Chapter 7
Roxy Sterling lived in a gated community perched on a hillside with enough elevation to make the ocean look like a sheet of hammered silver.
I drove up a road lined with jacaranda trees until I reached her home.
Pulling to a stop out front, I noticed the exterior was decked out in holiday décor, a vast difference from Chelle’s place.
Roxy answered the door in a fitted navy dress, her dark hair falling in a glossy wave over one shoulder. She offered me a slight smile, though I detected sadness in her eyes, like a person struggling to keep themselves composed.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“My name is Georgiana Germaine, and I’m a private investigator. I was hired to look into the murder of Holly Honeywell. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course. Please, come inside.”
As we made our way to the living room, I glanced around, noting high ceilings, polished floors, and a staircase that curved around like a ribbon.
A man stepped out from a side room, and Roxy introduced him as her husband, Wyatt. He was clean-shaven and dressed as well as she was in a charcoal suit.
We stepped into a living room filled with white furniture and a low table carved from dark wood. The spotless sofa and armchairs gave the impression that they didn’t have pets or children. Or if they did, they weren’t allowed on the furniture.
“Can I offer you anything?” Roxy asked. “Tea, coffee, or soda?”
“Water would be fine,” I said.
She nodded and stepped out, returning with a tall glass of water for me, red wine for herself, and what looked like whisky on the rocks for her husband. She settled into a chair across from me, folded her hands in her lap, and Wyatt sat beside her.
“I just came from Chelle Cavendish’s house,” I said. “Do you know her?”
“We do,” Roxy said, “but we’re not close.”
“I figured since she knew Celia well, the three of you may have spent time together.”
“I saw her now and then at Celia’s house parties, but not much otherwise.”
She said it with a smile, yet something in her eyes shifted, as if indicating she disliked Chelle, even if she refused to say it aloud.
“How’s your investigation going?” Wyatt asked.
“I’m just getting started.”
“We’re still in shock, to be honest. Losing Celia was hard enough, and now Holly, and the way it happened … it’s been a lot to take in. I’m guessing someone isn’t happy with the way the police are handling the investigation. Is that why you were hired?”
“Something like that.”
“What can we do to help?”
I dug right in. “I’m piecing together Holly’s life and her movements during the final weeks she was alive.”
Roxy hung her head, pressing a hand to her lips as the tears came. Wyatt offered some words of support, then reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, which he handed to her.
“We loved Celia and Holly,” she said. “I’m devastated that they’re both gone.”
“How long did you know them?” I asked.
Roxy turned toward Wyatt, sniffling as she said, “We moved here, what, twenty years ago?”
He gave the question some thought, then nodded. “I opened a law firm in San Luis Obispo with a couple of friends from law school, and Roxy and Celia worked there as our office assistants.”
“Celia worked for you?” I asked.
“For the firm, yes. Roxy and Celia managed schedules, client files, and client communication.” He thumbed at Roxy. “That’s how I met this one, the love of my life.”
Roxy grinned, blushing as she blotted her eyes with the handkerchief.
“How long did she work for you?” I asked.
Wyatt hesitated, and Roxy rested a hand on his arm, a quiet gesture that felt like a nudge telling him it was all right to keep going.
“It was the strangest thing,” he said. “One day we were all sitting around talking about the future of the company. The next, Celia comes in and says she’s moving to Arizona.”
“What was in Arizona?”
“She was drawn to holistic living and wanted a town where she could be surrounded by people who shared that interest,” Roxy said. “We tried to talk her into staying, but once we hired her replacement, she moved on.”
“Did you keep in touch?”
“I helped her move, and I stayed with her for a couple of weeks, long enough for her to make a few friends,” Roxy said.
“That was nice of you,” I said. “Did you return to work for the law firm?”
“For a month or so. When Celia was there, I liked working at the office. Once she was gone, it didn’t feel the same. I’d always wanted to do some backpacking, so I talked to Wyatt, and he suggested I do it before we got married and settled down.”
“Do the two of you have any kids?”
Roxy frowned and went quiet, and Wyatt took her hand.
“We want kids, but we’ve never been able to conceive,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right. I’ll admit, it was hard for a while, but we’ve moved on, and we’re both in a much better place now.”
“Did Celia ever tell you she wasn’t Holly’s biological mother?” I asked.
“She didn’t, and I have to say, when Holly stopped by and showed us the paperwork she’d found, we were in shock,” she said.
“Why do you think Celia kept it a secret?”
“As a lawyer, I’ve learned a lot over the years,” Wyatt said. “More than anything, it’s shown me how tangled people’s lives can get. I’ve had clients tell me things I never thought I would hear.”
“You said you talked to Chelle,” Roxy said. “What did she say?”
I filled them in on what I’d learned: the letters Celia sent to Chelle, the fact she knew Holly was adopted, Holly’s discovery of her adoption, and the claim that one of Holly’s birth parents was famous.
“Chelle said he was famous, huh?” Wyatt said. “Interesting.”
“You don’t seem surprised,” I said.
“Whoever her parents are, or were, I’m sure they had their reasons for why they decided not to keep her. Maybe Celia thought staying silent about the adoption was a way to protect Holly.”
It didn’t just protect Holly, though.
It protected the famous father, if in fact he was famous.
I shifted, looking at Roxy. “Did Celia ever confide in you about Lenny, or tell you what he was like and why they split up?”
Roxy took a long sip of wine. “She was tight-lipped about Lenny Cutler. We know she regretted getting married to him, but not much otherwise.”
“Why do you think she regretted it?”
“I got the impression he was controlling, or maybe clingy is a better word. When he left her, it was hard on her at first. But once she moved home and rebuilt her life, she was happy.”
“And she never remarried?”
“Holly was her entire world. She didn’t feel the need to find love again.”
Wyatt cleared his throat. “Is Lenny a suspect?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I’m still trying to track him down.”
“Start in Sedona, since that’s where they met.”
I paused, thinking of what direction to go in next. “Holly believed someone was following her in the week before her death.”
Roxy shared an uncomfortable glance with Wyatt. “About that, there’s something we should tell you. About a month before Celia died, Lenny showed up at her house.”
“Who else is aware he was here?”
“Just us, as far as we know. She didn’t say anything to Chelle, because … well, I’m sure Chelle told you how she feels about him. If she would have seen him, there’s no saying what she’d do. When Chelle’s temper flares up, you want to be as far away from her as you can be.”
“What was the reason for Lenny’s visit?”
“Celia said he apologized for the way he left things, and he wondered how she was doing after all these years. He wanted to apologize to Holly too, but Celia asked him to leave her alone. As far as we know, he did. But now …”
“How long was Lenny in town?”
“A couple of days,” Wyatt said, glancing at his watch. “It’s about time I head to the office.”
I rose.
“Thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” I said.
Wyatt escorted me to the door, and as I stepped out, he said, “Holly was one of the sweetest young women I’ve ever known. I hope you find the answers you’re looking for, so she can rest in peace.”
“When it comes to cases like this, I always do.”
As I walked back toward my car, my thoughts turned toward Lenny, and what I’d just been told about his recent visit with Celia.
Perhaps Holly was being followed—followed by him.