The Bloodstained Bride

by Rachel Woods

  François’ bombshell about the texts between Derek and Jones didn’t sit well with Vivian. The detective hadn’t allowed them to see the transcripts of the texts. He’d paraphrased the messages, claiming that Derek had paid Jones to kill Besi? But, was that true?

  Leo would probably agree with her about the text messages if his bitterness didn't blind him toward Derek. Her husband could be willfully stubborn, at times. She knew he wasn’t in the mood to entertain any scenario in which Derek wasn’t guilty.

  Vivian decided to keep her doubts about the evidence against Derek to herself. For now.

  Running a hand down the back of his unruly waves, Leo said, “Just pisses me off that Derek could get away with having Besi killed just like he’s gotten away with all the other rotten shit he’s done.”

  Vivian stared at Leo.

  She’d been worried about how Derek’s arrest had affected her husband. After seeing his childhood frenemy led away in handcuffs, Leo had been sullen and sarcastic.

  Leo’s sulking concerned her. In the two days that had passed since Derek’s arrest, Vivian had tried her best to cajole and coax Leo out of his bad mood, but he seemed content to wallow in misery and melancholy. Her husband had exhibited disappointed ire toward Derek, but Vivian suspected Leo was truly saddened by the gut-wrenching allegations against Derek. Leo had professed nothing but annoyance with Derek since his arrival in St. Killian. Nevertheless, Vivian had a feeling that Leo cared more about Derek than he wanted to admit, or maybe even realized.

  “You ready to call it a day and head out to Montmarch?” asked Leo.

  “Just let me answer a few more emails,” said Vivian. “Then I’ll be ready to go.”

  “I want to grab some files from my office,” Leo said, standing. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten.”

  After her husband left, Vivian turned back to her computer. Fingers flying over the keyboard, she tried to concentrate on her task, but couldn’t help worrying about Leo. She hoped her husband’s animosity toward Derek wouldn’t cause him to ignore evidence and allow an innocent man to go to jail for something he didn’t do.

  30

  Disappointed and disgusted, Leo stared at Derek.

  His face haggard and sallow, Derek was unshaven and unkempt. His eyes, haunted and bleary, darted back and forth as he dropped down into the chair on Vivian’s right. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing when Baxter François arrested him. The custom-made dress shirt was wrinkled, as were the linen trousers.

  Shifting in the antique chair in front of Burt’s desk, trying to get comfortable, Leo was sickened by a horrible case of the worse de’ja vu he’d ever experienced. Everything that had occurred in his father’s office two days ago flooded his mind, a deluge of memories that nearly drowned him.

  Derek Hennessy, you are under arrest for solicitation of the murder of Bessemer Elizabeth Beaumont.

  As soon as the detective said those words, chaos and unbelief and confusion took over. Derek went berserk, shouting obscenities and screaming his denial of the detective’s claims. Burt was outraged, expressing his incredulity and questioning François’ detective skills. Vivian tried to be the voice of reason, desperate in her suggestions that everyone remain calm and rational.

  A measured and practical response had been impossible.

  Eventually, Burt managed to convince him to settle down so François could read him his rights. Stone-faced and silent, Derek didn’t put up a fight when François put him in handcuffs and escorted him out of Burt’s office.

  Even now, two days later, Leo struggled to process the situation. Part of him couldn’t believe that Derek had been arrested, but the evidence François had presented against Derek was compelling and convincing.

  Derek’s fingerprints had been found on the Hermes briefcase the cops recovered from Aaron Jones’ motel room. Derek’s passport had been found in the briefcase. Derek and Aaron Jones had exchanged text messages about some sort of payment. Derek had driven to the Flamingo Inn, leaving behind plastic shards from the taillight on the Mercedes he’d damaged.

  Leo could only come to one conclusion.

  Derek was guilty as hell.

  With a long, weary exhale, Burt sat behind his desk. The leather chair groaned beneath his weight as he put his elbows on the table.

  “Derek, I know that you have been through hell and, after two nights in jail, I’m sure you just want to take a shower and get some rest,” said Burt, “but before you do, I need you to answer a few questions.”

  “I don’t need answers,” said Leo, leaning forward to stare at Derek. “I need the truth. Did you hire Aaron Jones to kill Besi?”

  Shaking his head, Derek said, “I can’t believe you think—”

  “Derek, you need to start explaining,” demanded Burt. “What the hell is going on?”

  Running a hand through his greasy hair, Derek said, “This whole nightmare started before the wedding. Out of the blue, I get an email from a guy – he tells me his name is Aaron Jones and claims he has information about me that, if it got out, would ruin my life.”

  “What did you do?” asked Leo.

  “I called Skip,” said Derek.

  “Skip Taylor?” asked Burt.

  Derek nodded.

  Leo glanced at this father and asked, “You know Skip?”

  Burt exhaled, rubbing his eyes. “Not personally. We’ve never met but I know of him, and the services he provides.”

  “What kind of services?” asked Vivian.

  “Skip Taylor is a fixer,” said Burt.

  His suspicions confirmed, Leo glanced at Vivian, who raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment.

  “Skip’s father, Chip Taylor, served in that capacity for David Hennessy,” said Burt.

  “So how did Skip handle the situation?” asked Leo.

  Derek sighed and rubbed his jaw. “Skip called the guy, found out what he wanted. Aaron Jones was blackmailing me.”

  “What did Jones have on you?” Vivian asked.

  Rubbing his haggard face, Derek said, “I don’t know what Jones had on me. Skip was taking care of it, so I didn’t ask questions. Didn’t want to know, to be honest.”

  “You didn’t want to know?” Dumbstruck by Derek’s willful ignorance, Leo shook his head.

  “Skip said he would take care of it,” said Derek, a spark of defensiveness in his tone. “Skip fixes things. I trust him to take care of problems, so I don’t have to worry about them.”

  Vivian said, “Skip coordinated and facilitated the blackmail payment to Jones.”

  Derek nodded. “Skip said Jones would keep quiet and hand over the evidence he had on me for a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “How did you come up with a hundred thousand dollars?” Leo asked. “You don’t have a job anymore.”

  “I have access to other funds,” said Derek.

  “Yeah, Besi’s funds,” said Leo. “That secret offshore account she set up for you in the Aerie Islands.”

  Derek looked confused. “What secret offshore account? I don’t know—”

  “Why am I not surprised that you don’t know?” Leo shook his head. “And I’m guessing you don’t know that Skip called Besi a few days before the wedding to meet with him to discuss something very important?”

  Derek shook his head. “Skip didn’t tell me about meeting with Besi. I told him not to ask her for money because I didn’t want her bailing me out—”

  “Again?” asked Leo.

  Exhaling, Derek said, “Skip arranged for one hundred thousand dollars to be transferred from my bank account to the Pourciau Bank and then he arranged for the cash to be withdrawn. Skip gave me the money, and I put it in my Hermes briefcase. Then I left the house to meet Skip and Jones at Jones’ motel.”

  “You borrowed the silver Mercedes,” said Leo. “Drove to the Flamingo Inn.”

  “When I got to the motel, Skip was already there, and he came out, alone, and told me he would give Jones the money,” Derek said. “So, I gave
him the briefcase. Skip said it was best if I didn’t meet Jones, and I was fine with that. Skip went back inside the motel room, and I left the motel.”

  “But, before you left,” said Leo, “you damaged the taillight.”

  Derek gave them a sheepish half-smile. “I was so nervous; I shifted into reverse instead of drive—I had backed into the parking space—and hit a column. I didn’t realize what I’d done, so when you asked me, Leo, I didn’t lie.”

  The contrite sincerity in Derek’s tone threatened to prick Leo’s heart, but he stilled himself against wayward emotions.

  “Then I came back to the house,” said Derek. “In my mind, Skip was fixing things, so I didn’t have to worry. Then Besi was killed, and that island cop accused me of hiring Jones to kill Besi, which is crazy.”

  “Doesn’t seem so crazy to me,” said Leo, risking another disapproving glare from his wife—which she promptly gave him.

  “It’s crazy because I didn’t want Besi dead. I didn’t hire anyone to kill her, especially not Jones. He’s not a hitman. He’s a sleazy blackmailer,” insisted Derek.

  Burt exhaled and fixed his gaze on his godson. “Even though you kept crucial information from me—”

  “In other words, Derek, you lied like the lying liar you are,” said Leo.

  “Leo,” said Vivian, scolding him before his father had the chance to.

  Vivian’s scowl bothered Leo. Obviously, his wife agreed with his father about giving Derek the benefit of the doubt. Leo wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t surprised. Derek had always been able to elicit compassion and sympathy from people—especially when he didn’t deserve it.

  Right now, there was no reason to mollycoddle Derek. And yet, he was getting the kid glove treatment. Burt was being protective. Vivian was understanding.

  Leo didn’t care. He was determined to maintain a healthy dose of suspicion.

  Still, Leo found himself inwardly cringing when he recalled the wounded expression in the wide-eyed look of surprise on Derek’s face moments ago. Why was he questioning his harshness? Why was he silently berating himself for his cynicism?

  Derek didn’t deserve any sympathy or understanding. Leo didn’t want to give Derek the benefit of the doubt. But, neither did he want to kick the guy while he was down.

  “The situation does not look good for you, Derek,” Burt said. “I believe your account of the night in question—”

  “Why am I not surprised?” asked Leo.

  “Leonard, please,” said Burt, pointing a warning finger at him. “I have lost all tolerance for your sarcastic barbs.”

  Saying nothing, Leo slouched in his chair, feeling too damn much like he was sixteen years old again, being berated and reprimanded for bullshit Derek had done.

  Burt said, “Derek, my belief in you may not matter. The case can be made, rather convincingly, that you hired this Jones fellow to kill Bessemer. The fact that your briefcase, filled with the payoff money, was found in Jones’ motel room—”

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” said Derek. “Skip was supposed to bring the briefcase back to me. I don’t know why he let Jones keep it.”

  “It also doesn’t look good that you went to Jones’ motel room,” added Vivian.

  “But, I didn’t go inside,” said Derek. “You can ask Skip. I’ll give you his number.”

  “Derek, I’d like Leonard to speak to Skip Taylor in person,” said Burt. “Where is he staying?”

  “Not sure.” Derek frowned. “I didn’t ask.”

  “Of course, you didn’t,” Leo couldn’t help saying.

  “I never do,” said Derek. “Skip says it’s best if I know as little as possible when it comes to the details so that I can have plausible deniability.”

  “You know why people need plausible deniability?” asked Leo, glaring at Derek. “Because they’ve done something illegal.”

  “It’s not illegal to pay a blackmailer, is it?” asked Derek, his expression confused.

  “What do you think Jones had on you?” asked Burt.

  Derek averted his gaze, studying his hands. “Maybe he knows why I left Hennessy Capital. I messed up. That’s why Dad won’t have anything to do with me.”

  “How did you mess up?” asked Leo.

  “If the truth came out,” said Derek, shaking his head. “Everything will be ruined. My family and everything that dad has worked so hard to build. It’ll all be shot to hell because of me and my stupid mistakes.”

  “What the hell did you do?” Leo demanded, his impatience increasing.

  “I can’t tell you, okay?” Derek sighed. “But, I regret what I did, and how I disappointed my father, more than you know. I hate myself, even more, knowing that I gave money to the bastard who killed my fiancée.”

  Leo scoffed. “You think I’m buying this grieving would-have-been widower routine? You think I believe Jones was blackmailing you? You gave money to the bastard who killed your fiancée at your request.”

  “That is not true!” Derek said, banging his clenched fists against the arms of the antique chair. “I did not want Besi dead. I loved Besi. I know you don’t believe that Leo, but it’s true! I wanted to live the rest of my life with Besi. I can’t believe she’s dead. And I don’t understand why Jones killed her.”

  Jones killed Besi because you paid him to, thought Leo, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Not because he didn’t believe them. He believed Derek was guilty, but he didn’t want to.

  Leo wished he didn’t believe that Derek was capable of hiring some lowlife thug to kill Besi.

  “I’ve been thinking about this nightmare,” said Derek. “Someone must be trying to set me up?”

  “That’s what you’ve come up with,” said Leo, shaking his head. “You’re being framed?”

  “I don’t think that’s so impossible,” said Vivian, glancing at Leo.

  Leo gave his wife a look. “Are you serious?”

  Sitting back in his chair, Burt stroked his chin. “Perhaps someone set things in motion to make it appear as though Derek was being blackmailed by Jones so that there would be proof of payment from Derek to Jones.”

  Vivian said, “Exactly. Remember, Baxter François said the texts between Derek and Jones mentioned a payment, but we didn’t see transcripts of those texts. How do we know Derek and Jones were finalizing a payment for a contract on Besi’s life?”

  “We don’t need transcripts,” said Leo. “We can ask Derek. What did the texts say? What kind of payment were you talking about?”

  Derek’s face crumpled. “I don’t know.”

  Leo gaped at him. “You don’t know?”

  Vivian said, “I don’t understand.”

  “When Skip took over to fix stuff,” said Derek, “he asked me to give him my phone. He said he wanted to trace the guy’s number. I think that’s how he found out who Jones was. Anyway, he sent some texts to Jones, from my phone, and I guess they were texting about money.”

  “But, you’re not sure, are you?” asked Leo, growing increasingly annoyed by Derek’s deceit.

  “Skip deleted all the text messages from Jones,” said Derek.

  “That’s convenient,” said Leo.

  “It’s the truth,” insisted Derek, a hitch in his voice. “I know you don’t believe me, but—”

  “You’re right, I don’t believe you,” said Leo, glaring at Derek as he stood. “I’ve had enough of your lies. You haven’t changed. You’ve only gotten worse. You’re still the same lying, conniving sonofabitch—”

  “Leo,” warned Vivian, scowling at him.

  Undeterred by his wife’s admonishing, Leo said, “I know you hired Aaron Jones to kill Besi. And if Jones wasn’t dead, he could prove it. But, that’s convenient, too, for you. Jones isn’t around to tell us how you solicited him to commit murder. And something tells me, that’s just the way you planned it.”

  “The way I planned what?” asked Derek, eyes wide. “What are you talking about?” “First, you had Be
si killed,” said Leo, glaring at Derek. “Then you got rid of Aaron Jones.”

  31

  “You don’t believe that Derek had Aaron Jones killed, do you?” asked Vivian, closing the door behind her after she walked into Leo’s office at the Palmchat Gazette.

  Instead of looking up from his computer to greet her, Leo continued to stare at the screen as he tapped on the keyboard.

  Vivian fought to tamp down the frustration rising within her.

  She didn’t want to henpeck her husband, but she felt he owed her an explanation concerning his conclusion that Derek had a hand in the murder of Aaron Jones. Vivian was beyond irritated with his attempts to avoid the subject.

  Yesterday, after accusing Derek of having something to do with Aaron Jones’ murder, Leo had stomped out of his father’s office, leaving behind a strained silence filled with shock, confusion, and anger. After she’d managed to calm Derek and smooth Burt’s ruffled feathers, Vivian returned to their guest room, but Leo wasn’t there. Instead of searching the vast estate, Vivian had texted her husband. Leo replied that he was taking a walk on the beach and needed time alone to think. Vivian waited up, but when he walked into the guest room two hours later, he wasn’t in the mood to talk about his harsh, damning accusations against Derek.

  This morning, when Vivian woke up, Leo was already gone. On her phone, a text informed her of an early meeting with overseas investors. Her husband usually did everything he could to avoid Bronson Publishing business. His eagerness to meet with the investors was nothing more than a diversionary tactic, but Vivian was prepared to navigate Leo’s avoidance maneuvers.

  “That’s exactly what I believe,” said Leo, still focused on the computer screen.

  “I want to know why,” Vivian said, walking toward his desk. “Leo, you can’t just hurl an accusation like a grenade and then turn your back on the damage that was done.”

  Scoffing, Leo said, “I didn’t do nearly as much damage as Derek did.”

  Vivian exhaled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Explain to me why you think Derek had Aaron Jones killed.”