The Devil To Pay (Hennessey.) (82 page)

She said nothing as she poured the water into the teapot and put it on a tray. He felt as though she should use little china cups and bring it over to the table with sugar lumps in a bowl and cream in a little jug, but maybe she didn’t have any of those things. Then as though she had read his mind she reached into the cupboard and brought down two cups and saucers. Then to his amazement she went to the fridge and took out a small jug and put that with the cups, added a small bowl from the counter and put them all on the tray.

She brought the tray over to the living room where he still stood and put the tray down on the coffee table and sat down then proceeded to pour the tea into the cups. It was as though even under circumstances of extreme stress she had to honour the proprieties.

She looked up at him and said, ‘please sit down, Detective Leyton.’

He took the chair next to the sofa. He noticed that despite the resolve he sensed in her that her hand trembled just the slightest as she handed him his tea.

She said, ‘please help yourself to milk and sugar.

He almost smiled at her formality and politeness but thought she might not appreciate humour at a time like this so simply said, ‘thank you.’

As she helped herself to milk but no sugar…which weren’t actually sugar lumps…he noticed the blood staining her fingernails, he knew from experience that it would take a few days to get them perfectly clean again.

She noticed him looking at her hands and drew them towards her stomach.

He took a sip of tea and was pleasantly surprised at how good it was. She must have noticed because she asked, ‘is there something wrong with the tea, detective?’

‘No, on the contrary. It’s just that I don’t drink tea very often but this is nice, very nice.’ She met his eyes and again he had that feeling that she knew he had only chosen tea to please her, maybe to patronise her.

He said, ‘did you manage to sleep at all?’

She shrugged, ‘a few hours.’

‘It was an exhausting, not to mention upsetting night for you, and sometimes under those circumstances no matter how tired we are sleep just won’t come. But maybe you’ll be exhausted enough to sleep later.’

She stared back at him with those almost dead eyes and said nothing. He cleared his throat and said, ‘have you called the hospital this morning? Do you know what the doctor said about Maxwell?’

For the first time she looked upset and lowered her eyes. She said quietly, ‘yes, he told Sheriff Taylor and I last night. I called the hospital this morning and the sheriff said they’ll be doing the tests tomorrow.’

Ah, he thought, the sheriff, Maxwell’s friend. He had probably told her to get lost in no uncertain terms. He had had a small argument with
Taylor only that morning. Leyton had been in contact with the guy they had put on her and her cabin and he had told him that Miss. Faraday had left the hospital and took a taxi home. Leyton had been outraged that Taylor had let her leave the hospital and make her own way home. He wasn’t to know that they had a guy following her making sure she was safe, before all he knew anything could have happened to her. Leyton had confronted Taylor, but the sheriff had just shrugged and said he didn’t run a taxi or babysitting service for tourists. Leyton had almost hit the guy.

Although he could empathise with
Taylor, the fact was that Maxwell would probably be dead if she hadn’t intervened, if she hadn’t gotten an ambulance for him when she had. Maybe he ought to remind Taylor of that, Maxwell too.

He said, ‘look, Miss Faraday, Maxwell will be all right, maybe with a slight limp and minus a few teeth perhaps but he’ll live and that’s thanks to you.’

She looked up and into his eyes again a small frown between hers. He leaned forward across the coffee table, ‘what you did in stopping Hennessey was pretty gutsy. You said you thought he was going to hit you, he might have.’ He saw her eyes narrow and she opened her mouth to speak but he hurried on, ‘as it turned out he didn’t. But the truth is you hardly know him do you, you don’t really know what he’s capable of; you didn’t know he was capable of a violent act like that did you?’

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly but he caught the look of apprehension that flickered in them just for a moment before it was gone. He said, ‘but instead of running for help you intervened and prevented a possible homicide.’

Now there was no doubting the fear he saw in her face and he felt guilty for being the cause of it. But the truth was that, although he had wanted to frighten her into admitting something...and he knew she was hiding something...he also wanted to reassure her that she had done the right thing. But he hadn’t lied when he had called her gutsy, she was.

He watched her face as the fear turned to confusion then realisation as she cottoned on to his ploy then anger flickered in her eyes before that same superior almost disdainful look covered her features. No one could do condescending and superior like the English he thought. But he could almost see her mind working; she was thinking, ah, there’s that southern charm that’s so appealing but so empty and means nothing, that charm that’s just one big lie, just a way of getting something out of someone else. She spoke in clipped tones as she said, ‘I did what I hope anyone would have at seeing someone being hurt.’

He smiled wryly, ‘you’d be surprised at how many people wouldn’t, Miss. Faraday.’

Her gaze was steady as she replied somewhat sadly, ‘no, Detective Leyton, I don’t think I would.’
He leaned back surprised but said nothing further. She stood up and went to the kitchen where she pulled a bag from underneath the counter. She came back and handed it to him. It was very neatly wrapped and he would not have been surprised if she had tied it with ribbons. He looked up at her and said, ‘what’s this?’

‘It’s what I called you about. It’s the raincoat Mr. Hennessey loaned me and that I was wearing when the incident took place.’

He undid the string and looked inside then back at her before pulling out the coat. He said, ‘Miss. Faraday, if you’re thinking about fingerprints we already have those from the hotel, we’re running them through AFIS now, that’s the automated…

‘I know what it is, Detective.’ She said curtly.

He looked surprised then smiled and said, ‘well if you’re thinking DNA, it won’t do any good, we’d need something to compare it too, and since we can’t find Sterling Hennessey.’ He held up both palms as if to say, “You see what I mean.” ‘And the blood on it is Maxwell’s, not his.’

She looked impatient now and said, ‘no, I wasn’t thinking of DNA or fingerprints. Just look at the label.’

He did and froze; he stared at it for a long minute and it was obvious he was trying to compose his features before looking back at her. When his eyes came back to hers his tone was low and grave, ‘Sterling Hennessey gave you this?’

‘Yes.’

He snapped, ‘when and where?’

‘Yesterday afternoon when we came back from Silver Run, it was in the back seat of his car.’

When he said nothing just continued to look at her his eyes full of speculation she said, ‘I don’t know what it means or whether it’s important or not, but I thought you should have it.’ She hadn’t known whether it would be important or not when she had called Leyton but she did now. He had been taken aback when he had seen the name, more than taken aback, shocked and also excited. He had been very quick to hide it but she was an expert at reading people’s little tells, she’d had to be to, it had enabled her to dodge many of her mother’s well aimed missiles. And she had seen Leyton’s excitement before the closed professional look had come back into his eyes. As for herself she felt sick inside.

She knew he wouldn’t give her a straight answer but she asked anyway, ‘is Sterling Hennessey D. Blakemore?’

He met her eyes and said, ‘as far as we know Sterling Hennessey is Sterling Hennessey and will remain so until we find out otherwise.’ He could do superior too.

She nodded and said quietly, ‘I don’t think Sterling Hennessey is who he said he was?’

He looked nonplussed, ‘what makes you say that?’

She gave him a wry smile, ‘
you
do; you and Detective Sullivan. You know Mr. Hennessey lied about his car and wallet being stolen; he made that story up to pay for a hire car with cash.
I
know that’s a lie because he paid with cards every time we went out.

There’s a reason someone prefers to pay in cash and that reason is to leave no trail behind. He lied about owning the car, why do that if he had nothing to hide.’

He was unsure how to proceed, how much to tell her. Whatever he had expected when she had called him earlier it had not been this. He looked around the room she watched him her face impassive. He said, ‘what are your plans, Miss. Faraday?’

She raised her eyebrows enquiringly at the change of subject but said, ‘Plans? For today? Remain here and hide out I suppose. It’s been made clear to me that I’m being blamed for Dean’s injuries and that I’m not welcome at the hospital.’

‘You shouldn’t let Sheriff Taylor get to you. Maxwell is his friend he’s bound to be angry. He can’t get to Hennessey so he’s lashing out at whoevers available, namely you.’

‘It’s not just Sheriff Taylor.’

‘Oh? Who else has given you a hard time?’

She shook her head and looked down at the mug in her hands, ‘it doesn’t matter.’

He watched her face closely but when she said nothing else he said, ‘well, anyway, I didn’t mean your plans for today I meant for the near future.’

She looked up, ‘oh, I’m leaving tomorrow for
Georgia, or maybe today, I’m not sure.’

‘Ah yes, your tour. Well it’s certainly worked out for you timing wise, you can leave here and put this whole thing behind you. Unless...'  He left the sentence unfinished.

She smirked, ‘unless they find Sterling Hennessey and he pleads not guilty then I’ll have to come back and testify, right.’

He nodded, ‘yes. I’m sorry.’

She let out a long sigh and leaned back in her seat. He noticed how straight she sat and how she elongated her neck like the women you saw sometimes in period movies and wore those tight corsets. First the teapot and now corset’s what was wrong with him, why was he thinking about such things? She was watching him again and despite himself he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably. He felt as though she was the cop and he the suspect.

‘D
id you check his credit cards at the places we visited, the restaurant etcetera,’ she asked.

Her question took him by surprise which annoyed him. He was the cop, and he was the one who was supposed to disconcert others, not the other way around. He got himself together and his eyes gave nothing away or at least he thought they didn’t as he said, ‘that’s in hand.’

The corner of her lips turned up almost imperceptibly, ‘so you did.’

He looked at her for a
long moment then leaned forward and put his cup on the table, ‘Miss. Faraday, you said you might possibly leave here today and I think that would be a wise move, get out of Mississippi and get on with the rest of your vacation. Forget about Sterling Hennessey, he’s our problem now.’

She leaned forward too, ‘so you did discover something about the credit cards, she nodded down at the coat he had put back in the bag and put on the coffee table, ‘and I saw the look on your face when you saw that name in there, so either Sterling Hennessey is D. Blakemore, or D. Blakemore is someone else, either way he’s of interest to you. I think I should know. I think I deserve to know.’

He stared at her with anger in his eyes, he hadn’t liked being out n the spot, it was as though he wasn’t doing his job properly. 'All right, Miss. Faraday,’ he said brusquely, ‘since you’re obviously an interested party, I’ll tell you. We checked on your good friend Sterling Hennessey’s credit cards and discovered that at the Shalimar he used a credit card in the name of Linford Cross, and for the ferry he used a card in the name of Steven Brannigan, for the Horse and Hind he used a card for Sterling Hennessey.’

He paused waiting for a response from her, but if he had expected her to be shocked or upset or angry he was disappointed, she studied his face for a moment then said, ‘and D. Blakemore, is that another of his pseudonyms?’

He frowned and stared hard at her and she could see he was struggling with himself and how much to tell her. She said, ‘you’ve just said I’m and interested party, detective. You’ve already told me more than you should, you might as well tell me all.’

His jaw clenched and she knew he was wondering if she was somehow blackmailing him. She stared back her face impassive. He was certainly not going to tell her the truth so said, ‘we don’t know who Blakemore is. As you say he’s probably another of Hennessey’s assumed names.

Adela knew he was lying; he would not have had that reaction to the name in the coat if it was that simple. But she could tell by the set of Leyton’s face that she would get no more out of him. But she knew now for certain what Hennessey was, a liar, a thief, a conman,  and now attempted murderer, what else he was didn’t bear thinking about. Except she did think about it. He had lied to her, used her, all for his own ends. And much worse than that she had almost told him about Olivia. What if he had used that information to blackmail her. A man capable of lying so blatantly, of conning someone, of beating a man senseless would stoop to anything. The blood in her veins turned to ice at the thought.