Who Needs Enemies
Page 27

“Why?”
“Wanted to be sure you could be trusted.”
“And what was the general consensus?”
“I think it came down to three things—pretty, remote, and fiercely loyal. And you’re nothing like the rest of your family.”
I frowned. “People think I’m remote?”
He raised an eyebrow, amusement briefly lifting the sadness from his face. “Oh, trust me love, you may get mouths to move quicker than butter can melt on hot pavement, but there’s something very untouchable about you.”
No, there wasn’t, I thought automatically. But there again, I would think that. It was altogether possible I had been giving off that sort of vibe—especially after the whole Kaij mess. It would certainly explain my lack of progress on the whole boyfriend front.
But I wasn’t here to talk about me. “Look, all I’m trying to do is solve Mona’s murder. And if you know anything that could help, I’d appreciate knowing it.”
“But what would you do if a clue led to your own backyard?”
A chill ran through me. Was Darryl saying Gilroy was the murderer? My brother might be a pompous asshole, but after our talk last night I would have sworn on a stack of bibles he was not also a murderer. “I know who the three high profile men seeing her were. I’m investigating regardless.”
He nodded. “One of them was the father. One of them was the murderer.”
So she had been pregnant. Holy crap, that really did put the cat among the pigeons as far as Lyle was concerned—and it certainly wasn’t something I was about to mention. He had enough police contacts—he could discover that particular bit of news himself. “Why are you so certain if Mona never talked about any of it?”
He smiled, but his expression was wistful. “It wasn’t hard to work out who her song had caught, even if she never mentioned names. Mona was a lovely lady, but she wasn’t particularly bright.”
As evidenced by the fact she’d tried blackmailing both my brother and Logan. “And your guess as to who or what might be behind her murder?”
“The what is obvious—none of them could afford the press finding out they might be the father of a siren’s kid, now, could they? I tried to tell her-” He bit the rest of the sentence off and shrugged.
So Mona had trusted him enough that he not only knew about her pregnancy, but also her blackmail attempts. “And the who?”
“Anyone in their right mind would be scared of the Logan brothers.” His gaze came to mine. “She never did fear your half-brother in the same way.”
Which didn’t put Gilroy in the clear. Not by a long shot. “Was he the father?”
“From what I could gather, probably.”
So much for Gilroy’s assurance he would never sire a child on a siren. “Then why was she also threatening James Logan?”
“Money, pure and simple.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “How well do you know your uncle?”
I remembered the darkness I’d glimpse briefly in his eyes last night, and shivered. “I’m beginning to think not half as well as I’d thought.”
He nodded. “Mona said he was extremely possessive. She liked that in him, liked the fact he didn’t want to share. Most men come to a siren entranced by their song and the sex, but they rarely see the woman behind it.”
I nodded. Mom had once said that her relationship with Bramwell had lasted so long simply because he saw her—saw who she was, not just what she was. Maybe it was a peculiarity of the Elven race that those who could overcome their aversion to sirens were able to see past the power of the song to the soul underneath.
“Then why doesn’t he know she was pregnant?”
“Because she wasn’t totally sure who the father was, and she feared his reaction if it turned out that the kid wasn’t his.”
Because he would have asked for a paternity test. He wouldn’t have risked supporting a child that wasn’t his—not given the reception Bramwell had gotten after producing me. “So why was she thinking about settling down with him?”
“As I said, Mona wasn’t the brightest soul on the patch.” He shrugged again.
“Have you any idea what happened to the money she was paid? Did you bank it for her?”
“No.” He paused. “Last time I talked to her, she said she’d gotten the money but was considering asking for more.”
“You didn’t try to talk her out of it?”
He sighed. “She could be stubborn when she had her mind set on something.”
I guess we all could, but surely even Mona could have seen she was playing with fire.
“She didn’t ask me to bank anything for her,” he continued. “And I didn’t see or hear from her again until I found her on the beach.”
I frowned suddenly. “Did that client who wanted the meeting at the beach ever get back in contact with you?”
“No. Why?”
“Because the timing seems a little more than just a coincidence. I mean, a woman rings you out of the blue wanting a meeting at the beach at almost the very same hour a siren is washed up? Then she doesn’t turn up for said meeting?”
“Hadn’t thought about it, but yeah, it is odd.”
“I don’t suppose you have her contact number or name, do you?”
“She told me her name was Mandy, and she was ringing from a public phone.” He must have seen my surprised expression, because he added with a grin, “I have a program that runs an automatic trace if caller ID is concealed. One can never be too careful these days.”
No, one couldn’t. But was it just another coincidence that his caller’s name was the same as the woman Numar had met in the bar? There was certainly more than one Mandy in the world, but it still struck me as odd.
I let it slip for a moment, and got back to my questions. “I take it you normally did do her banking?”
He nodded. “I have her cards, if you want me to check whether the money made it into her accounts.”
“I dare say the cops have frozen her accounts. Checking them might just make you a person of interest.”
“Which I probably am, given I’m her driver and I found her, but I see your point.” He paused, and squinted up at me. “I want in, you know.”
I raised an eyebrow. “In?”
“On any action you take to catch this bastard.” His sudden smile held a bitter edge. “You know what these high flying types are like—slippery as eels. But if you’re setting a trap, call me.”
“If and when I find enough evidence to pin her murder on anyone, I’m going to the police.” But Bramwell’s threat swam through my mind, and I had to wonder if that was actually true. It might be easier to hand it all over to Lyle, and let him deal with the fallout.
“The offer is there, if you need it.” He glanced at his watch again. “I have to go shower. That all the questions for now?”
“Just one more—were you staying with Mona?”
He considered me for a moment, then nodded. It was a short, sharp movement. “Temporarily. She was a little afraid after Frank beat her up.”
I blinked. “Frank beat her up?”
“Yeah. Made a right mess of her.”
“When was this?”
He hesitated. “I’m not entirely sure, but it was before she got the money from James.”
If Frank had beaten her up, why would he then give James the blackmail money? It didn’t make any sense. I rubbed my forehead wearily. None of this was making any sense.
“Mona had alcohol in the fridge—was that yours?”
He nodded. “She bought it for me. Her way of saying thanks for staying to protect her.”
Which is why he’d been so grief stricken at the beach—he might have been mourning her, but there’d been guilt, as well.
“Thanks for your help, Darryl.”
“No probs. Just remember what I said.”
I nodded then headed out of his office and made my way back to my car. If Frank Logan had beaten her up once, then maybe he’d tried it again. Maybe he was the one Val had heard arguing with her the day after Bramwell and James had paid her the money. If I wanted to go further with this case, I really needed to talk to him.
But before I did, I had better find out if the money had been found in Mona’s apartment. If it hadn’t, and Frank was the one who’d been arguing with her just before she’d disappeared, it made him a damn good suspect for theft, if not murder.
Of course, it would also be handy to know for sure if she had been pregnant. While Darryl had no doubt that she had been, a siren who apparently thought blackmail was a damn good idea surely wouldn’t be above a lie or two. And no matter how bad a liar Darryl thought she was, maybe he was a little closer to her than he should have been, and mightn’t have detected it.
But there was only one way I was going to get that sort of information—I had to talk to someone who’d know.
And that meant facing Kaij again.
Chapter Eight
I headed home first. The front door was wide open, but the new lock was in place and Kristo was perched on a ladder, doing god-knows-what to the hinges. I shook my head and squeezed past him; I’d learned long ago that it was better not to ask. The one time I had, I’d gotten a twenty minute lecture on the intricacies of fitting a washer.
I glanced into the living room then stopped in surprise. Keale was sitting there, a beer in hand as he watched the morning news. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“They released me this morning. I went home, but it was too damn silent after the pen. At least there’s always someone here.” He squinted at me, expression suddenly concerned. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“About you staying here? No.” What was one more body in the house, after all? “I was just surprised the tracker device would allow you. I thought it was meant to track and restrict your movements?”