by Joanna Wayne
Vanessa started to mention the fact that the police had all but accused her of having an affair with Mr. Harwell before he was killed, but decided against it. Chad was jealous enough of her current boss without giving him a dead one to worry about.
Still, two incidents in one day—something was definitely up.
AN HOUR LATER and still no closer to finding whatever Josh had hoped for, Chrysie took a break. She stretched out on the carpet, using a stack of outdated credit card statements for a pillow. In spite of their bad luck, she was thrilled that Logan had called to let her tell the girls good-night.
They’d seemed fine without her. She was relieved but feeling just a tad displaced. Her mind drifted back to the things Josh had told her about his visit with Vanessa. “Why do you think Vanessa is still so adamant she didn’t have an affair with Jonathan when the evidence was so convincing?”
“She may not have seen the photograph.”
“I just assumed the police would have shown it to her.”
“We law enforcement personnel have a way of only giving out information when it suits our purpose. Besides, it’s possible that she didn’t have an affair with him.”
“Pictures don’t lie.”
“Sure they do. Someone skilled with the use of a good photo software program could have put Jonathan’s face on the picture of a baboon and made it look natural.”
“But why go to all that trouble just to make me think he was unfaithful if he wasn’t? Unless…” The ugly information from Grecco crept back into her mind. “I still can’t believe Jonathan was involved in selling babies on the black market, but if he was, I suppose someone he stole a baby from might have sent the picture to get back at him.”
“Could be.” Josh pulled a new stack of envelopes from the box. “But more likely the photograph was part of the setup to give you a motive.”
“If every man who was having an affair got killed by his wife, there would be an extreme shortage of men on this planet.”
Josh only nodded and pulled another stack of envelopes from the box he was currently inspecting.
“Your theory is flawed,” she said.
“How’s that?”
“The picture was sent to me, and if I hadn’t made the mistake of leaving it lying around, the police would never have seen it. So how would that have helped set me up?”
“The anonymous photographer may have sent the police a copy, as well, after the fact, so that it looked as if they were just trying to help in the investigation.” Josh held up what looked like a bank deposit slip. “Now this is interesting.”
Chrysie sat up and scooted closer to Josh to see what he was scrutinizing. “I never knew Jonathan had an account with that bank. It’s not where we had our savings or our checking accounts.”
“This account only has Jonathan’s name on it.”
She took the deposit slip from his hand. It showed a five-hundred-thousand-dollar cash deposit made in March of the same year he’d signed on with Luisa Pellot, one month before their official merger.
“Here’s another cash deposit Jonathan made for the same amount.”
Chrysie’s stomach pitched and rolled. Deposits like that gave Grecco’s allegations a lot more substance. Only she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—believe she’d been married to a man involved in something as abhorrently perverted as selling babies.
“Here’s a statement that shows another large deposit. That money had to be coming from somewhere.”
“He could have been stealing from our joint accounts.”
“I’ve checked those. There were no large cash withdrawals. And his pay from the firm was electronically deposited into the joint accounts, so there would be no slips like these for those.”
“I don’t know where he was getting the money,” Chrysie said, “but it explains how we could afford this pretentious house and all the expensive furnishings.”
“This account was active the last two years of his life,” Josh said. “The deposits were made roughly every six months. That would have made the next one due the day after his murder.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Regular cash payments in large amounts with no explanation as to the source of the funds. A secret bank account. I hate to say it, Chrysie, but this has all the earmarks of blackmail.”
She stretched her legs in front of her, then pulled her knees to her chin. “If Jonathan was blackmailing someone, that would definitely give them a motive for killing him, especially with another payment due.”
“That’s one theory.”
“If that’s the case, then the two men who killed him and shot Cougar must be the ones Jonathan was blackmailing.”
“Not necessarily. They may have been hired by the person who was being blackmailed.”
“You mean like paid assassins?”
“That’s not nearly as uncommon as you’d think, Chrysie. Sick but not uncommon.”
“But why didn’t the Houston detectives look for any of this?”
“Because the evidence was stacked against you—and you ran. Not that I’m making excuses for them, but flight always makes a person look guilty.”
Josh placed the bank statements back inside the box. “I want to take some of these records with us, but we should probably go back to Grecco’s and sleep on this while I decide what to do next.”
“You should go back to Aohkii while you’re still alive,” Chrysie said. “I’ll go the police with what we have. They’ll surely come to the same conclusion you did.”
He kissed her, and the synergy they shared was deliciously reassuring. “We’ll go to the police when it’s time, but not before. I don’t trust anyone to protect you but me.”
And so they would go back to Grecco’s and sleep on this. Right or wrong, she couldn’t wait to climb under the sheets with him again and curl up in his arms.
She helped him carry the boxes to the car, leaving the last couple for him to get while she washed and put away the glasses. She was about to dry the first one when she heard the front door creak open followed by the click of high heels in the foyer.
She and Josh were no longer alone.
JOSH REACHED the central hallway just as a tall brunette carrying a huge bouquet of exotic flowers stepped through the front door. He set the box he was carrying on the steps and readied his hand to go for his gun.
The woman froze when she saw him.
“I’m Josh,” he said, rushing with the introductions before she started screaming and throwing flowers at him. “I’m a private investigator working to gather evidence in the Jonathan Harwell murder case.”
“I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”
“And I had no idea FTD delivered this time of night,” he joked, talking loudly so that Chrysie would be certain to hear and have time to follow their plan to hide at the first sign of company.
“I’m Luisa Pellot,” she said. “You may have heard of me. Jonathan Harwell and I were partners in a law firm.”
The woman could have been anywhere from fifty to sixty, maybe older if her cosmetic surgeon was good enough. Judging from the sophisticated black dress and the diamond necklace, she was returning from some sort of social function.
Suspicion tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I know Marv Evinu has power of attorney over the Hartwell estate. Did he hire you?”
“He did.”
That seemed to ease her mind a little or at least eased the furrows in her brow. “Well, I hope you’re coming up with something to clear Cassandra. She’s a dear, you know. A good mother, sweet as can be. We all told the police that, but they just zeroed in on her as a suspect. I don’t think they ever looked anywhere else.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate your vote of confidence. So why the flowers?”
She smiled sheepishly. “I can’t say where I heard it, but there’s a rumor that Cassandra is coming back to Houston. If she does return, I thought the flowers would be a nice touch, something to make her feel as if she was really
coming home.”
“That’s thoughtful.” It didn’t take a lot of imagination to figure out that she’d heard the rumor from her detective sister. But apparently Luisa hadn’t gotten the message that Chrysie would be arrested as soon as she showed her face.
“I’ll just put these in some water,” Luisa said.
Josh followed her into the kitchen. Thankfully Chrysie was nowhere in sight. He didn’t see Luisa as a threat, but he didn’t want her running to her sister with news that Chrysie was in town.
Luisa opened cabinets until she found a vase that suited her. “I only live a few blocks from here, so I drive by here often. That’s why Marv gave me a key. He said if I was going to check on the outside, I may as well do him a favor and check on the inside, as well.” Luisa worked on the arrangement as she talked, then stood back to admire her handiwork.
“They look good,” Josh said. “I hope someone besides me shows up to appreciate them, since I’m on my way out.”
“I hope Cassandra shows up. I really need to talk to her.”
“What about?”
“I know she heard some things about Jonathan that upset her. I think I could clear that up for her and relieve her mind.”
“If you want to tell me, I can try to get the information to her.”
“No, it’s personal. It can wait until I see her. But I’ll be glad to help with your investigation any way I can.” She reached into the small black sequined bag that had hung from her wrist and took out a business card. “You can reach me at the office tomorrow after noon or at my house before that,” she said, handing him the card.
“I may just show up.”
“Good. Now what did say your name was again?”
He’d figured that was coming. “Josh Morgan,” he said, going back to the alias he’d used when he’d first moved to Montana. “Sorry, I don’t have a business card with me.”
She nodded. “That’s okay. Marv wouldn’t hire anyone but the best. He’s an excellent attorney, and he and Jonathan were good friends.”
He walked her to the door. “Don’t be surprised if I show up at the law firm tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’ll be anticipating that with pleasure.”
Josh closed and locked the door behind Luisa, then picked up the box he’d left on the stairs and headed for the garage. He didn’t have Luisa Pellot figured out, but she seemed pretty much as Chrysie had described her—good-natured, a little nosy, liked to talk.
He suspected she’d come by tonight just to see if there were any sign that Chrysie had been there. The only sign had been the two glasses on the counter, and if they had registered with her at all, she’d given no indication.
Chrysie was waiting in the garage. In less than five minutes she was back in the trunk and they were on their way. The blackmail angle was promising, but he’d have to know all the players before he went to the police.
He couldn’t bear to think of Chrysie being locked in a jail cell for even a day. He pretty much didn’t want her anywhere except with him—in Montana. Houston was okay for a day or two, but it was no place to live. Even a hardheaded Texan woman had to know that.
SEAN ROGERS HUNG UP the phone. “Damn bitch. Can’t please her. For two cents, I’d take her out. She acts like she don’t think I could.”
“It’s not our fault we lost our tail on the Harwell woman. They had a friggin’ blizzard up there. Did you tell her that?”
“Can’t tell her anything. Anyway, after she chewed me out, she said not to worry, that everything was taken care of. Said the alternative plan would be just as effective.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” Sean poured another shot of tequila from the bottle they’d picked up at the liquor store on the way in from the airport. “I told her we hung out at the airport in Missoula as long as we dared considering half the cops in Montana were looking for us for shooting that guy at the sheriff’s ranch.”
Mac headed to the bathroom. “Boss lady should have let us finish off the shrink that night we killed her old man.”
“Woulda, coulda, shoulda. It’s all water under the bridge now.”
Sean finished the shot and poured another. A little lime would be good about now, but they forgot to buy any. He kicked off his shoes and fell onto the lumpy mattress. He’d be glad to get back to Brownsville and his own bed.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock. It was about time their pizza arrived. He padded over in his stocking feet and yanked the door open.
The delivery went straight through his heart.
JOSH’S EYES WERE CLOSED when Chrysie finished her shower and joined him in the guest bedroom at Grecco’s town house. As badly as she needed his touch, she tried not to wake him as she slid between the crisp cotton sheets, but he reached for her before her head touched the pillow.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” he said. “I was just thinking.” He pulled her close and kissed her, then trailed his right hand down her naked body and back up again, stopping to fondle one breast and then the other.
“Tell me about your life in Houston,” he said. “Not the bad, just the ordinary things. Did you have friends? Did you like your work? What did you do on Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons?”
“Why the sudden interest?”
“It hit me when I walked into your house tonight how little I know about you. You are a very complex woman.”
“I’m no more complex than you, Josh.”
“I’m just a cowboy sheriff running a ranch and raising my sons.”
“And rescuing damsels in distress.”
He kissed her and she melted into it, loving the taste of him and the mingling of their breaths. She wanted more, so much more, but she wasn’t quite ready to let the conversation go.
“Tell me about Danny and Davy, Josh. How is it that they weren’t part of your life until they were four years old?”
“It’s not the best of bedtime stories.”
“I’d still like to hear it.”
He stiffened and pulled away from her.
“It’s okay,” she said, not wanting to upset him. “We can save it for another night.”
“No real reason to wait. If you can stand to hear my faults, I guess I can throw them out there so you can get a glimpse of the real me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Josh rolled out of bed and walked to the window. He’d never told anyone about the boys’ early life. He’d always believed his hesitancy to discuss it was because he hoped Danny and Davy never had to deal with it. But he realized tonight that wasn’t the whole story.
He didn’t want to deal with it. He’d made a lot of mistakes when he was in his late twenties and very early thirties. Back then, he’d blamed all his weaknesses on his father. That had been a cop-out. The responsibility for his actions lay with no one but himself.
He’d tried to convince himself that he’d made everything right when he’d helped take the worst of the drug dealers off the streets of New Orleans, but that hadn’t begun to make up for his sins of omission where his sons were concerned.
He’d had unprotected sex with a young woman he barely knew, and as a result, Danny and Davy had spent the first four years of their lives in a morally depraved environment and almost paid for his irresponsibility with their lives.
He exhaled slowly, blowing out a stream of hot breath and frustration. “I don’t know where to start.”
Chrysie propped herself up on one elbow. “Did you love the boys’ mother?”
“I hate to say this, but I barely remember her. Tess was a one-night stand on an evening I’d had too much to drink.” The muscles tightened in his stomach. “I had no idea that our sexual relations had resulted in her becoming pregnant with twins.”
“When did she tell you?”
“Never. Apparently we hadn’t even exchanged names. Eventually she saw a picture of my brother on the society pages of the Times-Picayune and mist
ook him for me. In her mind, Logan McCain was the biological father of her twins.”
“Did she go to Logan?”
“No, she feared that if he knew about the boys, he’d use his money and influence to get custody of them—at least that’s what she told Rachel.”
“What kind of work did she do?”
Josh paced. “Tess worked for the Fruits of Passion, a gentlemen’s club in the New Orleans French Quarter. She claimed she was an exotic dancer, but she did a lot more than dance.”
“Like hustle?”
“Even more than that. She was involved in some extremely perverted sexual activities the club provided for some of the city’s richest and most prominent men.”
“How had Logan learned about the boys if she didn’t tell him?”
“One of the dancers who worked with Tess had sense enough to realize the boys were in danger. She sent Logan an anonymous note. He had their DNA tested and found out they were indeed McCains. He knew they weren’t his, which meant they had to be mine.”
“And this is when he still thought you were dead?”
“Right. Tess made a visit to Rachel at the law firm where she worked and told her that Logan McCain—who Rachel barely knew at that time—had impregnated her and was going to steal her children away from her just because he could. The next day Rachel discovered that Tess had been murdered.”
“Did Rachel believe Logan had killed her?”
“At first.” Josh stopped pacing and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “So did the cops. But by that time Danny and Davy were missing, and Logan was desperate to find them. Rachel got involved for the boys’ sake and nearly got killed, as well.”
“That must have gotten their relationship off to a rocky start.”
“You’d think, but they not only fell in love but rescued Danny and Davy from the man who’d killed their mother and who planned to do the same with them after he collected a ransom from Logan.”
Chrysie scooted across the bed, climbed onto her knees and started massaging the strained muscles in Josh’s neck and shoulders. “No wonder you took a chance on me,” she said. “You’d gone through some of the same type of trauma yourself—or at least Logan had on your behalf.”
