Intrusion Page 4

  “What if one of those things malfunctions?” I asked. “Can you act fast enough?”

  “Me, personally?” Rand laughed. “Ma’am, I don’t do anything fast, but my teammates here sure do.” He clapped a muscular Latino on the shoulder. “Meet Tony Torres. We call him Tornado. I mean, this guy has already saved three lives.”

  “Wow,” Candy said checking out Tornado’s manly form. “Are you a doctor or a computer whiz?” Her dimples deepened as she gave him the star treatment.

  Torres flushed. “Neither. I’m a nurse practitioner. We were monitoring a patient with a defib, and the system went wild.” He gave Candy a Chiclets grin. “See, all this stuff is encrypted when it comes to us. There’s a radio frequency band just for that purpose. Anyhow, this patient didn’t listen to his doctor. His kid had MP3 headphones, and they started screwing around together. Bam! Those things can interact, and our guy got a nasty shock.” Torres shrugged. “Actually, it was no biggie. I buzzed his doctor and sent the paramedics. Our guys reprogrammed his gizmo, and all was well.”

  “He’s being modest,” Rand said. “The Tornado rules.” He checked his watch. “Ready for lunch, ladies? There’s much more to see.”

  Candy exhaled, and I took the hint.

  “We’ll take a rain check, if that’s OK. You’ve given us an awful lot to digest.”

  Rand chuckled. “I know I get carried away, but CYBER-MED is just so cool. It’s my dissertation topic, you know.”

  “Really? What are you focusing on?”

  “Yeah,” Candy said. “Any trade secrets flowing to MIT? After all, graduate school costs a fortune these days.”

  There was that flush again. “Ladies, I know you’re playing with me, but I love it.” Rand handed us his card. “You can call me directly, if you want, or go straight to the top. Dr. Cahill said you get access to everything.”

  We shook hands, nodded to Rob the receptionist, and spilled out to the sunshine of a beautiful Boston day.

  ~

  “I thought you’d never leave,” Candy groused. “My eyes crossed after the first ten minutes in that place. All those nerds staring at computer screens, creepy.”

  “It wasn’t that bad. Anyhow, we’re just scratching the surface. Expect more of the same the next time we’re here.”

  She arched her back as if preparing for a feline hissy fit. “No way. Count me out. I say we sell those shares and move on with our lives.”

  I know my friend. Her mood is invariably bright, full of optimism and sunshine, until the weather changes. When clouds roll in, logic only inflames her.

  “Well, we have plenty of time to decide that. Tommy’s estate has to go through probate. That could take a while.”

  Candy whirled around, hands on hips, eyes narrowed. “OK, Elisabeth Mae Buckley, come clean. What are you up to?”

  I flashed her the peace sign. How could I explain something I wasn’t certain of myself? CYBER-MED was a respectable firm staffed by educated, highly trained professionals. Tommy had researched it before ever committing to the business. He’d even gotten Kai involved. No one was more rigorous than Kai when it came to research. Five generations of Buckleys made and kept their fortune through smart business decisions. What could I possibly add to that?

  Candy hadn’t moved an inch. She stood there, glowering. “You’re no detective, Mrs. B. I can coax things out of people much better than you can. You’re such a lawyer, all formal and stiff.”

  I forced myself to count way past ten. She was right. Candy scored higher on the charm chart than I could ever hope to. She had aced Hypocrisy 101 while I scraped through with a barely passing grade. Scores of vulnerable men swooned at her feet everywhere she went. Except Kai. He’d never looked at anyone else from the day we met. Neither had I.

  I patted my friend’s shoulder. “You’re right. That’s why I need your help. Come on.” I played my hole card. “After all, it’s for Tommy.”

  Her lips puckered in a pout. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Blackmail is against the law, isn’t it?” She raised her arm and hailed a cab. “I’m heading back to Sweet Nothings. Today’s new product day, in case you’ve forgotten. I hook up with my beauty bloggers at two sharp.”

  That was part of her genius. Candy identified and absorbed social media trends like a sponge. While larger firms ignored user groups, she heard them out. Beauty bloggers, a fiercely independent lot, became her staunchest allies, testing products, offering advice and spreading the gospel according to Sweet Nothings. Candy co-opted them for the price of free makeup and a sympathetic ear.

  “See you later,” I said. “I need a walk to clear my head.” I trotted up Cambridge Street, heading for the subway. Candy hates public transportation, but I enjoy the T. It’s a pretty good deal, offering a fast ride and free entertainment for a modest fee. My mind whirled with facts, figures and speculation. Tommy’s murder and CYBER-MED might be totally unrelated. After all, he’d cut a swath through half the eligible female population of Boston. Occasionally, he’d included married women in the mix as well. Maybe a spurned lover or her angry spouse had run him down. He’d had a few scrapes before. Maybe I should tell Andrews.

  I’m tall but ungainly. Kids taunted me about that throughout grade school, called me Giraffe. My mom chided me more than once for wandering around in a haze. I should have listened to Mom. Instead of staying alert, I followed the herd, stepping blindly off the curb into traffic. A horn blared, and I froze as a speeding truck bore down on me.

  Is this how Kai felt on that mountain? Did Tommy die this way?

  Before I could even scream, an arm yanked me back from perdition. The sleeve felt soft and comforting, but my savior’s voice was harsh.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he growled. “Do you want to die?”

  Good question. I scrambled to my feet and faced him. With his wild mane of hair and scruffy beard, he seemed more devil than angel. His blue-green eyes flashed like lightning.

  “Thank you,” I stuttered. “I …” My legs wobbled, defying gravity.

  The man tugged me none too gently toward the side of a building and propped me up against the wall. “Are you injured?” he asked. “Shall I call an ambulance?”

  “No, I …” No one would call me glib, but syntax was the least of my worries. Something about this stranger both attracted and frightened me. His intensity flirted with madness.

  “Good,” he said. “We need to talk, Mrs. Buckley.”

  “You know me?”

  “Not officially, no, but I met your late husband.”

  “Kai?” I was half mute, incapable of speech. “Who are you?”

  He thrust his arm through mine, propelling me toward the nearest Starbucks. “Come with me. I will explain.”

  Despite the odds, we found an empty table. The stranger took my order, slipped into line and returned quickly with two Chai lattes. I sat silently sipping my tea, studying him. He didn’t look homicidal. In fact, several women in the place were boldly eyeing him. That was a plus. On the other hand, Theodore Bundy, serial killer extraordinaire, was very well groomed and rather hot. So much for appearances.

  “OK, what’s this all about? I’m grateful to you, but that’s it. How did you know my husband, and what do you want?”

  That coaxed a grin from him. His sea blue eyes actually twinkled. “My name is Lucian Sand, Dr. Lucian Sand.” He had the faint whisper of an accent. French, I think. Something about his sentence structure and phraseology suggested that English was an acquired language.

  “Why were you following me?”

  “Fortuitous, would you not agree? I wanted to meet you and your partner. Speak with you. As I mentioned, I had a discussion with your husband last year.” He stopped and spoke softly. “His accident was a tragedy. Please accept my condolences.”

  I stifled a sob. Some day it wouldn’t hurt so much. Some day when I was dead.

  “I repeat. What do you want, Dr. Sand? I’m busy, and my partner, Ms. Ott, is unavailable right now.”


  Lucian Sand leaned forward. He was taller than Tommy by several inches and had the taut body of a dedicated gym rat. I pegged his age at about thirty-five.

  “I am a scientist, Mrs. Buckley, a professor at Concord University.”

  “What’s your field?” Something about him aroused my suspicions. Maybe it was his passion. Admittedly, I was out of practice, but he had the lamest pick up line I’d ever heard. Invoking the name of my dead husband didn’t make me feel one bit amorous.

  Another half-smile. He had perfect teeth, not the Chiclets variety like Tony the Tornado, but straight, white teeth that fit his face. Too bad he wore that scruffy beard. I really loathe beards.

  “It is rather boring, I’m afraid. My field is computer modeling, building and analyzing threat models. My specialty is implanted medical devices.”

  The tea finally revived me. Now it all made sense. Lucian Sand was connected to CYBER-MED in some way. Why else would he lurk around the building, hiding in shadows?

  My years at Harvard hadn’t been wasted: I could analyze a case study in record time. I’d gotten better grades than either Tommy or Kai with only half the effort. This was child’s play.

  “Bottom line, Dr. Sand. What’s your interest in us and CYBER-MED?”

  He flushed. “You are very direct, Mrs. Buckley. I understand you and Ms. Ott are the new majority owners of the company. I have a proposition, strictly business, to make to you both.”

  I gathered my things and rose, switching into frigid lawyer mode. “I’m afraid we’re not interested. Furthermore, until my friend’s estate is settled, any financial discussions would be premature.” I extended my hand.

  Lucien Sand clutched my wrist. “Wait. You are playing a dangerous game. Look what happened to your friend.” Lightning flashed again in his eyes. “I tried to warn him too.”

  I kept my voice calm. “Let me go, or I’ll scream. If you have any information about Mr. Yancey’s death, tell Sergeant Andrews of the Homicide division. Otherwise, leave me alone. Do you understand?”

  He didn’t even flinch. “This isn’t over. Trust me on that.” He thrust a manila envelope at me without saying a word.

  I pulled away, sped out the door and hailed a cab. No public transit today.

  Six

  “What does he look like?” Trust Candy to focus on the big picture.

  “Normal. OK, I guess.” I hadn’t really studied him except for those eyes. Men didn’t interest me that way anymore. Probably never would again.

  “Good body, I bet. Or is he doughy? So many of those computer nerds go steady with a bag of Cheetos. I mean, Rand is a great guy, but really …”

  “He wasn’t fat. Kind of athletic looking. But unhinged, definitely unhinged. Avoid him at all costs. If he bothers us, I’ll call the cops.”

  Candy pranced around her desk and slouched on the sofa. She was definitely hiding something. Probably some business coup.

  “I’m no Shakespeare scholar, Betts, but isn’t there something about a lady protesting too much? Lucian Sand sounds promising.”

  “Forget about all that, it’s not important. You’re hiding something. Come on, out with it. You’re dying to tell me.”

  “Guess who has a date tonight,” she purred, “with a new man?”

  Time for a big, heaving sigh. “Well, I know I’m not the lucky girl. Who is he?”

  Her cat eyes sparkled. “You met him today, Betts.”

  “The Tornado?” I asked. “Kind of downscale for you, isn’t he?”

  “Don’t be absurd. Arun Rao called this afternoon. We’re meeting for drinks at the Four Seasons.” She checked the delicate Patek Philippe watch on her wrist. She’d ditched her father’s gift for something much more elegant.

  “Oops, gotta run. Lucky thing I keep fresh clothes in here.”

  I should have kept my mouth shut, but everything connected with CYBER-MED seemed odd. Now one of our partners was nosing around my friend.

  “Candy, do you think that’s wise, getting involved with a business associate?”

  “Involved? Whatever do you mean? Dating isn’t a felony, you know. I never took vows of celibacy. That’s your thing, Betts.”

  Her blistering glare seared me as she swept out the door. Candy was right. I’d become a nudge, a perpetual scold, inflicting my misery on everyone else. Even in college I’d never dated much. Way too shy. When Kai found me, my world opened up. I couldn’t believe that a man like him would even notice me. Afterwards, every day was electric until death pulled the plug.

  ~

  I couldn’t relax that night. Damn Lucian Sand! His accusations consumed me, rattling around my brain like a slippery screw. Twice I reached for a Xanax but thought better of it. How easily I could descend into oblivion, becoming a pill-popping, wine-swilling zombie. No, thanks. Alcohol didn’t really interest me. That was Kai’s thing. He was an oenophile, a true connoisseur who knew all the buzzwords and had a refined palate. I just went along for the ride. Sometimes sipping a glass of his favorite vintage comforted me, made me feel closer to him. It was tempting but terrifying to tiptoe down that slippery slope.

  The envelope stayed there, an uninvited guest decorating the center of my Chinoiserie commode. I’m cautious by nature, prone to overthinking things. Not Tommy. He was intrepid, plunging into things without considering the downside. That’s what happened on Mount Washington. That’s what killed my husband.

  A tide of loneliness swamped me. In all my life I’d had only three friends I could count on. Two were gone forever, and Candy was currently incommunicado. I cursed the shyness that had stunted my life.

  For Christ’s sake, Lizzie Mae, buck up! Open the damned thing, and get it over with.

  Damn! Lucian Sand was nothing but trouble. Maybe the whole thing was some sort of bizarre joke. I picked up Della’s brush and groomed her silky coat. Even if he was the Nutty Professor, I couldn’t discount Lucian Sand’s information. My best friend’s murder was a reality, not a joke. Maybe a change of surroundings would clarify my thoughts.

  Before heading to Sweet Nothings, I reached out to the law. Mark Andrews was still at work despite the late hour. I’d counted on that. He didn’t look like the type to cut out early for a hot date.

  “Mrs. Buckley,” he drawled, “this is a surprise. What can I do for you?”

  I decided to play it cool.

  “Just checking in. Any developments on my friend’s murder?” After a long pause I stuttered, “Thomas Yancey, I mean. That’s his name.”

  “Thanks for jogging my memory.” Sarcasm stung me like a whip’s lash. “Still there, Mrs. Buckley?” he asked after a while. “Do you have anything to report?”

  “Not really. I hoped you’d found some leads. You know, the crucial first forty-eight hours after a murder …”

  Scorn wafted out of the telephone. Andrews was probably enjoying this. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” he asked. “You and Ms. Ott couldn’t wait to hotfoot it down to CYBER-MED. Beat me to it.”

  “Now just a minute.” By an act of sheer will, I stopped talking. I refused to justify my actions to this cop. Our trip to CYBER-MED had been strictly business. “Back to my first question, Sergeant. Where are we on Tommy’s case?”

  Andrews didn’t soften the blow. “We are nowhere, Mrs. Buckley. I, on the other hand, have made progress. The impound lot has the car used in the murder, a black Mercedes stolen that very night.”

  I gasped when he said that word. Murder is a cruel, hard word, but Tommy wore a constant grin that crinkled his eyes. He loved animals and specialized in practical jokes, couldn’t wait to spring them on you. Nothing about him was cruel or hard.

  “He’d hate that,” I said. “Tommy despised Mercedes, called them Nazi cars.”

  “I’m sure his thoughts were elsewhere that night. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “Motive. What was the motive?”

  Andrews had exhausted his small store of charm. “When I learn that, I’ll make an arrest, unless you
and Ms. Ott beat me to it. Now, if there’s nothing else …”

  I cleared my throat. Andrews is a public servant, and I am one of the public.

  “Who owned the car? The one that killed Tommy?”

  His sigh was audible. “It belonged to a little old widow from Wellesley who had pasted photos of her Yorkie all over the dashboard and didn’t even know it was gone. And before you ask, she’s half blind and has no children, nephews or friends connected to Thomas Yancey or CYBER-MED. It’s a dead end.”

  I should have told him about the clippings. Probably should have mentioned Lucian Sand, too, or hinted about Tommy’s love life. Something deterred me, something I could never explain. Andrews would sneer at anything I offered now. I didn’t have proof. There was plenty of time for that.

  ~

  Sweet Nothings occupied the third floor of a Beaux-Arts building in the shadow of Prudential Center. Its renovation — paint, hardwoods and art — focused more on style than substance. Like Sweet Nothings itself, everything looked young, bright and bursting with optimism.

  After a quick nod to Otto, the guard, I strode toward the elevator. The mysterious Lucian Sand had probably sent me on a fool’s errand. Something about that man irritated the hell out of me.

  The hallway swelled with a cacophony of work noises blended seamlessly with a dash of salsa music and banter. We’d pulled plenty of all-nighters here. Those were good times, filled with hard work, shared purpose and mutual affection. Candy, Kai, Tommy and I had breathed life into a concept and watched it thrive, almost like giving birth. I gulped. No time to dwell on that.

  Our conference room is the makeup equivalent of Ali Baba’s cave. Every manner of pencil, shadow, lip gloss and foundation is on display, accompanied by a neatly printed card and plenty of mirrors. I shivered at the contrast between this joyous space and my grisly task. Tommy had spent many hours here, planning, arguing and kibitzing. Now I was here pondering his murder.