Terror in Taffeta (27 page)

After we exchanged pleasantries, I got down to the reason for my visit. “I wanted to let you know I'm flying to San Diego in the morning.”

Her eyes grew wide with fear. “What for? You're coming back, aren't you?”

I stared at the table and shook my head noncommittally. “I don't know. You know Ryan, the best man? There's a chance he might have information that could help us, and I want to go talk to him.”

“What do you think he knows?”

I had to watch my step. I couldn't exactly let all my suspicions go spilling out, since I was just operating on speculation. “It's complicated. But listen: I need you not to mention this to Nicole or Vince, okay?”

“But—”

“I know it's a lot to ask, but I need to make sure nothing messes this up, so please, don't say anything, at least for a day or two. Can you do that?”

“Okay,” she said finally. “I can keep my mouth shut.”

“Good. Thank you. And there's one more thing.” I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. “If this doesn't go anywhere, Zoe, I will have done everything I can do.”

Her eyes welled up, and she nodded. “I get it. I mean, you have a life and all.”

“It's more than just that,” I said. “I knew I was putting my life on hold when I decided to stay. But this has gotten bigger than I can deal with. The police have told me to back off, and I'm getting death threats.”

Zoe gasped. “What?!” She said it so loud it drew stares from the people sitting at the next table. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“You have enough to deal with,” I said.

“Kelsey, that's awful!”

“I'm not trying to make you feel bad; I just wanted you to know this isn't a decision I took lightly.”

“Wow. Yeah, I get it,” she said, shuffling her feet against the concrete floor. “I'm sorry, Kelsey. You've done so much for us already. I really appreciate it.”

“I'll let you know if I figure anything out, but I did want to at least tell you what was going on.”

There was an awkward pause as we both searched for something to say.

“So … I guess this is good-bye,” Zoe said at last.

“I hope not,” I said, rising from my chair. “But it very well may be.”

 

CHAPTER 27

The trip to the airport was uneventful, especially compared to last time. Although Evan swore he had permission to leave the country, I couldn't calm my jitters until the plane took off. Once we'd gotten aloft with no one drawing guns on us, I felt better, but I still would have given up all my frequent-flier points for a flight attendant to stop by with some tiny bottles of cocktail makings.

While Evan and Brody made polite chitchat, I pressed my face against the window and watched Mexico drop away from us. Somewhere down there, Zoe was sitting in a jail cell, Nicole and Vince were wishing they could go on their honeymoon, and Mrs. Abernathy was keeping herself busy, probably by scolding someone or fashioning a new coat from Dalmatian puppies. And here I was, jetting off to San Diego to confront Ryan. I had no idea what I was going to say to him, but this was my last shot.

I must have dozed off, because I awoke with a start as we began our descent. Sleeping through the flight was an amazing feat, considering the amount of adrenaline that had been coursing through my body. Then again, airplanes have always made me semi-narcoleptic.

Brody turned and smiled at me. “Good morning, sunshine. You ready to go fight some crime?”

I wasn't feeling very sunny, but I was ready to get some answers. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

The plan was simple: Brody and I had looked up the conference schedule online and would get there right as the eleven o'clock session ended. We'd use the element of surprise to our advantage, and Ryan would have to talk to us. Okay, well, maybe not, but at least he couldn't totally ignore us.

We got to the hotel in plenty of time, and Evan pulled the rental car up to the front door.

“Are you coming in?” I asked.

“Oh, well, I just thought I'd…” He motioned toward the parking lot as an awkward look passed between us.

I didn't particularly want him edging in on my interrogation, but it would have been nice if he'd offered. (I'm complicated that way.) I was pretty sure he didn't want Ryan to know he was the one who had given up his location. Oh, well. I shouldn't have been surprised that he was letting me down again.

“I'm only a phone call away if you need help or anything,” he offered.

Some help he was. But then again, what had I expected?

Brody and I climbed out of the car as Evan called after us: “Let me know when you're ready to go back to the airport.” He quickly pulled away as the automatic doors into the lobby swooshed open.

Downstairs, a sign propped on an easel welcomed us to the Data Solutions West Conference. The hall was deserted except for a table bearing the picked-over remnants of the morning break. I helped myself to a blueberry muffin as Brody plopped down on an oversized velveteen chair under a potted palm.

“Yuck,” I said, spitting out my first bite of the overprocessed pastry. “You can practically taste the trans fats.”

Right at noon, the doors to the ballroom swung open and hundreds of conference attendees poured out of the room, heads full of data solutions. I scanned the crowd anxiously, Brody by my side; we hadn't been prepared for the hordes of lanyard-wearing geeks we'd have to fight our way through to find the best man.

As I craned my head to get a better view, Brody elbowed me in the ribs.

“Ow!” I yelped. “What was that for?”

“Over there,” he whispered excitedly, pointing to three men huddled near the coffee carafe. Ryan was at the center of the group, talking animatedly about the new app LionFish was developing. After we crept up behind him, I tried to give him a moment to finish—just because I was there to accuse him of murder, there was no reason to be rude—but he spoke with such enthusiasm, I was afraid he'd keep going until it was time for the next session.

I took a deep breath and tapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his long-winded speech, which had no doubt been perfected for just such an occasion. Ryan turned to us with a big smile, ready to share his elevator pitch with a new audience. He scanned our faces, and I caught the way his eyes flicked downward toward my chest for a conference name tag, his smile in place the whole time.

“It's me, Kelsey, from the wedding.”

“Oh, Kelsey! Sorry, of course,” he said, his face registering recognition. He looked puzzled, but certainly not alarmed to see us. “Small world.” He reached out to shake hands with Brody. “And you're the photographer, right?”

“Brody,” said Brody.

The two men Ryan had been talking to took their cue and wandered off into the crowd.

“So,” Ryan began, “you're not here for the conference, are you?”

“No, actually, we came to see you. Is there someplace we can talk for a second?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Sure,” he replied. “What's up?”

We walked back to the lobby and settled into a cluster of chairs in the corner, away from the prying eyes of the data solutions community.

“So, Ryan,” I began, “we wanted to talk to you about Dana.”

His face darkened. “Dana? What about her?”

“As it turns out, I'm trying to help the Abernathys figure out what happened to her.”

“I don't know anything about that; I flew out first thing Sunday morning. I didn't even know she was dead until Vince sent me a text message.” He fidgeted distractedly, bouncing one leg up and down while he talked.

I was trying to formulate a good follow-up question when Brody jumped in to help: “Ryan, we know about the blackmail.”

Ryan's eyes grew wide. “Blackmail? I don't know what you're…”

Brody rolled his eyes. “Dude, c'mon, I just said we know already.”

Ryan sighed and fell back in his chair. “How did you find out? Who else knows?”

I looked cautiously at Brody. I didn't want to tell Ryan everything we knew, at least not yet. “Let's just say Dana left behind some evidence.”

“Where? We looked everywhere for—” He stopped abruptly. He might as well have clamped his hand dramatically over his mouth.

Aha!

“So it was you who trashed her room?”

“Okay, yes, I went through her room, but I didn't kill her. You have to believe me!”

I wasn't sure what I believed, but I've watched enough crime shows to know that the killer always says that. Maybe Brody and I should have worked out a good cop, bad cop scenario before we started.

“Okay, yes,” Ryan said. “Dana was blackmailing LionFish, but we were cool. I didn't want her dead. I just wanted the whole thing to go away before everyone found out about … well, you know.”

“About LionFish tanking?” Brody suggested. He wasn't quite a bad cop, but maybe he could be the “slightly testy cop.”

Ryan checked to make sure no one was within earshot. He leaned in toward us and lowered his voice. “Look, the company went through a rough patch, okay? And, yeah, we lost some money. I won't lie: I was really angry that Dana took advantage of the situation. But it was being handled.”

“But you said yourself you needed the problem to go away,” I said.

“Well, sure, but I gave her everything she wanted. I wasn't trying to permanently silence her, if that's what you're thinking. I figured I'd give her the cash, she'd give me the data, and we'd go our separate ways. No harm done.”

“But,” Brody persisted, “you were looking for the flash drives, which means Dana didn't hold up her end of the deal.”

“She was going to give me everything after the reception that night, but then she collapsed in the church and I didn't see her again. I went to her room a couple of times, but she never answered the door.”

“So you broke in?” Brody asked.

“Yeah.” Ryan looked uncomfortable. “I mean, sort of.”

I had a quick fantasy of Brody jumping out of his chair, grabbing Ryan by his collar, and screaming in his face, spittle flying,
“Which is it? Yes, or sort of?”
I waited a beat, but it didn't happen. Was I going to have to do everything myself? I cleared my throat. “So which is it? Yes, or sort of?”

“Let's just say I had some help,” he said, fiddling with his lanyard and refusing to meet our eyes.

“Look, Ryan,” I said, “you're going to have to help us out here, or I'm going to have to go to the cops with everything I know, including LionFish's”—I looked around furtively—“
situation.
”

“No! Please, I can't let that information get out.” I hadn't really meant to, but I could see I'd struck a nerve. “We screwed up our first round of funding big-time, and if people find out, it's over.”

“I'm serious, Ryan. I'm done playing investigator, and after I'm done talking to you, I'm going to turn everything I have over to the police. If you're not guilty, you're going to have to convince me, or I'll hand the files over to them as evidence.”

That got him talking.

“Look, the other partners insisted I bring a team from CIS with me—Corporate Intelligence and Security. They didn't trust Dana to turn over the information, and they wanted to make sure nothing got out. It would be a disaster for our company, okay? When I told them I hadn't gotten the information yet, they went and searched her room themselves.”

“You mean to tell me two complete strangers crashed the villa?” I'd had to deal with uninvited guests before, but they didn't usually wreak such havoc. “That was an awfully big chance they were taking. Why didn't they just have you take care of it?”

“I know! I told them I'd handle it,” said Ryan, “but they didn't trust me. Maybe they thought I was in on it, too.”

The thought hadn't occurred to me, but I could see why they might have suspected him. After all, he and Dana were friends long before she'd started blackmailing them; for all they knew, he'd been the one who'd given her the data in the first place. I could see why they'd want to take matters into their own hands.

“Wait a minute!” I said. “How do we know
they
didn't kill Dana?”

“I don't think they would have killed her,” Ryan said. “I mean, they wouldn't … would they?”

I rolled my eyes; no wonder cops on TV always seem so irritable. “I don't know—that's why we're asking you.”

He shook his head. “I don't think so. I mean, why would CIS have let me give her the money if they were just going to kill her anyway?”

“Good point, I guess.” I wasn't entirely convinced, but I hadn't prepared a rebuttal.

“Maybe the plan all along was to kill her and steal the money back,” Brody offered.

“No,” Ryan replied. “It's not like it was in a messenger bag full of unmarked bills. They deposited it in an offshore account somewhere. It would have been impossible to recall the deposit, and they knew it.”

I stared at the ceiling over Ryan's head, momentarily absorbed by the ornate wallpaper border. I made a mental note of the cobwebs in the corner. Yech. I would never hold a wedding reception here. I sat up suddenly. “Maybe they thought she was going to blab. You know, they wanted to shut her up?”

Ryan thought for a second. “Why would she talk after we gave her what she wanted?”

“Or maybe she already had,” I continued. It made sense. They gave her the money, she talked, and they wanted to make sure it stopped there.

“No, she definitely hadn't told anyone,” Ryan replied, looking pensive.

“But how do you know that?” I persisted.

Ryan's demeanor shifted suddenly. Had he said something he hadn't meant to say? Lucky for me, he was as bad at interrogations as I was. “I just know, okay?”