by Vella Day
“Anything is possible, but if John Samuels wanted her, he might have tried to talk her into leaving Bill. When she wouldn’t, he killed her husband, and furthered his career at the same time.”
Trent had thought jealousy could have been a motive, but then dismissed it. “Divorce is less messy, but that assumes she wanted John over Bill.”
“She might have asked Bill, and he said no. It would look bad for business, not to mention what it would do to his bank account.”
“Damn. Watch Samuels for the next couple of days to see what he does. The fact Mrs. Goddard threw out all of Bill’s possessions implies she wasn’t overly fond of the man.”
“I’d say you’re right.”
“Keep in touch.”
Trent disconnected and headed home, more confused than ever.
* * *
If history was any indication, Trent wouldn’t call her today. Charlotte had no idea if he felt guilty every time they made love, or if he truly had too much work to do. Regardless, she was going to take advantage of the weekend.
She arrived at the shop around one and went straight to work putting the final touches on her store. She planned to open on Monday. Once she had some clients lined up, she’d put a sign on the door that said, by appointment only. That way she wouldn’t have to hire someone to man her place when she was at a client’s home.
She’d been hard at work for about two hours when her cell rang, and she hoped it might be Trent calling. Most likely, it was her mom asking how things were going. She nabbed her phone and checked the number, but didn’t recognize it.
“Hello?”
“Is this Charlotte Hart?” The man had a deep, soothing voice.
“Yes, it is.”
“My name is John Samuels. Mrs. Goddard gave me your name and highly recommended you.”
Excitement jumped her pulse into the red zone. Charlotte had to work to keep the thrill out of her voice. “Fantastic. How may I help you?”
“I’m looking to redo my master bedroom.”
Bedrooms were one of her favorite rooms. “Would you like to come to the store to look at some samples, or would you feel more comfortable if I brought some materials to your house?”
“I think it would be best if you stopped by my house so that you can see the layout of the room. It’s a bit odd.”
That sounded fine. “Is tomorrow convenient for you? I’m officially opening my business on Monday, and I need to be here.”
“Perfect.”
“So that I know what to bring, how would you describe your style?”
“Style?” He truly sounded confused. The man must not be married.
“Modern, contemporary, western?”
“Ah, I don’t know.”
She smiled. “That’s all right. I’ll bring a bit of everything.”
They discussed the time, and he then gave her his address along with some directions.
When she hung up, she leaned back in her seat and smiled. She couldn’t wait to tell Trent. Coming to Rock Hard just might have been the best thing to happen to her.
Energized by this new job, Charlotte put the finishing touches on her store and gathered the samples she thought would be suitable for a bedroom and headed home for the evening. She thought about stopping at her parents’ place, but then decided she didn’t want to become accustomed to going over there all the time. After five years of being divorced, they deserved to have some time alone together.
Wanting to spend the entire evening creating a few proposals for tomorrow’s meeting with Mr. Samuels, she stopped at the Valley Café for a to-go order. Charlotte could only hope Mr. Samuels was as easy to work with as Mrs. Goddard.
Chapter Nineteen
Charlotte had no reason to be nervous, but she was. It wasn’t very often she worked for a man, though more than likely, he’d be like her dad—someone who really didn’t care what items she picked.
She’d never be so rude to ask, but she suspected there might have been a Mrs. Samuels who had recently left or possibly died. Maybe that was why Mr. Samuels and Mrs. Goddard had spoken. They were both experiencing a loss.
With her samples in her arms, she traipsed up to the front door and rang the bell. A wrought iron lamp hung above the doorway and the stained glass door was exquisite and spoke of money.
The door opened and a tall man about forty-five greeted her. He was dressed in khaki pants, a starched white shirt, and loafers—not the usual Sunday fare. In fact, she couldn’t remember seeing a man dressed like that in Montana—with the exception of Dan Hartwick, who seemed to live in a suit.
“Ms. Hart?”
Given she was laden down with samples and had arrived at the appointed time, it was a good guess. “Yes.”
As soon as she stepped inside, she perused the large area, trying to sense his style. To be honest, she didn’t know what to call it. The sofa was contemporary, but the coffee table and TV stand bordered on the antique. The light dining room table and straight back chairs had a Scandinavian flair.
Mr. Samuels chuckled. “It’s a mess isn’t it?”
Everything was neat, so he was probably referring to the eclectic style. “It could use a theme.”
“I like you, Charlotte Hart. I’m glad I listened to Mrs. Goddard.”
Her cheeks heated, even though she found it interesting that he’d hesitated a second before he said Mrs. Goddard’s name. Perhaps he was used to referring to her as Elaine, not that it made a bit of difference.
“Mind if I walk around a bit to get a sense of your style?”
He lifted the heavy samples from her arms and set them on the side table in the entry. “Absolutely, but let me first show you the bedroom, and you’ll see why it needs to be redone.”
Given how the living room furniture was scattered randomly around the room, she was surprised he’d even asked her there, unless it was Elaine Goddard who’d said his place needed a total overhaul. The eighteen-foot by eighteen-foot master bedroom had a plain queen-sized bed and a rather ratty dresser. While there were blinds on the window, there were no drapes, making the room cold and sterile. The home on the outside spoke of money. The inside did not.
“Can you give me a hint what you’re looking for?” she asked. “Something cozy and romantic, with a sitting room perhaps? Or do you want a more masculine feel to the room?” His answer would give her a clue about whether there was another woman in his future.
“I’ll leave it in your hands.”
That directive was almost worse than him being too specific since there was a big chance he wouldn’t like what she designed. “How about I show you the samples and perhaps something will strike your fancy.”
After gathering her things from the hallway, he led her into the dining room where she spread them out.
“What did you do with the things in Bill’s office when you redecorated it? I only ask because I’d like my furniture to have a good home, too.”
That made sense. “I threw out a lot of things, but the paintings, furniture, books, and assorted artwork were donated. Mrs. Goddard could have put them on consignment, but she seemed anxious to move on.”
“Donating my stuff sounds good, too. As long as they land in a good home, I’ll be happy. Did you know I used to work with Mrs. Goddard’s husband?”
That was a rather random thing to tell her. It caused her pulse to soar and a trickle of fear to drip into her belly. “No, she never mentioned it.” Or him, for that matter.
He leaned back in his seat. “I only mention it because there were several books that Bill had that belonged to the firm. I was hoping they’d be returned, but I guess they never will. There were also some missing client files. Do you recall finding them?” His brows rose. “It’s okay if you trashed them, I just didn’t want them out in public.”
She had to think what was in the desk and the file cabinets. “Most of his drawers were empty. Perhaps you should ask Mrs. Goddard if she did anything with the items.” She could ask Harmon about the boo
ks and what he’d done with them, but she didn’t want to mention them in case he’d already given them away.
“I will. I normally wouldn’t be concerned, but perhaps you’ve heard that we had an incident a few years ago that nearly brought down the firm.”
He was probably referring to Harmon’s insider trading. “I didn’t know. I just moved to town.” She’d learned from her dad about how sharing too much information could come back to bite her.
“Well, it’s not important.”
She figured he’d been fishing.
For the next half hour, they discussed what might look good in the bedroom, and she had to admit he was just as easy going as Mrs. Goddard.
Charlotte pushed back her chair. “You said you wouldn’t mind if I look in a few of the other rooms?”
He waved a hand. “Go ahead, but I don’t think you’ll be able to figure out my style from any of those rooms either. My mom passed away and left me a lot of her furniture. With an ex-wife who had a much different taste than I did, I ended up with a mess. When I stopped over at Mrs. Goddard’s house to drop off some papers, I saw her new retreat. That style really appeals to me.”
She smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Charlotte spent a few minutes looking in the other rooms and then met him back in the dining room. He was right. She wasn’t able to figure out his style. She picked up her samples and he escorted her to the door.
“So what’s the next phase?” he asked.
“I’ll draw up some plans, complete with color pallets, and I’ll show them to you. I’m opening my store tomorrow so I can’t promise when I’ll be back, but I’ll make it as quick as possible.”
“Thank you.”
As she left, she realized he hadn’t asked her how much this renovation would cost, but given where he worked, maybe he didn’t care.
* * *
Trent was actually enjoying a moment of peace in his home for the first time in weeks. Okay, peace may not have been the right word, but he wasn’t at the office nor was he battling with his dad or counseling his brother. He’d been able to carve out a few hours of his day to lay out what he knew about this case. On the dining room table, he’d placed a separate file for Elaine Goddard, one for Bill’s partner, Frank Hamilton, one for Elaine’s brother, Richard Delaney, and one for John Samuels, the man who took over Bill’s position at the firm. All of them had a motive for wanting Bill Goddard dead, but Frank and John probably had the least issue with the man. On the other hand, Trent would never learn what really went on behind closed doors.
Then there was everyone else who worked at the investment firm, any client who ever lost money, and possibly Elaine’s sister’s husband. It wasn’t like Trent hadn’t been in this bind before, but it wasn’t a fun place to be. He just needed to find that one piece of information that would send him in the right direction.
His cell rang, and for a split second he debated not answering it, except that it could be the precinct. Hopefully, it was Cade with that elusive missing part. Given he was tailing Elaine, Cade might have learned something.
He picked up his phone. It was Vic, not Cade. “Hey. You got something for me?”
“Did you fucking send my daughter into Samuel’s house?”
Whoa. Every cell in his body shot to high alert. Vic was highly pissed, an attitude he could handle, but when Vic mentioned Charlotte was at Samuel’s house, an ember burned a hole in his stomach. “What are you talking about? Of course, I didn’t send Charlotte in there. He could be our killer.”
“I’ve been watching his house since ten this morning. At two this afternoon, who drives up but my daughter with a bunch of samples in her hand.”
“Just calm down, Vic. Charlotte is a designer, and she just finished redoing Elaine Goddard’s house. Perhaps Elaine recommended her to Samuels.”
“She was in Elaine Goddard’s house, too?”
Crap. “I guess Charlotte didn’t tell you.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Her being in his house could be innocent.”
“I doubt it. Did Charlotte have any idea who she was dealing with?” Vic asked.
Trent went over the conversation he had with her about Mrs. Goddard and her brother. “I don’t remember mentioning Samuels’ name. This is an ongoing investigation, so I’ve been very careful about not telling her too much. Is she still in his house?” The acid burned deeper.
“No, she left a few minutes ago. Thankfully, she drove in the opposite direction from me, so I don’t think I’ve been made. She would have called if she’d seen me.”
He let out a long breath. “Let’s hope Samuels is only interested in a redesign. Do you know if either Samuels or Mrs. Goddard is aware Charlotte is your daughter or that she and I are… friends?” He wasn’t about to say lovers to her dad. At least not yet.
“I can’t be certain. I didn’t know either one of them before the murder, however I’m only one of a few private investigators in town. It’s possible they know who I am.”
Frustration charged through his veins. “Harmon may have spoken to some people about Charlotte and me, too. It’s also possible Samuels or Mrs. Goddard could have spotted you with her. Damn. I’ll speak to her and see if I can convince her to be more cautious or tell her not to do the job at all.”
Vic huffed. “If you tell Charlotte not to do something, I guarantee that she’ll do it in spades. I raised a very stubborn daughter.”
That wasn’t news to him. “Let me see what I can find out, and I’ll get back to you. Don’t worry. With you on the lookout, she’ll be safe.”
“If only I could mic her, I’d feel better. I now need to rent a car so she won’t spot me hanging around Samuels. That would really piss her off.”
“Smart.”
Trent disconnected and fixed himself some coffee, needing a moment to come up with a plan. Knocking on her door on a Sunday evening might look a bit suspicious, not to mention, they’d probably end up in bed. If her life weren’t in possible danger, he would have enjoyed another interlude.
Trent mulled over his options. He wanted to take her out on a date anyway, in part because he didn’t want her to think he was just interested in getting her into bed. Sitting at a restaurant might allow for a calmer interaction, as he suspected she’d be upset with his suggestion of keeping her distance from Samuels.
Trent needed someplace quiet where they could sit and not be overheard. The only restaurant that came to mind was the Steerhouse.
The hardest part would not be leaking any information about the case, while at the same time, asking Charlotte to take care. He could always say that a divorced man might be interested in more than her decorating skills.
Pleased with this plan, Trent called Charlotte, hoping she was free.
She answered on the second ring. “Hey, Trent. I didn’t expect to hear from you. Is everything okay?”
He liked to believe she worried about him. “Just working on the case and thought maybe you’d like to grab some dinner tonight.”
She hesitated for a moment, and he wondered what that was about. Had she been uneasy around John Samuels and wanted to mention something?
“I’d love to, but I can’t stay out too late. I’m opening the store tomorrow.”
Damn, perhaps she did believe he only wanted her for sex. “I understand. I have to be in early tomorrow, too. How about I pick you up at six?”
“Where are we going? I need to know what to wear.”
“Steerhouse.”
She sucked in an audible breath. “You don’t have to take me there. I know it’s expensive.”
Because he rarely spent money, he had saved quite a lot. Besides, when Harmon was in the investment business, he’d given him some good advice. Now, Trent had a nice little nest egg.
“You’re worth it,” he said, and Charlotte giggled. It was a sound he’d come to enjoy.
“Okay. I’ll share some news with you when I see you.”
He leaned back ag
ainst the sofa. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You’ll just have to wait until tonight to find out. I’ll see you then.”
She was such a tease. “Later.”
He hoped she’d be in as good a mood after he told her about Samuels.
Chapter Twenty
“We’ll have to park behind the restaurant,” Trent said.
He’d driven around the block, and all of the parking places in front had been taken. Because the skies had suddenly darkened, bringing with it cold air, Charlotte was glad for the shorter walk. “Fine by me. It looks like it’s about to rain.”
“Or snow.” Trent found a spot, jumped out of the Jeep, and went around to her side. After opening her door and helping her out, he plucked an umbrella from the back and waved it. “Preventative measures.”
She smiled. “We can only hope.”
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he sheltered her as they walked down the alley between the restaurant and the hardware store, the buildings thankfully blocking some of the wind. His protective action stirred something deep inside her. This was where she wanted to be.
Once inside, Trent gave his name and asked for a booth near the back, and they were immediately seated. The fact he’d made a reservation thrilled her. She hoped he wanted to have a romantic conversation, but she wouldn’t let her hopes rise. Right now she needed to focus on her store and making her new client happy.
No sooner were they seated than the waiter arrived for their drink order. “I’d like a bottle of champagne,” Trent said then looked over at her.
Stunned, she leaned forward on her elbows. “What are we celebrating?” Her mind spun. “Oh, my God. Did you arrest Mr. Goddard’s killer?” she whispered.
His eyes widened briefly. “I wish. You said you had something to tell me. I thought it might be cause for another celebration.”
She had asked him to her place to celebrate her first client. Now, she felt a bit guilty that her news wasn’t worthy of a bottle of champagne. “You are the sweetest man alive.”
He froze for a fraction of a second before smiling. “Not always. So tell me about your news.”
