by Patti Larsen
“What are you doing here?” There, a coherent question. Go me.
He sat back, that playful kid he’d been long gone from the haunted expression now taking over his face. “I’m helping Barry Clement steal drugs and filter them through the hospital for the black market and I have been for months.”
So Dr. Aberstock had been right. “Blackstone.”
Pitch grunted a laugh, but there was zero humor in it. “Leave it to you to connect the dots,” he said. “Man, my bosses hate your guts, you know that?”
Did they now? Happy to oblige. “Why are you helping them?”
It hit me even as the words left my mouth, the answer to my question so obvious and glaring I almost hugged him.
“Alicia,” he whispered. “I’m scared of them, of Blackstone. But I’m more terrified for my sister.”
“What does she have to do with this?” Were the Pattersons part of the drug trafficking? I was already in a shaken state and found my brain wasn’t taking on new information like it should, thoughts shunting from one to another before I could pull them together.
Pitch’s phone buzzed and he checked it, paling out while I sat there and gaped at him. “I have to go.” He stood abruptly, tucking the cell back into his interior pocket. He paused one moment at the door, hand shaking where it settled on the handle. “I’ll be in touch, Fee,” he said. “If anyone can help Alicia, it’s you.”
And then, he was gone and I didn’t even try to stop him.
Good thing, actually, because when I got a call of my own, my whole attention shifted one more time.
“Fee,” Daisy said, sounding excited and a little shaken, “I need to see you right away.”
“The annex?” I rose from the chair Pitch had sat me in, only to have Daisy change the plan.
“John and Lucy’s,” she said. “Bring your dad and Liz. Fee, it’s important. I think we have a way to find out what’s going on.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
***
Chapter Thirty One
Vivian was the last to arrive, hardly surprising, though she looked like she hadn’t been to bed yet or never slept and likely didn’t because maybe she was a perfect alien who’d taken a human body and rest was for the weak.
Punch drunk? Likely. It was the middle of the night, on its way to the beginning of morning. And honestly, if we didn’t want to attract suspicion, we should have waited for at least dawn to gather instead of piling into my parent’s house with the lights blazing—the only one on the block—all our cars parked willy nilly despite the town parking ban because hey.
Middle of the night, yo.
Conspicuous or not, no one seemed like waiting was something they intended to suggest. Even Dr. Aberstock had joined us, Jill in her pajama bottoms with one of Matt’s oversized hoodies draped over her, hands tucked into the long cuffs. I tried to reach Pamela and Fleur, but was forced to instead leave a message. I’d greeted Emile Ries when I’d entered, he and Daisy already sitting with Mom on the sofa, my mother acting like these kinds of gatherings happened all the time while offering each arriving guest tea, coffee and some cake.
Mom and cake. At least that much was right with the world.
I waited for Vivian to take a delicate seat next to my mother, waving off the offer of refreshments with a real smile, before I stood and usurped my bestie’s attempt to run this little meeting of the minds.
“Before you tell us what you found out, Day,” I said by way of apology, “Dad and Liz and I have our own discovery to share.” I nodded to the doc who shrugged. He’d already given me permission to speculate, right?
It was Dad who told everyone about the discovery of the butterfly clip’s missing gems, Liz who explained our sneaky intrusion on the Patterson’s land, my father again taking his turn, uncovering the butterfly stone and the metal chest underneath. No one spoke or even twitched as Liz then finished off with our escape and subsequent opening of what had become a coffin.
But it was Dr. Aberstock who filled in the rest, confirming a woman and an infant had both died of causes still to be determined, identities unknown and that some attempt had been made to burn their remains.
“I have no other information,” he said. “Fee, I know you believe her to be Fiona Doyle and her rumored offspring with Teddy Patterson. But without proof, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.”
“Agreed,” Dad said, gruff and a little angry.
“That out of the way,” I said, “I had a little encounter of my own you should know about.”
Dr. Aberstock wasn’t surprised by Barry’s involvement in the drug trafficking operation but he seemed put off by mention of Pitch Conway.
“I had no idea,” he said, tugging at his lower lip with his thumb and index finger, other arm crossed over his round belly. “We’re then assuming he’s telling the truth he’s only working for Blackstone because of Alicia?”
The kid was a drug dealer when I met him. But he also set himself up to save his sister three years ago. “I have no other information,” I said with a slow wink. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.”
The doc laughed and poked at me with one finger. “Far too clever, dear girl.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed with him and sat on the armrest of the sofa next to Vivian while waving at Daisy. “Okay, Day,” I said. “Hit us.”
She inhaled, glanced at Emile who smiled and nodded encouragement, before speaking. “I went digging into the company Dad’s shares came from.” She squeezed her boyfriend’s hand a moment, beaming a trademark Daisy Bruce full wattage at him. It was pretty obvious from the way he stared back at her the two of them had zero doubts where they belonged. Almost made me cry. Day deserved that kind of happy. “Vivian, your father left you shares in the same company.”
The mayor nodded, her elegant upsweep shining in the living room light. “Pierre Noir,” she said. “What of it? The company has no assets I could ascertain and certainly no value.” Vivian glanced at me. “Wait, our fathers left us shares in the same company? Why?” Now we had her attention.
“Were you aware your father and Donald Bruce were friends?” Dad leaned forward, helping himself to the small pile of cookies beside the plate of cake. Mom was so engrossed she didn’t even try to stop him and I knew for a fact that was his fourth and she had him on a diet.
Vivian’s frown and headshake were all the answer we needed.
“With Emile’s help, I was able to trace the company back to a familiar corporation.” She beamed that amazing smile at all of us, giggling suddenly. “I’m such a silly goose. Emile had to point it out to me. Vivian, do you know what Pierre Noir means in French?”
Gut. Punch. Even as Vivian gasped.
“Blackstone,” she whispered.
Okay then. Well played, gentlemen.
“This is excellent news,” Emile spoke, that faint French accent of his as yummy as ever. “It turns out that my beautiful flower and you, Vivian,” he nodded to her, “are the primary owners of the founding base corporation—the first numbered listing in the chain that has become impossible to chase down from the outside—that formed the backbone of Blackstone.” His slow smile lit his face, his pale eyes. “A door into that corporation, if you like. Set up and controlled by no other than Donald Bruce and Ranier French.”
“And left to their daughters in case something ever happened to them.” Daisy hugged herself suddenly, that smile internal as much as it was external. Because no matter what happened from here, she knew the truth at last. Her father didn’t just love her. He trusted her with a secret he knew she’d eventually be responsible for exposing.
Wow. I thought my dad played his love close and stoic.
“Gotcha.” Liz looked positively delighted, in a satisfied and vengeful kind of crushing her enemies underfoot with a maniacal laugh kind of way. I’d have to remember that one. It suited her, but I could pull it off under the right circumstances.
Winning made me giddy.
�
�Any idea how they managed it?” Dad looked a bit awestruck, but at least he was still thinking. Me? My brain kind of shut off in gleeful anticipation of Liz and the FBI tearing Blackstone apart from the inside. While wishing Crew was here to be in on the massive news.
Emile shook his head. “For all we know, they were part of the original board of directors that set up Blackstone decades ago. Almost forty years, in fact.” He squeezed Daisy’s hand. “Sorry, my flower. This is your story to tell.”
Sweet. She blushed, shook her head, free hand around his bicep as she gazed up into his eyes and my heart constricted because no way was Daisy Bruce not marrying this man and that meant…
I was going to lose my best friend, wasn’t I?
Fiona Fleming. You stop that right now.
“You know what this means.” Liz stood, began to pace. “If they structured it properly, there’s an excellent chance that Daisy and Vivian are the primary owners of Blackstone.” She laughed out loud. “Oh my god. My boss is going to lose her mind.” She spun and tossed her hands. “They can’t stop you from asking for any and all information you want about the entire corporation.”
“Wait a sec,” I said. “Does that mean if Blackstone is involved in criminal activity, Day and Viv are liable?” Well, that would suck.
But Liz was shaking her head. “I can promise you right now, no contest, both will have full immunity if they agree to hand over information in the apprehension and prosecution of illegal acts performed by employees of Blackstone.”
That sounded official enough I bought it. And, from the nod Vivian gave, followed by Daisy’s when Emile smiled at her, they thought the same.
“Agent Michaud,” Vivian said, icy cool, “I believe I speak for both myself and my partner in Pierre Noir when I ask the FBI to conduct an investigation into whatever has been done to use our corporation and all subsidiaries for illegal gains.”
“Well said,” Daisy dimpled.
***
Chapter Thirty Two
I hated to burst the bubble of happy, but there were so many questions left. Including a dead body we had, as yet, to tie to a murder suspect.
“Can Geoffrey’s death be linked to any of this?” I glanced at Jill who looked lost on our company suddenly, like a little girl wearing daddy’s clothes and pretending she fit in so she wouldn’t be sent to bed and miss the grown up stuff. Yup, got all of that from the near terrified expression she let loose before smothering it with her best attempt at pulling a Liz. Didn’t make it to cool confident, but at least didn’t look like she was going to throw up.
“I don’t know,” Jill said, voice soft and low. “I’m working on it, but my hands have been tied.”
“Council,” Vivian growled. “It’s not your fault, Jill. Clearly there is Patterson interest behind keeping Geoffrey’s killer a secret.”
“Like that’s going to stop you.” I met Jill’s eyes with mine, poured all of my confidence for her into my gaze, hoped she got the message. “Doc, any idea what killed him yet?”
Dr. Aberstock nodded. “In fact, I was preparing my final report for the sheriff when your earlier discovery distracted me.” He scratched at his white beard a moment, as though pondering what he’d uncovered. “As I’d suspected, he died of suffocation. There was sufficient petechial hemorrhaging as well as elevated carbon dioxide in his blood and foam in his lungs, all indicators he was asphyxiated. I’m still waiting on forensics to identify the object used to block his airways, but whatever it was left no fibers, though I did note a trace scent similar to the gloves I use. It’s possible whoever killed him did so by sealing his nose and mouth with some kind of latex.”
“He’d have to have known his attacker pretty well to let them get that close to him,” Dad said.
“Agreed,” the doc said. “Bruising was minimal, however. I did find a small puncture mark on the back of his neck, but I have, as yet, to identify if a drug was injected into his system to incapacitate him.” He shrugged. “Apologies, but the lab is a bit slow.”
Well, we’d sent them evidence for not one but two murders, so fair enough. And we weren’t the only town they serviced. Just the most prolifically deadly.
Maybe that needed to replace our cutest town in America tagline. I was sure Vivian wouldn’t go for it, but hey, didn’t hurt to try, right?
I needed sleep.
We wrapped up, everyone heading for their prospective homes. I cornered Dad, asked about Crew, but he shrugged it off, head down with Liz who was clearly eager to get started.
“Just call him, Fee,” Dad said. “He’ll want to know what’s going on.”
Argh. No help there. I made it home, feeling out of sorts that Petunia was still alone, waiting for me by the door. Several attempts to call Crew went to voicemail and the three texts I sent were ignored.
Either he was mad at me and not talking to me (probably), was busy or asleep or his phone was dead or off (possible), or he was DEAD IN A DITCH, murdered, kidnapped, being tortured and I’d never see him again and our last words to each other would be the fight we had (panic).
I didn’t sleep well, called him again as soon as the sun came up. “Please,” I said, knowing my voice was shaking, “Crew, just call me. I need to know you’re all right.”
When my phone rang a few minutes later, I dove for it, though I’m sure Dr. Aberstock didn’t deserve the resigned sound of my voice when I answered a call that should have been from Crew.
“I’ve found something interesting,” he said. “But I’d like to show you, if you can come to the morgue?”
“What about Dad?” Grumpy? Me?
“He’s rather busy with Liz, I’m afraid, and they have the sheriff on their team at the moment.” Dr. Aberstock seemed suddenly hesitant. “I’m sorry, Fee. It can wait. Blackstone is more important.”
Grumble, guilt. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.” I hung up, looked down at Petunia who shifted her fat pug body to her other hip, licking her lips, big eyes staring up at me like she knew I was about to leave her. “Sorry, girl,” I said. “Duty calls.”
As I pulled into the parking lot, choosing a spot near the morgue door, far from the main area, I noted three men, all of whom I knew, in a heated conversation near the dumpster at the far end of the lot. They must have seen me pull in and, as I climbed out, they parted ways. But not before I noted the angry expression on Barry’s face, the tight tension on Pitch’s. And, to round out their trifecta of hmmm, Christopher Jenkins, looking sullen and ready to come apart at the seams, hustled past me to his own car.
He was the only one in range, so I went for it, following him, hearing the beep as he disarmed his alarm.
“I’m sorry about your father, Christopher.” He stopped and spun to face me, rage replacing that sullen expression. That made me hesitate, but not for long. I was a Fleming, after all. “I’m sure they’ll find whoever killed him.”
“Even if it’s your husband?” He fired that at me as if it were a weapon, but it had no impact. I already knew Crew hadn’t killed Geoffrey. And neither had Olivia. But now that I’d seen Christopher with Barry and Pitch… well, I was beginning to wonder if Geoffrey’s death had something to do with Blackstone and the drug smuggling after all.
“Where were you when your father was killed?” Kind of a nasty thing to ask someone who’s just lost their parent, but you know what? He was a jerk and made no attempt to act otherwise, so he could just suck it up.
“With my mother,” he snapped back. “You can ask her.”
“Because your mother would never alibi you to protect you,” I said.
Christopher muttered something distinctly rude under his breath before jerking open the door of his car. “You have no idea what’s going on in this town,” he said. “And I’m not going to be the one to fill you in.”
“No need,” I said with the faintest smile, knowing I was baiting him and that it was likely a terrible idea but hating to let him go without a nice dig for him to linger over. “I’m far more informe
d than you think. And if you’re involved in the smuggling, Christopher?” I grasped the door of his car and leaned in a little while he stared up at me, eyes wide. “Well. Your mother won’t be able to save you from me.” With that, knowing I was blowing smoke and not caring, I slammed the door and backed off.
It took him a bit to drive away, fumbling for keys and to start his car and by the time he did leave I was convinced he was either a) guilty as sin and ridiculously bad at hiding it or b) in way over his head. My guess was the latter.
Dr. Aberstock was waiting for me in the morgue when I arrived, Barry nowhere in sight. “Where’s your assistant? I just saw him come in.”
The doc shook his head, frowning. “Barry has the day off.”
Okay then. “What did you find?”
I was expecting him to whip out a file on Geoffrey or even pull the body out of the cooler. Instead, he handed me a piece of paper. Blackstone stationary. With Alicia’s name at the top of it.
I gaped at it while he shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but it looks like our young friend is in a bit of trouble.”
Tell me about it. The memo went into detail, connecting Alicia, blaming her, for the drug misappropriations, using White Valley Lodge as a drop off point. “This is a setup document. Something they can hand to the police when they come knocking.” A scapegoat plan.
“I found it at the bottom of Barry’s trashcan,” he said. “I’m not above snooping.” He gestured at the small station near the door. “But that’s all I found, I’m afraid.”
Wait. “His desk is cleared out?”
The doc nodded. “He hasn’t been to work in days.”
Interesting.
I thanked Dr. Aberstock for the document, chest tight as I sat in my car, trying to decide what to do with it. If I handed it over to Jill or Liz, they would have to enter it into evidence. But if I didn’t, I couldn’t express to them my belief this was a ploy to control Jared or Alicia or even Pitch. Whatever the case, it was like having a hot potato in my lap. I kept lifting it, reading it, setting it down, feeling the discomfort of it in my presence as though it burned me every time I let it go.
