Page 72 of Murder in The Summer House

“Yeah, if the film director just sits on the sidelines and takes a percentage of the profits,” Lucien cracked. “I saw a string of producers who took care of other aspects of touring—they earned their keep—but certainly none who dared mess with Rory’s or Graeme’s music.”

“They never lasted for long if they did,” Brogan reiterated.

“I take it you guys didn’t have a very high opinion of Pollock starting out,” Jade commented. “Why take the case?”

“Because of the two missing kids. It didn’t seem right to us that Trey got the blame. The murders were bad enough but blaming a kid for a double murder felt wrong.” Brogan took a sip of her wine. “This is good. What is it?”

“That’s theFar Niente Napa Valley chardonnay you wanted to try,” Lucien said, leaning against one of the tables. “You don’t suppose Pollock could’ve paid off Rivkin, do you? Remember what Adelai said about a detective calling out of the blue and naming Trey as the suspected shooter? Why would Rivkin do that?”

Birk picked up his beer. “A better question is why Pollock would believe it. Think about it. We know it’s possible to have a young, teenage mass shooter—Oregon, North Carolina,Columbine—are all examples of kids who picked up a gun to get back at somebody.”

“A whole school. The one in Washington State was a fourteen-year-old shooter,” Beckett reinforced.

“But there were signs of trouble with those kids,” Lucien pointed out.

“Trey wasn’t into guns,” Brogan declared. “We didn’t just take Gerald and Susan’s word for it, either. We talked to neighbors who backed it up.”

“Exactly. If Trey had been into guns, you couldmaybe, and I emphasize the word maybe, see a cop coming to that conclusion. Without a hint of young-gun mentality, Rivkin comes up with Trey as the scapegoat. It’s the part of the case that feels off to me.”

“Plus, the Dolworths had only been in the neighborhood for a week,” Jade added. “Are you telling me Anna or Mack did something to this fourteen-year-old during that time that made him snap and commit a double homicide?”

Lucien brought out his iPad, swiped through several apps. “Let’s face it, we’ve beaten the logic of that to death. It doesn’t fly. It’s time to firm up our plan to trap Pollock. You need to know that Chad will arrive in a Bentley driven by a driver-slash-security guy named Samson, who’s worked for him for a decade. I did some checking into Samson’s background. His real name is Edgar Swarbrick. He spent twenty years in British Special Forces.”

“What regiment?” Beckett wanted to know.

“The information stops there. British protocol doesn’t allow the government or anyone else to comment on Special Forces. At all. They’re very strict about that.”

Beckett looked at his brother. “That sounds about right. But if Samson spent twenty years with the British Army and ten years as a driver for this record-producing prick then he’s pushing fifty.”

Birk nodded. “British Special Forces are formidable in the field. You never forget your training. But SEALS are the toughest there is, the toughest I’ve seen anyway. The best. And there are more of us than the two of them.”

“Unless Samson brings along a few of his regiment buddies,” Beckett surmised.

Lucien lifted his bottle of beer. “Pollock doesn’t pay Samson a high six-figure salary to sit behind the wheel of that fancy car. But I don’t think Pollock will bring an army to do his dirty work. For one thing, he has no idea we’re here together. At the most, he thinks the meeting will include him, this fake brother, Brogan, and me as the facilitator. Bringing Samson along would even the odds in Pollock’s favor. Considerably. But as far as Pollock knows, this is a neutral site, chosen because of its proximity between Los Angeles and San Francisco.”

“Where the fake brother lives,” Beckett concluded with a grin.

“No doubt I built you a solid profile of BS,” Lucien said before taking a slug of his craft beer. “Just remember to stick to the script. I know Chad Pollock. I know all the right buttons to push.”

“You’re calling the shots on this,” Beckett pointed out. “Let’s hope you know what you’re doing.”

“What time are these guys getting here?” Kelly wanted to know.

“Noon tomorrow.”

“High noon,” Jade offered. “Wasn’t that a famous showdown with Gary Cooper?”

Kelly raised her glass toward the others. “Here’s to Beckett taking down Chad Pollock like Will Kane did the Miller gang.”

“Um, technically, that was Will Kane’s wife who came to his aid by shooting one of the bad guys in the back. Against her beliefs, she picked up a six-shooter and took care of business,” Brogan explained. When she got weird looks from the rest, she shrugged. “What can I tell you? I’m sort of a nerdy film buff. So Kelly, are you prepared to do that for Beckett?”

Kelly’s eyes grew wide. “Sure.” Her voice sounded anything but confident. After a few long seconds of indecision, she stared at the moose’s head on the wall before turning to Beckett. “Old west setting like this, I’ll turn into Annie Oakley if that’s what it takes.”

Over a dinnercomplete with salad, rib eyes, and scalloped potatoes, the laidback conversation between friends eased the doubts that began to form inside Brogan’s head. She still wasn’t convinced that the slick record producer she knew in the past would behave the way Lucien wanted him to. Would Pollock get Samson to attack the fake Julian to eliminate another heir? Would he break so easily and confess to masterminding a double murder? Brogan didn’t think so.

“You’re being oddly quiet,” Lucien charged from the chair next to hers.

She leaned toward him and whispered, “I’m a renowned worrier, remember? What if Pollock suspects something when he doesn’t see that many guests?”

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