Private Scandals (34 page)

“It was a quick response.” Though it hadn’t seemed quick as he’d spent that endless five minutes looking over the destruction of his home. “Are you handling B and Es, too, Lieutenant?”

“I like to diversify. And the truth is”—he paused just outside the door—“I figure I’ve got an interest in this. Between the business in Greektown and the investigation on those letters Miss Reynolds has been getting, I figure I’ve got an interest. Does that bother you?”

Finn studied Jenner in the starlight. The man looked tired, yet completely alert. It was a combination Finn understood perfectly. “No.”

“Well then.” Jenner sliced through the police tape over the damaged door. “Maybe you’ll take me on the grand tour.”

Riley was a pretty snappy dresser, Jenner mused as they moved inside. The kind who leaned toward leather jackets and faded jeans. Jenner had tried on a leather jacket once. He’d looked like a cop. He always did.

“Did you mention the trouble here to Miss Reynolds?”

“No.”

“Can’t blame you. She’s had a rough night.” He glanced around. The place looked as if it had been bombed. “So have you.”

“You could say that. Almost every room was trashed.” Finn gestured toward the living area off the main hall. “I didn’t take a lot of time going through it.”

Jenner grunted. Word was the minute Finn had learned of the trouble at CBC, he’d sprinted out, leaving the destruction behind.

“You must be pretty steamed.” That was putting it mildly, Jenner mused. What he saw on Finn’s face was cold rage. If he’d run across the perp, he’d have sliced him into little pieces. Though it was unprofessional, Jenner would have given a great deal to see it.

“I can replace the things,” Finn said as they started upstairs.

“Yeah.” Jenner stepped inside the bedroom, nodded toward the wall. “So our friend’s taken to writing on walls.” Taking out his pad, Jenner copied the writing style onto a blank page. This was the first time the writer had exposed himself this way. “Makes a statement.” One quick scan and he’d taken in the devastation of the room. “Forensics are going to have a hell of a time sorting through this mess.” He toed a broken perfume bottle with his foot. “Tiffany,” he commented. “A hundred fifty an ounce. My wife, she likes that scent. I bought her the cologne for her birthday. And those sheets. Irish linen. My grandmother had a tablecloth. I used to rub my face over it when I was a kid.”

Nearly amused, Finn leaned on the doorjamb and studied Jenner. “Is this how you conduct an investigation, Lieutenant? Or do you moonlight for an insurance company?”

“Always was a sucker for quality.” He slipped his pad back in his pocket, just above the snug weight of his weapon. “So, Mr. Riley, I’d have to say we have a connection.”

“So, Lieutenant, I’d have to agree with you.”

“Murder happened by midnight.” He scratched the back of his neck. “The drive from CBC to here takes fourteen minutes, at the speed limit. He spends, say, ten minutes setting the stage, turning on the equipment. Another ten to get over here. You get home about twenty after one. Yeah, I’d say that’s enough time.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, Lieutenant. What’s next?”

“We’ll canvass the neighborhood tomorrow. Somebody might have seen something.”

“You haven’t had time to interview Dan Gardner.”

“No.” A ghost of a smile moved Jenner’s lips. “My next stop.”

“Mine too.”

“Mr. Riley, you’d be better off going back to the hospital, watching over your lady. Leave this to me.”

“I’ll watch out for Deanna,” Finn returned. “And I’m going to talk to Gardner. I’m going to use everything and everyone I know to get to the root of this. I can go with you,
Lieutenant, or I can go around you.”

“That’s not friendly, Mr. Riley.”

“I’m not feeling friendly, Lieutenant Jenner.”

“Don’t imagine you are, but this is police business.”

“So was Greektown.”

Jenner’s brows lifted as he studied Finn. The man knew which buttons to push, he mused.

“I like you,” Jenner said after a moment. “I liked the way you handled yourself in Greektown. Saw you take that hit.” He scratched his chin, considered. “You just kept right on reporting.”

“That’s my job.”

“Yeah, and I got mine. I’m willing to bend the rules a bit, Mr. Riley, for a couple reasons. One, I really admire your lady, and two . . . I figure there’s a ten-year-old girl out there who just might owe you her life. I might not have mentioned, I have a granddaughter that age.”

“No, you didn’t mention it.”

“Well.” Jenner simply nodded again. “You can follow me in your car.”

When Deanna surfaced, it was midmorning. Yet it wasn’t necessary to orient herself; she remembered everything too clearly. She was in the hospital under observation. She wished she could laugh at the term. She understood that she would remain under all manner of observation for a long time.

She turned her head, mindful of the dull ache swimming inside, and studied Finn. He was dozing in the chair beside the bed, his hand covering hers. Unshaven, exhausted and pale, he was the most comforting sight she could imagine.

Not wanting to disturb him, she shifted slowly. But her slight movement woke him.

“Are you hurting?”

“No.” Her voice was weak; she put an effort into strengthening it. “You shouldn’t have sat up all night. They’d have found somewhere for you to stretch out.”

“I can sleep anywhere. I’m a reporter, remember?” He scrubbed his hands over his face, then stretched out the kinks in his back. “You should try to get some more sleep.”

“I want to go home. A mild concussion isn’t enough to keep me in the hospital.” She sat up, but cautiously, knowing if she so much as sneezed he’d run for a nurse. “No double vision, no memory lapses, no nausea.”

“You’re pale as wax, Deanna.”

“You’re not looking so hale and hearty yourself. Want to crawl in here with me?”

“Later.” He scooted over to sit on the side of the bed and touched his hand to her cheek. “I love you.”

“I know. I don’t think I could have gotten through last night without you.”

“You don’t have to get through anything without me.”

She smiled, but her eyes strayed from his to the television bracketed to the wall at the foot of the bed. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard the morning news?”

“No.” He turned, looked at her intently. “No,” he repeated. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Yes, she thought. Later was better. “It was horrible the way she died. Horrible the way it was all so perfectly staged. I need to think about it, but I can’t seem to.”

“Then don’t. Don’t push it, Deanna.” He looked over as he heard Fran’s voice, lifted high in indignant rage as she argued with the guard outside the door. “I’ll tell her you’re resting.”

“No, please. I want to see her.”

Finn had just gone to the door to have a word with the guard when Fran burst in. She bulleted toward the bed and snatched Deanna into her arms. “Oh God, I’ve been sick ever since I heard. Are you all right? How bad are you hurt?”

“Just a bump on the head.” She returned the embrace, squeezing hard. “I was just about to get up and get dressed.”

“Are you sure?” Fran drew her back; she might have been examining one of her children for symptoms. “You’re so pale. Finn, go get the doctor. I think he should take another look at her.”

“No.” She took Fran’s hands firmly in hers. “They just wanted me overnight for observation. I’ve been observed. The office? What’s going on?”

Something flickered in Fran’s eyes, then she shrugged. “Chaos. What else? The cops are taking statements from everyone.”

“I should go in, do something.”

“No.” The protest came quickly, fiercely. “I mean it, Dee. There’s nothing you can do, and if you came in at this point, you’d only add to the confusion. As soon as I go back and tell everyone you’re okay, it should calm down a little.” Her lips trembled before she wrapped her arms around Deanna again. “You really are okay? It must have been horrible for you. Every time I think of what could have happened—”

“I know.” Comforted, Deanna cradled her head on Fran’s shoulder. “Angela. God, Fran, I still can’t believe it. Who could have hated her that much?”

Pick a number, Fran thought. “I don’t want you to worry about the show or the office. We ran a re-broadcast today. Cassie’s canceling and rescheduling guests we’d booked for the next week.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I’m the producer, and I say it is.” After a last squeeze, Fran pulled back and turned to Finn for support. “Are you going to throw your weight in with me?”

“It doesn’t appear to be necessary, but sure. I’m taking her up to the cabin for a while.”

“I can’t just leave. Jenner’s bound to want to talk to me again. And I have to talk to Loren, to my staff.”

Finn studied her a moment. There was pain in her eyes as well as the dregs of terror and shock. “Here’s the way I see it,” he said mildly. “I can spring you out of here later today and take you to the cabin. Or I can arrange for them to keep you in that bed for another couple of days.”

“That’s absurd.” Deanna wanted to be angry, but she was too tired. “Just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean you can arrange my life.”

“It does when you’re too stubborn to do what’s best for you.”

“Well.” Fran gave a satisfied nod and kissed Finn’s cheek. “Now that I know she’s in capable hands, I’m going to go find that doctor. I need to talk to you,” she said under her breath, then turned back to Deanna. It was a relief to see the sulky turn of her friend’s mouth. “Don’t worry about the details,” she told her. “The gang and I can handle everything. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Fine. Great.” Deanna plopped back on the pillows, wincing when the sudden movement made her head pound. “Just tell everyone I decided to go fishing.”

“Good idea.” Finn walked to the door to open it for Fran. “I’ll see if I can round up someone to put through the release papers. Stay in bed,” he ordered, and walked outside. “What is it you don’t want her to know?”

“There are cops swarming all over the sixteenth floor.” Fran cast one last, worried glance over her shoulder as they walked to the elevators. “Her office has been torn apart, like someone went through it in an insane rage. Chairs hurled around, broken glass. All the lists she’d put together for the wedding and the sketches of the dresses were ripped up. Somebody had written all over the walls in red ink.” As Finn watched, her cheeks drained of color so that her freckles stood out in stark relief. “It just said ‘I love you,’ again and again and again. I don’t want her to see it, Finn.”

“She won’t. I’m going to take care of her.”

“I know that.” Fran pressed her fingers to her eyes. “But I’m scared. Whoever killed Angela is so focused on Dee. I don’t think he’ll ever leave her alone.”

Finn’s eyes were sharp as a sword. “He won’t get near her. There’s someone I have to meet. You stay with her until I get back.”

After a two-hour catnap, Jenner rapped on the door of Dan Gardner’s hotel suite. Beside him Finn was running through a mental list of questions he wanted answered.

“He’d better be in the mood to talk this time.”

Jenner only shrugged. He didn’t mind taking the long route, as long as it ended in the right place. “Hard to talk when you’re sedated.”

“Conveniently,” Finn murmured.

“Guy’s wife gets snuffed, he’s entitled to break down.”

“Wouldn’t you think he’d want some details before he went under, Lieutenant? The way I see it, the longer he delays talking to you, the longer he has to formulate an alibi. Angela Perkins was a wealthy woman. Care to guess who’s the chief beneficiary?”

“Then if he killed her, he’d have been stupid not to have an alibi to begin with. I’ve got a feeling you’re a man used to being in charge of things.”

“And?”

“You’re going to have to take a backseat here. I’ve got an instinct about you, Mr. Riley, so I’m letting you tag along—that way I can pick your brain. But you’re going to have to remember who’s running this investigation.”

“Cops and reporters have a lot in common, Lieutenant. We won’t be the first who’ve used each other.”

“Nope.” Jenner heard the rattle of the chain. “But that doesn’t change the pecking order.”

Finn nodded grudgingly as the door opened. Dan Gardner looked like a man who’d been on a wild, two-day bender. His face was gray, his eyes sunken, and his hair stood out in tufts. His black silk robe and pajamas added an elegance that only accented his unkempt appearance, like fresh gilt on a tattered painting.

“Mr. Gardner?”

“Yeah.” Dan brought a cigarette to his lips, gulping in smoke like water.

“I’m Detective Jenner.” He held up his badge.

Dan glanced at it, then spotted Finn. “Hold it. What’s he doing here?”

“Research,” Finn said.

“I’m not talking to any reporters, especially this one.”

“That’s funny, coming from someone who woos the press like a lovesick suitor.” Finn put a hand on the door before
Dan could shut it. “I’ll keep it off the record. But I can tell you, you’re better off speaking with me when you’ve got a cop around. I’m in a real bad mood.”

“I’m not well.”

“I sympathize, Mr. Gardner,” Jenner put in before Finn could comment. “You’re certainly not obliged to speak in Mr. Riley’s presence, but I have a feeling he’ll just come back. Why don’t we try it this way, and keep this as short as possible? It would be easier on you to do this here than to come to the station.”

Dan stared at them both a moment, then with a shrug, he turned around, leaving the door open.

The drapes were still drawn, giving the parlor of the suite a gloomy air. The smell of cigarettes was strong, mixing uneasily with the fragrance from the two huge vases of roses flanking the sofa.

Dan sat between them, blinking when Jenner switched on a lamp.

“I’m sorry to have to disturb you at this time, Mr. Gardner,” Jenner began. “But I need your cooperation.”

Dan said nothing, only took another greedy drag from the cigarette. Angela’s brand, he thought, and felt the smoke sting bitterly in his throat.

“Can you tell us what you know about your wife’s activities yesterday?”