Page 15 of Fatal Conspiracy

A man Derek didn’t recognize walked through the door in a suit and tie while carrying a briefcase. He stopped by the table and stared down at the detective. “Are you finished with my client, Detective Henry?”

“Your client?” the detective asked, sitting forward again.

A card appeared in the man’s hand, and he slid it across the table. “Ryland Frye, defense attorney. Excuse us for a moment.”

Derek stood and followed the attorney to the other end of the kitchen. “I didn’t call a lawyer.”

“Cal Newfellow did. He asked me to stop by because whether you’re guilty or innocent, you should never agree to speak to the police without representation present.”

“I didn’t kill Hugo Victor, and I have nothing to hide,” Derek said, exhaustion cloaking him as he tried to make sense of everything, now nearly eight hours after taking several shots to the face with a fist. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a murderer.”

Ryland walked over to the detective and stood before him. “We’re done here.”

“I’m not,” Detective Henry said, standing and posturing before the lawyer.

“Maybe not, and that’s your right, so either arrest my client or let him go. He’s been attacked and needs medical attention as well as food and sleep. If the city wants to provide that for him, arrest him, and I’ll meet you at the station to see your evidence.”

The detective’s face remained neutral, but Derek could see in his eyes that he was steaming mad to have their questioning interrupted. “He’s not under arrest at this time.” Derek heard the threat in the last three words. “The department must be informed of his lodging, and he cannotleave town. We may request formal questioning tomorrow at the station.”

“All of which is acceptable,” Ryland said, as though he was about to make friends with the detective. “Mr. Benjamin will remain in Duluth at the hotel connected to the convention center. He will be in room 2142 after his medical needs are attended to. Once he’s had rest, he will be available to answer your questions. Now, if that is all, we’ll be on our way.”

Rather than wait for Henry to answer, Ryland grasped Derek’s arm on his way past and walked him right out the door. Derek couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you,” Derek said with all sincerity.

“Don’t thank me. Thank Cal. He didn’t want you to say something incriminating because you were tired or had a head injury. The detective shouldn’t have even requested a sit-down with you.” He motioned for Derek to climb into a Mercedes SUV that looked very comfortable and very expensive. He checked his face for blood before he sat down, just in case. “I agreed to it,” Derek said once they were on their way. “Doing anything else made me look guilty, I figured.”

“Well, you figured wrong,” Ryland said, glancing at him momentarily before looking back to the road. “If he thought for half a second that he had anything to hold you on, he would have arrested you immediately.”

“He does have my fingerprints on the water bottle. That was kind of a sticking point for me, even though I didn’t do anything other than what I normally do before every conference.”

“While that’s true, he also has Cal’s fingerprints on it, and apparently two stagehands, but none of them have been arrested either.”

“I didn’t know that,” Derek said with surprise.

“Of course not, because you were out here playing Daniel Boone while your boss was being murdered. Listen, I’m your counsel, so whatever we say privately goes no further than me. Before I formulate a plan, answer one question. Did you kill Hugo Victor?”

“Absolutely not!” Derek replied a little too loudly for his head. He rubbed his temple and sighed. “Sorry. I should have known you’d ask me that, but to hear someone think that you’re capable of murder is offensive.”

“As a defense attorney for twenty years, I assure you, everyone is capable of murder in the right setting and under the right circumstances, myself included. The man who has retained my services has killed more people than you have fingers and toes. For him, it was a necessary evil but one that weighs on him heavily, so he takes every chance he gets to help others.”

“Cal doesn’t even know me, though. We met briefly yesterday morning. That was it.”

“Maybe Cal doesn’t, but one Alayah Heath does, and apparently, she can be pretty persuasive when she wants to be.”

Derek smiled as he stared out the window, a warm feeling creeping up from his cold toes. “Alayah put him up to this?”

“You didn’t hear that from me. Everything equal, if you didn’t kill Hugo Victor, then you’d better watch your step. Those guys who used your face as a punching bag aren’t talking, so we don’t know who hired them. If Cal tells you to do something, you do it without asking questions. Understood?”

“If it keeps me out of a jail cell and leads us to Hugo’s real killer, I’ll do anything he says.”

Derek was never happier to see the city’s lights on the horizon. He might not know Cal, but he was a fan for life thanks to Alayah. The thought of the feisty woman who drove a giant SUV while strapped into a booster seat made him smile. He was probably her fan for life, too.

Chapter Nine

Cal paced the hotel room while Alayah sat on the bed. He stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That someone needed help, and I should help him,” she answered with a long-suffering sigh. It was hard not to make it sound like a question, but she stood her ground and didn’t make excuses for her actions.