Chapter 23
“Is this the first time you’ve seen the victim?” Detective Sanchez asked Billy.
Billy was sitting at Damian’s dining room table, across from Sanchez, his partner Detective Jensen, and their boss Captain Warner Wilson.
“Second time,” Billy said. “The first was last night.”
“And where was that?”
Billy told them about the incident at the party.
Captain Wilson perked up. “Did you just say the victim was thrown into the same pool last night as the one she was found in tonight?”
“No, I did not,” Billy said.
Wilson snorted. “Yes, you did. I heard you.”
“What I said was that the victim was the one who threw someone in the pool.”
“It is what he said, Captain,” Detective Sanchez confirmed.
Wilson shot his detective a glare before returning his attention to Billy. “Who was the other person?”
Billy decided he didn’t need to hand the police everything, so he shrugged. “I don’t know. That was the first time I saw her, too.”
Wilson threw out a few more questions but quickly lost interest in Billy.
Ben went next, followed by Peter. When Peter was done, it was Ronan’s turn.
“Just tell the truth but don’t offer more than they ask,” Billy whispered to him.
Ronan nodded.
“Are we free to go?” Ben asked the detectives.
Sanchez nodded. “We’ll call you if we need anything else.”
As soon as Ronan and the police were gone, Damian said, “I am so sorry about tonight. We didn’t even get a chance to talk.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry about,” Billy said.
“Would you be open to having lunch tomorrow? My treat.”
“Damian, we will join you for a meal anytime you want,” Ben said.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You’d quickly tire of my company.”
“Not a chance.”
“How about we just do the one meal tomorrow,” Billy said. “Lunch would be great.”
“I’ll text you a location,” Damian said. “Say one p.m.?”
“Perfect.”
Several minutes later, Billy, Peter, and Ben were back in Ben’s car, waiting for the automatic gate on Damian’s driveway to swing open.
Before it was even halfway open, the area just beyond the gate lit up with an unyielding staccato of camera flashes.
Ben guided the vehicle through a crowd of photographers and videographers amassed to either side of the entrance, then hit the gas and sped away.
“Someone must have tipped off the paparazzi,” Peter said.
“My money’s on Captain Wilson,” Billy said.
Ever since his interview, Billy had been trying to figure out Wilson’s angle. Now it seemed so obvious. The guy was a glory hound who saw a dead body at the home of a Hollywood legend as a means of putting himself in the spotlight.
“He was kind of weird,” Ben said.
“Agreed,” Peter said.
Thankfully, none of the press followed them, and soon they arrived back at their house.
As they climbed out of their car, Tessa stepped outside, wearing a mischievous grin. “You have a visitor, Billy.”
“I do?”
“I take it you weren’t expecting anyone.”
“You take it correctly. Who is it?”
Tessa smiled playfully and walked back inside without answering.
“Rude,” Peter said.
“Hey, that’s my wife,” Ben said.
“Still rude.”
“Fair point.”
“Did you make a lady friend at the party that you didn’t tell us about?” Peter asked Billy.
“Not to my knowledge,” Billy said.
They entered the house to find a man sitting on the couch. He stood and turned to face them.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Lance Cabot, the director of the CIA.
“So, not a lady friend,” Ben said.
“Definitely not,” Peter said.
Ben and Peter had crossed paths with Lance a few times over the years, mainly when he dropped in on Peter’s father unexpectedly. Billy’s relationship with the director was more extensive and complicated.
“What are you doing here, Lance?” Billy asked.
“I was in town and thought I’d drop in on a friend,” Lance replied.
“You have friends here?”
Peter took a backward step toward the hallway. “I think I’m going to go find my wife.”
“She’s in the studio,” Tessa said.
“In that case, maybe I’ll read in bed,” Peter said, making a quick exit.
“Tessa,” Ben said. “Perhaps we should…”
“What?”
“Make ourselves scarce.”
“And miss all the excitement?”
“Something tells me Billy and Lance would like a little privacy.”
Tessa frowned. “Oh, all right.” She reluctantly followed Ben toward the bedrooms, then stopped and looked back. “If things get physical, try not to destroy anything. Remember, this isn’t our house.”
“No promises,” Billy said, his gaze still on Lance.
As soon as Ben and Tessa were gone, Lance walked to the liquor cabinet. “Something to drink, Teddy?” He paused and looked back. “Is it all right if I call you that here?”
“If you must, and I’ll pass.”
Lance helped himself to a glass of wine. “You’re sure?”
“You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“Which question was that?”
“The only one I’ve asked.”
“Ah, why am I here,” Lance said.
“That’s the one.”
“I thought I answered it already.”
Teddy glared at him, unamused.
“How did things go with the police tonight?” Lance asked as he returned to the couch and sat.
“That’s why you’re here?” Teddy wasn’t surprised in the least that Lance knew about that evening’s events.
“Not at all. That was me making conversation.”
“If you’re not going to get to the point, I’m going to bed, and you can see yourself out.”
“I’m here because I’m curious about your interest in Victor Popov.”
“Victor who?”
“Come now. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?
I may not know the specifics on how you access our system, but I’ve known you can for quite some time.
Any time you root around in our files, I’m notified.
Such as your infiltration last night.” Lance motioned to the chair on the other side of the coffee table. “Please, have a seat.”
Teddy remained standing for a few seconds before doing as Lance suggested.
“So, why Victor Popov?” Lance asked.
“He’s a terrible golfer.”
“I doubt that’s why you’re interested in him.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Lance studied him for a moment. “Victor Popov is a dangerous man.”
“Is that so?”
“And he has powerful friends, including some highly placed, elected officials in our own government.”
“That seems problematic.”
“It is, which is why options are being considered to mitigate the issue. What I’d like to avoid is anything that might interfere with those efforts.”
“Are you telling me he’s untouchable?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?” Teddy asked.
“I’m saying that if things get to a point where something might happen to Mr. Popov, I would appreciate a heads-up.”
“I see.”
“Then I can rely on your cooperation in that regard?”
“To be clear,” Teddy said. “Any interest I might have in this Popov fellow would be purely out of curiosity.”
“Naturally,” Lance said.
“But hypothetically, if the conditions you outlined were to exist, and the opportunity presented itself, word might be passed along.”
Lance smiled. “Excellent. I’m glad that’s cleared up.” He then looked around the room. “By the way, this is a wonderful house.”
“If you’re about to request to spend the night, I have bad news for you,” Teddy said. “There’s no room at the inn. Unless you’d like to sleep on that couch.”
“Sadly, I must decline your offer.” Lance set his still full wineglass on the coffee table and stood. “I have a meeting in Tokyo, so I must run.”
“What a shame.”
“It is, but perhaps when I’m in L.A. next time, we can do this again.”
“I’d appreciate it if you called ahead so I can make sure my schedule is full.”
With the flash of a smile, Lance said, “Please thank Tessa for her hospitality,” then headed for the door.
—
Emma was in her workshop, going over her latest version of the software code for her field calibrator, when Ari suddenly jumped up and ran toward the front of her house.
She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t notice.
“Good book?”
She blinked and looked up to find Ronan standing in the workshop doorway, Ari wagging his tail beside him.
“I’m not reading a book,” she said.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“Then why did you—”
“I was joking,” he said.
“It wasn’t funny.”
“Most of my jokes aren’t.”
“I agree.”
He snorted. “Now, that was funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“Which makes it even funnier.”
“Did you tell me you were coming over and I forgot?” she asked. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
“No. I have something we need to discuss.”
“That’s what texts are for.”
“Not this.”
“What is it?”
“Katy’s dead.”
She looked at him, her expression unchanged. “Who’s Katy?”
“The one who pushed you into the pool last night?”
“Oh, that Katy.”
“Yeah, that Katy.”
She shrugged. “Okay.”
“You don’t want to know how?”
“Why should I? I barely knew her, so it’s not my business.”
“Life would be so much easier if everyone’s brain worked like yours.”
“Something else with which I agree.”
“There’s a problem, though.”
“With the way my brain works? Not as far as I’m concerned.”
“Not with your brain. With Katy’s death.”
“What kind of problem?”
“I’m pretty sure the police are going to suspect you killed her.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Katy’s body was found in Damian’s pool this evening.”
“And?”
“And it’s the same pool you two had the fight in.”
“I didn’t fight. She did.”
“You know what I mean. They’ll see your confrontation at the party as potential motivation.”
Emma shrugged. “So what? I didn’t do it.”
“You and I know that, but you need to be prepared.”
“What’s there to prepare? I’ll just tell them the truth.”
“Perfect.”
She thought for a moment, then asked, “Should I mention Friday, too?”
“Friday?” Ronan asked, confused.
“When Katy ran into me with the plates.”
His brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell me that was Katy.”
“I didn’t make the connection until I saw her at the party. Same eyes.”
“You could have said something then.”
“Why? It wasn’t important.”
He grimaced. “Maybe you should keep that bit to yourself.”
“You just agreed I should tell the truth.”
“How about this? Only mention what happened on Friday if the police bring it up.”
“Why would they bring it up if they don’t know about it?”
“They won’t.”
“Fine. I’ll keep it to myself.”
“Thank you.”
She glanced at her computer screen, then back at him. “Is that all?”
“That’s all.”
“It could have been a text.”