The Detective's Dilemma. Arlene JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
And how would you describe me?”
Beth knew she was being audacious and didn’t care. “Personable. Sexy. Drop-dead gorgeous.”
His mouth dropped open. Then he coolly folded his arms and swept his gaze over her, up and down and up again. She was breathless by the time he said, “Not even my friends would describe me as personable.” Amusement laced his tone. “I like my privacy too well for that.”
“Do you?” Beth said, swaying close again. “I can understand that.”
His dark eyes were focused intensely on hers, so compelling that she sensed, rather than saw, his smile. Then abruptly he pulled back again. “I bet you can. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t find the name Maitland somewhere in my daily newspaper.”
She wrinkled her nose, disappointed. “You get used to it after a while. Sort of.”
He shook his head and broke the eye contact. “Not me. The press are all over this one, and it’s driving me nuts.”
She winced and rushed to apologize. “Look, I’m sorry about that. She really didn’t do it on purpose, you know. They were going on and on about it, and she just sort of threw it out there.”
His smooth, copper brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“My mother. She gave your names to the press, yours and Detective Jester’s.”
Ty chuckled. “Ms. Maitland, the press has had my name and number for years. Your mother may have saved some newshound an extra phone call to find out who was handling the investigation, but that’s all. Trust me on this.”
Beth laughed. “Oh, I’m so glad. I was afraid we’d caused you all kinds of trouble.”
“You have,” he said flatly.
“Oh.” Properly chastised—or at least pretending to be—she bowed her head, looking at him from beneath her brows.
“But not on purpose,” he admitted. “I know that. Comes with the Maitland territory, I guess.”
“I’m afraid it does,” she answered unapologetically.
He nodded and straightened, bringing his hands to his hips once more. “Listen,” he said after a moment of intense silence, “I don’t want you to worry. We’ll get to the truth.”
“I’m not worried, I’m angry,” she declared feelingly. “At first I just couldn’t believe Brandon would do this to me, that he’d go this far. Now…” She looked at Ty openly, needing an answer. “He killed her, didn’t he? He killed her to frame me.”
Ty shook his head. “Ms. Maitland, we have no proof of that.”
“Beth,” she corrected automatically.
“What?”
“Call me Beth. There are a number of Ms. Maitlands. I’m Beth.”
He shook his head again and picked up his thought. “We have no proof that Brandon Dumont killed his wife, and you’re not to go around telling people that he did—or even that I suspect him of framing you for the murder. That will only alert him to the focus of our investigation and give him a chance to more deeply bury his trail. Do you understand, Ms. Maitland?”
“Beth,” she repeated, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand.
“Do you understand what I just told you, Beth?”
Pleased, she answered him primly. “Yes, I do, Ty.” She leaned forward slightly. “I may call you Ty, may I not?”
His lips twitched with what could have been a smile. “I suppose so.”
The light of interest fairly smoldered in his eyes, but he was working hard to suppress it. She didn’t want him to suppress it. She wanted just the opposite. Placing both hands on the tabletop, she leaned closer still. “Now who’s unapproachable?” she teased huskily. “I don’t think you’re unapproachable. I think you’re a blasted magnet.”
A slow grin spread across his face, and he leaned down, bringing his nose close to hers and flanking her hands with his. “And I suppose there’s iron beneath that sweet, feminine exterior of yours.”
“Must be,” she murmured, feeling breathless, as if he might be about to kiss her. When his gaze dropped to her mouth, she felt a surge of exultation and tilted her head. Suddenly the door opened, and Paul Jester breezed in.
Ty jerked back from her as if she’d suddenly developed an offending odor. She glared at Jester and barely restrained herself from stamping her foot. Jester sent a surprised look between the two of them and quickly closed the door.
“Uh… I, uh, I got the Velasquez statement.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Ty said smoothly. He tapped his lower lip with his forefinger and turned to face his partner, face totally expressionless.
Beth could only marvel. He did that so well, covered so smoothly. It was like a mask that he could produce at will. She, on the other hand, was all too transparent, blatant even. She wondered what he thought of that.
“What do you think?” Ty asked Paul, ignoring her.
Paul glanced at Beth and carefully hedged. “About Velasquez? Uh, we’ll have to check out a few things.”
“You can speak freely, Detective Jester,” Beth said, folding her arms. She glanced at Ty at the same time Jester did and added, “I’ve been given to understand that I’m no longer an actual suspect.”
Jester lifted both eyebrows at Ty. “Yeah?”
For the first time, Ty appeared a tad flustered. He licked his lips, then said, “Let’s say…not the chief suspect.”
Jester split another gauging look between them, accepted the obvious and shrugged. “I didn’t get much out of her,” he said baldly. “She just kept saying that Ms. Maitland called often, sounded mad and stopped by sometimes to shout at everyone. She couldn’t remember dates, and she kept apologizing, saying she didn’t want to hurt Ms. Maitland but couldn’t help it.” He looked at Beth. “She begged me to help you, says she knows you’re a good woman.” He addressed Ty. “I can’t help feeling that he’s got something on her.”
Ty looked at Beth. “What about that? You know any reason Ms. Velasquez could be coerced to give testimony against you?”
“It could have to do with Frankie,” Beth suggested.
“Her son?” Jester clarified.
“Yes. I know Brandon helped him enter the country once after he’d been deported. I don’t know how Brandon worked it. I just know that Letitia was weeping and thanking him one day. Her English was all jumbled together with Spanish, but it was all about Frankie. I know that.”
“Okay. That’s where we’ll start then,” Ty said.
“Maybe I should go with you,” Beth suggested quickly. “My Spanish is pretty good, and—”
“No.” It was a flat refusal, no room for compromise, and it hit her as patently unfair. It was her neck in the noose, after all.
“But—”
“No,” he repeated. “Officially, you’re still a suspect. I can’t let you tag along on an investigation. Jester will take care of the Velasquez question.”
“What about you?” she demanded.
He slid his hands into his pants pockets. “I want to take a look at Brianne Dumont’s background.”
“She had some socially prominent friends,” Beth pointed out quickly. “I could—”
“No!” Ty reiterated strongly.
Beth felt like a little girl being scolded for requesting a cookie. She shot