Means Page 2
“Was anyone with you?”
“No. I was on the phone with a colleague,” Laurel replied, wishing he’d allow her to finish her sentences. She was feeling slightly better now that the copper smell wasn’t so strong, and there was quite a lot she needed to do. Being busy would help her regain her equilibrium, as well. She glanced at his nametag. “Officer Dodds, I really need to contact Brad’s partner. Paul needs to know what—”
“You said you were stopping by the office for some files.” Officer Dodds nodded to another gentleman wearing an official-looking blazer who’d gotten off the elevator and was fixing the door so that it stayed open. A woman and another man followed closely behind, one with a black bag of some sort and another with a large camera. “Where were you this evening?”
The question had Laurel snapping her teeth together and closing her lips while she experienced a hot flash that was equal to being covered in lava.
This couldn’t be happening.
First, Brad was brutally murdered. That in and of itself was going to send shockwaves through the company. At the foundation of every hedge fund was the portfolio manager. It was through his or her reputation that brought in the high net worth individuals. Brad’s death could potentially mean the doors closing on Manon Investments.
But to throw in that she’d spent her evening in bed with the man who she was competing with for a partnership in said business would essentially be ending her career. She could have included Smith’s career in that sentiment, but his family name and wealth would essentially wipe away any smear that could possibly stain his reputation.
Doubts began to swirl in the chaotic thoughts that had yet to settle down since she’d found Brad dead at his desk. What if Smith denied being with her this evening? What if he refused to give her an alibi? Should the company somehow survive if Paul took over as portfolio manager, or they brought someone new on board who had numbers to back up his or her performance, Smith would be a shoo-in for partnership while she’d be sitting behind bars wearing an orange jumpsuit.
“Ma’am?” Officer Dodds lifted the pen off the small pad of paper as he peered at her questioningly. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”
“No,” Laurel whispered, shaking her head to emphasize her answer. “No, I’m not okay.”
CHAPTER TWO
Smith Gallo walked past the crowd of people gathered in the foyer of the building. News reporters, police officers, various law enforcement support staff, and a couple of the building’s own security guards were all broken off into groups and talking about what was about to hit the financial news first thing this morning. The industry would be reeling for weeks to come. The coverage of Brad Manon’s death would dominate every outlet’s talking head for less than half that time.
Brad hadn’t been the easiest man to work with, though some would disagree with Smith’s assessment on that front. The men had their differences. He’d only been working at Manon Investments for the last three years, unlike the majority of Brad’s other employees. His run-ins with Brad had been like two bulls in a china shop sparring over which cup to break next. The business choices he’d been making lately had been beyond risky, even for a hedge fund.
“Excuse me,” Smith said, brushing past a group of people gathered near the elevator bank.
“I’m sorry, sir.” The officer who had been stationed to prevent people from accessing the elevators or stairwell held up a hand to prevent Smith from advancing. “Only authorized personnel past this point.”
Smith clenched his jaw at the denial of entry, having learned long ago that all he had to do was toss his surname out into the wind to obtain anything he wanted. He also understood the value of hard work. He played by the rules for the most part, unlike the majority of his siblings.
In this case?
The rules would have to be broken.
“Detective Nielsen asked me to come down here to clear up some discrepancies.” Smith smiled in confidence that this momentary delay would end quite soon. “I’m Smith Gallo, Judge Nathanial Gallo’s son.”
The officer hesitated briefly before stepping to the side. Smith used two fingers to press the correct floor number, doing his best not to show his impatience. It would serve him nothing but the attention of those leeches waiting to snap a picture of him. Those photographs would make it appear that he was tied to a particularly brutal murder, thereby smearing the family’s name. It was only a matter of time before he received a call from his parents asking how he’d gotten tied up in all this rubbish.
Smith didn’t react when he heard the officer radio to someone upstairs that they were about to have a guest. Good. Detective Nielsen was an upstanding officer, but the fact that a Gallo was in any way involved with a murder investigation would have him dotting every I and crossing every T in hopes of saving his own career.
Why had Laurel left his bed after midnight to return to the office? It would be the first truth Smith offered in hopes that he could clear up the mess she’d gotten herself into.
The elevator doors slid open and allowed him to disappear from the view of the media who’d now caught on to his presence thanks to the radio traffic. One reporter even called out his name, but he refused to look their way and give up the golden ticket for this morning’s news. Within twenty seconds, he was granted access through the glass doors of Manon Investments.
“Mr. Gallo?”
Smith fleetingly spared a glance at the officer’s nametag.
“Officer Dodds, please let Detective Nielsen know that I’m here per his request.”
Smith stepped forward, his sole focus now on Laurel. She was sitting on the edge of a chair in the waiting area for clients, gripping her phone so tightly between her fingers that her knuckles were white. Her long chestnut waves hung over one shoulder, her second tell that let him know she was rattled. She tended to clear the soft strands off the back of her neck when she needed to think more clearly.
He didn’t even need to speak her name for her to know that he’d arrived, because her green eyes made contact with him immediately…only to then have her gaze drift over his shoulder. He was confused as to why she looked so hesitant.
“Smith Gallo.” Detective Nielsen’s deep voice echoed through the corridor. “It’s been a while since I last saw you. I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”
Smith shifted only slightly to ensure he could shake hands with the detective while allowing him to observe Laurel throughout the exchange. She’d definitely driven straight to the office from his bed, because she was still wearing the same slate grey business suit he’d removed himself earlier that night, stitch by stich. Her lips were void of the lipstick he’d kissed off with his own, and she didn’t seem to notice that she was only sporting one earring. The other he’d inadvertently found on his bedroom floor when he’d gotten out of bed to go search for her.
“Detective,” Smith greeted, having met the officer a couple of times over the years at various functions and charity balls thrown on behalf of the city’s police department. “You have quite a crowd downstairs listening to your patrol officer’s radio.”
“Did those ears, by chance, perk up after they saw you walk through the front doors of the building?” Fred Nielsen frowned in displeasure at both assessments. It was obvious he didn’t appreciate the rookie downstairs sharing any information through carelessness, but Fred also understood what would happens should the Gallo name be dragged into this murder investigation. “I explained on the phone that it would be in your best interest to stay away from this place for a few days. We could have had this discussion at your place, or better yet, at the station with your lawyer present. I’m well aware of how your father is going to want this handled.”
“Nathaniel Gallo has nothing to do with this firm,” Smith stressed, having fought this battle many times in the past. “I’m here to provide Laurel Calanthe an alibi. She was with me all evening, until around twelve-forty this morning when she left to come back here.”
He wished like hell he could understand why he was drawn to her, of all people. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever come across in his thirty-one years. Hell, she’d even turned him down flat when he’d extended a dinner offer his first week at Manon Investments. And maybe that was the reason he couldn’t get her out of his system.
He was addicted to her.
Laurel Calanthe was intelligent, driven, proud, and stunningly beautiful. She had an elegance that far surpassed the women who normally ran in his family’s circle, yet she had an untapped wild side just waiting to be fed the right encouragement. Having her underneath him, on top of him, or basically anywhere he could manage to fuck her was a high he wasn’t sure he could do without. And yet she didn’t give a flying fuck who he was or what his surname could provide her in the long run. As a matter of fact, she treated his identity as almost a hindrance to their involvement.
“And your relationship with Ms. Calanthe?”
Smith experienced a shot of satisfaction when Laurel’s lashes lifted in surprise at the question. Her natural lips parted as if she were going to deny that they had any type of relationship, but she was saved from making that mistake when her friend stopped her from speaking. It was a good thing that Grace Dorrance was seated in the chair next to Laurel in order to instill some form of reason.
“We’re intimately involved, if that is in any way pertinent,” Smith shared willingly with the detective, not concerned in the least that the truth was finally out in the open. It was abundantly apparent that he and Laurel weren’t on the same page, but he was about to rectify that small problem. First, he needed to ensure that Laurel was no longer considered a prime suspect in the murder of their mutual boss. “It’s my understanding that Brad Manon was murdered, but do you have any leads? I’m assuming you looked at all the surveillance feeds? I don’t believe there is a square inch of this place that isn’t monitored by some sort of a security camera.”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Gallo.” The good detective obviously wasn’t willing to share any details on the case. It wouldn’t matter in the end, considering Smith’s father would have complete access to all of the investigation’s preliminary reports come sunrise. “You and Ms. Calanthe are free to go for now. I would like to question you both at some point tomorrow once we develop a timeline for the victim.”
Laurel and Grace were in what appeared to be a heated yet whispered conversation, but they both became quiet as he walked away from the detective to stand before them.
“I appreciate you coming here to confirm my whereabouts.” Laurel gave him a smile of gratitude, though she still maintained an aloofness that rubbed him the wrong way, considering the recent efforts on her part. She even squared her shoulders as she began listing things that had no bearing on what she’d gone through this evening. “Grace and I have spent the last thirty minutes calling Paul, Cynthia, Vern, and Steve. Cynthia will notify the rest of the employees. Obviously, Paul should be arriving here shortly. We can’t shut down trading, especially with those option trades of yours about to expire. We can—”
“Grace, would you please excuse us?” Smith asked, not bothering to remove his suit jacket. He and Laurel wouldn’t be here long enough to warrant taking it off, anyway. “I’d like to have a word with Laurel in private.”
“Of course,” Grace murmured, running her palms over the rough denim of her jeans. Smith had never seen the woman in anything other than a business suit or something equally as formal, so it had taken him a moment to realize that it was her who had been sitting next to Laurel. “I’m going to go make us some coffee. That is, if they let me in the kitchen area.”
Smith waited for Grace to leave before kneeling in front of Laurel, who seemed quite taken aback by his casual intimacy. The simmering anger he’d experienced was still there, right at the level where he could still control the words coming out of his mouth. He’d deal with that later, but she’d experienced a trauma that one didn’t just get over in the span of two hours.
“Are you okay?”
Laurel inhaled deeply, albeit her breathing was a bit erratic. She glanced up at the ceiling in an attempt to maintain control over her emotions. Couldn’t she see that he was there for her or that it was okay to let down her guard for just a moment?
“Honestly, I think I’m still in a bit of shock.” Laurel cleared her throat before attempting to divert attention away from herself. “I left a voicemail for Meredith, but I didn’t go into detail. I feel as if one of us should go over to her house, but the detective assured me that it was proper protocol for him to send an officer instead. Maybe that’s why Paul isn’t here yet. Maybe he went over to Meredith’s residence to tell her what happened.”
Meredith Manon was Brad’s ex-wife, though the two had remained friends over the years. Of course, Detective Nielsen would want to speak with her, considering she was about to inherit a not-so-small fortune. The spouse, or ex-spouse in this case, was always the prime suspect in any homicide.
“I’m asking if you are okay, Laurel.” Smith could only imagine what it was like for her to find Brad dead at his desk. “I know you were fond of Brad. I’m sorry you had to find him like you did.”
Laurel finally gave him all her attention, and it was the first time he’d ever seen her truly vulnerable with her emotions racing. Even in the throes of passion, she kept some measure of reserve. Now, her eyes filled with tears, though they didn’t spill over her lashes. She’d even let go of her phone and grabbed his hand instead, but in the next moment it was as if nothing had passed between them.
“Paul,” Laurel exclaimed, abruptly standing and all but forcing Smith to do the same. She stepped away from him to put distance between them, letting him know exactly where he stood in the grand scheme of things. That talk he’d put off for her benefit was going to come sooner rather than later. “I’m so sorry. I know the last thing you want to deal with is the business, but Cynthia is already reaching out to the clients. If there’s anything that I can do to help, please let me know.”
“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Paul stated in somewhat shock, nodding toward Smith in an odd questioning manner. Apparently, his presence wasn’t expected. “I would have been here sooner, but the officer downstairs wouldn’t allow me to come up until he’d checked with the detective in charge. Grace told me you’d stopped into the office to grab some files and found Brad with his throat cut. I just can’t—”
Paul’s voice caught, and he shook his head in remorse. He took an unsteady breath.
“You’ve seen and done enough tonight.” Paul rested a hand on Laurel’s shoulder in appreciation and support. It was a familiar gesture that Smith wasn’t altogether comfortable with. “Go home. Get some rest. The upcoming few days are going to be hell as we try to figure out what happens next.”
“Mr. Slater?” Detective Nielsen interrupted, all business and looking as if he needed a cup of that coffee Grace had gone to make. “I’d like to make arrangements to question all of your employees. I understand it’s a Saturday, but it would make it easier to use an office here rather than dragging them down to the station at different times.”
“Paul,” Laurel said softly, preventing the man from answering the detective. She didn’t meet Smith’s questioning gaze. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Can it wait?” Paul asked, a frown marring his weathered face. He’d just come back from a trip to the Caribbean, where the office’s offshore accounts were set up with financial institutions for non-U.S. clients. He usually made the trip annually for compliance purposes. He’d gone more often in the past two years. “I have a lot to deal with right now, Laurel.”
“Detective, I can have Cynthia Ellsworth set up a rotation starting at seven o’clock this morning. Cynthia is our compliance officer, and she’ll have…”
Paul’s voice trailed off as Detective Nielsen guided him toward the other side of the large office space to where the trading area was located, overlooking part of the city. The reception area was the heart of the design, setting up several offices down another corridor to their right. Smith would have taken Laurel to his office to have their private conversation, but a forensics team was currently occupying his professional domain. He wasn’t worried in the least and would deal with any outcome at a later date.
“You’re pale and running on lack of sleep.” Smith was done handling her with kid gloves. She wanted things between them to remain status quo, but the cat was out of the bag. There was no going back, but there were two paths ahead of them. “Let’s get you back to my place where you can get some rest. I’m sure Cynthia will contact us in the morning with a time assigned for our talk with Detective Nielsen.”
“Smith, this doesn’t change—”
“If you’re about to stand there and tell me that this situation doesn’t alter the nature of our relationship, then you’re sorely mistaken.” Smith wrapped his hand around Laurel’s upper arm, pulling her close so that no one else heard their private conversation. There was something else that needed to be addressed. “And don’t think for a moment I didn’t see the surprise written across those beautiful features of yours when I gave you an alibi. You actually thought I would hang you out to dry, didn’t you, you little minx?”