The Cavanaugh Code. Marie Ferrarella
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The moment one appeared to go beyond being an inch in depth, she bailed, remembering what her mother had gone through with her father. No matter that her mother’s second marriage seemed made in heaven; it was the tempestuous first one that had left its indelible mark.
Taylor found it ironic that while she had implicit trust in the men she’d been partnered with when it came to life-and-death situations, she absolutely refused to trust any man with her heart. Taylor staunchly opposed revealing her vulnerability.
Rallying, Taylor squared her shoulders. “Okay, here’s what I’ve got.” She deliberately ignored the touch of triumph she saw enter his eyes. “Graduating fifth in her class from Stanford Law School, Eileen Stevens worked her way up extremely fast. She became a much sought-after criminal lawyer who rarely lost a case. None in the last five years. Her list of clients reads like a who’s who of the rich and famous—or infamous,” she added, thinking of a couple of so-called “wiseguys” who were on the list. “She was made partner at her law firm six months ago. According to the electronic calendar they found by her bed, the woman ate and slept work 24/7. She didn’t appear to have a social life that wasn’t connected to the firm.”
Taylor paused for a moment, wishing she understood how a woman with no social life could end up the victim of a very personal crime. “But someone hated her enough to tie her up and wrap a wet piece of leather tightly around her neck, then wait for the strip to dry and strangle her. My guess is that the process took at least a couple of hours.”
“How do you know they waited?”
Laredo didn’t look impressed by her conclusion, just mildly curious, like someone asking study questions they already knew the answer to.
She told him anyway. “The carpet is thick and lush—my guess is that it’s fairly new. There was a set of shoe prints set in it next to the bed, like someone had stood there for more than just a minute. The killer, watching her die.” The comforter beneath the woman’s body had been all tangled, as if Eileen had thrashed around while tied to the bedpost, trying to get free, but Taylor didn’t add that, waiting to see if Laredo would.
He didn’t. Instead, he merely nodded at her narrative. “So far,” the private investigator told her, “we’re of a like mind.”
“And you have nothing to add?” she demanded. He was playing games with her, just trying to find out what she knew. She didn’t like being duped.
“I didn’t say that,” he told her evenly, his gaze locked on hers.
“So?” she asked impatiently.
“I don’t have anything from the present—yet,” Laredo qualified. “But what I do have is more of a background on Eileen.”
Taylor crossed her arms before her, waiting. “Go ahead.” It was an order, not a request.
Laredo obliged and recited what he’d learned since his grandfather had come to him with this.
“Eileen Stevens was thirty-eight and the complete epitome of an obsessed career woman. But she wasn’t always so goal oriented. When she was a seventeen-year-old high school junior, Eileen got pregnant.” He saw the surprise in Taylor’s eyes and knew she wouldn’t be challenging the worth of the exchange between them. “Her mother wouldn’t allow her to have an abortion. The baby, a boy, was turned over to social services the day he was born. From what I gathered, the experience made Eileen do a complete one-eighty. She turned her back on her former wild life and buckled down to become the woman she is today.”
“Dead,” Taylor couldn’t help pointing out.
A hint of a smile touched his lips. “I don’t think that was in her plans.”
If Laredo was trying to undermine her by laughing at her, he was in for a surprise, Taylor thought. She’d survived growing up with Zach and Frank, expert tormentors both.
“Anything else?”
Laredo spread his hands wide. “That’s it so far.”
She doubted it, but she had no way of keeping him for interrogation at the moment. “And who did you say you were working for?”
“I’m doing this as a favor,” he told her even though he was fairly certain that she hadn’t forgotten. She was probably just trying to trip him up, which was all right, he thought, because in her place he probably would have done the same thing. “My grandfather used to date Eileen Stevens’s mother. Carole Stevens was a single mother who worked double shifts as a cocktail hostess to make ends meet. That didn’t exactly leave her much time to be a parent and from what I gathered, as a kid Eileen needed a firm hand. After she graduated high school, they became estranged for a number of years—”
“Because her mother refused to allow her to have the abortion.” Taylor guessed.
Laredo inclined his head. “That was part of it, yes,” he acknowledged.
So he did know more than he’d just admitted. “And the rest of it?”
He shrugged. “Just the usual mother-daughter animosity.”
She didn’t like the way he just tossed that off. Taylor felt her back going up. Something about him made her want to contradict him no matter what he said.
“It’s not always ‘usual,’ Laredo.”
Her defensive manner aroused his interest. “You never clashed with your mother for no other reason than just because she was your mother?”
She definitely didn’t like his way of stereotyping people, she thought. “Not that it’s any business of yours,” she told him coolly, “but no.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. It seemed rather obvious to Laredo that Taylor McIntyre was headstrong and stubborn. He couldn’t visualize her being easygoing about things and letting them slide unless she wanted to.
“Not once?” he prodded.
“No,” she repeated. Less-than-fond memories had her adding, “That was for my father to do.” Then, realizing that she had said far more than she’d wanted to, she shot another question at him. “If Eileen and her mother were so estranged, why is her mother asking you to investigate who killed her daughter? Is there a will involved?”
As far as she knew, the police hadn’t even found out that the murder victim had a mother in the state. She’d left her next-of-kin information blank on the law firm’s employment form.
“I don’t know about a will,” Laredo admitted. “But as far as Carole and Eileen’s estrangement went, my grandfather said they’d reconciled just a few months ago. According to him, the reconciliation was all Carole’s doing,” he added. “Carole said she felt that life was too short to let hurt feelings keep people apart. Personally, I think my grandfather gave Carole a little push in the right direction.”
For a reason? Taylor wondered. “And your grandfather, how does he figure into all this? Beyond the little push, of course.”
Sarcasm always rolled off his back. Most likely, the long-legged detective was trying to get something more out of him, some “dirt” she probably thought he’d conveniently omitted.
Sorry to disappoint, Taylor, Laredo thought, doing little to hide his amusement.
“He’s just a nice guy who’s there for his friends, that’s all.”
“Or, in this case,” she reminded him, “volunteering you.”
He certainly couldn’t argue with that, Laredo thought. But then, in the scheme of things, it was the least he could do. If he spent the rest of his life as his grandfather’s right-hand man, he wouldn’t begin to repay the man for everything that he had done for him.
“Something like that,” he agreed.
Time to stop dancing, she decided. She’d already spent too much time getting next to nothing. “What is your grandfather’s name and where