A Killer's Agenda (4 page)

“How did I become so jaded, Maggie? I’ve lost my father, my

mother, my wife and now my sister and yet I can’t seem to make peace with the one member of my family that still matters.”

Her expression softened. She squeezed his hand, keeping it in hers for a brief moment.

“That’s the heart of the thing, Andrew. You need to convince Brad he matters.”

“If only it was that easy.”

“It
is
that easy. The words count for little, it’s how you say them. He’ll know you mean them when you really mean them.”

“Is that some kind of Irish proverb?” he asked derisively.

“The Irish are famous for their intuition,” she tossed, an angry flush staining her cheeks as she pulled her hand away. “You would do well to heed their advice.”

She flounced out, slamming the kitchen door with unnecessary force.

Andrew sat there, a plate of cookies and steadily cooling tea in front of him and stared into space.

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Anita Whiting

He’ll know you mean them when you really mean them.

He rubbed his suddenly tired eyes. The advice he would heed.

It was acting on that advice that was so very hard.

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A Killer's Agenda

“Alicia, the phone’s for you,” Alex called up the stairs.

“Coming,” her sister called from somewhere in the recesses of the hallway. “Who is it?”

Alex’s lips curved in amusement. It would appear her sister

was in one of her dramatic moods from the uncharacteristic drawl in her voice. Probably had something to do with the school play she was starring in.

“Brian Clayton.”

She grinned at the muffled shriek as her sister flew down the stairs.

“You’re not joking, are you? Because if you are…”

Alex put a finger to her lips, covering the receiver.

“It’s a shame he couldn’t see you right now, cream all over your face and in your scruffy robe. Maybe I should give him a

description…”

Her sister made a grab for the phone. “Don’t you dare!”

Shaking her head, Alex wandered into the kitchen. The trials and tribulations of a sixteen year old, she thought sympathetically.

Thank goodness she was ten years past that. She had no desire to live through those meteoric ups and dramatic downs of the age again. Once had been quite enough.

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Anita Whiting

She stirred the big pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove, lifting the lid so the luscious aroma filled the room.

“Wow does that smell great,” her brother said as he walked

through the back door. “Don’t tell me you finally learned how to cook?”

“Stick it, bro,” she said, reaching over to give him a playful shove. The muscled bicep that met her touch surprised her for a moment. Damn! The kid was growing up, big time.

“I’m starved! Coach says I need to eat lots of pasta. Keeps my stamina up.”

“Yeah, like that’s ever been a problem. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“Great, I’ll grab a shower.”

He dumped his books on the counter, stopping to give her a

quick kiss on the cheek. She glanced up at him and then realized that was exactly what she was doing. Glancing
up
at him.

“When did you get taller than me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Big accomplishment. What are you? All of four foot eleven.”

“Five foot exactly and don’t you forget it,” she said, waving the wooden spoon she was still holding at him.

He bowed, looking so much like her father that she had to

laugh.

“Yes, ma’am, don’t beat me, ma’am.”

“You’re full of it, you know that?”

“So mom keeps telling me. Seriously, sis, thanks for staying with us. Otherwise, it would have been Aunt Helen. And that’s a fate worse than death.”

“Get out of here.” She chuckled, waving the spoon again.

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A Killer's Agenda

She began setting the table, looking around the big, old

kitchen. She loved this house. Loved the wide covered porch that surrounded it, the tall ceilings and the warmth that emanated inside, not only from the comfortable furnishings but from the feeling of home she sensed each time she walked through the door.

The Leahy family was large and never still. They were always involved in something at some point every minute of every day. But it had taken her twin brothers graduating from college to convince her parents to finally take that trip they had always put off. She, Alicia and Alan had flown back, leaving them out west with a rented motor home and a map.

Her sister bounced into the room about ten minutes later,

interrupting her thoughts, her face glowing.

“You’re not going to believe this! Brian asked me,
me,
to homecoming.” She spun around the room, graceful even when she didn’t intend to be, and ended by wrapping both arms around her sister. “Isn’t that incredible.”

Alex smiled, returning the hug. “I gather this is a good thing?”

“A good thing! Brian Clayton is captain of the football team, head of student council and looks like Brad Pitt. He’s cute and really popular…and…

“Thinks his you know what doesn’t stink,” Alan said, sliding into a chair and reaching for a heap of steaming noodles.”

“You’re just jealous.”

Alan eyed his sister calmly. “Nope. I’ve just heard the rumors around school. You fall hard and fast, sis. He’ll end up hurting you.”

Alex put the salad in the middle of the round table, listening to the conversation with interest. Alicia was taller than Alex with vivid

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Anita Whiting

blue eyes and mountains of dark, curly hair. She was supremely confident in her acting ability and Alex had no doubt that if Hollywood was what she wanted, Hollywood would want her. It was only a matter of time.

“I can handle Brian, Alan.”

“Okay, it’s your funeral,” Alan said, shrugging his shoulders as he loaded the pasta he had piled on his plate with a huge ladle of sauce.

“What about you and Trish Jones?” she shot back. “I’ve seen

that puppy dog look in your eyes when you watch her cheering at your football games.”

He shook his head, his mouth full. “Don’t know what you’re

talking about.”

The doorbell ringing had all three of them looking at each other in surprise. No one went to the front door of the Leahy house. Alan rose to answer it, untangling his lanky length from under the table.

Alex began fixing her own plate, enjoying the family time she had been too busy to be part of lately.

“So how’s your love life?” Alicia asked, a dimple flickering as she eyed her sister.

“Non-existent.” Alex sighed. “Somehow I can’t find the time to fit a man into my busy life.”

Alicia spun a layer of noodles around her fork speculatively.

“Sis, with that hair and body it wouldn’t be because the men aren’t interested. What about Mike Stanford?”

Alex shook her head. “Man was too impressed with his looks.

Bored me within five minutes of our first and only date.”

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A Killer's Agenda

Alicia grinned. “I know. I didn’t like him either.” She chewed another mouthful of spaghetti thoughtfully. “You need a man with layers.”

“Layers?”

“Yeah. Someone who isn’t all out front. Those kinds of men

bore you. You need a man that will keep you guessing, off

balance.”

“Interesting theory, Dr. Ruth.”

Alicia’s eyes danced. “Happy to oblige. That’ll be fifty dollars.”

“No problem. Wait until you get the bill for the meal…”

“Alex, someone’s here to see you,” Alan called from the other room.

She removed her napkin and stood, frowning slightly. It never failed, always at meal time. She walked through the front room and into the foyer. The man standing in front of her brother towered over him. She didn’t recognize him and there was no doubt if she had met him before, she would have. Massive shoulders, square jaw, long suit clad legs and dark eyes that were looking just a little confused at the moment.

“Can I help you?”

Brad glanced at the girl standing behind the young man who

had greeted him. “I hope so. I’m looking for an Alex Leahy.”

“I’m Alex Leahy.”

His gaze flickered over her quickly, taking in the long auburn hair, creamy Irish complexion and brilliant green eyes. “That’s impossible.”

“I assure you, Mr…”

“Norton. Brad Norton.”

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Anita Whiting

“I assure you, Mr. Norton, I
am
Alex Leahy.” Her voice was cool and controlled as she crossed her arms. “What can I do for you?”

Brad took a longer look at the woman in front of him. Beneath the casual jeans and sweatshirt she wore, he saw what he hadn’t before. The jeans hugged a petite but definitely shapely form and the green eyes that met his gaze steadily were surrounded by thick lashes and high cheekbones.

He regrouped. “I’m sorry. There’s obviously been some mistake.

I was looking for the Alex Leahy who owns the detective agency in town. I was given this address by the answering service.”

He saw the woman give the younger man a pointed look and he

straightened, leaving them alone. She swung her gaze back to him.

“You haven’t made a mistake. Alex stands for Alexis. I own the agency in question.”

So much for Kevin’s recommendation, he thought impatiently.

He needed someone with at least as much experience as he had.

Not a just out of diapers novice.

“I assure you,
Mr. Norton,
I have been out of diapers for a very long time now. I prefer silk teddies as a matter of fact.”

Shocked, he could only stare at her for a moment. Had he said what he had been thinking out loud?

“Actually, you didn’t,” Alex said frankly, her smile totally confusing him. “Why don’t you join me in the kitchen and perhaps you can give me an idea of why you need a private investigator while I finish dinner.”

“Perhaps I should return at another time. I certainly didn’t intend to interrupt your dinner.”

She waved the apology aside with a careless toss of her hand.

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A Killer's Agenda

“Nothing around this house is formal, Mr. Norton. Guests at

dinner time are par for the course. I don’t normally mix business with home life, but my parents are on vacation so I’m temporary boss for a few weeks.”

He followed her into the kitchen, immediately feeling the sense of family that flowed throughout the room. He inhaled the rich smell of food permeating the air.

“Please sit down and have dinner with us if you haven’t already eaten. It’s nothing fancy.” She moved toward the stove, waving in the general direction of the table. “Meet Bradley Norton,” she said to Alicia and Alan.

“Have a seat,” Alan said, motioning toward the empty chair

across from him.

He started to shake his head and then thought better of it. His stomach was already reacting to the enticing aroma of the sauce sitting in the middle of the table.

“As long as you don’t mind.”

“Heck, the more the merrier,” Alan said, twirling a huge helping of spaghetti around his fork. “Kind of lonely around here without the whole crew anyway.”

“There are more of you?”

“Sure are,” the pretty girl at his side said, her blue eyes

scanning him from top to bottom thoroughly. “I’m Alicia and this is Alan. Aside from Alex here we have twin brothers who are away at the moment. Not to mention Mom and Dad.”

He started to push his chair back, becoming more

uncomfortable with interrupting what was obviously family time. “I really think this is a bad…”

“Eat,” Alex said firmly, putting a heaping plate in front of him.

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Anita Whiting

The battle of wills was apparent. Green eyes locked with his own for a split second and, after just a moment of hesitation, he found himself relaxing against the back of the chair and grabbing a fork. As Alex took her seat, he took his first mouthful. He couldn’t mask his sheer enjoyment of the spicy taste.

“I gather you like spaghetti?”

“When it tastes like this, absolutely.”

She was silent while he ate but that didn’t prevent her sister and brother from asking questions. It was only after he mentioned that he owned a security company that she put it all together, however. Bradley Norton, wealthy entrepreneur, son of Andrew Norton. Old money.
Lots
of old money.

“If you’re finished, Mr. Norton,” she said, standing and taking her plate to the sink, “why don’t we go into my father’s study and discuss why you’re here.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Alex caught his look and allowed a link with his thoughts

briefly and then wished she hadn’t. Pompous ass! She grabbed the dirty plates and moved to the sink, keeping her quick temper in check with difficulty. She ran some soapy water, allowing the simple task to soothe. Normally she avoided connecting with

people mentally, especially strangers, but it was extraordinarily easy to read this man’s thoughts. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the reason why.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Alicia said quietly, putting a hand on Brad’s arm.

He smiled. “Wrong about what?”

“Alex. She’s very good, Mr. Norton. Very, very good.”

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A Killer's Agenda

“I hope so, Alicia. Because I have a feeling I’m going to need very, very good.”

Alex switched the tap off and turned. “Ready?”

He nodded, rising.

“All right, why don’t you tell me the reason you’re seeking a private investigator?” Alex asked as she led the way to her father’s office. She perched gracefully on the corner of her father’s massive desk. She waved for him to take a seat in one of the two burgundy leather chairs in front.

Brad settled back, his expression grim. “I think my aunt was murdered by a serial killer,” he said bluntly.

“Why?” she asked, sympathy and interest warring with each

other.

“For a number of reasons.”

“Care to expand on that?”