Chapter 24

24

The following morning, I was sitting on the couch at work, filling Simone and Hunter in on the evening I'd had. When I got to the part about Seth, I realized how much I wanted to believe he was a good person—a troubled person, but a good one. I wanted to believe Seth and Kayla were both good people.

But was it clouding my judgment?

Part of what Seth had said to me the previous night was so precise, it almost sounded scripted, like he'd memorized it. I'd spent the morning creating a scenario in my head of what might have happened once I left their house. Kayla had told him about our conversation, what we'd talked about before he'd arrived home. Once Seth learned Cordelia may have witnessed a handful of uncomfortable interactions between him and Kayla, they formed a plan to make me believe they were innocent. A plan that removed all suspicion from them and put it on … well, anyone else, as long as they weren't the focal point.

A scenario, at least.

Seth wanted me to believe Cordelia was his friend, which was a bit odd, but not so odd that it was unbelievable. He'd claimed he checked in on her on multiple occasions. They chatted about books. He asked if there was anything she needed. And most of all, right before she died, she almost confided in him.

I couldn't decide whether his story was the full truth, a partial truth, or not much of the truth at all. There was no one to back it up, except his wife. A wife who could have been protecting him as well as herself. She was the protective type.

"Hey, Georgiana, come in … over," Simone said with a laugh, snapping her fingers in front of my face. "Wherever you are, you're no longer here with us."

"I'm sorry," I said. "Seth's visit last night has been weighing on my mind. I'm not sure what I think about it. My head and my heart, or should I say, my emotions are at odds."

"You're suspicious by nature," Simone said. "It makes sense."

"Being suspicious is a good thing," Hunter added. "It's how you solve cases."

"It never feels good when I find out a person I see as a suspect is innocent."

Hunter shrugged. "It's part of the job, isn't it?"

It was part of the job—one of the tougher parts.

As I thought about the day ahead, the office door opened, and an unwanted visitor strolled in, looking smug and full of himself. I wondered if he'd noticed the eyeroll I'd just sent his way. If he had, he'd ignored it.

He flashed me a big smile and walked over.

"Hello, ladies, I'm sorry to interrupt."

"Simone and Hunter," I said, "This is?—"

"Benjamin Branson," Simone said. "You're running for mayor."

"I am."

He held out a hand. Simone shook it. Hunter did not, recoiling back onto the couch like she wanted to melt into it.

Turning toward me, he said, "Georgiana, I need a few minutes of your time … if you don't mind."

I did mind.

I minded a lot.

"Why?" I asked. "If you're here to try and get information out of me about the case, you wasted a trip. Until I have something more concrete, there's not much more to say that you don't know already."

"Are you sure?" he teased. "From what I hear, you made a big find yesterday."

Was he baiting me?

Or did he know something he shouldn't?

If so … how had he come by the information?

"How would you know about what happened yesterday?" I asked.

Sensing the irritation in my voice, Hunter and Simone stood, exiting the room and ducking inside the kitchen.

Benjamin grinned, seeming all too happy to have them out of the way.

"You didn't answer my question," I said.

"As to knowing what you found, I have my sources."

"Do your sources have names?"

"The source does have a name."

I had to admit, I was intrigued.

"I assume your source isn't Foley or Whitlock, because they wouldn't share confidential details about the?—"

"Let me stop you there. The information did not come from them. We haven't spoken again since our meeting in Foley's office."

Why was he bugging me for information, then?

Why not go to them?

Perhaps he saw me as the easier target. A gross lack of good judgment on his part.

"I cannot imagine who else would give you information you shouldn't have," I said.

"Why does it matter so much to you?"

"Why does it matter so much to you ? Why aren't you focusing your time on your campaign?"

He threw his hands in the air. "What can I say? I'm a great multitasker."

"I'm trying to conduct a clean investigation, one without leaks. When a leak gets out into the public before it's supposed to, it compromises what we're trying to achieve."

"I have the utmost respect for your process, believe me."

"Do you? Because you still haven't given me the name of your source."

"His name shouldn't matter."

His name.

We were getting somewhere, at long last.

"His name matters a lot," I said. "You have a choice to make. Give me the name, or I have nothing further to say."

"That would be a shame. I'd hoped we'd be able to work together on cases like these once I become mayor … for the good of the community, of course."

"Assuming you become mayor."

Benjamin took a seat and crossed one leg over the other. "Has anyone ever told you that you drive a hard bargain? You should have been a lawyer. I bet you wouldn't have lost a single case."

"I was the captain of my debate team in high school," I said.

He shook his head. "Figures."

"As for my cases, I'm well suited to life as a private investigator. I feel like we keep veering off the topic at hand. If you won't reveal your source, I'd like you to leave."

It had been some time since I'd had a good verbal sparring session, and I found myself enjoying it far more than I should have.

Benjamin flattened a hand and raised it, as if suggesting a cease fire between us. "You're a real firecracker. If you got to know me, you'd see I'm a nice guy, one of the good ones."

If I had a nickel for every time I heard those words … I wouldn't say I'd be rich, but ...

Looking at him now in his tailored suit, striped tie, and leather shoes, I wasn't the only one in the perfect profession.

"There's no need to get upset, you know," he said. "We're just two people having a conversation."

Incorrect.

We were one person trying to have a conversation the other wasn't interested in having.

"I'm not upset," I said. "Trust me when I say you don't want to see me that way either."

He slapped a hand against his pantleg, bent his head back, and laughed.

I thought he was going to make a snarky quip back, but he didn't. He looked me in the eye, holding my gaze for a few seconds. It was almost like he'd seen something in my expression, something that made him see there was a lot more going on beneath the surface than he realized.

Which, of course, was correct.

"I apologize if I've offended you in any way, Georgiana," he said.

"What are you sorry for—coming here and teasing me about having a source who's feeding you information but not giving me his name?"

He frowned. "I guess. I had no idea you'd take it this way. I'd like to start over, hit the reset button on our conversation."

"Without a name, I can't start over."

"I can see now that it was wrong of me to come here, wrong of me to mention my source in the first place. The idea that I know a little more about the case than I should compromises the person who gave me the information. If I give you his name, it could cause trouble for me and for him. I suppose I hadn't thought that through when I opened my mouth."

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his jaw, like he was disappointed in himself—but not for coming across information pertinent to the case, I presumed. Rather, he'd allowed his egotistical I know what you've been up to attitude get the better of him. And it was too late. The genie was out of the bottle.

"You say giving me a name will cause trouble if you do," I said. "I say it will cause trouble if you don't."

I reached into my pocket, pulling out my cell phone.

"Who are you calling?" he asked.

"Chief Foley. Maybe the three of us should have a chat about your source. You're withholding something from me. You've admitted as much."

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Put the phone down."

"Why should I?"

"As a gesture of my good faith, and to prove my intentions are only about wanting to see this case solved, I'll give you his name."

It wasn't a gesture of good faith.

It was him being backed into a corner, a corner he'd put himself in.

I set the phone next to me and leaned back, waiting.

He took a deep breath in and said, "He's a good kid. It's not his fault, okay? I asked him to poke around."

"His name?"

"Donovan Cole."

The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.

And then it came to me.

"Isn't he a reporter for the county paper?" I asked.

"Yes, he is. In fact, I helped him get the job."

"I'm beginning to understand what's happening here. You helped him get his job, and he's helping you by feeding you information. Am I right?"

"It's nothing as scandalous as you're suggesting. He knows about my interest in this investigation. He's just as interested."

"He's been following me, hasn't he?"

Benjamin raised a brow. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

"What information has Donovan given you?"

"He knows you found evidence the police missed inside Cordelia Bennett's house."

"How did he come by this information?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. He didn't say, and I didn't ask. Is it true? Did you find a new piece of evidence?"

I thought about my conversation with Rosalyn the morning before and how I'd heard rustling in the bushes nearby. And then there was the feeling that came over me as I walked to Kayla's house, a feeling like I was being watched. It seemed I was being watched and followed. As to how the kid knew what he knew, that was easy for me to figure out. The windows in Kayla's house had been open during our conversation.

How much had the kid heard?

And was he prepared to write about it?

The mere thought of it made me nauseous.

"Where is Donovan now?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"Why don't you call him and find out? I'm guessing you have his phone number."

"Yes, I have it, but I'm not going to do that, Georgiana."

"Fine, I'll figure out where he is, and we'll have a little chat."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't."

"I don't appreciate being followed," I said, jabbing a finger at him for emphasis. "But I was, and I need to make sure it never happens again."

Benjamin leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. "Cordelia was spying on her neighbors. Seems she saw some things she shouldn't have. You've spoken with the wives of both neighbors. Which one murdered her?"

"Who murdered Cordelia is still being investigated, and as for this conversation … it's over."