Page 121 of Unseen Danger

“Yep.”

Thank the Lord. He didn’t want to believe Marsha or Peter, D-Chop’s trusted personal assistant, could be so evil. And he knew his security team couldn’t be behind any of it. But Kim could’ve been hired by Jill, Chef Cox, or LeSalle to deliver the message to D-Chop.

“You wanted to see me?” Peter entered the room with an expression as bored as his tone.

“Yes. Thanks for coming, Peter. Have a seat, would you?” Branson gestured with his hand toward the chair on the opposite side of the table.

“I don’t have much time.” Peter tapped the smart tablet that he laid on the table as he sat. His tone was more distracted than put out as he checked the screen.

“I know you’re busy. We’ll keep this as short as we can.”

“Great.” Peter lifted his gaze and used one finger to push his glasses up from where they’d slipped down his nose. “You want to talk about the note you found last night?”

Surprise made Branson pause for a moment. Peter was always so quiet, Branson hadn’t expected him to say anything unless asked. But maybe it was his way of hurrying things along. “Yes. What do you know about it?”

Peter’s bushy eyebrows dipped beneath the rim of his glasses. “What Marsha told me. D-Chop isn’t awake yet.” He glanced at the tablet and tapped the screen. An avoidance tactic? Or Peter being Peter? He rarely seemed to look up from the device at any time.

“Did the noise wake you last night?” Seemed unlikely he could’ve slept through the scream, given that Peter’s bedroom was on the other side of D-Chop’s.

“What noise?” His blank expression appeared equal parts unknowing and disinterested.

“There was a scream.”

“D-Chop screamed?” That raised the man’s eyebrows.

“No.” Branson held his gaze. “Kim Jameson.”

“Ah.” Peter checked the smart device.

“You didn’t hear a scream?” Nevaeh jumped in with the question. The technique had worked for them so far, switching off whenever one person wasn’t getting where they wanted or when the subject wasn’t responding well.

Peter’s gaze went to her. “When one has a room next to D-Chop, one wears earplugs.”

“I see your point.” She didn’t break eye contact with the man. “Did Marsha tell you about the knife?”

“Oh, yes.” He looked at his screen again. The man had the attention span of a six-year-old. Though he did have a lot of responsibilities, so maybe that excused it. “Marsha made sure to tell me we would need a replacement pillow and pillowcase.”

“So, Pete.” Nevaeh rested her arms on the table as she leaned forward. “You know everything that goes on around here.”

That comment got Peter to lift his gaze, though his eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses. Maybe flattery was not the key to his confidence.

“Who do you think left the knife?

“I try not to get involved in D-Chop’s personal affairs.”

“You’re his personal assistant.”

“Yes.” Peter watched her, his gaze devoid of any apparent awareness of the contradiction there. But maybe there wasn’t one in his mind. Or he could be intentionally stalling.

Branson mimicked Nevaeh’s position and leaned forward. “I’m going to be straight with you, Peter.”

“I would certainly hope so.”

“You, Marsha, and Kim are the only ones who could’ve done this.”

“Other than your security personnel, you mean.”

Branson squelched the urge to blink at the ready answer. An accusation it almost seemed like Peter had prepared in advance. Or was he that clever? Branson hadn’t thought he was, but come to think of it, the man never spoke enough for Branson to get an accurate estimate of his intelligence or wit.

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