скачать книгу бесплатно
With iron control, Jack bit back the words that threatened to shoot out of his mouth. His chest expanded slowly as he drew icy air into his lungs. He’d long ago given up trying to defend his actions to his father.
Besides, he had another blow to deliver, and there was no way to soften it. His father and Thomas Ingram had been friends.
Jack kept his tone even as he spoke. “R.H., I have something to tell you that may come as a shock.” He drew another breath, then broke the news. “Tom Ingram is dead.”
“Dead? Don’t tell me he wrecked the car as soon as he got it.”
Jack arrived at the pickup, and unlocked the door with a click of the remote. “No, it wasn’t an accident. He was killed. Murdered, right in his office.”
Silence on the line. Jack opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. A trace of warmth still lingered in the cab from his ninety-minute drive after the auction. He pictured his father, seated in his high-backed chair, digesting the news. He and Ingram were among a small group of wealthy businessmen who’d been in the habit of getting together for a monthly poker game for the past several years. Ingram’s death would be a blow to them all.
“That’s…terrible. Just terrible. Where did you hear about it? Is it on the radio?”
“No, I don’t think the press has gotten wind of the news yet. After his secretary bought the car, she couldn’t find a transport company to deliver it tonight. They were all booked solid for several days. Since I had taken an empty trailer with me anyway, I offered to bring the Corvette back to Lexington for her. We found the body when we got here.”
“Wait a minute. First you let someone else buy my car, and then you delivered it for her?”
Jack stiffened at the outrage in his father’s voice. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I just told you that your friend has been killed—murdered—and I found the body. And all you can think about is a car?”
“I said it was terrible. What more do you want me to say?” Jack heard a quick intake of breath. “What’s going to happen to the car now? Ingram certainly doesn’t need it anymore.”
He shook his head, unable to answer for a moment. Obviously he’d been wrong to describe Ingram as his father’s friend. R.H. had no friends. He had social acquaintances, business associates and employees, but certainly no one in whom he would confide as a friend. Jack had heard the lecture many times growing up—confidences were an act of weakness. Why would you tell someone your thoughts and give them a weapon that might be used against you later? Being too open with people was one of the many things for which R. H. Townsend faulted his son.
Still, a man had been murdered. Jack had known his father rarely wasted time on sentimentality, but to express an interest in the Corvette this soon? It was downright callous.
If that’s what being a successful businessman leads to, Lord, then save me from success.
There was no use trying to convince his father that the question was inappropriate. The man was a brusque, uncaring businessman through and through, and he wasn’t likely to change his attitude anytime soon.
Jack finally managed an even response. “I overheard his secretary tell the police that Ingram has two daughters. The car probably belongs to them now. Maybe they’d be willing to sell it to you.”
“How long do you think that would take?”
Jack closed his eyes. “I really don’t know.”
“Check on it then.”
A click, and the call disconnected. For a long time, Jack sat staring at the phone. He’d seen his father make some harsh business decisions with little regard for the people whose lives he had affected. He’d watched him sign away the jobs and livelihood of hundreds of employees with the flourish of a pen, without even a passing thought to their welfare. Heard him more than once berate midlevel managers with language that should have resulted in lawsuits. And he’d been on the receiving end of that famous Townsend temper more times than he could count. He thought nothing the man could do would surprise him anymore. But this reaction to Tom Ingram’s death plunged to a new depth. R.H. had proven himself to be completely heartless.
The cab lost the last of its warmth, and a circle of breath frosted on the inside of the windshield. Jack shook himself free of his thoughts and jumped out of the truck. He’d better go back inside and find out how to contact Ingram’s daughters about the Corvette. If he didn’t, R.H. would do it himself. At least Jack could try to handle the situation tactfully.
The walk to the door seemed longer than before. An uncanny silence had settled over the wooded area behind the building, as heavy as the darkness that enveloped them. As he walked, Jack couldn’t stop staring in that direction, peering between the heavy branches. They seemed menacing, as though they hid a dark and deadly secret. Had the murderer concealed himself there, watching Tom Ingram through the now-shuttered windows? Might he be there even now? The skin on Jack’s arms crawled beneath a menacing stare that might, or might not, be imaginary. He rubbed his hands on his arms and quickened his pace toward the door.
TWO
Susanna watched from beneath the shield of her hand as Jack left the room. She was thankful he’d been with her when she had arrived here. What if she’d been alone when she found—she gulped—the body? Even so, she was glad to see Jack go. His presence was a painful reminder of that terrible time four years ago, and she couldn’t bear to think about that right now. One tragedy at a time was all she could handle.
She glanced at the door to her boss’s office, but thankfully she only saw the moving figures of police officers inside. More reminders. A terrible weight pressed on her chest as the reality of the situation struck her afresh.
Mr. Ingram was dead.
“Kathy, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be here,” she whispered into the phone, aware of the silence that pervaded the outer office and the police officer who hovered near the doorway. “I’m sorry to dump her on you like this.”
“I keep telling you, don’t worry about it. Lizzie and Maddie have been playing ever since I picked them up from the babysitter. And I’ve already told them they might get to have a sleepover tonight. They were thrilled.”
An ache throbbed behind Susanna’s eyes. She closed them and pressed her temples as hard as she could. “Thank you. I’ll return the favor sometime.”
The sound of shoes scuffing on the carpet in front of her drew Susanna’s attention. She opened her eyes to find the detective who’d been questioning Jack for the past ten minutes standing in front of her. Plainclothes, but she’d be able to pinpoint him as a cop in a second if she met him on the street. He had the same arrogant air about him as the one she’d spoken with four years ago in Tennessee.
Stop it! This guy’s probably on the up-and-up. Not all police officers are on some rich man’s payroll.
She straightened and spoke into the phone. “I need to go. I’ll call you when I know more.”
When she had lowered the phone and started to stand, Detective Rollins stopped her with a gesture. “You can stay seated if you like. In fact, I’ll join you.”
He dropped into the chair beside her. Susanna placed her cell phone on the small table between them, next to an array of magazines she kept there for visitors to read while they waited for their appointments with Mr. Ingram. The hovering officer, a young man with a fresh face, approached to stand beside Rollins, his pen poised over a metal clipboard to record her words.
“I know this has been a shock, Ms. Trent.” Rollins’s smile held a world full of sympathy. “We’ve already taken Mr. Townsend’s statement, but if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to tell me everything that happened today.”
Susanna drew a breath. “Mr. Ingram sent me to an auction out of town to buy a car for him. I didn’t even come in to the office this morning because he wanted me to be there all day, to be sure I didn’t miss the Corvette.”
“Do you normally perform tasks like this for your boss?”
She hesitated. “Well, I’m his personal secretary, so I do run errands for him often. Mr. Ingram is a widower and a busy executive, so if he needs someone to pick up his dry cleaning or prepare snacks for his poker club, I don’t mind doing that. But this is the first time he’s ever asked me to buy a car for him.”
“Mr. Townsend told us that his father sent him there on the same errand. Is there something special about this Corvette?”
“Other than the fact that it’s a really hot sports car? I don’t think so.” Susanna leaned forward to grab the handbag she had shoved beneath the chair. She fished inside until she found the auction catalog Mr. Ingram had given her yesterday. It was already opened to the appropriate page. “I wondered at the time if it was…” She bit her lip and battled feelings of disloyalty before she continued. “A midlife crisis.”
Detective Rollins inspected the picture of the bright red Corvette—bloodred was the term Mr. Ingram had used to describe it. The uniformed officer peered over the detective’s shoulder.
Rollins’s lips twitched. “Speaking as a man of around the same age, I can affirm that if I could afford to buy a car to help me over a midlife crisis, that’s one I’d pick.” He returned the catalog, and Susanna shoved it back into the depths of her purse. “Ms. Trent, are you aware of anyone who might want to harm the victim?”
Since the moment she’d realized Mr. Ingram was dead, Susanna had been racking her brain trying to think who would do something so horrible to such a nice man. She’d drawn a complete blank.
“I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt Mr. Ingram. He is—” she bit her lip “—was well respected by everyone—all the employees here at Ingram Industries. The customers. Everyone.”
“What about competitors?” Rollins tapped the issue of American Coal magazine that topped the stack on the table between them. “I imagine the coal industry is fairly competitive.”
“Of course there’s competition in any business, but nothing serious enough to kill someone over.”
“A disgruntled employee, maybe? Anyone been fired lately?”
Susanna shook her head. “No.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and she looked up in time to see Jack step into the room. What was he doing here? She’d thought he had gone home.
After a quick glance in his direction, Rollins focused all his attention on her. “Who would be the most knowledgeable about the victim’s day-to-day business dealings?”
Jack wandered over to her desk and picked up the framed photo on the corner, the one of her and Lizzie taken at last summer’s company picnic.
“That would be me.” She smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I maintain Mr. Ingram’s calendar, both business and personal. I arrange all his meetings, screen all his calls, draft his correspondence. And I can’t think of a single issue that’s come up lately with even the slightest bit of conflict.”
The detective studied her for a moment, then gave a nod and slapped his hands on his knees before standing. “We’ll need some information from you. The names of anyone who’s had contact with the victim in the past few weeks, to begin with. His appointment calendar, phone records, things like that. Then we’ll need the company’s employee roster with contact information.”
Susanna followed the detective’s example and rose. A list began to compile itself in her mind, beginning with those who had closest contact with Mr. Ingram—the executives at Ingram Industries. And what about the board of directors? Detective Rollins would probably want their phone numbers, as well. Her conscience prickled, but she dismissed the feeling. No one would fault her for providing their private contact numbers to the police if it helped to apprehend a murderer.
“Hopefully it won’t take you too long to pull that together. When you’ve finished, you’re free to go.” Rollins shifted his gaze to Jack. “Perhaps Mr. Townsend would be kind enough to escort you home.”
A hot flush threatened to flood her cheeks. A glance at Jack’s face showed he was as surprised at the detective’s suggestion as her.
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” she assured Rollins. “My car is in the parking lot.”
The detective stopped in the act of walking away and turned to face her with a sober expression. “I don’t want to frighten you, Ms. Trent, but I hope you understand how serious this situation is. You could be in danger yourself.”
“Me?” Her voice came out in a frightened rush. “Why would I be in danger?”
Rollins’s eyes flicked toward the inner office, where the low murmur of voices blended with the mechanical click of a camera. “A man has been killed in this office. Until we know more, we can’t rule out the possibility that the killer’s motive has something to do with the victim’s business. And who is most closely acquainted with his business dealings?”
Susanna’s mouth dried. Her lungs refused to cooperate, refused to draw in a breath. Fear paralyzed them.
The detective saw her reaction, and gave a nod. “Just so you understand the gravity of the situation. If you prefer, I’ll have Officer Bledsoe make sure you get home safely.”
Jack returned the picture to the desk and stepped forward. “I don’t mind following you home.” The smile he flashed at her held a note of apology. “We need to talk about what happens with the car anyway.”
Though she far preferred the officer as an escort, Susanna couldn’t think of a polite reason to refuse Jack’s offer. Her mind was still reeling from Detective Rollins’s warning. And the image of Mr. Ingram’s lifeless eyes. And the thought of going into her dark, empty house alone.
Mutely, Susanna nodded.
Light shone from the windows of the houses on either side of Susanna’s, but hers was covered in blackness. Even the porch light was dark, burnt out a few weeks ago. She pulled her car into the driveway and made a mental note to replace the bulb as she slid out of the driver’s seat. The rattle of Jack’s diesel engine interrupted the neighborhood’s peaceful silence. Susanna stood in the dim circle of light from her car’s interior, her hand resting on the rim of the open door, as the pickup and trailer rolled to a stop at the curb in front of the house.
A sound broke the silence behind her. Startled, she whirled and peered into the deep shadow of overgrown evergreen shrubs that separated her house from the one next door. Was something there? Yes, the branches were moving. Her pulse kicked into high speed as she strained to make out details. Though clouds obscured the moon, there was no wind tonight. Was someone hiding there, between the houses?
The bushes moved again. In the second before she leaped back into her car, ready to slam the door and punch the lock button, she realized the movement was too low to be a person. She strained to discern black from pitch-black as the figure moved toward her. A tense breath left her lungs in a rush when the shadows materialized into the neighbor’s cat, sauntering toward her with an unhurried gait. It disappeared beneath her car, apparently in search of a warm place to sleep. Susanna released her death grip on the door. How foolish of her, afraid of a cat. That detective had her jumping at shadows.
The truck’s door slammed, and she turned to see Jack striding toward her across the grass.
Susanna closed her own car door and pointed toward the trailer as he approached. “I don’t know what to do about the car. I don’t have a garage to park it in.”
Jack shoved his hands in the front pocket of his jeans, shoulders hunched against the cold. “I overheard you saying Ingram has two daughters. What about taking it to one of them?”
“The oldest lives in California, and the youngest is studying in Europe.” She had given the police their contact information. Did they know yet that their father was dead? Susanna intended to call tomorrow, to see if they needed her to help with the arrangements.
“Does Ingram have a garage?”
Of course. Why didn’t she think of that before they left the office? She massaged the back of her neck. Her brain wasn’t working right tonight. Shock, probably. “Yes, he does. I guess we ought to go back to the office and get his house keys so we can take it over there.”
Jack scuffed at the driveway with his shoe. “I hesitate to bring this up, but my father said he’d be happy to buy the Corvette now that Ingram—” he paused, embarrassed “—uh, won’t be needing it. I’m sure he would store it at his house until the arrangements can be made.”
For a moment, Susanna was speechless. How utterly mercenary of Jack’s father to suggest such a thing while Mr. Ingram’s strangled body still lay on the floor of his office. And how completely in character for a self-centered man who was used to getting whatever he wanted, regardless of the circumstances. People talked, and she’d heard rumors about R. H. Townsend and the ruthless way he ran his business. For office workers searching for a job, Townsend Steakhouses, Inc., was at the bottom of the list unless you were desperate.
She’d thought better of Jack, though. In the few hours she had known him, he’d seemed like a nice guy, with his generous offer to deliver the Corvette to Mr. Ingram. How could he bring himself to relay the request?
Or maybe she had misjudged Jack all along. His helpful gesture might not have been an act of kindness at all. Having failed to buy the car for his father at the auction, his good deed might have been a last-ditch effort to convince Mr. Ingram to sell it to him. Bitterly, Susanna realized she wasn’t surprised. Her former fiancé, Bruce, would have acted the same heartless way if it meant getting something he wanted. Maybe Jack and Bruce were two of a kind. The thought soured her stomach. She was still searching for an appropriately scathing response when the porch light of the house across the street came on.
The front door opened and a figure appeared. Her neighbor, Kathy, made her way carefully across the street carrying a blanketed bundle.
“Hey, I saw you were here, so I thought I’d bring Lizzie home. She just fell asleep about half an hour ago.”
Ignoring Jack, Susanna took the bundle from Kathy’s arms. The child cocooned inside stirred during the transfer. A whimper sounded when the blanket fell open, exposing the little girl to the frigid night air.
“I don’t wanna go home,” Lizzie complained in a sleepy voice. “I wanna have a sleepover.”
“Shh.” Susanna tucked the blanket more snugly around her. “We’ll have a sleepover another time.” She looked up at Kathy. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“No problem.” She rubbed her hands on her arms and shivered. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” She flashed a quick smile at Jack as she left.
Jack watched, silent, as Susanna hugged the blanketed child close. She could see the questions in his wide eyes, but she left them unanswered. Her life was none of his business.
“I need to get her out of this cold air.” She glanced toward the car trailer. “I hate to park an attention magnet like that Corvette openly in my driveway. Would it be all right if you left the trailer here tonight? Mr. Ingram’s daughters will need to decide what they want to do with it.” She pressed her lips together. “I’ll get in touch with them tomorrow and pass along your offer.”
He jerked away his curious stare at Lizzie, and whipped out a business card from his pocket. “Sure. Probably not a good idea to leave it on the street, so I’ll put it in your driveway. My cell phone number is on that card. Just give me a call and let me know what they decide.”
She took the card awkwardly while she balanced her sleeping bundle, and then turned her back on him to march toward the house.
“Here, let me get that.” He leaped ahead of her up the concrete steps of her small porch and held his hand out for the keys. “I’ll take a look inside, just to be on the safe side.”
Susanna hesitated, but the thought of all those dark rooms inside—from now on she would leave a light burning, regardless of the electricity bill—made her decision for her. She handed him the keys and stood waiting while he unlocked the door, flipped the living-room light switch and stepped inside.
The warmth in the house was a comforting contrast to the biting cold of the porch. Susanna followed him in and stood, hugging Lizzie tight, while Jack made a tour through her small home. He was certainly thorough. By sound she tracked his progress through the kitchen, laundry, both bedrooms and the bathroom. He even peeked inside closets. Embarrassment that he was seeing the private rooms of her home warred with relief inside her, but she consciously grasped at the latter. The alarm created by Detective Rollins’s warning was fading. She would feel much safer now, knowing a killer wasn’t waiting to jump out at her the moment she and Lizzie were alone.
Jack reappeared in the living room. “Everything’s fine. I made sure all the windows were locked, too.”
“Thank you.” She forced herself to smile. This guy was certainly an anomaly. One minute he offended her with an inappropriate offer to buy the Corvette, and the next he was going the extra mile to make sure she felt safe. “I appreciate that.”
“No problem. Oh. Here.” He extracted a key ring with a single key from his pocket and, since her hands were full, set it on the coffee table. “The key to the car trailer.”
He left, and Susanna stood in the doorway watching as he crossed the yard and climbed into the pickup. The engine roared to life, and he maneuvered the trailer backward into her driveway. When it came to a stop on the other side of her car, she pushed the door closed and threw the dead bolt before heading down the short hallway to Lizzie’s bedroom.
She was still getting the child settled in bed when the engine revved again. A peek through the pink curtains revealed the taillights disappearing down the street. When the truck turned the corner, a wave of anxiety threatened her composure.
What if the detective was right? What if someone is watching, waiting to get me alone? I should have asked Jack to check the backyard, too.
With an effort, she forced the haunting image of Mr. Ingram’s body from her mind. If she dwelt on thoughts like that, she would become paranoid. She posed no threat to whoever killed Mr. Ingram, because she didn’t know anything. She hadn’t even been near the office at all today.
There’s nothing to worry about. I need to relax and get some sleep. Things always look better in the morning.
Still, she decided to make one more round through the house and check all the locks before she got ready for bed. Just to be sure.
