by T. L. Haddix
The muscles around his mouth tightened, and he hesitated for a moment before answering, his gaze moving to the files on the table. “I did care for her. Not sexually, but as a friend. She reminded me of my sister, who was not as fortunate. She was murdered and left in a ditch on the side of a road.”
Turning, he studied her closely. “Pardon the observation, Detective, but you seem more disturbed by all this than I’d expect someone in your line of work to be. You’ve gone quite pale.”
Stacy wasn’t sure why she answered the way she did. “You’ve heard ‘there but for the grace of God,’ Mr. Davis?”
“Of course.”
“Then you know why I find this disturbing.” She exhaled, trying to marshal her emotions. “So back to her money—how long did she work for the escort service?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. A year, two? The service was located in the Palm Beach area, and they catered to the upper echelons of society. Apparently, she was at a party one evening where things started to get ugly, and an older man stepped in and rescued her. She told me that he wasn’t a client, he just happened to be there at the party. They left together, and her life turned around, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
“The man took her under his wing, despite protests from his children, which I’m sure you can imagine. He taught her everything he knew about art, which was quite a bit.” When he named the man, she felt her eyebrows go straight through the ceiling. Mason Smythe was a well-known eccentric who had died a few years back, and he’d been filthy rich.
“That’s where her money came from?”
“Yes. He mentored her, and she thought of him as a father. She stayed with him as his companion, and when he died, he left her five million dollars, and a wealth of information and knowledge about business and art.”
“That’s a lot to take in. It sounds a little bit like a fairytale, in all honesty.”
He smiled and sat back down. “I was a little doubtful myself, at first, but she had credentials, and they were pretty easy to verify. I insisted on that before I took her on as a client.”
“So, with her relationship with her family being what it is, what happens to her estate? That’s a lot of money, a lot of motive.”
“If you open the folder with her will, you’ll see a list of people on top. Those are the names of everyone in it, and the portion of her estate they will inherit. First on the list are her siblings, with the notable exception of Troy. They each get a monetary portion, coming out to about five hundred thousand dollars each. Next is her gallery assistant, Raven. The gallery and all its contents, as well as one million dollars cash, go to him.” She raised her eyebrows again. “I told you, she thought of him as her son.”
“All the rest of her estate, with the exception of one million dollars and all her personal belongings, are to be divided up amongst various charities. There is also a stipend included for legal fees and court costs, which I will be overseeing as executor.”
He took a breath before continuing. “Last but certainly not least, is the million-dollar bequeath to her cousin, Lauren Taylor Grant. In addition to the money, she is also the person Charity wanted to have her personal possessions.”
“If Lauren Grant didn’t know Charity was her cousin, I’m assuming she isn’t aware that she is in her will?”
“Not as far as I know. Charity told me that it was a debt she owed Lauren from before she left Indiana, and that was all she would say about it.
“Do you think anyone could have found out about the will, and killed her in order to inherit?”
“I don’t believe so. Usually, clients will have a copy made that they keep for their own records, but Charity didn’t do that. She believed that by having two attorneys, one for business and one for personal affairs, she was splitting the risk of having something happen to us, and didn’t feel it was necessary to maintain that sort of personal record herself.”
When the attorney’s phone rang, she used the time to read over some of the documents he had given her. She was particularly interested in the private investigator’s reports. Glancing through them, she saw that Charity’s brother Troy had a police record.
Davis was pale when he returned. “That was my father. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave. He’s had some health problems lately, and he’s feeling a little sick this morning.”
“Of course. That’s not a problem.” Standing, she gathered up the paperwork and followed him to the front door. As they approached the entrance hall, he asked her if she had any other questions.
“Just a couple. I think we’ve pretty much covered everything else. Do you know who her dentist was? I’m afraid we need to obtain some dental records for comparison.”
“She used that large clinic over in Leroy, the new one everyone raves about? All her information pertaining to doctors and dentists is also in the files I gave you. As you might have guessed by now, she was very prepared in case something like this ever happened. I wouldn’t say it was stretching to postulate that she expected it someday.”
Stepping out onto the porch, she turned to look at him. “I’ll call and let you know when the coroner is going to release her body, Mr. Davis. Did she also have funeral arrangements laid out, just in case?”
“She did. Again, those details are included in the file with her will.” He locked the door behind him, walking with her to her car. “I appreciate your coming over here to talk to me, Detective. If you need anything else, just call. If you can’t reach me directly, just leave a message. I will call you back, just as soon as I can.”
“I will, thanks. Good luck with your father.” She unlocked her car and got in, watching as he hurried down the sidewalk. She started the engine and rolled the windows down to let cooler air move through the stiflingly hot vehicle.
Before she hit the main road, she pulled off at a gas station and filled up. While the gas was pumping, she called Maria Pace.
“Hey, girl. I have the dentist’s info in the Charity Vaughn case.” She gave Maria the name. “Can you call Harvey and let him know who to contact?”
“I’d be glad to. What time are you going to be back in town?”
“Probably around noon. Why?”
“I was just thinking we haven’t had lunch in a while. Want to meet?”
Stacy smiled. “I would love to. I could use the break.”
“Sweet! Christos’ okay?”
She hesitated, thinking about the owner’s handsome son who often worked the lunch counter. “Sure, why not? I’ll see you there.”
Disconnecting, she finished pumping the gas and dashed inside for a cold bottle of water. She was glad the drive back to Leroy was somewhat lengthy; Sam Davis had given her a lot to think about.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The atmosphere was lively in Cristos’ Deli when Stacy arrived just before noon for her lunch date with Maria. There were quite a few patrons waiting on orders to go, but not many eating at the tables. It was a no-frills establishment, with mismatched tables and chairs, the dining room clean and Spartan. The proprietor, Dimitri Cristos, was the son of Greek immigrants, and ran the deli with his wife, Carla. Their children, Andre and Maxine, often worked alongside them. They served all kinds of sandwiches, from gyros to hoagies, and offered a full-service butcher shop, as well. Andre worked the register today, and his face split into a wide grin when he saw her.
“How’s my favorite detective doing today?”
She rolled her eyes at his effusive greeting. “Doing well enough. How about yourself?”
“I’d be so much better if you’d agree to have dinner with me tonight,” he told her, holding his hands over his heart, a soulful expression on his face. “If you don’t, I might just waste away.”
She laughed. “One of these days I’m going to accept that offer you keep making, and you’ll run for the hills so fast, all we’ll see is a trail of dust behind you.” His mother walked up in time to catch what Stacy said and laughed.
“You have his num
ber, don’t you, Stacy?”
Andre whimpered, crestfallen. “I guess I’ll have to kidnap you, then, and steal you away to my cave. Mama, you’d be my alibi when they came looking for her, right?” She just tousled his hair and smiled, nudging him out of the way.
“Go help your father. What sounds good today, Stacy?”
“How about the Cuban Panini?”
Carla smiled. “I did a pot of that veggie soup you like so much this morning. Want a cup to go with the sandwich?”
“Of course. You know I never pass up your soup.” Her order paid for, she went to the soda fountain. While she was getting her drink, Maria rushed up to her.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re fine. I’m just getting here myself. I’ll go ahead and grab us a table while you order.” She headed to a table in the corner near the plate glass window that faced the street.
A gray-haired man Stacy recognized as a local plumber was seated at a nearby table. When she sent him a polite nod, he watched her take her seat. “So, Detective, what’s the sheriff’s department doing about this murder?”
“The investigation is continuing, and we have several promising leads.”
He snorted. “I don’t care about leads. I want an arrest made. I want to know that my community is safe.”
Stacy told herself she shouldn’t be surprised by his attitude; from what she knew of the man, he was one of the most outspoken members of the community, and not a fan of the current sheriff. Reining in the snarky response she would have preferred to deliver, she gave him a pleasant smile. “Well, Don, I know Sheriff Dixon would be glad to discuss the matter with you, if you’d like to give him a call. Just call the department and ask for him.”
The man seemed inclined to argue, but Andre, interrupted. Setting the food down in front of her, he turned to the man.
“Detective Kirchner needs to eat lunch. I’m sure there’ll be an arrest soon, but for now, you need to leave her alone.” The man grumbled a little bit, but did turn his attention away from Stacy.
Andre smiled down at her. “There. You can eat in peace.”
“Thanks,” she said. She slowly counted to ten. Andre probably hadn’t meant to imply she couldn’t fight her own battles, and he certainly didn’t deserve her taking his head off because he stood up for her.
He touched her shoulder. “Any time.” With a jaunty salute, he went back to the kitchen, passing Maria on his way back. Maria sat down dumping her monstrously large purse under the table.
“Girl, you’ve got to go out with him. He’s dying of unrequited love for you.”
Stacy spilled her drink, and barely managed to keep from choking on her soft drink. “Geez, Maria.” She reached for a stack of napkins to wipe the soda off her blouse.
“It’s true. I know he jokes about dating, but he’s serious. You should ask him out. What’s it going to hurt? The worst he can do is say no, which he won’t.” Stacy shushed her as Andre started back to their table with Maria’s order.
“Andre? May I ask you a question?” Maria winced as Stacy kicked her under the table, but kept her attention on Andre’s face.
“Of course.”
“Do you have plans for… Friday night?” She looked at Stacy. “That’s your next night off, right?” With a quiet groan, Stacy hid her face in her hands. A puzzled Andre looked back and forth between the two of them.
“Well, do you?” Maria asked again.
He frowned. “I could probably be available. What do you have in mind?”
“Well, Stacy here, she’s shy.” When he laughed, Maria smacked him on the arm. “She is. She’s very shy, and don’t you argue with me. Anyhow, she was wondering if you’d be interested in having dinner with her Friday evening, maybe even a movie or something.” She finished talking and smiled up at him, waiting for his answer. He studied her face for a minute, cheeks turning a little red, and turned to Stacy.
“You really want to do that, or are you guys having fun at my expense?” he asked her, his tone brusque.
Stacy lowered her hands and cleared her throat. She fiddled with the straw in her cup and finally glanced at him, her fingers tapping furiously on the table. “I wouldn’t be opposed to dinner.”
Their eyes met and a silent message passed. He nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll pick you up around six o’clock?”
“That’s fine,” she mumbled. “Six is fine,” she repeated a little louder when Maria kicked her. “Sounds good.”
“Okay.”
Stacy was quiet for a full minute after he walked away. She sat there, just staring at Maria, who looked back at her innocently. “I can’t believe you just did that,” she said in a furious whisper.
Maria just smirked at her and took a sip of her tea. “Did what? Got you a date with a guy who’s been drooling over you for at least two years?” When Stacy just glowered at her, Maria nodded. “Yep, I did that.” Raising her napkin to her lips, she pointed at Stacy’s plate. “You’d better eat while it’s still hot.”
Stacy gave her another hard look and turned her attention to her food.
“Seriously, though,” Maria said after a few minutes. “You’re both nice people, and you deserve some happiness. The worst thing that could happen is you go out, find out you don’t have anything in common, and go back to your regular lives. On the other hand, if you get married and have kids, I fully expect you to name the first one after me.”
“It’s not that I don’t—Maria, he’s a head-patter.” If she hadn’t been so embarrassed, the expression on her friend’s face would have sent her into gales of laughter.
“He’s a what?”
“A head-patter. A ‘don’t worry your pretty little head, let the big, strong man take care of you,’ head-patter.”
“Okay, and what’s wrong with letting someone take care of you now and then?”
Frustrated, Stacy wrapped her hands around her drink and pretended to strangle it. “Nothing, every now and then. But I guarantee our relationship won’t make it past the first time I have to be a cop around him. He doesn’t have the temperament to let his ‘woman’ be strong and independent.”
Maria narrowed her gaze. “Want to bet?”
Stacy held out her hand, and they shook. “What are the terms?”
“Whoever wins gets a mani/pedi paid for by the loser?”
“I’ll take that bet.” Finishing her sandwich, Stacy asked about the status of the fliers. All business now, Maria reached into her purse and pulled out a folder. Opening it, Stacy was amazed by the results.
“Wow. This is impressive. I never would have believed you could get this much detail from the little you had to work with.”
Maria gave a small satisfied smile, and took a bite of her salad. Swallowing, she said, “Thanks. I had good source material. The video quality was great, really top of the line, and that made my job a whole lot easier. I was able to calculate height and build pretty easily.”
There were two fliers, one for the apparent killer and one for the mystery ‘date.’ They contained approximations of the men’s build, height, and race, and were ready to be released to law enforcement and media outlets if necessary.
“Did you find out much from her attorney?” Maria asked.
“Oh, yeah. This case is going to be an even bigger mess than we originally thought.”
“Is that possible?”
Stacy fell silent as Carla came over to check on them. “You ladies need anything else? Dessert, maybe?” She looked at Stacy as she said this, knowing the detective had a sweet tooth. “I have a fresh baklava in the back, still a little warm.”
Stacy groaned. “Carla, if I ate here every day, I’d weigh three hundred pounds. You know I can’t resist your baklava.”
The older woman smiled. “Maria, how about you?”
“No, but thanks.”
Taking their empty plates, Carla told them she’d be right back with the dessert. As she walked away, Stacy noticed that all the other tables had emptied while t
hey were talking. “I’d like to show Carla the fliers. She sees a lot of people come through here every day. What do you think?”
“You’re the detective.”
Stacy sighed, her grin belying her words. “That’s just your go-to answer, isn’t it?” Her friend shrugged and smiled, not saying anything. “We were hoping to keep this under wraps, but I don’t think that’s going to be possible once word gets out about what the attorney told me today.” She put her elbows on the table and ran her hands over her face. “Apparently, Charity Vaughn was not our victim’s given name.”
Maria blinked with shock. “Do what? Holy crap. Does Ethan know? Wyatt?”
“Not yet. I’m supposed to brief everyone this afternoon at three-thirty. You’ll be there, right?”
“Of course.”
She groaned and rubbed her shoulder where it met her neck. “This was already a messed up case, but now? I’d hate to have to be in Wyatt’s shoes when this hits the fan.”
Carla returned with the baklava, and Stacy moved the folder off the table and into her lap. “Carla, we need to ask you to take a look at something for us, if you don’t mind. You’ve heard about the murder over at the art gallery, I assume?”
“Oh, yes. It’s been on everyone’s minds today. I’m surprised you didn’t get bombarded with questions as soon as you walked in the door.”
“Oh, she did,” Maria chimed in, “but Andre came to the rescue and made them leave her alone.”
Carla shared her smile and looked at Stacy, who was blushing a little. “What is it you need me to look at?”
Stacy handed her the fliers. “Have you ever seen either of these men before?”
The older woman frowned, her brow wrinkling. “I think—do you mind if I show these to Dimitri and Andre?”
“No, that’s fine.”
Carla walked over to the counter and shouted back to the kitchen. When Andre came to the door, she asked him to bring his father and come out front for a minute. Coming back to Stacy and Maria’s table, she pointed to the alleged killer.
“I don’t know him,” she said, her voice filled with certainty. “I’ve never seen him before. This other guy, however, I know.”
