Never Tell (May Moore Suspense Thriller 2)

“Afternoon,” Reed said in a brusque, deep voice. “I don’t have a lot of time. As I’m sure you’re aware, this has been a very challenging day for us at Reed Leisure, and I’m in between meetings.”

“I’m Taylor Ashby, Mr. Reed’s personal assistant,” the woman said. “Can I get you some tea?”

May was going to say no, but before she could, Owen said, “Yes, please.”

Immediately May realized that was a good idea, as tea might enable them to stay longer. She had the impression that the clock was already ticking and that their police status meant nothing to Reed’s schedule.

The assistant picked up a phone and spoke quickly into it.

“We’re investigating a murder,” May said. “I’m sure you have heard the very sad news that your architect was found dead this morning?”

Reed’s face showed no reaction, but the beautiful assistant’s slender body jerked visibly.

“It’s tragic,” Reed agreed. “I sincerely hope his killer can be found. Obviously, this has nothing to do with Reed Leisure, and must be a random crime. That’s clearly why we need the hotel development to uplift the area. It’s showing distinctive signs of urban blight. That crime is just one example.”

He stared at them. May thought he looked smug. He certainly didn’t look sad, or shocked, or show any normal reaction.

“Do you know of anyone who might have held a grudge against your architect? Someone who would want to kill him?” she asked.

Reed shook his head.

“No one comes to mind at all. He worked for us in a professional capacity. I have no idea what took place in his private life so perhaps you should focus your investigation on that side. I can’t imagine who would want to do this.”

A young platinum-haired woman in her early twenties, in a black and white uniform, appeared in the doorway with a tray. She carefully set the tray down on the table.

“Your tea, Mr. Reed,” she said softly.

“Well, go ahead. Serve us,” he ordered her impatiently.

The woman turned to May.

“Cream? Sugar?” she asked.

Her voice had a faint hint of Eastern Europe. May thought she looked intensely nervous. Her blue eyes looked scared. Her face was pale and tense.

To be fair, she thought she would also look nervous, having to pour tea for a short-tempered tycoon in this overdone setting.

“Cream and sugar, please,” she said.

The maid poured tea for her, then for Owen, then for the assistant, and finally for Reed.

Then she stood up and left.

Glancing after her, May noted that the security guard standing by the wall took time off from his guarding duties to ogle her in a blatant and unpleasant way. Flushing, the maid looked away and hurried out of the room.

May seethed. She was so furious that she took a deep breath, intending to say something, but before she could get the words out, Reed continued smoothly.

“No doubt you are investigating at full speed in order to give us peace of mind on this matter. Have you come here to provide an update? Or do you need information?” He looked at the Rolex on his left wrist in a meaningful way.

It was time to get to the gist of their visit and May knew that even with the tea served, she’d better ask the questions she needed to, fast.

“We’d like to find out details on your insurance policy,” May said.

“Our insurance policy?” Reed repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes. I was told it pays out in the event that there’s a catastrophe or unforeseen event that prevents construction from proceeding,” May said. “I’d like to confirm if that is true. Will you be putting in a claim now that your architect is dead?”

There was a resounding silence in the room. The beautiful assistant looked shocked.

Reed’s face darkened.

“If you believe I would do that, you are clearly not the caliber of investigators that will be able to solve the case,” he said.

Owen drew in a sharp, angry breath. May did her best not to be offended by this derogatory statement, but rather to look past it and think about why Reed was saying this.

He was attacking. Did that mean he had something to hide?

“Take a good look at me,” Reed said. “I don’t need to kill someone to collect on an insurance policy. I am an extremely wealthy individual and a highly successful businessman. I don’t need to murder anyone for money. I won’t be claiming on the insurance as there’s no need.”

“Of course not,” May said smoothly. “But there was that article that appeared recently which mentioned the hotel would never recoup its value.”

Reed sneered.

“If that journalist has such a good understanding of business, why isn’t she in business herself, instead of writing for a small-town gossip rag?”

“Umm,” May said.

“I’m used to protests,” he said. “I’m used to unfair criticism. I’ve heard it all before. I am building a hotel in a small town. Of course there will be a backlash from less successful people and those who can’t adapt to progress. There’s nothing unusual about that. But even so, I will sue that journalist as soon as I get around to it. For defamation.”

“You think it’s inaccurate?” May asked.

“Not just inaccurate. Totally defamatory. I am a respected businessman. I have a reputation to defend. The article paints me as some sort of incompetent with no knowledge of the market.”

“So you think it’s wrong?”

“Exactly,” Reed said. “She’s basing her article on a one-year projection. Within one year we won’t yet break even. That’s on a five-year plan. In five years we will be profitable. That’s a long-term view of the business. We have a lot more in the pipeline. The second wing of the hotel includes the casino. Small-town folk will love that. It will bring excitement and glamour to their lives and give them hope for better prospects than the mundane, gray existence they lead, scraping out a living in their pointless little villages.”

May heard Owen draw in a sharp breath at this scathing criticism. She had to admit, her hackles were rising too.

“Then we have the conferencing facilities set up so that big-city people can break away to experience the upmarket yet rural charms we will create for them. And then there are the other things we’re working on to make sure the resort is top of mind.”

He smiled. May didn’t think it was a nice expression. She wasn’t sure if the locals would like the other things, or even what they were. She remembered again what Owen had said about the strip clubs. That was the sort of smile it was. The smile of someone who was going to open a totally unsuitable venture in a location where it would be cheap to build, and by doing so, destroy the area.

“I see,” she said, refusing to be sidetracked. “But about this policy. Could you explain it to me?”

Now Reed looked seriously angry.