He went into deep thought, running the theory over in his mind to see if it were plausible. “You said Lidia was going in the ladies’ room when you came out. It doesn’t put her in proximity of drugging your tea. Are there cameras in the breakroom?”
“No, at least not noticeable ones. I can ask Mr. Harrington?”
“What about Lisa or David? You said they were in the breakroom. Would either of them had a reason to drug you?”
“No. Lisa and I aren’t the best of buds, but she’s always been friendly enough to me. David keeps to himself. He’s an odd duck, but even so I can’t imagine him doing something unsavory.”
“Well, ask out about the cameras,” he instructed. “I’m going to put a call into the medical examiner’s office and find out if Julie had any drugs in her system. If she did, it lends credibility to your claim.”
I nodded. “I’ll find out if there are recording devices.” I frowned. “Paul, I am telling you the truth. I didn’t take those pills, but I was groggy. Someone must’ve planned to ambush me and Julie long before we left for the day.”
He paused, thinking about my theory. Then he sighed. “I believe you,” he said, which came as an extremely comforting relief.
After a few more questions, we wrapped up the meeting and I stood to leave.
He climbed to his feet along with me, rounding his desk on approach. “Paige, I’d like to apologize for Angela’s insulting behavior in the deli. I should have said something then, but I was too shocked at her rude behavior to find my voice.”
“Thank you. But it’s nothing you should be apologizing for. You’re not responsible for your girlfriend’s insulting remarks.”
“Well, even so, let me make it up to you. Will you join me for dinner?”
His invitation caught me off guard. “No, thank you though. We should probably keep things professional … since you’re representing me.” While I wanted to go out with him, I wasn’t about to get myself entangled with a man who was involved with anyone, especially someone I perceived as clingy. “Besides, I don’t go out with men who have girlfriends.”
He shifted nervously on his feet. “I’m screwing up this invitation. I wouldn’t ask you out if I were still with Angela. After the deli incident, I called it quits with her. Besides, I just thought we could have a meal together and I could get to know the person who’s facing a possible life sentence. Consider it research.”
If he became acquainted with me on a personal level, he might truly come to believe in my innocence. If so, he’d fight harder for an acquittal. And if he were unattached, I didn’t see any reason why we shouldn’t get to know each other better … on a professional attorney/client level. So, I told myself.
Chapter Twenty
The Girlfriend
With one eye on the clock, Angela furiously ratted some old lady’s hair into one of those big Texas hairdos. It was almost five o’clock and she couldn’t wait to meet up with Paul. She knew if he’d just take the time to listen to her, everything between them would be easily worked out.
“There you go,” Angela said to Imogene, twirling the chair around so she could get the full effect of her Marge Simpson beehive. “Don’t you look amazing?” Angela spun her again and held up a mirror so Imogene could inspect the back of her head.
“It’s fantastic,” Imogene gushed, touching a few hard-held, sprayed tresses here and there. “You do marvelous work.”
Angela fought the urge to gag. The hairstyle was so outdated, but it was what Imogene wanted, so it was what Imogene got.
Angela rang her up and booked her next appointment. “I’ll see you next time,” she called after her as she left the salon.
“Bitch’n do,” her friend Tessa sarcastically complimented as soon as Imogene was out of earshot.
Angela rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She yanked out her phone and pulled up the spy camera she had hidden behind a book in Paul’s office. “What the hell!” she screamed at the video.
“What? What?” Tessa demanded when she saw the deep-rooted scowl on Angela’s face.
“That homewrecker is in Paul’s office … after hours.”
“Let me see.” She barged up next to Angela and glared at the video. “She’s only sitting in a client chair. It’s looks like a professional meeting. Didn’t you say Paul was representing her?”
“He is. But whenever I bring up her name – Paige, that’s how she introduced herself – Paul gets tongue-tied. I think he has feelings for her. I’ll bet you anything she’s the reason he broke up with me. I can just feel it, she’s going to be trouble.”
Angela glared back at the video. The vamp was dressed professionally in a dark gray skirt, matching jacket and white blouse. She was curvy in all the right places. And her golden locks were perfectly styled … as well as Angela could do, even as a professional hairstylist. She was perfectly poised in Paul’s client chair and Angela could tell she was soaking in his good looks. She had feelings for him. Angela could tell. The bitch. Angela instantly hated her so much.
“What are you going to do?” Tessa questioned.
“I’m going to talk to Paul. He’s a trial lawyer. Once I’ve argued my case, he’ll see that I’m right.”
“Good luck,” Tessa said as Angela scooted out the back door of the salon and left her to lock up. “Will you be coming in later tonight?”
“I doubt it,” Angela called over her shoulder.
After Paul foolishly broke up with her after the deli incident and asked her to move out, she had temporarily relocated herself into Tessa’s apartment. She had given Paul several long hours to think about his thoughtless decision and she was sure by now, he would have realized what a huge mistake he had made. Probably if she left him alone, he’d realize it on his own and come back to her on bended knee. But Angela was the anxious type, so she couldn’t wait and so she’d force the issue.
She climbed into her red, Mercedes C 300 Coupe. The two-door, sporty vehicle was positively gorgeous … just like Angela was. She took a moment to admire herself in the visor mirror. Her bleached-blonde hair was gorgeous. Her brilliant blue eyes were gorgeous. Her perfect figure was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. There was nothing not to like about her. Angela believed she was perfect in every way.
Backing out of the parking space and pressing on the gas, she headed straight to her and Paul’s condominium. They had a beautiful place along the banks of the Trinity River. Technically it was Paul’s condo, but Angela considered it hers as well
Her plan was to remove her clothing and don nothing but clear wrap, clinging seductively to her body. She knew this idea wasn’t original, but it would be enough for Paul to release his anger at her and forget all about that tramp. Paul wasn’t demanding; a little sex appeal would go a long way in getting back together.
On her drive, she reflected on the reasons Paul had broken up with her. Basically, he complained about her texting him too much and her constantly phoning him. Restraint was difficult for her. While she realized she was a tremendous catch, so was Paul. He was an overly attractive man. Women flaunted themselves at him. So, yes, she kept tabs on him. Paul said she was overbearing, and he was tired of her trust issues. But the straw having broken the camel’s back was him mistaking her comments to Paige as being rude. But Angela saw Paige’s claws sticking out. She was after her man. Angela was only trying to protect what was hers. Paul was hers.
From the first night Paul rescued that shrew, Angela’s spidey-sense went off, telling her he had gone into damsel-in-distress mode, developing an immediate attraction for Paige under exigent circumstances. Angela had texted him several times while he was at the hospital in an attempt at bringing him to his senses. It took ten texts, but finally he realized he was thinking with his little brain and he’d come home to her. Crisis averted. Thank goodness.
Later, after Paul was sound asleep, Angela had driven to the hospital and sneaked into Paige’s room to see if she was any real competition. Peeking behind a thin curtain, she noted ban
dages all around her head and her face was void of makeup. Paige looked a mess. Nothing like Angela’s attractive self. When Angela realized Paige wasn’t gorgeous – like she was – she hoped Paul had satisfied his need to be a Good Samaritan and Paige would soon fade from his life.
On her way out, Paige had woken up and called out a hello to her and then before she knew it, Paige was on the call button to the nurses’ station. It scared the pee-waddling out of Angela. She had to dart from one patient room to the next to escape undetected. Later, Paul mentioned Paige’s head injuries might cause hallucinations. Talk about blind luck, her presence was chalked up to a figment of Paige’s brain-damaged imagination.
When Paul said Paige was arrested for murder and he was going to defend her, Angela wasn’t worried because, in her mind, she pictured Paige’s bashed-in brain being unable to formulate even simple sentences. No problem. At least not until Paige waltzed her beautiful self over to Angela and Paul’s table and pretended to introduce herself. Come on. We all knew her sole purpose was to check Angela out and see if she was competition. Oldest trick in the book. In other words, Paige was creeping in on her territory. And now Paige was in Paul’s office … late in the day when most everyone had gone home. Did she think Angela was clueless? No, she was not. Angela’s cunning intelligence would not be surpassed.
Chapter Twenty-One
“So, Paige, will you have dinner with me,” Paul invited again.
“Research,” I repeated. “Well, if you put it that way, then yes, I’d love to have dinner together.”
His lips kicked up into an attractive grin. “Fantastic. There’s a steak place within walking distance … or would you prefer somewhere else?”
“No, steak sounds wonderful.”
Before I had a chance to change my mind, he began guiding me out of his office, holding me lightly by the elbow. “This place has great lobster tails too, if you’d prefer seafood.”
After riding the elevator down, we walked three blocks to a small hole in the wall, only visible by a single flange sign bearing the restaurant’s name, Below Sea Level. Walking down a flight of steps, we arrived at a hostess station. From there, the place was divided into small rooms, each providing a more intimate atmosphere. We were ushered into a softly lit room dotted with five separated tables. One was occupied by four gentlemen in business suits as if they were either having an after-hours drink or a business meeting. A man and woman in their mid-forties were seated together off in one corner. We were escorted to a table away from the men and opposite of the couple.
“Allow me,” Paul said, holding my chair out for me and then pushing it under my butt.
“Thank you,” I said to his gentlemanly gesture.
After perusing the menus, we both opted for the surf and turf, consisting of a fillet and lobster tails, along with a side of sautéed mushrooms, baked potatoes and house salads.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his eyes going to the bandage still covering the back of my head.
“I’m having minor headaches,” I confessed. Then I sighed. “It could be stress-related from my job.” I told him about my first day as a CFO. “When I didn’t come in throwing my weight around, I told myself it was a tactic to see if any of the employees let something slip. Truthfully, it was because I was scared.”
“Even so, there is an advantage to working undercover, so to speak,” he reassured.
“Yeah, but Mr. Harrington wasn’t impressed. He told me to get out there and start acting like a boss.”
Paul grimaced. “But Paige, unless someone had a specific reason for killing Julie, her murder can only be related to her position as Chief Financial Officer. If the latter is the case, then you’re the next target. You have every right to be afraid, and you need to be watching your back.”
I bit at my bottom lip. “Yeah,” I managed.
Paul astutely realized how nervous our conversation was making me. “Tell me about yourself,” he prodded, completely changing the subject.
I sighed in relief, happy for a new topic. “I’m an only child. My father is easygoing. We often go fishing together at a small cabin he has up in Broken Bow. It’s also an excuse for him to get a break from my mother. She can be … emotional.” It was difficult to admit to my mother’s mood swings, ranging from being dramatic, fussy, talkative, quiet and sarcastic. She could be exhausting. “My mother has always coddled me. She tries to control every aspect of my life and if I don’t find a husband-to-be soon, I’ll likely find myself in an arranged marriage.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like my mom. But mine’s not interested in me tying the knot. She’s simply anxious about me giving her some grandchildren.”
“Do you have any siblings?” I asked.
“No, it’s only me. Hence the push for grandkids.”
I snickered. “Are you planning on fathering a child with anyone just to get her off your back?”
He rolled out a deep chortle. “No, no. I’m planning marriage first, then kids. I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.”
What woman didn’t want to hear those magic words? If my mother were here right now, she’d be pushing me into a relationship with this man … a well-built, handsome lawyer, with intelligence and values. His assets were hard to overlook. And with Angela out of the picture…
“I’m sorry if I caused friction between you and Angela. I should’ve minded my own business.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s natural for anyone to say hello when they run into someone they know. Angela is simply the jealous type.” A huge release of air slipped from his chest. “Here’s the thing … Angela has always wanted more, but I never saw her as my permanent girl. When it comes right down to it, I never even loved her.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Over the last few months, Angela became more and more possessive and demanding. Her ever-growing suspicions had increased to the point she often accused me of seeing someone behind her back. Her constant phoning, texting and third-degrees were growing old, and her continued allegations were difficult to deal with whenever I returned home. Our breakup had been a long time coming. After the deli incident, I broke off our relationship and asked her to move out. As soon as she took a few things, I had a locksmith come over and change the locks.” He frowned. “I should’ve ended it long ago. You gave me the incentive.”
“Me, why me?”
He shrugged. “As long as mine and Angela’s arguments were behind closed doors, I tolerated it. But when she became vocal to you, I wanted to wash my hands of her.” He shook his head. “Like I said, I should’ve broken up with her long ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, noting his eyes were filled with sadness and pain.
“Don’t be. As crass as this sounds, she was only someone to keep me from being lonely. Our relationship had run its course.” He paused for a moment. “Perhaps it’s time for me to find a permanent girl and crank out some kids.” Then he heartedly laughed, but there was something glistening in his eyes when his gaze landed on me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Girlfriend
Slowing down the car, Angela pulled into her parking space next to Paul’s. His spot was empty. This worked perfectly. It would give her time to undress and lather herself with a vanilla oil Paul had admitted drove him crazy, and then wrap herself. Sex tonight was going to be off the charts. And once he was putty in her hand, he would be more than willing for her to move back in.
The elevator dinged her arrival on the second floor. Stepping off, she glided down the hallway to their door. The cling film would be in the kitchen. And since she only took a few of her toiletries and a minimum supply of clothing, everything she needed would be inside. Angela had the sense to know, if your man told you to leave, only take the necessities. Plan on coming back later, multiple times, in a slow attempt at removing your belongings. It gave you numerous opportunities to patch things up. Angela was an attractive woman and so she didn’t expect having to make more than one attempt. And to show Paul she
had heeded every word he said, she hadn’t phoned, emailed or texted him a single time this entire afternoon. For her, it was a monumental feat. But under the circumstances, she knew it was imperative to show him his lesson had been learned. And too, she knew he hadn’t been anywhere or done anything to cause her worry because she had checked the hidden camera every few minutes … all day long. Well, he hadn’t done anything of concern until that bimbo came in. She wasn’t worried about Paige though. Once Paul saw how changed she was, he’d want her back.
Reaching the door, she pulled out her key and inserted it into the lock. After a good twist of the knob, the door remained closed. She wrenched the hell out the key and still nothing. Thinking she had mistakenly inserted the incorrect one, she did a good examination of her set. Nope, she had the right one. She yanked it out and reinserted it to make sure she hadn’t stuck it in upside down or misaligned the teeth. Nothing.
Angela resorted to banging her fists against the wood, kicking furiously at the door and screaming at the top of her lungs. “What the hell!”
Paul, of course, was not within hearing distance and her theatrics went unnoticed. But what she realized was, Paul had changed the locks on her.
Sliding her perfectly rounded tush to the plush gray carpet along the hallway, she leaned her back against the door where she planned to wait and confront Paul about this ridiculous measure he had taken. Just when she looked her crumpled worst, the elevator dinged, and an elderly man exited with a white poodle in tow. Upon approach, he peered down at her and his blasted dog sniffed at her black-heeled pumps.
“You okay?” he asked, his already wrinkled features bunching together as he donned a concerned look.
“I accidentally left my key at work,” she lied. “Paul is on his way home. I’m simply awaiting his arrival. There is nothing you need to be concerned with.”
A Deadly Promotion Page 10
