Chapter Twenty-Four
Detective Walters showed up in the morning. He was interested in my attack. And since I insisted on staying in the guesthouse all day, Aunt Bev’s new housekeeper showed him to my room.
“Ms. Rowell, how are you doing?” Detective Walters asked, entering my room.
I sat in the chair by the sliding glass doors and stared out at the ocean. When I didn’t reply, he went on. “I questioned your neighbors. No one saw anything suspicious. Do you remember anything at all about him?”
I shrugged. “He was dressed all in black. His face was covered. I couldn’t even see his eyes.”
“What about his height? Built? Was there anything familiar?”
Getting up from the chair, I hugged myself as I considered hard, trying to remember. “Only what I already told the police, that he felt muscular, and he’s tall. There’s nothing else that stood out to me.”
I turned and stared at him. “Why are you looking into this? Don’t you have a murder case you still need to solve?”
“That’s just it,” he said. “I’m curious about the activities of the young man staying here, Seven Monroe.”
My eyes narrowed. I pursed my lips. “Why are you still checking up on him? He has an alibi. He has nothing to do with Mr. Cornwell’s murder—”
“What about last night, are you sure he had nothing to do with that?” he reproached, taking his notebook out to look at. “Mr. Monroe said he went for a walk on the beach, that he visited a friend afterwards?”
“Yeah, so?”
He stuck a hand inside his pocket and clutched the notebook with the other. “So, we checked out that friend he mentioned. She said—”
“She?” I interrupted. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear anything else.
“Ms. Bridget Clarke,” he continued, “She says she didn’t see Seven last night, and that she lost her cell phone earlier in the day while at work.” Detective Walters eyed me carefully as he asked his next question. “What exactly is your relationship with Mr. Monroe?”
I composed myself and glanced up at him. “We’re just friends.”
Detective Walters nodded. “I see. Well, my advice is to be careful.”
He walked out of the room right after. I barely heard his last words, still consumed in sadness.
My cell phone vibrated in my bag and my stomach churned, thinking it must be Mom. I walked over to the table and took it out, not recognizing the number on the screen.
“Hello?” I answered, confused.
“Julian.”
I knew that raspy voice. “Gavin? How’d you get my number?”
“Geez, Julian. I only wanted to see how you’re doing. I heard about what happened last night.”
Softening my tone, I said, “I’m all right. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I got it from your aunt. She’s worried about you, Julian. I thought I could swing by the house and take you for a drive.”
I plopped down on the loveseat. “Thanks, but I don’t feel like going anywhere right now.”
“Come on, Jules,” he implored. “Don’t you want to get away from that place?”
He had a point. I did want to get away, especially after being told that Seven was with Bridget last night. Whether or not he really was, it still caused sharp pain in my heart.
“Okay,” I caved.
He laughed in the phone. “Great. I’ll pick you up in fifteen.”
After showering, I went out front to wait for Gavin. Ironically, Seven drove through the gates right then. He parked in the driveway and hurried out of the car, spotting me.
“Where’re you going?” he asked, giving me a quizzical look.
“Out.”
Seven touched my arm gently. “Jules, I know you’re mad at me. Look, I’m really sorry I wasn’t here last night. I should’ve—”
He stopped as Gavin’s car pulled up in front of the gates. I started walking towards him.
“Jules,” Seven tugged on my elbow. “Why’s Gavin here? Where are you going with him?”
I spun and barked, “None of your business.” Brushing off his hand, I added, “Why don’t you go hang out with Bridget or whoever you were with last night.”
His jaw stiffened.
Turning around, I started to walk away again.
Seven hurried to my side. “Let me explain. I—”
“Don’t bother.”
“Please, Julian. Look, Bridget sent me a text saying—”
“That she was lonely and needed you to comfort her, make her feel safe?” I snapped.
“No.” he slowed me down. “She said her ex-boyfriend was outside her house, that he was drunk and she wanted me to get rid of him, because she was scared.”
“And like a knight in shining armor you rushed to her aid. Why didn’t she call the cops?”
“Because her dad is a cop and she didn’t want him to know.”
“Fine. So, why did she lie and say you were never there?”
“That’s just it, when I went over to her house, the lights were off and her ex wasn’t even outside. I called her phone and she didn’t answer. That’s when I left and came home, only to find the cops here. I was so scared, Jules. You have no idea.”
Seven was a kind person, so it made sense he would go help out a friend. And that was weird when he turned up and found nothing. Then I remembered what Detective Walters said, about Bridget losing her cell phone earlier on.
“Sounded like you got lured away,” I whispered to myself.
“Yeah. When I saw Bridget at the office this morning, she was completely lost when I told her about it. She said her phone’s still missing so maybe someone took it out of her purse yesterday.”
His eyes sank with regret. “Jules, I’m really sorry I couldn’t protect you last night. I’ve been beating myself up over it.”
“It’s okay,” I gave in. “It wasn’t your fault.” I liked him too much to be mad at him for something he had no idea would happen.
We stared intensely at each other for a moment without saying a word, until Gavin honked on his horn. I almost forgot he was at the gates.
I slanted and peered over my shoulder at him.
“Why is he here for you, anyway?” Seven asked. “I thought he had a thing for Kenzie.”
Detecting a figment of jealousy in his tone, I looked back at him. “Aunt Bev asked him to stop by and take me for a drive. He and Mackenzie aren’t even dating, and Gavin and I are just friends.”
“Tell him to leave. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
My brows shot up. “Are you that jealous?”
He backed up a bit. “No…I just think if he likes my cousin then it’s inappropriate for him to be taking you out. As much as she acts like nothing bothers her, Kenzie won’t like it.”
He wouldn’t like it, I thought to myself. Seven’s reaction caused sparks in my chest. I didn’t really want to go anywhere to begin with. I was only trying to clear my thoughts.
“I’ll go tell him something came up and that I can’t go.”
Relief flooded his face handsome face. Seven walked up to the house and waited for me while I went out to the gates to send Gavin away.
When I reached his car, Gavin lit up. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Gavin, but I’m going to have to take a rain check.”
His face dropped.
“How come? Something happened?” He looked past me and at Seven, waiting at the front door of the main house.
“No, actually I don’t really feel up to going anywhere—”
“Right,” he hissed. My lips pressed shut. Gavin started to back his Jeep away. “You know, for someone who said she doesn’t like a guy in that way, you sure do act different when he’s around, always quick to explain the situation to him.”
He sped off.
Ignoring his fit, I walked back up to the house towards Seven, thinking we should have a good talk.
But then Marlene came out. “Oh, good,
just who I was looking for.”
Assuming she was talking to me, I meant to ask why, when she rudely slanted her body to face Seven, waving me off. “The autopsy results came back.”
“And?” he prompted.
“And,” she flashed me a quick glare, “it was a heart attack as I’ve said before. We disturbed him for nothing.”
I stepped forward, not giving up. “But, Mr. Cornwell’s last message to his secretary—”
“Is still being investigated,” she cut me off. “I have no idea where Ms. Vaughn received these supposedly last words of Robert, but obviously its bullcrap if it’s accusing my nephew and brother of hurting my husband.”
The air tensed around us. Marlene turned on her heels and headed for her car. As if in an afterthought, she rotated and said over her shoulder, “Mr. Danton will stop by tomorrow with the papers for you to sign. Afterwards, you can just leave. There’s no need for you to stick around while they’re being processed.”
She got in her BMW then drove out of the estate. I glanced back at Seven. He had a sad look in his eyes.
“Jules,” he inched closer to me. “Please don’t sign those papers. Don’t take yourself out of the will and give up your inheritance. Stay with—” he stopped himself, saying instead, “Stay until this is all figured out. The police have pictures of you taken while you were in Manhattan. It wasn’t Mr. Cornwell who took them and it wasn’t me or my dad.”
“They said maybe my father hired someone—”
“He never had to,” he interrupted. “Your mom sent photos to Aunt Bev throughout the years. Your dad never hired anyone to follow you around in Manhattan.”
“Then who did?” I asked.
Seven raised his shoulders, looking frustrated by all this. “I don’t know. But please don’t leave until we do, because I’m afraid of someone hurting you and I’ll be too far away to protect you.”
I lowered my eyes, too affected by his words. They gave me hope, that maybe we could be together after all. I just had to figure out what was going on first.
“Let’s talk to Ms. Vaughn again.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I tried sending Ms. Vaughn an email the night before, asking if we could meet somewhere. However, the email bounced on every attempt, and the number Aunt Bev’s friend on the police force gave to her had been disconnected. There was nothing left to do but find her over the internet.
Seven and I sat at the desk in his room. His fingers went to work on the laptop, searching for Dana Vaughn. A bunch of them came up, so he customized the search to Wickford, Rhode Island. Only one that came up now and she was a teacher at Wickford Elementary School.
We both collapsed back in our chairs at the same time. It seemed really difficult to find Mr. Cornwell’s secretary.
I eased up and moved my hands to the keyboard. Seven shifted over to give me some room. Then I searched for Dana Vaughn, Cornwell law office. Details about his murder showed up, along with images of the scene taken after Seven and I left. Ms. Vaughn was snapped getting consoled by a woman. She hid her face away from the camera while the woman looked straight ahead.
I stared vacantly at the shots, feeling defeated, until Seven perked up.
“I’ve seen that woman before,” he pointed at the image. “Yeah, she works at Sam’s Restaurant and Grill a little out of Wickford.”
I hurried to print out the image then handed it to him. “Let’s go find her.”
From the moment we left the estate and headed back on the road, I’d had enough of Seven’s sighing. There was something else bothering him. It’d been obvious since the day he went for his long walk on the beach, when I was attacked.
“What else is going on with you?” I finally asked.
He scoffed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you haven’t been the same since the day the cops brought you in for questioning. Tell me what else is bugging you?”
His jaw tightened as he spoke. “My parents are finally getting a divorce.”
“Oh,” I picked at the fabric of my jeans shorts. “I’m…sorry—”
“You’re probably wondering why that bothers me when my father’s been running around with a bunch of women and my parents don’t really get along, anyway.”
I reached over and touched his hand on the wheel. “No, I don’t.”
“I guess I didn’t expect to care so much either.”
Seven squeezed the steering even tighter and his knuckles turned red.
“Of course it hurts, Seven. Every kid wants their parents to stay together.”
He looked over at me for a split second, hearing my remark. “That’s true. But my parents shouldn’t be together. My mom deserves better.”
I removed my hand from his and brushed his cheek. There was a hushed sensation between us for the rest of the drive to Wickford.
When we arrived at Sam’s Restaurant and Grill, Seven found parking and we went looking for the lady in the photo.
Seven marched up to the bartender. “Excuse me.”
He was a chunky dude with tribal tattoos on both arms and a black earring in his right ear. He finished pouring a lady’s drink then walked over to us. “Yeah?”
“Does this lady still work here?” Seven held up the photo and the bartender scrutinized it.
He eyed us up-and-down. “Who wants to know?”
Seven explained, “We’re looking for someone and we think she might have an idea where the person is.”
As if reading our characters carefully, the bartender stayed quiet for a few seconds before finally pointing her out. “She’s over there.”
We glanced in the direction of his finger and walked outside to the deck.
“Excuse me,” I said.
She spun around with a natural smile on her tanned face. “Can I help you?”
I moved forward and held up the photo. “Do you know where Dana Vaughn is?”
She seemed apprehensive. “Look, I already spoke to the detective. I don’t know where she is, okay.”
She stepped around us to clean up a table. Seven wasn’t giving up. “Why was Detective Walters looking for her?” he asked.
“Something about her name…” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What’s your name?” I asked softly.
Glancing back at me, she answered, “Jennifer.”
I pressed on. “How do you know Ms. Vaughn? You were snapped in the photo, hugging her, that day when Mr. Cornwell was killed.”
Jennifer brushed her loose strands behind her ears. “We were roommates. I helped her get the job with him. Cornwell used to come here a lot. But…” she peered down at the towel in her hand and narrowed her eyes.
“What?” Seven prompted.
Jennifer rubbed her temple while answering, “She moved out. I don’t know where she is now.”
“Did she say anything that might make you suspect someone wanted to hurt her?” I asked.
Shaking her head slowly, Jennifer replied, “No. Like I said, I already told the cops what I know.”
Seven prevented her from walking away. “You said he was asking about her name, what about it?”
Jennifer was starting to fidget. She looked so uncomfortable, even peered around the deck and back inside the restaurant. Almost like she was making sure no one was in ear shot of the conversation.
“He couldn’t find anything on her,” she muttered, “Said its possible Dana wasn’t using her real name.”
Seven and I gazed at each other then back at Jennifer. I pleaded with her. “Please, if there’s anything you can tell us, we really need to find her. It’s very important.”
She bit down on her lip and folded her arms across her chest. After taking a long breath, Jennifer began, “Dana was living with me a month before she started working for Cornwell. Anyway, I remember one time her room door was open and there was a box of pictures on her bed,” Jennifer looked at me as she went on, “They were pictures of you.”
“Me?” I poin
ted at myself.
She bobbed her head. “Yeah. I didn’t think anything of it until Cornwell was killed and the cops found those same pictures in his office. I just thought it was odd.”
“When did she move out?” asked Seven.
“Three days ago, right after I told her the detective came here to ask me questions about her and the message she gave to them from Cornwell. She seemed like she was in a hurry, even disconnected her cell phone.”
Seven rubbed his forehead in frustration. “So you have no way to contact her at all?”
Jennifer hesitated. “Look, I’ve been in trouble before, okay. I don’t want to get in trouble again—”
“We won’t cause problems for you,” I assured her. “Please, Jennifer, if you know more than you’re letting on please tell us.” I looked at Seven then back at her. “We won’t mention it to the cops.”
She dipped her head and stared at the wood beneath our feet. “My boyfriend went through her wallet once when she was in the bathroom. He found a piece of paper with a name and address.”
Our faces lit up with hope. “Do you remember what it said?”
“Yeah, it was Rachel Evans. The address is somewhere in Jamestown. 82 Watson Avenue, I think.”
“Thank you, Jennifer,” I murmured.
“Yeah, sure. Hope she’s okay.”
Jennifer went back to work and Seven and I left the restaurant. It made sense now, why we couldn’t find Ms. Vaughn. She was working under a fake name. And that made me even more doubtful of all the things she’d said, especially after what Jennifer told us.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Instead of driving to Jamestown, Seven called Detective Walters and told him what we’d found out about Mr. Cornwell’s secretary. After scolding us for getting involved in police work, he said he’d look into it.
The police had seized her back-up drive and had a technician check out the IP address and date. Ms. Vaughn—Rachel—said Mr. Cornwell used her computer to send the message to her email, so that part added up. What they still couldn’t figure out was whether or not she was telling the truth, about the message and the wills.
Finding Julian Page 14
