by Louise Clark
Day nodded. His expression was bleak, his eyes tired, as if he wasn't sleeping. "I know of your reputation, Mr. McCullagh. I understand your firm will be providing the defense for Ellen Jamieson?"
"We will," Trevor said. "Although I am fairly confident the charges against her will be dropped."
Day raised his brows and for a moment curiosity lit his eyes. "When I left Vancouver, the police seemed pretty sure they had their culprit."
"The situation has changed. You knew Dr. Jacob Peiling as more than just your daughter's program advisor, I understand."
"I did. Look, what's this about, McCullagh?"
"Dr. Peiling's death."
"I thought the police had ruled Jacob's death accidental." Day frowned. "Are you saying that it was not?"
"It's a working theory," Trevor said. His expression was tightly controlled, giving nothing away.
Roger Day was not as cagey. His expression changed from grim acceptance to a frowning concentration. He leaned forward in his expensive leather executive's chair and put his elbows on the table in front of him. "Are you implying that Jacob's death is related to Brittany's?" There was urgency in the way he bit off his words, and in the tension in his body. Roy wondered why.
"I am," Trevor said.
Day remained still for a moment, then slowly he nodded. He sat back in his chair, not quite limp, but as if he'd been relieved of a burden and could now relax. "I think so too. Jacob phoned me on the afternoon he died. He said he had a lead on why Brittany was killed. He wouldn't tell me what he'd found out, though. He said it was big and ugly and he needed proof before he said anything."
"Have you told Detective Patterson this?"
The look Day shot the camera was derisive. "Of course."
Trevor thought for a moment, then he too leaned forward, clasping his hands together and placing his forearms on the tabletop. His expression and tone of voice were persuasive. "Can you think of a reason why Dr. Peiling would be so secretive?"
Day laughed. It was a hollow sound that held no amusement. "Jacob was always careful about what he said. He never made a definitive statement unless he had the facts to back it up. That's what made him such a good researcher. And why he always had trouble finding funding. He refused to speculate and he'd never lie for appearance's sake." Day shook his head and sighed. "When he called, Jacob was upset. No, he was dismayed, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to believe what he'd discovered. He said he'd know for certain that night and he'd call me with the details, probably in the morning if he ran late into the evening."
"And he never called."
Day shook his head.
Trevor pondered that for a moment, then he said, "Did you know Dr. Peiling had a food allergy?"
Day grimaced. "Sure. I shared a house with him and Nathan DeBolt when we were all at university. Before I met Jacob, peanut butter was one of my staple foods. After, I never touched the stuff."
Roy's eyes popped open at the mention of Nathan. He wrote furiously for a minute, then he held up the piece of paper so Trevor could see. He roomed with DeBolt? How well does he know him?
"You three were close then?" Trevor said mildly, looking interested, but not excited.
"Jacob and I were," Day said. "He was Brittany's godfather—which was why I asked him to keep an eye on her for me. Nathan was closer to Frank Jamieson and the pack he ran with."
My dad and the trustees. Who knew?
"Does Jacob's death relate to Ellen Jamieson and the case against her?" Day asked, unaware of Frank's comment.
"If Dr. Peiling was murdered, it does," Trevor said. "Ms. Jamieson has a rock-solid alibi for the time he died. If his death and your daughter's are linked, then Ms. Jamieson did not kill Brittany."
Roger Day sighed. "I can't believe Jacob would be so stupid as to eat food from an unknown source and not have his EpiPen nearby."
"You think someone laced the food with peanut oil?"
"Wouldn't take much," Day said. "Jacob was hypersensitive to it."
Trevor thanked Day, then broke the connection. He looked at Roy and the cat. "What do you think?"
"The murderer figured out Peiling knew something that would incriminate him, so he or she laced his food with peanut oil and kept him from using his EpiPen," Roy said. He shook his head. "Easy enough to do, but horrible to watch a man die a slow death in front of you."
"Who do you think did it?" Trevor asked.
Figure out what Peiling discovered and you know who the killer is.
"I'm with Frank," Roy said. "Peiling learned why Brittany was killed. And because he knew the why, he thought he knew the who."
Trevor rubbed his smoothly shaven chin thoughtfully. "He may have feared he'd be sued if he suggested the person as the killer, so he wanted to have iron-clad proof before he spoke."
Roy nodded. "But did the reason she was murdered relate to the alibi or something going on at the university?"
Chapter 24
The long hallway, loaded with little offices, most masked by closed doors, was the same as the last time Christy and Quinn had come to EBU. As they headed toward the office Brittany had shared with the other TAs, Christy could feel Stormy squirming in the tote bag she carried slung over her shoulder.
The cat wants out. He doesn't like closed zippers.
"Soon," Christy said.
Quinn looked at her, brows raised. "Frank's getting restless?"
"No. Stormy."
The cat has no sense of timing. He always rushes his moment. That's why he can't catch the squirrel that's driving him crazy.
Christy thought that Stormy wasn't the only one who was edgy. The three of them had come to EBU to re-interview Lorne Cossi as part of their quest to prove Jacob Peiling had been murdered and to link his death to Brittany Day's. Christy was taking the lead on this fact-finding mission. She figured Cossi would underestimate her because she was a woman and they would find out more than they would if Trevor or Quinn interviewed him.
There had been a lot of discussion about that and it had taken her some quick talking, but eventually she'd persuaded the men in her life to see it her way. Quinn insisted he needed to be nearby and Frank made a fuss too. In the end they both accompanied her to the university. Quinn would wait in the hallway, out of sight of the doorway but able to hear everything, while Frank went with her into the office, tucked safely in the tote carryall.
Quinn had insisted on another precaution as well. Before Christy went into the office, she set her phone to record, so that everything Cossi said was taped. Christy wasn't sure if the recording could be used in a court, but if it could be used as a deterrent if Cossi misbehaved and made Quinn's mind easier, that was enough for her.
Lorne Cossi had office hours in the afternoon, so Roy, Trevor, and Ellen were collecting Noelle from school. Then the four of them were all going Christmas tree shopping. Roy had a favorite cut-your-own lot out in Langley he was taking them too and he promised Noelle she could pick the tree. Christy wasn't sure what she was going to find when she eventually returned home. Noelle was used to giant trees, well suited to the great hall of a mansion, but not the living room of a townhouse.
Lorne Cossi was alone in the office when Christy knocked on the half-open door. He looked up as she shoved it wide and moved into the room. "Hi," she said, fixing a tentative smile on her face.
A frown appeared between his arched black brows and dark blue eyes. It did nothing to minimize the impact of the beautifully sculpted features. Lorne Cossi was flat-out gorgeous.
And he didn't remember her. She might be able to make use of that.
She moved deeper into the room, letting the smile morph into a pout. "You can't place me, can you?" When he raised his brows, she made play with her eyes, drawing him in.
His gaze assessed her. "Are you in one of my lectures?"
She laughed, making sure the sound was full of promise, throaty with allure.
Interest sparked in his eyes and he rose to her bait. "Tell me which class it is. I
bet you're one of the top students. Ninety-fifth percentile, for sure."
Flirting with Cossi and pretending she was attracted to his authority wasn't how Christy had planned to start her questioning, but she thought she'd let it play out and see if it gave her any kind of an edge. Secured inside the tote bag, and trapped between her arm and her body, she could feel the cat move restlessly. Frank evidently didn't like her strategy. She wondered how Quinn was doing outside the door, hearing every word.
"I'm not," she said, pitching her voice low. "But I... I'd heard that you were willing to provide... um... one-on-one tutoring."
Cossi's blindingly beautiful smile flashed. "Only for students I think are worthy of the help."
"Worthy?" She added a squeak to the word, which wasn't hard. Frank wanted out and Stormy was using powerful hind feet to set the tote-break in motion.
Cossi stood up. He headed toward her in all his tight abs, lean hips, and male beauty. He didn't walk when he moved, he sauntered, a sensual promise in every step. Christy figured that if she were truly an undergrad only looking for help, she'd be absolutely terrified right now. If she was an undergrad willing to barter a night of hot sex for top marks, well, she'd be meeting him halfway.
She stood her ground and watched him.
Cossi stopped inches from her. He looked down from his six-foot-plus height and the brilliant smile darkened into something demanding. "I don't carry undergrads," he said in a low, velvety voice. "I only help those who are willing to help themselves."
Christy looked up into his beautiful blue eyes, now smoldering with seductive heat, and said, "Really?"
He frowned.
"If you're going to proposition students you could at least be original about it."
His head jerked and the frown deepened. "Who the hell are you?"
She grinned at him. "I'm Christy Jamieson." She loosened the fastening on the tote and the cat's head popped out. "This is Stormy and Frank."
Stormy and Frank? Should be Frank and Stormy. Where are you priorities, Chris?
"Your cat has two names?" He reached out to pat the cat's head and Stormy flattened his ears, narrowed his eyes and hissed. Cossi pulled his hand away to avoid a scratch.
"He's something of a split personality," Christy said. "I didn't come to get my marks pumped up. I'm here to ask you some more questions about Brittany Day."
Cossi's eyes narrowed as recognition suddenly hit. "You were here a few days ago."
"That's right."
He shrugged and turned back to his desk. "Ask away. But if any of my students come in for a consult, you'll have to leave."
"Why?" Christy asked. "Do you have sex with them here?"
He whirled around to face her, feet set apart, hands knotted into fists, shoulders tense. "What are you talking about?"
Christy moved to Bradley Neale's desk by the door and perched on the edge. Quinn would be able to see her here and know she was all right, now that Cossi was starting to turn ugly.
He'd only get worse as she asked what she needed to know. "Before he died, Dr. Peiling told me that you'd been investigated for sexual harassment of your students."
He took a step toward her. "Those allegations were unsubstantiated. They were dropped."
She opened the tote a little wider. Stormy's shoulders appeared and he put his front paws onto the edge of the bag, but he didn't jump out.
"The afternoon before Dr. Peiling died, he talked to Brittany's dad. Did you know that?"
Cossi took another step. "No."
He's going to rush you, babe. He's going to jump you and rough you up, or worse.
"Nah. He's all bluff and no substance."
You're taunting him. I tell you, babe, he's dangerous.
"Who are you talking to?"
She scratched Stormy's chin and smiled at Cossi. "Who do you think?"
Cossi looked at the cat as if contemplating the possibility that a conversation was going on he wasn't in on, then his mouth tightened. "Are you wearing a wire?"
Clearly he wasn't the type to bond with animals. "No." True enough. She did have her phone on, though, so she needed to divert him before he guessed. "Good idea. I wish I'd thought of it." She shrugged as if it wasn't important, before she moved on. "Peiling told Roger Day that he'd discovered you were blackmailing Brittany. Is that true?"
Cossi visibly relaxed. "Why would I blackmail Brittany? And what could I possibly blackmail her about?"
"Peiling said it had something to do with the alibi Brittany supplied for Aaron DeBolt."
The color leeched out of Cossi's face, then rushed back up in a wash of blood that turned his cheeks red. "That's not true."
Yeah, right, Frank said, disgusted. If ever a guy looked guilty, this one does.
Christy laughed. "I think you were having sex with Brittany the night Aaron DeBolt helped to murder my husband, Frank. I think—"
"Frank?" Cossi stared at the cat.
That's right, moron. And if you don't lay off my wife, I'll make you sorry.
Christy ignored both of them. "I know Aaron is guilty and the alibi Brittany gave was false. I think Brittany changed her mind and decided to retract the statement she gave to the police. The thing I don't understand is why you killed her."
She smiled at Cossi, who looked both flabbergasted and irritated. "I didn't kill her. Why would I want to kill her? I wanted to have sex with her."
Too much information, jerk.
"But she didn't want to go to bed with you, did she, Lorne?" Christy said gently. "You had to blackmail her into it."
He flushed again, but didn't say anything.
"What did you have on her?" she asked.
He stared at her narrow-eyed, then after a moment he shrugged. "She stopped doing her job. She cut classes and let Brad Neale do her shifts at the lab. By the end of last March, we were getting complaints. I'm the senior TA, so I checked up on her."
"And you found out why."
He nodded.
"Let me guess," Christy said. "Aaron DeBolt."
Cossi raised his brows. "He had her hooked good and tight. Drugs, sex, who knows what else. He told her what to do and she did it."
Poor Brittany. "How did you find out about Aaron?"
He shrugged. "Once I knew she wasn't doing her shifts at the lab, I thought it would be useful to know why." He smiled thinly. The expression was a cruel mockery of his usual blinding smiles. "I thought it might be fun to make her squirm a little before I went to Peiling."
Nice guy.
Christy agreed with Frank's sarcastic comment. She had to resist the urge to walk away without asking any more questions. Lorne Cossi was a contemptible human being and she felt dirty just being in the same room with him. But she had come here to prove Peiling had been murdered and to find out how his death fit into Brittany's murder. So far all she'd learned was how despicable Lorne Cossi was. She needed more. "So you followed her."
"And watched her make out with Aaron." His smile widened into one that was smugly self-satisfied. "I knew I had her then. There was no way she would want to admit what she was up to. Not to Peiling. Not to her proper papa and uptight mom in Calgary."
A chill shivered down Christy's spine. "And the payment for your silence was sex with you."
Cossi nodded. He moved a little closer.
Christy eased the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder. "So your blackmail was successful. Brittany slept with you on the night my husband was killed."
"As it happened, yes."
"That's pretty specific. How can you be so sure of the date?"
"Because I only slept with her once." Cossi's lip curled. "She was a boring lay. She was so stoned she wouldn't even play."
"Play?" In the hallway Christy heard the rustle of movement.
Cossi did not. "I expected her to fight me. She'd already made it clear she didn't like me and wasn't interested. But that night she just lay there and let me do what I wanted."
Unable to say no, Brittany had drugged her
senses so she would feel little and perhaps remember less from her night with Lorne Cossi. Filled with pity for a girl whose life should have been different, Christy said, "Oh, God! That's horrible. You're no better than Aaron."
"Aaron DeBolt is a drunk and a druggie who's nothing without Mom and Dad's money," Cossi said hotly. "He pranced into the parties Peiling gave for the donors and acted as if it was him who'd supplied the cash. I loathe him!"
Cossi's outburst gave Christy a chance to recover. "Why did you go to the parties, then?"
"I had to. We all had to! Peiling held at least one a semester. He said celebrations were the perfect way for the donors to get to know the program and the people in it." He snorted and his lip curled. "Yeah, sure. They all treated us like peons, but the DeBolts were the worst. They acted like we were a meat parade."
"I guess you didn't like Jacob Peiling much then either."
"Peiling was an idiot, but he knew his stuff."
"So you say. Was it you who laced his food with peanut oil?" Christy mentally crossed her fingers. She would be very happy if it turned out that Cossi was the one who murdered Jacob Peiling.
He stared at her, his eyes widened with surprise. "Peiling was murdered? I thought he was just being a hypocrite. He lectured us about bringing food into the office and eating at our desks. Constantly. Then there he is, doing exactly that and getting caught at it!" He shook his head and added, "And here I thought his death was just the universe being ironic."
That sounds like the truth, Frank said. Disappointment echoed in the voice, as if Frank, too, had hoped Cossi was guilty.
If it was the truth, she needed confirmation. "Where were you when Peiling died? And when Brittany was murdered, for that matter."
"Are you asking me if I have an alibi?" he asked, sounding incredulous. He took a step toward her.
Christy nodded. "That's exactly what I'm asking."
He took another step. "Why should I tell you?"
She slid the tote off her shoulder and set it on the desk, opening it wide. Stormy stepped out carefully. "I'm asking. You don't have to answer, but eventually you'll have to tell the police."
