Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [96]
“That’s a good question. He really doesn’t have much of a motive, does he?” Hannah had finished scribbling her notes and tucked the pad into a voluminous purse she forever carried with her.
“She does owe him money.”
“How much?” Hannah’s head snapped up.
This was news he’d just learned from the county records, news he hadn’t yet shared with her.
“A couple of hundred thousand. Closer to two-fifty.”
Hannah whistled low. “Secured?”
He nodded. “Second trust deeds on both her houses. About the only collateral the woman had. She was in debt to her pretty neck. If Marquise is dead, he can force a sale against the estate and collect.” Seeing that the tail was neatly and discreetly in place as the unmarked Jeep rounded the corner, he turned and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Couldn’t he do it if she was alive?”
“Oh, yes. But she could fight him; make it messy. Lots of bad publicity and lawyer fees.”
“Does he need the money?”
“Doesn’t look that way. The guy has a knack for investments, it seems. Self-made. Worked hard, put money away, got lucky on a couple of real-estate deals. He bought a lot of land in California when the market went bust a few years back. Now that it’s turned around, it looks like he’s a wealthy man. But who knows?”
“You think he’d find a way to kill her for two hundred grand?” Hannah was skeptical. “He doesn’t strike me as the type.”
“Walker’s hiding something. And, unless the convenience store clerk really did see Marquise, Thane Walker was the last person who saw her alive. So, I’ll want to talk to Marquise’s neighbor again, find out if she remembers anything more about that argument.”
“It’ll have to wait. Jane Stanton is visiting her daughter for a couple of days.”
“What?”
“Her daughter had a skiing accident, or something,” Hannah said, flipping the pages of her notebook. “Jane wanted to see that she was okay. But she should be back by the weekend.”
“Great.” Sometimes it seemed that nothing went right.
Hannah clicked her pen. “So what do you think Walker’s hiding?”
“That’s the quarter-million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Henderson spit his gum into the trash and still hungered for a cigarette. “But now at least we know that he’s got motive.”
“Still no body.”
That was the good news. Maybe Marquise was alive somewhere. “Yeah, there’s a chance we still could get lucky. She might turn up fit as a fiddle.” But as each day passed, he thought that chance was less and less likely. “This could be an elaborate publicity stunt, or she could’ve holed up. Maybe she’s hiding somewhere and licking her wounds for some reason. Could be she just needed to get away, or she might have had a bad case of amnesia.”
“The Jeep will turn up.”
“Mmm.” Unless it’s already in a chop shop. He rubbed a knot out of the tight muscles at the base of his neck, the same damned muscles that always tightened up and gave him a headache whenever he was stressed out. “What did you think about the sister?”
“I liked her.” Hannah nodded and clicked her pen again, as if she were agreeing with herself.
“Why?”
“Smart. Honest. Down-to-earth. Concerned about Marquise. She handled herself pretty well.”
“You think so?” He usually respected Hannah’s opinion, even when it didn’t jibe with his own.
“Yeah. Him, I’m not so sure about.”
“Me, neither, but tell me, as a woman, what do you think about the guy?”
“Oh, you want the female perspective.”
“That’s right. Shoot.” Henderson picked up his now-cold cup of coffee.
A small smile played upon Hannah’s lips and she tugged thoughtfully on her ear. “Well, for one thing, he’s sexy as hell. Too damned male for his own good. He’s almost a cliché, you know. Tall, ranch-tough, chiseled features, irreverent. A cowboy with an attitude. Every American woman’s secret fantasy.”
Henderson snorted.
“Even your remark that he’s hiding something holds some kind of appeal; women are curious, they like a man who has a dark side. Don’t ask me why. There’s a thrill to it, I suppose. The element of not knowing. Danger.” She was obviously looking for a reaction.