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Cleo sat at the breakfast bar, tapping the mouse pad with her fingernail while she stared blindly at the laptop’s screen. At that precise moment, Liz might be telling Alec that Annaliese was her mother.
Would that be so bad? Oh yeah, it would. On so many levels.
The lie that Annaliese was her aunt hadn’t seemed so big when she’d first told it. They’d come to Vegas to cover the story of Sebastian’s death. Even if Annaliese was part of the story, Cleo’s family was none of Alec’s business. She’d thought she could stick him in a hotel room and keep his contact with Annaliese and Jada to a minimum. That hadn’t worked out.
Instead, they’d ended up staying at her mother’s, and she was pretty sure Alec liked Annaliese. Cleo wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
On one hand, she was glad. If he’d bashed Annaliese behind her back, Cleo would have felt an obligation to defend her, which was difficult since her own feelings about Annaliese were so mixed.
On the other hand, he certainly hadn’t missed that Annaliese wasn’t a conventional, cookies-in-the-cookie-jar mom. If he found out Cleo had grown up under Annaliese’s influence, how could it not change the way he saw her? She didn’t want to see speculation in his eyes about how far the apple fell from the tree. Or worse, sympathy.
And she certainly didn’t want to exchange Alec’s respect for either of those options.
But she might not have a choice.
Even though Alec understood it wouldn’t be to his advantage to mention Cleo, Annaliese was bound to come up because of her arrest. One wrong word from Liz, and Alec would know.
She should have told him herself. Then at least she could have salvaged some scrap of dignity.
But she hadn’t. And if he came back none the wiser, she still wouldn’t tell him because, apparently, she was willing to gamble he’d never find out.
She pushed her computer aside to stand up and pace. She wanted to be doing something productive. She needed to be doing something.
Sebastian’s second ex-wife and his secretary before Nancy Bales had an ironclad alibi for his death, having been in the Bahamas with her husband at the time, but she was supposed to be back soon. Maybe she already was. And maybe she had some insights about Sebastian’s enemies.
And maybe Cleo was grasping at straws, but if she wanted her old job back, she needed to develop sources Alec didn’t have.
She picked up her phone and dialed. After three rings, a woman answered, and Cleo almost dropped the phone in surprise.
“Is this Loretta Ellis?” she asked.
“Yes. Who’s calling, please?”
“This is Cleo Morgan. I’m―”
“Annaliese Carson’s daughter?”
“Um . . . Yes, but I’m calling as a reporter.” She felt like a fraud. Alec had called her an investigative journalist but could she really claim that title while she worked for The Inside Word?
“I understand. So you want to interview me.”
This was almost too easy. Unless she was going to say no. “Yes, I really do.”
There was a moment of silence, then, “We just got back from the Bahamas, but we’re leaving tomorrow for a wedding in LA, so today is really the only time I have. If you don’t mind talking while I get ready, you can come over.”
“Whatever is convenient for you.”
“Can you be here in an hour?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
Cleo stared at her phone. Had being Annaliese’s daughter worked in her favor for once? If anything, it should have gone the other way since Annaliese was sitting in jail charged with the murder of the man Loretta had once been married to.
It had only been two days since the arrest, and Cleo still didn’t feel comfortable leaving Jada alone, so she called Willa. The woman’s willingness to drop everything to help went above and beyond the call of duty, Cleo thought.
When Willa arrived, Cleo said, “I want you to know I’m really sorry for giving what Bales said any credence. I shouldn’t have asked if you were involved with Sebastian. You have better sense than that. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d told me to take a long walk off a short pier when I called today.”
“Oh honey.” Willa set her purse on the breakfast bar and flipped her purple skunk strip out of her eyes. “There are so many things wrong with everything you just said. First, it’s your job to follow up on what people say. Even when it’s Bales. Even if you weren’t a reporter, Annaliese is your mother. How could I hold that against you? And besides, the heart and the brain don’t always agree on what a person should want, you know? So don’t ever assume someone has more sense than to get involved with someone they shouldn’t.”
How well Cleo understood that. She should want someone like Martin, someone ambitious and successful, but he faded into the woodwork when Alec was around.
“Besides,” Willa said, “if I’ve let you think I’m doing you a big favor sitting with Jada, well, that’s just wrong, you know? I’d do it for Jada no matter who asked. She’s one of those precious people others should look out for.”
“Not everyone thinks so.”
“If you mean Liz, well, you know, people are like that when they’re unhappy.”
“Liz doesn’t seem all that unhappy to me.”
“That’s because you’re looking at it from the outside.”
“Do you think she was happy with Sebastian?”
“Happy? I don’t know. I think she liked her life, but I’m not sure that’s the same thing as being happy, you know?”
That was an interesting way to look at it. Cleo had liked being a reporter, but her old boss at The Sun hadn’t tried to talk her out of resigning because he’d thought she wasn’t happy there. He wasn’t that far off. She’d wanted more from them—more responsibility, more trust . . . just more.
“Are you happy, Willa?”
She paused as though she had to think about it. “No, but I’m working on it.”
“Oh?”
Color rose in Willa’s cheeks.
“Is there someone in your life?” Cleo felt incredibly self-centered. She’d never even thought to ask about what was going on with Willa except at the most superficial level.
“Not really in my life. Not yet anyway. But I’m hoping.” The hope was there in Willa’s smile. “If you know what I mean.”
Cleo couldn’t help smiling back. Willa deserved someone special in her life. “It sounds like you’re in that phase where you don’t want to jinx it by talking about it, so I won’t ask. Unless you want me to.”
She had to be satisfied with Willa’s cat-ate-the-canary smile, which was just as well because if she didn’t walk out the door in the next thirty seconds, she was going to be late.
Loretta lived southwest of downtown in an upscale suburban residential area. A pale blue Prius was parked in front of the two-car garage of their two-story mission-style house. Cleo parked on the street.
She was nearly to the door when a pregnant woman opened the door.
The picture from The Word’s bio had been taken shortly before Loretta and Sebastian’s divorce, which made it ten years out of date, but even though Loretta was now in her mid-thirties and had cut her blonde hair into a short wedge, Cleo recognized her instantly. She wasn’t good at guesstimating the stages of pregnancy, but since flying wasn’t recommended in the final trimester, Cleo figured she wasn’t ready to pop any time soon.
“Oh my,” Loretta said, her fingertips pressed against her lips as she took Cleo in. “You look so much like your mother.”
It was clearly meant as a compliment, so Cleo said, “Thank you. And thank you for seeing me.”
Loretta led her into the living room. “I wouldn’t normally talk to the press, and I certainly wouldn’t talk to a tabloid, but Candy said she talked to you, and you were nice to her. My experience with the media is that they’re usually not.”
“We can get a little tunnel visioned when we’re on a story,” Cleo said as she took a seat on the couch.
Still standing, Loretta looked down at her. “Is that what you call it when you stick a microphone in someone’s face right after they’ve lost a loved one and ask them how it feels?”
Cleo winced. That was the single worst question a reporter could ask, but she saw it on the nightly news on a regular basis. Every time, she hoped the answer would be, “How do you think it feels, you dumb shit?” And maybe it was some of the time, but they never aired it.
She met Loretta’s gaze. “On behalf of reporters everywhere, you have my heartfelt apologies.”
Loretta’s lips tightened for a moment, but then relaxed. “Thank you.”
“When’s your due date?” Cleo asked as Loretta settled in a chair at the end of the coffee table.
“Three months from today.” She smiled that beatific smile common to pregnant women who were enamored with their condition.
There were framed pictures of two pre-teenage boys on the end table beside Cleo. She picked one up. He was a good looking kid with sandy hair and a mischievous smile. “Not your first, I take it?”
“My first,” Loretta said. “Those are my husband’s boys from his first marriage.”
“You must be very excited then,” Cleo said.
Loretta rubbed her belly, her smile conveying her satisfaction.
“A boy or a girl?” Cleo asked.
“A girl, much to my husband’s delight. I don’t care myself, as long as she’s healthy.” Loretta looked at her for a long moment. “I won’t ask why you’re working for a tabloid, but I read your story about the border. It was insightful and honest, so I’m going to trust your integrity.”
Something in Cleo’s chest warmed. And then wilted. How could she claim integrity when she was looking for any justification to run home to The Sun when Alec and Nigel trusted she was working for them?
“Honey?” a male voice called from another room.
“Excuse me a moment.” Loretta hoisted herself out of the chair and disappeared down a hallway. A minute later, she reappeared with a tall, sandy haired man who looked like a grownup version of the boys in the picture.
He gave Cleo a nod of acknowledgement and said to his wife, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, then we’ll go to dinner.”
“Fabulous,” Loretta said.
He bent his head to kiss her goodbye then gave her belly a possessive rub, and walked out the front door. Cleo’s heart pinched at the picture of domestic bliss.
Before Loretta could sit down again, a mechanical bleat sounded from another room.
“Hang on a sec,” Loretta said and disappeared down the hall. A few minutes later, she was back with a large laundry basket full of clothes fresh from the drier. She set the basket between the chair and the couch and grabbed a fistful of socks, threw them on the coffee table and started sorting pairs.
“Would you like some help?” Cleo asked.
“Knock yourself out.” She shoved the pile at Cleo and started folding T-shirts.
“How do you like the socks folded?” Cleo asked.
Loretta picked out a pair and showed her.
“When did you hear about Sebastian?” Cleo asked as she folded her first pair.
“Candy called us yesterday morning. She didn’t want me getting blindsided when I got home.” Loretta’s lips twitched. “On one level, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”
“How so?”
“Not many men can survive five marriages unscathed. Although, a week ago, if you’d told me Sebastian would be murdered, I’d have assumed Liz shot him.”
“I’ve heard their marriage was volatile.” Hearing herself use the same word the prosecutor had used to characterize Annaliese’s relationship to Sebastian, Cleo cringed inwardly.
Loretta smiled as though privately amused. “That’s an apt description.” She grabbed a sock and pawed through the pile, looking for its mate. “His marriage to Liz surprised me. For all it looked like a screaming match at times, she was good for him. She kept him on his toes. He was never complacent about her.”
“She claims they were talking about reconciling,” Cleo said. “She says they had dinner last week to celebrate their anniversary.”
The amused smile appeared again. “He remembered their anniversary? Hm. I wonder if Bales reminded him or if he’s still using the trick I taught him.”
“Trick?” Cleo prompted.
“He forgot our first anniversary. We had a big fight about it, although I don’t know why I was surprised. When he was married to Samantha, he would have forgotten every anniversary, every birthday, every Valentine’s Day, if I hadn’t reminded him. I even bought the gifts he gave her. But somehow it’s different when it’s you. After I calmed down, I made sure the date was in front of him every day. He never forgot again.”
Cleo leaned forward. “How did you do that?”
Loretta discarded the lone sock for a pair of black socks and folded them together with a practiced hand. “Now that would be telling.”
“You’ve known all the wives,” Cleo said. “Including Samantha. They were married a long time. What happened there?”
“Who really knows what happens in someone else’s marriage? On the surface, they looked fine. Not soulmates maybe, but as good as most marriages. Sebastian fooled around, but I don’t think that was news, even to her.” Loretta picked up a T-shirt to fold. “He was in his forties; the kids were raised and in college. Maybe it was a midlife crisis. Maybe she was tired of being married to a workaholic. Or maybe after struggling for years to get where they wanted to be, the brass ring wasn’t as fulfilling as they expected.”
“Five marriages. Why do you think he kept doing it?”
“I think he kept hoping he’d find the right woman, but no woman could live up to what he hoped for. Even though he picked good women, it was never quite what he wanted it to be.” Then she made a face. “And they were all good women. Well, except for Liz.”
“I thought you said she was good for him.”
“She is. She was. That doesn’t mean I like her. I don’t know anyone who does.”
“Nancy Bales seems to get along with her.” Cleo reached for another sock.
“Oh, you should know better.” She laughed. “You can’t trust her. Nancy has delusions about her place in Sebastian’s life. She thinks she’s indispensable, but I had that job before she did. I know better.”
“Do you think she wanted to marry him?”
“I don’t know it for a fact, but I suspect it’s true.” The socks were done. Loretta pulled out a wadded-up sheet. “Want to help with this?”
They stood in front of the coffee table as Loretta found the four corners. She passed two of them to Cleo.
“I know he wanted to replace her.” Loretta snapped her wrists, and the sheet did a rolling billow down its length to Cleo’s hands. The fabric settled into straight lines, and they each brought two corners together for a lengthwise fold.
“What?” That was news to Cleo. Not even Willa seemed to think Sebastian was unhappy with Bales.
That amused smile was back on Loretta’s face as they folded the sheet in half lengthwise. “He asked me to come back to work for him.”
“When was this?”
“About a month ago.” They folded again.
“And you turned him down?”
“Christopher’s not a particularly jealous man, but me working for my ex-husband? No. He’d have had a fit.”
“You weren’t tempted?”
They stepped toward each other. Loretta caught the corners Cleo held and finished folding the sheet. “Not even a little. Even if I didn’t love my husband, which I do, I love my job at the Hilton. Too much of working for Sebastian involved coordinating his women.”
“Was Annaliese one of the women back then?”
“Yes, but I never had to juggle her. You know how they were.”
“I know how I saw them, but I’m not sure how others viewed them,” Cleo said as Loretta set the folded sheet on the table.
“If I had to pick a word, I’d say”—one side of Loretta’s mouth tilted while she considered—“casual, I suppose.” She pulled another sheet from the basket and sorted out the corners. “They enjoyed each other, but she never had any delusions about being the woman in his life. I didn’t have to make excuses with her. If he had time for her, great, but she wasn’t waiting by the phone for him to call.”
“So you never thought she wanted to marry him?”
Loretta laughed as she handed Cleo one end of the sheet and they started folding. “Marry him? Oh lord, no. She’s too much of a free spirit. They’d have killed each other the first week.” Her hands paused in mid-motion and her eyes widened. “I don’t mean literally.”
Cleo focused on folding her corners together as she asked the money question. “So you don’t think she did it?”
Loretta’s attention zeroed in on Cleo as though she knew how much Cleo needed to hear her answer. And since Loretta knew Annaliese was her mother, Cleo figured it was silly to pretend otherwise.
Loretta’s gaze stayed leveled on Cleo. “No, I don’t. Not in a hundred million years.”
Cleo closed her eyes, trying to hide the relief, so much stronger than she’d expected it to be. “You’re the only one who believes she’s innocent,” she said so softly it was almost a whisper.
“No,” Loretta said. She took two corners from Cleo, and Cleo opened her eyes. “Someone else out there knows she is.”
“I don’t suppose you have any guesses who that might be?”
“I don’t know. I think everyone is capable of murder if the provocation’s right.”
Cleo had known the answer wouldn’t be that easy, but the disappointment she felt said she’d hoped anyway. “Liz?”
“Yes, I can see Liz committing a crime of passion.” Loretta finished the sheet and sat down again, but she didn’t reach into the basket. “I can even see her committing a calculated murder.”
“The other exes?” Cleo found her place on the couch again.
“If they didn’t kill him while they were married to him, why would they do it now?”
Good point. “What about other women?” Cleo asked, thinking Loretta might add a name they didn’t already have. “Maybe someone hoping to take Liz’s place?”
“You’re guess is as good as mine about that. Probably better.”
“Did Bales know her job was in jeopardy? Would she have killed him over that?”
Loretta chewed on her lip. “I don’t think she knew, but she might have sensed something. I don’t know if she’d murder him over it. I imagine her job is on shaky ground with him gone, so it seems like a rather self-defeating response.”
“Murderers don’t always think clearly.”
“True.”
“Maybe she thought she could follow in your footsteps,” Cleo suggested.
“Knowing Sebastian, that’s always a possibility, but that’s true of so many women.” Loretta stood up. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Christopher doesn’t drink it, and it’s hardly worth making it just for me since the doctor only allows me one cup a day.”
Cleo agreed, willing to be the excuse for Loretta’s guilty pleasure. While Loretta was in the kitchen, she mulled over their discussion. When Loretta came back with two cups, Cleo knew what she wanted to ask. “You said everyone’s capable of murder. So why don’t you think Annaliese could have murdered him?”
“Because I don’t believe there’s a jealous bone in her body. There certainly wasn’t where Sebastian was concerned.”
Which meant Annaliese had no motive. Cleo closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that from someone else. The relief came in a physical wave, washing from her head to her gut and sending tingles through her extremities.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d checked out of the conversation, but when she opened her eyes, Loretta was watching her speculatively.
“You’re not writing a story, are you?” Loretta said. “You’re investigating on your own. You want to clear your mother.”
“There’ll be a story, but . . .” What was the point of denying it? Her mother was more important than any story. Even one that would get her back to The Sun. “Yes, I don’t want to see them railroad her.”
Loretta leaned forward though not too far because of her belly. “Tell me what you’ve learned. What wasn’t on the news?”
Cleo bit her lip. She hadn’t realized how alone she’d been feeling. Talking to Alec helped, but keeping secrets from him was a burden, and if it came to a choice between the story and saving Annaliese, she didn’t know what he’d choose. Jada’s loyalty was unquestionable, but her ability to help was nearly nonexistent.
In some ways, Loretta was the perfect confidant. She’d known Sebastian as both businessman and husband. She’d lived in his suite and knew things Cleo couldn’t even imagine to ask about. And she was sympathetic.
So she told Loretta about the missing elevator data and the bruising on Sebastian’s neck. She mentioned the alcohol and prescription drugs found in his bloodstream. That might be too much even for Loretta.
“I don’t know if Sebastian’s upgraded his security,” Loretta said. “He might have. He liked his tech toys, but he hated feeling spied on, even by casino security. He controlled the cameras in the elevator and in his suite.”
“But someone else could have erased those recordings, couldn’t they?”
“If they knew the system, but they’d need the passwords. That’s a short list of people.”
“Liz would be on that list,” Cleo said.
“So would Nancy Bales.”
“Why would she know the codes?”
“Because he can also control the system from his office. It fed into the flat screen on the wall,” Loretta said. “He could turn it on and off or even monitor the cameras without recording.
“But that doesn’t mean Nancy knows the codes.”
“How many passwords do you have for things?”
“Urgh. Half a dozen I guess.”
“How often do you change them?” Loretta asked.
“My personal ones? As seldom as possible. The ones at the office have an automatic expiration, so I change them when I’m forced to.”
Loretta cocked her head.
“I get it,” Cleo said. Sebastian was the boss. If he didn’t want to change his password, no one would make him. Which meant if Bales knew Sebastian’s code for anything, she probably knew them for everything. “Who else would know them?”
“Hard to say. Someone smart about security systems might be able to hack into it, but it may not matter if Sebastian turned the system off himself.”
“Did he do that a lot?”
“It depends. He’d do that for business sometimes if he was meeting someone and he wanted to keep it private, but he and Liz were divorcing, so it could have been personal as well.”
“What you mean is, if he had a woman coming up. Someone like Annaliese.”
Loretta nodded. “She was there that night.”
“But not for sex.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Loretta was right. Cleo was having a hard time being objective because she didn’t want to believe anything sexual had been going on. “Do you think that’s why she was there?”
Loretta shrugged. “If he turned off the cameras in the elevator because of her, it’s probably a good bet.”
Cleo wanted to believe Annaliese’s relationship with Jada had put an end to the casual sex in her mother’s life, but she’d never asked for fear she wouldn’t like the answer. Now she was afraid she knew, and Loretta was right; she didn’t like the answer.
“But he also has cameras in the bedroom,” Loretta said. “I don’t know if the police would have found those or if they’d just assume those recordings went to the same place.”
Cleo caught her breath. “They don’t?”
Loretta shook her head. “But maybe he didn’t have them on. He didn’t always.”
It occurred to Cleo that Loretta would know firsthand what sort of things went on in Sebastian’s bedroom, but if there was some particular kink he’d liked, Cleo didn’t want to know. There was one other thing Loretta might know, however. How to broach the subject without tipping her hand was nearly impossible. She decided she had no choice but to ask outright. Even so, she couldn’t help trying to sound casual.
“If Sebastian had a personal marker from someone, do you know where he would have kept it?”
She’d asked as Loretta was taking a sip of coffee. Loretta set the cup carefully on the coffee table before meeting Cleo’s eyes. There was speculation in the look she gave Cleo. “You have a lead, don’t you? Someone owed Sebastian money, and you think it will take the heat off you mother. Hm.” She tapped a forefinger against her lips. “Probably not someone on his payroll. That would go through the casino. Unless it was someone he worked closely with. Nancy, for instance. She’s well paid but her mother’s in a nursing home. That can’t be cheap.”
Cleo kept her mouth shut and her face expressionless. While she’d love to ask for details, she’d prefer to appear as if she already knew about Nancy’s finances.
“If Sebastian considered it a personal debt, something that wouldn’t show up on the casino’s books, it would end up in the safe in his bedroom.”
She should have guessed there’d be a safe. But it didn’t help. LVPD wouldn’t have left a safe unopened. If Annaliese’s IOU had been in there, they already had it. She frowned. But if they had it, wouldn’t they have looked at Annaliese’s bank account by now? And if they had, wouldn’t they have already asked about the deposit she’d made last week? But they hadn’t yet. Of course, it hadn’t even been a week since the arrest, but until they did, she decided not to give up hope.
“And if it’s not in the safe?” she asked.
“Then I have no idea. Of course, if it was new or if it was getting paid, he might have taken it out of the safe.”
Of course. He’d expected to get paid. Instead, Annaliese had told him she wouldn’t have the money until Monday. What if the marker was in Sebastian’s suite, waiting to be found? It could still be a wild goose chase. But what if it wasn’t?
She needed to get in there.
Her mind churned with need, distracting her from the conversation with Loretta. Somehow, she managed the polite phrases that would get her out the door without offending her hostess, but just as she stepped outside, one last question surfaced in her mind.
Loretta had started to close the door but when Cleo turned back toward her, she paused.
“You said everyone will kill under the right circumstances,” Cleo said.
“Yes.”
“But you don’t think Annaliese killed Sebastian.”
“No, I don’t. She had no reason to.”
“What do you think would drive her to kill?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” Loretta’s eyes locked onto Cleo’s. “She’d kill to protect someone she loves.”