“I can’t believe he actually suspects her.”
“I told you before, Eve. They’re checking out everyone.”
“He didn’t sound as if he was just checking her out.”
Unable to disagree, Rio shrugged. Jo Reynolds was as good a suspect as any.
When Rio mentioned that to Eve, she simply stared at him.
“You know,” she finally said, her voice as weary as the shake of her head. “I think I’m at the point where I no longer know what to believe. Or who to believe in. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t check me next.”
He could have told her that she could believe in him. But then, he thought she had. Once. “They did.”
What little color she’d gained, drained again.
“You were the last person to see her alive,” Rio explained, wondering how much more she’d be able to take before that surprising iron will of hers finally snapped. “You said yourself you’d given a half-dozen statements. Didn’t you wonder why so many different detectives and officers talked to you?”
She shook her head, the motion as much an answer as a statement of how bewildered she was by all that was going on around her.
“I can’t think about this now,” she said, backing away as if she were closing herself off. Or shutting down. “I have to go. Molly went home with one of her friends after day camp and I have to pick her up.” She started past him, only to turn when she reached the door. “I left a message for you…about some papers of my mother’s you might want to go through. I didn’t know if you’d want to wait until the weekend, or look at them sooner. Or let me know if you’re not interested in them at all and I’ll pitch the works,” she added, her voice too passive for his liking.
He’d picked up the message a couple of hours ago. Ever since, he’d been vacillating about whether or not to go over tonight. When he’d come back from the res, he’d found it easy to stay away from her. Seeing her now, sensing how far she had just pulled into herself, his resolve to keep contact with her to a minimum didn’t seem quite so important.
“Will you be home tonight?”
She said she would. So he told her he’d be over later, then felt his concern kick up a notch when she gave him a too-weak version of her brave little smile and walked out the door.
A moment later, she was gone—and he was on his way to track down the Honorable Hal Stuart, Mayor Pro Tem.
There was something corrupt going on with that guy and the reporter in him couldn’t let it go. Rio would get the answers from Hal…one way or another.
Chapter Nine
The odd deposits to Hal Stuart’s checking accounts had nagged at Rio Redtree like an aching tooth. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Hal should have a business interest in the community. Many of the city council members did. That was how they’d become involved in city government to begin with. But Hal didn’t have an ownership interest in any of the six businesses routinely fortifying his checking accounts. Even after searching records at the Corporation Commission in Denver, Rio hadn’t found a thing with Hal Stuart’s name on it.
He hadn’t come up empty-handed, though. After checking out the two laundromats, the restaurant, both bars and the auto repair shop in question, Rio had reduced them to one common denominator. Every one of them was owned by the same person. A local businessman by the name of Maxwell Brown.
It was late afternoon before Rio caught up with Hal in the employee’s parking lot behind City Hall. He’d been waiting for him, using the time to wade through an inch-thick complaint a citizen had filed against WGGS, a local radio station. He was halfway through it when he saw the sporty silver Mercedes glide over the faded Mayor Stuart that was stenciled across the parking space by the building’s rear door.
Climbing out of his Durango, Rio tucked the back of his white shirt into his slacks, slipped his recorder into his pocket and intercepted Eve’s brother just as the man started to get out.
The expectant look on Hal’s face faltered only slightly when he realized whose shadow had darkened his door. Giving Rio a wholly unexpected smile, he got out, then reached back inside for his suit jacket and briefcase. The briefcase had his initials tooled into the chamois-soft leather. The jacket, Rio noted when Hal slipped it on, had a decidedly custom fit.
“Redtree,” he greeted, sounding like the affable politician the public tended to see. “Sorry I can’t talk right now. I’m in kind of a hurry.”
“I won’t take long.” Rio gave him an easy smile of his own. “I tried to catch you at the Children’s Charity luncheon. I’d heard you’d be there.”
“I had a change of plans.”
“I noticed. By the way, Eve did a nice job with your mother’s speech.”
The practiced congeniality slipped. Giving Rio a level look, he hit the security button on his key ring. The car door locked with a chirp.
“I’m sure Mother would be proud.” Pocketing his keys, he started for the door of the old building. “That’s what this is all about with Eve, you know. Making Mom proud.” Something that sounded suspiciously like envy tainted his tone, stealing the last of his superficial pleasantness. “After the way she let her down, I suppose carrying on in her name is her only means of atonement.”
Hal reached for the door of the building to jerk it open. Rio kept it closed with the flat of his hand.
Blue eyes narrowed on black. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping this between us.” Rio’s features hardened dangerously. “Atonement?” he repeated, too aware of his own role in Eve’s situation to let the dig go. “Care to explain what you’re talking about?”
An explanation was hardly necessary. Both men knew exactly what Hal was referring to, but Rio doubted Hal knew how supportive Olivia had been of Eve during her pregnancy. Or maybe, Rio thought, he did know, and their closeness ate at him, just as it clearly burned him to think that his little sister might be more of a hero to the town just then than he was.
Considering what had prompted Hal’s chameleonlike change, Rio couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t always been jealous of his little sister.
“I’m not going to get into this with you,” Hal muttered, looking as if he hadn’t expected Rio to call him on his comment. “My sister lives her life and I live mine. We don’t interfere with each other.”
They didn’t interfere? Or Eve simply didn’t listen to him? Suspecting more of the latter, Rio’s hand slid from the door. “I didn’t come to discuss your sister,” he informed him, forcing calm when what he really wanted to do was get the guy by the throat and make him understand that he didn’t deserve the concern Eve wasted on him. Rio’s boss at the newspaper wouldn’t like that, though. Eve probably wouldn’t, either. “I want to talk to you about a business developer. One of our locals.”
Rio opened the door himself, standing back to let Hal pass. Skepticism slashed the acting mayor’s patrician features, but with the reporter’s focus off of him, his antagonistic attitude vanished. It could also have been the prospect of running into a city employee now that they were inside that kept him in line. In politics, image was everything.
Following him in, Rio breathed in the institutional smells of pine cleaner and floor wax and matched Hal step for step down the wide, green-and-white-tiled hall.
“If you want to know anything about a developer, check with city planning.”
“I need a more personal touch on this.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Maxwell Brown.”
If Rio hadn’t been watching Hal, he would have missed his hesitation before the man pasted on his politician’s smile. “Max? What about him?”
“What do you think of him?”
Tile gave way to gray marble when they passed from the back of the building into the more public areas. A quick right and they were heading up a wide stairway, cutting a path through the middle of the two people coming down.
“I think a lot of him. He’s sharp. He knows how to make a buck, but he doesn
’t forget the little guy. Between all the businesses he owns in Grand Springs, he provides jobs for at least a hundred of our citizens.”
The dark double doors of the mayor’s office loomed straight ahead. Walking past frosted glass doors marked City Clerk and City Manager, Hal pushed through the door with the empty brass plate holder on it and entered the outer office. A beige leather sofa and a table sporting Chamber of Commerce literature formed the waiting area off to the right. To the left was an L-shaped secretarial desk.
Rio watched Hal scowl at his administrative assistant’s empty chair. The attractive young woman he’d hired to replace Olivia’s faithful workhorse of an assistant was obviously occupied elsewhere.
“While the cat’s away,” Hal muttered, and picked up the pink message slips from the holder on her desk. Leafing through them, he continued talking to Rio. “As I understand it, Max sponsors a Little League team and he’s a deacon or something in his church. Very involved in the community. He’s a patron of our Winterfest and contributes to most of our charities.” Folding one message slip, he stuffed it in his pocket. “That’s about all I can tell you.”
“What about contributions to your checking account?”
Hal’s perpetual tan faded to gray when he blanched, but his recovery was impressive. The fact that he didn’t demand to know how Rio had come by the information made it even more so.
“Those are consulting fees,” he asserted, the flatness in his voice making it sound as if Rio had gone to a lot of trouble for nothing. “Perfectly legitimate. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have calls to return.”
Hal turned toward his private office, but not before Rio caught the red of blood pressure on the rise creeping up his neck.
“Consulting for what?”
“I give him financial advice.”
“I didn’t know you were licensed to do that.” As quick and painless as Rio tried to be when he interviewed victims of chance or circumstance, he had no qualms whatsoever about needling a liar. And Hal Stuart was literally lying through his teeth. Rio would stake his hard-earned reputation on that fact. “Is this a sideline you’re developing?”
When Rio had encountered Hal at Eve’s, he’d had the impression then that Hal was precariously close to snapping. That impression was compounded tenfold when Hal spun on his heel.
“I don’t know what you think you’re onto,” he muttered, jaw rigid. “But you can just drop it right here. Drop everything that has anything to do with me or my family. You hear? I don’t imagine your editor would be too happy about a lawsuit for harassment, but you’re getting damn close.”
He was certainly getting close to something, Rio thought, aware of the bulging blue vein throbbing in Hal’s left temple. But he wasn’t the least bit concerned about the threat. He was nowhere near to harassing this guy. The fact that Hal was feeling that way made it as clear as the window glass that he was onto something, though. But what?
He didn’t get a chance to ask. Hal had wadded the rest of his messages in his fist and slammed his office door behind him. As Rio turned to the outer door, he also noticed that Hal hadn’t wasted any time getting to his calls. One of the lights on his assistant’s telephone had just blinked on.
He was saved from having to do battle with his conscience over whether or not to pick up the extension, by a long-legged brunette in a short red dress and lipstick to match. Hal’s new assistant, a statuesque trophy in the barely twenty-year-old range, hurried through the doorway, her arms loaded with photocopies.
“Mr. Redtree,” she greeted, flashing him a brilliant smile. “Mayor Stuart hasn’t returned from lunch yet. Can I help you with something?”
“Actually,” he said, hitching his thumb toward the door, “he’s in there. He just got back.”
She was about to lose the top of her stack. Taking it before it slid off, not sure how she’d pick up anything in the elastic band of a skirt she wore, he set the copies next to the calendar on her desk.
“Do you want me to let him know you’re here?”
“Thanks… Stacy,” he added, picking up her name from the nameplate on her desk, “but I already got what I was after.”
He could feel her puzzled glance following him all the way out the door. But he had, indeed, obtained what he was after—confirmation that there was a story behind the acting mayor’s finances. When he’d stumbled onto the oddities in Hal’s checking account, Rio had thought he might be dealing with a case of campaign fraud or payment for political favors. He was leaning more in the direction of the latter, though the large deposits of cash also hinted at money laundering. The one thing he did not believe was that the money was fees for financial consulting. He had no way to prove that, though. Not yet.
What he did have was another investigation on his hands. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to dig into it any deeper at the moment. He had the story on the WGGS lawsuit to do, then he had to clean up his copy on the state’s grant of more funds for a wider road up to the ski lodge. And tonight, he wanted to stop by Eve’s to go through the things she’d told him about. He’d give anything for a break in Olivia Stuart’s murder case. One that would actually lead somewhere. Stone had told him just yesterday that the only fingerprints on the gardenia flower bowl that had been brought over just after the funeral were Eve’s.
Another lead fell through. Those, they’d expected to find.
* * *
The police would come up with something. They just had to.
Eve sat on the edge of Molly’s bed, the thought echoing in her mind as she quietly stroked her daughter’s soft forehead. She usually found such comfort in her little girl. And she did now, she supposed, thinking how peaceful the sleeping child looked with Ted tucked securely in her arms. But the agitation that had been with her all day had yet to fade, and thoughts of what had happened to her mother were constant. Even reading three stories to Molly and staying with her until she’d fallen asleep hadn’t lessened Eve’s anxiety.
She pressed a kiss to Molly’s temple, breathing in the clean scents of baby shampoo and bubble bath, and forced herself back from scooping her baby up in her arms. It wouldn’t be fair to disturb Molly’s sleep just to make herself feel better. So Eve slipped quietly from the room, leaving the dream catcher Rio had brought her to guard her child’s dreams, and headed down the stairs to finish a task she’d started earlier.
She was okay as long as she stayed busy. It was the only way she knew to deal with the unsettled thoughts that had lingered since the luncheon: thoughts of how Olivia’s words had made Eve miss her mother so very much more; of the unsmiling detective’s awful suspicion about Josie, one of her mother’s closest friends; of how Eve had apparently been suspected herself. Someone had actually thought she might have killed her own mother. If she let herself think about any of it too much, she just might go out of her mind.
With the house on the market to be sold, keeping it constantly presentable was welcome duty. So she focused on that as she scanned the long counters in the kitchen to make sure there was nothing on them that shouldn’t be. The glass panels in the beige cabinets sparkled, revealing neat rows of dishes and cups. Dried herbs, in muted shades of sage and lavender, hung in fragrant bunches above the window. Copper pots gleamed.
A dozen red gladiolus, still in their clear plastic wrapper, stood in a pitcher of water on the counter. Eve had bought them at the grocery store that afternoon, thinking to replace the bouquet of mums on the dining room table with something more dramatic. Taking a tall crystal vase from the cabinet, she thought of the real estate agent’s comment about how beautifully the house was showing. Eve was doing her best to see that it continued to do so. She just wished she didn’t feel so ambivalent about everything she was doing lately. Every effort she made toward helping the house sell brought her one step closer to losing the only place that had ever truly been home.
That disquieting thought had just joined all the others when she heard the faint knock on the front door. She knew it was R
io. She also knew that ignoring his knock wouldn’t do any good. Even if he went away this time, he’d be back. After all, she’d invited him.
Setting the vase on the counter, she wouldn’t even let herself acknowledge where he fit into the mental mess she was trying to cope with. Her rule of taking one thing at a time had just been reduced to taking things one minute at a time. One second, if need be.
“I figured Molly would be in bed,” Rio said, walking in as soon as she opened the door. He was still wearing the dress slacks and collarless white shirt she’d seen him in earlier, and looking every bit as comfortable in them as he did in faded jeans. The ever-present black cell phone was clipped to his belt. “That’s why I didn’t ring the bell. Is she asleep?”
He wanted to see his daughter. Since he hadn’t seen her in a week, that was understandable.
“I’m afraid she is” was all Eve said, then motioned behind her. “The boxes are in the study. Hal packed up Mom’s personal things when he moved into her office, but he just got around to sending them over. Help yourself.”
Leaving him by the door, she headed back to the kitchen, her sneakers silent on the thick, patterned rug. She had no idea what he thought of her abruptness, but she could feel his glance moving over the back of her blue cotton shirt and faded jeans. When she’d returned after picking up Molly and running her errands, she’d pulled on her work clothes and oiled every inch of the wood on the banisters and newel posts, along with most of the downstairs baseboards. If she couldn’t sleep tonight, she’d finish the rest.
Not until she’d passed through the kitchen doorway did she hear Rio move. When he did, he walked through the foyer and straight into the study.
The vase had been filled with water and she was cutting the ends from the flower stems when she heard movement behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched Rio set three black, vinyl-bound volumes on the counter by the hunter green canisters. Barely meeting his eyes, aware of the curiosity in them, she turned back to slice off another stalk.
Father and Child Reunion Page 16
