by Amy Saunders
"I take it back," Jonas said at the end, "I don't believe you."
"Told you."
Jonas whistled. A long, clear sound that arced down at the end. "Wow. I thought she was gone for good."
"Me too."
"You know, Belinda saw you two together."
Bennett pressed his mouth into what Belinda called his "lemon face."
"She doesn't know you were with Alexa," Jonas said. "Belinda thought it was some random woman."
"She told you that?"
"I don't think she meant to, but yeah. She was pretty upset you never called or anything."
Bennett glowered at the table. Belinda was in disguise. For all intents and purposes, Bennett should never have even known she was there. "She's infuriating. I should ship her off to Europe with her psychotic grandmother."
Jonas sunk back into his seat, looking wistful. "She'd get into trouble, and then you really couldn't help."
"She'd be busy going to museums and sightseeing."
"Sure. Then there'd be a murder in the museum that she'd start poking into because she knows their cousin, and someone would push her off the hotel balcony so she'd be swinging from the gryphon statue stories up with no Bennett to pull her back in."
Bennett appraised his off the cuff scenario. "I have to say that sounds...pretty accurate."
"You need to get over your resentment issues. If you don't, and the two of you remain at odds, I have to answer no to your question. You're not going to stay together."
Resentment issues?
Oh, fine. He had resentment issues. It just sounded petty put into words like that.
"I'm thinking about something Belinda said to me," Jonas said. "She told me I couldn't stop her, so I may as well help so she could avoid getting into so much trouble."
"So did you?" Bennett looked at him suspiciously across the table. "Help her?"
"Time will tell."
Bennett didn't like the sounds of that. But maybe Jonas had a point. If he'd been in league with Belinda through all these things, the end might've been different.
Bennett's forehead creased up, and Jonas could see determination sprouting in the back of his steel eyes. "Before you bolt out of here to secure your alliance–"
"Secure my alliance?"
"I can tell you've made up your mind about something, but you don't need to freak out and run over to Belinda's. Especially not with my steak still on that grill."
"I'm not freaking out."
Jonas arched an eyebrow.
"Okay, I'm freaking out. I'm all in this, no matter how much she makes me want to punch through a wall."
"I think you need to let her help you," Jonas said thoughtfully. "That's what she really wants to do, and maybe she can't stop the ultimate problem. But she can support you in other ways, only you're not letting her."
Tempest had suddenly lost interest in the bugs in the yard and sat staring up at Bennett, licking her chops as he placed a plump rib eye in front of Jonas. "She has been helping. Though I know I haven't been easygoing about it."
"You never are." Jonas grinned as a mild glower met him across the table. Bennett wasn't entirely defeated. "Let her. It'll make her happy, and she won't feel like you're pushing her away."
Bennett pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why am I so bad at all of this?"
"Everyone's bad at this," Jonas managed to garble out between bites. "But hey, you've made it this far. I have full confidence you can handle this situation."
Bennett just stared at him from across the table. "Why am I friends with you again?"
"Because I'm the only one who understands you." Jonas grinned. "I do love Belinda's insatiable curiosity."
"It has its moments. Except when she leaps out of windows and crashes on my head."
"No, I'd count that as a moment. One preferably caught on camera and posted on the Internet."
Bennett grimaced, remembering all the photos and videos that Kyle kept throwing in their faces for days. Belinda said she'd rarely seen Kyle laugh that hard. Bennett didn't care for being entertainment.
On the other hand, he'd been with Belinda, which was always preferable to not being with her, no matter how crazy she was.
~ * ~
It was time to get forceful. Well, actually, it was time to get sneaky.
While Belinda waited for her private investigator to get back to her, she decided she needed to get inside Bennett's house and look around. Plus, she might be able to access his e-mail from his own computer and see who he'd been in touch with. His cell would be better, but she had little hope of getting her fingers on that.
She still didn't know his work schedule, so she rented a car–just a plain black one–and parked on one of the cross streets by his house and waited for him to leave, using her key once he was gone.
Tempest bolted out of the bedroom and followed Belinda into the office. She should've known better than to think he'd saved his passwords, but it was worth a try. His Internet history revealed a lot of real estate-related material, including some apartments, and not all of them in Portside. He didn't write a lot down–making lists and the sort. She went through his receipts, stacked neatly in a desk drawer in his office, and slipped on her latex gloves and sifted through his trash. He'd been clipping coupons and buying generic brands of everything, which may not have been new. He was always pragmatic about these sorts of things. His kitchen cabinets and fridge were barren, and he was low on some sort of prescription medication that she wasn't familiar with. There wasn't a lot that was different. Bennett was Bennett, loaded or broke.
She scoured the house, searching through all the cabinets and drawers, even testing for false bottoms and the like, and had gathered more intel than he'd volunteered lately. But she still came up dry when it came to that woman he was with. If he'd contacted her, it must've only been by e-mail or cell phone. The only major thing left was his financial software, and she was iffy about poking through those files. Of course, she'd had no problems with spying on his e-mails, so what was the difference?
She opened up the software after moving Tempest off the keyboard. His business records were of less concern right now, so she pulled up what seemed to be his personal information. He wasn't a lazy procrastinator like her, so his records looked up-to-date. It was average consumer spending with some payments for things he'd sold. He had a definite lack of income. Except for a decent payment in the last week from a company she'd never heard of.
Belinda jotted down the name, then picked the lock on his filing cabinet to search for the stub. It wasn't an electronic deposit, and if a company paid him, it would be with company checks, which more than likely meant some sort of copy. And Bennett would file it.
He was well organized and she found it quickly. The address was listed as a suite in New York. It could have been related to Tate Security, but it was made out to Bennett personally, and that's how he'd filed it. Was he doing work on the side? Maybe returning to private investigating? She'd have to research the company at home.
One thing Bennett did have on paper was his work schedule for the week, which Belinda wrote down. Then she went home and started a meal for him with plans for a cooking marathon soon so he'd have real food to eat.
With time to kill while the food cooked, she looked up the company that paid Bennett. It didn't seem to exist except the address, according to the wonderful (and disturbing) online satellite imagery, was a real location in New York. Tapping her fingers on the computer keyboard, she made up her mind to put her favorite Portside lawyer on it. His research skills, especially when it came to hidden things, far surpassed hers. She'd have to ask him for lessons later.
Kyle came in as she was saying good-bye to Carmichael. He confirmed that someone behind-the-scenes was pushing for Bennett's sentencing, but he'd come up short on who. That was okay. Belinda could guess.
"Is that dinner?" Kyle's eyes were wide and hopeful, inhaling the aroma coming from something on the stove.
"For us and Bennett.
"
Kyle dropped his backpack on the bench in the narrow hallway near the side entrance. That had become one of Belinda's favorite features of the house. Kyle dumped his swill on the bench instead of the floor.
"You've patched things up with Bennett?"
"I'm moving in that direction." Belinda stretched her arms toward the ceiling. She'd been all hunched over for a while. "I'm taking Jonas' advice and getting assertive. Bennett's not getting away that easily."
"And dinner is part of the twelve-step program?" Kyle lifted the top off one of the pans and sniffed.
"He's in avoidance mode right now. So I'm moving in on his territory and putting in stakes."
"You're grilling steaks?"
"No, I'm putting down stakes. Tent stakes? Like it's permanent." Belinda waved it off. "Whatever. I'm getting in his way until we resolve this. And I'm getting in his business until I find out why he was with some other woman at the fundraiser." She gave him a rundown of her recent activities, including her talks with Jonas and rifling through Bennett's personal items.
Kyle grinned. "He'd do it to you."
"That's what I think."
"Well, I've been thinking about how Elena connects to this whole mess." He pulled out a box of crackers and some pepper jack cheese–his current food obsession. "What if she was investigating the thefts? Elena was in a perfect position to spy on coworkers and find out who was stealing from the houses."
Belinda stopped her examination of the zucchini succotash on the stove. "You think she was some sort of undercover police officer or something?"
"Not necessarily."
"Then what are you thinking?"
"I was thinking about you. If you worked at a place under fire for a series of thefts, you'd start investigating." He delicately placed a newly sliced piece of cheese on the cracker, and then chomped it in half.
He was right. Maybe Elena was of the same disposition, or just concerned about her own job. Elena had gotten a text that may have lured her to her death. What if Elena wasn't investigating alone? What if she thought the text was from her partner?
Belinda ripped fresh basil leaves and tossed them into the succotash. "What if Elena was working with someone to investigate the thefts, but stumbled into something major? Like a big drug company cover-up operation."
"That is a huge leap."
"I know, but think about it. Colleen's drug company story, Elena killed in Gary Wolman's empty house, a text luring Elena to where she was murdered, and finally Colleen breaking into Elena's apartment." Belinda took a breath, the connection suddenly obvious.
Colleen was trying to use Belinda to get a story because Belinda was in a position to (in theory) get her where she wanted to be. If Colleen was investigating the thefts, she would probably have approached someone working for the house cleaning company. And based on recent events, she guessed Colleen would've used Elena's past drug addiction as a hold over Elena.
In fact, Colleen could have even been the one to let Elena's past drug habit out of the bag. Maybe Elena wasn't cooperating. But assuming that was true, once Elena was actually fired, why would she go meet Colleen? Unless Elena wanted to confront her. Or get revenge. But that didn't quite fit what the police had found. And what reason would Colleen have to shoot Elena? Except in self-defense.
She was so frustrated she couldn't get around the password on Elena's flash drive. There had to be a clue about all this on there.
"Elena was helping Colleen," Belinda said. "I'll stake my life on it. But I bet Elena was only supposed to look into the thefts. She was in the perfect position to, like you said."
"Well, if Elena hit on something to do with the drug company by accident that means–"
"Another person at the house cleaning company must be involved. It could explain why Elena died in the Wolman's house, and why there was a drive-by at a hospital fundraiser. Not to mention why someone else was in Elena's apartment at the same time as Colleen."
"What about the jewelry they found on Elena?"
"Probably a plant so Elena would look like a thief." Belinda paced around the small bowling alley kitchen, fired up. "Colleen's probably right. Gary and his researcher have found some conclusive evidence that will destroy that drug."
Kyle had actually lost interest in his cheese and crackers and just held one in midair. "You need to find the thief."
"What?"
"The guy who broke in here and everything. He's probably the same dude breaking into other people's homes. And I'll bet he's connected somehow to everything else that's happened. You find him, you'll eventually find Elena's killer."
Right again. What was with that?
Even if it all came down to plain old theft, Kyle was still right. That guy could be their murderer.
"So how do I find him?" she said. "We tried sifting through news reports to find any known thieves who matched his description, but without more clues, we came up empty. There are too many possibilities of how he could be connected to Portside House Cleaning."
"How do we find anything these days? Go online."
"Yeah. But where do I start? I know nothing about him, other than what he looked like."
"That's not true. Let's assume your thief is the thief–the one who's stolen from other houses around here. That means he's local. Someone else has seen him." Kyle was happy to return to his cracker munching now that he'd solved her problems.
But she had her own idea about finding the thief, anyway. She just needed her hunk back. And get him back, she would.
Chapter 13
The next morning, Jonas pressed the doorbell of Colleen's white gabled house, planted in a row of varying townhouses, and waited, arching his back. He was nervous and unsettled about being there, but new information about his case had surfaced, and this had to be done. Colleen answered in shorts and a T-shirt, no makeup, hair in a ponytail. It was quite the contrast from her TV persona.
Colleen appeared to be in the middle of something, holding a phone in one hand. She was surprised to see him on her doorstep, and it was a second before she said anything. "Come to check up on me, Detective?" She leaned into one hip, a fire in her eyes.
Jonas rocked on his heels. "We've been looking into some texts Elena received from a disposable phone. She was meeting someone semi-regularly, and at two of those meeting places, we have video footage of you and Elena talking."
Colleen went pale.
"From that same phone number," Jonas said, "Elena was told to meet at the Wolman's house the night she died." He pulled out the folded paper from his inside blazer pocket and opened it up. "I have a warrant to search your house."
Her face went taut, and she stepped aside slowly to let Jonas and his uniformed helpers inside.
While they searched for a prepaid cell phone, Jonas led Colleen into the kitchen at the back of the house to talk. The inside was like the outside–decorated all in black and white with accents of color here and there.
"There's been talk that an employee of Portside House Cleaning is responsible for the alleged thefts," Jonas said. "A few of their clients have blamed them, and it's gotten around to the staff. Some of Elena's coworkers, including other employees she was teamed with to clean, said they felt like she was watching them. So...was Elena your informant?"
Her voice was as tight as her expression when she spoke. "No comment."
Jonas crossed his arms. "Did you send a message to Elena for her to meet you at the Wolman's residence the night she was killed?"
Colleen didn't respond.
"Did you meet Elena at the Wolman's house that night?"
"I'm not saying anything without my lawyer."
Jonas sighed. He knew that's how this would go, but he was hoping she might just cooperate. Minutes later, one of his officers came downstairs, motioning to talk to him.
Jonas followed him down the short, narrow hallway toward the front door.
"No phone," the officer said, "but we found something else you'll want to see."
Jo
nas feared he was about to produce the gun that killed Elena. But it was just Colleen's regular cell phone.
"Read those texts, sir." The officer pointed.
Colleen had received a series of veiled threats from different numbers, becoming more intense with each one. Jonas trudged back to the kitchen, holding out the cell phone.
"They're untraceable," she said. "I already tried."
"Any idea who they're from?"
"None."
"Could it have anything to do with whatever Elena was doing for you?"
Colleen held his eyes for a second, then looked away.
Jonas stepped closer. "You were at the scene of a drive-by shooting–the first in Portside history, I'm pretty sure. Someone clobbered you on the head the same night while you were trespassing in Elena's apartment. And you've been receiving threats for what appears to be weeks now. If you didn't kill Elena, then you're close to whoever did."
Colleen's eyes grew fierce, and Jonas thought she'd explode. But she contained it. "I'm calling my lawyer." She pushed away from him and picked up a wireless phone on the counter.
If Colleen wouldn't tell him what was going on, he knew someone else who would.
~ * ~
Belinda heard back from the private investigator about Bennett's retirement, and the results were...interesting. Not entirely what she expected, and other than opening old wounds, she wasn't sure it would hurt Bennett as much as the other people involved. Unless Colleen didn't know the whole story, which Belinda suspected might be the case.
But she finally had some ammo of her own. By chatting up a certain person who knew Colleen's relatives, Belinda learned about a cover-up Colleen was involved in concerning those family members. If Colleen could protect her own, so could Belinda.
She called Bennett and told him to meet her at her family's house after work to swim. She didn't ask, or imply he had any other option. He was meeting her to swim. Period.
He seemed a little befuddled by how bossy she was, but agreed. Maybe from surprise. Didn't matter to her. He was coming.
Belinda finished adjusting her swimsuit and cover-up, about to leave for the family home, when she heard a door close downstairs. She froze, listening as someone shuffled around. It couldn't be Kyle; he was at work.
