Chapter Eight
Roman backed the Escape out of the Drapers’ driveway.
“Who’s up next?” Mia asked.
“Tracey Millar. She was reluctant to talk to us, but I eventually won her over. She’s been staying in Walkerton this summer before her last year at Darby, and she agreed we could tag along on her walk to work.”
Mia remained silent while Roman drove across town and pulled into a parking lot behind a section of stores and restaurants. It was supper hour, and the lot was full, but by following a couple returning to their car, he managed to snag a spot.
After consulting his phone, Roman led Mia away from the commercial area and along several streets to a low-rise building. A young woman waited on the sidewalk in front of the main doors. She studied them as they approached.
“Tracey Millar?” Roman asked.
“That’s me.”
Tracey was tall and lean and wore black capri pants and a white golf shirt with ‘Enzo’s’ embroidered on the left breast pocket. Her long brown hair had been pulled back into a tail and her face was bare of makeup other than a light coating of mascara framing her coffee-colored eyes. Those eyes studied Roman and Mia with impatience, and she pointedly turned her wrist over and glanced at her watch.
“Sorry. The traffic was heavy. But you don’t start until six-thirty, right?” Roman said.
“That’s when I’m supposed to be on the floor, but I have setup to do first and my boss is super grumpy. I don’t want to start the shift with a lecture, if you know what I mean.”
“Sounds like a tough job,” Mia said falling into step beside Tracey when she began walking briskly down the sidewalk. The woman had long legs, and Mia was forced to hustle to keep up.
“Not really. Just follow the rules and it’s all good.”
“You’re doing a degree in business, right?” Roman asked.
“Yep. One more year. Then—fingers crossed—I’ll get a job I like and am actually paid a living wage for.” She paused and glanced over at Roman. “But you didn’t come here to find out about me, so let’s cut to the chase.”
Mia chuckled. “You’re direct. I like that. So, we’ll be direct in return. First off, we don’t mean to cause you pain but some of the questions will be hard.”
Tracey rolled her eyes and nodded. “You want to know about Maryanne.”
“In a nutshell, yes. What can you tell us about her death?” Roman asked.
“It was a Sunday night when she … when she died. We’d hung out that afternoon doing homework and gabbing. Just like always. The next morning, she didn’t come down to the cafeteria, but I didn’t think anything of it at first because sometimes she skipped breakfast. I grabbed some fruit and walked to my first lecture. I texted her right before I went inside but she didn’t answer. Then I had to turn my cell off. Professor Clark is really strict about phones.”
Tracey’s pace had slowed, and Mia studied her face, saw the grief etched into it and felt the pain radiating toward her. She took it. Willingly. If it helped Tracey get through their questions, it was worth the price.
“When did you find out?” Roman asked.
“When I got out of that lecture there was a kind of buzz in the hall. I can’t explain it exactly, but the air felt electric. I overheard something about an ambulance then someone said ‘I think her name was Maryanne.’ My heart literally stopped for a moment. I couldn’t breathe. My vision went blurry and I thought I was going to black out. I ran all the way to the dorm. I could see the flashing lights from across the courtyard. A bunch of the students were crowded around the lawn, just staring and taking pictures. It was so unreal. I can still see those blue lights, the way they strobed against the bricks on the front of the building.”
Tracey stopped on the sidewalk, squeezed her eyes shut, then shook her head.
“You must have been so worried,” Mia said in a gentle voice.
“Freaking out, more like it. They wouldn’t let me in through the door. I asked if something had happened to Maryanne and one of the policemen took me over to the cop car and told me to sit inside. He crouched down beside the car and his face was so serious it made my stomach hurt.” She paused and blew out her breath. “I knew something bad had happened to her and the way the EMT guys were just standing around freaked me out. Why weren’t they helping Maryanne?”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
“Not really. But he asked me all these questions, and the way he did, I figured out pretty quick they thought she’d tried to kill herself. But she didn’t. She couldn’t have. Maryanne wasn’t depressed. She was, for sure, still sad about her parents. Other than that, she was fine. Normal, you know? I’ve been friends with her for a long time and I’d have known. We were literally looking up places to rent together this summer. She already had an internship lined up at a firm here in Walkerton. Suicidal people don’t make plans with their best friend hours before they do the deed.”
Roman didn’t have the heart to tell her that, yes, sometimes that’s exactly what suicidal people did. They were relieved to have made the decision to end their pain and they wanted the last memories with cherished friends or family members to be happy ones.
“If not suicide, what do you think happened?” Roman asked.
Tracey’s shoulders jerked and she began walking again. “At first, I thought maybe she accidentally took too many pills. It still didn’t sit right, though. I’d never seen Maryanne do drugs. Like ever. She didn’t even really drink that much. She was sort of health conscious, you know?”
“And now what do you think?” Mia prodded.
“Now I think someone killed her. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”
“That’s a bold statement. Any suspects in mind?”
Tracey walked for several beats without answering. Her fists clenched at her sides while a flush pushed up from her chest into her neck.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” she finally said. “Eliza did it.”
Roman nodded. “Okay, sure. But why?”
Now her speed picked up and he opened his stride to match hers, while Mia was forced to practically jog along beside her.
“Because she’s a narcissistic, psycho bitch and Maryanne figured out she poisoned their father.”
“Wow. Did Eliza have a grudge against her dad?” Mia asked.
“They never really got along. He was always picking at her about what she was doing with her life. But, like, hello—any parent would feel the same if their daughter was passing up a college education to buy a bunch of overpriced crap then film their lives for public consumption.”
“That’s a pretty big leap to go from there to murder,” Roman said.
Tracey exhaled heavily. “Look. Here’s what I know. The day before the Wentworths died, Eliza and Phillip had one of their blowouts and she was pissed. She wanted access to her college fund, and he’d said no—again. Not unless she actually went to college. Eliza called Maryanne that night to rant. She figured if she could get Maryanne to side with her, maybe together they’d convince her parents—especially her father—to hand it over. Something about a nose job and a chin implant. Like, can you imagine? The girl was so into her looks and her stupid socials and ….”
She trailed off and shook her head. Her pace once again slowed with her mood.
“But wouldn’t she eventually get that money anyway? Why go after her dad right then?” Roman asked.
“I guess the trust was set up so the money would be released on her thirtieth birthday with or without her parents’ consent. But selfish Eliza couldn’t wait that long, and she was really mad. Apparently, the fight with her father was epic. God, she’s such a bitch with her new nose and her collagen lips and her stupid designer bags. Like, who cares?”
“What was Maryanne’s response to Eliza’s call? Was she going to help her stand up to their parents?”
A wistful smile ghosted across Tracey’s lips. “Maryanne did the usual. Calmed her down. Told her to be patient. Then bitched to me about it for a couple of hours. Though I guess she didn’t calm Eliza as much as she’d thought she had. Not if she went after their dad the very next day.”
“But she had no proof Eliza did anything to her father,” Roman said.
“Not then she didn’t. But way after, she found peanut oil hidden away in the bathroom. When she confronted Eliza, she denied it all the way to the moon and back. But it was her. I know it in my bones. That was only a month or so before Maryanne died. I didn’t connect it at first. I guess I was in shock.”
“Did you go to the police with your theory?”
“Of course.” She strode ahead then whirled back to face them. “They heard me out. Jotted down a couple of notes then all but patted me on the head and told me not to worry. I had no real proof, see. There was nothing they could do. It made me so mad.”
Roman tilted his head and studied her for a beat. “And you think Eliza killed Maryanne to shut her up?”
Tracey’s hand shot out, her index finger pointing. “That’s exactly what happened. It’s so completely obvious. And now she’s out there, living her stupid, shallow life after killing her entire family.”
“But you don’t have any actual proof? Did you see Eliza on campus that day? Don’t you guys have roommates? Wouldn’t she have noticed if Eliza came into the room and messed with Maryanne?” Mia asked.
Tracey’s head dropped down and her shoulders slumped. “Okay. I don’t have proof or anything like that. But I just feel it. Kerry—that was Maryanne’s roommate—was away that weekend. She didn’t come back until the next morning, so Eliza could totally have snuck in there without anyone seeing.”
“And this Kerry person, what did she have to say when she found out?” Roman asked.
“She was crushed too. And shocked. Said Maryanne had been normal, totally fine, before she left. And she’d never seen her with drugs or anything like that.”
“So, they got along okay—Maryanne and Kerry?” Mia asked.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, it was the usual random pairing thing that happens in college dorms, but they seemed to get along fine. Sometimes the three of us hung out together.”
“If we go with your theory that Eliza killed her sister, do you think she might kill again?” Roman asked.
“Sure.” Tracey shrugged carelessly. “Why wouldn’t she when there are no consequences. I’m not saying she’s got a blood lust or whatever, but if someone pisses her off or gets in the way of her plans, I have no doubt she’ll get rid of them.” Her eyes flicked between Mia and Roman. “Wait. Has something happened? Don’t tell me she’s hurt someone. I’m so going back to Detective Manson and reaming his ass.”
“Wow. Hold your horses. No one else is dead. We’re just interested. That’s all,” Mia said.
Now her eyes narrowed. “People are only interested in things for a reason. And you’re PIs, which means someone hired you because they’re worried about Eliza. You can tell them they should be worried. That girl is a psycho is I ever met one. End of story.”
She shifted the strap of her purse and started to turn away.
“You set up a GoFundMe page for Maryanne and Eliza. How come?” Roman asked.
Tracey paused and glanced back over her shoulder. “Because. Duh. They needed the money. Especially for right away. All that estate stuff takes time, as we found out when Stephanie and Phillip passed. Especially since they didn’t have a will. Meanwhile Maryanne had another tuition payment due, and they had mortgage and basic living expenses to cover until everything was sorted out. I didn’t want Maryanne to have to drop out of school. With her parents gone, it was more important than ever for her to get a solid education. No more safety net.”
Roman nodded. “Sure. Makes sense. Once everything shook out, do you know how much she inherited?”
Tracey turned back and faced Roman and Mia again, studying their faces while her teeth worried her lower lip.
“I guess it’s something you can eventually look up anyway, so I might as well tell you. Once the house was sold, the business assets liquidated, and the debts settled, they each got around a hundred and fifty thousand. Which sounds like a lot but I promise you it’s not. Tuition at Darby for Maryanne’s last year was a little over seventy-five thousand. She had her grandparents’ college fund for some of it and student loans for the rest, but still. Then right after, she’d have to find somewhere to live, float all her own expenses, and eventually start paying down those loans.”
“You raised a little over a hundred thousand on the GoFundMe. That must have helped?” Mia said.
“It really did. At the time I wasn’t thrilled giving half to Eliza, but Maryanne wanted her to have it. Plus, once the estate was settled, her sister also finally got hold of her tuition fund so that was another two hundred K for her. Altogether, she ended up with a cool four hundred grand. And—big surprise—she got the plastic surgery as soon as the money cleared.” Tracey shook her head.
“I wonder how much Eliza inherited from Maryanne?” Roman asked.
“Even though I’d bugged her about it, Maryanne didn’t have a proper will. Apparently, she put it in the suicide note, though. She left me her collection of vinyl. Which gutted me at the time, but now I love listening to them. It keeps Maryanne close, you know. As for Eliza, I don’t have actual figures, but she probably got another two hundred thousand or so. Which chaps my ass, because first Eliza killed her then she profited.”
Mia made a tsking sound and shook her head. “That would upset me too. When did you last see Eliza?”
“Nine months ago. At Maryanne’s funeral. I was supposed to get a chance to speak, but she told me right before the service started there wasn’t enough time. The level of rage I felt in that moment was off the charts volcanic. I almost choked her to death right then and there. I haven’t laid eyes on her since that day, and I never want to see her again unless it’s at her murder trial.” She blew out a breath. “Look, this is pissing me off all over again. I’ve gotta go.”
Mia quickly reached out and laid a hand on her arm. She focused all her energy on the woman, tapping into the pain and grief and pulling it straight into herself. “I’m so, so sorry for your loss. Maryanne sounds like a wonderful friend.”
Tracey stared into Mia’s eyes as though mesmerized. Then she sighed and smiled. “She was. The best ever. I’ll miss her forever. I’m actually kind of glad I talked to you. It wasn’t fun, but it’s still nice to remember, you know?”
“I know.” Taking a chance, Mia leaned in and hugged Tracey. Relief washed over her when the girl sank into the embrace. She patted her back and sighed again before stepping away.
“Thank you.” Tracey shook her head and glanced at Roman. “It’s weird but I feel so much better. Lighter somehow.”
“No. Thank you. What you told us helps our case. I can promise you, if Eliza had anything to do with Maryanne’s death, we’ll get to the bottom of it.” He fished out a business card from his back pocket. “Here. If you think of anything else, anything at all, give us a call.”
“And you’ll let me know if you find out something?” Tracey asked, staring down at the card for a beat.
“Of course we will. You’d better get to work. I know you don’t want to be late,” Mia said.
“Right. Sure.” Tracey glanced around as though orienting herself again. “Okay. I’m out.”
Slowly she turned away and walked in the direction of Main Street.
Roman immediately pulled Mia into him and wrapped her up in a tight hug. “Are you okay? Is it bad?”
Mia’s breath hiccupped and her shoulders shook. “It was awful. She’s like a wounded animal inside.”
He leaned back and frowned at her when he saw the tears flowing down her cheeks. “And yet you willingly took her pain? You know it’ll linger for hours if not days.”
“But Tracey will feel better. At least for a while. And she deserves some peace.”
“Don’t we all.” He kissed her forehead tenderly and pulled her in close, rocking slowly side to side. “Don’t we all,” he repeated.