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A hard light glinted in his eyes. “When we spoke last week, you told me you’d met Emily Pierson. You also said nothing went on between you and Frederick until after she died. Well, as it turns out, there are some major discrepancies in those statements.”
“I’m not following.”
“Sure you are. It’s true you met Mrs. Pierson, but not as some innocent Pierson employee. You were having an affair with her husband. You knew he’d never leave hi
s wife. So you found a way for her to leave him—permanently.”
Louise’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re suggesting I harmed Emily Pierson, you’d better have some damned strong evidence, or I’ll be suing you for defamation.”
“Don’t bother.” Monty waved away her threat. “I learned a long time ago never to confront lawyers without proof. You see, Ms. Chambers, I did some digging. Turns out you visited Frederick Pierson’s apartment the day his wife died. You paid off a doorman to let you upstairs and to forget he ever saw you. I tracked him down. As luck would have it, he regained his memory when I flashed a wad of cash at him. So, incidentally, did the concierge at the hotel you and Frederick used as a love nest for the first months of your affair. As you can see, I’ve got more than enough proof. Care to fill in the blanks? Or should I?”
He pressed on without waiting. “You walked into Emily Pierson’s home and told her you were sleeping with her husband. Maybe you took it a step further and hinted that Frederick was on the verge of leaving her. Whatever you said, it was enough to trigger a heart attack. She died. You got Frederick. And you were on your way to happily-ever-after.”
“That’s not the way it happened,” Louise snapped. Her hands shook as she refilled her water glass and took a gulp. “Yes, I went to see her. And, yes, I told her about Frederick and me. But I did it so she’d let him go, not so she’d die. I was thirty-two years old. It never occurred to me that a blunt talk about a marriage that was in name only would be enough to induce a heart attack.”
“But it did.”
“It’s possible. It’s also possible the two events were unrelated. I wouldn’t know firsthand. I left.”
“That’s a lie. You were there when it happened. The nurse who cared for Emily Pierson told me she heard someone leave the apartment as she reached Mrs. Pierson’s side. She assumed it was a servant. But it wasn’t. It was you. I’ve got times on everything, right down to the minute. Arrivals. Departures. When Emily Pierson’s body was discovered. It’s all right here.” Monty walked over to Louise’s desk and slapped down a sheet of information. “I’d quit playing the denial game. It won’t fly. And before you decide to opt for silence, let me remind you that there’s no statute of limitations on murder. You’re an attorney. You know that.”
“I did not murder Emily Pierson.” Louise had gone deadly pale. “Okay, you’re right—I was there when it happened. I saw her collapse. I’ll never forget the look on her face. I nearly died myself. I froze. By the time I got it together enough to react, it was too late.”
Monty’s brows rose. “You don’t strike me as the emotionally fragile type.”
“I’m human. I saw a woman die.”
“You saw an opportunity. You let that woman die.”
Louise’s chin came up. “That’s one charge you can’t prove.”
“You’re right. And even if I could, I’d only be able to get you on failure to render assistance—a misdemeanor, at best, with a two-year statute that’s almost up. Unless, of course, there’s more. Tell me, Ms. Chambers, what happened when Frederick started seeing Sally? That derailed your plan again. Did you decide to get rid of her, too? Is that what happened at that cabin? You hired some punk to drive up and torch the place. But things didn’t go as planned. And the wrong person died. Makes sense. It also explains your sudden interest in Blake Pierson—the rising star of Pierson & Company.”
“No!” Louise’s voice trembled, and her eyes were damp. “I had nothing to do with Frederick’s death. I cared about him.” She reached for a tissue. “As for your ex-wife, I wouldn’t go to the trouble of having her killed, much less risk my career and my freedom for it. She was a fling, and not Frederick’s first. For that matter, I wasn’t exactly a saint, either. But he and I always came back to each other. That would have happened this time, too. If someone hadn’t murdered him.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll never know, will we?” Monty shrugged. “One thing’s for sure: You’re one hell of an opportunist. The Piersons didn’t know what they were letting themselves in for when they hired you.” He glanced at his watch. “We’re through here,” he announced, turning and heading for the door.
“Wait,” Louise demanded. “What are you planning to do?”
Monty paused, glancing back at her. “My job. Figuring out who killed Frederick Pierson.”
“So you no longer think that someone was me?”
“Never did. The evidence says otherwise.”
“What about my job?”
Another shrug. “That’s up to the Piersons. If it were up to me, I’d kick you out on your conniving ass. But it’s not my call.” Monty’s expression hardened and he pinned her with his stare. “One piece of advice. Stay the hell away from my daughter and Blake Pierson. Your grand plan to snag Pierson’s head honcho is over. If I get even the slightest inkling you’re gunning for Devon, you’ll answer to me. And I’m one tough judge and jury.”
THE NOTE HAD been insufficient motivation.
It was morning and Devon Montgomery was making no move to stay away from the Piersons—beginning with Blake. The two of them had left her mother’s house at dawn, arms around each other as they hiked through the snow to Blake’s car. That meant he was her ally as well as her lover. And that made her twice as dangerous. She wasn’t giving up on her crusade to find out what was going on in Vista’s trailer. And with Blake in her corner, who knew what she’d uncover.
Time to take drastic action.
DEVON WALKED INTO her living room and dropped her overnight bag on the rug. She sank down on the sofa, dropping her head in her hands.
She was exhausted. She’d had less than three hours’ sleep. And she still couldn’t figure out what Vista was up to.
