Cold River - Carla Neggers [114]
“That doesn’t mean he can’t have a glass or two of wine with his secretary, does it?”
“Sometimes…” She sniffed. “Twice. He worked late and had to go to a dinner, and in between—it was never more than one glass of wine.”
“You’d talk?”
“Some. About my goals and policy opinions. I love all that. He hated talking about work unless he had to.”
“What else did you talk about over your one glass of wine?”
“His frustrations with Nora. His stepdaughter. Normal stuff—he really tried to do right by her. He knew she was angry at him and her mother for what they did to her father. That’s how she saw it.”
Grit realized Jo was letting him loose, but he avoided her eye just in case she changed her mind. “He looked to you for advice because you’re young and female?”
“Ambassador Bruni wasn’t a man who looked to anyone for advice. He was just venting over a glass of wine. He wanted to do right by Nora. Really, he did.”
“What about his visit from Drew Cameron in April?”
“He was murdered, too. I can’t believe…”
“Ambassador Bruni didn’t know Drew had been murdered before he himself was killed,” Jo said.
“I think…at the end…” The young secretary fidgeted. “I think the ambassador was getting suspicious about something. I remember the day Mr. Cameron was here. The ambassador was especially frustrated with Nora. She was a high school senior. You know how that can be. All the angst and drama. She was here, too, and he bit Mr. Cameron’s head off.”
Grit nodded sympathetically. “It’s tough being a stepdad.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she said, warming up again, less fidgety. “Right before he was killed in November, he said he wished he’d been nicer and listened, because he thought Drew—that’s what he called him was onto something in Black Falls. They both loved Black Falls. Ambassador Bruni said it was the one place he could truly relax and be himself, not such a bastard. He’d been going up there for several years. He stayed at the Cameron family’s lodge.”
“He and the Whittakers became friends after they bought their place in Black Falls,” Jo said. “He stayed with them a few times.”
“I almost forgot, but yes, that’s right.”
“What did he say about the Whittakers?” Grit asked.
“Not much. Nora was living in their guesthouse. Ambassador Bruni remembered that Drew Cameron had asked about them.”
“Asked what?”
The secretary looked awkward and blushed.
“Ha,” Grit said. “You did listen at the keyhole.”
“I did not. I just—I just didn’t remember when the police asked me. I don’t want them to think I’m holding back.”
“Just tell us what you remember now,” Jo said.
“Ambassador Bruni was drinking wine, sitting here on the corner of his desk. It was as if I wasn’t here. I think that’s why I didn’t think of it—it seemed so in passing. He was just thinking out loud. Mr. Cameron had come in here specifically to ask him what he thought of Lowell and Vivian Whittaker and Thomas Asher. ‘Who are these people?’ he’d asked.”
It was Jo who asked the next question. “Did Drew say why he wanted to know?”
“Not really.”
“What do you mean, ‘not really’?”
The secretary scrunched up her face, remembering. “Mr. Whittaker had helped him or he had helped Mr. Whittaker. I don’t remember which.”
“Something about stonework?” Grit asked. “An old foundation, maybe?”
“An old cellar hole,” Jo said.
“That’s it. An old cellar hole.” The young woman was clearly pleased with herself. “It’s not a phrase I use. He was interested in old cellar holes in the area. Old stonework. Mr. Whittaker was, too. Mr. Cameron had a project—it was a few months earlier. We’re talking more than a year ago. It can’t be relevant, can it?”
“We’ll find out,” Jo said. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Is that all?”
“For now.”
Jo walked out into the hall with Grit. “Drew had his doubts about Lowell Whittaker. Not enough for the police or to tell Rose and the boys.”
“Maybe Lowell didn’t want the scrutiny and knew Drew would keep digging. He was like that, wasn’t he?”
“A Cameron. Lowell nipped his questions in the bud. Bruni’s, too.”
“Yeah,” Grit said, pressing the elevator