Deadly Intent (19 page)

Why had she said that? Why was she compounding lie upon lie?

“The Clearwater Motel on Route 27.” The detective glanced at his notes again. “Ms. Panini said something about a fire destroying your Palo Alto home twenty-eight years ago and that the tragedy was the reason you, Ian and his sister Liz were separated.”

Abbie felt her pulse quicken. That was more information that she wanted him to have. “That’s right.”

“Would you mind giving me a little background on you and the McGregors?”

“Is that relevant to the case?”

“It could be.”

She sighed to show she was humoring him, and hoped she wasn’t overdoing it. “All right. My father—that is, my biological father—died when I was five. A year later, my mother married Patrick McGregor, a widower and the fa

ther of two children. Ian and Liz. Two years later, our house caught fire and burned.”

“What started the fire?”

Knowing any change in demeanor would give her away, she resisted the impulse to swallow, even though her throat was as dry as an Arabian desert. “My stepfather had been drinking that night, and was smoking a cigarette when he fell asleep.”

“The rest of the household was asleep as well?”

“Yes. My mother was awakened by the sound of her own coughing. Somehow, she managed to save Ian and me, then a fire rescue team arrived and pulled Liz out. By the time they found my stepfather, he was already dead.”

“But how could that be? Wasn’t he in bed, next to your mother?”

“No.” She slid her hands behind her and gripped the desk, afraid he would see them shake. “Because of my stepfather’s habit of watching TV in bed, she had moved into the guest room.”

“I see.” His gaze held hers for a long second. “So, after the fire, you and your mother moved away?”

“To Kansas. My grandfather was recovering from a stroke and my mother wanted to be there and take care of him. After he died, we moved here.”

“But Ian and Liz stayed in California.”

“Yes.” God, was this ever going to end? “My mother had intended to keep her stepchildren with her, but when their aunt showed up, saying she was a blood relative and they should be with her, there was nothing my mother could do.”

“And there was no further contact?”

“No, none. Until this past Monday.”

“Finding Ian McGregor on your doorstep after all this time must have been quite a surprise.””It was a shock,” Abbie admitted. “And so was finding out Ian had been in prison.”

“Did he visit your mother while he was here?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He didn’t ask to and I didn’t encourage him. My mother isn’t well,” she continued, seeing no point in hiding something he could so easily find out. “She has Alzheimer’s. His visit might have upset her. I didn’t want that.”

She glanced at her watch again, looking for an excuse to end the conversation, especially since it had begun to steer toward her mother. “If that’s all, Detective. I really need to get back to work.”

“Of course.” He flipped his notebook shut. “Thank you for your time, Ms. DiAngelo. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

She walked with him to the now-empty dining room. It wasn’t until the detective had disappeared from sight that she allowed herself a sigh of relief.

Or was that a little premature?

Twenty

Abbie was lost in thought as she watched the detective walk away, and didn’t notice Brady standing beside her until he spoke.

“Nice man. Where have I seen him before?”

“The ball field. He coaches his son’s team sometimes—The Princeton Cardinals.”

Brady nodded. “That’s it. I didn’t know he was a homicide detective, though.” He gave Abbie a casual glance. “What did he want?”

There was no longer any reason to hide the truth from him. The news of Ian’s death would be out soon enough. “Ian McGregor is dead.”

Brady’s face showed only mild surprise. “Your stepbrother? What happened?”

“Someone stabbed him. His body was found at Lake Carnegie this morning.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to be all broken up about it.”

She smiled. “No. You’ve made your feelings for him perfectly clear.”

“Did they catch who did it?”

“Not yet.” She repeated what Detective Ryan had told her, but did not mention Ian’s blackmailing scheme. Hopefully no one would ever find out about that.

“Are you all right?” Brady asked when she was finished. “I mean, you’re not in trouble or anything?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, like I said, I’m not sorry.” He draped an arm around her shoulder. “The man came here with only one goal in mind—to sponge off you. It’s too bad he had to die, but at least now you won’t have to put up with him anymore.”

As always, Brady seemed to have read her mind, because his words reflected exactly how she felt about her stepbrother’s death. They had just stepped into the kitchen when Claudia, apparently tired of waiting for Abbie to return her calls, flew into the room, a worried expression on her face.

Abbie waited until Brady had returned to his station before drawing her friend into a quiet corner. “I know, I know,” she said, cutting short Claudia’s string of questions. “I should have called.”

“Yes, you should have. I was frantic. All Brady could tell me was that a homicide detective had come here to talk to you.”

Abbie brought her up to date and could see the effect each of her words was having on her friend.

“Dear Lord.” Claudia’s eyes were filled with disbelief. “No wonder you’re wound up so tight, and I walked in here like gangbusters. I’m sorry, Abbie.”

Abbie smiled. “You should be. You scared Brady.”

“Nothing scares Brady, but I’ll make sure to apologize.” She went to the industrial-size refrigerator, found a small bottle of Perrier and twisted the cap off. “So who do you think killed Ian? That ape who attacked you?”

“Who else? He was there. He knew about the money.” She paused, reliving the ordeal. “And he had a knife.”

“You should have told Detective Ryan.”

‘”And admit Ian was blackmailing me?” Abbie shook her head. “I won’t do that. I won’t put my mother through a murder investigation.”

“That’s assuming John Ryan would notify the Palo Alto authorities.”

“He’s a police officer. He would have no choice.”

“And what are you going to do about this maniac who attacked you? He’s still out there, you know.”

“You don’t need to remind me.”

“And what about Earl Kramer? What if he decides to ‘confess’?” She made quotation marks in the air. “Or blackmail you himself?”

“That thought has also crossed my mind.”

“Then talk to Detective Ryan. Tell him the truth. From what you told me about him so far, he sounds like a decent man. He might just decide to help you.”

“He would have to believe me first.”

Claudia gave her a teasing grin. “That part is easy. I bet you’ve already charmed the pants off him.” She leaned against the refrigerator and took another sip of Perrier. “Didn’t you say he was divorced?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Claudia rolled her eyes. “Do I need to draw you a picture? A handsome, available man, a beautiful, available woman. Sparks fly. Get it?”

She got it. And she would be lying if she didn’t admit, at least to herself, that Detective Ryan’s good looks and undeniable charm had not gone unnoticed. But Claudia, who was a hopeless matchmaker, didn’t need to know that.

“There were no sparks,” she stated flatly. “And how do you know he’s handsome?”

“Brady told me.” She leaned forward, scrutinizing Abbie. “So. is he right? Is John Ryan a babe?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Sexy?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, come on,” Claudia teased. “It hasn’t been that long, has it? You still know a sexy man when you see one.”

“For heaven’s sake, Claudia. Must you measure every male/female encounter on a sexual level?”

Claudia laughed. “Of course. I’m an artiste, remember? I deal with touch, emotions, sensations.”

“Well, don’t expect inspiration from me. My mind is not on romance these days, and even if it were, I’d never be so stupid as to fall for a man who could turn out to be my worst enemy.”

Abbie sat across from Ben at the kitchen table and watched him devour the chocolate chip cookies she had baked earlier, knowing they were his favorite. Between bites, he told her about Bobby Talbot, who had been sent to the principal’s office for throwing paper balls at one of the girls in the front row. One ball had missed its target and hit Miss Simmons instead.

Elbows on the table, chin resting on her folded hands, Abbie laughed with Ben, wishing she didn’t have to put a damper on her son’s perfect day. But she knew that if she didn’t tell him about Ian, someone else would. Or he would hear it on TV and wonder why she had kept something this important from him.

She waited until he had drunk the last of his milk before saying, “I need to tell you something, too, sport, although my story won’t be nearly as funny as yours.”

Serious blue eyes focused on her. “Is Grandma okay?”

“Grandma is fine.” She wasn’t surprised that his first thought had been for his grandmother. Ben adored Irene

and had become very protective of her since finding out about her illness.

Abbie spoke quietly and honestly, trying to be truthful without being morbid. She told Ben Ian had been in prison and why, and how he had found her. Once again, she said nothing about the blackmail or Detective Ryan’s visit. Ben and Jordan were friends and she didn’t want him to feel awkward in front of the detective’s son. She simply said the police had questioned her because she and another sister in New York were Ian’s only living relatives.

Ben listened until she was finished, then looked at her, his expression solemn. “How come you never told me I had an aunt and uncle?”

“Because I lost touch with both of them.”

“But they were your family, right?”

“For a short time.”

He bobbed his head a few times as though he understood, then asked abruptly, “Are you sad your brother is dead?”

The question took her by surprise, and for a moment she didn’t know how to answer it. She had always made it a point to be honest with Ben, and the thought of lying to him now in order not to appear heartless sounded too hypocritical to even consider.

Instead, she opted for diplomacy. “It’s always sad when someone dies, but I hardly knew him. Twenty-eight years without seeing or hearing from someone is a long time. And remember, he wasn’t my real brother.”

“How come I didn’t meet him? Didn’t he want to see me?”

Another difficult question. She wouldn’t dodge it this time. “I’m the one who didn’t want him to meet you.”

“Because he was in prison?””That had a lot to do with it.” And so did the fact that he was a louse, she almost added.

“What about Liz? Will I get to meet her?”

Abbie winced inwardly. Another question she hadn’t expected. “Do you want to?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe. All my friends have aunts and uncles and cousins. It’s kind of neat.”

“You have Aunt Claudia.”

“It’s not the same thing. I like Aunt Claudia a lot, but she’s your friend, not my real aunt.”

“Liz is not your real aunt either. She is your stepaunt, related to you only by marriage.” She was aware that her tone had turned brittle, almost defensive, which was not how she had intended it to be. Ben was a little boy, and given his kind, considerate nature, those questions were only natural.

“It’s complicated, isn’t it?” She smiled as she brushed a red strand from his forehead.