Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (35 page)

Damn. Martinez had that little quirk, too. I found it sexy as hell on both of them. “Bud Linderman.”

“You’re joking.”

“No.” I detailed the visit from Linderman, my suspicions, and recapped my run-ins with him last summer in case Kevin didn’t remember. Kevin didn’t say much after I finished. In fact I sucked down the rest of my Marlboro in the silence.

“You would’ve taken the case without discussing it with me.” A statement, not question.

“Yes, but not to be contrary. Linderman is not the same ruthless man, Kev. Loss changed him. We both know what that’s like. He wasn’t bullshitting me when he said if his facility was negligent he’d have no 364

problem paying Amery compensation.”

“And you bought into that?”

“Not until he told me Vernon Sloane wasn’t some destitute old man, like Amery led us to believe, but worth five million dollars.”

Stunned silence. Then, “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Vernon Sloane was rich. Linderman said Prairie Gardens has a copy of Sloane’s will on file. Amery might not have power of attorney, but she is his sole heir.” I lit up. And I’ll be damned if Kevin didn’t grab my smokes and do the same.

We smoked in hellish stillness. Affected paus-es weren’t the norm with him, which was what made them so dramatic.

Kevin extinguished his cigarette and stared at his shoes for the longest time. “Ever been walking along, minding your own business, not paying attention to anything, and you trip on something? After falling flat on your face, you take a quick look around to see if anyone saw you?”

I didn’t answer; I didn’t move. I barely breathed.

“That’s what I feel like, Jules. I’m looking around to see if anyone saw me fall and make a fool of myself.”

When he raised his gaze to mine, his eyes were that unusual shade of stormy green, a mix of fury, humiliation, and self-reproach. “Amery played me, didn’t she? Big-time.”

I still had no response, no “there, there, sweetie”

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comforting words. I wished I did. God did I ever wish I had something profound or sweet or encouraging to erase that brooding look.

“How many clients have I slept with in the five years I’ve owned this agency? None. What was it about
her
? Why did
she
end up in my bed hours after we met?”

Rhetorical question, Julie.

“Her youth? Her vulnerability? Her looks? Her bodacious ta-tas? After we left the bar that first night, she couldn’t keep her hands off me. Why? I’m not some muscle-bound twentysomething gym rat. I’m not that goddamn smooth. Not particularly funny.

But damn if she didn’t make me feel like all that and a bag of chips.

“I liked that she let me coddle her. Yet, I liked that she had a strong sense of self. I really liked that she appreciated those same traits in me. Or so I thought.”

“Is this what you were thinking about in Pierre?”

“Yeah. Mostly why something started to feel . . .

off. Why she blew me off.”

“When?”

“Right away, the day after you found her grandfather. She turned into this nasty snappish bitch, all directed at me. Like I somehow let her down by not saving her grandfather.” He laughed bitterly. “At least that’s what I thought at the time. She apologized, blamed her reaction on stress, and threw me a bone—

literally.”

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I lit another cigarette.

“Remember the night we went to Dusty’s and I said I needed a break from her? That was a lie. She told me she needed time alone.”

“Oh.” My stomach churned with guilt. I hated he’d been hurt and I hated his male pride made him feel he had to deal with it on his own.

“So, I’ve had to ask myself: what was it about me that Amery saw as weak and malleable?”

“Kevin—”

“Sex aside, why didn’t I see her neediness as manipulation? I would have with any other woman.”

“Enough with the self-recrimination. Stick with the facts.”

“Which are?”

“You tell me.”

He squirmed. “I don’t have it all figured out yet.”

“Wrong. I’m betting you do. I’m betting you’re still dissecting this from every angle so you don’t feel like a chump before you knew about the inheritance.

Or you’re trying to formulate a reasonable excuse as to why Amery acted so cold and calculating. You see the best in people, Kev. I don’t. Voicing your honest frustrations won’t change how
I
see you.”

A flare resembling gratitude briefly shone in his eyes. “Fine. Near as I can figure, Amery hired us as a cover. We proved her worries about Prairie Gardens were founded. Someone on the inside was taking financial advantage of her grandfather and the place 367

had extremely lax security. She could’ve used both those documented problems to take it to court to file for power of attorney. Initially, I thought that’s all she wanted.”

“But now?”

“Now that I know about the pile of money? I think she was out to get rid of Vernon all along so she could get her grubby hands on the inheritance. And wasn’t it handy she was cozied up with me during the storm, ensuring the perfect alibi?”

“Playing devil’s advocate here, but Amery didn’t cause the blizzard.”

“No, but she used it to her advantage. She left here right after you told her how upset Vernon was, remember? Probably saw it as her chance to confuse him further.”

“I’d forgotten that. What time did she show up at your place?”

“Damn near six hours later. Was it a coincidence she ‘forgot’ her cell phone at the office when she was snowed in with me? And no one could get in touch with her?”

I blew a smoke ring. “Do you think she actually led him out to freeze to death?”

“Yes. With him dead, not only does she inherit, she has a strong lawsuit against the negligent facility.

It’s twice the windfall. And I handed it to her on a silver fucking platter.”

God, this was ugly.

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“Say something,” Kev demanded.

“So she manipulated you. It happens. People have killed for way less than five million dollars.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“No. But, believe it or not, Amery’s not the only one with a motive.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Luella Spotted Tail.”

“What the fuck? Why would you think Luella had anything to gain, especially since Linderman told you who Sloane’s sole beneficiary was? Amery.”

“Now, see? This is where I learned my critical thinking skills—from you questioning everything I question. Amery told us after her mother died that none of the financial or legal responsibilities passed on to her. I’m betting the will Prairie Gardens has on file is the original will Sloane submitted when he first went into care three years ago.

“Because Linderman kept saying ‘sole surviving heir,’ which could mean the will hadn’t been changed after Vernon’s daughter Susan’s death, leaving Amery as the only one left to inherit.”

“What’re you saying?”

“Just that Luella took Vernon on unsanctioned outings. What if she had convinced him to leave all or part of his estate to Prime Time Friends? Logically, one of the places she’d take him to would be a lawyer’s office. But what if she’d known what kind of stink it’d raise if it got out Sloane had another will? Amery 369

would be pissed and could use the instance of ‘undue influence’ to argue for guardianship.”

“Effectively ending any control Luella had over Vernon,” Kevin said.

“Bingo. So Luella kept it quiet and continued to care for him like nothing had changed.” Something else popped up in my thoughts. “Did Amery talk to Luella at all at the funeral?”

“No. I thought it odd at the time. It was almost as if they were purposely avoiding one another.”

Our eyes met in perfect understanding.

“Crap. They might’ve been in on it together.

Amery offers Luella a big chunk of the inheritance if she helps get rid of him?”

“Or Luella approaches Amery and offers her a deal. Instead of the 250K or whatever she’s getting for her percentage bequeathed to Prime Time Friends, she suggests Amery forks over a larger amount to keep the old will in play as the only official one.”

Even as I said it, the thought made me nauseous.

Luella didn’t seem manipulative. She genuinely seemed to care for Vernon Sloane. Then again, Kev and I had both bought into Amery’s concerned granddaughter routine, too.

Kevin cocked his head. “This is far-fetched.”

“Absolutely.”

“Probably we’re making it too complicated.”

“Maybe. There’s one simple way to find out.”

“How?”

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“You pump Amery for information and I’ll tackle Luella.”

That slimy porn star smile I detested slipped into place on Kevin’s face. “We’re talking literally, here?

Right?”

“Whatever it takes.” I pawed through my purse for the scrap of paper with Reva’s phone number on it and dialed.

371

After the Vernon Sloane fiasco, security had tightened considerably at Prairie Gardens. I donned my winter hat/smart girl glasses/wool trench coat disguise and waited in the receptionist’s area for Reva to escort me to her apartment.

Reva rolled up, wearing a jumpsuit reminiscent of fish scales: skintight, iridescent, with weird bumps in odd places. She’d clipped a matching bow in her thinning, dyed hair.

I squeezed her frail frame, getting a whiff of butterscotch candy and Emeraude.

“Sweetheart, it’s so good to see you again,” Reva said loudly. “Come on back. I made your favorite tea.”

I couldn’t see the TAR’s response, but their burning curiosity melted the yarn on my hat as we disappeared down the hallway.

372

“Did they recognize me?”

“Honey, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“That bad, eh?”

“Sydney Bristow always looked better in disguise, not worse.”

We didn’t speak again until we were in her tiny dining area. “So, what’s been going on around here?”

Reva set out the floral teapot, matching cups, and a tin of Walkers shortbread cookies. “Nothing. Feels like we’re in lockdown. No roaming the halls.”

“Bet that puts a crimp in your spying activities.”

“Smarty.” She poured two cups of gingerbready smelling tea. “The one good thing to come out of this tragedy is Security is back to the twice daily checks.”

“That’s encouraging.” I sipped the warm liquid and tried not to make a disgusted face. Yuck. This shit always smelled way better than it tasted.

“I know you’d prefer coffee, but I can’t stomach it anymore, so you’re stuck with Celestial Seasonings.”

Reva doled us each three cookies. “You didn’t come here to talk to me after you found Vernon Sloane. Was it horrible?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry. What an awful way to die. Are the rumors true, then?”

“What rumors?”

“His mysterious granddaughter is planning to sue this place?”

I nodded again.

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“I’m confused. You said you needed to talk to Luella. What does Luella have to do with this mess?”

“I don’t know, Reva. That’s why I have to ask her a few questions.”

“She hasn’t been around here much. I had to lay on the loneliness factor super thick or else she wouldn’t be coming to see me today.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Humor me while we’re waiting.” She bit into a cookie and crumbs dusted her chest. “Tell me something exciting that’s happened in your PI life recently.”

“Hmm. You mean like when I was stuck doing surveillance during the middle of the night on a meth-head woman after a drug buy? And I took her down at gunpoint and returned her to my client trussed up like a Christmas goose?”

Reva’s big eyes blinked rapidly behind her lenses, making her appear even more fishlike. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it fun?”

“Sitting in the cold wasn’t fun.” Wasn’t fun hiding information from my lover either. “Once I knew the suspect wasn’t armed, tackling her to the carpet was pretty fun.” Right then, I remembered I hadn’t read Nyla’s notebook. Hell, I’d forgotten I even had it.

Also right then, an ache spread when I thought of Martinez. I missed him. We’d been playing phone tag, and I suspected Big Mike was doing his level best 374

to keep us apart.

Enough. I smiled at Reva. “Excuse me for a second.”

“Sure, honey.”

I rounded the corner to the bathroom and shut the door. Powdery blue paint coated the walls. A wallpaper border comprised of wispy clouds circled the ceiling. Even though the space seemed fussy, it was surprisingly soothing. I flipped the fan on and flopped on the matching sky blue fluffy rug on the floor. I dialed Martinez’s main cell number. It kicked over to voice mail. I tried his private number. No answer. On a whim I dug out the prepaid phone Big Mike gave me and dialed the number in the directory.

Big Mike answered, “What’s up?”

“I want to talk to him.”

“He’s busy. And you know you ain’t supposed to be calling me on this phone unless it pertains to—”

“—it pertains to the fact I haven’t seen him in two days.”

“Julie, he’s been busy trying to catch up.”

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it. Where is he right now?”

“Physical therapy.”

“How much longer?”

“Twenty minutes, but he’s exhausted when it’s done and he usually rests.”

Made my gut clench to think of him in pain.

“Look. I’ll tell him you called.”

“When do you think I might expect a call back?”

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“I don’t know. Later tonight probably.”

“Fuck that. I want to talk to him right fucking now. You don’t get to decide—”

“Actually, as head of his security team I
do
get to decide and if you push the issue—”

I hung up. I’d made a huge mistake in keeping the situation with Nyla from Tony. Just to be spite-ful, I programmed Martinez’s private number into Big Mike’s secret phone. Oops, what would happen if I got confused and
accidentally
used the wrong phone? The gig would definitely be up, since Martinez’s private number was so private only ten people had it. Hah.