Hot Money (20 page)

“Oh, God,” she whispered, burying her head in her hands as Michael and Liza edged back into the office.

“What happened?” Liza asked, regarding her sympathetically.

“Molly?” Michael said gently when she didn’t respond.

She glanced up, blinking back tears. “He was going to drop the custody suit.”

“Was
going to?” Liza said.

Molly nodded. “He overheard what we were saying and decided I hadn’t learned my lesson, after all. He’s going to court.”

“He won’t win,” Michael said firmly. He perched on the edge of her desk and cupped her chin in his hand until she was forced to meet his gaze. “No court would take Brian away from you, okay?”

She wanted to believe him, but Hal had a certain amount of power at the courthouse. “I can’t be sure of that. You’ve never heard Hal in court. He’s a brilliant litigator. By the time he’s finished, I’ll come out sounding like the mother from hell.”

“You’re forgetting one thing,” Michael reminded her, brushing away an errant tear with the pad of his thumb.

“What’s that?”

“Brian.”

“That’s right,” Liza said. “Brian doesn’t want to live with his father. He also has plenty of details to prove that Hal’s interest in his welfare is somewhat belated. How many times has Hal canceled his visits? How many birthday presents came a week late? Or not at all?”

“I’m not sure a judge will compare a missing toy with murder investigations and rule in my favor,” Molly said bleakly.

“He will if I have anything to say about it,” Michael said, his voice filled with cold, hard determination. “If need be, I can pull in half a dozen cops who are also full-time mothers. Nobody’s challenging their ability as parents.”

“Maybe because they carry guns,” Molly retorted, but she was beginning to feel more encouraged.

“If you think I’m standing by and watching you get a gun, you’re crazy,” Liza declared. “We have too many on the streets as it is.”

Michael grinned. “I don’t think we have to arm Molly to prove to the court she’s a capable mother.”

“Thank you, I think,” she said dryly.

He regarded her intently. “Are you okay with this now?”

“I’m ready to fight, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good. Then I want to take off and pay a visit to Clark Dupree.”

“Not without me,” Molly said.

“Don’t you think this would be a good time to go home and spend a little time with your son?” he said. “I promise I’ll come by right after the meeting and fill you in on every detail.”

Reason won out over curiosity. If Hal decided to spring his decision on Brian tonight, her son would need her. Michael, on the other hand, hardly needed her assistance in questioning a suspect. He’d had more practice.

“You’ll come by?”

“I said I would.”

She nodded. “Then hurry. My curiosity will be killing me. Liza?”

Her friend looked torn. “I’d really like to hear what Clark has to say, if Michael doesn’t mind.”

“Actually your presence might make it more likely that he’ll slip up. I have no objection to your coming along.”

“Molly?” Liza said.

“Oh, go ahead. There’s no reason for two of us to be biting our nails.”

She followed them to the parking lot, then watched them start toward Michael’s car. They were almost there when he hesitated, then turned and walked back toward her.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, he stood gazing down at her intently. “Give Brian an extra hug for me, okay?”

Tears sprang to Molly’s eyes again. “Yeah. I’ll do that,” she promised.

He nodded in satisfaction, then went back to join Liza. Molly stood staring after them until his car was out of sight, heading north toward Clark Dupree’s Brickell Avenue office.

Unfortunately, Clark Dupree wasn’t in his Brickell Avenue office. He was waiting in the lobby of Molly’s Key Biscayne condominium. He looked as if he’d settled in for a long wait.

Nestor, the Nicaraguan head of security for Ocean Manor, had his eyes on the well-dressed interloper who’d made himself at home on the lobby sofa and was sifting through the papers in his fancy briefcase. Nestor’s worried expression deepened as he latched on to Molly’s arm and dragged her back outside.

“He ask for you, then for Ms. Hastings. When I tell him you are not here, he say he wait. There is something about the man.” He shook his head. “I do not like him. Should I call Señor Michael?”

Molly wasn’t wild about the idea that Nestor thought she needed rescuing or that he regarded Michael as her savior in all slightly tricky situations. At the same time, it seemed foolish not to let Michael know that his chief suspect was sitting in her lobby.

“Call him,” she told Nestor, giving him Michael’s car phone number. She tried very hard not to make it sound urgent. She didn’t want Michael roaring in here with sirens blasting. “Tell him I’ll talk with Mr. Dupree right here in the lobby until he arrives.”

She plastered a smile on her face, crossed the lobby, and took a chair next to Clark. “I understand you’re looking for me or Liza.”

Clark rose slowly. At his six-foot-two-inch height, he was an imposing figure. Normally, in social situations anyway, he sought to temper that impression with soft-spoken charm. Today, however, his smile seemed forced.

“Yes,” he said, sitting again once she was settled. “I understand you were looking for me earlier in the week. I had business on the Key and thought I’d drop by to see what you wanted. When the guard said you were out, I asked for Liza. After the meeting this afternoon, I’m sure she has questions for me as well.”

“About Danson, you mean?”

He nodded. “You both know by now, I assume.”

“We checked out the incorporation records, yes.”

“Then you know that I am president of Danson Properties and that Tessa was the vice president.” He glanced around the lobby with distaste, an expression that would have appalled those who fought so valiantly for this particular flowery decor. “Could we possibly discuss this upstairs? I really don’t like discussing business in the middle of a public lobby like this.”

Since the lobby was virtually deserted, Molly thought his request a bit unnecessary. Unless, of course, he was getting very nervous about how much she knew and wanted to clobber her over the head in private. Just in case, she didn’t think she’d allow him that opportunity.

She managed a smile. “Actually, it’s a lot quieter here than it would be upstairs. My son and his friends are in my apartment. You don’t join a group of third-graders if you want peace and quiet.”

He took the rejection fairly well. “Perhaps we could go for coffee, then?”

Molly refused to acknowledge the twinge of worry that was beginning to nag at her. Clark might have killed Tessa, but she didn’t know that for sure. Besides, what could possibly happen with Nestor not twenty yards away? She simply had to keep him here and talking until Michael arrived. Maybe she could even wrangle a confession out of him.

“Mr. Dupree, I really don’t see what we have to discuss,” she said, hoping to persuade him that she knew absolutely nothing incriminating about him and wasn’t the least bit involved in the investigation. “Your business dealings are no affair of mine, and while I happen to agree with the stance the coalition has taken in the past with regard to the Everglades, I have no official capacity with that organization.”

“I think we do share one common interest, however.”

“Which is?”

“Discovering who murdered Tessa.”

Molly blinked at the smooth delivery. Wouldn’t the killer have had a hard time making that remark seem convincing? Was it possible that she and Liza were wrong about Clark, after all?

“Did you and Tessa argue the night of the gala?” she asked point-blank, hoping to startle him into a slip.

Again, he smiled faintly. “You see, I was right. You are interested.”

“Of course I’m interested,” she said a trifle impatiently, seeing no need to continue her charade. It hadn’t worked anyway. “I discovered Tessa’s body. It’s not something I’m likely to get over in a hurry. It would help to know who was responsible for her death.”

“Then please, let’s go for coffee. I’ll tell you everything I know about what happened that night. You pick the place. We can even take separate cars,” he added, giving her a wry look that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. While he might consider her fears foolish, he obviously intended to humor her, to make it difficult for her to decline the invitation.

In fact, how could she possibly refuse when it seemed unlikely that she would actually have to be alone with him? She could drive to one of the hotels, the Sheraton or the Sonesta, valet park, and meet him in a coffee shop or the bar. He could hardly run her off the road and shoot her on busy Crandon Boulevard without risking immediate capture.

“We’ll go to the Sheraton,” she said finally. With its French doors facing the ocean, the restaurant was so well lit it was impossible to imagine a less ominous setting. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you.”

Just to make sure he knew she was leaving a trail, she pointedly told Nestor that she would be at the nearby hotel if Brian or anyone else came looking for her.

Nestor gave her a reluctant nod, indicating that he understood the full implications of her request, even if he wasn’t wild about her departure. “I will tell them.” He glanced at Clark Dupree. “You wish me to tell Ms. Hastings you are there, if she returns?”

“Why not?” Clark said agreeably. “The more the merrier.”

As Molly drove the few blocks to the ocean-front hotel, she tried to figure out exactly what Clark Dupree was up to. Was he merely trying to invoke some sympathy for his own position as the distraught, bereaved lover? Was he genuinely after Tessa’s killer? Or was he simply trying to determine exactly how much Molly knew so he could decide if she posed a danger to him?

Her own reaction to the man was unexpected. She despised his values and she was wary, but she wasn’t afraid. Hopefully her gut instincts were fully operational after the round she’d gone with Hal earlier. Hopefully Michael and Liza would show up before she had to find out.

Inside the hotel, Clark made no objections to entering the airy restaurant, which was quieter than Molly might have liked. They chose a table by the doors, which were open to admit the sea breeze. Molly ordered coffee and Clark ordered a martini straight up. Apparently he needed false fortitude for whatever he had to tell her.

“I asked you earlier if you and Tessa had argued the night she was killed,” Molly said when he showed no inclination to get started.

“Tessa and I always argued. It was part of her fascination for me that she never backed down from her strong opinions. I value that strength of character in anyone.”

“Did her opinions have some validity?”

“Sometimes. In other instances, her pigheadedness almost drove me crazy.”

“Was she right about Danson Properties, in your opinion? Or was she merely being pigheaded, as you put it?”

He stared off toward the window that faced the Atlantic, a faraway look in his eyes. He appeared almost as if he might be overcome with emotion, but when he blinked and gazed back at Molly there was every indication that his usual reserve was firmly in place.

“How much do you know about Tessa and Roger’s financial difficulties?”

“Very little, except that they were in some trouble.”

“Tessa had been investing in the stock market, junk bonds as it turns out. She was always so sure of herself, so supremely confident of her business acumen. She was ripe for some unscrupulous broker to rob her blind.”

“Did Roger know?”

“He learned far too late to prevent disaster from striking. She’d gone through her inheritance and was well into debt for an amount equal to most of his cash reserves when he caught on and called a halt to things. He threatened to have the broker brought up on charges, but it was an idle threat. In such situations, fraud is difficult to prove. Naturally, Tessa was humiliated by the whole affair.”

“And I’m sure Roger was furious.”

“Perhaps so, but he didn’t let her know how he felt. He simply tried to clean up the mess. That’s the kind of man Roger is. Honorable to a fault.”

“Honorable? I heard he took out an insurance policy on Tessa.”

Clark shook his head ruefully. “So you know about that? Actually, the policy was Tessa’s idea, a way to make amends.”

“Eventually,” Molly pointed out.

“Yes, eventually.”

“What does all this have to do with Danson Properties?”

“When the federal authorities began making changes in the laws governing the wetlands, I heard talk starting up about the area again and I saw an opportunity. I began buying up land. I knew about Tessa’s difficulties and I offered to cut her in on the deal.”

“Did she know where this property was?”

His shoulders slumped dejectedly. “Not until the night of the gala.”

“How did she find out?”

“She didn’t. Roger did. He mentioned it to her in passing, outraged by the notion that a company was poised to destroy a part of the Everglades again. When he mentioned the name of the company, I gather she almost fainted. By the time I saw her Saturday night, she was livid.”

Molly could imagine the confrontation. Tessa, thinking that she had taken a step that might make up for her earlier business disasters, had discovered that instead she had made an even more grievous mistake. Realizing that her lover had intentionally deceived her about the nature of their development plans must have cut her to the quick.

“What did she want you to do?”

“She wanted me to sell the property to the coalition and walk away.”

“You refused,” Molly guessed.

“Actually I might have considered it. I would have done anything for Tessa,” he said with unmistakable sincerity. “I only involved her in this deal to try to save her pride. I didn’t think it through. I never realized how deeply she felt about the coalition. Not many people did. They thought she was shallow. The worst thing was, she knew that. I think that’s what made her so angry about this deal, because she knew her detractors would see it as proof that she had caved in when it was expedient for her to do so.”