A Dead Daughter (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery Book 3)

by Anna Burke

  Sounds issued from behind them, and the French doors opened. A member of the household staff wheeled out a little cart with tea, chocolate-dipped strawberries, diminutive sandwiches, and a lovely assortment of tarts. Andrea made sure the doors were open wide enough for the cart to pass. Once the staff member had served them, Andrea dismissed her.

  “I’ll take it from here, Tanya. Thanks!” The young server left, and Andrea seated herself with tea and treats of her own.

  “Now, where was I?” Dottie asked. “Oh yes, Eric turning up the pressure. When he didn’t get his way, hustling me by himself, he enlisted Sally to make his case. That just made me even more convinced that he was an unprincipled man and not leadership material. When I objected to that tactic, my relationship with Sally took a turn for the worse. I did not understand how bad things could get.” She glanced at Andrea before going on. “Andrea, our lawyers, and a few family members know what happened next.”

  “It’s okay, Dottie, we won’t tell anyone,” Bernadette said.

  “If I thought it would help stop that despicable monster, I wouldn’t mind one bit. He’s as slippery as an eel,” Dottie said, taking a sip of her tea. Andrea fidgeted in her chair, perhaps worried about Dottie, or upset because she knew what was coming.

  “So what happened?” Jessica asked.

  “He broke it off with Sally, supposedly because I didn’t approve of him and he didn’t want to come between her and her family. She became hysterical and blamed me for ruining her life. Sally claimed I just didn’t want her to be happy, and didn’t like the man because I couldn’t control him, like I did her. It was quite the scene. The next day, she moved out. I wasn’t sure that was a bad thing, except that it happened under such acrimonious circumstances. When she told me, a few weeks later, that she was seeing a psychiatrist, I felt relieved. Moving out on her own, in her thirties, and getting into treatment made me think that the whole mess with Eric Conroy might turn out for the best.”

  “Let me guess, Dottie, Sally was seeing Dr. Richard Carr, right?” Andrea turned to look at Jessica as Dottie exclaimed.

  “Why yes, Jessica. How could you know that?”

  “He's part of my latest troubles,” Jessica responded, raising the arm in the sling a little. “I imagine you’ve heard about the debacle at the top of the Palm Springs tramway.” Andrea shook her head, no, before Dottie could speak.

  “No, I have not. I don’t get out much, nor do I keep up with the news. It’s just too depressing most of the time. What did I miss?” She looked at Jessica and at Andrea, who averted her eyes.

  “We were afraid it would upset you, Dottie,” Andrea said, almost in a whisper. “Dr. Carr’s dead. He died last week. I’m sure Jessica can give you more details, since she was with him.” There was something odd in the way she spoke that last sentence, perhaps mistrust in her voice, maybe even resentment.

  “I’m sorry, Andrea, to bring this up if you felt the need to keep it from Dottie. I hope you don’t find this upsetting, Dottie, but, yes, Carr is dead. He, another thirty-something female client of his, and I, all took a tumble off the mountain last week. His client and I made it. He did not.”

  “Well, I’m not sure why you thought that would upset me, Andrea. Dr. Carr turned my daughter against her father. It doesn’t surprise me he met with an early, ugly death.” A whoosh escaped from Jessica’s lips. There it was: same guy, same M.O., and tied now to Eric Conroy. “I suspected he was in cahoots with Eric, given the way this all unfolded, but I had no way to prove it. Do you?”

  “Not yet, but we’re working on it. Did Sally meet Carr through Eric?"

  “I’m not sure. That’s what I figured when Sally said she wanted me to resign from the board at Pinnacle, or else. The trouble that had started weeks before finally made horrible sense. By then, it was too late for Harry. My husband wasn’t well, and after being accused of raping his daughter when she was a toddler, life was more than he could bear. He went downhill fast.” As Dottie spoke, she clenched her fist. Angry tears flowed. Both Andrea and Bernadette handed her tissues. A too small gesture of support, given the enormity of the burden those words conveyed.

  “I am so sorry, Dottie. I doubt it will surprise you, or make you feel any better, to learn that Sally wasn’t the only young woman led down that road by Carr. And I’m betting Conroy was Carr’s secret partner in at least one more situation involving Pinnacle.”

  “Another board member?” Dottie asked.

  “I think so, but we’re still in the process of putting all the pieces together,” Jessica replied. Dottie was quiet for a moment. Then she looked up, her eyes wide, as though it had all become clear.

  “Ned Donnelly, right? That poor man, I knew something was up. With all the trouble here at home, I didn’t even take the time to ask him what. Now, I can see it—the same sad desperation in his face that Harry wore. Followed by Ned’s unexpected cheerleading for Eric Conroy and surge of enthusiasm for taking Pinnacle public. I didn’t get it. Now I do. Who knows how many others he had in his pocket by then. Can’t you go to Ned and get him to tell you what’s going on? Before it’s too late, Jessica. His daughter has got to be at risk.” Andrea looked down and squirmed in her seat. She didn’t make eye contact as Dottie shot off a series of questions, becoming more agitated with each one. “What is it? What else have you concealed? Is Shannon Donnelly dead?”

  “We’re not sure, Dottie. She’s missing and the police are looking for her. That’s all we know, for now,” Bernadette said, reaching out to place a hand over Dottie’s clasped hands. Andrea lifted her eyes to meet Dottie’s gaze.

  “We thought we were doing the right thing—keeping trouble from you. Since you had stopped following the news, why bring it up?”

  “We—what do you mean by we?” Dottie demanded.

  “Did I say we? I meant me. It was my decision to keep all of this from you. I, I, uh, I consulted with Dr. Wooldridge, but he deferred to me. Dottie, I’m sorry.”

  “Wooldridge and I will talk about this later. From now on, Andrea, don’t shield me. I’m not a child, and I still have my wits about me. I’ll face whatever I have to face, especially if it involves my friends and family. Have I made myself clear?” Andrea glanced up and nodded. For a split second, her eyes darted Jessica’s way. She was angry, and fearful. Did she think Dottie would fire her?

  “Dottie, I can understand why you’re disappointed in Andrea, but it sounds like she has been doing her best to decide whether to draw your attention to these disturbing events. None of it happened too long ago. Shannon Donnelly disappeared Thanksgiving weekend. The investigation into her disappearance is still underway. The young woman with me up on Mt. San Jacinto last weekend, said some things that make it sound like Shannon Donnelly is dead. She’s not a reliable source, however, and for the moment, at least, the police cannot question her further.”

  “I guess I’d better pay attention to the news again. Maybe if I act more like my old self, I’ll get treated that way. Alexis is a fortunate woman that her daughter is still in one piece. She deserves a break, given all she’s dealing with at the moment. At least she’s back in rehab,” Dottie sighed.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t shield you from her current troubles. She’s not big on sharing bad news.” Jessica felt uncomfortable saying those words.

  “She wouldn’t hide that from her old pill-popping, drinking buddy, who’s stayed on the wagon despite the tragedy of the past couple years,” Dottie said, sipping her tea. Jessica must not have hidden her shock.

  “Why do you think I’m serving you tea, dear, rather than some delightful vintage from our wine cellar?” She took another sip. “It has been a struggle. The doctors don’t help, either. It’s almost a reflex to offer consolation in pill form. I’m sure that didn’t make your decision any easier did it, Andrea? You’ve had to watch me struggle.” They all sat in silence for a few minutes. The blue skies and the splendor of their elegant surroundings, soothed, but did not assuage the anguish that sat t
here with them.

  “So how are you going to get this guy?” Dottie asked. “He needs to be put away for a very, long time.”

  “I’m not sure yet. I came here hoping to find a way to connect Carr, Conroy and extortion. That's all much clearer now. Using Carr's extortion scheme to get his way at Pinnacle ties the two men together. Conroy’s slick, though, so proving that a conspiracy existed between the two men is tough. Did Eric Conroy contact you and ask you to resign?”

  “No, Sally was the bearer of the threat. The ‘or else’ part came a few weeks after the initial onslaught of accusations. She showed up here one day, unannounced. Against my better judgment, and advice from our lawyer, I let her into the house. There was another round of accusations that her father had been abusing her for years. I asked why she hadn’t come to me when it all happened. She went into some mumbo-jumbo about repressed memory. That it was my fault, too, since I was always too busy to listen, and she was afraid to tell me. All these different reasons jumbled up and spilling out in an incoherent way. I told her I was ready to listen. That must have shocked the hell out of her, or it wasn’t in the script. That’s when she went ballistic and threatened to go public with her story. Sally said the only way out was for me to give her one last chance at happiness. Resign from the board. Her last words—the last time I ever spoke to my daughter, she screamed at me. ‘Resign or I’ll ruin your life, like you’ve tried to ruin mine! Father will pay, too, for your stubbornness. This is one fight you will not win, Mother.” It wasn't her threats that caused me to resign, although that part about her father got to me. It was more the realization I hated being on that board, anyway. Pinnacle had asked too much for too long. So, I stepped down. The rest, as they say, is history. Two months later, Sally was dead, and the fix was in on the IPO. I presume he’s got the CEO thing wrapped up too, but no one will talk about succession, with an IPO in the making.”

  “I hate to ask you to think about this anymore, but was there anything odd about the circumstances surrounding Sally’s death?”

  “Other than the fact she was taking a bunch of drugs prescribed by Carr, no. She had been on antidepressants before, but never all the other drugs. It wasn’t the Xanax and Ambien that killed her, though. Some combination of antidepressant and an anti-psychotic drug were at too high levels in her system. It was all a horrible accident, according to investigators. I wondered why she was alone. Where was the love of her life? Why did she call her psychiatrist, and not Eric, when she realized she’d taken the wrong pills?”

  “No one’s asked Eric any of those questions, have they?”

  “Oh hell, no, Jessica. There wasn’t any reason to question anybody about anything, once they ruled Sally’s death an accidental overdose. My husband and my daughter are dead because of him, Jessica. Not only is he going to get away with it, but he’s about to profit from it. That’s just wrong.”

  “I won’t let him get away with it, Dottie. There has to be a way to stop him.”

  “You can count on my prayers, Jessica, and anything else I can do.” With that, Dottie picked up the rosary lying on the table near her plate. The message from Detective Hernandez flashed through Jessica’s mind, at the sight of those beads.

  Blood on the rosary NOT a match to Libby or Shannon’s blood type, the message had read.

  “Dottie, did Sally have one of those?” Jessica asked, pointing at the rosary.

  “She did, yes. One reason I had hope things would work out, after she left home, was that she had rekindled her faith. Father Caverly mentioned how happy he was that Sally had scheduled an appointment with him. He assumed I knew all about it. I was too embarrassed to tell him otherwise, or to ask later why she had made that appointment. What if she had gone to him with those accusations about Harry? It was all I could do to face the man after that. Why do you ask?”

  “This is a stretch, Dottie. We found a rosary—part of one, actually. It was in a car belonging to Libby Van Der Woert. She’s the young woman in the ICU who fell off Mt. San Jacinto with me and Dr. Carr. Libby thought the rosary was important. The word she used was ‘key’, the ‘rosary is the key,’ or something like that.” Dottie sucked in a little gulp of air.

  “Like this one, maybe?” she asked. Dottie took off a silver chain she had around her neck. On that chain was a tiny key. “This key was clasped in Sally’s hand when she died. Not the rosary, but a medal and a couple bits of chain from a rosary, were in her hand, too. The items were given to me along with her clothes after the autopsy. I decided to wear the key, along with Harry’s wedding ring, on this chain around my neck. A silly old woman’s attempt to keep her lost family close,” Dottie said, her voice breaking, as tears fell.

  “Maybe it’s what Libby meant,” Jessica said softly, as a chill ran through her. Not another suitcase, Jessica thought. “Do you have any idea what the key is for? Why would it have been with that rosary?”

  “I have no clue why it would have been with the rosary. It had this little loop on it, like it had been attached to a link in the rosary. That’s how I got the idea to put it on my chain. It reminds me of the keys that went with the diaries Sally kept. She had taken them with her when she moved. After she died, I cleaned out her condo and brought them back, along with other small mementos. That included pictures of me and her father. Not a picture anywhere of her fiancé, but her abusive parents, yes. I’ve thought about reading the diaries, but I just couldn’t bring myself to read hateful things about me or her father. I don't understand how it’s related to the rosary. You might ask Father Caverly. Maybe she said something to him about it.” Dottie dabbed at her eyes. The anger that had energized her earlier had gone now. Once again, she faded into a shadow-of-her-former-self right before Jessica's eyes.

  “Jessica, I’m going to go take a nap. You’re welcome to go through that box of diaries—take them with you, and the key. Come upstairs with me and Andrea. She’ll show you where they are. Bernadette, you should come along, too. Jessica’s not in any shape to carry that box. There must be twenty of them, one for each year of her life since she was ten or twelve.” Their tea party had come to a sad, abrupt end.

  They walked with Dottie and Andrea through an enormous kitchen, to an elevator that took them upstairs. Jessica and Bernadette said goodbye to Dottie. Minutes later, Andrea accompanied them back downstairs, and out to the car where Peter and Brien waited. Brien rushed to get that box from Bernadette and loaded it into the back of the car. Neither he nor Peter asked questions, taking their cue from the somber expressions the three women wore on their faces. Please, let there be something in those diaries that will bring Eric Conroy to justice, Jessica thought, as she waved to Andrea.

  When they settled into the car and buckled up, Peter turned around to head out of the driveway. Jessica looked back at the enormous estate. A woman watched from an upstairs window.

  “Peter, uh, what did you think of Andrea?”

  “Too tall,” he said. “Not the shooter on Rodeo Drive.”

  “Yeah, okay, that’s what I thought. Something’s not right about her, though,” Jessica said.

  “Tell him about the key, Jessica. We found a key and that medal missing from the rosary in Libby’s car, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, we did. Detective Hernandez needs to check the blood on the crucifix to see if it’s a match to Sally’s. Her blood type should be on file at the hospital where she died.”

  “He should have the DNA results soon, too. That’s why I put Sally’s hair brush in the box with the diaries, Jessica. You can give it to Jerry to take to Hernandez tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That’s primo snooping, Bernadette,” Brien said. “Do you think that Andrea person saw you?”

  “Thanks, Brien. I don’t think she saw me do it,” Bernadette said. “I can be stealthy when I need to be.”

  “Are you talking about the woman in the upstairs window, Brien? You could tell it was Andrea?”

  “Yes, and she wasn’t just watching us leave. She was on her phone,
too,” Brien said.

  “Want to place bets on who she’s calling?” Peter asked. A sinking feeling stole over Jessica. Whoever she was calling it couldn’t be good. The likelihood it was Eric Conroy made her sick.

  “Do you think Dottie’s in any danger?”

  “I don’t think Dottie’s the one Andrea’s calling about, Jessica,” Peter said, making eye contact, peering at her from the rear view mirror. “But I can talk to her security guys and get them to check on her if you’d like.”

  “Do it, will you Peter?” Jessica leaned back against the seat while Peter issued commands to the system in the car. He called and expressed his concerns to Dottie’s security team who assured him they would take care of it. They'd place someone in the house with her until further notice from Peter.

  Would that be enough to keep Eric Conroy from killing someone else while the clock ticked down the days until that IPO launch? Jessica wondered. “Let's see what Carla Fergusson has to say. We need hard evidence. Maybe she's got it if there's nothing in Sally's diaries we just picked up. If Carla will meet with me,” Jessica added. And she doesn't get on a phone, like Andrea Jessop, and call the son of a bitch, Jessica thought as she leaned back against the seat for the ride back to the hotel.