by Ellery Adams
“When we spoke yesterday morning, you told me Charlotte had a platonic male friend, but you didn’t give me his name. I’ve since learned it was Theodore van Wegberg, and you introduced him to Charlotte. I can’t imagine you forgot his name, since you worked with him at the bank.”
Rene frowned. “Well, I’m sorry if it slipped my mind, Molly. I have a lot of other things to think about right now.”
“You also didn’t mention Quincy Clarke. I know Charlotte met him at Memory Lane, and introduced him to you, and he’s the reason why she had to find another place to rent. You moved in with him. You left her alone, even though you both had this plan to save money and go to Boston together. Had you changed your mind?”
“I, well . . .” Rene hesitated. “I suppose I had, but it didn’t last.”
“Because the relationship with Quincy Clarke ended?”
Rene nodded. “It was an amicable breakup.”
It occurred to Molly that if it was amicable, she might have remained in touch with him.
“Have you talked to him since you’ve been back?”
“Yes, I did see Quincy. After I saw you, we got together.” Molly knew he had to be the man behind the wheel of the black Mercedes. “I hadn’t seen him since I’d moved away. I called him to let him know about Charlotte. He believed in her dream. He encouraged us both to open the store. He told us not to give up.”
“And then you both moved, and you never talked to him again?”
“Quincy isn’t the sentimental type. He doesn’t do long-distance friendships.”
“I know about the Pruett murder, the stolen coins, his own gun used to kill him. Why didn’t you mention any of this to Detective Lombardi? He told you what we’d found in Charlotte’s desk. Surely, you could have made the connection.”
Rene’s eyes narrowed. “Surely, you don’t expect me to believe for one second that my dearest friend in the world killed a man for some coins.”
“They weren’t just any coins, they were rare coins, worth over a hundred thousand dollars. Did she sell them to Quincy Clarke?”
Rene took a step toward her, and for a second, Molly thought she might hit her.
“How dare you?” she said in a low growl. “This has been one of the worst weeks of my life, and I am not going to stand here and listen to you accuse my ex-boyfriend, and Charlotte, of a horrible crime. You aren’t the police, and I don’t have to take it. Goodbye, Molly.”
Rene marched off with her head held high. Molly watched her go, thinking that she wasn’t going to scratch her off her suspect list any time soon. But the person she really wanted to talk to was Quincy Clarke. When she reached her car, she heard her cell phone ring. She got it out of her purse and opened the car door. “Hello?”
“It’s Pamela.”
Molly slammed the door shut. Great. This was all she needed. The last person she wanted to talk to was Pamela. Wasn’t it enough that she was going to see her that night?
“How did your meeting go with Wyatt?”
Of course, Molly thought, she wants to grill you about Wyatt. “Can we talk about this later?”
“I would prefer to talk to you about this in private, on the phone. How did it go?”
“It went well,” Molly said. “I felt he was being honest with me, and before I left, I told him he should listen to you and hire a criminal lawyer.”
“That’s all very good, but what specifically did he tell you?”
She wanted details, but Molly wasn’t going to give her any. “I talked to him, and Alison, but what we discussed is between us. If you want details, you’ll have to ask them.”
“You think he’s guilty, don’t you? You think he killed Charlotte.”
“Did I say that? No. I didn’t, because I haven’t come to any conclusions, and I’m still talking to people.”
She heard her sigh. “I’m relieved to hear it. Just remember, Molly, it would be a shame to abandon your family.”
Molly gripped her phone. Who did this woman think she was? “Pamela, I hate to break it to you, but you and Wyatt are not my family. Heck, Nathan barely is. I hope I haven’t given you a false impression that I’m on your side. If Wyatt is guilty, I won’t cover for him.”
“Well, I have to say, you have a poor attitude, which was unexpected,” Pamela huffed.
“Sorry to disappoint you.” No, I’m not.
“Would you at least tell me how you found Alison? I’m very worried about her.”
Molly hesitated. She really didn’t want to get into specifics with her, but Alison had told her she was close to her mother-in-law. “I can tell you that she’s hurt, and her emotions are running high. But she made a point of telling me that she’s going to stand with Wyatt.”
“Thank you. That’s very good to hear.” Pamela sounded relieved, which made Molly wonder if she had expected Alison to accuse Wyatt. “Oh, one more thing, while I have you. Nathan isn’t going to have time to make dessert, and when Matt called to RSVP he asked if there was something you could bring.”
“We’ll bring dessert,” Molly said quickly. Anything to get her off the phone.
“Thank you. We’re both looking forward to seeing you and Matt.”
I’m not looking forward to it, Molly thought as she hung up. She threw her phone in her purse, and leaned her head back on the headrest. She shouldn’t have agreed to dinner. It was too soon after the disaster at the Island Grill. It was Matt’s fault. He made everything sound reasonable, but he was so cute, she couldn’t say no to him. She sighed, and sat up, and opened her purse again. She found the slip of paper with Quincy Clarke’s contact information. Should she call him again? Or show up at his house unannounced? She was tempted to, but from what Marcus Lee had said about him, she thought it was probably better to give him a little more time. She got out of her car and walked back to Java Jitters. She’d seen one of Jazzy’s homemade triple chocolate layer cakes in the display case. With a pint of vanilla ice cream, at least she knew that if dinner turned into disaster part two, she could console herself with dessert.
Chapter 19
Pamela’s lake house wasn’t anything like what Molly had been expecting. When she thought of lake houses, she thought of log cabins, or something more on the rustic side. Her home was an industrial design of glass and steel beams.
“It looks like a spaceship,” Matt said. “But I bet it has fantastic views of the lake. You can just see it in the moonlight.”
“It reminds me of Lyman Construction’s headquarters,” Molly said. “I bet the floors are marble.”
They got out of the car, and Molly felt a blast of cold air coming in off the lake. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since the afternoon, but at least the rain had stopped. She could see her breath as she climbed the metal stairs to the glass-fronted door. Matt rang the doorbell, and Molly peered inside. The floors didn’t appear to be marble, but white oak.
Pamela opened the door. She wore a long white skirt and a pale blue silk blouse. Her white hair was slicked down, and large diamond hoop earrings sparkled in the overhead lights.
“I was beginning to think you two had gotten lost.” She was smiling, but Molly thought she detected an edgy undertone in her voice.
“Sorry if we’re late,” Matt said, “but Tyler put up a fuss.”
This was a flat-out lie. Tyler had smiled and waved goodbye to them, happy to spend more time with Starling watching his favorite cartoons. It was Molly who had delayed their departure. She had been all set to put on her coat, but froze. She told Matt she couldn’t do it. The first meeting had gone all wrong, and this was going to end up the same way. Matt had to spend ten minutes talking her into going. If he hadn’t, she would be at home, sitting on the couch, watching Thomas the Train with Tyler.
Molly was holding a bag from Java Jitters. “It’s chocolate cake and ice cream,” she said, practically shoving the bag into Pamela’s hands.
“Thank you. I’ll take this to the kitchen. Why don’t you both make yourselves
comfortable in the living room.”
Molly felt a little blinded in the house by the white oak floors, bright white walls, crystal chandeliers, and white furniture. As Pamela walked away with the bag, she actually thought she was going to run right into the wall. But she pushed the wall, and an almost seamless door popped open, giving her a glimpse of a stark white kitchen. As she went into the kitchen, Nathan came out. He walked up to Matt and clapped him on the shoulder, and shook his hand. He smiled at Molly, and didn’t try to touch her. Maybe, she thought, he’s as nervous as she was.
“I’m so pleased you could both come tonight,” Nathan said. “Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll get you something to drink.”
They walked past the dining room, where a large floral arrangement of white flowers was in the center of a large white table and white chairs. Molly couldn’t imagine having so much white in her dining room. Especially with Tyler around. Food stains would be everywhere.
The living room was large enough for three separate seating areas. Every piece of furniture, whether it was chairs or couches, was all white leather. A row of tall windows took up the entire back of the house, which overlooked a patio and a line of solar lights leading the way to a dock along the shore. Molly could only see a vague outline of the mountains in the moonlight, but she imagined the view during the day would be beautiful.
The paintings on the walls were the only color in the house. They reminded her of the ones she’d seen in Wyatt’s office, all modern, with splashes of color, and whatever meaning they had had to come from the mind of the artist’s imagination, since she couldn’t make sense of it. She wondered if these particular paintings had once adorned the walls of Pamela’s office suite, and she’d moved them here when she handed the company’s day-to-day operations to Wyatt.
“What would you like to drink?” Nathan popped another hidden door open in the wall. It revealed a small room the size of a walk-in closet, but it had a fully stocked bar.
“I’ll have red wine,” Matt said.
“The same for me,” Molly said.
Nathan poured them each a glass. She took a tiny sip, and told herself to go slow. She wasn’t a big drinker to start with, but she was nervous, and it would be too easy to drown her nerves in wine.
“Nathan!” Pamela had stuck her head out of the kitchen. “It’s time to carve.”
“Oh. I better take care of that.” Nathan smiled at them. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
A gas fireplace had been lit, and the warmth felt good to Molly. She stood in front of it, and said quietly to Matt, “I don’t know how they can live in a house like this. Hidden pop-open doors, all this whiteness. I feel like I need sunglasses. It looks like a movie set for a science fiction movie.”
“It feels sterile, like a hospital ward,” Matt said. He touched her arm. “How are you doing?”
Molly shrugged. “I don’t know, I suppose all right.” She grinned. “I haven’t run out the door yet. I just wish I didn’t feel so nervous. I don’t know how to shake it off, and believe me, I’m trying.”
“You’re good at making small talk with people. Try to relax, pretend Nathan isn’t your father, but someone you’ve met at a party, and you’re getting to know them.”
Molly sighed. She wished it was that easy.
“I’m worried that I’m getting into something I won’t be able to get out of,” she said.
“What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe I allow Nathan into our lives, and we both end up regretting it.”
Before Matt could reply, the kitchen door popped open again, and Pamela came out carrying a silver platter. She set it down on the dining room table and said, “Dinner is served.”
Molly took a deep breath. You can do this, she told herself. Eat a little dinner, have a little chitchat, and leave as soon as possible without looking rude this time.
The dining room table had been set with, no surprise, white china plates, and polished silverware. After they were all seated around the table, Nathan said, “I’ve made one of my restaurant’s signature dishes. Roast chicken, fresh vegetables, and mashed potatoes.”
Matt laughed. “This is honestly my favorite meal.”
“Is it?” Nathan looked delighted. “I had no idea.”
Molly didn’t know what to make of this. Her father’s signature dish just happened to be Matt’s favorite? She wondered if her mother told Nathan, maybe during one of her little “updates,” giving him details about their likes and dislikes.
Molly took a bite of chicken, hoping perversely that it wouldn’t be anything special, but it was so delicious, she almost asked Nathan right there for the recipe. But complimenting him meant opening the door to more conversation, and she wanted to take this as slow as possible. Matt asked Nathan about his restaurant, and after that subject was exhausted, Pamela told him about her role on the board of Lyman Construction.
As Molly ate, she listened, relieved for once that Pamela loved to talk about herself. As she droned on, and on, she was able to tune her out. By the time she was on her last bite of food, she realized she might be next in line for a topic of conversation. She said, “Matt has such an interesting job as a physician, but he came into the job late in life. It’s a wonderful story. Tell them, Matt.”
He shot her a look that said he knew what she was doing, deflecting attention away from herself. But he was a good husband, and he loved her, and he told Nathan and Pamela about how he’d almost finished medical school, but hadn’t gone back until after meeting Molly at Collector’s Weekly, when he was hired as the new marketing director.
“I owe it all to Molly,” he said. “She inspired me to follow my dream and go back to med school. I couldn’t have done it without her love and support.”
It was a sweet story, and it was probably the worst one she could have picked for Nathan to hear. He was looking at her with something close to adoration. Any second now, she’d be next up. “It looks like we’re all done eating.” She got up, and started collecting plates.
Pamela and Nathan looked a little surprised at her exuberance, but no one stopped her. Matt looked amused. He knew exactly what she was doing. But as she gathered the dishes and headed for the pop-out door, she realized Nathan was right behind her, and maybe her plan to distract everyone wasn’t working out quite the way she had expected. She found herself in the kitchen with him.
She headed straight for the sink, while taking in the sleek white floors, the gleaming white cabinets, and the expensive Sub-Zero appliances.
“I’ll take care of those,” Nathan said, as she put the dishes in the sink. She nodded, and started to walk away. “Wait, please.”
Molly stopped. He wanted to talk to her, and she wasn’t mentally prepared. She had to change the subject. “Was this house always like this?”
He looked surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, was it an old house that Pamela converted to look like a spaceship, or was it always this way?”
Nathan laughed. “Pamela designed it, and had it custom-built.”
“Let me guess. By Lyman Construction.”
“Yes, of course.” He smiled. “She likes everything to be perfect, and in order, and clutter to be kept out of the way.”
“That explains the kitchen hidden behind the almost invisible door.” She paused. “Doesn’t it get on your nerves, the way the doors pop open? Are the bedrooms the same way?”
“The whole house is,” he said as he opened the dishwasher. “I wouldn’t have designed a house like this myself, but it’s her home, not mine. My house is a brownstone in Brooklyn, which I was lucky to find intact. It had never been split up into condos or apartments. It’s a very comfortable home, too. You won’t have to worry about making a mess.” As if she would ever visit him. He rinsed off a dish, and loaded it into the dishwasher. “When we first started dating, Pamela did mention gutting my house, and remaking it into something like this one. I hadn’t even s
een this place, but she’d told me enough about it to know it wasn’t anything I wanted to live in on a long-term basis. I told her my house came as it was, and so did I. She could stay, or go. I wasn’t going to change for her.”
Molly looked at him. “I’m impressed. I got the feeling she was, ah, um . . .” Her voice faded.
“Bossing me around?” He smiled. “She’s a woman who knows what she wants, and usually gets it. I knew it from the start, and I told her, if we were going to have a relationship, she had to learn to compromise. So far, it’s working out.”
He loaded more dishes. He wasn’t pushing her toward a deep conversation, but she found herself asking, “Did you ever marry anyone else? I mean, after Ma, and before Pamela?”
He looked at her levelly. “No, I didn’t.” He closed the dishwasher, and when he turned back to her, he said, “I want you to know something, Molly. I loved your mother very much, but I knew I couldn’t give her what she wanted.” He paused. “I’m very sorry I couldn’t be the husband she needed, or the father you deserved. I was too scared to even try to be a dad. I couldn’t handle the responsibility.”
Well, this is it, Molly thought. The conversation she had dreaded, but oddly, she found herself relaxing. Matt was right. She did need to do this. “Matt told me about your father, how he hurt you, and your mother, and sister. But what I don’t understand is why you didn’t even try to give fatherhood a chance. You knew what bad parenting was. You could have chosen to do the opposite of your father.”
