Priced to Kill (Cindy York Mysteries Book 2)

by Catherine Bruns

  "Now, Sherlock, that was very naughty." Gloria scolded him in a singsong voice.

  I ran into the kitchen and asked Wesley for some paper towels and cleaner. He handed the items over and raised his eyebrows but didn't ask any questions. And that was a good thing because I really didn't want to answer them.

  Just as I returned to the drawing room, the front door opened and Jacques walked in. He was dressed to the nines in a dark blue pinstripe suit, white dress shirt, and red tie. He glanced from me to the women, to the dog, and finally back to me where I sat on the floor surrounded by paper towels.

  "My closing finished early ladies, so here I am." He gave the women a formal bow. "And these must be the Danson sisters. I'm Jacques Forte, owner of Forte Realty. It's always an honor to meet such lovely women as you."

  Oh brother. He was really piling it on high today.

  Lila's snarl quickly changed into a full-fledged grin. "My, aren't you a lady killer!"

  "Indeed." Gloria giggled. "Such a charmer. And handsome too. I bet he won't make Sherlock leave."

  From my position on the floor, I shot daggers at my boss. "The dog, Jacques." Jeez, was anyone going to side with me?

  He presented the women with his most elegant smile. "Ladies, what my coworker, Mrs. York, might have failed to mention is that the owner has a severe allergy to any type of pet dander. I'm sure Cindy wouldn't mind taking him for a walk around the premises while I show you the rest of the house."

  Such a liar. But way better than what I could come up with on the spur of the moment. And it seemed that my premonition of dog walker was about to come true.

  "Well," Gloria said. "I guess that's understandable. Although I don't see how such a sweet boy like Sherlock could make anyone sick." She frowned down at me. "Are you sure you know how to handle him?"

  Jacques offered me a hand up, and I rose to my feet. "Miss Danson, I have a dog myself. I'll take very good care of him. I promise."

  They reluctantly handed over the leash and, without another word, followed Susan into the pristine kitchen. Jacques started in their direction, but I yanked him back by his jacket sleeve.

  "Not so fast there, Mr. Charm. This is my listing, but I get stuck holding the bag?"

  Sherlock whined.

  "Oh, don't take it so personally," I said to the dog.

  Jacques clasped his hands as if in prayer. "Cin, if they buy this house, I'll get Rusty his own diamond-studded collar. What's the deal here? Do you have some type of history with these two women?"

  "They came to an open house that I hosted before. It pretty much went like this showing. The dog peed on the floor, and I had to clean it up. And Susan was no help at all. She wouldn't even think to deny those two anything."

  "That's because she's pretty much scraping the bottom of the barrel like the rest of us. Please, darling, bear with me. It's still your listing. Just let me sugarcoat things a bit. I'll have those two eating out of my hand shortly."

  A visual image I could have done without. "Fine. Go on, I'll take care of the dog."

  Jacques blew me a kiss and hurried off to join the rest of the posse. I stared down at Sherlock, who let out a huge yawn in response.

  "Yeah, the feeling's mutual, buddy."

  I had my hand on the knob when it suddenly turned, and the door opened, startling me. Ben stood there in a black designer suit I could have sworn was Armani. He looked very professional and handsome. When his eyes met mine, I glimpsed Paul for a moment. The effect both shocked and saddened me.

  He put his briefcase down and looked at me anxiously. "Are you okay?"

  I nodded and then found my voice. "I'm sorry. You just surprised me."

  He stared down at Sherlock with a confused expression. "Do you always bring your dog to showings?"

  Sherlock whined and walked toward him. Ben laughed as he reached down a hand to pet him. "Love the collar. He's cute but way too fat, Cindy."

  I smiled. The direct statement was another thing that reminded me of Paul. "He's not my dog. Jacques just arrived, and he's showing the house to prospective clients who brought the canine with them. I was about to take him outside."

  "I'll go with you," Ben said. He removed his suit coat and tie and tossed them onto a small table that held a silver tray I assumed was for calling and real estate cards. He held the door open for me, and we proceeded toward the rear of the estate.

  There was a marble-lined path that led around the entire mansion. Each side was shielded by large maple and oak trees that provided much relief from the blazing sun. One side of the mansion stretched over a small lake. I recalled sitting by it with Paul on many days like this.

  As we walked along, I thought about the information that Aaron had volunteered yesterday. When Sherlock stopped to relieve himself by an oak tree, I tried to figure out how best to broach the subject. "I'd like to ask you about something, and it's kind of personal."

  Ben drew his eyebrows together. "Okay."

  Okay, extremely personal. "I heard there was an incident a few years back that concerned you and a former intern. A very young intern."

  Ben opened his mouth in surprise. "Where did you hear such a thing?"

  I ignored his question. "You had to shell out a lot of money to keep that hushed up, didn't you?"

  His mouth compressed into a thin, fine line. "I asked you where you heard it, Cindy."

  Eyes that were cold and stormy focused on my face and sent a chill through my entire body, even on a warm day like this.

  I found myself concocting a lie on the spur of the moment. "Uh, I have a friend who has connections to the police department."

  A muscle ticked in Ben's jaw. "Interesting. I thought you were looking into my brother's death, not my personal background. Are you suggesting that the two connect somehow? If so, perhaps Michelle and I should rethink our choice of agents for the house."

  My heart sank into the bottom of my stomach. Jacques would die if we lost this sale. Why couldn't I keep my big mouth shut? Because I wasn't convinced that Ben didn't have anything to do with Paul's death. I was grasping at straws here, but if Ben had lied to everyone about the affair with an underage intern, maybe he had lied about other things as well.

  In the meantime, I had to reassure him somehow. "Ben, you misunderstood me. I wasn't fishing around for information on you. When I happened to mention that I was selling your house, this person brought up the incident. I know that you did nothing wrong."

  I'd never been good at lying but prayed I'd pull this one off.

  Ben's expression was doubtful as he studied my face. "This is between you and me."

  I nodded. "Of course."

  "Her name was Jamie," he said dryly. "She was beautiful and quite the charmer. She would follow me around everywhere, more than anxious to do my bidding." He smiled, remembering. "It made me feel quite young again."

  Ew. He was talking about a girl that was younger than his own daughter. Closer to my daughter's age. Gross. What the heck was the matter with him?

  "She came on to me," Ben said defensively. "Plus, she lied about her age. Anyhow, one night she stayed late, helping me organize documents for an important case. I ordered dinner in for us. The next thing I knew, she kissed me."

  "What did you do?" I didn't dare breathe.

  His face colored. "She wanted more, and I told her no, that I was a happily married man. Unfortunately, she paid no attention and was in the process of taking her clothes off when one of my associates entered my office. They then succeeded in blabbing the tale to everyone."

  Ben cleared his throat. "I panicked and told Jamie that her internship was complete and that I'd give her a great reference. She must have seen dollar signs because all of a sudden she threatened to go public with her own fictitious account of what happened, unless I helped her pay for law school. Wait, let me rephrase that. Unless I paid for all of her law school tuition, plus some miscellaneous expenses."

  He stopped and watched me for a moment. I nodded for him to continue.


  Ben stared off toward the lake. "I didn't want my business threatened or for Michelle to find out, so I agreed. I paid her some money and thought she'd go away, but she kept coming back for more. The next thing I knew, her parents were threatening to sue me, so we arranged a payoff—a very large one, in fact—for their silence. It set me back quite a few years financially."

  "I see." Which was why selling the house made sense.

  He stared at me pointedly. "As far as I know, Michelle has no idea what transpired. And I'd like to keep it that way. Understand?"

  I got his message loud and clear. Breathe to Michelle about this and your house listing goes away. "Of course. I would never say anything."

  He nodded. "Good. Now I'm guessing that you're done with these insinuations?"

  The story sounded fishy to me and filled with loopholes. I wanted to believe him but had my doubts. Still, how could I prove it? "Yes. Thank you for telling me."

  We were back by the front door. He let me enter first, then shut the door behind us and reached for my hand. Surprised, I stared at him.

  "Come on back with me to my study. I have something for you. Don't worry about the dog. He can come too. Michelle isn't very fond of animals, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her."

  Interesting. Was he referring to Sherlock or his potential affair?

  As I followed him down the sterile hallway with Sherlock trotting beside us, I wondered if there was any way I might be able to track down his former intern. I had to assume Ben lied about her real name. Maybe Aaron would know.

  We entered Ben's study. He sat down behind the massive carved-wood desk, obviously an antique, and opened the deep bottom drawer. He removed a large plastic Ziploc-type bag and handed it to me. There was a hat of some sort in it.

  Ben smiled sadly. "Do you know what this is?"

  I glanced curiously at it for a moment. Then I saw the familiar Mets logo on the front of the hat, and my heart almost stopped beating. "It's his—hat. Paul was wearing it when…" I handed the hat back to Ben and brought my hands to my face, trying to restrain myself from bursting into tears.

  Ben put an arm around me. "I didn't mean to upset you. I thought you'd like to have something to remember him by. Had I known back then how Paul felt about you, I would have made sure you'd received a memento. This is all that's left now."

  He handed the bag back to me, and I hugged it against my chest. "Thank you so much. I'll treasure it always. I can't believe you kept it all these years."

  "Actually, my mother did. They brought her Paul's personal items the next day. She would have kept everything, but the clothes he was wearing were covered in blood—" He stopped himself and forced a smile. "God, he was always wearing that stupid hat."

  Tears ran down my cheeks, and I brushed them away. "He loved baseball. We were supposed to go to the old Shea Stadium that summer. I have nothing from him, except the note that he wrote. You have no idea how much this means to me."

  Ben cleared his throat. "Paul was always the favorite. When he died, my mother lost all reason for living. She treated his room like a shrine. I'd forgotten all about the hat until we started prepping things for a possible move a few weeks back. I found it in an old trunk upstairs in the attic."

  "I'm so glad you did."

  He watched me closely. "Have you found any possible leads yet?"

  I was about to respond and then remembered Aaron's words from yesterday. I forced myself to wonder if I could be looking at a potential killer. Was Ben just giving me the hat to try to fluster me? Was he hoping I'd forget about the intern story, which I figured he'd lied about? Did he have a motive for wanting Paul dead? I knew there'd been jealousy and sibling rivalry, but was that enough of a reason to take your own brother's life? Maybe there had been something else…

  "Cindy?"

  Ben's voice jerked me out of my thoughts. He watched me intently. I smiled and crossed my fingers underneath the bag.

  "Nothing yet," I said. "But you'll be the first to know."

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was past nine o'clock Tuesday evening and still no Darcy. I'd sent her two texts in the last hour that had gone unanswered. I'd even called the Steadman mansion but, the call had gone directly to their answering machine. I hadn't left a message.

  I joined Greg in the study. He looked up from an email he was typing and pulled me down on his lap for a kiss. "Do you want me to drive over there?"

  I placed my arms around his neck. "No, I'm sure she's fine. But I'm a little upset with her for not answering my texts. Let's give her another hour." I knew she'd die of embarrassment if Greg went over to the mansion. Contrary to what Darcy thought, I remembered what it was like to be a teenager.

  Shrieks of laughter could be heard from the family room downstairs, followed by a loud popping noise.

  With a sigh, Greg released me and got to his feet. "I'd better tell the gang to get ready for bed."

  "Like they're actually going to sleep." I'd forgotten that I had promised Stevie and Seth they could each have a friend spend the night. When I had arrived home at five-thirty, I found five males—including my husband—wondering what was for dinner.

  Greg kissed me again, and moments later I heard him descending the stairs to the basement. I was about to follow him when car lights reflected off the living room window. I opened the front door to blaring rock music and the sight of Darcy alighting from Michelle's Corvette.

  Michelle waved to me and blew Darcy a kiss. "See you Friday, honey!"

  Darcy waved back at her. "Thanks, Michelle!" She breezed past me with a large shopping bag in her hand and started for the stairs. "Hi, Mom. I'm beat. See you in the morning."

  "Just a minute, young lady." I sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to me. "We need to talk."

  "Sure, what's the problem?"

  I struggled against the irritation that was rapidly growing inside me. "The problem is that I texted you twice, and you never responded. I was starting to worry."

  Her grin faded. "I'm sorry. Michelle and I went to the mall after dinner to get some workout clothes. I guess I never bothered to check my phone."

  Well, that was a first for my daughter. Whenever she went anywhere with me, the cell never left her hand.

  Darcy's face lit up again. "Guess what? We're going to get together Friday and do some more practicing, then have lunch at the Country Club. She said we'll make a whole day of it. She's so awesome."

  "Who's awesome?" Greg was leaning against the doorway, watching us.

  Darcy got to her feet and ran over to hug her father. "Michelle Steadman. I mean, she's like the coolest person I've ever met."

  The irritation that had settled in the bottom of my stomach had a new name—jealousy. I knew it was ridiculous, but I couldn't quite make the sensation go away.

  Greg pointed at the shopping bag. "What's in there?"

  "Uh, it's some workout clothes and sneakers for practicing. Michelle said they were top of the line and could really make a difference in how I perform," Darcy stammered.

  I bit into my lower lip. "Did you use your babysitting money to pay for them?"

  She hesitated a second too long. "Uh, no. Michelle said they were a gift from her."

  That was the last straw. I got to my feet and crossed the room, my tone low and strange to my own ears. "You know we don't want you accepting gifts like that. You will return them to her as soon as possible."

  Darcy's face was crestfallen. "I didn't ask for them, Mother. Michelle insisted on buying them for me."

  "You have plenty of outfits you can wear for practice. You will return them to her the next time you see her, or I will."

  Darcy's nostrils flared. "You were the one who asked her to help me. And you're getting money from her too."

  My mouth opened in surprise. "I'm selling her house. That's a business deal and completely different."

  She tossed her head. "Yeah, right. You're just jealous because you're not the athletic type. And don't be angry at he
r because she's talented and beautiful."

  For a moment, I thought this must be someone else speaking, not my kind and wonderful daughter. Where was all of this coming from?

  Greg stepped forward and held out his hand for the bag. "You spent a few hours with a complete stranger today, and all of a sudden, she's more important than your own mother?"

  Darcy's lower lip trembled. "I didn't say that."

  I muffled a laugh. "Okay, Darcy. You win. I gave birth to you and have taken care of you for sixteen years, but Michelle understands you better. Hey, it makes sense to me."

  Her face turned crimson. "Michelle does know. You don't realize how competitive this sport can be. She used to coach her daughter, and she totally gets it. Wow, Paula is so lucky." She threw the bag on a chair and ran upstairs. Seconds later, we heard the door to her room slam.

  I opened the bag and flinched when I saw the price tags of the items. There were several hundreds of dollars of clothing in there. I shut the bag and sank down in the chair next to it.

  Greg's expression was grim. "She owes you an apology."

  "Forget it." My voice shook.

  He pulled me out of the chair and into his arms. "Baby, what's wrong?"

  I relayed the story of Ben and the intern as gently as I could. A muscle ticked in my husband's jaw, and his eyes blazed, but I was quick to put his mind at ease.

  "Don't worry. He wasn't home tonight," I said. "But now, Darcy's made plans with Michelle for Friday, and I'm uneasy about her spending any more time with either of them. Plus, who knows if Ben could have been involved with Paul's death somehow?"

  Greg hugged me tightly to him. "If that scumbag was carrying on with a minor, I don't want him anywhere near our daughter, and that goes for his wife too. Just tell Darcy you need her to watch the boys on Friday. Problem solved. Next week, she won't even remember who Michelle is."

  I leaned my head on his shoulder. "One minute everything is fine, and the next minute she's all ticked off at me. And those mood swings of hers. Ugh. Compared to her, the twins are a piece of cake."