Suspicion (9 page)

  Kate a timid smile, her expression was that of a devastated young woman.

  By contrast, Abigail Hollbrook, who sat next to her daughter, projected a picture of great strength and self control. At sixty-two, the head of Hollbrook. Industries was still an attractive woman with snow-white hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, assessing green eyes and a thin, unsmiling mouth.

  Douglas stood by the fireplace where a bright, cheery fire crackled, contrasting sharply with the somber mood of the room. As he cleared his throat, Rose took her place by his side and all eyes turned toward him.

  "I’ve called this meeting," he began in a voice that was just a shade too dramatic, "in order to decide how we can help Eric, who seems to have vanished into thin air."

  As if on cue, Megan lowered her head into her hands and began sobbing softly. Instantly maternal, Abigail draped a comforting arm around her daughter’s shoulders. "Have you heard anything new, Douglas?" she asked.

  "I have. Detective Calhoon, who’s in charge of the case, was here earlier."

  Mitch Calhoon, Kate thought. So she would have to deal with him again. She couldn’t decide whether the thought pleased or irritated her.

  "He’s traced Eric as far as a tavern in Brookville, Virginia," Douglas continued. "The bartender there says that Eric came in at approximately eleven-thirty last night and left a few minutes before midnight. And since Gina Lamont was killed around one, the police concluded that Eric had ample time to drive from Brookville to Washington."

  "Assuming," Kate interjected, "that he was in a condition to drive."

  "It would seem that he was. According to the bartender, Eric never finished his third Scotch."

  "That may be, but we all know how badly Eric holds his liquor. Three drinks, or even slightly less than that, may not be much for an average drinker, but it’s enough to put Eric out of commission."

  Douglas’s expressionless eyes stayed on her. "Unfortunately for him, whether or not he was intoxicated isn’t going to be much of an issue."

  "What do you mean by that?" Abigail asked.

  "One set of fingerprints found in Gina’s apartment has been identified as Eric’s. And while the fingerprints alone don’t prove that he killed her, they do prove that he was there."

  Kate glanced sharply at Rose. "I didn’t know Eric’s prints were on file."

  Rose lifted helpless shoulders. "Neither did I."

  "I can explain that," Abigail said, her arm still around her daughter. "Every Hollbrook employee is required to provide a complete set of fingerprints. It’s a policy we have enforced for quite some time now, ever since one of our designers was arrested a few years ago for industrial espionage."

  "In addition to Eric’s fingerprints," Douglas continued, "the police found a videotape that was apparently made by Gina Lamont the night Eric took her home. It shows Eric in a-" pausing, he rubbed an index finger across his bottom lip "-shall we say, compromising situation."

  As Douglas turned to look at her, Kate found it difficult to hold his gaze for more than a couple of seconds. She hated to lie to him, to pretend that she only knew what he knew. In spite of his dislike for Eric, Douglas had always treated her fairly and kindly. More than a father

  figure, he had been a teacher, a mentor whose trust she had never betrayed. Until now.

  Sooner or later, she would have to tell him the truth, but not now. If he knew that Eric had called her, he would immediately tell the police. They, in turn, would insist on monitoring her phone with one of their sophisticated tracking instruments. Eric wouldn’t stand a chance. And Alison would never forgive her for allowing her father to be caught.

  Bracing herself for a possible confrontation, she rallied to Eric’s defense. "That tape could have been made for a number of reasons," she pointed out. "Including Ms. Lamont’s personal enjoyment. I don’t profess to be an expert on the subject of call girls, but isn’t it common knowledge that women in her profession often resort to outside stimulation to get themselves…in the mood?"

  "Kate is right," Rose said quickly. "Besides, judging from the woman’s address, she doesn’t look to me as if she was in need of money."

  Douglas’s tone turned patronizing. "Appearances can be deceiving, Rose."

  Why was he doing this? Kate wondered. Why was he being so hard on Eric without having heard his side of the story? Granted, the two men had had their differences in the past, but didn’t he owe Eric at least the benefit of the doubt? For Rose’s sake?

  On a small console, a phone rang. Before one of the servants could answer it, Douglas picked up the receiver and snapped, "Douglas Fairchild." He handed it to Abigail. "It’s for you," he said in a softer tone. "Your office."

  All eyes remained on Abigail as she listened for a full minute. When she spoke at last, her voice was calm. "You did the right thing calling me first, Deborah. No, don’t

  call the police. I’ll handle it. And please, don’t discuss this with anyone, and that includes your co-workers. Is that clear?"

  She handed the phone back to Douglas. "That was Deborah Manning in marketing. She saw a photograph of Gina Lamont on the morning news and says the same woman came to see Eric yesterday afternoon."

  "What did she want?" Douglas asked.

  "Deborah doesn’t know. She said the woman was very rude. She didn’t have an appointment and refused to make one. She didn’t even wait for Deborah to announce her. She just walked into Eric’s office and slammed the door behind her. She wasn’t there much more than ten minutes. Eric came out shortly after that, looking pale and distraught. That’s the last Deborah saw of him." Abigail turned to look at Kate, her gaze mildly triumphant. "Does that change your opinion on the blackmail issue, Mrs. Logan?"

  It was obvious from her smug tone that she considered this latest development an indisputable victory. "I was taught to never take circumstantial evidence as proof of guilt, Mrs. Hollbrook." This time, she met her former father-in-law’s gaze without flinching. "Isn’t that right, Douglas?"

  Because he had always been a strong advocate of that doctrine, Douglas acknowledged the remark with a slight bow of his head. "Kate is right. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions too quickly. And we must not lose focus of our main goal-to help Eric."

  "But how can we do that?" Rose asked, her voice trembling with emotion. "When we don’t even know where he is."

  Wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders, Douglas drew her close. "To begin with," he said in that patrician

  tone Kate knew so well, "we will remain united. As a family should. There will be no statements made to the press, no interviews of any kind, nothing that could aggravate Eric’s situation." He glanced first at Megan, then at Kate. "However, if he should contact one of us and ask for help, it will be that person’s responsibility to convince Eric to turn himself in. Or to find out where he’s hiding so that we can bring an end to this nonsense."

  Megan looked up at him. "You mean…we should turn him in? Tell the police where he is?"

  "I know that sounds cruel, Megan, but believe me, he’s only making things worse for himself by running away."

  With a strangled sob, Megan sprang from the sofa and hurried out of the room.

  Kate was halfway to her car when she heard someone running behind her. "Mrs. Logan!"

  Turning around, she watched as Megan Hollbrook caught up with her. This time, her smile was apologetic.

  "I’m sorry I made such a spectacle of myself in there," she said, her voice much more steady than it had been earlier.

  Kate brushed off the apology with a wave of her hand. "You’re under a lot of stress. I can certainly understand that."

  "I didn’t want to leave without telling you how grateful I am that you came to Eric’s defense. I don’t know too many people who would have stood up to Douglas and my mother the way you did." Her mouth curved into a lovely smile. "They make a rather formidable pair, don’t they?"

  "They certainly do. The trick is to make them think you’re even more formidable."

  "That’s easy for you to say."

  "It helps if you feel strongly enough about something. Believe me, I wouldn’t have fought as hard as I did if I thought Eric was guilty."

  Soft brown eyes looked at her. "You’ve heard from him, haven’t you?"

  Denying it would have been pointless. Megan was apparently much too smart and much too intuitive to fall for a lie. "Yes, I have."

  "When?"

  "He called me this morning when he found out the police were looking for him."

  "Do you know where he is?"

  Kate shook her head. "He wouldn’t tell me. And he won’t turn himself in, either."

  "Why not, if he’s innocent?"

  "He’s afraid that with the kind of evidence the police have, they won’t bother to look for another suspect."

  "Is that what you think?"

  As a movement caught her eye, Kate glanced toward the house. At one of the tall Palladian windows, a curtain fell back. Someone had been watching them. Her bet was that it was either Douglas or Abigail. Perhaps both.

  "I think Eric is in serious trouble," she said, returning her gaze to Megan.

  "But you’re going to help him, aren’t you? You’re going to find out who killed Gina Lamont."

  The hope and trust Kate saw in the young woman’s eyes reminded her of Alison. How in the world was she going to live up to all these expectations? "I’m going to try, Megan. That’s all I can promise right now."

  "That’s all I’m asking," Megan replied quietly. "Thank you, Mrs. Logan."

  "Please call me Kate."

  "All right." As if afraid that someone might be listening, she moved closer to Kate. "If you should hear from Eric again, would you…would you ask him to call me?"

  "Of course."

  As Kate walked back to her car, she wondered if the girl wouldn’t be better off if she never heard from Eric again. Even if he were to be cleared of all charges, with his track record, it wouldn’t be long until he was up to his old tricks again. One way or another, he’d end up breaking her heart.

  The huge house was quiet again, and Rose was finally alone. Sitting on the same sofa Abigail had occupied earlier, she pressed a lacy white handkerchief to her eyes. Except for Kate, who had been such a comfort, and Megan, who loved Eric almost as much as Rose did, no one understood the fear that gripped her heart, or how badly she wanted to help her son.

  Moving to the well-stocked bar, she poured herself a glass of Evian and sipped slowly. Douglas had never understood the special relationship that existed between a parent and a child. How could he when he had never been a parent himself?

  She had hoped to change that by giving him a child of his own, but on the eve of their wedding, Douglas had told her he didn’t care for children and didn’t wish to have any. He had even pressured her to put Eric in a boarding school, but she had refused, certain that Douglas would eventually warm up to the boy. He hadn’t.

  Considering what Rose knew about Douglas’s strict childhood, she hadn’t found his lack of compassion for her son terribly surprising. An only child, Douglas had tried desperately to live up to his father’s expectations. But nothing he did, including running the law firm Aaron Fairchild had founded, was ever good enough. It wasn’t

  until Aaron had died, twelve years ago, that Douglas had finally felt free of his father’s tyranny.

  But the stand he had taken against his stepson today was much too harsh, even for a man like Douglas.

  As Rose continued to sip her water, her gaze drifted to the phone. She hadn’t ruled out the possibility that Eric would eventually call her. And when he did, she would not turn him in as Douglas had suggested, but do whatever was necessary to keep him safe. How could anyone in his right mind expect any less from her?

  Brad Carpenter’s photo studio on N Street was one of Georgetown’s oldest brick structures and still featured a rooftop widow’s walk, once used to keep a lookout for returning ships. A simple plaque with the inscription Photography hung on the front door.

  Kate had gotten the photographer’s name and address from Lyle Wanamaker. As she’d expected, the playboy had already told the police that Eric and Gina had met at his house.

  "Brad is an old friend of mine," Lyle had explained as he handed her one of Carpenter’s business cards. "Whenever I need someone to photograph parties, I call him. It’s not exactly his line of work, but like I said, we’re buddies. I must warn you, though. He is-was-a close friend of Gina Lamont, and once he realizes that you’re Eric’s ex, he’ll probably slam the door in your face."

  Lyle had always had a way with words.

  Brad Carpenter opened the door himself. In his early forties, he had a deep coppery complexion, strong Native American features and ink black hair that hung over his shoulders. He wore black pants and a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut high enough to reveal impressive biceps.

  "Good morning," Kate said, flashing her best smile. ‘"Are you Brad Carpenter?"

  The slanted dark eyes watched her dispassionately. "Who wants to know?"

  "My name is Kate Logan. I’m an attorney." Knowing a skeptic when she saw one, she pulled out one of her cards and handed it to him.

  He glanced at it. "Are you Eric Logan’s wife?"

  "Ex- wife."

  The emphasis on the "ex" failed to mellow him. "So what do you want?"

  "To ask you a few questions regarding Gina’s murder."

  "I’ve already told the cops all I know."

  Although he wasn’t making it easy, she kept the smile on. "It’s been my experience that the police and I seldom ask the same questions, Mr. Carpenter." From behind her came the sound of a car door being shut. "Would you mind terribly if I came in?" she asked. "I’d rather not have this conversation on your front step."