Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  “I figured the same thing, although if she thought he was guilty, why would she give him custody of their only daughter?”

  Carter regarded me with a smirk. “Good point.”

  “I don't know what to think. Bob seems like a good dad. Can't be too easy to raise a daughter without a mom around.”

  “Just because he's a loving father, doesn't mean he isn't a sick bastard. People are complicated; they can be good and evil at the same time. Don't ever forget that.”

  I chuckled at Carter’s serious expression. “I know. That’s why I’d like to have a chat with the ex-wife. If anyone knows what kind of person Bob is, she’d know.”

  “Where does she live?” Carter asked.

  “Newburyport. It’s only a half hour away, so I think it’ll be worth the effort. Bob told me that Rebecca remarried shortly after their divorce.”

  Carter chuckled. “Sounds like you have a busy day tomorrow.”

  I noticed Carter’s beer was empty so I grabbed another from the fridge. “Enough about Bob, what happened with Travis Miller today? Did you get inside his house?”

  “Yeah. He left around noon, so I got inside to look around. He's quite the huntsman, apparently.”

  “I know it. I saw a rifle on his kitchen table when I was there yesterday.”

  “Anyway, the guy is flat broke. House is going into foreclosure, and his credit cards have gone to collections. He has no job, unless he's working for someone under the table. I saw a letter from his sister that came in the mail a few days ago. She's worried about him and sent him a check for five-hundred bucks.”

  “He's lucky to have a compassionate sister,” I replied. “But five-hundred bucks won't save his house from foreclosure.”

  “Sure won't. Maybe some groceries, but not much more. Although, he could probably live on deer meat for several months. The guy must have twenty pounds of it in his freezer.”

  “How did you know it was deer meat?” I asked.

  “I found some pictures lying around of him posing with a deer he’d supposedly shot.”

  “Did you find anything else of interest?”

  “Not really. He has an old computer and, lucky for me, it wasn't password protected. I checked through his search history – mostly articles on loan modifications and bankruptcy. He's a big fan of dating websites, but I get the impression he doesn't go on many dates. He can't afford to.”

  “Well, I feel bad for the guy, but he's not being honest on his dating profiles.”

  “Of course not,” Carter chuckled. “But that's nothing new.”

  “Hey, being broke is better than being a rapist,” I said.

  “And better than being a cross-dresser,” he replied.

  “Kathy Woodward strikes me as a picky and guarded woman. I doubt any of these three guys will float her boat. I have a feeling she won't be pleased when I give her my report tomorrow.”

  “She wanted to know the gory details, and she'll get them.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.” There was another question I wanted to ask Carter, but how could I do it without sounding nosy? “By the way, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking on the phone the other day as I left your house. Are you dating someone?”

  He gave me a strange look. “No. I’m not dating anyone.”

  “It’s none of my business, I was just curious.”

  Carter regarded me intently then leaned back in his seat as if trying to decide what to say. “Look, she’s a person from my past, that’s all. She needs help with something and I offered my services.”

  Realizing that he had no intention of expounding, I simply said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Thanks for offering, but no.” Carter glanced at his watch, yawned and then stood up from the table. “It’s getting late. I should head out.”

  “Hey, wait a second,” I said, grabbing the book from the coffee table. “I've been meaning to give you this.”

  Carter looked at me with a perplexed look on his face as he accepted the book. “A gift?”

  “Yep. Look inside.”

  He opened the cover and blinked in amazement. “Where'd you find this?”

  “Henry and Martha had it in their basement. Apparently, Henry was a big fan of John LeCarre, too. They gave it to me in trade for the work I did for them.”

  “Do you have any idea how much this book is worth?”

  “No idea.”

  “Well, neither do I, but it has to be worth a lot.” He shook his head, gazing at me with appreciation. “This is incredible. How'd you know he's my favorite author?”

  “Oh, could be because you have dozens of his books in your library.”

  “My library?” he said mockingly. “You mean that sagging bookshelf in my living room?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  He laughed. “I guess I'm impressed that you noticed.”

  “It's my job to notice things,” I said nonchalantly.

  He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “This is a generous and thoughtful gift, Sarah. Thank you.”

  “You're welcome,” I said. “I was going to write something personal on the inside, but then I figured it might devalue the book in case you ever wanted to sell it.”

  “I'd never sell this,” he said in a serious yet tender tone. “It's one of the nicest gifts anyone's ever given me. Thank you again.”

  “Hey,” I said, trying not to sound too hokey. “It's the least I could do for everything you've done for me.”

  “It's been my pleasure, Sarah.”

  When Carter left, I stood there for a few moments in quiet contemplation. I hadn't expected him to be so sentimental about the gesture, but I had a smile on my face for the rest of the evening.

  Chapter 14

  Kyle and Rebecca Lambert lived in a corner unit condo on the outskirts of Newburyport, Massachusetts. The neighborhood seemed decent enough, with landscaped walkways and lush trees surrounding the property. I spotted unit 6, parked my car in an empty space, and walked up to the door.

  I rang the doorbell, and while I waited, glanced at my watch. 8:45 am. I hoped they hadn’t left for work yet.

  When the door opened, a tall man with a broad chest peered down at me. He wore a nylon warm-up suit, and his wet hair was slicked back. His face looked rather flushed, and he smelled like the ocean. I figured he’d probably just gotten back from a run on the beach.

  “Good morning,” he said, giving me a thorough body scan. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Is Rebecca home?”

  He paused for a moment and then shook his head. “Sorry, she’s out.”

  “Is she at work?”

  “No, just out running errands.”

  “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  He paused to study my face. “Are you a friend of Rebecca’s? I don’t think we’ve met.” He held out his hand. “I’m Kyle.”

  I smiled timidly as I shook his hand. “I’m Sarah, but your wife doesn’t know me. I just wanted to ask some questions about her ex-husband.”

  “Really?” He crossed his bulky arms over his chest and tilted his head with interest. “What’s going on with Bob? Is he in some kind of trouble again?”

  I assumed Kyle was referring to Bob’s scandal with Bridget. Perhaps he’d be willing to give me some details from his perspective. “Have you or your wife spoken to Bob recently?”

  “Are you a detective or something?” he asked with a smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to show me your badge?”

  “I’m not a cop. I’m just looking into a private matter, that’s all.” I showed him my private investigator license.

  “Well, if it has to do with Bob, my wife won’t be interested in talking to you.”

  There was a strange look in his eyes when he mentioned Bob’s name. I wondered if Rebecca’s new husband was jealous of the ex.

  “Maybe you could help me. What’s your impression of Bob?” I asked carefully. “Your wife must have told you why she lef
t him.”

  Kyle glanced around, as if worried a neighbor might be spying on us. Finally, he gestured for me to follow him inside the house. “Why don’t you come in. Looks like it might start to rain.”

  He invited me into a sitting area with a couch and loveseat. Once we were comfortable, I took out my cell phone and showed it to him. “Mind if I record our conversation?”

  He shrugged. “What exactly do you need to know?”

  I decided to come right out and ask the question. “Do you know about Bob’s lawsuit from three years ago?”

  Kyle raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “How did you know about that? It wasn’t in the papers.”

  “You must have known Bridget Charmaine. You were the gym teacher at her high school back then, right?”

  He seemed impressed. “You’ve done your homework, I see.”

  “Can you tell me a little about Bridget? Was she a good student? A good athlete?”

  Kyle scratched his neck and leaned back into the sofa. “She could have been a decent athlete, but she didn’t apply herself. The fact that she hung around with a rough crowd didn’t help.”

  “A rough crowd? What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, you know, the burnouts and the druggies. Smoking cigarettes in the parking lot after school. She got kicked off the soccer team because she showed up to practice one day, high on cocaine.”

  “Was there a student named Dana Clark that she was friendly with?”

  “Yeah, why?” he asked.

  “What can you tell me about her?”

  Kyle ran a hand through his wet hair and gave me a warning glance. “Look, I’m not comfortable talking about the students. I thought you wanted information about Bob.”

  “I understand, I’ll stick to that. Did your wife leave Bob because she thought he was guilty of molesting Bridget?” I asked bluntly.

  He sat very still, chewing on his lip, probably wondering how much he should divulge. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Rebecca and Bob had a rocky marriage from the start. He had anger issues, and they used to fight all the time. The lawsuit was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  “So she believed Bridget?” I said. “And turned against her husband?”

  “No, Rebecca actually stood by him through the whole thing. But I think she only did that to protect their daughter. They were able to keep it from getting out, by paying off Bridget.”

  I nodded thoughtfully, thinking that Kyle still hadn’t answered my question. “So Rebecca thought he was guilty, right?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “And how soon after the divorce did you two get together?” I asked.

  He shifted uncomfortably and picked at a hangnail. “A few months. Why?”

  “Were you and Rebecca having an affair before the divorce?”

  He looked up and smiled pleasantly. “Well, that’s sort of personal, don’t you think?”

  “Sorry. I’m not judging, but I heard that you had a crush on Rebecca for quite awhile. Lucky for you, Bob screwed up big time.”

  “It was only a matter of time until she left him,” he said casually.

  “If she thought Bob was molesting young women, then why did she allow him sole custody of their daughter?” I asked.

  “She had her reasons,” Kyle said. “I’d rather not go into it.”

  “That’s fine.” I glanced around the room, taking in the décor. The bright floral couch pillows, the frilly lace curtains, the lilac purple paint color on the walls. Clearly, his wife had done most of the decorating.

  “Did Bob ever hit your wife?” I asked.

  Kyle seemed to ponder that question thoughtfully. “No. I don’t believe so. Why?”

  “Did Bob ever threaten you when he realized you were dating his wife?”

  “Ex-wife,” Kyle corrected. “But no, he never confronted me about it. In fact, he was pretty decent about the whole thing. When Rebecca told him she wanted a divorce, he didn’t even try to stop her. So, honestly, I have nothing against the guy.”

  “Other than the fact that he molested a young woman,” I added.

  Kyle shrugged. “Well, yeah, of course.”

  “Did your wife mention if Bob had ever been accused of molesting other girls?”

  “No,” he said. “Why? You think there have been others?”

  “There’s no proof of that. But then again, I haven’t actually found any proof that Bob molested Bridget, either.”

  Kyle nodded slowly, his features becoming more strained. “Have you talked to Bridget?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but I plan on seeing her today. I’m hoping she’ll enlighten me about what happened with Bob.”

  “Why does it matter?” Kyle asked. “Why are you going to bother that poor girl about it? Some things are better left alone.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe Bridget lied about the whole thing?”

  Kyle shook his head. “Why would she do that?”

  “For the money,” I said. “Or for some other reason. Maybe she was pissed off at Bob for kicking her off the team.”

  “It’s hardly a reason to accuse him of rape.”

  “I agree,” I said. “But revenge can be a powerful motivator. It doesn’t always have to make sense.”

  “Even if she did lie about it, what are you expecting to do? Get the money back?” Kyle asked.

  “My interest has nothing to do with money,” I replied. “I just want to know if Bob is molesting young girls. That’s all.”

  Kyle checked his watch and made a face. “I really need to get ready for work. Is there anything else?”

  I pushed myself up from the couch and extended a hand to him. “I guess not. Thanks, Mr. Lambert. I really appreciate all your help.”

  Chapter 15

  It was almost 11:00 when I got to the waffle house where Bridget worked. I had called ahead and found out she got off her shift at noon.

  Starving, I decided to go inside and sit at a booth. The table was sticky, probably from spilled maple syrup that didn’t get fully washed down after the last customer.

  “Do you know what you'd like to order, ma'am?”

  I looked up from the menu and eyed the waitress who looked like a Pilgrim in her drab brown uniform with white, frilly apron. I glanced at the name embroidered on her sleeve – Bridget.

  There was a dumpy quality to her, as if she'd given up trying to be attractive. No make-up or jewelry, and her hair had that greasy sheen, as if she'd neglected to wash it for days. Her bluish-grey eyes seemed glazed over.

  I set the menu aside and smiled at her. “I'd like two poached eggs on rye toast, please.”

  She didn't bother writing it down. “Bacon or sausage?”

  “No thanks,” I said. “But I'd love some black coffee.”

  She gave a curt nod but didn't look me in the eye. “Yeah,” she said. “I'll be right back with a fresh pot.”

  As she sauntered away toward the kitchen, I got the impression that Bridget didn't like her job, or simply wasn't a people person. Maybe she’d been cute in high school, but the past three years had not been kind to her.

  When she returned with my food, I tried to engage her in idle chitchat, but she only responded with one word answers. Clearly, she was not concerned about a good tip.

  While I ate, I observed Bridget interact with the other customers. She treated everyone with the same, indifferent manner, like she was on autopilot, or just extremely tired.

  The eggs were a bit runny for my taste, but I devoured the whole plate and the rest of my coffee without complaint. The bill only came to $7.25, but I left a twenty on the table and got up to leave. She didn't deserve the generous tip, but I hoped it would soften her up for later.

  I waited outside in my car for the next twenty minutes until her shift ended. Sure enough, at eleven sharp, Bridget came waltzing out of the restaurant, still dressed in her waitress attire. She was counting a wad of dollar bills as she waited by the curb.

 
I got out of my car and approached her.

  “Bridget?” I called out.

  She stopped and turned to face me with an irritated expression. “Yeah?”

  “Hey, do you have a few minutes?”

  She looked me up and down as a hint of recognition flashed in her eyes. “If you have a complaint about the food, go talk to George. He's the manager.”

  “My breakfast was fine. I wanted to talk to you about a different matter concerning Bob Owens.”

  At the mention of his name, her eyes got wide and she almost dropped the money in her hands. “What about him?”

  “Look, can we go somewhere private and talk?”

  She scanned the surrounding area with unease. “I can't. My boyfriend is on his way to pick me up.”

  “This will just take a minute. I really need your help, Bridget.”

  Her expression softened a bit, and she motioned for me to follow her to a picnic table near the back of the lot where dozens of cigarette butts littered the ground. It must have been the smoking spot for employees.

  Bridget perched on the edge of the table and reached into her purse for a cigarette and lighter. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Sarah Woods and …” I paused to consider telling her the truth, but decided it wasn't a good idea. A version of the truth would have to be enough. “You see, I have a friend. She's been dating Bob Owens, and she recently found out about the lawsuit.”

  Bridget lit her cigarette and took a few puffs, her hand shaking slightly. “I'm not supposed to talk about that.”

  “I've read the documents, and I know that you got paid to keep quiet. But I'd like to hear your side of the story if you want to tell me.”

  She looked away. “I can't.”

  “I know it must be difficult to talk about it, and I certainly don't want to cause you any more pain, but has Bob contacted you recently?”

  Bridget flicked the ash from her cigarette. “Nope.”

  “Do you know if there were other girls he molested?”

  She paused and regarded me with a blank expression. “How should I know?”

  “Did you and Bob have something going on?” I asked delicately. “Were you two involved intimately? Students fall in love with teachers. It probably happens more than you know.”