Lethal Legacy

by Amanda McKinney

  “Hey, Smith.”

  “Hey, Dabrowski.” Bobby motioned to the waitress. Danny took a seat next to him.

  “Well, did you see her?”

  Danny snorted. “Yeah, I saw her.”

  “Hot, huh?”

  His eyes darted over. “How’d you know?”

  “You’ve never seen her?”

  “Nope, just her husband.” He greeted the waitress, “I’ll take a whiskey. Straight up.”

  “Ah, hell, I’ve seen her a few times. They’re local celebrities.”

  “Have you seen her with her husband?”

  Bobby scratched his head, “Yeah, I think so.”

  “They look happy?”

  “Who wouldn’t be happy standing next to that?”

  Feeling a headache coming, Danny rubbed his eyes.

  Bobby laughed. “Okay, what happened?”

  The waitress flashed a flirty smile as she sat down his drink. Danny gulped the whiskey and leaned back. “Well, this is going to be an interesting case.”

  “Yeah? You’re calling it a case already?”

  “Yeah. My radar’s going off in every direction.”

  “No shit? What did she say?”

  “Well, it’s more what she didn’t say.” He took another sip. “That woman hasn’t shed a single tear about her dear, dead husband, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “Maybe she’s in shock. What’d she say?”

  “Basically, nothing. Says she worked all day, went for a run and then found out her house was burning down.”

  “Sounds like you interviewed her.”

  “Hell, yeah, I did.” He leaned forward. “Look, one of King’s big dicks at his office ran off a ravine and died the night before King’s house burned down. Something just doesn’t sit right. Look close first. You know that.”

  Bobby contemplated, tapping his glass. “Yep, I know that. You know, rumor on the street is that King Chemicals is dirty.”

  “Dirty?”

  “Yeah, but nothing that’s stuck. Just a lot of disgruntled employees spreading gossip about the higher ups and stuff. Saying there’s lots of closed door conversations. Illegal stuff goes on.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Yeah, but just town gossip, nothing more.” Bobby downed the last of his beer. “So, I’m assuming they haven’t confirmed the cause of house fire yet?”

  “Nope, I’ll call tomorrow.”

  “What else happened?”

  “Not much. She got defensive when I started going in. I asked about any potential enemies in their past and that’s when she shut the conversation down.”

  “No shit.” He shrugged. “Well just because you hate women right now doesn’t mean she killed her husband. Although…it would be interesting to know how much she stands to inherit in the event her rich hubby died.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I heard she inherited some family money before she married, though. Not sure. I also heard her husband cheats on her left and right.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. But that’s just gossip. Who knows?”

  Danny took a moment to try to understand why a man would cheat on a woman that beautiful.

  “Have you spoke with William’s folks, yet?”

  “They’re dead, awhile now. Natural causes, as I understand it.”

  “Siblings?”

  “Nope.”

  “Hers?”

  “Haven’t checked.”

  “Well, she sounds like an interesting broad, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah.” He scratched his head. “I want to talk to Sanchez and Campos…see if they got the same impression I did.”

  “Which is that she’s a stone cold bitch without emotions?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And a spoiled rich girl?”

  “Yep.”

  “With a nice ass.”

  “No doubt about that.” Danny’s phone dinged. Glancing over he hit the ignore button and pushed it aside.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “Wow. She’s not giving up, is she?”

  “Nope.” He swigged the last of his whiskey.

  “Damn ex-wives.” Bobby ran his fingers over his balding head. “Well, my ex-wife is pregnant.”

  Surprised, Danny looked over and shook his head. “Bobby, I’m sorry.” He signaled for the waitress. This needed another round.

  “Yep. I guess that’s the natural progression after she kicked me out and got married three months later.”

  They both sat in silence, contemplating the enigma of women. Bobby glanced over. “You ever think about going back to the ex?”

  “No fucking way, man.” He shook his head. “No way.”

  “I don’t blame you, dude. Hell, if I found my wife in bed with my best friend, I’da killed ’em both.”

  “I’m your best friend, Bobby.”

  “Well, good thing I didn’t find you in bed with my wife.”

  They both smirked.

  Chapter 7

  Victoria woke on the couch to the sound of her phone buzzing. Dazed, she looked around.

  It wasn’t a dream. Her house had burned down, her husband was dead and she was alone in the presidential suite at the Four Seasons. That part could be worse, at least.

  She sat up and glanced at the clock, six-thirty in the morning. She’d been asleep for exactly two hours.

  Reaching for her cell phone, she knocked over a full glass of vodka. Damn, it. She clicked on the screen.

  Call me. I’m so sorry, Vee.

  Natasha. Victoria laid her phone down and looked around the suite. Her gaze lingered on the front door and she thought of Danny.

  Her stomach dropped. She still had a bad taste in her mouth from his visit. Did they think she had something to do with the fire? Regardless, that man definitely needed to work on his people skills.

  She pushed herself off the couch, ordered a carafe of coffee and walked into the spacious bathroom. Peeling off her workout clothes from the day before, she turned on the faucet to take a long hot bath.

  After a thirty-minute soak, the phone rang as she stepped out of the bath. “Hello?”

  “Victoria, I’m so sorry to hear about the house, and William.”

  “Mr. Gatez, thank you.” Their attorney, already.

  “How are you doing?”

  She paused. “I’m holding up.”

  “Good. Well, Victoria, I wanted to reach out to you regarding all the legalities surrounding yesterday’s events. Please know that I’m ready to jump on the next flight to Texas when you feel ready to deal with everything. I want to make this painless and as easy as possible for you.”

  “Thank you. I’d actually like to get started as soon as possible.”

  “I thought you might. When would you like to meet?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “I’ll have my secretary make arrangements and will email them to you.”

  “Thanks.” Pause. “Mr. Gatez?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is there any way we can keep the will private from the public?”

  He pondered for a moment. “Most likely, no. Unless you have good cause. And even then, the judge will have to sign off on it...Any particular reason, Mrs. Henry?”

  She’d begun pacing in the bathroom. “No… no.”

  “Okay, then. We’ll discuss further when I arrive. See you soon.”

  Victoria pulled on a pair of faded jeans and fitted cotton shirt that the concierge had brought her. She grabbed her phone.

  “Austin police department.”

  “Officer Sanchez or Campos, please.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Victoria Henry.”

  “Please hold, Mrs. Henry.”

  * * * *

  Danny’s desk phone buzzed while he was reviewing mounds of paperwork. He set down his coffee. “Yes?”

  “Good morning, Lieutenant Dabrowski.”

  “Good morning, Di
ane.”

  “I can always count on you to be here early in the morning, and late at night for that matter.”

  “It’s always good to get a jump on the day, Diane.”

  “Agreed, sir. Is Sanchez or Campos in yet?”

  “I don’t think so. You tried their desks?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who’s trying to reach them?”

  “A Mrs. Victoria Henry.”

  He sat up. “Please send her call through to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Click, click, click.

  “Lieutenant Dabrowski here.”

  Silence.

  “Hello?”

  “Well, good morning, Lieutenant. I’m trying to reach Officer Sanchez or Campos.” He could practically hear her disdain through the phone.

  “I can help you with whatever you need, Mrs. Henry.” And, he could almost feel her eye roll over the phone.

  “Well, then. Is there any chance I might be able to go to my house this morning? Without being interrogated, of course.”

  Okay, so she was still pissed. “It should be cleared soon. And, Mrs. Henry, questions are hardly an interrogation.” He smirked. “You’d know if you were being interrogated.”

  “Then I strongly suggest you work on your people skills, Mr. Dabrowski.” It was the second time she’d called him Mister instead of Lieutenant. No doubt to undercut him.

  “I can start by meeting you at your house in thirty minutes.”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Dabrowski.” Ice cold tone.

  “Great. I’ll see you then.”

  Click.

  Fifty minutes later, an impatient Danny leaned against his squad car and watched as Victoria drove up the driveway. Why the hell are women always late?

  She pulled to a stop next to him and gazed at the house. The morning sun shone bright on the charred black rubble, which was still smoldering in some areas.

  Danny walked over and tapped on the window. After a moment, she opened the door and stepped onto the dewy grass.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Henry.”

  “Lieutenant.”

  Danny had to keep his eyes from trailing down to her chest. “Were you able to get any sleep, Mrs. Henry?”

  “A little, on the couch.” She kept her eyes on her house, and avoided his. “When can I expect confirmation on how the fire started, and how my husband died?”

  “We’re working on that now.” He glanced at the house. “All signs point to a gas leak.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. “And what happened to my husband?”

  “It appears he was in the room that initially lit.”

  She looked down. “So he burned to death.”

  Danny leaned closer, trying to get any spark of emotion from her eyes. “Yes, that’s how it appears.”

  “When will the body be released?”

  The Body. Not her husband, her lover, just the body.

  “As soon as the autopsy is complete.”

  “Which will be?”

  “Give it a few days.”

  “What the hell takes so long?”

  “The ME is busier than you’d imagine.”

  “Lots of dead bodies around here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’m sure you know the details on every single one.”

  “Most of them, yes.”

  “Do you make a habit of questioning the wife of a murdered man the same day he died?”

  “Who said your husband was murdered?”

  She flashed him a look that would make most men writher to the ground. This woman had a fire in her that he wasn’t used to.

  “Yes, I do make it a habit of speaking with, not questioning, the immediate family members.” He leaned forward. “Would you rather we just assume every death is an innocent accident, Mrs. Henry?”

  “No, but I have faith enough in your education and training that you should be able to decipher the difference between a suspect and the innocent rather quickly.” She took a deep breath and changed the subject. “I’d like to sift through the rubble.”

  “Not yet.”

  She leaned against her car and looked up at the sky. Dead leaves danced across her feet. Danny eyes lingered on her full lips while she inhaled the fresh fall air. The cool breeze blew through her soft, black hair. It was down today, and messy. Danny caught a scent of her floral scented shampoo. His eyes trailed down to her white, v-neck t-shirt. In between her voluptuous breasts lay a beautiful sapphire necklace. Even in casual clothes, the woman oozed sex.

  He felt that he should tell her he was sorry for her loss. The loss of her husband. The loss of her home. But it didn’t appear that’s what she needed to hear. What was it with this woman?

  When he eventually made his way back up to her eyes, she was looking right at him. “You honestly don’t believe it is as cut and dried as a gas leak, do you?”

  He paused, contemplating how much to tell her. “As I said last night, we don’t assume anything, immediately.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Lieutenant.”

  His eyes narrowed. “No. Quite the contrary, I think.”

  “I’ll help in any way I can, of course.”

  “You can start by not getting so damn defensive when I ask you questions.”

  “Those weren’t innocent questions.”

  “Asking about someone’s past is innocent. Unless, it isn’t, of course.”

  She glared at him. “If someone did murder my husband, you’re wasting your time by standing here annoying me. Go figure out who did it.”

  “I will, Mrs. Henry. Make no doubt about that.”

  She looked back at the smoldering rubble. “Well, since I still can’t go on the grounds, I’ll go take care of a few of the million other things I need to do.”

  “Where?”

  She hesitated. “My office.”

  “You’re going to open the gallery today?”

  “Of course not.” She clicked her tongue irritably. “I don’t have to open the gallery just to do work in my office, do I?”

  He didn’t respond to her rhetorical question.

  Reaching into his pocket, he scribbled on a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. If you think of anything relevant, or anything at all, please call me.”

  “Why can’t I call the other two stooges?”

  “I’m the stooge in charge, now.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Good day, Mr. Dabrowski.”

  Mister. “Good day, Victoria.”

  * * * *

  Victoria spent the day alone at her office.

  She returned most of her texts and phone calls. Emailed back and forth with the attorney. Spoke with the insurance company. Began thinking about a funeral for her late husband.

  She found herself thinking about her dad. In her head, she replayed some of the million memories she had of him.

  They’d only had each other. At times, Victoria blamed herself for her father’s unhappiness. If she had died instead of her mom while giving birth to her, maybe he would have been happier. They could have had more kids. And Victoria wouldn’t have had to live through the death of both her parents, while she was still a child.

  Her eyes welled thinking of that night. That dark night. The night that had changed her life forever.

  They’d never found the guys who did it. Stupid, ignorant cops. Her faith in law enforcement and cops in general disintegrated after her father’s case went cold. All of the details and reports from that horrific night were probably in a file on some shelf somewhere collecting dust. She’d thought about digging into the case herself…trying to find whoever did it. Instead of that, though, she learned to bury her emotions and turned into a stone-cold robot. Never to completely open her heart again, never to be destroyed again. She’d felt enough hurt for a lifetime and wouldn’t allow herself to feel it again.

  Over the years, she’d built herself into a control freak. Someone who was in control, at all times, whether anyone around her realized it or not.
She could control things, so she did. Anything to guard herself and keep herself safe. Control.

  Victoria rubbed her eyes then glanced at the clock. Six thirty. Time to go. She gathered up her things, turned off the computer, the lights, and made her way to the front door.

  Through the glass, she saw him gazing in and butterflies tickled her stomach. She unlocked and opened the front door.

  “Mr. Ramos.”

  “Please, call me Anthony.” He smiled, his dimples showing. “This is your gallery?”

  “Yes, it is. How are you?”

  He peered inside the gallery. “Wow, very nice. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” An awkward moment of silence lingered in the air.

  “I was in the area and thought I’d stop by and say hello. You mentioned you owned a gallery downtown. This is the first art gallery I came across, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”

  “That’s nice of you.” She could tell he wanted to come inside. “Well, would you like to come in for a moment?” She stepped aside and motioned him in.

  “Oh, I’d hate to intrude,” he glanced at the closed sign, “I assumed you would be open.”

  “I usually am at this time.” She looked down. “There’s been, ah, well, I’ve had to deal with a few things.”

  He stepped inside as she closed the door. He was just as attractive as she remembered. Today he wore a navy blue suit with a white button up underneath. No tie, top button unbuttoned. His hair was combed back like the first time she saw him.

  The gallery lights were off, leaving the rooms shaded. She considered turning the lights on, but didn’t want to attract attention from the public outside. They stood together in the entry way.

  He drew his eyebrows together. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure.”

  He cocked his head, obviously seeing through her. “What’s happened?”

  She thought about lying, making something up. She didn’t want to go through the details again. But, she figured that he might see it on the local news, or hear it through the gossips.

  “Well, actually, my house burned down.”

  His eyes opened wide. “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” She started fingering her purse straps.

  He stepped closer. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry Victoria.”

  “Thank you.”

  He looked her up and down. “It looks like you’re physically okay, though? Is everyone else okay?”