Random Acts of Fraud (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries Book 5)

by Christy Barritt

  Relief filled me. That was why he was tired. Not that I cared.

  “I understand.” The pot sputtered, giving me a good excuse to turn around and grab a coffee mug. I poured Chase a cup, quickly choosing a mug that showed a vintage New York City skyline. At once, I wanted to take it back, and I hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea.

  Chase and I had talked about going to New York together one day. I’d assumed that day would be after we were married. I had no idea what Chase was thinking as he took the coffee from me. Did he think I was hinting at something? Badgering him? Trying to guilt trip him?

  But he didn’t seem to react, so I was probably reading too much into it.

  “Do you know how Travis died?” I finally asked. “Can you tell me that?”

  “We believe he may have been poisoned.”

  A chill washed through me. Poisoning would take some premeditation. And premeditation would mean that the killer hadn’t done this on accident or even in the heat of the moment. It meant that someone had planned it.

  “We do have one lead,” he said. “I know I’m sharing more than I should, but I hope it will prevent you from pursuing anything on your own.”

  “Why, I would never,” I said in my best Scarlet O’Hara accent.

  Chase chuckled sardonically. “Yeah, we won’t go there. But we’re looking at Travis’s boss.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Drew Williams?”

  “No. Drew hired out the company that Travis worked for.”

  That was right. My mind had jumped to worst-case scenarios. Of course.

  “Travis’s boss was giving him a hard time,” Chase continued. “Apparently, several clients had complained about Travis also.”

  “Complained how?” I asked.

  “I guess he wasn’t using the best bedside manner when he went to pick up the deceased from people’s homes.”

  Funny that Drew hadn’t mentioned that. Did he know? “I’m sorry to hear that. That’s a very stressful time in people’s lives, one that requires extra sensitivity.”

  “It is. The boss had confronted Travis several times. The company started losing some business because of bad word of mouth.”

  I leaned back, letting that information sink in. “So, the boss—what’s his name again?”

  Chase scowled and reluctantly said, “Ronald.”

  “Ronald Dillow, correct? The owner of Dillow Mortuary Transportation?”

  “How’d you know that?”

  I shrugged innocently. “I have my ways. Anyway, you think Ronald killed him? That’s extreme.”

  “There’s more. His boss has a history of flying off the handle. He was arrested and did some jail time for assault. The GPS on his phone also shows he was downtown that evening.”

  I shivered. “I see. But a man like that . . . with those demons and that temperament . . . he doesn’t seem like someone who’d poison someone. Someone that angry would strangle someone first or maybe shoot him.”

  Chase twisted his head, as if my observation surprised him. “That’s true. But human nature can be unpredictable sometimes. He’s our best lead.”

  “Well, I hope it all pans out. Maybe Travis realized that his boss was really angry. Maybe that’s why he sent me those messages before we were supposed to meet.”

  “You think Ronald Dillow was up to something illegal?” Chase asked.

  “I assume you’ve looked into it. I mean, that would make the most sense, right? Maybe Travis had discovered Ronald was doing something illegal—drugs, maybe?—and he was going to turn him in. Ronald found out and killed him before he could.”

  “Interesting theory.”

  I paused. “You have no idea what Travis might have been poisoned with?”

  “I don’t. We’re still waiting for the tox screen to come back.” He took a sip of his coffee before lowering the drink and locking his gaze on mine. “So, you found something?”

  “Yes. That’s right.” I snapped out of my stupor. That was the whole reason Chase was here. I couldn’t forget that. And here I’d been thinking he’d just come by to torture me by dangling memories of our relationship in front of me. “Let me grab it.”

  I hurried back to my bedroom and snatched the key from my dresser. I halfway hated to give it up. This was some kind of clue to something. I just had no idea what. At the moment, it was my only clue.

  “You put it in a bag?” Chase’s eyebrows shot up.

  “I didn’t want to mess up any fingerprints.”

  “I taught you well.” He flashed a smile.

  “That you did.” Usually through the school of hard knocks, one where I’d interfered and he’d had to correct me.

  He held up the bag and examined the key through the plastic. “You really think that man put this in your pocket last night? The guy who ran into you?”

  “It’s the only thing I can figure.” I’d replayed the event a million times. Maybe that had been a flash of recognition I’d seen in the man’s gaze. Yet he wasn’t familiar to me. There was so much I didn’t understand.

  “I’ll see if we can figure out who this belongs to. It’s a long shot.”

  I hoped he might offer more, but he remained silent. I needed to accept that I wouldn’t get any more information from him and be thankful that he’d shared anything. “Well, I hope you’re able to figure out what’s going on.”

  He stared at me a moment, that probing look returning. “Would you like to go get something to eat, Holly?”

  I wasn’t sure I could handle that. I was going to tumble back into a pit of confusion and overwhelming emotions that warred with my logic. Space was the best thing I could give myself now. Besides, breakup etiquette dictated that I should maintain my distance from Chase for a while.

  “I can’t, Chase. I’ve got to run by my mom’s house.”

  He stood straight and put the coffee mug onto the counter. “I understand. Maybe another time.”

  “Yeah, maybe another time.” But not if I was smart.

  I walked him to the door, hating the angst gripping me. Only moments earlier I’d been reveling at how happy I’d felt after lunch with Drew. Things could change on a dime sometimes, couldn’t they? Circumstances. Emotions. Plans for the future.

  It could be worse, I supposed.

  I could be Travis Hooker.

  I was just locking up my mom’s place when I felt someone on the porch behind me.

  The image of Travis’s lifeless body slammed into my mind. Instinctively, I reached into my purse and grabbed my pepper spray. I twirled around, ready to act, to defend myself.

  A woman stood on my steps. Her eyes zeroed in on my pepper spray, and she gasped, throwing her hands in the air. Her purse fell from beneath her arm, and its contents scattered all over the sidewalk.

  “I’m sorry,” she rushed. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.”

  I stared at the woman a moment. She looked . . . I blinked. She looked surprisingly like me with her auburn hair, a slim build, blue eyes.

  She didn’t dress anything like me, however. No, she wore skin-tight skinny jeans with heels and a sweater that hugged her curves. She also had a small nose ring and a curly-cue from a tattoo peeked out from beneath her sleeve.

  “Who are you?” I asked, not letting down my guard yet.

  I’d learned to be cautious. Maybe paranoid. I wasn’t sure. But too many scary situations had stared me in the face recently. Victim no more.

  “I’m looking for Holly Paladin.”

  I kept the spray raised. “I’m Holly.”

  She rubbed her hands on her jeans and drew in a long, deep breath. “I figured that. We look alike. Eerily so.”

  “I noticed,” I said. “Have we met before?”

  “No, we haven’t. But I think we might . . . we might be . . . cousins.”

  Chapter Eight

  I froze, unsure what to say. I’d met all my cousins before, and this woman wasn’t one of them. “Why would you think that?”

  She hooked a hair be
hind her ear. “I hate to go into everything right here. I know I’m putting you on the spot. But long story short is that I believe my mom and your father were siblings.”

  The color drained from my face, and I lowered the pepper spray as the truth nudged closer to me. “What?”

  She nodded. “Can we chat?”

  Against my better instincts, I pointed to the porch. “Why don’t you have a seat? It sounds like we do have some things to discuss.”

  I wasn’t going to let her inside. No, I wasn’t quite that trusting. But, today was gorgeous, especially right now as the sun began sinking in the sky. Besides, my mom’s yard was practically from Better Homes and Gardens, so the porch would be just fine. Especially since the azaleas were blooming.

  I knew exactly the truth this woman was hinting at, and it seemed like it couldn’t be true. But our resemblance was uncanny. I wanted to hear what she had to say, even if it turned my world upside down.

  “Have a seat.” I nodded toward some wicker chairs on the porch of the Tudor style home. “Can I fix you something to drink?”

  She squatted and picked up several things that had fallen from her purse. “Do you have lemonade?”

  I should help her gather her things. But first I needed to clear my head. It was my top priority at the moment.

  “Lemonade?” I repeated. “Absolutely. One minute.”

  What was the etiquette for this? My Book of Manners didn’t exactly cover what to do if someone claiming to be your cousin showed up, and I had no idea how to handle this situation.

  Thankfully, I was able to escape inside and collect my thoughts, even if just for a moment.

  My family had only recently discovered that my father was adopted. His family was wonderful, but his parents were both dead now—they’d been older, and he had no siblings.

  Part of me wanted to leave the past in the past. What good would it do me now to learn the details of my father’s birth family? I supposed that somewhere down the line there could be medical reasons as to why this could be important. It would also give me hints about my heritage and would help me learn my family’s history.

  With the lemonade mixed, I poured the drinks. I also put a few sugar cookies on a tray and carried everything outside. My possible cousin had taken a seat in a navy blue wicker chair, just as I’d suggested. She lounged there, her legs crossed, and stared out at the street in front of her, as if in deep thought.

  She snapped out of it when she sensed me beside her.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” I started as I set the tray down on the table between us.

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head and sat more upright. “My name is Blake. Blake Hallowell.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I rubbed my hands together.

  She glanced behind her. “Nice place you have here.”

  “It was a dump when my mom and dad bought it, but they restored it,” I said. “I think it’s pretty great as well.”

  Blake gripped her sweaty glass and shifted to face me. “You grew up here?”

  “I did. I just got my own house a few months ago. It’s not too far from here.”

  “But far enough, right?”

  “I suppose. But I do miss this place. It’s home, and it always will be. How about you? Where do you live?”

  “I just moved here from Hillsboro. I’m starting the doctorate program at UC in the fall. Business administration. Exciting, huh? I came early to take a couple of summer courses. They just started last week.”

  “What do you want to do with your degree?”

  “I know this sounds sad, but I’m not really sure. Maybe that’s why I went back to school—to buy myself more time.” She smiled sheepishly.

  “At least you can be honest about it.”

  She raised her eyebrows, a hint of disappointment wrinkling her forehead. “It’s one thing I’ve got going for me.”

  Silence stretched a moment as we both sipped our drinks, and Blake grabbed a cookie. I was avoiding the most important questions, but all other small talk escaped me for a moment, leaving me no choice but to jump in.

  “So . . .” I started, then rubbed my lips together.

  “I know this is surprising.” She glanced at her lemonade. “But my grandmother died in November. Right before she passed, she confessed that she’d had a baby when she was eighteen, but her parents had pressured her to give the child up for adoption. With no real means to support herself, she felt like she had no choice. They were different times back then. Teenage pregnancy . . . well, it was totally frowned upon, to say the least.”

  I held my breath. I knew where this was going. I thought I did, at least. And it all seemed surreal.

  “Three years later, she met my grandfather, and they got married. They had three other children. But my grandmother never forgot about her firstborn. The adoption was closed, and she assumed it was best that she keep it that way.”

  “Okay.” I waited, hardly able to breathe as I anticipated what she’d say next.

  “Needless to say, that made me curious. So I started trying to find her baby, my uncle. It took a lot of digging, but I finally found a name. Herbert Paladin.”

  Though I’d been expecting her announcement, my breath caught. My dad.

  “Herbert was my father.” My voice cracked. “He passed away almost three years ago.”

  She nodded, a mix of apology and concern on her face. “I discovered that also. I wasn’t sure if you would welcome me or not, but I figured I didn’t have anything to lose. I wanted to meet my uncle’s family. None of my own family knows I’m doing this. I didn’t want to get their hopes up.”

  I wasn’t quite ready to make the leap from could be cousins to definitely were cousins. I needed more information first.

  “You really think we’re related?” I asked.

  “I’m nearly certain.”

  I leaned back, still gripping my drink like a lifeline. “I don’t even know what to say. It would explain why we look so much alike, I suppose.”

  “Did you know your father was adopted?” she asked quietly.

  “My mom and I discovered that information only a few months ago. We had no idea before that. I’m not sure if my father even knew.”

  “I don’t think people talked about it as much back then.”

  “I think you’re right.” I put my drink down before I spilled it on myself. There were questions that needed to be asked. What were they? “I’m sorry. I’m still processing this. It’s . . . a lot.”

  “I’m sure it must be.” Blake shifted, also putting her drink down. “Look, I’m not looking for anything. I just thought it would be fun to connect with you all. I think a person’s history is important.”

  I agreed and released my breath, some of my tension easing. “Tell me more about your family.”

  “We’re pretty simple. We live in the country. My dad is a chicken farmer. It’s beautiful up where we live. If you like the country, that is. The roosters really do wake us up in the morning, and we’ve been known to cow tip on occasion.”

  “It sounds nice. Simple. Unless you’re a cow.”

  She offered a brief smile. “I have eight other cousins. The oldest is thirty-five. The youngest is nine. We have family dinners every weekend.”

  “That sounds amazing.” The rest of my cousins lived out of the area, so I only saw them a few times a year. My family gatherings were mostly just us—my mom, my brother, my sister, her husband, and me.

  “It was a great childhood.” She glanced at her hands. “Did my uncle have a good life?”

  “He did.” My voice caught. I still missed my father so much. Cancer had taken him from us too early. “He was the best dad ever.”

  “I’m glad. And you have a brother and sister?”

  “That’s right. My sister, Alex, is a district attorney. Ralph is a state senator. I come from a long line of overachievers. But my dad wasn’t like that. He preferred to take life in stride and do what he enjoyed.”

  “I ca
n respect that.”

  “How’d you find out that your uncle might be my father? The adoption was closed, correct?” Finding biological children and birth mothers after a closed adoption was difficult, to say the least.

  “Yes, but I found this online website for closed adoptions where people can post ads. They usually include a birthdate, sex, and basic area of the country. People match that data with what they know. I found one that fit what my grandmother told me about the child she’d given up.”

  “Who left that ad?” My mom? Would she have done that? It seemed out of character for her.

  Blake shrugged. “I’m not sure. There wasn’t a profile with it, only the user name: Inquiring in Cincinnati. In fact, I emailed the person who posted a few times but never heard anything. I finally started searching through online information for males born on May 6, 1960, who lived in Cincinnati. I came across an article on Herbert Paladin—something about a large birthday party he’d had on his fiftieth.”

  I smiled and remembered that article. My mom was known for her parties, so she’d planned a surprise one in honor of my father. Instead of guests bringing gifts, they brought donations for a local animal shelter. A reporter had come and done a story on the whole shindig.

  “The dates matched up?” I concluded. “His birthday with what your grandmother told you?”

  “That’s right. I still wasn’t sure that he was the right person. I figured since I was already here in Cincinnati, I might as well see what else I could find out.”

  “It looks like you did an amazing job piecing everything together.” Which could be more evidence that we were possibly related. It seemed like something I would do.

  More silence stretched. This was all very compelling, but it still didn’t prove anything. How did you prove something like this?

  “So, what do we do now?” I asked.

  Blake gently touched her nose ring, twirling it like it was uncomfortable. “I’m not sure. I suppose there might be tests to confirm this.”

  “DNA testing?” I said. “We need something more than a birthday, right?”