Too Charming (25 page)

‘Yes, he is.’ Megan kept scanning the doorway of Blake’s premises but nothing was happening. ‘What about your father? What was he like?’

‘One of the best.’ Even now, years since he’d died, Scott felt the sharp pain of grief. He hadn’t spent that long with him. The first seven years of his life, and then another six months when he’d been freed. Between that he’d only seen him on occasional visits to the prison – infrequently in the beginning, as his mother had worried about the effect it would have on him. Towards the end, when he was studying law, determined to one day clear his father’s name, he’d got to know him better.

‘It can’t have been easy, growing up with your father in prison.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’ It was the classic understatement. ‘Kids at school don’t exactly take it easy on you when they know your father’s doing time for murder and your mother’s a raging alcoholic.’

He felt her small, slim hand reach over and gently stroke his face. A gesture of comfort, he reminded himself, nothing more. Still, he briefly shut his eyes and let himself feel.

Megan’s fingers traced the smooth planes of his cheek, something she used to tell herself she didn’t want to do. Now it took all of her willpower to pull her hand away. ‘I won’t pretend to understand fully, but I think I can sympathise with the name-calling at school. As I told you before, it wasn’t always a bundle of fun having a police officer as a father.’

He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. ‘No, I’m sure it wasn’t, and, anyway, in the main I could put up with the insults.
Sticks and stones, etc. It was the fact that people automatically thought the worst of me, that was harder to take.’

It was then that it all became blindingly clear to Megan.
His smooth veneer. The outrageous, almost breathtaking, arrogance. It was a defence mechanism, carefully constructed to deal with the barbs he’d had thrown at him throughout his childhood. He’d had to become indifferent. Uncaring of what others thought of him. To show sensitivity would have been to reveal a weakness. Tears welled in her eyes and she had to look away before she made a fool of herself. Another reason to love him. As if she’d needed one.

Swallowing hard, she turned on the engine. ‘You know, I think I’m at last beginning to understand you.’

He frowned. ‘Oh. Is that a good thing?’

She pretended to consider. ‘It depends on how you look at it. I think I’ve now got a handle on why you go around with that insolent swagger of yours.’

‘You do?’ He’d have asked
what swagger
, but he had a feeling he knew, and wasn’t at all sure he liked where the conversation was heading. He didn’t actually want her to understand him more, just to accept him as he was. To like him. To ache for him as much as he still ached for her. Damn it, he wanted her to love him, warts and all.

‘Yes, I do. It comes from your childhood. You had to put on an act, like you really believed you were God’s gift, in order to stop their comments from hurting you.’

‘You think?’ He shifted on the seat, uncomfortable with her perception. ‘Or maybe I simply knew I actually
was
God’s gift?’

Pulling out into the road, she let out a scream of frustration mixed with laughter. ‘Okay then,
Mr Perfect, there’s nothing else going on here. I’m taking you back to the station so I can work on putting these facts together.’

‘How about working on that with me, over a bite to eat, preferably somewhere that doesn’t look like the inside of a police station?’

She shook her head at him. He was pleased to notice her face was no longer showing sympathy or irritation with him, but amusement. ‘Were you listening at all when I told you that I’m not allowed to discuss this case with anyone outside the team?’

‘Yeah, but I’m not just anyone, am I?’
             

Her lips twitched upwards. ‘You’re not on the team, Scott.’

‘Okay then, how about this. You interview me, as a person of interest in the case. I gave you Foster, didn’t I? Who knows what other information I may have? Probably worth paying me another visit.’ He waited while she parked and then undid his seatbelt.

‘It could work, as long as I bring Ann.’

His grabbed on to the door handle and flung it open. Then, shutting it behind him, he bent down so that he could peer in through the passenger window. ‘If you must.’

The resignation in his voice made her smile.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Scott carefully set out the table for a business meeting and not, as he would have liked, a romantic dinner for two. Which of course was bloody impossible anyway, because she was going to bring her fellow detective along, who hated him on sight because of what she’d been told by Megan. Unless she hated all
defence lawyers, of course. Or simply hated men. Yes, he’d go with that one, though he had a feeling the first was closer to the truth.

Nudging open the fridge door, he took out a couple of pizzas. She’d told him they wouldn’t need food. It was, after all, an interview. But he couldn’t think on an empty stomach, so he shoved the pizza in the oven anyway. Maybe filling his stomach would help ease the tension that was currently tying it up in knots. How he wished this
was just him and Megan, putting their minds together on the same side for a change. If it had been, she might have started to realise that he wasn’t quite the devil lawyer she sometimes thought him to be. As they picked through the case together, she might even have started to look at him with respect. Then, with them both gazing blissfully into each other’s eyes, he would have leant over and kissed her. She’d have melted – hey, this was his fantasy, so yes, of course she’d dissolve at his touch. Not just that, she’d then rise on to her tiptoes and kiss him back. Hungrily. As if she’d really missed him and couldn’t get enough of him. Her hands would begin to wander all over his body, under his shirt, opening his fly. And then …

And then what, Armstrong?
You wake up, that’s what. As far as Megan was concerned, they were through. Even if he chose to ignore that small problem, he couldn’t ignore the complications of the current situation. Trying to get back into bed with the detective working on a murder case in which your mother was the chief suspect? Not the smartest of moves. Not least because there was a huge chance she would misread his motives. So, for the time being at least, he’d have to ignore the fact that every time he looked at her, his chest tightened. Along with other parts of his anatomy.

A few miles away, Megan was making tracks to leave the house. As she put Sally to bed, she’d managed to gloss over her daughter’s questions about where she was going, but her parents weren’t proving quite so easy.

‘Let me get this straight. You’re going over to the house of the man you used to go out with, to talk to him about a murder case in which his mother has the starring role?’ Her mother was looking at her as if she’d grown another head.

And yes, when the situation was put like that, Megan could see it didn’t sound like the greatest of ideas. She was only going along with it because Scott had asked her when she wasn’t thinking straight. Which was, admittedly, most of the time when he was around. ‘I’m going with Ann,’ she replied a tad defensively. ‘We’re going to interview Scott. Squeeze him for information, just as we would any source close to a case.’

‘Be careful,’ her father chimed in. ‘I don’t need to tell you how bad this could look if it isn’t handled carefully.’

‘I know,’ she acknowledged quietly. It would look like she was willing to let her infatuation with Scott Armstrong muddle her thinking. Perhaps even that she let him persuade her to drop any murder charges. Oh God, what was she doing?

By the time she arrived on Scott’s doorstep, having picked up Ann on the way, Megan was battling with all forms of guilt. Not helped by the fact that Ann was uncommonly quiet.

‘You think this is a bad idea, don’t you?’ she asked as she pulled up outside Scott’s house.

‘I’m worried you’re trying to prove Scott’s mother didn’t do it, rather than simply solving the case.’

It wasn’t a point Megan found she could easily argue. ‘Look, if you’d rather not come in, I understand.’

‘What, and leave you alone with him?’ She snorted, undoing her seat belt. ‘No way.’

Megan smiled. ‘What are you worried about? That he’ll tie me up and beat me until I agree to let his mother off, or try to seduce me in order to persuade me to let his mother off?’

‘From the look of him, a combination of both.
First he’ll tie you up. Then he’ll seduce.’

It wasn’t hard to see what Ann meant when Scott answered the door. He must have caught some sleep because his previously haggard look had diminished, but in its place was a cragginess that gave his handsome features a slightly dangerous, but incredibly sexy edge.

‘Detectives.’ Scott held out his hand to shake theirs, all business.

‘Scott, thanks for agreeing to see us,’ Megan replied, equally formally.

‘You know me. Always happy to help out our fine police force in any way I can.’

She glanced at him sharply, saw the twinkle of
humour in his eyes, and itched to smack the knowing grin off his face.

‘Please, go through to the sitting room. Can I get either of you a drink?’ He was playing the gallant host to perfection

‘Coffee, thanks. White with one sugar.’ Ann nodded briefly over at him before walking discreetly through to the other room.

‘I’m not sure what the heck I’m doing here,’ Megan hissed at him under her breath. How she hated the fact that he looked all calm and composed and she felt like a bag of nerves.

‘Helping me,’ he replied simply.

‘Yes, I know, but …’

He gazed at her, his eyes softening. ‘I’ve put you in a really awkward position, haven’t I?’ Standing only inches in front of her, close enough that her senses were surrounded by the fresh masculine smell of him, he tenderly tipped up her chin so that she looked into his eyes. ‘I know you’re going out on a limb for me, Megan,’ he whispered huskily. ‘I can’t tell you how much that means to me. How much I appreciate it. I’ll behave, I promise.’

Her heart did a slow flip inside her chest. Earlier she’d asked him to trust her. Now, she guessed, it was time to trust him. ‘Okay.’ Then she eyed the oven. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve made pizza. This isn’t a social call.’

‘Hey, a man’s got to eat. And I thought if I laid out the table with wine glasses and candles, you might run a mile.’

‘Scott, you can’t say that, not even in jest.’ She rubbed at her face. ‘I can see the headlines now.
Detective in charge of murder investigation is caught being wined and dined by son of chief murder suspect
.’

He pulled a face and went to grab the pizza out of the oven. ‘When asked to comment, Detective Taylor replied,
but he only made me pizza
.’

She looked towards the plate he was piling high with hot slices of pepperoni pizza and had to laugh. ‘As long as you visit me in prison when I’m convicted of perverting the cause of justice.’

‘It won’t come to that. I know a great defence lawyer.’

Their eyes met and held. Amusement danced in his, but it soon faded, replaced with something deeper, more intense. If she’d been asked in that instant to say what she saw in them, she would have said longing. Then Ann came back into the kitchen to check on them, and the moment was broken. She was left wondering if it was just her vivid imagination, or her own feelings, reflected.

As Ann fired off question after question, Scott found his eyes wandering more and more frequently to Megan. It wasn’t that he wasn’t concentrating. He was. It was just that he hadn’t had his fill of looking at her yet.

‘So, what is your summary of the situation regarding Blake and Foster?’ Ann asked, pen poised on her note pad, her glare clearly stating that if he didn’t stop gawping at Megan, she’d come over and make him stop.

Scott reminded himself why they were here and forced his mind on
to the question. ‘From what I’ve gathered from the Rogers case I’ve been working on, Reg Blake runs a series of girls from a terrace of houses where he lives. Basically Reg is their pimp. They pay him to find them the business and keep them out of trouble. It’s not strictly a brothel, but as near as, damn it, considering several girls are working out of each house, and they all live next to each other. Keen not to incur the wrath of the law, Reg has worked out a deal with a local vice cop,’ he looked over at Megan. ‘I’m not sure of his name.’

‘John Foster,’ Megan interjected, her eyes silently thanking him for not dropping her in it.

He should have looked immediately back at Ann. Instead he found himself staring at Megan as she trailed her tongue across her lips, something she often did when she was concentrating. It never failed to unhinge him.

Swinging his eyes away, he cleared his throat. ‘Okay then. Well, in return for Foster turning a blind eye, our
Reg gives him a percentage of the weekly takings.’

‘All that is very interesting,’ Megan interrupted, her face a mask of cool detachment and professional poise. Something he was longing to ruffle. ‘But most of what you say is
rumour and speculation. Is there any evidence to back it up?’

He resisted rolling his eyes, but only just.
Megan and her damn evidence. ‘It’s taken some digging, but we can prove a money trail from Reg Blake to Foster.’

She looked slightly taken aback, and he took some pleasure in knowing he’d surprised her. The only pleasure he’d get out of the evening, he thought glumly to himself as he picked up another slice of now cold pizza.

‘Do you have a theory as to why the prostitute was murdered?’

Scott shifted his eyes back to Ann. Ann with the all-seeing eyes and uncompromising stare. ‘As a matter of fact, I do have a theory, yes. I would hazard a guess that the victim was fed up with having to give
Reg such a chunk of her takings. When the other girls told her that Reg skimmed off so much because he was paying off a copper, she saw a chance for blackmail. Facing up to the slimy pimp, she told him she knew about the dirty officer and promised to keep her mouth shut in return for keeping all her earnings.’ He sat back and looked over to Megan. ‘Seem plausible?’ 

‘Yes, it could work.’

Encouraged, he continued. ‘Reg, terrified he’s going to lose his deal with the copper, panics and threatens her. Tells her to shut up or he’ll harm her. It gets nasty. In a blaze of anger, Reg grabs at a kitchen knife, lashes out and kills her. Possibly it was an accident, and he only wanted to scare her, but who knows? Left with a dead call girl and a bloody knife, Reg decides to do the only honourable thing he can think of: he frames my mother for the murder. Drugs her, which was why she was so spaced out when she was first brought in, then drags her to the murder scene. Once there he wipes the knife clean, shoves it in her hand and then smears some of the blood on to her shoes and clothing for good measure. Hey presto. When she comes round, she takes one dazed look at the murdered body and, running on pure instinct, goes to the only person she can think of to help. Me.’ A fact he would never forget for as long as he lived. ‘What do you think? Any obvious flaws?’

‘You mean aside from the fact that there isn’t a shred of evidence that backs up any of it?’ Ann regarded him with a rather scathing look, obviously of the opinion that what she’d just heard was a work of total fiction and not a possible, thought-through version of events.

Scott controlled his temper and looked coolly back at her. ‘Yes, aside from that.’

Megan suddenly stood up. He watched as she slowly moved about the room, her slim, toned body a bundle of coiled energy. How he’d loved watching that body move beneath his, the vital energy suddenly released when he’d brought her to a shuddering—

‘It’s worth considering,’ she replied at last, a cold but timely blast of reality on his salacious thoughts. ‘We’ll need to interview the girls again. All of them.’

‘Interviewing them won’t be any use if all they know is
rumour.’

Sitting down once more, she eyed him speculatively. ‘What are you suggesting?’

‘Get one or two of them on your side. Ask them to wear a wire and then go and have a full and frank conversation with Reg about where the majority of the money they earn is actually going. You never know, it could be fruitful.’

‘You really think a group of working girls are going to cooperate with the police?’ Megan gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘Think again.’

‘They might not want to cooperate with the police, but I don’t see why they wouldn’t help me.’ He shrugged at her shrewd look. ‘I doubt they really believe my mother is capable of murder. I suspect, if anything, they probably feel sorry for her. Especially knowing she had to put up with Reg. They might want to help.’

‘It’s possible.’

‘Then again, if they don’t want to do it for my mother, they might want to do it for me. I can be quite persuasive when I want to be.’

Behind her, Megan was certain she heard Ann snort with laughter,
then cough to try and cover it up.

‘Well, what do you think?’

He was watching her, waiting for a reply. Suddenly Megan became conscious of the warmth of the room. Of how breathtakingly attractive he was. And of how much she missed being held by him. Quickly she stood up. ‘We’ll discuss it and let you know.’

Ann eased off the sofa. ‘Thank you for your time,’ she told him formally. ‘Mind if I use your loo before we go?’

Scott pointed her down the hallway. The instant she was out of view, Scott walked over to Megan and placed his large, muscular frame directly in front of her. He filled her senses, the warmth from his body, his fresh, citrus smell. It brought back memories of the time they’d showered together. And that really wasn’t a good thing for her to be thinking about right now. Not when she was looking straight at the tanned column of his neck.