My Brother's Keeper Read online

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  My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux

  “Investigation?” Brayden echoed with a frown.

  “If you’re not willing to cooperate,” Detective Walker

  murmured in a low, growling voice, “we can make the club a

  very unsavory place to spend time at this summer.”

  Brayden blinked and then bit back the snarl the threat

  almost elicited. “Detectives,” he gritted out, “we are, of

  course, willing to cooperate with any investigation you deem necessary. But… he wasn’t murdered,” he protested with a

  helpless little gesture of his hand. “He drank himself to

  death. His heart and his kidneys gave out. It’s as simple as that.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as all that, Mr. Bainbridge,”

  Detective Morgan corrected gently. “Your father’s death was not due to natural circumstances, and we suspect the

  perpetrator may have been one of your employees or guests.”

  “What?” Addison blurted out as he stood up from the

  ruffled and striped green and pink monstrosity upon which

  he had been seated. “That’s preposterous; no one here could be a murderer! These are good people!”

  “Sonny,” Brayden snapped as Addison’s voice

  threatened to carry past the soundproofing of the world’s

  most hideous wallpaper. There was also soundproofing in

  the walls, but Brayden was nothing if not thorough.

  Addison glared at him but remained silent, beginning to

  pace restlessly instead.

  Walker flipped open a little notepad and began scanning

  handwritten notes in the ensuing silence, and finally he read 13

  My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux

  what he’d been looking for. He looked up at Brayden and

  asked, “When did your father begin drinking heavily?”

  “I’m sorry,” Brayden asked with a hand held up, as if

  asking for a timeout. “But what makes you think he was

  murdered?”

  “Mr. Bainbridge, please answer the question,” Walker

  responded in a near monotone.

  “It was about two months ago,” Addison interjected. “He

  started showing up to events drunk; slurring his speech and falling all over everything. Why?” he demanded.

  “Did he exhibit signs of confusion?” Walker inquired

  without answering any questions of his own.

  “The only thing our father was ever confused about was

  the difference between a bishop and a rook. Please answer

  our questions,” Brayden demanded, getting angrier and

  frustrated with their officious attitudes.

  “I’m afraid we can’t divulge the particulars behind our

  investigation as yet,” Morgan answered after a moment of

  silence. “We’ll need to question all your employees who were working the party the night your father died.”

  “Fine,” Brayden allowed with a dismissive wave of his

  hand.

  “And we would also like permission to exhume the

  body,” Morgan added.

  “No,” Addison said immediately.

  Brayden looked at him in surprise as the two detectives

  gave each other a pointed look.

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  My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux

  “I’m not going to bury him again,” Addison told them.

  “You do your investigation or whatever, but you’re not

  digging him up,” he stated defiantly.

  Brayden gave the kid a closer look, seeing determination

  that was rarely present in Addison’s eyes, and he remained

  quiet because of it.

  “Very well,” Morgan acquiesced. “I must warn you,

  however, we may have to come back with a warrant.”

  “You do that, then,” Addison responded with a nod.

  “Until then, may he rest in fucking peace,” he spat, stalking out of the room and exiting with a resounding slam of the

  door against the wall before anyone could reply.

  Brayden watched him stride down the hallway toward

  the reception area and then turned back to the two

  detectives, completely mystified. “I apologize for my brother,”

  he offered. “It’s been quite an emotional time around here. I hope you understand,” he said smoothly, finally hurtling

  over the shock and turning on the ever-present inner switch that forced him to be an ever-gracious host.

  “Of course,” Morgan answered with an ingratiating smile

  of his own. “Can you tell us, Mr. Bainbridge, what the

  Country Club of Coral Gables does with the five gallons of

  ethylene glycol it orders every month?”

  “With the what?” Brayden asked, nonplussed and a bit

  thrown off by the sudden change in questioning.

  “Ethylene glycol,” Detective Walker answered with a

  smug smirk. “Antifreeze, Mr. Bainbridge.”

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  My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux

  Brayden blinked at the man and cocked his head.

  “Well,” he started slowly, “I would assume we use it to keep shit from freezing,” he answered sarcastically.

  “What is the size of the club’s motorcade?” Morgan

  asked before Walker could respond.

  “I’m not sure, right off hand,” Brayden answered

  honestly. “There are a few dozen vans and utility trucks.

  Several hundred golf carts and roughly a dozen of those

  damn green all-terrain things. I can get the numbers for

  you.”

  “That would be very helpful,” Morgan replied with a nod.

  “We’ll also need a list of everyone who was present the night your father died.”

  “You mean at the party?” Brayden asked. “The people

  who worked it?”

  “And the club members present,” Walker added.

  Brayden stared at them incredulously. “The guest list?”

  he asked

  “Yes, sir,” the two detectives answered simultaneously.

  “Do you realize how many people that is?” Brayden

  asked, aghast.

  “I’m afraid we do, sir,” Morgan answered drolly.

  “Or who that list will include?” Brayden added as his mind whirled through just how much family money these

  two detectives were about to rifle through. “You don’t plan to question them all, do you?” he asked in horror.

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  “I’m afraid we can’t say, Mr. Bainbridge. We will, of

  course, attempt to remain subtle,” Walker responded

  insincerely. “We’re also going to need to see where you store your automotive products. Today.”

  “Right now,” Morgan added grimly.

  “Of course,” Brayden murmured with one last shell-

  shocked look at them both as he tried to process all they

  were asking for. “Please follow me,” he requested as he

  turned on his heel and headed out of the room.

  They received several odd looks from the few members

  of the club’s staff they passed as Brayden Bainbridge led

  Detectives Morgan and Walker through the upper halls of the club. It was obvious from the stiff way Brayden held himself that he was not pleased, and it was obvious, too, that the

  two men following in his wake did not belong in the club.

  He asked them to wait in the antechamber of the private

  office that was still filled with all of their father’s things while he went in to find the information they had requested.

  Brayden looked around the antechamber f
or a wistful

  moment, remembering all the times he and Addison had

  been relegated to the old leather couch as punishment for

  some youthful misdeed.

  “Just a moment, gentlemen,” Brayden murmured to the

  detectives as he shook off the memories and turned to the

  office.

  “What the hell, Brayden?” Addison demanded of him as

  soon as he pushed through the heavy oak door and stepped

  inside.

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  It didn’t click closed behind him, but Brayden was too

  distracted to pay much attention to it. He had expected

  Addison to be skulking in their father’s office. His office, rather. But he hadn’t quite expected Addison to be in his

  face as soon as he stepped through the door.

  “Calm down,” he urged quietly as he went to the huge

  desk in the center of the room.

  “No, no. Why are they here?” Addison asked with a

  random point in the general direction of the door. “Why are they saying that Father was murdered?”

  “Sonny, just be calm, okay?” Brayden hissed. He was

  distantly impressed with himself, with how much better he

  was handling this conversation than the last one they’d had regarding their father’s death.

  He moved toward the desk and shushed his brother as

  he thought of how easy it was to hear what they were saying.

  He and Addison had always been able to hear his father’s

  arguments with his various girlfriends through the air vent that connected the office to the private antechamber. His

  father had never known, and it was one of the first things

  Brayden planned to have fixed after this was over.

  “I don’t know what information they’re going on,” he told

  Addison. “But they’re asking very specific questions, and

  since they’re not going to find anything, they’ll be gone soon.

  Just… hey, why don’t you take a vacation or something,

  huh?” he suggested distractedly as he thumbed through a

  file, looking for the numbers the detectives had requested.

  “What?” Addison snapped, looking at Brayden in horror.

  “You want me to pick up and leave after being questioned by 18

  My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux

  the police about the possibility of my father’s murder?” he asked in a high-pitched voice that wavered incredulously.

  “Jesus, Brayden, if you want the inheritance I’ll give it to you, but don’t send me to jail!” he shouted sarcastically.

  Brayden looked up with a blink and shook his head.

  “Christ, you’re right,” he muttered. He set the file down and pushed away from the antique teak desk. “Sorry,” he offered weakly as he walked over and put his arm around Addison’s

  shoulder to calm him.

  Addison huffed in return and crossed his arms over his

  chest, his jaw setting defiantly.

  “It’ll be okay, little brother,” Brayden soothed with a pat to Addison’s arm. “We’ll just have to give them whatever they ask for and make sure they’re gone before anyone starts

  getting wind of trouble.”

  “If it gets out that they even think Father was murdered, the whole place will implode,” Addison responded grimly as

  he shook off Brayden’s hand and began to pace.

  “We just won’t let that happen then, will we?” Brayden

  murmured.

  “SETH, isn’t it?” Brayden called to a short, scruffy man in khaki shorts and sunglasses who was shoveling a load of

  bright white rocks out of the back of a club car into an

  empty flower-bed.

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  My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux

  The man started violently when he saw Brayden

  approaching and quickly reached up to his ear to dislodge an ear-bud that was attached to a small MP3 player.

  “Yes, sir,” he answered as he set the end of his shovel

  on the ground and straightened up. He glanced from

  Brayden to the two men who flanked him and licked his lips

  nervously.

  Brayden knew it was always a fright for a club employee

  to see the bossman with a uniform or with anyone even

  resembling a cop. There was never any telling which little

  rich girl had called foul for no other reason than to fuck with the locals or which bitter old widow had made an advance

  and been rebuked only to scream that her pearls had gone

  missing.

  Then there were the occasional few employees who

  ended up being led away in handcuffs, but Brayden and his

  father had always managed to keep those incidents quiet.

  “You do some work with the motorcade, yes?” Brayden

  asked Ramirez curtly, looking down at the rocks with a

  frown as he removed his own sunglasses.

  “No, sir,” Ramirez answered as his eyes darted to the

  cops one more time. “You’re looking for Mr. Grace, sir. Is

  there a problem, sir?” he asked worriedly.

  “These gentlemen need to see our… what was it again?”

  Brayden asked in annoyance as he turned around to the

  detective beside him and waved a hand for assistance.

  “Ethylene glycol,” Morgan supplied.

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  My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux

  Brayden nodded and looked back to Ramirez. “Can you

  take care of that for me, or do you need to find Mr. Grace?”

  he asked in a tight voice.

  “You’ll need to get into the storage shed, sir,” Ramirez

  answered immediately as he reached for the two-way radio

  on his belt. “I’ll call Mr. Grace for you, sir,” he said smartly, obviously relieved that he would no longer be needed. He

  pushed a button and put it to his mouth. “Hey, Daniel? Mr.

  Bainbridge needs you at the back shed,” he said into the

  radio, his eyes on Brayden and the detectives.

  Brayden could hear a little voice responding

  unintelligibly.

  Ramirez put the two-way radio back to his lips, his eyes

  still on them as if they might attack him if he looked away, and he answered Daniel Grace’s question with a muttered, “I would think right now.”

  BRAYDEN stood off to the side, watching worriedly as the

  police questioned the head of his maintenance staff. Daniel Grace, a wiry blond who had the unnerving habit of meeting

  your eyes when you spoke to him and never looking away,

  stood answering the questions the two detectives asked with curt nods and precise, one-word answers.

  Brayden was frowning unconsciously. He had his head

  cocked to the side, straining to hear and watching out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t make out any of the questions 21

  My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux

  or answers, but he was wildly curious as to what Daniel was saying to the two detectives to make them look so annoyed.

  As he struggled to overhear the conversation, he caught

  sight of Addison moving through the shade of the palm trees that lined a nearby service path. Addison being in the

  vicinity of the two detectives made him very twitchy. His

  brother was, in a word, volatile.

  He cleared his throat and shifted nervously, looking

  back at the detectives as Daniel stood in front of them like a brick wall and stared at them expressionlessly. His back was ramrod straight, his feet were set a shoulder’s width apart, and his arms were crossed over his chest. He looked like an Army drill sergeant. It would have been am
using to watch

  the little interrogation if Brayden hadn’t been so tense. He wondered what they were making of Daniel Grace’s body

  language.

  He glanced back at the path. It was a service path,

  hidden with strategic landscaping and fencing. Addison

  stood off to the side in the shade of the palm trees with his arms crossed, frowning as he watched the detectives through the palms.

  Brayden began to amble his way over to his brother.

  “What are you doing?” he asked softly, barely moving

  his lips as he slid up to stand beside Addison.

  “Observing,” Addison snapped quietly. “What the hell

  are they doing? What are they looking for? Have they told

  you anything yet?”

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  My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux

  Brayden shook his head, opening his mouth to answer

  and then closing it again when no answers came

  immediately to mind. Detective Walker glanced over at them, raising an eyebrow as they spoke.

  The radio at Addison’s belt crackled with static. Then

  Micah Parrish’s voice spoke questioningly. “Sonny?” he

  ventured, sounding worried. “They’re looking for your

  brother all over the place. Some of the guests—”

  Addison snatched the radio from his belt and put it to

  his mouth, his eyes never leaving the detectives. “Take care of it, Micah,” he said quietly, his voice low and serious.

  Brayden did a double take, looking at his brother as if

  he had never seen him before. He had never heard Addison

  use that tone of voice with anyone, much less someone he

  considered a friend.

  “What?” Micah responded with a squeak in his voice.

  “But—”

  “Micah,” Addison snapped quietly. “Take care of it.”

  “I’m the fucking tennis pro, Sonny,” Micah hissed,

  sounding as if he were trying not to be heard by those

  around him. “I don’t take care of members with problems

  unless it’s an ugly backhand!”

  Addison clicked the radio off and slid it back onto its

  clip with a sigh. He turned and looked at Brayden blankly.

  “I’ll escort the dicks around,” Brayden murmured to

  him. “Go take care of our members,” he urged softly.

  Addison’s jaw tightened and he turned his body slightly to