“Um … sir … you probably shouldn’t yell,” Anne said, glancing around nervously. “I can call the publisher’s office for you, but I’m uncomfortable with your tone.”
“I’m uncomfortable with your face,” Tad spat.
“Leave her alone,” I said, drawing Tad’s attention. In his haste to cause a scene he’d missed Eliot and me upon his entry. “If you want to terrorize someone … well … look in the mirror. I know your face terrorizes me.”
“I’m going to … .” Tad broke off, his hands twisting together in some grotesque reenactment of my strangulation. The look on Eliot’s face convinced him to take a step back and think better of his unfinished threat. “What is he doing here?”
“He’s my bodyguard,” I said, winking. “He’s here to guard my body in case you try to do it harm.”
“You might want to tone it down a little bit, Trouble,” Eliot suggested. “Some people might think you’re getting too big for your britches.”
He had a point. Still … this was my happy day. No one was going to ruin it for me. “Call the publisher,” I instructed Anne. “My bodyguard and I will make sure Mr. Ludington doesn’t get out of hand.”
Anne looked unsure. “I … .”
“Do it,” I said. “Trust me. Mr. MacDonald is going to want to be a part of the conversation Tad is here to conduct.”
Anne didn’t need further prodding. While we waited for MacDonald, I shot Tad a series of small kissing gestures. His face grew redder, and I was sure he would wrap his hands around my neck if Eliot wasn’t present.
“He’s on his way up,” Anne said.
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to get you fired,” Tad seethed, taking a step forward. “You know that, right? You’ve done it now. You stole private documents and broadcasted your possession of them in front of other media outlets. I have you.”
“If you take another step in her direction I’m going to break your hand,” Eliot threatened. “Stay away from her.”
“Don’t you ever tell me what to do,” Tad snapped.
Eliot narrowed his eyes. “I will break every bone in your body if you ever touch her again,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Not just one … not ten … but every single one.”
“I’m not afraid of you!”
“Then you’re dumber than you look,” Eliot said. “I wasn’t sure that was possible, but I’m learning new things all over the place today.”
The sound of someone clearing his throat drew everyone’s attention to the partially opened security doors at the other end of the lobby. MacDonald looked … intrigued. Yeah, that was the right word. I had no idea whether he he’d heard about my bombshell at the conference but Tad’s arrival was a point of interest for his soon-to-be-ex-father-in-law.
“Why doesn’t everyone join me in the front office?” MacDonald suggested.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Tad huffed, moving toward the door. “Please tell Ms. Shaw that she needs to lose her lapdog. He’s not a part of this.”
Eliot stiffened beside me. “I’m going with her.”
MacDonald studied him for a moment. “May I ask why?”
“He’s threatened her on more than one occasion and he showed up at her house and attacked her this weekend,” Eliot said. “I don’t trust him not to touch her and I’m going to break him into pieces if he tries.”
As far as threats go it was a pretty good one.
“I did not attack her,” Tad argued. “He’s making that up.”
“Don’t make me thump you,” Eliot warned.
“Mr. Kane, why don’t you join us,” MacDonald offered. “I think we would all feel better if you were present for Mr. Ludington’s … meltdown.”
“I’m not having a meltdown!”
“Is this like when you said your group isn’t called TOOL?” I asked. I just had to make things worse. I couldn’t help myself.
“Stop calling it that!”
ONCE we were scattered around the conference table in the executive suite Tad tossed off the shattered remnants of control he clung to in the lobby and started yelling.
“Do you have any idea what she did?”
“I’m still catching up on the situation,” MacDonald said, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been informed that Ms. Shaw outed some dubious political practices in front of other media representatives.”
“I … what … how … I … that’s not what happened!” Tad was beside himself. “She got her hands on private documents and told everyone about them. That has to be illegal.”
“Huh … isn’t that the type of thing TOOL should investigate?” I asked, fighting the urge to smirk, and losing.
“Those documents were private correspondence between me and the county financial board,” Tad said. “I want to know who leaked them to you … because let me tell you something, honey, I’m going to be chopping off heads and mounting them.”
“Do you … mount a lot of heads?” I asked, causing Eliot to snicker.
“I will kill you,” Tad seethed.
“If you threaten her again you’re going to regret it,” Eliot shot back.
Tad visibly shrank in the face of Eliot’s anger. “Tell me where you got those documents!”
I glanced at MacDonald, curious as to how he would handle the situation. His face was unreadable, but for some reason I got the distinct impression he was enjoying all of this. “Ms. Shaw, did you get this documentation in the FOIA packet you requested?”
Uh-oh. I had a decision to make. I could either own up to the lie or run with it. I chose the option that promised more comedic potential. “I haven’t gotten my FOIA packet yet,” I answered.
MacDonald’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You haven’t? How did you get the correspondence?”
“Someone leaked it to her,” Tad hissed. “I want a name and I want it now.”
“I don’t have a name for you,” I said, tilting my head to the side. “The thing is … .”
“Did you get it for her?” Tad asked, turning his attention to Eliot. “Does she pimp you out to county secretaries so they’ll give her classified information?”
“You’re going to want to be very careful about what you say to me,” Eliot said, his eyes flat and dangerous.
“No one leaked me information, Tad,” I said. “I kind of … guessed … what you were up to. I had no proof when I asked you the questions. I played a hunch.”
MacDonald pressed his eyes shut, his mouth tipping up at the corners. “Oh, dear lord.”
“What do you mean?” Tad asked, confused.
“I mean I didn’t have any proof and I certainly didn’t have any documents when I asked you the questions at the sheriff’s department,” I said. “I made it up.”
“But … you knew.”
“Oh, I know now,” I said. “I didn’t know then, though. I had a feeling I was on the right track but I had to wait for a time when I could voice my questions in front of an audience. I figured that was my best bet, because once they all started looking into the financial status of TOOL I knew it would be all over for you.”
“This … no … I want to see those documents,” Tad said. “I don’t believe you figured anything out. You’re not smart enough.”
“That shows what you know,” I said. “Not only did I outsmart you, I did it in public. Everyone is going to be requesting that correspondence this afternoon and all of the news stations are going to be airing your meltdown.
“Congratulations,” I said. “You might manage to bump Adam Grisham from the top story on the evening news. He’s into freaky sex and possibly killed his wife, but you’re somehow worse.”
“This can’t be happening,” Tad said, his eyes widening as he realized exactly what I’d done to him.
“Oh, it’s happening,” I said. “You managed to bring yourself down, Tad. Good job.” I shot him a saucy thumbs-up. “Now, I do have a few questions about the future of TOOL while you’re here.” I dug in my coa
t pocket for my notebook.
Tad pushed himself from the table and kicked the chair he’d been sitting in against the wall and stormed out.
Even though he was poised for action Eliot remained seated. “That was … amazing.”
“I know, right?”
“That was so amazing I’m going to do a naked dance for you tonight.”
“Can you do it to the Star Wars theme song?” I asked.
“If that’s what gets you going, I’m all for it.”
“This could be one of my favorite days ever,” I said.
“It’s just getting started, Trouble. I’m going to make sure it stays one of your favorite days ever.”
“You two do remember I’m sitting here, right?” MacDonald said.
Thirty-One
As a reward for owning Wednesday’s front page Fish gave me the day off – with pay. MacDonald offered to give me the rest of the week off, but I asked him whether I could bank the days for something else and he agreed.
After a fun night with Eliot … and a fun morning with Eliot … and a fun shower with Eliot … I was officially bored. Eliot offered to push off his work at the sheriff’s department to spend the day with me, but I declined. I knew he wanted to finish the job and watching me play video games wasn’t going to be quite the thrill for him that it would for me.
After a few hours of Lego goodness, I turned off the game console and considered what to do with the rest of my day. As entertaining as bringing Tad down had been, I was still restless. The Grisham murder case was plaguing me and I couldn’t figure out why. I needed someone to bounce ideas off of and the only person I knew who would be free in the middle of a workday was Lexie.
I changed into my Yoda yoga pants and snazzy new Nikes, and drove the short distance to Yoga One That I Want. Lexie was between classes and perched on a stool at the juice bar when I entered.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised. “I thought for sure you’d be dancing on Tad Ludington’s political grave today.”
“I did that in person yesterday,” I said. I told her about the meeting in the executive conference room, and she laughed so hard she had trouble catching her breath.
“That is awesome,” Lexie said. “You should’ve filmed that with the phone and uploaded it to YouTube.”
“I thought about it,” I said. “I was worried it would send the wrong message, though.”
“That you were reveling in his pain?”
“Oh, he knew I was reveling in his pain,” I said. “I made that abundantly clear.”
“I can’t believe you finally did it,” Lexie said. “You ended Tad Ludington’s reign of terror. You must be so happy.”
“I haven’t ended it yet,” I clarified. “There are going to be angry residents at county commission meetings and a lot of scrambling from board members to cover themselves from the fallout. I’ve got weeks of Tad’s misery ahead of me.”
“They’re going to disband TOOL, right?”
“There’s no way they won’t,” I said. “People are going to be ticked off. I can’t wait.”
“You find the oddest things entertaining,” Lexie said. “Still … for someone who managed to take down her mortal enemy you’re pretty low key today.”
“It’s the Grisham case,” I admitted. “It’s driving me crazy.”
“Why?”
“I can’t decide whether Adam Grisham is a murderer – and if he isn’t, that means a real murderer is still free,” I said.
“I thought you were convinced he was guilty.”
“I was until I talked with his daughter,” I replied.
“You know that kids always believe their parents because the alternative is too terrible for them to swallow,” Lexie said. “Did you really think she was going to admit her father killed her mother?”
“That’s just it. She admitted her father was a scoundrel. She knew about the affairs and they made her sick. She knew about the freaky sex club and called him on it. She even wanted her parents to get divorced because she realized they were both miserable.”
“All of that is terrible, but murder is a whole other thing,” Lexie said. “Would you believe your mom is capable of murdering someone?”
“Only me. You haven’t talked to her, have you?”
“She’s still freaking out about the arrest,” Lexie said. “She thinks ignoring you is punishment. I wouldn’t have believed it until now. It’s bugging you that she’s not calling to bust your chops, isn’t it?”
“Bust my chops?”
“I’ve been watching a lot of old television shows on Netflix,” Lexie said, shrugging. “Your mom will get over it. She won’t be able to keep her mouth shut at family dinner this week and you two will have it out then. I plan to get there early and stay late so I don’t miss the action.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite cousin?”
“No,” Lexie said, her voice softening. “That’s really nice.”
“There’s a reason I’ve never told you that,” I snapped. “Can we go back to talking about Grisham for a second?”
“Is that why you came here? Do you want me to tell you Adam Grisham is a murderer and make you feel better? If so, the man is a dirtbag and I totally think he’s a murderer.”
“What is his motive, though?”
“Money.”
I laid out Grisham’s financial woes for Lexie.
“Wow,” she said. “That does make things more interesting. What about life insurance?”
I smacked the counter. “Crap. Eliot was going to run that for me and then we got distracted by Grisham’s arrest. I’ll bet he forgot.”
“If Grisham took out a life insurance policy on his wife then he might have millions of reasons to kill her,” Lexie said pragmatically. “For the sake of argument, though, who else would want to kill Julia Grisham?”
“What about the mistress?”
“Would she really go that far?” Lexie looked doubtful.
“She wants money and status,” I said. “She thought she was going to wrangle both from Julia Grisham by stealing her husband. Apparently she had no idea of Adam’s real final situation because Celeste said her father lied to anyone who would listen about access to his wife’s money.”
“She has to know now, right?”
“I guess. She wasn’t exactly forthcoming when I started asking about her financial expectations and sex life with Adam.”
“He wouldn’t date her if she wasn’t letting him spank her, would he?” Lexie asked, wrinkling her nose. “I saw him on television, by the way, he’d have to pay someone to let him spank them. He looks sweaty.”
I snorted. “Nice.”
“He does,” Lexie said. “You can tell he’s the type of guy who sweats a lot during sex and that means he smells.”
“I see you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“When someone’s sex life is broadcast for everyone to comment on, you can’t help but think about it,” Lexie said. “Don’t deny it.”
“Part of me thinks Amber and Adam could’ve planned this together,” I said, returning to the more important aspect of our conversation. Thinking about Grisham sweating during sex was giving me the heebie-jeebies. “Amber was desperate for Adam to be free so he could marry her, and Adam was unhappy in his marriage and felt emasculated because his wife had control of the purse strings.”
“Why are you still obsessing about this then? If Amber is guilty Adam will probably roll over on her because he won’t want her to move on to some other schmuck while he’s in prison.”
“Maybe,” I conceded, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. “The real wildcard here is Leo. I wish I could talk to him again. Actually, I wish he wasn’t slow so I could get answers from him that made sense.”
“Slow? Just because he smokes pot doesn’t mean he’s slow. A lot of very smart people smoke pot recreationally.”
“In what world is Leo smart?” I asked. “I’m not saying he’s one step from eatin
g dog poop or anything, but he’s clearly … limited … when it comes to understanding his actions and surroundings.”
Lexie was confused. “Are we talking about the same Leo here?”
“I think so,” I replied. “It’s the guy from the sketch.”
“But … Leo isn’t slow,” Lexie said. “Sure, he says funny things when he’s stoned … and you should see him dance when he’s drunk … but he’s not slow. I don’t think they’re going to induct him into MENSA anytime soon, but he’s definitely not slow.”
That made no sense. “When was the last time you saw him?”
Lexie shrugged. “I don’t know … a few months before I went to rehab, I guess. He was down in the park and I was looking for a loose joint and I knew he would have them. He spends hours down there selling loose doobies before he goes home.”
“Wait … what home? I thought he was homeless.”
“He’s not homeless,” Lexie scoffed. “I mean … I guess he could’ve lost his home and I didn’t hear about it, but he had a two-story house on the east side of Detroit when I was hanging with him. He threw parties there.”
“Eliot didn’t find a house listed when he searched for him.”
“That’s because it’s still in Leo’s mother’s name,” Lexie said. “He told me that helped him hide from the IRS, because they were looking for back taxes. I think his mother’s last name was Bombeck, or something like that. We made a lot of bomb jokes because the house was a real pit.”
None of this made sense. “I’ve talked to Leo twice. Both times he was scattered and kept forgetting where he was. When he found me in Mount Clemens he was all over the place and wanted me to give him money to run away. He couldn’t keep straight the fact that Julia was dead.”
“If he was so scattered how did he find you?” Lexie challenged.
“I … sonovabitch!” She was right. I’d never even considered how someone of limited means and stretched mental capacities tracked me down in another county. “He was putting on an act.”
“That’s what it sounds like to me,” Lexie said. “Why would he do that, though?”
That was a very good question. “What if Grisham or Amber hired him to kill Julia and this was his way to solidify an alibi?”
Headlines & Deadlines (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 7) Page 24
