by Dana Marton
“Someone broke in. Peaches chased the guy off.” Peaches and Bing.
Lester raised an eyebrow in desperate need of a hedge trimmer. “Well, whaddaya know? Maybe he’ll be good for something.”
He held out his hand, palm down. Peaches sniffed it, then raised his head to Sophie.
“He’s our neighbor. He’s okay.”
Peaches took her word for it and walked away.
“Why don’t you come and sit with me in the kitchen? I have homemade lemonade.”
He didn’t look impressed but stepped forward. Sophie walked in front of him, got out two glasses, and poured them both drinks. “Any news about Ellie May?”
His face clouded as he slowly lowered himself into a chair. “Haven’t talked to her this week. Her eyes are getting bad. She can’t see the numbers on her cell phone to call. And when I call…” He shrugged. “Half the time she forgets to recharge her battery.”
“Would you like to go see her?” She lifted a hand to ward off immediate protest. “It’d do me good to get out. I work at home. Sometimes I feel like I never leave this house. I wouldn’t mind a road trip to Philly. Honestly.”
He watched her for a moment. “Sunday is her favorite day.”
She sat down at the table and took a drink. “So how long have you been sweet on her?”
“Most all of my life.” He paused as if deciding whether to say more, and then he did, although with obvious reluctance. “Her daddy owned the farm that was later turned into this street. They were just chopping up land for housing when I got out of the army. I got the lot right across from her family’s cottage where her grandparents lived.” A spark came into his eyes. “She always was a fine-looking filly.”
“Why didn’t you marry her?”
“I got the house on the GI bill, but other than that, I was poor as Job’s turkey. I wouldn’t even have had money for a ring. And then her daddy sent her off to some fancy school in Philadelphia. By the time she came home for Christmas break, she was engaged.”
“Did you get married?”
“I thought I’d wait.” A small, sheepish smile lifted his wrinkled face, the first time she’d seen that expression on him. “Then her husband died, and we had a little time together, but before I got around to asking her, her damn kids put her into that home.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“I waited fifty-two years and three months for her.” Misery filled his voice. “And then, poof, she’s gone one day.”
She shook her head with sympathy. “That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
It wasn’t the day for getting a ton of work done. Half an hour after Lester left, Wendy stopped in with her son, Justin.
“You have a tan, no fair,” Sophie complained jokingly, glad for the visit.
“Hey, I thought we’d check in on you. We brought you orange cake from Florida.”
“Hand it over, mister.” She grinned at Justin, but Justin kept a good grip on the box.
“Smart kid.” Sophie introduced them to Peaches, who was a lot gentler with Justin than Justin was with him. Within a minute, the kid tugged on the dog’s ears, tongue, and tail, then tried to climb on to ride him like a pony, but Wendy put a stop to that.
Sophie led them to the kitchen. “What if I trade you some chocolate milk for a slice of that cake?” she asked the little boy to distract him from his equestrian dreams for a minute.
Justin grinned.
“How are Grandma and Grandpa?”
“Goo.”
Which meant good. Justin wasn’t talking yet, something Wendy worried over, no matter how many times the pediatrician said that it was normal.
He ran off to play with Peaches, and Wendy turned serious, dropping her voice as she asked, “How are you? Really?” And moved in for a hug.
“Confused. If I have the heart of a—”
“No.” Wendy pulled back. “Don’t even think that. You have your heart. It’s a good heart. It’s loving and it’s kind. Where it’s been before changes nothing. I know you, and I know this.”
Her voice was firm and sure, her words sending warmth and gratitude through Sophie. But before she could tell her friend how much the unconditional support meant, the doorbell rang again, Joe standing outside this time, ready to take her up on that bathroom offer. Although, catching the way he stared at Wendy as he passed by, Sophie wasn’t so sure that was the only reason he’d come in.
“Wendy Belle, this is Officer Joe Kessler.” She introduced them and then stared as they smiled at each other.
Holy Moses, if those two gene pools ever combined…. The charisma and sex appeal stood knee-deep in her kitchen. She felt singed by heat just standing near them.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Joe said, showing teeth the likes of which could rarely be seen outside of a toothpaste commercial.
She could see Wendy fall for all that charm, catch herself, then pull back. “Nice to meet you, Officer Kessler.” Then she turned and picked up Justin. “Want to throw a ball for the doggy outside?” she asked her son and walked away as if Joe wasn’t even there.
The disbelief on his face as he watched her go was comical. Probably not too many women dismissed him like that, if any, ever. He stood and kept staring.
“You were looking for the bathroom?” Sophie suggested gently.
He shook himself, then walked down the hallway, nearly bumping into the bookshelf on the corner.
“So what was that about?” Sophie asked Wendy after she’d let Joe out and locked the door behind him. She put some plates, forks, and champagne glasses on the patio table where Justin had at last set down the cake.
“What?”
“Really? How long have we been friends? He’s like Adonis come to walk among the mortals.”
Wendy looked at her from the corner of her eye. “Are you interested?”
“No.”
“Bing?”
Something squeezed inside her chest. “I’m not going to talk about Bing. I want to talk about why you shot down Officer Hotter-than-the-Sun Kessler.”
“He’s a player.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I used to be one.”
“Maybe you could reform him.”
Wendy gave her a patient look. “I’m not going down that road. It’s a choice. I’m making it. I want a steady family man. I want brothers and sisters for Justin.”
Sophie choked on her own spit. “Brothers and sisters?”
Wendy smiled. “I never thought I’d be a model forever.”
She cut the cake while Sophie poured them all chocolate milk, Justin’s going straight into his Sippy cup, hers and Wendy’s into champagne glasses. It was a silly thing they used to do when Sophie had been sick, couldn’t drink alcohol, and they needed to celebrate something.
“Cheers.”
Wendy grinned. “Fate made us neighbors. Chocolate made us sisters.”
They talked about her parents in Florida, then Justin, then Bing, with Sophie trying to avoid most of Wendy’s questions about that subject.
“So he’s been a dick about the transplant, and you’re never going to forgive him,” Wendy summed up the situation.
“That’s the plan. I refuse to fall for a guy like that.”
“Unfortunately, women can know that a guy is a dick, and still fall for him. It’s a flaw in our DNA. I’m talking from bitter experience here.”
“Bing and I can never have a relationship.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. I don’t think you’re the kind of woman a man would let go easily.”
Her lips tugged into a smile. “This is exactly why you’re my best friend.” And they toasted with the chocolate milk again.
“You might want to go out the back way,” she told Wendy when they prepared to leave. “Joe might try to kidnap you up front.”
Wendy shook her head. “I’m not saying it’s not tempting, but I’m not going to go there. I’m looking for a partner for the long haul. I’m not lo
oking for more heartache.”
Joe waved at her from his cruiser. Wendy waved back as she walked to her own car with Justin, but that was it. No smiles, and she definitely didn’t go over to talk to him.
Sophie shook her head at the two of them, glancing across the road at Lester’s house before she stepped back inside. Romance wasn’t a simple and easy thing, whether you were young or old. The possibility for disaster was enormous. Of course, so was the possibility for reward.
She hoped Wendy would find the right guy for herself and her son. And she hoped Lester would have some happy days with Ellie May.
An entire lifetime spent just waiting. She couldn’t decide if that was incredibly romantic or incredibly tragic. Life was meant to be lived, she decided at the end. She didn’t want to waste hers. It wasn’t enough that she’d gotten a new lease on life. She somehow had to find the courage to truly live it.
She didn’t want to sit in her house all alone, realizing one day that her life had passed her by while she’d been waiting for complications to clear, for things to get easier, for the right time. Whatever she wanted, now was the time to fight for it.
She didn’t have to think too long about what she wanted. Bing.
So when he called that evening and invited her to lunch at the new Italian café on Main Street the following day, she agreed to meet with him. They were two reasonably intelligent people. They were attracted to each other, were drawn to each other in a way that went beyond the physical. At least, she certainly felt that way. They should be able to work things out.
The heart was just a pump. He had told her that. Maybe it was time she reminded him.
Chapter Fifteen
He and Sophie were going to have a talk. His knee-jerk reaction to her news about the organ donor was unforgivable. And then he’d accused her of selling her story to the papers. What in hell was wrong with him these days? His mind and his emotions were in a jumble. He was better than this, and Sophie deserved better than this from him.
Bing hung his head as he limped down the hallway of the HR department at Anselm-Gnamm pharmaceuticals. He still had a hard time dealing with the reality of the whole transplant issue, but he needed to apologize. He didn’t want things to end on that terrible note between them.
He went to talk to Wilhelm Mayer, Stacy’s old boss. Kristine didn’t work in the same department as Stacy, but Tag Taylor did. And Tag Taylor knew Greg Bruckner, who’d killed Stacy. Who had killed Kristine?
God, it sounded like some impossible math example. But there were some connections here. He was still missing key pieces of the puzzle.
And who’d broken into Sophie’s house last night and why? She had a mug with the staircase logo. Chase was still tracking down the company behind it. It was a small investing club owned by an offshore company in the Cayman Islands owned by another offshore company in Cyprus whose ownership seemed murkier yet. They all banked out of Switzerland, which didn’t make tracking them any easier.
He reached Mayer’s office and found the man waiting for him.
“Captain Bing, please come in.”
They’d met a time or two while Stacy had worked here and Bing needed to stop in for something, and then again, several times, when he’d initially investigated Stacy’s death. Mayer struck him as a pretty straightforward, decent guy, a good manager.
He seated Bing and offered coffee, which Bing declined with thanks. He didn’t want anything except answers. “What’s your impression of Tag Taylor?”
“He knows his stuff.” The manager leaned back. “To be honest, his brain is probably wasted here. He came from Shreff Financial after the credit-market blowup. He’s got a pretty good mind when it comes to money.”
“Is he in today?”
“Called in sick this morning.”
Maybe that meant something, and maybe it didn’t. “How was he with Stacy? Did they work together a lot?”
“Not really. They were friends, I think. That’s about it. I think Stacy was a closer friend with Amanda Taylor down in marketing.”
“How about accounting? Does Taylor work closely with them?” Kristine Haynes had worked in accounting.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Are there any areas where HR and accounting overlap?” he asked, suddenly inspired.
The manager shrugged. “Sure. Payroll. Bonuses. Stock options. Compensation, in general.”
Money.
Money was an excellent motivation for murder. “Stacy worked in compensation.” An angle he’d checked into at the time of her death, but he’d spotted nothing suspicious there. “How about Taylor?”
“He took over some of Stacy’s responsibilities after she…” The manager pressed his lips together and shot Bing a sympathetic look.
His instincts prickled. “Can you get me a full list of tasks and responsibilities for both?”
“Of course. Whatever I can do to help.”
“I’d appreciate that. You can e-mail it here.” He slid a business card across the desk, then thanked the man before he left.
He didn’t go far, just down two floors to accounting to see Bill Rosci. “Do you know if Kristine Haynes was close to Tag Taylor? He works in HR Compensation.”
“I have no idea.” Rosci grimaced. “Is this going to take long? I wish you’d call and make an appointment.”
“Just one more thing. I’m going to need a full list of Kristine’s tasks and responsibilities. I’m specifically looking for anything that might have involved payroll, bonuses, or stock options.”
“She worked with stock options, but I’m not going to be able to get anything together until next week.” He was shuffling through folders even as he talked, barely sparing a glance at his visitor.
“Twenty-four hours,” Bing told him. “I’ll be happy to get a court order if that’s a problem, and discuss the company’s lack of cooperation with the media in the meanwhile.”
Rosci’s face turned red as his attention snapped to Bing. “There’s no need for that. I’ll ask my assistant to go through the files and get your list together.”
Bing made a mental list of all the things he needed to check, including Tag Taylor’s alibi for the time of Kristine Haynes’s death. Since Amanda Taylor worked right here in marketing, he swung that way and caught up with her admin assistant, a young college student who quickly hid her textbook under her desk when she saw him heading for her.
He flashed his badge. “I need Amanda Taylor’s travel information for the conference she’s attending. And her cell phone where she can be reached.”
“Sure.” The young woman printed out the confirmation and handed it over.
“Have you heard from her since she left?”
“Couple of e-mails. She was checking up on how things were going here. No new big projects right now. Everything’s quiet.”
“I appreciate the help,” he said, then headed back to the office, determined to make heads or tails of things.
He tried to call Amanda as soon as he was in his car, but she didn’t pick up. Probably had her phone off if she was in a workshop or something like that. Since her voice mail was full, he called her hotel to leave a message there. He identified himself and gave the receptionist his badge number. “I need to leave a message for Amanda Taylor.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t see a guest by that name in the system.”
“She had reservations.” He gave the dates on the confirmation printout.
“One minute.” A keyboard went clickety-click on the other end. “She was a no-show.”
“Thank you.” He hung up. Either Taylor lied to him about Amanda being away at the conference, or Amanda had lied to Taylor about it. Why?
What did he know for sure?
Bruckner killed Stacy; Taylor was Bruckner’s buddy; Taylor had an affair with Kristine, who’d also been killed. Stacy, Taylor, and Kristine had all worked at the same company. Around money.
Were they in on some scam together? He had trouble picturing
Stacy being part of something like that, but he admitted to being biased. Bruckner could have seduced her, talked her into doing something stupid, then, when she balked at last, he killed her. Taylor took part of her responsibilities after her death, continuing the scam. He had Kristine in on it, somehow.
Stacy had been killed. Greg died in a car accident. The only person left who could point a finger at Taylor had been Kristine, so she had to go.
A lot of that was supposition, but so far it made sense.
And Sophie didn’t link in, in any way, for which Bing was grateful. Her connection had to be a coincidence. She got the mug from Jeremy. Jeremy was in some shady investment group. Maybe the money Taylor was stealing from the company was pumped in there.
Of course, they had no proof that Taylor was stealing anything. Which meant they had to dig harder and deeper. Because there was definitely something here.
He called the station and asked Mike and Harper to go out and pick up Taylor, bring him in for questioning, get the paperwork started for a warrant for his cell phone and home computer, if any, and whatever company laptop he had, and a search warrant for his office and house.
Since he was going by his farm, he stopped in. Today was Luke’s first day. Bing pulled up to the end of the long driveway and got out. He could take five minutes to check on the kid.
The scent of hay and horses hit him as he neared the barn, then he could hear muffled voices when he reached close enough.
“You bend low and pat his knee like this. See? He’ll pick his foot right up for you. Then you use the pick with your other hand and dig out the stones and dried mud that’s stuck under there. Horses are damn sensitive about their feet, I tell you that.”
At first Bing thought the careful explanation was coming from Jason. Without the usual surly tone, he didn’t recognize his father’s voice until he was nearly at the door.
“Like this?” Luke asked.
“Not that hard! You hurt him, he might kick.”
Bing lurched forward, expecting the old man to tear into the kid. But when he stepped through the door, he found his father striding toward him instead of exploding at the boy. Okay, that was new.
