Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
After leaving police headquarters, I called Morgan and gave her an update. She was thrilled that Detective Barclay was reopening the case.
"I'm glad he's willing to work with us," Morgan said.
"Reluctantly, but he's coming by the apartment around five, so you can judge for yourself."
"Great. Because I found out some information on Detective Cabot that I'd like to put in front of Detective Barclay."
"What kind of information?" I asked with surprise.
"Vincent Cabot is a very good chess player, the kind who participates in chess tournaments. He's been competing for years. And guess who else plays in those tournaments?"
I heard the excitement in her voice and couldn't wait to hear the answer. "Who?"
"Professor Robert Hale."
"Really?" I said, shocked by that piece of info.
"Yes. I found several photos of the two of them together at chess matches. One of them was dated the month before Paige died."
"That is interesting," I murmured. "If Hale knew Cabot, maybe he put some pressure on him to end the investigation quickly."
"I was thinking that, too, but why would he do that? It's not like Professor Hale was a key suspect."
"You're right, but it's worth digging into, and we should definitely share that with Detective Barclay."
"What are you doing now?" Morgan asked.
"I'm going to drive out to Sloane's house. I'll text you after that, or I'll come back to the apartment. How about you?"
"I need to take a break from this case to review some contracts we got this morning from potential sponsors. I also set up a call with Christine," she added, referring to a lawyer we were working with. "We're going to talk at one. If you're back, you can join in."
"Who are the sponsors?"
"Valero Wines and Perrigrim Cheese Shop."
"Wine and cheese," I said, smiling to myself. "Sounds about right."
"The offers are really good, Tessa. That's why I want to make sure we get these contracts reviewed and signed as soon as possible. But I do feel bad about not focusing solely on this investigation."
"Don't. I'm glad you're staying on top of our business. I need to speak to Sloane on my own anyway. I'll see you later."
It took me about twenty minutes to get to Glencoe, a lakefront suburb north of Evanston. Glencoe sat higher above the lake than any of the other North Shore suburbs, its shoreline a series of bluffs that dropped nearly ninety feet to the water below.
As I drove down the street under a canopy of old oaks arching overhead, I searched for Sloane's house among the stately single-family homes that sat back from the street, as if putting distance between the residents and those just passing through.
Finally, I found the house in the magazine, a two-story red brick Colonial with white trim and a steeply pitched roof with two smaller peaks flanking the main one.
There were two big oaks in the yard and an impressively large front door.
It felt like a serious house, the kind that serious money could buy, and it also felt a little…
wrong. Sloane Winters Delano had spent most of her college years wearing clothes stained with paint, her light-brown hair always falling out of a long ponytail, her face completely devoid of makeup, mostly because she was too distracted by her art to think about her appearance.
I wouldn't have imagined her living in a place like this, but then we'd all grown up in the past nine years. I had no idea if Sloane was home, although there was an expensive SUV in front of the two-car garage. It was eleven in the morning, so there was a good chance it was hers.
Drawing a deep breath, I steeled myself for whatever was about to come.
I really had no idea if Sloane would be happy to see me.
Our relationship in college had been peripheral to my relationship with Paige.
I had spent time with both of them in their apartment at various times during the years, so I felt like I knew her, but I had never known her that well.
She had always felt like a shadow behind the brighter, more vivacious Paige.
Knowing I couldn't keep stalling, I got out of the car and walked up to the front door, seeing the notice of the alarm system on the door. I rang the bell, trying to look calm and friendly, because I was quite sure I was on camera.
A moment later, the door opened, but it wasn't Sloane who greeted me; it was a dark-haired man with olive skin and a handsome face. In his arms was a baby girl dressed in a fluffy pink dress, a barrette pulling back her blonde curls. She appeared to be eight or nine months old.
"Hello," he said with a curious gleam in his brown eyes as he bounced the squirmy baby in his arms. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Tessa Conway, an old friend of Sloane's. I was hoping to speak to her. Is she here?"
"Tessa Conway," he repeated, his smile dimming.
"Yes." As I waited for him to respond, a woman came up behind him.
I almost didn't recognize this version of Sloane. She wore a sleeveless navy-blue sheath dress, her light-brown hair styled back from her face, expensive jewelry adorning her ears, her neck, her wrists, and fingers. She looked pretty, sophisticated, and…shocked.
"Tessa," she whispered, putting a hand to her mouth.
"Hi, Sloane. I was hoping to speak to you."
"I—uh. I guess I have a few minutes." She looked at the man. "Garrett, do you mind watching Grace? Elana should be back soon."
"Sure. I'm Garrett Delano, Sloane's husband," he told me.
"It's nice to meet you."
"Come in." He stepped back and waved me forward.
The entry hall was formal, with a marble floor, a round table with a perfect vase of flowers on it, and a sweeping staircase going up to the second floor.
On one side of the entry was an archway leading to what appeared to be a den, and on the other was a matching arch leading to the living room.
Next to that arch was a huge abstract painting of blues and grays that felt like day and night, dark and light.
"That's beautiful," I murmured.
"Thanks," Sloane said. "It's one of mine."
"I always knew you were talented; I just didn't know how much."
"Let's go outside," Sloane said, leading me through the luxurious living room to a wall of patio doors which opened into a beautiful backyard with a massive lawn area, a child's playground that Sloane's baby was years away from playing in, and a beautiful gazebo at the far edge of the property. That's where she took me.
As we sat down on the bench in the gazebo, she crossed her smooth legs and twisted her hands in her lap, then said, "I know why you're here.
You're trying to find out what happened to Paige.
Everyone has been calling me since you came back, since you announced on your podcast you don't believe Paige's death was an accident.
What changed? Why don't you believe that anymore? "
"Alina asked me to publicize Paige's death so the police would reopen her case."
Sloane tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I understand why Alina can't let go of her grief. It's hard to accept something so tragic."
"Her brother doesn't share her interest in me reopening the case," I commented. "Ray is very angry about it."
"I'm sure he doesn't want his mother to be hurt again. She had a difficult time after Paige died. I heard she had a nervous breakdown. I know she was hospitalized for a few weeks."
"I didn't know that."
"Opening all this up again could be devastating for her."
"I guess that explains why Ray is against it, but Alina feels very strongly that Paige should get justice, and I have to say the more I've started talking to people and looking into things, the more I'm beginning to believe it wasn't an accident.
What do you think, Sloane? You lived with her.
You probably knew her better than anyone. "
"I never understood why she was at the lakefront by herself after midnight.
It didn't make sense to me, but in the couple of weeks prior to her death, she wasn't acting normally.
She was tense. She was on her phone but kind of secretive about it.
She was snappish, and she wasn't usually like that.
She was also not very nice to Nate. He was confused.
He didn't understand why she was suddenly pushing him away and getting pissed off about nothing. "
"And you don't know why she was doing that?"
"I think it had to do with the play. She felt tremendous pressure to do well.
It was her first breakout lead role. And she knew that you and others didn't think she was up to it.
Her anxiety was off the charts. She couldn't sleep, so she'd take something for that.
Then she couldn't wake up, so she started borrowing Adderall from people to make it through the day.
And then after rehearsal, she was ready for a few drinks.
When the police told me she was probably drunk or on something and accidentally fell into the lake, that part made sense. "
"Who was she getting Adderall from?"
"I don't know. Probably, Carrie, but I'm not sure." Sloane paused, as if debating whether to share something else.
"What are you thinking, Sloane?"
"I feel like a traitor for saying a lot of this. Paige is dead, and here I am tarnishing her reputation. It doesn't feel right. I was her friend. I should be loyal to her, even in death."
"As her friend, I'm sure you also want justice. If it wasn't an accident, then someone killed Paige, and they need to pay."
She licked her lips, then said, "There was something going on between Paige and Professor Hale."
"Like what?"
"You know. You told everyone she was sleeping with him."
"Was she?"
"She never told me she was, but I know he gave her a ride home one night. I happened to be walking back to our apartment after a late class, and I saw them arguing in his car." She paused. "You can't put this on your show, Tessa. I don't want to be a part of your podcast."
"I won't name you, Sloane. But I'd really like to know what you think you saw?"