Jeopardy in High Heels (High Heels #12) - Gemma Halliday Page 0,44

said carefully.

He nodded, not looking terribly surprised. "I got that impression from the detective too. But he wouldn't share much."

I hesitated to do the same. However, with Tina's article out there, there wasn't much point in holding back. "From what I understand, it appears your father ingested ethylene glycol before he died. Antifreeze."

His eyebrows furrowed deeper, the frown lines on his face making him suddenly look much older than his years. "How?" he asked, his voice strained. "Why?"

"It was probably put in his energy drink. He wouldn't have tasted it, and we all saw him drinking the Invigorate at the taping."

John's face was stoic, and I could feel him processing that information, coming to the same conclusion the rest of us had. "You mean someone deliberately poisoned my father."

I nodded slowly, my heart aching for the man who was no more than a kid, really. "I'm sorry, John," I said, putting a hand over his.

He bowed his head, and I wasn't sure if he was trying to hold back tears or just taking a moment with his own thoughts. Finally he seemed to pull himself together and looked up again. "Can I ask how you knew this?"

Again I hesitated about how much to share. I still had my doubts about just the type of terms his mother and her ex-husband had been on. And I was pretty sure that whatever I told John would get right back to her.

"I have…a friend in the police department," I finally settled on.

Which seemed to satisfy him, as he just nodded. "Do they have any idea who could have done this? Or why?" he persisted.

"I honestly don't know." I paused. "I am curious, though…did the police ask you who might have benefited from your father's death?"

His frown intensified. "What do you mean?"

"Financially speaking. I mean, I assume you are named in his will?" I asked, watching his reaction carefully.

"Well, you assume wrong," he said sharply. "I was not in that man's will."

"Oh?" I ask, honestly surprised by this.

John shook his head. "It was one of his ploys to try to get me to become his little sidekick once again. When I told him I was majoring in business, he said I had two choices—make sure that business was music or kiss my inheritance goodbye."

"He really wanted you to follow in his footsteps, didn't he?" I noted.

"It was almost pathological. Look, it was an easy choice. All I'd had my entire life was his brand of crude music shoved down my throat, the bastardization of our culture, and his disgusting lifestyle."

He was on a roll now, any attempts to not speak ill of the dead abandoned along with his coffee as his eyes flashed with fire.

"Like I would throw away my chance to get away from that? For what? His money?" He scoffed again.

"You know, you didn't seem to hate his money when we were talking about your mother yesterday," I said carefully.

His eyes shot to mine. "That's different. She was entitled to it."

"And you weren't?"

"Look, you have to understand. My mother put up with a lot. She was there from the beginning with Dog. Heck, if it weren't for her, he wouldn't even have had a career. She deserves a piece of that empire she helped build. A lot more than the string of wives who came afterward, all with their hands out."

I nodded, having a hard time not agreeing with him. "Is it true she really didn't want his money? Or did he refuse her?"

He paused, and I could see him reading my meaning into that question now that his father was gone. "I don't know what went on between them, but I do know she deserved better."

"How did your mother react when she discovered that he'd cut you out of his will?"

John's mouth twitched. "She wasn't happy."

"But they still remained friends?" I was having a harder and harder time believing that. From what I could see, all Dog had done was treat his first wife like dirt—first cheating on her, then withholding alimony, and finally cutting their only son off from his inheritance.

John must have guessed my thoughts. "My mother doesn't have a mean bone in her body. She gave that man so many chances. She could gloss over almost anything he'd ever done."

I finished my croissant, wishing I'd gotten another one, and wiped my mouth with a napkin. "John, do you know what size of an estate your dad left behind?"

John sipped his coffee. "Large. Exact dollar amount? I don't know.