Wrong Place, Wrong Time Part 15

Devon picked up on the odd note in James's voice. "Am I missing something? Is Mr. Rhodes a problem in some way?"

"Phil? The only problem is getting him to go home. He's a die-hard workhorse. It's just that I never viewed us as lucky to have him on board. I doubt he has, either. He's been with us for so long, he's like family."

"In that case, maybe your grandfather will appoint him the new CEO."

A short, derisive laugh. "Not that much like family. No, my grandfather would never let a non-Pierson head up the company. Technically, my father's next in line for the CEO spot. I doubt he wants it. Not that it would matter if he did. My grandfather's long since decreed that it'll be Blake who takes over the throne. This will just accelerate his ascension."

"Does that bother you? You're older, right?"

"I've got two years on Blake. But, no, it doesn't faze me in the least. I've got zero desire to run Grandfather's empire. I've got a different legacy to fulfill."

"Capturing the Olympic gold."

"You got it."

"I think it's great that you and your father are both so accepting about Blake becoming Pierson & Company's head honcho." Devon pursed her lips thoughtfully. "But, as you said, you're family. Philip Rhodes isn't; not really. You'll reap the long-term benefits of Blake's leadership. He won't. Is he really that magnanimous? I know I'd hate working my tail off if I knew there was a dead end at the finish line."

James stopped chewing. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation."

Mentally, Devon kicked herself. Too pushy. Too obvious. Time for damage control.

She launched into the speech she'd prepared if something like this happened.

"Sorry." A rueful smile. "Force of habit. My dad's a retired cop. I guess being nosy is in my blood." She stared at the tablecloth. "And I admit there's a part of me that is interrogating you. I want to know who killed your uncle. I want him behind bars. I miss my mother. I'm scared for her. I want this nightmare to be over. I want my mother home, safe and sound."

Her ploy must have worked, because James covered her hand with his. "I understand. Everyone's focusing on what a horrible time this is for my family. Well, it's a pretty horrible one for yours, too. Your mother's out there somewhere. You must be a mess."

"I am."

"What can I do to help?"

"You're doing it now, just offering your support. And forgiving me for grilling you."

"No forgiveness is necessary. And, for the record, if I had any idea who did this to Frederick, I'd offer the SOB up on a platter. Frederick and I had different styles - G.o.d knows, we didn't always see eye to eye - but he was my uncle. I get sick when I think about how he died."

Devon wasn't letting that admission go without a try. "Different styles?" she repeated quizzically. "Why, was he closed-minded, or overly conventional?" She rushed on, determined to keep the harmonious moment from disintegrating back into wariness. "I'm not interrogating, not this time. My question is strictly personal. Your uncle was dating my mother - seriously enough for her to go away with him for a weekend. That's not something she'd do lightly. I guess I need to feel as if I knew him."

"I suppose I can understand that." James didn't release her hand. "Frederick was a workaholic. When I said we didn't see eye to eye, it was because we handle things differently. I combine work and play. Frederick is - was - all about work. He's as serious as a heart attack. Our goals are the same. I just enjoy the means as well as the end."

"Meaning you wine and dine the players."

A grin. "Smart girl. It's a winning combination, at least for me. Sales is all about people. Win their hearts, and their wallets will follow."

"People." Devon's lips curved. "Why do I get the distinct feeling that most of those people were women?"

"Because, like I said, you're a smart girl."

"And Frederick didn't approve?"

"Let's just say he wasn't a big fan of living on the edge. Then again, he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He answered to my grandfather. That couldn't have been fun."

"Especially if your methods were more successful than his." Devon processed that and continued. "Was your grandfather upset by the way you went about doing things?"

"He was happy as a clam. I won over the accounts. That trumped all else. And if you're asking if Grandfather would blast Frederick if he was p.i.s.sed off at me, the answer is no. My grandfather's not a subtle guy. If he was p.i.s.sed at me, he'd call me in and read me the riot act - right to my face."

"Where did Philip Rhodes fit in? He must have been caught in the middle."

"Not really. Philip liked seeing profits rise. Plus, he was tight with my grandfather. So things were copacetic."

"It sounds as if your uncle was a hard guy to get along with. Were any of the accounts put off by him?"

One brow rose. "Back to interrogating?"

"Fishing is more like it. If you could think of anyone who had an ax to grind with Frederick..."

"I would have given his name to the cops," James finished. "They have a complete list of family, friends, and business a.s.sociates, along with notes about their specific relationships with Frederick."

"I guess." Devon lowered her gaze.

"Devon." James's grip on her hand tightened. "I know you're eager to have your mother home. But the cops will figure this out. Unless your father beats them to it." A pause. "You did know he was working at Pierson, didn't you?"

Devon had to give him credit. He'd turned the tables in a hurry. Now it was his turn to test her.

She nodded. "Yes, I knew. I was Monty's ride up to the farm yesterday. He was in there too long just to be rehashing what your grandfather already knew. So I quizzed him about the meeting on our drive home. All I got out of him was that he'd taken a security job at Pierson & Company. No surprise that he wouldn't elaborate. He never discusses his cases. But given the circ.u.mstances, I'd have to be an idiot not to figure it out."

"You're no idiot. Then again, neither is your father. We spoke for a chunk of time this morning. He's a sharp guy."

"I know. I'm glad he's working this case - not only for your family's sake, but for mine. We're worried sick about our mother."

"I met your sister, Meredith, when I picked you up. Any other siblings?"

"An older brother, Lane. He's thirty-two. Merry's almost twenty-one. We're all holding on to one another to get through this."

"What about your father? Does he factor into this family support system?"

My, James was interested in Monty. "Not really," she stated flatly.

"So you're not close with him?"

"No one's close with Monty. His work is his life. Always was. Always will be. In this situation, that's good. He'll find your uncle's killer. You'll have closure. And we'll have my mother back. In the meantime, I can't stop myself from asking questions. It's all I can do - and I have to do something."

James studied her for a long moment. Then he brought her fingers to his lips. "You're a fascinating package. Independent and self-a.s.sured one minute, sensitive and vulnerable the next. The most intriguing woman I've met in a long time."

Devon wondered how many women had heard that particular speech.

"I sound like a Tootsie Pop," she responded drily. "Hard on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside."

At first, James looked startled. Then he began to laugh. "Ouch. I think my ego just took a hit. Add 'painfully honest' to that list of qualities."

"Sorry." She mustered a wry grin. "That comes from years of eavesdropping on my brother's conversations. He's got a dozen seduction speeches down pat."

"And that sounded like one of them?" James gave a self-deprecating shake of his head. "I'd better work on my technique, then. The last thing I need is to be figured out."

"Relax. Not every woman has a big brother. And very few of them have one like Lane. He's the whole package - looks, brains, magnetic charm, financial success, and an exciting lifestyle." A purposeful pause. "Actually, I think I just described you."

That did the trick. James's eyes glinted with satisfaction. "Now that's a comparison I can live with. I'd like to meet this brother of yours sometime."

"Then you're in luck. He'll probably be there tonight when you take me home."

"At your place?"

"Uh-huh. He's staying with me until we get news about Mom. So's Merry. Like I said, we're keeping one another together."

"I see. Well, that certainly puts a crimp in my plans for the evening. I was hoping you and I would be alone."

Devon wasn't going to play games, not when she knew d.a.m.ned well what that comment meant. "It's a little too soon for what you have in mind. I don't live life in the fast lane the way you do. Besides, don't you have to be up early for your flight back to Wellington?"

James nodded, taking her not-yet message gracefully. "The Gold Coast Cla.s.sic's this week. I'm competing on Wednesday. I'm riding one of my grandfather's younger stallions, Future. It's an intermediate-level event, but it keeps me in shape for Sunday's Grand Prix." He caressed her palm before releasing her hand. "I'm a.s.suming that was a 'later' and not a 'no'?"

"That was a combination 'let's see what happens' and 'let's give it time.'"

"Fair enough." James seemed satisfied with her answer. He sat up and glanced around for the waiter. "If this is the only alone time we're going to get tonight, let's prolong it. Coffee and dessert time."

THE BAT PHONE rang.

Sitting in his living room, Monty responded instantly to the expected call. He pressed the mute b.u.t.ton on his TV remote, silencing the eleven o'clock news. Then he shifted his La-Z-Boy recliner into the upright position and punched on the phone.

"Right on time," he greeted.

"And that surprises you?" Sally returned lightly. "I'm not the one who thinks punctual means a half hour late."

"Ouch." Monty grinned. "That hurt."

"You can take it. You're tough."

Monty wasn't fooled by Sally's banter. He heard the underlying strain, and his grin faded. "You okay?"

"I guess." Sally drew an unsteady breath. "Physically I'm fine. A dull headache and a scratchy throat are the only lingering effects from the fire. Emotionally's another story. I hate being cut off. I feel helpless." She coughed. "Anyway, I'm calling in, as ordered."

"Good. Now get some sleep. Call in again tomorrow, same time."

"Pete - wait." Sally broke in. "Where do things stand? What did you find out?"

"Not a h.e.l.l of a lot," he replied, keeping it vague. He couldn't undo what Sally had been through so far, but he d.a.m.ned well intended to keep her out of the line of fire from here on in. "It'll take time. Today was just my first day at Pierson & Company."

"Stop placating me." Sally's impatient words told Monty he wasn't getting off that easily. "Your whole macho protective strategy isn't going to work. Not anymore. I'm a cop's ex-wife. I'm too smart. And I know you too well. So stop hedging and answer me."

"Fine." Monty relented. "Right now, I'm focusing on Philip Rhodes, trying to figure out if he's the one Edward and Frederick were arguing about at the barn. He's jumpy. Could mean something; could mean nothing. Tomorrow, I'm digging into financial, phone, and e-mail records. And Devon's picking James Pierson's brain as we speak."

"Did Devon really want to do this, or did you twist her arm?"

"No arm-twisting was necessary. Devon would do anything to ensure your safety. And don't worry. I'm watching her back every step of the way."

"I know you are." Sally's voice was getting weaker and raspier. "I just wish - " She broke off to dissolve into a spasm of coughing.

"Go to bed, Sal," Monty instructed. "You need your rest. I'm on top of this. I'll fill you in when there's something to say."

"I'll hold you to that."

His lips curved again. "I never doubted it. Talk to you tomorrow. Same Bat time, same Bat channel."

A hint of laughter. "Good night, Pete."

AN HOUR AND a half later, James left Devon's town house, having exchanged polite greetings with Lane and chatted for a minute with Meredith. He climbed into his Beemer and pulled away.

The punk who'd been scrutinizing him all night waited until the sports car had rounded the bend. Then he threw the gearshift of his beat-up Chevy into drive and followed close behind.

From his surveillance spot in the cl.u.s.ter of bushes near Devon's town house, the driver of the maroon coupe watched the Chevy drive away. Reaching over, he diddled with the controls on his audio equipment before settling himself behind the wheel and clamping on his headphones.

First - silence.

Then a telephone number being punched in.

Montgomery answered on the first ring. "You're home."

"Safe and sound," his daughter replied. "A few personal tidbits to report. Nothing major. How about your meeting?"

"The same. You sound beat. Wanna talk in the morning?"

"Yeah. Believe me, there's no case cracker tonight. I'll call you as soon as I get up."

"Unless I call you first."

A shared chuckle, and then a dial tone.

Okay. He'd get the lowdown in about six hours. He could use a nap anyway.

He leaned back against the headrest and shut his eyes.

CHAPTER 13.