7. Thank You for the Galaxy #2
“Oh, sweet Mellie Gray from the wrong side of the tracks—as far as my in-laws are concerned—is the subject of many ill-fated and boring-as-hell dinners.” She flipped her brown hair over her shoulder.
“Her mother, Mallory, was just a nurse. Not good enough for the Gray name—bunch of snobs they are—and they’re always pretending this poor woman and her daughter were gold diggers, even though she’s never asked for a single penny in all this time. Not even after Luke disappeared.”
“You…don’t approve of your in-laws?” Braun said.
“Let’s be blunt.” She reached down and grabbed a coffee, bringing it to her lips. “I don’t approve of my own husband, much less the rest of his family.”
“So…why are you married to him?” This had all the makings of a society marriage, and it was too similar to what Griff and his ex-wife, Kristin, had. An arranged marriage that was about merging family empires instead of love.
“I’m going to guess that your accents are real,” she said, pointing between me and Braun on the couch. “Me? I’m from Brooklyn.”
She seamlessly transitioned into her city accent before pulling it back to the slower, almost country drawl.
“I worked very hard to hide where I’m from.
I started my own boutique wedding shop on Madison Avenue.
Made a few million. But nothing really gets you into the upper echelons quite like generational wealth, you know what I mean?
If you’re a Gray, you’ve got it made.” She gestured to the house and its furnishings, which were all fucking grand as hell.
“Do you know the difference between a mansion and a manor?”
Braun and I both shook our heads.
“A manor is a historic estate with land and social significance.” She put her coffee mug down on the table with a thud. “A mansion is just a big house.”
Valerie interlaced her fingers in front of her, leaning back in her armchair like it was a throne, and she was holding court.
“I live in a manor with all the connections to the upper crust of society. The kind you can’t earn your way into. Power. Real power. All because I happened to bamboozle some perverted piece of shit into marrying me.”
My eyes just about fell out of my head.
“Oh, don’t look so shocked. Everyone in town—and in this county—knows about Turner Gray and how he can’t keep it in his pants.
” She shrugged, unbothered by his infidelity.
“He was born a piece of shit and will die one. In the meantime, I get what I want, and he never darkens my door or tries to get into my bed. I mean, the first few years of having that prick rut on top of me so we could make our two beautiful children was unpleasant, but worth it in the long run.”
She was absolutely terrifying.
“I’ve looked into you, Mr. Braun. You’re good people. That’s what the dossier on you in my office says, and what my instincts tell me.”
“You have a dossier on me?” Braun looked genuinely pleased. He respected her.
“I’m not just a pretty face,” she said with a smile and that fake twang again.
Syrupy sweet, like molasses that crawled over a fly before burying it alive.
“I have a degree in political science from Columbia University, and an MBA from Yale. In many ways, I know we haven’t moved on from the 1920’s when it comes to good ol’ American values.
A woman like me? Well, the smartest thing we can do is marry an old idiot.
I was unfortunate enough to only snag a young idiot, but I’m sure I can just bide my time, and he’ll off himself, somehow. ”
“You…think he’ll commit suicide?” I asked, a little confused.
“God, no!” She laughed, but it was a mean sound. Cruel. “People who commit suicide have the introspection to feel sad. Turner Gray is literally too stupid to know what a piece of shit he is. No. He’ll kill himself because there’s only one award that man will ever win.”
Braun and I waited for what she meant, because I had no clue. I was as confused as panda in polar bear exhibit.
“A Darwin Award.”
Braun covered his mouth to hide his snicker, and I bit my lips to restrain my unprofessional smile.
“You see, the Gray boys—Luke and Turner—were raised rotten and spoiled by a mother who was a boy-mom before the world really knew what that meant.” Her casual manner of talking about her husband, like he was an idiotic side character in a slapstick comedy, made me both uneasy and amused, but I wasn’t sure if I should have felt appalled or offended instead.
“And those in-laws of mine have been inbred, pampered, and have had so many noses up their asses, they’re practically levitating with it. ”
She lightly chuckled, and Braun cleared his throat, holding back a laugh.
“And the townies all worship them.” She scoffed. “Know anything about the history of the town?”
She looked specifically at me.
“Uh, no,” I answered. “No, ma’am.”
I was here because my old team needed help getting rid of Mamma Mack’s terrorist problem.
They needed a gun, and I had the time. I ended up in the barn because Top needed a pair of hands to help out.
He’d bought a run-down farm with a metric crap ton of acreage so he could forget the love of his life, and now that Mamma Mack was back by his side, he wanted to bring the old, dilapidated Victorian farmhouse back into this century.
There was a lot to get done. The old biddy who had previously owned it had let it get worse for wear, but he’d managed to buy it for a steal. And as long as I could help, I’d stay.
“Well, Mourningkill was a town built around paper mills and other manufacturing. They called it the rust belt. And well, things have been on a pretty steady decline since then, except for the descendants of ol’ Ethanuel Gray, the founder of our fair little blip of the Catskills.
” She gestured to the world at large. “Well, manufacturing died to automation and outsourcing. Our farmers struggle against Big Ag all the time, but not the Grays. Oh, no. They made their money on the racetracks. But ya know, as things often happen with the wealthy, they kept having kids, who had kids, who then had more kids.”
She let out a high-pitched snort through her nose that could have been a restrained laugh.
“My own idiot husband has maybe half a dozen little brats running around, not counting my own little angels.” She smiled at the mention of her children.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of his little indiscretion with the sheriff when she was just a kid?
Then his shotgun wedding with Ashley Cavanagh?
The distant niece of that idiot politician? I think you’re a fireman, no?”
“Volunteer,” I clarified.
“Right. So you’ve met my idiot stepson, Ian.
The only one halfway worth a damn, and trust me, that’s a generous half.
” Her laugh rang like a gentle bell. High, feminine, and melodic.
“Oh, my rotten-sweet Turner has a lot of kids, and god knows how many payouts to girls he might be criminally liable for if it weren’t for those settlements. ”
“If you know all of this about him, why’d you marry and have kids with him?” Braun leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“The thing that makes Turner rotten isn’t in his genes.
His flaws in character were nurtured, not from nature.
My own children are sweet and kind. Happy little things, because their daddy isn’t around.
Ever. If he were to disappear completely, it would be the best thing for them.
” Her eyes grew distant, as if fantasizing about her husband’s disappearance gave her peace.
“Death is cheaper than divorce, after all.”
A chill went through me.
She wasn’t cold in her delivery; she was almost pensive.
“My husband’s inability to keep it in his pants has diluted what wealth they had, not to mention that each successive generation has managed to be less impressive than the last—not counting my own lovely girls, that is.
” She leaned back, crossing her legs at the knees as her skirt rode up her thigh.
Intentional without being lewd. “So if you want to find a motive for the Grays, it’s money. ”
“Money?” Braun and I looked at the fleur-de-lis accents on the tiled ceiling—they had gold embellishments, for fuck’s sake. And they likely were real gold.
Was the value of money different to them than it was to us mere mortals? Peasants like me and Braun?
I glanced sideways at my boss, and he looked back. We did that Midwest thing of rubbing our palms up and down our thighs to indicate that this was not going great.
“Oh, you two are just precious.” She flicked her thumb to her now-dim ring light.
“You think that marrying me was a one-way advantage? No. I make more in an hour of a live than some people do in a month. He married me because I make money. Like most grand old names with generational wealth…” She shrugged.
“Each generation tends to be less capable than the last. Until eventually, they end up name-rich but cash-poor. With them, it’s always about the money. ”
The wheels turned in my head. Melody getting framed. A big family going after her, targeting her. She was vulnerable, alone, in the dark…
And helpless.
Except for me.
The thought emboldened me.
“That poor, sweet, dumb girl has no idea what she’s up against.” She checked her nails, and my fists clenched. Melody was my sweet girl, and she was anything but dumb. “But I’m sure you honorable men will make sure she’s fine, no?”
It was a dare. But I wasn’t sure why.
She tapped her nose. “Follow the money, gents. I’m sure that’s where you’ll find the answers.”