Page 36 of One Last Lie

He blanches further. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have to go see to…”

He starts off, but I grab his arm and hold him. “Be honest with me, Simon. I heard from Johnathan before he died that you’re the person to talk to if you need… help.”

I gamble that he doesn’t know I arrived after Johnathan’s death and never met the man personally. The gamble pays off. He turns a shade of green and yanks his arm away. “You heard wrong. Aisle four or talk to your doctor. We don’t do that here.”

I let him take three steps, then say, “I was in Johnathan’s study last night.” He stops, and his shoulders bunch. I turn to face him and say, “I found some rather… interesting… documents.”

He spins and looks shrewdly at me. I feel a touch of fear at his expression. I could be staring into the eyes of a murderer.

Still, I hold my gaze. I feel I’m on the cusp of a breakthrough if I can only see this through.

He bares his teeth in a sharklike grin and holds my eyes until he returns behind the counter. He picks up the PA handset and calls, “Amy? Please watch the counter for me. I have a private consultation.”

A girl of perhaps nineteen trounces over, her expression the perfect one of bored contentment only found in the young. She glances at me, then at Simon, and a knowing expression comes to her face. “Here boss. Enjoy your private consultation.”

She looks back at me, and it’s clear what she thinks this is. Oh, bless your heart, sweetie.

Well, let her think that. We’re less likely to be interrupted if she worries she’ll walk in on more of her boss than she ever cares to see.

Simon leads me to an office, and I quietly slip the keys into my palm so they extend past my fingers. I can only count on one blow if it comes to a fight, so I need to make sure that blow counts.

He closes the door behind us, and I steel myself. Rather than threaten me, however, he quickly rushes behind a desk and stares warily at me.

A coward, then. That doesn’t mean he’s innocent. He has access to poisons that can kill as effectively as violence.

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell you saw, but if you saw anything, then it was Johnathan’s deal. I gave him painkillers, okay? That’s it. Sure, I wasn’t as strict with the prescription requirements as I could have been, but all that crap about selling on the side? That was all him.”

“So Johnathan Ashford, billionaire investor, wanted to run a drug empire with the great and august owner of the massive conglomerate of Happy Healthcare?” I say, my voice dripping with contempt.

“I didn’t say it made any damned sense,” Simon snaps, “I just said that it wasn’t my idea.”

I press my advantage. “So all that evidence you found—”

In a flash, he’s up and in front of me faster than I can react. He glares into my eyes, and for the first time, I see the violence that could make him a killer.

“You didn’t find shit!” he hisses. “Nothing! Just the idle speculations of a fucking idiot with more money than sense. Nothing happened. You want to go to the cops about me dealing drugs to a billionaire? Go ahead. I made sure my bases were covered there. You want to act like I’m some wannabe Pablo Escobar? You have nothing but chicken-scratch and a few voicemails that don’t mean shit!”

A chill runs down my spine, and I don’t reply.

"Yeah," he says when I don't reply after a moment. "That's what I thought. Run your hand under some cold water and change the bandages every twenty-four hours. All those ointments and creams are just placebos some dipshit convinced the world worked. Now he's living it up on some tropical island, getting his rocks off with a bunch of girls half your age while I'm here selling ibuprofen to hypochondriacs. Trust me, if I was half as smart as I needed to be to run an illegal drug business, I would not run it here on the left ass cheek of Greater Buffalo.”

He plops down behind his desk, and I take that as my cue to leave.

As I drive home, the elation I feel at learning something new fades. By discovering the answer to the Simon Trent question, I’ve only added another suspect to an ever-growing list.

Elena, Simon, Theresa, and Ce—and others. As Johnathan would say, Whodunit?

The answer to that question grows more uncertain by the day.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Javier isn’t there when I park the car. He leaves a note that says, Don’t ever take the car without me again! If I’m not here, it means you’re lucky that Paolo insists on fresh meat for his beef wellington.

I smile drily and leave the key on top of the note, then add a postscript of my own. As you wish, darling. I love it when you’re angry.

I finish the note with a heart and head back to the house. To say it’s unlike me to reply like that is an understatement. The cracks at the edge of my psyche are starting to widen. I wonder wryly if I should consider calling Doctor…

When I round the corner and see the good doctor leaving his car and stepping onto the porch, I chuckle wryly. It looks like all of my nightmares are coming true.

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