Likely Suspects (24 page)

“
Tease,” he muttered, walking past my closed door toward the laundry room. I chuckled and thought about those boundaries that were pretty much nonexistent and quickly dismissed the thought. After yesterday, there was nothing wrong with some harmless flirtation as long as it never went beyond that point.

After dinner
, I tried to call Mark, but my call went straight to his out-of-office automated response. Deciding to leave a message, I asked when he had a positive identification on the make or model of the watch to pass it along to Det. O’Connell. I was sitting at the kitchen table, making a flow chart of the information I had. No matter how I listed it or categorized it, everything was leading back to Blake Denton. Was he really the mastermind behind the conspiracy? There were still too many unknown elements. I was positive Martin was targeted, but for what purpose, I was still unsure. The phone calls I received from the MT building, the photos taken of me with Denton, and the break-in at my office and apartment had all been designed to send me a message: we know who you are; stay out of this. Anyone with access to Griffin likely had access to my résumé and my hiring, which didn’t help narrow down the suspect list. The stolen MT funds were another story altogether. Were the funds taken because Martin was away from the office, making them more easily accessible, or would they have been stolen anyway?

I lea
ned back in the chair and stared at the pile of papers, closing my eyes and trying to listen to my instincts. Denton’s dirty was the only thought resonating throughout my body. My mind just needed to rationalize it.

“Maybe you should
go to one of those sleep centers,” Martin joked, walking into the kitchen and retrieving a pear from the refrigerator. “I think you must be narcoleptic to fall asleep sitting up at a kitchen table.” He was amusing himself, and I opened my eyes and glared at him.

“I
don’t have narcolepsy.” I was frustrated, and he got caught by my bitchiness.

“Okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender and leaning against the counter.
“Touchy subject. Sorry.” I sighed.

“It’s me.
” I rubbed my face. “How brilliant would you say Blake Denton is? Because that bullshit move he pulled at the charity thing really fucked up my instincts about him.”

“Well
, on a scale of one to ten, where I’m,” he tilted his head from side to side, “about an eight hundred and fifty-one. I’d say he’s maybe a seven.” I chuckled.

“I’m glad you have a realistic self-imag
e,” I teased, picking at the corners of the paper. “Do you think he could be behind this?”

Martin frowned
and thought for a few moments. “He has the capabilities and all the access he would need. I just don’t know why he would do it. Then again, I didn’t see him screwing Suzanne either.” I raised my eyebrows. Jealousy? Regret? Genuine surprise? What was his motivation for that particular assessment? I bit my bottom lip and stared, trying to get a read on him.

“How old i
s Denton?” I asked for lack of anything better to do.

“
Five or ten years older than me, I’d say. Probably in his early to mid-forties.” He threw out the pear rind and washed his hands.

T
wo theories were brewing in my mind simultaneously, except neither of them seemed solid. The first involved Griffin, so distraught over Martin she planned this entire thing. The problem was it had been half a decade, and while hell hath no fury, five years seemed a bit extreme. The second problem was she was dead. Dead didn’t make a great endgame for a conspiracy, so I decided to nix this idea. My second theory involved a jealous man. Martin got everywhere faster than Denton. Martin was the CEO, he was brilliant, he ran the company, he bedded who knew how many personal assistants, the likes of which I didn’t want to know about, and he was younger, in better shape, and definitely more personable.

“D
oes Denton strike you as jealous?” I asked once he turned the water off.

Martin didn’t even blink before responding.
“Definitely.”

So my second theor
y might actually hold merit. Denton wouldn’t have needed too much support since Griffin had access to a lot of information, personal and corporate. He could have swayed her easily and gotten whatever he needed. Todd Jackson was paid off anonymously, or so he claimed. If Denton hired some outsiders to plant the bomb and attempt the kidnapping, then he would have an alibi. The photos taken and sent to Martin might also cover his ass or force me to tip my hand.

“Do you think he’s capab
le of killing someone?”

“I don’t know.
” He had no basis for knowing this; unfortunately, neither did I. I was thinking about Griffin’s body. From the report, it sounded like a professional hit, but there was no way to be sure. O’Connell needed to get access to Denton’s financial records, and then maybe some of these dots could be legitimately connected. I had a feeling if Denton was responsible, he had hired someone to do most of the wet work.

“If Denton is behind this, there has got to
be some way to prove it,” I mumbled to myself. I put my elbow on the table and rested my head in my hand, thinking, but no good ideas were coming to me. Everything I thought of involved tipping Denton off, and we couldn’t risk it. I tapped my nails against the table while Martin held my gaze.

“What if I go back to work?”
He was serious. “If I’m back, I can confront him on the funds, and maybe something helpful will surface.”

“No,” I was adamant, “
you are not bait.”

“Are you sure?
I’m living in a fucking fish bowl.”

“We don’t have any hard evidence yet, and if you go back
, I don’t know what he’d do.” I swallowed. “Griffin was murdered. My guess is he paid someone to take care of that loose end. He could pay someone to take care of you, too, and I can’t be everywhere at once. And I really don’t like those odds.” He crossed his arms, trying to come up with a better solution. “O’Connell is working on getting a court order for Denton’s financial records. Maybe when he does, we can track the spending.” The only problem, which I didn’t mention to Martin, was O’Connell didn’t have enough evidence to get access to the records.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if the plant saboteur
’s watch and Blake’s watch matched?” He sounded wishful.

“Yeah, except Mark isn’t around at the moment.”
Would the partial prints on the box match Blake Denton? “Hang on.” I called O’Connell. He was off duty, but I left a message for him to call me back.

“Wha
t is it?” Martin asked, taking a seat.

“There was a
third set of prints in the box or on the box. Whatever. The semantics aren’t important. They didn’t match anyone in the databases.”

“Maybe they were Blake’s?”

“Maybe.” If we can tie him to the break-in at my apartment, it should be enough for O’Connell to get a warrant. Then we could take things from there. Could all the pieces really be coming together this easily? “We’ll have to wait it out. Just give me a couple of days before you decide to do something insane.”

“I’m impressed
, Alex. You left the house this morning and said you were going to get my life back. I didn’t really think you’d put things together this quickly. Had I known, I would have said something sooner.”

“I
t’s a working theory. For all I know, it was Mrs. White with the rubber hose in the garden.”

“I don’
t think that’s how the game is played.” He smirked.

*       *       *

The next morning, O’Connell called back. Amazingly enough, I was already awake, wracking my brain for a more plausible alternative theory.

“What have you got, Parker?” He got straight to the point, and
I filled him in on my theory and reasoning. He didn’t think it was completely sound, but it was more than he had before. “So you think Denton’s fingerprints might be a match to the unknowns?”

“I do.” I was
optimistic.

“The only problem is
I don’t have enough to get them. I’m not sure I can call him back for a follow-up either. He seems the litigious, harassment type.” I thought about it.

“I can get them.
It’d be easy enough for me to go into the office. If you want, you can come with me to ensure chain of custody.” I knew when I told Martin the plan he wasn’t going to be pleased, especially since I forbade him from going back to the MT building.

“I
t might just work.” O’Connell was satisfied with the plan. “When do you want to do this?”

“The sooner the better, let’s sa
y around noon.”

I updated Ma
rtin on the situation; as I suspected, he was less than pleased but agreed to stay away from the office and let me do my job. Now I just needed to figure out a plausible excuse for meeting with Denton.

“Why don’t you take this?”
Martin rummaged through his office and found a stainless steel clipboard. “Have him sign something.” He clicked a few keys on the computer until some employee forms popped up. “Tell him I forgot to renew the contract for the vending machine operators, and since he’s acting CEO, he should sign it.”

I gave him
a skeptical look. “You think he’s going to buy that?” It sounded like a load of bull.

“Of course, it’s a legitimate thing.”

“So, I get him to hold the clipboard, we get his prints, and that’s that. Easy as pie.” This was starting to sound like a ridiculous plan.

“It was your idea,” he
pointed out. Plus, I was resigned to at least trying it.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon.”
I didn’t bother to give him my usual stay put speech since I was sure he had it memorized by now.

“Good luck,” he called
.

*       *       *

On my way to the MT building, I called Denton. His assistant transferred the call, and by the third ring, he answered the phone.

“Alexis, so lovely to hear from you today.
Is everything okay?” Denton was playing the part of CEO well.

“
James just happened to find some paperwork in his home office today, and he thinks you probably need it. It’s some kind of contract for the vendors or vending machines. I’m not really sure. You know James’s philosophy on work,” I tried to sound annoyed by the whole ordeal.

“I
f you give me the address, I’ll send a courier,” he offered. The suspicious part of my brain wondered if this was his way of getting easy access to Martin’s home.

“No, I’m
actually on my way now. The detective who is investigating the break-in at my office wanted another chance to look around, so I figured two birds, one stone.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but I didn’t know if it was coming across that way or not. The news had made no mention of Griffin, so hopefully, O’Connell’s appearance at the MT building wouldn’t spook the guilty party.

“Oh
, I remember hearing about that vaguely. Any suspects?” He seemed interested.

“Not that I’m awa
re of. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me, but we all know how cops can be.” I downplayed the situation as much as possible.

“Okay,
come find me when you get here. I should be in my office for most of the day.” Game, set, match, I thought.

By the time I arrived, O’Connell was loitering out front.
I pulled out my MT ID card, and we entered the building. He flashed his badge at the security guards working the desk, and we went to the back of the lobby and took the elevator to the fifteenth floor. During our ascent, I filled O’Connell in on the cover story.

“Mr. Denton,” I called,
knocking on his slightly open door.

“Alexis, do come in.
” He waved me into the room. His office was much smaller than Martin’s but absolutely exquisite in décor. I walked over, carrying the clipboard and a pen. I had wiped my own prints off the clipboard and was carefully touching the sides. I wanted to wear gloves, but considering the warm weather, it would seem too suspicious, especially if he was already on to me.

“Here’s
that form.”

“Great, thanks.”
He took the clipboard, read the form Martin had printed out, signed his name, and started to hand the clipboard back but stopped. I looked at him confused. Just give me the damn clipboard, I wanted to scream. “I can mail it for you,” he offered.

“Oh, y
ou don’t have to go through any more trouble.” I was trying to be gracious and not rip it out of his hands and run for the exit.

“It’s no trouble
, really.” He placed it on top of his desk.

“Great,
thank you so much.” I headed for the door. “Oh, actually,” I spun on my heel, “can I get the clipboard back? James is driving me absolutely crazy. We’ve already searched the entire house for the damn television remote. If he blames me for misplacing one more thing, I’m going to kill him.” I feigned annoyance at Martin, and Denton laughed, handing back the clipboard after unclipping the form.

“Here, it sounds like you might need to give him a good slap.
Maybe the clipboard will come in handy.” I did my best to appear contrite.