Drive-Bye (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Three)

by Amy Saunders

  Belinda knew one thing. If she was killed tomorrow, in her last moments, she'd regret things being the way they were with Bennett. She couldn't let him just draw away from her, or draw away herself in response. She had to be more than herself for his benefit.

  Belinda still didn't have all the answers, but she did at least have some ideas of where to start.

  Chapter 6

  Aside from having separate bathrooms again, the best part of the new living arrangement was the walk-in closet in the master bedroom. There were three bedrooms upstairs. Kyle had taken one of the secondary rooms near the stairs, and left Belinda with the master bedroom at the very end of the hall. The room was open and airy with plenty of sunlight from windows on the back and side, and the cream walls complemented her white French country furniture perfectly. It just needed some finishing touches, like curtains.

  Belinda charged up to her bedroom, intending to sort through her closet and create sell piles. She wasn't sure what she would do after selling some of her clothes and shoes because she couldn't very well hand Bennett a wad of cash. He'd never speak to her again. But there had to be a way to help in an acceptable fashion. She just had to think.

  Belinda walked down the narrow hallway, freezing at the threshold of her bedroom. A blonde guy with a beak nose wearing a hood stared straight at her from across the room. He was near her dresser by the back window, her jewelry chest wide open.

  He froze and looked as shocked as she felt. After what felt like an eternity, he finally bolted in her direction. Belinda tried to block him, but he rammed into her, knocking her into the wall.

  She recovered fast and ran after him, through the kitchen, holding out her phone and trying to get the camera up while keeping pace with Beak Nose.

  She finally got the stupid camera going and held it out, pressing the picture button on the bottom of the screen while she ran to his side, trying to capture even part of his face. But he wore a hood and baseball cap.

  "I'll find you!" she yelled as he dipped into a neighbor's yard and over the back fence. "I'll hunt you down!" She wasn't sure how or what she'd do once she did, but it sounded good as it escaped her lungs.

  Belinda scrolled through the photos she took, shaking her head. With his hood up, you could only really see his nose.

  She went back inside to assess the damage. The front of her jewelry chest was open. One of the little drawers on the bottom was partially sticking out. Belinda took her shirt hem and opened it wide, sucking in a breath. The blue velvet pouch was gone.

  She pressed her lips together, rage filling her chest. It was the only piece of jewelry she owned that was really worth anything. And not because of its financial value, though it was worth something.

  A little while later, Kyle found her staring listlessly at the white mantle above the fireplace. His voice pierced through her indecision about hanging a large antique mirror above the fireplace or a collection of Bennett's ocean and beach photographs. But she was leaning toward the latter. A collage of black and whites would contrast nicely with the sea foam green walls.

  "Oh, good," she said, tearing her eyes away. "You're home. How's the boat? Ready for launch?"

  "Pretty much." Kyle looked at her curiously. "Are you okay? You seem...off."

  "We had a thief."

  Kyle came closer, daring to step beyond the kitchen parameters before he showered. "What do you mean we had a thief?"

  "I got home and there was a guy in my bedroom. I scared him off."

  "Are you hurt?"

  "No."

  "Did he take anything?"

  Belinda heaved a deep sigh and sat on the white couch. Not the best color choice with Kyle living there. She'd already discovered a couple of stains. "He took my cameo pendant."

  Kyle scratched his neck. "Your cameo pendant?"

  "You know, the cameo nana gave me the last time I stayed with her. The one that belonged to her great-grandmother."

  "Oh, that one. Right. Sorry."

  Belinda glared. Of course he wouldn't remember or care. But she did. It was an agate cameo of a woman's profile. It was only worth about a thousand dollars, but that wasn't as important as the sentimental value she placed on it.

  "What did the police say?" Kyle said.

  "Hmm?"

  "The police, when they came. What did they say?"

  Belinda blew air between her lips. "I didn't call them."

  "Excuse me? Why not?"

  "Because it's not going to do any good. He didn't break in. I've looked over all the entryways."

  Kyle folded his arms and stared at her hard. His face rarely looked that mean. "And I suppose you're some sort of expert on this?"

  Belinda glowered at him. "He disabled the security sys–" She stopped, remembering that the Wolman's home security system was disabled–where Elena had been killed. Coincidence? "–tem."

  "And?" Kyle said, snapping her out of it. "Are you sure you remembered to set it before you left? You've never been good about that."

  Belinda huffed. "Yes, I did. And they're not going to find much. He was wearing gloves."

  "But you saw him."

  "Barely."

  Kyle wiped his hand across his face. "I'm going to take a shower, and then we're discussing this."

  Kyle's footsteps retreated up the stairs, and Belinda picked up her phone, zooming in on the blurry photo of a person in a black hood and a nose sticking out.

  She went upstairs and grabbed her computer tablet to research the recent thefts. There were only a handful of official reports, and no suspects. None of the news reports mentioned the house cleaning connection, so that was probably community speculation. However, in each robbery, the homeowners were actually in town when it happened.

  If her thief was the same thief who had robbed those other homes, did it make sense that he also killed Elena? Not now. They'd found jewelry on Elena. If this guy was her partner, or if she caught him stealing, it would make more sense for him to call it quits and let Elena take the blame for the thefts. Why would he risk getting caught when he had the perfect scapegoat? Especially when he'd be an obvious suspect in Elena's murder.

  Belinda set her tablet aside, staring around her bedroom for inspiration. She'd left her jewelry chest open, just because. She'd started to feel torn about calling the police.

  Then a thought came to her. What about the information Colleen gave her? She'd left it out in her car, totally forgotten till now. There might be some clues in there.

  Belinda retrieved the pink flowered folder from her glove compartment and flopped onto the middle of her bed, Aria and Poseidon in tow. Kyle had suddenly redeveloped a social life and was meeting some old sailing buddies for dinner, threatening to call the police later. She felt confident he'd forget.

  She flipped through the papers in the folder, the kittens on her lap staring at the pages while she scanned through them. She finally returned to the top page and settled in to read.

  Kyle came home around midnight. Belinda was on her knees, surrounded by papers she'd sorted through and highlighted, with her laptop off to the side on the bed. The kittens were curled around each other, snoozing on one of the piles.

  Kyle lumbered in, yawning. "I thought you'd be in bed by now. What's all this?"

  She doubted she'd get much sleep that night. "I'm not sure yet. It's all about this drug company that made headlines recently because a researcher came out claiming one of their products causes cancer."

  "Why are you researching that?"

  "That reporter I hate gave me all this. I guess she's investigating it, and she wants my help somehow."

  "And you'd do this because...?"

  Belinda glanced at him sideways. "It's complicated. But I'm only really interested because of one very bizarre fact."

  "What's that?"

  "The research on the drug company is being secretly backed by Gary Wolman, and he owns the house Elena Campos was killed in."

  Kyle sat on the floor next to her bed, mouthing, "Wolman, Wo
lman."

  "What is it?"

  He held up his index finger to be quiet, then snapped his fingers. "Got it. The Wolmans–they weren't in the Caribbean."

  Belinda looked at the clock, then at him. "It's past pumpkin hour. Please speak in complete thoughts."

  "You know, they usually spend part of the winter there. But Mark's dad mentioned they always see them, and they never did this year."

  "When did you see Mark's dad?"

  "Tonight."

  "I thought you went to have dinner with the guys."

  "I did. The Nichols like to eat, too, you know."

  Belinda wrinkled her nose. "They didn't give you the cold shoulder?"

  "Of course not. I'm sailing with his crew to Australia next winter, remember?"

  "I know...it's just..." Belinda studied her hot pink highlighter, too tired to articulate her feelings.

  "The Nichols have had their fare share of social difficulties. They don't care. In fact, they asked how you were, and not because of the scandal. Mark's dad was really impressed that you started your own business."

  Well, that was something, and coming from a family whose opinion did matter to her on some level. "So, how did the Wolmans come up?"

  "That murder, I guess." He shrugged. "It's been on the news, and since the body was found in the house of someone everyone knows, it was kind of a topic of conversation."

  "Where are they? The Wolmans?"

  "No one seems to know. There's some crazy rumor going around that the wife has schizophrenia. One of Wolman's golf buddies says Gary's in New York."

  That triggered a memory about her reading, and Belinda rifled through her papers, shaking her head how out of the loop she was. A good ninety-eight percent of her online contacts dropped her when the embezzling hit news, and she hadn't dared enter the yacht club. The two best channels for gossip. Gone.

  Not that she missed it that much. But it was convenient in these situations.

  Finally, she had to wake a very grumpy Poseidon to yank out the paper she wanted. He glared at her, then fell back asleep. So like Kyle. "I thought so. The researcher is based in Boston."

  "That's not New York."

  "No, but it's a shorter commute to Boston than from, let's say, the Cayman Islands."

  "What are you getting at? That the Wolmans have been lying about their winter retreat so they'd have an easier ride to visit some researcher in Boston? What's the point in that?"

  "Well, Gary is backing her, but he hasn't told anyone."

  Kyle rested his chin on the edge of the bed, stifling another yawn. "Why not? Evil drugs. Cancer. That's the kind of thing our people love to get behind."

  Belinda frowned at the web of papers on her bedspread. That was a big missing piece to the puzzle. In all this information, there was nothing to explain why Gary Wolman was hiding it. In fact, the opposite made more sense. With his influence, he should have been in the forefront.

  She twirled the highlighter in her hand until Kyle made her stop. "Are you going to start wallpapering with photos and crisscrossing yarn held by tacks? I don't think I can live with that."

  "No. But I am going to find out why this is such a big secret. And if it has anything to do with Elena's murder."

  "What does all this have to do with that reporter woman?"

  Belinda shrugged. "We'll soon find out."

  Chapter 7

  The reporter–or Colleen, as Belinda guessed she should call her now–agreed to meet Belinda later the next morning. Belinda didn't like the note of triumph in her voice when they spoke on the phone, but it was too late now.

  Belinda thought long and hard about where they could meet so they wouldn't be seen together. She finally picked an out of the way coffee shop inside a strip mall next to a market.

  Colleen sat checking her phone, just in white capris with a flowery sleeveless top with her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, sitting at an angle to the table. Belinda noticed her roots were showing as she sat down.

  "You didn't tell me you had a conspiracy theory," Belinda said.

  "I told you I didn't like the petty theft angle." Colleen didn't look up right away, but there was a definite air of smug satisfaction on her face.

  "Well, you've gone out of your way to find something more theatrical."

  The reporter set her phone face down on the table between them. "I don't think you'd be here if you didn't think it had some merit."

  True enough. "So what are you thinking?"

  Colleen leaned forward. "Well, Elena had no direct connection to the Wolmans. She'd never cleaned that house, or stepped foot inside for any other reason. Wolman has been bleeding money to prove that drug company essentially killed his mother–and potentially dozens of other people. I also have it on good authority that he's been trying other angles, too."

  "Like trying to prove the company knew this could happen?"

  The reporter looked impressed. Belinda had done her homework. "He's putting everything he's got into this. The drug company knows. So it only makes sense that they're making counterattacks."

  "You think Elena was part of some strike team, working for the drug company?" Belinda had trouble picturing that sweet looking girl going undercover for an evil pharmaceutical company. On the other hand, she had been deep into drugs for years.

  "It's one possibility. I do know that people like house cleaners can make very good spies."

  Belinda decided not to think about that too hard. "Question: Why would they bother to spy on an empty house?"

  "Looking for dirt on Gary?" The reporter shifted around in her seat. "That's what I'd be doing. Anything to discredit either the man funding the research or the researcher herself. All the drug company has been able to do is talk down the results of the studies. Say there's no concrete link between the drug and cancer, which is true. But that doesn't mean they're free and clear of any sort of accountability."

  Belinda nodded. She'd read last night that the drug company was facing a potential group lawsuit that could cost them millions if they lost. If money was your prime concern, that could be a motivation to take more underhanded tactics. "Is there any dirt to find?"

  "You think I know?"

  Belinda just stared back at her until she caved.

  "Alright, alright," the reporter said. "I've been digging, but nothing serious has come up for either Wolman or the researcher. I don't think the company will win attacking their reputations. If anything, I think Portside would be a last ditch effort to find ammo against Gary Wolman."

  Very last ditch, in Belinda's opinion. Especially since a lot of the families weren't even there. "I'm not sure why you want to share this with me," Belinda said.

  "You're a valuable resource. You have a house cleaner who works for Elena's company, you're tied into the circle Wolman is a part of." Colleen's eyes drifted away from her. "In fact, your grandmother is friends with him. They're both big contributors to the hospital."

  And there it was. The punch line Belinda had been waiting for.

  Belinda crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. "Is she?"

  Colleen bit the edge of her lip. "She could help."

  "Help with what exactly?"

  "I want this story, Belinda." Colleen leaned across the table. "I've been investigating and researching for months, and I want this.

  "Gary has been underground in Boston for weeks. He's never done that before. They've had a break in their research; I can feel it. Time is running out on both sides. They're ramping up to let it blow and I want in. First."

  "How do you know that?"

  "I have my contacts." She shrugged, indicating that was a closed topic.

  If Colleen was right, Belinda figured they would take that to national news, not some local station. But you never knew. "So you want me to ask my grandmother to convince him to have pity and give you the story."

  "He loves Portside. It would be a good place to come out with the exciting news. You could persuade your grandmother to ask for a favor.
"

  Belinda stifled a laugh. "I'm not in a position to persuade her right now."

  "Then lose the boyfriend for a while. Make the old dame happy, but get your cake in the end."

  "Excuse me?"

  "She's campaigning to destroy him. Why do you think the charges weren't dropped already?"

  Belinda could feel the skin prickle on her arms and rise up to her neck.

  "I have it on good authority he's now unlikely to get away without sentencing," Colleen said. "You want to save him? Let her think it's over. When he's cleared and everything's right in the world again, you can get back to business."

  Belinda could feel herself breathing and seeing and gripping the chair bottom. But it was like she'd disconnected from all her senses. She felt nothing.

  How? Well, Belinda knew how her grandmother did it. It was all about connections. But despite what she knew about her, Belinda still had trouble believing she would actually do that. Just because Belinda was dating him and he was unfortunate enough to have the wrong pedigree.

  Because Belinda was dating him.

  One way or another, she was ruining Bennett's life.

  Colleen waved her hand in front of Belinda's face a few times. "Hello? Still there?"

  Belinda blinked rapidly to come back to herself. "I still don't see why I should do this for you."

  "To spare yourself the trouble of having certain–indiscretions–exposed."

  Belinda's heartbeat tripled, and the world around her got spacey. The kidnapping? How did Colleen know about the kidnapping?

  Belinda swallowed, her mouth completely dry. "I don't know what you mean by that."

  "The person you're so desperate to protect–Bennett? His very early retirement from the police force looks sketchy at best. But the reasons–real reasons–behind it are even more interesting. They could make for a good, well-rounded picture concerning his arrest and possible sentencing."

  Belinda knew she waited too long to respond, but she was completely aghast. Bennett's retirement? Her heart started to thump irregularly like it was undecided if this was a relief, or a bigger problem.