Framed: A Psychological Thriller (Boston's Crimes of Passion Book 2) Page 13

His feelings for her had gone well beyond a simple attraction. He realized she knew more than she admitted, held more secrets, but he’d be damned if he could walk away from her. Not now.

  His fingers traced the contour of her lips and he slowly lowered his head. His lips met hers, kissing her tenderly.

  Breaking from her, he whispered, “Don’t leave my side tonight.”

  “Mr. Kincaid, are you trying to protect me from my own family?” Her eyes lit up again.

  “I’m trying.”

  He stepped back with his hand in hers. They had a party to attend. Turning back toward the Koch Gallery, Kincaid discovered they had an audience.

  The woman he recognized instantly. Olivia Edmunds. There was no denying she was an extremely attractive woman. Tall. Blonde. Model-thin. She carried herself with the grace of a ballerina in an airy pink accordion-pleated gown.

  The man whose arm she was on seemed familiar from the pictures he had studied of the family. Dennis Edmunds, Olivia’s husband. Tall. Athletic. One of those rugged outdoor men who women loved.

  Neither said a word, but they frowned. Dennis looked annoyed; Olivia angry. The woman’s eyes sent daggers at Riley.

  Kincaid tightened his arm around Riley. He smiled broadly at the pair. “Good evening.”

  The moment they passed, he looked down at Riley. She laughed.

  “I suppose it’s time to join the party.”

  “If you insist,” he said. Turning her to him once more, he kissed her lightly. “As long as you promise to give me a personal tour of the museum later.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The pre-party before the gala was situated in the Koch Gallery, a grand hall that was a splendid choice for the event. The walls were arrayed with the Old Master paintings, tapestries, and silver from the court of Hanover on rich damask, giving the feel of the European courts of the past.

  Satin black tablecloths with gold rosette overlays covered the tables, which had been laid out with food and wine. Waiters and waitresses ensured that cocktails flowed and tiny plates were filled with bite-sized delicacies.

  Kincaid watched Boston’s privileged mingle as the hum of chatter and laughter filled the room. The scent of wine and perfume wafted in the air, along with the distinct aura of money.

  In his dealings with his work, Kincaid had attended many such events. This one wasn’t much different. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. Guests maneuvered around in search of better people to be seen with, all the while keeping an eye on any excitement that they would want to be included in.

  Tonight, though, he wasn’t here to enjoy himself. He had a job to do.

  His first concern lay with Riley’s safety, but he would have been foolish not to use the event to learn more about the family. Undoubtedly, most friends and acquaintances of the Ashcrofts would recognize him, but in this friendly setting and with the amount of liquor downed, he hoped their guard would be down.

  Scanning the faces of those in attendance, his eyes fixed on Walter, who stood by Tony Canney, anchor of Channel 4, WBZX, Kincaid’s rival network. Walter conversed with his companion in a seemingly casual manner, laughing with a drink in his hand.

  All the while, Kincaid realized Walter never took his eyes off him. The arrogant bastard. Kincaid laughed to himself at Walter’s petty attempt to intimidate him.

  The fact of the matter was he had come to the conclusion that Walter was no more than a bully. A coward.

  The man had never had to be accountable for any of his actions, but Kincaid was determined to find the connection that the Boston Ashcrofts had to Harrison Taylor.

  After he’d talked to Cruz earlier, Kincaid felt the story was moving in the right direction. One of her contacts had uncovered information about WAS. Rumors were rumbling. Major rumblings.

  Seemed there was about to be a vote of confidence. There was a distinct possibility Walter was about to be asked to step down. Mismanagement.

  The other bombshell—Donald Ashcroft was set to take over the reins.

  Surprising to Kincaid. Donald Ashcroft seemed an unlikely choice for a replacement. He had a reputation as a quiet, meek man dominated by an overbearing wife. From what Cruz gathered, up to this point, Donald’s position at WAS was more of a figurehead position.

  From his investigation into the youngest brother, it seemed Donald spent most of his time on the golf courses, on his boat, and jet-setting around the world. He rarely went into the office and seemed more like a shadow in the corporation instead of a leader.

  Whereas Walter was social, Donald was reserved. To some, a sniveling ass. But Kincaid had learned a long time ago that the quiet ones were always the most dangerous.

  The differences in the brothers were distinct. No more so than in their choices in wives.

  Kincaid watched Cora gracefully flit from one group to another, smiling and laughing. Still quite an attractive woman. Immaculately dressed, not a hair out of place. Jewelry glittered around her neck, ears, and fingers.

  She seemed at home in her environment. She should have been. She had come from an old Newport family before her marriage to Walter. A perfect marriage to most. Money marrying money.

  Tonight, she appeared to be having the most wonderful time. No one would suspect her only son lay fighting for his life in the hospital. Freddy’s condition had been upgraded to stable, but critical.

  Freddy hadn’t woken from his coma, but looking at his mother, one would never know how ill her son was.

  In contrast, Vivian Ashcroft may have made her presence known, but did so in a much subtle fashion. She reminded him of a cat: one would forget that she was even around, and then out of nowhere she would appear in the back corner, staring darkly at you.

  Vivian hadn’t the charm of Cora, her sister-in-law. Staunch and rigid, she was the epitome of discretion. Kincaid had never seen her wear any other color but black or brown, either in person or the pictures he had studied of the family.

  For that matter, he had never seen her smile.

  She should have at least shown some type of emotion. It would ease the lines around her eyes. Her hair was pulled back too tight from her face. Too thin.

  She exuded coldness.

  From the corner of his eyes, he saw Riley move over to a group of young men. Her cousin, Noah, was in the center of the group and greeted her warmly.

  Taking a glass of champagne from the waiter, he began to walk over to Riley. He paused when Vivian walked toward him.

  “You really should try the caviar, Mr. Kincaid. It’s Russian Osetra. Walter insisted.”

  Vivian’s eyes were serious. Her voice was tinged with disdain—for him, Walter, or both of them…Kincaid wasn’t certain.

  “I confess I have never been able to resist caviar, but the hors d’oeuvres have been most delicious.” Kincaid sipped his champagne, preparing for what presented to be a most interesting conversation. She obviously had a purpose.

  “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself,” she said tersely. “Do you enjoy the arts?”

  “I’m a novice, but I do appreciate the visual aspect.”

  The corner of her mouth turned upward smugly. “Most people are impressed with this hall. The old paintings with the deep, rich backdrop. Yet, I feel that the Hanoverian silver display takes away from the intended vision.”

  Kincaid glanced over his shoulder at the center of the room. The huge, gaudy exhibit had been debated since the room had been remodeled. A silent criticism, giving way to a strong contention that the silver was not worthy to be shown in the same setting as the great works of art.

  Looking back at the woman beside him, she gave him an evil eye. A sudden awareness dawned on him.

  Flashing her a wide grin, he said, “I have the distinct impression that you are comparing me to the silver.”

  Vivian drew back slightly; her eyes narrowed. “If you knew me better, you would realize that I don’t mince words. So I will be honest with you now. No, Mr. Kincaid, you aren’t welcome here.

  “I
would be surprised if you thought you would be. You are out to destroy my family. I can’t allow that.”

  He studied her for a moment. She was dead serious.

  “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Ashcroft. If you are talking about my job, I never have any preconceived opinions. I go where the story leads me, but tonight I’m here to enjoy myself with my date.”

  “Ah, yes. My niece, Riley.”

  “I take it you have an issue with our relationship as well.”

  “It is your life. If you want to have a fling with Riley, that is your concern. But I will warn you not to be taken in by her. While I sympathize with her situation, she is a notorious manipulator.”

  His thick eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “You…you are warning me about Riley?”

  “Take it for what it is worth,” she said bluntly and pointed over to where her niece stood. “You believe she has been honest with you? Did she tell you that she had an affair with Olivia’s husband? That Dennis has asked Olivia for a divorce?”

  Taken back by the information, he stared at Riley. Standing close to her was that Dennis. From the longing expression on his face as he looked at Riley, Kincaid didn’t doubt the man had feelings for her.

  A swell of jealousy surged, but he would be damned if he showed it to this woman. He recovered and shook his head.

  “Forgive me if I doubt you. Why don’t we talk instead of questions I have? Like the rumors that your husband is about to take over WAS, blindsiding his own brother. Better yet…what about the newfound will? How do you feel about the possibility of losing millions?”

  Her eyes flamed, spewing fire. “Once more, I would caution you, especially with your reputation on the line. Walter has assured us all that it is a forgery.”

  “You trust Walter?” Kincaid pressed. “It seems to me that he is the one who can’t be trusted. I find his actions extremely suspicious… I find it even more suspicious that two people were murdered in an attempt to keep the will a secret.”

  “How did you come to the conclusion that Helen was murdered to keep the will a secret? What if Riley tried to convince the woman that a new will would be the best revenge against Walter? Helen was angry at Walter, but disloyal? Never. Did you ever consider that she might have been killed because she didn’t want to go along with the deception?”

  “You believe that?”

  “There isn’t another rational explanation,” she said in an agitated, low voice. “If I were you, I would be careful about making rash judgments. Reporters are not supposed to be biased and they certainly should be thorough in an investigation.”

  He made no response. It was scary how quickly this woman had put him on the defensive. He had a feeling that she was more complicated than she seemed.

  “If you think Riley an angel, ask her what she has done with the hundred and fifty thousand that she got from renting her grandmother’s house for the last three and a half years. Her money is gone, Mr. Kincaid. She’s penniless. Desperate people do desperate things. If I was looking for a motive for murder or forging a will, I don’t think you have far to look.”

  She paused for a long moment. “More importantly, you didn’t know Witt or Florence Ashcroft. I did.” She went on. “They had their reasons for writing Riley out of their wills. Riley wasn’t the only one. Freddy was written out as well, for his drugging and partying.”

  “And Riley?”

  “I told you. Immorality. Downright wickedness. You may think there is nothing wrong with sleeping around, but the Ashcrofts were moral, Christian people.”

  The woman seemed damn convincing, but he learned long ago to withhold his opinion. It would do no good to engage in a debate.

  “As you said, you knew the Ashcrofts,” Kincaid said in a level voice. “I appreciate your concern about my career. I will keep that in mind.”

  “It would be most advisable.” Vivian nodded her head toward him, having said what she wanted him to know, and strode away.

  * * * *

  Riley frowned as she watched Kincaid with her aunt. The night wasn’t going as she hoped.

  For a brief moment, she succumbed to the familiar feeling she had when she was a child: the overwhelming emotion that paralyzed her.

  The devastating realization that you are totally alone.

  The feeling passed. The wall that had taken years to erect around the powerful, controlling emotions that weakened her once more surfaced.

  She reprimanded herself greatly, reminding herself that she had given up childish dreams. How foolish of her to believe the evening would be any different!

  She was and would always be the family’s outcast.

  It was Kincaid’s fault. He had provoked emotions in her long buried.

  “Chin up. Don’t let her see fear.”

  She looked up at her youngest cousin, who stood beside her with his quirky smile. She laughed. Noah always made her laugh.

  Strange, she supposed. She hadn’t even been around Noah until she had moved up north to go to college. Despite their age difference, the two had become close.

  He had been a lanky twelve-year-old with an odd sense of humor; she, the charity case. With her job as Nana’s companion, she was around Noah: going to his lacrosse games, driving to school events to represent the family, watching scary movies together, and spending the summers at Fenway Park.

  Over the years, the bond hadn’t diminished. He was more like a younger brother than a cousin. There was one more thing they shared—a mutual dislike for his mother.

  Oh, Riley realized that Noah loved his mother, but he didn’t like her. Vivian Ashcroft wasn’t a lovable person, not by a long shot. Though, to be fair, the woman never pretended to be.

  Vivian had tunnel vision for her only child. Noah was being groomed to be heir apparent to the Ashcroft empire.

  “Just wondering what your mother is telling Josh.”

  “If I was to take a guess, I would say she is telling him to run for his life.”

  Again, Riley laughed. “I think you’re right.”

  “Don’t worry, he’s not running. He’s way too cute.” Noah gave Riley a knowing wink, a wink of a shared secret.

  Riley leaned over and whispered. “Hands off, cuz. He’s mine.”

  “Just saying…”

  Her mood lifted. She needed this. She needed a semblance of normalcy.

  “Come on.” She placed her hand on his arm. “I’ll introduce you….”

  Raising her hand to gesture to Kincaid, a strong hand gripped it and held it down.

  “Don’t.” Dennis’s low voice sounded and he pushed her arm down gently. “We need to talk. Now.”

  Noah stepped between the two. Dennis shook his head. “Don’t get in the middle of this, Noah. I need to get Riley out of here. Olivia is about to make a scene.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I got a note.” Dennis held an envelope in his hands. “One of the waitresses gave me this…there are pictures with it. I saw her give Olivia one, too.”

  Riley took the note and read it.

  I know what you did with Riley. So does your wife.

  Inhaling sharply, she covered her mouth. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Olivia. She looked even more beautiful than usual tonight, except…except was she drunk?

  Riley had never seen her cousin wasted. Not that she had seen her much the last few years, but appearances meant everything to Olivia. She had taken great pains over the years not to give the impression that she had a weakness. But tonight…tonight, it seemed Olivia had thrown caution to the wind.

  Olivia caught Riley staring at her. She lifted her finger and pointed accusingly at Riley. Setting her glass down on a table, she started in Riley’s direction.

  Swaying to the side, she bumped into one of the guests. Without apologizing, she staggered back on her path.

  “Pictures?” Riley asked in puzzlement. “You are not making sense. What pictures would upset Olivia that much?”

  “Of us this afternoon.”
>
  Dennis’s words stunned her. “That can’t be—” She stopped mid-sentence. Dennis shoved the pictures in her hand. Her heart thudded in her ear as she looked at them.

  One after another of Dennis and her at their meeting that afternoon…nothing illicit…nothing romantic unless Olivia misconstrued when Dennis had pulled her into his arms. But she knew her cousin well enough to know it wouldn’t take much to set off her jealousy—just the fact that she had seen Dennis alone would have sent her over the edge.

  But who…who had seen them? Terror bolted through her body. Oh, good Lord! Had someone followed her?

  “You! You…” Olivia shouted, taking a glass of champagne in her hand as the waiter walked by. “Stole my husband…You…you…!”

  Riley froze. The intense hatred in Olivia’s voice cut her to the bone. Regrettably, words weren’t the only weapon Olivia had at her disposal. Waving one of her hands wildly over her head, Olivia teetered in front of Riley.

  Sensing Olivia’s intent, Riley’s pulse spiked. She slid to the side of Dennis. Olivia slung her glass to an empty space, splattering champagne across the toes of her Manolo sandals.

  The thwarted attempt only served to infuriate Olivia more. Her eyes flamed. She slammed her finger into Riley, over and over again.

  “Whore!” Olivia slurred. “You are sadly mistaken…if you…think I will let him go… You will never have him! Never!”

  Dennis interceded and caught his wife by her shoulders. “Olivia, you’re causing a scene. This isn’t the place…”

  “Let go of me!” Olivia jerked back. Freeing herself, she lunged at Riley.

  Riley pushed back against her cousin. Olivia stumbled and fell down to the floor. Riley leaned down.

  Low and clear, Riley stated firmly, “I don’t want Dennis, Olivia. If you are having problems, it’s not me who has come between you. Go home. Sober up.”

  “Liar!” Olivia cried. “You have always been between us.”

  Suddenly, Riley felt a hand on her back.

  “Let’s go.”

  Kincaid had found her. She made no argument as he led her out of the room.

  In the corridor, Riley stopped. “I need to go back. I can’t leave like this…”