Page 11 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)
LEIGH
I twist around, seeing another man in the lobby who wasn’t there before. Murphy nods toward the conference room and I head quickly into the room, spinning around to watch out the door, my heart racing.
“My goodness, what was that?” Lindsay asks, standing and shifting to where I’m watching from just inside the door.
Murphy is standing in front of a man wearing baggy jeans, a T-shirt, and a flannel jacket despite the heat outside.
His beard is grizzled, hair standing in every direction.
Gone is the kind-hearted detective who kept me calm at the hospital as I waited for my sister to wake up.
Gone is the tempting, tattooed god I’ve been fighting my attraction to.
This Murphy is all steel and granite, his hazel eyes hard as he fixes his stare on the man in front of him.
Their words are too low for me to catch, but the body language is obvious—Murphy is on guard.
“Oh.” Lindsay breathes the word next to me.
“Do you know who that is?” I ask her.
She shakes her head.
“Maybe he’s here to meet with someone else,” she suggests.
“Not anymore.”
As we watch, Murphy escorts the other man toward the exit, waiting inside as he leaves and three other men in suits enter. The tension in Murphy’s face tightens impossibly more as he and the taller of the three men meet face-to-face.
The shorter man says something to the Theo James look-alike who smiles at Murphy before following the other two toward the conference room.
The three men catch us staring and we step back from the door, heat traveling to my cheeks at being caught.
Even without a mirror, I have zero doubt they resemble a cherry-red tomato.
Lindsay recovers first, her face taking on her professional demeanor rather than the interested woman watching what had just happened in the lobby.
“Gentlemen, please come in.”
My attention darts toward the door where Murphy still stands, his hazel gaze locking on mine and creating a shiver of awareness despite the length of the lobby between us.
“And you are?” The Theo James look-alike stands in front of me, hand at the ready.
Holy crap, I’ve been so preoccupied with Murphy I missed introductions. The look-alike, other two men, and Lindsay all stare at me as if questioning my ability to speak.
Mentally shaking my head, I focus on the man in front of me.
“Leigh. Leigh Whittaker.”
His hand glides along mine, the graze of his fingers skimming my palm in an almost ticklish sensation before he confidently grips my hand.
“Leigh, a pleasure. Charlie Vanderweel.”
If I thought his smile was nice before, the one he gives me up close is lethal.
“Mr. Vanderweel, nice to meet you.”
“Charlie, please. My father, Charles, and our attorney, Marvin Crosby.”
We all shake hands and I follow Lindsay’s lead and take my seat next to her on our side of the conference table. Once we’re all seated, she flips open a thin file and shuffles through the meager contents.
“Mr. Vanderweel, I’m not sure I understand the reason for this meeting. We have no record of representing anyone with your last name?—”
“You didn’t,” the other attorney jumps in.
Charlie gives the other man a look and holds up a well-manicured hand, drawing attention back to him.
“You may or may not recall I was wrongfully accused and convicted of murdering my fiancée three years ago. I served eighteen months in jail until the real killer was caught and confessed to her murder.”
Now I really wish I had read through Charlie’s file. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it absolutely wasn’t the bomb he just dropped. Hopefully my surprise doesn’t register on my face.
Lindsay’s expression doesn’t change, and it’s obvious from her continued focus on Charlie she’s aware of the case.
“I do have to admit, I recognized your name from that murder case. I’m so sorry about your fiancée.”
He nods his head.
“I appreciate that, thank you. Selene was a beautiful soul taken from us far too soon.”
My heart breaks for the distress crossing his features, the sudden downturn in his eyes as he speaks about his late fiancée.
“I’m still confused by the desire to meet with us?” Lindsay asks gently.
“I was fortunate I had the money for private legal counsel to continue the investigation until the real killer was found. And I know many who use your services are not afforded the same opportunities.”
“Our resources are stretched?—”
“It’s not a judgment, Ms. Carter. Just an observation.
One I’m hoping to remedy. I’d like to create a fund that would allow those who use the public defender’s office and are wrongfully accused to be able to continue their fight.
I am willing to donate an original three million to the fund, my father has also decided to donate an additional five million, and Marvin and his firm offered to bring the fund up to an even ten million dollars. ”
Lindsay sucks in a swift breath and my own heart pounds in my chest. I haven’t been around for long, but even I know that’s a lot of money for the financially burdened office. If that’s true, this project would rival what Project Justice does nationwide for just Nashville.
“I-I…that’s very generous of you,” Lindsay finally says.
Charlie’s dark brown gaze swings to me before he turns back to Lindsay.
“Obviously it may mean hiring additional staff. Or rededicating some current resources,” he says.
Lindsay clears her throat, recovering some of her poise.
“I will need to confirm with Mr. Bailey that we can accept your generous donation and put the fund into action.”
If so, I wonder if I can request to work on the fund while I’m here. This experience would be the perfect addition to my application, and I write the reminder to ask Lindsay later.
“Of course, of course.” Charlie nods, spinning a shiny gold pen in his hands.
“And how will we determine who to allow access to the fund? What happens if they are still found to be guilty? What—” Lindsay asks, clicking her pen now poised above her notebook.
“You’ll find most of the answers to any questions you may have in here.” Marvin passes over a stack of papers Lindsay places on top of the file folder.
Is Charlie Vanderweel for real? He was wrongfully accused and wants to donate money to help others like him.
The rest of the meeting is brief, every question Lindsay asks either given a very vague response or she’s directed back to the paperwork she already has.
But it’s the other attorney who is doing most of the talking.
Charlie has gone silent, leaning back in his chair, fingers poised in front of his lips as he studies me. But that’s not the right word.
Stares.
The attention is somewhat unnerving. The back-and-forth conversation fades, and I struggle to pay attention to them while being the center of Charlie’s focus.
My lips twitch with a smile I can’t quite contain despite dropping my attention to the notebook beneath my fingers.
Lindsay stands, followed by Mr. Vanderweel and his attorney, catching me off guard as I stand. My ears grow warm and I hope they’re not as red as they feel.
How did I miss the end of the meeting?
“Gentlemen, I’ll be reviewing this with my boss and getting back with you on this proposition.”
“Of course.”
We all shake hands and Charlie lingers in the doorway with me.
“I look forward to working with you, Leigh.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit premature?” I ask him.
“There’s something to be said for wishful thinking. And admittedly, we may have just met, but I get this sense I’ve known you forever.”
I don’t have the same impression, but keep that thought to myself.
I follow him out of the conference room.
The three walk off and Lindsay’s posture relaxes.
“That was…interesting,” she says after a beat.
I nod.
“You had no idea that’s what they wanted to meet about?”
“It’s not often people schedule a meeting and want to give us money. It’s typically the other way around. I’m going to go see if I can get on William’s calendar to discuss this.” She lifts the folder.
“Okay.”
“How about you make several copies of this so we can take a deep dive into it?”
I take the folder from her, just realizing I managed to leave my notebook behind when I followed Charlie out.
“Can do. I’ll just grab my notebook and go make copies.”
“I’m going to go get with William’s admin and get on his calendar.”
Lindsay heads back to the office area and I step back into the conference room.
Grabbing the forgotten notebook, I glance up, jumping to find Murphy filling the doorway.
“What the hell was that?” He steps into the room, closing the door.
“I’m sorry?”
What the hell is he talking about?
“Why were you meeting with Charles Vanderweel? That guy is a psychopath. He murdered his fiancée.”
“What I was meeting with him about is none of your business. And he is not. And they found the real killer.”
He snorts and drags a hand through the short strands at the side of his head.
“Some homeless drug addict they paid to take the fall. All the evidence was there. It was him. I worked on that case.”
“First of all, how could they pay him if he was in jail? And what do you mean you worked on the case? You should know better than to talk to me about any of this.”
“I wasn’t primary on the case, and I’m not sharing anything from the case file. And you didn’t represent him. The walking, talking windbag he was with today did.”
“It’s still none of your business,” I tell him, stepping closer.
The fact I need to crane my neck to meet his gaze at this angle just makes me more irritated with him than I already am.
“You’re not meeting with him again,” he growls, crossing those muscled forearms across his chest as if he’s laying down some law I’m required to follow.
In the famous words from a movie I watched with my sister when we were younger…as if.
“You are not the boss of me, Murphy O’Connell. I am doing exactly what you do—my job. And if you don’t like it, well, too damn bad. You don’t have to like it and you certainly don’t need to stick around and watch.”
Stepping around him, I hold my head high and walk through the door and across the lobby, not breathing again until I’m at my desk.
Just who the hell does Murphy O’Connell think he is anyway?