisa as he did. She was funny, generous, thoughtful, and could zap a man’s breath away with a smile. She wouldn’t hurt anyone. “What kind of evidence do you have to back up that statement?”
“Her fingerprints on the glass containing the poison that killed Tempest Wheatley, for one.”
“Lisa explained that. And if you remember, Lisa called me after the accident. Later, we called my brother, Detective Callahan, and told him to have the glasses taken to the lab and examined. Why would we do that if she were guilty?”
“To divert suspicion,” Detective Arthur said.
“You must be kidding.” Douglas said. “Your reasoning doesn’t make sense. She could have let them wash the glasses. Why would she want to keep them as evidence if that evidence pointed to her? Besides,” he reminded them. “Since there was no warrant, you wouldn’t be able to use the glass in court.”
“We won’t need to. We found the bottle of poison in her car.”
“Come on, she’s too smart to do something that stupid. Obviously, someone planted it.” He couldn’t believe the cops were taking this serious. Everything they had was circumstantial, and easily explained away. But they still wanted to point their finger her way.
“Detective Ryan will question her. If he doesn’t like the answers, she’ll be charged.”
Douglas pulled out his card. “I’m Ms. Kane’s attorney. No one will so much as look at her sideways unless I’m present.” He kept his voice steady, the carefully cultivated voice of reason expected from a client’s lawyer. He held tight to the frustration and anger pushing him to lash out at the detectives. He wanted to shout at the stupid sons-of-bitches. Lisa would never do anything against the law. She wouldn’t even tell a white lie, for God’s sakes.
He couldn’t lose control. He had to be calm and professional. Lisa needed him now.
His job was made harder by the fact that he’d have to dig for evidence to find the real killer. If the cops decided Lisa was guilty, their attention would focus on proving her guilt so the case would stand up in court. They wouldn’t look for anyone else.
Max came around the corner of the hall at a near run. Darin close behind.
“Where is she?”
“Take it easy, Max. I’m just now getting answers myself.”
“Sorry. Taralyn has called me every three minutes since I left the house. She’s going nuts. Can’t say that I blame her.”
Douglas nodded his understanding.
Only their mother and Max called TJ by her full name, Taralyn. Since the day many years ago when TJ had been with their dad on the day he died in a ranch accident, she’d insisted on being called TJ.
Darin looked as if he were in shock. “What are they thinking? Douglas called me because Lisa wanted to make sure the glasses got to the lab. Can’t they see she’s trying to help them find who did this?”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Douglas said with a confidence he didn’t feel.
“What do you know about this, Darin?” Max asked.
“Not much. The lab tech told me today there were fingerprints on the glass in question. They sent the report to the investigating officer, John Ryan, but wouldn’t tell me what they found.”
“The glass had Lisa’s prints on it. Even worse, they found a bottle of poison in her car,” Douglas offered.
“Circumstantial and easily explained” Max said. “Where is this Detective John Ryan? Why isn’t he here to interrogate Lisa if she’s under suspicion?”
Douglas shrugged. “On his way.”
Max balled up a fist. “What am I supposed to tell Taralyn? I refuse to have her upset now.”
“Take it easy, Max,” Douglas urged, as Detective Ryan approached them, followed by the two officers who had arrested Lisa.
“We’re ready to interrogate Ms. Kane now,” Detective Ryan said.
Darin and Douglas exchanged glances with Max.
“It’ll be all right,” Douglas said. “I’ll be with her every second.”
“I’m coming with you,” Max insisted.
Max was already headed to the interrogation room.
“Sorry,” Detective Ryan informed him. “You can wait in here.” He opened a door to a small waiting room.
Max’s lips pressed into a grim line, his eyes narrowed. As a former FBI agent he wasn’t used to being told no. Max was protective of his own, whether i
t was family or employee. Lisa was both. Darin, being a cop, had clearly thought he’d be allowed in. Both were mistaken.
“Maybe they’ll let you watch,” Douglas suggested.
Max’s eyes narrowed a bit further. The detective remained adamant.
“I expect you to bring her with you when you come out of there, Callahan. You hear me?” Max growled a parting shot.
“I’ll be here if you need me,” Darin said, giving the two cops a narrow look.
When Douglas walked in a minute later with the detectives, Lisa’s gaze lifted to him. He couldn’t help but admire her poise. He’d seen many in similar circumstance. Few looked as composed as she did. But she couldn’t hide the concern and questions in her eyes.
“Let’s get right to it,” Detective Ryan began as he clicked on the video.
After Detective Hart read Lisa her rights, Douglas sat beside her. “If I tell you not to answer a question, Lisa, don’t.”
She nodded. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” she began, as she looked at the detectives. “Tempest—”
“Don’t say anything until they ask a question, Lisa,” Douglas interrupted.
Lisa clamped her mouth shut. The cops looked at her with cold, hard eyes that told her they had their own agenda.
They started with the usual. Name, address, etc. They soon got serious. “How long have you known the Wheatleys?”
“I’ve known them by reputation for years, but just recently met them.”
“You were investigating Mr. Wheatley?”
“AAF, the company I work for, is handling the investigation. I was part of it.”
“What did you find?”
She shrugged.
“Which means?”
“I told you this the first time I came in here, Detective Ryan. So far, we’ve found nothing to indicate either infidelity or theft.”
“Did your investigation lead you to find evidence that Harold Wheatley planned to poison his wife?”
“The night Tempest fell from her horse, I saw Harold in the president’s skybox. He was nervous and upset. He had all the tells of guilt, but no, we have no proof. Yet.” She was sick and tired of telling them the same thing over and over when they could clearly see that Harold had motive and opportunity. A shiver ran up her spine.
“Did you put something in Ms. Wheatley’s glass while she was at your table in the skybox?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Your fingerprints are on the glass.”
She looked to Douglas who nodded. “Tempest was acting strange. I checked the glass after she left to see if there was alcohol in it. Her act is dangerous enough sober.”
“A bottle of chlordane was found in your car. The same poison that killed Ms. Wheatley.”
“Chlordane? My car! Are you crazy? I’ve never heard of that stuff. I don’t even know what it is.” Her heart pounded an uneven rhythm in her chest. She put a hand across hr chest as if to slow it down.
“Then how did it get there?”
“Where, exactly?”
“That’s enough,” Douglas said. “We’ll not take part in your little fishing expedition. We’re leaving.”
“Did Mr. Wheatley invite you to the skybox that night?
“Tempest did.”
“Not one more word, Lisa,” Douglas said, standing and pulling her up beside him.
Detective Ryan stood, but he wasn’t finished. “Did you want Tempest out of the way so he could marry you?”
Lisa drew an angry breath.
“You’re way out of line,” Douglas snapped, his mouth grim.
“Fine. But don’t leave town,” one of the detectives warned as they left the room.
Max and Darin were in the hall. Max with his cell phone glued to his ear. When he saw them, he gave the phone to Lisa.
“Talk to Taralyn. Tell her everything is all right or she’ll be down here herself.”
“Not if I can help it,” Lisa said, grabbing the phone. “TJ. I’m okay. Darin is here and he’ll take me to my car. I’ll be home in forty-five minutes.” She listened for a few seconds. “Don’t get yourself all worked up. I’ll call as soon as I get home.”
It took several more minutes to convince TJ.
When Lisa hung up, she looked at Darin. “Will you take me to my car?”
“I’ll take you,” Douglas said before Darin could answer.
“I’m closer,” Darin argued.
“I have questions. Then I’ll follow her home, make sure she’s safe.”
Darin threw his hands up in surrender.
“Why don’t you hang around a bit and see what you can find out about all this,” Douglas suggested.
Lisa looked over at Douglas, thankful that her attorney was so eager to help her. But she wanted more.
Chapter Five
Lisa awoke with the worst headache she’d ever had. But then, she’d never before been accused of murder. Just the thought brought back the horror of last night. If it hadn’t been for Douglas she didn’t know what she would have done. True, Max and Darin had been there for her, but it was Douglas who had protected her, searched the apartment when he'd brought her home, made a pot of tea and sat with her until she calmed down.
No wonder she loved him.
She struggled out of bed, made a pot of coffee, took two Tylenol, and reached for her cell phone.
First, she called TJ to reassure her pregnant friend the cops’ more than subtle accusations weren’t going to get her down and she was sticking with her regular schedule for the day. Next, she called Nellie, her adopted mom, to tell the matriarch of the Callahan tribe first-hand that she was fine.
She decided against calling Douglas, and dialed Darin’s number instead. He knew nothing more than what they'd learned last night.
After showering and dressing in a pair of worn jeans, T-shirt, jacket, and boots, she left the apartment.
She had a job to do. She wasn’t going to mope around her apartment and feel sorry for herself because the cops wanted to hang a murder rap around her neck. She’d rather find the killer herself.
Right now, she didn’t know where to look. The rodeo was a given. Other than Harold, who else at the rodeo could be put in the suspicious column? No one she could think of.
She’d have to concentrate on Harold. He was the key. His edginess the night Tempest died told her he had something to hide. That something most likely pertained to his wife. She’d bet on it. Her mind whirled with questions she wanted to ask him—with all she wanted to check out.
But not today. At least not until tonight. Right now, she had something almost as important to do.
****
It was a glorious winter morning with blue skies and a temperature in the fifties. It was a perfect day for Lisa to practice. But when Douglas climbed out of his SUV and looked across the field, he didn’t see her.
Lisa stabled her horse, Sugarplum, next to a practice field, and went there as often as possible. With her barrel racing competition coming up, he’d bet on her being here now.
Just as he thought he might be mistaken, a horse and rider thundered toward three barrels set in the middle of the field. The rider sat low in the saddle, one hand on the horn, the other holding the reins. Beneath a worn Stetson, Lisa’s long, blond hair was unmistakable.
Douglas smiled.
The pair made a beautiful picture; the Palomino horse with its tan body and golden mane and tail, and the woman whose hair almost matched.
As she guided Sugarplum around the barrel turns, they took his breath away.
He’d watched Lisa practice before at the ranch where she rode one of their horses. But their horses weren’t trained. Sugarplum was. The difference was amazing.
Horse and rider leaned low to the side and flew around the first barrel in a tight but perfect circle. Douglas’ heart leaped into his throat. Then, Sugarplum thundered in the opposite direction toward the second barrel. They made the turn with graceful precision. He couldn’t help admiring them
both.
Racing against the clock, Lisa and Sugarplum turned toward the third and final barrel. Lisa’s boot clipped the barrel, knocking it to the ground.
Ignoring the fault, she thundered toward the finish.
He’d practically been born in a saddle, but could never match her skill.
He wondered how someone so slight in build could handle a horse that well. It took more than skill. The rider had to be in top physical shape as well.
Her cheeks were flushed from the ride, her hair a tangle of blond silk. His heart did that funny tripping thing again.
Seeing him, Lisa drew Sugarplum to a walk and came over.
“What brings you here this morning?”
“You were magnificent.”
“I kicked the barrel. Cost me five seconds. I have to do better.”
She slid out of the saddle, took off her Stetson and brushed hair back from her face. “If you have bad news, I don’t want to hear it.”
“No. Actually, I wanted to talk about Tempest and what happened that night.”
“Here?”
He looked around. “Join me for a cup of coffee?”
“Give me a few minutes to brush Sugarplum. If you’re in a hurry, I can meet you at your office.”
“Are you through?”
“With what—practicing?”
He nodded.
“For now.” Her brow wrinkled. “I can’t seem to concentrate.”
“Understandable.”
“Has HPD contacted you?”
“If you’re asking if they want to question you again, the answer is no. I think they realize the evidence is too circumstantial.”
“Harold is a womanizer. He’d take any woman with a pulse to bed, and spend Tempest’s money on her the whole time. That’s reason enough to look at him.”
“Hey. You’re preaching to the choir here. Remember?”
When she grinned he felt that thump in his chest area again.
He drove his SUV to the stable and waited while Lisa took care of Sugarplum. He couldn’t blame any man for hitting on her. But the idea of Harold Wheatley pursuing her made his stomach tighten.
Promise Her Page 5
