Maxine

by SUE FINEMAN

  “What if I did?”

  And a few minutes later, bowls of rocky road ice cream were served to them, with dainty little cookies stuck in the side. Nick laughed. It was a little thing, but it meant Cara cared enough to try to make him comfortable in her house. It was a considerate thing to do, but he’d never feel at home in a place like this. Seeing this house sealed it for him. He’d begun to dream of a future with Cara, but there was no way he’d ever fit in this world.

  <>

  After lunch, Cara spoke with Mr. Pettibone. “We’ll meet in the library in about twenty minutes, Mr. Pettibone. I’ll need at least two security guards.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Do we have a tape recorder in the house?”

  “Your grandfather had a tape system installed in the library. There are several hidden microphones in the room. The controls are in the top left drawer of the desk.”

  Cara scanned the list, marking Sally Jane McCullough’s name and one other. “Mr. Pettibone, who is this other person who came recently? Did we need another gardener?”

  “Your husband hired him, Miss Andrews. Security is still investigating. The name may be an alias.”

  Nick asked Mr. Pettibone, “Does he live here?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  Nick looked at Cara. “Better have your security people search his room.”

  “Has anything disappeared, Mr. Pettibone?” asked Cara. “Paintings? Art work?”

  “Now that you mention it, the painting over the bed in your mother’s suite has been tampered with. It looks like the back has been removed and replaced.”

  “Anything else?” asked Gerry.

  “The Egyptian artifacts were moved ever so slightly.”

  “By someone dusting?” asked Nick.

  Mr. Pettibone lifted his chin. “I am always present when that cabinet is opened and the contents dusted.”

  “Damn!” said Nick. “Somebody’s been snooping around.”

  “At the very least,” said Gerry. “We should get an expert in here to look at the painting and make sure someone didn’t replace it with a copy.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll take care of that right away,” said Mr. Pettibone. “Perhaps the expert should authenticate each piece in the house. When Mr. Andrews was alive, he had it done every other year.”

  Cara nodded. “Then it’s long overdue. Let’s get back on that every other year schedule.”

  Mr. Pettibone nodded.

  “Has anyone else been hired since my mother’s death?”

  “No, I don’t believe so. Would you like me to call Security now, Miss Andrews?”

  “Yes, please do. Have someone search my guardians’ quarters while I speak with them. No one else is to know what’s going on. Do they have cell phones?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “Have them removed, along with the other phones in their suite. I don’t want them to speak with anyone until I’m ready for them to leave.” Cara paused for a deep breath. “When the guards are ready, send for Mr. and Mrs. Corinth. I want to get this over with.”

  As Mr. Pettibone left the room, Cara leaned on the desk and buried her face in her hands. “What am I doing?”

  Nick rubbed her back. “Hey, Maxine, you’re on a roll.”

  “You’re doing fine, Cara,” said Gerry. “You’re taking charge. That’s good.”

  “Then why are my hands so cold?” She begged Nick with her eyes. Help me, she said without words.

  Nick glanced at Gerry, who excused himself and left the room. Nick took Cara’s hands. “You can do this, Cara. You’re the boss, and it’s time to let everybody know it.”

  She swallowed hard. “Hold me, Nick.”

  He held her gently, cradling her head against his shoulder with one hand, rubbing her back with the other. When he felt her body relax, he pulled back, kissed her lightly on the lips, and said, “Give ’em hell, Maxine.”

  Gerry came in first and Cara heard the others coming. Mr. Corinth grumbled about being needlessly disturbed. She wondered how ‘disturbed’ he’d be in a few minutes.

  Outside the door, Mrs. Corinth said, “Who does she think she is, treating us like servants? She knows our position here.”

  “She is to treat us with respect,” said her husband.

  Anger surged through Cara. Respect? They never treated me with respect. She watched them walk through the door, hating them as much today as she had when she was thirteen. She pointed to the wing-back chairs in front of the desk. “Sit down. This won’t take long.”

  She glanced at the door. “Mr. Pettibone, please stay.” He sat near the door.

  Mr. Corinth stood in front of the desk, glaring at her. His wife snarled, “How dare you summon us as if we were servants.”

  Two security guards stood inside the closed double doors as Ian and Jane Corinth sat on the other side of Cara’s grandfather’s big desk. Nick sat by Cara’s left side, Gerry on her right. The two men fortified her, and her anger at these rude, inconsiderate people fueled her. “How much of my money do the trustees pay you to live in my home?”

  Mr. Corinth’s lips pressed together tightly as his face reddened. Cara knew he was angry and she didn’t care. “How much do they pay you to be rude, to treat me as less than a person? How much?”

  “Not enough to put up with an insufferable brat like you,” said Mrs. Corinth.

  Cara caught Mr. Pettibone’s eye. “Would you get the accountant on the phone, please. Ask him—”

  “Ten thousand a month,” said Mr. Corinth.

  “Jeez,” muttered Nick. “For what?”

  “Miss Andrews came of age several years ago,” said Gerry. “Why are you still here?”

  Mr. Corinth raised his chin slightly. “Mr. Holcomb told us to stay.”

  “Her husband told us to stay, too,” said Mrs. Corinth.

  “This estate does not belong to Mr. Holcomb or to my husband,” said Cara. “It belongs to me.”

  “In a marriage, the man is always in charge,” said Mr. Corinth. “That’s the way God intended it to be.”

  “Gimme a break,” muttered Nick.

  Gerry shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Cara believed it. She’d lived it since she was thirteen. “Did God intend for my husband to have sex with your niece in my home? Or put drugs in my tea?”

  Mrs. Corinth nearly came out of her chair. “You’re lying. My niece—”

  “Why do you resent me? In all the time you’ve lived in my home, I can’t remember a single kind word from you.”

  Mrs. Corinth stood and glowered at Cara. “How dare you speak to us this way.”

  Nick stood and leaned menacingly toward the woman. “Sit down and shut up.”

  Mrs. Corinth looked at Nick and the color drained from her face. She closed her mouth and sat down.

  Leaning her forearms on the desk, Cara said, “Your services are no longer wanted or needed. They haven’t been since the day you arrived. Pack your things and leave my home. You’re not welcome here.”

  Mr. Corinth jumped to his feet, his face a mask of indignity. “You can’t fire us.”

  Cara stood to face him, matching glare for glare. “I just did,” she said firmly. How dare he try to intimidate her like this.

  The guards moved forward as Nick moved like a big cat, stepping quickly and quietly between Mr. Corinth and Cara. Mr. Corinth looked up at Nick, who stood at least three inches taller and forty pounds heavier, and sat down.

  Cara stayed on her feet. “If I find you’ve taken anything that doesn’t belong to you, I’ll have you both arrested. I may do that anyway if I learn you’re involved in my husband’s scheme.”

  “You rich, hateful brat. You have no right to threaten us,” said Mrs. Corinth.

  Motioning to the guards, Cara said, “Take them upstairs to pack and stay with them until they leave the house. They’re not to take any of the cars or anything else that doesn’t belong to them.”

  As Cara’s guardians l
eft the room, Nick heard the woman berating rich people. It wasn’t Cara she hated, it was her money. He squeezed Cara’s hand and motioned to Mr. Pettibone. “Better get Sally in here before she finds out what’s going on.”

  “Yes, of course.” Mr. Pettibone disappeared.

  Carl Hilton stepped into the room. “Miss Andrews, we found two guns in Mr. Bradshaw’s apartment. And this.” He handed Cara a rolled-up painting.

  She carefully unrolled it. “My mother’s favorite painting. This is worth at least three million dollars.”

  Nick knew Lance was behind the theft. After all, he was the one who hired the guy. He motioned with his head to the security guard. “Did you call the police?”

  “Yes, they’re on their way,” said Mr. Hilton.

  Mr. Hilton walked outside the study door, leaving Nick and Cara and Gerry alone. Cara paced and rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t anticipate this.”

  Nick said, “Yeah, but you’re doing great, Maxine. For a minute there, I thought you might be Italian.”

  She turned to face him. “Why?”

  Gerry laughed. Nick leaned down to whisper in Cara’s ear. “Everybody knows Italians have bigger balls.”

  She smacked him on the arm as a smile touched her lips.

  Nick was proud of her, of the way she’d handled herself with her guardians. Facing her fears and stepping up to her responsibilities had turned the terrified girl he’d found buried in the rubble under a collapsed house into a strong, take-charge woman.

  Cara took a deep breath. She’d given a lot of thought about this talk with Sally. The woman conspired with Lance, but Lance was a persuasive man. He could talk anyone into anything, like he talked her into eloping with him before she really knew him. Was Sally a willing participant, or did Lance coerce her into helping him? Did Sally love Lance so much she’d protect him at the risk of her own freedom? Time to find out.

  “Cara, I suggest you keep the desk between you,” said Gerry. “It’s more intimidating that way.”

  She turned to face her attorney. “What if she’s a victim like me?”

  Gerry shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Cara. We need her. If you have to use intimidation, then use it. If she cooperates, Sally McCullough’s testimony could help you end your marriage the way you want.”

  Nick massaged the back of Cara’s neck, easing her tension. “Cara, Sally is living in your house, sleeping with your husband, and planning to spend all your money. Don’t feel sorry for her. She’s known all along what he intended to do. Get the information you need and get her the hell out of your life.”

  Mr. Pettibone tapped on the door, then opened it. “Miss Andrews, are you ready for Miss McCullough?”

  “Have the police come for Mr. Bradshaw?”

  “They’ve just arrived.” Mr. Pettibone stepped into the room and pulled the door closed behind him. “Mr. and Mrs. Corinth are ready to leave and their taxi is waiting at the gate.”

  “Send Miss McCullough in first, then have my guardians escorted off the property.” Cara leaned on the desk. “Mr. Pettibone, would you mind sitting in on the interview with Miss McCullough?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Cassie should be here, too.”

  Cassie arrived with a tray of iced tea and Cara invited her to sit down. Seconds later, Mr. Pettibone arrived with Sally. She was a beauty, with a cloud of auburn hair and green eyes. She knew it, too. It showed in the way she held her head, the way she stood.

  Mr. Pettibone introduced the two women. Sally couldn’t hide her shock at finding Cara there.

  “Sit down, Miss McCullough,” said Cara. “I understand you had a dispute with Cassie. Would you tell me about it?”

  Sally sat in the chair in front of the desk. “It was personal.”

  “Personal?” Damn right it was personal. “People don’t get fired from my staff on the basis of personal disputes. Tell me what happened.”

  Sally blushed and looked down. She didn’t answer, so Cara turned to Cassie.

  Cassie told her story again, in front of Sally. Aside from flushed cheeks, Sally didn’t show any emotion.

  “Tell me about you and my husband, Sally,” Cara said gently, giving her a chance to avoid further embarrassment.

  Sally whispered, “I can’t.”

  Cara waited a minute before speaking, giving Cassie a chance to leave the room and Sally time to squirm. Nick nodded, signaling Cara to continue. Since Sally wouldn’t cooperate, Cara would have to do it the hard way, the way she’d practiced with Nick before they left his house. “Mr. Pettibone, have we ever had a hooker on the staff?”

  Aside from a flicker of a smile and a gleam in his eye, Mr. Pettibone kept his composure. “No, I don’t believe so.”

  “Then how do we know how much to pay?”

  Cara glanced at Nick, who asked, “Who pays you, Sally?”

  Sally didn’t answer, so Cara pushed ahead. “Did he get you off the street or from a brothel? How much do you usually get paid for a night’s work, or do you charge according to the services you provide? How does that work?”

  “I am not a prostitute.” Sally’s shaky voice betrayed her indignant words. She was scared, as she should be.

  Cara had Sally on the defensive. “Then what do you assist him with? It isn’t as if he actually works for a living. What is it that you do for him, exactly? Do you always do it without your clothes?”

  Nick leaned back in his chair. “I thought selling sex was against the law.”

  “Is it?” said Cara. “In that case, we should call the authorities.”

  Sally held her head up, her face bright red.

  Propping one ankle on the other knee, Nick asked, “Have you ever been in jail, Sally?”

  Sally’s terrified, wide-eyed look was his answer.

  Cara gentled her voice. “Tell me about Michael Lance.”

  “I can’t,” Sally whispered.

  “Sure you can,” said Nick. “He planned to lock her up so he could steal her money. Did you help him plan that?”

  “No, I... “ Sally looked from Nick to Cara. “I thought... He said you were...”

  Cara tapped a pen on the desk. “Crazy? No matter what anyone told you, I am not depressed or mentally ill. Lance lied and so did your aunt and uncle.” Cara caught Sally’s eye. “Do you love my husband?”

  Sally raised her chin, holding her head high. “Yes, and he loves me.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “How long have you been together?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “Why did he marry me if he loved you?”

  Sally opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t help her at this point.

  “He’s persuasive, an accomplished liar. How can you be sure he loves you?”

  Sally wiped the corners of her eyes. “I know he does.”

  “Does your love give you the right to lock me in an institution?”

  “No, I didn’t want—”

  “How did he know about me? Was it through you, through your aunt and uncle?”

  She looked down and Cara knew that was exactly what happened. The people who were paid to take care of her had betrayed her. “Let me guess. They told you my mother was crazy and I didn’t deserve all this money because I’d go crazy, too.”

  Sally responded with a whispered, “Yes.”

  “What do you know about Mr. Bradshaw?”

  Sally looked up. “Who?”

  “The man Michael Lance hired to steal the paintings from my home.”

  Nick uncrossed his legs. “You could go to prison for this, Sally.” He waved toward the door. “Hey, the cops are already here.”

  Sally cried. “I don’t want to go to prison.”

  “You were willing to send me to one,” said Cara.

  “It’s not a prison. Michael said it was nice.”

  “Have you seen it?”

  Sally shook her head. “No, but Michael wouldn’t—”

  “The hel
l he wouldn’t.” Nick voice rose as he spoke, making Sally cringe. “Lance lies, Sally. He told Cara he loved her, that they’d have a family and live happily ever after. Not a word of that was true, was it? How could he love her when he loved you? And you went along with it. You knew what he had planned all along. He married her with the intention of locking her up and stealing her money. He didn’t give a shit about Cara or he wouldn’t have done that, would he?” Nick yelled, “Would he?”

  “No.”

  “Should she have to live in an institution so you and pretty boy could go on a spending spree? How’d you like it if someone did that to you?”

  Sally’s trembling hand covered her mouth and tears dripped on her fingers.

  Nick waved his hand. “Too bad we can’t send you to that institution.”

  Gerry shook his head. “No, Cara, you can’t—”

  “Gerry, she and Michael Lance planned to confine me to that hell hole for the rest of my life.”

  Nick leaned forward, his face inches from Sally’s. “Help Cara get out of her marriage, Sally. That’s all she wants—to be free.”

  Sally sobbed. “I can’t. Michael would kill me.”

  Nick swept his hand around. “Yeah, that’s true love all right. How could any woman be stupid enough to go along with a cruel plan like that?”

  Rising out of her chair, Sally said, “I don’t have to listen to this.”

  Nick stood and put his face in Sally’s again. “The hell you don’t. Cara did nothing wrong, yet you conspired with a criminal to lock her up. If I have anything to say about it, you’re going to prison, where you belong.”

  Cara looked up at Nick. They hadn’t rehearsed this part, but she knew exactly what he was doing. He was baiting Sally.

  “Please don’t send me to prison,” cried Sally. “I didn’t know... I thought you were sick, that you needed care.” Sally sank into the chair and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God. This is a nightmare.”

  While Sally sobbed, Nick pulled Cara aside. “Can you handle it from here?”

  Cara glanced at Sally. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Throw us out and talk to her alone. The tape is still running and your security people are right outside the door.”

  “You set her up so she’d talk to me?”