Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The commander’s ex-wife lived in a redbrick Victorian row house that had been converted into apartments decades earlier. It was exactly the kind of building, in exactly the kind of street, that movie producers loved to use as a scene background. In fact—Belinda glanced around, noting the private garden facing the building—it was quite possible she’d filmed a period drama very near here.
The building was five stories tall, with the windows getting smaller the higher you went. There was also a floor below ground level, which was now a swanky apartment but had once housed the working area for the family servants. The former Mrs. Fitzwater lived on the second floor—the level boasting the largest windows, highest ceilings, and ironwork balconies.
Ryan let out a whistle. “Pricy digs for a cop’s ex-wife. We might have found an actual skeleton in this guy’s cupboard. This could have been bought with payoff money.”
“Probably best we ask some questions before jumping to conclusions,” Beast drawled.
“I’m not jumping to any conclusions,” Ryan said. “I just walked up to this door, and there they were. Seriously though, this place has to be worth millions.”
Belinda cocked her head to the side, considering. “I’d say around three million. There’s no doorman, though, and the security isn’t as good as some of the purpose-built buildings. You are close to the palace, though.”
Ryan cocked an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged.
“We looked at apartments here before we bought on the Embankment. I enjoy having a view over the river and being close to the quirkier places to eat. Oh, and the Tate Modern. This area just feels a little more built up, and I value having space around me.”
“I live in a tiny, terraced house overlooked by a high-rise apartment block and share an attic with my neighbors. So, yeah, I can see why this might be a bit suffocating,” Ryan said.
“You share your attic with David and Elle,” Beast said. “And you only have yourself to blame for that.”
“I like your house,” Belinda said. “It’s cute and homey. Sarah has a real flair for decorating.”
“I know,” Ryan said proudly as Belinda rang the bell for the right apartment. “And we do have the best gaming room in London.”
“That’s ’cause you let a hacker build it for you,” Beast said. “How much of that equipment’s from the Benson Security office?”
“What are you? The tech police?” Ryan glared at him, and he just laughed.
“Yes?” a crisp voice said over the speaker. “Who is this?”
Belinda stepped into view of the camera, smiled, and waved. “Hi, Mrs. Fitzwater, I’m Belinda Collins. I’m here with my husband, John, and my friend Ryan. I wondered if I could have a few minutes of your time to talk about your ex-husband.”
There was silence.
Belinda cast an anxious glance at Beast. “Mrs. Fitzwater?” she said hesitantly. “Are you still there? I know this is an inconvenience, and it’s getting late, but it’s really important. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be bothering you.”
“You’re Belinda Collins?” The voice was awed. “The film star?”
“I prefer actress,” Belinda said kindly. Being a celebrity had never been her motivation. All she’d ever wanted was to be the best actor possible—and maybe win a few awards. Because who doesn’t like shiny stuff? “I’m just a working stiff like everyone else.”
“Yeah,” Ryan drawled. “Only, you get twenty million a movie.”
“Not helping,” Belinda hissed at him.
“Oh my,” the woman said. “I can’t believe it’s actually you. Yes, please, come up. This is wonderful.”
There was a buzzing sound before the door clicked open.
“Second floor,” she called. “Blue door.”
They entered the wide hallway and climbed stairs framed by carved wooden banisters. By the time they reached the second floor, the blue door was open, and a beaming woman stood in its frame. She was middle-aged, small but toned, with dyed blonde hair in a ponytail on top of her head. She wore form-fitting workout clothes and expensive training shoes.
“Forgive my attire,” she said. “I was just about to meet a girlfriend at the gym for a late Zumba class.” She gestured into her apartment. “Please, come in.”
“Oh,” Belinda said. “I’m so sorry we’re holding up your appointment. I promise we won’t take up too much of your time.”
Mrs. Fitzwater waved it off. “I texted Delia, and she’s on her way here. I hope you don’t mind, but she’s such an admirer of your work, and meeting you is much more fun than Zumba.”
“Well, I don’t know; Zumba is pretty fun,” Belinda said with a smile. “And, no, I don’t mind meeting your friend.” Anything that put the woman at ease and got her to open up to them was good in her book.
The apartment had lovely high ceilings, original crown molding, tall windows, and plenty of space. Mrs. Fitzwater had decorated in a variety of creams, beiges, and pinks. From the overstuffed sofas to the pink velvet dining chairs, the place oozed charm and taste. But it was a glass vase in the center of the dining table near the window that captured Belinda’s attention.
She gasped and hurried toward it. “You have a Stephanie,” she said with undisguised awe.
The massive vase was made of delicate handblown glass. Its bowl was wide, but the rim spread out in wave shapes, and the colors… It looked like early morning sunlight had been trapped inside the glass.
“It’s so beautiful,” Belinda said softly. She glanced over her shoulder at their host and smiled, feeling strangely awkward. “I tried to buy one of her pieces at her last exhibit, but they sold out too fast. I’m on the waiting list for a private commission, but I’ve heard it takes years to get to the top. One day…”
Mrs. Fitzwater came to stand beside her. “We’ll have to see what we can do about moving you up the list.”
Belinda gasped. “You know Stephanie?”
Mrs. Fitzwater threw back her head and laughed. “I am Stephanie.”
“No!” Belinda’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?” She was suddenly tongue-tied and wondered if this was how fans felt when they met her.
“Oh, I’m quite serious.” She hooked her arm through Belinda’s and led her toward the hallway. “Boys, there’s some wine in the fridge. Do be a dear and pour some for all of us.”
Belinda glanced at Beast as she let Mrs. Fitzwater lead her away. He was definitely amused. Ryan, not so much.
“We won’t be long,” she told him, hoping it was true.
Mrs. Fitzwater led her to a room at the end of the hallway and pushed the door open. “I have a studio, of course,” she said, urging Belinda inside. “But I turned my guest room into a workspace for when I’m at home. Fortunately, there’s a small office space on the mezzanine that fits a bed, so guests still have a place to sleep. It’s not as spacious, but I think this works best for my needs. Plus, you don’t want your guest room to be too cozy, do you?”
Her smile was mischievous, and Belinda found herself blurting out her thoughts. Something she’d been schooled not to do by long, boring press tours. “You’re nothing like I expected,” she said, then blushed.
“No?” Thankfully, the woman wasn’t offended. “What were you expecting?”
“Um, someone …” Crumbs! How did she answer without offending her? “Erm, we—me, my husband, and my friend—we came to talk about your ex-husband.”
Understanding flickered in her eyes. “And you were expecting an uptight, officious little twit like the one I married?”
Belinda burst out laughing but stopped abruptly when she realized what was in the room. Floor-to-ceiling shelves contained small glass objects and sculptures, each a miniature version of the full-sized artwork she’d seen in exhibitions. A long table sat in the middle of the room, covered in sketches and color swatches. There were piles of art books under the windows and pin boards full of the most amazing and eclectic collection of photos.
“My inspiration,” Mrs. Fitzwater said, noticing the boards had caught Belinda’s attention. She gestured to the small glass pieces. “These are models for my larger works.”
Belinda’s heart raced. She wanted to examine everything. To run her fingertips over each sketch and glasswork. To soak it all up.
“I can’t believe I’m actually getting a glimpse of how you work. I am so in awe of your talent and skill, Mrs. Fitzwater, and have been for a very long time.”
The woman softened further. “My name’s Jennifer, and my friends call me Jen. I suspect you and I will definitely become friends, so please call me Jen.”
“Not Stephanie?” Belinda reached out to touch a small sculpture but froze with her hand in midair. “Sorry.”
“Not at all. Touch whatever you like. And, no, not Stephanie. I invented that name to go with my artwork. I’m just plain old Jennifer Douglas Fitzwater.”
“You kept your husband’s name after the divorce?” The glass object was like silk in her hands. The gentle curves made you want to stroke it, while the blues trapped deep inside the glass made you want to lose yourself in it.
Jen barked out a laugh, tearing Belinda’s attention from the art. “Of course I kept his name. It’s the only useful thing the man ever gave me.” A buzzer sounded down the hallway. “That will be Delia. Shall we go let her in? Then you and your companions can quiz me all you like about good old Garrison. Although we should probably open a second bottle of wine for that conversation. Trust me, we’ll need the fortification.”
Reluctantly, Belinda placed the artwork back on the shelf and followed Jen.
Delia turned out to be every bit as unexpected as Jen. The two women were smart, funny, and eager to talk about Commander Fitzwater. It didn’t take them long to settle into the comfortable sofas in the reception room, and even less time after that for their conversation to turn to Jen’s ex-husband.
“I told her he was a mistake on her wedding day,” Delia said, waving her wineglass for emphasis.
“She did.” Jen looked at her friend with fondness and a healthy dose of amusement. “I should have listened. But I was in love.” She was curled up in the corner of a sofa, eating a slice of pizza from a paper napkin.
Ryan, of course, had ordered pizzas once it became clear the women were happy to talk and that dinner would be delayed. He choked on a mouthful of food, and Beast helpfully pummeled his back, a look of glee in his eyes.
Men. Belinda mentally rolled her eyes.
“Sorry.” Ryan gulped some water. “I met Fitz this morning, and he didn’t exactly come across as the lovable type.”
Jen shrugged. “I have a thing for repressed men. I keep thinking I’ll be the one to bring them out of their shells. That my love will change them.” She scoffed. “Plus, in the beginning, he was different—caring, interested in me, courteous. Unfortunately, that soon wore off.”
“Jen made him look good,” Delia said. “She was everything he wasn’t. Sociable, friendly, outgoing, and good with people. I think he wanted a hostess wife from the fifties. Someone to smooth his path with other people.”
“I spent ten years with the man, and I’ve no idea what he wanted.” Jen picked up another slice of pizza. “And it only took a few years to realize he didn’t know me at all and had no interest in knowing me. He was always at work… or with his family. Honestly, the best thing about getting rid of Garrison was that I no longer had to spend time with his family.”
“They were disappointed that Garrison married down,” Delia said, outraged.
“I had plenty of social connections, but I didn’t have a family pedigree. No title. No pompous relatives he could name-drop in conversation. All I had was my talent and this place.” She waved a hand to indicate the apartment. “It’s been in my family for generations. My great-uncle was a butler at the palace, and he bought this place for his sister, who passed it down to her children. I’m the last one standing, and I rented it out over the years. When I separated from Garrison, I moved in here. It does help to have an address in Knightsbridge. It can open a lot of doors.”
Delia nodded. “It meant you met the people who could afford your glass.”
Jen smiled wickedly. “I do enjoy being exclusive.”
“And expensive,” Delia said with a grin.
“So,” Ryan said, “this flat has nothing to do with your ex?”
“Nope. It’s all mine.”
Ryan’s shoulders slumped. “I hoped he’d bought it with money from dodgy dealings.”
Delia snorted wine all over herself. “Sorry!” She jumped up and grabbed some napkins. “Sorry I made a mess, but that’s hilarious.”
“Garrison’s too superior and persnickety to do anything dodgy,” Jen said.
“He irons his underwear.” Delia burst out laughing.
“How much wine have you had?” Jen asked with a look of amusement.
“Not enough if we’re talking about Fitz.” Delia went to refill her glass.
Belinda leaned forward. “Jen, there has to be something you can tell us that will help. He’s trying to railroad our friends and family because of this grudge he has against Lake Benson. We think he’s even going as far as illegally accessing Benson Security’s server to dig up evidence he can use to put our people in jail.”
Jen shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t do that.” She looked at Delia. “Tell them.”
“She’s right. There’s no way he’d do something that illegal.”
“I’ve known him for seventeen years,” Jen said. “He’d never jeopardize his job for a grudge.”
“You think he doesn’t hold grudges?” Ryan said. “Because I can tell you it sure looked like that’s what he was doing when he stormed our office this morning.”
“Oh, he holds grudges.” Jen swept stray hair from her brow. “But he’s not a crusader—vengeful or otherwise. He’s more… petty.”
Delia nodded. “He’s more likely to use his family connections to try to ruin Benson Security’s reputation than go after a conviction that would be difficult to get.”
Belinda sat back on the sofa next to Jen, feeling discouraged and a little useless. It was clear the commander’s ex-wife couldn’t tell them anything useful. It was another dead end.
“So, he’s a Boy Scout,” Ryan said in disgust. Clearly as frustrated as Belinda.
“I didn’t say that.” Jen frowned. “Just that he’s no master criminal. Garrison definitely isn’t squeaky clean, but the only times he’s crossed any lines have been when he’s dealt with problems for his family. Even then, we’re talking about getting rid of traffic violations or having minor charges dropped.”
“Like when his father was pulled over for driving drunk,” Delia said helpfully.
“Yes. Things like that. He smooths the way for his family if it’s within his power to do so.”
“Not exactly blackmail material.” Ryan threw up his hands in defeat.
Jen and Delia shared a look that made the hairs on the back of Belinda’s neck stand on end.
“What is it?” She placed a hand on Jen’s arm. “We don’t want to put you in a difficult position, so we understand if you can’t say anything. But if you can tell us something that might help, we’d really appreciate it. We’re desperate.”
The women shared another look, and Jen squirmed a little. Belinda found herself holding her breath.
“If you want blackmail material,” Jen said, “you’re looking at the wrong Fitzwater.”
Ryan sat forward. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just gossip and rumors,” Delia said. “We don’t know for sure.”
“All I’ve seen is Garrison doing favors for him. Nothing big, you understand, but there are the rumors…” Jen shifted uncomfortably.
“I promise we won’t go on a witch hunt based on rumors,” Belinda said. “We’re just trying to figure out what’s happening here, and anything you can tell us would help.”
Jen looked at Belinda and sighed. “It’s his cousin. He’s the one the family protects the most. They’ve always had high hopes that he’ll elevate the family name, and now, with his upcoming wedding, it seems those hopes will be realized. If Garrison’s doing anything untoward, it will be to protect his younger cousin.”
“With the Fitzwaters,” Delia said, “reputation is everything, and his cousin is the golden boy.”
“Unfortunately, Darian is the pinnacle of Fitzwater evolution,” Jen said. “Smart, entitled, and pretty. I’m sure he’ll go far.” Her tone was unimpressed.
Belinda squeezed Jen’s arm. “I know that wasn’t easy. Thank you.”
Jen pushed her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and climbed off the sofa. “Why don’t we see about moving you up my waiting list before you go?”
Delight rushed through Belinda, and it must have shown on her face because Jen beamed at her.
“Let’s go to my workroom while the boys clean up,” Jen said.
“I’m not a boy.” Delia stood, a little wobbly on her feet. “I get to come with you.”
“Yes, you do.” Belinda took her arm to steady her as they walked back down the hallway.
Behind her, Ryan spoke softly into his phone. No doubt telling Julia that the person they needed to investigate was Darian Fitzwater.