“Why are you telling me this and not kicking my…”
“I asked you to be quiet, Little Ayrwick. Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” the sheriff said in an obnoxious manner. When I didn't respond, she said, “I asked you a question.”
Was I supposed to respond or shut up? How did this keep happening to me? I decided to type my response on my cell phone's notepad. I would be able to acknowledge that I preferred the easy way, but I didn't actually need to speak the words. When I finished typing, I handed her my phone.
April read my message and broke out in an unexpected chuckle. “You are the most sarcastic and obstinate man I've ever met!”
I typed on my phone in response: 'Can I speak now?' When she nodded, I said, “Did you ask about his mother's obituary or if he knew his father's identity?”
“No, I didn't. Since our earlier chat, I decided it would be better for you to handle that angle. I'm not sure it has anything to do with Gwendolyn's death. Brad will be coming by to see me in two days. I didn't want to inhibit his chances of getting the job he was interviewing for.”
“Okay, so you want me to talk to Millard to find out if they are father and son?”
“Yep, call me as soon as possible so we can discuss it. And do not think I've forgotten you disobeyed direct orders. I hope you will see this chivalrous act of kindness as the tiniest of olive branches. We shall discuss this further once you find out something useful.”
I watched the sheriff walk toward the elevator and step inside the car after the doors opened. As they closed, she stared through the diminishing crack holding two fingers first to her eyes, then pointed at me mouthing what I am pretty sure were the words 'I'm watching you closely, Little Ayrwick.'
Chapter 16
“Are you sure it was really the sheriff? Maybe there was an invasion of body snatchers earlier today. I smelled something funky in the air this afternoon,” Nana D said in an exaggerated alien-sounding voice causing Emma to laugh like a hyena. “What do you think, kiddo, did some nasty, green-colored four-eyed creature from outer space tell your father to keep investigating?”
Emma giggled again and slapped her forehead. “Aliens don't visit the Earth during the winter, Nana D. It's waaayyy too cold for them. They need hot air to breathe. Didn't you watch Avatar?”
“Oh, honey, I don't know what an avatar is or what it does, but if you met that sheriff, you'd know she's full of enough hot air she could support an entire space alien planet,” replied Nana D bugging her eyes out so fiercely she fell forward on the table from putting so much pressure behind them.
“Nana D, you're gonna give yourself an aneurysm. Quit it while you're ahead of the game,” I said. We'd just sat down in a cozy booth Eleanor had reserved for us in the front corner of the Pick-Me-Up Diner. The grand re-opening had sent the entire town out in droves. We were lucky to hold on to it despite Mayor Bartleby Grosvalet showing up last-minute without a reservation. Eleanor found a space for him at the bar and comped him several martinis. The mayor liked to drink heavily.
“What's an anarysm, Daddy?” Emma placed her menu back on the table and announced she was ordering steak Diane.
“Aneurysm. It's kinda like when you consume too much ice cream and you get a headache only a whole lot worse,” I explained, then suggested she might not like eating a woman named Diane.
“No, silly. Diane is the name of the goddess of hunting. I'm not going to eat anybody. My name's not Hannibal.” She stuck her tongue out at Nana D who promptly returned the gesture only it contained some childish noises in her attempt to up the ante. How did my daughter even know who either of those people were? She's only six years old I repeated several times inside my head.
“I'm not sure who's more mature between the two of you,” I scolded. Judging by the competition currently occurring at the table, I was the most mature and that wasn't saying very much. “As for the sheriff, I wasn't gonna press my luck to find out what led to her generosity. I hightailed it out of there and called Millard. He's meeting us here in twenty minutes.”
My phone rang before anyone could respond. It was my mother-in-law, and I wasn't letting her go to voicemail. “Be back shortly,” I muttered to Nana D and Emma who were still making outrageous faces at one another.
I passed Eleanor walking near the kitchen and pointed to the phone. “The she-devil's calling me, I'm hiding out in your office.” After I shut the door, I clicked accept to stop the theme song from Jaws ringing on an endless loop. “Hi, Cecilia. I'm at my sister's diner having dinner with Emma. I only picked up because we need to talk about this ridiculous mess. Can I call you back in a little while?”
“Time is almost up. Have you come to your senses?” she said without any other greeting.
“I left several messages for you over the weekend. I need to speak with my wife,” I said through gritted teeth realizing she wasn't going to cooperate. I unclenched my jaw when thinking about being forced to see the dentist if I'd broke one. It was on my top five list of places never to go again unless necessary in order to prevent death.
“The Castiglianos do not answer to you, Kellan. I've made it quite clear that you cannot speak with her. I also remind you that while this may be a secure line, please stop using her name.” Cecilia had always been headstrong, but for many years, she knew Francesca wouldn't tolerate her parents treating me poorly. It seemed she now had the upper hand and felt no need to hold back.
“Why are you doing this to us? Do you have any remorse over what pain you've caused Emma? Forget what it's done to me, but you and your husband's dirty businesses have robbed a precious girl from growing up with two loving parents.” Emma had bounced back from her mother's death, but there would still be a permanent impact on her future. I'd never forgive them for what they'd done to her.
“I'm not going to re-hash another conversation where you tell us we're bad parents or we should be in prison. You've made your point. You do not respect our business, the decision we made, or the need to ensure our future safety. It's rather selfish of you, but I always told her you weren't good enough to marry.” Cecilia huffed loudly causing me to pull the phone away from my ears. If I hadn't been in a public place, I would've lost my cool and shouted back at her.
“Do you have any solutions other than living in some secret wing of your mansion? How do you see this working out long term, Cecilia?”
“I don't have all the answers. But what I do have is enough history and knowledge of the potential dangers involved if you don't return to LA. My daughter will not give up. She's been angry ever since this whole situation below up in our faces years ago.”
“I can't live in seclusion. Can't you get the police involved? How many members of the Vargas family are we expecting to still be angry years later?” I knew little about mob policies and etiquette. Were we talking about waiting for one ancient godfather-type to kick the bucket? Or were there hordes of irate Vargas relatives looking to stick dead horseheads in every member of my family's beds?
“It's not like that anymore. We run everything like a business. There's a fine line to keeping status quo among all the different territories. If anyone found out we tricked the Vargas family, everyone would begin to draw lines, form alliances, and execute retaliatory tactics,” Cecilia replied in a demeaning tone. “I'm doing the best I can to help you both, Kellan. I don't want to see anyone hurt.”
Fat chance! She practically threatened me when she was in Braxton the last time. “I've got a few more days, but I can tell you one thing for certain. I refuse to make any decision without talking to my wife again. If you think there's any chance of me listening to you, then you better find a way to cut me some slack here,” I hissed. One half of my body burned as if fire coursed through my veins while the other half froze with a chill that might never regain normal temperature again. I stared at the cell phone screen watching the call length increase. I couldn't take another second and hung up on Cecilia. For added effect, I also turned the whole device off
not wanting to talk to the woman anymore that evening.
I stomped back to the table at the same time as Millard arrived. After introducing him to Emma, I asked her to find her Aunt Eleanor to help prepare our dinners. I didn't want Emma to overhear any part of the conversation with Millard.
“So, Kellan, what was so urgent that you had to meet with me tonight?” Millard asked while scratching at his moustache. Emma found it so funny, she'd called him Yosemite Sam after one of her favorite cartoons.
“Mr. Paddington, I need to talk to you about something in your past. I don't know you all that well, so this might be a little tough. Are you the kinda guy who likes to slowly peel away a Band-Aid to avoid pain? Or are you a rip it off, scream once, and get it over with kinda guy?” Personally, I was a rip it off and scream several times kinda guy. I wasn't giving him that option and judging by the number of scratches on his forearm from pruning holly trees earlier that day, he wasn't going to scream anyway.
Nana D's head cocked to the side. “Stop being a fusspot, Kellan. Just ask him if he knew Hannah Shope had his baby twenty-five years ago. He's a big boy, I think he can take it.” Not usually known for her tact, Nana D threw both hands into the air between her and Millard waiting for his response.
Millard stiffened against the booth's back padding. “I would have said rip the Band-Aid off, Kellan. Seraphina knows me well enough.” He paused and went deep into thought. While I waited for his response, I studied the distant look in his gaze knowing he was remembering happier days of his past.
“Take your time, I'm sure this isn't easy,” I added.
“If she had a baby twenty-five years ago, it sounds to me like you're saying she was pregnant when she left Braxton. More specifically, when she quit working at the Paddington estate,” Millard said. His left hand shook with a few tremors before he rested it against the stable one on the table's surface.
“That's what I've come to understand, if I've done the math properly. I gather from your expression this is not something you'd been aware of. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you about your long-lost child. But I think I know who he is. As do you,” I said slowly hoping not to agitate Millard more than necessary.
“You've always wanted to be a father, Millard. I suppose this might give you an opportunity to make up for the past. He may be a fully grown adult, but there's still time to connect with him,” Nana D responded as she cupped his hands with hers. Despite a relationship not working out between them in the past, her affection for a friend was evident.
A confused look settled on Millard's face. “You think I was the father of Hannah's child?”
Nana D and I looked at one another. “Of course. Weren't you the reason she was fired? I know your parents weren't tolerant and forgiving of anyone getting involved with the staff.”
“Oh, Seraphina, you might know my family well, but clearly you must think I'm just as bad as them.” Millard shifted toward the end of the bench. “I couldn't have been that child's father.”
I thought I'd heard him incorrectly. “I don't understand why not.”
“Hannah and I were never intimate. We were friends. I needed someone to talk to about wanting to quit the family business and take up gardening. She helped keep me sane in that loony bin,” Millard said with a chuckle. “I need a bit of fresh air if you don't mind. I think I'll take a rain check on dinner. Please extend my apologies to your daughter and your sister, Kellan.”
As he rifled through his wallet and dropped cash on the table, Nana D spoke. I was too confused at what he'd just told us. “Millard, what do you mean? If you weren't the child's father, who was?” Nana D whispered. It was rare she kept her mouth quiet, but she seemed not to want anyone to overhear the question.
“In return for supporting me, I also lent my ears to Hannah those few months she worked at the mansion. She'd found herself attracted to someone in the house and had apparently developed sincere feelings for him. It wasn't exactly someone she should've been involved with either, but it certainly wasn't me. I merely counseled her to let it go if she wanted to keep her job and not incur the wrath of someone in my family.” As he started walking away from the table, he turned back and looked at Nana D. “I can't believe you think I would have seduced a young girl. I could have been her father, Seraphina. We had a very different kind of relationship than what you've implied today.”
I called out before he got too far away. “Mr. Paddington, is there anything you can tell us about who could've been the child's father? We're afraid it's the reason Gwendolyn was murdered.”
“I can't. Hannah never told me who she'd fallen for. I didn't want to know either. I needed to get away from my family. They also thought I was fooling around with that poor girl which is why they let her go. I never had a chance to say goodbye. That same day I quit the family business and she was fired, my father informed me I was cut out of the will for making the choices I did. I guess he thought it was a fair and just punishment.”
As Millard left the diner, Nana D turned to me. “I can't believe you made such a huge mistake, Kellan. We need to find a way to make it up to that man.”
Me? She should've told me he wasn't the type to do something like that. “I don't understand. If it wasn't him, was Millard saying it could've been his father, Timothy, or Charles?”
“Millard was over fifty at that point. I can't imagine it was his father. Old man Paddington was close to eighty! And not the kinda spry eighty I'll be one day. He was knocking on death's door.”
We both shivered thinking about an eighty-year-old and an eighteen-year old being intimate. “Do you think Charles could've cheated on Gwendolyn with a maid?”
“I don't know. But if Brad is actually a Paddington…” Nana D noted.
“It would have angered Timothy, Ophelia, and Jennifer who thought they were supposed to get all the money,” I said feeling confident Brad's parentage had something to do with the reason Gwendolyn died. “Something still doesn't make sense. Brad couldn't have been left anything by Gwendolyn if he also signed the will as a witness. The Hampster had confirmed what Finnigan told us. Pennsylvania law might leave a bit of wiggle room for the beneficiary to also be a witness, but Finnigan clarified he told Gwendolyn to be sure she didn't do it.”
Nana D reminded me that not everyone knows the specifics of those laws. Once Emma returned, we finished our meal choosing to leave the murder investigation out of our discussions. Eleanor and Maggie stopped by to ensure our meals were good but couldn't stay to chat. They had hundreds of other guests to check with on their opening night.
As we finished saying our goodbyes and leaving a generous tip—our meal had been free since we knew the owners—Myriam arrived at the diner. I checked my watch and was surprised to learn it read nine thirty. I needed to get Emma home to bed. Hoping to sneak past Myriam without her noticing me, I pushed Emma and Nana D out first so I could stand on the other side of them. After they exited, I attempted to leave too, but Myriam's penetrating gaze zeroed in on me.
“Kellan, I thought I'd stop by to sample the cuisine at the new Pick-Me-Up Diner. The King Lear performance ended a little while ago, and I was hungry,” she said lifting a single finger to let the waitress know she needed a table for one. The harried server asked Myriam to wait several minutes for a table to be cleared.
“I appreciate you throwing a little business my sister's way, thank you,” I said walking through the doorway. I smiled knowing she had to summon an ability to be patient before she could sit at a table, too. She hated to be kept waiting for any reason.
“You should know I didn't come by because she's your sister. I thought it was important to support my colleague, Maggie Roarke. I believe she's a co-owner here, correct? I didn't choose this place because of your family. I'd have thought you knew that already,” Myriam grunted.
“Of course. I should have guessed. Please accept my humble apologies, but I need to catch up with my daughter.” I was keenly aware Myriam severely disliked my family but given the ulti
matum Ursula had given us in regard to working together, I thought she would have attempted to play better in the sandbox.
“Ursula has been detained by Braxton's Board of Trustees this evening, so I'm grabbing dinner alone. I'd like to schedule time with you in the next few days to discuss your role as the Paddington family member's voice at the Play House.” Her nose wrinkled in irritation clearly revealing how she felt about the entire situation.
“Certainly, perhaps tomorrow? I need to discuss your decision to terminate Arthur. If I understand correctly, you gave him two weeks' notice. Perhaps we could find a way to re-consider.” I remembered that I'd promised Fern I'd try to help save her son's job.
“I'm usually open to discussion on many topics. That is not one of them. Engaging in lewd behavior in a dressing room on public property is assuredly not acceptable in my book. Arthur is lucky I didn't fire him on the spot without any additional pay.” Myriam grabbed a menu from the wall cubby and lifted her glasses onto the bridge of her nose to begin reading.
What was she talking about? Arthur said he'd been avoiding Dana's overt flirtations the last few weeks. “Are you sure it was Arthur? Or for that matter… was it definitely two people engaging in…”
“You don't need to articulate any further descriptions. It most definitely was Arthur because I saw him leaving the dressing room twenty minutes later,” Myriam replied pursing her lips.
“May I ask when this was?”
“A month ago. Why is that important? Isn't the fact it happened enough to agree with me?” I expected you to support me on this decision, but I can see your morals are nearly as impious as his.”
“Honestly, I can't discuss this right now. I'll be happy to talk further tomorrow. If he and Dana were behaving inappropriately, then I can understand the decision to fire him,” I said reaching back for a mint from the countertop. I suddenly had a sour taste in my mouth.
Broken Heart Attack Page 18
