“In spades,” Bryan said. “I won’t know the whole story until I have a chance to look into the files. And I have a feeling that once I dig deeper, I’m going to find out there was a whole lot more going on that I still don’t know about.”
Ali heard the hurt in Bryan’s voice. Betrayals that are uncovered while someone is still alive are bad enough, but at least you can deal with them. You can talk them over, or not, and then move on. When something like that surfaced after someone was dead, the survivor was left to deal with the whole thing alone. Unfortunately, Ali knew all about that kind of pain-from the inside out-and she worried about Bryan and whether or not he’d be able to handle whatever else might be hidden in his dead wife’s computer files.
“I’m so sorry,” Ali said. “I’m not sure if you ever heard about it, but something very similar happened to me. There were things my former husband did behind my back that I never knew about until after he was dead.”
“When it was too late and there wasn’t a damned thing you could do about it,” Bryan Forester added bitterly. There were tears in his eyes.
Ali pretended not to notice. “That’s pretty much it,” she agreed. Her heart went out to the man. How could it not? And even though she expected the rest of the world would deem her a fool, she decided right then that she would trust him on the cabinet deal. Besides, he wasn’t asking for her money to go to him. He wanted Ali to pay the cabinet manufacturer directly.
“Where do you want me to wire the payment?” she asked.
Bryan let his breath out in a sigh of gratitude. “Thank you,” he said. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
Before Ali could reply, her attention was drawn to the sound of raised voices coming from the open door of the house. The words, indistinct at first, became clearer as the speaker moved closer.
“You’ve got a job to do, and so do I,” Billy insisted, his voice raised to a near shout. “I’ve wasted enough time answering questions. Now get the hell out of here.”
Dave Holman emerged from the house a few minutes later, trailed by the two cameramen, one of whom had his camera shoulder-high and running. Obviously, it had occurred to at least one of them that, with a homicide investigation under way, their mundane Mid-Century Revival filming project may have morphed into something that might be more profitable.
The videographers may have been filming for some time, but this was the first Dave seemed to notice. “Hey, you two,” he said. “What the hell are you doing? This is a homicide investigation. Turn that thing off.”
The two cameramen, Raymond and Robert, were virtually interchangeable. At that moment, Ali still couldn’t tell them apart, but on this score, she was in full agreement with Dave Holman.
“That’s right,” she told them. “This falls outside our filming guidelines. Do what he said. Turn it off.”
Dave glanced toward Ali. When he caught sight of Bryan Forester, he stiffened. “What’s he doing here?” the detective asked.
“Talking to my client,” Bryan answered in Ali’s place. “In case you haven’t noticed, we have a job to finish here.”
Without another word, Bryan rose from the table. He stalked off across the driveway and strode past both the detective and the cameramen. Billy Barnes and Bryan walked into the house together. Dave, meanwhile, came over to the table where Ali was sitting. “What’s he doing here?” he asked again. “What did he want?”
“He already told you what he was doing here,” Ali corrected. “We were conferring about the best way to get my project finished.”
Dave made no attempt to conceal his disbelief. “The day after his wife was murdered? Sure he was. It’s a lot more likely he’s making the rounds, trying to make sure his people have their stories straight about where he was and what he did yesterday.”
“Dave-” Ali began.
“Have you ever seen someone who’s been beaten to death?” Dave demanded, cutting her off. “Morgan Forester died a horrible death on the front porch of her own home. She was beaten to death-so savagely that her face is barely recognizable. I can’t believe those poor little girls came home and found their mother like that. Do I think this was a crime of opportunity-that some stranger just happened to stop by their place, found her home alone, and slaughtered her because he could? No way, Ali. Like I told you last night, when homicide cops see this kind of mindless fury, this kind of rage, we usually don’t have to go looking for some kind of stranger/danger perpetrator. Killers like this are mostly found a whole lot closer to home.”
“Bryan didn’t kill his wife,” Ali asserted quietly.
“Oh, really?” Dave returned. “How can you be so sure of that? Because he told you so?”
“Because I know the man,” Ali insisted. “He’s a nice guy who’s worked for me for months. He just wouldn’t, that’s all.”
“Right,” Dave said. “Billy Barnes has known Bryan since high school, and he says the same thing-he just wouldn’t. Don’t be naive, Ali. When a man’s world gets turned upside down, not even his mother knows what he might be capable of.”
When Ali didn’t reply to that, Dave pulled his car keys out of his pocket and walked away. Since he had arrived first, his car was parked on the far side of Bryan Forester’s truck. Instead of going straight to his sedan, Dave made a slow circuit of Bryan’s Dodge Ram, peering into the bed of the pickup. Halfway around the truck, even with the far back tire, he stopped cold, leaned over, and stared. Then, pulling a pair of latex gloves out of his back pocket, he reached into the pickup, removed something, and took it with him when he drove away.
For a moment Ali stood there in shocked silence.
“Are you all right?” Leland Brooks had appeared soundlessly behind Ali and was examining her face with some concern.
“Yes,” she said, a little too quickly. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” he returned. With a firm hold on her upper arm, he led her back to the table. “Come sit down, then,” he said. “Let me get you something-coffee, tea, or even something a bit stronger? Perhaps a hot toddy is in order.”
Shaking her head, Ali managed to laugh off his suggestion. She reached for her now-cold coffee. “No, thanks,” she said. “That’s not necessary. I’ll just sit here for a few minutes.”
“Well, at least let me call and cancel your afternoon appointment,” Leland suggested. “There’s no point in going through with it if you’re not feeling up to snuff.”
At first Ali didn’t remember what appointment he meant, but then she did. As a high school senior, Ali had been the surprised recipient of the very first Amelia Dougherty Askins Scholarship, an award that had made it possible for her to go on to college. Now, over twenty years later and through a series of fluke circumstances, Ali found herself in charge of administering the scholarship program that had once benefitted her.
Rather than being part of the regular financial aid programs, the Askins Scholarship had a somewhat unorthodox selection process. There was no formal application. Early in September, Leland Brooks, after months of investigation, had presented Ali with a list of ten possible candidates. The deserving students were drawn from the Verde Valley’s various secondary schools. Once Ali and Leland had winnowed that list down to three finalists, Leland had gone about collecting as much information as possible on all three. Ali had decided that before making her final decision, she wanted to interview each of the candidates. The first of those interviews was scheduled for later that day.
“So you don’t want me to cancel your meeting with Miss Marsh?” Leland confirmed. Haley Marsh, a seventeen- year-old single mother, was a senior at Cottonwood’s Mingus Mountain Union High School.
“No,” Ali said. “Considering what’s going on around here today, a drive over to Cottonwood would probably be good for what ails me. It’s not until afternoon, though. In the meantime it might be a good idea if I spent an hour or so going over the files on all the finalists.”
Leland nodded. “Very well,” he said.
Just then Bryan emerged from the house. Ali was relieved when he merely nodded in her direction and walked to his pickup without bothering to engage her in conversation. He clambered into the vehicle, wheeled it around, and drove out of the driveway.
What if Dave is right about Bryan Forester? Ali wondered. And what should I do about the cabinet order? She
