Читать книгу Cavanaugh Vanguard - Marie Ferrarella - Страница 15

Chapter 3

Leaning in toward Jackson, Brianna said in a hushed voice, “Looks like we get to see the wizard after all, Toto.”

Jackson frowned. “Toto was a dog.”

Brianna merely smiled. “He followed Dorothy wherever she went,” she replied, as if, in her opinion, that was enough of a reason for the nickname.

The man who had detained them was back. “Mr. Aurora will see you.”

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” Brianna murmured under her breath.

Eyes like highly polished small black marbles narrowed as the head of the estate security looked at her. “Excuse me?”

She was aware that Muldare had taken a single step in front of her, putting himself between her and the powerful-looking head of security.

“Nothing. Please lead the way to Mr. Aurora,” Brianna requested, gesturing ahead of the man.

Rollins muttered something unintelligible under his breath as he turned away from them and began to walk toward the mansion.

“That was very noble of you,” Brianna whispered to Jackson, looking up at him, a smile flickering over her lips. “Unnecessary, but noble.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jackson responded in an unemotional voice. The expression on his face was completely unreadable.

The hell he didn’t. Under that dour demeanor, the man was a Boy Scout, Brianna thought. She vaguely remembered that from last time.

“I can take care of myself,” Brianna reminded him.

“Never questioned it for a moment,” Jackson replied in the same nondescript tone.

How could a man be so annoying and yet so intriguing at the same time, Brianna asked herself. But there was no question in her mind that Jackson was both.

You don’t have time for this. You’ve got bigger things on your agenda right now, remember? Brianna reminded herself as she and Jackson walked behind the estate’s head of security and into Winston Aurora’s residence.

After a lengthy walk through the first floor, Rollins led them into a room that was twice as large as the dining room in the Old Aurora Hotel had been. It turned out to be one of the mansion’s two libraries. There were books lining two of the walls, going from the floor straight up to the vaulted ceiling. One of those walls had a door at its perimeter. Two people, a man and a woman, both in their twenties, were just exiting that way. A third wall was entirely made of tempered glass, allowing afternoon sunlight to bathe the room while effectively keeping the heat at bay.

Seated behind the oversize, highly polished mahogany desk, looking like an emperor presiding over his empire, was Winston Aurora.

Winston Aurora was a man who would have easily taken command of any room he entered. Tanned and slender with distinguished-looking graying hair, he was dressed in a suit that would have easily cost a detective first grade a month’s salary—possibly more.

If she hadn’t known better, Brianna would have said that the oldest of this generation’s three Aurora brothers looked as if he had just stepped out of the pages of Gentlemen’s Quarterly and into this library.

Rising when he saw them entering, Winston came over to greet them. His smile was amiable and appeared to be completely genuine. He shook both their hands warmly, starting with hers.

“My son and daughter just left,” he explained, noting the interest in Brianna’s eyes. “Forgive me,” Winston said in a deep, resonant voice that was quite pleasing to the ear. “I’ve lost track. Is it time for the police department’s widows and orphans fund-raiser already?” Even as he asked, he was taking a checkbook out of his inside breast pocket.

Brianna put her hand up to stop the man from writing out a check. “We’re not here about that, sir, although my uncle said you’re always very generous when it comes to making donations to the fund.”

“Your uncle,” Winston repeated. He raised an eyebrow, asking, “And that would be?”

“Brian Cavanaugh,” Brianna responded. “He’s the—”

“—chief of detectives, yes, I know,” Winston interjected. “I know Brian quite well. Are you here in Brian’s place?”

Not answering the multibillionaire’s question directly, Brianna bent the truth a little and told Winston, “He said to say hello.”

“Ah” was all Winston said, acknowledging what wasn’t being said. “Well, if you don’t want my donation for any of your worthy causes, how can I help you two fine young representatives of the Aurora police department?” Winston asked, looking from one detective to the other.

Brianna glanced over her shoulder. The man who had brought them here was still standing just inside the library threshold like a silent, immovable sentry. While she wasn’t afraid of the head of security, the man’s presence did make her feel uneasy. “Could we talk alone?”

“Rollins is privy to everything that concerns me. I pay him quite a bit to make sure that he is,” Winston said pointedly.

“Then you can tell Rollins all about this after we leave, if you decide he needs to know,” Jackson quietly told the older man.

Just a glimmer of displeasure passed over Winston Aurora’s smooth, amazingly unlined face. The next moment, the expression disappeared as if it had never existed.

“Very well,” Winston agreed. “Rollins, step out, please. I’ll let you know if I need you.”

Unlike his employer, Rollins made no attempt to mask his displeasure. Scowling, the man withdrew, closing the door behind him.

“Better?” Winston asked Brianna once the door was closed. Whether it was because he thought she was in charge or because he preferred dealing with women was unclear. But his attention was directed to her.

“Our thinking is that you might possibly wind up preferring it this way,” Brianna explained.

Winston nodded, making no comment. “Sit, please,” he said, indicating the light gray sofa.

Like the desk, the sofa was oversize. It could have accommodated six people without effort.

When the detectives complied, Winston reseated himself behind the desk. For all the world he appeared like a benevolent ruler holding an audience with two of his subjects.

“Now then, I know that Brian’s your uncle, but I’m afraid I didn’t get your name—or yours,” he added, nodding at Jackson.

Brianna automatically reached for her wallet to show the man her credentials. “Detective Brianna Cavanaugh O’Bannon,” she answered, pulling out her wallet.

“I’ll take you at your word,” Winston told her, waving away her wallet, but his brown eyes shifted toward Jackson expectantly.

“Detective Jackson Muldare,” Jackson replied.

Winston nodded. “Now that we all know one another, I’ll repeat my question. How can I help you?”

“Mr. Aurora—” Brianna began.

“Winston, please,” the billionaire corrected her. “‘Mr. Aurora’ makes me feel ancient.” He chuckled. “Please, continue. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

Brianna obliged. Moving forward on her chair, she said, “You recently sold the Old Aurora Hotel.”

“Yes, I did,” Winston replied, “and if you’ve come here to tell me that, you could have saved yourself a trip. I’m not quite the doddering old fool yet. I am aware of all of my financial dealings,” he assured her with a dry laugh.

“When was the last time you were at the hotel?” Jackson asked, wanting to push this along. O’Bannon might be buying this charming act that Aurora was projecting, but he wasn’t sold on it—he thought Aurora seemed to be stalling.

Why the man was stalling wasn’t clear yet, but Jackson intended to find that out as well.

“You mean physically?” Winston questioned.

Jackson looked at him, puzzled. “Is there any other way?”

“Well, there’s Skyping,” Winston answered. “But I closed down the hotel before we could implement that form of communication.”

“All right,” Jackson said, “when was the last time you were at the hotel in person or in spirit?”

Winston paused, thinking. And then he shrugged. “I’m afraid I really can’t remember an exact date. Why? Is it important?” The billionaire turned to direct his question toward Brianna, since she was obviously the friendlier of the two, in the man’s estimation.

“What my partner is attempting to do is establish a timeline, sir,” Brianna explained.

Winston furrowed his brow. “Why?” Not waiting for either of the two detectives to answer that, he continued, “Is there something wrong, Detectives? Don’t tell me that the construction company forgot to get all the right permits.”

Wanting to remain on the man’s good side, Brianna tactfully answered, “As far as we know, sir, all the permits are in place—”

“Then I’m afraid that I don’t understand the reason for all this,” the billionaire confessed, waving his hand at both of them. “Just why is it that you’re here?”

Brianna couldn’t quite decide if what she heard in Aurora’s voice was impatience or concern. For now, she let that go.

“When the wrecking ball hit the rear wall, a body was dislodged,” she told the man, wanting to proceed slowly.

“Several bodies,” Jackson interjected.

Winston looked from one detective to the other, appearing completely caught off guard and speechless. When he finally managed to collect himself, Winston could only echo in hushed disbelief, “Bodies? Whose?”

“That’s what we’re trying to ascertain, sir,” Brianna said.

Winston grew pale right before her eyes. “Do you have any idea who—who killed them?” he asked, his voice almost failing him.

“Another good question,” Jackson told him, his tone totally devoid of emotion.

Exasperated and momentarily losing his temper, Winston demanded, “Well, do you have any good answers, Detective?”

“Not yet,” Brianna answered quickly before Jackson could say something to further irritate Aurora. “But we’re doing our best.”

Responding to Brianna’s soothing voice, Winston seemed to calm down a little. He took in a deep breath, then slowly released it.

“I’m sorry, Detectives. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle like that,” he apologized. “But I find having bodies uncovered on my former property very upsetting and deeply disturbing.”

“We completely understand, Mr. Aurora—” Brianna began.

An almost shy smile quirked the man’s rather small mouth. “Winston,” he reminded her.

Brianna inclined her head obligingly.

“Winston,” she corrected herself. “We definitely have no desire to upset you. At the moment, we’d just like to establish a few basic things.”

Winston nodded a number of times as he listened to Brianna. “Yes, of course, I quite understand. What can I do to help?”

Jackson thought back to what he’d heard his temporary partner tell Del Campo. It was a good place to start.

“We need the hotel’s guest ledgers going as far back as possible, plus a list of all the hotel’s employees,” Jackson said.

Winston appeared mystified. “You do understand that the hotel is over half a century old.”

“We are aware of that, yes, sir,” Brianna answered.

The billionaire’s next question was unexpected and threw them. “How old are these bodies you say were uncovered?”

You say.

Brianna replayed the question in her head. She wasn’t sure if that was just a slip of the tongue on Aurora’s part, or if he was deliberately implying that the whole thing was merely trumped-up charges.

Jackson was obviously rubbing off on her, she thought.

“We won’t know that until our ME finishes doing the autopsies,” Brianna answered the man.

“If it would help move things along, I know several medical examiners in Sacramento,” Winston told them. “I could put in a call for you and get them down here by the end of the week, perhaps even sooner.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir, but the lab has already put out the word in the department. We have several medical examiners on call already. There’s no shortage of willing hands,” she assured the billionaire. “But thank you for the offer.”

Brianna didn’t want to risk offending the man or getting on his bad side. Most of all, she didn’t want him to think that they were looking at him as a possible suspect. Right now, that wasn’t the case—and it might never be, so they were playing it safe. If it turned out differently down the line, she didn’t want to put Winston on alert.

“Win, what on earth is going on here? Why is there a sedan parked in front of the house?”

A statuesque blonde, appearing to be between her late forties and early fifties, came into the library. Sharp green eyes took immediate measure of the two strangers in the room.

“Who are these people?” she asked, glaring at Jackson and Brianna as if they had just invaded her castle and tracked mud all over the highly polished floors.

“Gloria—” Winston, on his feet, extended his arm out toward his wife, indicating that he wanted her to come stand next to him “—I’d like you to say hello to these two fine young detectives.”

“Detectives,” Gloria Aurora repeated. “Police or private?” she asked in a tone that had icicles attached to it.

“We’re with the city’s police department, Mrs. Aurora,” Brianna told the woman, doing her best not to react to the judgmental tone.

The woman said nothing to either detective. Instead, she turned toward her husband and demanded, “What are they doing here?” When he didn’t answer her as quickly as she wanted, Gloria turned on the two people and questioned them herself. “Why are you here?”

Winston cleared his throat. It was obvious that he didn’t want his wife to create a scene, especially not in front of the detectives. He and his brothers had been raised to believe that image was everything.

“There’s a problem with the hotel,” Winston began to explain.

“The hotel,” Gloria repeated, almost with loathing. “Didn’t I tell you to get rid of that old relic years ago? Why he hung on to it I’ll never know,” she said, addressing her words to Jackson. “The man’s just too sentimental for his own good. I swear he has a heart like a bowl of mush sometimes. You’d never guess that he’s considered to be such a shrewd businessman by his competitors.” Mrs. Aurora sighed. “If they’d only seen him the way I have.”

“Gloria, these detectives are not here to listen to matters concerning our private lives,” he said sternly.

“Neither are you, apparently. Why didn’t you sell that hotel before now?” his wife demanded.

Not wanting to get in the middle of a family dispute, Jackson picked up on Mrs. Aurora’s question. “Why did you pick now to sell it, sir?”

“Because, Detective,” Winston replied, “despite the fact that I did want to hold on to it because it had been my grandfather’s pride and joy, I felt that it was time to allow the city to continue growing. Coupled with that,” he added, slanting a glance toward his wife, “I received an offer I couldn’t refuse.”