“I can only spare an hour, Rebecca. But I’d be glad to help her.” There. Helping out when I was feeling so devastated would certainly be the right thing to do for Zoe and for her family, and might help relieve the pain of Mike’s loss that sat like an icy, heavy stone on my heart.
“Good. I knew you would be the right person for the job. Be there at three o’clock. You have the address?”
I didn’t, so she whipped out a smartphone from her Michael Kors bag and rattled it off, not even waiting for me to grab a pencil and paper. I made her wait while I took a magnetized pad with attached pen from the fridge door. Then I had her repeat the address. I was beginning to feel like one of the servants in Downton Abbey and I didn’t like it one bit.
She left without asking anything more about her daughter, how she was dealing with her grief, what she might need in this terrible time. I might have been angered by her callousness, but it only triggered a wave of sadness once Rebecca drove off. What was wrong with people like her? What in the heck was wrong with them?
Fifteen
No one called and no one showed up in the time between Rebecca’s departure and my trek to Zoe Marner’s house. I was hoping to hear from Finn, thinking maybe he needed a ride back from the community college. I finally decided he was waiting for Lindsey to finish her class. He’d seemed to have taken her under a protective wing, and that was a good thing.
I didn’t expect Tom or Candace to call in the aftermath of Mercy’s loss—not to mention the other murder they still had to solve. I totally understood, but I thought Kara might phone me. She didn’t, though, and I assumed she was preparing a special edition of the Messenger. Tom might stay at work until the day we were married, which right now could well be delayed. That was okay. Our time would come.
Close to three p.m. I pulled in front of Zoe’s house. Another stone-and-brick minimansion typical of a Rhett Marner development loomed on a slope with its manicured lawn and sculpted landscape reminiscent of a botanical garden. This attempt at perfection unnerved me in this far-from-perfect world. Maybe on a different day I wouldn’t have found it quite so ostentatious.
I saw no cars in the driveway, and the isolation here reminded me of the other house I assumed Rhett Marner once owned—the one where I’d first met Lindsey. Then I heard water trickling over rocks to my right as I walked up the winding pebbled path to the front door. Must be a ravine over there, I thought. That’s nice. Very soothing. Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.
I rang the bell and heard it chime inside despite the heavy oak double doors. Zoe answered and immediately wrapped her arms around me, her sobs interrupted by “thank you for coming” over and over. I couldn’t return the hug because I held the grocery bag of chicken in one hand and the salads and dessert in the other.
She finally composed herself and drew back, staring down at what I had in my hands. “I’m so sorry for throwing myself on you like that, but I’m grateful you’ve come.”
I’d always thought she seemed surprisingly young for a woman who had two teenage boys—and they had to be older teens from the few times I’d seen them at the community center when they came to see Zoe there. Big, burly boys who dwarfed their mother.
Now that I had a moment to notice, I was surprised by her appearance. She was dressed in pressed khakis and an expensive-looking designer blouse. Her makeup showed little wear despite this recent bout of tears. Did they make waterproof makeup as well as waterproof mascara? Probably. Her blond hair, with its reddish low-lights, was recently washed and styled. I recalled how I’d had to force myself to shower after John’s death. But fix my hair and put on makeup? Forget it.
Zoe, however, belonged to a different crowd than I felt comfortable being around. Appearance was everything for them. If you looked flawless, then you were flawless—that was what I’d come to understand they believed. Apparently it was a way to cope, and even if I never would take that route, plenty of people like Zoe and Rebecca did. We all had our way of navigating through life.
She invited me in and thanked me again for coming. We went through an expansive foyer, a winding staircase in its center. Then we moved down a short hall, past a formal dining room with a table set with gleaming square white plates on pleated green place mats. A huge bowl of red and yellow mums surrounded by golden fall leaves sat in the center. A matching arrangement graced the polished sideboard against the wall.
We ended up in a gigantic gourmet eat-in kitchen with a granite-topped island and chef-quality stainless steel appliances. Cakes, pies, cheese plates, baskets of fruit and platters of cookies sat on a long counter flanked on one side by a row of barstools. There was certainly no shortage of food and I felt a tad embarrassed at my store-bought offering.
I smelled fresh coffee, and knowing I wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight with so much on my mind, I figured caffeine this late in the day wouldn’t matter. I accepted when Zoe offered. Then it dawned on me I was here to take care of her, not vice versa. I insisted I fix a mug for both of us and encouraged Zoe to sit down.
“Are you sure?” she said hesitantly.
“Sit. I can manage coffee and put this food I brought in the fridge. Thank goodness you have much better offerings than grocery-made stuff.” I couldn’t help wondering where any of the people who’d brought all this food were. Why was I, not much more than an acquaintance, here instead? What about her family? Where were her kids?
“Jillian, my boys will scarf up that chicken and potato salad before anything else. You’re practical and thoughtful. That’s what makes you so special.”
I felt a blush heat my face. “Trust me. I am the most ordinary person you’ll ever meet.”
A few minutes later, we both sat at a white-painted table in an alcove overlooking the pool and patio. Turquoise water shimmered in the late-afternoon sun. A stone fireplace surrounded by upholstered patio furniture and a giant stainless steel barbecue grill completed the magazine-worthy picture. The backyard alone, with its rolling lawn and shade trees, must have cost a fortune to landscape.
I felt awkward and at a loss for words, but Zoe launched right into troubled territory. “I wasn’t kind to Rhett the last time we spoke. We argued and now I feel so guilty. It was over a stupid party he’d accepted an invitation to—a birthday party for one of his employees. I thought he was angry with me for being stuck-up. I—I thought that’s why he was gone—that he was staying with one of his hunting buddies. And all the time he was probably . . . dead.”
That explained why he hadn’t been reported missing sooner. “You’ve convinced yourself that the argument made him stay away, but that’s probably untrue. Something happened when he left, something the police will surely know soon enough. Please don’t feel guilty.”
“You lost your husband suddenly, right? I mean, that’s why Rebecca thought it might be good for me to talk to you. You know what I’m going through.”
I nodded. “I do know. It’s like a sucker punch to the gut. One day you have this life, this routine . . . and the next day, it’s changed completely and forever.” I placed a hand over her balled fist.
“I heard you were there yesterday right after they . . . found him.” She stared into her mug. “Were people saying anything? I mean, I know he was shot, but I wasn’t notified right away and all these people were already there by the time I got to the site.”
“You do know he wasn’t identified immediately, right? That’s probably why you weren’t notified. But I thought Candace would have explained that when you spoke with her. You did speak with her, right?”
“Oh yes. But I—I don’t remember what I said, much less any questions she asked. She probably told me about the delay in calling me and I blocked it out. Did you know they took me to the emergency room and gave me a shot of something to calm me down? The medication messed with my brain and I feel kind of hungover today.”
“No wonder you don’t remember,”
I said.
“Did they say who found him? She probably told me that, too.”
Or not, I thought. I wasn’t about to start spilling anything I knew. It wasn’t my place. “I’m sure Candace will want to speak with you again and you can go over everything. It’s tough being fuzzy on the details, but that’s part of grieving. Your mind will let you remember when you’re ready.”
Zoe smiled sadly, blinking hard. “Rebecca was so smart to have you come, to send someone who knows how hard this is.”
“It took me a long time to rejoin humanity after John died. Many months, in fact. Only with the help of lots of people and most of all my cats, I’m doing fine. I didn’t come here to talk about me, though. Tell me about you. How long had you and Rhett been married?”
“Five years. He was so good to take on a woman with two young sons. They needed a father.” Her voice caught. “And now they’ve lost him.”
“Is their biological father in the picture?”
“He wants to be. But the restraining order keeps him at a distance, thank goodness.”
This fell into the “too much information” category for me, or TMI as Finn would say. An awkward silence followed as I realized that a man who was under a court order to stay away from his sons—sons who obviously became well off when Zoe married Rhett—might be of interest to Candace. Oh, and to the new police chief, Tom Stewart, as well. But they probably knew this family’s history already—and no doubt half of Mercy was aware, too.
Thank goodness the back door opened, because I’d run out of things to say. I was beginning to feel more and more as though there was some other reason I’d been asked to come here—perhaps as a source of information to Rebecca as to what was going on with the investigation, since I was friends with almost everyone on the police force.
Two teenage boys rumbled in, one shoving the other and laughing about something. Zoe rose and went to greet them.
I was introduced to Toby, the taller of the two. He wore a bright green letter jacket from Mercy High School with “football” embroidered beneath the school logo.
Next I was introduced to Owen, who had a baby face, flushed from laughter. I guessed he was probably a couple of years younger than his hulking brother—but he had time to catch up. They had identical gray-green eyes and reddish blond hair.
Teenagers, especially those who’ve lost the father figure they’ve had for the last five years, do not act like adults. I decided their behavior—laughing, being a tad cocky and seemingly nonplussed that a stranger was in the house with their mother—was probably normal. Grief the Trickster at work again. Or maybe they, like some of the young men who’d worked for Rhett Marner, hadn’t cared for their stepfather. In this age of blended families I wouldn’t be surprised.
The two of them didn’t linger in the kitchen and offered nothing in the way of acknowledgment of their mother’s distress. They did check out the fridge, grabbed the chicken and potato salad I’d brought and retreated for a room, probably as far as they could get from this kitchen. In this house, that could be a long way off.
Zoe smiled apologetically. “Sorry. They don’t know what to make of all this. But I told you that chicken would be appreciated.”
Now that the boys had arrived home, I figured it was okay to leave. But before I could even get any parting words out of my mouth, the front doorbell chimed. I pulled my car keys from my pocket and decided I’d follow Zoe when she answered. Then I could say good-bye once she had someone else to distract her.
But getting out of here wouldn’t be that easy, I soon learned. Rebecca Marner stood on the stoop along with Lydia Monk. When Lydia saw me, the truth I’d seen in her eyes, the sad person from this morning, was gone. Totally gone.
“What are you doing here?” That was her usual greeting for me. Those lacquered eyes—her mascara so thick I swore it was actual paint—bored into me.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Lydia.” Rebecca pulled Lydia by the arm into the foyer and shut the door. “I asked Jillian to come over—you know, to keep poor Zoe company until I could get things rolling as far as paperwork and other necessary evils that accompany a sudden death. There is no extended family in town yet, and a wife in mourning shouldn’t be left alone.”
“But Jillian asked you to come here, right? Hinted around?” Lydia hadn’t taken her eyes off me and Zoe shrank back, probably wishing she could disappear.
“Actually it was my idea.” Rebecca sounded dismissive, might as well have added, “End of discussion.” “Now, where’s that paperwork for Zoe to complete? She’ll need her death certificates as soon as possible. Bank accounts are frozen when something like this happens, and she’ll have to prove he’s dead to gain access to funds to feed her family.”
Feed her family? I thought. There was enough food to feed an army in the kitchen. I turned to Zoe, rested a hand on her upper arm. “If you need anything or just want to talk, please call me.”
I didn’t even get a chance to handle any awkward good-bye with Lydia because Rebecca was already herding her and Zoe toward the back of the house.
The tightness in my neck that always started after an encounter with Lydia disappeared the second I closed the door behind me. But the tension actually started before she’d arrived. I truly hoped I wouldn’t get any calls to come here again. This whole meeting with not only Zoe, but with her sons, with Lydia and of course master planner Rebecca, almost seemed frenzied. I had to learn that every request for my help didn’t have to be answered immediately—especially with death and weddings and flowers and funerals all mixing together in my head like a lethal cocktail.
The minute I climbed into the van, I pulled my phone out. This time, I engaged the chat feature on my new cat cam. The speaker on only one camera was turned on so it would draw the cats to me. I called all their names and added an “I love you.” Sure enough, soon four sets of cat faces stared up at me in the kitchen. Merlot warbled in response and Syrah stood up on his back legs and pawed the air in the direction of the camera as if stretching toward my voice would allow me to pet him. Chablis lay on the tile and rolled on her back. Though I couldn’t hear her, I was sure she was purring. Magpie, to my amusement, had a big fat button in her mouth—she’d been in my sewing room again hunting for treasure. But when she saw what Syrah was doing, she dropped the button and it bounced away. She, too, stood on back legs to hear as I talked to them about how I would be home soon.
But my dose of cat therapy was interrupted by an incoming call and I had to say good-bye. I switched off the cat cam and answered. It was Finn.
“Um, Jillian, we could use a little help. I know my dad is super busy, I can’t find Gramps and we’re kind of stuck out here.”
“You and Lindsey?” I jabbed the key in the ignition.
“Yup. I took her to Shawn’s shelter because . . . because there’s no better place to be than at the Sanctuary when you’re down. Someone dropped off a sick batch of puppies with Shawn, and since his wife is gone for her internship at that vet hospital in North Carolina, he’s alone and needed help. But we ran out of gas on the way home. At least I think that’s all that’s wrong with her car.”
“I can fill a gas can and be there right away. Tell me exactly where you are.”
Twenty minutes later, Lindsey and I watched as Finn added the gas to her BMW.
The girl seemed in a terrible mood. Not that I blamed her. Her father was murdered, she’d left her home to stay with strangers and now this small event—running out of gas—was probably the last straw.
I rested a hand on her shoulder as she stared at Finn filling up her car. “I didn’t mind coming out here.”
Her shoulder tensed beneath my touch and I withdrew my hand. Maybe she needed space.
She turned to me, her eyes apologetic and angry at the same time. “It’s not you. I called my mother and she wouldn’t pick us up. Now, if it had been one of her committee
members who called? Or the mayor? Or even a stranger off the street? Oh, she would’ve answered their plea for help just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “But my daddy, the guy everyone loved to hate? He’d never leave us out in the country like this. If he couldn’t come, he’d send someone. He’d complain all the way and call me stupid, but he’d come.”
As soon as she’d mentioned her dad, emotion filled her voice and those sly, unpredictable tears struck again. I didn’t care if she resisted me. This girl needed a hug.
I gathered her close and told her how sorry I was. She relaxed into me, finally wrapped her arms around me and put her head on my shoulder. “Why did this have to happen? Why am I always her scapegoat?”
These tears weren’t about her dad. They were about Mom.
Finn finished his task and faced us. “Let me check if we’re good to go.”
The car started right up.
“I am so dumb,” Lindsey mumbled as she started for the passenger side. “Can’t even check a fuel gauge.”
She stopped halfway to her destination and looked back at me. “Thank you.”
“I’ll follow you two back to my place. Or are you headed home and Finn should ride with me?”
“I can go home if you need me to leave. I know I’m pretty nasty company.”
“Absolutely not. You stay as long as you want. And I’ll put you to work washing china for the wedding reception my stepdaughter is having later this week.” There was no china to wash, of course, and right now it was a maybe wedding reception. But it felt like the right thing to say.
Lindsey must have picked up on my expression and misinterpreted what I was thinking. “Oh, that’s right. Finn said you and his dad were getting married. I should get out of your way.”
“No way. You are welcome in my home. End of conversation.”
I caught the hint of a smile before she joined Finn in her car. He pulled out and I followed. This road between here and town was a deserted stretch, but not a minute later, I saw Finn’s right blinker come on and he pulled over. Maybe running out of gas wasn’t the only problem with this car. Maybe we’d have to call a tow truck.
The Cat, the Sneak and the Secret Page 11
