Not What She Seems (21 page)

She hung up the phone and turned to Michael. “I think the cash was from his father.”

“How do you know?”

“Theodore Grant just gave me six thousand dollars in cash.”

When Steven arrived, Michael showed him the bank records while they discussed the day’s events.

Steven flipped through the papers. “What are these smaller deposits?”

Michael peered at the paper. “Those started showing up the last couple of years. They were checks made out to William from,” he flipped through another stack of papers, “Samantha
Armstead
.”

Emily sucked in her breath. “She really was repaying a loan?”

Michael looked up from his papers. “That’s what her statement to the police said.”

“She looked like she was lying,” Emily said, more to herself than to anyone else.

Michael shuffled through more papers. “Maybe she is. I’ll check into it. If we can come up with a good enough
motive
for Samantha to have killed William, I think we can get the charges against you dropped.” He smiled, and pulled out another piece of paper. “And here is the last thing I wanted to show you tonight.” He handed it to Emily.

Steven leaned over her shoulder as she stared at the paper. It was a restraining order William had filed against his father.

******

Richard pressed his foot to the brake, easing his car into the parking lot. When he read the email that Emily was in Stapleton, his spirits soared. She’d be easy to get here. He smiled, checking out the hotel where she was staying. It was nicer than he was used to. He tossed his cigarette out the crack in the window and rolled it back up.

Putting the gear into park, he shut the engine off. He slung his bag over his shoulder and pulled on his baseball cap. He didn’t need anyone from Stapleton recognizing him.

A grin passed across his face as he opened the door to the lobby. He was close, he could feel it. Emily would soon be with him again.

Chapter Twenty Six

Steven couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“A restraining order?
When was this filed?”

Michael grinned. “That’s what’s so interesting. It was filed sixteen years ago. One month before William deposited his first large sum of cash.”

Emily set the paper on her lap. “Wait a minute. That would mean William had been only eighteen years old.”

“That’s right.” Michael shuffled the papers around on the coffee table. “Whatever happened between him and his father, William wanted to humiliate him by filing a restraining order against him.”

Steven rubbed the back of his neck and started pacing. “This is all interesting, but I don’t see how this proves anything.”

“It doesn’t. But it strongly suggests that William was blackmailing his father. This gives Theodore a motive for murder, and sheds more reasonable doubt on Emily. Now, if we can prove it was Theodore who was giving William the cash, and find out what it was for, we’ll have an even better case.”

“What about Richard?” Steven asked. “He had motive, means, and opportunity.” He ticked them off with his fingers as he spoke.

Michael raised his eyebrows. “Yes, Richard is a suspect, but there’s no evidence that points to him, only Emily’s testimony, and his criminal record.”

A cold feeling started in the pit of his stomach. “What about the death of Emily’s parents? If you could prove Richard killed them, it might point to Richard as William’s murderer as well.”

“Usually murderers stick with the same MO. William was bludgeoned to death, while Emily’s parents were stabbed.”

Emily flinched, and Steven felt a pang of guilt for speaking about her parents that way.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to look into it,” Steven said, then changed the subject.

******

Richard stepped onto the elevator pulling his hood up over his head. The doors slid shut. He set his luggage down and unzipped the outside compartment, removing his sunglasses. He put them on, tugging his baseball cap even lower. Shoving his bandaged hand in his coat pocket he picked up his suitcase and waited for the right floor.

As he approached his room he heard the click of a door down the hallway opening. Steven stepped out, and Richard’s pulse quickened. He tightened his grip on his suitcase but didn’t slow down. Steven turned around and spoke to someone. A flash of blond hair, and the door closed.
He’s coming out of Emily’s room.

Richard shoved his key card in the slot and slipped in before Steven passed him. He cracked the door and watched Steven walk farther down the hall and
enter
his suite. Anger surged through him.

Emily.
He thought about the way she looked at him in
Ohio
, such fear in her eyes. Steven did that to her.
She doesn’t even know how dangerous it is to be with him.

Tugging his suitcase up to the bed, he unzipped it and took out a hunting knife. Clenching it in his good hand he turned it, letting the light reflect off the surface. He pulled out a whetstone and began to hone the blade.

******

The sound of his cell phone rang out, waking Steven. He sat up, trying to get his bearings before snatching his phone off the nightstand and flipping it open.

He cleared his throat. “Hello?”

Alex’s chipper voice came through the line. “Steven, did I wake you? Sorry, man. I forget about time changes.”

“Uh huh.”

“Listen, we’re real close to hammering out a deal with Accelerated Communications. They want to meet with us. How fast can you jet over here so we can close this thing?”

Steven’s head cleared. “I can’t come today.”

“That’s okay. We can schedule it for tomorrow. You’re going to be in town anyway, for the Top Ten Most Eligible Bachelors thing.”

He cringed. “I forgot all about that. Are you snickering? Stop that. It’s not funny.”

“Sorry.”

Steven stood and pulled on a robe while cradling the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “All right, schedule the meeting for tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be there.”

“You got it.”

“Oh, and Alex, thanks for holding down the fort while I am away.”

“Sure.” He could tell Alex was grinning.
“Anything to help you sort things out with Emily.
How’s that going, anyway?”

Steven wondered what Alex would say if he knew the whole truth. Thankfully, the national news hadn’t picked up the story.
“Fine.
Thank you. I’ll call you later.” He snapped his phone shut and glanced at the clock. He was going to be getting up now anyway.

After a quick shower and a bagel, he ventured out into the chilly morning, eager to get his confrontation with Theodore over with. He drove to the outskirts of town where the roads dwindled and the houses became larger. Theodore’s home stood on a large estate with a circular driveway winding up to the front door, framed on either side by pillars. The white stone exterior with black trim and perching gargoyles reminded him of old money.

He shut off the engine and made his way to the steps. The front door opened before he could ring the bell.

Theodore glared at him. “I thought I told you we are to have no further contact with each other.”

Steven threw on a grin. “Actually, it was Emily you said should have no further contact with you.”

Theodore’s face turned red. “Get off my property, Mr. Ashton.” He started to shut the door, but Steven put his foot in the way.

“I apologize, Mr. Grant, but I must insist on speaking with you.”

A female voice carried from behind Theodore.
“Who’s at the door, dear?”

For a split second Steven thought he was going to slam the door on him, but instead, he opened it.
Behind him stood a tall woman, obviously his wife.

Steven smiled. “You must be Mrs. Grant. I’m Steven Ashton.
How very nice to meet you.”

Mrs. Grant stiffened, a cold stare penetrating him. “I know who you are. You’re here helping that murderer.” Her eyes narrowed. “I knew she was trouble the first time I laid eyes on her. Now she has you under her spell. You’d better watch your back before she puts a knife through it.” She turned and disappeared into the house.

Theodore watched her leave then turned to Steven. “How dare you come here? If you don’t leave immediately, I’m calling the police.”

Steven pulled out the package containing the money and thrust it at him. “Emily doesn’t want this.”

A look of panic crossed Theodore’s face. He grabbed the envelope and stuffed it under his suit jacket. Steven could see the door starting to shut again. He knew he had to do something so he threw down the only card he had left. “Was your son blackmailing you, Mr. Grant?”

Theodore turned a deep shade of purple and slammed the door.

“That was profitable,” Steven muttered as he walked back to his car. The engine idled as he thought about what his next move would be. Several moments later he threw it into drive. He headed to the only other place he could think of to get information,
Aunt Edna’s.

The door chimed as usual when he entered and he walked up to the counter. Sliding onto a stool he glanced up at the menu on the wall. He wasn’t really hungry.

Edna came around the corner. Her cheeks turned pink for a brief instant when she saw him. “Hello, Mr. Ashton.”

“Edna, how nice to see you again.”

She fussed with her apron. “What can I get for you?”

“Just a cup of coffee will be fine, thank you.” He rested his elbows on the linoleum. She wasn’t gone two minutes before she was back with his cup. “Edna, I have a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember when William filed a restraining order against his father?” He folded his arms across his chest.

Edna appeared pensive. “Now that you mention it, I think I do remember something happening when William moved out
on his own
. It was just a squabble, though, as I recall.
Son rebelling against his father and all.
Nothing came of it.”

Steven stirred his coffee, debating whether to ask her about blackmail or not. He decided the best approach was the straightforward one. “There’s evidence that William was blackmailing his father. Did you know this was going on?”

Edna frowned. “No, I didn’t think there was anything like that going on.”

Steven tore open a sugar packet and dumped it into his coffee, paying close attention to Edna’s face. “Is there anything you can think of that William might have had on his father?”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.” Her lips pressed together.

“Talking about what?”

Edna’s gaze traveled to the front windows. “Theodore’s a good man.”

“So good that he’s willing to pay large sums of money to keep his secrets?”

“People make mistakes.”

Steven could tell Edna was about to talk. “What kind of mistakes, Edna?”

Chapter Twenty Seven

Emily stirred Connor’s oatmeal, blowing on the steam and watching it swirl. She’d heated the water a bit too long in the microwave. After a few moments she tested it.

“Here you are, sweetie. It’s still hot so you might want to blow on it some more before you eat it.”

“Okay, Mommy.” Connor sat at the table, his chin barely coming above the bowl. He swung his legs and blew on the spoonful before eating it.

“I’m going to take a shower now. Don’t answer the door or the phone.”

“Okay.”

She kissed the top of his head and went over to hang the do not disturb sign on the door so housekeeping wouldn’t come in. An eerie feeling crept over her and she peered down the hall. She saw an elderly man helping his wife with her luggage, holding her elbow. No one else was in sight. She shook her head, closed the door and slid the lock.

The shower pelted her with warmth. She needed to relax so she let the water massage her tense shoulders. She closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts to run where they wanted. Steven’s face appeared in her mind. Steven. Her stomach twisted up in knots.

She knew she could easily let herself fall in love with him. Maybe she already had. But he could never feel the same about her, not after the way she’d treated him. And even now she was totally dependent on him, for everything. Without him she’d be destitute. A thought popped into her head.
What does he expect in return?
She pushed the thought away. She didn’t want to know.

******

The cold air hit Steven as he left Aunt Edna’s. The temperature seemed to have dropped and the sky threatened more snow. He pulled his leather gloves on, threw his scarf over his shoulder and climbed into his rental car. Anxious to get back to Emily, he stepped on the accelerator, barely taking note of the man in the baseball cap leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette.