I fluffed a pillow to get more comfortable on my back. “Dr. Feelgreat, sometimes my temper makes me do things. I try to get ahead of it, but everything happens so fast and spirals out of control.”
“That’s where you and I are different,” he said. “When I get angry, I feel even more in control.”
I reached up and air-traced the square lines of the ceiling with my fingertip. “What does that feel like?”
“Like standing in the middle of a terrible storm, in the only place that’s calm. Time can slow down, if you want it to.” His chair squeaked as he stood. “Not the years. The years will never slow down, but if you hold very still, a minute can stretch out to eternity.”
“That’s how I feel waiting in line at the grocery store. Like every minute is an eternity. Is it like that? Does it make you hungry? I always get hungry in line.”
He came over and lifted my legs so he could sit with me on the leather sofa. He settled my legs back down on his lap and rested his hands on my shins. The heat from his palms made me realize how chilly I was, despite the warm late-summer weather. The air conditioning was always set to meat-locker levels in Logan’s office.
His voice low and gruff, he asked, “Have you eaten dinner?”
“I’m not interested in whatever you’ve got hiding in your beard.”
He chuckled, the vibrations of his voice warming my body. “We’ve got some more Golden Wok in the staff fridge.”
“Ruby already treated me to dinner at Accio Bistro.”
“They let you eat there?” He gently massaged the sides of my calves. “That’s the first bit of good news I’ve heard today.”
I asked him, “Did you find out anything else about the countess and her baby?”
“Not much,” he said. “She should have her own lawyer, though. She shouldn’t have been contacting me directly.”
“Does attorney-client privilege still apply?”
“Yes,” he said. “Even though I won’t be taking her case, I can’t share anything from the initial meeting with anyone, especially not Della.”
I snorted. “That’s probably for the best. Della doesn’t strike me as the type to welcome her boyfriend’s other girlfriend with open arms. Especially not one who made ol’ Deets a baby daddy.”
“We wouldn’t want to have another murder on our hands.”
I sat upright. “Another one? Logan, did Della kill him? What do you know?”
He stared straight ahead, avoiding my eyes. “Our client hasn’t done anything illegal. Just between us, I think she genuinely loved the man.”
“But if she had murdered him, we couldn’t exactly tell the police, could we?”
“Speaking hypothetically, if we had a client who committed a crime, we couldn’t report it. Not unless our client was actively planning to commit future crimes, or fraud, or commit perjury.”
“Ouch.” I pulled my legs off his lap, as his gentle calf massage had turned into unwanted deep-tissue prodding. “So, is she? Is she planning something?” I pulled my knees up under me and shuffled closer to him, the tightly tufted leather sofa squeaking with my movements. “What else is going on?” I twirled my finger around a short lock of dark hair behind his ear.
He pulled his head away. “Stormy, don’t. Today’s a working day for us.”
I moved in closer. “You can bruise my calves, but I can’t fix your hair?”
He slid away, putting a foot of space between us. “My hair’s fine. Cool it, will you? We’re in my office.”
“But I have information. New information. To trade for a kiss.”
He shot me a look, his blue eyes showing both annoyance and curiosity. “That’s not how we do this.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “I did some research on my own. After my meeting with the countess, I popped in to see Ruby. As usual, she had plenty of interesting gossip.”
His eyes burned with cold fire. “Are you going to make me beg?”
I pretended to consider my options just long enough to get him a little riled. He’d been holding out on me lately, and I wanted him to see how it felt.
Flatly, he asked, “And what was Ruby’s gossip?”
“Before Mrs. Koenig married Dieter, she and Ruby were involved in a love triangle with the groundskeeper, Tim Barber.”
“Della? No way.”
I jumped to my feet and began dancing around.
Logan tilted his head and stared at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
“This is my figured-it-out dance.” I wiggled my hips.
The corner of his mouth twitched up. “You look ridiculous. This is exactly why I don’t dance.” He waved one hand at me. “But I don’t mind watching you dance, so keep going.”
I danced some more, until finally he said, “What is it you’ve figured out?”
“They’re married,” I said. “That’s the thing you haven’t told me. This explains all the secrecy. Della and Dieter got married, so she really is legally entitled to some of that fortune, and that’s why she’s getting ready for battle!”
He crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He scratched his head. “How did you know?”
“You slipped up. I said Mrs. Koenig, and you assumed I was talking about Della. I was talking about the man’s late wife, but you thought I meant the new one.” I continued my dance, aware that I was gloating but unable to quelch my excitement.
Logan asked, “Who else knows?”
“I hope nobody else figured it out before I did, but you should know the sons are hot on the trail. When I was at Accio Bistro, I happened to overhear Brandon and Drake talking to the manager. They were paying for some champagne Dieter ordered for a catering job, and they were trying to find out what the surprise party had been for.”
“Sounds like it would have been quite the surprise.” Logan got up and walked toward his desk, giving me and my dance moves a wide berth. “And it sounds like something a man in love would do. He was going to share the news with everyone at once.”
“You make it sound sweet, but I’m not so sure that was his plan.”
“How would you know? You never even met the man.”
“I heard the catering manager say Mr. Koenig sounded gleeful about how much it would upset his sons.”
Logan flicked on his computer monitor and settled into his desk. A minute later, he was typing like mad.
He abruptly looked up. “How did you come by this information?”
“I got lost on my way back from the bathroom and accidentally overheard the three talking in the manager’s office.”
“Accidentally.” Logan raised his eyebrows and returned to typing. “A likely story,” he muttered.
“What’s with the judgment? I’m helping you out. And you love my outside-the-box methods.”
“Were you ever inside the box to begin with?” He kept typing.
“When did the lovebirds tie the knot, anyway?”
“Recently.” He gave me a serious look. “And that’s all I’m telling you. Go ahead and torture me with more dancing. I’m not going to crack.”
I was just about to begin my second performance when the phone on his desk started ringing. The receptionist was gone for the day, so it had to be someone who suspected he was there and used his direct line.
He answered, “Sanderson.” His eyes flicked to me. “Yes, she’s right here. Who? Where? No, she’s fine. Her dance moves haven’t proven fatal... yet.” He nodded. “I’ll let her know. How are you doing?” He nodded again, listening for a while, then said, “Okay, Slugger. Have a good shift, and I’ll see you at home.”
“What did Jessica want?” I asked.
“Switch your phone back on. You’ve probably got a dozen messages.”
“All the more reason to leave it off,” I said.
He shook his head. We both hated voicemail.
“You should check anyway,” he said. “The cops are looking for you. Specifically, Officer Kyle Dempsey is looking for you. He stopped by th
e Olive Grove to talk to Jessica when you weren’t home or picking up your phone.”
“Should I talk to him? I mean, without you?”
“If he just wanted to follow up on our report from the day at the mansion, you should be fine. If he asks about anything else and you’re not sure, call me. I’ll be here for a few hours.”
“Talking to him may not be safe,” I said. “You’ve seen his dimples. When he turns those on full-blast, a girl’s resolve gets rather weak.”
“Stormy, you’ve never had a weak moment in your life.” He held up his hand to shush me. “Except for when you agreed to date me. There, I said it so you don’t have to. Now go. Get out of here so I can get some work done.”
I danced my way out of Logan’s office, much to his amusement.
Chapter 23
"Where’s Tony Baloney?” I asked.
“Captain Milano’s out on business,” Kyle answered.
Officer Kyle Dempsey had come to the police station’s reception area to meet me and bring me back with him. I’d stopped by the station rather than call him because I was hoping he’d spill more juicy details in person. I’d already uncovered two of Dieter Koenig’s secrets that day and was hoping for a third.
“Did he track down a functioning polygraph machine?”
Kyle stopped walking and turned to face me. We were halfway to the first interview room, within smelling distance of coffee and what I guessed was donuts.
“You’re full of questions,” Kyle said. “How do you know about the polygraph?”
“Tony came by my house this morning. He told me Tim Barber wanted to report something, on the record and hooked up to a lie detector. He strikes me as a bit cuckoo, so I bet whatever he says is good stuff. Maybe aliens.”
Kyle nodded for me to follow him. He turned down a hallway that led to the parking lot rather than to the interview room.
“Let’s go for a drive,” he said. “We can talk while we drive. That’s always nice. Maybe we’ll catch the sunset.”
“I’m not sure if my lawyer-boyfriend would approve of that.”
Kyle flashed his dimples. “I don’t see him here.”
I followed him out the door, blinded by his dimples and trying to keep up with his long strides so I wouldn’t be forced to see his butt, which, if memory served, was equally blinding.
Kyle led me to an unmarked police car and held open the passenger-side door for me. He put his hand on top of my head and told me to be careful as I slid in.
“Thanks, Officer,” I said in a girlie voice. “I’m always bumping my head when I get into cars unassisted.”
“Force of habit,” he said.
He got in and started driving. It was now half past seven, and the summer sun was low enough that we flipped down the visors to save our eyes.
I took a wild guess we were driving to the Koenig Estate, and after a few turns in that direction, decided my hunch was right.
He was the first to break the silence. “We got the report from the medical examiner’s office,” he said.
“Oh?” I couldn’t tell him privileged information, but I had no problem listening to his. “Was there water in his lungs?”
“No. He’d stopped breathing before he hit the water.”
“I knew it! He was murdered and tossed into the pool.”
“Not necessarily,” he said, looking both ways as we stopped for a stop sign. “The ME report hasn’t ruled out an accident.”
“It’s not their job to prove things. That’s for the jury.”
“But there was tanning oil on the diving board,” he said.
“Suntan lotion?”
“No, the tanning oil stuff that you use to get more sun, not less.”
I rubbed my chin, thinking. “That’s a bit strange, but rich people have all the money for facelifts and laser treatments, so maybe they don’t care about sun damage.”
“Erica Garcia, the housekeeper, said that Dieter Koenig didn’t use tanning oil, but that his girlfriend did. She was trying to darken her skin to look more exotic for him. What do you think of that?”
“A deep tan looks amazing with crisp, white clothing.”
He let out an exasperated huff. “Like father, like daughter. Just like a member of the Day family to never give a straight answer.”
“You could try asking a straight question.”
“Did you know Della was dating the old man?”
I answered, “If I didn’t before, I do now.”
“You knew,” he said. “I went over your statement from that day, and you lied to me. That’s why you were so concerned about those drink tumblers. You think she did something.”
I squirmed in my seat. Kyle had always been friendly to me, a sweet kid with a puppy-dog crush. He’d been getting mentored by my father for several months, and I’d come to think of him as a member of the family. I didn’t need his respect, but it hurt more than I’d expected to be at risk of losing it.
“Kyle, I didn’t lie to you,” I said. “As of the morning of Mr. Koenig’s accident, I had no more than a whiff of a clue that he was dating anyone, let alone her.”
He stared straight ahead, focused on the road.
“I swear,” I said. “If you guys round up a lie detector, I’ll go a round on it.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he said.
“Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”
He flicked his eyes off the road to look at me briefly. “Why did Della murder Dieter Koenig?”
“If you think she did something like that, you should arrest her. But bring reinforcements, and keep an eye on your sidearm, Dimples.”
He didn’t say anything. The case had to be taking a toll on him if he wasn’t even going to smile at my comment. We turned again, and he pressed the accelerator, exceeding the speed limit on our way out of town.
We weren’t just going for a drive past the mansion to jog my memory. Where was he taking me? What else did he know about Della? A few wild theories came to mind.
“No way,” I said. “Nope. Turn around. I can’t be part of this.”
“Part of what?” he asked innocently.
“Kyle, if you value your friendship with my father at all, you won’t drag me into whatever you have planned.”
“We’re just checking on a nuisance call,” he said.
“Who’s the nuisance?” I had a feeling it was Della, and he was planning to use me as a bluffing tool.
To my surprise, he turned off the main road before we reached the road for the Koenig Estate.
After a mile, I realized we were heading back to the place I’d visited earlier that afternoon, the luxury rental where Lady Octavia was staying.
“This won’t take long,” Kyle said. “This lady has called to say someone’s hiding in her bushes. I’ll get out my stick and beat the bushes, like a good cop. You can help with my spare baton.”
“I’ll stay in the car.”
“Less fun but safer,” he said. “Thanks for being honest with me about the other stuff.”
I said nothing, because saying nothing was the safest. I ached to tell him everything I’d learned that day, but breaking privilege would be the end of my investigation career. Knowing that didn’t make keeping secrets from the police any easier. It was possibly why I still hadn’t taken my test and gotten my license. I had enough hours to apply but kept coming up with excuses.
Did I even want to be a private investigator? Sitting quietly in the passenger seat, I was experiencing the exact opposite emotion of the jubilation that had made me dance an hour earlier. What a roller coaster ride the day had been.
We pulled up in front of the luxury rental house and parked.
Kyle used the radio to call in his location to dispatch and then stepped out.
I didn’t want the countess to see me and think I blabbed. I slouched down in my seat and willed myself to be invisible. It had never worked before, but I figured it was worth a shot.
Chapter 24
I w
atched from the car as Countess Octavia of Krengerborg answered the door with a baby in one arm. She’d changed out of her Chanel suit into jeans and a blouse that still looked too expensive to be near a baby’s food-return system. As for the wee royal one, it was dressed in mint green, so I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl, or whether Jessica or I would be the one wearing the furry monster suit in the upcoming quarter marathon.
The countess didn’t invite Officer Kyle Dempsey inside. She stepped out to join him on the porch. She used her free arm to make sweeping gestures. He spoke for a bit, puffing out his chest. She took on a coquettish stance, probably admiring his dimples. After a moment, she reached out and squeezed his bicep. Kyle responded by flexing for her.
What was he up to? Had he brought me along with him to use my presence to bluff his way into information? He hadn’t tried hard to get me to come with him, and now he wasn’t pointing me out. The countess didn’t even glance in the direction of the car. Had he just brought me along to talk on the drive, or was young Kyle far more devious than he looked?
Perhaps my father had answers. I reached for my phone, but it was still in the glovebox of my car, which was parked at the police station. I looked at the radio. I knew how to use it, but doing so wouldn’t do anything but get me in trouble.
I looked up just as Kyle disappeared into the house with the countess and her green-clad baby.
I opened my new casebook and added more notes to the page I’d started on my first visit of the day to that location.
Fifteen minutes passed before Kyle emerged from the front door, alone. He waved to me and walked around to the side of the house, where he disappeared from view.
The sparsely populated country cul-de-sac was quiet. The sun dropped lower, and the glints on the Victorian-style windows took on a golden hue.
Kyle returned and knocked on the front door again. I couldn’t lower my window without the keys, which Kyle had wisely taken with him, so I cracked open my door, hoping to overhear their conversation. The countess returned with her green-clad baby in one arm.
“Nobody was hiding in the back bushes,” I heard Kyle tell her. “It might have been some local wildlife moving around back there. We have plenty of deer in this area.”
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