Epilogue
EPILOGUE
My joy was cut short when Vero came bursting into my bedroom not ten minutes later. She banged on the bathroom door. “You might want to get dressed and get downstairs,” she called through it.
I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around me. Vero tossed a pair of sweatpants in my arms when I came out dripping.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. My clothes stuck to my damp skin as I quickly put them on. The last time Vero had dragged me out of the shower, Zach had covered the walls with poop. “Please tell me Zach’s not finger painting again.”
“Worse. Sylvia’s here.”
“She can’t be here! She was supposed to be on a train back to New York two days ago!” I had already broken the news to her that Nick and I had no intention of signing the TV deal. I reached under my shirt to slap on some deodorant. “She must be holding out for a signature.”
“I don’t think it’s your signature she’s looking for,” Vero said as she towed me down the stairs.
I froze at the sight that awaited me in my kitchen. Mrs. Haggerty and Sylvia sat at my kitchen table, their heads bent together, a pot of tea steaming between them. My stomach lurched as I recognized the spiral notebook in Sylvia’s hands.
“Maggie, this is sensational,” Sylvia said, holding it to her chest. “It’s as riveting as The Girl on the Train . Or The Woman in the Window ! We’ll call it The Killer Across the Street and pitch you as the next Paula Hawkins.” Sylvia practically swooned as she stroked the cover. “The diary format is so unique. It has such a raw, brutally honest quality to it. It’s the literary equivalent of reality TV! The whole thing feels like one big dirty secret.” She leaned closer to Mrs. Haggerty and placed a hand on her arm. “You said there are more of them. How many?”
Mrs. Haggerty looked at the ceiling, as if counting in her head. “Oh, they go back about five years or so.”
“Five years!” Sylvia clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “I smell series potential. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take this one with me. You know, feel out a few editors and see if anyone bites.”
“Bites on what?” I asked, piercing Mrs. Haggerty with a hard stare. She looked up at me and smiled as if I hadn’t just caught her breaking her word. She’d promised me she wouldn’t show that diary to anyone so long as Vero and I kept our mouths shut about her friends, and here she was, delivering evidence of my crimes to someone who would love nothing better than to create a behind-the-scenes documentary-drama to follow my already problematic TV series.
Sylvia waved me to the table. “Finlay! You’re just in time! How have you been hiding this extraordinary talent from me all these years? Have you seen Maggie’s diaries? They’re brilliant! I’m going to make this woman the next Gillian Flynn.”
Wonderful. My overbearing agent and my tyrannical neighbor were already on a first-name basis.
“You can’t do anything with that!” I argued. “It’s not even a book, Sylvia!”
“Don’t be so negative. Think of the possibilities!”
“Believe me, I have!” Including all the probable convictions that came with them.
“There could be something really special here,” Sylvia said. “Your first manuscript was the most god-awful thing ever written, Finlay, but look what I made of you.” I didn’t have time to gasp over the insult before she stuffed the diary in her messenger bag.
“This notebook may not be anything yet, but it could be. All the content is already there,” Sylvia said. “Except for those missing pages, of course. Are you sure you can’t find them?” she asked Mrs. Haggerty. “I’m dying to know what happened in October and November. The entries over the summer were real doozies!”
Mrs. Haggerty smiled, catching my eye across the kitchen. “I think I must have spilled tea on those pages. I’m sorry. I don’t really remember much of them.” The look on her face said she knew exactly what she’d written on those missing pages and she knew exactly where they were hiding. But for now, it seemed, we’d both held up our ends of our bargain.
“I’m sure we can come up with something even better,” Sylvia said. “I’m telling you, Finn, it has all the makings of a bestseller—the mystery, the intrigue, the sex! All it needs is the right ghostwriter. Have you two considered partnering? Maybe you could even bring your hot cop in on the deal. I still want both your signatures on that offer, by the way.” She looked at her phone as she rose from her chair. “We have some extra time before my train leaves. Maybe we should stop by the police station and try to change his mind.”
“It’s Sunday. He’s not at work,” I blurted. Anything to keep her from showing up there again.
“That’s even better,” she said, undeterred. “I’ve been itching to see where Nick lives.” She fanned herself as a hot flash came over her, and her décolletage started to sweat. “His bedding is probably very manly. I bet it smells good, too. Grab your keys, Finlay. You can drive me to his place on our way to the station. I can have everything I need in less than ten minutes. And I can get his signature, too.” I felt a little sick as she winked.
The doorbell rang. I peeked through the front curtain. A white Volvo was parked in my driveway. Vero beat me to the front door, staring daggers at Brendan. “You have some explaining to do. Where the hell have you been?”
The weather in Florida had obviously been good. There was a fresh tan line across his forehead, and his nose and cheeks were peeling and pink. He looked at us, abashed. “Maggie didn’t tell you? I took an impromptu vacation. It was her idea. I’ve been under so much stress between her arrest and the campaign announcement, she suggested a cruise might be just what the doctor ordered. It was! I feel like a new man.”
Vero scorched him with a blistering look. I wasn’t feeling so understanding myself.
His face fell. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I assumed you knew. Maggie said she got the idea from the person who’s been babysitting for you. She called me the night I dropped her off and said she had met the most wonderful young man who had booked a cruise for his grandmother. She said he taught her how to use the internet, and she used it to find a good deal on a last-minute reservation through a vacation company in Florida.
“I told her I didn’t feel right leaving, that it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to host her any longer than necessary, but she assured me she had discussed it with you and you had agreed she could stay through the rest of the week.”
I cast a long, hard look at Mrs. Haggerty as she sipped her tea. “She did, did she?”
“What about the repairs to her house?” Vero asked, hands on her hips. “You were supposed to set all that up last week.”
“I did!” he said, as if this was all news to him. “I had all the contractors booked to come out and give her estimates for the repairs. Maggie sent me a voice mail, saying everything was fine and the repairs were being handled. Grandma,” he said, moving past me into the kitchen where his grandmother was avoiding his eyes. “I thought you said I didn’t have any reason to worry.”
“Because there was nothing you needed to be worried about. You’ve been working too hard, and you’ve been under too much stress. All that nonsense about solving the case yourself to prove my innocence… It wasn’t good for you, losing sleep every night reading the news and talking to the police, looking for a way to get me out of jail.” She waved off his concern. “You had enough to worry about without having to be a hero for me. I decided the house could wait until you got back—I had everything under control here. Besides,” she said stubbornly, “if I did move back home, who would handle Zach’s potty training and Delia’s homeschooling? Finlay needed my help. And if I went home to that big old empty house on my own, who would keep my young friend, Cameron, company? I had very important things to do here.”
“I see.” Brendan turned to Vero and me and touched his heart, chagrined. “I’m deeply sorry for the misunderstanding. Thank you for letting her stay. I’m indebted to you both. I hope she wasn’t any trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” I assured him.
“If I can ever return the favor—” he began.
“Actually,” I said, recalling the location of his condo, “I can think of one thing you could do for us.”
“Anything,” he said.
“My friend Sylvia could use a ride to the train station. I know it’s a few miles out of your way, but would you mind dropping her off?”
Brendan beamed. “It would be my pleasure.”
Vero scurried upstairs, all too eager to gather Mrs. Haggerty’s luggage.
“I don’t suppose you were following the news while you were gone?” I asked Brendan cautiously, wondering what other information Mrs. Haggerty had withheld from him.
“Not at all,” he said with a chuckle. “Internet was limited on the ship, and to be honest, I was just so relieved the charges against Maggie had been dropped, I did my best not to think about it. I did see that Gilford Dupree’s wife confessed to the murder. Maybe now that they have the culprit in custody, we can all put this terrible situation behind us and move on with our lives.”
I smiled, pressing my lips shut, letting him enjoy his few last moments of ignorant bliss.
Vero dumped Mrs. Haggerty’s luggage at Brendan’s feet.
“Ready to go, ladies?” he asked, offering his grandmother an arm. His eyes grew wide as she stood and stepped out from behind the table. He stared, openmouthed, at the glittering tracking bracelet around her ankle. Delia and Vero had bedazzled it with purple rhinestones to match the finish on her car, and it gleamed like a disco ball above her bright white orthopedic sneakers.
“This is Brendan, my grandson,” Mrs. Haggerty said to Sylvia. “He’s a politician,” she added proudly, making Brendan blush. “Brendan, this is Sylvia, my literary agent.”
Brendan’s eyes grew even wider. “Your… literary agent?”
“Sylvia is going to help me write a book,” Mrs. Haggerty announced.
I patted Brendan on the shoulder when the cat stole his tongue. “It seems you and your grandma have a little catching up to do. Oh,” I said as I handed him a business card. “I almost forgot. This is the phone number for your grandmother’s bail enforcement officer. I posted bond, so don’t let her miss her sentence hearing. The date is written on the back. I’ll let her fill you in on the details of her plea bargain. But don’t worry,” I said, gesturing to Mrs. Haggerty’s ankle monitor. “I was certain to let the court know she’d be staying with you for a while.”
“Just make sure she stays within three hundred feet of your condo or her alarm will go off,” Vero added.
Brendan’s sun-kissed cheeks turned a little green. Mrs. Haggerty took the handle of her suitcase and nudged Brendan toward the door, gesturing for him to carry Sylvia’s bag. Sylvia gave me a big, squishy hug. I suppose sharing her bra had graduated me from agent-client air-kisses to boob-mashing besties. Or maybe that title belonged to Mrs. Haggerty now. I wasn’t sure.
“Give Nick a kiss goodbye from me,” Sylvia said to me, “and tell him no hard feelings about the ride-along. We’ll do it next time. I’ll be back before you know it. Maggie agreed to draft her debut novel while she’s stuck on house arrest. I told her if she goes to prison, it’ll sell like hotcakes and she’ll have plenty of time to work on her memoir.” Brendan looked like he might be sick as he helped Sylvia into her faux fur stole. Sylvia wagged a finger at me on her way out the door. “Tell that hot cop of yours he’d better be good to you, or else.”
When they had all gone, Vero and I sagged against the wall.
It was over. Mrs. Haggerty was out of my house. The charges against Steven had been dropped. Mike Tran was (for now) off our backs. Delia was going back to school on Monday. Zach was (for the most part) potty-trained. And even after confiding (almost) everything to Nick, I was pretty sure we were going to be okay.
“Got any more of those brownies?” I asked Vero, ready to celebrate. Or sleep.
“I thought you’d never ask.” She shuffled to the freezer. Frowning, she moved the broccoli, then the peas. She turned and slammed the freezer door shut. “Someone stole my brownies!”
We both tipped our heads as the doorbell rang. I glanced back at the foyer, thinking maybe Mrs. Haggerty had forgotten something, but all the luggage was gone.
“Maybe it’s Javi,” I suggested.
“Or Nick.”
Vero and I went to answer the door together.
Two uniformed police officers stood on the porch.
“Sorry,” Vero said, “if you’re looking for Margaret Haggerty, you just missed her. She went home with her—”
One of the officers held out an envelope. “Veronica Ramirez?”
Ramirez , he’d said. Not Ruiz.
Vero and I both stiffened. No one in Virginia knew her by that name. It was the name she’d abandoned when she’d fled her charges in Maryland—the one she had been so careful not to use here for fear of anyone finding her.
Her voice was brittle. “Who wants to know?”
“We have a warrant from the Virginia Governor’s office. Would you please come with us?”
“A warrant for what?” I held an arm in front of her when the officer reached for his handcuffs. Vero hadn’t committed any crimes in Virginia—at least any the state knew about.
“We received a report of a stolen vehicle on Thursday night—a purple 1979 Lincoln Mark V. The caller said he had reason to believe a Ms. Veronica Ruiz was in possession of the car.”
“Oh,” I laughed, “that was a very simple misunderstanding, Officer. See, the car belongs to my neighbor.”
“We’re aware of that. We were unable to reach her. I assume that’s the vehicle?” he asked, pointing to The Eggplant in my driveway, which Vero hadn’t yet gotten around to delivering to Cam.
“What gave it away?” My laugh fizzled when the officer didn’t smile back. “I can explain. You see, my neighbor doesn’t have a license, so she gave us the keys and asked us to hold on to it for her.”
The officer looked skeptical. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But it will be up to the court to hear any extenuating circumstances.” He reached past me and handed Vero the letter. “While we were conducting our search for the vehicle, we also found an outstanding warrant for Ms. Ramirez for theft charges in the state of Maryland.”
Vero paled as she opened the letter. There were tears in her eyes when she looked at me and said, “They found me, Finn. I’m being extradited.”