Chapter 11

"I told the police everything I saw," Emmett Dubois stated after he took a long drag on his cigarette. He exhaled a cloud of smoke in Laura's direction. She took a step back and waved her hand in front of her face as she tried to avoid inhaling.

"Mr. Dubois, we're sorry for your loss, and we want to help get to the bottom of who murdered your father," Laura explained. She finally moved to stand on the other side of Remington, away from Emmett and his offending cigarette smoke. They were standing in Emmett's living room, and to Laura's dismay, the entire room reeked of the same smell.

Emmett took another pull, exhaled again, and shook his head. "The police said they caught the guy." He ground the cigarette into the ashtray beside him. Remington couldn't help notice the ashtray was overflowing.

"We're on the same side. I can assure you," Remington announced. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before he asked, "How can you be so sure the man the police apprehended was the man that actually attacked your father?"

Emmett's head snapped in his direction. "You think he's innocent? The police found his fingerprints on the safe!"

"What about the surveillance cameras?" Laura suggested.

"What about 'em?" Emmett retorted.

Laura waved her hand, gracefully. "Well, the police didn't mention anything about them. I would think whoever killed your father would have had to disable the cameras."

"The cameras were turned off," Emmett stated.

"Turned off? As in disabled or—" Remington began, but Emmett quickly cut him off. "My father must have turned them off after the party. He does that sometimes to change the tapes."

Laura nodded slowly. "Do you think he was surprised while he was changing the tapes, perhaps?"

"Maybe? Why are you asking me? I'm not the police!" Emmett exclaimed. He reached for the cigarette pack on the table, pulled out the slender white stick, and lit it. "That guy the police caught… he murdered my father. What more do you need?"

Laura took a step forward. "Well, a motive for starters. He claimed the money was already missing from the safe, and your father was dead long before he got there."

"No! That's not… no! That… that… monster killed my father!" Emmett insisted.

"Can you think of anyone else who might hold a grudge against your father?" Remington held his hand up to try to calm Mr. Dubois. "I'm not saying Victor Boyd didn't do as you are suggesting, but we want to rule out any other possible enemies your father may have had."

Emmett slumped onto the couch behind him. He scratched his head before he dragged his hands down his stubbled cheeks with a loud sigh. "My father wasn't a saint, but everyone I knew loved him. He donated to multiple charities and chose to live in a condo in the city. He sold our home a few years ago after my mom died. He wanted to live a simpler life since he found out all the money we had couldn't save my mother when she got sick."

Remington raised an eyebrow in Laura's direction. She looked around the sparsely furnished room and asked, "Is that why you're living here and not with him?"

"My father and I didn't always see eye to eye, Mrs. Steele. I chose to move out, and when I did, he told me, in no uncertain terms, I was on my own," Emmett stated as he leveled his gaze on her.

"Your father's gallery was still high-end." Remington pointed out. "If he was living a simpler life as you said, what was he doing with all his money? Other than the charities you mentioned, that is."

Emmett pushed himself to a standing position. He stood eye to eye with Remington and spat, "I don't know."

Laura adjusted her purse on her shoulder and gave Remington's arm a slight tug. "We're very sorry for your loss, Mr. Dubois. We can see ourselves out."

Remington dutifully followed Laura to the door but stopped and turned back to face Emmett once more. "If anything comes to mind, Mr. Dubois, or anyone you think of that may have a grudge against your father, please give us a call." He plucked a business card out of his jacket pocket and held it out.

Emmett lifted his chin and stated, "Leave it on the table. I doubt I'm going to need it." He turned his back and shuffled his way back to the couch.

Laura held the door open and waited for Remington to join her. She watched as he left the card on the small table beside the door, and with one final glance in Emmett's direction, he placed his hand on her lower back and escorted her through the door.

In the car, Laura tapped her finger on her lips and stated, "Something doesn't add up, Mr. Steele."

Remington shifted his eyes in her direction and asked, "What do you mean, Mrs. Steele?"

"Well, so far, both Emmett Dubois and Detective Jarvis have yet to come up with a true motive for this case. All we have is circumstantial evidence and a man everyone seems to like," Laura pointed out.

"Perhaps something isn't as it seems. What do you say we check out the gallery? Maybe we'll see something the police missed," Remington suggested. He glanced at his watch and added, "After we pick up some lunch. We can't have you wasting away to nothing."

Laura's face brightened at the mention of food. With a dimpled, crooked grin, she agreed, "Lunch sounds perfect now that my stomach has stopped doing flip flops from the smell of that cigarette."

Remington reached over and took her hand. "Well, my love, you managed to keep your discomfort well-hidden this time."

"It's going to end up being an art form, I'm guessing," Laura giggled. "I can't have our clients think I'm incapable of performing my job simply because I'm pregnant."

"So, Mrs. Steele, what might our babe be craving at this moment?" Remington gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

With her free hand, Laura brushed her hair off her face. "I'm not really sure, to be honest."

Remington grinned. "Might I offer a few suggestions?"

"See if anything tickles my fancy?" Laura quipped.

"Well, I've been doing a bit of reading lately, so what would you say to a nice strawberry spinach salad topped with steak tips. Cooked well, of course," Remington offered.

Laura licked her lips. "Mmmm, that does sound appetizing."

Remington chuckled at her reaction. "And I know just the place to get such a dish. You know, strawberries are bursting with vitamin C, spinach is loaded with folate, which is one of the ingredients in those vitamins the doctor prescribed, and the steak will help keep your iron levels up," he informed his wife.

Laura twisted in her seat to study his face. "When did you become such a dietary expert? And what do you mean you've been doing some reading lately? What are you up to?"

Remington laughed again. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. "I may have picked up a book or two on pregnancy to quell certain fears," he admitted.

"You did, did you?" Laura released his hand and caressed his cheek lightly. She righted herself in her seat and covered her belly with her right hand. "I thought about doing the same thing, but I was afraid I'd read too much and get scared."

"Laura, why didn't you tell me? If there's something you're afraid of, we should work through it together. I mean, we are a team, are we not?" Remington gently admonished her.

Laura looked down at her hand. "I know we are, and I know I don't have to worry about you leaving anymore. Especially not now. But I know all sorts of things can happen when you're pregnant, and I think in this case… in my case… ignorance might be bliss," she conceded softly.

"Look at the pair of us, eh. Both afraid of the same thing, yet we took two different approaches to deal with our fears," Remington pointed out.

Laura lifted her eyes shyly, and with a slow smile, she said, "I guess we both have a lot to talk about then. We should be on the same page moving forward. So, you can tell me what you've read, and I'll tell you what I'm afraid of. Over lunch."

"Over lunch, it is, my love," Remington assured her with one more kiss on her fingers.