“Arthur died slipping on ice and then falling down the steps.”
“I’ve read the police report. And it seems fairly straight forward. He had been drinking, arrived home late, and the walkway and stairs were icy. And no one knew he had slipped until they found him the next morning.” He pauses.
“Yes?”
“I can see why the conclusion of accidental death was reached, but several things don’t add up for me. The first being, why didn’t his wife go home with him that night from the party? Secondly, why didn’t the outside lights go on when he arrived home? And thirdly, where was Mayer that night? They were supposed to be celebrating a new lucrative partnership, and he was absent from the party.”
I close my eyes, remembering that night, where the wine and celebration at MacKay International flowed all around us.
“I was at that party,” I tell him. “Arthur was so proud of everything Peter had done to get the deal to happen. I honestly didn’t notice Mayer wasn’t there. It was Peter’s night.”
“It may never be proven, but it would’ve been easy for Mayer to arrive at the house before MacKay, tamper with the lights, and then ensure that MacKay slipped and fell in the dark,” Lion hypothesizes.
“Find out as much as you can, especially about Mrs. Mayer. Lily is understandably upset about the lack of concern and contact. And let me know the second Mayer has been arrested.”
Once Mayer is behind bars, and I know Lily and Riley are both safe from him, I’ll finally be able to relax. And my woman will be able to come home.
“Will do.” Lion ends the call.
Relaxing into my chair, I press Lily’s name in my contacts and attempt to reach her. We haven’t spoken since yesterday afternoon. I want to see what is happening with her dorm room and to check in. It rings three times before I receive a text from her.
Lily: We’re at the spa, call you back xoxo
Finn: Are you okay?
Lily: Yes. Peter called with the good news. I can come home!
I am irrationally irritated that Peter was the one to tell her that Mayer had a warrant out for his arrest, making her think she could come back to Boston right away.
Finn: No arrest made yet. Call me later.
Lily should not be coming back to Boston until Mayer is behind bars and the question of her mother’s involvement has been answered.
Lily: Yes boss man.
I can’t help but chuckle at the nickname she’s given me.
Lily: How’s your warehouse?
Finn: Destroyed. Bomber arrested.
Lily: :( I’m sorry… glad they caught the asshole. Mani time, type laters. Xxx
My phone vibrates on my coffee table. Glancing over at the screen, I quickly press ignore. After the day I’ve had, I’m in no mood to go another round with my mother. I got home an hour ago and am now in the middle of reading one of several contracts the head of my legal department, Cynthia Maul, handed me before I left.
Just as I’m halfway through a contract, there’s a loud knock on my door. I groan in annoyance and stalk into my front hall. Peeking through the peephole, I spy Peter, standing there holding a pizza box. I hadn’t told Mrs. White that I’d need dinner, so hunger gets the better of me, and I open the door.
“The pizza can stay,” I tell him, taking the box out of his hands and turning to walk toward the living room.
“What about the beer?” I hear him ask as the door clicks closed, and he follows.
“Depends what kind,” I reply, placing the box on the coffee table.
“Sons Royal.” Peter smiles, holding up a case of my favorite Vermont-based microbrew and setting it down next to the pizza.
“What are you doing here?” I flip open the pizza box and grab a slice, taking a large delicious bite before flopping onto the couch.
“I thought we should talk.” He grabs a slice for himself and sits on the other end of the couch.
“Are you going to finally tell me what’s been going on?” I open the drawer of the coffee table and, digging through it, find the bottle opener.
“Yes.”
I grab two beers from the pack and open them both before handing one to Peter. We both take a long swallow in silence.
“About a year ago, I noticed some irregularities in the accounts.” Peter sets his beer back onto the table. “Mayer said it was an error, and I believed him. But something bothered me about it, so I decided to start looking more closely at accounts and do some digging into the past.”
“And you found something,” I surmise.
“What is it they say about curiosity?” he asks, taking another bite of his slice. “It killed the cat. Well, I uncovered what Uncle Arthur had. That Mayer was fleecing the company.”
“So, you went to the FBI and became their CI?”
“Not at first. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I mean, I’ve always thought the guy was half an asshole, but I honestly never thought he’d betray Uncle Arthur—his best friend.”
“You know,” I say tentatively, “I talked to the head of Pride Security, and Mayer could’ve killed Arthur.”
“As much I don’t want to believe it, I do.” Peter shakes his head and takes another long sip. “Long story short, Mayer tried to pay me off in order to keep me quiet.”
“Like you’d betray Arthur like that.”
“I love Mom,” he chuckles mirthlessly, “but she had men in and out of our lives my entire childhood. Uncle Arthur was like a father to me. He was the only steady male influence I had. I’d never betray him or his legacy.”
“I know,” I said, understanding him completely.
My own father may have bolted soon after my sister was born, but I had my paternal grandfather, who was both a role model and father figure—I have spent my entire adult life trying to make him proud.
“So I went to the FBI and became their CI.” He tosses his crust into the box. “Which was a good thing because it would’ve taken me a fuck of a lot longer to find Lily on my own.”
“You would’ve found her,” I tell him with confidence, taking another bite.
Chapter Nine
~ Lily ~
“My girls will be so jealous when I tell them about this view,” JoJo says, smiling, as we look out across Mayfair on our suite’s terrace.
“Want me to take a picture of you with your phone?” I offer, setting my own phone down with a clang onto the metal cafe table.
“Would you?” JoJo hands her cell phone over to me and turns her chair so that her back is to the view.
“Smile.” I snap several pictures when her phone vibrates suddenly in my hand. “Your phone’s buzzing.”
I pass her back the phone, and she quickly checks her messages. Her expression is serious.
“Lee’s sent me a picture.” She beams at us, turning the phone around.
Two beautiful Black girls, dressed in matching navy polo-shirts, smile out from the screen. The youngest’s hair is braided and covered with a dozen colorful clips. The oldest’s hair is slicked back into a ponytail of curls. Between them is a large white man with an identical smile.
“Your girls are beautiful,” Aunt Kitty tells her truthfully. “They definitely have their father’s smile.”