Hush Money

by T. E. Woods

  “I’ve apologized, Andrew,” Sydney protested. “I understand the gravity of this situation. But please remember, you work for me. I won’t stand for you treating me like a child.”

  “Then show me you have an adult’s restraint. Go home. Take a night off. Say nothing. Nothing. Do you understand me?”

  She nodded again, too angry to challenge his disrespect, ashamed that her own actions had inspired his distrust.

  Andrew pointed toward the locked desk drawer. “Loose talk? About this? This is the stuff that gets people killed. Do you understand that?”

  Sydney held his gaze. She reached for her phone and punched 2 on speed dial while keeping her eyes on Andrew.

  “Ronnie?” she said when her best friend answered. “Listen, I’m not going to make it tonight. Something’s come up. Can I get a raincheck?” She assured her she was neither ill nor blowing her off to meet Clay. She hung up after promising to call the next day to set up another time for them to meet.

  When Andrew walked her to the door in silence, Sydney had the distinct impression she was being dismissed.

  Chapter 28

  NOW

  “What’s jail, Mommy?”

  Windy looked up from the outline of a princess in a ball gown she was coloring with her daughter. Gabby’s hair was still damp from her evening bath. Ringlets of wet hair clung to her soft skin.

  “It’s a place where people go sometimes.”

  “Is it a fun place? Are there toys?”

  Windy traced her finger around a blue turtle on her daughter’s soft flannel pajamas.

  “No, honey. It’s not a fun place.”

  “Then why did you go there?” Gabby used a chunky green crayon to color the wheels of a fantasy pumpkin carriage.

  “Who told you I went to jail?”

  “Travis.” Gabby was referring to Aubree Daniels’s six-year-old son. “He said you went to jail and got locked up in a cage. Like the bunny rabbit in his room. He said you had to eat rotten food and couldn’t watch TV or take a bath.”

  Any hope Windy had harbored of keeping Gabby out of this mess vanished. She should have known better. While she trusted Aubree with her daughter’s well-being, she had no doubt that son-of-a-bitch husband of hers would take great pleasure in dispensing whatever dirt he happened across. Even to his own little boy. Frank Daniels was the kind of man who made himself feel bigger by making others smaller.

  Windy took the crayon from Gabby’s hand and pulled her onto her lap. Her daughter’s featherweight body folded instinctively into the curves of her own.

  I can’t protect you, she thought. My one job is to keep you safe. And I’ve failed.

  “I love you, Gabby.”

  “How much?” Gabby wiggled in anticipation of a familiar game.

  “Ten thousand pounds.”

  “Then I love you ten thous—ten thands—”

  “Ten thousand,” Windy pronounced.

  “I love you ten thousand plus ten thousand pounds.”

  “I see.” Windy made an exaggerated thinking pose. “Well then, I guess I love you a hundred miles.”

  “Then I love you two hundred miles.” Her daughter giggled at her triumphant one-up.

  “I love you more than the stars and the moon and the trees and the animals and the birds.”

  Gabby put a tiny finger to her chin. She took her time. Finally she looked up at her mother, her innocent brown eyes twinkling with delight.

  “Mommy, I love you more than everything that is. You can’t come up with anything more. I love you more than that!”

  Windy smiled at the pride shining in her daughter’s face.

  “Well, I certainly can’t top that.”

  “No, you can’t, Mommy. You can’t beat me on this one!”

  Oh, but little one, I can. You’ll never be able to understand how much I love you.

  “Then I guess you have me. But you know I love you, right?”

  Gabby snuggled in even closer.

  “Remember when you stayed with Aubree and Travis for a couple days?”

  Gabby nodded. “It was fun for a little bit. We made a fort in the backyard. But they have bad movies. Just trucks and animal ones. They don’t have not even one princess movie.”

  “Maybe Travis doesn’t like princess things.”

  A cloud of disbelief floated across her daughter’s face. “Who doesn’t like princess movies?”

  “Apparently Travis.”

  “Because he’s a stinky boy?”

  Windy gently jostled the cherub in her lap. “Gabrielle Elizabeth Fields! Is that a nice thing to call somebody? I thought Travis was your friend.”

  “Not if he doesn’t like princess things. And not if he says you got put in a cage.”

  Windy thought of her own mother. That woman would never think to lie in order to protect her child.

  Life is tough, she remembered her mother telling her. The quicker you learn that, the better off you’ll be. Nobody’s gonna care if you cry. So if you’re looking for sympathy, Wanda, try the dictionary. You’ll find it right there between shit and syphilis.

  But I won’t lie to you, Gabby. I may not be able to protect you, but I won’t lie. At least not to you.

  “Mommy did go to jail. That’s why you stayed with Aubree and Travis.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, jail’s a place you go to when somebody thinks you did something you shouldn’t have. You stay there until they decide what to do next.”

  “Like when I was little and I threw the flowerpot off the porch? I said I didn’t, but I did. You told me to stay in my bedroom.” Gabby lowered her voice in imitation of her mother’s irritation. “I’ll deal with you later, young lady! Is jail like that?”

  “You’re so smart. Yes, jail is like that. Remember later, when I came into your room? I told you that Mrs. Reslin from next door saw you playing with the flowerpot. She said she saw you lift it up and hurl it down the steps. Remember that?”

  Gabby nodded, all playfulness gone from her face as she recalled her crime. “I got in trouble. For not telling the truth.”

  “That’s right. We talked about how you could come out of your room if you admitted what you did, said you were sorry, and helped me clean up the mess.”

  “And you said being mean when I feel itchy on the inside is never a good thing. Remember that, Mommy?”

  Oh, sometimes grown-ups get itches that only being mean can fix.

  “I do remember that. And I’m glad you do, too.” She took a soft breath. “Some people think Mommy did something she shouldn’t have. Remember when the police came to the house?”

  “Yes.”

  “They came to take me to jail so I could wait until they figured out what’s going on.”

  “What did you do, Mommy?”

  I won’t lie to you, Gabby. I won’t leave you with that memory.

  “I don’t want to tell you right now. Is that okay?”

  “Did you smash a flowerpot? Was it that bad?”

  “No, honey. Nobody thinks I did anything like that.”

  “But you had to admit what you did? And say you’re sorry? Did you have to help them clean up a mess you made?”

  Windy thought of the old nursery rhyme she used to read to her daughter. There’s no cleaning up this mess, Gabby. Not all the king’s horses nor all the king’s men could make this go away.

  “I think people are still trying to figure out what to do with me.”

  Gabby was quiet. She leaned into her mother’s chest and for the first time in nearly two years stuck her thumb in her mouth.

  “I love you, Gabby.”

  Her daughter stayed silent.

  “I love you twenty times twenty.”

  Gabby didn’t respond.

  “I love you one million years.”

  Her daughter still avoided the game. Windy tightened her arms around her and began to rock. She hummed “Silent Night,” despite the calendar marking the day as mid-June. Gabby had been born two day
s before Thanksgiving five years ago. Christmas carols were the first songs she’d heard as an infant, and the ancient tune always lulled her to sleep.

  I’ll have to remember to tell the social services people that. Wherever Gabby goes when they take me away, they need to know this song will soothe her.

  She pressed her lips against her daughter’s soft hair and breathed in the sweet scent of lavender shampoo.

  I will always love you, little one. You will come to hate me. They’ll take me away and you’ll spend your life trying to forget the love you once felt for me. You’ll wonder why I chose to do the thing I did, knowing it would pull us apart forever.

  But I did it for you, my darling.

  Windy rocked her child, hoping to fill the tyke with as many good memories as whatever time they had left to share would allow.

  Remember this, my sweet Gabby. Remember. I may lie to others. I’ll never lie to you.

  Chapter 29

  NOW

  “How do you get these eggs so creamy?” Sydney took another bite. “Every time I try I end up with hard bullets of yellow ick.”

  Nancy Richardson stood in front of the stove where she’d prepared Sydney’s meals from infancy through college. “Two little tricks. First, a splash of water in the eggs. Mix ’em up good and frothy. Second, pour ’em into a hot pan. Let ’em cook for about twenty or thirty seconds. Then turn that heat down low and stir as they set. Easy. It’s not like I’m concocting something exotic like in Roland’s kitchen.”

  “There’s nothing more satisfying than perfectly scrambled eggs, Mom. And you make the best.”

  Nancy poured herself another cup of coffee and joined her daughter at the breakfast nook table. Each sat in the spot she occupied at every meal. Nancy took the chair closest to the kitchen, ready to jump up if anyone needed anything. Sydney sat to her right. The red vinyl chair to Nancy’s left, Joe’s seat, would forever remain empty.

  “You want to tell me what’s got you here at this hour?” Nancy asked her daughter.

  “I told you. I woke up early. Went for my run and was starving.”

  “You own two restaurants. Roland could have whipped you up something fabulous with ingredients I’ve probably never heard of. Even Roscoe would have put something together at the Ten-Ten. Why drive across town?”

  Sydney arched an eyebrow. “Nancy Richardson,” she teased. “Are you hiding some man back in the bedroom? Am I cramping your style with an early-morning drop-in?”

  Nancy took a casual sip from her cup. “I know the sound that souped-up Mustang of yours makes. I have plenty of time to scoot my lovers out the back door whenever I hear you coming. I was tiring of Eduardo, anyway.”

  “Eduardo, huh? Some kind of Italian playboy?”

  “Better than that. He has the secret for an exquisite marinara. Now that he’s taught me, I’m done with him.” Nancy stepped away from their game. Her face was serious. “What’s on your mind?”

  Sydney had thought of little else since she and Andrew reviewed the contents of the thumb drives Roger Millerman had kept locked in his safe. On the one hand, she was excited about what they could mean for clearing Windy. The sexual encounter between Brooks Janeworthy and Windy was damning enough. But it was the second recording that had Sydney on edge. What was going on in that meeting put Sydney, Andrew, and anyone else who knew about it in mortal danger.

  But keeping silent about it all made her miserable. She’d spent a sleepless night, tossing in her bed, fearing what Horst would think when he found out what she’d uncovered. Would he view it as a betrayal? Would her mother interpret her silence as disloyalty to everything she and her father stood for?

  But she had to remain quiet. She opted for a dodge.

  “I met a guy.”

  “Tall, dark, and handsome? Hangs with a gorgeous golden retriever named Jocko? That guy?”

  “No, Mother. Another guy.”

  Nancy shoved her coffee cup aside. “Who? Where? When? Who?”

  “Ever the cop’s wife, huh, Ma? His name’s Clay Hawthorne. He owns a bar on the square.”

  Nancy’s eyebrow shot up. “A saloon owner?”

  “Think of it as a music venue. The Low Down Blues. Do you know it?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve never been, but Doris and her husband go there.” Doris was Nancy’s favorite book club member. “They have good things to say about it.”

  “Clay books some big names. It’s a nice place. I’ll take you sometime.”

  “Soon.” Her mother’s face wrinkled in concern. “The hours he must keep. Drunks around all the time.”

  “Have you forgotten what I do for a living? His hours aren’t that much later than mine. And I’ve never seen anyone drunk at the Low Down. Clay wouldn’t put up with that.”

  “You’ve been going to this bar for how long?”

  “It’s not a bar, Mom. It’s a great little place to hear wonderful music. And I’ve been going awhile. I heard about the place when I came back from traveling. It became routine for me while we were putting the restaurants together. I’d swing by for a glass of wine at the end of the evening.” She thought about the baseball bat Clay had given her when Hush Money opened. “He’s given me some pointers.”

  Nancy looked unconvinced. “What kind of pointers?”

  “He’s a great guy, Mom. A single father. Raised his son all on his own.”

  “Raised? How old is this bartender?”

  “Will you relax? He’s forty. Five years older than me. And before you start clucking, remember Dad was seven years your senior.” She told Nancy about Clay’s decision to drop out of college when he discovered his girlfriend was pregnant. How he had raised his son after she disappeared from their lives. “He even lives in a regular neighborhood. Lawn, garage, rosebushes, the whole shtick.”

  “You’ve been to his home? How long has this been going on? Why is this the first I’m hearing about anything?”

  “Gee, Mom, I don’t know. Maybe because of exactly how you’re acting now? I wanted to make sure this thing was going to last awhile before I brought you and your third degree into it.”

  “Does Horst know?”

  “No. And when I do introduce Clay to Horst, I’m counting on you to shut down any interrogation. Clay doesn’t need some detective grilling him like he’s the linchpin in some terrorist cell.”

  “Then I’m going to have to meet this Clay person first. After that I’ll let you know what I’m going to say to whom.”

  Sydney took the last bite of her eggs and washed it down with a long gulp of orange juice. She hadn’t meant to bring up Clay. She’d done it to avoid the subject of Windy’s case. But now that she had, it felt good. She wanted to bring Clay further into her circle.

  “I’ll tell you what. Let me see what Clay thinks about meeting each other’s people.”

  “What? Does he have something to be ashamed of?”

  “No, Mother, I’m sure he doesn’t. It’s just that you’re…you’re…”

  “I’m what, Sydney?”

  “You’re a lot, okay? So is Horst. I want to make sure he knows what he’s in for. Let me run it by him and we’ll set something up.”

  “By the weekend. I’m free every night.”

  Sydney reached over to pat her mother’s hand. “I’ll see him tonight. I’ll bring it up, I promise.”

  Her mother nodded. She was quiet for a moment. Sydney knew better than to try to imagine what was going through her mind.

  “Clay, huh?” Nancy finally said. “That his real name? Sounds like something from a romance novel.”

  “It gets better.”

  “Oh?”

  Sydney grinned. “His son’s name’s Steel.”

  “Oh, good lord.” Nancy Richardson shook her head. “This weekend, Sydney. I meet this guy no later than Sunday.”

  —

  Once again Hush Money’s tables were filled by six-thirty. Sydney had already made one pass through the dining room, greeting patrons and wishing
them a delightful evening. She recalled how Clay had described Hush Money as a celebration kind of restaurant and wanted to make sure she did all she could to make her diners’ experience as memorable as possible. A party of four at table two announced they were marking the publication of one of the men’s third book.

  “Really?” she asked. “What’s the title? I’m always looking for a good new read.”

  The author’s smile was modest. “It’s called Sewer Renaissance: A New Look at Wastewater Management. Something tells me it’s not the type of book you’d want on your nightstand.”

  “Sounds like a niche read to me. Congratulations. Here’s hoping everyone who should read it does.”

  She felt her face flush when she recognized the woman dining alone at table five. She was as elegantly dressed as she’d been on opening night. Sydney carefully took in the woman’s features.

  Her nose is straight. Like mine. Her eyes could be green.

  She approached the table.

  “Welcome to Hush Money. Are you enjoying your evening?”

  “I am, my dear. I think this will become the restaurant I visit each time I come to Madison.” Her voice was soft yet throaty. “You’ve created a masterpiece here, Sydney.”

  “Forgive me.” Sydney’s flush deepened, this time accompanied by an electric hum racing up her spine. “Have we met?”

  The woman’s smile was indulgent. “It is I who should apologize for being so familiar. Everyone knows Sydney Richardson is the force behind this lovely establishment.”

  “You’re not from around here.”

  “No.” She hesitated. “I have…ties to the area.” The woman gave a general wave to include the entire space. “And now, of course, I have this wonderful place to entice me.”

  She could be the right age.

  “You’re welcome here anytime, Miss…Mrs….?”

  The woman’s soft blue eyes held Sydney’s. “My friends call me Elaina.”

  “Elaina.” She suddenly felt weak in the knees. “Please. Enjoy your meal, Elaina. I look forward to seeing you again.”