Wrong Place, Wrong Time Part 6

"Is it working?"

"You know it is. You know I'd do anything for Mom. But this is a mistake. I don't have your nerves of steel or your ability to stay objective. I'm emotionally involved. That's a detriment, not an a.s.set. How can I possibly help you?"

"I'm not sure. But my gut tells me you can."

"How?" Devon could feel her resolve weaken.

Worse, so could Monty. He jumped all over her ambivalence, firing out suggestions as if he'd been cogitating for days, rather than devising them on the fly. "The groom who's been caring for Sally's horses. Talk to him. Maybe he can give you a feel for the players. The grandchildren. Pierson just mentioned that they're all flying in or driving up tomorrow. They're congregating at the farm to make funeral arrangements - and probably to avoid the press. They're all around your age or a little older. Strike up conversations. See what dirt you can dig up."

"In other words, be the mole," Devon responded, summing up Monty's thought process. "The innocuous veterinarian who blends in with the crowd and empathizes with their loss. My mother was seeing their uncle. She was nearly killed at his murder scene. That's our common ground."

"And your fear that Sally's still in danger - that's your jumping-off point. From there on, the conversation will take on a life of its own."

"So, while you're closeted in some private office with the family patriarch, I'll be hanging out with the yuppies, getting to know them." Devon gave a tentative nod. "It could work."

"It will work."

"I'll need to look at that report of yours," Devon heard herself say, reaching for the pages. "Just so I can remember which Pierson is which."

"Here." Monty thrust them in her hand. "The more I think about that phone call, the more I know Edward Pierson's got something up his sleeve. Think about it. He's about to get official confirmation that his son's dead. His entire family is converging under the worst of circ.u.mstances. That means emotional meltdown and, in this case, business upheaval. Tomorrow is going to be the day from h.e.l.l. So why is Edward calling me tonight, insisting we meet ASAP? Why not wait until the storm has pa.s.sed?"

Devon was used to going through these mental exercises with Monty. "Because time is of the essence. Edward's son was murdered. He's grieving, angry, and impatient. He's a man who's used to getting what he wants when he wants it. He's determined to find Frederick's killer - yesterday, if not sooner. He's banking on the fact that you can do that for him. Maybe he's also hoping to capitalize on your personal relationship with Mom and your brotherhood with the cops."

"Both, I'm sure. But there's more to it. He's done his homework, just like I have. He knows I'm good, and he's also hoping I have inside information. But he's got to know I can't be bought."

"He's counting on having superior methods of persuasion, like a six-figure check. Or maybe he's counting on outsmarting you."

"Maybe. Or maybe he likes the fact that I won't sell out. Maybe he figures it'll translate into my keeping my mouth shut with regard to whatever I turn up in this investigation. A loyal-at-all-costs Sam Spade."

"Which brings us back to the fact that he has an agenda."

"Yup. Especially when you add to the mix the argument your mother overheard earlier this week between him and Frederick."

"What argument?" Devon's head snapped up. "You didn't mention any argument."

"I was about to when my cell phone rang." Monty filled Devon in on what Sally had told him.

"Whew." Devon blew out her breath. "A criminal offense that could jeopardize the company. That's pretty heavy stuff. I wonder who's guilty. And why Edward didn't view him that way. Maybe Frederick's murder changed his mind."

"And opened his eyes - enough to realize he had to protect what was his. The question is, what is he protecting - a member of his family or the survival of his empire?"

"Or both," Devon added. "He said nothing to give you any indication?"

"Nope. He wants to discuss it in person. But he definitely wants to keep our meeting under wraps. I'm being escorted to his office through the back entrance. He was blunt about the fact that he doesn't want to risk any family member seeing me, or knowing I'm being hired."

"Which could mean one of them is under suspicion." Devon shrugged. "Or just that he's trying to spare them further upset."

"I opt for the first choice. Incidentally, Edward also specified that it's crucial he gets all relevant information first - another reason I'm his PI of choice. He went out of his way to stress my success ratio and fast turnaround time."

"First," Devon repeated. "As in before the cops?"

"Sure sounded that way."

"That would certainly support the entirety of your theory, including the issue of loyalty."

"Uh-huh. I could find the killer and help Edward Pierson keep a lid on a nasty Pandora's box he doesn't want opened."

"You'd never withhold evidence."

"He doesn't know that. I've got a reputation for bending the rules. He's counting on my willingness to do that, if not for his family, then for mine. And he's not wrong. I've already bent them. I'd do more than that if it meant keeping my family safe."

"Your family. In this case, that's Mom," Devon clarified softly.

"Yeah. It is." Monty paused, his jaw working. "Look, Devon," he blurted out. "Your sister's not here now, so I'm going to be blunt. I'm worried as h.e.l.l about your mother."

"Why? Is there something I don't know?"

"You know everything - including your mother. How long do you think she's going to stay in hiding - cut off from her kids, her home, her life? A week? Two? Yeah, I've made sure she's safe. But that's a double-edged sword. Soon her fear will start to subside. She'll want to come home. There's a killer out there - one who might still be looking for her. He needs to be behind bars before Sally's restlessness gets the best of her and puts her directly in the line of fire."

"You're right." Devon dragged both hands through her hair. "I was so relieved when I heard Mom's voice, realized she was really okay, that I pushed the rest out of my mind. But Williamstown's just a Band-Aid. The wound's still there. And you're the only one who can make it go away fast enough to keep Mom safe. This meeting with Edward Pierson could be a huge step in that direction. It'll get you in the door."

"Get us in the door," Monty corrected. "Me in the back, and you in the front."

"How will I get in the front...?"

"By introducing yourself as Sally's daughter. By thinking of yourself as Sally's daughter. Drive that bond home, and distance yourself from me. Your mother raised you. You and I are on civil enough terms for you to give me a ride up to the Pierson farm. We talk occasionally, see each other less. I care a lot. You harbor resentment. Let Meredith give you lessons. She has it down pat."

"Monty..."

"I don't blame her. She's right. But that's my problem. It has nothing to do with what we're facing now. All you have to worry about is connecting with the Piersons through your relationship with Sally. My name doesn't need to come up, except in pa.s.sing."

"But Edward Pierson knows you're driving up with me."

"His grandchildren don't. As for Edward, I'll tell him that as far as you're concerned, I'm driving up to fill him in on what I saw at the crime scene. Simple and accurate, even if it is just the tip of the iceberg. And I'll a.s.sure him I never discuss my cases. Not with anyone. Enough said - for you and for me."

Enough said. Simple and accurate.

Monty's mantra - the one Devon had heard him repeat so many times - sprang to mind, and she uttered it aloud. "Say as little as possible. When you have to talk, stick as close to the truth as possible. You'll have less to remember. And it'll wind up saving your a.s.s."

"I couldn't have said it better."

Devon inclined her head, met her father's gaze. "You really think I can pull this off without losing it, and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g things up?"

"There's not a doubt in my mind."

It was all she needed to hear. "Then I'm in."

CHAPTER 6.

Edward Pierson looked pretty much like his photos. Tough. Lines etched on his face. Like an age-old rock that had been exposed to the elements and endured. Been-there-done-that-and-won kind of demeanor. Also, pretty d.a.m.ned steady on his feet for a guy nearing eighty who'd recently suffered a heart attack.

Monty averted his gaze long enough to take in the dark wood and expensive leather of the gentleman's-club-style office he'd been ushered into by the patriarch himself. He waited while Edward shut the door and turned the lock with a firm click.

"Have a seat," Edward instructed, gesturing at the wing-back chair across from his desk.

With a tight nod, Monty complied, studying Pierson's demeanor as he walked around and lowered himself into his matching desk chair. He was a hard man to read. He was obviously thrown by his son's death - which had been confirmed earlier that day by the coroner. His complexion was a little ashen, his breathing a little shallow. Yet, at the same time, he was brusque, all business - ready to take on and combat the world.

"I'm here as requested," Monty began, draping his arm over the chair and lounging back in a deceptively casual pose. "Although I feel like something out of Mission: Impossible. My daughter drops me off at the back gate. You sneak me through the house and lock me in your office. All that's missing is the catchy music. Why the drama?"

"No drama." Edward poured himself a gla.s.s of water. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Scotch?"

"Water's fine." Monty watched as Edward raised the pitcher again, filling a second gla.s.s and handing it over. He noticed the older man's hand was a trifle unsteady.

Grief, stress - or something more?

"Fine. You don't like the word drama," Monty conceded with a shrug. "Secrecy, then. Why?"

"Because my entire family's in shock. Because I don't want them upset any more than they need to be. And because they're only going to be told fragments of what you and I are about to discuss, and why I'm hiring you."

"And why are you hiring me?" Monty returned Edward's curt delivery with his own. "I don't have any more information than you have. The sheriff's office is doing their thing - and they're not interested in my help. As for Sally, we're divorced. I'm not her confidant."

"And yet she called you when she was in trouble."

"I was a cop for thirty years. She knew I could get the details she provided to the right people faster than anyone else. We also share three kids. She wanted them to know she was alive."

"Alive and on the run."

"Unfortunately, yes. I'd rather have her under police protection. But she didn't give me that option."

Edward shoved aside his water gla.s.s, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Cards on the table. I'm hiring you for several reasons. The obvious ones you know. Your credentials are impressive. So's your client list. That list is also diverse. You've worked for both individuals and companies. Plus, you have a vested interest in finding whoever torched that cabin, killed Frederick, and tried to kill your ex-wife. I think you can resolve this faster than any official investigation. You can also give it your undivided attention, which the police can't."

"For the right price, you mean."

"For your kids. For your ex-wife. And, yes, for the right price. But before I name that price or go any further, I want your word that nothing we say leaves this room. Because this whole nightmare runs even deeper than you think - and with more potential for tragedy."

Monty's brows rose a fraction. "Sounds ominous."

"It is."

"I'm not cheap. Then again, I'm sure you already know that. Just like you know I don't discuss my cases. That's part of what you're paying for. So let's skip the confidentiality speech."

Edward opened his drawer and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the desk. "There's fifty thousand dollars in there. Cash. Consider it a retainer. Plus I'll double your usual rates for as long as it takes to solve this case. But I want all your time and resources. Is that acceptable?"

"That depends on what you're asking me to do," Monty replied without touching the money. "Also, I won't blow off my current clients. I'll need a chunk of time to work on their cases."

"You can have late nights and weekends."

"Fair enough. I have a.s.sociates who can do the additional fieldwork. Now, how about some details."

A tight nod. "You asked what I want you to do. I want you to act as Pierson & Company's head of security. I want you to go to the office every single day, figure out what's going on, and protect my company and my family."

Monty's gaze narrowed. "Does that mean you think whoever killed Frederick is after more of your family members?"

"Maybe. I don't believe in coincidences." Edward broke off, visibly agitated. "Look, Montgomery," he continued before Monty could probe into what coincidences Edward was referring to. "You don't get as rich and successful as I am without making enemies. And you don't always know who those enemies are."

"But you think they're company insiders?"

"It's possible. Either way, I'll make sure all business is conducted inside company walls. That'll keep this a.s.signment manageable for you. You'll get a chance to check out visitors and employees alike."

"You're hedging. Who at Pierson & Company is on your suspect list?"

Edward took a gulp of water. He clearly did not like what he was about to say. "There's no list. It's just that Frederick and I had a different take on Philip Rhodes."

"Philip Rhodes. Your senior VP of sales."

A flicker of surprise registered on Edward's face. "You did your homework. Yes. Philip's been with us for years and years. He's a real rainmaker. And, yeah, he's bent some rules. So have James and I. That's how successful companies are built." Edward leveled a probing stare at Monty. "I'm sure I don't need to fill you in on who James is. If you've figured out Philip's role from our org chart, I'm sure you've done the same for other key players at Pierson, especially my family."

"Sure have." Monty didn't even glance at his notes. "James is your oldest grandchild; Niles's son. He's also VP of sales, reporting directly to Philip."

"And he's a champion show jumper," Edward added proudly. "He and my stallion Stolen Thunder are a one-of-a-kind team. Real Olympic material."

"So I hear. The reports from Wellington are impressive." A corner of Monty's mouth lifted at Edward's startled expression. "I don't just do homework; I do lots of homework."

"Obviously."

"You said you bent some rules. Elaborate."

"The usual." Edward gave a dismissive wave. "A few political contributions to local politicians who wield power in communities where we wanted contracts for our food-service business. Some gifts to their family members. A few golf trips, here and there. Just some perks."

"I think they call that white-collar crime."

"No, they call that networking. The point is, Frederick thought Philip was going one step further - bribing officials, paying them off in cash to get what we wanted. He was pretty upset about it."

"I can understand why. Did he have proof?"

"Nothing I saw. And my gut tells me that Philip's too smart to channel company funds into something illegal."

"But if your gut is wrong, and if some proof actually existed, then Philip Rhodes would have a motive for murdering Frederick."

Edward's jaw began working. "I won't believe that."