Once Upon a Friendship
And then Liam’s gaze met hers. And Walter’s dislike of her didn’t even matter. “Of the five you mentioned—Matheson, Williams, Granger, Donaldson and Buckus—do you have any suspicions regarding one over the other?”
Mr. Connelly’s gaze pinned Liam. “You been talking to her about the top floor?”
“Of course not—”
“No, sir, he hasn’t.”
Gabrielle interrupted only to be interrupted when Liam continued, “I’ve been telling you for years how smart Gabrielle is, Dad. She has a memory like none I’ve ever seen. You mentioned the names. Her mind’s like a digital catalog.”
He’d never said anything to her about seeing her that way. Or having even noticed her mind at all.
Not that she’d needed him to. Their friendship was based on the trust established the night they’d met and on the nightly visits that first year, when Liam would knock on their door and the three of them would rant about classes they didn’t like, or homework, or talk about whatever.
And on years of telling each other every good or bad thing that had happened to them.
And on the total acceptance of each other, despite how different they were...
“So is there any reason you can think of to suspect one of the five over another?” Gabrielle asked again, getting her mind back on track. She wasn’t a trial attorney. But she handled some minor criminal cases. And had spent her law school years interning with one of the city’s top criminal lawyers.
It felt good to be able to offer Liam more than just motherly advice.
“Matheson just went through a nasty divorce,” Walter said. “She got everything plus support, and his high school kids have told the court they don’t want to see him right now.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Six months. She caught him in bed with her best friend.”
“Which makes him not as likely a candidate, because a scheme to the magnitude being described takes a lot longer than six months to be set in motion.”
“Doesn’t make sense that you’d sell Grayson if you were using the land in a Ponzi scheme,” Liam said, looking at his father.
“I didn’t sell Grayson.” Walter looked down at the table.
“Of course you did. I saw it listed on the sales and acquisitions report months ago.”
Walter looked up. Around the room. Everywhere but at Gabrielle. And then said, “What the hell, you’re going to find out soon enough. I lost the property at the blackjack table.”
Slumping back with enough force to scoot his chair on the floor, Liam stared. “You lost a fifty-million-dollar property playing blackjack?”
“I won a sixty-million-dollar property the next week.”
“Delacourte?” Liam asked, while Gabrielle, too shocked to react, looked between the two of them, wondering if they’d both lost their minds.
Who gambled away fifty million dollars in one game?
“You’re gambling regularly?” Accusation laced Liam’s tone.
“I’ve taken up the sport again, yes.”
“Since when?”
Walter frowned, throwing his hand in the air. “I don’t know how long, and I don’t answer to you.”
Liam’s expression became guarded. Withdrawn. And though his face quickly cleared, there was something missing in the depths of his eyes. Not that many others would probably notice. She’d just learned a long time ago how to read him, so she could get back to sleep sooner on the nights he’d visited late.
“So Matheson is the only one you’d suspect?” Gabrielle blurted. She wanted to know anything pertinent that might affect Liam.
“Donaldson took a personal beating when the real estate market crashed back in ’08,” Walter said, his fingers tapping on the table. They were nicely manicured. “He’d just bought a place for a million and half and in six months it was worth half a million. He bought it on balloon loan, expecting to sell it for profit, and instead went into foreclosure.”