Dangerous Deception. BEVERLY BARTON
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Her lips twitched in a hint of a smile. A hard, sarcastic smile that told him she wasn’t afraid of him and wouldn’t succumb to any bullying tactics.
“So check me out,” she said. “I’m not lying.”
“Want to fill me in on—”
“No, I don’t. I’ll tell the police what I know, then if either they or you want to know more, y’all will have to dig up the info on your own. Why should I make things easier for you, especially considering the fact that you don’t believe me?”
“You sure fooled me, honey.” He sat down in a chair directly across from her.
“And that galls you, doesn’t it? It wounds your male pride. You really believed I was Audrey Perkins.”
“My male pride will survive. This wasn’t my first mistake and it won’t be my last. The thing I don’t understand is why you insisted on being brought back here to Chattanooga, straight to Edward Bedell.”
“Somebody tried to kill me—kill Audrey. Impersonating Audrey for money and the perks of first-class travel and expensive shopping sprees is one thing, but I didn’t sign on to be a body double in a murder case.”
“So why not just split?” Dom asked. “Why come back to Chattanooga to see Audrey’s father and be found out?”
“Because he has the right to know that someone wants his daughter dead and that I’m not going to be her stand-in any longer. He’s a rich, powerful man. He can do something to save her life…and mine.”
Dom studied her curiously, and she knew he wasn’t sure he could believe her. “Do you think Audrey hired you because she knew someone wanted to kill her and set you up as a moving target?”
“Yeah, the thought has crossed my mind a time or two since that guy tried to slit my throat this morning.”
“You do realize that the police might come up with another theory.”
“I did not kill Audrey Perkins. I didn’t harm a hair on her head.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Can you or the police prove otherwise?”
“No, but if we can’t find Audrey, you might want to hire yourself a good lawyer.”
Lausanne shrugged. “I guess I should have known that once you found out I wasn’t a rich heiress, you wouldn’t give a damn about me, that you wouldn’t be on my side, wouldn’t stand by me.” She shrugged. “That’s the story of my life.”
“The story of your life, huh? So, you’ve impersonated a rich heiress before?”
She emitted a mirthless chuckle. “No, this was a first for me. What I meant was that this isn’t the first time a guy who whispered sweet nothings in my ear wound up disappointing me. The only difference is I don’t think you’re really an uncaring, unreliable son of a bitch like the others.”
Dom stared at her, but said nothing.
Then again, maybe he was just like the others, only wrapped in a prettier package. Just because Dom professed to be one of the good guys didn’t make it true.
So, here she was one her own once again. All alone and in trouble up to her eyeballs. She couldn’t count on Dom Shea to help her. The only person she could rely on was herself.
SERGEANT MIKE SWAIN stood five-nine, was built like a fireplug and chewed gum while he talked. His carrot-red hair was cut military short and his large brown eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick glasses. His superior, Lieutenant Bain Desmond, was older, close to forty where Swain wasn’t a day over thirty. Tall and lean, with an easy smile that proclaimed him a good old boy, Desmond entered the Bedell living room as if he owned it. The guy wasn’t cocky, just self-confident. He surveyed the group of people one by one, then turned his baby blues on Lausanne.
“Start at the beginning, Ms. Raney, and tell us exactly how and why Dom Shea found you in Palm Beach impersonating Audrey Bedell.”
Lausanne swallowed hard. This wasn’t the first time she’d been interrogated by the police nor was it the first time she’d been presumed guilty.
“I’ve been working as a receptionists at Bedell, Inc. for the past six months. Ten—no, eleven days ago, I received a telephone call from Audrey Perkins, asking me to come to her home. She said she’d seen me when she’d visited the main office and thought I’d be perfect for a special job she needed done.”
“And so you went to see her?” Desmond asked. “At her home?”
“Yes, I went to her home. After all, she was Audrey Bedell Perkins, the boss’s daughter.”
“Was there anyone else there when you arrived, a maid…a secretary…anyone who can verify that you met with Ms. Perkins?”
“No, there wasn’t anyone else there. She’d made certain that we met alone, in private.”
“I see.” Desmond nodded. “Go on.”
“When I arrived at Ms. Perkins’s home, she asked me if I’d like to earn fifty thousand dollars and—”
“Did Ms. Perkins pay you that amount?” Desmond asked.
“Yes, she did.”
“Cashier’s check, personal check—”
“Cash,” Lausanne replied and heard the collective ah-ha sigh reverberating around the room. “I deposited the money in a savings account. Regions Bank.”
“And what service were you to provide to earn the fifty-thousand?” Lt. Desmond watched her carefully.
“Ms. Perkins offered me the money, plus an extravagant vacation, new clothes, and use of her credit cards. And all I had to do was travel from one city to another, moving every three or four days, registering under the name of Audrey Bedell Perkins and pretending to be her for a few weeks. She said that the reason she’d thought of me for the job was because she remembered seeing me at the office one day and had noticed that we were about the same height, same size, same coloring and even close to the same age. When she offered me a chance to earn fifty-thousand dollars, she also promised me that my job at Bedell Inc. would be waiting for me when I returned to Chattanooga, that she’d make certain of it.”
When murmurs rose from others in the room, Sergeant Swain requested quiet; then Desmond continued with his questioning.
“Did Ms. Perkins tell you why she wanted you to impersonate her?”
“Yes, she did. She told me that she intended to run away with her boyfriend and she didn’t want her husband or her father to find them, that all they needed was a good head start on any search her family might instigate.”
“And you didn’t have any qualms about—”
“Yes, I had my doubts, but when she handed me a bag filled with cash, I pushed aside all my doubts. Fifty-thousand is a great incentive for most of us who don’t have that kind of money.”
Desmond nodded, as if agreeing. “Do you have any idea where the real Audrey Perkins is right now?”
“No, sir. I have no idea.”
“And do you have any proof—other than fifty-thousand dollars in your bank account—to back up what you’ve just told me?”
“No,” she admitted. “The only person who can verify that what I’ve told you is the truth is Audrey Perkins.”
“And Ms. Perkins just happens to be missing.”
“Yes, sir. And considering the predicament I’m in, I want her found as much, if not more, than anyone else in this room.”
Dom had watched and listened, studying Lausanne’s body language, her voice, every aspect of her responses.