This was news to me. "What scandal?"
Aaron grimaced. "There was a claim he was fooling around with a girl interning at his office. She was underage, which is what caused all the ruckus. A friend of a friend of mine knew the girl's family. Apparently, Ben offered up a ton of money so she'd keep quiet and not discredit him. I think he managed to keep it out of the papers, which is probably why you never heard anything."
I was stunned. No, this couldn't be right. Not Ben. He was a good guy. He loved his wife and daughter. Then again, what did I really know about the man? I remembered from my friendship with Paul that there had always been an intense case of sibling rivalry between the two. Paul had been the favorite, the baby, the perfect son. Paul had once confided to me that the two of them had never been close, although he would have liked to.
"Are you sure?" I asked
He nodded. "Of course I'm sure. I may be retired, but I still have my sources."
"Wow, this certainly puts things in a new perspective," Jacques said.
Aaron shrugged. "Maybe not. It isn't like this had anything to do with the death of his brother—unless somehow Ben was responsible for it."
"I'll never believe that." I spoke the words with more conviction than I actually felt. Fooling around with an underage girl? Shame on you, Ben.
"Well, since you were Paul's best friend, did you know of anyone who didn't like the boy? Try to think back."
I struggled to remember little details, but it was difficult after all this time. I recalled the scathing words of my fellow alums the other night. And what about the girl who'd had the crush on Paul—Rachel Kennedy? "Would you be able to help me find someone who stalked Paul back then?"
He raised his white, bushy eyebrows at me. "The kid had a stalker?"
"Well, she wasn't really a stalker," I admitted. "I don't remember her doing anything awful. Then again…"
Jacques placed a hand on my arm. "Did she try something?"
"I don't have any proof it was her," I said, "but the morning after the prom—which I attended with Paul—I went outside to find my car windshield shattered. At the time I assumed that someone was having fun at my expense and just happened to throw a rock at it during the night. But now I'm not so sure."
Aaron pursed his lips. "So this girl was crazy about Paul, and he was not interested in her."
I nodded. "He once told me that he couldn't stand her. But he tried to be nice and was always polite to her. Maybe that wasn't the way for him to go."
Aaron gestured to my purse. "Got a slip of paper in there? Give me her name, and I'll see if we can get her checked out. I'm assuming you don't know if she's married now or not?"
I shook my head. "No idea. She wasn't at the reunion the other day. I'm not even sure if she's still in town. I could ask Ben, but—"
He made a small sound, deep in his throat. "It might be best if you say as little as possible about this to Mr. Steadman."
"Why?"
"He could be a suspect. If your theory is correct, no one can be ruled out now."
"He's right, Cin," Jacques said soberly. "Just tell him enough to get by. Don't divulge more than you have to."
My mouth went dry, and I couldn't speak for a moment. I found it difficult to believe that Ben would have killed his own brother. Still, I had to admit it was a possibility. The thought, along with the intense heat, was making me ill.
"If I were you," Aaron went on, "I'd ask around at the hospital where Paul worked. I mean, they won't tell you much, with HIPAA laws and everything, but there's a chance you might be able to find out something. Do you know anyone who might have worked with Paul back then?"
I shut my eyes for a second to think and also block out the bright sun, wishing I hadn't forgotten my sunglasses. "Actually, my doctor is still there. I haven't seen him in a few years and rumor has it he's getting ready to retire. His name is Roger Sanchez. I have an appointment with him on Wednesday."
Aaron stroked the stubble on his chin. "There you go. He might be able to give you a lead. If there was anyone who didn't like the boy or so on, that is."
Jacques frowned. "But if that's so, why wouldn't anyone have come forward twenty-five years ago?"
"No reason to," Aaron said. "Like I said, I had my suspicions, but there was no proof it was murder. At the time, I begged my boss to let me do some further investigating, but he was adamant. If the parents had expressed an interest, maybe things would have gone differently."
I sighed. "It's like finding a needle in a haystack after all these years."
"Pretty much," Aaron agreed. "I wish I had dared defy my boss back then. That case has always been a regret of mine. If there's one thing I've learned from being a cop for over thirty years, you learn to rely on your gut instinct. It's never failed me."
"That's how I feel now," I murmured.
Aaron glanced down at the paper I'd given him and pushed it back toward me. "Write your cell phone number down for me. I've got a good friend over in the department. He can locate the last known address for the lady. I'll have him run a background check too."
I pushed the paper back and produced my business card from my purse, which I handed to him. "That would be wonderful. Any information you can find would be a huge help."
He nodded in reply and rose to his feet. "My pleasure."
Jacques and I took this as our cue to leave. Aaron walked us to the gate. Scrappy reappeared and accompanied us, his bushy tail wagging gleefully as if he was excited at the thought of our departure.
Aaron extended his hand. "I wish you all the luck in the world with this, Mrs. York." He gestured to Jacques. "Did you say that this was your husband?"
I choked back a laugh while Jacques managed to hide a smile. "Uh, no. My boss."
Aaron smiled. "Sorry, my mistake. You two make a cute couple."
I bit into my lower lip for fear I might laugh. I glanced toward Jacques, who was smiling as well.
"Please keep me posted. I'm interested to see how you make out with this."
"Of course," I nodded. "Thanks for giving me a starting point."
Aaron started to walk back in the direction of the picnic table, then suddenly turned around. "A word of caution."
Butterflies danced in my stomach. "Yes?"
"Be careful. If you're right about this, the killer finally feels safe. After all, it's been twenty-five years. But now you're snooping around, uprooting things, and if the killer is still nearby, they'll get wind of this quick. Your life could be in danger and possibly your family's as well."
I hadn't really considered the scenario from his point of view before, and it scared me senseless. For a brief moment, I thought about abandoning the whole claim but knew deep down that I couldn't. If I walked away now, I'd be haunted by this forever. Still, Aaron was right. I needed to take extra precautions to ensure that my family would not be affected.
One thing I knew for certain. If the situation had been reversed, Paul would have done the same thing for me. This was my last chance to help a dear friend who had left this world far too soon.
I locked eyes with Aaron's. "I understand what you're saying, but I can't let this go. I need to know the truth."
His brown eyes were somber as he nodded. "Just watch your back, little lady."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Mom!" Seth screamed.
I opened the door of my bedroom with one sandal on, carrying the other. "What's wrong?"
Seth made a beeline past me for my bathroom. "I have to go. And Darcy won't come out of the other one."
With a sigh, I walked down the hall and pounded on the door of the other bathroom. "Darcy, we have to leave shortly. I can't be late for my showing."
"Out in a minute, Mom."
The doorbell rang, and Rusty started to bark while Stevie yelled from downstairs. "I got it!"
Normally, I didn't let the boys open the front door unless I was right there with them. With the way things were shaping up, you never knew when a killer or some other type
of psycho might show up on my doorstep.
This time, I knew it was only Helen. Sure, she wasn't a killer but still deadly in other ways. I'd asked Greg to call her last night to see if she could babysit. While they had been chatting, Helen made a point of asking her son if he was taking Viagra. Greg had almost collapsed on the floor laughing when he'd told me about it later.
"Cynthia!" I heard my mother-in-law scream. "Get this thing away from me!"
I bit into my lower lip in an attempt to keep from laughing. I walked downstairs and into the living room. Fortunately, Darcy had exited the bathroom and was now behind me, because I wanted to leave as soon as possible. I detached Rusty from Helen's leg.
Helen brushed off her slacks and glared at me. "That thing is a monster."
"No he's not," Stevie argued. "He's a cookie spaniel."
"That's cocker spaniel, dear," Helen gently admonished him. She cast her eyes in my direction, and her expression changed. "What in God's name do you have on?"
I glanced down at my ivory-colored, short-sleeved blouse and purple, knee-length skirt. "I'm showing a house today."
"Not you. My granddaughter."
I whirled around. Darcy was dressed in a tank top and sweatpants that rode a bit low on her waist but, in my opinion, weren't revealing. "She looks fine, Helen."
My mother-in-law's nostrils flared. "Why do you keep letting my granddaughter wear such tawdry outfits?"
There was no winning with this woman. "It's not tawdry, and all the girls her age wear them."
She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
I decided to ignore her comment. "Greg should be home within an hour." Translation in my head—so happy I don't have to deal with you again today.
"Good. I need to speak with him. He must be under some type of spell."
"Are you a witch, Mom?" Stevie asked.
I grabbed my purse off the hook by the front door, reached for the knob, then held it open for Darcy to exit through first. "Ask Daddy when he comes home. Tell him Grandma wanted to know."
I shut the door quickly before Helen could add anything.
"Why does Grandma dislike you?" Darcy asked as she settled into the passenger seat.
I started the engine. "She doesn't think I'll ever be good enough for your father."
"Oh." She wrinkled her brows. "So who is good enough for him?"
"Probably no one."
As we pulled into the driveway of the mansion, Darcy gasped audibly, and her jaw almost hit the floor of the car. "She lives here?"
"This is the house I'm selling," I said with pride.
"Wow," Darcy breathed. "I can't wait to meet her. Did you know that the Dallas Cowboys wanted her to be a cheerleader? But she left training camp because she decided she'd rather get married and raise a family instead."
Hmm. A slightly altered version of the truth, but since there was no reason for me to belittle Michelle to Darcy, I smiled and said nothing.
"She's, like, famous," Darcy breathed. "And to think, she's your age, has a daughter older than me, and still looks gorgeous."
A faint feeling of envy rose from within, but I pushed it away. After all, the house would sell soon, and then Michelle would leave the state. It was silly to be bothered by my daughter's star-struck attitude toward Michelle.
We walked up the path to the front door, which opened before we had a chance to knock. Michelle stood there in a pair of pink sweatpants and a white Jets T-shirt. A pink headband held her blonde hair back from her face. Her emerald eyes were accented by smoky, gray eyeshadow. As usual, she looked gorgeous. She smiled at Darcy and then nodded to me. "Great to see you, as always, Cindy."
"Hi, Michelle. Thanks for letting us meet you here." I gestured to my daughter. "This is Darcy. Darcy, this is Michelle Steadman."
Michelle extended a well-manicured hand in her direction. The diamond on her left hand was massive, and I found myself wondering how her finger didn't break from the weight of it.
Darcy's face went red. "It's such an honor to meet you, Mrs. Steadman." She gave a slight curtsy.
Oh, good grief.
"The pleasure is all mine," Michelle said with a smile that struck me as a bit conceited, obviously eating up Darcy's praise. She turned her attention to me. "Wesley is out in the kitchen preparing dinner, but he won't disturb you during the showing. Ben may be home before you're done, but he'll make himself scarce in the study."
"It's really best if no one is here when I show the house," I said. "You don't want the prospective buyers to feel inhibited in any way."
Michelle nodded. "I understand completely, but I do need Wesley to prepare the meal. Maybe Darcy would like to join me for dinner, and then I could drive her home afterward?" She turned to my daughter, who looked like she might pass out from the suggestion.
"I-I don't want to impose," Darcy said and glanced at me.
"It's no imposition at all. I'd love to have you. Ben can't stay for dinner as he has meetings tonight, and I hate to eat alone." Michelle jingled her car keys. "We'll take the 'Vette, and put the top down since it's cooled off a bit. How does that sound?"
If my daughter's mouth opened any wider, I thought a swarm of bees might fly inside.
"That sounds totally awesome! Can I, Mom?" Her large, brown eyes gazed at me.
With both of them watching me expectantly, how could I refuse? "I guess that would be all right." I smiled at Michelle. "Thank you. Bring her home whenever you like. I don't want Darcy to overstay her welcome and ruin any plans you might have."
She gestured with her hand. "Oh, that's fine. I don't have any place to be tonight. I'm just your typical old married lady."
Yeah, right.
Darcy followed Michelle like a stray kitten to the garage where she beeped the door open. A minute later they zoomed past me in her bright, candy-apple-red Corvette.
Darcy waved, a huge grin plastered across her face. "Bye, Mom!"
As I dutifully waved back, a small flicker of doubt flashed through my brain, but I forced it away. I hadn't been convinced that it was a good idea to mix family with work and the biggest sale of my career. Then again, seeing Darcy so happy made it all worthwhile. She'd even bragged to some of her friends, who'd hinted about meeting Michelle as well.
Susan Redwood was prompt and punctual at four o'clock. She was an attractive woman in her early sixties with a mass of curly salt-and-pepper hair and warm brown eyes.
"Cindy, how nice to see you," she said. "I've been meaning to ask how you made out with the Tanner house."
"It came off the market last week," I said. Sadly, another missed opportunity for me. Susan had shown the house to one of her clients last month, and they'd made an offer, but my sellers wouldn't budge on their asking price. They owed almost as much as they were selling it for and needed the entire amount just to break even. I knew it had been risky to take the listing but had to try. "Since it's almost August, they're going to place it back on next spring so they don't have to uproot their kids from school. Perhaps the value will increase by then."
She nodded. "That sounds like a sensible plan."
"How did your clients make out? Did they find anything?"
Susan smiled. "Yes, a lovely house over on Brendan Avenue. Just as nice as the listing you had and for fifteen grand less."
Thanks, Susan. Let's not hit Cindy when she's down. "That's great."
She glanced at her watch. "I don't know what's keeping them. Gloria and Lila are always so prompt."
Something about the names jarred my memory. "Are they a couple?"
She laughed. "No, sisters. About my age. Neither one of them has ever married. Gloria won the lottery last month. Three million dollars. She'd already been looking for a house off and on, but after the winnings, her price range increased dramatically." She grinned. "Fortunately for me, I just happened to catch her interview on the news and stopped by her house the next day for a little chat and to offer my services."
Some people have all the luck. "How fantastic for you."
The front door opened, and someone called out, "Hello?"
I put on my best happy face and turned around to greet the two women. When my gaze met theirs, my smile instantly faded, and I fought the sudden urge to groan.
Gloria and Lila Danson. I remembered these two women well. They had been previous guests at an open house I'd hosted a few months ago for a now-deceased coworker. Back then, they'd been accompanied by their robust, brown-and-white bulldog. Sure enough, he was now situated between the two of them. He wore a black, diamond-studded collar around his thick neck with a matching leash.
"You!" Lila exclaimed. Spittle formed at the corners of her mouth. She was thick-waisted with shoulder-length, fine, white hair while her sister was more fragile looking. "I remember you. You made Sherlock leave."
As if on cue, Sherlock whined and opened his mouth, displaying several sharp, pointed teeth in the process.
"I see he's still fond of me," I said dryly.
"She has the listing on this house?" Gloria asked Susan. "How is that even possible?"
Sherlock growled low in this throat as I pointed at him. "Ladies, I'm sorry, but once again, he needs to go outside. No dogs allowed in the house. Your agent will tell you the same thing."
Susan stood there in silence, looking uncomfortable.
"Susan?" I prompted her.
She smiled hesitantly at me. "Maybe it would be okay just this once, for a little while. I don't see the harm in it."
I couldn't believe my ears. "You know the rules as well as I do." Then I stopped myself. Of course. Susan wanted to make a sale. She'd do anything the dog-toting, lottery-winning sisters wanted her to at this point. If necessary, she'd probably follow Sherlock around the grounds outside with a pooper-scooper. Come to think of it, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. I wondered if dog walker paid more than what I was currently earning.
I pointed my finger at Sherlock, then at the front door. "Outside, buddy. Come on." He started to bark loudly, scaring Susan, who dropped her folder, filled with papers. Sherlock walked over to the folder and proceeded to pee on it.
Priced to Kill (Cindy York Mysteries Book 2) Page 7
