Olivia did.
Chapter 25
Ebby
Saturday, January 10
Ebby hung up the phone after speaking with Olivia, relieved to know she had found evidence that exonerated him of his mother’s murder and pleased with her plan to meet with the DA, despite the risks. When Ebby had reminded Olivia that he wasn’t going to walk away until he discovered who killed his mother and remembered what he had seen that night so long ago, she had assured him that Brian Vickery would help with that, after Ebby’s case was finished. “But we have no new leads, nothing to go on. You may have to let it go,” Olivia had said.
“Not going to happen, Olivia,” Ebby had responded. “What about the sovereigns?”
“I have someone looking into that,” Olivia had said. “If that lead doesn’t bear fruit, that’s something we can talk about. But my focus right now is on your case. I’ll be able to turn my attention to finding out who murdered your mom once your case is resolved. I’m just being honest, Ebby. When I’m finished with your case, I’ll work with Brian, okay?”
“Okay,” Ebby had said.
All that was left was for him to talk to Felicity about their relationship. He’d been putting it off, not quite sure how to broach the subject.
The muted winter sun shone through Felicity’s living room windows as Ebby changed into comfortable clothes and made himself lunch. He’d called Felicity twice, but she didn’t take his call. He’d also sent her texts, but she had yet to respond to those. Booting up his laptop, Ebby spent the afternoon answering emails.
At 7:30, Felicity texted him. Sorry didn’t respond sooner. Dinner and drinks with friends. Don’t wait up. F.
At eleven o’clock, Ebby took his pile of folded blankets and made up his bed on the couch. The lights from the street below cast their shadows along the darkened corners of the apartment. By midnight, Ebby’s eyelids felt heavy. Try as he might, he couldn’t fight off sleep. He was dozing peacefully when Felicity opened the door and quietly tiptoed into the living room. Through half-opened eyes, he watched as she tried to creep past the couch and not wake him up.
“I’m awake.”
She jumped and yelped, clutching her chest with her hand. “You scared me,” she snapped.
Ebby sat up and turned on the small lamp on the table next to the couch. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to, but I want to talk to you.”
“Ebs, I’m tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“No. I’d like to talk now. Please. It’s important.” Ebby studied her face and could tell by the tight lines around her mouth and the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes that she knew he had snooped, knew what he had discovered. No wonder she’d been avoiding him. “I found the papers you had stashed under the floorboards. Were you ever going to tell me that you’re my half-sister?”
Ebby watched the myriad of emotions play across her face: indignation, shock, and, finally, anger. “How could you? I bring you into my home, let you stay here, and how do you repay me? By snooping?”
Ebby ignored her and plowed on. “I didn’t go snooping, it was an accident – never mind. Talk to me. Felicity, please.”
She sighed, and with drooping shoulders, shuffled into the kitchen and came back with two beers. She handed one to Ebby, kicked off her shoes, and sat down next to him on the couch.
“My mother and your father were very much in love.” Felicity sipped her beer and waited, as if giving him some semblance of privacy while he coped with his complex feelings. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for so long. Now I don’t know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning,” Ebby said.
Felicity took another sip of beer. “Okay. Here goes. As a young girl, I always thought your father was just one of those exceptionally kind men. No matter what he was doing, no matter how busy he was, he always had time for me. I remember him coming to my childhood events, his face in the background at my piano recitals and school plays. Sometimes he would come and tuck me into bed, holding me on his lap while he told me a bedtime story. I remember going into the study to see him. He was always interested in what I had to say. As I grew up, I just thought he was a kind soul who cared about people.
“When my mother and I moved into this apartment, I was surprised that she could afford it. Then, when I graduated from high school and found out there was money for college, I was once again surprised and impressed that my mom could save so much money on her wages. I just assumed – well, I didn’t find out Elliot was my father until my mother was dying. She told me everything, explained how they were in love, and how I was a much-loved daughter.” Felicity dabbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. “My mom explained her relationship with Elliot like it was a beautiful love story. And so many things clicked into place! Like why we moved after he died, and why my mother was more heartbroken than she should have been.”
“Is that why you’ve stayed in your job? You could have gone anywhere.”
“I wanted to be near you and the aunts. You’re the only real family I have. That’s important to me. You were orphaned at a young age, Ebby. Surely you can understand that. I also felt like I needed to stick around for you, especially after that night.”
It took a second for Ebby to process the implication of Felicity’s words. “Did you see something that night, Felicity? The night my mother died? Because you were at the house, weren’t you? It was Christmas, and you always came to work with your mom during summer and holidays.”
“Ebby—”
“Please, Felicity. I can tell you saw something just by looking at you. What did you see?”
Felicity set her empty beer bottle on the coffee table, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay. I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone.”
“But I might have to tell Olivia.” Ebby felt a frisson of guilt. He wouldn’t need to tell Olivia anything, at least not based on the evidence she had uncovered that exonerated him. But he didn’t want to be backed into a corner, not now. Heart thumping, Ebby had a feeling that Felicity knew something about his mother’s murder. He wasn’t going to let up until he found out what that something was.
“After your mother’s murder, my mother made me promise on her life that I would never tell anyone what I saw that night. You should have seen the fear in her eyes, Ebby. I’ll never forget it. And I promised I wouldn’t say anything.” Felicity got up and paced across the living room twice before she grabbed two more beers and sat down again. “When I was twenty-three, fresh out of college, and my mother was dying of cancer, she once again made me promise not to tell anyone. And she was still afraid. So now, you’re asking me to break the most solemn oath I’ve ever made.”
“Okay. I get it.” Ebby couldn’t ask Felicity to break the oath she’d made to her dead mother, at least not now. If Olivia hadn’t found evidence to prove his innocence, he would have continued to push. Luckily he didn’t have to do that.
“No, I’m going to tell you,” Felicity said. “You’ve suffered enough. You need to know. Maybe if I tell what I saw, you might start to remember.”
Nervous now at the idea of remembering what happened, Ebby said, “Wait. You don’t have to tell me because of my arrest. Olivia found forensic evidence that proves I didn’t kill my mom. So if you’re only telling me because of my legal case, you don’t have to. I don’t want to be the reason you betray your word.”
Felicity wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I’ve been carrying this for so long. I think my mother will forgive me.” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes for a minute. When she met Ebby’s gaze, her expression was wistful. “My mom was in the attic ironing the Christmas linens, so she could pack them away until next year. I was in Elodie’s rooms watching television, when we heard you screaming bloody murder. My mother ran down the stairs to see what had happened, and I took off after her. We found you in the study, holding your mother, screaming. You were covered in her blood and scared to death.
“My mother turned to me and to
ld me to go back upstairs and stay there. I’ll never forget the way she spoke to me. She was terrified. I passed Elodie coming down toward the screaming. I can see it so clearly. She’d been in the tub and came down in her bathrobe. I headed upstairs, but couldn’t pull myself away, so I watched through the banisters. I saw Elodie go to you, strip you naked, and carry you upstairs to the bathroom. How that woman managed to carry you without any help amazed me. You were in a frenzy, hysterical. You scared us all to death. Elodie was beside herself with worry. I eavesdropped as best I could. Elodie called the doctor, who gave you a sedative. My mother made it very clear that she didn’t want me speaking to the police. She brought me hot chocolate and made me a nest on Elodie’s couch. I couldn’t sleep, as you can imagine. Later that night, after your mother’s body was removed and the police had gone, I saw lights in the woods. It was a fire. I realized later that she was burning your bloody clothes. I pretended I was asleep and overheard Elodie and my mom come up with the lie about you being found soaked outside the window – so they could explain why they’d had to undress you and get you into a fresh set of clothes.”
As the impact of Felicity’s words sunk in, Ebby’s emotions whirled between anger and fury at Elodie for keeping the truth away from him. “My God. Do you realize that these lies may have contributed to my lifetime of psychiatric issues?”
Tears welled in Felicity’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. “I do. And I understand if you can’t forgive me. I think Elodie suffers too. But she was trying to protect you, Ebby. I swear. And so was my mother. The last thing Elodie wanted was your name in the headlines. She couldn’t have kept you out of it. And she was scared for you. You were covered in blood. Elodie was afraid the police would think you were involved. She acted rashly, but it was out of concern for you. No one knew you were going to wake up the next morning with amnesia. In hindsight, I see all the flaws in Elodie’s logic. She would have told the truth, but she was scared.”
“Do you think Elodie knows who killed my mother?”
“No. I – I don’t know.”
Ebby knew Felicity was right. Everything Elodie had done ever since Cynthia’s death had been in Ebby’s best interests. Reminding himself, not for the first time, that he loved his aunt even more than he had loved his mother, Ebby found he didn’t have the strength to conjure up any more animosity. All he wanted now was the truth. “Do you have any idea who murdered my mother?”
“No,” Felicity said. “And neither does Elodie, of that I’m certain. She’s watched you grapple with amnesia all these years. She would have done anything to help you find the truth. Once the case went cold, there was just nothing to be done, except to provide you with emotional support.”
“Who do you think did it, Felicity?”
“Honestly, I was always suspicious of your Uncle Gary. He was a bad guy. Went to prison for bank robbery and rape, I think. Cynthia adored him. She thought he was innocent, framed for a crime he didn’t commit, and was on a mission to get him out of prison. Do you remember that?”
“Yeah, I do, actually.”
Ebby hadn’t thought of his mother’s brother, Gary North, in ages.
“But it wasn’t him. He was in the jail at the time, and he adored his sister.”
“So we’re back where we started,” Ebby said.
“Except you have a sister,” Felicity said, giving him a sheepish smile.
Ebby moved to the couch, sat next to Felicity, and put his arm around her. “That makes me happy.”
“Me too, Ebs.” Felicity finished her beer. “I feel like a huge weight has been lifted. And guess what? I’m quitting my job. I’ll call Melinda and tell her personally. I’m tired of acting like everything is just fine. It’s not. Hasn’t been since Cynthia’s murder. It’s time for me to move. I should have quit long ago.
“I’m off to bed.” Felicity stood and stretched, before she gathered up the empty beer bottles and carried them into the kitchen. “Goodnight, Ebs.” Before she closed her bedroom door, she said, “I’m glad we talked. No more secrets?”
“No more secrets,” Ebby said.
After Felicity closed her door, Ebby sat on the couch for a long time. There was something niggling in the back of his mind, something about the night his mother died, elusive and slippery. He let it go and got ready for bed. But sleep wouldn’t come, and Ebby couldn’t shake the feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better.
Chapter 26
Brian
Monday, January 12
Olivia and Brian had sent their email to the agent in Minnesota on Friday. Now, three days later, two detectives from Minnesota, along with two local detectives were waiting for Brian at the Central Marin Policing Authority as the uniformed officer showed him into a spacious conference room with a large window overlooking Mt. Tam. Brian had met Detective Rathman several times while working as a San Francisco homicide detective. Jeanette Finley, who looked surprisingly young to Brian, seemed on first glance to be all business. Brian was glad he wore a dark shirt and a blazer, for he could feel the sweat as it formed between his shoulder blades and went trickling down his back. He’d spent his entire working life hunting criminals, tracking them into dark alleys and booby-trapped buildings. He had been beaten, stabbed – twice – and shot in the leg. Never once had he balked at danger. Now he looked at the three men and one woman sitting around the table and saw himself as he used to be, the hunter, the predator, relishing the chase in the pursuit of justice.
As he made eye contact with the officers who would take down Leanne Stoddard AKA Andrea Seaton, he recognized the anticipation of the chase and wondered where that part of his personality had gone. Once upon a time, the chase had excited him, pulsed through his veins and made him feel alive. Now he was finding out the hard way that he no longer had the stomach for it.
A tall, cadaverously thin man with a thatch of gray hair and piercing brown eyes stood up and extended his hand. “Brian Vickery? I’m Detective Summerfield, the agent in charge of Andrea Seaton’s case. This is my colleague, Detective Daniels.” Summerfield nodded at a young man who also stood. On quick glance, the kid looked to be in his early thirties and had the build of a high-school football star.
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Detective Daniels said.
“Let’s have a seat and we can talk about Andrea Seaton,” Detective Summerfield said.
Detectives Finley and Rathman were seated at the end of the table. Brian took a seat across from Detective Summerfield.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll brief you on what we know, tell you what I’d like to do, and then you can ask questions. Okay?”
Brian nodded, knowing full well he didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Detective Summerfield pushed a pad and pen over to Brian. “If you have any questions as we go along, just write them down. When I’ve finished briefing, I’ll clarify and answer any questions. Fair enough?”
“Okay,” Brian said, surprised at Detective Summerfield’s candid way of speaking.
“In 2010, Andrea Seaton was hired as a low-level claims processor at Minnesota Life and Casualty, which is where you had your insurance when your house burned down, correct?”
“Yes,” Brian said.
“Thought so. We’ll come back to that. In any event, as soon as she was hired, she and her husband took out life insurance policies on each other, sizeable ones. About eight months after they bought insurance, Andrea’s husband started having stomach problems. They would come and go, and at times would be bad enough for him to land in the hospital. Andrea was all concern, especially since her husband, Theodore Seaton – Teddy to his friends – was under a good deal of stress. He was a prosecutor for the Minneapolis District Attorney’s office. As you know from your time on the police force, that sort of job carries its fair share of intensity. Anyway, a couple of years go by, and Mr. Seaton slowly gets better. Then, out of the blue, his stomach troubles come back with a vengeance, he is admitted to the hospital, but dies wit
hin twenty-four hours.
“Andrea played the grieving widow. She sobbed and cried and acted like her entire world had crashed around her. The autopsy revealed that Teddy Seaton had been slowly poisoned with antifreeze. He suffered a horrible death. Of course, the wife is always a suspect. When we interviewed witnesses, Dora, Teddy’s nineteen-year-old daughter, didn’t hesitate to point the finger at her stepmother.
“We brought Andrea in to answer some questions. When we told her Teddy had been murdered, she acted shocked and eager to cooperate. She seemed genuinely heartbroken and readily agreed to take a polygraph, just so she could be eliminated and we could focus on finding the real killer.”
“And that’s where we made our first mistake,” Daniels interjected. “While we questioned her, she had been sobbing and crying and asked if she could take the polygraph the next morning. We agreed, like idiots. She promised to show up at 8:30 the following morning, so we let her go home. She never showed. Went on the run and we haven’t seen her since.”
“What did she do for money?” Brian asked.
Detective Summerville said, “She cleaned out her husband’s accounts before she left. Our investigation revealed she’d been writing herself checks and signing his name for months. We think her husband may have discovered the forgery, threatened to turn her over to the authorities, and that’s why she killed him.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I’ll let Detective Rathman explain the plan. It was his idea. To be quite honest, I know you’re a retired cop, but I’m not completely comfortable with having a civilian participating in—”
“The truth of the matter is that she did a good job covering her tracks,” Detective Rathman interrupted. “Of course, we could just arrest her, but we’d be doing Detective Summerfield and the Minneapolis PD a huge favor if we could get Andrea to admit she murdered her husband on tape. To that end, we need you to wear a wire. This is what we’re thinking.” The plan was a straightforward one, and after Rathman explained the logistics, along with several contingency plans should things go wrong, Brian’s confidence returned.
The Witness Page 17
