The Pursuit of Lies (Book #4, Paradise Valley) (8 page)

“Yes, this afternoon. I went with Alex.”

“This is just horrible, absolutely horrible, Em,” Maggie said.

“The news this morning said they’ve arrested Colin for murder. We’re all beside ourselves.” Camille perched on the edge of the sofa.

“Yes, that’s true, but—”

“Did he do it? Did he really kill that woman?” Camille asked, leaning forward with anticipation.

“No, Cam, I don’t believe he did.”

“I don’t want to believe it either, but the news reports say they have a lot of evidence, a solid case the reporter said.”

“You can’t believe everything you hear, Cam. Just because it’s on the television or in the newspaper doesn’t make it true.”

“I just meant that—”

“There does appear to be a number of things pointing toward Colin as the murderer,” Emily interrupted, “but Alex and I don’t believe he did it. Ernie either. And we’re going to do all we can to prove he’s innocent.”

“Peter doesn’t believe it either,” Maggie added.

“What about you, Maggie?” Camille asked. “What do you believe, with all that evidence against him?”

“I think evidence can be fabricated. Remember I spent a few years in Hollywood a long time ago. They were makin’ all kinds of things appear real that weren’t. These days it seems like anythin’ can be made to look legit. Doesn’t mean it is.”

“That’s right, Maggs.” Emily appreciated her friend standing up for Colin.

“But who on earth would be trying to make it look like Colin was the killer?” Camille asked. “That sounds like something out of one of those crime shows on TV.”

Maggie nodded at Camille. “It does, kinda—a frame job is what they call it.”

Emily rose from her chair, hinting that it was time her guests were leaving. “Well, that’s what we’re going to have to work very hard to find out.”

~*~

While her friends were there, Emily struggled to hold her emotions in check. She didn’t want another meltdown like she’d had in the shower that morning. Who could blame her, though? Any woman who had just gotten engaged, and then had her fiancé arrested for the murder of his supposed mistress, would break down into a crying mess.

But she didn’t want to be that woman.

If she was going to find the real killer, she knew she’d have to be stronger than that.

Emily stripped off her clothes and crawled into bed, hoping for an hour or so of sleep. The alarm clock on her nightstand read four twenty-two p.m.

Again, her thoughts filled with Colin. In her mind’s eye, he slowly danced with her in the warm glow of her living room lamps. His moist lips nibbled her neck as the music softly played. He smiled down at her, and she felt safe in his arms. Then, like something out of a sci-fi movie, his eyes widened in horror and his mouth flew open as he was sucked away from her embrace and deposited in a hard metal chair in the small, dimly lit conference room at the county jail, his face now bruised and battered.

At the remembrance of his injuries, another rush of tears spilled from her eyes. A dark cloud of heaviness settled in her heart. Drawing her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she curled up in the fetal position, and her tears turned to sobs once more.

She eventually drifted off to sleep, a temporary reprieve from the nightmare that had become her life.

The early morning light streaming in her windows woke her, and she was surprised to find herself still balled up in her bed. Yawning as she stretched out her arms and legs, she flipped back her comforter. After sliding her legs over the side of the bed, she rested on the edge and raked her fingers through her tangled curls.

The clock read seven a.m. She had slept over fourteen hours.

There was no more time for wallowing—it was time to hit the ground running.

Chapter 9

Alex Martínez had given Emily the name of Allison Laraway’s assistant in the District Attorney’s office—Julie Clark. She was the young woman who had found Allison’s body and called the police. Hoping there was something she could learn from her, Emily phoned Peter to fill him in and enlist his help.

“I’m happy to help anyway I can,” Peter responded to her request.

“Phone the woman—see if you can meet her today for an interview. It being Sunday, hopefully she’s free. You could tell her something like you’re covering the story for a major television station in Seattle and you’d like to get her thoughts.”

“That is the truth, Emily.”

“So it should be easy to say. It’s important, though, to find out more than just what she saw in Allison’s condo.”

“Like what?”

“Find out if she knows if Allison was seeing anyone. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like she and Colin were having an affair—the flowers, the photo of the two of them, the dates in her electronic calendar naming Colin as the person she was meeting with—not to mention his fingerprints and possibly his DNA in her place. Maybe there is a warm body to go along with the sham.”

“Okay, Emily, I got it.” Peter paused, presumably making notes of their conversation. “Speaking of DNA, have the police gotten the results back?”

“No, should be this week, Alex was told.”

“I’ll give the woman a call and let you know when we’re meeting. You have her number?”

Emily read the phone number to Peter. “Try to get her to meet you face to face, rather than doing a phone interview. That way you can work your charms on her. She’s more likely to relax and open up to you, don’t you think?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Call me back and let me know when and where. I’d like to get you wired and give you an earbud so I know exactly what she’s telling you.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“No offense, Peter, but I’d rather hear it straight from the horse’s mouth than get your interpretation secondhand.”

“Fine. I’ll give you a call after I make contact with her.”

~*~

Emily watched through the large storefront window as Peter sat in the busy Flying M coffee shop in downtown Boise. Through his mic she could pick up the clanging of coffee cups and people trying to talk over each other, fearing it might make it hard to talk privately with Allison’s Assistant, Julie Clark. She was the one that had suggested the location—her favorite coffee place, she’d told Peter—near her work and her home.

Peter reported that when he’d first phoned the woman, she seemed a bit hesitant to speak about the murder, but when he told her he was from a major television station in Seattle, her demeanor softened and she agreed to the interview.

Before driving to the Flying M, Peter had met Emily at her office to get wired for sound. After having borrowed the FBI’s earbuds on her last major case, she’d decided to invest in a couple of pairs of her own, seeing how they could come in handy in her business as a private eye. Like now, for instance.

“I’ll be parked on the street, right outside of the coffee shop, listening,” Emily had said. “The earbud is just in case I think of a question you hadn’t asked her.”

“I’ll do my best,” he had promised her.

Now, with Peter sitting in this noisy café, Emily wondered if she would be able to hear anything.

Julie had described herself to Peter, and he had reported to Emily. She’d said she was petite, late twenties, pixie-cut brown hair and big brown eyes. In turn, he had described himself as very tall with short dark auburn hair and blue eyes.

The bell on the door jingled whenever a customer pushed it open. Emily noticed Peter’s attention was drawn to the entrance each time it rang.

“So far, I haven’t seen anyone that matches her description,” Emily heard him whisper into his mic.

Emily continued to watch him through the glass, hoping the woman would show up. She was taken aback when a short, rotund woman dressed very casually approached him. She appeared to be well into her thirties. The only accurate part of her description was the haircut and her eye color. The look on Peter’s face said he was shocked as well.

“Julie?” Peter questioned loudly over the volume in the café.

“Yes. Peter?”

He nodded and rose to his feet. “Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand and she shook it.

At least she got the brown pixie hair right.

“Have a seat.” Peter gestured toward the other curved-back wooden chair at his small, round table.

She pulled it out and scooted onto it, setting her large black purse on the floor.

Peter looked down as if he was scribbling something in his notebook. “Just to get it straight for my report, you were ADA Allison Laraway’s assistant?” He sounded as if he was straining to speak up over the din.

“What?” Julie cupped a hand around her ear.

“ADA Laraway’s assistant?” Peter said a bit louder.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“How long had you been working for her?”

“How long?” She repeated, raising her voice. “How long what?”

Peter looked frustrated
.
“Too noisy in here,” he said, “let’s go outside.”

“What?”

He stood, notebook and pen in hand, and pointed toward the door. “Outside?”

She nodded, grabbed her purse, and followed him out to the sidewalk.

Emily saw them coming and hopped back in her car a couple of parking spots down the street.

“Sorry, Miss Clark, but it’s difficult holding an interview when the parties can’t even hear each other.” He stood with his back to the storefront window and looked briefly over at Emily, parked at the curb, not far away. She had a good side view of both of them.

“It’s Mrs. Clark, and I didn’t expect it to be so busy today.” She looked back into the café through the expansive window. “Now, what were you asking me?”

“Mrs. Clark, how long you have been Ms. Laraway’s assistant?”

“About two months. I heard the one before me left in tears.”

“Was Allison hard to work for?”

“Well, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead.” She glanced around and her voice lowered. “She was rather demanding.”

“And you’re the one who found her in her condo, right?”

“Yes. When she didn’t show up for work on Friday, and she wasn’t answering her cell, Mr. Shackleford, the District Attorney, sent me over to her house to see if she was all right.”

“You had a key to her condo?”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“Once in awhile she accidentally left things at home that she needed for a court case. You see, she worked a lot at home in the evenings.”

“I understand.” Peter made another note. “Do you know if Ms. Laraway was seeing anyone, romantically?”

“Well, it wasn’t like we were friends, but I think she did have a man in her life.”

“Oh, really.” Peter poised his pen. “What can you tell me about him?”

“I believe his name was Colin.”

Emily’s heart jumped into her throat, waiting for Peter to ask the next question.

“But you don’t know for sure?”

“She kept things pretty private, but one day a few weeks ago, I had some papers I needed her to sign and I went to knock on her door. It was slightly ajar and I overheard her call the person on the other end of the line Colin.”

“Maybe it was a business call.”

“Well, I won’t repeat what she said—it was a bit dirty, if you get my drift—so I know it definitely wasn’t a business call.”

Peter took some more notes on his pad.

Emily popped a question into his ear. “Ask her if she had ever seen them together.”

“Mrs. Clark—”

“Please, call me Julie.”

“Okay, Julie, had you ever seen Allison with this man, Colin?”

“Well, Thursday, the day before I found her dead, he came to the office.”

“How do you know it was him?”

“I was just coming back from lunch and they came out of Allison’s office all smiles. She said good-bye to him, called him by name. After he was gone, I said something to her about what a handsome guy he was. She grinned and nodded at me and said
he is that.
Just like that—
he is that.
”

“And she called him Colin?”

“Yes, that’s how I knew he was the one she was doing her sexy talk with on the phone before.”

Peter pulled a photo of Colin out of his shirt pocket, and Emily cringed, knowing that this woman might ID Colin. Peter showed it to her. “Is this the guy?”

“Yes, that’s him. Handsome devil, isn’t he?” She paused. “I heard the news reports yesterday. They flashed his picture, saying he’s the guy the police arrested for killing her. You think he did it?”

“I can’t really say.” Peter tucked the photo back in his pocket.

Emily took a deep breath. The woman could have been mistaken and just seen Colin leaving from his meeting with Allison. It might not have been an intimate lunch, after all.

“Is there anything else you can remember that would add to my story?”

“Well, later that afternoon, Thursday I mean, a florist delivered a pot of flowers to the office for her. The card was addressed to Allison. She wasn’t in at the time, so I peeked to see who it was from.”

“What did it say?” Peter asked after Emily practically shouted the question into his ear.

“I don’t recall exactly, something mushy, but I do remember it was signed
Colin
. How could I forget that hunk. I tucked the card back in the envelope and put the pot of flowers on Ms. Laraway’s desk.”

Emily piped in again. “Does she remember which florist delivered them?”

“Julie, do you happen to remember which florist sent the flowers?”

“No, sorry. It wasn’t like I had to sign for them or anything. Just plop, there they were, and he was gone.”

“Thank you so much for your time.” Peter pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “Please give me a call if there’s anything else you remember, anything at all that might add to my story. You’ve been a huge help.”

“You’re so welcome, Mr. McKenzie, but I thought our interview would be videotaped.”

He took a quick glance at Emily, appearing to be taken a little off guard. “Well, uh, yes, this is just a preliminary interview. When I get the story put together, I’ll need to get back with you to do that.”

“Good save,” Emily said into his earpiece.

“That’d be great. You have my number.” She smiled up at him before turning and making her way back into the café.