Killer Tied

by Lesley A. Diehl

  Nappi’s gaze examined my face as if he could read my intentions there. “Sure, Eve. I get it, but I’m going with you.”

  Before we took off from Hartford, Nappi had called Sammy, saying I was feeling under the weather and was coming home for a few days to rest up. I don’t think Sammy bought the excuse. He knew something was up, but he let it pass. While I was in the airport restroom throwing up again, Nappi also got in touch with Grandy and asked her to meet us at my house. He gave her the same story he had given Sammy. I was certain it met with the same skepticism. I was sick and needed rest—no doubt about that—but my anger at Grandy made me push fatigue and a pounding head and roiling stomach aside.

  I was worried that flying would make me feel worse, but I had upchucked so often that there was nothing left in my stomach. Takeoff gave my stomach that funny lurching feeling like you get on the way down when you ride a Ferris wheel, but afterward it settled down. I began to feel better, perhaps because I would confront my grandmother and put an end to all my doubts. Selma’s words came back to me and played in an endless loop in my head,

  “… paranoid schizophrenic …”

  “… wild rages …”

  “… tried to stab a family member …”

  “Her family didn’t know where she went.”

  Could she have made this all up? I didn’t think so. She was too thrilled to be telling me the story to have concocted it herself. Selma’s comment about the family not being able to find her when she left made me wonder what family members had been responsible for placing her in the hospital. Someone must have visited her during her stay. I dropped off to sleep for a few minutes to awaken to another round of the loop and the thought that Grandy must have been responsible for committing her. And not a word to me about it. Did she visit her? How could she have hidden those visits? I groaned. Nappi stirred beside me and laid his hand on mine.

  “I know there’s not a word of truth in what others have told you about your mother. The truth is in what Grandy has told you and what she will tell you.”

  He was so certain. Why couldn’t I feel the same?

  We landed in West Palm at nine a.m. Nappi had made arrangements for a car to meet us at the airport. He was sensitive enough to know he shouldn’t use Jerry as our chauffeur.

  “I’m dropping you at your place to talk with Grandy alone. If Max is there, I’ll get him out of the house with some excuse. Try not to judge too quickly, Eve. She loves you.”

  I gritted my teeth and said, “I know, but—”

  “More importantly, you love her. Don’t lose sight of that. I suspect you’ll need her in your life more than ever now.”

  What did he mean by that? It was almost a Grandfather Egret mind-reading kind of thing to say.

  On the ride to Sabal Bay, I felt the need to take some kind of action to exact control over a life that felt like it was being sucked into one of Florida’s sinkholes. I called Jerry.

  “Any news of Eleanor? Nappi and I have heard nothing from our end.”

  “She called me and told me not to tell anyone where she is. She’s one flaky woman, you know? I think she’s still worried someone is after her. She said she’s had no word from her mother.”

  “Tell me where she is, Jerry,” I said.

  “I promised not to.”

  “Here, Nappi. You tell him what will happen if he doesn’t tell me where Eleanor is.” I handed the phone to Nappi.

  “Tell her,” Nappi said. Those two words did the trick.

  “She went back to Tillahook,” said Jerry and added, assuming we hadn’t left New York, “so you might just run into her at the house. Everything is working out just fine. Right?”

  I sighed and relayed Jerry’s news to Nappi, who grabbed the cell out of my hand.

  “Get on the first plane there and find her. Then bring her back down here. Don’t you come back until you find her, and don’t lose her again.”

  “You’re back in Florida?” Jerry asked.

  Nappi disconnected.

  “Thanks for that, but do you think Jerry is the one who should go get her?”

  “No, but do you know anyone better right now? He’s built some kind of rapport with her.”

  “I’ll talk with Grandy and then head back North. Eleanor and I are family, after all.”

  Nappi raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  Grandy met me at the door, and the look on her face said that while I was tossing up last night’s dinner in the airport restroom, Nappi had been telling her more than I wanted him to.

  “Max is out on the lake, fishing,” she said. “We have the house to ourselves. I’ll make you some toast.”

  “I’m more thirsty than hungry,” I said.

  “There’s ginger ale in the cupboard. That will settle your stomach.”

  Toast and ginger ale—it was what Grandy gave me as a kid when I was sick.

  “Nappi told you everything, didn’t he?” I asked, following her into the kitchen.

  She nodded. “He knows it’s not true, so he thought I should be prepared for what you were struggling with, how upsetting this is for you.”

  I took a sip of the ginger ale she handed me, discovering I was more exhausted now than I was angry. I tried replaying the Selma tape in my head, to recover the sense of outrage I had at what Grandy had done to me, but Selma’s words faded behind the need not to accuse Grandy. I wanted her to make things okay again. And I knew if anyone could right my world once more, it was Grandy. She proved it by moving toward me and putting her arms around me, hugging me into her roundness. Her words surprised me.

  “I’m the grandmother to a private detective who is new to the profession. You’d think I could give her a little help, but I let the opportunity to do my own homework slip by. I should have talked with you when I first saw Eleanor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Eleanor walked into the shop looking so like you and telling her strange story about the two of you having the same mother, I thought of my sister Irene. I dismissed that idea because I was so sure that we would locate Eleanor’s mother and this whole crazy thing would be resolved. I could have made one call and saved you a lot of pain.” Grandy stepped out of the embrace and held me at arm’s length. “You look exhausted. You’d better sit down. This story may take a while.”

  I sank onto one end of the couch while Grandy took the other end.

  “I have one sister, as you know, Eve. She had a child around the same time I gave birth to your mother, but Irene was unmarried. The baby was born prematurely and had difficulties breathing and other issues common to preemies. Irene named the girl Brenda, and she grew into a beautiful child, happy and healthy. Brenda and your mother used to play together.”

  “I remember Mom talking about Aunt Brenda, but I don’t remember much about her.” My mind began to jump ahead in Grandy’s story. “Aunt Brenda and Mom were the same age. Are you telling me Aunt Brenda was Eleanor’s mother, and that she impersonated my mother?”

  Grandy reached out and touched my arm. “I wish it was that simple, Eve, but there’s more, much more to this story. We had lost touch during our daughters’ high school and young-adult years. Then one day Irene called to tell me Brenda had died. She had gotten the flu and complications set in. The poor woman was dead in twenty-four hours. She was in her twenties. Tragic for Irene. Her only child.”

  “When my mother drowned, you lost your only child, too.”

  Grandy nodded and was silent for a time as grief engulfed her once more. Then her face changed, and her soft lips tightened into a sharp line. “You’d think two sisters like us, sharing the tragedy of losing our daughters, would seek comfort in each other. But we didn’t. I reached out to her and expected her to do the same, but she withdrew. She said she didn’t want to talk about what had happened, and that I should never mention her daughter again. I had to abide by her wishes, but I missed her. We had been so close at one time. I wanted us to support each other through our tragedies. She didn’t want
my comfort, nor was she willing to give any to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Grandy. I wondered why we never saw my great aunt except for that one time when she announced her engagement to Don. I was in high school then.”

  Grandy nodded. “I think Irene found some measure of happiness with him, even though they were too old to have children. I had hoped her joy in finding him might make a difference for us, but she and I were never close again.”

  “But, if Brenda is dead, why did you think of her when Eleanor came to visit?”

  “It was a quirky thing. I was visiting your parents’ grave one spring to put flowers on it. I think it was about ten years ago, right around the time Max and I married and moved down here. I wanted to pay what I was afraid might be my last visit to the gravesite because I wasn’t certain I’d ever come back to Connecticut. While there, I decided to visit the plot Irene purchased, which was near your parents’ resting place. I found the site easily because I had been there when Irene and I were younger. She decided to buy it because it had an old oak tree nearby and she loved the idea of being in its shade ‘throughout eternity.’ But the plot was empty. No grave, no marker, nothing. I called her and asked her about it. I asked why I didn’t find Brenda’s grave there.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She told me Brenda wasn’t buried there. She sounded kind of nervous over the phone. Her voice trembled, and I thought she was crying. But then, she kind of recovered herself and said that Brenda’s father had her buried on his plot.”

  “Brenda’s father? Who was that?”

  “I don’t know. Irene had never mentioned him. She hung up on me. I thought the whole story was odd. Why let your child be buried in a plot owned by a father whose name you never mentioned? And I don’t think Brenda ever met the man.”

  “That’s a very odd story.”

  “We haven’t been in touch since then, and I’d written the whole thing off as another quirk of my sister’s. I’d forgotten all about it. Until now.”

  “And now what are you thinking?”

  “That my niece Brenda isn’t dead.”

  Chapter 13

  Part of the story made sense to me. Brenda was Eleanor’s mother. But what else did we know now?

  “Grandy, you have to call your sister and talk with her—whether she wants to discuss her daughter or not. A man has been killed, and the authorities think my father-in-law is the murderer.”

  “He may still be the killer. Nothing about Irene’s daughter suggests she’s responsible for her husband’s death. Why would she kill the man she trusted?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s why you need to talk with your sister.”

  Grandy screwed up her face in disgust. “But a phone call, Eve? I think this is something that should be accomplished face-to-face, don’t you?”

  I did. I was about to recommend that I return to Connecticut with Grandy, but she must have read my mind. “You’re sick, Eve, too sick to be traveling back and forth. You need a good night’s sleep. I’ve got an idea. Let me work on it. Meanwhile, off to bed you go.” She shoved me in the direction of my bedroom. Surprisingly, I didn’t object. I had no gas left in the tank. My snoopy nature was failing me.

  “I’ll give Sammy a call. He’s working at David’s ranch today. I’ll tell him you’re back and resting this morning. And, you will be resting, Eve. Even if I have to call one of your cowboy pals to come here, lasso you, and tie you to the bed.”

  I chuckled, the first laugh I’d had in days, and flopped onto my bed. The next thing I knew, someone was planting kisses on my face.

  “Sammy.” I reached out to him and pulled him close. “Grandy said she’d call you and let you know I was sleeping. Does she know you’re here? She threatened violence if I didn’t nap. Now we’re both in trouble.”

  “Eve, my love. It’s five in the afternoon. You’ve been asleep all day.”

  I sat up in bed and looked at my bedside clock. He was right. The day was gone, purple shadows from the setting sun creeping across my bedroom floor.

  “Grandy said you were sick. What’s going on, Eve?” Sammy’s dark eyes scrutinized my face.

  “I don’t know. I’m usually so full of pep, and I never throw up. I guess it’s all the upset over this case.”

  “Then give it up, Eve. It’s not worth your getting sick. We’ll have Crusty McNabb take it over.”

  “No, no, no. I will not admit to failure with my first real PI case. I feel better now.” Funny, but I did feel better. The nap must have been just what I needed. I was also hungry. That had to be a good sign.

  “Are you sure?” Sammy asked.

  “I’m my old self.” I jumped out of bed to demonstrate how good I felt, and the world went black.

  I awoke in the back of an ambulance, Sammy holding my hand.

  “You called an ambulance? I’m just hungry, that’s all. I need food. A rack of ribs, and I’ll be my old self. Oh, damn. Hand me that barf bag over there, would you?”

  “What? Where …” Sammy asked.

  The EMT grabbed the bag and gave it to me. My stomach tried to turn over, but all I produced was some bile. God, I felt like hell.

  In the emergency room, the doctor gave me the news. “Mrs. Egret, you are dehydrated and you need nourishment.” He held up his hand to stem the flow of words he seemed to know was coming. “I do not mean ribs, slaw, and a few Scotches. I have seen you at the Biscuit eat a cowboy under the table. A balanced diet. Rest, plenty of liquids, and you should be fine. From what your grandmother and your husband told me, you’ve just been over-doing. Let your body make the necessary adjustments, and you’ll be raring to go in a few days.”

  “Wait a minute. What adjustments will my body need to make? What are you saying?”

  Grandy leaned close. “I think he’s saying you’re pregnant, Eve.”

  The doctor smiled and nodded. Grandy smiled and nodded. Sammy just looked terrified. He staggered backwards and fell into the only chair in the room.

  After Grandy revived Sammy and brought him out of his dazed state of disbelief, she turned to me. I’d said not a word.

  “Eve, are you okay?” asked Grandy.

  “I think so, but boy am I stupid. How did this happen?”

  Grandy laughed. “You don’t know how babies are made? I thought we had that discussion years ago.”

  My stomach did a little flip, this one a leap of happiness. I was surprised at the news, but also overjoyed. I laughed at Grandy’s joke, then turned my attention to Sammy, who had recovered sufficiently to hold my hand tight enough to cut off my circulation.

  “You can let go, Sammy. It won’t fall off.”

  “What? Oh, sorry, Eve.” He dropped my hand, leaned over, and kissed me.

  “I assume you’re fine with this?” I asked.

  “I’m better than fine. I’m gonna be a daddy. And the boys will have a brother. Or sister. Or … God, Eve, you’re not going to have twins like Madeleine, are you?” For a moment, he had that pale, terrified look on his face again, then recovered and said, “That’s fine, too. We could have triplets even.”

  I groaned. “No twins, no triplets. One healthy baby is what we’re shooting for here.”

  I was in the hospital for three days, IV fluids providing the medication and hydration I needed. I had plenty of visitors, and I was eager for news associated with the case. Thinking they would spare me any anxiety, no one would talk about it, changing the subject each time I brought it up. I was forced to use my cellphone to call Nappi. He’d had no word from Jerry, and when I called Jerry’s number, it went to voicemail. Jerry. Always unreliable. I reveled in thinking about Sammy’s and my baby, but I was also itching to get busy on the case again. The doctor was correct. My body seemed to be adjusting to the pregnancy. My appetite returned, and despite the blandness of the hospital food, I ate every bit of it while yearning for ribs and slaw. I bothered the doctor about it each time he visited my room. He finally gave in, and that afternoon Sammy entered my r
oom carrying flowers as well as takeout boxes from the Biscuit. I gobbled the food down in record time and waited for it to settle. Would it stay down? It did, so I turned my concerns to getting back on my sassy, snoopy, stiletto-shod feet once more.

  Where was I in the case now? I was almost certain Eleanor’s mother was my Aunt Brenda and that Grandy could provide more information so we could be certain. Someone was after the Montroses and they were using Freddie the Bull as their “hit man.” Why did they want the Montroses out of the way and how was this related to Mr. Montrose’s death and my father-in-law’s role in it? I had some of the answers I needed. I gritted my teeth in frustration. Time to get out of this hospital bed and back to work.

  The day I returned home, Grandy shooed everyone out of my bedroom and said I needed rest. They bought her excuse, but I didn’t. Neither of us had shared Grandy’s speculation about her sister’s daughter. Grandy insisted the story, if there was one, was Irene’s to tell or not. Irene had kept her daughter’s fate a secret all these years for reasons she hadn’t revealed to Grandy. Speaking about her daughter would be painful, and there was no guarantee breaking silence about the past would help now. It might open old wounds. We had to trust that Irene was willing to speak about Benda because it was the right thing to do. Grandy thought that in order to make this decision, Irene would have to do some soul-searching. She’d have to weigh the value of telling the truth against the agony of revealing Brenda’s past.

  Alone in my room, I blew out an exasperated puff of air and said, “I do not need rest. And you know it. I’ve been flat on my back for three days. Give me a break. This baby and I need exercise both physical and mental. I know something’s up. So tell me.” I patted the bed, and Grandy sat beside me.

  “I had Max call Irene’s house, and posing as a business acquaintance, he asked to talk with Don. I took over and let Don know my speculation about Irene’s daughter and why Irene would need to come clean. He neither confirmed nor denied that Brenda was alive, but said he would find some way to convince Irene she should talk with me.