Some of the steam went out of her. Her hand ran over the outrageously expensive navy Chanel bag she carried. “I’m glad to help in any way I can. As I said, we were friends.”
Just then the door opened and Mrs. Dennison walked back into the room. “If you’re ready, why don’t we start with the casket Mrs. Reese has chosen?”
Cassidy glanced at Beau, whose features once more looked tense. He nodded.
“If you will please follow me.” Mrs. Dennison walked out the door and Beau’s stepmother fell in behind her.
Cassidy started walking next to Beau. She was surprised to feel his hand searching for hers, then his long, tanned fingers taking hold.
They walked out into the marble-floored hall, their footsteps echoing, then entered a silent, windowless room that carried the faint scent of white lilies. The casket Charlotte had chosen was polished rosewood with ornate gold handles.It was regal and tasteful and extremely expensive. Beau looked at his stepmother and nodded.
They returned to the office and went over the remainder of the arrangements.
Beau never let go of Cassidy’s hand.
Chapter Ten
Beau spent a restless night in the empty house he had been raised in, which at this point in his life seemed completely unfamiliar.
During the long hours before dawn, his mind had run through possible murder scenarios, names of people his father had known, people he’d had business dealings with. One thought followed another, among them the haunting question: If his father needed money as badly as George Larson said, why hadn’t he come to his son?
The fact they had clashed so many times over the years wouldn’t have prevented Beau from giving his dad whatever money he needed. He’d been a lousy father, but they were family and Beau owed him a great deal. Without the first-class education Stewart Reese had paid for, Beau might not have gone on to become the success he was today.
He was grateful for the drive and intelligence he had inherited from his father. And there were the opportunities the senator’s standing in the community had provided when Texas American had been newly founded and struggling.Not that Beau dismissed Linc’s amazing contributions to the company’s success.
But deep down, Beau knew the senator would have gone to any length to keep his troubles secret from his son and the rest of the world.
Or maybe his death had nothing to do with money. The crime seemed unplanned. A crime of passion, the police believed. Maybe the murder had been committed by one of his father’s many women. If it wasn’t Charlotte, who else could have done it?
The thought drove Beau’s thoughts in a direction he didn’t want to go. What if Josie or Missy had killed him? Missy’s condition seemed to rule her out, but Josie? Missy’s mother couldn’t have been happy about the way the senator had treated her daughter. Could she have gone to the house to confront him? Could Josie have lost her temper and killed him?
Anything was possible, and those possibilities had kept him awake late into the night.
That and the constant lust he felt for Cassidy Jones. He had dreamed of her lush body beneath him, of filling her and taking her deep. He’d awoken in a cold sweat, hard and aching, cursing the reputation he had with women that he didn’t really deserve.
He didn’t put time limits on relationships as the tabloids implied. They just seemed to fizzle, then slowly fade away. Maybe it would be different with Cassidy. He was determined to find out.
Unfortunately, at the moment he was the prime suspect in a murder. Finding the killer and proving his innocence had to be his first priority.
He was thinking about it when he got the call from Briscoe the next morning.
“Beau, it’s Tom. The autopsy results came in last night. Nothing we didn’t expect. Death a result of a fatal stabwound to the heart. The body’s been released to the funeral home.”
Beau’s chest felt tight. “The service is Saturday. Charlotte handled the arrangements. I spoke to her about an hour ago. She’s decided to keep the funeral relatively small, just friends and family. There’ll be a few state senators and congressmen. The governor sent his condolences but he won’t be there. I’m sure he’s keeping his distance until the case has been solved.”
“I’m sorry, Beau.”
“Thanks, Tom.” Beau hung up the phone. It went unsaid that Briscoe would continue to do his job, even if the murder trail ended with Beau. Beau respected him for it.
His next call went to Marty, who arranged for the Tex/Am chopper to pick him and Cassidy up in an open area off the golf course late that afternoon. Her bounty hunter friend, Jason Maddox, had said their best chance of speaking to Dooley Tate would be in the evening. If they went in a little early, he could get some work done at the office.
Now they were both strapped in, the chopper rising into the air. The whir of the helicopter blades took his mind off the murder and returned his attention to the moment.
Cassidy sat in the seat beside him. When he looked in her direction, he saw that she was grinning, completely caught up in the flight. He found himself smiling, too. That she could make that happen under the dire circumstances he was facing was enough to renew his determination to have her.
“I guess you like flying,” he said over the com system, adjusting his headphones to hear her reply.
“I hate flying,” she said. She looked down at the colorful patchwork of land and subdivisions disappearing beneath them. “Somehow this is different.”
