To Laney, With Love Read online

  Chapter Six

  Connoisseur Specialty Wines’ offices in the West End, overlooking English Bay, were impressive. A glass door etched with clusters of grapes opened into a reception area boasting a rich wine-red carpet, a tasting bar and a stunning display case of the company’s products.

  With his business acumen and knowledge of the world markets, Laney could picture Reese doing well in this business.

  As the receptionist buzzed Dallyn Vohringer, Laney stared at the realistic grape-laden trellis that formed the frame of the display case, her thoughts splintering in six different directions at once.

  The croissants and aspirin she’d eaten in the car on the way over were taking the edge off a headache that had started as a result of missing lunch on top of a miserable night without sleep.

  Dallyn Vohringer was effeminate in appearance with delicate birdlike bones in his face, shoulders and wrists. He wore his icy-blond hair slicked straight back on his head and looked as if he could have posed for an ad for the designer suit that hung loosely on his body.

  He took Laney’s hand and held it for a minute as she introduced herself. His fingers were cool. “Of course, I know who you are. But please, why don’t you step into my office where we can speak privately?”

  With a glance at the receptionist, he led them into a short corridor that branched left and right. Dallyn turned to the right. His cherry-paneled office had a commanding view of the water. The dim outline of Vancouver Island was visible on the horizon. He closed the door behind them and invited them to be seated. “My receptionist doesn’t know about Graham yet,” he said, sotto voce. “The police thought it would be better if we gave the impression he was still in Europe for the time being.”

  Laney exchanged a glance with Ben, who raised his eyebrows at this news. Dallyn sat down behind an antique desk.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Vohringer, this is a little awkward. I—I’m not quite sure how to begin,” she stammered, feeling the heat of a blush seep into her cheeks. The fact that Mr. Vohringer might know more about Reese than she did was intimidating.

  “It’s quite all right, Mrs. Dobson. I confess I’m feeling the awkwardness of the situation myself. Graham never mentioned he was divorced.”

  Laney felt her face grow even hotter. She didn’t even dare look at Ben. It was too humiliating. “Probably because we were never divorced, Mr. Vohringer.”

  “Oh.” She saw the understanding dawn slowly in his dark eyes. “I see.”

  “We have a son, as well. Did Reese, I mean Graham, ever mention us?”

  “No, I’m afraid he didn’t.”

  Laney swallowed hard, not certain whether this was good or bad. But maybe if Reese had been recovering his memory he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone until he had spoken to her first.

  “I’m very sorry,” Dallyn said cautiously. “I don’t know why anyone would want to kill him. He didn’t have any enemies that I knew of. Oh, there was a bit of friction with his brother-in-law, but I imagine that was par for the course with Nelson Butterfield. All that money tends to get in the way.”

  “What about his relationship with Kristel?” Ben asked.

  Dallyn glanced from Ben to Laney as though reluctant to discuss the topic. “If you don’t mind my saying so, they seemed very happy together. Quite a few common interests.”

  Laney bit her lip. “The police told us they were married in July and met a few months before that. Can you confirm when they met? I have this theory that Reese suffered amnesia as a result of being trapped in the avalanche and may have taken on another identity.”

  “Hmm. You know, I think there may be something to your amnesia theory. Graham never talked much about his family or his background. As for when he met Kristel, I can’t say precisely. I’ve known Graham a little over a year. We met at a wine-tasting event before Christmas and we hit it off. Graham had inherited some money from a grandmother and was looking for a business to invest in. We came up with the idea of importing and exporting specialty wines and opened our doors two months later. In fact, we just celebrated a year in business last week. But now that I think on it, I seem to recall Graham giving Kristel a tour of the office in late April or early May. He was quite nervous so I had the feeling she must be someone special.”

  Special. The word sank slowly into Laney’s consciousness, needling her heart with yet another prick of pain. Were she and Josh not special enough?

  Of course they were, she told herself sharply. Reese had remembered them, which is why he’d sent for her. So why, then, did the needling sensation not go away? Was there something here she wasn’t quite seeing?

  Beside her, Ben leaned forward, his hands braced on his knees. “What will you do now that your partner is dead?” His point-blank directness almost made her smile. Leave it to Ben to always be thinking of the practicalities and not get hung up on emotions.

  Dallyn made a small sound. “Actually, Graham was more of an investor than a partner. He put up the seed money for the company and took on a cameo role in its day-to-day operations, but he certainly didn’t run the company. And it’s registered in my name.” He lifted his hand and gestured at the walls. “This was his hobby—something he played at between rounds of golf and ski trips. A few weeks ago he told me he wanted to go to Europe to visit some of our clients, though I suspected his real destination would be the French Alps. Probably Chamonix. But to answer your question, I will certainly continue to repay the loan to Kristel. However, it’s really too soon to be thinking of things like that,” he told Ben reproachfully.

  A stray thought made Laney sit up straighter in her chair. Reese usually liked to play a round of golf with a buddy. Maybe Graham had made other close friends since the avalanche and had confided in them?

  “Did you attend Graham and Kristel’s wedding?” Laney asked, hoping she could coax a guest list out of him—or at least a few names.

  “Of course. We provided the wines.”

  “Do you remember the names of Graham’s friends who were there? Maybe one of them could help us.”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention,” Vohringer said. “I’d brought a date and, with all the wine, I was comatose by the time the evening was over.” The phone rang and Dallyn reached for it. “Excuse me,” he told them, covering the receiver with his hand. “It’s an overseas call.”

  Dallyn looked something up on the computer screen, then told the customer he’d have to check the warehouse for the inquiry because they were in the midst of updating their inventory. He promised to fax a price as soon as possible. Laney glanced at her watch. It was ten after four. Was Nelson having any luck convincing Kristel to talk to them?

  Dallyn seemed almost uncomfortable as he tried to assure the customer he’d be in touch shortly. Sensing they’d taken enough of his time, Laney gestured to Ben that they should leave. Mouthing a thank-you to Dallyn from the door, they slipped out into the hall, quietly closing the door behind them.

  The gleam of a brass nameplate on the burgundy paneled door at the opposite end of the hall made Laney pause. Was that Graham’s office? Instead of turning into the reception area, Laney nudged Ben and held a finger to her lips. Casting a furtive glance at the receptionist, who was humming at her desk, she signaled her intent to tiptoe down to Graham’s office. Ben nodded and followed her. Maybe they could find something there that could help them.

  The door thankfully, was not locked. Laney felt her feet mire in the luxurious carpeting as she gazed at the room. The decor bore touches of Reese’s personality. The rich leather wing chairs. The Marlborough legs on the English mahogany desk, the art showcased on the handsome cherry shelves. A photo on the desk in a brass frame caught her instant attention. Her heart hammering wildly in her chest, Laney ordered her feet to transport her body to the desk. Steeling herself, she glanced down into Reese’s smiling face and felt her stomach drop six inches.

  Reese’s left arm was draped casually around the shoulders of a slender, dark-haired woman. Kristel? Laney cou
ldn’t tell much about the woman from the photo. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and a pair of designer sunglasses concealed her eyes. Nonplussed, Laney noted the picture had been taken on board a cruise ship—to Alaska? She could see snow-capped mountains in the background. Had they gone to Alaska on their honeymoon?

  Laney closed her eyes against the influx of pain this realization caused. But the steadying weight of two warm hands on her shoulders acted as a filter to those feelings, dulling them before they could cut any deeper. Ben. She could feel the heat of his body inches from her own. Could smell the tangy down-to-earth scent of his cologne.

  “She’s not half as pretty as you are,” he whispered in her ear, his breath stirring her hair. Laney found herself fighting the temptation to lean into him. To absorb all his common sense and strength into her body. Did he really think she was pretty? Suddenly the knowledge that Ben found her attractive mattered a whole lot more to her than where her husband had honeymooned with another woman. But she had to find answers for Josh.

  Laney drew her eyes away from the photo and opened the top drawer, hoping to find an address book or something that might give her the names of Graham’s friends and associates, who could provide a less biased appraisal of Graham’s relations with Kristel, Nelson and Dallyn. Reese had always used an electronic notebook. Maybe he’d still retained the habit, even though he’d lost his memory.

  The top drawer didn’t hold anything of interest. Just pens, notepads, elastic bands and paper clips. She tried the bottom filing drawer. It was empty. “Looks like Dallyn was right and Graham didn’t do any real work,” she told Ben in a low tone.

  “Try the middle drawer,” Ben urged.

  “I think not,” said a cold voice from the doorway.

  Laney started guiltily and felt a hot wave of embarrassment swell from her chest to her face as she met the censure in Dallyn’s eyes.

  “I’m afraid you’ve overstayed your welcome and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  She wiped her damp palms on her jeans. “I’m sorry, we were just—”

  Dallyn cut her off. “I’m really not interested in hearing your apologies. I’ve answered your questions to the best of my ability, but my generosity ends at trespassing. Now, please leave or I’ll call the police. I’m sure they’d be interested to know you were rifling through Graham’s office. Perhaps I’ll call them anyway.”

  “There’s no need to call the police,” Ben said passively. “Mrs. Dobson has every right to enter her husband’s office.”

  “Not until the police confirm Graham’s identity and, even then, not without Kristel’s permission,” Dallyn replied stiffly.

  “But something here may help us prove Graham Walker was also Reese Dobson,” Laney argued.

  “I doubt that. An officer was here earlier and helped himself to whatever he thought might be of assistance to the police in finding Graham’s murderer.”

  “Oh.” Laney hadn’t thought of that. Of course, the police would have already been here.

  Dallyn gripped the brass doorknob and stood to one side so they could pass. “I’ll see you out.”

  “THAT WAS ENLIGHTENING,” Ben quipped, glancing at Laney in concern as they emerged from the office building onto Denman Street. She’d been bombarded with a steady stream of unpleasant facts since they’d found Reese, and so far she’d held up like a trooper, but he was worried about how much more she could take.

  “What?” Laney replied with a distracted air. A chilly breeze blew in from the white-capped waters of English Bay and whipped her auburn hair around her face.

  Aware they might be under police surveillance, but not giving a damn anyway, Ben tucked his arm securely around Laney’s shoulders and guided her in the direction of the rental car.

  “Dallyn said Graham had inherited some money from a grandmother. Where do you think Reese got the money to invest in the company?” he asked. “Presumably, if he had amnesia, he lost all his ID. So, where did he get the money?”

  “Oh, my God, I never thought of that. You’re right.”

  “He must have—” Ben paused, stopping short of voicing his suspicions. Laney would only resent him for it. He darted a glance at her pale profile. Her lips were clamped tightly together. Her cheeks looked as if they’d been sculpted from ice, but were red from the cold. With a rush of empathy, he realized that sooner or later she would reach the same conclusions on her own, when she was ready. And he loved her all the more for her tenacious loyalty to Reese—however undeserved.

  “Reese must have what, Ben? Invested in the stock market?” The edge in her voice was unmistakable. She tried to curtail the hair fluttering around her face by tucking it behind her ears.

  “Yes,” he lied, using the excuse of opening the passenger door of the rental car to keep his gaze averted from her.

  She shot him an accusing glance as she climbed into the car. The wind whipped at her words. “You don’t have to try to protect me, Ben. With Reese’s experience as an analyst and all those on-site visits he’s conducted over the years to companies his firm considered potential investments, it’s only logical that he might unwittingly use some of the insider knowledge he’d picked up. He probably made a killing in the stock market, which is why he was only playing at being in the import/export business.” Her eyes glittered as she reached out and prevented him from closing the door. “I need you to be honest with me, Ben. Even if you think it’ll hurt me.”

  Ben stood on the curb staring down at her, the open car door between them adding to the awkwardness. She wanted honesty? He glanced at the Vancouverites hurrying down the sidewalk, coats buttoned up to their chins, their heads bent into the wind, then glanced back at Laney. She was still waiting for an answer. But a sidewalk seemed an inappropriate place to tell her he was in love with her. Or what he really thought of her husband. The man had just died the day before and it seemed selfish to confront Laney with his feelings when she was reeling with grief. Still, he sensed a distinctive this-is-a-relationship-test ring to the conversation and he was damned if he’d fail.

  Swallowing hard, he closed the door and marched around to the driver’s side. Laney’s scent, fragrant as a hothouse bloom, mingled with the damp, salt-laden air in the confines of the compact sedan as he slid onto the seat and faced her. A bubble of tension expanded in his chest. The desire to touch her tingled in his cold fingers, but he knew she wanted the truth, not comfort.

  “What if Reese really didn’t have amnesia? What if he faked his death so he could use insider information to make a fortune?” he asked softly.

  Her eyes widened and her shallow gasp made him wince.

  Then she nodded and squared her shoulders. But her chin wavered as she plucked a piece of lint from the sleeve of her jacket and said in a small, tight voice, “It’s killing me to think he lied to me. How can I tell Josh his father did something so dishonest?”

  Relief that she hadn’t turned on him for questioning Reese’s ethics eased some of the tension expanding in a thick balloon against his ribs, but Ben’s hands trembled on his thighs. He drew a deep breath. “First of all, we’re merely speculating,” he said almost gruffly, wondering ‘why he’d never felt this insane fluctuation in emotions when he’d fallen in love with Rebecca. Maybe it was because her death had changed him, had completely stripped him from the complacency of ever taking life for granted. “But regardless of what we unearth about Reese,” he went on after a moment, “I have no doubts whatsoever that you’ll find the right words for Josh. You always seem to know what to say to Scott. You’re the only adult he talks to besides my mother and me, and his teacher. And look how you convinced Nelson to try to arrange an interview with Kristel.”

  She shook her head, denying his arguments. “We don’t know if Kristel will see us yet. And even if she does agree, it’s probably because the police encouraged Nelson to arrange a meeting if we insisted on one.” She made a wry face. “They probably think we’re holding off with our blackmail demand unt
il we’re face-to-face.”

  Ben squelched the urge to rebut her demurral with a bolstering kiss that would melt the condensation fogging up the windows. “Don’t sell yourself short. I think Butterfield discarded that notion within a few minutes of meeting you,” he replied, wondering how a genuinely warm and compassionate woman like Laney could ever doubt her worth or her effect on others. Or the effect she had on him. Heat seared his groin with the blasting intensity of a furnace.

  Ben glanced at the digital clock on the dash, seeking an acceptable excuse to escape the enforced intimacy of the car—and his feelings for her. He scanned the funky, modern West Coast facades of the cafés, video stores, bakeries and espresso bars lining Denman Street. “It’s almost five. I’ll go scout out a pay phone so we can call Nelson.” Ben checked his pockets for a quarter.

  “Wait, I’ll come with you,” Laney said, scrambling out of the car with him. “I want to call Josh and wish him good-night. It’s eight o’clock in Ottawa. Your mom should be getting the boys ready for bed.”

  Ben valiantly tried to come up with a reason to prevent her from tagging along, but her obvious eagerness to talk to Josh seemed vastly more important than his need to allow his male urges to return to a state of hibernation. One look at her earnest expression obliterated the half dozen cop-outs forming in his mind. A huge, red-foil heart, part of a Valentine display in the storefront window behind her, framed her petite figure—her tiny booted feet, jeans that snugly clung to her shapely calves and hips, and the V where the zipper of her mauve jacket had nudged down to reveal the bright purple-and-yellow petals of a pansy. Blood pounded in his ears in heavy, scorching waves. The pure, natural whimsy of her appearance pushed him to the brink of a complete and total meltdown.

  The jarring honk of a car horn sliced into his consciousness. Drawing a ragged breath, Ben made a discreet adjustment to the front of his brown corduroys and prayed that the answers they were seeking would come fast and easy as he joined her on the sidewalk.

  Then he could devote all his time and energy toward convincing Laney that love and marriage could be spectacular the second time around.