Insidious (FBI Thriller 20)

Alexander rose straight out of his chair, leaned toward Savich, his hands splayed on the tabletop. “How dare you, you no-talent suck-up! The only reason Grandmother pays you any attention at all is because your grandmother was Sarah Elliott. She keeps you around because of her childhood friend, nothing more. And your talent? You whittle! You’re an embarrassment, a low-life cop.”

Sherlock smiled at the man she was tempted to cold-cock. “Dillon is an artist, he carves beautiful pieces, many of them at the Raleigh Gallery. And guess what? Dillon isn’t the only one with talent in our low-life cop family. I play classical piano. You should come hear me play sometimes.” And Sherlock cracked her knuckles.

Alexander lasered her with a look, but Savich raised his hand, cut him off. “I think that’s quite enough. We’re not here to talk about us, Alexander, or what you think of us. If you have nothing to hide, I suggest you check your insults and answer our questions.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

Savich said easily, “I hope you do, Alexander, because more than your father, more than anyone else in your family, you’re the only one who stands to benefit if your grandmother dies.”

“I am not the one doing this! Listen, it’s got to be a competitor. The business world is a ruthless place. We’ve had to cut out the guts of more than one company in a merger or sale. That breeds resentment, even hatred.

“Anyone could have hired one of the staff to put poison in her food. That’s where you need to look, not at me, not at my father.”

“You believe Isabel could be poisoning Venus? That she’s being paid by a disgruntled business associate?”

“Why not? And there’s Veronica. I never trusted her, always sucking up to Grandmother, always agreeing with her. Why? She’s not family, she has no reason to be loyal to Grandmother. Question her. And there’s Aunt Hildi, Grandmother paid off her husband to leave her, and that had to burn.”

Off the rails. But interesting that Alexander had thrown his aunt Hildi under the bus.

Savich said quietly, “Do you know why Venus bailed you out of those charges at the Rathstone law firm?”

“She didn’t want her name blasted in the tabloids. She was afraid it would negatively affect Rasmussen stock. She was afraid for her own reputation.”

Sherlock said, “She saved you, Alexander, because you’re family. She loves you. It’s that simple.”

Alexander looked at them like they were mutts beneath his notice. He pulled his mesmerizing lawyer’s voice out of his hat. “Of course she does, and I love her. You want the facts about Rathstone, Grace and Ward? I had a disagreement with the partners about using my influence with Grandmother to bring them more business. I refused. They threatened they would let me go if I didn’t agree. I refused to. They came up with this malfeasance nonsense, threatened to report it to the bar. That is when Venus stepped in and made her own threats. Malfeasance? She never believed it for an instant.”

Savich said, “Specifically, it was a matter of siphoning off a client’s funds, actually two very wealthy clients whose finances the firm handles. Well, make that past tense—handled—because they left the firm. Venus must have been very disappointed in you.”

Alexander stared at him. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead. Savich said, “Venus kept quiet about what you did, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t find out about it. I know everything you did, every person’s name you did it to. Tread carefully, Alexander.”

Alexander swiped his hand over his forehead. He managed to kick in his lawyer’s voice again. “I will say this once and only once. This is idiotic. Neither I nor my father were poisoning Venus. As for that fool who tried to murder her outside our home yesterday, I know nothing about him.” He rose, shot his cuffs, and looked down at Savich. “I came believing that perhaps you would wish to have my help. Instead, you accuse me of wanting my grandmother dead. If I’d known the two of you were going to speak to me in this manner, I would have brought Rasmussen lawyers. Next time, I will. Don’t think I won’t tell Venus what happened here.” He stepped around the table, made a beeline for the door.

Savich let him go. He looked from Sherlock to Ruth, raised an eyebrow.

“I say we hang him up by his thumbs,” Ruth said, “and let him dangle above the floor for a couple of days. Come on, boss, let me do it.”

Savich said slowly, “It’s a lovely thought, Ruth.”

Ruth gave him a cocky grin. “Do you think we could run it by Mr. Maitland?”

23

* * *

MALIBU

TUESDAY

Cam picked two big bottles of ketchup off the shelf in Ralph’s Organics, really only a grocery store with inflated prices. Should she buy a third bottle? Heinz was a must-have for the cookout her parents had planned that evening. Her father had shooed her out of the house, along with an order for more beer and chips.

“Cammie! Cammie Wittier! Goodness, is it really you?”

Cam turned to see an incredibly beautiful young woman wearing chic ripped cut-offs, a tight tank top, and a perfect tan topped off with a head of glorious blond hair, streaked and full. And then she recognized her. Mary Ann Duff, a high school classmate she hadn’t seen since she’d left for college. She looked amazing, no longer carrying twenty extra pounds, and she’d lost the glasses and the dull, brown hair. She’d always been pretty, but now, she was flat-out glamorous. Cam remembered she was smart, too, and a good writer, the two of them thick as thieves on the high school newspaper their senior year.

“Mary Ann? You look stunning! Goodness, all that incredible hair—I swear, if I were a guy, I’d jump you.” The two women laughed and hugged.

“I’m so glad you recognized me. I mean, I was such a dog in high school.” She paused, fluffed her hair. “I’m Missy Devereaux now, have been for nearly eight years. A guy I met in a bar in Santa Monica, Anthony Margoulis, suggested it. He turned out to be a jerk, but he changed my life. But enough about him. Think you can call me Missy?”

“Sure, not a problem, and call me just plain Cam.”

“You here to visit your parents? Do they still live in the Colony?”

“No and yes,” Cam said. “Actually I’m an FBI agent now, on assignment from Washington.”

“I guess I’m not surprised. You had your heart set on that for as long as I’ve known you. Cammie— Cam, you’re so pretty, how do you get all the guys you work with to stop staring and listen to you? I mean, you’re the spitting image of your mom, and I’ve seen guys do a double take when she walks down the street here in Malibu. I even saw Ben Affleck stop once to stare after her. You said you were here on assignment. Can you tell me what it is?”