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I’d made sure Diego thought we were though, so I didn’t try to correct him as he lifted his eyebrows knowingly, fully believing Hayden had hired some guy to scare him away from me.
Just the idea had me throwing my head back and laughing, though. “No,” I told the spooked, bruised man. “Hayden wouldn’t—just, no. Okay?”
Eyes flashing with fervor, Diego stepped in close and lowered his voice. “Then who the fuck was it? Mad Manny got right in my face and said, ‘leave her alone or the next time I come back, this’ll be your neck,’ as he slowly snapped my arm like a twig. A twig, Gabby!” He lifted his cast and shook it meaningfully. “Someone fucking hired him to keep me away from you.”
“Well…” I frowned at his arm, not sure what to say. So I just shook my head. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you misunderstood him. I mean, you’re a freaking pickpocket. Did you lift money from the wrong purse or something?”
He blinked and took a step back as if that idea had never occurred to him. Then he frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he murmured, racking his brain over such a possibility, trying to remember everyone he’d ever robbed. A moment later, he glanced up and scowled. “I just know I’m done with you. Not even sleeping with that old bitch could make you jealous. You are one cold-hearted woman.”
“Right…” I said slowly. He’d fucked someone else in an attempt to upset me, but I was the cold-hearted one. Such logic. Made a girl just sigh hopelessly and shake her head.
Narrowing his eyes at me one last time, he spun away and stalked off, pushing his bellman cart full of luggage in front of him. “Have a nice life,” he called back scornfully.
“Sure thing, Diego. You too.” I gazed after him a moment before shaking my head again and letting out a low whistle.
Because that had been weird. Way weird.
Chapter 23
Hayden
“This all you have for me?”
I glanced incredulously at the file spread open before me and then up at Detective Gutierrez, who sat on the other side of his desk, looking unimpressed by all the material my private investigator had assembled on Finley.
Was he fucking serious? What the hell more did he want? I’d done all the investigative work for him.
“It’s proof that he faked his own death!” I answered as if that should be enough. “What else do you need?”
Gutierrez shrugged. “Pseudocide isn’t a crime. The guy’s an adult; he can check himself off the grid if he wants to.”
I sniffed. “So you don’t think there’s any misconduct afoot here?”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s been plenty of misconduct happening all over this, Mr. Carmichael. It’s as suspicious as hell. I figure it was damn near impossible for this guy to do what he did without breaking some law or another. But what laws are we talking about? Do you have any idea?”
“Plenty,” I said dryly, unable to stop glaring at him.
I couldn’t believe this. I’d done all the footwork for him; and he expected more?
“Well, now we’re getting somewhere.” The detective sat back in his seat as if to get comfortable. “So? What else you got for me, then?”
“Unfortunately,” I started with a grimace. “Just a lot of presumptions. No concrete evidence.”
“Well, evidence starts from gut-instinct guesses, so come on…” He waved his hand. “Lay ’em on me. Give me a direction to go. What do you think he’s done to merit faking his own death?”
“Finley was the lawyer of Arthur Judge,” I started, taking out the copy of Arthur’s will I had tucked in the inside pocket of my suit jacket and beginning to open it. “Are you aware who Judge was?”
Gutierrez shook his head as he picked up a bag of peanuts and sprinkled some into his palm. “Not a clue.”
“Okay. Judge was the proprietor for JFI, a fashion company here in town. Worth millions. Barely a month after he died, his lawyer—Finley—was reported as dead as well, while Judge’s widow cleaned house at the will reading. Look here...”
I turned to the page to point out what everyone received. “This is what went to his second wife, while his own daughter only received this.”
After shelling the peanut, he popped the nuts into his mouth and leaned forward to scan what I was showing him.
With a low whistle, he shook his head and glanced at me. “A thousand a month doesn't sound like nothing to me, pal. I’d say this daughter got off pretty sweet. Hell, my old lady’s dad kicked it last year, and you know what we got from it? A bill for twelve grand in funeral expenses, that’s what.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Was your old lady’s father worth sixty-five million?”
