Dangerous Habits

by Susan Hunter

“Is that what he said?”

  “He said that he wanted to talk with me about my refinancing plan. He said that there are a lot of things to consider. And then he said he saw you this morning at the Catherines.’ ”

  “Max, what’s wrong with that?”

  “Read between the lines, Leah. Guys like Palmer don’t come out and say things. They hint, they imply, and you better understand, because they’re not spelling it out for you. He’s telling me I might have a chance to get the money, but there are ‘a lot of things to consider.’ Like whether we do a story that makes it look like DeMoss Academy was responsible for Lacey’s death.”

  “Max, you’re losing it. I talked to him, and I talked to Sister Julianna this morning, and they both know that this has nothing to do with the paper, that I’m pursuing my own theory. And besides he was sympathetic to me, he didn’t seem threatened. I told him I didn’t blame DeMoss. I—”

  He ignored me, and his face got redder as his voice got louder. “I’m warning you, Leah, and I am serious as a heart attack, you’d better damn well stay away from the Catherines, stay away from DeMoss Academy, and stay away from Reid Palmer. Otherwise, you’re gonna have plenty of time to work on that true crime book of yours.”

  I sat back in my chair and stared at him without speaking. I’d seen him angry before, plenty of times, and more than a few of those times it was at me. But never like this. In the face of my silence, he calmed down a little.

  “I’m sorry. I know you think I’m going off the deep end. But I can’t let anything get between me and the loan I need. Not even you. If I do, the paper is going to close. For the first time in more than 75 years, there won’t be a Himmel Times. This has to be it. Period. End of discussion.”

  Courtnee was lurking in the hallway, and I nearly knocked her over as I beat a hasty retreat.

  “Wow. Max really got after you for bothering the nuns, didn’t he? I thought he was gonna fire you!”

  “Max isn’t going to fire me,” I said, with more confidence then I felt, because there was no way I was going to stop trying to find the truth about Lacey, and no way that truth didn’t somehow involve the Catherines. I dropped the camera bag and my purse on my desk and realized that Courtnee had followed me into the newsroom.

  “Don’t you need to be out front?”

  “I’m on break. What are you wearing to Miguel’s Cinco de Mayo party on Saturday?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You know how I have this little dress with red and white stripes and blue stars that, like, I wear for 4th of July? I thought I’d do, like, that. Only for Mexico, with this really cute red skirt and a yellow top. Like, my outfit will be the same color as their flag for their Independence Day.”

  “Mexico’s flag is green, white, and red, Courtnee. Spain’s flag is red and yellow.”

  She stared at me for a minute. “But my outfit is red and yellow. Are you sure?”

  “Yep. And Cinco de Mayo isn’t Independence Day for Mexico—that’s September 16. The 5th of May is the date the Mexican Army won the Battle of Puebla.”

  “You always know everything, don’t you? Well, I think it’s stupid that they have a different day for 4th of July than we do. I mean all Independence Days should be the same no matter what country you’re in. Like, how can they just pick any day they want? It doesn’t make sense. I mean, Independence Day is Independence Day, like Christmas is Christmas, right? It’d be like we go, Christmas is December 25th, but Mexico goes, our Christmas is the 3rd of March.”

  Now it was my turn to stare.

  At that moment Miguel came through the door wearing a stack of sombreros on his head and carrying two large bags from Pat’s Party Palace. He put the bags on the table and the sombreros on his desk. Then he grabbed one of the hats, put it on Courtnee, and danced her across the newsroom, singing a salsa version of “Careless Whispers,” finishing with a swooping dip that sent her into a fit of giggles.

  “Miguel, Leah told me my yellow and red outfit is the wrong colors for Mexico.”

  “Courtnee, you will be muy bonita no matter what you wear.”

  She gave me an I-told-you-so look, as though I had banned her ensemble and Miguel had issued a pardon. “Courtnee, I don’t care what you wear. I don’t even care what I wear.”

  “Well,” she sniffed, looking over my khakis, white t-shirt and black blazer. “That’s pretty obvious.”

  Which was a pretty good comeback for Courtnee. Miguel is on Team Courtnee when it comes to my clothes.

  “She’s a little bit right, chica. Look at you today. You look like an Amish lawyer.” He shook his head in mock despair. I started to protest, but before I could, he went on. “Never mind. Both of you, wear whatever you like. You will be beautiful. Is your boyfriend, Trent, coming, Courtnee?”

  “Trent? I thought his name was Brad.”

  “I broke up with Brad. We looked too much alike.”

  “What?”

  “My grandma said couples who look too much alike never last. Like Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston. Or Ellie and her first husband.”

  “Ellie’s first husband died, Courtnee.”

  “Well, but they’re not together, are they? And she told me once people used to tease them about looking like twins. And Brad and I both have blonde hair and blue eyes and we’re both hot, so I’m just sayin.’ ”

  “You’re just ‘sayin’ nothing that makes any kind of sense and—”

  I was interrupted by an uncertain-sounding voice calling from the reception area. “Hey? Is there anyone there? I’d like to place a classified ad? Hello?”

  The phones had been ringing nonstop while Courtnee took her break and dispensed culture lessons with fashion accents. But now the in-person request rescued her from my coming rant, so she happily returned to her rightful place at the front desk.

  When she was gone, Miguel said, “You know, chica, Courtnee is right. It wouldn’t hurt to add a little color, maybe a nice green to bring out your eyes? I promise you, it’s gonna be so worth it. Lots of hot guys coming to my party. Coop is gonna be there,” he said, hopping up and coming to rest on the corner of his desk.

  “And so? Right now, we’re barely speaking to each other.”

  He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

  “OK. But if you don’t want him…I wonder if he’s heteroflexible?”

  I couldn’t help it. I tried not to let it, but a laugh snorted out.

  “Knock it off,” I said. “I’ve got serious stuff going on here. Max just about fired me 10 minutes ago.”

  I gave him a brief recounting of my Catherines adventures, and he agreed that Max was overreacting. Then I told him about my conversation with Marilyn Karr.

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

  “I don’t know. Paul says she just wants to stir things up.”

  “Well, I got something else for you to think about.”

  He pulled a notebook out of the inside pocket of his denim jacket and flipped it open.

  “Father Hegl used to be the priest at San Carlos parish in Florida. Then one day—poof he’s gone. Didn’t say adios to anyone, and didn’t stay in touch.”

  “Caught with an altar boy?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. The church secretary, she was very helpful.”

  “Of course she was.” I have yet to meet the woman Miguel couldn’t charm.

  “She said that Father Hegl was very close to the Perez family. Especialmente to their beautiful teenage daughter Olivia. He was her voice coach. She died in a car accident just before the padre left.”

  “When was that, Miguel?”

  “May 2004. I checked. That’s when Father Hegl showed up in Himmel.”

  “Yeah. That’s the summer Lacey was 14. Were Hegl and this Olivia having an affair?”

  “Rosa, the church secretary, didn’t want to say, but yes, I think so. Olivia was just 18, but already she was married. Sad, so young. Her family didn’t like the husband, Vince Morgan. He was wild,
and he was white. Not good. And worse, he was not Catholic. But the chicas sometimes they like the bad boys, yes?”

  “Or the bad priests? Hegl, another beautiful young girl and another death. What about the accident, was Olivia alone?”

  “The police report says yes. She was over the limit and drove off the shoulder. The car rolled. She got thrown out. Massive head injuries. Died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. She had a younger sister, Carla. I’ll call her. Sometimes the sisters, they know things the mamá and papá don’t, right?”

  “You did great, Miguel, thanks. But let me call Carla. I might be able to make a connection because of Lacey.”

  He looked disappointed. No one likes a lead taken away.

  “No worries.” He smiled, but I knew I’d hurt his feelings.

  Sometimes I can’t believe what a jerk I can be. Most of the time I can though. Miguel busted his butt to get background on Hegl, and then I snatched his lead right out from under him. Max threw me a job lifeline, and I tied it to a personal investigation that could sink him. Coop disagreed with me, and I cut him off at the knees. I hit my mother with the news that Lacey was abused and possibly murdered, and I suggest that Paul might be involved. Then I wonder why she’s not on the same page with me.

  It’s true. I can be bossy, overbearing, arrogant, know-it-all, stubborn, single-minded (I really should write that down for my online dating profile). But it’s not because I don’t think other people are competent or smart. I do. I really do. It’s just that no matter how hard I try, I can’t believe that anyone else is really going to care as much as I do, or get it done the exact way I think it should be done. So, I have to rely on myself.

  The catch is, despite my confident exterior, I don’t really believe that I’m going to do it right either. And if you make the mistake of thinking I can do it, then how dumb are you? Which just proves I can’t trust your judgment, and I better do everything myself. I shook off my circular self-reflection, and pulled out the number Sister Margaret had given me, and tried Father Hegl’s cell phone.

  “Yes?”

  “Father Hegl? This is Leah Nash.”

  Silence, then a business-like but not unfriendly greeting. “Yes. Hello. How can I help you?”

  “I just had a quick question for you, Father. I wonder if you remember seeing anything unusual the night of the fundraiser. That was the night Lacey disappeared. I’ve been reading the police report, but I can’t seem to find an interview with you.”

  “That’s because I wasn’t interviewed. I wasn’t there the night of the fundraiser.”

  “But I thought everyone at the school, all the staff, had to go. A command performance, I think Sister Margaret called it.”

  “Yes. Normally, that’s the case, but I had an unexpected call from an old friend who needed my help on an urgent personal matter. Sister Julianna gave me permission to miss the dinner.”

  “Oh, I see. So, you weren’t there at all?”

  “I got back quite late, long after everyone had left. So, I couldn’t have seen anything that would help you, Leah. I’m sorry. Are you having any luck elsewhere?”

  “Father, why didn’t you tell me you knew Lacey before she came to DeMoss?”

  “Didn’t I? I’m sure I mentioned it.”

  “No. You didn’t.”

  “It must have just slipped my mind. Well, if there’s nothing else—”

  “Just one more thing. Your friend, was it someone you knew in Florida?”

  Silence. Then “I, uh, I really can’t say. As I said, it was personal. And confidential. I have to go now, Leah. Goodbye.”

  Well, something was making Father Hegl nervous. Was it getting caught lying about knowing Lacey? Was it the Florida reference? Or was it to do with his mystery friend? Or were they somehow all connected?

  Sixteen

  Early the next morning I stood shivering in the early morning cool on the doorstep of Miller and Georgia Caldwell’s tasteful brick colonial. Dressed in jeans, a UW T-shirt and my favorite Keens, I hoped my downscale ensemble would emphasize that I was not working; I was not representing the Himmel Times; and nothing I did or said could be held against me in a court of Max. I wasn’t even the one who set up this little tête-à-tête with Miller. He had called me the night before.

  I know Miller in the way I know most high profile people in Himmel, because of my job. We don’t exactly travel in the same social circles, although he and his wife both go to St. Stephen’s like my mother. When he called and asked me to come by, he’d said it wasn’t for a story, but he’d rather talk to me in person. Since I had some non-story chatting I wanted to do with him, too, I accepted.

  I rang the bell and waited for a maid or housekeeper to answer, but it was Miller who stood there when the door swung open. At well over six feet tall, his muscular frame filled the doorway. His carefully cut brown hair was touched with gray; his eyes were a shade of blue so bright, they might have owed their hue to colored contacts. The smile he gave me was the broad grin required of every candidate. I was surprised when he shook my hand to find that his was calloused, more like a farmer’s than a politician’s.

  “Thank you for coming, Leah.”

  “Sure, no problem.” He led me through the large entrance hall to his study. Rows of books in ceiling-high glass-fronted cabinets lined one wall. An ornate mahogany desk dominated the far end of the room and, in the other end, two wing back chairs upholstered in a rich looking burgundy fabric flanked a sofa with striped silk cushions. An Oriental rug of intricate pattern covered the oak floor. The room looked like a photo spread for We’re Old Money magazine.

  Miller sat down on the edge of the sofa. I took the chair nearest him. I accepted a cup of coffee and waited as he poured one of his own. He added sugar. Stirred it. Offered me a biscotti, and when I refused, put the platter back down without taking one himself. I maintained a politely curious expression as I waited for him to speak.

  He finally did.

  “I understand you’ve talked several times with Sister Julianna and Reid Palmer about your sister’s accident.”

  I didn’t respond. It’s a technique Max taught me a long time ago. If you just let the silence hang there, most people can’t stand it. They have to fill the gap.

  “I was very fond of Lacey. We all were.”

  Again, I didn’t say anything, but this time I nodded.

  “We were so upset when she,” he hesitated, picked up his coffee and put it back down without taking a drink. “When she lost her way.”

  “That’s a pretty delicate way to put it.”

  “May I ask why you’re going back over things, so long after Lacey’s death?” His fingers played with the gold band of the wristwatch on his left wrist.

  “I’ve learned something that casts a different light on Lacey’s death—and on the last few years of her life. I’m just following up on it.”

  “You mean the note from Sister Mattea?”

  “You’re well-informed. Yes. That and some other information. I’m pretty certain now that Lacey was sexually abused. I’m going to find out who did it.”

  “Leah, that’s appalling.” His face registered concern.

  “You don’t seem that surprised. I suppose Sister Julianna or Reid Palmer already told you. Isn’t that what lawyers do, ask questions you already know the answers to? Did they also tell you I believe it happened the summer before she went into ninth grade? Lacey spent a lot of time with your family back then. Did she ever talk about anyone, a teacher, a coach, anyone who had a lot of contact with her?”

  “Surely you or your mother were in a better position than me to notice anything like that.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. But for a while there it seemed like she was here more than she was at home. That’s what Mom said anyway. One time, didn’t she even spend the night with you?”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I’m just trying to think if I’m remembering that right. You and Lacey got stranded on your
way to your cottage up north when the car broke down. You had to stay overnight, just the two of you at a motel, right?”

  “Are you insinuating—”

  “Miller, why did you ask me here? Why do you care if I’m talking to people about my sister?”

  “Lacey was like a daughter to me, an older sister to Charlotte and Sebastian. When I talked to Sister Julianna, she said you seemed overwrought. She was concerned about you, and that you might inadvertently cause some damage to the school. That’s why she turned to me, because I’m on the board.”

  “That’s funny, because when I spoke to Reid Palmer, who is also on the board, he didn’t seem worried about my questions.”

  “Reid is inclined to take a detached view of things. I’m not sure he realizes how much doubts or rumors could affect the reputation of DeMoss, or of the Catherines for that matter.”

  “And so you offered to step in and what? Soothe the troubled waters, shut down the inconvenient questions?”

  “Leah, please. I was just trying to ease Sister Julianna’s mind, just trying to do a kindness. Nothing more. What are we here for if not to make life less difficult for each other?”

  “Very inspiring. But you shouldn’t worry. I don’t think Lacey’s sexual abuse will reflect on DeMoss. She wasn’t there when it happened. Though that’s not to say her abuser didn’t track her down there. In fact, I think he must have. Because I think that’s why she died. Did you ever run into Lacey there?”

  “No. I didn’t see her again after she stopped caring for the children. I heard about her … troubles … of course, in a small town like this, you do. But I never spoke to her again.”

  “I see. So, the night she disappeared, the night of the big fundraiser for DeMoss, did you go back after you left with Paul Karr?”

  “Back? Yes, I think so. I can’t be sure. That was five years and at least 50 charity fund raisers ago.”

  “Did you see anything when you were driving back in, or even later when you left for the night?”

  “What sort of thing?”

  “Maybe a little boy wandering the grounds? A car leaving from the side entrance? A girl, maybe Lacey, standing near the Baylor Road entrance?”