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Chapter Twenty-Two

S am and Claire walked through Joe’s front door just as he finished lunch. He had been furious when Sam asked him not to go to the station with Claire, but he understood why. She didn’t need his anger there.

He took one look at Claire’s pale face and vacant stare and led her over to a chair. He turned to Sam and asked, “Jesus, what the hell happened?”

“Get me some coffee, and I’ll tell you.”

Joe brought in the pot and cups and handed Sam a cup. Claire shook her head and stared at the wall.

Joe cocked his head. “Well?”

“Well,” Sam huffed. “We have work to do. Keith died from anaphylactic shock from bee pollen, which he was allergic to.”

“EpiPen?”

“None found.”

“Damn. Who else knew about Keith’s allergy?”

“Me, his father, my parents,” Claire whispered. “No one else that I knew of. Keith didn’t confide in a lot of people.”

Claire looked at him with the saddest eyes he had ever seen. It broke his heart, but Keith’s murder was not looking good for Claire.

“They have Claire on tape at the hotel two times,” said Sam.

“Two times?” This was news to Joe. He knew about the kidnapping, but when would she have gone back?

“Yeah. The afternoon she was kidnapped and brought there, we know about. Then there are tapes that show her arriving there the next day around 8 p.m.” Sam took a sip of coffee. “We need to find this mysterious man who brought her there. I’m hoping Phil has found a clue in your security tape.”

“What about the second time?”

“Earle is trying to get a copy of the hotel tape.”

Joe leaned over and covered his eyes, rubbed hard. “What a clusterfuck.”

“I didn’t do it,” said a small voice.

Joe looked over at Claire, who was trying hard to disappear into the sofa. “Of course, you didn’t, sweetheart. Nobody believes that.”

Claire sighed, hugged a pillow to her chest. “What a mess. I’m so sorry to keep bringing my problems to your home.”

Joe got up and squatted in front of her. “Claire, this is not your fault.” He hated the tears forming in her eyes. “I promise, babe, we will get to the bottom of this.”

Sam chimed in. “Claire, we’re going to clear your name. Please trust us to do this.”

“Hmmm.” Claire seemed to retreat into herself. Her eyes were haunted, and her skin was clammy, a slight sheen on her cheeks. Joe didn’t know what he could do to help her.

Claire exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, guys, but I think today has been stressful enough. I’m going to lie down.”

Sam and Joe watched Claire shuffle into her bedroom, her head hanging low, and Joe wanted to kill Keith again and again.

“I’ll wait and see what Phil and Earle have found, and tomorrow, I’ll check in with them,” Sam said. “We will get to the bottom of this.”

“Let’s hope.” He sounded a lot more hopeful than he felt. But he would do whatever he could to protect Claire.

Sam stomped into her office the next day.

She had barely slept; nightmares invaded her dreams. Dawn was on the horizon, and the weather had turned chilly.

Not as chilly as her last conversation with Joe, who couldn’t understand why Claire was under suspicion at all and what they were they going to do about it. She had no answers.

The office was empty except for Jim, who was handling the front desk.

He waved as she walked in. She hoped Phil was in and had good news for her.

Although the way this case was shaking out, she was doubtful.

She wound her way through the desks and saw light peeking out from the bottom of Phil’s office.

She knocked on the door, and a voice shouted “enter.”

She walked into a wonderland of computer monitors, high-tech equipment and God only knew what else. Phil was monitoring about five different screens. His black hair was covered by a black cotton beanie that said, “The computer is down.” Cute, Phil.

“What have you found?”

“Well, good morning to you too.” Phil gave her a broad smile, then lost it when she glared at him.

“Okay, then. I checked the security feeds around the front entrance of the hotel and…”

Sam frowned at him. “I’m assuming you were discreet. ”

He gave her an eye roll. “As if you had to ask.”

He got up from his bank of monitors and handed her a slip of paper.

“One, I found the license plate number of the car that dropped Claire off. It’s registered to a PI out of Jacksonville named Troy Romano, of Romano Investigations.

Two, I have a picture of a woman who looks remarkably like Claire exiting a taxi around 7:30 p.m. the next night and walking into the hotel.

I”—he coughed—“tracked her down. She flagged down a taxi at the airport and went directly to the hotel. The hotel tapes show her going to the front desk, then directly up to Keith’s room with a key. ”

“Interesting. We know it wasn’t Claire, so why would someone want Claire to take the blame?” Sam sighed. “Good work.”

She would contact this Troy Romano and get his story. She was going to call a friend on the police force and suggest that they check the security cameras from the surrounding stores and airport and of the woman arriving.

They might not be able to identify the woman, but Sam knew that she and Joe were with Claire after the mysterious man returned her. Joe and Hank were with her the night after, so she was never alone and had an alibi for both nights.

Her stomach had been doing flip-flops for a few days as she wondered how they were going to clear Claire’s name.

Now she felt optimistic that they could do it.

First things first, she had paperwork to do, then she would call Troy Romano and hope to hell he would corroborate Claire’s statement.

She wondered who the mystery woman was, and why did she look like Claire?

Did she have a hand in killing Keith? Where was she now? She hoped Troy knew something.

It was another day before Sam reached Troy Romano. Either he didn’t have many clients or he was avoiding her calls. Jacksonville was only an hour and a half drive away, so she decided to pay him a visit.

His office was on the second floor of a small brick building across from a municipal garage. It was ten in the morning, bright and clear. She had called ahead. His receptionist said Troy generally showed up around ten. Sam had made an appointment. Let him think she was a client.

Promptly at ten, she noticed a tall, thin, nondescript man enter the building. There didn’t appear to be any other occupants of the building and no activity since a woman entered at 9 a.m. She thought it safe to assume that he was Troy.

She walked up the stairs to the second floor and entered a semi-lit hallway with a wooden door at the end.

Romano Investigations was stenciled on the door.

She opened the door, and a little bell rang.

An older woman looked up from the desk. Sam announced herself and sat down.

The office was clean but a little dated.

The receptionist picked up the phone and mumbled something into it and told her to go in.

She glanced around Troy’s office and was surprised to see a clean desk, modern furniture, a couple of monitors and a comfortable sofa, quite a contrast to the outer office.

Troy stood and gave her a once-over. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Sam Knight of KnightGuard Security?”

Whoa, he was a lot sharper than Sam anticipated. She hadn’t expected that he would google her.

“Get right down to business. My kind of discussion,” she said. She sat on the sofa and pulled out the pictures that Phil had printed of his car and plate.

He took the pictures, raised his brows, sat back in the chair and stared at her.

“I’m assuming this is your car. Several afternoons ago, you kidnapped my client, threatened her and two little boys with a gun, then drove her to meet her husband at the Art Deco hotel.”

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t kidnap anyone. Claire Willis came with me willingly.”

“Humph.” Sam sat back in her chair, steepled her hands.

“You’ve got some big cojones if you’re going after Keith Willis. He plays hardball.”

Troy was sharp. Sam had to give him that. “I’ve dealt with bigger fish than Keith Willis. He’s a bully. But I’m not here to talk about Keith. I’m hoping you can provide an alibi for Claire.”

Troy tapped his fingers on the desk. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my clients. As for Claire, why would I want to provide her with an alibi?”

Oh, he was playing games with her. She wondered if he knew Keith was dead. “Well, Claire is both my friend and my client. You and she were the last people to see Keith alive. She didn’t kill him.” Sam glared at Troy. “Maybe you went back and murdered him?”

Hearing that, Troy sat up straight. His mouth fell open. “Whaaat? Keith is dead?”

Sam waited a minute for that to sink in. “Yes, he was killed either that night you kidnapped Claire or the next night. And Claire was with two bodyguards that night. His body wasn’t found right away.”

“Holy shit.”

“Claire tells us you were somewhere in the lobby watching them talk. You need to contact the Black Pointe police and tell them you had Claire under surveillance.”

“Gotta tell you this takes me by surprise.” He fiddled with some papers on his desk.

“Keith wasn’t the nicest of people, to put it mildly, but he paid very well for my services.

I told him I didn’t think bringing Claire there was smart, but did he listen?

Nooo.” He shook his head. “How did he die? ”

“You’ll have to ask the police. I just need you to alibi Claire.”

Silence.

He sighed. “Well, it’s the best I can do for her under the circumstances. I watched them the whole time, and she never went upstairs. Keith was alive and well when we left.” He pursed his lips. “Damn. The man is going to drive me crazy, even in death.”

“Tell me about it.” A small ding reminded Sam that she had another appointment. “I need to get back to Black Pointe.”

Troy came around his desk, shook hands with her. “It was a pleasure.”

She had her hand on the doorknob when she turned to face him. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who would want to kill him, do you?”

Troy snorted. “Anyone who ever met him.”