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Ledge looked around at the framed photos of Rusty with politicians and C-list celebrities, the plaques and certificates and civic awards, the homages Rusty had paid to himself. He snorted with contempt as he came back around to his nemesis. “You’d be stripped of all this, of everything you hold near and dear.”
“Do you actually believe I would stand by and let that happen?” Rusty asked in a silky voice. Then he tsked. “Ledge, Ledge, in all this time, haven’t you learned anything?”
“I’ve learned that you’ll stoop to anything. Foster was a soft target. Easy to dupe, easy to bully. You told me so yourself that morning you corraled me in the diner. I know you killed him.”
“You’d have better luck trying to prove I shot Kennedy. Or Lincoln.”
“True. Mother Nature lent you a helping hand that night.”
Rusty flashed a smile as he raised his hands at his sides. “So where does that leave you? Exactly nowhere. You’re hamstrung. Admit it.”
Privately, Ledge did, although he didn’t concede it out loud. “A big hang-up I can’t figure out is how Joe Maxwell got that bag of money. When? Where? You wouldn’t have handed it over without putting up one hell of a fight. Is that how you got injured and wound up in the hospital?”
“See, Ledge?” he said, winking. “You’re not the only one with an alibi. In the wee hours, I was being treated in the ER.”
“Hospital records will be tough to dispute.”
“Oh, I can do better than hospital records.” He rolled his chair over to its rightful place behind his desk and resumed the complacent position he’d been in when Ledge arrived. Except this time, he stacked his hands on the top of his head. “You want to know who can vouch for my whereabouts that night?” He snickered, his smile sly and provocative. “Ask your girlfriend Crystal.”
Chapter 12
Lisa’s assistant knocked once on her office door, then pushed it open. “I know you asked not to be disturbed.”
Lisa, who’d been reading over the previous quarter’s financial report, removed her reading glasses and, with an edge, said, “What is it?”
“Your sister.”
“What about her?”
“I’m here.” Arden stepped around the assistant and entered the office.
Lisa dropped her eyeglasses onto the desk and came to her feet. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“Can you spare me a few minutes?”
“Of course.” Lisa came from around her desk and gave her a warm hug. “I’m delighted to see you, but surprised. Did you make the drive this morning? You must have left Penton awfully early.”
“Even the drive-through at the bakery wasn’t open yet.”
“And after you had such a late night. Were you able to get any sleep? Do you want coffee?”
“In answer to the first question, not much. No thank you on the coffee. I stopped a couple of times along the way.”
Lisa said to her assistant, “Everything is on hold until further notice.”
“You have a meeting at—”
“Move it back an hour.”
“If someone’s schedule doesn’t allow for the change?”
“Then they’re to rearrange their schedule to allow it.”
“Yes, Ms. Bishop.” The woman, seemingly accustomed to Lisa’s directives, smiled at Arden, then withdrew and pulled the door closed.
Lisa took Arden’s hand and led her to a seating area in a corner of her expansive office. The Bishop Group occupied the two top floors of a glassy contemporary high-rise, which Lisa’s late husband had developed. The glitzy skyline of downtown Dallas was on full display outside the wall of windows.
Inside, the office was exquisitely furnished and decorated with treasures from around the world, which Lisa and her late husband had acquired on their frequent trips abroad.
