The circle was complete. Cross was a professor at Ca?ada and Dru was a student. J. C. Potrero—whether he was her boyfriend or employer or something else—knew both of them. And he certainly hadn’t been overjoyed with Max’s interest in DLE or the attack on Dru. Now Max had to figure out what DLE really did, and how Jason Hoffman’s murder figured into the scam.
Maybe Jason found out about DLE and confronted his friend Dru. She tells him what’s going on, he tries to help her get out of it, and gets shot.
From everything Max had learned about Jason, he was a helper. He helped his family, he helped his friends, he was generous with his time and money. It would fit his profile that he would help Dru. Except it wouldn’t be why Dru wanted to meet with her. Unless she felt that Max was getting too close and guilt made her want to come clean. It had happened to Max several times in the course of a cold case investigation—guilt motivated a witness to come forward.
But when Max talked to her, Dru didn’t seem like the type of person who could lie so smoothly about a friend’s murder. More likely, she didn’t make the connection until Max asked questions and had her thinking.
Except … Dru hadn’t called Max until after Nick Santini came to question her again. Had his questions prompted a recollection?
Max parked down the street and walked to the house. J. C.’s motorcycle was still there. She walked along the side to peer into the garage. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the garage, she saw a black BMW. The rear driver’s side was damaged.
Bingo.
She jogged back to her car and called Nick.
“I found the car that nearly hit me last night.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment.
“Are you there? Nick?”
“Where are you?”
She told him, then explained what she’d learned through Dru’s banking statements, how she tracked down her boyfriend, and then followed him to Rebecca Cross’s house.
“Maybe you should have been a cop, not a reporter.”
“Um, you wouldn’t have been able to get the information the way I did.”
“I need a plausible reason to get a warrant.”
“I gave Gorman a description of the car.”
“Color and general size. Black is rather common.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Detective. You have Dru’s phone. You grabbed J. C.’s name off her Facebook profile. Her roommate confirmed they were dating, at least had been dating recently. You tracked him to Rebecca Cross—followed him like I did. Now you have questions.” He didn’t say anything. “Or I can simply go in and interview them for an article I’m writing.”
“No,” he snapped. “I’m on it, do not do anything, Maxine. Promise me.”
“Define what you mean by ‘anything.’”
He abruptly ended the call.
Max was confident that Nick Santini would take care of this. And if not, she knew where Rebecca Cross lived and she would be back to talk to her.
Besides, she had another errand. Jasper Pierce had returned her call. His voice mail said he would love to meet for drinks—or dinner—at seven that evening. He suggested Evvia, a Greek restaurant Max had been dying to try.
She had just enough time to shower and change.
Chapter Fourteen
Jasper Pierce was everything a wealthy entrepreneur should be—attractive, well dressed, charming, and a flirt. His short sandy blond hair reminded her a bit of Daniel Craig, until she approached and she noted that he was well over six feet. The restaurant was warm and hospitable with a large hearth fireplace and the wonderful, rich smells of Hellenic cuisine. Max’s mouth practically watered. Though the place was crowded, Jasper had procured a large, round corner table near the front that could have comfortably sat four. Other two-person parties were at much smaller tables.
He took her extended hand in both of his. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Ms. Revere.”
“Thank you.” He pulled out her chair for her. “I have wanted to eat here since they opened,” she said, “but I’m rarely in town. Call me Max.”
“I’ve been friends with Jackson Sterling since high school. He speaks highly of you.”
Max laughed. “He’s probably the only one in my family who would.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” He gestured to the wine. “I ordered a Rapsani red, one of my favorites. The grapes are grown at the foot of Mount Olympus. But I can also recommend a white, if you prefer.”
“I’ll trust your judgment.”
He smiled and poured the wine. She sipped. It tasted like it had been cultivated for Zeus himself.
They chatted about mutual friends and ate a full meal—the owner obviously knew Jasper and kept bringing out plates for them to share. Max didn’t remember ordering anything, but felt like she sampled half the menu.
They were on their second bottle of wine when Max said, “You’ve been very hospitable, and I almost feel guilty that I need to ask you some questions.”
Jasper smiled. “Almost guilty?”
“It is my job.”
“I’m all yours.” He leaned back and smiled. Definitely turning on all the charm.
“Did you hear about Dru Parker?”
“Yes. The receptionist. She’s been with Evergreen since she was a senior in high school. Works hard, has poor taste in boyfriends but a strong work ethic, and that’s really all I care about. Jason was friends with her. I thought they might have dated now and again, but I can’t be sure.”
“She planned to meet with me the night she was attacked. I am certain she knows something about Jason’s murder, even if she doesn’t realize she knows something. She’s still in recovery at the hospital, but I’m hoping she’ll be up to talking tomorrow.”
“Why do you think she knows anything?”