So, June of last year. Same time Nick was lusting after Rose Cameron. “Do you know Trent Stevens?”
“Who?”
“Portia Martinez?”
“No. Go, okay? Say hi to Sean for me. He’s very charming. I must remember that not all his friends are.”
Grit laughed. Diana Martini darted inside.
Interesting. When it came to Cameron & Martini, the sisters—Diana and Rose—were mustn’t-touch and, Jasper Vanderhorn had looked into Nick Martini’s background, despite their friendship.
Grit called Elijah on the way back to Beverly Hills. “I’ll be quick. I think it’s illegal to talk on a cell phone in California while driving. Did Sean and Nick sign a contract or take a blood oath not to sleep with each other’s sisters?”
“Why?”
“You notice anything going on between Nick and Rose?”
Elijah sighed. “They’re fighting it.”
“Ask Jo if the task force has looked into Nick’s travels and considered if he could be an arsonist, one of Lowell’s killers for hire.”
“Grit.”
“All this California sun is getting to me. You’re Special Forces. You wouldn’t understand the appeal of Coronado.”
“Are you nostalgic, Grit?” Elijah didn’t wait for an answer. “If my sister is in danger from Nick Martini—if there’s even a shred of a possibility—I want to know.”
“Heroes with scars worry me.”
“That describes you and me, too, Grit.”
“I worry me. You don’t worry me now that you’ve got Jo.”
“We’re both solid. Nick is, too. None of us has targeted innocent people.”
“Derek Cutshaw and Rob Feehan weren’t innocent.”
Good point, Grit thought, and disconnected.
He was back in Sean’s driveway when Charlie Neal called with a similar theory about Jasper Vanderhorn suspecting Nick Martini, but Charlie didn’t really believe it, either. “We’re running down blind alleys and into brick walls,” the vice president’s son said.
Grit didn’t even bother correcting Charlie’s use of
“How are your sisters?” Grit asked.
“We’re all going to Black Falls for the winter fest weekend at the lodge. Marissa in particular can’t wait to be back there. She’s signing up for cross-country ski lessons and a sleigh ride. I hope the sap will be running so I can make maple syrup. Did you know it takes about forty gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup?”
“That’s a lot of sap.”
“Real maple syrup and tupelo honey have a lot in common.” Charlie hesitated. “Marissa won’t tell me anything. I think the Secret Service got to her. You’re not reporting back to them every time I call, are you?”
“That’s not my job.”
“Because my calls are innocent. Totally. I’m not making any progress. I can tell Marissa’s upset. I think she still has feelings for Stevens. Did you notice? Could you tell?”
“I met her for about seventeen seconds three months ago.”
“Are you getting transferred to San Diego?”
Grit was almost used to the pinball machine that was Charlie Neal’s mind. “No.”
“But you like it there.”
“What difference does that make? Anything else you want to tell me?”
“I wish I could do more to help.”
“You’ll have your chance to do your own thing before you know it. Right now think about that maple sap.”
Grit hung up and went inside. The Vermonters were pacing.
Beth shoved her hands through her hair. “I can’t stand this anymore. I’m booking my flight back to Vermont. I don’t care if it’s twenty degrees and a hundred-fifty miles to the nearest Saks.”
“Forty-two degrees today,” Hannah said. “I checked.”
“Spring weather,” Beth said.
Which right there was why he’d never fit in there, Grit thought. He could be subtle if he had to be, but that wasn’t now. “Are you worried about Rose being with Nick?”
Both women glanced at Sean. It was his question to answer. “Nick’s a lot of things,” Sean said, “but he’s not an arsonist.”
“Did Jasper Vanderhorn suspect Nick was his serial arsonist?”
“Jasper suspected his own mother by the end.”
Sean didn’t elaborate and walked out to the patio. Grit glanced at the two women, then followed Sean outside to see what more he could get out of him. It wouldn’t be easy. The man was a Cameron.
Twenty-Four
J o Harper and two of the Cameron brothers came to dinner at Rose’s house. Nick didn’t know when or if she’d invited them. He watched her toss a handful of chopped fresh parsley into a soup pot, the steam rising into her face. She’d spent the afternoon holed up in her back office, leaving him by the woodstove with his laptop. Ranger would peer up at him occasionally as if he figured he had to start getting used to having him around.
Now Elijah and A.J. had the same look.
Suspicious Cameron eyes.
Rose had kicked Nick and her brothers out of her work area in the kitchen. They all had beers and stood by a small peninsula that separated the kitchen and living room. She was animated, focused, professional and determined, easily holding her own with her brothers. Nick had sorted out the major players in her life in Black Falls.
Jo pulled off her coat and draped it on a chair by the woodstove. “I’ve talked to some people,” she said vaguely, standing next to Elijah. “Robert Feehan flew from Boston to Los Angeles last Thursday and returned on Tuesday, the day before Nick arrived in Black Falls and two days before Derek Cutshaw was killed.”
Even with the steam from her bubbling soup, Rose’s cheeks lost their color. “Then Robert could have killed Portia Martinez,” she said.
Jo’s turquoise eyes narrowed on her fiance’s only sister. “Placing Feehan in Los Angeles is an important piece of circumstantial evidence, but it’s not enough.” She walked over to the sink just down from Rose at the stove. “Anything I can do to help?”
Rose grinned at her. “Where were you an hour ago?” But she pointed to the peninsula and a tray of drinks and snacks. “Grab a beer or something and relax. I’m just waiting for the bread to warm up.”
A.J. kept his gaze focused on his sister. He’d come alone. Lauren was still at the lodge with their children. “If Cutshaw found out Feehan was in California and started asking questions, that could explain why he was killed.”
“They both knew Sean lives out there,” Elijah said.
Rose snatched up a long-handled spoon and dipped it into her soup pot. “If Robert was a serial arsonist—a serial killer—then he could have been drawn to Sean because of his smoke jumping. So why not go after him? He foiled Lowell’s attempt to frame Bowie and avoid arrest.” She yanked her spoon out of the soup and set it on the counter. “Why go after this woman mopping floors for Marissa Neal’s ex-boyfriend?”
Jo leaned back against the peninsula, her arms crossed on her chest. “Let’s focus on Robert and Derek right now. If Derek suspected Robert was a killer and the two of them were also into pushing pills, maybe he went out to the Whittaker place to talk to you and figure out what to do.”
“Why would he? I hadn’t seen him in so long. We didn’t part on good terms.”
“But you’re a Cameron,” Jo said.
