“It was a hasty marriage. We’ve really only known each other for two months. The first month through e-mail and phone calls.”
“I would call that a hasty marriage.”
“I shouldn’t have said hasty,” Caroline corrected herself. “Hasty makes it sound like it was a mistake.”
The detective shook his head. “You just found out that your husband spent time in jail, that he lied to you about his identity and that he is now the prime suspect in a murder investigation, and you don’t think the marriage was a mistake?”
Caroline didn’t hesitate. “No, I don’t.”
He scowled but didn’t respond. The officers searching the house returned with the computer from his downstairs office and nothing else.
“We’ll be leaving now, but we’ll be in touch.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Caroline said. “Why would he kill Denny? Denny was his business. He made millions on his software programs. Isn’t that a little like killing the goose that laid the golden egg?”
“Not if he thought he had enough eggs already,” he answered. “We spent the morning with Steven Ford. It turns out that there is a discrepancy in the company’s finances. Two million dollars appears to be missing.”
Caroline shook her head angrily. “The company is worth ten times that. What does a man who is worth tens of millions of dollars need with two?”
“Good question. I’ll be in touch.”
Nora crouched in front of where Caroline sat. “I know this is going to be hard to believe, but if you know where he is you have to tell us. It’s the only way we’re going to figure this out. The only way, if he is innocent.”
“He is.”
“Then finding him is crucial to proving that.”
“Who are you?” Caroline asked her. Her gut was screaming at her that something was off.
“I’m here at the request of the government. Encrypton was up for a big contract.”
“No, I mean who are you?” Caroline pressed. “Are you…Do you know him? There was someone in the government. A former employee of his…”
“Hey, Agent FBI, you coming or not?” the detective called to her.
Nora took a card out of her purse along with a pen. She scribbled a number on the back of it. “This is my room number at the hotel where I’m staying.” She added the name of the hotel to the card. “Call me. We’ll talk. And Caroline, for what it’s worth, the last thing he did before he left his office was look at your picture.”
Caroline said nothing, but took the card and watched them leave. Munch followed them to the door and sounded off with a few harsh barks just to let them know she hadn’t appreciated their company. Immediately she returned looking up at her mistress longingly. The question was easy to read in her confused eyes.
“I don’t where he is,” Caroline sobbed.
“What was that?” Mark wanted to know.
“What was what?” she asked as she followed him to his beige nondescript cop car. The siren light on top was the only thing that gave it a little character.
“You and the missus were getting pretty chummy.”
“She’s clearly distraught. You could have broken the news to her a little more gently.”
Mark snorted. “I’m not in the nice business, shortcake. I’m trying to track a killer.”
“A suspected killer. You keep forgetting that.”
“Not you, though,” Mark pointed out. “Don’t tell me you think this guy is innocent?”
“I was trained not to form conclusions too early in an investigation.”
“Well la-di-da,” Mark sang. “I was trained to close cases. I’ve got a missing ex-con, who was one of two people who had access to books that were cooked, and a dead body. It seems pretty cut-and-dried to me.”
“What about the wife’s question? Why would a man already worth millions need to steal two?”
“I’m not sure about that,” he admitted grudgingly. “It does sound a little weak.”
“Maybe a little too cut-and-dried,” she suggested.
“But that doesn’t answer my question. Why are you rooting for the bad guy?”
She laughed. “I’m not rooting.”
“You’re rooting. Put a skirt on you and couple of pom-poms in your hands and I would call you his personal cheerleading squad.”
“I’m just here to observe and report back to Washington.”
Mark accepted that for the time being. Only because he had to. At some point, though, he was going to have to do a little more digging into the pixie’s story. She was cute, so he was really hoping his gut was off on this. But he didn’t think so.
“I guess it sort of makes sense that Washington would want this guy to be clean. Otherwise they have to go looking for someone else.”
They reached the car and he circled it to open the door for her. She looked at the open door, then at him.
“What? I can’t be a gentleman?”
“It’s just a little unexpected.”
He smiled wolfishly. “Learn to expect the unexpected with me, shortcake.”
Her eyes took on a decided glint. “Stop calling me short.”
“Yes, sir, Agent FBI.”
“You know, you could just call me Nora.”
“I could but that wouldn’t be as much fun.”
She got into the car and he closed the door behind her. Then he circled around and got behind the wheel.
“So where to next?” he asked.
“I would like to see the crime scene if that’s all right.”
“Still don’t trust me when I tell you that it was deliberate?” Mark asked.
“I want to see for myself,” Nora said. Then she turned to him and smiled. “And for the record, I don’t think I do trust you. You seem too eager to close this case and wash your hands of it.”
“I’m crushed.”
“Yeah, right.”
He smiled again. “Okay, I’m not. For the record, I’m not so sure I trust you, either.”
“That hurts not even a little bit.”
“Wiseass.” He started the car and reversed down the long driveway. The itchy edge overcame him and he felt his foot start to tap uncontrollably. It was hard to know if it was his passenger or…“On the way there though, we need to make a stop.”
“Why?”
“I think my patch is wearing off.”
Chapter 8
Caroline stood among the mourners and thought what a hypocrite she was. She didn’t know this man. Had met him only once. She didn’t know what his dreams or hopes had been. What used to make him laugh out loud or his favorite type of music. She only knew with every passing minute she had to suppress the urge to fling open the closed casket, haul his body out of it, shake him back to life and force him to admit who had done this to him.
Because it wasn’t Dominic. It wasn’t.
The minister Anne had arranged for said some final words. The small crowd, employees mostly and two police officers apparently sent by the detective to watch the proceedings, began to disperse. Caroline felt someone place an arm under her elbow and turned to find Steven trying to lead her away from the scene. She took one last look around, hoping much like she imagined the two officers were, to find Dominic hiding among the trees watching the service from a distance. A limo waited for them on the path that ran through the cemetery. Again, Anne’s doing. They all climbed inside, Anne, her father, Steven and Caroline, as if they were members of Denny’s immediate family.
