33

Pushing Jeff out of her thoughts, Victoria settled into her work. She hadn’t seen the Connors since the memorial reception. They’d showed up late with three gourmet food trucks in tow. It’s nothing, darling, Margaret had swooned. More than happy to help. Good food heals bad blood. And when Victoria’s face had contorted in response, Margaret had added, The sashimi special was Warren’s favorite.

As if Victoria hadn’t known that. As if Margaret had known Warren better because they’d shared a raw fish plate over tax records.

Concentrating on the charts on the screen, Victoria created a list of questions that needed answering, noting the areas where Warren was missing essential information.

The Connors arrived not ten minutes later, resplendent in matching designer suits that had her cringing in secondhand embarrassment. Toddlers wore matching outfits, much like Victoria and Teagan had been forced to for their many staged family portraits. Married couples? Barnaby was missing the Louboutins, opting instead for a pocket scarf with red piping, but the whole vibe read as, My wife picked my clothes.

Nevertheless, she wouldn’t be swayed by their wardrobe choices. Appearances were deceiving, and underestimating the Connors was a surefire way to make a mistake.

Victoria didn’t make mistakes.

“Hello, Margaret. Barnaby,” she said, standing to meet them.

“Good to see you,” Margaret said, clutching Victoria’s elbows. “You look well, Victoria. How are you coping?”

“Fine. Appreciate you asking, though.” She did wonder how long people were going to keep the kid gloves on whenever Warren was mentioned in conversation, but at least they weren’t pointing fingers.

“We’ve been in contact with the detective. Briana Mayer?”

“Meyers.” Maybe she’d spoken too soon.

“Yes,” Margaret continued. “I have to admit, we weren’t prepared for the level of attention that Warren’s . . . passing has put upon us.”

Sorry for the inconvenience, she almost replied. Not that she had anything to apologize for; she hadn’t been the one to play Ghostface in the courtyard. And she really didn’t like that her first inclination was to appease Margaret.

“If only he’d been able to choose where the killer attacked,” Victoria said instead. “Location is everything.”

Barnaby made a noise in the back of his throat and scratched his nose. Was that nerves or discomfort?

“Oh, Victoria, no. I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to—”

Watching Margaret fumble over her words was a beautiful thing.

“They have several promising leads,” she said, scrutinizing their expressions with her own razor-sharp condemnation.

“Really?” Barnaby asked, perking up. “What have you heard?”

“Only what Detective Meyers has told me.”

“Has she mentioned the guest list? Have our names come up?”

Margaret elbowed him in the side, as subtle as a battering ram. “Perhaps we should focus on the business at hand?” she said, tone thick with shut-your-mouth-you-idiot energy. “We are sorry for your loss, don’t get me wrong, but now is neither the time nor place to be discussing such a personal matter. We’d like to review your proposal, right Barnaby?”

Interesting, she thought. Very interesting.

One thing was certain: They weren’t going to confess to anything in this environment. Not with Margaret in charge and the possibility of someone else overhearing.

Barnaby slowly nodded, the unspoken language between husband and wife finally translating. “Yes. The proposal. You are ready, correct?”

Victoria didn’t miss the inflection. It was smart, turning the spotlight on her. Trying to catch her unprepared. This, however, was the kind of pressure in which she thrived. “Of course. Follow me.”

Laptop in hand, she ushered Barnaby and Margaret down the hall toward the first conference room. She’d reserved the biggest—she was CEO; she could do that now without fighting over pecking order—and waited for them to take their seats while the projector screen rolled into place.

For the next little while, the world was lost to data and projections. First day with a title or not, Victoria was damn good at presenting her findings. What she hadn’t anticipated was the updated information in the missing docs. She stalled while she read the numbers, asking benign questions about expenditures while she sorted through a plan of attack.

Warren had almost permanently screwed the Connors’ account. Why wouldn’t he have filed the incorporation articles with the state by the deadline? Such a simple—

“Mrs. Tate?”

“Hm?” Victoria acknowledged, not looking up from the document. She was used to Judy dropping in on meetings.

“I hate to interrupt.”

The wariness in Judy’s voice and Margaret’s surprised gasp broke her concentration. She turned to the bright red of Judy’s hair before noticing the woman standing behind her.

“Detective Meyers is here.”