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The big-time record producer stumbled over his first few words before regaining some composure, although his voice remained shaky. “I have no idea who those people are.”
“What’s that you say, Chad? You deny knowing either of them, is that it? Dr. Deming was a physician at Northridge Medical Center. Your father saw him six weeks before he died for an insurance policy physical. I’m guessing either Anna suggested Aaron do the exam or you did. You see, Deming was also someone Anna had been seeing off and on for several years. Does any of that jog your memory?”
“I don’t see Deming’s relevance to what happened to Anna.”
“There’s a connection, we think. And when Anna ended their affair, that might’ve given Deming a motive for murder. What about Jarreau?”
Chad puffed out a hard and heavy breath, ready for the conversation to end. “Another one of Anna’s extracurricular bits on the side. Her screwing around should tell you everything you need to know about my sister’s relationship with Mack. Anna always got bored easily with things and with people.”
Lucien wasn’t sure how to proceed. But one glimpse at Brogan sitting across the room told him what needed to come next. “Look, if you don’t want us on the case, that’s fine. We’ll return your money. But let us finish up what we started. We have a few loose ends to tidy up. Let us contact this person and see if he wants to meet you. Wouldn’t Matthew and Anna have wanted you to meet your newfound sibling?”
“Yes, yes, you’re right. Perhaps I was too rash,” Chad admitted, an eagerness present in his voice that hadn’t been there earlier. “Surely you understand how this news has come as quite a shock. Of course, I’d like to meet him. The sooner, the better.”
With greedy Chad now securely hooked, Lucien set the trap in motion. “We’ll get back to you as early as this afternoon with more information if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely. I’ll be available all day. Should I arrange to come back to your little hamlet for the meeting? My driver can get me there in five hours.”
Realizing Chad’s sudden enthusiasm meant the plan had taken hold, Lucien smiled at Brogan. “We’ll call the minute we know something.”
“Why pick aname like Julian Carter?” Beckett complained as he listened to Brogan lay out the ruse in front of all the interested parties. “Why couldn’t I be John or Joe?”
“What difference does it make?” Brogan pointed out. “Chad Pollock will take one look at you and want you dead.”
“And Julian Carter sounds so above it all,” Kelly mused. “Kind of snotty upper crust. Chad will buy the name better than a John or a Joe.”
Jade snickered into her coffee mug. “Oh, I can see it now. Beckett pretending to be Julian like a sitting duck.”
“You won’t be a sitting duck for long,” Lucien promised. “We’ll all be there waiting for Pollock to make his move. I sent him your phony bio and picture. He’s chomping at the bit to meet you at the Windhorse Retreat. It’s near the old train trestle.”
“Why that location? I’ve been there. It’s basically a rundown lodge that forgot to prepare for the twenty-first century. About five years ago, some new owner tried to turn it into a spa. They did some renovating here and there and pronounced it ready for guests. But it’s way out in the boonies in a woodsy area with no cell phone reception.”
“Brent picked this place,” Lucien charged, glancing over at the police chief.
“I did,” Brent confirmed, looking around the room. “That was the appeal. It’s secluded, remote, and the perfect setting if you want to do away with somebody.”
Birk entered the den from the kitchen, holding a phone to his ear. He pointed to the device for the benefit of everyone else. Still talking to the person on the other line, he grumbled, “Slow down a minute. Will you? Let me put you on speaker so everyone here can get up to speed with what’s happening. My associate, Neville Williams, is in Klerksdorp at the moment. You aren’t going to believe who’s living with Valkyrie Graf.”
“Aaron Deming,” Lucien guessed.
“Nope. Vincent Jarreau going by the name Paul Highsmith,” Birk revealed.
Brogan dropped into a chair. “Oh, my God. His poor mother. Is there a man who fits Elliott’s description living anywhere around Paul and Valkyrie?”
Birk held up a hand. “We’ll get to that in a minute. Before you go feeling sorry for Helene Toussaint, the neighbors say the couple gets a regular visit from Paul’s American mother every summer, which is our winter. She flies in, stays for a month, and leaves in January. Neville showed the neighbors a photo of Helene. It matched the woman who lives in Carson. As to Elliott, you want to tell them the rest, Neville?”
Neville’s voice in an unmistakable British accent boomed over the speakerphone. “The couple has two other children, both boys. Their oldest, however, fits Elliott’s age. I can’t say he fits a description as I haven’t received an aged-progression rendering. But I went through the young man’s bio here. Birth records say he was born February 8th, 1998, which checks out with the Elliott boy. He graduated at twenty-two pre-surgery from the University of Cape Town as Christian Highsmith. Christian is currently enrolled there in his second year of medicine and lives in a stylish flat convenient to the university and hospital.”
Brogan exchanged looks with Lucien. “I’m happy that Elliott’s alive. Don’t get me wrong. But you did say Helene should win an Oscar for that performance. She sure had me fooled.”
“Same here. I bet she called Vince right after we left her house and warned him. Is there any indication this Paul Highsmith is packing up to do a runner?”
“None whatsoever,” Neville replied. “Mr. Highsmith seems quite content with his life without any signs he’s ready to abandon it any time soon. I’m standing thirty feet from the entrance to their estate. I have a man in Cape Town keeping tabs on Christian as well. Frankly, though, I don’t see the point. This family seems to be living their lives as if nothing bad ever happened back in the States.”
Birk looked at Brogan and then at Lucien. “The question now becomes the most important of the past ten days. Do you want Neville to approach Paul Highsmith about what happened to Trey?”
“Of course we do,” Lucien answered without hesitation. “As I see it, there’s no other way to learn the truth about what happened that morning. We need to know who was behind the murders. We already believe Chad Pollock will lie his ass off. He’ll deny he had anything to do with what happened that morning on Lynley Circle.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something equally important?” Brogan prompted. “Finding out Elliott’s alive is great, everything sounds hunky dory with his life, but the circumstances make Vincent Jarreau look all the more guilty of killing the Dolworths. Vince was near the scene of the crime. You still don’t have anything nearly that incriminating on Chad.”
