I groaned. "Fine. But afterward, drop me off at my house. I have to set up showings for a client for next week, and I might as well do it from there. Plus, I feel like I've been neglecting the kids lately."
He slung an arm around my shoulders as we walked outside to his vehicle. "That's the beauty of this job, dear. You can make your own hours and work from home whenever you like. It's perfect for someone in your condition."
Ugh. I winced. "Jacques, I really hate that term. It makes me sound like I have a disease or something. I'm having a baby, not dying."
It felt weird saying the words out loud, and I glanced at my friend with apprehension. "It would be great if I could bring the baby with me to work."
"I told you, that's fine. You can have anything you want, darling, as long as you are present and accountable for at the house inspections tomorrow morning. Oh, and I just received a call about that condo I listed last week. Some Donald Trump-wannabe from out of town is dying to look at it, and nine o'clock tomorrow morning is the only time he's available. So I need you to be at the Steadmans'—alert, smiling, and hopefully not puking your guts out."
"You say the most eloquent things. I won't let you down, I promise."
"Good. He nodded in approval as he opened the passenger side door for me. "And one more thing."
"Yes?"
"If it's a boy, you'll name it after me, right?"
I had to laugh. "Don't push your luck."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Okay, guys, upstairs to take your showers." I lifted the dinner dishes off the table and stacked them in the sink. "Darcy, would you—"
She gave a small toss of her head. "I know. Do the dishes. Cripes, some days I feel like I'm Cinderella around here."
"You're not dirty enough," Seth pointed out. "Come on out back with us, and we'll show you how to make mud pies."
"Yeah, we'll throw one right in your face," Stevie added.
I reached for my cup of herbal tea and sat back down in my chair. "Knock it off, guys. Upstairs, now." I pointed in the direction of the living room.
They grumbled as they lifted the puppy in the air and walked out of the room. A few seconds later I heard them thumping up the staircase and the dog barking. "And please do not bring Rusty into the shower with you again!"
I glanced up to see my daughter's huge, dark eyes fixated on mine.
"What is it?" I asked.
She frowned. "You really look terrible. I don't think you're getting enough exercise."
I almost started to laugh, except the topic wasn't quite funny. "You could be right. Maybe I'll take up roller skating." My intent was to be humorous, but my daughter didn't seem amused.
Darcy placed a dish in the drainer. "Michelle is a vegetarian. She has fish and salad every night. Maybe that should be your diet."
I sighed and said nothing, clutching the cup between my hands. A few more days and Michelle and Ben would be out of our lives for good. How I was starting to look forward to that.
"By the way, don't forget. Michelle is coming to pick me up tomorrow when her inspections are done. Unless I can ride over to the house with you."
I shook my head. "Darcy, I'm sorry, but with everything else going on today, I guess I forgot to tell you. I need you to watch your brothers tomorrow."
She whirled her head around, surprised. "What about Grandma?"
"I told you, I don't like asking your grandmother all of the time."
Angrily, she threw a dish in the drainer, and I winced, afraid she might have broken it. "You're a liar. You just don't want me around Michelle because you're jealous of her."
I reached deep down inside for some patience, but after everything that had happened earlier today, my tank was running on empty. "It's not what you think." I didn't want to tell her the real truth, which is that I was afraid Ben might have something to do with Paul's death. And what if Michelle knew about it all these years and was protecting her husband? Nausea washed over me again. The further my daughter stayed away from them, the better.
"Oh, bullshit. You're jealous. She told me in high school you were always jealous of her."
A bolt of anger shot through me, and I got to my feet. "You know better than to use such language in this house. And what exactly did Michelle tell you?"
Darcy bore a triumphant smile. "She said that you were like all the rest of the girls back then. You knew you couldn't have Ben, so you settled for his brother."
I sucked in a sharp breath. "Paul and I were friends. That's all."
My daughter laughed. "Michelle told me you'd say that. And she also said that the real truth was that Paul was always going around trying to make trouble for everyone. He was too nosy for his own good. Then she said that maybe he got what was coming to him. Sounds like it to me."
The room spun out of focus for a moment. I couldn't believe the hateful words coming out of my daughter's mouth. When had she become so filled with venom? I raised my hand in the air but stopped myself just in time. I'd never struck her before and wasn't about to start now.
I narrowed my eyes at her. Darcy took a step back and I watched as an expression of fear moved over her face.
My voice shook slightly. "I can't believe you would say such hateful things about a man you never even knew. I'll finish the dishes. Go to your room because, as of this moment, you're grounded. And I will personally tell Michelle tomorrow morning that she won't be seeing you again."
She flung the dish cloth across the room and burst into tears. "That's so typical of you. You always have to ruin everything. I wish Daddy was here."
I folded my arms across my chest. "No, you don't, because he would agree with me."
"I hate you so much." She flew out of the room, and stomped angrily up the stairs. Within a minute I heard the door to her bedroom slam.
Sighing, I went to the sink and finished the dishes, my hands trembling. Client or no client, Michelle was going to hear a few things from me tomorrow. I was glad for a chance to keep myself busy because on the inside, rage was boiling over at a furious pace.
After I finished stacking the dishes, I heard a scratch at the back door and went to let Sweetie in. Her food dish was empty, so I filled it and gave her fresh water while she purred and rubbed against my legs. At least there was one female in this house who still liked me.
I stared down at my phone screen and noticed I'd missed a call from Greg. Damn. I'd placed it on mute earlier and forgotten to change it back again. Quickly, I dialed my voicemail, anxious to hear his voice.
"Hey, baby. I'm off to dinner with a couple of prospective clients. Looks like I may get a good-sized account out of this. Fingers crossed. I'll try calling you back if it's not too late when I get in, but they're talking about drinks afterward. Oh." He chuckled low into the phone. "Look under your pillow. I left you a little present for our upcoming trip this winter. Can't wait to see you in it. Love you."
I was sorry to have missed his call. I could have used his sound advice about Darcy right now. Most of the time, Greg handled her better than I did. I felt so alone at the moment. Even though I dreaded telling him the news about the baby, I wanted him with me.
I climbed the stairs again and glanced into the twins' room. Seth was lying on his bed with Rusty, and Stevie was in the bathroom taking his shower. Loud rock music was blaring from Darcy's room, another sign that she was furious with me. Not in the mood to confront her again, I chose to ignore the noise and went into my room, closing the door firmly behind me.
There was a small, flat package under the pillow that I guessed was lingerie. I lifted the top and removed the tissue paper.
Oh no.
In the box was a two piece, bright aqua-colored bikini and a note from Greg. Oh, the fun I'm going to have when you wear this. Maybe another striptease? Love you.
Good grief. I put the top back on the box. Sure, I'd wear it next winter when we were alone in a tropical paradise. Poor Greg might have nightmares afterward though. I laughed, in spite of myself, then op
ened the top drawer of my nightstand and placed the box inside. I left the note on top and shut the drawer. Secretly, I hoped that Helen would look in there again the next time she babysat. I pictured her reaction and, my sour mood instantly improved.
As I descended the stairs, I caught the musical notes of my cell and rushed into the kitchen, hoping it was Greg. No such luck. I pressed the button. "Hello, this is Cindy."
"Cindy, Aaron Connors here. Sorry I wasn't available when you called earlier. You sounded upset. What's going on?"
I went into the study and shut the door behind me, not wanting the kids to overhear. I quickly explained to Aaron about Mildred and what had transpired. He whistled low in his throat.
"Have you heard anything about her death?" I asked.
"No, but I can find out easily enough. Look, as far as I'm concerned, this proves your theory about Paul was correct. I'm just sorry this woman had to suffer as a result. Not to change the subject, but I was going to call you anyway. I have the DNA results on Paul's hat back."
With everything else that had happened lately, I'd forgotten all about the hat. I crossed my fingers. "That was quick. Did they find anything?"
"No matches in the DNA bank. All that means is that the person didn't have a criminal record. There were some hair samples though. Paul was dark haired, correct?"
"That's right."
He coughed. "We found a blonde hair, so it's possible the sample might have belonged to his killer. Did anyone in his family have light hair?"
"No. They were all dark." I tried to fight off the despair threatening to overwhelm me. This was the only piece of evidence, and we'd just hit a major snag. "So, there's no way to figure out who did this?"
"Unless you have some suspects already. Any ideas?"
"Well, I did go and visit Rachel Kennedy. I thought she might have been the one who did this, except you told me she'd been arrested in the past, so—"
Aaron interrupted. "Then there would have been a match." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth for what seemed like an eternity. "Unless the hair didn't belong to the killer."
The answer seemed to be right there for my taking, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "Can you find out any more details about how Mildred died? Like I said, we're pretty sure it was strangulation, but maybe you could check if the police have any leads or found any additional evidence?"
The tongue clicking resumed, so I knew Aaron was mulling this over. "I'm having lunch with a former colleague of mine tomorrow, so I'll run it by him. Cindy, you're not going to like this suggestion, but you should really go down to the station and tell the police what you know."
"What if they think it was me? I'd just been to see Mildred the day before."
"I'll back your claim up. You don't need to worry about that. But it's time to get the police involved. They may decide to reopen the investigation."
"After all this time?"
"It's a possibility. Nothing is ever a done deal. I think they're going to want to hear everything that you know, starting with the note Paul wrote you."
I sighed. I knew he was right, but that didn't make me feel any better. "All right. I'm tied up tomorrow morning, but I'll go over in the afternoon."
"I'm glad to hear it. And I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything about Miss Reynolds' death."
As I placed the phone in my pocket, there was a scratching coming from the other side of the door. I opened it to find the twins standing there with Rusty between them.
"What were you doing on the phone? Were you talking to Daddy?" Stevie asked.
"How come I never get to talk to him?" Seth demanded. "You're always hogging Dad on the phone."
"What do you guys talk about? How to make more babies?" Stevie asked.
Oh no. This again. "Did you guys brush your teeth?"
"Yes," they both said in unison.
"Okay, upstairs to bed. I'll be there to read to you in a minute. Go pick out something from your bookcase. And no Harry Potter."
"Can't we read from The Prisoner of Azkaban?" Seth pleaded.
I shook my head. "That stuff will give you nightmares."
"Not me," Stevie said. "I always sleep great after I read about Harry. I wish I was him. That'd be awesome."
"Okay then, it gives me nightmares. Now, go find something else, like Doctor Seuss."
"That's for babies!" Stevie protested. He pointed at Rusty, who was now at the kitchen door, whining. "Rusty has to pee."
I sighed. "Okay. I'll take care of Rusty. Is your sister still in her room?"
Stevie nodded. "She's playing Justin Bieber now. That must mean she's mad at you again."
No doubt. If there was one thing I disliked more than heavy metal, it was Justin Bieber, and my daughter knew this. Darcy was great at getting under my skin these days. "Tell her to turn the music down because you're going to bed." I gave them each a slight swat on the behind. "Get moving."
They raced each other up the staircase while Rusty continued to whine. I grabbed his leash off the kitchen wall. "Okay, come on, boy."
We exited through the kitchen door, which led us to the back of the house. There was a small fenced yard with an area designated for Rusty—dog pen, house, and water bowl. He never spent much time out here except for when he had to do his doggie business. Rusty whined loudly whenever he was away from the twins, and we didn't want the neighbors to hate us.
I was grateful that Greg had cleaned out his pen earlier. I left Rusty in the fenced area and walked back around to the front of the house, enjoying a brief moment to examine the full moon that illuminated the darkened sky. It was a beautiful summer night. The air was warm but without the recent humidity. Crickets chirped nearby, and I smelled honeysuckle. I leaned against the garage and closed my eyes for a second.
One week ago, my life had been simple or at least compared to what I was dealing with now. I hadn't known the truth about Paul, although, looking back, I should have realized he never would have committed suicide. A woman was dead as a result of my snooping. A week ago, I hadn't known I was pregnant. My daughter and I had been getting along well. Now, like a train wreck, my life had suddenly veered off track, and I wondered if it would ever right itself again.
I placed my hands over my stomach. I wanted to feel happy and excited about this baby yet couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe the doctor was right, and I should speak with someone. But the first thing I had to do was share the bombshell with my husband. I prayed that Greg would take the news better than me but had my doubts.
As I started toward the backyard to grab Rusty, my gaze shifted to the car. I had backed it into the driveway the night before. With the moon cascading over the front of the vehicle, I noticed something seemed off. I walked down the driveway for a closer look and then sucked in a sharp breath.
The car's front windshield was shattered. At first, I wondered if it might have been from the heat. I hadn't driven the vehicle today and had forgotten to leave the windows open a crack, something Greg always admonished me about in hot weather. But the oppressive heat had subsided earlier in the week, so I didn't think that was the cause.
With trepidation, I approached the car, as if fearful it might burst into flames at any second. A piece of paper had been affixed under the windshield wiper. Blood pounded through my veins as I removed the slip and read the message that had obviously been left for my eyes.
Déjà Vu, bitch.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was ten minutes past nine the next morning when I pulled into the driveway of the sprawling Steadman estate. As usual, I was late and winced when I spotted Michelle's corvette, Tricia's Audi, and the buyer's BMW already there, along with the inspector's van. Jacques would have a cow if he found out I'd been the last one to arrive.
I'd been forced to call my mother-in-law that morning and grovel, pleading with her to come over and then on top of everything else, asking to borrow her car. Helen had been surprisingly cooperative for once, something that puzzled
me. She'd also looked at me with a sly smile, almost as if she was aware something was going on. Was she privy to my little secret? Women's intuition, by chance? Great. That would be all I needed, especially if she got to Greg before I did.
First thing that morning, I'd called the insurance company. Fortunately, we had glass coverage, and a local company would be coming out shortly to repair my windshield. I decided to wait and report the incident to the police that afternoon when I went down to the station. I didn't want them coming to the house so that Helen could witness our exchange. I'd laughed the incident off to my mother-in-law, explaining some kids were probably just fooling around.
Deep down inside, I knew that was a lie.
I was convinced this was the same person who'd shattered my windshield years ago. And that person had been Rachel. At the time, a friend had mentioned they'd seen her car on my street that night, but no one had witnessed her in the act. However, Rachel's statement the other night convinced me she had been the one to commit the deed.
Sure, Rachel had been obsessed with Paul, but could she actually be his killer? The hair the lab found hadn't been a match with hers. And there were plenty of people who'd known about my windshield back then as I'd been forced to drive it like that until I could get it fixed. Gossip had always spread like wildfire in my town—and high school.
My head was spinning. I hadn't slept well last night and had brought Rusty into my room for company. I should have called the police but didn't want the kids to wake up and wonder what horrible thing had happened. I decided I'd go down to the station this afternoon and tell the police everything then.
As I'd lain in bed, idly listening to old reruns on the television for hours, I thought that the person who had done this to my vehicle must be the one responsible for Paul's death. What if this lunatic tried to harm my children next?
I had phoned Jacques before I left the house that morning, but the call went immediately to voicemail. I hadn't left a message. The last thing Jacques wanted to hear right now was that I didn't have transportation to the Steadmans'. He needed to know he could depend on me. And after everything Jacques had done for me in the past, I wasn't about to let him down. Being left with no other alternative, I'd phoned my mother-in-law.
Priced to Kill (Cindy York Mysteries Book 2) Page 16
