Kitty Litter Killer
Page 17
Angelica handed me my cup of coffee and then carried hers and Hayley’s to the family room. They sat on the couch. I settled in a comfy chair facing the French doors that led to the pool. Why were Leighton and Hayley moving now? After all the trouble and expense of the pool?
Mr. Chang Lee jumped up in my chair and settled next to me, his body resting against my thigh. For once, I welcomed his attention. He was communicating happiness with his purrs—at least I assumed it was happiness. That was better than the stilted attempts at conversation between me, Angelica, and Hayley. I felt like the proverbial third wheel and wondered if I was the cause of the awkwardness. Perhaps Hayley wanted to talk about her troubles, and I was preventing her from doing so.
I had already decided to leave when Sammie came running into the room.
Angelica’s face lit up.
“When can I take my kitten home?” Sammie asked Hayley.
“Tuesday,” Hayley said.
Sammie clapped her hands. Angelica continued to gaze at her with bright eyes. I’d never watched her face around the children before. I felt my heart constrict. My bad attitude had prevented me from seeing anything good about my mother-in-law.
Hayley smiled. “Angelica has a class Wednesday night.”
“A class?” I asked.
“She’s taking a citizen police academy class,” Hayley said.
“What did you say?” I was positive I hadn’t heard Hayley correctly. I glanced at Angelica, and she was blushing.
Hayley smiled. “I told Angelica it would be the perfect way for her to understand more about what Tommy’s going to do.” Her smile faded. “We were both going to do it, but Leighton said it wasn’t a good idea for me right now.”
“It’s fine. I can do it alone.” Angelica patted Hayley’s arm then turned to me. “If Tommy insists upon pursuing law enforcement, I’ve decided to support him. Max assured me that it was Tommy’s choice and not something”—she glanced at me—“not something he was talked into.”
I understood what she was saying. She thought I was just as controlling as I thought she was. This was her way of explaining. Maybe even trying to apologize. To say I was amazed at what she was doing would be an understatement.
I did the only thing I could.
“Angelica, the kitten is a gift from you. It would be special if you’re here with us when Sammie picks up her cat. Then maybe you and Andrew can come to our house for dinner that night to celebrate.” I glanced down at my lap then back up at her. “And if you do want company at that class, I’ll go with you.”
Linda’s office was in downtown Four Oaks, just one block down from Abbie’s apartment. The windows of the real estate business were plastered with pictures of houses for sale.
“Don’t pick anything up,” I whispered to Sammie as we walked through the door.
“Mommy. . .”
Inside, I smelled coffee and some kind of cinnamon air freshener. Several agents sat at their desks. Linda was perched on the edge of hers, chatting on the phone. She saw me, smiled, and held up one finger.
I settled Sammie on a chair with a book to read. I didn’t have to wait long. When Linda was done talking, she slid off her desk and reached into a bowl on her desk. Then she walked over to us and handed Sammie a Tootsie Roll. Sammie grinned, unwrapped the candy, and stuffed it in her mouth.
“Come and tell me what you’re looking for.”
I explained our criteria. “I don’t want to look today. I’d just like some listings to show Max.”
She rested her elbows on the desk. “So what area are you interested in?”
I needed to find a way to bring up the Whitmores. “Do you have anything out Brownsville way?”
The houses out there were expensive. Her eyes lit up. “Yes, I do.”
“My in-laws live out there,” I said. “And we’re also getting a Siamese kitten from Hayley Whitmore.”
“Yes, your mother told me that.” Her brown eyes reminded me of the button eyes on Sammie’s stuffed bear. No expression at all. “So how many bedrooms do you want?”
I told her and wondered if my trip here was going to be wasted.
She turned her gaze to her computer screen and tap-tapped on her keyboard. As she sifted through listings on her computer, sending some to a printer across the room, I studied her desk. Lots of pink stuff, including several pink ceramic picture frames. Most of the pictures featured Linda. Two were taken in the same place, in front of a fountain. It looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it.
I pointed at it. “Is this a vacation you took? Looks like fun.”
She nodded. “Yes, I went to a real estate convention last year in Atlanta. I stayed an extra week with some friends and toured everything. I met some interesting people there.” The printer hummed in the background. She continued to chat about everything and nothing.
I decided to interrupt her. “I met Clark Matthews’ mother the other day. Eunice?”
“Oh?” Linda asked.
“I took her an autographed bookplate from Abbie. She thinks very highly of you.”
“She’s a nice lady,” Linda said.
“She’s happy that Clark is living with her and doing so well. Like taking classes at the junior college and volunteering at the YMCA. She says he’s not happy at his job, though.”
Linda shot me a gaze. “Sometimes she exaggerates.” Then she stood. “I think that’s about all the listings I can find right now.”
I was desperate. I stood, too, and yanked the button from my pocket. “Is this yours?”
For a moment, her eyes narrowed. She took the button from my hand then dropped it back into my palm. “I don’t think so, but even if it was, it’s too damaged to do me any good.” She stepped around her chair. “Now I’ll go get the listings.”
While she was doing that, I stared at the pictures. I suddenly remembered where I had seen a similar fountain. In the picture on Hayley’s mantel. But Hayley had said it was her wedding photograph. I had assumed they’d gotten married in New York City. Did they get married in Atlanta? And was this even significant?
When Linda returned with the papers, she covered the main points about each property. I pretended to pay attention, but I didn’t hear a word she said. I had one more doubt in my head about Leighton and Hayley Whitmore. And I knew in my heart that time was running out for Abbie.
Chapter Fifteen
I was so discouraged on Sunday that all I wanted to do was go back to bed after church. Knowing that Philip was being buried added to my blues. Abbie felt similarly. I’d talked to her earlier when we confirmed that she and Eric were joining me, Max, and the kids at my mother’s for Sunday supper.
At the moment, Karen was on the phone in her room. Charlie and Sammie were in the family room watching an old Sherlock Holmes movie on television. Max was in the living room with his nose buried in the newspaper, and I’d just put Chris down for a nap.
Only one thing would help my mental state. Solving Philip’s murder. I grabbed my notebook from my purse and joined Max. I needed to write down the clue about the picture on the Whitmores’ mantel.
He saw what I had in my hands, sighed, and put the paper on the coffee table. I thought he might be about to lecture me about my sleuthing and opened my mouth to protest.
“Maybe I can help,” he said. “I know you’re discouraged. You want to talk it all through with me?”
“Really?” I grinned.
“Really,” he said.
“Do you realize this is the first time you’ve offered to help me with an investigation?”
“I guess it is. What is it that your mother says? If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em?”
“Yep, among a million other clichés.”
He stood and pointed at the couch. “Let’s sit.”
I snuggled next to him. “So why are you helping me?”
“I want this solved. I want it over.”
I shared his sentiments. Despite the comfort of his solid body next to mine, I fe
lt uneasy. Like a storm cloud was rushing toward me and I needed to find shelter.
He tapped my notebook. “Well, tell me what you have so far. Maybe I’ll see a connection you’ve missed.”
One by one, we went through the clues. When we were done, I looked up at him. His eyes were narrowed.
“I have to agree with you. Philip was so determined to make things right with everyone he’d wronged, that seems the most likely reason he was killed. Jaylene was awfully hostile on Friday night.” His brows were drawn into a deep V. Jaylene’s hostility had frightened both of us.
“That leads me to my suspects.” I flipped to another page. “What do you think?”
Max read down the list then pointed at Leighton’s name. “Why are Leighton and Hayley on here?”
I felt defensive. “I know they’re your family’s friends, but I have my reasons. More him than her, though.”
“Go on.” Max’s face was unusually blank.
“Well, like all the others, I know he was at the fall festival. Hayley told me. And Philip saw something there that made him leave in a hurry.”
“Anything else?” Max asked.
“Well, he’s from New York. And. . .” I hesitated.
“And?”
I told Max about the picture on the mantel.
“Are you sure you’re remembering right?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” I said. “Then I saw him at a restaurant with Linda King. And now he and Hayley might be moving. Something just isn’t right. I’m not sure what.”
Max blinked. “They’re moving?”
“I found out yesterday when Sammie was visiting her kitten.”
“I hadn’t heard that yet,” Max said. “I’ll be honest with you, though. Despite the way my mother champions Leighton, I’ve never felt right about him.”
“What about your father?” I asked.
“He agrees with me.” Max grimaced. “I think my mother felt sorry for Hayley and just wanted her to be happy. Perhaps she hoped getting Leighton settled would do that.”
The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Charlie yelled, sliding down the hall to the front door.
“Can you explain your feelings about Leighton?” I asked Max.
“Not really,” he said.
“Mom! It’s for you,” Charlie yelled. “It’s a lady.”
“Go on,” Max said. “There’s nothing else I know that will help you that has any basis in fact.”
Charlie was regaling our visitor with chatter about the movie he was watching. I walked from the living room and felt the cold November breeze sweep down the hall, the perfect prelude for the entrance of the woman with the grief-lined face who stood on my front porch. Mary Grenville, Philip’s sister. She wore a black wool coat over a simple black dress that emphasized her pale skin, red-rimmed eyes, and drawn face that looked like a wax mask.
“Thank you, Charlie,” I said. He scampered away to continue watching his movie.
“Come in.” I opened the door wide.
She brushed past me then stood in the foyer with her arms crossed. “My mother said you wanted to talk to me, so I stopped by. I hope it’s okay.”
“It’s fine. I have a few hours before I have to get ready to go out.”
I took her coat and draped it over the coatrack.
Max walked into the hallway, and I introduced them. “I’m so sorry about your brother,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Max turned to me. “Why don’t you two go into the living room? I’ll make sure the kids leave you alone.”
“Thank you,” I whispered as we walked past him. He squeezed my hand then walked away.
Mary and I settled on the couch in the living room, then tears welled in her eyes, dribbling onto her cheeks. She swiped at them with the back of her hands. “I’m sorry. I made it through the burial without crying.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I can’t even imagine how hard this has been for you.”
“It’s not like this was unexpected. His death, I mean. I just didn’t expect the emotions to hit me so hard.” She took a deep breath then pulled herself together, and seemed to wrap her emotions up and cover them with a shell of self-control, like she’d put on a coat.
Her lips were now set in a firm line. Her eyes weren’t hostile, but her gaze was steady. “You’ve been asking my mother questions about Philip.”
“Yes.” I wondered if she was going to ream me out for being a pest.
“She says you’re trying to solve his murder?” She eyed me with wariness. “You’re not just curious about him, are you? Or trying to make him look bad? Because of Abbie?”
I liked the fact that she was blunt. It would make our conversation easier. “Yes, I’m trying to solve his murder. To clear Abbie, not to make him look bad. But if he ends up looking bad because of what my investigation reveals, that’s out of my control. I’m sorry.”
She met my gaze with her unblinking one. “That’s honest, and I appreciate it. There are some things you should know. I’d rather tell you than that detective. She left my mother in tears.” Mary’s nostrils flared. “There is no excuse for leaving a grieving mother in that state.”
“The detective isn’t on anyone’s most popular list right now,” I said.
Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. “That’s an understatement. I’m going to make sure I’m there the next time Reid talks to my mother.”
I wished I could be there for that.
“I’m going to start back over a year ago,” she said. “I think what I say will help you.”
“Do you mind if I take notes?” I hesitated to without her permission.
She waved her hand. “Fine with me.”
I pulled my notebook from the coffee table where Max had put it. When I was settled, she began.
“When Philip got sick, I went and stayed with him while he went through chemo. We hadn’t been close since we were kids, but he begged me to come.” She pulled at the fabric of her dress. “I’m ashamed to say it now, but I didn’t want to do it. He’d been such an awful person, and I hated being around him, even if he was my brother.”
“I can understand that,” I murmured.
“I finally did after Mom begged me to. She couldn’t because she had to work.” She paused. “Mom told you about his conversion, right?”
I nodded.
A tiny smile played on her lips. “I don’t share my mother’s strong faith, but I can recognize true change when I see it. I knew he was different as soon as I walked through the door to his apartment. He actually hugged me.”
“That must have made you happy.”
“Yes, but I didn’t understand at first. I only knew that he was somehow different. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only change.” The light in her eyes died. “His face was haggard. He looked like a scarecrow that had lost its stuffing. It’s funny, but when someone is dying of an illness like cancer, it seems to permeate everything. At least that’s the way it seemed with him.” She paused. “It was odd, but even before chemo, he seemed to know he was going to die. Going for treatment was just going through the motions.”
“I can’t imagine what that was like for you,” I said again.
She acknowledged my comment with a nod. “Not unless you’ve watched a friend or relative go through it. And to make it worse, I’d just lost a lot of money in a real estate scam, so I was feeling really low anyway.”
She glanced at me. “Please understand that things weren’t perfect. Philip had changed, but he still had secrets.”
“What kinds of secrets?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Probably a lot more than I will ever know. But I wanted to know what really happened with Abbie. He refused to talk about it. Said he needed to make that right with her before he’d say anything to anyone.” Mary picked at a fingernail. “I like Abbie. We were never close, but I felt like she got a bad deal when she married my brother. The old Philip was a brutal man.”
“Yes,” I said.
“That’s what I think, too,” I said. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he returned home to make amends and probably talked to someone who didn’t want to make things right.”
“Do you have any thoughts about that? Any ideas?”
“Two.” She shifted on the couch and dropped her gaze to the carpet. “This is hard to say. I feel like I’m giving away his secrets, even though he’s dead.” She looked up at me. “I didn’t tell the police about this. I just couldn’t. Because it doesn’t just affect Philip.” After a deep breath, she met my gaze. “You must promise me that no one will know unless it’s necessary.”
“But if it’s necessary to keep Abbie from prison, I can tell?”
After the briefest hesitation, she nodded. “I know that sooner or later it will come out. I just need a couple of days to tell my mother. I don’t want her hurt any more than she already is right now.”
“All right. You have my word. But why are you trusting me with something so important to you?”
“For Abbie. Because it was so important to Philip that he make amends with her. I don’t want to see her accused of something she didn’t do.” Mary took a deep breath. “Philip had a weak moment during his hospital stay. He saw a little girl pass by his door, and he started to cry. I asked him why. He said it was because he had a daughter, but he wasn’t allowed to see her.”
I felt the shock of her words physically. “A daughter? Where?”
“Here,” Mary said. “Seems that was part of the reason he left town. He and Abbie weren’t doing well. And he was being threatened by the father of the girl he got pregnant.” Mary’s lips twisted into a grimace. “I suspect she was underage.”
“That could have ruined his career.” I stated the obvious.
“Yeah. Whoever it was had mercy on him, I guess. Or maybe they just didn’t want their daughter involved in a scandal like that.” Mary bit one of her nails. “After that day in the hospital, he never said another word about it. I asked him about it again—once—and he told me to forget it. But I think he wanted to see his daughter. To meet her before he died.”