Killer Tied

by Lesley A. Diehl

  Grandy wiped her hands on her apron and signaled me she wanted a word. She and I stepped out the back door and into the yard.

  “Glad to be back?” she asked.

  “You mean am I glad to be home?”

  She scanned the far horizon, where cattle grazed grassy fields, broken by stands of scrub pines and palms. “It’s beginning to feel like home to me, too. Max and I may not want to operate fishing charters much beyond this year.”

  I was pleased to hear that, knowing that it had taken some time before Max didn’t yearn for the ocean and began to feel at home on the Big Lake.

  As if in response to my thoughts, Grandy said, “He’ll never want to leave the ocean completely. We’re thinking of buying a place in an RV park down there and renting someplace up here until he feels more settled.”

  “You can rent this place or buy it, if you like. You know Sammy and I are going to build a bigger house next to Grandfather’s.”

  Grandy slid me a twinkle-eyed look. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  That was settled.

  “So what’s up?” I asked.

  “I know you want to talk with Irene, because you think she didn’t tell you the entire truth about her daughter.”

  “Do you think she did?”

  Grandy paused for a moment to think. “No. There’s more to that story, but will you promise me you’ll go easy on her? She’s had a lot to handle, thinking her daughter was gone forever, dead probably, then learning she’s alive, but can’t be located.”

  “You know my strong suit is not diplomacy, but I’ll try to remember how it feels to lose someone you love and know they are never coming back to you.”

  Grandy gave me a quick squeeze. “I’ve got the best cooks in the county in there helping, but I’d better make certain he’s got everything under control.”

  “Grandfather? I’m sure he’ll do fine.”

  “No, I meant Jason and Sammy. I didn’t know Sammy could cook. Did you?”

  No. I did not. I laughed and started to follow Grandy back in when she turned to me. “What I wanted to tell you is that I invited Irene and Don to join us tonight.”

  Irene was family, so of course she should be here, but what about Eleanor, who was also family?

  “Irene and Eleanor got together this afternoon at the shop,” added Grandy. “I didn’t think you’d mind. You were busy.” She gave me a goofy grin, as if she knew what Sammy and I had been busy doing.

  I didn’t mind any of this except that it meant I’d have to put off talking with Irene until we could have some time alone. That wasn’t likely to be tonight. The doorbell rang just as I stepped back into the house. Sammy opened the door to Madeleine and David, twins in their arms. I looked around the room, and made a mental note to myself to talk with Sammy about making certain the house we were building would accommodate all our friends and a family growing beyond what anyone had anticipated. I felt a slight tug in my abdomen, and smiled. Sammy caught the look on my face and came over.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Our boy is letting his presence known.”

  Sammy’s face paled. “Oh, no.”

  “No, no. I’m fine. It’s normal and a sign that I’m hungry.”

  He pulled me close. “I told you earlier today that I thought you were hungry.”

  “You were wrong, remember?” I said, punching him in the shoulder.

  “I must have gotten my meals mixed up,” he said.

  Irene, Don, Jerry, Nappi, and Eleanor arrived right after Madeleine and family. It was lucky the rain predicted to arrive this evening had held off and the clouds, which had begun to build up, thought better of their appearance and fled, gobbled up by a pink and coral sun. The backyard had been given over to a picnic table and an assortment of other tables and chairs. If the mosquitoes held off, we could finish the meal without becoming the meal.

  Irene and Eleanor did not leave each other’s side the entire night. I couldn’t have taken Irene off for a private conversation if I had wanted. It was as if she had found something she had lost in her granddaughter, and the granddaughter had found a kind of maternal love never provided by her mother.

  After dinner, that loving connection changed following an intense exchange between mother and granddaughter as they helped clean up in the kitchen.

  “Tell me!” shouted Irene, grabbing Eleanor’s arm and shaking her. “You have to tell me where she is.” Don pulled her away from Eleanor, who rubbed the place on her arm where she had been grabbed.

  “You hurt me,” she said, “just like my mother used to do.” Eleanor bolted for the front door, pulled it open with a jerk, and fled into the night. Nappi signaled to Jerry, who ran after her.

  Irene sobbed and cried, “Come back! I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t stand it anymore. I want to know where she is. I want to see my daughter. Eleanor must know where she’s hiding. They’ve talked. Why won’t she tell me?” Irene continued to sob. Grandy handed her a tissue and led her to the couch.

  “Will you get us some water, Eve?” Grandy asked.

  Again with the water. I don’t know why people want others to drink water when they are upset. It never made any sense to me. I walked over to my liquor cabinet and poured Irene a snifter of brandy, then handed it to her. “Here. Drink this. It’ll do you better than water.”

  Irene gave me a wan smile and took a sip of the liquor. “Wow. That is strong.”

  “Puts hair on bald guys’ heads and exfoliates the legs of women,” I said.

  Grandy gave me a dirty look, but Irene seemed to like my recommendation. She gulped down the liquor and kind of shook herself in a shudder that went from head to toes. “I’m better now. Thanks, Eve.”

  “I’m not certain Eleanor knows just where her mother is. We’re convinced she’s in the area, but you’ve seen what’s out there: miles and miles of grass, trees, and swamp. She could be hiding anywhere.”

  “How can that be?” asked Irene. “She wouldn’t know how to take care of herself.”

  “Irene is right,” said Nappi. “She must have help, and I’m certain it’s not from her daughter.”

  Who, then? I wondered. Who knew this wild place? I came up with one name, the most unlikely person to be giving Brenda Montrose help. I shook that name out of my brain. Mr. Egret didn’t even know Brenda. Why would he help her?

  I had my work cut out for me tomorrow. First, I would question Irene to find out what she was holding back, then I wanted to talk with Eleanor’s mother, if I could convince the woman to meet with me. If she was hiding out, I knew Mr. Egret could find her, but I didn’t think there was much chance of his trusting me enough to talk to me ever again. I was on my own.

  Don took Irene back to their motel room, everyone left, and our dinner party, which had begun with so much joy, ended on a subdued and unhappy note. Grandfather took the boys home with him, reassuring me he would get to the bottom of what was bothering Jerome. When Sammy asked me what was going on, I filled him in on Jerome’s “stomachache.”

  “He’s been kind of quiet of late,” he reassured me, “but I didn’t know he wasn’t practicing with the other boys. I trust Grandfather to find out what’s wrong.” He kissed me goodnight and rolled over onto his side. The sound of his steady breathing told me he was asleep.

  I was exhausted, but sleep eluded me. Instead, my mind raced with thoughts of Jerome, Irene, Eleanor—somewhere out there in the night—and Eleanor’s mother, Brenda, who no one around here except for Eleanor had ever seen. I hoped for Irene and Eleanor’s sake that Brenda was safe, and I cursed the stupidity of Frida’s new partner at having chased the one man who could find her back into the swamps.

  I heard a noise at the bedroom slider and sat up in bed, peering into the darkness of the night. Maybe Sammy’s father was just outside. I jumped out of bed and went to the door. A raccoon dashed off the patio and into the bushes, and then all was q
uiet again.

  Chapter 19

  Despite little sleep, I was up early preparing coffee, toast, and eggs, surprising everyone because I didn’t cook often and never in the morning. To be honest, I was starved, and I could hardly make breakfast for myself alone. That would be selfish, and I was working on being less selfish.

  Grandy offered to clean up after breakfast, while Sammy and I decided to drop by Grandfather’s and help him send the boys off to school. At the house, the boys greeted us at the door, backpacks in hand, gave us a cheery “hi,” and rushed down the stairs into the yard. I gave Grandfather a questioning look and pointed at Jerome’s retreating back as the three boys ran across the yard to wait for the bus. Grandfather shook his head and said in a low voice, so the boys wouldn’t hear, “He wasn’t ready to tell me anything,” referring to Jerome’s silence. “Don’t worry, Eve. He’s a good boy, and he’s working out for himself what he should say and when he should say it.”

  “Did he give you any idea what this is about?” I asked. Sammy stood by my side in the doorway, watching the school bus pick up our sons.

  “Maybe I should talk with him tonight,” Sammy suggested.

  “No,” Grandfather said. “Let him work this one out. He’ll come around soon.”

  Sammy and I were acting so impatient about Jerome that I wondered what we would be like with yet another boy to worry over. Maybe the two of us should consider meditation or tai chi to help us bring a bit of Zen to our parenting.

  In his usual manner, Grandfather shook his head and gave my arm a reassuring pat. “You’ll do fine,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.

  Grandy and Madeleine were covering the store this morning, giving me the opportunity to have my talk with Irene. Before I could call her on my cell to make certain she was up, Nappi’s black Escalade pulled up to Grandfather’s house.

  He hopped out of the car and approached the house with a spring in his step. I hoped that meant that his news was good. We sat around the kitchen table, the men drinking Grandfather’s excellent coffee while I had a glass of orange juice.

  “Jerry found Eleanor last night, but it was so late I didn’t want to call and wake you,” he told us.

  “No danger of that. It felt as if I was awake the entire night. Where did he catch up with her?”

  “Where would you go if you didn’t know the town well? She showed good sense and returned to her rental,” Nappi said.

  “So, why did it take Jerry so long to find her?” Sammy asked.

  “It didn’t take him long. According to Jerry, it took half the night for him to calm her down. She wanted to go to the motel to speak with Irene, but Jerry talked her out of that. She’s pretty upset about last night. I’ll bet she made Jerry drive her to Irene’s motel this morning, and that’s where she is now.”

  Well, that made me cranky. Would I never get a chance to talk with Irene alone? It was time to get pushy. I needed answers and right away.

  “I’m going over there now. I’ll inform Eleanor that this investigation takes precedence over her need to make things right with her grandmother.”

  “Hold on, Eve. Maybe letting the two of them work things out between them might make it easier for you to get the information you need,” suggested Nappi.

  I thought about that for a minute. He was right. There’s pushy, and then there’s Eve-pushy, which is too, too pushy.

  “Okay, let’s give the two of them some time together this morning. Afterward, I’d like Jerry to take Eleanor back to her rental. I’ll promise to bring her grandmother there as soon as we’ve finished our talk.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Nappi asked me.

  I raised one eyebrow and said, “Huh?”

  “Your friend Frida might like to know the same things you’d like to know. Despite the authorities believing they know the identity of Mr. Montrose’s killer, Frida isn’t convinced. I assume one of the questions you’ll ask Irene is the name of Brenda’s father. He has to be involved in some way. He could be a member of the family who hired Freddie to ‘find’ the Montroses.”

  “Irene told me Brenda’s father is deceased, and didn’t we discover he paid for her stay at Hopkins? Revenge against Brenda from the grave? Why?” My thoughts raced ahead. “It does appear there’s a powerful family behind the theft of her file from Hopkins,” I said. Until I knew the identity of Brenda’s father, I couldn’t be certain it was his family. “You’re right. Frida needs to know what I find out from Irene. That is, if Irene will tell me. I can’t blame her for being impatient with everyone once she found her daughter was alive. Believe me, I can relate.” Sammy and Nappi gave me knowing looks of agreement. “She’s desperate to find her.” I paused, then added, “Don’t you wonder why Brenda isn’t trying to see Irene? Eleanor told me she informed her mother that Irene was here. Brenda knows she’s just out of reach. Is there something going on between the two of them that we don’t know about? Something from the past?”

  What I didn’t say was what all of us had to be thinking: how crazy was Brenda? According to Selma, the records at Hopkins indicated a serious mental disorder. Was that the case, or had Selma incorrectly reported what was in the file? Selma. The thought of her made me grind my teeth. I wouldn’t put it past her to make up things that she thought might aggravate me. I comforted myself with the thought that Selma couldn’t make up too many lies, because her father might remember the case differently.

  Brenda Montrose was a ghost: her file had disappeared, and no one around here had seen her. Even Eleanor seemed only to have phone contact with her mother. Maybe she was a ghost. Maybe she was dead, and Eleanor, following in her mother’s footsteps, had lied about or hallucinated the calls with her.

  “Nappi,” I said, “Eleanor has a cellphone. She insists that’s how she gets in touch with her mother. I need that phone. I want to see what numbers she’s calling. I’ll bet Frida would love to take a look at it too. She wouldn’t be able to get a search warrant for it, but if I had it and shared it with her ….” I let my thought go unfinished.

  “You think I’m a pickpocket?” asked Nappi, pretending to be offended.

  “Of course not, but I’m sure you can find a way of taking it without her knowing.”

  I wanted to be sensitive to Eleanor’s needs, those of her elusive mother and Irene’s, but two issues stood in my way, and they had nothing to do with my impulsive nature. These women could be in danger, especially if someone had hired people like Freddie to make certain they disappeared. I also felt in my bones that my father-in-law wasn’t responsible for Mr. Montrose’s murder. I’m not saying he knew nothing about the circumstances surrounding the murder, but I knew he didn’t kill him. I’d been hired to find out who was responsible and clear him. I was just tired of what felt like chasing my tail from the Florida swamps back and forth to the mountains of Upstate New York and the Connecticut shore. My gut told me I’d find all the answers right in my own backyard: rural Florida.

  Sammy left for the game ranch and his job, while Grandfather and one of Sammy’s cousins opened the airboat business. After a few phone calls to ensure that I would have Irene to myself, Nappi drove me to her motel and told me he’d come back to pick me up whenever I liked. I told him I’d call.

  Irene opened the door after my first knock.

  “I guess it’s time we talked, Eve,” she said.

  “This time I want the whole story.”

  She gestured for me to take one of the chairs at the small dining table. We sat across from each other. Irene drummed her fingers on the table top and glanced out the window, refusing to meet my gaze. I knew this would not be easy for her, but I shoved that concern to one side. I needed the truth.

  “There’s not much more to tell you that you don’t already know, except for—”

  “Except for the name of Brenda’s father.”

  “I don’t understand how that changes anything,” Irene said.

  “Brenda has insisted for many years that someone was
after her, you know.”

  Irene gave me a sad smile. “Brenda always thought someone was after her, even when she was little. She was terrified that people were following her, hiding outside the house, waiting for her when she got off the school bus. At first I thought she had a vivid imagination, but she was terrified, enough so that she refused to go to school. Brenda was delusional. You know that.”

  “Oh, I suppose she was, but not all her fears were unfounded. Some of them were real. I think someone was after her. At one point I think they meant to find out about her, a kind of shadow. But lately, something has changed. Some not very nice men have been hired to make her disappear, and along with her, your granddaughter. They might want you out of the picture also. Nappi scared them away, but others will come, if they haven’t already.”

  I could tell Irene didn’t want to believe me. She got up and walked away, dismissing me with a swipe of her hand.

  “You told me you and her father never were in touch about Brenda, that he was never a part of her life. Wasn’t that hard? You worked as Grandy did, as a housekeeper for wealthy families. That wasn’t a lot of money. And you were a woman raising a child with no father. Didn’t he offer you any support, financial or otherwise? What kind of a man was he?”

  Irene seemed to deflate from within. She sank onto the bed and looked at me with hollow eyes. “He was a coward, weak. He was too terrified to tell his family. He was afraid they would cut him off without a cent. And he was right. They would have. Isn’t it interesting that Grandy and I both fell victim to the charms of men with too much money and too little backbone?”

  I knew what she was saying, but she was wrong about much of it. Grandy had fallen in love with the son of a prominent family in Connecticut—there was no baby—but unlike Irene’s man, Grandy’s would have given up everything to marry her. Grandy insisted he not do that because she feared he’d come to resent her in the future, and that his resentment would destroy their love. Grandy made the sacrifice, and I reminded Irene now of the difference between them.