Trust No One

  Kristy looked down at a heap of dead flowers that had been yanked out of the vase on her desk and dumped on the floor. “What, exactly, are we supposed to do besides collect our own belongings? I hope they don’t expect us to clean up the place.”

  The reception desk had once been Kristy’s command post and she had occupied it brilliantly, handling the media as well as the Witherspoon bookings.

  “Don’t know about you two,” Millicent said, heading toward her office with the little suitcase, “but if anyone thinks I’m going to tidy up here, they’ve got a surprise coming. The burglar was responsible for the damage, not me. I’m going to clean out my desk.”

  She disappeared into her office.

  “This is all just so sad,” Kristy said.

  She sank into the high-tech office chair and picked up the framed photo of her family that had been knocked facedown on top of the desk. Very carefully she put the picture into her cardboard box.

  “Got an affirmation for us, Grace?” Millicent called from the other room.

  “How about Today I will be open to new possibilities?” Grace suggested. “I used it with the roasted fennel recipe in the cookbook.”

  “I hate fennel,” Millicent yelled back.

  More drawers banged.

  Kristy made a face and angled her head in the general direction of Millicent’s office.

  “She’ll do all right,” Kristy said very softly.

  Grace smiled. “Probably. Meanwhile, you and I need to remember that, thanks to Sprague, we’ve got a lot of unique skills to sell to our next employer.”

  “Please don’t recite any more Witherspoon affirmations. I want to savor my gloom.”

  “Okay,” Grace said.

  She went to the doorway of her office and contemplated the chaotic scene. Files had been yanked out of drawers and dumped on the floor. There wasn’t a lot to retrieve, she thought. She had never kept much in the way of personal items in her workplace. There wasn’t room for that sort of thing in a minimalist environment.

  She set the cardboard box on the desk and started to pack up her few personal possessions—the large coffee mug emblazoned with the Witherspoon Way logo, the blue wrap that she kept in the bottom desk drawer for those days when the building HVAC system wasn’t working well, a pair of sneakers that she wore on her lunch break when she went to the nearby dog park to eat her lunch and watch city canines frolic.

  She was in the process of putting her selection of herbal tea bags into the box when she heard the familiar brittle voice in the outer office.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Nyla Witherspoon said fiercely. “Not a damn thing. This was my father’s office. If any of you take so much as a pen, I’ll report you to the police.”

  “Take it easy, honey. I’m sure they just came back for their personal things. You heard the security guard out in the hall. He’s keeping an eye on the office.”

  Grace recognized Burke Marrick’s voice. Rich and resonant, it would have taken him far in the motivational speaking world.

  She went back to the doorway of her office. Nyla was standing in the center of the reception area, vibrating with rage. Her sharp features were twisted with anger. She looked more than ever like the Wicked Witch of the West.

  Burke put one hand on her shoulder as if he thought he might need to restrain her from taking a swing at Kristy.

  There was no question but that Nyla had landed herself an impressive trophy fiancé. Burke had certainly hit the genetic lottery when it came to his looks. And he knew how to dress to make the most of his startling green eyes, gleaming dark hair and well-toned physique. Somehow a woman knew just by looking at him that he would be very skilled in bed.

  “Get out of here, all of you,” Nyla hissed. “You have no right to be here.”

  “The police called us in today and the building manager told us that we were free to pick up our personal things,” Kristy said calmly. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing of value left to steal except the chairs and the desks. Good luck selling them on the used-office-furniture market.”

  Nyla clenched her fingers around the strap of her designer purse. “I said get out. Now. Everything in here—everything that belonged to my father—is mine now. I’m the sole heir, in case you weren’t paying attention. Leave now or I will call the police and have all three of you arrested for theft.”

  Millicent appeared in the doorway of her office. “Don’t worry, Nyla, we were just leaving.” She looked at Kristy and Grace. “Right?”

  Kristy sighed and picked up her cardboard box. “Right.”

  Grace went back to her desk, grabbed her box and carried it into the outer office. The three of them marched toward the door.

  “Wait,” Nyla yelped. “Let me see what you’ve got in those boxes.”

  Burke touched her shoulder again, a little more firmly this time. “Don’t worry about it, Nyla. I’m sure they are just taking the things that belonged to them.”

  “Damn it, I don’t trust any of them,” Nyla wailed. “Don’t you understand? One of them murdered my father.”

  There was a hushed silence. Grace moved first. She walked toward Nyla and held out the box.

  “Take a good look,” she said. “A lovely mug and some herbal tea. You’re welcome to both. You can’t have the wrap, though. My sister gave it to me for my birthday.”

  Nyla glanced into the box. Her mouth tightened.

  Kristy followed with her box. “Here you go, Nyla. Help yourself. A box of tissues and a photo of my family.”

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Millicent grumbled. She crouched in her stilettos and opened the roll-aboard to reveal a couple of designer scarves, another pair of stilettos and a coffee mug. “I don’t think the scarves are your color, Nyla. You’re better in black, don’t you think?”

  “Leave,” Nyla whispered. “All of you. And don’t come back.”

  “Good idea,” Millicent said.

  She straightened and rolled her suitcase toward the door. Grace and Kristy followed. The three of them walked to the elevator in silence. Millicent stabbed the button.

  “That woman is a real case,” she said.

  “We all know that she harbored a lot of resentment toward her father,” Grace reminded them. “Now that he’s gone, she’s dealing with the fact that she won’t ever be able fix that relationship. She’s grieving.”

  Kristy snorted softly. “Give me a break. She never tried to reconcile with her father. Heaven knows he wanted to bond with her. But I swear she enjoyed nursing her so-called grievances. I’m telling you, she’s the one who murdered Sprague.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Millicent said. She stabbed the elevator button again and glanced back down the hall toward the office. “She is the sole heir, isn’t she?”

  Grace followed her gaze. “Got a feeling Mr. Perfect has other ideas.”

  Millicent’s smile was cold. “I agree with Kristy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they planned the murder together.”

  “Serves them right that the money disappeared,” Kristy said.

  Twenty-Four

  That was my journey. I would not be here tonight if not for the things Harley Montoya taught me. Many of us can look back and name the people who gave us not only a chance but the guidance and direction that we needed at a crucial moment in our lives . . .”

  Grace finally allowed herself to breathe. Julius was doing well on the podium. Granted, he might not make it in the motivational speakers’ world or on the campaign trail. But he was delivering the new version of the Speech from Hell with a conviction that was resonating with the audience.

  Nothing grabbed people’s attention like a strong dose of passion and Julius had communicated more than enough to rivet the crowd. The darkened ballroom had been hushed from the outset when it became clear that the after-dinner talk was not going to in
volve a lot of dull facts and figures. There hadn’t been so much as a clinked glass or the clatter of a spoon on a dish since Julius had launched into the speech. Even the waiters had stopped to listen at the back of the room.

  “. . . Those of us who have achieved success in the business world now find ourselves with an opportunity to wield some real power—the kind that leaves a lasting legacy, the kind that can change lives.

  “Look around and find at least one other person who reminds you of yourself when you were starting out. Figure out what you did right and what you did wrong along the way. Focus on the things that you can reflect back on with a sense of pride because you know you did the right thing, the honorable thing, even if it cost you some money or a contract at the time. Offer those lessons to that individual who reminds you of yourself, the one who is still trying to decide what kind of person he or she wants to be. Your mission is to help shape the future.”

  Julius swept up the notecards, turned and walked across the raised dais. It took a couple of beats for the audience to realize that the speech had ended. A good sign, Grace thought, satisfied. Always leave them wanting more.

  The applause exploded across the banquet room just as Julius started down the steps. By the time he got to the floor, half the people were on their feet. By the time he reached the round table where Grace stood with the others, clapping madly, the rest of the audience was standing.

  Grace knew that she was practically glowing. She smiled at Julius.

  “That was wonderful,” she said beneath the roar of applause. “You were brilliant.”

  “Don’t know about brilliant,” he said. “But at least they didn’t fall asleep this time.”

  Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It wasn’t a long, involved embrace—just a short, sure, triumphant kiss that sent the unmistakable impression of intimacy. It was the sort of kiss lovers exchanged.

  The crowd loved it. Possibly even more than they loved the speech, Grace thought.

  By the time the kiss was over she was flushed and breathless and intensely aware that everyone around her was smiling.

  Julius held her chair for her.

  “Thanks,” he said so that only she could hear. “I owe you.”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  “Yes,” he whispered. He gripped the back of her chair. “Sit down. Please. No one else can sit until you do.”

  “Oh, right.” She looked around the room. People were still on their feet but the clapping was fading. Definitely time to sit.

  She dropped into her chair. Julius guided it back into position and sat down beside her. Everyone else sank back into their seats.

  A murmur of congratulations broke out around the head table. A banker sitting two place settings away wanted to know Julius’s opinion of some pending financial regulations. Grace reached for her water glass—and nearly dropped it when she felt Julius’s hand close over hers under the table.

  He squeezed her fingers gently. The small action seemed as intimate as the kiss, perhaps more so. He’s just thanking you for saving him from the Speech from Hell. He’s relieved it’s over. He’s grateful for your suggestions. Don’t read too much into a little squeeze of the hand.

  The master of ceremonies resumed control of the audience, thanked Julius for the talk and moved on to the next item on the evening’s agenda, the closing remarks and the reminder that the auction would start in twenty minutes in the main wing of the museum. Last-minute bids were being accepted.

  Once again everyone stood. A group quickly gathered around Julius. It seemed as if half the room was eager to engage him in conversation. Many of the people looked vaguely familiar. Grace knew she had seen their faces in the newspapers and on local television.

  She started to ease out of the way so that the others could get closer to Julius. He did not look around but he reached back and captured her wrist.

  She stopped and leaned in close so that she could speak directly into his ear.

  “Ladies’ room,” she whispered.

  At that he broke off a discussion on the subject of the lack of government funding for high-tech research and looked at her.

  “I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” he said. He released her.

  “I won’t be long,” she promised.

  She slipped off through the crowd, aware of a few curious gazes cast her way before she escaped into the calm of an empty hallway. She paused to get her bearings, spotted the Ladies sign at the end of the hall and headed in that direction.

  There were three other women at the long row of sinks when she entered. They nodded as if they knew her and smiled. She was quite sure she had never met any of them in her life but she smiled back and headed for a stall. This was what came of being attached to Julius’s side that evening, she thought. Back in Cloud Lake it was easy to forget his position in the Pacific Northwest business community.

  By the time she exited the stall the other women had left. She breathed a sigh of relief at finding herself alone and opened her clutch to take out a lipstick. The door swung open again just as she was using a tissue to blot the extra color off her mouth.

  The newcomer was a striking woman in her early thirties. Her blond hair was pulled back in an elegant chignon. She wore a sleek, black-and-white cocktail dress and a pair of black heels.

  There was recognition in her eyes, just as there had been in the eyes of the three women Grace had encountered when she entered the room. But this woman was not smiling.

  “You’re with Julius tonight,” the newcomer said. There was a thread of grim determination in her voice, as if she was confronting an enemy and was prepared to fight.

  “He invited me to accompany him this evening,” Grace said.

  The tension in the atmosphere was disturbing. She waited, uncertain what to do next. The woman was blocking the route to the door, perhaps by accident but maybe by design.

  “I’m Diana Hastings,” Diana said. There was a husky edge on the words, as if she was trying to suppress some fierce emotion. “Julius’s ex-wife.”

  “I see.” Grace looked at the door. The uneasy sensation was transitioning to red-alert status. She needed to escape as quickly as possible. Whatever this was about, she was sure it was not going to end well. “I’m Grace Elland. A pleasure to meet you. If you don’t mind, I need to get back to the lobby. Someone is waiting.”

  “Julius. You’re going to meet Julius.”

  “Well, yes.”

  “So you’re the new girlfriend.” Diana looked bemused. “You’re not exactly his type, are you?

  “I have no idea and you’re mistaken. Julius and I are just friends. He’s advising me on how to build a business plan.”

  That was sort of true, Grace thought. Kisses had been exchanged but she and Julius were not sleeping together. And the part about the business plan was fairly accurate.

  “Julius doesn’t kiss his friends the way he kissed you in front of the audience tonight,” Diana said. “No man kisses a woman like that unless he wants to make sure that everyone around him knows that he’s sleeping with her.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Mrs. Hastings—Diana. Julius and I only met recently. It was a blind date arranged through friends. I’m just doing Julius a favor tonight. He needed a companion for this event and I was—uh—convenient.”

  “No.” Diana shook her head with great certainty and moved farther into the room. “Oh, I don’t doubt that he finds you convenient. Julius is very good at manipulating people to get what he wants. But I know that you two are sleeping together. That was obvious tonight.”

  Grace felt her temper start to flare. “Not true, but even if it was, it wouldn’t be any of your business, now, would it?”

  Diana’s fingers tightened around her gold leather evening purse. “I don’t give a damn if you’re sleeping with him. I suppose I should feel some sym
pathy. You must be as naive as I was when I married him. But do you know something? I can’t even feel sorry for you. I just don’t care if you two are having an affair. Is that clear?”

  The situation was escalating. Diana’s face was flushed, her eyes a little wild. Instinctively Grace softened her own voice.

  “Very clear,” she said. “You’ve made your point, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving now.”

  She started forward, intending to circle around Diana and make a break for the door.

  “No, I haven’t made my point.” Diana did not move. “You’re welcome to him, as far as I’m concerned. Julius is cold, ruthless and calculating but that’s your problem, not mine. I want you to take a message to him.”

  “If you’ve got something to say to him, I suggest you speak to him, yourself. You can do it right now. He’s waiting in the lobby. Do you mind getting out of the way?”

  Diana did not budge. She was gripping her little purse so tightly her knuckles were white.

  “Tell that bastard that I know what he’s doing,” she said. “Tell him everyone in Seattle knows.”

  Grace debated her chances of getting past Diana without physical contact. They didn’t look good. She felt her temper start to slip again.

  “Do I look like a messenger pigeon?” she asked.

  “Tell Julius that I know he wants revenge. I get that. But he should take it out on me—not my husband and my husband’s family. They are innocent. What Julius is doing is so unfair. And pointless. It’s not as if I ever meant anything to him. I was just one more transaction, an entry in his portfolio. I know he never truly loved me. Tell him that even in my nightmares I never believed that he would be this cruel.”

  “What?” Grace was so shocked she could not think of how to follow up so she just stared at Diana.

  The door of the ladies’ room swung open without warning, forcing Diana to move aside. She did so but she seemed unaware of the two women who walked into the room behind her. She was focused utterly on Grace.