Текст книги "Family Secrets"
Автор книги: Kate Kane
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
Chapter 11
Interagency Cooperation
Adam Hunter came to the lobby to meet Ben and escorted him to a conference room where Colin and Mick were waiting. When they were all seated, Adam began. “The crime scene guys have processed the car. We got a lot of fingerprints. Yours, hers, some we didn’t have on file that I assume belong to her kids. We found several for Kyle Paulson.”
Ben nodded. “He’s the guard at Telco. He found the car and put out the fire. You’d expect his prints.”
“Not where we found them. The fire was in the car’s interior. It’s a convertible and the top was down. All he had to do was use the fire extinguisher. I sure wouldn’t expect his prints on the engine or in the trunk. In fact, his prints were all over the car, more like he was looking for something than like he was just putting out a fire.” Adam held up a red canvas roll. “We did find this.” He unfurled the canvas. “It’s an emergency tool kit. And it’s missing something.” He pointed to a missing slot.
“Judging from the other tools, that slot could have held the murder weapon.” Mick added.
Ben shook his head. “Lane has that car detailed every two weeks like clockwork. She drops by the dealership with donuts and the guys take her to work, detail the car for her, and pick her up at the end of the day. I now the schedule and she would have dropped it off the Friday before the murder.”
Adam nodded. “I know you guys did a preliminary interview with Paulson yesterday, but as you described it to me, you, and Mick were introduced as friends. So, he didn’t know Mick was police and he thought it was just Lane doing the interview for Telco and her own insurance purposes. I think with his fingerprints all over the vehicle, that I have enough to bring him in for questioning, about the fire anyway. I’m with you; I don’t know a cop alive who believes in coincidence, and it’s too big a coincidence that her car catches fire in a secured underground parking lot four days after she finds a body, and just one day after the murder weapon is found – where did you say, Mick? Under her bed? Who takes the time to wipe off prints but leaves the blood and then puts the weapon under her bed? Then doesn’t bother to throw away the tool kit that it came from?”
Mick shook his head. “No, she didn’t do this, but she sure pissed someone off enough so they’re setting her up for it. As much as I hate it, I’m still going to have to bring her in again. I might get Franklin to hold off until tomorrow if you can get Paulson in this afternoon.”
Ben looked at Adam “I can assure you those aren’t Lane’s tools. She wouldn’t have the vaguest idea what to do with a tool kit. She said the parking lot has state of the art video surveillance. The property manager’s name was Sam Holt. Maybe you can get him to pull the video.”
Ben cleared his throat. Normally, he wouldn’t hand the cops anything that could provide a motive pointing toward his client, but he knew they’d find out eventually and he wanted to be sure he put his spin on it.
“There’s something else that you should know. My uncle Sal represented Gardner in the vehicular homicide case 45 years ago. I just found out that Gardner’s old man put 1.5 million dollars in trust for Lane back then. Apparently her Aunt refused to take the money, but it’s still there, still held for her and it’s worth over 10 million today. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about it yet, but I know it’ll come as complete a surprise to her. One more thing, she’s staying at my place until this is over.”
Mick whistled and shook his head. Lane was beautiful, smart, and now a millionaire and she belonged to Bellini. Some guys had all the luck. But, he was confident that it was just a matter of time until Bellini moved on.
Adam looked at Mick. “If you want to observe the interview, I can notify you when we have Paulson.”
“Yeah, thanks. There’s just something off about this whole thing.”
Mick and Ben stood in the parking lot. “I’ll call you after I talk to Franklin. We can arrange a time for you to bring Lane in.”
Ben sat in his Jag and called his office. It was three o’clock now and his uncles were still out of the office. In fact, they’d left word they’d be out for the rest of the afternoon. He called Lane.
“Hello, Ben.”
“Red, I thought I asked you not to run away with those two old men.”
Lane laughed. “What makes you think we ran away?”
“Well, I just called my office and neither of them is there. I heard they’d called to say they wouldn’t be in for the rest of the day. And I did entrust you to them when I left.”
“I see, using your superior powers of deduction again. We haven’t run away. We’re car shopping.”
“The BMW dealer?”
“No, Gardner Automotive off State Line.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Ben shook his head, what the heck were they up to and whose idea had it been to go to Gardner Automotive?
His uncles had taken him in as a partner when he graduated from law school and he’d learned a lot about criminal law from his uncle Sal. Vinnie didn’t practice criminal law; he specialized in estate planning, family law, and wills. They’d taken him under their wing when he was still in high school when he had expressed an interest in practicing law instead of going into the restaurant business with his father. Vinnie’s daughters Bianca and Daniela were also partners at the firm now.
Sal’s wife had died young leaving him a widower at the age of 43. Uncle Sal turned into a real ladies man after that, dating a lot of women and moving on before things could get serious. Uncle Sal once told Ben that his Guilia was the love of his life and he’d never marry again, but men had needs.
Chapter 12
Car shopping
Ben pulled into the lot of Gardner Automotive. Gardner sold high-end vehicles. It was where he’d gotten his Jag. The salesmen here didn’t swarm you, they schmoozed you. He walked into the showroom to find Lane and his uncles inspecting a Mercedes E-class convertible. The one on the floor was black. Not Lane’s color at all.
The salesman looked up. “Mr. Bellini, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Is there something I can show you?”
Ben inclined his head toward the E-class. “I’m with them.” He kissed Lane’s cheek, put his hand proprietarily in the small of her back, and nodded toward his uncles. “Uncles.”
They smiled at him.
Ben waved his hand around the showroom. “Questa non è casa mia.”
“You said the lady’s car had burned. She said she was going to shop for a new one. We offered to come with her. E la signora è sicura come hai chiesto.”
He pulled Lane closer and looked at his uncles. “Did you form a parade from Papa’s or did you leave her car there?”
Lane looked up at him. “Your uncles let me drive. I have to take them back to Papa’s when we finish.” She leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?”
He laughed. “What can I say? You do bring out the mother hen in me.”
“So, we’ve narrowed it down to these two cars.” She pointed between the E-Class convertible and an SLK-class. “I love the SL, but it’s twice the price. Uncle Vinnie says I should drive it anyway. I didn’t pay $125,000.00 for my first house; I can’t imagine paying that for a car.”
Again, Ben smiled at his uncles. “We need to talk,” he whispered as he guided her away from both his uncles and the salesman. “I had hoped to have this conversation at home and in private, but I guess we need to do it now.”
She looked up at him, a look of curiosity on her face, as they stood looking out the window. In her experience, the phrase we need to talk was never good, especially when it was followed closely by the words private and at home. God, she thought, I’m about to be arrested quickly followed by or maybe now my house has burned down. On the other hand, maybe he was going to dump her.
“Oh, God, what’s happened now? What’s wrong? Is it the house, is it the kids?”
He turned her to face him. “Shhh. Take a breath. It’s not bad news. It might even be considered good news. It seems that Paul Gardner’s father put 1.5 million dollars in trust for you after the accident.” Not sure how the news might affect her, he tightened his grip around her waist.
She squinted up at him. She studied him before laughing. “That’s a really good one Ben. You had me going there for a minute.”
“It’s no joke, Red. Your aunt refused to take the money at the time, but it’s still in trust for you. Uncle Vinnie’s been administering it and it’s grown to over 10 million dollars.”
She turned her head to look at the Misters Luciano standing 50 feet away. The two older men looked innocent enough in their three-thousand dollar Italian suits. She was sure they were wearing Brioni; it was a label that Ben favored. It was deceiving. All afternoon they’d known this and hadn’t said a word to her even as Uncle Vinnie was steering her toward a car she was sure was totally out of her price range. She opened her mouth and closed it. Opened it and closed it again. She shook her head.
“I need to give this some thought. I’d like to go home now. Give my keys to those devious old men over there and just take me home.”
Ben took the keys from her hand and approached his uncles. “Can I trust you two to get her car to my house?” They looked at him as if to say “what did we do?” but they agreed to drive Lane’s Escalade to Ben’s house.
He turned and walked back to Lane. He took her hand and they walked to his car. He could almost hear the wheels turning as he opened the passenger door for her. He bent and kissed her. He walked around and opened his door. “I can hear you thinking.”
“I’m shocked. I’m flabbergasted. I’m curious. I’m angry.” She took a breath. “And apparently, I’m a millionaire? What the hell, Bellini,” she said quietly.
Even if she hadn’t told him, he knew she was angry. Lane very rarely cursed and he couldn’t remember her ever referring to him by only his last name.
She turned to face him. “How the hell long have you known this? What impact does it have on the case? God, do I owe a fortune in back taxes? What the hell, Bellini?”
Bellini twice in 60 seconds, this wasn’t good. He was about to tell her to calm down, but he knew that telling her to calm down at this point might be like signing his own death warrant. Telling her to breathe should be all right because she’d often said that when she was upset sometimes it was as if she forgot to breathe.
They’d never had a fight. Not during the three years they’d been friends, and not during the eight weeks they’d been a couple. They were less than 15 minutes from his house; if there was going to be yelling, he’d like to be safely off the streets, but he wasn’t sure he could stall for 15 minutes without responding to her questions.
He took a deep breath and exhaled. “It was what uncle Vinnie told me before I left Papa’s. I called Tanner from the parking lot and he’s been checking into it.” He paused, “Some people might be happy to find out they had 10 million dollars.” He had said it lightly, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, even before he saw the look on her face and long before she turned away from him to look out the window, he knew saying it was a mistake.
He always held her hand when they were in the car. She hadn’t pulled her hand away. Surely, that was a good sign.
Lane wasn’t the type to give anyone the silent treatment, but she needed a minute to collect her thoughts. This wasn’t Ben’s fault. He hadn’t exactly kept anything from her. He’d told her as soon as he could, and she understood that he wanted to talk about it in private. Still his sweet uncles were devious, conniving, deceitful old men. They could have told her. She smiled and shook her head slightly. Oh, of course, Italian macho crap. They told the man. It was his job to tell the little woman. Little woman like hell. She’d show them little woman. She took a breath and exhaled. Then took another, counted to ten and exhaled. It isn’t Ben’s fault, she reminded herself.
They were stopped at a red light. She turned toward him and removed her hand from his grasp. Uh-oh, he was in for it. Home was just a few blocks away now. He didn’t want to have a screaming match in the car. It crossed his mind that she might be going to get out of the car. Instead, to his utter amazement, she reached over, took his face in her hands, leaned over, and kissed him.
Kissing was good. He wasn’t sure how she’d gone from “What the hell, Bellini” to kissing him, but then again he wasn’t going to ask. He’d pulled into his driveway. As a lawyer, he’d learned that sometimes it’s better to remain silent. He wasn’t going to say anything until they got inside.
He turned off the ignition, got out, and walked around the car to open her door. She got out, grabbed him, and kissed him again. He was really confused. Minutes ago, he was sure she was about to hand him his head. It felt like they were making up before they’d even had a fight. I could live with this he thought and then he wondered if he should be waiting for the other shoe to drop. She took his hand and led him to the sofa in the great room. She gave his chest a little push so that he sat down and then she sat straddling him.
“I was mad.” She leaned in and kissed him moaning as their tongues danced.
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything. I’m not mad at you.” She kissed him again.
“I just needed to remind myself. Now, I’m calm.” She loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar before kissing him again.
Yeah, she was calm but he was confused. The doorbell rang. She kissed him again and shifted so he could stand. He tried to adjust the erection that had literally popped up in the last couple of minutes. As she followed him, toward the door, she whispered “But I may kill your uncles.”
He opened the door to see his uncles. Sal held the keys toward Lane.
“May we come in?” Sal asked as he stepped into the foyer.
“I suspect the lady may have some questions for us.” Vinnie said as he followed his brother.
God he didn’t want any bloodshed.
“È arrabbiata,” Ben warned.
Lane smiled and gestured toward the great room. “The first rule, gentlemen, is English shall be spoken in my presence.” They followed her to the great room and waited for her to sit.
“Uncle Sal, we’ve met before? When I was four? Perhaps in the hospital while I waited for the authorities to find my Aunt and for her to come to Kansas City?”
Salvatore Luciano smiled, but it was his brother, Vinnie who spoke. “No, my dear that was me. My brother was at the jail with young Gardner. I was at the hospital with Mr. Gardino. That is young Gardner’s father. I had spoken to the doctors and knew that the prognosis for your father was less than favorable. That was when Mr. Gardino instructed me to set up the trust.”
Sal continued where Vinnie had left off. “I stayed with young Gardner through the arraignment, got him released on bail, and met my brother at the hospital. You were so young, so small, and so alone. Vinnie had convinced the doctor and the police that since your Aunt would arrive soon there was no need to involve children’s services. We would take care of you, watch over you, and keep you safe until your Aunt could come get you. We didn’t take you from the hospital. We took turns staying with you through the night until your Aunt came.”
Vinnie picked up the story. “I spoke with her to tell her about the trust that Mr. Gardino had asked me to establish. She refused it. Called it a bribe and said she didn’t want his blood money. She took you from the hospital and went back to Iowa. Mr. Gardino still insisted that I set up the trust. He said the decision should be yours when you were old enough to decide. When you were 21, I tried to find you, but your mother had died and your Aunt had married years before and she had moved. We didn’t know where you were. You didn’t have a social security number when you were four. It’s not like today when parents get social security numbers for babies as soon as they’re born. I searched for Angelique Valle everywhere.”
“Yes, by the time I started school my Aunt Marta had begun calling me by my middle name. By the time you began to look for me I had been married and Angelique Valle was no more.” She looked out the window at the lake. “I do have questions. Many of them. You’ve been administering the trust all of this time. What does that mean? Are there tax implications? Must I claim the money or may I give it away. If I give it away, what are the tax implications?”
“The trust has been paying the taxes and as long as the trust exists that will be the case. The money, all of it, is yours to do with as you please. I suggest you talk to your own financial planner and legal counsel before you decide. Most importantly, I suggest that you do nothing immediately, but give it time to sink in a bit.”
Vinnie stood and reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card, which he offered to Lane. “I know you probably already have Benito’s card, but whomever you retain to handle the matter will want to contact me directly. All of my information is on this.”
Sal stood and the two men faced Lane, but it was Vinnie who spoke. “Please forgive us, for though we are old men, we knew immediately when we met you today that you were our little Angel of the Valley. We are so happy we have found you.”
They each hugged her before they turned to leave. She stayed in the great room while Ben walked them to the door. They’d spoken only English for the last hour. Surely, they needed to tell secrets to each other in Italian again. She made a mental note to order Rosetta Stone for Italian in the morning.
Ben returned and took her in his arms. “I think we were making up before we were interrupted.”
She kissed him. “We weren’t making up; I was forgiving you for being a macho Italian man after I decided to hold you blameless for your uncles conspiring to keep secrets. When we have a fight, counselor, believe me you’ll know it.”
He took half a step back. “They say redheads have fiery tempers. I consider myself warned.”
She playfully hit his chest. “You can joke if you want. But believe me; you don’t want to see me really mad.”
He pulled her close and kissed her. “Are you hungry? How about if I change out of this suit and make dinner?”
Chapter 13
Dinner & Dancing at home
Lane had eaten chicken Spedini for lunch, but that had been hours ago. She realized she was starving. While Ben was changing, she put together a salad. It was the one thing she knew she was safe in “cooking” in Ben’s kitchen. Having grown up in the restaurant business had made Ben a great cook. Growing up Italian meant that everything was done from scratch. No frozen ingredients. No boxed pasta. No Ragu or Prego spaghetti sauce. His sauce had to simmer all day.
Lane smiled as she remembered the first and only time she had made pasta and tried to serve it to Ben. It was the first weekend after she’d brought the kids to Kansas. She had gotten Italian sausages and meatballs from Walmart Market and she had cooked boxed spaghetti and had two jars of Prego spaghetti sauce simmering in separate pots. Ben had come in through the garage and was assaulted by the smell. He casually lifted the lids and looked into each pot and pan. He shook his head.
“Lane, we don’t use boxed spaghetti, we don’t use sauce from a jar, and we don’t buy our meat from Walmart.” He had turned each burner off as he said, “I’m taking you and the kids out tonight.”
It was the first time he’d taken them to Bellini’s; and it was the last time Lane had cooked anything Italian except pizza and even then, she only made it when she was sure Ben wouldn’t be eating it.
He came from the bedroom dressed in his normal casual attire, khaki slacks, and a polo shirt. He was barefoot, and he wrapped his arms around her as she stood in front of the open refrigerator. She had just put the salad she’d thrown together in the fridge so it wouldn’t wilt.
Ben had turned on the stereo. Frank Sinatra was singing and Ben began waltzing her around his large kitchen. Who knew Ben not only was a great dancer, but that he loved to dance. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“So, counselor, where did you learn to dance?”
“It was something that Mama insisted we all learn. I think I started lessons before I could walk. She and Papa would move the furniture out of the way and dance together. When we were very small, they would hold us as they danced. When we were older, she taught all of us boys, Papa taught Marie Terese. The restaurant was closed on Mondays then, and it became our dance lesson night. We learned the waltz, fox trot, tango, to rock and roll and of course the tarantella. My brothers and I were a hit at all of the school dances. Even in junior high when most boys stood on one side of the gym and the girls stood on the other, we Bellinis crossed the demarcation line and broke the ice.”
Lane smiled as she imagined a 13-year-old Ben Bellini breaking hearts as he made a valiant attempt to waltz some prepubescent girl around a gym floor.
As the song ended, he bent her backward and kissed her. “What are you hungry for tonight, Red?” She knew he wasn’t really talking about food. It was clear from his kisses, and from the conversation they’d had last night.
Lane had no idea how desirable she was. He could tell by the way that Mickey looked at her that had he not come to his senses eight weeks ago, he’d be at risk of losing her now. He knew she’d been hurt in the past, that she’d been abandoned, and hurt by men from her father who died when she was four to the idiot she considered marrying several years ago. He was going to do everything humanly possible to ensure that no one ever hurt her again.
Much to her surprise, he opened the freezer. “I have some of Mama’s lasagna in here. Shall we heat that up?” The Bellini family had dinner together every Sunday. Even Italian families who weren’t in the restaurant business revolved around food. She knew the Bellinis got together every other month or so and made Italian sausages. The rule was if you didn’t help make the sausages, you didn’t get any sausages. Mama Bellini didn’t take pity on any of her children in this respect.
“I can put it in the oven, and we could change for a swim.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Lane gave him a quick kiss and headed to the bedroom to change.
Ben put the lasagna in the oven and set the timer for 45 minutes before changing and meeting her in the pool.
It was a lovely evening with lasagna, salad, and wine. Following dinner, they sat on patio and talked as they listened to music.
Lane mentioned that she thought she was going to give Al Edwards’ wife Babs a call and make an appointment to talk about the trust. Babs had done Lane’s will and she was someone Lane knew and trusted.
That night, there was no discussion about where Lane would sleep. She knew she’d be in Ben’s bed just as Ben knew it would be another restless night for him. Still he wouldn’t have her anywhere else. He worried about what he was going to do if this stretched beyond Friday night. Saturday, the boys would be back from visiting their father and Jess was flying in. While Lane wouldn’t be alone, the kids would also be in danger. He was mentally rearranging his house to accommodate the Parkers when his landline rang.
He answered and asked the caller to hold. He looked at Lane. “I’ll take this in the den.”
“Okay, Mickey, go ahead.” He said as he closed the door.
“I just wanted to check in. Hunter hasn’t rounded Paulson up yet. How’s Lane holding up?”
“No headache all day as far as I know. We were just getting ready to turn in.” Ben couldn’t help himself; he needed to be sure Mickey knew whose bed Lane was sleeping in. “Have you talked with Franklin?”
That Rick Springfield song played through Mick’s mind… Jessie’s Girl … “And she's watching him with those eyes … And she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it … you know I wish I had Jessie’s girl.” Yeah, he wished he had Bellini’s girl. He gave his head a shake. God what was wrong with him? He was 52 not some hormone enraged teenager.
“Yeah, he’s okay with holding off on doing her interview until after we talk to Paulson.”
“Great, give me a call as soon as you guys are able to talk with him. I need this finished before her kids get back Saturday.”
Mick cringed as he hung up. He was breaking all of the rules for a woman who barely knew he was alive probably because she was in love with another man. He shook his head. He was too old for this shit.
