We agreed to disagree on my approach, then I updated her on everything Timothy had told me at Second Chance Reflections. “He doesn't know his mother was murdered, I take it?”
“Nope. I was trying to keep that as quiet as possible, but Eustacia told several members of the family. She's a piece of work, ain't she?” Sheriff made a note on her pad, then continued after I nodded in agreement at her remarks. “We were able to confirm that the cocaine given to Gwendolyn was nowhere else in the house, nor in any of her other medication. We did find some in Timothy's apartment, but I'm not certain we'll be able to prove that's the source where it came from. Dr. Betscha isn't an expert in recreational drugs, but he's doing his best.”
“As for Brad's father, I'm at a loss. Could we attempt a DNA test?” I said.
“I couldn't get a warrant for it at this point. We can't prove Brad's done anything wrong,” the sheriff explained. “However, I did learn something interesting when I was poking around Brad's background.”
My curiosity piqued. “Can you share it?”
“If you promise to follow all of my instructions going forward, yes, I can,” she said narrowing her eyes. “This is against my better judgment, but if you step out of line, apparently all I need to do is talk with your daughter to put you back on the straight and narrow.”
“Scout's honor,” I replied with one hand showing the proper gesture, and the other behind my back crossing my fingers. She also didn't need to know I was never a scout.
“Brad Shope doesn't have a nursing license. He's completed most of the coursework, but he never received his formal certification. Apparently, he failed one of the exams, and then he was released from a prior position after there was a mix-up with several patients' medications.” When the sheriff's phone rang, she stepped away to take the call.
It was unexpected news. What was he hiding? Maybe Eustacia could talk to Dr. Betscha about a DNA test. Whether Brad was guilty of killing Gwendolyn or not, if he was a legitimate member of the family, everyone would have to know. Or should know. They probably didn't want to know.
“It seems there are several large withdrawals the Paddington's accountants knew nothing about. I'm on my way to find out more,” Sheriff Montague said upon returning. “Don't speak with Brad about any of this. I will let you know when I have any additional information about his background.”
“Can I suggest a DNA test to Eustacia?” I asked.
“Yes, but that's all. By the way, your daughter is adorable. I can see you're a great father. Maybe I will re-consider letting you call me April instead of Sheriff Montague,” she said before jumping on her motorcycle and tearing off down the driveway.
I stepped inside with a smile. Maybe Emma did know exactly the right things to say! We spent the rest of the evening together with my parents eating dinner, baking cookies, and watching an episode of Emma's favorite television show. Normally she wasn't allowed to watch it during the week, but she deserved a reward. Then we read a bedtime story and discussed getting a puppy. She was winning.
* * *
On Wednesday after teaching classes, Fern had a working lunch to prepare our first major presentation on the structure of the new communications department at Braxton University. Once finished, she asked, “Have you talked to Myriam yet about letting Arthur stay on?” Fern looked like she needed to hear good news. Her head hung a little low and her eyes looked weary.
“Temporarily through the end of the show. I'm going to check again with her this afternoon. She asked for a few days to consider my input. I'll let you know what I find out.” I unwrapped the plastic from the double fudge brownie I'd bought in the cafeteria and offered half to Fern.
“I needed it, thanks,” she said accepting the dessert. “Arthur's gotten himself into some sort of trouble again. He called last night to tell me things had gotten complicated, but he wouldn't say why. I'm hoping it's not something with the Play House or the show. He needs to stay focused on his career.”
“You're a good mother, Fern. Arthur's a little too dramatic sometimes. Maybe he's exaggerating about how complex things are.” I'd already seen his outburst on a few occasions since I'd been back home. I was also certain his news had something to do with Dana. There was more going on there than I could put my finger on currently. “Is he dating anyone?” I asked.
“Not that I'm aware of. He was seeing someone in New York before he came home, but that ended. I didn't know anything about the person either,” she said careful not to say the gender of his former significant other. “He's generally secretive about who he's dating.”
Living in LA had exposed me to a much larger community unlike our small town where people were still fairly quiet about revealing their sexuality. I wasn't sure if Arthur dated men or women, but his reaction to Dana and his secrecy led me to believe that his preference had something to do with why he stayed clear of her. It wasn't something I felt comfortable bringing up to Fern, especially if his mother wasn't aware.
“Has Arthur said anything about Gwendolyn's death? I know they weren't always angry with one another, but how has he been reacting lately?” I asked with a tentative approach.
“Kellan, we've known each other for years. I'm also aware you were investigating the two deaths on campus last month. Are you asking because you think Arthur had something to do with Gwendolyn's death? I thought it was a heart attack,” Fern said with concern rising on her face.
“I won't lie. We need to work together and trust one another. I've heard rumors there was foul play with her medication and that her family might be involved. I know Arthur is friendly with one of her granddaughters, Dana. A thought or two has crossed my mind if he might have been coerced into doing something… and now that you mentioned he is in trouble, well…” My stomach cramped up knowing I was turning our meeting into something uncomfortable.
“I doubt it. Arthur can be difficult, but he's not a killer. He also stands up for himself, and if someone in that family tried to push him into doing something illegal, Arthur wouldn't have allowed it,” Fern said with a hint of doubt lingering in her voice.
“Are you sure? I don't think he did either, but I can't rule it out. I've heard he's been… how shall I say… intimately involved with someone recently.”
“I know my son. He's never been able to lie to me before,” Fern said while collecting our trays. “And don't think I am upset with you for asking. I understand why you're doing it. You've always been a stand-up guy, even back when you used to fight for your fraternity when you were a student here. I admired your courage and strength then, and I admire it now.”
“Thank you, it means a lot to hear you say it.” After Fern left, I noticed a missed voicemail from an unknown caller. Who wanted something now?
Chapter 19
I listened to the voicemail only to learn I'd forgotten to re-schedule my annual exam with Dr. Betscha. I had to cancel it when I'd gotten Francesca's letter and couldn't push myself to do anything for a few hours other than sulking and reminiscing. Knowing I also needed to talk to him about Gwendolyn, I called the office and picked a new date and time. “Is there any chance he's available to speak?”
“Sure, he's got a light afternoon today. He was supposed to be offsite at a conference, but the schedule changed last-minute,” she said before putting me on hold.
A few seconds later, he picked up. After we caught up on the big things going on in our lives, he said, “So, what can I for you today, Kellan?”
I told him about the possibility of the Paddington's maid giving birth to a child that might have been fathered by someone in their household. He was unusually quiet before finally responding.
“I'm sorry, I needed to give the question proper thought. Someone in the Paddington family recently asked me the same question,” Dr. Betscha said. “I suppose now that she's gone, I'm not breaking Gwendolyn's confidence, especially if you're helping the family figure out who killed her.”
His news surprised me. “Did Gwendolyn ask you for a DNA t
est on Brad Shope?”
“Yes. She'd apparently come to find out the same thing you've learned about Brad. I got her in contact with a friend of mine who runs a DNA testing laboratory over in Woodland. I don't think she had time to get the final results, but she did have two different tests run if I understood correctly. It was only a couple of weeks ago,” Dr. Betscha said.
“Did she say who she suspected of being his father?”
“No, but she wanted to know if he was or wasn't a Paddington. I believe she was fond of the lad.” Dr. Betscha put me on hold to speak with another patient who demanded the doctor make himself available. “Sorry about that, Kellan. I'm not sure how you deal with those Paddingtons all day long. That was one of them begging for a minute of my time this afternoon,” he replied. Dr. Betscha was a good doctor, and he made as much time for his patients as possible. Sometimes he didn't know how or when to say no. Which Paddington was calling him? I didn't think I could ask him to reveal that, too.
“I won't keep you much longer. Can you send me the same info you sent Gwendolyn? It's a last resort to understanding who might have wanted her dead. If a relative thought she was going to add a new beneficiary or take someone else's name off the list, I'm worried that person might have killed her.”
“It's a theory. There were lots of people in that family who disliked Gwendolyn. Even her daughter, Jennifer, threatened to kill her, and she was often the most level-headed of the whole bunch. At least she was before the incident, that is.” Dr. Betscha coughed, then began to say his goodbye.
I wasn't sure what incident he was referring to. “Wait, is that something you can share?”
“I probably shouldn't, but it wasn't said to me in confidence. I just happened to learn about it through conversation with Jennifer one day afterward. Apparently, the reason she suffered the last miscarriage which ultimately ended her engagement was a fight with her mother. Gwendolyn accidentally pushed Jennifer down a flight of stairs during an argument at the mansion.”
“Really? I knew about the miscarriages but not the rest. Did she tell many people?”
“No, it wasn't like that. At first, she told the emergency room it was an accident. When she came to see me a few hours later, I had a consultation with her ob/gyn. We told Jennifer she might have difficulty conceiving a child again, and she became quite upset. That's when she started ranting and raving about her mother pushing her down the stairs.”
“Do you think that's how it happened?” I asked suddenly seeing a stronger reason why Jennifer might want to hurt her mother.
“Jennifer was angry and upset at the thought of not having a child. We never said she couldn't, just that it would be more difficult from some of the damage. You might want to talk to her about it. It's been four or five years, and I don't know how she felt about the situation anymore.” Dr. Betscha hung up to deal with his other patient.
The Paddington family was full of so much drama, hatred, and long-held grudges. Any one of them truly could have snapped at some point in the last few months and concocted a plan to murder Gwendolyn. I wasn't going to be able to solve it unless we could find the missing will or force someone to confess out of guilt. Maybe the best next step was to call a family meeting and put all the cards on the table. Could we trigger the murderer to say something that would reveal his or her identity?
After unsuccessfully trying to reach Nana D and Eustacia following my conversation with Dr. Betscha, I went to the library to do some research on how to have someone re-declared alive after they'd been previously declared dead. Surprisingly, there were quite a list of articles and a few books on the extraordinary topic. Most of what I'd learned focused on the financial and legal side of being declared dead when there wasn't an actual body to prove it. That wasn't my problem. There was definitely a body, it was just alive. And I was dealing with a crazy mob family who bribed cops and a coroner to issue a death certificate. Who was going to believe me?
Three hours later, after banging my head on the desk several times causing a small red bump to appear, I took some aspirin and drove home. My mother had picked Emma up after school and gone to a friend's daughter's birthday party which meant I was on my own for dinner. No one else was around. I either needed to get myself some additional friends or take advantage of an early night given I felt like my body was fighting off a cold. I texted my mother that I was going to sleep and she was responsible for getting Emma to bed. I also told her that I owed her big time. She agreed and sent me the number of a florist with a hint that she could use a little something for her office. I ordered two large bouquets of Easter lilies and conked out listening to an episode of the Great British Baking show.
* * *
On Thursday morning, I awoke with a congested head and frustrating cough. The clock on the bedside table read nine o'clock. A note next to it from my father said he'd taken Emma to school that morning. When I hadn't woken up even when Emma tried to nudge me, they knew I was in no condition to get through the day on my own. I sent my parents each a text message thanking them for being the best parents in the world. My father replied saying he'd kept track of the favors I'd needed since returning home and that I should expect a bill at the end of the month. Was he being facetious? Why could I never tell with that man? My mother replied saying the flowers were delivered at precisely eight thirty and smelled so fragrant, everyone in the admissions building stopped by to check them out.
After foregoing my run and workout, I showered and had a leisurely breakfast. Nana D called to tell me I was off the hook if I needed to skip the mayoral debate. She'd heard from my mother who said I was on my death bed. I'm not sure how it went from a cold to almost dying, but the game of telephone between my mother and her mother often went off the rails easily. I let Nana D know I'd be at the debate as soon as I dropped off my dry cleaning, made a few phone calls, and picked up some decongestion medicine. Thirty minutes later, I found myself sitting at a tall table in The Big Beanery for a cup of tea to alleviate my throat which was getting scratchier.
I connected with the DNA testing facility and left a message that I was inquiring on behalf of Gwendolyn Paddington who'd recently passed away. I wanted to see if they could provide the results to me or to her lawyer, whichever they felt comfortable doing. I knew it would go to the lawyer, but I had to try. Finnigan would undoubtedly share them with Eustacia, so I'd ultimately see them. As I sulked over feeling like I'd been hit by a truck, and wishing I could crawl back in bed, I heard a familiar voice. I turned around and saw Sam Taft sitting at the booth to my left. I listened to his conversation.
Sam said, “I never expected this to happen, but ever since I met you, everything seems so much better in my life. You're amazing. I can't wait to see you again.”
His voice was so full of glee and bliss, I could feel it a dozen feet away. Was Sam seeing someone new? If so, I was happy for him, but who was it?
Sam continued, “I understand why you don't want anyone to know right now. It's complex, I get it. I'm not asking you to share the news until you're ready. Sure… yeah, I can do that.”
Was his girlfriend trying to keep it under wraps? I felt bad listening in, but it was an opportunity to learn more about him. The kid had been secretive and standoffish whenever I was near him.
Sam laughed, then said, “I'm falling in love with you. I don't care what anyone thinks. My family might not be okay with it, but who needs them? Grandmother was the only one who listened to me. I still can't believe she and I fought over telling the others about you. Then she died without closure.”
Interesting. I'd learned two things from Sam's phone conversation. One, why would he kill his grandmother if she was the only person who seemed to care about him? Two, he had a secret lover. Did Dana not approve of who he was dating and that's why she told me about the fight?
Sam said, “I think Kellan knows. He's shown up a couple of times when I didn't expect to see him. I know we need to keep this a secret right now. But what do we do if he figures out what's
going on? I'm already freaking out that my grandmother died because of what's going on.”
What did that mean? As I considered everything I learned, I wondered if Sam didn't have a girlfriend. Could he have a boyfriend and be scared to come out of the closet? And if the guy he was talking to also wasn't ready to tell anyone, could it be someone Sam's family knew? I gasped when another thought crossed my mind. Was it Arthur or Brad? I hardly knew anything about Brad's personal life, but that would be incestuous if Brad turned out to be a Paddington. My mind was busy racing all over the place and processing all the information that I never heard Sam approach me.
“Kellan, I didn't see you there. Did you overhear me?” Sam said intently biting his lower lip.
Should I say yes, or pretend I didn't? “Um… I… noticed you, yes, but… I didn't want to interrupt when I saw you on the phone.”
“It's not what you think. I didn't want to keep it hidden.” Sam's eyes narrowed to the floor.
“I didn't hear much. Is there something you want to tell me?”
He shook his head. “I was talking to a friend, that's all.”
I decided to throw out a little bait to see if he'd bite. “Ah, that wouldn't be Brad, by any chance, would it? I need to speak with him and couldn't find him this morning.”
Sam looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Brad who?”
“Your grandmother's nurse,” I replied.
“Oh, no. It wasn't Brad. I barely know him. I thought he was done working at the mansion already,” Sam noted haphazardly gathering up his school bag.
“Brad's helping your great Aunt Eustacia with several things. I believe he's staying on a few more days,” I explained searching Sam's face for any sign or clue.
“Well, I gotta run. Can't help you on Brad. By the way, I know you said you didn't overhear anything, but if by any chance you did, please don't tell anyone. I'm not ready to share the news. I'm still dealing with it myself, and well, it's only half my news to share. There is someone else involved, too. I'm sure you understand why it's important to wait until we're all ready to sit down and discuss it, right?”
Broken Heart Attack Page 21
