The Perfect Man. Carla Fredd
amazed tone. “Yes.”
“That’s good to know,” she said.
What the hell? Chris turned and looked at her. A frown wrinkled her brow as she fingered the seams of the sleeve with the focus of a sniper with a target in sight. He couldn’t just let her comment pass. “Why is that good to know?”
“I have a friend who designs computer games and he’s always looking for new twists to add to the games.”
“I see,” he said and moved to put the shirt to the side, but Renee had a sleeve. He let go of the shirt when he realized that she wasn’t going to let it go.
“What kind of things do you find in clothes?”
“Jewelry, drugs, money,” he said and picked up a jacket. “Anything.”
“You don’t think he put the necklace in his clothing, do you?”
“I don’t know. If he didn’t, maybe he hid something that could point us to what he did do with the necklace.”
Renee shook her head. “I just don’t see Marc being the kind of guy to sew something in his clothes. He couldn’t even sew on a button.”
Chris raised his brow. “Marc knew how to sew.”
“What do you mean? He took his clothes to the tailor if a button fell off.”
“I mean we both had to learn to sew a seam and repair our clothes. We didn’t have enough money growing up to throw away anything.”
“So he lied about that, too.”
“Yes, he did.” Chris wished he’d kept his mouth closed. He could see that this information hurt her. It was just one more mess Marc made that he’d have to clean up. Chris moved his hand along the hem of the jacket and felt something hard. The kick of satisfaction had him reaching for his knife again.
Chapter 4
Chris wasn’t surprised to see the gold credit card and Florida driver’s license in Marc’s jacket. He’d bet that Marc’s other identification and credit cards were sewn into clothing and hanging in the closets of houses in Florida and Georgia. His older brother had learned to be careful. He would have had to be or else he would have made a mistake with one of the wives. Marc’s life had been a balancing act and he’d been a very good juggler.
Chris put the cards down on the table. He reached for another jacket from the box and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Renee pick up the license. She hadn’t believed that he’d find anything in Marc’s clothing if her shocked expression was any indication. He felt sorry for her and the other wives. Marc had snowed all of them. Chris slid his fingers along the shoulder of the jacket. The sleek silk-blend fabric felt cool and smooth to the touch. No lumps or budges disrupted the tailored lines. The best thing he could do for all of them would be to settle Marc’s estate and let them get on with their lives. But first, he had to figure out what happened to the necklace. He also had to figure out Renee. He shifted his position so that he could watch her without being obvious.
She studied the license as if it were a treasure map with the location of the necklace printed on it. She bit her bottom lip, which looked plump and lush like a ripe plum. He wondered if she tasted just as sweet.
Chris tightened his jaw and took his gaze from the tempting sight. Focus on the damn job, he told himself. He finished searching the jacket and laid it on top of the growing pile of clothing that had been searched.
“Did you have a flight to Florida listed at all?” she asked.
He picked up a shirt. “I don’t think so. Why?”
She turned the license toward him. “This was issued in March—a month before he died. How did he get to Florida?”
He scanned the card and found the issue date. “He could have driven or taken the bus.”
She shook her head. “Taking the bus doesn’t sound like Marc. He always booked first-class or business-class tickets for the plane. There’s not an equivalent for the bus.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t tell her that he’d learned Marc has taken the bus one-way from Charleston to Savannah. From Savannah, he’d taken a commercial flight to Birmingham. He’d tracked down that information from a credit card that none of the wives knew he had.
“I’d better make a note to check his card records for gas charges.” She walked to the cart with her laptop and began typing.
Chris continued his search of Marc’s clothing. If she was lucky, she might find the information, but Marc could have used cash. She probably wouldn’t find anything because cash rarely left a trail. He continued to search through Marc’s clothing until the box was empty. He glanced over his shoulder at Renee. She’d pulled one of the black mesh office chairs over the to cart and her fingers moved quickly across the keys of the laptop.
He got his knife and cut open the next box. With her distracted, he could search without interruption.
This box was smaller than the other. He pulled out packing paper and reached for the brown leather organizer and flipped it over. Marc’s name was printed on a small brass plate on the front. Why did Marc have a BlackBerry and this? Chris opened the organizer and began looking through the calendar. Marc’s handwriting was just as sloppy as he remembered. Every day in January Marc had written at least one notation. Some entries were easy to recognize, like meetings and presentations, but others weren’t. He turned the page to the next month and the next until he came to the month that Marc died. The entry made no sense to him. GMALNL-ALNYER. He’d have to look through Marc’s files later to check if he’d listed anyone with the last name of Nyer. He put the planner on the desk next to the credit card and license. He would take it with him to the hotel tonight where he could access more information on his computer.
Chris looked at the computer equipment scattered around the room. He wasn’t sure whether he could trust her network. Until he learned the exact extent of her computer’s abilities to spy on his activities, he would search through all of Marc’s things here then use the secure terminal from his hotel room to try to access the files on the external hard drive recovered from Marc’s plane.
He went through the rest of the items in the box, looking for anything useful, but came up empty-handed. “Is this everything?” he asked, folding the lid of the box closed.
“That’s all that was left,” she replied.
“Left.” Chris turned and grew silent. She’d put on a pair of black-rimmed Catwoman glasses and the staccato sound of her fingers hitting the keyboard drowned out the steady hum of computers. She should have looked ridiculous, but instead she looked bookish and sexy as she stared at the computer monitor. She was the last woman he should feel attracted to, but he couldn’t deny the gut-level desire he felt. He’d had enough of Marc’s hand-me-downs in his life. There was no way in hell he was going play second string to Marc’s widow. He’d do what he’d done all through childhood and ignore what he couldn’t have. “What do you mean?”
She looked up from the monitor and frowned. “Well.” She pushed the glasses onto the bridge of her nose. “Marc had other things, but he must have taken them with him on his last trip.”
“What things?”
“His briefcase, BlackBerry, the external hard drive I gave him for his birthday.”
“You gave him an external hard drive as a birthday present?”
“Yes. He was always losing his jump drives. I figured he’d have a hard time losing a hard drive.”
He’d never heard of a woman giving her husband a hard drive as a birthday present. What kind of relationship did they have? No. Their relationship didn’t matter. What mattered was finding that necklace. Chris walked to the desk where she’d placed his briefcase and pulled out a notepad and a pen. He made a list of the missing items. The briefcase, the BlackBerry and an external hard drive were found in the