34. Sean
SEAN
S ince Lowri texted, I can’t stop smiling. It’s hard to explain. Something’s missing when we’re apart. Who knew a temporary wife would make me this happy?
Wife? What a bizarre concept. She is sizzling hot.
It’s no wonder I’m looking forward to her company, and after all, it’s not a permanent arrangement, so it’s not like I’m stuck married forever.
Effectively, I get the best of everything for now—a perfect companion, a savvy lawyer, and mind-blowing sex with no long-term strings.
What else could I want?
A knock on the door grabs my attention. “Come in.”
“I wanted to check in with you before I leave for the day. Do you need anything?” Emily asks.
“I don’t think so. Lowri’s on her way here. She found additional info about Mr. Brentwood’s fall.”
“What did she figure out?” Emily asks, looking concerned.
“I’m not sure yet. Hopefully, we’ll get to the bottom of this soon. We can’t reopen the show until we’re certain there won’t be more accidents.”
“I’m good with details. I’d be happy to stick around to help.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll let you know tomorrow if we need you to follow up on anything.”
“I don’t mind staying,” she insists.
“I appreciate your dedication but not another word. Go home. Your days here are already long enough. We’ve got this. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, motioning for her to head out. I’m fortunate to have an assistant as efficient and loyal as Emily. I try not to take advantage of her time.
As my office door shuts, the whirring of the elevator signals Lowri’s imminent arrival. I’d stand up to greet her except there’s a rapidly increasing tightness in my trousers that I’d rather not show off when we’re supposed to be discussing business. Too bad we can’t start with dessert.
I shift in my chair, seeking a comfortable position while staring intently at the contract I’m supposed to be reviewing. Nothing will deflate an untimely problem as fast as the details of a supply agreement for gaming chips.
A ding sounds as the doors open. My head instinctively pops up. Lowri’s wide smile mirrors mine as we lock eyes.
“I brought my laptop to show you what I found. Is now a good time, or do you need a few minutes to finish what you’re working on?” Lowri asks, sashaying toward me.
“Now’s good. Join me around here, so we can both see the screen on your computer,” I say, as I stand to greet her.
Lowri sets her tote bag on top of my desk and melts into my arms for a warm hug. Taking a deep breath, my lungs fill with the welcome scent of orange blossoms. Mmm. She’s enchanting and addictive.
When we separate, I give her a quick peck on the forehead.
“Before we get sidetracked, tell me what you figured out. Have you solved the mystery as to how the tree’s platform collapsed?” I ask.
“Not exactly. I noticed a common thread between the earlier accidents though.”
She pulls her laptop out, setting it on my desk.
I’m instantly distracted as she bends over her keyboard to log in. My fingers wander to her inner thigh, inching her skirt up. There are real advantages to being married to your lawyer. It’s acceptable to cross lines that would be forbidden otherwise.
Sadly, her left hand reaches for my wrist and yanks it away. “Not now. There’ll be time for that later. We have work to do. Don’t you want to find out why there have been so many accidents?”
“Sorry about that. You are too tempting. What did you figure out?” I ask, clasping my hands on my desk, attempting to keep them off her for the moment.
“Let me show you the video clips. Here’s the first one,” she says as a video pops up on the screen.
“What am I looking for?”
“They’re getting ready to rehearse the first scene with the fireworks. Watch closely as they finish the setup of the sparklers at the back. Tell me what you see,” she says, hitting play.
“Performers are milling around the stage. Some are clustered in small groups chatting. I count six crew members working on props near the back of the stage.”
“How do you know they are crew?”
“The crew always wear navy shirts with the Athena logo across the back.”
Pausing the video, Lowri zooms in and points to a person in navy, wearing dark glasses and a baseball cap. “Keep an eye on this spot.”
“Okay.” The video resumes. The crew finishes their adjustments, and the rehearsal begins.
As the music builds, dancers leap across the stage and the pyrotechnic fountains, called gerbs, go off, producing plumes of sparks. The effect is dramatic.
Staring at the spot Lowri pointed out, the effect quickly changes from dramatic to scary.
A bush nearby the gerb catches fire and goes up in flames as a dancer cartwheels past. The dancer falls to the ground, ripping off his burning sock.
Screaming ensues, the crew runs out with fire extinguishers, and the pyrotechnic fountains burn out—all this happens within a span of about twenty seconds.
“Damn. Why was the bush so close to the sparks in the first place?” I ask.
“I doubt it was supposed to be. As you can see, the bushes in front of the other fountains of sparks are further away. Now, let’s look at the other two accidents we know about. The next video shows the wall before and during the fall.”
“Is that the same crew member working on the wall who was near the fireworks earlier?”
“I think so. Now, take a look at this last video.”
Lowri pops it up, pointing to the screen. “See that person checking the vines. Isn’t that the same baseball-capped person who was in the other videos?”
“I think so.”
“This final video is from the day of the show we attended. The last vine they checked was the one that ripped and sprained the ankle of the performer. The baseball-capped person is a common thread between the accidents. They were present immediately before each of the mishaps occurred. I suspect they either carelessly or purposefully caused each one.”
“Is there any evidence it was intentional?”
“The main evidence is that it’s the same person. It’s hard to believe one person would repeatedly be that careless or that there would be so many coincidences. It’s suspicious.”
“Was this same person near the tree that killed Mr. Brentwood?”
“We don’t know. The tree was stored backstage. The videos I’ve seen don’t show it before the crew rolled it onto the stage. Can you find out if there are cameras backstage that cover that area?”
“I’ll check with IT. We’ll also track Ron down tomorrow to see if he can identify the crew member in the baseball cap.”
“Great.”
“Excellent work. Hopefully, we’ll soon know who caused the accidents and who’s to blame for the untimely death of our guest.”
“There’s one more thing. I don’t think Mr. Galanis’s attorney is who he says he is.”
“What?”
“The only Taylor Williams who’s an attorney in Las Vegas is a woman.”
“He must be from somewhere else then.”
“That’s unlikely. I didn’t find any attorney in the U.S. with that name who looks like him. There’s a chance he’s not an attorney at all.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Why would someone impersonate a lawyer?”
“The simplest answer is that Mr. Galanis couldn’t afford a lawyer and talked a friend into helping him approach you. The other explanations are more sinister.”
“How’s that?”
“Mr. Galanis may not be the heir. I found photos on social media of him with Amelia. She’s one of your performers. I didn’t find any photos of him with Mr. Brentwood though. At a minimum, that’s curious.”
“He gave us a copy of the will. Do you think it’s fake?”
“I’m not sure but plan to find out. Were you able to arrange the call with Detective Fielder? We need a copy of Mr. Brentwood’s driver’s license to compare with the signature on the will.”
“I spoke with him briefly. He didn’t have time for a meeting, so I gave him a summary of what we’ve learned so far.
He agreed to email me a copy of Brentwood’s license by tomorrow.
In the meantime, I’ll have security use their high-tech facial recognition software to see if they can find a match for Mr. Williams. Let’s hope they can shed light on who the attorney really is. ”
“How? We don’t have a photo of him.”
“We have video from the conference room this morning. They can extract a single frame that shows his face. While you shut down your computer, I’ll give them a call. I can ask about the backstage videos we want to see too.”
“Sounds good. I’ll sit down while you call. My feet are aching,” she says, starting to pick up her laptop to move away.
I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her down onto my lap. “That was rude of me not to offer you my lap sooner. We were so engrossed in the videos that I didn’t realize how long you’ve been standing,” I say, reaching down to pull off her sky-high heels and massage the arches of her feet.
“Oh. That feels good.” She moans.
“Hold that thought while I call security.”
“Sure.”
I leave a lengthy voicemail for Daniel, which gives me a minute to talk myself out of what I’m about to do.
It doesn’t work. I want this, so I return to rubbing Lowri’s sore feet and say, “I have an idea.”
“Whatever do you have in mind?” She gives a little wiggle of her hips against my legs.
“I’d originally planned to bend you over this desk and show you who’s boss. Now, a slower, more drawn-out approach is in order.”
“I wouldn’t mind your first idea, but if you’ve changed your mind, should we go back to your apartment?”
My decision made, I stand, setting her bare feet on the ground. Keeping my arm around her waist, I turn us to face the wall behind my desk.
“No need to go upstairs. See that trophy on the bookshelf to the left.”
“Yes.”
Easing my hold on her, I say, “If you don’t mind, lift it off the metal base.”
She does, and I press my thumb on the nameplate below my favorite painting that’s hanging within arm’s reach.
She gasps as the wall pops open, revealing a narrow entrance.
Lowri peers into the secret room, asking, “What’s in there?”