Green-Eyed Envy (31 page)

Interesting. The way Vic had told the story, Penn had beaten the snot out of the other man but walked away unscathed. I started to ask another question, but she shook her head with a rueful twist to her lips.

“Victor
did
warn us both that Penn would flip when he found out we reconnected so soon after the breakup.”

My mouth snapped shut, and Scott shifted on the chair next to me. I didn’t have to look to know he looked eager where I now felt sick to my stomach. What were the odds she was talking about a
different
Victor than the one so inextricably linked to this case? The man who had some strange power over me and I couldn’t seem to stay away from even though that would be the
smart
thing to do?

Scott spoke up when words continued to fail me. “Victor?”

“Yes, the friend whose birthday party I have to thank for giving me my husband back.” Her eyes went a little starry. “Victor Esteban.”

My pulse went skittering madly—and not in a good way. Luckily Scott picked up my slack again. “Are you and your husband close friends with Mr. Esteban?”

“Richard is, but I’m actually closer to his girlfriend, Meredith.”

He—wait. Victor had a
girlfriend
and was hitting on me? I mean
Sierra
. Rage tickled the back of my throat, which was absolutely ridiculous. The relationship with Victor—if it could even be called that—wasn’t even
real
. What did it matter if he was a cheating bastard?

“Well, his girlfriend at the time. Richard’s sister, Meredith. They later broke up.”

The sense of relief flooding over me made no sense, and yet I couldn’t deny it. Gods save me from my own insanity because it seemed I sure as hell couldn’t.

Scott’s voice was deceptively casual when he asked his next question. “How is it that the four of you became such good friends?”

Jillian smiled brightly. “Well, once upon a time, Richard and Victor were in business together. They’re both doctors. I moonlighted as their business manager, and Meredith served as their pharmaceutical rep.”

That
had me breaking free of my temporary fugue. “Pharmaceutical rep?”

“Yes, Richard and Victor developed a new drug for treating diabetes that seemed promising and was quite lucrative for a time. Tests eventually showed it wasn’t quite as effective as believed, and we all drifted our own ways careerwise once sales dried up. Though I understand Victor is making tremendous strides in the industry again.”

My heart sank a little because intuition told me what was coming.

“He landed an amazing deal with Meritton Enterprises a year or so ago.”

Scott’s eyes glued on to mine when I raised my gaze. “Another diabetes drug?”

She waved her hand. “Oh no, he’s moved on to a much more exciting area of research these days. Hybrid drugs.”

Oh boy. No doubt we’d discovered the identity of Meritton’s mysterious
supplier
, exactly what he’d intended when he “suggested” we dig into Penn’s romantic past. Meritton had also indicated fear kept him from being more forthright with information but fear of what? Victor didn’t strike me as the sort of person to become violent at the drop of a hat. Did Meritton merely fear Victor would shop his new miracle drugs elsewhere, or did he have good cause to fear physical retaliation? Or—the possibility I liked least but
had
to entertain—did Meritton actually believe
Victor
had something to do with the murders?

More importantly, did I?

That was now the $64,000 question.

Well, I’d have to let it stew and reexamine it later. Jillian’s body language suggested she thought we’d taken up enough of her time, and really, she was right. I could think of no other burning questions to ask, so after I gave her my card and thanked her for her time, Scott and I made our exit. We got halfway to the car before he opened the conversation I’d been dreading.

“Looks like Vic the Slick is our new Suspect Numero Uno, then.”

I forced back a sarcastic retort that Scott only
wanted
the killer to be Victor because he was so blinded by the green-eyed monster. At this point, considering how the bastard tried to force me into his car the last time I’d seen him, I wouldn’t be too torn up to discover that Vic the Slick
was
the killer.

“I don’t know that we can call him the
number one
suspect based on what little we have, but it’s definitely a possibility we have to check into.” He looked surprised that I didn’t argue his point outright. Not that I was stupid enough to tell him exactly why.

Scott tilted his head as we reached the car and he keyed us in. “So where to now?”

I’d been chewing on that very thought during the first half of our walk to the car. “Where else? To track down a certain pharmaceutical rep and see what she has to say about
his
romantic past, just as Meritton suggested.”

Scott’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean Meritton really wanted us to look into
Vic’s
romantic past, not Penn’s?” When I nodded, his gaze turned admiring. “That’s my girl.”

Oh yeah, I most certainly was.

SPEAKING OF GIRLS, I TOOK A FEW MINUTES to pop by the safe house and check on my family. Most particularly, she of the newly Fledged variety. Cori didn’t seem too surprised to see me peek into the bedroom she was now sharing with one of Serise’s sisters—the better to avoid her sneaking out again, my dear.

“You found the killer yet?”

I hated to burst the hopeful bubble in her voice. “Not yet, but we’ve had a great day of running down leads. We’re on our way to run down another, but . . . I had to check in to see how you’re doing.” I shut the door snugly behind me. “No unusual bouts of Rage, I hope?”

“Nah, even though Mom and Dad grounded me for a week.” She gave an eye roll. “Like I’m not already grounded until you and Grandma get all this shit sorted out.”

I gave her a look her mother might have thrown. “Language.”

“Aw, c’mon, Aunt Riss. Don’t go all
Mom
on me now.”

My no-nonsense expression inspired an uneasy flush in her cheeks. “Cori, I know I’ve always been the ‘fun’ aunt over the years—because, hey, that’s what an aunt gets to do. But one thing you need to understand right now: As your senior Fury, that’s pretty much what I am to you now. What we all are: extensions of your mother. And if I’m allowed to take you on as my apprentice, I’ll be the most mothery type of Fury of all: your mentor.”

“But, Riss, I thought—”

“The first thing you’ll learn as an apprentice is not to think. At least, not when it comes to questioning your mentor. Not starting out. Maybe in a couple of years, once you’ve learned a thing or twenty.”

“A couple
years
? ”

I grinned. “Well, okay, so maybe you’ll learn twenty things before two years go by. But I
do
want you to understand that things are going to change between us now. And you won’t think all of them change for the better. But my job as a Fury is to teach you the skills you need to survive in your new life. No matter how
Mom
-like you think I am.”

Her usual humor reasserted itself. “ Buzzkill.” We shared a laugh, and then she let out a sigh. “So, does Grandma know yet?”

I shook my head. “No, I thought we should tell her together. The same way we’ll tell your parents.”

She jumped up and gave me a tight hug. “I was hoping you’d say that. No
way
I want to tell Mom on my own.”

I returned the hug, then pushed slightly away. “So, shall we call Grandma and give her the news before Scott and I have to head back out? Your parents can wait until I track down the killer so we have something good to outweigh what they’ll see as the bad.”

She nodded and we settled in to make the
easy
confession.

 

 

MEREDITH MATTHEWS DIDN’T PROVE TO BE
nearly
as easy to track down as her sister-in-law, though that didn’t come as a huge shock. Medical representatives as a whole tended to be a very mobile breed, and she was no exception. Mac was kind enough to pull some of his electronic strings and gave us the name of the company currently employing her. Once we visited their downtown headquarters—and I flashed my badge—they gave us the addresses of the three doctors’ offices she still had to visit and tried to reach her via cell to ask her to wait at her current location for us to arrive. Naturally, they couldn’t get her to answer.

Equally unsurprisingly, we missed her at the first two locations and had to speed to Locale Number 3 to avoid missing her again. We finally had a spot of luck—she’d received her company’s voice mails and waited for us in the now-deserted parking lot.
Sheesh, it’s not even five o’clock yet.
Oh, to keep a family practitioner’s business hours!

Meredith looked much more the expected type to hook up with a Banoub: gorgeous face, slim build, and legs that just wouldn’t quit. She showed those off to good effect by climbing out of her sporty sedan and clacking toward us in three-inch heels. Not exactly practical footwear for an onthe-go pharmaceutical rep, but who was I—the woman who often wore tight red leather to kick ass in—to judge?

She held her hand out and wasted little time with pleasantries. “Chief Holloway, Mr. Murphy. My company indicated you needed to ask some questions. I’m afraid that I’m pressed for time right now, so please, ask away.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be put off by her abruptness or relieved she didn’t go into Fangirl Overdrive the way Jillian’s secretary had. “Ms. Matthews, thank you for accommodating us on such short notice. As you may have guessed, we’re investigating the homicides of several male Bastai. One name has come up in several interviews—no, not yours—and we’d like to ask you some questions about that man.”

Her brusque demeanor crumbled and a pale, stricken expression gripped her features. For a moment, I feared she was about to faint, but she stiffened her posture and gave a determined nod. “Victor.”

Scott and I exchanged shocked looks, which did not escape her notice.

“If someone’s name has come up regarding the murder of Cats and you think I can shed light on that person, it
has
to be Victor. Especially considering . . . ”

She let her voice trail off, and I leaned forward, potential envy of her relationship with Victor replaced by sharpening investigative instincts. “Considering what?”

“Why, considering what he did to Sylvia, of course.” When Scott and I shared another glance, she grew even paler. “You mean, everyone still thinks that was an accident?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about this Sylvia, Ms. Matthews, but please. If it might be at
all
relevant, please tell us.” Although something about the name
Sylvia
was starting to ring a bell.

Her breath shuddered out in one long gasp. A dozen emotions danced across her face, the foremost of which was fear. Then that, too, disappeared, only to be replaced by sheer determination. “I’ve spent the past few months in hell, terrified he would come back and do to me what he did to her. I’m the only one
alive
who knows just how insane he’s become. The only one who suspects the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That Sylvia Rodriguez did not die of an accidental drug overdose. She was murdered by her lover—Victor Esteban.”

 

 

BLOOD BEGAN POUNDING SO FORCEFULLY IN my ears I had a hard time hearing her last few words. Could one man so easily fool me? Not that I considered myself infallible—Fury bravado aside—but Vic inspired feelings inside me that only one other man had. If I had misjudged
him
so drastically, did that mean I was wrong about Scott as well? Ugly self-doubt wormed its way inside my soul, and
gods
, did it hurt.

Scott suffered no such qualms, of course. “What makes you so sure it wasn’t an accident, and why do you think Victor was responsible?”

Meredith brushed shaky hands through immaculate brown hair. “When’s the last time you heard of a
Cat
dying from an
accidental
overdose?”

Okay, she certainly had a point there. I’d never heard of that before, and if anyone in the city would have, it’d be me. Come to think of it, I vaguely remembered the Rodriguez case. Right around the time Vanessa’s supposed body washed up in Boston Harbor—which explained why I only barely remembered it. My energy and emotions had been focused on finally finding those responsible for her abduction, and besides, the ME had ruled Sylvia’s death accidental. She’d been a Cat in her late twenties found dead in her apartment with a crapload of illicit drugs in her system, her death due to an obvious overdose. Wait. Now I remembered why the name
Sylvia
seemed familiar. Vic had mentioned during lunch at Rigazzi’s that he’d lost someone precious to him and he would have given “
anything
to have Sylvia back.” A statement that seemed beyond morbid knowing what I knew now.

“As for why I think Victor was responsible . . . you know about his research into magically altered drugs?” At our nods, she took a deep breath. “When he first started that line of research, his intentions were pure. He truly wanted to find ways to help people by melding magical plants and energies with plants from the mortal realm, creating new drugs that could benefit all races. However, when it came time to test his results on human and arcane subjects, he hit a snag. Nobody wanted to be the guinea pig for an unknown medical researcher until he made more of a name for himself. Especially since he was arcane and not mortal. But Victor being Victor, he refused to give up. Instead, he started testing the hybrid drugs on himself.”

I blinked. “That seems extreme. And dangerous.”

“It was both. At first he developed—and tested—mostly benign drugs that seemed to have little effect on him. Of course, he didn’t suffer from the ailments he was developing drugs to treat so all he could say for certain was that the drugs weren’t toxic to arcanes. That, however, along with the reputation he slowly built, allowed him to find a larger pool of test subjects.”