by Kira Chase
“Besides, George will probably say that Chelsea was obviously visiting and borrowed the car. It also leaves her off the hook as a suspect since we’ve provided her an alibi.”
Frankie picked up her coffee cup and took a large swallow. “I’m going to shower and get dressed.”
“Okay. I’ll call Graham and ask him to come to the office.”
* * * *
Graham McHenry’s jaw tightened. He looked once again at the pictures. “What the hell is going on?”
“That’s what we intend to find out,” Frankie said. “This isn’t your wife. I’m assuming this is her twin since they are identical except for their eye color.”
“Yes. It’s Cassandra’s sister, Chelsea…Chelsea Reynolds. She took her maiden name back some years ago.”
“How long has Chelsea been in town?” Frankie asked.
His eyes shifted. “She’s not. She called Cassandra about six months ago. She was drunk…said she needed money and that Cassandra owed her that much since she’d gotten everything when their parents died. She claimed some sleazy tabloid had gotten in touch with her and were anxious to do a story about how she’d been maliciously left out of her parents’ will and had been refused any financial help from her twin sister.”
“So Chelsea was blackmailing Cassandra. Did Cassandra send her money?” Frankie asked.
“Yes. She begged Chelsea to come for a visit to talk things out, but Chelsea refused.”
“Do you have a current address and phone number for Chelsea?”
He shook his head. “She gave a post office box, but it’s since been closed. It was located in Los Angeles.”
“She doesn’t know about her sister’s murder then?” Johanna asked. She studied his facial expressions as he spoke.
“She must have heard. My God, every TV news station and newspaper has carried the story.” He eyed them coldly. “You can understand my humiliation about where Cassandra’s body was found. The media is having a field day with it. If it keeps up I’m going to have to change my phone number.”
“When was the last time you saw Chelsea?” Johanna asked.
His eyebrows knitted together. “A year or two after her parents’ deaths.”
“Did she come here?”
“No, Cassandra and I were on a trip to California. She’d agreed to meet us for a drink at our hotel’s bar.”
“How did that visit go?”
“She showed up drunk and caused an embarrassing scene. We never saw her in person again.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “What’s the next move? Have you turned up any leads? I want the bastard who killed my wife caught!”
“Her trainer at Riley’s Gym has an iron-clad alibi,” Frankie said.
“We need to focus our efforts in a different direction,” Johanna added.
“Meaning?” he demanded.
Johanna kept her eyes level with his. “We know we weren’t tailing your wife. Chelsea must be somewhere in the area and is impersonating Cassandra. We need to find her, and I think then she’ll lead us to your wife’s murderer.”
“That’s preposterous!”
“You said yourself that the picture we showed you was of Chelsea.”
“Chelsea may be many things, but she wouldn’t take part in a plot to murder her own sister.”
“How do you know what she would or wouldn’t do? If you’ve been out of touch with her you have no idea of how desperate she might be,” Johanna insisted. “Or is there something you’re not telling us?”
“What are you insinuating?” he asked.
Johanna took her time before answering. She saw his obvious discomfort and enjoyed watching him squirm. “The same thing I’ve all ready said. You said you haven’t been in close contact with Chelsea for years, so how could you know what she would or wouldn’t do?”
He scowled. “Most people don’t plot to murder their own relatives.”
“You’d be surprised how many do,” Frankie interjected. “Greed can be a huge motivator.”
His jaw clenched. “Look, I’m paying you good money to find out who killed my wife. If I wanted a couple of keystone cops, I would have let that idiotic sheriff and his sidekicks handle it on their own.”
“We handle it our way or we don’t handle it at all,” Frankie stated firmly. “No games. We want the truth or we’re done.”
“You’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“I think we found the haystack,” Johanna said, pointing to Chelsea’s picture. “And it’s only a matter of time before we find the needle.”
“We followed Chelsea and she was driving your wife’s car.” Frankie stabbed a finger at one of the pictures. “You can’t deny that.”
“If she’s in Charlestown, it’s news to me.”
“Did Cassandra mention that maybe they’d been in touch and Chelsea was coming for a visit?”
“No she didn’t. Besides, Cassandra would never let anyone drive her Porsche. She loved that car.”
Johanna ran a hand through her hair. “Well, she obviously did or the only other conclusion is Chelsea stole the car. We followed her back to your home. Cassandra was at the motel, moments away from being murdered, while Chelsea was driving the Porsche back from the gym to your mansion.”
“If she showed up, it had to be out of the blue and after I’d left for New York. If she’d been here I’m sure one of the staff would have mentioned it.”
“Cassandra didn’t phone you to say Chelsea had shown up?”
“No, she didn’t.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I’ve got an appointment. When you have something viable to report, contact me.” He turned swiftly on his heel and exited before either of them could utter another word.
“What an asshole,” Frankie said, watching him slam out of the door.
“I do believe we’re on our way to solving this case. He was so uncomfortable he couldn’t wait to leave. I should have asked him how he got Cassandra to change the name of the estate from the family name of Reynolds to McHenry. That bugs the hell out of me.”
“I can’t believe Cassandra would have willingly done that, but, then again, from what Bailey Jones said, she was head over heels in love with him so nothing was out of the question where he was concerned.”
“I don’t get that.” Johanna snorted. “Bailey also said she thought Cassandra was looking for a father image. I wonder what their sex life was like.”
“I don’t even want to picture that.” She made a face. “In any event, he’s guilty as hell,” Frankie stated. “I just don’t understand why he hired us.”
Johanna rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “To throw us off his trail.”
“Lay it out for me.” Frankie leaned back in her chair.
“I don’t have it all figured out, but I think he’s lying and knows Chelsea is here in town. He’s most likely hiding her.”
“I agree, since we know we followed her the other night. Now we have to figure out where and how he’s been hiding her.”
Johanna was thoughtful for a minute. “I think we’re missing an important link here.”
“I know by that look in your eye that you’re up to something.”
“Think about this for a minute. We know for the past two months that Chelsea Reynolds has been impersonating her sister, so that proves Graham McHenry is a liar. He’s let Chelsea taint Cassandra’s reputation, too.” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t think Cassandra’s murder was planned.”
Frankie’s eyes narrowed. “So where had Cassandra been prior to her murder? Did she leave on her own accord or was she kidnapped and held against her will somewhere?”
“I think she was forcibly taken and held somewhere. I’d bet my bottom dollar that Graham planned for her to be abducted, but I still can’t figure out the part about why she was murdered. If Chelsea intended to take over Cassandra’s life, then she wouldn’t have had her killed where her body would be found. It would make more sense to somehow get her out of the country and have her murdered
somewhere remote where maybe her body would never be identified. Then Chelsea could put her plan into motion to take over her sister’s life. As long as she kept a low profile during the day and continued her nighttime activities, who would be the wiser? Sooner or later she could wriggle her way into Cassandra’s whole life. But now with Cassandra dead, Chelsea obviously can’t take over her identity. That’s why I don’t think her murder was planned to take place at the motel.”
“If Graham is sleeping with Chelsea, I don’t understand why he wouldn’t be jealous of Chelsea’s affair with Bunson. Wouldn’t that go against Chelsea’s plan to become Cassandra? Remember, from what we’ve been told, Cassandra would never have cheated on her husband.”
“Graham wanted us to believe she was cheating. That’s why he hired us in the first place.” She cocked an eye. “I don’t have everything figured out yet, but I’m getting there. Chelsea was slowly taking over Cassandra’s life. She looks enough like Cassandra that no one would notice the difference if they only talked to her occasionally. That’s why she switched her gym schedule. She kept a low profile during the day. If anyone who knew her well did notice her eye color then she could say she’d gotten colored contacts. But it’s her general body language and way of speaking she wouldn’t be able to hide.”
Frankie’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute! Cassandra escaped! That has to be it. She showed up at the motel and confronted whoever was staying there. That’s why Chelsea left the gym in a hurry the other night. Whoever was holding Cassandra must have called Chelsea when she escaped.”
Johanna ran a hand over her chin. “That makes sense, but it also now rules out Graham and Chelsea as the murderers. He was in New York and we were tailing her. And don’t forget, she didn’t go back to the motel after she left the gym. She went straight to the mansion. We’re narrowing our list of possible suspects.”
“Then it’s Mayna or Joe.”
“Hmmm. Or maybe both? That makes sense, too. They’re providing an alibi for each other and at the same time making us believe that they are at odds with one another. They may have had it planned from the beginning, but for what purpose? A crime of passion?”
“So who called Chelsea at the gym? Mayna and Bunson were both working. And then there’s still the question of why Cassandra was taken in the first place. It has to be more than Graham having a roll in the sheets with his sister-in-law.”
“Maybe Cassandra found out and was going to leave him.”
Frankie nodded. “Makes sense. If she leaves he stands to lose a lot. Maybe he went searching for Chelsea.”
“We need to find out who called Chelsea, but I’m afraid it won’t be easy. I doubt the phone is in her name.”
“So any ideas of where we go from here?”
“We need to find Chelsea, but first we’ll pay a visit to the mansion later tonight and see if we can find any traces of Chelsea there.”
“Sounds good. In the meantime, I’m going to run another computer check on Chelsea and also the alias she gave Ben Masters. Maybe I’ll get lucky. If she registered a phone account under her alias we can figure out how to gain access to the records.”
* * * *
Johanna grabbed the remains of the takeout dinner they’d ordered earlier and locked the office door.
Frankie sighed. “I wish I could have found something on Missy Curtis.”
“I think she made the name up off the top of her head.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You know what you have to do,” Johanna said.
Frankie nodded. “I’ll keep Graham occupied while you search the mansion.”
“Right. By taking separate cars it won’t look suspicious when I leave.”
Frankie shivered even though the evening was warm. “Just be careful. If he catches you—”
“He won’t, babe.” She patted Frankie’s shoulder. “We can drop this case right now if you want. It’s gone way beyond what we were hired to do. Let’s just tell Graham that we’ve changed our minds and let the law handle it.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “I’d love to do that, but I feel the need to help bring Cassandra McHenry’s murderer to justice.”
“I know. As much as I despise the man, I need to help solve this case.
“And I need you to promise me that you’ll be careful.”
“When did you turn into such a worrywart?” Johanna asked with a sly smile.
“When I fell in love with you twelve years ago.”
Chapter 7
Frankie and Johanna sat in their cars outside the massive gates of McHenry’s mansion. Since Frankie was in the first car she pushed a button on the call box and explained it was urgent that they see Graham immediately.
The gates parted and the women drove through. As Frankie navigated the long driveway, she picked up her cell phone and hit number one for Johanna. “Hi, baby, please be careful.”
“I will. I promise,” Johanna replied. “Now quit worrying. Remember what Bunson said…you’ll wrinkle prematurely.” She giggled.
Frankie laughed hollowly. “Wrinkles are the last of my worries.”
Her nerves were on edge by the time they reached the parking area to the left of the mansion. She hated this part of the job. Not because she feared for her own safety, but for anything that would put Johanna in danger. If she were the one doing the snooping, her adrenalin would be pumped so high that her feet would barely touch the ground. With Johanna taking the helm this time, Frankie was aware that the smallest mistake by either of them could result in serious repercussions for one or the both of them.
Frankie took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Johanna knew why she worried and why that worry would always stay manifested in the back of her mind. Frankie had almost lost Johanna a couple of years ago when she hadn’t gotten to Johanna quick enough. The case they’d been working had taken an unusual turn when the woman who had hired them to tail her ex-husband, whom she’d suspected of breaking into her house and stealing precious pieces of art, had forgotten that they were staking out the outside of the house. Groggily the woman came down the stairs in the middle of the night and seeing Johanna’s shadow outside of the window, had randomly pumped several bullets at the window, emptying the gun. A bullet had entered Johanna’s chest. Frankie’d been at the side of the house when she heard the gunfire and had rushed to Johanna’s side. Her knees weakened when she saw Johanna sprawled on the grass with the gaping bloody hole in her chest. She’d slumped to the ground holding Johanna’s head in her lap while, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she bartered with God and anyone who would listen, to spare her lover.
Fortunately the bullet had missed all vital organs, but Frankie would never forget the icy chill that had enveloped her at the thought of losing Johanna. Johanna had slowly recovered, but had been left with a scar that bothered her no matter how many times Frankie assured her that it didn’t matter. She’d lovingly kiss the scar, thankful that Johanna’s life had been spared. She still sometimes woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, reliving the nightmare, and fell back asleep only after her arms pulled Johanna’s slumbering body close.
Now she had that same feeling of dread. She tried to shake it off, but it refused to leave her. She parked her car and Johanna pulled in beside her. They exited their cars and walked together to the entrance.
Graham met them at the door. He appeared agitated and distracted with their unannounced visit. “To what do I owe the pleasure of an in-person visit twice in one day?” His voice had an annoyed edge to it even though he sighed wearily. “I’m extremely busy with funeral preparations so I hope you have something worthwhile to tell me that couldn’t have sufficed with a simple phone call.”
The mansion looked desolate and forlorn as though it was mourning Cassandra’s presence. “We understand the strain you’re under,” she said, taking the time to glance around the huge marble tiled entry hall as Graham held the door, ushering them inside. On their previous visit there’d been too much
commotion to get a good look at the place. The entry hall was enormous, its walls were adorned with expensive paintings, and the tables held various art pieces, which Frankie’s simple tastes couldn’t appreciate. The mansion reminded her of the program she used to watch called Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous. No, she preferred the simple life and loved the log home she and Johanna had had built on their twenty acres. “I’m surprised that you answered the door.”
He looked at her blankly. “I gave Mary the night off. The staff has been devastated by Cassandra’s death.”
“How big is your household staff?”
“Eight, not counting the part-time housekeepers and groundskeepers. I kept the original staff at Cassandra’s insistence when she inherited this place. The cook is the only one on duty this evening. I gave the others the night off, too.”
“Do any of the staff live on the premises?”
“Most of them prefer to. Their quarters are on the first floor off the kitchen. When Cassandra’s father built the mansion, he incorporated a special wing for the help. He was an odd man and wanted them to feel that they were more than just his employees, almost like family. He was very generous with them, too. Most of them are still with us and should have retired years ago, especially Mary. She’s getting up there in years, but Cassandra refused to tell her that her services were no longer needed. I imagine Mary plans to be here until the day she dies.”
“Won’t you have some say now that you will inherit all of this?” Johanna asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what will happen. If it were a simple case of Cassandra dying in an accident or from an illness, things would be settled promptly, but since she was murdered the estate could be tied up for quite some time.”
“Well, her will should free up some resources,” Frankie pointed out.
“She revised it about three months ago and I can’t locate a copy.”
Frankie skeptically raised her eyebrows. “She didn’t discuss it with you?”
“No, which in itself came as a shock. It affirms my suspicions about her having an affair, which is the reason I first hired you.”
