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“Nope. Just a small twist of the truth. And only about your whereabouts. The rest is fact.” Monty gave a wicked chuckle, and Sally could actually visualize that smug I-beat-the-system gleam in his eyes. “That’s the great part about being a PI and not a cop. You can bend the rules a little.”
“As if you didn’t before,” she commented drily.
“Point taken. Okay then,
I can bend them even more. So, instead of wasting time following protocol and filling out bullshit reports, I can investigate on my own and track down the scumbag who smashed in Frederick Pierson’s skull and nearly incinerated you.”
Like an unwelcome blast from the past, Sally felt that grinding twist in her gut. “In other words, once you figure out who he is, you’re going after him.”
“Did you doubt it?”
“No. Are you going to elicit the help of the Warren County sheriff, or is that a stupid question?”
“It’s a stupid question. I work better and faster on my own. Now go take it easy. Later, I’ll want to ask you some questions about what you might and might not know about Frederick Pierson.”
“Speaking of that, there’s something you should know right away. It may mean nothing. On the other hand, it bugged me enough to stick in my mind. I assumed I was overreacting—until Frederick was murdered.”
“Go on.”
“I overheard an argument between Frederick and his father earlier this week. Frederick wanted to fire someone at his company. Edward was dead set against it. Something about a criminal offense that could jeopardize the company. At least that’s what Frederick claimed. Edward obviously didn’t agree. He vetoed Frederick’s decision to let this person go.”
“Interesting.” Monty digested Sally’s information. “So it could be a crooked employee. Or maybe just a disgruntled one who knew Frederick didn’t trust him. As the ball-breaking CEO of the company, I’m sure he had lots of pissed-off employees. We’ll just have to figure out which of them, if any, would go so far as to kill him.”
“I could try to write down the exact words they—”
“Not now,” Monty interrupted in that no-nonsense detective voice. “Now is about getting you settled in and checked out by a doctor. Call me when you’re safely in Rod’s truck.”
“On the Bat Phone?” Sally asked, her lips curving slightly.
“Yeah.” There was a trace of rough nostalgia in his tone. “On the Bat Phone. I’ll bring it with me to Devon’s. That way, you can talk to the kids when you get to Williamstown.”
A pause. “Pete…whatever you do, be careful.”
“Never mind me. You be careful. No hiking into town or sneaking off to hit the slopes. Be a nice, New England homebody. In the meantime, I’ll start digging around to see who hated Frederick Pierson and why.”
CHAPTER 5
The sun was poised on the horizon, sinking slowly downward, when Edward Pierson finished his phone call and slammed down the phone in the farm’s walnut-pillared living room.
“The cops still haven’t found Sally Montgomery,” he announced, turning to Blake. “But evidently, she’s alive and hiding.”
Blake extricated the shredded hem of his jeans from between Chomper’s teeth and frowned. “What do you mean ‘hiding’?”
“I mean she called her ex-husband. Didn’t want her family to think she was dead. She got out of the cabin before the fire destroyed the place.”
“Why didn’t she take Frederick with her?”
“Because he was already dead.” Edward dragged an arm across his forehead. Looking ill, he explained the circumstances to Blake. “She’s afraid that whoever killed Frederick and whacked her on the head will be looking for her to finish what he started. So she’s not telling anyone where she is.”
“Did she see the guy? Is she willing to give a description?”
“I don’t know.” Edward filled his water glass and gulped at it, clearly wishing it were bourbon. “The cops won’t give me any details. All the sheriff keeps saying is: ‘It’s an ongoing investigation.’ Which does me a hell of a lot of good.” He set down the glass with a thud.
Blake shooed Chomper away again, then gave up, letting the puppy tug at his jeans and chew the leg bottom into a soggy wad. “Grandfather, ease up. You’ve been pushing yourself all day. Grandmother would have your head, and so would the doctors. Let the police do their job. Concentrate on something else—like how strong James’s showing will be in tomorrow’s Grand Prix.”
“Right.” Edward’s tension eased slightly. “According to our trainer, he’s more than ready. His form’s great and he’s been clearing every jump.” The scowl returned. “Of course, all that could go down the tubes before next Sunday’s event. He’ll have flown home to cope with a funeral and the fallout that goes along with losing not just his uncle, but the head of his branch of our company. That’s bound to screw him up. You reported to Frederick, too. You and I have got to pick up the slack so James doesn’t have to, and so the food-services division doesn’t suffer. As it is, the staff will be in chaos, and our suppliers and accounts will be nervous as hell. It’s going to be ugly.” A sidelong glare at Blake. “By the way, cut out the placating, diversionary crap. It’s revoltingly obvious.”
“I wasn’t going for subtle. And I’m not placating you. I’m helping get you through this ordeal. I’m well aware you’ll fight me every step of the way. Just as you’re aware that I’ll fight back.”
