Erica Spindler - Killer Takes All

She wouldn’t, Stacy acknowledged as she walked away from the espresso bar. No doubt Billie could easily uncover information others couldn’t pry free with a crowbar.

As long as the sources were male.

Stacy chose a table in back and sat. As she took her first sip of the hot drink, Leonardo Noble arrived. Alone. She’d thought he might bring Kay.

He scanned the room for her, smiling when he found her. He indicated he meant to get a coffee, then pointed to her in question. She lifted her cup, indicating she was already hooked up.

Espresso. The staff of life.

She watched as he ordered. He said something to Billie, who laughed. Was he for real? she wondered. Were the bizarre cards he’d received authentic? Or had he manufactured them?

Until she spent more time with him, she was reserving judgment on everything, including his honesty.

He approached the table, his usual energetic step replaced by a sleepy shuffle. He looked bleary-eyed. His hair was even wilder than usual.

“Not a morning person, I see,” she said.

“A night person,” he countered. “I only need a couple hours of sleep in a twenty-four-hour period.”

Stacy arched an eyebrow. “That’s not how it looks to me.”

He smiled, the first sign of life coming into his eyes. “Trust me.”

“Said the spider to the fly.”

He took a sip of his coffee. She noted that he’d gotten the super grande size. From the mountain of froth, she figured it was a cappuccino.

“So that’s what that look was about,” he said. “Distrust.”

“What look?” She took a swallow of her own coffee.

“The one when I was ordering. I had the distinct impression you were dissecting me.”

“Your motives, yes. Goes with the territory.” She met his gaze, hers unflinching. “No one is beyond suspicion, Mr. Noble. Including you.”

Obviously unfazed, he laughed. “Which is exactly why I want to hire you. And call me Leo or the deal’s off.”

She laughed, too. “All right, Leo. Tell me more about your household.”

He looked at her over the top of his coffee cup. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. For example, your office is there?”

“Yes. Kay’s also.”

“Any other employees?”

“Housekeeper. Mrs. Maitlin. Troy, my driver and all-around guy Friday. Barry takes care of the grounds and pool. Oh, and my daughter’s tutor, Clark Dunbar.”

This was the first she’d heard of a daughter, which Stacy found odd. At her expression, he went on, “Kay and I have one child. Alice. She’s sixteen. Or, as she’s fond of saying, almost seventeen.”

“Does she live with you? Or Kay?”

“With both of us.”

“Both of you?”

“Kay lives in my guest house.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a sort of lopsided-and winning-smile. “I see by your expression that you find our arrangement strange.”

“I’m not here to pass judgment on your personal life.”

As if he took her at her word, he moved on. “ Alice is the light of my life. Until recently, she-” He bit the thought back. “She’s gifted. Intellectually.”

“I suppose that makes sense. I hear you’re a modern day Leonardo da Vinci.”

He grinned. “I see I’m not the only one who knows how to do an Internet search. But Alice really is a genius. She makes both Kay and I look average.”

Stacy digested that. She wondered at the burden of that kind of intellect. How it must color every aspect of the teenager’s life, from intellectual pursuits to relationships. “Has she ever gone to regular school?”

“Never. We’ve always provided her with private tutors.”

“And it works well?”

“Yes. Until-” He laced his fingers, for the first time looking uneasy. “Until recently. She’s been agitating to go to university. She’s become defiant. I’m afraid she dishes poor Clark a lot of attitude.”

Sounded like typical teenage angst.

“University?” she said. “Like Tulane or Harvard?”

“Yes, intellectually she’s ready. She has been for some time. But emotionally…she’s young. Immature. The truth is, we’ve sheltered her. Too much, I fear.” He cleared his throat. “Plus, the divorce has been difficult on her. More difficult than either of us anticipated.”

Stacy couldn’t imagine navigating university life at sixteen. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Oil and water, that’s me and Kay. But we love each other. And we love Alice. So we settled on this arrangement.”

“For Alice?”

“For all of us, but Alice most of all.” He smiled then, a kind of loopy, boy-next-door grin. “Now you know all about our dysfunctional little troupe. Still willing to join up?”

She searched his expression, once again wondering if he was for real. How did a man achieve what he had without being ruthless? Without both withholding and exploiting information?

She leaned toward him, all business. “Here’s the deal, Leo. Anonymous letters like the ones you’ve received are almost always sent by someone within the circle of the recipient.”

“My circle? I don’t-”

She cut him off. “Yes, your circle. They’re sent in an effort to terrorize.”

“And what’s the point if they’re not close enough to witness that terror. Right?”

Smart man. “Right. The more frightened you are, the better.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. She noticed they were a light hazel. “So screw ’em. I’m not scared, they give up. Like the school bully who doesn’t get the reaction he’s looking for.”

“Maybe. If your note writer is typical of others of his ilk. They send notes and letters because they like to watch. They don’t want to get too close.”

“At heart they’re yellow.”

“Yes. Too afraid to fully confront their anger or hatred with a direct confrontation. So they’re a minimal threat.”

“That’s the typical. What’s the atypical?”

She looked away, thinking of her sister, Jane. Her terrorizer had been as atypical as they come. He’d had every step carefully planned, each bringing him closer to killing her. She returned her gaze to his. “Sometimes the letters or calls are simply foreplay for the main event.” At his blank expression, she leaned slightly forward. “They get close enough to touch, Leo.”

He sat silently a moment, as if digesting that. For the first time he looked shaken. “I’m so grateful you agreed to help-”

Stacy held up a hand, stopping him. “First things first. I’m not accepting this job to help you. I’m doing it for Cassie, on the off chance her murder and your postcards are related. Second, you understand that I’m in graduate school. My studies come first. They have to. Do you have a problem with either of those conditions?”

“Absolutely not. Where do we begin?”

“ I begin by integrating into the household. Getting to know everyone. Earning their trust.”

“You think he’s there.”

“He or she,” she corrected. “It’s a possibility. A strong one.”

He nodded slowly. “If you want to earn everyone’s trust, we have to create a nonthreatening reason for you to be hanging around.”

“Any ideas?”

“Technical expertise. For a new novel. Starring a homicide detective with a major urban force.”

“Works for me.” She smiled slightly. “Are you really writing a novel?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“I expect you want your ex-wife and daughter informed of the real reason I’m around.”

“Kay, yes. Alice, no. I don’t want to frighten her.”

“Fine.” Stacy finished her coffee. “When do I start?”

He smiled. “Now’s good for me. How about you?”

Being a proactive kind of person, Stacy agreed. Leo jumped to his feet, eager to get home. As she followed him out of the coffee shop, she glanced at Billie to find the the woman watching her.