Too Charming (24 page)

Looking slightly flustered, Megan spun away from him and walked towards her car. ‘Everything’s fine, thanks. Let’s go and find out what Reg Blake has to say.’

Reg Blake was a mean, ruthless, slimy son of a bitch. At least that was Megan’s assessment. As she listened to the man answer her questions, she found herself thinking
what does Scott’s mother see in this man
? She must be in a very bad place if she couldn’t see through the thin veneer of charm to the utter bastard that lay beneath. Megan had met enough criminals in her time to know one when she saw one. Make no mistake, Reg Blake was definitely one. He was also, in her opinion, cold-blooded enough to be capable of murdering someone with a knife, and heartless enough to frame someone else for it.

‘How long have you been seeing Cathy Armstrong?’ Ann asked.

‘Off and on, around six months.’ Reg grinned, showing a set of teeth that were too white and too perfect for his face.

‘Did she ever work for you?’ Megan didn’t want to ask it, but you never knew what information would later prove to be important.

He seemed to find the question amusing. ‘Nah. She was too old for that line of work. Too old for me, too, but I thought she had a bit of class about her.  Just goes to show how poor my judgement is. Nothing classy about a murderer, eh?’

Megan looked over at Ann, who raised her eyebrows at her. Clearly she, too, had heard all she wanted to from the man. They quickly wrapped up their questioning and shot out of the building.

‘Well, he made my flesh crawl,’ Ann pronounced as they walked towards the car. Her eyes slid to the flashy vehicle parked behind it. ‘Good job he wasn’t there with us.’

Megan could only agree. Beneath Scott’s polished, easy-going exterior laid a controlled violence that she’d seen glimpses of. There was no doubt in her mind that when it came to those he loved, Scott would do whatever he had to do to defend them. Including spilling blood.

’So,’ Ann continued, still looking at Scott’s car. ‘What are we going to do about him?’

Good question. ‘Look, Ann, if any shit is going to hit the fan over his involvement in this, it’s going to land on me, not you. Make yourself scarce for a few minutes while I talk to him.’

‘I don’t like this.’

‘I know.’

‘I’ll wait on the condition you let me have a quick word with him.’

Megan knew that glint in Ann’s eye. For a moment she wondered about sparing Scott the ear bashing he was about to receive. Then she recalled the clever way he twisted words and smiled. This should be fun. ‘Okay.’

She followed a discreet distance behind as her friend tapped on the driver window.

‘Detective Shaw?
How can I help you?’ Megan heard Scott’s smooth, unconcerned words and almost felt sorry for him.

‘Screw with Megan, and I’ll screw with you.’

Well, that was putting it succinctly. Behind her, Megan silently whistled at Ann’s words.

‘Umm, an interesting proposal.’
Scott again, clearly unruffled. ‘As I’ve already screwed, as you so delicately put it, with Megan, I guess that means that you and I …’

His voice trailed off as Ann interrupted with a vehemently spoken: ‘Don’t be such an asshole.’

While Megan tried to hide her laughter, Scott spoke again. ‘I’m just playing the part you’ve got me down as, Detective. That of the philandering lawyer with no heart. Do they teach you that stereotype at police school?’

Ann shook her head and turned to Megan. ‘He’s all yours. Shout if you need any help.’

She needed help all right, Megan muttered to herself as Ann walked back to her car. The type that could stop her from finding this man so wildly attractive.

‘How did it go?’ Scott demanded as soon as she opened his car door. He’d felt so damned impotent sitting out here while Megan and her sidekick were asking Reg all the questions that he desperately needed to know the answers to.

‘You know I can’t tell you, Scott.’

‘In which case I’ll just walk right back over there and ask the very same damned questions you’ve been asking,’ he countered stubbornly. ‘I have a right to know what the man is saying about my mother.’

Megan leant against the car and studied the ground. Finally she glanced up and sighed. ‘He says he’s been dating your mother for about six months.’ She hesitated, then added quietly, ‘She didn’t work for him.’

Relief washed through him, quickly followed by mortification that it was Megan who’d found that out. ‘What else did he have to say about her?’ he asked grimly.

Megan shook her head. ‘I can’t say, Scott. You know that.’

‘Okay then. Let me guess what he said. All you have to do is reply yes or no.’ He screwed up his eyes as he thought through the most likely scenario. ‘Right, here it is. Even though he’s the most ugly sleaze ball ever to walk this planet, he probably reckons my mother was starting to become jealous of his relationship with the girls and with Lucille in particular. Maybe she saw him enjoying some of the … what shall we call it? How about perks of the job with our victim. Consumed by a jealous rage, because, hey, what woman wouldn’t be when they saw such a magnificent specimen of manhood with another woman, my mother went back to murder Lucille.’

He didn’t have to wait for Megan’s answer. It was there on her face.
In her eyes.

Suddenly the car felt oppressively claustrophobic. Yanking open the door he climbed out and set off down the street, away from
Reg’s dingy little shop. Away from the whole squalid mess.

But then there was a hand on his arm, tugging him back.

‘Scott, wait.’ He brought himself to a stop. ‘Are you okay?’

She was there by his side, looking up at him, eyes filled with concern. It hadn’t been that long ago those same blue eyes had looked at him with desire. Now it was clear she felt nothing but pity. Jerking his gaze away from hers, he nodded. ‘I’m fine.’

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a piercing look. One that told him she didn’t believe his statement, but she’d let it go. ‘Right, well, I need to check back at the station.’

‘Yeah, you and your bodyguard.’

She gave him a sharp glance. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He shrugged. ‘Nothing. I just wonder what you’ve told her about me that makes her want to gouge my eyes out.’

‘Just the truth, Scott. That we went out for a while, but found we were incompatible.’

‘Whose truth is that? I don’t remember any incompatibility when you were writhing under me, calling out my name, begging me not to stop.’

Megan let out a gasp. Incredulity, horror, disgust? He wasn’t sure which. Probably a mixture of all three. Then she turned on her heel and marched back to the car.

Taking a deep breath, Scott followed her. Christ, he could be a total dick at times. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered when he caught up alongside her. ‘Even by my standards, that was particularly crass.’

‘Yes, it was.’

She’d stopped at his car and he could read on her face the emotions he’d provoked. Why did he have to keep poking at her? Needling her, upsetting her. None of this was her fault. ‘I repeat,’ he said clearly, gazing at her lovely face. ‘I’m really sorry.’

She was standing so close to him. So close that if he reached out his hand he could trace his fingers down the smooth curve of her cheek. Inside his trouser pocket his fingers twitched, desperate to do just that, uncaring that they would be batted away before they got close.

‘Apology accepted.’

He didn’t deserve her kindness, but he clutched at it anyway, needing it more than he wanted to admit. ‘So what happens now?’

‘I guess,’ Megan replied slowly, ‘if your theory of your mother being framed is correct, I need to establish what motive
Reg might have for killing the victim.’

At her words, Scott stilled. ‘You think I’m right?’ he croaked.

‘All the evidence still points towards your mother, Scott,’ she warned him sharply.

‘I know,’ he conceded. ‘But that’s not what I asked.’

‘I’m willing to admit that, if I look at your mother and then at Reg Blake, it’s not hard to deduce which of them is more capable of murder.’

‘Okay, good.’ He rested his hands on the roof of the car. For the first time since his mother had walked through his front door with a knife in her hand, he felt a glimmer of hope. ‘So how are we going to work on
Reg?’

‘
We
?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m going back to the station to make some discreet enquiries. You said that man you’re defending, Kevin Rogers, believes there’s an officer at the station who’s turning a blind eye to certain illegal establishments, in return for a percentage of the takings?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, if there is such an officer, then it strikes me that Reg Blake would be the type of man to benefit from such a deal.’

‘And if our victim happened to hear
rumours about the deal and ask questions—’

‘Not so fast, Scott.
First I need to establish if such an officer exists.’

He nodded his head in agreement, but inside his mind was racing. The very fact that Megan was considering other angles, and not just taking the easy way out and charging his mother, made him want to fling his arms around her and kiss the sense out of her. Then again, he’d wanted to do that all bloody day.

Suddenly everything looked brighter. The hope that he’d begun to feel earlier was blossoming into a real sense of belief. Megan was going to find the murderer. He was sure of it. And hadn’t she just said she was going to make discreet enquiries regarding a bent officer in the station? Something she’d torn him off a strip for suggesting only a few days earlier. Was that a sign that she was willing to understand his side of things a little more? Or was that just the despairing hope of an eternal optimist? 

Chapter Twenty-Six

Megan was very much aware that she was doing exactly what she’d previously said she wouldn’t do: ask for dirt on a fellow officer. This was different, she reasoned to herself. Before Scott had asked her to do this in his role as a
defence lawyer, keen to get his client off a rape charge. Now he wasn’t asking. She’d offered. And not to do him a favour, but because she was convinced that Scott was right. His mother hadn’t murdered the call girl. It might be what the evidence was saying, but it wasn’t what her instinct was telling her. And so, just like that, Megan found herself almost on the other side of the fence. Looking for a way to prove that Cathy Armstrong
hadn’t
committed murder. It made her wonder, if she hadn’t lain into Scott when he’d first asked for her help on the Rogers case, would they still be together now? One question she did know the answer to. Did she regret being quite so opinionated about defence lawyers? Answer: yes.

Her fellow officers were clearly uncomfortable about dishing out gossip on a colleague, but finally she got a name. Her most likely suspect was an inspector called John Foster. From all accounts he’d travelled around a bit, serving in forces all around the country, but for the last few years he’d been working in the vice unit, based out of their station. It didn’t take much digging to find out which car he drove.

A short while later, Megan was sitting in her own car, watching his, ready to tail him. The colleague who’d tipped her off had just phoned to say that Foster was getting ready to leave the building. She scanned the doorway, eyes straining to look for a slightly overweight, grey-haired man, when her concentration was broken by the jarring serenade of Bach’s Fugue ringing out from her phone. She looked at the caller ID and sighed.

‘Scott.’

‘You don’t sound too happy to hear from me.’

‘I’m in the middle of something here. Why don’t I call you when I’m done?’

‘Why don’t I get in the middle of that something with you?’

‘Because I’m about to follow a lead, Scott.
I can’t afford to wait …’ She trailed off as a tall, dark-haired man walked towards her car. A man who drew her eye far more readily than a vice inspector with a paunch. Shaking her head, she unlocked the passenger door and huffed with frustration as he squeezed his large frame inside.

‘We should take my car. It’s far more comfortable,’ he grumbled as he shifted his long legs into her nippy but quite compact Golf.

‘You’re not going anywhere with me.’ She didn’t bother to hide her irritation. ‘And anyway, your car is about as discreet as a charging bull.’

‘Where’s Cagney? Or is it Lacey? I was never sure which was which. Who was the cute dark-haired detective? That’s definitely you.’

Megan couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from twitching. ‘Ann is typing up the notes from this morning.’

’
Ahh. Have you found our man?’

She could try and deflect his question she thought, but past experience told her it was hard to stop Scott from getting what he wanted. He’d once wanted her. She bit on her lip and kept her eyes straight ahead. ‘Yes,’ she replied finally.

‘Is that why you’re here? Waiting for him to come out?’

She was about to shoot him a deadly look when
her attention was caught by a movement behind the glass door of the station entrance. Bingo. ‘Get out, Scott,’ she told him, her eyes following the man as he walked to his car.

Scott narrowed his eyes. ‘Foster.’

She snapped her head round to look at him. ‘You know him?’

‘Yeah. I’ve been up against him in court once. Smooth, know-it-all.’

That made her smile. ‘I suppose it takes one to know one.’

He looked utterly insulted. ‘You really think I’m like
him
?’

‘Well, I don’t actually know him, so I can’t say. I was just going by your observations.’

A muscle twitched in his jaw. ‘He’s moving,’ he remarked tersely, nodding over to the car that was backing out.

Megan turned on the engine. ‘Go.’

He just sat there, putting on his seatbelt.

She hesitated a fraction of a second, torn. Foster was making his way out the car park. She didn’t have time for a full-scale argument with Scott. She also didn’t have time, or probably the strength, to forcefully manhandle him out of the car. With a deep sigh of resignation she turned on the engine and set off a discre
et distance behind the man she was trailing.

As they moved through the slow traffic, she shot a quick look at Scott. It was long enough to tell her he was still bristling from her one-dimensional view of him. She should keep it that way. Keep him at arm’s length. It was much safer all round. ‘They aren’t the only words I would use to describe you,’ she found herself saying.

‘I bet.’ Stony faced, he stared ahead.

‘There’s also pain in the
arse, which is exactly how I’m viewing you right now.’ She looked over again, but he didn’t return her glance. Instead, he continued his surveillance of the car ahead, his expression almost sombre. She decided she preferred the cocky look. The one where amusement danced in his eyes. ‘But I’d add caring and compassionate, too,’ she added quietly.

This time she’d caught his attention. He angled his head towards her. ‘Better. Where did they come from?’

‘From the way I’ve seen you act with your mother.’

He seemed to consider, then nodded his head. ‘Thank you.’ The atmosphere in the car became mellower, friendlier. ‘I’ve got quite a range of words to describe you, too, if you’re interested.’

Megan’s hands stilled on the wheel. She was in the middle of a murder investigation. Unless she found some fresh evidence pretty quickly, she might have to charge his mother with murder. Now was not the time for this sort of discussion. ‘I’m not sure I am. Not at the moment.’

Scott pushed his head back against the seat and sighed. No, of course she wasn’t interested. Hadn’t she already told him that? Had he really thought the last few days would have changed her mind? Her kind words just now had been exactly that. Kind. Not a hint for him to try and pick up where she’d so forcefully left off. ‘Please yourself,’ he replied, pretending indifference. ‘Though there were some pretty cool ones. Mainly beginning with
S
. Smart, strong, sexy, sassy.’ He paused. ‘Then of course there’s stubborn, secretive …’

‘Secretive?’

‘Well you haven’t told me what you’ve found out since we last talked, so I have to include that.’

‘Jesus, Scott.’ She thumped on the steering wheel with her left hand. ‘You try my patience, you really do.’

‘Shall we add that to my list then? Smooth, know-it-all, caring, compassionate, trying. I like two out of the five, at least. Smooth is okay, but only when it’s associated with debonair. I’ve got a feeling you mean smooth as in oily.’

‘I’m going to add some more words you won’t like if you don’t bloody shut up,’ Megan shot back sternly, though inside she was trying really hard not to laugh. She’d missed his sense of
humour.

Before she could lapse into a litany of all the other things she’d missed about him, the car in front indicated right. Megan refocused her thoughts and followed it into the outside lane.

‘He’s heading towards Reg Blake,’ Scott remarked quietly, watching.

‘I think you’re right.’

Around fifty yards further down the road, they sat in the car and watched as John Foster got out of his car and walked into an office block. Megan had interviewed
Reg there only a few hours ago.

‘I wonder what they’re talking about.’

Scott turned to her. ‘I’d like to wager Blake is telling Foster the cops were here, questioning him. He thinks he’s got away with it, but the female detective looked like a smart cookie. They can’t afford to underestimate her.’

Megan tried to ignore the flush of pleasure at his words, and failed. Just as she’d failed when he’d called her sexy, earlier. She could push him away, tell herself they were over, but she couldn’t stop it mattering what he thought of her. Which reminded her. ‘Scott, earlier you called me secretive. In a sense, you’re right. I have been keeping something from you. Well, that’s not quite true, because you already know this something, but what you don’t know is that I know …’

He was looking at her as if she’d sprouted horns. ‘Since when did you start beating about the bush?’  

Since she’d fallen for a man who churned her up so much she couldn’t think straight
. Letting out a slow breath, Megan rested her hands on the wheel. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about your father?’

There was a death-like silence. Scott sat rigidly, staring out of the window, his jaw clenched. ‘What about him?’ he finally asked, glancing back at her. His eyes were wary and there was a touch of defiance in the set of his shoulders, as if he was ready to spring into defensive mode at a moment’s notice. Then he let out a
humourless laugh. ‘Oh, you mean the bit about how he did time for murder.’ He turned away again, fixing his attention on the road ahead. ‘I can’t think why I didn’t tell you about that. It’s just the sort of thing you tell the woman you’re trying to win over. Especially when she’s a cop.’

Megan willed away the emotions that threatened to swamp her. She was on duty. Technically she was still surveying a superior officer, though she’d probably seen all she was going to see on that front. But she certainly wasn’t free to give in and cry – for some crazy reason, she wanted to. ‘It would have helped me to understand you more,’ she told him. ‘Explained what drives you to do what you do.’

‘Yeah?’ He took in a long, deep breath. ‘Would that be before or after you started to wonder whether he really did murder his brother or not? Whether a cunning defence lawyer managed to get another murderer out of prison?’

He was so very bitter. She could understand that, but it didn’t mean she was happy to have it directed at her.
Even if she did deserve some it. ‘That isn’t fair, Scott.’

‘No?’

‘From what I read, your father was a man with a previously unblemished record. It was his brother who was the small-time criminal. If I’d been investigating the case, I would have asked a lot of questions. When it came down to motive, as you said earlier with your mum, it simply didn’t work.’

‘No, it didn’t.’ It never had, but the prosecution had made up a story about a bitter animosity between the brothers. Never mind that the battles had all been about his father trying to get his brother to go straight.

Megan put a hand on his arm and squeezed tightly. ‘He was acquitted, Scott. I’m guessing, by the way the date of his appeal tied in with the dates you must have qualified, that you had a lot to do with it. If he’d had a decent defence lawyer in the first place, he wouldn’t have lost all those years.’

‘For a woman who doesn’t know all the facts, you seem awfully certain he didn’t do it.’

‘Do you think he did?’

He let out a harsh laugh.
‘Of course not. Christ, my father couldn’t even get rid of a spider in the house without shoving a glass over it and easing it out the door. Murder? His own
brother
?’ He shook his head. ‘No way on God’s earth.’

‘Then he didn’t do it.’

Slowly he absorbed her quiet words, alarmed at how much her simple belief meant to him. ‘We weren’t able to prove he didn’t do it.’ Even now that particular scar hadn’t healed. ‘Only to show that it was possible that others did.’

‘But he died a free man, didn’t he?’ She looked at him questioningly. ‘That must have been some consolation.’

‘Yes.’ It had been. It still was. It was just a crying shame that he’d only had six months to enjoy it before the cancer had robbed him of both his freedom and his life. He turned to Megan. ‘How did you find out about him?’

‘My father.
He remembered the surname.’

‘Great,’ he muttered. Not that her father needed any more reasons to find him unsuitable for his daughter.

‘What do you mean by that? He was trying to help me understand you.’

‘He was trying to get you to see why I wasn’t right for you,’ he found himself replying, overcome by a sudden bone-deep weariness. Sadly he wasn’t so tired that he didn’t notice his slip back into self-pity.

‘I didn’t have you down as being paranoid.’

Megan was glaring at him now. He found he preferred her sympathetic look, after all. ‘Have you ever been on the other end of that death stare he gives to people he doesn’t like?’ Wow, his petulance rating was nearly off the scale now, but he was too tired to control his tongue.

‘It’s not people he doesn’t
like,
you fool, it’s people he doesn’t
know
.’

Scott was alarmingly close to replying with
whatever
. That was when he knew he was running on empty. He’d had no sleep last night, not if you didn’t count the occasional times he’d nodded off by his mother’s bed at the hospital, only to awaken with a start every time his head dropped too low.

‘I’m sorry,’ he
apologised quietly. ‘I’m being churlish. I like your dad. He’s a stand-up guy.’