ENTANGLED PURSUITS - Brenda Jackson Page 0,21

hadn’t even bothered to ask if he’d already made plans. It would not have mattered. He would have changed them for her. When he had picked her up from the airport, on the way back to his place, she made sure he understood that all they would ever be were sex-buddies until one of them decided to end things.

“Ready to go, Drew?”

He blinked, and realized while his thoughts had drifted to the past, they had eaten their lunch in silence and were now finished. He glanced around for their waitress to get their check.

“I’ve already taken care of it.”

He glanced over at Toni. “You have?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t recall the waitress returning to their table. “When?”

“Moments ago. It’s no problem, Drew. You can take care of it the next time. Besides, you seemed deep in thought about something.”

“I was. I was thinking about the Tindal case. God, I hope we get the bastard who did that to her,” he said. There was no way he would tell her what he’d really been thinking about.

“I think we will. I have confidence in us.”

He stood. “Really? Since when?” Not waiting for her to respond, he walked toward the door.

“MARIA IS DEAD?”

Both Toni and Andrew studied Johnnie Underwood’s shocked expression as he dropped down in the chair behind his desk. If he was acting, he was doing a good job of it. At least, Toni thought so. She had a feeling Drew wasn’t all that convinced. They had arrived at Underwood Travel Agency just as he was coming back from lunch.

“How did she die?” he asked.

“Her wrists were slit. She bled to death,” Drew answered.

“Jesus.”

Toni thought he looked like he was about to throw up. “When was the last time you saw her, Mr. Underwood?”

It took him a minute to answer, as if he was having a hard time believing what they’d told him. “I haven’t seen her since our breakup.”

“And when was that?”

“A few months ago.”

“Could you be more specific?”

“We broke up about six months ago. Right before Labor Day.” He reached for his phone and pulled up the calendar. “It was September second.”

“Why?” Drew then asked.

“That’s personal.”

“Not in this case,” Drew said harshly, “A woman was murdered. And we need all the information we can get to find the person responsible. I’m sure you want that as much as we do, right?”

“Yes, of course.” He was quiet for a minute before saying, “We broke up because I met someone. Well, actually, I hooked back up with an old girlfriend from college.”

“When was the last time you talked to Maria Tindal?” Toni asked.

“Yesterday.”

“What about?”

He met her gaze. “I’ve called her a few times to apologize, but she wouldn’t pick up the phone. But I felt bad—the reason we broke up was my fault. So I was surprised when I saw a missed call from her yesterday, and I called her back. She wanted me to know she had found a cufflink I’d left there, and that she’d trash it if I didn’t come to get it. I was supposed to drop by last night.”

“Did you?” Drew asked.

Johnnie Underwood shook his head. “No. When I mentioned Maria’s call to my girlfriend, she got upset. She thought Maria was just using the cufflink as a ploy to get me over there. She suggested that I have Maria mail it to me. I tried calling Maria back to ask her to do that, but she never returned my call.”

“And you used your cell phone to call her all those times?”

He met Toni’s gaze. “Yes. My phone record will verify all the calls I made to her, as well as the one she made to me.”

“Where were you last night between the hours of eight and midnight, Mr. Underwood?” Drew asked.

“With my girlfriend, at her place.”

“The entire time?” Drew asked.

“I arrived there around eight and spent the night. I didn’t leave her house until this morning around seven. That was just enough time for me to go home, shower, and dress and open up this place at nine.”

“And where is home for you, Mr. Underwood?”

“I live in the Marigold Heights area on Helms Street. The Regency Condos.”

“Can you tell us your girlfriend’s name and where she lives?” Toni asked.

Underwood frowned. “Surely you don’t think she or I are in any way involved with what happened to Maria?”

“Until this case is solved, Mr. Underwood, everyone is a suspect.”

The man released a disgusted sigh. “Her name is Jamia Roundtree. And her address is 534 Commodore Lane.”

Drew, who’d been jotting down

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