Runaway Heiress. Jennifer MoreyЧитать онлайн книгу.
would the killer come after me like that?” she asked. “I thought I was safe here.”
“Shh,” Steven said. “Get some rest.”
Jasper had to agree the killer going after her seemed extreme. And why would more than one? There had been two in that car.
Jasper refrained from asking why she had to be safe. He’d like to question Sadie without her esteemed security head in the room.
“We’ll discuss the case in detail once I’ve had a chance to review the file,” he said.
“I hope you have better luck than the San Francisco police,” Sadie said.
“If I relied on luck I wouldn’t be working for DAI,” Jasper said.
Her exhausted eyes found his and he felt her appreciation. “That’s nice to hear, Mr. Roesch. It’s upsetting to think Bernie’s murder will go unsolved. He was so dear to me.” Sadie paused, seeming to fall into thoughts of the dead man, who clearly was someone close to her. Did she get close to all of her homeless people or did only a few stand out?
“He had so much going for him,” she gave him a hint by saying. “Not every homeless person is as successful as he would have been. He was so close to starting a new life.”
And now whoever had killed him may have a reason to stop her from hiring an agency like DAI to investigate his murder.
“Who knew you were going to hire DAI services?” he asked.
“Just Steven. He talks to the police in San Francisco for me and comes to meet me occasionally.”
For her? “Do you mean he’s taken over keeping in contact with the police?”
“Yes.”
“That’s true now,” Steven interjected, “But at first Sadie badgered the police to work harder on his case.”
“And you think they didn’t like the badgering?” Why had she withdrawn from her badgering? Why hand that task over to Steven? Was it a rich woman thing or would the answer tell him more about her reclusiveness?
“No. We thought she’d be safer if she let me look into things.”
There was that hypersensitivity to safety again. He’d table that for a while. “Have you told anyone? Talked to anyone about the murder? Friends? Family?”
She stared at him as though thinking it an unusual question. “No.”
“You don’t talk to anyone other than Steven?” No one?
She looked up at the ceiling in thought and then back at him when something must have come to her. “I did tell my friends at The University Club. And my household staff all know.”
He’d check all of them out when he arrived at her house. “University Club? What is that?”
“It’s a women-only club in London,” Steven said. “She flies there almost every month.”
“What about closer to home?”
“I live in a very remote area near Jackson Hole. I do go to the golf club, but I’m not close to anyone there. I belong to an online social club and have gotten a little chatty with one of the other members.”
As wealthy as she was, he wasn’t surprised she belonged to elite groups, but an online social club sounded more mainstream.
“What kind of social club?”
“Dating. It’s a special interest group, not only for the purpose of dating. I meet people who like to hike, that sort of thing.”
“And you’ve met a man on this site?”
She nodded.
“Would that person have any reason to stop you from investigating Bernie’s murder?”
She breathed a laugh and then winced, digging her head back into the pillow in pain.
“Easy, Sadie.” Steven put his hand on her arm again, catching the edge of her hospital gown and moving it down her shoulder a fraction, revealing part of the bandage on her chest.
“No,” she said to Jasper. “I haven’t even met him yet.”
“Would he have any other reason to go after you?”
She rolled her head from side to side, a silent response.
“What about events? Dates? Anything like that?”
“I attend all of my fund-raiser events. That keeps me very busy.”
“Anyone come to mind at any of those who might be worth checking out?”
She thought awhile. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“We’ll look into that more later. Right now, you should get some rest like your friend here suggested. You have a long road ahead of you for recovery. We’ll head to your place as soon as you’re released.”
Sadie’s brow creased slightly. “We?”
“I’ll require a room close to where you sleep.” He wouldn’t negotiate this part. DAI had a strong policy on client safety.
“Where...what are you saying? You’re going home with me?”
“Somebody almost succeeded in killing you, Ms. Moreno. Long-distance comms aren’t going to work.” Something much more up close and personal was her only option. “That’s nonnegotiable.”
As her incredible eyes softened into acquiescence, he almost dreaded what would happen when she regained her strength.
* * *
Sadie lived in the Tetons, soaring rocky peaks and steep forested slopes her view from every window of her English fairy-tale home. Landscaping painted the property near the house. The manicured lawns and gardens would be spectacular in the warmer months ahead. A ten-foot stone fence looked to surround the estate and a heavy iron gate prevented entry until the guard on duty recognized Sadie and let them onto the property. So far so good. He liked what he saw. No one had followed them, either.
He drove Sadie’s Ferrari up the gravel driveway to a turning circle and gawked at the oolitic limestone mansion. He sat in the car and stared. With sash windows running the length of two stories and two turrets, he could have traveled through time to the old English countryside of Cotswold. Still transfixed with the Ferrari engine purring, he heard Sadie stir on the seat beside him. Weak as a kitten, the trip home had taxed her.
He climbed out from the low seat and went around to Sadie’s side. She’d managed to get the door open but now cringed in pain.
“Let me help you.” Jasper slipped his arms beneath her and alighted her from the car. She winced and put her forehead against his shoulder. He could imagine the kind of pain she was in.
As he approached the wood double doors, one of them opened and a man stepped out onto a stone porch that extended to the driveway with gardens surrounding it. Not a tall man, or large, he had a butler look to him with expressionless eyes, neatly combed-back thick brown hair and an unsmiling mouth. He wore tan slacks and a white dress shirt and had a radio clipped to his belt. He allowed Jasper to enter.
Inside, Jasper stepped onto a marble-floored entry with a waiting room off to one side.
“Right this way, Mr. Roesch,” the man said. “I’m the estate manager, Finley.”
No introductions necessary, Jasper mused. “Hello, Finley.”
They entered the main living area, a large walnut-paneled room partially open to the second floor. The coffered ceiling contained ornate insets and the trim held equal detail. A curvy ivory sofa and chairs around a large square cocktail ottoman brightened up the room.
“What kind of electronic security does she have here?” he asked as he followed the man up a turreted stone