Challenging Matt

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Connor snorted. “When I told you that, you’d just spent three days with a female shark from the worst rag in the business—pillow talk makes for a fool’s interview. Just talk to the McGraw woman and find out what she wants.”

Matt didn’t try to defend himself. He’d met the female “shark” when he was twenty and terminally stupid. He wasn’t sure if age bred wisdom, but it certainly taught caution, particularly when it came to women and the paparazzi. Not that he’d cared about racy pictures or being seen as a player back then; his concern had been keeping his grandfather from cutting off his monthly trust-fund checks.

“Maybe you should contact Layne,” Matt suggested.

“Bad idea. She’ll think you’re trying to intimidate her. But I’ll go meet the aunt. She hasn’t seen me before, so she won’t recognize the connection to the Eisley family.”

“What good will meeting her do?”

Connor’s gaze dropped to his bourbon as he shrugged. “You never know.”

“Whatever. I’ll go see Ms. McGraw.”

“Fine. But a word of advice.” The security chief swung his feet down to the thick carpet and got up. “Try not to lose your temper with the woman.”

“Wow, thanks. I’m glad I have you around—I would never have thought of that.”

“Sarcasm is wasted on a hardheaded Irishman,” Connor said at the door. “Use irony the next time.”

* * *

ON SATURDAY MORNING Layne dug a stubborn weed from her garden and tossed it onto the patio. Lately she’d had little time to dig for anything except answers about her uncle, and in the lush Pacific Northwest, ignoring your yard was a mistake. With the rain they received throughout the summer, blackberry brambles and other unwanted plants could invade in an instant.

Nevertheless, she loved having her own place.

Weeds and all.

Usually she could clear her mind while gardening, yet this morning everything kept going through her head. She’d shown Aunt Dee the brief list Uncle Will had written, but beyond identifying her husband’s handwriting, Dee didn’t have any insights about it. Dee was relieved to have some confirmation of her husband’s innocence, but there were still too many unanswered questions for either one of them to relax.

Layne flung another weed over her shoulder and heard a sharp exclamation. Whirling around, she gaped. Matt Hollister was standing on her patio, brushing bits of dirt from his fine suit. Her stomach did a cartwheel.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were there,” she said.

“I rang the doorbell and nobody answered, but your car was outside, so I came around. That classic Mustang in the driveway belongs to you, right? You should keep it in the garage for safety. Cars like that can be a target.”

Layne tensed. “I left it out because I’m going to Carrollton later.” And what business is it of yours, anyway? Planning some vandalism? she wanted to add, except it would sound rude and challenging. The McGraws and Hudsons probably weren’t his favorite people at the moment, and it wouldn’t be good to antagonize him further...at least not until she got the information she needed.

“I understand. I wanted to talk to you.” Matt held up the latest edition of the Babbitt and Layne winced. So much for not antagonizing him.

She stepped off the low retaining wall to the patio below. “I didn’t have anything to do with that article. Not directly, at least. Noah Wilkie, the Babbitt’s social reporter, overheard part of what my aunt was saying at the gala, so he may have mentioned it to one of the other reporters.”

“I see.”

“But I’d still like to apologize...and also about my aunt getting so upset. It wasn’t like her, but she’s been through a lot. And she...” Layne’s voice trailed. She was in danger of starting to babble, and she reminded herself of her plan to treat Matt Hollister as a fact to be researched, instead of a sexy guy who turned her brain into a mass of overreacting neurons. Problem was, she tended to babble at the oddest times, anyhow.

“Mrs. Hudson seems like a nice lady.”

Layne nodded. “She is. By the way, I appreciated your coming to my uncle’s funeral.”

* * *

MATT RECOGNIZED THE sorrow still shadowing Layne’s eyes and sighed. It would be a lot easier to deal with the situation if he could simply see her as a troublemaker, not as a grieving niece.

She wasn’t his type, but something about her intrigued him. Her small breasts had tightened in the cool, morning air and their firm imprint under her T-shirt was playing havoc with his pulse. What’s more, she didn’t seem to be putting on a feminine act of any kind. She certainly hadn’t primped or been flustered about her casual appearance.

Matt pushed the thought away. Over the years he’d learned to quickly size up women, and Layne was the sort he avoided—unsophisticated, family oriented and likely to develop expectations about the future.

“If you think William Hudson was innocent, who do you think stole the money?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but his death seems awfully convenient. He died before he could even start to defend himself or present his side of things. And his so-called suicide note didn’t have a single personal message to his wife. It just said ‘I can’t face what’s coming, I’m sorry,’ and that’s all. Uncle Will was honorable and decent. It’s hard to imagine him living entirely one way and then suddenly doing something so totally out-of-character.”

“Actually, some people do.” The words came out more stiffly than Matt had intended, perhaps because he was doing something out-of-character and was having to fight an uphill battle in the court of public opinion. Nobody wanted to believe that Matthew Hollister could go from wild partygoer to serious director of a philanthropic foundation. Because of it, most people preferred to criticize, rather than rolling their sleeves up and working with him.

But he was serious.

Dead serious.

“Look, do you have any reason to think your uncle was innocent?” he asked. “The police and D.A. are convinced he was guilty.”

A hint of anger flared in Layne’s eyes, then she drew a deep breath. “My aunt asked me to look into the charges against Uncle Will and I’ve been searching, but it’s hard to get anywhere without knowing how or when the thefts occurred. All I’ve been able to piece together is that it has something to do with wire transfers and they probably happened at night. I wanted to talk to Mr. Davidson about it, only he wasn’t available, so I got the meeting with you instead. Then a few days ago I discovered something that shows Uncle Will didn’t kill himself. It won’t convince the police, but it’s enough for me.”

Matt frowned. “What is it?”

“Aunt Dee was told he died of a massive drug overdose. They found a note and declared it a suicide, even though the letter was typed and unsigned.”

“That’s hardly proof.”

“No, but I’ve done research on suicide. Apparently a note isn’t that common, and when there is one, it’s usually handwritten. On top of which—” she paused “—it was found on the printer in Uncle Will’s home office, but that printer doesn’t work with his computer.”

“The ink cartridge probably just dried out.”

Layne shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. After his personal belongings were delivered from the company, Aunt Dee locked the office. She never goes in there. The other day I tried to print something on my uncle’s computer and discovered the correct print driver wasn’t loaded to the system. So why would the note be in the print tray?”

Matt got a cold chill through his stomach. What Layne was saying wasn’t conclusive, but it was enough to raise doubts.

“Have you told the police?”

“I spoke to Detective Rivera at the Carrollton Police Department earlier this week. The only thing he’d confirm is that the note was found on the printer, but he said that Uncle Will could have brought it from the office and put it there to be sure it was seen quickly.”

“It’s possible,” Matt admitted.

“Anything is possible, but it mostly sounds like he’s trying to explain things away so it doesn’t look as if the police didn’t investigate properly. It’s ironic. He claims I’m biased, but they seem far more biased than me. The detective dismissed the printer issue before I even finished explaining. He says I just want the finding of suicide reversed so Aunt Dee can get Uncle Will’s life insurance money.”

When Matt raised an inquiring eyebrow, she sighed.

“Life insurance policies have suicide clauses. Aunt Dee didn’t get a penny and she’s about to lose her house. But as much as I want to help her, I wouldn’t do anything unethical.”

“What about income from Hudson & Davidson?”

“Your stepfather claims they’re operating at a loss because of the scandal, so there isn’t any income.”

“Oh,” Matt said uncomfortably.

While the company had taken a hit, they’d fully rebounded even before he’d left to run the Eisley Foundation. And even if Peter was directing all profits to himself to repay the personal funds he’d used to restore client accounts, it wasn’t the same as operating at a loss. He hadn’t legally “loaned” the money to the company, so it shouldn’t be claimable as a line item expense.

Surely Layne had misunderstood.

“Aunt Dee won’t accept anything from the family,” Layne added, frustrated. “The only thing I can do is try to learn what really happened. It isn’t just the insurance—clearing Uncle Will’s name is awfully important to her. And with what I’ve found so far, I think I can do it.”

Matt had an odd feeling Layne wasn’t telling him everything. Not that he blamed her. She’d found something that suggested her uncle had been murdered, and he was connected to one of the people she probably suspected. Hell, maybe she even thought he’d try to protect Peter at all costs.

It was a sobering thought.

He wanted to keep Pete’s reputation from being ripped apart for no reason, but he wouldn’t protect him from embezzlement and murder charges. Besides, why would his stepfather embezzle? Peter had inherited money from a distant relative before going into business with William Hudson, parlaying it into a sizable personal fortune by investing in the right places. He didn’t need to steal from anybody.

His stepfather was a good guy, and he’d given Matt a job at Hudson & Davidson when no one else would consider hiring him. But what if in his haste to save the company, Pete had jumped to conclusions?

And equally as bad, what if Matt had jumped to conclusions himself, wanting to tie things up quickly so he could start his work with the foundation? If William Hudson was innocent, it meant a thief and murderer was still out there.

“Where do you plan to go from here?” he asked.

“I’m going to check everything. Every movement, every piece of paper related to the business, public or private. Backgrounds on employees are a possibility...anything I can put my hands on. If Uncle Will didn’t steal from the company, he was framed for someone else’s crime.”

“Okay,” Matt said slowly. “I’m not sure how much I agree with you, but I’m willing to meet you halfway. I’ll help.”

Layne blinked, appearing astonished. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll help.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult, but why?”

“I didn’t have much contact with your uncle when I worked at Hudson & Davidson, but I liked him. It was a shock when everything came out about the thefts. I don’t like to think we missed something when the police were investigating.”

“That was their job, not yours.”

“Nevertheless, I’m serious about getting involved.”

“Then you’ll tell me more about the case?” Layne asked eagerly.

The memory of his stepfather asking what he’d told Dorothy Hudson and her niece flashed through Matt’s head. Giving Layne information could make things sticky with Peter, but it was one of those “damned if you do and damned if you don’t” situations. Besides, the mess obviously wasn’t going away. And even if it caused problems between him and Peter, Layne and her aunt were entitled to the truth.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you what I know,” he said. “It isn’t that much, but it might be useful.”

Layne’s smile flashed and Matt was startled by its brilliance. “Thanks. Oh...by the way, did you have anything to do with how my uncle’s belongings were sent over from Hudson & Davidson?”

“I’m not sure who took care of that. Any special reason?”

“Just curious. We can talk out here.” Layne gestured to the patio table. “I’ll get something to make notes.”

As she disappeared into her house, Matt once again got the feeling she was holding something back. But she had a truckload of reasons to be careful, and he’d gotten her to agree—more or less—to let him be involved in her search for answers.

Strangely, hanging around Layne didn’t sound as tedious as it ought to, especially with the lingering memory of her bright smile. But that was just because he sympathized with her and her aunt. They were grieving for William Hudson, at the same time trying to find answers about his death. It couldn’t be easy.

CHAPTER SIX

LAYNE QUICKLY GRABBED a notebook and pen from her office upstairs, afraid Matt would change his mind. She didn’t know what to make of his offer to assist with the investigation, but he was also willing to provide information, and that was exactly what she needed. Yet even as the thought formed, she froze on the staircase and frowned.