Sin and the Millionaire (6 page)

Chapter Six

Duncan was relieved Lizzy had agreed with him. If Harris had tampered with the file, then better the police discovered it. At the very least, he had e-mails proving his former friend and wife had been having an affair. He opted for complete disclosure, telling the police everything Victoria had said and why he hadn't told them before. Lieutenant Horace Cooper stood behind his desk, understandably giving him and Lizzy the stink eye.

“This is a police investigation, Mr. Moore. Did it dawn on you, the both of you,” he said, making sure to give Lizzy a poignant glare, “that withholding information could be a detriment to figuring out who killed your wife?”

“It had been a long evening, lieutenant.” And now they were enduring another one. “I admit I made a mistake, but you were accusing me of killing my wife. Would you be so eager to admit she was trying to extort money out of
you
?”

“
If
I wanted her killer caught, yes, I would.”

“I do, and I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, Duncan. The police make mistakes all the time,” Lizzy said, patting his back. It was the first she touched him since they'd made love. Pathetically, he welcomed anything he could get from her. They weren't talking and when they left here they'd be going back to his place to finish their earlier conversation.

“Lizzy,” the lieutenant warned.

“Hey. You want to talk about a serial killer and Maggie?”

No,” he said, “I don't. And while we can make mistakes, we can't look at all the evidence if someone is holding out on us, can we?”

“Fair enough,” she said, having made her point and wisely knowing when to quit.

The lieutenant shook his head. “I swear every female that knows Maggie has a smart mouth.”

“She trains us well,” she agreed, with a far too perky nod that had Duncan biting his lower lip to refrain from laughing or further antagonizing Cooper.

“Too well,” Cooper grumbled and turned his attention to Duncan. “Mr. Moore, I was going to call you tomorrow morning. We found what we believe is your wife's murder weapon.”

“I thought she was drowned.” He glanced at Lizzy, who was as confused as he.

“Yes and no. She was struck on the back of the head with a bottle, then was either pushed or fell into the pool. Intent is up to the district attorney to decide. The blow didn't kill her, but add that to the alcohol she'd consumed and she didn't stand a chance at getting out of that pool alive.”

“So someone was trying to frame me?”

“Or they were trying to make it look like she hit her head on something and then fell in?” Lizzy asked.

“That's what we think.”

“So we're dealing with a moron,” Lizzy said, less like a question and more like at statement.

The lieutenant didn't look impressed.

“No, seriously,” she continued. “Harris Turner might be a huge prick, but he's not stupid. Forensics would come up with her time of death and how she died.”

“Right. Which means someone wasn't thinking clearly. We're putting her time of death at 2:30. Around the time you two were clearing up. I know I asked this before, but maybe you've had time to reflect. Did anyone,
anyone
, appear nervous or agitated? Either throughout the night or when it was winding down? Maybe looking at their watch repeatedly?”

“I'm sorry, lieutenant, I'm not a fan of these large events. I mingle when I have to, but I try and keep myself as busy as I can. I hosted the midnight auction, then by the time I was done with the winners, I was helping Lizzy tear down. The rest of my staff might be of more use to you. Everyone was given a specific task and they'd have had more time to socialize.”

“Same here,” Lizzy said. “We started the buffet at midnight. I was focused on getting the food out and served.”

“Mr. Moore, do you always help your caterer clean up?” Cooper asked.

He did if it meant spending time with Lizzy. “Like I said, parties aren't my thing. I prefer charity events where I can keep busy instead of standing around and complaining about the price of caviar.”

Lizzy snorted. “If you read the bills I gave you, you'd know the price.”

“Got it.” A tall, overly thin detective entered the office, a file in his hand. He handed it to Cooper. “Take a look at page two.”

The phone rang as he opened the file. “Cooper.” There was a long pause as he listened and then said, “I see. Thanks, I owe you, and give Maggie a kiss for me.”

Either he was talking to Maggie's parents, which didn't seem likely, or her new husband, Christian Beck.

He hung up. “Apologize profusely to Judge Pierce for the hour, but call him again. I really need that warrant. Then find Harris Turner and bring him in. We need to ask him a few questions,” he told the detective, who, with a wide grin, left.

Lizzy and Duncan exchanged glances. What had the police found? What had Mr. Beck said to Cooper? Duncan didn't know a lot about the man but had heard he worked for a very sharp detective agency.

“Do you know where your financial chief banks?”

“Accounting would know where to deposit his paycheck. I don't personally know. Why?” He was certain he wasn't going to like the answer.

“A source close to the department was able to acquire…information that I'm going to need that warrant for. If my source is correct, then your wife was also correct. Harris Turner is disloyal in more ways than one. This is what he accessed.” He turned the folder around so Duncan could see what the police had discovered.

“What are we looking at?” Lizzy asked, also reading the file.

“It's a list of our foreign merchants who signed on for the new app and the links to their contracts. Australia, Germany, and Canada.”

Cooper nodded. “According to my source—”

“Christian Beck?” he asked, knowing full well that's who his source was.

“My
source
says,” the lieutenant continued, “that your friend Harris has an offshore bank account. In the last month, he received funds from… Can you guess?”

Duncan didn't like where this was going. “Australia, Germany, and Canada?”

He pointed a finger at him. “You win the kewpie doll.”

“I don't get it,” Lizzy said. “What exactly is he doing?”

Cooper leaned back in his chair. “My guess is he's skimming, hoping like hell no one figures it out.”

“He's in charge of receiving the funds. Everyone reports to him, not the other way around. But between contracts and finance, someone else has to be involved.”

“You think he's had help?” Cooper asked.

“Maybe. Or he coerced someone into keeping quiet. I hire a lot of shy introverts.” People who, as with him, society didn't deem worthy of a second look. “They tend to be easily intimidated.” Or too scared to speak their own mind. It was
one
of the reasons he had Lizzy cater office functions on a regular basis. He hoped to get them to crawl out of their shells.

“You and he were friends, right?”

Duncan nodded,
were
being the operative word.

“You know him better than most. So tell me, does he strike you as the type of guy capable of killing?” From Cooper's skeptic tone, he didn't.

“No, but neither did he strike me as the type of guy who would screw my wife behind my back.”

“Point taken. Unfortunately, him stealing from you doesn't prove he killed her.”

“You have no proof I did either.”

“True. That, however, doesn't keep you off the suspect list. You could have slipped away for ten minutes. Sorry.” His smile wasn't sheepish but apologetic.

“Honestly,” Lizzy said, “I think Victoria was the one doing the coercing.”

Both men turned to her at the same time. “What do you mean?” they asked in unison.

“Read the e-mails. It sounds like two people having a shitty breakup… or something else.”

“You still think she was in on it?”

She shrugged. “Maybe the lieutenant's source can find out if
Victoria
had an offshore bank account. Men have done far worse things for a pretty face. She could have flirted with him, made him feel all warm and fuzzy and yuck… horny, then”—she snapped her fingers—“off went his mouth. He brags about the app project and she comes up with the scheme on how to rip you off. She wasn't getting any alimony from you. And we still need to find the proof she was telling you about, if there was proof.”

“We,” said the lieutenant, “don't need to find anything. Leave the police work to the police.” And from his tone, he meant business.

 

While Duncan would admit to knowing little about women, he knew one thing about Lizzy. She put her heart and soul into everything she did. She wanted their new business to succeed. For her, it was personal. The idea may have been his, but she'd run with it. The end products, the packaging, even some of the marketing had come from Lizzy. She wouldn't allow anything to get between the business and its success. Unfortunately, that included him. Some way, somehow, he'd make her see she was wrong.

“Are you tired?” she asked.

He should be, but he had too much on his mind. “No.” He stopped at a red light, a few blocks from the police station.

“Good. Let's go to Victoria's.”

“You think we'll find something the police didn't?” Cooper had been adamant they stay out of it.

“Maybe.”

“And what part of ‘I'll throw your butts in jail for interfering with a police investigation' didn't you hear?” The light turned green.

“The part where my business is on the line and I don't give a rat's derriere what he said.”

“I didn't know you spoke French.”

She gave him a duh expression. “
C-a-na-dian
.”

“Oh, forgot. You have your green card, right?” He took the following right, the road to Victoria's.

“Of course I do.”

“Good. I wouldn't want them to deport you for breaking the law.”

“Phftt,” she said, dismissing his concern. “She was your wife. And, technically you still own the downtown condo she lived in.”

“
Technically
being the key word. We hadn't signed the papers, but I agreed to give it to her.” More to shut her up than him being generous.

“So, do you have a key or not?”

He sighed. “You're going to get me arrested, aren't you?”

“Unknot your panties. This'll be a piece of cake,” she said with far more enthusiasm than he shared.

 

Well past midnight, he drove as Lizzy stared at all the flash drives in her hand.

“What does one person need with all of these?”

He, unfortunately, knew exactly what to expect to find on the sticks they'd pilfered from Victoria's condo. “She kept digital copies of every script she read, and every model shoot she'd been given a copy of for her portfolio.” He bit back a grin.

“Ah hell, you mean I have to go through her pictures. Like reading her fan mail wasn't nauseating enough?”

“This was your idea,” he said. He parked the Roadster in the driveway instead of the garage. Maybe he could convince her to drive it home. He'd offered to take her there, but having given the police a new suspect to focus on, she insisted they return to his house. His place offered more computers and they'd be able to examine the many flash drives faster.

“Well, Mr. Brainiac, I didn't hear you come up with a better one.”

“I suggested we let the police handle it.” He unlocked his front door and unceremoniously shoved her inside. “
You
called me stupid.”

“I did not,” she said over her shoulder. “I said your idea was dumb.”

She was lying. She'd said he was stupid. But she'd also been teasing him mercilessly all night, and given the late hour, he wasn't in the mood to argue. Not that he could win. In her mood, if he said the sky was blue, she'd say it was purple simply to annoy him. He liked when she teased him. Maybe he was stupid for real, but he figured it was her way of flirting. Something she was doing more and more, and given what she'd said this afternoon, one would assume now she'd be going in the opposite direction.

She made a beeline for his office. “Grab your laptop from the kitchen, and I'll get started.”

Shaking his head, he did as he was told, thinking the next time he had her beneath him—and there would be a next time—he was going to make certain
she
did as
she
was told. The idea of tying her to his bed while he took his sweet time exploring every silky inch of her body gave him a painful hard-on. One he'd better get rid of before he saw her again.

After snagging his laptop and two bottles of water, he met up with Lizzy. She'd piled her red curls in a messy bun atop her head and she'd never looked cuter, squinting at the screen, utter revulsion written all over her face. “I take it you're not looking at a movie script.”

“Bali,” was all she said, then pretended to gag.

“You know, someone might think you were jealous.”

“Someone,” she replied, without taking her eyes off the computer screen, “is delusional. If I wanted plastic boobs, I could have had them. Would have made a hell of a lot more money too.”

“Oh, I'm not saying you're jealous over her looks. She doesn't hold a candle to you.”

She looked up then, her expression unimpressed. “I know I'm not ugly. I probably wouldn't have made it out of Canada alive otherwise. But your wife was far more attractive. It's the woman herself I couldn't stand. She was a diva and didn't know a good thing when she had it.”