Authors: Brenda Jackson
Twenty-Seven
“H
onestly, Ms. Sweet, I'm not sure why you're here. What is it you want to know?”
Jules glanced around the lavishly decorated living room. It was immaculate, with all-white furniture that matched the white carpeting. It also matched the uniform of the maid who had escorted her inside, as well as the white Mercedes parked in the circular driveway. That was too much white. Too sterile for her taste. Too pristine. But Ivan Greene, mayoral candidate, looked right at home standing out in his tailor-made dark suit against all that white.
He hadn't offered her tea or cookies as Leigh Imerson had done, which led her to believe he didn't expect her to stay long. “Honestly, Mr. Greene, you aren't the one I asked to talk with. I was expecting to meet with your parents. I was surprised to find you sitting here waiting on me, instead.”
She could tell from his expression that he wasn't used to being around those who spoke their minds. “And I honestly can't imagine what they could tell you, either. How about you telling me what this is about?”
Not before he answered a question of her own. “Do you always designate yourself as your parents' spokesperson?”
He shrugged. “I've found it necessary to run interference for them since I began running for political office. Early on, for some reason, my opponents thought my parents would expose some imaginary secrets they could use as ammunition to hurt my campaign.”
Jules held his gaze. “And they can't?”
Ivan Greene frowned. “There aren't any secrets to expose. What you see is what you get. Now, let's not waste our time. What exactly are you here for? Why did you want to meet with my parents?”
“It's about the Sylvia Granger murder.” He didn't blink, which meant he'd known the nature of her visit. She couldn't be concerned with
how
he knew for right now.
“Then you're definitely wasting your time wanting to meet with my parents. They were out of the country on a cruise when that unfortunate incident happened.”
“Were they?”
“Yes. You can check with the cruise line, but that was close to fifteen years ago, and there's a possibility their records don't go back that far. You might want to check with the man who was Sheppard Granger's attorney at the time. I understand he verified my parents' alibi.”
She nodded. “So I understand, but I prefer not having a second party verifying any alibis I'm interested in. You never know when someone is not being honest. And I'm sure you're aware that at least one of your parents, specifically your mother, might have been a suspect had Sheppard Granger revealed the fact that your father had an affair with his wife, Sylvia Granger.”
She watched his jaw twitch, letting her know he didn't like being told that. “Let's be real, shall we, Ms. Sweet? We both know why that was never brought up in court. Granted, I understand my mother went to see Sheppard Granger while he was out on bail and asked him not to mention it because of their alibi, and he agreed. But only after his attorney checked out my parents' alibi. But then, Sheppard was a smart man. He'd known that mentioning his wife's affair with my father would have given the prosecution even more reason to argue that Sheppard Granger had a motive for killing his wife. He did the smart thing in leaving my parents out of it. And besides, like I said, they were on a cruise at the time Sylvia Granger was murdered.”
“How convenient.”
“Yes, and how lucky for them not to get caught up in that scandal. They were on that cruise trying to restore and rebuild their marriage. As you can see, it worked. My parents have been married a little over forty years now.”
“That's admirable, considering the fact your father's affair with Sylvia had your mother angry enough to hire a private investigator to prove her suspicions were true and then send proof of the affair to Sheppard Granger.”
“Only because Sheppard Granger needed to know what kind of woman he was married to. Sylvia Granger was evil, and she used my father to get what she wanted.”
Jules raised a brow. “Which was?”
“A way to make her husband jealous, I imagine. I understand Sheppard had begun spending more time with Granger Aeronautics and less time with Sylvia. I heard she was beginning to feel somewhat neglected.”
Jules didn't say anything for a minute. “You seem to know a lot about how she was feeling, Mr. Greene. Let's see, you were around twenty-six or twenty-seven back then, right? An attorney fresh out of Harvard Law School, who went straight to work with Miller, Wyatt and Barnes.”
Then, without missing a beat, she asked, “And where were you the day Sylvia Granger was murdered?”
His gaze darkened with suppressed anger. “I wish I could say I was on that cruise with my parents, but I can't. I was here in town, but in court that day. All day. That can be verified.”
“I'll make sure that it can. And what about your visit to Leigh Imerson? Not long after her husband's accident, you were inquiring about his investigative report on Sylvia's murder. Why were you interested? Were you afraid some damaging information was in that report? Whom were you trying to protect? Your parents or yourself?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Really? Well, personally, I think that you do know what I'm talking about.”
His jaw twitched again as he leaned forward on the sofa. “Let's cut the bullshit, Ms. Sweet. You're a PI who goes by the name J. B. Sweet, but you're really Juliet Bradford, and your sister is married to Jace Granger.”
She wasn't about to try to figure out how he had discovered that, either. “The fact remains that I am a PI. A darned good one, who plans to prove Sheppard Granger didn't kill his wife and expose the real killer.”
“As far as I'm concerned, the real killer is in jail. Sheppard Granger killed his wife, so trying to prove otherwise is a waste of your time.”
Jules stood, smiling. “No problem. I have time to waste. Thanks for seeing me in your parents' stead. Hopefully, next time I have a question, I'll get a chance to talk to them.”
“I'd advise you not to hold your breath waiting for that to happen.”
Jules met his gaze without blinking. “Oh, you might be surprised at what I can make happen, Mr. Greene. And I'll keep in mind the fact that you didn't tell me why you sought out Ms. Imerson after her husband's accident, which means I'll be doing even more digging for answers. Goodbye, and I wish you the best in the election.”
She then turned and headed toward the front door but paused to say casually, “Oh, there is something else I'm curious about. You and your parents ran into Caden Granger at a party a couple of months ago, and I understand that the three of you weren't all that friendly toward him. Any reason for that? Even if he is Sylvia Granger's son, he was a child during the time of his mother's affair with your father. Why the animosity?”
Ivan's eyes blazed in fury. “Yes, he was a child then, but he's a full-grown man now.”
“Meaning?”
“I guess that's for me to know and for you to try to figure out, Ms. Bradford.”
* * *
Dalton approached the security station in the main lobby at Granger Aeronautics. The man at the desk watching the monitors on all the floors and elevators was George Gillum, a sixtysomething man who would be retiring next year. Not only did Dalton need to get George engaged in a conversation for about thirty minutes, but he also needed to switch off the video in the elevator that Bruce would be using. In the event it was played back later for some reason, they needed no evidence that Bruce had been on site.
Percy had visited accounting earlier and marked the computer in question. The computer had been assigned to a young woman by the name of Ramona Oakley. Single, pretty and a dedicated employee of five years. She had a good work record, good attendance and a bubbly personality. It was rumored that last month she had begun dating an older man.
The woman sounded a lot like Brandy Booker. Dalton couldn't help remembering when Brandy had mentioned to him that she was dating an older man, one who was at least twenty years older than she was. He couldn't help wondering if perhaps there was some older man out there preying on the younger women who worked at Granger. First Brandy and then Ramona? Were there others? For some reason, he had a nagging suspicion it was the same man. That was a possible angle he would mention to Marcel.
George Gillum glanced up with surprise when Dalton approached. “Mr. Granger, I'm surprised to see you down here.”
Dalton gave the older man a megawatt smile. “Yes, I thought it would be nice to get to know the employees, those we consider essential to the company. And you are first on my list.”
George beamed, evidently feeling pretty darned important. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Do you want to know what I do every day?”
That was the last thing he wanted, Dalton thought. He didn't want George focused on any of those monitors for now. Not for at least thirty minutes. “No, that won't be necessary. But I need to know how things are going with you personally. I know you've been with the company close to twenty-five years.” Dalton deliberately went to stand in front of the monitor that scanned the accounting floor to prevent George from seeing it.
“Yes, and it was your daddy who hired me. Good man, that Sheppard Granger. And he did what you're doing now. Got to know his employees. He knew I liked strawberries, and every once in a while he would bring me some that were grown right on your family estate.”
Dalton couldn't help but laugh. “So Dad was the one sneaking into my grandmother's strawberry patch. I think she thought it was my brothers or me.”
George chuckled. “Sorry about that, but they were so good.” Then the smile eased from George's face. “They stopped coming when your dad left.” He paused a moment. “Just so you know, I never believed your father capable of harming anyone.”
Dalton nodded. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“I send your father a card every holiday to let him know I'm still here.”
“That's kind of you to do that. I understand you're retiring sometime next year.”
“Yes,” George said, his smile returning. “My wife, Cora, and I plan to take one of those Mediterranean cruises. For fourteen whole days. At least, we hope to do so. We've both been saving our money to make it happen, but she had to have a hip replacement earlier this year, so we need to try harder to reach our financial goal.”
Dalton decided then and there that regardless of whether George reached his financial goal for the trip, he would make the cruise happen for him and his wife...as a retirement gift from Granger.
He ended up talking to George way past what was needed, because he was enjoying conversing with him so much. George was proud of his two daughters and couldn't help boasting about his four grandsons. Dalton wished there were more employees at Granger like George, those who felt a deep loyalty to the company.
When his cell phone vibrated, he knew it was Bruce sending a signal that he was through with what he needed to do. “Well, George, I won't let this be my last time visiting. I enjoyed our talk.”
A smile spread across the older man's features. “I enjoyed it, as well, Mr. Granger. Reminded me of old times with your daddy.”
A few moments later, when Dalton walked toward the elevator, he decided that he would also pay a visit to the strawberry patch next time he visited Sutton Hills. Since George liked strawberries, there was no need to let any of them go to waste.
* * *
Ben Bradford eased out of bed to sit on the side. For some reason, Jules was on his mind. His daughter was up to something, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what. She was planning to find out who really killed Sylvia Granger. And knowing Jules, she would find that person or die trying...and it was the latter that had him worried. Especially after what Shana had shared with him regarding what Sheppard had told his sons. He had reason to believe the last PI trying to prove his innocence died a questionable death. There was no way in hell Ben would let his daughter be at risk. But then, he knew that Jules had a mind of her own. She always had and always would.
If he thought there was some way he could talk her out of pursuing this, he would. Or at least try. Jules knew this, which was probably the main reason she hadn't mentioned anything to him or her sister about what she was doing. And she wouldn't until she thought they needed to know. Right now she was keeping quiet as a church mouse.
“Ben, are you all right?”
He glanced over his shoulder at Mona as she pulled herself up to a sitting position in bed. He would never tire of looking at her. She was simply beautiful. He eased back in bed and drew her into his arms. “Yes, baby, I'm fine. I was just thinking about Jules.”
“Jules? What about Jules? She's okay?”
She better be
, he thought.
Anyone who hurts a hair on my daughter's head will have to answer to me.
“I'm sure she is. I haven't heard from her in the last couple of days. I know she's busy working on a case.”
Mona pulled away slightly and looked up at him. “A case? But I thought she said she was getting some rest until after the holidays.”
“I think she changed her mind. A case was brought to her attention that she feels she needs to handle.”
“Oh.” Mona went back into his arms and cuddled closer to him. “Is that why you're frowning?”
Ben didn't say anything for a minute. “And how did you know I was frowning?”
Mona went completely still and didn't say anything. Ben drew back to look into her face. “When were you going to tell me you'd gotten your sight back?”
Mona drew in a long, deep breath. “Not until I was certain it was back. All I'm getting is occasional flashes. I don't want to get too optimistic. How did you know?”