Kelly chuckled. “So this is about giving me a reason to stay and be your partner. It’s all about you.”
“I’m thinking of you,” she said with a grin. “Honey, you could do a lot worse than Nick Spencer.”
Kelly couldn’t argue that point. Nick was handsome, sexy, funny, capable and rich. “If he’s such a catch, how come some other woman hasn’t snapped him up?”
“He’s only been divorced for a couple of years. From what I hear, he’s a devoted daddy.”
She didn’t know he had children. “How many kids?”
“Two daughters, I think they’re seven and four. Beautiful girls, I’ve seen them in Valiant with Nick but I think they live in Denver with their mom. Both girls have black hair and blue eyes like their father.”
The front doorbell chimed, and Kelly rose from the sofa. “Don’t move. I’ll get it.”
She rushed to the front door. The first ringing of the chimes hadn’t wakened the baby, and she wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be a second bell. She whipped open the door and looked out through the screen.
Standing on the covered porch was a man in a black suit. Though he couldn’t have been more than forty, his close-cropped hair was completely white. With his square jaw and angry eyes, he would have been intimidating if he hadn’t been standing beside a white goat with a black face and black splotches like polka dots decorating her round belly.
The goat, whose name was Fifi, tapped her hooves on the porch, rubbed against his trouser leg and bleated. She liked being around people, especially men.
Stifling a chuckle, Kelly asked, “May I help you?”
“Are you Kelly Evans?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about last night.” He reached inside his jacket pocket, took out a gold card case, peeled one off and held it toward her. “Y. E. Trask, private investigator.”
As she opened the screen door to take his card, Kelly decided that she didn’t want to invite him into the house. Grabbing her denim jacket from a peg by the door, she stepped outside. There was something about this man that she didn’t trust, and she wanted to keep him away from Serena’s family.
“There isn’t much to say, Mr. Trask. I already gave my statement to the police.”
“I wanted to hear your story. In your own words.” Fifi butted his thigh, and he lurched forward. The goat bleated. Trask cursed. “Aren’t these animals supposed to be in a pen?”
“Well, yes, but they’re good at escaping. If you pay some attention to her, she might leave you alone.”
“I’ve found the opposite to be true,” he said curtly. “If I pay attention to a female, she tends to stick around, even when she’s not wanted.”
This was a guy she definitely didn’t want to spend time with. “Fifi isn’t like that.”
“Don’t waste my time, Ms. Evans. Are you going to help me or not? The family has concerns.”
If he’d told her right away that he worked for the Spencers, she would have been more cooperative. Looking down the driveway, she spotted the family van approaching the house. In a few moments, Nigel and the kids would be back and they’d be surrounded by chaos. “Come with me. We’ll find somewhere quiet to talk.”
Waving to the van, she directed Trask across the farmyard toward the barn. Two spotted goats trotted side by side as though they had an important mission. One of the llamas strolled past the chicken coops, creating a flurry of angry hens.
Most people would have been amused. Not only was there a varied and interesting menagerie, but the lower two feet of the barn was painted with wild artwork by the kids. It was kind of adorable, but Trask was all business. His primary concern seemed to be to avoid stepping on anything ugly and messing up his wingtip shoes.
By the corral fence, she found a space. “Ask your questions.”
“You were the first person to touch Samuel after entering the room,” he said. “Is that correct?”
“Actually, Nick was the first. He found a pulse, and then I stepped in.”
“Assuming that Samuel committed suicide, can you speculate on how he did it?”
“He must have been standing because his body was beside the desk rather than behind it. He still had the gun in his hand. I’d guess that he turned the weapon toward himself and pulled the trigger.”
“He was still alive when you started treating him. Did he speak?”
“He was mumbling, but he wasn’t conscious.” The police had asked her about this several times, and she knew that a dying declaration would be important. “I’ve been trying to remember if he said anything coherent, but none of it made sense. First he said to close the door. He repeated the word ‘gold’ several times. And he talked about a heart of stone.”
When Fifi came toward them, Trask glared. His expression was so angry that Kelly thought he might pull a gun and shoot the cheerful goat. Fifi turned tail and bounded away.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Trask?”
“Concentrate, Ms. Evans. What did he say about the heart of stone?”
“It didn’t make sense.” She thought for a moment then shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not even sure if those were his words.”
“I don’t like surprises,” he said. “If you’re holding back, we’re going to have a problem.”
Was he threatening her? “Why would I hold anything back?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he focused his angry glare at her. She stared right back at him. Kelly wasn’t a silly goat like Fifi, and she refused to be intimidated.
She snapped, “Are we done?”
“I’ll be in touch.”
He pivoted and strode away from her. She imagined that being a private investigator wasn’t a pleasant job; you’d be spying on people, confronting them and serving them with legal papers. Y. E. Trask seemed to have exactly the right temperament for his work—hostile, aggressive and a little nasty.
It bothered her that Nick had sent Trask to interview her without letting her know. He should have warned her that a creepy white-haired man would show up on Serena’s doorstep and accuse her of holding back. Something about this wasn’t right. She decided to talk to Nick.
Her cell phone was in the pocket of the denim jacket she’d grabbed before coming outside. She pulled it out and redialed the number he’d used last night to call her from the hospital. When he answered, she almost hung up. What had she been thinking? Nick had just lost a close family member; she shouldn’t be bothering him because a private eye was rude to her.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“Been better,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you. I wanted to thank you again for the way you jumped in and tried to save my uncle.”
“I’m glad to help in any way I can. I tried to answer questions for your private investigator, but I think I made him angry.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The guy you sent out to Serena’s house. He’s an investigator working for your family. His name is Y. E. Trask. He has white hair.”
“Hold on.” She could hear him talking to someone else but couldn’t tell what he was saying until he came back on the line. “Kelly, nobody