Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
“So let me get this straight,” Vero said, fingers pressed to her temples. “You had a meeting with a TV producer and your agent, and you wore that ,” she said, pointing to the drooping gaps in the top of Sylvia’s spandex dress that had contained my socks less than an hour ago, “and you did not tell me?”
I sat down at my kitchen table and massaged the blisters on my feet. If it had been any closer to five o’clock—and if Mrs. Haggerty and my daughter had not been in the next room—I would have poured myself a very large glass of wine after the day I’d suffered. “It didn’t seem as important as nearly dying of hypothermia.”
“I saved you from hypothermia! I could have saved you from this!” She threw a balled-up sock at me while I gestured for her to keep her voice down. “Please tell me the producer was visually and olfactorily impaired.” She pulled a face as she sniffed her hand. “Is that lavender ?” she whispered. “Seriously? Did you learn nothing in Atlantic City about covering up foul—”
“Randall Wolfe offered me a TV deal.”
Vero went unnaturally still. The only sound was Delia’s quiet counting in the dining room, where Mrs. Haggerty was giving her a lesson in math. Vero blinked at me. “Can you repeat that last part? I think I misheard you.”
“He and Sylvia negotiated it over lunch.”
Vero eased slowly into the seat beside me, as if she’d lost the feeling in her legs. “How much?”
“Nothing is signed yet.”
“Spit it out.”
“Seventy-five.”
“Thousand? That’s it?”
“And an executive producer credit.” Vero gasped before I got to the tiramisu and surf and turf. “But there’s a catch.”
“I knew it. You never should have gone without me. What did Sylvia screw up this time?”
“They want Nick to consult on the script.”
For a moment, Vero gaped at me. Then a low laugh rumbled in her chest.
“It’s not funny, Vero!” I dropped my voice to a frantic whisper when Mrs. Haggerty shushed us. “It’s one thing to read my book and notice a few subtle coincidences. It’s another to market the show as being inspired by a true crime and invite the lead detective from the case to the set to make the whole thing feel even more authentic! Especially considering the fact that my ex-husband is being detained on suspicion of a new murder that will bring everything that happened in that book—and his farm—back under scrutiny.”
Vero’s laughter died. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. I put Sylvia up at a hotel for the night. I’ll deal with her tomorrow.” After the bottle of champagne she’d split with Randall, she’d been too tipsy to argue when I’d pulled over in front of a Hampton Inn and put a room on my credit card.
Zach streaked through the kitchen, naked as the day he was born. He zoomed into the dining room and tugged on Mrs. Haggerty’s pant leg. “Me do school, too!”
“Absolutely not,” she replied. “You must be properly dressed to attend school. Come back when you can behave like a young man.”
Zach stomped his foot. He tore out of the room like his tiny ass was on fire, ran to the playroom, and slammed the door.
Vero sighed. “We should probably find him before he pees on the floor.” We did a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to see who would get elbowed in the boobs while holding him and who would get kicked in the face while wrestling his pants on.
Then we walked in solemn procession to the playroom and opened the door. Vero scooped him up before he could stuff himself inside his sister’s dollhouse, while I attempted to wrangle him into his clothes. The doorbell rang.
“Do you mind answering that, Mrs. Haggerty?” I called out. “Our hands are full.”
I couldn’t make out her muttered retort over Zach’s tantrum as I dressed him, but that was probably a good thing. She had made it clear every day since she’d been here that she didn’t approve of my parenting methods, and if I had to listen to one more lecture from her, I was going to pack up my kids and move to Missouri.
I emerged from the playroom holding a writhing, fully dressed Zach in my arms. He quieted, arching up to get a better look when he noticed the two strangers standing on our front porch.
The woman held up a slip of paper in one hand and rested the other on her son’s shoulder. He looked about Delia’s age and I faintly recalled seeing them both in her classroom at career day a few months ago. The woman was speaking in sharp tones while Delia cowered behind Mrs. Haggerty’s legs.
“What’s this?” Mrs. Haggerty asked the woman.
“ That is a bill for our medical expenses. My son suffered several serious injuries after your granddaughter assaulted him at school last week.”
I passed Zach off to Vero and stepped forward to intervene. “It’s fine, Mrs. Haggerty. I’ll handle it.”
Cooper’s mother blanched and took a small step back from the door. “ You’re Margaret Haggerty? From the news? The one who was arrested and sent to jail?”
Mrs. Haggerty scowled at the woman. “What business is that of yours?”
“I’m sorry… It’s just… I didn’t expect—”
“What did you expect?” Mrs. Haggerty snapped. “An old lady with prison tats?” Vero nearly dropped Zach as Mrs. Haggerty pulled aside the neckline of her blouse, revealing the three-leaf clover tattooed below her collarbone. She let Cooper’s mother get a good, long look at it before tugging her shirt back in place. “Now that you know who you’re dealing with, it seems we have a different understanding of what transpired on the playground last week. According to Delia, your son was pulling her hair.”
“He was just being a little boy,” Cooper’s mother stammered.
“He was being a little bully! And don’t give me that boys will be boys nonsense. That’s a load of horse dookie!” Mrs. Haggerty looked down her nose at Cooper. “Were you pulling Delia’s hair?” Cooper looked cautiously to his mother. They both flinched when Mrs. Haggerty raised her voice. “Your mother wasn’t on that playground, boy! I want to hear it from you . Did you or did you not pull Delia’s hair?”
Cooper nodded. His mother stood mute with shock beside him.
“How many times did she ask you to stop?” Mrs. Haggerty asked him.
Cooper held up three fingers, using his other hand to hold his fourth one down.
“Look here, young man.” Mrs. Haggerty pointed to the stitches in his forehead. “Bad things happen to poorly behaved boys who don’t know how to stop when they’re told. Next time, it might be worse. Delia’s a quick study, and I learned a thing or two during my stint in the cooler.” Mrs. Haggerty nudged Delia forward. “I believe you have something to say to my granddaughter.”
The woman prodded her son. “Apologize to Delia,” she said in a wobbly voice.
Cooper mumbled an apology.
Mrs. Haggerty cupped a hand beside her ear. “Speak up, boy! I can’t hear you.”
“I’m sorry, Delia,” he said, clear as a bell.
“Good,” Cooper’s mother said, pasting on a diplomatic smile as she patted her son’s shoulder. “Now Delia will accept your apology, and the grown-ups will settle the matter of the bill.”
“Delia doesn’t have to do any such thing! And neither does her mother. The consequences of your son’s actions are no one’s responsibility but his and your own.” Mrs. Haggerty tore the medical bill in half, then tore it once more for good measure. “Your business is done here. Tomorrow, you’re going to march yourself right back to that school and tell them none of this was Delia’s fault. If you don’t, I might have to show up at your home unannounced with a little business of my own.” Mrs. Haggerty slammed the door.
Delia beamed up at her with a wide toothless smile. I suppressed my shocked laughter behind my hand.
Vero let out a low whistle. “Nice tat, Mrs. Haggerty. What’d you have to do to get it?”
Mrs. Haggerty harrumphed. “I didn’t get it in jail, if that’s what you’re asking. I got that tattoo three years ago, but I didn’t see any reason to tell Cooper’s mother that. Let her think whatever the heck she wants.” She turned to Delia and Zach. “We’re done with school for today. Time for chores.” When the children whined about having to clean up their playroom, Mrs. Haggerty thrust a dustpan at Zach and gave Delia a hand broom. “In my school, you follow my rules. Everyone has a job to do. Everyone contributes.”
Vero and I watched in quiet fascination as Mrs. Haggerty marched the children to the playroom.
Vero burst into hysterical laughter as soon as they were out of earshot. “I might have passed judgment too quickly. That woman is one badass mama bear! She absolutely shredded Cooper’s mother.”
My own laughter died, and I tipped my head.
If Mrs. Haggerty was a mama bear, then Brendan was the closest thing she had to a cub. Which made me wonder how far she might go to protect him.
I reached for my phone.
“What are you doing?” Vero asked as I scrolled through my contacts.
“I’m calling Cam.”
Vero frowned. “Why?”
“We need to find Brendan,” I said in a low voice. “Mrs. Haggerty has been very cagey about where he went and why he’s not returning my calls. I feel like she’s hiding something. She could be covering for him. And if she’s covering for him, there’s probably a reason.” If he was involved in any way in Gilford Dupree’s murder, then the sooner we found him, the better.
Cam picked up on the second ring. “What’s up, Mrs. D?”
“I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“It’s really important that I find someone. Today.”
“How important?”
“I did save your life, you know.”
“Which is why I’m willing to offer you a generous discount. A hundred bucks. That’s half my usual rate.”
I was surprised he hadn’t already Venmo’d it to himself. “Fifty.”
“And dinner?”
“Chicken casserole.”
“Send me everything you’ve got on your missing person. I’ll be there in an hour.”
I texted Brendan’s name and address to Cam, along with a brief description of the few things I knew about him—approximate age, line of work, his vehicle make and model, and a link to the article about his run for office, which also contained his photo.
I gave my phone to Vero. “See what you can find about Penny Dupree. Look for any connection between her and Brendan. While you search, I’ll start working on dinner.” I dug around in the pantry, the fridge, then the freezer, cobbling together a hodgepodge of ingredients for a casserole.
Vero opened a search engine and began scouring the internet for information about Gilford and Penny Dupree. For a few minutes, the kitchen was quiet except for the scrape of the whisk against the mixing bowl, the clatter of Vero’s computer keys, and Mrs. Haggerty barking out orders in the playroom.
“Look at this,” Vero said, zooming in on one of the articles. “According to the news, Gilford and Penny had purchased a vacation home in Boynton Beach and were planning to retire there before he went missing. Didn’t you say you’d found a Florida area code in Brendan’s call log?”
“Just some vacation company. Probably a marketing call. Why? What else does it say?”
“Penny sold their house in Florida later that winter. She decided to hold on to the house in Ashburn because the police were still searching for Gilford here.”
“Did they have any leads?”
“Not according to the news. All the articles say the missing persons case went cold pretty quickly. No witnesses. No signs of foul play. Nothing missing from Gilford’s car or his home. No enemies or conflicts his family was aware of. And according to police, no known ties to any of the Haggertys.”
The part about no conflicts didn’t sit right with me. Every murder was rooted in conflict. Conflict was the engine that drove every story. It’s what propelled a thriller forward. Murders didn’t happen by accident to anyone other than me. There was always a motive: greed, self-preservation, jealousy, money, revenge… there had to be a conflict in Gilford’s past that no one had uncovered yet.
“There must be a tie to Brendan in all this. We just need to find it.”
Vero resumed her search and I returned to my casserole. At some point, Mrs. Haggerty puttered out of the playroom and turned on the television. I had just popped dinner in the oven when the doorbell rang. I hurried to answer it, pulling Cam and Arnold Schwarzenegger with me into the kitchen.
“Did you find anything?” I whispered as Arnold Schwarzenegger ventured to the oven and sniffed.
“This Brendan guy is about as vanilla as they come,” Cam said. “No priors. No aliases. Not so much as a ding on his credit report. He’s squeaky clean.”
Which was precisely the problem with Brendan’s condo. “Any idea where he is?”
“Just his car. He’s got an app on his phone. His Volvo’s parked way out in the economy lot at Dulles.”
“Great,” Vero muttered.
Brendan’s choice to park in the economy lot of an international airport didn’t bode well. “He could be halfway around the world by now.”
“Doubt it,” Cam said. “His ticket was for West Palm.”
Vero and I both turned to stare at Cam. “West Palm? As in Florida?” I asked.
Cam nodded, helping himself to a Coke from my fridge. “The guy cleaned out his savings account at the bank a few days ago, then charged the flight to his AmEx—one checked bag, no upgrades. What’s your beef with this guy, anyway?”
Vero slapped her laptop closed. “He’s a no good, lying, mur—”
“He abandoned his elderly grandmother,” I cut in quietly. The last thing I needed was to involve Cam in a murder investigation. I’d already asked him to do more than I should have.
Cam looked horrified. “What kind of an asshole would abandon his grandmother? That’s elder neglect!” I gestured frantically for him to keep his voice down. His blue eyes widened as he registered my quick sideways glance into the living room. “Holy shit, his grandmother is Mrs. H?” he whispered. “I should call Uncle Joey right now and report that fucker to the cops.”
I paused as I considered that. Maybe reporting Brendan to the police wasn’t such a bad idea after all. It was beginning to look like he and Penny could be in on this whole thing together. I couldn’t just waltz into Mike Tran’s office and accuse the two of them without any proof, but maybe I could plant a seed.
“I’ll handle it,” I said to Cam. “You go keep Mrs. Haggerty company until dinner’s ready. But don’t say anything to her about this. It might upset her.”
He made a zipping motion over his lips and carried Arnold Schwarzenegger with him to the living room while I called his uncle.
Joey sounded frazzled when he answered the phone. “Hey, I was just getting ready to call you. I’m trying to get in touch with Nick, but he’s not picking up. Is he with you?”
“No, why?”
“He asked me to let him know about any developments in the Dupree case. I just got a call from a buddy of mine in Loudoun. Steven’s being charged. They’re booking him tonight.”