Page 15 of Witness To Murder
“Have you met her family? Do they live in the area?”
“Arlington Heights. And yes, I’ve been to dinner with her mother many times. Her father was never in the picture. She does have a brother, but he lives in New York. I could call himto see if he’s heard from her. He’s much older than Isla, so they aren’t really close.”
Owen considered the information, then suggested, “I think a cold call to the mother would be the most helpful route.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Leah abandoned the remainder of her scone to make herself a cup of coffee. She added a little cream and savored the smooth taste. Then she returned to the island and finished off the scone. When she’d devoured the last crumb, she realized he was watching her. She swallowed, grabbed her cup with both hands and took a sip.
“Before we get going this morning,” he said, “I wanted to explain that your participation in the investigation is optional—entirely up to you. If you’d like, you can stay here. Catch up on your reading or just relax. It’s not necessary for you to be involved in the legwork.”
She hesitated a moment before responding. The option of just relaxing was appealing, no question, but she couldn’t do it. She had to be part of this. This was her life. Her friend could be in trouble. She couldn’t sit around and just wait to see what happened. Not as long as she had a choice, anyway.
“I would prefer to be involved.” She really hoped he wasn’t going to be disappointed by her answer. She needed to do this.
His lips quirked in a small smile. “I expected as much, but I had to make the offer.”
Relief rushed through her. “Since I’m going to be working rather than relaxing, I think I need another scone for fuel.” She shot him a look. “Don’t judge.”
He gave another deep chuckle. “I had two of those large muffins myself. Fuel is a good thing. And for the record, I never judge.”
Handsome and kind too. Sigh. Why was it she’d never run into a guy like him before?
A mental eye roll followed the thought. Because she’d kept her head down and her attention on work since pulling her act together five years ago. Prior to that, her decisions had been a little hit or miss, as far as making good ones was concerned. In truth, she was really rusty in the dating field. Her instincts weren’t so keen.
Rather than continue to berate herself, Leah concentrated on her coffee, nibbled on that second scone. Then she shared some additional information she’d remembered while she laynotsleeping last night. “Isla told me that Raymond has a mother in an assisted-living facility, and she wondered sometimes if the reason he was divorced was because he spent too much time catering to her. Apparently, there was some discontent related to the mother in his marriage. We could talk to his mother, if you think it might be helpful.”
“According to the extensive background search done by the agency—I received a copy of it early this morning—his mother has advanced Alzheimer’s. She’s in a very upscale facility, and I have my doubts as to whether we would be allowed a visit, or if she would be able to help if we were.”
Well, there went that theory.
Again, Leah considered how much she appreciated having the Colby Agency on her side. She had a feeling that finding her friend, the real story about Raymond and her way out of this depended on the man watching her right now.
Morris Residence
Patton Avenue
Arlington Heights, 10:00 a.m.
OWEN PARKED ATthe curb in front of the Morris home. The house was small, more a cottage, with an equally small yard filled with blooming shrubs and flowers.
“Her car is home,” Leah said.
Owen watched the woman in the passenger seat for a few seconds. Leah Gerard was worried. Understandably so. Her life had been turned upside down with this business. He’d done his research, and Raymond Douglas wasn’t quite the upstanding businessman Leah had been led to believe. He’d spent some time as a chef but then realized there was far more money to be made in investments. With that in mind, he’d used his knowledge of Chicago’s culinary world to get in on the best and biggest options. In the past five years, his financial worth had skyrocketed. The agency was looking into the possibility of such a huge change in status when his only assets were in the restaurant business. Owen wasn’t convinced his new net worth matched his investments.
As well, Leah’s friend Isla had a vaguely troubling background as well. Five years ago, there was a brief stint in a private mental hospital. A few months later, a disappearance that was reported to the police and then, only a week later, withdrawn and the case closed. Both parties hid these discrepancies well, but a solid background check and a little extra digging told the tale. Douglas’s history showed indications of being a possible scam artist. Morris’s reflected a brief period of instability and then nothing but smooth sailing. The real question for Owen was, how did whatever was going on with those two affect or involve Leah—or each other, for that matter?
There were some aspects of the situation that Leah needed to see and learn for herself. It would make accepting how badly she had been fooled somewhat easier. For her sake, he wished there would be better news, that perhaps things weren’t as bad as they looked, but he doubted that would prove the case.
Owen had shared the information with Detective Lambert on a phone call that morning. Lambert had been on the right track, but his resources weren’t what the Colby Agency’s were. He wasgrateful for the assist. In Owen’s opinion, the sooner Leah was cleared of any wrongdoing, the better.
His read on Leah Gerard assured him she was telling the truth about Isla Morris and Raymond Douglas to the best of her knowledge. Not that she was naive; she simply took people at face value until she saw otherwise. There was nothing wrong with that approach, except it did make her susceptible to particularly cunning people. He had a feeling Douglas was a very experienced player. Morris perhaps more so, in hiding secrets. There was no solid proof of wrongdoing in their known histories, but there were all the earmarks that Owen had instantly recognized: A lack of true friends. Lots of acquaintances but few who were really close. Little or no acknowledged family. In Douglas’s case, there was undocumented work and discrepancies in school history.
“Did I pass?”
He frowned, zeroed in on the woman in the passenger seat. She stared at him expectantly. “Pass what?”
It was always easier to mine for more information with a question rather than an answer. Just a little technique he’d picked up during his tenure at the Colby Agency.
“I don’t know.” She stared out the windshield then. “The way you were staring at me just now made me wonder if you were trying to decide if you trusted me.”
