"She was a jerk too. We all hated her. It was almost a relief when Daniel realized how horrible she was."
"She was one cold woman."
"That's why we all love Alice so much. She's the antithesis to that... that..."
"Harpy? Ho? ASS-licker?" Lily ticked off the insults on her fingers.
"Something like that."
"And yet, I still hate Anthony more."
"Me too. Is it bad to say that? He might be dead."
"He might be."
"Should I send flowers or a fruit basket to whomever did it?" I mused.
"Both. I'll chip in."
"He still might have killed someone and could actually be the murderer. There's only a bloody fingerprint to verify his presence at the scene of all that blood, but it doesn't say if he were a victim or the perpetrator."
"If that's a question, you're asking the wrong person. Only Garrett can tell you the answer."
"If he were really killed, maybe I should have listened to him before. He did say someone was going to kill him. And slowly, too."
"There's probably a queue, Lexi. Anyway, you know what a manipulator he is. You can't trust a word he says, ever. You did the right thing by telling him to beat it."
"I wish I knew that for sure." I dragged myself up, feeling extraordinarily tired despite a full night’s sleep. I awoke to the image of blood, which reappeared every time I closed my eyes. From experience, I knew it wouldn't last forever. "I gotta go but thank you for allowing me to vent. Solomon is waiting for me at the agency and we need to run through the list of suspects for the break-ins. He's leaning heavily towards Anthony since we have the bloody fingerprint, and proof that he was definitely in a house he wasn't supposed to be in yesterday."
"Look at me being not one bit surprised." Lily gave me her not-surprised face. "Call me later if you find out what's going on?"
I promised I would and left Lily in the kitchen. I wanted to ignore all thoughts of Anthony Steadman on my way to the agency but it was impossible not to think about him now. I hadn't seen the man in years — mercifully — and now here he was, busting up my life again without a single thought to what it might do to me. He even had the bad taste to stumble into my case but even as I thought that, I knew Solomon was right to view him as our prime suspect. Was it just bad luck Anthony was involved? Or did the universe really have it out for me this week?
It took me a long time to get over Anthony. I walked in on him and my sister-in-law lying on his dining table, less than a month after we moved in together. They were doing a lot more than merely buffing the wooden surface with their naked butts. At the time, I was too shocked to do anything but turn around and walk out before getting in my car and driving to Lily's. I passed an Army recruitment station on the way. The next day, I boarded a bus to boot camp for a short stint with the Army. It wasn't the best decision I ever made but at the time, it seemed like a damn good one.
When I returned from boot camp, I was homeless, jobless and single. Anthony was gone and so was my sister-in-law, carrying her divorce papers in hand. Predictably, their great love for each other lasted a total of three weeks, which coincided with her finding out the rest of Anthony’s life was equally fraudulent and his discovery that she received nothing from the divorce. That was the last time I saw Anthony until yesterday. I preferred to never cross his path again.
When Lily told me the apartment above her in the building her parents owned was available, my life improved. I got my stuff — what was left of it — from my parents’ spare room. Apparently, Anthony's house was rented — not owned as he claimed — and he skipped out on the last few checks, but I thanked the landlord effusively for making sure he didn't toss away my possessions and breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn't liable for the missing rent payments. Then I found out about all of Anthony's credit lines and loans in my name and had to file a police report. I endured a rough few months but eventually made it through. I wanted to believe that Anthony’s unexpected appearance meant nothing more than my swatting a pesky fly but it was so much more complicated than that. Anthony really hurt me, and betrayed me as well as my family, yet he was entirely unrepentant. Having him ask for my help, even after all these years, just showed how selfish a creep he was.
Niggling at me was the gnawing worry that my rejection of him may have contributed to his murder.
No. I shook that thought away before it could fully develop. I was not responsible for his actions in the past and wasn’t about to take the blame for them now.
I also worried if it were my fault that someone else could have been killed, and possibly by Anthony?
No, whatever Anthony was involved in had nothing to do with me.
I couldn’t stop thinking what would have happened if I heard him out. When I arrived at my desk, I dropped into my chair like my legs could have collapsed from the exhaustion of everything clouding my mind.
"So..." started Delgado, spinning his chair around and sliding over to me. He rested his arms on the desk and fixed me with a piercing look.
"So?"
"What gives?"
"I couldn't have known what would happen," I told him, guessing that Serena had already told Delgado everything. She probably embellished a lot too, not there was any need. It was bad enough with just the bare facts. "It was out of my hands."
"So the ex, huh?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You don't need to. Everyone else is."
"Oh, no! My mother called, didn't she?" I paled. I'd yet to hear my mother's take on the previous day's events. Perhaps this would be a good time to take a vacation somewhere without any phone signals?
"Yes. And Grandma O'Shaughnessy called Serena last night."
"How does she know?" I gasped.
"Magic, I think. A vision in her tea leaves."
"She needs to put the cauldron away. Did Serena speak to Daniel?"
"She tried but Daniel said he was taking Alice and the kids out for dinner and didn't want to know."
"Good for him."
"So she tried to call Alice..."
"For the love of... Why?" I yelled.
Delgado laughed. "She didn't get through. So guess who had to listen to all the Anthony Steadman news last night? Me! I know too much about your love life, Graves."
"Sorry!"
Delgado eased out of his chair, leaned over the table and hugged me. I was too surprised to move as he patted my back. "No, I'm sorry. Sounds like that part of your life really sucked."
"Here's the deal," said Solomon, walking in the very moment Delgado released me. If Solomon thought that was weird, he didn't say so, but continued, "Taylor McDowell from Booth Realty is coming here in a few minutes so we can keep working up the profile of our burglar—"
"I thought we were off the case?"
Solomon shook his head. "What made you think that?"
"The minute a fraudster tried to pose as a dotcom millionaire pretending to be interested in purchasing a property he can't afford."
"I've taken that into account but we still can't confirm it was him. I spoke to the client and they want us to continue pursuing the case, especially given last night's unexpected development. They want Anthony Steadman found."
"Isn't that MPD's job?"
"Yes, and ours too if we decide he's our burglar and still alive. Last night was the scene of a criminal act, and the client also wants to know if any other criminal activities have taken place on their properties, not just illegal parties."
"Why? Are they liable?"
"They need to be absolved of any liability and the best way to do that, and stop them from being sued by the homeowners and developers and/or losing those accounts as well as all those of their rich buddies, is to prove they always acted in good faith as long as the culprit is caught. We'll be working with them to make sure that happens."
"I'm really surprised they want to keep us on the case," I told him.
"We're far from done. We do have to keep our investigatio
ns as quiet and discreet as possible. If a murder happened in that house last night, the house depreciates a huge amount in value. The developer may even prefer to demolish it rather than attempt to sell it with that kind of notoriety attached. They'll lose hundreds of thousands of dollars and may even try to sue Booth Realty. But there's nothing we can do about it if that's what they choose to do."
"And what if we prove that Booth Realty were at fault?"
"There's nothing to say about last night. As for the other break-ins, once we turn over our paperwork, it's up to them how much or how little they disclose to their clients or anyone else."
"And what if we uncover other crimes, do we just turn them over too?"
"Yes, but anything serious needs to go to the MPD. We can't ignore criminal activity, no matter the client."
"But..."
"We'll talk about the whys and the whats later. I think this is Taylor," he said, nodding toward the door. I turned as it opened and Taylor walked in, then held the door. A moment later, Garrett walked in, his face grimmer than before.
"Hi," Taylor said, glancing from us to my brother. I wondered if they'd already met and Garrett had taken her statement. He didn't give any impression that she appeared familiar.
"Taylor, why don't you come into the boardroom?" I suggested, rising.
"Perhaps Delgado can take her," said Garrett. "I need to talk with you."
Solomon gave a flick of his head and Delgado was up and across the room, shaking Taylor's hand and guiding her towards the boardroom. He offered her coffee before she could ask any questions. When the door shut, Garrett crossed the room. With each step, my stomach sank a little further.
"What's happened?" I asked. Solomon remained at my back, his presence solid and reassuring.
"Given the circumstances of last night and since we didn't recover a body, I put a rush on analyzing the blood from the house; and it's not good news," Garrett started.
"Go on."
"We matched it to Anthony Steadman thanks to the DNA we recovered from his apartment."
"All that blood was his?" I asked, knowing the significance of my query. It was one thing talking about the possibility, quite another to have it confirmed.
"Yes. There was a lot, Lexi. One of the crime techs did some math wizardry to estimate the volume that was spilled... and it's too much to say he walked out of there."
"You think he's..." I broke off, unable to say the word. So much for my theory that Anthony could have killed someone.
"I need you to come down to the station and give me a statement. I came to get you as a courtesy."
"Sure. Now? Solomon?" I glanced over my shoulder and saw the expression on his face. What was I missing?
"Now," confirmed Garrett. "And you better bring a lawyer with you."
"Why?"
"Because you were overheard threatening to kill Steadman and this has become a case of homicide."
Chapter Five
"Oh, my baby, you were arrested!" My mother screamed the words into the phone, blasting them directly into my ear. I held it away and grimaced at Solomon. She might as well have just put a loudspeaker to her mouth and broadcasted it to the neighborhood. "Did you kill Anthony?" she asked more softly, but just as panicked. There was a very small chance that she thought I might have done it!
"No, Mom! No, I did not."
She paused, then said, "No one would blame you if you did."
"I would," yelled my dad. "I wanted to kill him first!"
"I did not hear that, dear. Ignore your father. He didn't mean that."
"And if he's definitely dead, I'm going to kill him again!" yelled Dad. "And they'll never find the body."
"Tell Dad not to repeat that to anyone, please," I implored my mother. The last thing we needed was my father boasting that Anthony Steadman's body would never be found after he was killed. I was pretty sure my brother did not want to haul our father down to the station and question him over what was now most definitely a murder case, even if Anthony's body hadn't been found. Without Garrett telling me officially, I knew no one could survive that kind of blood loss. No one could have walked out of there were Garrett's words, which haunted me and I was pretty sure they haunted him too. Someone must have carried Anthony's lifeless or dying body out of Meadow View only minutes before I turned up. Perhaps it was just luck or by design that they didn't stick around long enough to kill me too. How unfortunate that several people overheard me threatening him not long before he met his end. Whoops!
"Alexandra..." Mom started. Using my full name gave me a moment to brace myself but instead of unleashing a diatribe about how killing people was wrong, no matter what they did, or asking what would the neighbors think? she replied, "What can I do to help?
"Nothing," I told her honestly as I loosened my grip on the car seat. "But thanks for asking."
"Shall I pay your lawyer fees?"
"Already done," I informed her.
"I'll bring dinner," she said before she hung up so I couldn’t refuse.
"Mom's bringing dinner," I told Solomon as he turned the car onto his street. Our street, I corrected myself.
"Tonight?"
"Apparently." I paused, waiting while the car slid into a space and Solomon turned off the engine. "But I would rather take a shower, go to bed, and wake up when this is all over."
"It'll be okay," said Solomon.
"I was just questioned by my own brother about the murder of my ex-fiancé! Nothing is currently okay."
"He's just doing his job. Garrett doesn't think you killed Steadman."
"Do you?"
"Not for one minute," said Solomon without missing a beat.
"Thank you."
"You were with me. You couldn't have. Your alibi is rock solid." He got out of the car, came around to my side and opened the door, taking my hand as we walked to the house. His assertion that I couldn't have killed Anthony because he was my alibi stuck with me. Would he have thought I did it if he weren't my alibi? "Go take your shower while I make some calls," he instructed, unlocking the door and shutting it behind us.
"Who're you calling?"
"Take a shower," he said, propelling me towards the stairs.
Thirty minutes later, I was squeaky clean. The scent of MPD, humiliation and anger were all scrubbed away. The alone time under the water jets allowed me plenty of time to think about the overlap in cases. If Anthony only posed as a dotcom millionaire in order to view properties and find out which were vacant, what was his end game? It had to be a lot more than just throwing loud parties. I couldn't see Anthony going to that much effort, i.e., stealing keys and breaking into the realtor's office to swipe the master list, without a more lucrative outcome.
Yes, Anthony was a party boy but he was also greedy. Greedy for anything; a lifestyle that he didn't have to earn, and all the money and adoration that went with it, along with women that weren't his, and a persona that he presented to the world of something he wasn't. It took me years to realize that was what I was to him: I had the pretty face the world saw, and he pretended to showcase our “perfect” relationship, and flashed me around like his trophy. I was pretty sure the whole relationship was a lie from the very beginning. Sure, he acted like the "ideal" boyfriend, from our fabulous dates all the way to his perfect proposal and the perfect ring. The diamond ring turned out to be manufactured crystal, (a metaphor for our relationship), a shimmering lie built on dozens more suppurating lies.
There's one thing more prevalent than greed in Anthony’s persona and that was laziness. He wanted everything the world could offer but was too lazy to earn it or try to attain it the right way. Always seeking a shortcut, the easy way, and rarely succeeding, he just didn't have the ambition to fulfill his aspirations. Along the way, he invariably pissed people off, and must have angered the wrong people. The questions were rich with possibility: if Anthony were using the vacant properties, what did he do while he was there? Whom had he angered? Did one of those people kill him?
; The biggest question for me was: how did I find them?
No, there was a bigger question than that. Did I even want to?
Anthony turned my life upside-down. He ruined our relationship, and contributed substantially to the failure of my brother's marriage, leaving me a giant mess to sort out. It took me a long time to recover from that. Getting sucked into my ex-fiancé’s life again was not how I wanted to start my new cohabitation with my present, and last, fiancé.
All that was something I wanted to talk over with Solomon. I stepped downstairs, barefoot in clean jeans and a cheerful, pink blouse, my freshly-washed hair creating a damp patch on my back.
Instead of a quiet kitchen, the room was filled with Graves. Not actual Graves, but walking, talking Graves. Scattered between them on the kitchen island were a dozen dishes laden with delicious smelling food. Lily was opening unidentifiable cupboards with ease and extracting plates and cutlery, things that no one else could find if they weren't well acquainted with Solomon's blank wall of kitchen units.
A strong hand slapped my shoulder as the youngest of my brothers walked past. "I know you're not a murderer," said Jord. The youngest of my brothers held a wicked glint in his eye. "But if you were, you picked the right person to off."
"I'm not a murderer!"
"I'm pretty sure I said I knew you weren't," said Jord, "But you know..." He winked.
"I have an alibi!"
"I brought your favorite dish," said Mom. "Lasagna."
"That's not my favorite but thank you."
"And I made dessert," said Serena, holding up a plate. "Cookies. Don't eat the ones with blue icing. Victoria made those with Antonio."
"What did Antonio do to them?"
"It's more what Victoria did. Anyway don't eat them. I'll just tell her you said they were the best."
"I made potato wedges," said Alice. "Daniel made his special barbecued chicken wings."
"The ones he makes when we're celebrating something?" I asked.
"I just brought me," said Garrett, coming through the door behind me.
"You should have brought cake," said Mom as she clipped his ear.
A Few Good Women (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 9) Page 5
