Page 29 of Murder By the Millions
“North of the golf course, not far from where I’m staying now.”
“Was it one of the estates?” Forty populated that part of town, including Magda Bellingham’s. They weren’t properties set miles apart, like you’d find in England. They were half-acre and one-acre lots.
“One of the smaller ones. We had a tennis court.”
“You moved away when you were young, I heard.”
“Yes. My father was interested in growing his wealth by investing in real estate. He figured California was booming. Why not go where the action was? It was a worthwhile move.”
“When did you become a developer?”
“After high school my father wanted me to go to college and earn my MBA so I could join his investment group. However, doing something so boring wasn’t in my plan. Instead, to irk him, I joined the army.”
I was surprised he’d taken a similar path to the one Zach had followed. Had his choice been due to heartache, as well? I was reluctant to ask.
“In three years I became a sergeant,” he continued.
My eyes widened. “You must have been exceptional.”
“I’m a hard worker. I also took leadership courses. A few years after that, I bowed out and opted to go to college. I earned an MBA and became the man my father wanted me to be. With a twist.”
“A twist?”
“I became an independent developer, not a group investor. I’ve always been a maverick.”
“When did you meet—” I jammed my lips together, angry at myself for speaking before thinking.
“Who?” He eyed me warily. When I didn’t answer, he said, “My ex-fiancée? I’m sure you’ve heard about her. As Wallis said, rumors abound in a small town. Her name is—”
“Delilah Brenneman.”
“Aha.You have heard of her. Yes, we’re no longer a couple. She’s married now, but …” He went quiet and ran a finger along the rim of his water glass, his gaze following the motion.
Butwhat? Did he hope she’d leave her husband? Did he pray the marriage wouldn’t last?
“How did you meet?” I asked.
He raised his gaze. After a long pause, he said, “We hooked up in college.”
“Where’d you go?”
“UCLA. She was quite a bit younger and an art history major who aspired to be a curator of MoMA in New York.”
“A big aspiration. Did she achieve it?”
“She got a gig at a small museum in Los Angeles, where she met her husband.” His chest rose and fell, as if he was burdened with regret. “He’s a vintner and a renowned art collector.”
“Do you keep in touch with her?” It was a bold question, but I was dying to know.
“No. I should … Maybe you could …”
He shouldwhat? I couldwhat? His unfinished sentences were driving me nuts.
“Do your mother and father still live in California?” I asked, switching gears.
“They passed away ten years ago.” His expression grew grim.
“I’m sorry.” My cheeks grew warm as I recalled the rumors Lillian had mentioned in regard to Jason, one being he’d murdered his parents. Could the rumor possibly be true?
