brunette angled around Brodey and stuck her hand out. “I’m Jenna Hayward from Hennings & Solomon. I’m a private investigator assisting on Mr. Williams’s case. I believe you’re aware we’d be helping. This is my brother Brodey. He’s a—”
“I’m helping,” Brodey interrupted, clearly not wanting his sister to explain.
How very interesting. Mental note: do an internet search on Brodey Hayward.
The investigators. Got it. Lexi shook Jenna’s hand. “Right. I’m sorry. Mrs. Williams hadn’t mentioned you were coming by today. We should be done in the next hour or so. Feel free to ignore us. Now, if you’ll step back, I need to see what’s under this tile.” She flopped her hand out to Nate. “Hammer, please?”
“I don’t think so,” Brodey said.
“Pardon?”
“An unsolved murder occurred in this room. Could be potential evidence under there.” He jerked his thumb to the kitchen. “How about working around this area until I can look at it?”
Again, Lexi breathed deep. Channeled her inner calm. “Mr. Hayward—”
“Brodey is fine.”
“Brodey. Great. Thank you. Now, I’m sure the Chicago Police Department has been through here.” She waggled her hands. “They have all their crime-scene people and whatnot. After all, this house has been empty for two years.”
Two years without an offer because potential buyers were spooked about the murder in a supposed high-security community.
Imitating her gesture, Brodey waggled his hand. “If it’s been empty all that time, another hour won’t hurt.” He stepped aside. “If you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.”
The inner warrior in Lexi didn’t just yell, she roared. Frustration railed, turning her vision a starker white than the glossy walls. She didn’t care what kind of an investigator Brodey Hayward was. Treating them like rodents would not do. Relax. This is not a problem until you make it one. Lexi swung to Nate. “Would you give us a minute, please?”
He nodded. “Sure thing.”
Jenna, the beautiful brunette, stepped aside, smiling at Nate as he gave her more—much more—than a brief once-over. She smiled, but averted her eyes, letting Nate know in expert fashion he should forget about her and keep on moving. Nice move on her part. But right now, Lexi needed to strike a deal. Figure out how long they needed to be here and when she could start tearing the place apart. Compromise. That was what she’d do.
“Brodey, I’m trying to get this house redesigned and sold in forty-five days. Do you have any idea what an undertaking that is?”
He smiled at her, a slow, cocky grin that would surely lead to a sarcastic remark. “I’m sure you’re being well compensated.”
Bingo. Everyone liked to rip on the decorator. How she hated that word. As if her bachelor’s in interior design coupled with her master’s in business didn’t qualify her for the Intelligent Club. “Okay, well, just so you know, it’s a huge undertaking. But I’ll get it done. I’m a woman with the promised land in sight and I want the promised land. Tell me how long you need to be in here and I’ll see if I can make that happen.”
“So, all you care about is selling this house? Doesn’t matter that a guy bled out in here?”
Of course it mattered. That was the point. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. This place has been a financial drain on Mrs. Williams. And, simply put, I like her and she deserves a break. If we get the house sold, she can put her children’s lives back together. If that’s even possible.”
Behind Brodey, his sister was all big blue eyes taking in not just every word, but every vowel, and Lexi didn’t like an audience. She sighed, grasped the sleeve of Brodey’s jacket and drew him into the kitchen away from Jenna.
Once in the far corner, Lexi let go of him and folded her arms. “We’ve definitely gotten off to a bad start here. I want to help you. I do. And it’s not about my compensation.”
Not entirely.
Brodey, quite handsome in his khaki pants and button-down shirt, studied her. Typically, she didn’t go for noncorporate guys. And it had nothing to do with her being a snob. Not one bit. Her world revolved around the ultrawealthy, and with that came an acceptance of spending ridiculous amounts of cash on items most people couldn’t afford to spend ridiculous amounts of cash on. Regular Joes tended to scoff at twenty-thousand-dollar sofas. For up-and-coming executives, it was the norm.
And they didn’t think her frivolous for it.
But something about Brodey Hayward’s dark green eyes made her think of fresh air, lazy days and picnics by the lake. Something she hadn’t allowed herself in a long—very long—time. Her business had taken priority in her life. Yes, she dated, had even thought she’d fallen in love once. At least until she found her up-and-coming executive across his desk exploring his intern’s anatomy. Such a cliché.
Brodey cocked his head and grinned. “You were saying?”
She held up one finger. “Right. Yes. I was saying that each day this house sits on the market, Mrs. Williams is one step closer to financial ruin. I can help change that, but it won’t happen overnight. I need to tear up floors and repaint. I need to dismantle part of the house.”
“And destroy possible evidence.”
She gritted her teeth. “Which is not my intention. Are you always this way?”
“What way?”
“Contrary.”
He shrugged. “I’m a cop.”
Lexi dipped her head forward. “You’re a cop? I thought you were a private investigator?”
“No. Jenna is the PI. I’m a homicide detective. Chicago PD.”
“Oh.”
“But, I’m not on this case in an official capacity. I’m giving my sister an opinion. That’s all. I’m here to look at the scene and then I’m gone.”
“You could have said that. I mean, we went through this whole thing and you’re here for a quick visit?”
“There might still be evidence somewhere. Particularly in that laundry room.”
She’d say one thing about Brodey Hayward—the man had a spine. And the way he stood there, shoulders back, so confident and, well, commanding, even in a sling, she didn’t think for one second he’d let her take a hammer to that tile.
This might take a while. Lexi turned back and peered at the laundry room doorway, where Jenna put her thumbs to work on her phone. “Well, maybe I could work around that room. For now. How much time do you need?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Now you’re just being annoying.”
Brodey laughed. “Maybe. But
