by S. E. Babin
I nodded. “I will. But I want to know for sure. It isn’t fair to Chase’s family.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t. But you cannot bring him back. Give the mother true closure only when you have irrefutable evidence.”
Mom picked her coffee mug up again but not before giving me a long, hard look.
“Mom,” I said, offended. “I will! I promise not to say anything until I know for sure. I’m going to his work today, just to sniff around.”
Her brow rose. “Where does he work?”
“Some local construction firm.”
Mom choked on her coffee. “You’re going to a construction firm by yourself? Have you never seen television in your entire life?”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, come on. They can be professional.”
“Do not wear a skirt.” She stood up from the table, carrying her mug. “In fact, I think I have a nun habit in my closet somewhere.”
She left me in the kitchen staring at her back. “Mom!” I called. “Do I really want to know why you have a habit in your closet?”
“Some things are meant to remain forever secret!” she called back.
I shuddered.
9
I took my mother’s advice and skipped the skirt. Mainly for my own comfort, not to see her gloat. As I pulled in, the place struck me as overall pretty nice. I wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to a construction company, but everything on tv had led me to believe there would be an old trailer, piles of unorganized paperwork, and the reek of stale cigarette smoke permeating the place.
Turned out, none of those things were true. At least in this case. The building was a pretty burnt orange and white stone standalone, plunked in the middle of a nice area. I’d never been to this part of Asheville before, but as I was driving through I’d made a mental note to come back and check it out some more. I spotted a few nice shopping centers with some new boutiques I’d never heard of and some quirky restaurants.
I opened the door to C&C Construction and was promptly hit in the face with a cheery fall scent. It was subtle enough to be appreciated. There was nothing worse than walking into a shop in the mall only to gag on the artificial perfumes they were pumping out through the ventilation system. My heeled boots tapped on the stone floor as I made my way to the reception area. A pretty brunette woman with an artificial smile greeted me.
“Hi,” I said, leaning over the desk so I could speak a little quieter. The building had quite the echo. “I’m looking for Chase McCormick’s supervisor.”
The woman’s perfect eyebrows drew together. “Chase? May I ask who you are?”
If Emma or Ruthie found out I was here, I would be dead meat. Fired dead meat. And not as in a delicious char. In a dead and most certainly unemployed way. “Erm, Martina Mcilroy,” I said. I wanted to groan at myself, but at least I hadn’t said, “McBride.” I’d never met a person in this area who didn’t love that singer.
The woman hesitated as if she knew I was lying, but she couldn’t call me on it because she was at work. “And you’re here because?”
“I would like to speak to him about Chase’s last wishes.”
She blinked in surprise, pursed her lips, and picked up the phone beside her. She turned away from me, but I was still so close I could hear everything she said.
Including the, “I’m not sure she’s really who she says she is,” whispered part.
The lady had good instincts.
There was silence as she absorbed whatever the person on the other end was saying. “Fine,” she snapped.
That didn’t sound like a good way to speak to your boss. She turned back around and I looked closer. Light brown eyes were framed by long, black eyelashes. Her face was on the thin side, borderline horsey, but I was not a judgmental person. She had good teeth and a slim frame but judging from the way she was glaring at me, I could make an educated guess on one thing.
I was pretty sure she was sleeping with whoever this boss was. Not that this within itself was a crime, but it was definitely inappropriate. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, nor did I see any personal portraits on her desk, besides that of a cat. Whoever this was, she appeared to be quite single.
“Mr. Marsh will see you now,” she said. Her face was pinched as if that rankled her to say.
I gave her a sweet smile and a little finger wave before I headed in the direction of her gesture. “Have a nice day!” I chirped back.
She did not respond. Go figure.
I made my way back to a surprisingly clean area. The walls were full of architectural drawings and pictures of what I assumed was their team. I slowed down as I passed a large group photo.
Chase McCormick was pictured, smiling widely in the front row. He was a little overweight, but not a bad looking guy. His arm was slung around another man good-naturedly. Chase looked happy and healthy. I peered around for a date on the photo but couldn’t find one.
“Ah, I see you’ve been introduced to our team!” a voice said.
I startled and looked in the direction of it. An older, very handsome man was walking toward me. Tall and loose-limbed, he projected authority. “Mr. Marsh?”
He gave me a wide-toothed smile, similar to the one his horsey possible girlfriend had given me. “Yes, and you are?”
I paused for an awkward moment while I tried to remember the named I’d given the woman. “Ah, Miss McIlroy.”
“Yes!” he snapped his fingers. “I’m so forgetful.”
Or you’re a crafty old fox who was trying to trip me up. “No problem,” I said.
He gestured down the hall. “Would you like to come into my office?”
I adjusted my handbag. “Of course.”
I followed him down the hallway, my shoes making quite the racket. A man must have built this building. He turned and led me into a large office with a nice view of the bustling restaurant and shopping area I’d noticed when I drove in. He gestured for me to have a seat. I sank gratefully into one of the chairs in front of his desk and he, the man in charge, sat down behind his desk and interlaced his fingers. A projection of authority. I stifled the urge to roll my eyes.
“My receptionist says you’re here to speak about Chase McCormick?”
I nodded as my gaze snagged on a picture of Mr. Marsh. His arm was around a pretty blonde woman. A woman who was most decidedly not the woman down the hall. Two adorable children sat beside them and a cute, blue-eyed dog lay obediently in the front. They were the typical All-American family. But my Spidey-senses were tingling. Thanks to some painful life experiences, I’d gained an almost supernatural sense about these things.
Mr. Marsh noticed where my attention was. “Oh! This is my lovely wife, Karen.”
“She’s very pretty,” I acknowledged. “Though for some reason, I thought the receptionist was your wife.” I laughed at myself even as I saw his expression tighten. “Silly me. No idea why I thought that.”
He cleared his throat and gave me an awkward chuckle. “Sally?” He shook his head. “I’ve known her for years, but I’ve been happily married for fifteen years to Karen.”
“Lucky you,” I acknowledged, though his initial reaction clenched my guess. Something was going on between those two, though how it mattered to me or even if it did, I couldn’t say.
“Can we speak about Chase?” Mr. Marsh adjusted his tie.
I was making him nervous. “Yes, of course. My apologies. I’m a friend of Chase’s and assisted him with some estate planning before I referred him to a friend of mine.” I gave him a brilliant smile. “I didn’t want to cross the bounds of propriety and get too much into his affairs. I prefer to keep business and family and friends separate. I’m sure you understand.” From the way he blanched, I’d bet Mr. Marsh had never been able to distinguish between those two.
“Of course.” A lame smile crossed his face. He gestured me to go on.
“You see, recently he came into a large sum of money and he mentioned his work and how was going to get a big oppor
tunity here.” I shrugged. “I’m not sure if that was an investment opportunity in a new venture or possibly employee stock options but we never got the chance to finish that conversation before he passed.”
Mr. Marsh’s face grew guarded. He sat back in his chair and crossed his leg, ankle over knee exposing a blue and orange sock.
So... this guy was business at the top, party at the bottom? Good to know.
“Why would this be any of your concern?”
I knew he would ask this question. “Chase never finished his paperwork with the estate attorney. His mother asked me to come.”
“I’m afraid I cannot speak to you or anyone else about any potential opportunities Chase may or may not have had.”
I leaned forward and let my hair tumble over one shoulder. His gaze flicked down to it. “All I’m trying to do is help a family friend out, Mr. Marsh. His mother is grieving. She is trying to figure out what to do with the money and assets he left behind. You were part of that, but if we can’t discuss this, I’m afraid that money will stay with her.” I put the strap of my purse over my shoulder and stood.
He studied me for a moment. “Ms. McIlroy.” His voice drew out the last name as if he knew it wasn’t real. “There’s a rumor he had something going on with some of the guys in the warehouse. I don’t know if it’s true or not. I would suggest you tell Mrs. McCormick to cling tightly to any money he might have left her because whatever it was, it didn’t seem above board.”
I blinked in surprise at his admission. “Thank you.”
He nodded once. “I’d rather not look too closely at this. We’re short-handed as it is. But if you receive any information about any shady dealings, I would appreciate it if you brought it to my attention.”
He wanted to keep his nose out of it and his hands clean unless he was presented with irrefutable truth. Then he could sweep down and pretend he was a good guy totally blindsided by the behavior of his employees.
I gave him a slight smile. “Plausible deniability. I understand.”
His gaze narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak, probably to deny it, but I gave him a little wave and stepped out.
“I’ll be visiting your warehouse guys,” I said at the doorway. “I’ll be out of your hair in less than an hour.”
I didn’t wait for his reply.
Finding the warehouse wasn’t as easy as it looked, especially in a building that was this pretty. After stopping for help twice, I was directed to go outside and across the street. This led me to the back of the building and as I stepped out, I marveled at the difference. I wasn’t able to see this the way I came in and I wasn’t surprised. If I had, I wouldn’t have been nearly as impressed. I stepped out into the sunshine, winced, and slid my cheap sunglasses over my eyes. Just a few feet away stood a tall metal building with the words C&C painted on the top. I frowned as I started toward it. I’d bet good money Mr. Marsh didn’t come down here much. I’d also bet good money that the building I was about to walk into was going to suffer from a distinct lack of air conditioning. North Carolina had pretty moderate temperatures, for the most part, but sometimes our summers could get downright hot.
There was a small glass door to the right, so I veered that way. I looked both ways before I crossed the back street. Decrepit and full of potholes, it was in direct odds with the building behind me.
I stepped in and a cool blast of air hit me in the face. It was a small office enclosed from the rest of the warehouse and I could hear the constant buzzing of a window unit. A man and a woman sat behind cheap desks and glanced up at me in surprise when I walked in.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked. She had pretty red hair and a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Soft lines crinkled around the edges of her eyes and mouth. If I had to guess, I’d put her around age 40 or close to it.
“Hi. I’m interested in talking to some of the guys out there about Chase McCormick.”
The woman’s gaze softened but she shook her head at me. “Chase wasn’t like those guys. He was different.”
I stepped forward and took a seat at her desk. Leaning in, I decided to take a chance. I lowered my voice. “Listen. I know you don’t know me, but I’ve just spent the last few days with Chase’s family. Something about his death is not adding up. Can you tell me anything? Anything strange or...off?”
The woman slid a glance over to her male office partner who looked completely oblivious. “Hey!” she called.
He startled and looked up. “What, Abigail?” He sounded annoyed.
“Stop looking at ladies on top of Camaros and listen for a second. This lady right here wants to chat about new office equipment.”
He lost interest as soon as she said office equipment. I bit down a smile.
“I’m going to step outside with her for a few minutes.”
“Whatever.” The man shook his head and went back to his internet surfing.
She motioned for me to follow her. Abigail led me to the back of the office and through a door outside into a surprisingly pretty courtyard. There was a large patio table in the center of it with an umbrella for shade and six chairs. The area was fenced in and rife with plant life both in the ground and hanging in pretty baskets.
When she saw my face, she laughed.
“Yeah, it doesn’t look like much from the outside, does it?” She sat down on a patio chair. “Another guy and I took donations and built this space ourselves.”
My estimation of this woman went up a few notches. “It’s beautiful,” I admitted and I meant it.
She shrugged. “Since we’re stuck out here, we need at least one nice place to eat our lunches at, you know?”
“Definitely.” I looked around to make sure no one was listening. “I’m Kitty. Mr. Marsh knows me as Ms. McIlroy.”
One reddish eyebrow rose at that.
“Yeah. I know it’s a terrible name.” I explained my job or tried to, but she kept interrupting me to ask a hundred questions. When I was finally able to finish, she was staring at me with incredulity.
“That’s hands down one of the craziest things I’ve ever heard, and I’ve worked construction for the past 15 years.” She shook her head in wonder. “Paying people to pretend at your funeral.” She squinted at me. “Who were you supposed to be?”
“His girlfriend.”
At that, she broke out into laughter. Loud, hard guffaws that rocked her shoulders.
“I’m...sorry?” I said.
She held a hand and bent over in her seat still laughing.
“Look, I know I’m not a supermodel or anything but -”
“No,” she wheezed. “Wait.”
I sat and waited for the woman to try to compose herself. When she finally straightened and wiped her face, she still couldn’t help but snort to herself. “Listen,” she finally said, “her voice hoarse from laughing. “Anyone who knew that wretch of a woman he called a girlfriend would know you aren’t her.”
“Really? I know his mom wasn’t a big fan of her, but she did care about her.”
“She was putting on a show. That woman doesn’t care for anyone except herself.”
Abigail stiffened as a door behind me opened. I was about to turn around when she put a hand on my arm. “Don’t say a word about Candy,” she said under her breath. “She was sleeping with him.”
My mouth fell open and I jerked my head in acknowledgment. The man she was talking about came up and greeted us a few seconds later.
He was built like a bear, minus the hair. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight. At first he looked like a jovial guy, but when I really looked into his eyes they were flat. This man didn’t look like he cared about anyone.
“Hello,” I said, careful to keep a neutral, friendly tone.
“Ma’am,” he responded, his small dark eyes taking in everything about me. Below the chin, that was. I squirmed against his perusal and shifted so my shoulder blocked the majority of my chest. “Whatchya’ll doing? Girl talk?”
> Abigail rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what we’re doing, Butch. Now buzz off and let us talk. Sherry here has a hot date on Friday.”
Sherry? Abigail raised her eyebrows at me. Oh. I was Sherry. I gave Butch a lame smile. “He’s pretty cute,” I said, doing my best to appear like the intellect fairy had skipped right over me.
He grunted. “You’re pretty, too.”
Apparently, Butch did not care about brains. I batted my eyelashes. “Thanks, Butch.”
I felt a warning kick to my shin. I flinched and looked down at my hands.
“Did you need something?” Abigail asked.
“Nah. Just wanted to see what you two pretty ladies were up to out here.”
“Not much,” Abigail said. She didn’t say anything else and the atmosphere turned awkward.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t want me around, Abby.”
Her face grew red. “Don’t call me, Abby.”
“Aw, come on, now. It’s just a little pet name.”
Butch was not a very nice person. “What about you, Butch. Dating anyone nice?” I put a little bit of my former southern drawl into the question. I’d done my best to lose any trace of accent before I’d gone to California, but he seemed like the kind of guy who’d appreciate a local girl.
I saw the warning in Abby’s eyes, but I wanted his attention off of her. I didn’t like the way he was looking at her.
He shrugged. “Here and there, I suppose. I have a woman but she travels a lot, so...I play the field a little bit.”
“Oh, yeah? I bet she’s pretty.”
“She is.” His gaze narrowed. “Fact is, she looks a little bit like you.”
