I’m sure she doesn’t want advice from me. But I wish I could tell her that keeping secrets is corrosive. She and her husband should have faced their infertility problem head- on twenty years ago and decided together how to handle it. Maybe they’ll all be better off now that the secret is out in the open. I know my father and I are better off now that we’re not keeping secrets.
Much better.
Brielle’s hands tremble. Her eyes look beyond me to something only she can see. “The family I had is gone. I don’t know what will happen next. I don’t know.”
The bell above the door tinkles again and a large woman with bright pink lipstick enters. “Bri-el-elle?? I’ve come to get a shower gift for Linda Thornton’s daughter.”
Brielle snaps back into character. “Maureen! Of course—I have just the thing.”
I take the opportunity to escape. Out on the sidewalk, I take one last look at the display window.
That chiffon scarf would make a great birthday gift for Natalie.
A shame. I won’t be shopping here again.
WITH THAT ONEROUS TASK off my back, the day is looking a whole lot brighter. I’ll drive by the Freidrich house to make sure everything is set up perfectly then head back to the office.
The route to the Freidrichs’ neighborhood takes me toward Palmyrton High School. It’s lunch time, and clusters of kids pass me on the sidewalk because seniors are allowed to leave campus and walk into town for pizza or fast food. I stop at the corner to let a horde of them cross the street, and that’s when I spot him.
All alone.
Head down. Hands jammed in pockets.
I wait until he reaches the middle of the block and glide up beside him, lowering my car window as I stop. “Hey, Fly,” I call.
He stops and peers at my car, then recognizes me.
Will he run?
Nope. He trots around and hops into the passenger seat just as the car behind me lays on the horn.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
“’K.”
“Looks like you were headed into town for lunch. Can I buy you a slice?”
He shrugs. I take that to mean, “Yes, please. That would be lovely.”
Fifteen minutes later we’re sitting side by side on a bench in Palmyrton town green, balancing paper plates of hot pizza on our knees.
He hasn’t said one word other than “no pepperoni” since he got into my car. I can see he’d sit in silence until sunset, so I get the ball rolling. “You wanted to talk to me last week, but then you took off when I got to the high school.”
“My bad.”
“So what did you want to tell me?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I’m not sure where I’m finding these reserves of patience. “Go ahead and tell me anyway.”
Fly shoves half a slice into his mouth, chews interminably, and finally speaks. “That kid Austin told Trevor something about Sophia’s father.”
“Something that upset her?” I keep my tone light. How much does Fly know? I’m not yet willing to tell the boy what I learned this weekend. Even though the police, Gregory Halpern, and Everett Gardner now know about the half-siblings, it’s not down to me to spread the word to the general public. Maybe the families who want to keep the connection quiet can still manage to do so.
“Austin told Trevor. Trevor never told Sophia.” He peels a wad of melted mozzarella off his paper plate and contemplates it with the level of attention usually given to nuclear fission experiments. “I remembered it after Sophia left. I thought maybe I should tell you, not her.”
“Did Sophia spend the night at your house after Trevor’s funeral?”
Fly squints at me like I’ve lost my mind. Of course, I should have known she wouldn’t have a sleepover at the home of a boy she barely knows. She and Fly are both awkward kids. She and Jane only recently moved to Sea Chapel full time. Sophia must have a few friends in town.
I want to ask Fly why he feels he should tell me, not Sophia, what he knows, but I’m pretty sure I’ll just get a shrug. Asking teenage boys about emotions or intentions is an exercise in futility. I vow to keep focused on facts. “What did Trevor tell you about Austin and Sophia?”
Fly squirms. He looks about ready to cram another half-slice into his mouth, so I lay a restraining hand on his arm. Reluctantly, he speaks. “Trev always said that him and me and Sophia could be our own crew ‘cause none of us knew our fathers. But then he started talking crazy and saying he would know his father soon. And that was whack ‘cause his father was dead.”
Not so whack.
“And then Trevor said Austin could find Sophia’s father and he was going to make him do it. And that maybe Austin could help me if I wanted him to. But I didn’t. I know my old man’s a piece of shit.”
Fly turns to face me, his sneakered foot tapping, his right eyelid twitching. “Then Trev said he wasn’t going to give Austin what Austin wanted until Austin gave him what he wanted. And I thought it was all just Trev’s crazy talk.
“But that was the last time I saw him before, you know....”
He was murdered.
Chapter 38
I spend the next fifteen minutes impressing upon Fly the importance of talking to Detective Croft about this. He whines that that’s why he told me, so I could tell Sophia or Croft or whoever should know.
Finally, he springs off the park bench calling over his shoulder that he has to get back to school for a test.
Like he cares about his grades.
Fine. I’ll tell Croft and leave it to him to manage a face-to-face with Fly.
Before I call the detective, I sit and think about the implications of what Fly has told me. Neither Jane nor Sophia has made a secret of how Sophia was conceived. But who is Sophia’s father? Does Jane even know the man’s name? Or was he just some actor she hooked up with for the night? Does Sophia want to know who her father is?
Does Jane want Sophia to know?
Austin clearly has specialized research talents. Did he and Trevor argue about how they’d be used? Would Austin have killed Trevor in such a brutal way over that argument?
I keep coming back to the way Trevor died. It wasn’t the result of an impulsive act, a teenage tussle that resulted in a fractured skull.
And Austin isn’t an impulsive kid. He’s a planner.
So are his parents.
I can relate to that.
But Austin clearly undertook some of his plans without his parents’ knowledge or support.
I have no doubt Brielle Gardner will do everything in her power to protect her son.
How much power does she really have now that Everett knows Austin isn’t his biological son?
DETECTIVE CROFT DOESN’T answer my call, so I leave a message and finally get going to the Freidrich house.
The neighborhood is on the far west side of Palmyrton, where the houses are widely spaced. I see signs of the big storm’s destruction in toppled trees and fallen limbs at many houses. The buzz of chain saws never ceases. The tree that blocked the Freidrichs’ street has been cut into segments and stacked on the curb. Ty was right to worry about access to the house. A large branch from a maple tree lies across the front walk. I try to drag it away, but it’s much heavier than I expected. I’ll have to leave it for Ty. I clamber around it, and use my copy of the keys to enter through the front door.
In the foyer, Donna has set up the sales desk for maximum efficiency. In the dining room, Ty and Donna have arranged the most desirable items on the table and buffet, with neatly lettered signs warning customers to ask for assistance if they want to examine pieces still inside the china cabinet.
In the kitchen, I double-check the prices of the Cuisinart and the block of German knives. Ty has done his research—priced for a profit with room for negotiation. Every room is the same: perfectly arranged goods, well priced.
I couldn’t have done it better myself.
That makes me happy.
I think.
Isn’t
it a sign of successful parenting when your kids can manage without you?
But isn’t it painful when you’re no longer needed?
Accepting that I have absolutely nothing to do at the Freidrich house, I finally head back to the office.
“What took you so long?’ Ty says as soon as I enter. “I need to get over to UPS.”
“Sorry. I ran into someone I know and stopped for a bite to eat in the green.” I toss my tote on my desk. “Boy, the streets around Palmyrton sure are a mess. Thank goodness the Freidrichs’ street was at the top of the town’s clean-up list. You know, you might need your friend Zeke’s help to drag that big limb off their front walk.”
Ty’s eyes narrow. “How d’you know there’s a limb on the walk at the Freidrichs’ house?”
Shit! That just slipped out. “I, uh, happened to drive by there this morning when I was out.”
“You said you just went to Brielle’s store to drop off the check and had lunch in the park. The Friedrichs’ house is way on the other side of town.” Ty cocks his head. “You were checkin’ up on us. You didn’t think me and Donna could set up the sale right all by ourselves.”
I’m caught in my lie. And what makes it worse is the look on Ty’s face. He’s not angry.
He’s hurt.
Hurt that I didn’t trust him. Hurt that I didn’t think he was competent enough to manage without me.
Why did I have to be such a control freak and go over there? Was setting my mind at ease worth wounding Ty like this?
“I’m sorry, Ty. I shouldn’t have gone over there. The house looks great. Everything was set up perfectly. I knew it would be.”
“No.” Ty points a long finger at me. “You were surprised. Otherwise, why would you go over there? You were expecting that we screwed up.”
“No, I wasn’t!” I massage my temples. “Look, I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you this. But Sean and I are trying to get pregnant. If I have a baby, I’m going to have to turn the business over to you for a few months.”
Ty’s face softens. “A baby! That’s great. You know we gotcha covered, Audge. Why you worried?”
“I know I shouldn’t be. I know you’re dedicated, and you understand the business totally. It’s just....”
Ty starts to chuckle. “You can’t let go. You like one o’ them helicopter moms. Yesterday, I saw this lady on campus. She gave her son a ride to school, and then she jumped outta the car and chased after him shoutin’ about what he needed to do to pass his Psych class.”
I cover my head with my arms. “Oh, God—please tell me I’m not that bad.”
“You are that bad.” Ty gives me a hug. “But Imma do what that kid did to his mother.” He reaches into his pocket. “Put in my headphones and pretend I don’t know you.”
Chapter 39
When I leave the office at six, a woman’s voice calls out to me.
“Audrey, can I have a word?”
I spin around, and in the dusk I can’t see anyone on the deserted street. Then out of the shadows, I see a woman approaching me on the sidewalk.
Plump. A little unsteady. A scarf trailing crookedly from one shoulder.
She comes two steps closer. Jane Peterman.
What’s she doing in Palmyrton? And on my street?
She looks at the discreet sign on my door. “Let’s go into your office.”
Let’s not. “I’m in a rush to get home. I need to walk my dog.”
She shakes her head. “They can always las-s-s longer than you thin’.”
Is she drunk? I take a step forward to get under the streetlight. Jane follows me. Her eyes are bloodshot; her pupils big pools of black.
She’s definitely on something. I think of the line-up of pill bottles in her kitchen and the rumors surrounding her departure from Quantum Consulting.
“I wanna talk to you ‘bout a job. I need you to run a sale at my house. I’m going to sell it.”
“Sell it? You just bought it.”
Jane gives an exasperated grimace. I feel like one of her clients who refuses to see the wisdom of her guidance. “The kids will be starting college soon. We don’t need all the space. Now’s the time to move to the city.”
“Manhattan?”
“Is there another city? Of course, Manhattan.” Jane rakes her fingers through her hair. “I won’t need so much furniture there. Sell it. Sell it all.”
This seems impulsive, even for Jane. Her staccato delivery makes me uneasy. I’m not that eager for another job at the shore, especially one that involves selling dirty, stained furniture. I want to get away from her before she escalates into full-blown crazy.
“Sure, I’ll call you next week to give you an estimate. I have to get going now.” I turn and start striding toward my car. My hand closes around the keys in my pocket.
“Next week is too late.” Jane runs after me and grabs my arm. Her grip is surprisingly strong. She nearly knocks me off my feet. “I need to sell fast.” Her words come in breathless gasps. “I made a plan for us. I can still make this plan work. You have to believe in me.”
A plan for us? Who’s she talking about?
I really want to get away from this woman. I don’t care if I’m rude—she’s creeping me out.
I press the panic button on my car key fob. The Honda’s lights flash, and the horn honks rhythmically. I use the distraction to yank my arm from Jane’s grasp, and I sprint to my car.
Jane may be stronger than I am, but she’s not faster. I’m in the driver’s seat with the door locked as she pounds on the passenger side window.
I put the car in gear and peel away from the curb.
Chapter 40
“Help me go over this.”
Sean has barely walked through the door when I wave him into a seat at the kitchen table. In front of me sits a yellow legal pad that I’ve filled with notes as I awaited my husband’s arrival.
The strange encounter with Jane Peterman has scared me in a way that’s out of proportion to what took place between us. I’m struggling to understand what just happened, and I need Sean’s help to put my scattered impressions into perspective.
Jane grabbed my arm. She chased me to my car.
I’m fine. I’m here at home with my husband and my dog.
Why am I so unnerved? I’ve written down everything I know about Jane Peterman. Maybe a neutral third party can help me make sense of it.
“I’m just going to read off the facts.”
“I’ll supply the interpretation.” Sean leans back in his chair and waits.
“Jane was forced out of her previous job because she developed an obsession with a female colleague. Now she considers herself Brielle’s best friend,” I begin.
“... but the feeling doesn’t seem to be mutual.”
I go to the next item on my list. “When Brielle bought a house in Sea Chapel, Jane followed.”
“And it was more than just keeping up with the Joneses,” Sean says.
“Jane reports back to Brielle on what happens at the house. And the houses are so close, you can hear conversations in the other house when you’re out on the deck and the windows are open.”
“...so Jane could’ve told Brielle about the first meeting the siblings had at the house, and what they argued about.” Sean drums his fingers on the table. “Seems to me Croft must’ve known about that meeting before the sale. That’s why he came to search the sofa cushions. He was looking for forensic evidence that Trevor was there that night.”
“If Jane heard the meeting going on, Sophia could have too. Maybe that’s what she told Croft about.” I scratch my head. “Hmmm. But Croft didn’t know about the siblings until I told him. I’m sure of that.”
Sean rises to pace around the kitchen. He does his best thinking when he’s on the move. “Regardless of what Sophia told Croft, Jane must have told Brielle about the first sibling meeting, and Brielle would have panicked. Her son had told all these other kids that Everett Gardner wasn’t his biological father.
And the kids were arguing about whether to go public about Gregory or keep it quiet.”
“But why did that lead to Trevor getting killed? He wasn’t the only one who wanted to meet Gregory.”
Sean shrugs. “Maybe he was the most outspoken?”
I look in the corner at Ethel who is hunkered over her chew toy working on extracting a treat. Something about the way her ears flop over her face reminds me of...Fly. Fly said Trevor wanted Austin to use his skills to find Sophia’s father. That he could make Austin give him what he wanted. And suddenly I know why my encounter with Jane chilled me to my core.
I was face-to-face with a murderer.
“Jane wanted to impress her friend by getting rid of the kid most likely to reveal Brielle’s family secret. Trevor was the unstable one. The unpredictable one. Not to mention, he’d suddenly taken an interest in identifying Sophia’s father, as well.”
“Impress her friend by committing murder?” Sean objects. “Jane’s not a kid in the Bronx auditioning for gang membership.”
“Impress is the wrong word. Jane’s work as a consultant is to come up with out-of-the-box solutions for her clients’ business problems. Killing Trevor was her way of making herself invaluable to Brielle. And at the same time, preventing Trevor from meddling in Sophia’s parentage.”
I look at my notes again. “The kids say Trevor left the house that night and they never saw him again. I assumed they were lying. That one of them killed Trevor right there in Brielle’s house. But maybe the kids are telling the truth. Trevor would have walked alone along the beach to get back to his grandparents’ house. The other kids drove to Brielle’s house.”
“So someone followed him from Brielle’s house and strangled him before he reached his grandparents’ house.”
My hands feel cold and clammy. My throat is dry. “Jane Peterman wears long, silk scarves. And she’s probably a good thirty pounds heavier than Trevor was.”
Sean nods. “...she came up behind him on the beach, threw the scarf around his neck, and pulled.”
Treasure Built of Sand (Palmyrton Estate Sale Mystery Series Book 6) Page 21
