The Final Secret Page 9

  Carrying a tray with a steeping pot of tea, a container of honey and another of milk, Gennie emerged from the kitchen. In the dining room, she placed the tray on the table, stepped back and said, “I’ll help you, Ruby. But you need to be honest with me.”

  “I will.”

  “Come in here and have some chamomile.” She motioned for both of them to join her. “Noah and I need to figure out who killed Slocum, and I think you can help us.”

  Ruby nodded vigorously as she took the seat at the head of the carved oak table with green placemats and daffodils in a small vase. “Ask me anything.”

  “I overheard what you and Noah were talking about,” Gennie admitted. “I’m surprised that Loretta thought Dean Slocum was so rich. Did she happen to mention his net worth?”

  “You bet she did. She said it was over $1.23 million plus three properties in Denver.” Ruby accepted a cup of tea and stirred in a dollop of milk. “I had the feeling that she and the brother kept close watch on Slocum’s finances. As next of kin, they’re the heirs.”

  “Unless he made a will,” Noah pointed out, “and named someone else as his beneficiary. Is that why Loretta is mad at you? She thought you’d get a piece of the inheritance.”

  Gennie prepared her own cup of tea. “I never would have guessed that Slocum was a millionaire. How did he get all that money?”

  “Well, it wasn’t family wealth.” Ruby sipped her tea. “I met Buddy a couple of times before, and he is most definitely not a rich man. Actually, I liked him. Buddy is a friendly guy whose easygoing personality is the opposite of Dean’s uptight, perfectionist attitude. Loretta is a lot more like Dean than his brother.”

  Noah sat back and listened while Ruby spilled the little she knew about the Slocum family. His brain had stuck on the $1.23 million. That kind of money provided a big juicy motive for murder, especially for the next of kin.

  There was a good chance that Slocum had amassed his fortune through illegal means. The buying and selling of illegal arms came immediately to mind. Gennie’s nemesis, Warrick, had been a private contractor and would have the connections necessary to move illegal arms. Slocum’s murder could have been a falling out among thieves.

  Gennie cleared her throat. “I didn’t quite hear this from the kitchen, but you mentioned an affair.”

  “Ridiculous,” Ruby muttered.

  “What kind of proof does Loretta have?”

  Ruby held a napkin in front of her mouth. Her eyes darted. “There was a letter.”

  Gennie sat back and waited, stirring her tea and taking ladylike sips.

  Ruby blurted. “The letter never mentioned any names. And it wasn’t about an affair, just a kiss. I was foolish. I kissed him before I knew what I was doing. Then I came to my senses and wrote the letter saying we should never see each other again.”

  “And Loretta has the letter,” Gennie said. “How did she get her paws on it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s hard to believe you kissed Dean Slocum.”

  “Because I didn’t.”

  “Who was the man?” Gennie asked.

  Ruby stared into her teacup. “Kenneth Warrick.”

  The silence that followed her announcement blanketed the dining room with a suffocating, ominous darkness. He could have sworn that for an instant the lights blinked out and showed him a glimpse of hell where Warrick wielded a pitchfork. Noah was impressed by Gennie’s ability to stay calm. She’d been hurt by Warrick but didn’t allow her pain to show.

  In measured tones, she asked, “How did you meet him?”

  “I’m so sorry, Gennie. I know you were involved with Warrick.”

  “Not anymore.” Gennie raised her teacup to her lips and took a sip. “Did you meet Warrick when you were taking a class with Murano?”

  “At the Institute in Boulder,” she said, bobbing her head. “Warrick was using a different name but I remembered meeting him in Afghanistan. Forgive me for saying this, Gennie, but he’s still a good-looking man. When I recognized him, he begged me not to tell my husband because he didn’t want to lose his job with Murano.”

  “You believed him,” Noah said. “You didn’t suspect him of working a scam.”

  “I was conned,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Noah, but there’s something very appealing about a bad boy. When Warrick asked me to give him a chance, I couldn’t resist. Before I knew what was happening, we were kissing.”

  “What’s done is done,” Gennie said. “I’ll come to the mansion tomorrow in the morning before Loretta and Buddy arrive. And I need to bring Noah.”

  “I suppose that’s all right,” Ruby said. “I need to talk to my husband.”

  Noah had another question. “Did Slocum ever ask you for money?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Blackmail.”

  “Never,” she said.

  “Why would he hold back on such a valuable, dangerous secret?”

  “Slocum knew that if he showed the letter to Roger and the general had to choose between him and me, I’d come out on top.”

  Still, he’d held on to that incriminating letter. And he’d sent it to his in-laws for safekeeping. Why? Noah had a feeling that the explanation wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Chapter Ten

  At Noah’s condo, Gennie stepped through the sliding glass door onto the sixteenth-floor balcony. The bright lights of downtown Denver clustered in a knot and then spread toward the shadow of distant peaks to the west. Though she’d never been a huge fan of urban living, the view was mesmerizing—twinkling house lights, neon signs on stores, headlights and taillights that came and went into the night.

  The interior of the condo was also impressive, in spite of the total lack of houseplants. Noah’s furniture was modern, and his artwork showed eclectic influences, ranging from realistic nature paintings to modernist color blocks and streaky abstracts of athletes. When she complimented him, he was honest enough to tell her that his ex-wife had chosen most of the art. Typically, Gennie avoided divorced men because they tended to be bitter. Noah was different. He and his wife had only been married two years and both acknowledged that it was a mistake. They stayed friends but she moved back east.

  Ever since she met Noah, she’d been thinking about what would happen if they actually went on a date. Having a romantic relationship with the boss seemed like a terrible idea, but here she was in his condo, preparing to spend the night. Keep it professional, Gennie. She had loads of experience being in close contact with male coworkers and not getting involved with them; she had perfected the ability to be “just one of the guys.”

  That was what she needed with Noah. They could be friends, colleagues, people who worked together and not lovers, which didn’t mean she shouldn’t appreciate the good things about him. This condo was pretty great.

  Resting her forearms on the balcony railing, she watched three helicopters swoop across the sky like oversized nocturnal dragonflies. She felt wide-awake and alert, churning with energy when she really should have been exhausted. The day’s physical activity had been a challenge, and her stress level was off the charts. Part of that tension could be attributed to her inappropriate attraction to Noah, but mostly she was upset by the murder.

  No matter how she looked at the death of Slocum, she saw connections to Kenneth Warrick. Would he never cease to cause turmoil in her life? After returning to the states, she never expected to see him again. But here he was! Once again, he hovered over her life like a monster spider—big, bold and nasty.

  Noah joined her on the balcony and handed her a glass of merlot. He raised his for a toast. “Welcome to your first day at ARC Security.”

  Holding up her wine, she gazed at him over the rim of the glass. Moonlight softened the chiseled line of his jaw and gleamed in his eyes. Drinking wine made this moment feel more intimate tha
n it should have been, but it was too late for coffee, and she’d had her fill of tea. What the hell, the wine would help her sleep. “Cheers!”

  “I’m glad you decided to spend the night here.”

  “So am I.” The merlot slid easily down her throat. “Obviously, my house isn’t secure. If Ruby Haymarket can break in, anybody can. I’m a little embarrassed that I haven’t taken precautions. I used to pester my parents about setting up a security system, and now I’m as careless as they were.”

  “Lucky for you,” he said, “security is our business. Tomorrow, we’ll get a technician to upgrade your locks, install alarm sensors and set up surveillance equipment.”

  Adding security wasn’t the only change she wanted to make at her parents’ house. The super-heavy furniture and clunky wood accessories weren’t her taste. The wallpaper had to go, and the kitchen needed renovating. Gennie was ready to roll, but these projects required the approval of her parents and her musician brother who had a say in what happened to the family legacy even though he lived in New York. Consulting with them brought Gennie’s initiative to a dead stop. Instead of a total remodel, she’d settle for recreating the landscaping by planting veggies and more flowers. And she definitely wanted to get rid of the giant spruce tree in the front—a major project.

  “How long are you watching the house for your parents?” he asked.

  “Maybe forever. I doubt that they’re coming back to Denver. Mama and Papa Fox have officially joined the ranks of the snowbirds in sunny Phoenix.”

  “It’s a nice property,” he said. “Do you ever think of selling?”

  “To tell the truth, I’d like for them to sell the family homestead. I’ve got enough saved for a down payment for my own place.”

  “House or condo?”

  “House,” she said emphatically. “Don’t get me wrong, I love your view. And the extra protection in a condo building comes in handy, especially if I travel. But I need a yard.”

  “To plant your flowers,” he said.

  “Like Mary, Mary, quite contrary. My brother teases me with that rhyme. Every time we meet, he asks, how does your garden grow?”

  “With daffodils,” Noah said. “You had some in the front yard and more in a vase.”

  “In the language of flowers, daffodils are supposed to be welcoming and lucky. They’re a perfect flower for an entrance—a fresh springtime bloom.”

  “So what happens to your good fortune in the late summer and fall?”

  “Any plant that makes me smile is good luck. Daisies and pansies are cheerful. Roses are beautiful and sometimes they smell good. And I do enjoy a honeysuckle vine.” She couldn’t believe she was having this girly conversation with her very masculine boss. “Are you into gardening?”

  “Not for me, but I like your passion for flowers. You must have hated Afghanistan. That’s not a part of the world known for pretty posies.”

  “The natural beauty is there. You just have to know where to look for it.”

  “That’s a solid philosophy.” He tasted his wine and cocked his head to one side. “Reminds me of that song, ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’ from that Monty Python movie. Do you remember it?”

  “Are you being ironic?”

  “Maybe.”

  Gennie couldn’t take credit for her sunny outlook. Optimism came naturally to her, which was probably the result of growing up in a loving family with few disappointments and even fewer tragedies. When she was older, she’d followed her dream of becoming an engineer and had done well at Texas A&M. “I’ve had a fortunate life.”

  “Is that so?” His voice sounded a cynical note. “If you’re so lucky, how do you explain being betrayed by your boyfriend, nearly killed in an explosion and losing four members of your team?”

  She turned her gaze toward the view and away from him. “I don’t choose to dwell on the negative.”

  “That’s understandable, Gennie, nobody likes to feel the pain.”

  She raised her glass to her lips and drained the merlot in one gulp, hoping to catch a buzz that would drown her other thoughts. Noah’s comment was nothing new. She’d heard variations on the feel-your-pain theory from therapists, friends and family. They seemed to think that she couldn’t truly heal unless she acknowledged the hurt.

  They meant well, she knew that, but none of them understood her. They couldn’t know that every day, sometimes every hour in the day, she thought of her team members who were killed in Afghanistan. Their deaths had wounded her deeply. She refused to forget those three men and one woman, even if it meant she’d never heal.

  Noah had mentioned the injuries she’d suffered. Though she didn’t want to go through that experience again, she didn’t think her time in the hospital was bad luck. If anything, it was the opposite. She was blessed to have survived. Her physical limitations were better handled with therapy than with tears and moaning about how much she had suffered. Everybody hurts. She was glad she didn’t have to feel all the pain.

  Noah took a position on the balcony beside her. “More wine?”

  “You don’t know me,” she said. “I can stick a pin in my leg and not experience the sensation, but I’ll still bleed. Maybe I’m not weeping, but I have emotions.”

  “Tell me about Warrick.”

  Her guard went up. “What do you want to know?”

  “Were you hurt when you suspected him of betrayal?”

  “When he dumped me? Left me on a hospital bed? Never even called? Yeah, it hurt. But then I was angry, and I still am.” She gestured with her wineglass, fighting an urge to hurl it off the balcony and see it shatter on the sidewalk far below. “Do we have to talk about him?”

  “We do,” he said. “Kenneth Warrick is the star player in this scenario. Even if he didn’t kill Slocum, we need to figure out his motivations.”

  “I believe I would like more wine.” She stalked back into the condo. In the sleek kitchen, she found the wine.

  “You know him better than anybody,” Noah said. “Why did he try to seduce Ruby?”

  “I’m not so sure that he did.” She poured herself more wine. “I’ve known Ruby for a long time. I like her and I believe that she loves Roger Haymarket with all her heart. But sometimes that lady plays fast and loose with the truth.”

  He poured himself another splash of merlot. “Why would she lie about Warrick?”

  “Maybe she was and maybe she wasn’t.”

  “Are you suggesting that there was another man, somebody else she kissed?”

  “Not necessarily.” Gennie drank deeply from her wineglass. It was entirely possible that Ruby had been momentarily swept off her feet by Warrick. Not only did he have a great body and striking blue eyes but he fired sexual sparks that ignited a woman’s libido.

  “At least, it wasn’t Slocum. It’s more believable that she was messing around with Warrick.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “The only thing she and Slocum had in common, other than their shared fondness for the general, was a nose for gossip. The two of them could put their heads together and figure out who was sleeping around, who had plastic surgery and who had a gambling problem.”

  “Dangerous secrets,” he said.

  “They could be.” Concentrating on the murder instead of her personal problems was a relief. Ruby had dropped a ton of information for them to investigate. “You mentioned blackmail.”

  “Gossip can be lucrative. Working as the aide to a four-star general, Slocum had access to a number of wealthy, powerful men who’d pay to keep their secrets private.”

  “That’s what this is all about—secrets.” He clinked his wineglass with hers, and they both took a drink. “I’ll ask Anna Rose to use her cyber connections to verify Slocum’s net worth. Over a million bucks plus properties?”

  “That seems like an awful lot of money to make from blackmail.”

&
nbsp; “It depends on the wealth of the clients,” he said. “Slocum might have been working his extortion schemes for years. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but I can see Dean Slocum with his pressed trousers and his smooth platinum hair creeping around the edges of important conversations. Nobody would pay him much attention. They might even confide in him.”

  She went to the marble-topped island that separated the kitchen from the dining area and perched on a stool. From this position, she could see through the dining area into the front room with the fireplace. His neat, orderly condo made her aware of how much she wanted to clean up and get ready for bed. The black jumpsuit and cashmere vest she’d been wearing all night felt wilted and gross. “I need a shower.”

  “Maybe it’s not blackmail at all.”

  “Then what?” she asked.

  “Your old boyfriend has better ways to make big bucks. I’m talking illegal arms deals that Slocum could be brokering.”

  “I have a few problems with that scenario.” Emphatically, she thrust her index finger in the air. “Number one—don’t call that scumbag my boyfriend.”

  Noah gave a nod. “What’s number two?”

  “Warrick is greedy. If Slocum was his partner, there’s no way he’d share a million bucks.” She paused for a moment to consider the possibilities. “On the other hand, the sale of illegal weapons is a vicious business. These are people who would think nothing of killing Slocum and Warrick and anybody else who got in their way.”

  “I’m glad you’re not going to be alone tonight.”

  So am I. Though she had nothing to do with Warrick and whatever scheme he might be working, she might get caught in the crossfire by people who thought they were still connected. She knew better than to cross the warlords, cartels and criminals who trafficked in munitions. “Arms deals are complicated. There might be others involved.”

  “Do you have anybody in mind?”

  A name popped to the forefront of her mind, but she placed her index finger across her lips to keep from blurting it out. The wine was beginning to loosen her tongue, and she didn’t want to make a remark that she’d regret later.