by Jance, J. A.
“I’ll tell you what,” Ali said. “Do you know where the Sugarloaf Café is?”
“Of course,” Nelda said.
“Great,” Ali said. “Call me at this number when you head out. I’ll meet you there. We can have lunch. My treat.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Nelda said. “Liam and I can eat before we leave home.”
“Don’t be silly,” Ali told her. “You said we need to talk. Eating lunch will give Liam something to do in the meantime.”
“You must know something about little boys.”
Ali smiled into the phone. “I had one of those once myself,” she said, laughing. “It’s like riding a bicycle. Some things you never forget.”
Ali had fixed her hair and makeup and was in the process of changing into something more suitable for lunch when her cell phone rang.
“Mr. Forester just called,” Leland Brooks reported. “He’s on his way here and says he needs to speak with you. He says it’s urgent.”
“All right,” Ali said. “I’m on my way. Is Jacky still there?”
“Mr. Jackson evidently had another engagement,” Leland said.
“Good news,” Ali said. Relieved, she headed back to Manzanita Hills Road. She stepped out of her Cayenne and was delighted when she heard the familiar whine of drills working inside the house. That meant that no matter what else was going on, wallboard installation was still moving forward.
Bryan Forester arrived bare seconds later. When he stepped out of his pickup, she was startled by his gray pallor. “Come on,” he said grimly, gesturing toward the picnic table. “We need to talk.”
He settled down at the table, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Sitting opposite him, Ali was surprised. She remembered that Billy had mentioned something about Bryan taking up smoking again, but in all the months they’d worked together, she had never seen him with a cigarette.
“They fired me,” he said at last, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.
“Who fired you?”
“The people at the other two remodel jobs I was doing,” Bryan said. “They’re using the missing cabinet order as cover. They’re claiming I was trying to defraud them by charging for materials that were never ordered.”
“What does that mean?” Ali asked.
“It means both those jobs are shut down. My workers have been ordered off the two properties. Immediately. That’s just an excuse, though. The real reason is what happened to Morgan. As far as the people in this town are concerned, she’s dead, and I’m the abusive murdering husband who did it.”
He sounded so beaten and discouraged, Ali had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry,” she began, but he plowed on.
“You know, I put up with Morgan’s crap for years because I didn’t have a choice,” Bryan continued. “The world may have changed in a lot of ways, but not when it comes to divorce. If there are kids involved, fathers don’t get custody. Period, not unless the mother happens to be a drug-dealing crackhead, and sometimes not even then. So I put up with Morgan’s stunts, with all her whoring around and game playing, because I wasn’t willing to lose Lindsay and Lacy. I kept my mouth shut and lived with it. But now that she’s dead, all of a sudden people have decided I’m the one who’s at fault—I’m the one who must have killed her. That I, someone who’s never killed anything—who’s never even shot a bird with a BB gun—would murder the mother of my children.”
“I’m sure they’re shocked by what happened to Morgan,” Ali interjected. “We all are. They’re looking for someone to blame.”
“They’re blaming me!” Bryan insisted, his voice trembling with outrage. “People I’ve known all my life are saying awful things about me. They don’t say them to my face, of course. No one has guts enough to do that, but I’m not stupid. I’m getting the message loud and clear.”
“What do you mean?” Ali asked.
“I went to the bank just now, and the teller there treated me like crap. The same thing happened to me at the hardware store with a clerk I’ve done business with for years. It seemed to me that with my wife dead, people would be nice to me and might even offer a little sympathy. What a laugh. Instead, they treat me like a leper. Why? What happened to that bit about innocent until proven guilty? And what about the deputy who’s been following me around all morning? I’d be willing to bet he’s parked at the bottom of your driveway right this minute. What do they think I’m going to do, try to take off somewhere? Take my girls and go live in another country?”
Spent, Bryan subsided into a bleak silence. At that point, the man seemed so far beyond any consolation mere words could offer that Ali wondered if she should even try. But she did anyway. “As I told you, the same thing happened to me when my second husband died.”
Bryan looked at her blankly and shook his head. Bogged down in his own troubles, he clearly didn’t remember their earlier conversation. So she told him again.
“My ex-husband was murdered just before our divorce was due to become final,” she said. “People found it easy to blame me, too. So did the cops.”
“Even though you hadn’t done it?”
Ali nodded. “Even though.”
“And what did you say to those people—to the people who thought you were guilty?”
“They were entitled to their own opinions,” Ali said. “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that some of them still think I was somehow involved in Paul Grayson’s murder. The point is, what they think of me is none of my business. It doesn’t matter.”
“Do you believe me?” Bryan asked suddenly. “Do you think I did it?”
“I saw Morgan’s profile on the Singleatheart website,” Ali said quietly. “I know she was cheating on you. Or at least I know she was trying to cheat on you.”
“More than trying,” Bryan corrected. “Did.” He didn’t bother asking how Ali knew about Singleatheart. Obviously, he had known about it, too.
“You told me yourself that you thought she had misappropriated the cabinet deposits,” Ali said. “I can see how you’d have reason to be angry.”
“Not angry enough to kill her,” Bryan said.
“No,” Ali agreed, “but in the eyes of the world, the fact that you were angry, even justifiably angry, also makes you a suspect.”
Bryan looked at Ali closely. “What about you? Do you think I did it?” he repeated.
It was an honest question that deserved an honest answer. Ali met Bryan’s questioning gaze without wavering. “No,” she said. “No, I don’t. If I had thought you were guilty of murder, do you think I would have gone ahead and reordered the cabinets?”
“But you’re the only one,” Bryan said. “My other so-called clients sure as hell didn’t reorder.”
“Maybe I have more faith in the justice system than they do,” Ali said. “Maybe I believe in what you called ‘the innocent until proven guilty’ bit.”
“Does that mean you’ll help me?” Bryan asked.
“Wait a minute,” Ali countered. “As I said, I’ve already reordered the cabinets. Your guys are still working here. I haven’t ordered them off the premises. Isn’t that enough?”
“I need more than that,” Bryan said, lowering his voice. “I’m convinced someone is trying to frame me—someone who wants me to go to prison for murdering my wife. Gary, one of the wallboard guys, told me he saw Dave Holman take something out of the back of my truck yesterday afternoon. Gary didn’t know what it was, and neither do I. But whatever it was, I sure as hell didn’t put it there.
“Then, last night, when I was loading a stack of wallboard, I saw something in the bed of my truck—a rust-colored stain that looks like blood. If that’s what it is, I have no idea where it came from, but I’m guessing whatever Dave took away with him had blood on it, too. They’re probably running forensics tests on it right this minute. That may be why I’m not already under arrest—they haven’t finished running whatever tests they need to run. But once they do that, it’s game over. That’s why I’m here talking to y
ou now. There’s been a cop on my tail all morning long, following me everywhere I go. I doubt I have much more time.”
With that, Bryan reached into the pocket of his plaid flannel shirt and withdrew several items—an envelope with Billy Barnes’s name scrawled carelessly across it and what appeared to be two computer thumb drives. He carefully returned the envelope to his pocket, but after placing the two drives on the table, he pushed them in Ali’s direction.
“I downloaded these from our Web-based backup site,” he explained. “One contains all the files that were on Morgan’s desktop computer as of midnight last night. The other contains all the files on my laptop. I’m sure Dave Holman is trying like crazy to get himself a search warrant for all my property. Once he does that, I have to assume both of those computers are going away. He’ll probably be able to freeze the backup files as well. In the meantime, I want you to keep these for me.”
“Why?” Ali said. “Surely you must know that Dave Holman is a friend of mine. I’m not going to go against him on something like this.”
“I still want you to have them,” Bryan insisted. “I’m not asking you to do anything with them. Just hold them for me, for safekeeping, until I decide what’s to be done with them.”
“Bryan,” Ali said, “if you think what’s on either one of those drives will help your case, you’re far better off giving them to your attorney.”
“What attorney?” Bryan asked. “You’re forgetting I just had to terminate two full crews of workers. It took every last penny in my checking account to pay them off. And I’ve maxed out my credit cards making a deposit with the funeral director who’s handling Morgan’s services. I don’t have an attorney for the very good reason that I can’t afford one. Period. I’m not going to have any representation at all until the court gets around to appointing someone, and that won’t be until after I’ve been arrested. From the way things are going, help like that could be too late. I need to know that someone is looking at this mess from my side, Ali. Right now it feels like everyone in the world is working against me—everyone but you.”
As Ali struggled to find a way to reply, she realized that the whining drills inside the house had fallen silent. She saw Bryan’s expression darken. His crew emerged from the house. With lunch boxes in hand, the three men sauntered in the direction of the canopy-covered table. They were followed by the camera crew. This time the cameras weren’t running.
“Speak of the devil,” Bryan muttered. Rising to his feet, he went to meet them. A few steps from the table, he barred their way.
“Hey, Bryan,” Billy Barnes said easily. “Good to see you. What’s up?”
In answer, Bryan removed the envelope from his pocket and handed it over.
Billy looked puzzled. “What’s this?” he asked.
“You’re terminated,” Bryan said. “Ryan, you and Gary are still on the job until the wallboarding is done. Understand?”
“Terminated,” Billy repeated. “Wait a minute. What’s the deal? You’re keeping these yahoos and letting me go? What are you smoking?”
“Unfiltered Camels,” Bryan returned. “That’s what I’m smoking, but I’ve also been reading the e-mails on Morgan’s computer. Turns out she kept them all—the ones she wrote to somebody named Billy Boy and the ones he wrote back to her several months ago. She didn’t even bother erasing them. Can you imagine that? And here I thought the two of us were friends.” Bryan’s voice dripped with contempt.
Billy Barnes’s customary bluster faded. “Look, Morgan and me were friends,” he said. “And I can explain. What happened was an accident. I didn’t mean for us to get involved like that, and neither did she. Things just got out of hand.”
“Things got very out of hand,” Bryan agreed. “Now get the hell out of here, Billy. Everyone in town seems to think I’m capable of murder. Looking at your slimeball face, I’m beginning to think maybe they’re right. I could do the world a huge favor by wiping your ass off it.” Bryan took a single threatening step in Billy’s direction. Fearing blows were about to be exchanged, Ali held her breath, but before the confrontation had a chance to turn physical, Leland Brooks appeared silently out of nowhere and stepped between the two men.
“Enough,” he said. “You should probably leave now, Mr. Barnes, while you still can.”
Brandishing his lunch pail, Billy glared back at him. “Nobody tells me what to do, you worthless little fag,” he shot back. “Get out of the way.”
“Don’t start with me,” Leland advised quietly, holding up a warning hand of his own. “Looks can be quite deceiving. I just might surprise you. Now, I suggest you do as you were told and go.”
After a moment of bristling silence, Billy backed down. He turned to the other workers, who had melted into the background, putting some welcome distance between themselves and the growing altercation. “Are you two coming with me or not?” Billy asked.
Gary and Ryan exchanged wary glances, but neither of them made a move.
“Suit yourselves,” Bryan told them. “It’s up to you. Go or not. Billy’s the one who got terminated, not you. As far as I’m concerned, you guys are still on this job.”
“Hey, you two, don’t be stupid,” Billy urged. “You heard what the man said. He’s broke. Busted. Tapped out. Once he goes to jail, who’s going to write your checks?”
“I will,” Ali asserted quietly, moving into the breach. “No matter what happens to Mr. Forester, if you’re still working on my job, I’ll see to it that you get paid. Understand?”
“You think she’ll pay you directly?” Billy asked. “What BS!”
“It’s not BS,” Leland said. “If madam says she’ll pay, she will. The woman’s word is her bond. As for you? It’s time for you to leave. Now.”
Heeding the warning, Billy stalked off without a backward glance. Bryan returned to the table and sank down on one of the benches, while Leland turned back to the two remaining workmen.
“It might be best if you went somewhere else for your lunch break today,” he said. “I believe Mr. Forester and Mrs. Reynolds require some privacy.”
CHAPTER 8
Gary, Ryan, and the two ever present cameramen disappeared into the house without any further discussion.
“Thank you for backing me up, Leland,” Bryan murmured. “If it hadn’t been for you, I might have decked the guy. Then the cops could have me up on an assault charge along with everything else.”
“You’re most welcome,” Leland replied. “Think nothing of it. That’s one of my responsibilities around here—dealing with thorny construction issues.” With that, he turned to Ali. “And now, if you don’t mind, madam,” he added, “I’d like to take the key to your other home and go have a look around.”
“Why?”
“In case we have to change the venue for Thanksgiving dinner in a matter of days, I should probably reconnoiter the situation—see what you have available. That way I’ll know what equipment, if any, I should get out of storage.”
Ali knew at once that she had been outmaneuvered. Had Leland pressed her for the key to her house under any other circumstances, she might have been able to tell him no. Not wanting to add to Bryan’s difficulties by making more of a fuss about the Thanksgiving issue, she simply handed over her key.
“And the alarm system is still out of order?” Leland asked.
The previous week, the alarm had gone nuts. A technician had stopped by long enough to say that a new motherboard was required. He had yet to return. Ali nodded in confirmation.
“Very well, then,” the butler said. He started away, then turned back. “You’re not forgetting your three o’clock, are you?”
“Which three o’clock?” Ali asked.
“With Marissa Dvorak.”
The other possible scholarship winner. Leland was right: With everything else that was going on, she had forgotten.
“Of course not,” Ali replied. “What makes you think I’d forget that?”
For a long time after Leland Bro
oks left them there, Ali and Bryan sat at the table in silence while Bryan lit another cigarette. “Thanks for agreeing to pay my guys,” he said at last. “I don’t know when or how, but I will pay you back.”
“I’m sure you will,” Ali said.
“I really appreciate it,” Bryan added. “I understand that you probably don’t want to believe me, either. Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt.”
Ali glanced down at the two thumb drives, still lying on the table. Then she looked back at Bryan. “So Billy was involved with Morgan?”
Bryan nodded dejectedly. “Some friend, right?”
“Is it possible he had something to do with what happened to her?” she asked.
Bryan shook his head. “I doubt it. The e-mails I found that went back and forth between them were from several months ago. Whatever they had going, I think it was pretty much over, but I may have turned up another clue.”
“What’s that?”
He reached into the pocket of his jeans and removed his wallet. From that he took a small piece of paper that he handed over to Ali. On it was a list of numbers—872-GYG, along with a freestanding H that evidently wasn’t part of the number.
“What’s this?” Ali asked.
“You don’t know my daughters,” Bryan said softly. “Lindsey is bright as a new penny—fun and engaging. Lacy is different, smart but different. She likes order. She doesn’t like it if things are out of place or if they’re not what she’s used to. She notices things and can remember details that other kids don’t. Numbers especially.”
Ali studied the paper. “Is that where these numbers came from?” she asked. “From Lacy?”
Bryan nodded. “She saw a car parked along the road that morning when the bus went past on its way to school. It had never been there, so as far as Lacy was concerned, it shouldn’t have been there at all. That’s why she remembered the license number.”
“Is the H part of it, too?”
Bryan shook his head. “That was on the bumper, not the license. So it could have been a rental car—from Hertz, maybe.”
