Free Amnesia by Beverly Barton Page B

They’d been introduced by a mutual friend at a charity function in Chattanooga three years ago and he’d found Ms. Vanderley vastly intriguing. He’d made subtle overtures, which she’d ignored. He was unaccustomed to being rejected, so out of curiosity, he had asked their mutual friend for details of Annabelle’s personal life. Once he’d been told she had a crippled fiancé to whom she was devoted, he hadn’t ask anything else. Encroaching on another man’s territory wasn’t Griffin’s style.
    “I wasn’t aware you knew the lady,” Sanders said, his face expressionless.
    “We met briefly several years ago.”
    “And she made a favorable impression.”
    Griffin nodded. “What did Annabelle want?”
    “She also wants to hire you to investigate a murder case. It seems her cousin was murdered in Memphis last night and—”
    “Damn! Annabelle’s cousin and Quinn Cortez’s lover are one in the same, right?”
    Sanders nodded his slick bald head. His keen brown eyes studied Griffin. “What do you intend to do? You’ll have to turn one of them down. Mr. Cortez’s call did come in first, if that helps you decide what to do.”
    “It doesn’t.”
    “You have met Ms. Vanderley, so perhaps—”
    “Telephone each of them, on my behalf. Naturally, don’t mention anything about one of them to the other. And arrange for a suite for me at the Peabody. If we can get the suite set up today, I’ll fly to Memphis this evening and meet with Ms. Vanderley and Mr. Cortez tonight. Let’s say around eight o’clock.”
    “You plan to speak with both of them at the same meeting?”
    “It’ll save time.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    When Sanders turned and headed up the stairs, Griffin called to him, “See what kind of background check we can come up with on both of them by tonight.”
    Sanders didn’t reply verbally, but Griffin knew he’d heard him. They had worked side by side for so many years that they were practically psychically linked. When a man saved another man’s life, it bonded them in a way nothing else could.
    Vanderley Inc. kept an executive apartment in Memphis since a great deal of their business was conducted in this city. Heading up the Vanderley family’s numerous philanthropic organizations, Annabelle came to Memphis severaltimes a year, the last time less than three months ago. At that time, it had been over a year since she’d seen Lulu and nearly six months since they’d spoken over the phone. Only at her insistence had Lulu agreed to meet her for dinner that evening. As usual, they wound up in an argument. And as usual, it was about the same things—money, Uncle Louis and Wythe.
    Annabelle snapped open her overnight bag that she had placed on the suitcase rack at the foot of her bed. She had no idea how long she’d be in Memphis, how many days or perhaps even weeks it would take the police to find Lulu’s killer and formally charge him with her murder. If she needed more clothes, she’d send home for them. Or she’d just buy something off the rack at a department store. Whenever she stayed in any of the apartments Vanderley Inc. maintained in various cities, one of the first things she did was unpack and put everything in its place. Being neat was simply a part of who she was. She despised clutter.
    After taking her toiletries into the bathroom, she arranged them carefully on the vanity and inadvertently caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She stared at her reflection for a moment. When they were children, she and Lulu had been close, despite Lulu being nearly seven years younger. Family and friends had thought it sweet that Annabelle had been like a big sister to her young cousin. More than one person had mentioned how much the girls resembled each other, both blue-eyed blondes with strong Vanderley features. But that had been before Lulu reached puberty and blossomed into a model-thin, bosomy, leggy version of her mother, who’d been Uncle Louis’s third wife and twenty-five