Chapter 31
Tori followed Richard into his spacious office and glanced around.
A soothing blue color had replaced the drab gray walls she remembered, and plantation blinds covered the windows instead of heavy wine-colored drapes.
She eyed the bold abstract painting over the sofa—that was new as well, since she definitely would’ve remembered it.
Tori turned to him. “You’ve redecorated.”
Richard flicked his gaze around the room and shrugged. “Stephanie said it needed updating.” He nodded toward the colorful abstract. “I haven’t gotten used to that yet.”
Tori tilted her head, studying the painting. “I like it.”
He sat behind his desk that hadn’t changed. “You would. You’re young,” Richard said dryly and motioned for her to have a seat.
She sat in the chair across from him. It didn’t take a detective to figure out all might not be well in paradise. Tori hoped she was wrong. She’d liked Stephanie in spite of her initial misgivings that she might be interested in Richard for his money.
Her gaze went to the photos on the wall behind him. Large, beautifully framed individual portraits of Richard and his brother, Walter. Both of them handsome men, and judging by their age and clothing, the photos must have been taken several years before Walter was killed.
“I see you still have those.” She nodded toward the portraits.
He followed her gaze. “Again, Stephanie. She thought we ought to keep them.”
Richard’s voice was flat, unemotional. Puzzling. He’d asked her here to discuss the case, but maybe he’d had second thoughts. With some people, Tori danced around a subject before asking the hard questions. She didn’t think that would work with Richard Livingston. “What—”
“Where—”
She should’ve waited another few seconds. “You go first.”
“Okay.” He leaned forward and rested his hands on the desk, interlocking his fingers. “Where do you stand on the Prescott case?”
“Are you talking about your brother’s case? Because the Prescott case is solved. He did not kill your brother and is a free man trying to restart his life. Right now he’s trying to find his daughter, who would be in her late thirties now.”
He slowly nodded. “I heard the interview. His ex-wife won’t reveal the daughter’s location?”
“She’s dead. Cancer.”
A small wince crossed his face. Richard leaned back in his leather chair and steepled his fingers. “Are you 100 percent sure he didn’t kill my brother?”
“Yes. And so is the judicial system.”
He sighed and looked out the window before turning back to her. “Then the Memphis police will be looking for whoever killed him. Hopefully.”
She nodded. “And I plan to help find him . . . or her, in any way I can.”
His brow lowered. “You think it could be a woman?”
“Why not? Was your brother involved with anyone at the time of his death?”
“No.”
“You seem sure of that.”
He shrugged. “I knew my brother.”
“Do you know if he had enemies?”
“Of course he did. You don’t get to where we were in the business world without making enemies, but the police never followed up that angle.”
“No, they thought they had their man in Huey Prescott after a tip to their hotline accused him of the murder.”
“Well, his prints were found in my brother’s condo, and Prescott had prior drug arrests—which didn’t do him any good at the trial.”
Both had been a problem—Prescott didn’t remember ever being in the condo. But he didn’t remember a lot of things from that time due to the drugs.
Another problem had been a burglary ring working Walter’s neighborhood just prior to his death. Prescott had admitted to being involved in the ring so it was possible he’d broken into Walter’s condo.
“The police never looked at anyone else,” she said, “mainly because they believed Prescott did it even though he didn’t have gunshot residue on his hands or clothes.”
“It was days later when he was arrested for Walter’s death. The residue would’ve been long gone.”
It was clear Richard didn’t believe in Prescott’s innocence. She leaned forward. “He didn’t do it.”
“Yeah, so you say.”
“Why do you doubt it?”
“Because if he didn’t do it, the killer is still out there.”
She studied Richard. His matter-of-fact attitude about his brother’s death could be because of the twenty-two years since it happened. “Tell me about your brother. My research shows he was instrumental in starting the Livingston Oil Corporation.”
Richard’s lip twitched. “Yeah, he put the up-front money in, but it was my hard work and long hours that kept us afloat. I’m the one who ran the oil company and dealt with the wholesalers.
He just collected deposits from the laundromats and convenience stores until Val took part of the load.
Walter was the pretty face of the business. ”
Maybe Richard harbored a little jealousy?
“Sorry.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.
“That sounded petty, but he would’ve been the first to tell you he didn’t like to roll up his sleeves and do the hard work—he was into wearing expensive suits and driving BMWs.
My brother liked to project the image of a successful businessman with the Midas touch. ”
Tori rarely remembered Richard in anything other than the style he wore today—stone chinos paired with a long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves pushed up almost to his elbows.
He wore the younger style well. Again, she had the impression he worked out—no belly, and while she couldn’t see his biceps, judging from his broad shoulders, he had decent muscles.
His wry chuckle drew her attention. “What?”
“He would hate what I’m wearing. Would say I’m dressing too young, but in today’s business world, youth sells.”
Richard had caught her checking him out, and there was that slight undertone of sibling rivalry again. “Do you have any opinions on who might have killed your brother?”
“Other than Prescott? That question has kept me awake at night since the state indicated they planned to release him.” He leveled his gaze at her. “You’ve studied the case. Who do you think did it?”
She sat back in the chair. “Someone who had a lot to gain from his death.”
“I’m sure you already know I gained control of the company at his death, but it wasn’t me.”
“Did anyone else gain from his death?”
“My ex-wife, Eli’s mother.”
“Valerie?” Tori had known her all her life. “I don’t see her killing Walter. She’s too . . .”
“Refined?” He snorted. “That’s what most people think. I happen to know a different side of her—she’ll do whatever it takes to get what she wants.”
That, Tori knew from experience, but she still didn’t see her shooting Walter. “I suppose. I’ve heard you really never know someone until you share an inheritance with them.”
“Or a divorce.” Bitterness oozed from his voice.
“How did Valerie gain from Walter’s death?”
“He left her 20 percent of his shares.”
“But you retained control of the company?” Tori made a mental note to set up an appointment with Valerie.
“Yes. And to change the subject . . . how did Drew’s interview with Sheriff Logan go?”
“You knew—”
“You should know not much happens around here that I don’t know about.”
“The meeting was brief—Ben didn’t arrest him.” Although Tori didn’t believe Ben bought Drew’s story any more than she had. Tori sighed. “I don’t see how anyone could think Drew would kill Jenny. He loved her like a mother.”
“Jenny was special,” he said.
“Exactly how long had she worked for you?”
“Ben asked me that the other day, and I had Donna look it up. In June it would’ve been eight years.”
“Do you mind if I take notes?”
“Not at all.”
Tori could easily remember what Richard had told her about Walter, but she wanted to make sure she took everything down that he said about Jenny.
She took a notepad from her purse. Like Ben, she was old school, mostly because people were suspicious of tablets—they were afraid you were recording them. “Everyone liked her?”
He nodded. “She was a great asset, although this past year, she was preoccupied with something.”
“Did you ask her about it?”
“No. She was a very private person, and it didn’t affect her job performance. I learned a long time ago, if it’s not broke, don’t fix it.”
“Was she close to anyone here?”
He thought a minute. “Donna, maybe . . . and Valerie.”
She jotted the names down, pausing on Valerie’s name, surprised that Jenny had counted her a friend. Tori had never known Valerie to befriend anyone, but maybe she’d changed in the last few years. “What exactly was Jenny’s job?”
“Bookkeeper—she had an accounting degree and tallied the receipts for the laundromats and convenience stores against the deposits. But she did more than that. She kept us straight with the government, both state and federal—the woman was brilliant.”
“Where was her office?”
“Down the hall in Walter’s old office.”
Immediately Tori’s mind went to the dark side. What if Jenny had discovered something in Walter’s office that pointed to his killer? “Could I take a look?”
He questioned her with his eyes. “The police went over the room already. There’s nothing to find.”
“I figured they had, but I’d still like to see it—a person’s space tells a lot about them. I’d like to know what Jenny thought was important. In fact, I’d like to see her house too.”
“I can’t help you with the house, but if you want to see her office, Donna will show you where it is.” He punched in a number on his phone and asked his secretary to join them.
Donna entered the room seconds after he hung up. “Yes, sir?” Richard explained what Tori wanted. “Right now?”
“Unless you have something else you need to do,” Tori said.
“No, it’s fine.” Donna checked her watch. “I have plenty of time before lunch.”
“Thank you.” Tori smiled at her. Earlier, the secretary had been about to tell her something when Richard arrived.
If she invited Donna to have lunch with her, perhaps she could ferret out whatever it was.
She started to invite her but something held Tori back.
No, she would wait until they were alone.
She stood and held out her hand to Richard. “Thank you for seeing me today. Perhaps I can drop in again, maybe discuss what I learn, if I learn anything?”
He stood, and his somber gaze held hers, then he took her hand. “Prescott’s release blindsided me, but I definitely want to stay in the loop.”
“Of course.” Her heart faltered, and she hoped it didn’t show in her face. Something about the way Richard spoke . . .
Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. The quote from Michael Corleone in The Godfather rang in her mind. But why?