He meandered through the crowd, nodding and smiling at those who glanced his way. Some he knew. Some he didn’t. Others looked vaguely familiar. And then he spotted her—the most beautiful woman in the room. Alexa Daugherty. Too bad she was his first cousin. Derek chuckled to himself. Even if they weren’t related, he would never take on Alexa. The lady was too high maintenance for his tastes. As a child, she had epitomized the saying “poor little rich girl.” As a woman, she brought another catchphrase to mind—“rich bitch.” His darling cousin had a reputation for chewing up men and spitting them out in little pieces.
The moment she saw him, she smiled and motioned for him to come to her. He made his way through the celebrators and when he reached Alexa, he leaned over and kissed her flawless cheek.
“I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said. “You’re not still working for the FBI, are you? I believe Aunt Happy mentioned that you were an associate of Griffin Powell’s. Is that right?”
Happy was Derek’s mother. He had never heard anyone call her anything else. He wasn’t sure where the nickname had come from or who had given it to her, but it certainly didn’t suit the snooty, social-climbing woman he had known and hated for most of his life.
Before Derek could reply, a man he didn’t know—mid-fifties, trim, well dressed—injected himself into the conversation. “We were just talking about this shocking murder case over in Memphis, and Alexa mentioned you used to be with the FBI, a profiler, I believe.”
Derek nodded. His sister’s crowd always found it fascinating that he had chosen to work in a field usually reserved for those not in their social circle—law enforcement.
Alexa slipped her arm through his, but she looked directly at the other man. “You simply must tell Derek all about it. The killer is still at large and the Memphis police have no idea who did it.”
“Ward Dandridge.” The man stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, silly me.” Alexa giggled. Even her giggles sounded sexy. “I forgot that you two didn’t know each other. Sorry about that.”
Alexa was not an airheaded bimbo, despite appearances to the contrary. His guess was that she’d had one glass of champagne too many. Alexa was a brilliant woman with an IQ that bordered on genius. And he knew for a fact that she was a shrewd businesswoman who had recently taken over as CEO of her father’s empire. The old man still maintained his position as chairman of the board, but he happily left the day-to-day running of Daugherty, Inc. to his only child.
“Do you know Tagg Chambless?” Dandridge asked.
“The former NFL halfback?”
“That’s the one. Tagg and I are business associates. We both have an interest in one of the Tunica casinos.” Dandridge downed the remainder of his champagne and motioned to one of the waiters, who quickly exchanged his empty glass for a full one.
“Didn’t you date Chambless for a few months?” Derek winked at Alexa.
She gave him the evil eye, a look for which she had become notorious. Grown men had been brought to their knees in submission by that look alone.
When Ward Dandridge stared questioningly at Alexa, Derek laughed. “No, his name wasn’t Chambless, was it? But the fellow was a football player, wasn’t he? Not Chambless, though. If I recall, he was a big, burly brute with—what did you say at the time? Oh yes, that he had more muscles than brains.”
“You’re mistaken. That’s not my type,” Alexa said coolly. “But we’re getting off subject. Ward did so want your thoughts on the murder case.”
“And just what does Tagg Chambless have to do with the murder case?” Derek asked.
“Oh, the victim was Tagg’s wife,” Ward said. “Gorgeous woman, even if she was little more than a plastic doll. She’d had all sorts of cosmetic surgery. Everything from breast implants to rhinoplasty.”
Derek wished he could think of a diplomatic way to escape. It had become apparent that Ward Dandridge loved gossip, and discussing other people’s private lives bored Derek.
“I’d love to hear more,” Derek lied. “Maybe later. I really should find Mother and wish her a happy birthday.”
Alexa tightened her hold on Derek’s arm, leaned close and whispered, “Stay. Please. Ward’s a friend of Daddy’s and I simply can’t be rude to him.”
“I’ll make this quick,” Dandridge said, apparently determined to drag an opinion out of Derek. “Mrs. Chambless, Tagg’s wife, had quite a reputation. The lady used to be an actress of sorts. She starred in several”—he cleared his throat—“adult films and was a Playboy centerfold about ten or eleven years ago.
“The woman was shot numerous times, killed right there in her own home.” Dandridge lowered his voice. “The police never released certain information, but Tagg shared a few things with me. Seems when the maid found her, she was naked and was wearing a mask of some sort. Odd, don’t you think?”
“Yes, quite odd,” Derek agreed.
“You would assume that she was raped, considering the fact she was naked, but Tagg said she wasn’t. Raped, that is.”
“Hmm …” Derek wasn’t sure what Dandridge wanted him to say. Did the man honestly think he could come up with a profile of the killer with no more information than that?
“Oh God, who invited him?” Alexa asked with utter disdain in her voice.
“Who?” Dandridge inquired as he glanced right and left.
Derek followed his cousin’s cold glare, which was aimed directly at a man Derek knew, liked, and respected.
“Camden Hendrix.” Alexa spoke his name as if she were saying Attila the Hun. “The man is a barbarian.”
Derek grinned when Cam looked his way and immediately came over to speak to him.
To break the sudden uneasy silence, Derek introduced the two men, who apparently knew each other by reputation. “And of course, you know Cam, don’t you, Alexa.”
“We’ve met.” Icicles hung on her words.
“Looking as lovely as ever,” Cam said, but did little more than glance briefly at Alexa before he turned back to Derek. “Good to see a friendly face. I thought maybe Nic and Griff would be here. I haven’t seen them in a couple of months.”
“I believe they’re off on a second honeymoon,” Derek said. “Something spur of the moment.” As a Powell Agency employee, he had received the text message sent out that morning to inform everyone that Sanders was in charge while the agency’s owners were away.
“Is that how you finagled an invitation to Aunt Happy’s birthday party—because you’re Griffin Powell’s lawyer?” Alexa asked, knowing full well how rude her question was.
Cam chuckled. “Actually, your cousin Diana invited me. My firm is representing her husband’s brother in his divorce case.”
“I say, Hendrix, have you heard about Tagg Chambless’s wife’s murder over in Memphis?” Ward Dandridge asked, apparently interested in little else. “I
