Free Death Never Sleeps by E.J. Simon Page B

about you, I knew. He had a certain sparkle in his eyes. He was proud of you. I hope you know that.”
    “I do, thanks, Maria.” As Michael looked at Maria and felt the warmth from her hand on his arm, a touch that seemed to deliberately linger for an extra second or so, he felt an odd sensation that Maria was attracted to him, but not because of any sex appeal of his own. He looked at Maria, into her dark eyes; they seemed to be searching. Michael knew she was searching for Alex.

Chapter 15
    Newport, Rhode Island
    November 14, 2009
    “J ust seconds before he was shot, when I was on the phone with Alex, he told me there was something that he couldn’t wait to show me, something that would shock me. It was almost the last thing he said to me.”
    “What do you think it could have been?” Samantha said.
    “I don’t know. I almost forgot about it with everything that happened, but of course, I can’t get it out of mind. Whatever this thing of Alex’s was, assuming it wasn’t just some joke, I’m sure he kept it close to his vest. I’ve broached it with a few of the people he was close with, but no one seems to have a clue what he could have been up to—or they’re not saying. If anyone knew anything, it would have been Russell but …”
    “Have you asked Donna?”
    “No, I guess that would be a logical place to start, but first, I don’t think Alex would share some big secret with his wife. He wasn’t that type of guy. He obviously didn’t even share with her where he’s hidden his money. Second, I don’t want to arouse any more suspicions or curiosity on her part. I guess I just don’t trust her, and I don’t think Alex completely did, either.”
    Michael and Samantha had decided to head off to Newport for a night, a favorite retreat and an easy two-and-a-half-hour drive north from Westport. Michael knew that Samantha needed to get out of the house, and it was a good time to visit one of their favorite French restaurants, Bouchard.
    There were only a few other diners, giving the restaurant a softer, yet more formal feel than during its busy summer months.
    “I love Newport in the winter. It’s quiet, serene,” Michael said as he carefully extracted the olive from his half-finished martini. He looked over at the large, predominately sea-blue mural of the port of Saint-Tropez, just above Samantha’s shoulder.
    “I know it’s months away, but I can’t wait for us to be back in Saint-Tropez again,” he said, referring to their annual August vacation. Michael relished the taste of one of Bouchard’s signature dishes, a coffee-crusted breast of duck.
    “Michael, how did you really feel about your brother? You know, it’s odd that all these years we’ve discussed Alex, and I know you loved him, but beyond that, you’ve never really spoken about how you felt.”
    This was typical Samantha, Michael thought. She had a way of drawing people out, to open up about their lives, their innermost secrets. She knew how to ease their pains and their fears. It was a quality she had that Michael had never seen in another woman.
    Michael had to think. In truth, he’d never really synthesized his thoughts about his brother. They were all just a collection of fragments of feelings. But now, Michael knew, it was time to more neatly categorize them, for Samantha—and for himself.
    “As a kid, say through my teens, I certainly looked up to him. He was like a sports idol too. He was such a great athlete; you could tell that he had kind of an aura around him that other people and kids saw. Other kids, older than Alex, were also afraid of him. He was a tough guy, and so quick.”
    Michael paused, his spirits sagging. “But then, I guess sometime after he was injured and returned from college, it was like his mission in life was over. He wasn’t going to be a professional ballplayer. The aura around him was gone. People can smell it when your run is over.”
    Samantha looked into Michael’s eyes. “So things