Set Up by B. Dale Cheryl

Author:B. Dale, Cheryl
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romantic Suspense
Publisher: MuseItUp Publishing
Published: 2012-07-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Cal's visit did not surprise Senator Matthew Swift. Cal suspected very little would.

“I told Tip that Sonny approached me.” Matthew poured a shot of bourbon for Callaway and another for himself into glasses before adding splashes of water. “He gave me until yesterday morning to raise half a million dollars.”

Cal drained his drink and set the emptied glass down beside a vase containing fragrant jonquils and iris the same color lavender as the delicate tracing on the porcelain. “Did you pay him?”

“I couldn't raise that much money by then.” Matthew sat opposite Cal, the piecrust table a barricade between them.

The two had never been friends.

Cal rested his elbows on spread knees and clasped his hands. “Then you didn't get the journal?”

“No.”

“You didn't see him at all?”

There was nothing to be read in Matthew’s face above the floral arrangement. The senator had been in public service for too many years.

Noting a wilted jonquil, Matthew reached out and lifted it from the vase.

“Oh, I saw him.” Dry petals were plucked, one by one, and thrown down without regard for the antique Oriental rug. “I offered him two hundred thousand in cash. He took it, said he would be back after lunch for the rest.” He twirled the naked stem of the flower round and round while Cal watched the revolving stem. “But he never came.”

“There was no cash found on him.”

“No.” Matthew shrugged. “Perhaps robbery was the motive. I didn't ask Tip, but I wondered if he had another buyer for the journal.”

“Another buyer? Who?”

The flower stem stopped its twirling. “Claire perhaps? Did he approach her?”

Cal hesitated, gave a curt nod.

Matthew expelled his breath. “I thought he might have. May he rot in hell.” The viciousness with which the remains of the jonquil were thrown down belied the melodic voice. His fingers closed around the untouched drink glass so hard, his knuckles turned white.

“He must have been shot right after leaving here.”

Matthew’s face was guarded. “I didn't kill him. Though if I'd known he threatened Claire, I could have.”

“I didn't ask if you killed him.” Cal got to his feet.

“You were thinking it.” The last strains of daylight mingled with the glow from the overhead candelabra to cast an aura about the senator's head. “Your jaw came from your mother. Claire’s jaw has that same thrust.”

The reference to his mother took Cal unawares.

Matthew went on, “I've often thought it a pity Lila was such a formidable woman. She set a wonderful example for Claire and Johanna. But not for you.”

“Leave my mother out of this.”

Matthew gave a small smile. “Your mother was stifling, Cal. I'm sure it was worse for you without a strong male figure to balance her unrealistic goals for you. It's a wonder you didn't turn to drugs or drink.”

“I didn't.”

Matthew sat up straight. “Let me be plain. I don't care who killed Sonny, just so long as it was the right person.” His words rose slightly, querying.

“What exactly do you mean, the right person?”

“I was walking down the hill that morning, not too far from the pond where he was found.

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