A Few Good Women (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 9) Read online

  "The lawyer. Gotcha. And that must be one of the others," I said as a limousine turned into the driveway.

  "That will be the downsizers. If you take them all into the kitchen, I'll wait for dotcom."

  "Are you sure? I don't want to interfere with the sale."

  "You won't. The kitchen sells itself." She grasped the lawyer's hand, pumping it enthusiastically as she invited him before passing him onto me.

  "Do you come with the house?" he asked, taking my hand and kissing it. "Brad Marsh, lawyer."

  "Sorry, the house is sold vacant," I told him. "Why don't you join me in the kitchen?"

  "I never turn down a lady who makes that kind of offer," he quipped. "Lead the way."

  No matter what I said, Brad had a flirtatious retort, yet I couldn't hold it against him. He was charming and funny. He didn't seem to mind one bit that I wasn't taking him up on his advances. I wondered what Solomon thought about it all since my earbud remained quiet.

  "I just heard that our other appointment is running a little late," said Taylor, joining us with the recently arrived couple. "Why don't we begin?"

  For a second time that day, I followed Taylor's tour and observed the couples as their eyes beheld the spacious rooms. I didn’t sense that any of them would break into empty properties and throw parties.

  We were in the master bedroom when Brad winked at me and mouthed "big bed." I suppressed an eye roll, and wondered if the discarded lingerie had anything to do with him, when the doorbell rang.

  "Alexandra, will you get that?" asked Taylor before she ushered the downsizers into the bathroom with an invitation to admire the Italian marble.

  "No problem," I called back. I turned and walked quickly, heading for the stairs before Brad could offer to accompany me. "No dice with these people," I told the brooch. "Is that our dotcom millionaire at the door?"

  "Single guy, dark hair," replied Solomon. "Driving a Lexus. Flashy."

  "That sounds like good potential. Hope he's the one," I said, quieting as I answered the door.

  I froze in the doorway, and a sickening feeling of dread washed over me. How unlucky could one person get in two days? First the Steadmans beg me to help their son and now...

  Now, here he was, Anthony Simon Steadman in the flesh!

  "You!" I hissed.

  "Lexi!" His mouth dropped open before I could slam the door in his face, and he stepped forward and enveloped me in a huge hug. "This is a surprise! What are you doing here? I heard you were working as some kind of private investigator?"

  "I am!"

  "Great! I need your help."

  "Go away! I mean it, Anthony. Go away. I'm working!"

  "On a case? That's terrific."

  "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

  "I'm viewing the open house."

  "You're the dotcom millionaire?" I stepped away, frowning as reality dawned on me. I was looking for a liar and I found one. "No, you're not!"

  "Not technically but isn't this a great house? I can't wait to see it."

  "Anthony, why are you here? I sincerely doubt you can afford this house."

  He stepped closer, forcing me to take a few involuntary steps backwards, before shutting the door behind him. "I'm being set up. I need your help. Only you can clear me."

  "You have got to be kidding," I groaned, palming my forehead with my hand.

  "You know me, Lexi. You know I'm not capable of doing what I’m being framed for."

  "Whatever you did, I doubt you're being framed for it, and I firmly believe you're capable of doing it."

  Anthony had the bad grace to look disappointed. "Whatever happened to my sweet, little Lexi?"

  "I am not your sweet, little... Listen, Anthony, I don't know what your game is but you need to get lost."

  "They're going to kill me!" he wailed.

  For a moment, I nearly asked who before I realized I didn't care. "Go home, go away, go anywhere, but don't come near me again," I ordered him.

  "But they're going to kill me slowly!" he said, drawing out the last word for emphasis. If he actually thought that would change my mind, he sorely underestimated how much I loathed him.

  "If you don't get out of this house right now, I'm going to kill you!" I yelled. Someone gasped, and for a long moment, I hoped Solomon was whom I heard in my ear. But the sinking feeling in my stomach told me Solomon didn't gasp. I glanced over my shoulder, paling as Taylor arrived behind me with the other viewers in tow.

  "This guy's a fraud," I told them before reaching around Anthony and tugging the door open. Planting my hand in the middle of his chest, I gave him a hard push and he stumbled backwards. Before he could protest, I slammed the door shut. If that didn't let Anthony get the message, I would definitely have to consider other methods. Turning away in satisfaction, I added, "He is definitely not viewing this house!"

  Brad leaned in to Taylor. "Is she always this feisty?" he asked, looking directly at me. "I might want a second tour."

  "That went well," said Solomon as I climbed into the car fifteen minutes later.

  "I thought so," I agreed. "I got a good look at all the potential buyers and none of them appear to be likely suspects."

  "I meant Steadman."

  "Any of them except him. Taylor told me he was a dotcom millionaire!"

  "He's not?" Solomon asked with a half smile.

  "Not that I know of."

  "It's been a long time since you saw him."

  "Not long enough. I don't want to talk about it."

  "We have to. If he's presenting himself as someone he's not in order to gain access to a place he has no business of being in, then he just shot to the top of our suspect list."

  I groaned. "Do I even want to know why his mom thinks he's being framed? Could it have something to do with this?"

  "Apparently, the cops have been investigating him over money laundering."

  "Sounds like Anthony. I'm surprised it took this long for him to get caught. I kind of hoped he was doing a long sentence in prison by now."

  "It's not like you to be so pessimistic."

  "Anthony is a major creep. Did you know he ripped off my credit card and took out a bunch of loans and credit lines in my name? I didn't even find out until after I ditched him! Thank heavens I'm related to cops. They confirmed it wasn't me who opened those credit lines; otherwise I would have owed thousands."

  "They find out it was him?"

  "No, the evidence was inconclusive; but I know he did it."

  "So we have a liar and a thief trying to access our client's property. Let's head back to the office to debrief and work out how to prove it's him. What do you want to do afterward?"

  "Take a bath in bleach."

  "We're all out of that scent. How about I run you a bath with rose oil and you soak while I make your favorite dinner?"

  "This is why I'm marrying you," I told him. "You're perfect."

  "I know."

  "And you don't steal my stuff."

  We traveled the rest of the way in silence, my mind flitting between the people that crossed my path today and the surprise arrival of Anthony. I wanted to ignore him, but it was just too much of a coincidence. Why did he turn up on the very day when I needed to find a fraudster?

  As we drove into downtown Montgomery, I remembered Solomon's instructions prior to entering the house and said, "I got all their fingerprints too."

  "You definitely got everyone?"

  "Everyone," I confirmed with a groan. There was one person I forgot because I'd been too damn cross and eager to slam the door. "Everyone except Anthony Steadman. We need to go back. He put his hand on the door. I am so sorry. We just drove all the way here."

  "No problem. We might not get another chance to pick up his prints." Solomon hung a U-turn on the empty road and we powered back to the house. After another thirty minutes of silence, I quietly kicked myself for my error. If I hadn't been so keen to get out of the house, and so floored at Anthony's appearance, I wouldn't have for
gotten to take his prints. It was a rookie error that Solomon didn't even criticize me for.

  "I am really sor— whoa!" I squealed as Solomon wrenched the wheel, narrowly avoiding a collision with an oncoming car before careening to the side of the road. "That was some bad driving."

  "Some people think they own the road," said Solomon, turning onto the driveway. "You got the key?"

  "I have the keypad number," I told him. "I'll be as fast as I can."

  I hopped out of the car and punched the number into the keypad, letting myself into the house. Inside, all was still and the only sign anyone had been there was the lingering scent of vanilla from Taylor's prop cupcakes. That, and a smudge of dirt on the floor. I squinted at it, wondering where it came from. Surely Taylor wasn't so careless to leave the marble floor in that condition? As I got closer, a nasty, sinking feeling churned my stomach.

  "Taylor?" I called, stepping past the stain. More stains appeared on the walls. No, not stains, smears. Blood smears. "Solomon?" I said, tapping my brooch before I remembered I'd already removed my earbud. "Taylor?" I called again as I stepped into the kitchen and stopped short.

  Blood pooled over the tiled floor and ran in tiny channels into the tips of my pumps.

  My breath caught in my mouth and my heart thumped.

  Now was not the time to find a dead body.

  Chapter Four

  Rain fell in a thick sheet, turning the grass glossy and the driveway slick and black.

  "It's not looking good," said Garrett. The grim expression on his face already confirmed that but now he looked down at me with visible worry in his eyes. Garret was a lieutenant in the Montgomery Police Department and had worked in homicide for years. He wasn't too keen on working with me, mostly because I was his youngest sibling, but since I solved a few cases during my PI career, I figured MPD might have to start paying me commission. "We've got a large amount of blood in the kitchen with smears and drag marks. Looks like it started here in the lobby but there wasn't much of a fight."

  I sat on the staircase, feeling pale and sick as I followed his finger pointing to the marks on the floor and walls. Taylor must have been surprised, I reasoned. Perhaps someone hit her as she opened the door, causing her to stumble backwards before falling to the ground. She must have realized the danger she was in, and scrambled to escape her attacker. Maybe she thought she could get away if she got to the kitchen and fled through the back door. The substantial pool of blood in the kitchen indicated she was unsuccessful. The bullet holes in the wall suggested a frenzied struggle. Tears pricked my eyes. We hadn't made any risk assessment because there wasn’t any danger so far. All the homes that were targeted had been unoccupied, making the crimes “victimless.”

  "But no body?" I asked again.

  "No body. We searched the entire house and the grounds."

  "What's your gut feeling? Is Taylor dead?" I swallowed hard after asking the question, hardly convinced the bright, bubbly, guilt-ridden Taylor could have been attacked only moments after I left. I was sure there was no one still in the house once we showed out the potential purchasers. Did someone sneak in to lie in wait for Taylor until she was alone? Or did the perp arrive after I left, and Taylor innocently let them in?

  "Someone is," said Garrett. "I doubt anyone could survive so much blood loss as this. I'm really sorry, Lexi. Prepare for the worst."

  "I should never have left Taylor alone! Especially after she was so concerned about the break-ins," I told him. "We should have anticipated the possibility of danger. We should..."

  "Don't do that. You couldn't have known that would happen."

  "Lieutenant?" The younger officer who responded to my initial 911 call stepped into the living room. He looked brand new and I was pretty sure I might have known his grandmother but I couldn't place his name.

  Garrett barely glanced at him. "Yeah?"

  "Taylor McDowell's car was spotted a few minutes ago on Century Road and we pulled it over. Ms. McDowell was in the car, sir."

  This time, Garrett spun around. "You sure?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Oh thank the heavens," I murmured before another thought struck me. "If Taylor's okay, then whose blood was that?"

  "I need to talk to the crime scene techs," said Garrett. "Sit tight."

  "Wait..." I started to protest but he was already gone. "What the hell is going on, Solomon?" I asked.

  Solomon turned from where he was looking out the window but I didn't think for a moment he was admiring the scenery. No, not Solomon. I was sure his mind was spinning and fitting the pieces together faster than I could think of them.

  "That's a very good question," said Solomon, (not much of an answer in my opinion). "We know that you left the house at six. We'll be able to pare down the window of time further when we know when Taylor left, and we arrived back here almost an hour later. That leaves very little time for a break-in, let alone, to murder someone and dispose of the body."

  "Do you think I disturbed the clean-up?" I asked, hoping he responded in the negative. Being in such close proximity to a murderer without knowing it was a worrying thought.

  "I don't think there was any time for a clean-up. It doesn't look like there was any attempt made to wash the floor or bleach it." He stopped and rubbed his chin, making me wonder what just occurred to him. Before I could ask, he said, "I keep thinking about the car that nearly ran us off the road. Do you remember the make of it?"

  "No, just that it was black. You?"

  "No."

  "Do you think the killer might have been driving?"

  "Whoever was driving wanted to get as far away from the development as possible. Except we don't know if they were departing from this house or somewhere else. The road forks further up the way. They could have come from anywhere. Maybe they just liked driving fast on a usually deserted road."

  "We should tell Garrett anyway. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to learn about it."

  Solomon smiled. "Any lead sounds good ‘round about now."

  "You got that right," said Garrett. He re-entered the room and listened as Solomon filled him in on the car that could have been fleeing the scene. When he finished, Garrett asked, "Do you want the good news or bad news?"

  "Good news always," I said.

  "We got a bloody fingerprint from the French doors leading to the patio. Let's skip to the bad news."

  "And that is?"

  "The print was in our system. It belongs to Anthony Steadman."

  "Oh, you have got to be kidding to me!" I yelled. "I just saw him! He was here and he was alive!"

  "And now he's either dead or a prime suspect in a potential homicide."

  "Ten bucks on the latter," I told him but Garrett didn't look amused. "Fine. Twenty."

  "This is no joking matter, sis! And what do you mean, you just saw him?"

  "He was here, at the open house. He asked me to help him."

  "And you replied?" Garrett raised his eyebrows like he didn’t know.

  "I told him where to go."

  "His family came by the agency," said Solomon, folding his arms, his face impossible to read. "They seemed to think Steadman is in some kind of trouble. There's a story about money laundering. I haven't verified it yet."

  Garrett fixed him with the kind of look that said understatement of the century. "Have you ever met the guy before?"

  "No."

  "Do you remember our former brother-in-law, Ted Whitman?" Garrett asked, referring to Serena's first husband and my little niece, Victoria's, father. Ted always projected a great image but beneath it all, he was a jerk. After I busted him for cheating, Serena ended their marriage. Sometime later I introduced her to my colleague and they hit it off.

  "I do."

  "Worse. Way worse. I guess I better pay a visit to the Steadmans. Any idea where I might find them?"

  "None," I said honestly. "And I'm not sure I want to know anymore anyway."

  "If I were you, Lexi, I would keep as far away from Steadman, and anything in
volving him, as possible. The last thing any of us want is him screwing up your life again, or ours. You two are free to take off whenever you like." With that warning, Garrett left, adding something about surveying the crime scene techs. Solomon and I were alone and had to make our own way out. I couldn't wait to leave. It took all my willpower not to wrench open the door, grab Solomon's hand and make a run for the car.

  "What did he mean by screwing up their lives?" asked Solomon. "I get how he screwed yours up for a hot minute, but what am I missing?"

  I slipped my hand into Solomon's and took a deep breath. This would take some explaining. "I'll tell you all about it on the way home."

  ~

  "So what did Solomon say when you told him what Anthony did?" asked Lily. I was in her kitchen, desolately picking at a strawberry surprise muffin, and wondering if the surprise were the absence of strawberries.

  "There wasn't much he could say."

  "Did it involve threats of bodily harm?"

  "No, but he raised his eyebrows."

  "Whoa! Actual facial movement? Did you capture the moment on camera in case you need proof later?"

  "No, it was too fast. I wish I had. It's not often that I surprise Solomon."

  "Finding out your fiancée’s ex not only hit on half of town, but cheated on her with most of it and her sister-in-law at the same time would surprise most people."

  "I'm not sure if he were surprised by that or because the Steadmans actually thought we might take their case, given the insulting way Anthony treated us all."

  "You know the one I feel sorriest for?"

  "Me?" I guessed.

  "No, you're over it. I feel sorry for Daniel. He's going to hit the roof when he finds out Anthony is back in town."

  I swallowed the muffin bite quickly. "I didn't even think to call him." Despite my certainty that Daniel was very much over both his ex-wife and Anthony's affair, after marrying a wonderful woman we all loved and having two equally wonderful children with her, I assumed Daniel would not be happy to hear Anthony had resurfaced.

  "Someone should. It's not something you want to find out in passing. His wife cheated on him with that jerk."