13
When Lucy showed up, Ford couldn’t help noticing that she hung back far enough to indicate she wasn’t eager to be there.
“Hey,” he said and wondered if she’d thought about him last night. He’d certainly been thinking about her.
“Don’t smile at me,” she grumbled.
He laughed at her sullen expression. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to see it.”
“Should I scowl instead?” He drew his face into a severe frown. “This better?”
She looked away. “Just... don’t do anything, okay?”
He couldn’t resist another chuckle, which she ignored.
“When does the investigator want to talk to us?” she asked.
“He said to call him as soon as you arrived.”
“Great. I’m here.”
All business. Ford stepped back and held the door as she came in. Then he waved her into the main living area.
She circled the room, stopping at the large picture window that created a frame for the sea before picking up a weathered, wooden bird displayed on a side table. “I always wondered what this place was like on the inside.”
They’d been together for such a short period of time he’d never brought her to the house. He’d known his family wouldn’t approve
of her. Even before it came out that her father was a murderer, Mick had been a maintenance man, barely eking out a living,
and the fact that they lived in a run-down trailer park served as proof. Sara and John would not have reacted in a positive
way. They’d always been worried about their image and connections.
Oddly enough, Aurora had been inside the house, however. Ford hadn’t thought twice about introducing her to his parents. He’d known they’d be
more than happy to associate with the Clarks.
Even if that hadn’t been the case, he didn’t care how they reacted to Aurora because she hadn’t mattered very much to him.
It was Lucy he’d liked.
“I need to get it updated,” he told her. “That’s partly why I’m here this summer.”
“Looks good to me.”
He wondered where she lived these days—not just what city but if she had a good home, maybe with roommates or a boyfriend.
And what did she do for a living? He was interested in all of that, but now, when she was so prickly, was not the time to
ask.
“Needs new flooring, paint, that sort of thing.” He gestured toward the kitchen and changed the subject. “Would you like some
coffee or tea?”
“No, thanks.”
Apparently, she wasn’t going to lower her guard. He figured he might as well get the investigator on the phone.
It took only a few seconds for Lester Friedman’s receptionist to patch him through. As soon as Ford heard his voice, he put
his phone on Speaker. “I’ve got Lucy McBride here, Les.”
“Hello, Ms. McBride,” Friedman said.
“Call me Lucy,” she told him. “And for the record, I’ve changed my last name to Sinclair.”
“Duly noted. I can see why someone in your situation might want to do that. Why don’t we get started by having you tell me
why you believe Mick McBride wasn’t responsible for the death of Aurora Clark?”
She told him how eager everyone had been to blame him, despite the lack of evidence, because of the Matteo murders. She also
told him that Aurora’s aggressive pursuit of Ford had provided the motive, that it was what helped convince everyone that
he had reason to kill again.
“Did your father confess to the Matteo murders?” Friedman asked.
“He claims he doesn’t remember killing the Matteos. But he was an alcoholic. Being unable to remember—that wasn’t a new thing
for him.”
“So you still have a relationship with him?”
“Not really. We’re in touch for the first time in fifteen years. He still won’t say much about the Matteos, but he’s been
very vocal and consistent when it comes to Aurora.”
“Ford told me you were only seventeen when your father was tried and convicted. What’d you do after they put him away?”
She opened her mouth as though she’d explain. Ford was interested in hearing this answer, too. But then she shook her head.
“I’d rather not go into it. Unless you need that information for some reason.”
“No,” Friedman was quick to say. “Forgive the intrusion. I am an investigator, after all. I was just curious how you were
able to get by.”
“I managed,” she said. “But it was a bumpy ride there for a while.”
“I bet.” Friedman sounded legitimately sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”
Ford was sorry, too. By contrast, he’d been well taken care of, which only made him feel worse about how he’d treated her. He’d had so much more than she did.
“I’ll need to get hold of the court transcripts,” Friedman was saying. “But that should be easy enough. I’ve found that the
key to solving almost any cold case is going to the effort of reading everything. I can’t tell you how many times the string
that unravels the whole mystery can be found in witness statements or other documents that were sitting in the file the whole
time.”
Ford thought of what Lucy had told him about Chief Claxton. “Will you be able to get hold of the files? Because we have reason
to believe the police won’t be friendly to outside involvement.”
“I’m sure there were journalists, back in the day, who requested the information I’ll be after. I’ll start there. And if that
doesn’t turn up the documents I need, I’ll submit a formal request to the department for their records.”
“And if that gets denied?” Lucy asked.
“It’s been long enough now that they’ll have a hard time justifying a refusal. With Ford’s name behind me, I doubt they’ll
even try. If they do, I’ll threaten to go to the press and say they’re hiding something, blow this thing up into a big deal.
That’s never a good look for a police department.”
Ford felt a bit awkward that Friedman had mentioned the clout of his name. Lucy had never had the benefit of anything like
that. In fact, she’d had to deal with the opposite. “Sounds good. When can we expect an update?” he asked.
“Hard to say. The information gathering process takes time. Besides getting the files and going through them, I’ll need to
talk to as many people who were involved as I can. Maybe someone will change their story or offer information they didn’t
realize was important before. I hope that happens, because I’ll be honest with you, it doesn’t sound as if we have a lot to
go on so far.”
“There is one other thing...” Lucy said.
Ford looked up at her in surprise.
“What’s that?” Friedman asked.
“Darren Clark came over last night.”
Ford stiffened. “Aurora’s brother? When? After I left?”
She had the good grace to glance away. “Before.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I was trying not to draw you into this.”
That was true. She’d done her best to keep him out of it. “Did he threaten you?”
“No. That’s what I was expecting. I thought he was upset that I was in town, that... that he was coming over to tell me
to go away and leave his family alone. But he wasn’t angry with me. He said he knew my father didn’t kill his sister.”
Ford felt his jaw drop . “What?”
“How would he know?” Friedman asked, eager to pounce on the possibility of greater proof.
Ford was grateful for it, too.
“He saw my father that night, said that he wouldn’t have had the time or the opportunity to kill Aurora. He also said my father
was so drunk he wouldn’t have been capable of overpowering anyone.”
Friedman sounded excited when he asked, “Do you think Darren would speak to me ?”
Lucy nibbled on her bottom lip, giving Ford the impression she was skeptical. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I don’t know if he
was just getting it off his chest, or if he’s truly willing to go head-to-head with his folks.”
“I can’t see him doing that,” Ford admitted.
“It might be worth talking to him,” Friedman said. “Ford, can you get me his contact information?”
Ford knew Darren only in a peripheral sense. Darren had been a year older and mostly stayed away from his sister—didn’t seem to like her—which meant Ford hadn’t had much contact with him. “I can probably get his number. But like Lucy, I’m not confident we can count on his help.”
“He came to us,” Friedman pointed out. “Maybe there’s a chance.”
Lucy tucked her hair behind her ears. “He wants the real culprit caught.”
“Let’s hope he wants it badly enough to remain firm in his convictions,” Friedman responded.
After they said goodbye and disconnected, Ford put his phone down. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Darren,” he said.
Lucy’s shrug came off as manufactured. “I hadn’t fully decided I wanted to work with you.”
“And now?”
“‘Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.’”
That wasn’t an answer he’d expected. “What’d you say?”
Her lips twitched as if she was tempted to laugh. “It’s from The Tempest .”
“Never heard of it.”
“Shakespeare. A man who’s been shipwrecked has little choice but to seek shelter next to a sleeping monster.”
“Ouch!” He pressed a hand to his chest. “ I’m the sleeping monster?”
“I guess we’ll see,” she said.
Ford decided he wouldn’t wait for word to leak out that he’d hired an investigator. He’d go to Darren Clark himself and see
if Aurora’s brother would repeat what he’d said to Lucy. That way, if Darren started telling a different story in the future,
it wouldn’t be his word against Lucy’s. Perhaps Ford was being too cynical, but he worried that Aurora’s brother had been
setting her up in some way. He couldn’t see anyone in the Clark family being nice to her.
But first, he had to find out where Darren lived, and the person he felt most comfortable asking was Chet.
He texted his old friend as soon as Lucy left.
Hey, man. Any chance you’ll be around today? I’d like to swing by and talk to you, if you’ve got a minute.
It didn’t take long to get a reply:
Painting today. But why not come over for dinner tonight?
They set up a time, then Ford spent the rest of the afternoon handling calls and emails for work.
He arrived at Chet’s with a bottle of wine. Chet’s wife, Kira, answered the door holding a chubby baby who gave him a darling
but drooly grin.
“This must be Kenzie,” Ford said.
“Yes, and I’m shocked she’s so willing to flirt with you,” Kira responded. “It’s her bedtime, but Chet wanted me to keep her
up so you could see her.”
“She’s beautiful.” So was Kira. Chet’s wife had long, silky black hair that fell straight down her back, smooth, unblemished
skin and dark eyes. From what he could tell, she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She didn’t need any.
“ We think so,” Kira said. “It’s nice to finally meet you, by the way. Chet has told me so much about you.”
“Chet and I had some fun together back in the day.”
“We sure did.” Chet’s voice boomed through the house as he came to stand behind his wife at the door. “I hope you’re hungry,
brother.”
“You know me,” Ford said. “I never met a meal I didn’t like.”
Kira waved Kenzie’s little fist. “Say goodbye to Uncle Ford. I’m going to put her down,” she told Chet. “I’ll join you boys
in a minute.”
As Kira walked away with the baby, Chet took the wine and motioned Ford inside. The Anthony family’s summer house was almost as big as Coastal Comfort but that was the only similarity. Located on the Potomac, not the sea, it was decorated with far more colors and contained what looked like a collection of secondhand furnishings, creating an aesthetic drastically different from Coastal Comfort’s more cohesive, designer-like interior and palette of neutral colors. But it was comfortable and homey. Ford liked it.
“Kira’s made squash soup with cranberries and walnuts to sprinkle on top, which we’ll eat in a sourdough bowl. And we’ll start
the meal with a beet and goat cheese salad and end with her fabulous pineapple cake.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“She’s quite a cook,” he confided, patting his rounding middle. “Almost everything she makes is healthy, too—not that you’d
be able to tell by looking at me.”
“Too many calories are too many calories, I guess,” Ford said with a chuckle. He couldn’t help being a little surprised that
Chet had married someone as tall and elegant as Kira. Chet had always had trouble getting the girls he wanted, because he’d
gone for the most popular, beautiful girl around, and that kind of girl never seemed to be interested in him. Although Chet
was nice, Ford didn’t get the impression the opposite sex found him all that attractive. It didn’t help that he’d started
losing his hair as early as their Atlantic City trip in college.
Eddie brought them a dog toy.
“He’s jealous of the baby. When she’s not around, he knows it’s his turn for a little attention,” Chet explained as he took the stuffed rabbit and threw it across the living room, sending Eddie
into a frenzy as he scrambled to collect it.
Ford shook his head. “You’ve really settled down, man. You’ve got a beautiful wife, a beautiful baby and a good dog. I mean...
Eddie might be a little hyper, but two out of three ain’t bad.”
Chet grinned. “Eddie’s young yet.”
“You and I, on the other hand, are not so young anymore. Where has all the time gone? It’s great to see you like this, by the way. So happy. So... on track.”
“I haven’t gotten where I want to be in my career yet, but I’m working on it. And I’m certainly satisfied with everything
else.”
“You deserve it all,” Ford said.
Chet smiled broadly. “Thanks. Let me get you a drink.”
They decided to save the wine for dinner and have a cold beer while waiting for Kira. Chet showed Ford all the paintings he’d
done that were hanging in the house and what he was working on in his studio, which was essentially a spare bedroom. Then
they talked about his students, his hopes of spending a summer abroad when Kenzie got older—to inspire his art—and his dream
of owning a gallery, possibly in North Hampton Beach, which meant he’d compete with the Clarks.
“We’d have different collections. And I’d have live events with artists and local musicians. I have a lot of ideas,” he explained.
After about fifteen minutes, Ford decided to get to the point of his visit, so they wouldn’t have to talk about “that summer”
at dinner. “How well do you know Darren Clark?”
There was a slight pause before Chet answered. “Darren? Fairly well, I guess. He works for a roofing company. Can’t remember
which one, not off the top of my head, but he came out to patch the roof on this place a few years back, when it was leaking.
I’ve seen him at the local bars over the years. We even went out together once, before I got married, and played some darts.”
He drained his beer and got up to grab another one. “We’re friendly with each other. Why?”
“I was wondering if you could give me his number or tell me where he lives.”
Chet popped the top of his second beer. “You need some roofing done? I thought you put a brand-new roof on that place not
too long ago.”
“I did. This isn’t about roofing.”
“What’s going on?”
“Darren showed up at Lucy’s last night.”
His arm froze with his beer halfway to his mouth. “Oh, boy. People are already trying to run her off, are they?”
“Surprisingly, not Darren. He went over to tell her he knows her father could not have killed his sister.”
Chet nearly choked on the gulp he’d just taken and pounded his own chest as he coughed.
“You okay?” Ford asked.
“Yeah. Just... went down the wrong way,” he managed to gasp as his eyes watered. When he’d recovered enough to speak easily,
he added, “Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
“Was he high? I mean... everyone knows Mick McBride killed Aurora.”
“People might think so, but I’m no longer convinced it’s true. Lucy makes a good case for the fact that it could’ve been someone
else.”
“No way... Two killers? Come on.”
“Improbable isn’t the same thing as impossible.”
Making a face, he set his beer aside as if it was souring his stomach. “Well, I don’t believe it. If you ask me, Lucy’s going on a wild-goose chase. She’s foolish to waste her time, energy and resources.
I mean... what does she hope to accomplish here? She’s come back for nothing. Stands to gain nothing !” he repeated more emphatically.
“People treated her badly when she lived here, Chet. I think she wants everyone to know that she might be related to a terrible
person, but she isn’t a terrible person herself. That’s important to her. It would be important to anyone. She also feels
whoever did hurt Aurora needs to be punished.”
“There is no one else. She’s just going to upset everyone for no reason. I mean—” he threw up his hands “—what’s she going to do? Ask those who were living here back then if they know anything?” He chuckled humorlessly. “Anyone who might have something to share probably won’t even speak to her, so it’ll go nowhere. She needs to weigh the cost-benefit ratio.”
“That’s just it.”
Chet leaned forward. “What?”
“The cost won’t be quite so bad for her since I’m helping. I’ve hired a private investigator to look into it.”
Chet’s jaw went slack. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
He stood. “Why would you get involved?”
“Because I think she has a right to clear her name, if she can.”
“ She didn’t get the blame!”
“In a way, she did,” Ford argued.
Chet wrinkled his nose to show his skepticism and denied that statement with a shake of his head. “What she’s doing is ridiculous!”
Kira came from putting the baby down and did a double take when she saw her husband’s face. Normally pale under all the freckles,
it was now mottled red. “What’s ridiculous?” she asked, picking up on the last of the conversation.
“The daughter of the murderer I told you about is back—”
“Lucy,” she broke in.
“Yes, Lucy. She’s trying to get everyone riled up again.”
Ford scowled. “She’s not trying to get everyone riled up again. She just wants to do what the police didn’t and make sure
we really have the answers we think we do.”
“But why?” Chet asked. “There’s no point.”
“I just explained it to you,” Ford said.
Kira looked confused. “Honey, why would it make any difference to you?”
Finally, Chet seemed to get hold of himself. “I don’t know,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I guess that was a crazy time for all of us, and I was looking forward to a fun summer here—not one where we’re once again plagued with that old bullshit. It’s upsetting to have a friend die, but it’s even more upsetting to learn that she was killed .”
At the softening of Chet’s tone and attitude, Ford relaxed. “I get it. Sometimes I think about Aurora and can’t believe she’s
gone—that I know someone who was murdered .”
“It’s upsetting,” Chet said. “We don’t need any reminders.”
Kira put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “I married a sensitive guy. And I love him all the more for it.”
Chet reached up to cover his wife’s hand while pretending to be emasculated. “Come on, honey. I’m not sure I want you to perceive
me as that sensitive,” he joked. “I’d rather you thought of me as a big, tough dude.”
“You’re everything I want you to be,” she said with a smile. “So let’s not get caught up in Lucy’s return and what she might
be doing this summer.”
“Okay,” he said.
As they migrated to the dining table, Kira started asking Ford about his business and other aspects of his life, and he was
glad for the change of subject. As she’d said, there was no reason to get hung up on the past.
“Where did you meet Chet?” he asked after they’d eaten their salads and she was ladling the soup.
“He came to my yoga class,” she said. “I’m an instructor during the winter.”
“I thought it would be an easy way to get in shape,” Chet explained. “But... damn! Have you ever tried it?”
Ford laughed. “I’ve gone to a few classes. I prefer to run and lift weights, but I’ve seen it do incredible things for a lot
of people.”
“I never could catch on to it!” Chet laughed with him. “I tried and tried.”
“He wasn’t enjoying it, but he kept coming back because he was interested in me .” Kira wore a fond expression as she looked at her husband. “I thought he’d improve eventually, but it just wasn’t his thing.”
“Fortunately, once I got her to go out with me, I didn’t have to go back,” he said, “because then I had what I wanted.”
She leaned conspiratorially toward Ford. “I didn’t care if he could do yoga. I was drawn to his warmth and sincerity. He was
the nicest guy I’d ever met. Besides, I’ve always had a thing for redheads.”
“You two are very lucky to have found each other,” Ford said.
Chet reached over to squeeze his wife’s hand. “I couldn’t love anyone more.”
Ford felt a twinge of envy. The lack of love in his own marriage had made every day a difficult grind. He believed he’d loved
Christina in the beginning. But their relationship had turned toxic so quickly—and that toxicity had eaten away at those tender
feelings until they’d been obliterated. As hard as he’d tried, he couldn’t seem to reverse the downward spiral. It only got
worse, and yet he’d hung on as long as he could, hoping something would change.
As they continued to talk and laugh and eat, a sense of loss swept over Ford—for what could’ve been. Had Christina been willing
to get counseling or help him make changes, or he’d married someone more compatible with him, maybe he’d be as happy and in
love as Chet was. Then he’d be excited to be welcoming his first child into the world instead of dreading the terrible battle
it would incite between him and his soon-to-be ex.
The evening drew to a close almost before he knew it. By the time it was over, he was convinced Chet had it all. He didn’t
have the financial success Ford had, of course, but he had what mattered most.
“Kira’s great,” Ford told Chet as they walked to the door. “You two are perfect for each other.”
Kira had been cleaning up in the kitchen while they visited after dinner. She’d said she wanted to give them some time alone to catch up. But she came to the door to hand him a paper plate with a big piece of cake to take home with him and say goodbye.
“Thank you. Dinner was delicious,” Ford told her. “It’ll be my treat next time. I’ll grill. Or I’ll take you all out somewhere
that’s friendly to babies.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said.
Ford started to leave, then remembered why he’d contacted Chet in the first place. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, catching
them just before they closed the door. “Can I get Darren Clark’s contact info from you?”
Chet looked crestfallen that Ford had mentioned Darren again, but he nodded and reluctantly pulled out his phone.