Arissa was in shock but tried to conceal it because she didn’t want Hank to drop everything, he had enough shit on his plate. “I’m a suspect,” she spoke her thoughts out loud. Then the ramifications of being a suspect in a murder investigation hit. She had nothing to hide, but a big part of her job was image. Chasing that thought was a more disturbing one. She was supposed to have met with Harley, but he never showed. Was it possible he was already dead? A chill moved down her spine, but a seed of curiosity took root too. “You’ve got your hands full there, but I love you asking. I’m good, have work to keep me distracted, but I’ll call you after I’ve talked to the detective.”
Hank wanted to drop everything and go to her, to protect her. This thought sat heavily on his mind. “Take someone with you when you go and I’ll be up on Tuesday if you aren’t back. And if the old fuckers burn the town down, that’s less fuel I gotta use for my barn. And, Babe?”
Even feeling all she was, a smile touched her lips. She really loved this man. “Yes.”
Hank spoke softly and as evenly as he could. “Lay off the Nancy Drew shit, yeah? We’ll figure it out, this time together.” Hank would be calling Sean back to get info on the case. Could be just a coincidence but something sour sat in the lower part of Hank’s gut.
She felt a twinge of guilt because she was curious and growing more so. “I’ll lay off,” she said softly then added, “I love you, Hank.”
“Love you too, now go be the boss. I’ll call you later.”
Arissa disconnected the call, stared at the wall but didn’t see it. Harley was dead. She was more disturbed by that than she let on. Hank was right; she shouldn’t be looking into it. It was a murder investigation. She told herself that a few times, but the more she thought about it, the more questions she had. Standing, she headed to Craig Finch’s office. He was their fact checker, but he’d missed his calling as a private investigator. The shit that man could dig up was scary. Knocking on his door, she popped her head in. She was just asking, not pursuing…what was the harm?
“If I give you a name, can you get me info, associates, interests, that kind of thing…but it’s got to be on the down low.”
Craig’s brow lifted, interest written all over his face. “Why?”
She bit her lip, she could just walk away, it wasn’t too late, but she didn’t. That curiosity was nagging at her. Something felt off. “It’s a murder victim.”
She saw the spark. He was in. “What’s the name?”
She hesitated only a second before she said, “Harley Aldridge.”
* * *
Hank looked at the phone in his hand. A bitter taste formed in the back of his throat. His thumb swiped over the screen.
“I’ll be easy on her, buddy, promise,” Sean said when he answered the phone.
“I know you will but I want in. Wanna know everything you got so far.”
Sean spoke lowly when he said, “I understand.” He paused a second before he added, “For your eyes only, but I could use a second set. I’m emailing all I got so far.”
“Appreciate it,” Hank muttered. “If I see anything odd in what you got, I’ll call.”
“Sounds good.”
It came out of nowhere, like a bolt of lightning on a clear day when the power cut off, the humming of electricity dying to silence.
Hank heard Jo shout, “Those old motherfuckers!” Before he saw her rise and head to the front door.
“I’ll be in touch,” Hank told Sean before he disconnected the call and tossed his cell on his desk before he walked out of his office. Yeah, he needed more Advil, one of the huge bottles you’d get from Costco.
19
Thanks to Craig, Arissa had the name and address for Harley’s assistant. Marguerite Bancroft lived just off the historic business district of Charleston. She had been the assistant for Harley Aldridge for the better part of forty years. Arissa was biting her nail to the quick because she felt guilty. She had told Hank she would lay off. She wasn’t laying off. The deception didn’t sit well. Looking into this went against Hank’s wishes, but she was looking into it for him. It was a catch twenty-two.
Marguerite’s narrow, three-story home was one Arissa had walked passed often, the pale pink wood siding eye catching. Dressed in tan slacks, a white cotton blouse with her mostly gray hair pulled up in a bun, Marguerite looked more like a retired movie star than the office manager for a southern law firm.
Sadness came off Marguerite in waves. She had already been informed of her boss’s death. She tried to be hospitable, offering sweet tea and the best key lime pie Arissa had ever tasted, but her grief clung to her.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said, her eyes misting. “Him missing your appointment wasn’t unusual. He was never one for remembering dates and meetings,” she said, a sad smile touching her lips. “It’s why he paid me. But he hadn’t missed it, or rather he was already…” She leaned back in her chair, biting back the sob and reached for her tea. “He never bought into technology. Never had a cell phone, and didn’t want one. Maybe if he had one…” She let that thought trail off. “He was a great boss and a better man. Continuing to do pro bono work even after he retired.” She took a sip of tea before adding, “Not that he was doing any recently. We all reach the age when we really are too old.” She placed her glass down. “You mentioned on the phone you were interested in Harley’s visit to some of the suburbs back
