Cade invited when she paused, his voice as expressionless as his face.
She inhaled carefully, sensing his cold fury, then said, “Walter Parks, my father’s partner. And his murderer.”
Chapter Eight
Cade walked unannounced into Walter Parks’s office at nine o’clock the following morning. The secretary followed uneasily behind him. “Mr. Parks is on a conference call,” she repeated. “He isn’t to be disturbed.”
“It’s all right, Connie,” Walter said, placing the receiver on the hook. “I’m through with the call. Please close the door.” It was an order, not a request.
She did so.
“Did I forget an appointment?” Walter asked.
Cade shook his head. “I have one question. Did you have Sara Carlton fired?” He knew the answer by the way his father’s eyes darted away from him. “You did.”
Walter shrugged. “I suggested to one of the directors that her services weren’t needed.”
“What else?” Cade demanded.
“Nothing.”
The older man was lying. Cade knew it in his gut. The blood pounded through his temples at a furious pace. “What else?” he asked again.
“I suggested she might have an unsavory background, which she does,” his father insisted at his snort of fury. “Her mother was an unstable person.”
“Unstable,” Cade repeated. “The way my mother was unstable and had to be sent away?”
“Not like that,” Walter hedged. “Not exactly. Marla was given to depression and hysteria. She, uh, took things more seriously than warranted.”
Cade digested the statement. “Such as the affair you had with her?” he asked softly, icy coldness joining the white-hot anger in his blood as he observed the familiar signs of anger in his father.
“I was not involved with her. Anyone who says so is a liar.” A pulse pounded out of control in Walter’s temple as his face suffused with color. “I suppose you’ve been listening to Marla’s daughter.”
Cade shoved his hands in his pockets and sat on the corner of the desk in a casual manner. “Yeah. We had an interesting conversation last night. She thought I’d gotten her dismissed and wanted to know if it had been my idea or yours.”
Walter frowned. “What did you tell her?”
“Since I knew nothing of it, I didn’t tell her anything.”
“Good. Keep your mouth shut and this will all blow over in a day or two.” He looked pleased.
“The way her father’s death did twenty-five years ago?” Cade asked, keeping his tone neutral, his voice low.
There was a slight jerk to his father’s hand before he waved it in dismissal. “That’s ancient history. The police investigated thoroughly and concluded it was an accident.”
“A convenient one,” Cade murmured.
The flush spread from Walter’s neck to his face. “What the hell are you suggesting?”
“You tell me.”
The older man planted both hands on his desk and viewed Cade with narrow-eyed scrutiny. “Don’t let the fact that you’ve got the hots for the girl get in the way of your thinking,” he warned.
“So you had nothing to do with Jeremy Carlton’s death?”
“No. It was like I told the police. We’d all had too much to drink while celebrating the new enterprise. I went to sleep. When I woke up, adrift on the tide, I barely got the yacht cranked up in time to avoid breaking up on some rocks. Jeremy was a fool to take the boat out on his own. We could have both drowned.”
Cade considered the scenario painted by his father. It jibed with the police reports. But then, those reports used Walter’s story to describe what happened. He shook his head slightly, not liking the way his thoughts were going or the faint shadow of doubt that nibbled at the edges of his mind.
“I can’t believe my own son would ask me such a question,” his father said, his voice rough with pain. “That was a horrible year, first with Jeremy’s death and all the questions about it, then your mother’s illness coming on top of that. With four children to raise, I was at my wit’s end.”
Cade felt a jab of guilt at bringing up old memories. “It was lucky we had Mrs. Wheeler by then,” he said, recalling it had been the motherly widow who’d tucked them into bed at night and listened to their prayers.
“It was,” Walter agreed. “With the business tangle to sort out after Jeremy’s death, I had all I could do to keep the company solvent. Some of the diamonds we’d purchased were missing. We never found them.”
“Sara and her brother think you kept the ones their father had bought.”
Walter shrugged. “They would only see things from Marla’s point of view. She even accused me of smuggling gems. Why would I do that when I had a perfectly legitimate business in diamond trading? The woman was crazy.”
Cade mulled over the odds of there being two crazy women involved in the same scandal.
His father came around the desk and threw an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t know what Marla’s kids think they hope to prove by stirring up the past, but I don’t have anything to be ashamed of. I can assure you of that. You got time for lunch today?”
“Uh, not today,” Cade said. “I’m swamped.”
“Catch you another time, then,” Walter said, jovial now that he considered their problem resolved.
Cade left the building and headed for his law office, aware of the cloud that sat over his head, its presence not quite letting him totally rely on his father’s vow of innocence.
But why would he lie? What did he have to gain?
More importantly, what did he have to lose?
Three hours later, Cade replaced the phone, noted the time used for the conference call on the charge sheet for that client, then stared out the window at the Golden Gate Bridge.
He had a corner office in the TransAmerica building in downtown San Francisco, so the view was impressive. As well as the bridge, he could see Alcatraz Island and the ferries plying the bay, carrying tourists to the prison so they could see where America’s most notorious criminals were once housed. The Birdman of Alcatraz had been nothing like the movie version depicting him.
Neither, apparently, was Walter Parks.
An uneasiness rippled through Cade as he replayed that morning’s visit with his father. A man was supposed to be considered innocent until proven guilty. He certainly had no proof to the contrary on his father.
The conversation, argument, whatever, with Sara last night
