Tyler laughed. “I wonder if Brianna knows how he spoils that child when she’s away.”
“I imagine not, sir, but it would be hard to resist giving Miss Emma anything she wants.”
“Isn’t that the truth? The girl is an angel.” He glanced at Maddie. “What do you say? Are you up to another Delacourt inquisition? Jeb has an insatiable curiosity, and he’s been prepped by Mother. You’ll love Emma, though. She’s had a very tough time of it, but she’s a remarkable child.”
The thought of withstanding an investigator’s scrutiny, no matter how well intentioned it might be, made her tremble, but she couldn’t think of a single gracious way to say no.
“By all means, let them come up.”
“You heard the lady, Rodney.”
“Yes, sir. Shall I ring first?”
“No need.”
As the elevator doors slid closed, Tyler met her gaze with an amused grin. “You’re a brave woman, Maddie.”
“Oh?”
“If you’ve got a secret, Jeb will worm it out of you, so I advise you to be on your guard.”
“No problem,” she said. She had already planned on doing exactly that.
“Does that mean you have no secrets, or that you’re prepared to withstand any inquisition?”
“Do you honestly think I’d tell you that?” she said lightly. “It might be all the incentive you need to get your brother to bring out the rubber hoses and water torture.”
“Oh, I think his techniques are more subtle than that. When he starts mining for secrets, you won’t even see it coming.”
Maddie doubted that. She was pretty sure she’d recognize a sneak attack the instant it was launched. After all, she was pretty darn good at them herself.
Chapter Nine
Tyler wasn’t nearly as relaxed as Maddie appeared to be when the doorbell rang an hour later announcing Jeb’s arrival. He knew what his brother was capable of. Maybe Emma’s presence would keep him on his best behavior.
“You were mighty late getting home tonight,” Jeb said when he came through the door, slowing his pace to accommodate Emma’s halting gait. “The munchkin and I were going to buy you ice cream.”
Tyler knew the precise moment when Jeb caught sight of Maddie, because a glint of anticipation lit in his eyes. For once Rodney had been discreet. The doorman apparently hadn’t said a word to Jeb about Tyler’s company.
“You must be Maddie,” he said at once. “I’m Jeb, the handsome one. And this is Emma, my princess.”
Maddie smiled and held out a hand to Jeb’s stepdaughter. “I’m very happy to meet you, Emma.”
Jeb turned to Tyler. “She didn’t say she was happy to meet me. What have you been telling her?” he asked with feigned indignation.
“Just the truth, big brother.”
“Don’t listen to a word he says,” Jeb advised. “I’m innocent of all charges.”
Maddie grinned. “I suppose that remains to be seen.”
Emma listened attentively to the exchange, then turned to Tyler, obviously bored by the grown-ups’ conversation. “Uncle Tyler, can I go play with your video games? Jeb promised.”
“Oh, he did, did he? He always did like to give away my toys. Go on, darlin’. If you want to get your socks beat off, call me.”
Emma laughed delightedly. “It’ll never happen. You’re pitiful.”
“And you’re entirely too smart.”
“Mama says a woman can never be too smart,” Emma said primly.
“Not when dealing with a Delacourt, that’s for sure,” Maddie agreed.
“Hey,” Tyler and Jeb protested in unison.
Emma and Maddie shared a grin.
“Maybe you should come play with me,” Emma suggested to Maddie. “I’ll bet you’re really good at video games.”
“Maybe I will, if these two get too obnoxious. But the truth is, I’ve never played a video game.”
“See you in a few minutes,” Emma said confidently. “I can teach you everything you need to know.”
Jeb regarded her with a wounded expression. “I think my little angel just insulted us.”
“She did. It hasn’t taken her long to get to know you, has it?” Tyler watched as Emma hobbled off, amazed by her fierce determination to overcome the injuries that had threatened her ability to ever walk again. Then he turned to Maddie. “Emma is Brianna’s little girl and Jeb’s stepdaughter. She was in an accident a couple of years ago. She’s just learning to walk again.”
“Forget walking. She’s running me ragged,” Jeb said. “She gets stronger every day, thank goodness.”
Tyler watched his brother as he deliberately turned his attention to Maddie.
“So, Maddie Kent, tell me all about yourself. When’s the wedding?”
“Very funny,” Tyler said. “I told you Mother got that all wrong.”
“You told me,” Jeb agreed. “Have you told her?”
Tyler shook his head. “Not a chance. It’s serving my purposes. But Maddie’s threatening to tell her.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Which is fine by me as long as I’m not close by for the explosion.”
“How exactly did he maneuver you into doing his dirty work?” Jeb asked, his expression incredulous as he stared at Maddie.
“I wasn’t maneuvered. I volunteered. Somebody has to set her straight,” she said, shooting a pointed look in Tyler’s direction.
“Brave woman,” Jeb declared.
“That’s what I told her when she agreed to let you come up here tonight,” Tyler said.
“You warned her I’d ask all sorts of impertinent, personal questions?”
“Absolutely,” Tyler said.
“Well, that certainly spoils all the fun,” Jeb said. “I guess I’ll have to wait to catch you off guard, Maddie.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” she said with a laugh.
Tyler was startled by Jeb’s apparent decision to back off. “Giving up so soon?” he inquired.
“How can I trip her up when you’ve warned her what I’m up to?” Jeb countered.
“Forewarned is forearmed,” Maddie agreed.
Despite the light response, Tyler thought he detected a hint of relief in her expression. Were there secrets she was afraid that Jeb might ferret out? It was the second time that night that she’d hinted at as much, but he hoped to heaven he was wrong. He wanted very badly to believe that Maddie Kent was the woman who could bring something that had been missing back into his life.
Maddie breathed a sigh of relief when she got back to her apartment that night. She had a feeling she had indeed dodged a bullet with Jeb Delacourt. He was an amiable scoundrel on the surface, but she’d seen the intelligence in his eyes, the concern for his brother’s well-being. It was the same sort of protectiveness she’d seen in Tyler’s gaze when he looked at her. These were men who took seriously their commitment to look out for anyone about whom they cared.
She had also seen the love and tenderness Jeb had displayed toward his stepdaughter. It was obvious that Emma adored him. Maddie had known then that he had a soft spot, even though she had recognized that it wouldn’t be wise to count on it when it came to her. She had a hunch Jeb would show no mercy if he thought she was about to hurt his younger brother.
As if to remind her that that was exactly what was likely to happen, she spotted the blinking light on the telephone answering machine. Only one person knew this number. She hit the play button. There were three messages, all from Griffin Carpenter, just as she’d anticipated. He sounded increasingly impatient as he demanded updates.
Even though it was late, Maddie called him back. It didn’t surprise her that he answered on the first ring.
“It’s about time you called. What the devil has been going on over there? I expected news by now.”
“I’m getting close,” she said. “I have an interview in the morning that could break things wide-open.”
“Tell me,” he demanded eagerly.
“I’ll call you after
ward,” she promised. “Let me see if it pans out.”
“Don’t put me off, young lady. I’m spending a bundle on this. I think I have a right to know what’s going on.”
“Of course you do. I’ll be in touch before noon.”
“See that you are,” he barked, then slammed down the phone.
His curt attitude was a wake-up call. She needed to remember that she might be on a personal vendetta, but Carpenter had his own agenda and his own way of doing things. The normal rules didn’t apply. If she didn’t produce something that would satisfy him, he could easily yank her financial resources and her forum for any exposé. Though no deadline had ever been discussed, it was apparent that hers was fast approaching. He was clearly anxious to get something about Bryce Delacourt into print.
She had that looming deadline on her mind when she arrived at the designated restaurant precisely at nine the next morning eager for her interview with the retired business writer for the Houston paper.
“Table for one?” the hostess asked.
“Actually I’m meeting someone, Lawrence Timmons. Is he here?”
The woman frowned. “Now that you mention it, no. He’s usually here by now. I hope he’s okay. He hasn’t been feeling up to snuff lately. We worry about him. Too many years of smoking have taken their toll. His lungs are a mess. Why not have a seat. He could turn up yet.”
“Thanks, I will,” Maddie said, swallowing her disappointment.
What if his failure to show up had nothing to do with feeling poorly? What if he’d regretted agreeing to meet with her? What if Bryce Delacourt had gotten to him?
Slow down, she warned herself. Not even she believed that Delacourt was a murderer, not in that way. She might blame him for her father’s death, but he hadn’t pulled the trigger on that gun.
She waited until ten o’clock before finally accepting that Lawrence Timmons wasn’t going to show up. She had his address from the phone book, and he’d said it was in the neighborhood. Maybe the hostess could direct her to it.
“You gonna see if he’s home?” she asked after she’d given Maddie very precise directions. “Good. Let us know if there’s anything he needs, okay? We think of him as family. He doesn’t have anyone else. We try to look out for him, at least as much as he’ll let us.”
“I will,” Maddie promised.
She walked the three blocks to his address in a small development of town houses. The grounds were well kept, but the homes were showing their age. There was a car parked in front of Timmons’s place. She went up the sidewalk and knocked on the door.
An elderly man who had the rigid bearing of an ex-soldier opened the door and regarded her with a sigh. “I figured you’d turn up here sooner or later. You’re Maddie?”
“Yes.”
His gaze was sharp as he studied her. “Maddie Kent, I imagine.”
The statement, made with absolute confidence, threw her, but it was proof that his reporter’s instincts were still sharp. “How did you know?” she asked.
“I pulled my notes and the clippings I had from the time period you mentioned. It didn’t take much to tie you to the story I did about Frank Kent. Your name was in my notes, even though I didn’t use it in the article.” He gestured inside. “Now that you’re here, you might as well come in.”
“Thank you.”
Maddie preceded him into a tidy living room furnished with so much chintz it made her dizzy. Timmons caught her expression and gave a hoarse chuckle.
“My wife loved flowers,” he explained. “Didn’t matter to her if they were in the garden, in paintings, on dishes or on the upholstery. Believe it or not, I’ve toned it down some since she passed on, but it didn’t seem to make sense to get rid of perfectly good furniture just because it’s too fussy for my taste.”
Maddie smiled. “I imagine this would seem cozy in the English countryside.”
“Which is exactly where she came from,” he said. “Always said the flowers could make her forget it was a rainy day. She made a great pot of tea, too. She managed to make a convert of me. Haven’t had coffee in years. I have some Earl Grey I just brewed if you’d like a cup.”
“If it’s no trouble,” she said.
“None at all. Have a seat. I’ll bring it in.”
While he was gone, Maddie noticed the file folders that had been jammed with yellowed newspaper clippings and narrow notebooks that would fit in a reporter’s pocket. The folders and notebooks had been neatly dated. All of those on the table were from the year her father had been fired from Delacourt Oil.
When Timmons returned, he handed her a cup of tea, then set sugar, lemon and cream on the table next to her. He was wheezing slightly from the exertion and sank heavily into an easy chair opposite her.
“I imagine you want to talk about your father.”
Confronted with all those folders, presumably packed with facts, she swallowed hard but nodded. “Until yesterday I had no idea he had been charged with embezzlement. I can’t believe it. It had to be a lie. We never had any money, certainly not a hundred thousand dollars, which is what your story said was missing.”
“All I know is that Bryce Delacourt didn’t make that charge lightly. I interviewed him in person. He was tormented by it. He had considered your father his friend, as well as an employee.”
“What evidence did he have?”
“Check stubs, altered deposits, padded bills, that sort of thing.”
“And my father was the only one who could have been responsible? Surely there were other people in the department.”
“Only one at the time, a young woman.”
“Couldn’t she have been the one?”
“I checked that out thoroughly myself. She was a numbers cruncher, nothing more. She didn’t have the same access to the accounts that your father did. Remember, this was the early days of Delacourt Oil. It was a small operation. Computers were still to come. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind after my investigation that Delacourt had the evidence to back up the charge. Whether your father would have been convicted is anyone’s guess.”
“Because he died before a trial,” she said slowly.
“No, because Delacourt worked out an arrangement with him. Your father vowed to make restitution.”
“How?” she asked, shocked. “He was barely earning minimum wage. It would have taken forever.”
“I don’t think that was a consideration for Delacourt.”
“Because he just wanted to watch him suffer,” Maddie said angrily.
Timmons looked shocked by her conclusion. “Absolutely not. It was because he didn’t want him to go to jail. He knew he had a wife and children. He thought you had suffered enough.”
Maddie refused to believe that. If Bryce Delacourt had been so concerned about their suffering, he would have found some way to help them, she thought angrily. He would have kept her father on the job so he could earn a decent enough living to make restitution.
Even as she reached her own conclusion, a part of her could see that she was being irrational. If her father was guilty of embezzlement, Delacourt could hardly have kept him on.
If. That was the key word. She still didn’t believe a word of this preposterous accusation. Timmons, however, clearly did, so questioning him any further would be a waste of her time.
“Do you remember the name of the woman who worked in the department?”
“Not offhand, but I’m sure it’s in my notes,” he said. “Give me a minute.”
He flipped through several notebooks before stopping at a page. “Pamela Davis, that’s it. In her early twenties, then, so she might still be working there.”
“Thank you so much,” Maddie said.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear. It’s a sad thing when a parent a child has idolized turns out to have had feet of clay. I’m sure your parents thought they were doing the right thing by keeping the truth of what happened from you.”
“Yes,” she agreed. She just didn’t ha
ppen to believe that her father was one of those parents who wasn’t as honest as she’d believed him to be. Especially since not even a single dime of that stolen money had ever turned up at their home.
An hour later she was back at her apartment and on the phone to the personnel office at Delacourt Oil.
“I am trying to contact a woman I was told works for your company or did at some time in the past,” she told the receptionist who answered the phone. “Could you help me with that information?”
“You’ll need to speak to a supervisor. One moment, please.”
Maddie waited.
“Hello, this is Mrs. Lockhorn. May I help you?”
“Yes.” She repeated her question.
“Normally we don’t give out information on our employees, past or present,” she said.
Maddie reached for a credible excuse and came up with one that she’d heard usually worked. “I’m working for a lawyer handling the estate of a relative. This woman has inherited quite a bit of money. I’m sure she’d want to know about it. Couldn’t you at least tell me if she is still employed there?”
Mrs. Lockhorn hesitated, clearly torn by the promise of large sums of money for someone she might know. “Tell me the name,” she said finally. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Pamela Davis. I believe at one point she might have been in the accounting department.”
There was a soft gasp on the other end of the line. “Oh, dear, how terribly sad. Ms. Davis died about a year ago. She had cancer. It was a terrible pity. She was head of the accounting department at the time.”
Maddie bit back her disappointment, murmured the appropriately sympathetic comments, then asked, “Is there anyone who could tell me a little more about her? Did she have a family?”
“No, she was unmarried at the time she died. I know because we handled all of the arrangements for her funeral. Mr. Delacourt insisted. He was quite fond of her. She had been with the company for a good many years.”
Maddie immediately seized on the offhand remark. Was there a story there? Was that why her father had taken the fall, because Bryce Delacourt had wanted to protect a woman of whom he was “fond”? Was that the real reason he had never filed formal charges against her father, because he knew that Frank Kent was innocent?
The Delacourt Scandal Page 11
