Killer Investigation

by Amanda Stevens

  Reid sat quietly now, only a bit apprehensive as he wondered what business the older man had with him.

  “Mr. Mayfair,” he finally said. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “Do you mind if we drive? This is a very busy intersection and I don’t like tying up traffic.” His rich baritone had thinned only slightly with age.

  Reid nodded. “I don’t mind. But I have a meeting in half an hour. I’ll need to be back at the courthouse by then.”

  Clement Mayfair responded with a sharp rap on the glass partition. The driver pulled away from the curb and glided into traffic.

  Reid watched the elegant neoclassical courthouse recede from his view with a strange, sinking sensation. He couldn’t shake the notion that he had just made a serious mistake. Willingly entered the lion’s den, so to speak.

  He kept his voice neutral as he returned Mayfair’s scrutiny. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “You’re an attorney. Call it an educated guess.”

  “That was some guess,” Reid said.

  The older man sat perfectly still, one hand on the armrest, the other on the seat between them. He wore a gold signet ring on his pinkie, which surprised Reid. Bespoke suit notwithstanding, Clement Mayfair didn’t seem the type to appreciate embellishments.

  He smiled, as if he had intuited Reid’s assessment. “It might surprise you to know that I’ve kept track of you over the years.”

  “Why?” Reid asked bluntly.

  “You were once important to my granddaughter. Therefore, you were of some consequence to me. Enough that I took an interest in your career. You were top of your class at Tulane Law. Passed the bar on your first try.”

  “I’m flattered you took the trouble,” Reid said, though flattered was hardly the right word. Intrigued, yes, and certainly suspicious, especially after his conversation with Arden. He thought about her insistence that her grandfather was up to something. Reid was now inclined to agree and he braced himself for whatever attack or trickery might be forthcoming.

  “You could have had your pick of any number of top-tier law firms in the country,” Mayfair said. “But you came back to Charleston to work for your father’s firm. I’ve had dealings with Boone Sutton in the past. I never liked or trusted the man.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  The blue eyes pinned him. “And yet you’re very much like him. Overconfident and self-indulgent.”

  “One man’s opinion,” Reid said with a careless shrug.

  Mayfair’s gaze turned withering. “I suppose some might find your glibness charming—I’ve always considered it a sign of a weak mind. You’re educated and reasonably intelligent, but you’ve never been a deep thinker. You were never a match for my granddaughter.”

  Reid shrugged again. “On that we can agree.”

  “Then why did you go see her the moment she got back into town?”

  A warning bell sounded in Reid’s head, reminding him to watch his step. A lion’s den was no place to let down one’s guard. “Are you keeping track of her...or me?”

  “Charleston is still a small town in all ways that matter. Word gets around.”

  “Let me guess,” Reid said. “Calvin told you I’d been by.”

  “I haven’t spoken to my son in days. This isn’t about him. This is about my granddaughter.” Clement Mayfair leaned in slightly. “You ruined her life once. Why not leave her alone?”

  “That’s an interesting perspective considering Arden is the one who left me.”

  “You got her pregnant when she was barely eighteen years old.”

  “I was barely eighteen years old.”

  “You were old enough to know that precautions should have been taken.”

  “We were not the first careless teenagers,” Reid said.

  “Still so cavalier.”

  Reid was silent for a moment. “How did you even know about the pregnancy? We didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” His expression turned contemptuous. “I doubt my granddaughter would have agreed with me back then, but losing that baby was the best thing that could have happened to her.”

  Reid’s fingers curled into tight fists as images flashed at the back of his mind. Arden’s pale face against the hospital bed. Her hand clutching his as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I can’t speak for Arden, but I wouldn’t have agreed with you then or now. And frankly, that’s a pretty callous way of putting things.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less true.” Mayfair took off his glasses and methodically polished them with a handkerchief he had removed from his inner jacket pocket. His fingernails were cut very short and buffed to a subtle sheen. “Where do you think either of you would be if things had turned out differently? Would you have married her? Moved her with you to New Orleans and stuck her in some dismal campus apartment while you completed your degree? What about her education? Her ambitions?”

  “This is the twenty-first century, in case you hadn’t noticed. Women can do whatever they want.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, young man. A teenager with a baby has limited options, even one with Arden’s advantages. The marriage would never have lasted. You may not even have finished law school. I’ve little doubt that my granddaughter would have ended up raising the child alone.”

  “Well, we’ll never know for certain, will we?” Reid turned to glance out the window as he pushed old memories back into their dark hiding places. In the close confines of the car, he caught yet another whiff of the mysterious fragrance, elusive and cloying. “I have to say, I’m curious about your sudden interest in Arden’s well-being.” He decided to go on the offensive. “You barely gave her the time of day when she was younger. Even when you invited her to dinner, she sometimes ended up eating alone.”

  “Arden told you this?”

  “She told me everything.”

  The hand on the seat twitched as if Reid had struck a nerve. “I sometimes had to attend business even at the dinner hour. That was hardly my fault. A man in my position has obligations. But I’m not surprised Arden’s recollection would cast me in a bad light. Her grandmother did everything in her power to poison the girl’s mind against me just as she kept my own daughter from me years ago. Now that Evelyn is gone, I finally have the chance for a relationship with my granddaughter and I won’t have you getting in the way.”

  Reid gave a humorless chuckle. “That you think I have influence over Arden shows how little you really know about her.”

  Clement Mayfair gave a grudging nod. “You have more fire than I remembered. Is that why you left your father’s firm? The two of you butted heads? Well, I give you credit for that. It takes guts to strike out on your own, especially after being under Boone Sutton’s thumb for so long. But I don’t have to tell you the streets of Charleston are littered with failed attorneys.”

  Reid didn’t trust the man’s change in tactics. “I’m well aware of the risks.”

  “Then you must also know that in Charleston, it’s more about whom you know than what you know. As for me, I never had much use for the elite, the so-called movers and shakers. I preferred building an empire on my own terms and, for the most part, I’ve been left alone. But you were raised in that environment. You know how the game is played. One word from the right person can make or break a career.”

  Reid said impatiently, “Is there a point to all this?”

  Clement Mayfair put back on his glasses and tucked away the handkerchief. He blinked a few times as if bringing Reid back into focus. “I’m a quiet man who leads a quiet life. I prefer shadows to limelight. But don’t mistake my low profile for impotence. A well-placed word from me will bring you more clients than you ever dared to imagine. Possibly even some of your father’s accounts. A desirable feather in any son’s cap. Or...” He leaned toward Reid, eyes gleaming
behind the polished lenses. “I can see to it that your doors are permanently closed within six months.”

  Reid fought back another rush of anger. An emotional rejoinder would play right into Mayfair’s hands. The older man was obviously trying to get a rise out of him. Trying to prove that he had all the power.

  Reid smiled. “For all the interest you’ve apparently shown in me over the years, you seem to have missed the fact that I don’t respond well to threats or ultimatums.”

  “I assure you, I’ve missed nothing, young man.”

  The car glided to a stop in front of the courthouse.

  Reid reached for the door handle. “Thank you for the conversation. It’s been illuminating.”

  Before he could exit the car, Clement Mayfair’s hand clamped around his wrist. The man’s grip was strong for his age. His fingers were long and bony, and Reid could have sworn he felt a chill where they made contact. He thought about Arden’s claim that Mayfair House was bone-deep cold even in the dead of summer.

  He resisted the urge to shake off Mayfair’s hand. Instead, he lifted his gaze, refusing to back down. “Was there something else?”

  “Stay away from my granddaughter.”

  Reid glanced at the man’s hand on his arm and then looked up, straight into Clement Mayfair’s glacial stare. “That’s up to Arden.”

  The grip tightened a split second before he released Reid. “Trust me when I tell you that you do not want me for an enemy.”

  There was a quality in his voice that sent a chill down Reid’s backbone. “Seems as if I don’t have much choice in the matter.”

  “I’m giving you fair warning. You’ve no idea the pain I can cause you.” The older man’s gaze deepened, and for a moment Reid saw something unpleasant in those icy pools, something that echoed the dark promise of his words.

  Images swirled in Reid’s head as he recalled Dave Brody’s insistence that he had a powerful enemy in this city. He thought about the young woman from the bar who had ended up dead in the alley, her body riddled with stab wounds. Then he thought about Camille Mayfair, who had met the same fate, and Arden, only five years old and frozen in fear as her gaze locked onto the killer’s through the summerhouse window.

  It came to Reid in a flash, as his gaze locked onto Clement Mayfair’s, that the elusive fragrance inside the car was magnolia. The scent seemed to emanate from the older man’s clothing. Or did it come from the deep, dark depths of his soul?

  That smell was surely a fantasy, Reid told himself. The sense of evil that suddenly permeated the car was nothing more than his imagination. Clement Mayfair was just a blustery old man. Powerful, yes, but not malevolent.

  Even so, when the driver opened the door, Reid climbed out more shaken than he would have ever dared to admit.

  * * *

  ARDEN SPENT THE rest of the morning sketching floor plans as she went from room to room. She would bring a measuring tape the next day so that she could work to scale, but for now the exploration kept her highly entertained.

  Curious about Reid’s apartment, she took a peek upstairs. He’d been adamant that his private domain should remain off-limits, but only in so far as using it for an expanded work space. At least that’s how Arden interpreted his instructions. Surely, he wouldn’t mind if she had a look around. And, anyway, he wasn’t here, so...

  She climbed the stairs slowly, pausing at the top to glance around. The living area was sparsely furnished with a sleek sofa and an iconic leather lounger that had undoubtedly been transported from his modern apartment. A short hallway led back to the bedroom, a spacious and airy space with a high-coved ceiling and French doors that opened onto a balcony. A pair of old-fashioned rockers faced the street. Holdovers from the previous owner, Arden decided. She pictured Reid out there in the evenings, breeze in the trees, crickets serenading from the garden. She could see herself rocking beside him, head back, eyes closed as the night deepened around them.

  Thinking about Reid in such an intimate setting evoked too many memories. He’d once been the most important person in her life. Her soul mate and lifeline. Sad to contemplate how far they’d drifted apart. Sadder still that pride and willfulness had kept her away for so long. She wondered what his reaction would be if he discovered the real reason she’d come back to Charleston, tail between her legs, looking to start anew from the unpleasantness she’d left behind in Atlanta. No use dwelling on bad memories. No sense conjuring up the pain and humiliation that had hung like a bad smell over her abrupt departure. She had a mission now. A purpose. No more spinning her wheels.

  She closed the French doors and went back downstairs. Taking a seat behind Reid’s desk, she set to work, scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad she’d found in one of the boxes before turning her attention to the name she’d been tasked to research. Ginger Vreeland.

  Taking his suggestion, she read through the file, quickly the first time and then more slowly the second, making more notes on the same legal pad. The hours flew by, and before she knew it her stomach reminded her that she’d worked through lunchtime. She went into the kitchen to check the refrigerator, helping herself to the last container of blueberry yogurt before returning to her assignment.

  Research could be tedious, and she knew enough to pause now and then to stretch her legs and work out the kinks in her neck and shoulders. She’d just settled back down from a brief respite when she heard someone at the back door. She assumed Reid had returned and barely gave the intrusion a second thought until she remembered he was supposed to be away until late that afternoon.

  Rising slowly, she walked across the room to peer into the kitchen. She could see someone moving about on the porch through the glass panel in the door. The man was about the same height and size as Reid, but she knew instinctively it wasn’t him even though she never got a look at his face.

  Pressing against the wall, she had started to take another peek when she heard the scrape of a key in the lock. Then the door handle jiggled. Alarmed, Arden glanced around the office, wondering what she should do. Wait and confront the interloper? Let him know she was there before he got inside?

  She did neither, opting to heed the little voice in her head that commanded her to hide. She had no idea who else would have a key to Reid’s house, but she wasn’t about to wait around and find out. Hadn’t Reid warned her not to let anyone inside? Hadn’t he reminded her that the proximity of his office and the magnolia blossom left at the crime scene connected them both to the murder? And to the murderer?

  Hurrying across the office, Arden stepped into the foyer, taking another quick glance around. Slipping off her sandals, she hooked them over her finger as she ran quietly up the stairs, pausing on the landing to peer over the banister. She heard the back door close a split second before she retreated into Reid’s apartment. She made for the bedroom, wincing as a floorboard creaked beneath her bare feet. After tiptoeing across the hardwood floor, she opened the closet door and dropped to her knees, pulling the door closed behind her. Then she scrambled into the corner, concealing herself as best she could with Reid’s clothing.

  The closet wasn’t large. If the intruder wanted to find her he could do so without much effort, but Arden had been nearly silent in her escape. He hadn’t heard her. He didn’t know she was there. She kept telling herself that as she drew her knees to her chest, trying to make herself as small a target as possible. There could be any number of legitimate reasons someone would have a key to Reid’s house. Maybe he’d given a spare to a repairman or a neighbor. Maybe he had a cleaning service that he’d neglected to tell her about. Maybe Reid himself had returned and she’d allowed panic to spur her imagination.

  She kept telling herself all those things right up until the moment she heard slow, heavy footsteps on the stairs. The intruder approached the second floor with purpose. He knew she was there. Knew there was no escape.

  Why hadn’t she gone out the front
door or even onto the balcony? Maybe she could have shimmied down a tree or a trellis. She wasn’t afraid of heights. She could have even climbed up to the roof and waited him out.

  She scooted toward the door, thinking she might still have time. She reached for the knob and then dropped her hand to her side. He was in the bedroom already. How had she missed the sound of his footsteps in the other room?

  Holding her breath, she flattened her hands on the floor and pushed herself back into the corner, taking care not to disturb the hangers. She pulled her knees back up and waited in the dark.

  He walked around the room, taking his time as he opened and closed drawers, checked the balcony and then moved back into the room. Arden clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her breathing. She couldn’t see anything in the closet. Could barely detect his footsteps. Had he left already? Did she dare take a peek?

  The closet door opened and a stream of light edged up against her. She shrank back, unable to see the intruder. She didn’t dare part the clothes to get a look at his face, but she sensed him in the doorway. Waiting. Listening.

  An image came to her of a woman’s body in a dark alleyway, and of a figure—gloved and hooded—bending over her as he placed a magnolia blossom on the ground beside her. She could almost smell that scent. The headiness took her back to that summer twilight when she’d discovered her mother’s lifeless body in the garden with the crimson kiss of death upon her lips. Arden thought of the killer watching her from the summerhouse window, leaving a pristine blossom on the steps as a warning that he would someday return for her.

  Adrenaline pumped hard and fast through her veins. She smothered a scream as the wooden hangers clacked together. In another moment, he would part Reid’s clothing and discover her cowering in the corner.