“Eva, we’ve been through this,” Mr. Clayton said. “The bequest is based on a condition, and if you want to receive the bequest, you have to satisfy the condition. It’s that simple. If you’re correct, and you don’t have a drug problem, this year should be a breeze. There’s no getting around this.”
“We’ll see!” Eva snatched her purse from the chair and stormed out. The chandelier rattled from the force of the door slamming behind her.
Mr. Clayton placed his glasses in his pocket and blew out a long breath. “That is one angry young woman,” he said, sitting.
“Troubled is a better word,” Darci remarked as she massaged her throbbing temples. “Did she look high to you?”
“I couldn’t tell. I noticed the shine in her eyes, but maybe it was excitement or a lingering hangover symptom. I understand she was pretty hammered at Kenny’s funeral.”
“She was.”
“She seemed to have her bearings today.”
Darci nodded. “I guess so far, but it’s still early.”
“This is a lot more involved than you expected, yes?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll understand if you feel the need to decline the position of executor. Kenny did make provisions for me to assume the role if you declined for any reason. Eva is not going to make things easy for you, and with your questions surrounding Kenny’s death…”
“I do have my problems with that, but I’m going to do what he asked of me. I need to do this for him.” She turned to Mr. Clayton. “When did Kenny give you this letter?”
“About two weeks ago. Why?”
“Two weeks. I spoke to Kenny the day before he…the day before, and he was on Cloud Nine. Not at all a man who would shoot himself in the head less than twenty-four hours later. Even with this letter, he wasn’t talking like a man who had thoughts of taking his life. Did he seem strange to you?”
“Not strange, but speaking of the prospect of death is never an easy situation. He said the letter was for in case something happened. And with his upcoming trip, I had no reason to question the validity of it.”
Darci sighed. “Why is it I’m the only one who finds this suicide so inconceivable?” She opened the letter and scanned it for the telling line. “Here. ‘…at least I made a gorgeous corpse.’ Does that sound like a man about to kill himself?”
“No, it doesn’t, but…”
“No buts. Somebody killed him and made it look like a suicide.”
“Made it look like a suicide? Darci?”
“I know I’m right, and I’ll find a way to prove it. Kenny gave you this letter for just in case. I know he wasn’t planning a sudden death.” She stood. “Can I keep the letter?”
“It’s yours.” Mr. Clayton touched her hand. “Darci, sweetie, I think you should reconsider investigating. Nothing’s going to bring Kenny back.”
“But it will bring the people who loved him some peace.” She gave Mr. Clayton’s hand a firm shake. “Thank you for everything.”
“I don’t think I’ve helped you much, but you’re welcome. If you need to talk to me, you know how to reach me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Darci left the house and pointed her car in the direction of the police department. The prospect of seeing Steed again brought an unsettling thrill in her stomach, like approaching the first dip on a roller coaster ride—exciting and scary. Her contradictory emotions about the detective aside, she had this letter, and that gave her purpose. Maybe once Steed saw the letter, he’d start seeing things her way, and begin using that detective mind to help her make some sense of all this.
* * *
Steed closed the Warwick file and rubbed his tired eyes. No matter how long he studied those documents, he would never find anything to suggest Warwick was murdered. How would he get Darci to see that? Steed dropped his forehead to the desk. Were a beautiful woman and promotion worth his sanity?
“Detective McGraw.”
Steed looked up, pleasantly surprised to see Darci advancing to his desk. Maybe this beautiful woman was worth his sanity. The blue suit was a bit stuffy for his taste, but as always, she looked incredible. He couldn’t decide if he preferred her hair pulled back to display her perfect bone structure, or down like it was now, with thick, bouncy curls framing her gorgeous face. One thing was certain, she had a hold on him he could neither understand nor explain.
“Ms. Clarke, I have to say this is unexpected. After yesterday, I thought we’d seen the last of each other.”
“So did I, but something happened this morning to change my mind,” she said, taking her usual spot in front of his desk.
Steed managed to keep his professional focus while fighting the trappings of her intoxicating perfume. Peaches never smelled so good. “And what was that?” he asked.
“Kenny’s will was read.”
“Okay.”
“He left a letter. A letter he wrote two weeks ago. The specific details of the letter aren’t important, but what is crystal clear is what I’ve been saying from the moment I came into this office yesterday. Kenny didn’t kill himself.”
“Did this letter say that?”
“No, but—”
Steed groaned. Maybe she wasn’t worth his sanity. “Ms. Clarke…”
“Just wait! You’re telling me Kenny took a gun and blew off half of his face—his gorgeous beloved face—there’s no way. I might possibly find it easier to believe he had taken pills to kill himself, then he’d still be beautiful, but to take a gun to his head? No.”
Amazing. Darci was even more dogged in her beliefs, and Steed hadn’t thought that possible. “Darci, you’re looking for anything that will give you an answer to why this happened, but you have to accept you may never get one.”
“Not if you don’t help me. Look, Steed, I’m a proud woman, I’ll be the first to admit that, but I’m also willing to admit when I’m wrong.”
Steed scoffed. “Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’m not wrong about Kenny, and that’s why I’m back here. I need your help to prove this.”
“Darci, listen, I understand your—”
“Stop. I know what you’re about to say, so don’t say it.” She pulled her pocketbook off her shoulder and dug inside, producing folded sheets. “I want you to listen to this. ‘If Mr. Clayton is reading this letter it means I’m dead, and that sucks.’ Does that sound like a man about to kill himself?”
“That means nothing.”
“No? How about this?” She turned to the next page. “‘And, please, don’t be sad about my death. I may be gone, but at least I made a gorgeous corpse. All my love, Kenny.’ He made a gorgeous corpse? Nobody saw his corpse, save family, because half his head was blown off. The casket was closed.”
“You’ve seen the pictures, you know why it was closed.”
“All I’m saying is Kenny loved attention, and even dead, he would have enjoyed people taking one last look at his face. One final peek at the wonder that was Kenneth Warwick. He couldn’t have shot himself.”
Steed stroked his whiskered chin. “Can I speak now?”
“Not if you’re going to tell me yet again how wrong I am.” She shoved the letter back into her purse. “I’m sick of hearing that.”
“Well, lady, I gotta tell you, I’m sick of you telling me you’re right. Especially when this,” he said, holding up the file, “tells me you’re wrong.”
“The letter doesn’t change anything for you? I spoke to Kenny the day before everything went wrong. He was so excited about his trip to Rio, he got me a BlackBerry to ensure he would be able to reach me whenever something really exciting happened. I don’t even know how to use a BlackBerry.”
“And that means what? Somebody killed him? This file doesn’t tell me that. As much as I want to say you’re right, I can’t, and telling you differently wouldn’t help.”
“You’re saying every piece of paper in that file can prove, without a doubt, Kenny killed himself?”
Stee
d met her gaze head on. “Yes,” he answered flatly.
“Okay.” Darci dragged her chair behind his desk.
“What are you doing?”
“I want you to show me this irrefutable evidence. If you can do that, if you can show me that every sheet in this file proves Kenny killed himself, I’ll back off. I’ll drop this.”
“You mean it?”
“Absolutely.” She unbuttoned her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. “My cousin Jackie thinks I’m too close to this to think rationally. Randall Clayton, a man I totally respect, is in agreement with Jackie. The way he looked at me at the reading with pity in his eyes…” Darci shook her head. “And then there’s you. The detective who thinks I’m nuts.”
“It’s not that simple,” Steed said, shifting his gaze from the V-cut of her sleeveless white blouse and the delightful view of her cleavage to her engaging dark eyes.
“No?”
“Uh-uh. Granted, I think you’re a little blinded by your zeal, especially in regard to this case, but most of the time I guess that’s one of your many positive attributes.”
Darci peered at him over thick curled lashes. “You think I have positive attributes?”
“I do,” Steed answered as the strange fluttering returned to his stomach. “Some of them are obvious. Your beauty, intelligence, and incredible laugh you don’t use nearly enough. Then, there are the not-so-obvious things. Like your modesty when people recognize you. You don’t like to draw attention to yourself, although you work in the public eye.”
“You noticed all of that about me?”
Darci’s lips seemed to move in slow motion, hypnotizing him, urging him to kiss them. Steed brushed his thumb against her chin. “I noticed a lot about you from the moment you walked into this office yesterday.” He tugged gently on her bottom lip. “Lady, you bewitch me.”
Longing and fear darkened her dark eyes all the more. Steed leaned closer. Darci held her hand to his chest. He could swear he heard her heart pounding, or maybe it was his.
“I don’t want to be attracted to you,” she confessed, her breathy tone barely above a whisper.
“Ditto,” Steed murmured, before hungrily claiming her lips.
Whatever protest Darci dared to offer was lost in her sighs of pleasure as their tongues came together in a sensual duel. Steed feasted on her sweet mouth, wondering if he could ever get enough of her tantalizing kisses.
Darci’s arms curled around him, clinging to him. The feel of her soft body, her scent, her taste, fueled Steed’s need for her. He wanted more of her. He had to have more.
“Detective McGraw, I have that information you…”
The two pulled apart. Steed licked his lips, savoring the memory of Darci’s kiss, while fuming at the interruption. “What is it, Jackson?”
“Sorry, sir.” The red-faced officer approached with a file. “The information you wanted for the Warwick investigation.” He dropped the file and left the office in double-quick time.
Steed leaned in for another kiss. “That kid has the worst timing.”
Darci’s pulled back. “Actually, I think his timing is perfect. That shouldn’t have happened.”
“No, it should have happened yesterday at Sophie’s.”
“This is not a good idea.”
“Why not? We’re attracted to each other.” Darci shifted nervously in the chair. “Is there a guy in New York?” he asked.
“No.”
“What about you and Warwick? How close were you two?”
Darci’s movements ceased and anger returned to her eyes. He’d stuck his foot in his mouth again, but in this instance he didn’t care. He wanted to know the answer to that question. “So?” Steed prodded.
“Why do you keep asking me that?”
Because you didn’t want to kiss me again! “Because you keep insisting you two were very close,” Steed said. “Maybe closer than you want to admit. You had a fight, he got upset and…”
“Stop!” She grunted. “I’m going to forget you said that, and I’m also going to forget what just happened here. Just show me your evidence.”
“Darci, look, I’m—”
“Sorry?” She rolled her eyes. “Save it, Detective.”
Steed shook his head. Detective again. Talk about taking two steps back. “I was trying to apologize.”
“You’re always apologizing. Saying you’re sorry when you keep making the same mistake is a hollow apology, and I’m sick of hearing it. Let’s just keep things all business between us. I think it would be for the best.”
“I disagree.”
“I don’t care. I want to see your evidence.”
Holding his tongue, Steed opened his file and dragged over Jackson’s. “You’ve seen the autopsy report and you’re heard Lorene’s findings.”
“I’ll concede there was a gunshot wound to the head.”
“Let’s go from there. The gun was his, the only set of prints found on the weapon were his. This file Jackson brought in contains the prints from the gun, which we ran again.” Steed plopped the unopened file to the center of his desk. “The burn marks, powder residue, and wound pattern are all consistent with the victim firing the gun on himself. It’s open and shut.”
She flicked one edge of his file. “That’s it?”
“It’s a damn sight better than the straws you’re grasping at! My God, lady, what more do you need?” Steed grunted. He had to stop snapping. “I’m sorry.”
“What else is new?”
“I’ll tell you what’s new. The maddening way you affect me. The way you make me feel like a pile of mush and an erupting volcano all at once. That’s what’s new!” Steed raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like seeing you like this. Searching for something you’ll never find.”
“I won’t find it if you don’t help me.”
“Help you? I’m trying to help you now, Darci. You need to deal with the fact Warwick killed himself and you’ll never know why. You’re going to keep finding things, anything that says you’re right and there’s some question, some doubt where none exists. That’s your pain talking.”
Darci shook her head. “No, it’s more.”
“No, it’s not. I know it’s hard to accept, but you have to do just that. I can help you with this, if you let me. I don’t think Warwick would want you to do this to yourself.”
“You have no idea what Kenny would want for me.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “You don’t give a damn about him. He’s just another case to you.”
“You’re only partly right on that. I didn’t know Warwick, but this is not just another case for me.” He smoothed away the wisps of hair sticking to her tear-streaked face. “I can see how much you’re hurting and how you desperately need some answers, but sometimes the answers you get aren’t the ones you want. Deep down inside you know the truth. Your best friend is dead and your heart is broken. The only thing that makes sense is your grief. You have to deal with that first. Cry, and cry some more, and then you go on with your life. When the pain lessens, the truth becomes easier to take.”
It amazed Steed how effortlessly he said those words. He meant them completely, but he’d experienced more than his share of trouble living them. Do as I say, not as I do. Darci had to follow this advice. He had to help save her from herself.
Steed cupped her face. His thumbs brushed away her streaming tears. “Darci, for your own good, you have to let this go.” He brought her head to his shoulder, where she surrendered to anguished tears. “Just let it go.”
CHAPTER 8
Darci peeled her face from Steed’s tear-soaked shirt and smoothed the wetness from her eyes. How long had she been crying on his shoulder? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, feeling more than a bit embarrassed for losing her composure in front of him.
“Hey, ‘I’m sorry’ is my line.” Steed smiled. “Besides, I asked you to do it. Here,” he said, offering her yet another perfectly pressed handkerchief.
; She dabbed her blurry eyes. “I’ll pay for your shirt being laundered.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have lots of shirts.”
“And handkerchiefs, too.”
He smiled. “You can thank my na—grandmother. Do you feel better?”
Darci shrugged. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I know what you said, and I know what I need to do, it’s just…”
“It’s going to take time, Darci. This is just the first step.” He lifted a brow. “This is the first step, right? You’re letting this go?”
“I have to, don’t I? You won’t give me any choice.”
“There is no other choice.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever believe Kenny could kill himself.” The corners of Steed’s mouth tightened. Irritation speckled his blue eyes. “That said,” she continued, “I won’t make your life miserable by insisting you help me prove it. I guess all I can do now is make sure Kenny’s final wishes are fulfilled.”
“His will?”
“Yes. I have the extreme pleasure of being his executor.”
“You didn’t know about this before?”
“I knew, but I didn’t think I’d be doing it at thirty-two. Eva didn’t know I’d be doing it at all.”
“Warwick’s sister?”
She nodded. “I’m not one of her favorite people.”
Steed’s mouth dropped in exaggerated outrage. “You mean somebody in this world doesn’t like you?” Steed scoffed. “The nerve!”
“Ha-ha, McGraw. You seem to be warming up to me.”
“That’s because you’re hot.” His gaze raked over her body. Darci’s pulse rate spiked. Steed could reduce her to ash if he took the notion. No man had ever made her feel like this. It scared her to death.
“So, what’s the problem with this Eva?” he asked.
“It’s involved.” Darci walked over to the window. Two cardinals hopped about the sweltering pavement. Given the heat of the day, those birds could have been canaries suffering from the extreme temperatures. She chuckled at the silly thought.
“What are you laughing about?” Steed came over and closed his hand over her shoulder. “What do you see out there?”
It took all she had to keep her buckling knees from giving way. What was it about Steed McGraw? There were gorgeous men in New York. She’d even dated a few of them. But none of them made her feel so out of control. And she hated not being in control. She needed to get away from him, and quickly.
Not Quite Right (Indigo Love Spectrum) Page 7
