“Margaret Diane, the seasons are changing. I always get allergy headaches this time of year. An aspirin or, better yet, an allergy pill will take care of it.”
Diane drew in a deep breath, deliberately tamping down her worry. “All right, I’ll get you one. Orange juice or coffee?”
“For heaven’s sake, no caffeine. I want to go back to sleep.”
Diane stifled a chuckle at Mother’s uncharacteristic crankiness. “Juice it is. I’ll be right back.” She hurried to the kitchen, poured a small glass of juice and another of water, grabbed the box of loratadine from the little cabinet above the refrigerator, and then returned to her mother’s room. Miney extricated herself from her dachshund pals lounging in the sunshine in front of the kitchen patio doors and trotted after her.
“Here you go.” Diane placed the items on the nightstand. Mother had already crawled back under the covers and lay propped up on pillows. “Miney came to check on you. Can she jump up?”
“Of course. She’s my best medicine.”
Diane hid a smile. Given the choice between the two humans in the house, Miney would hang with Mother over Diane every time. Strange how animals chose their special “one” and remained loyal. Her mind automatically zipped to Mother’s observation about Diane’s subconscious loyalty toward Kevin, and she patted the mattress a little more exuberantly than necessary to dispel the errant thought. “Here you go, pretty girl. Grandma says you’re welcome to join her.”
Miney leaped up, turned a circle, and settled next to Mother’s hip. Mother stroked the dog and scowled at Diane. “As much as I like her, I’m not this beast’s grandma, you know.”
“I know.” Diane pushed a tiny white pill through the layer of protective foil into her palm and offered it to her mother with the juice.
Mother swallowed the medication, then held the juice glass against her bodice and sighed. “If I’m not up and ready by the time you’re to meet Kevin at the kitchen-and-bath store, go without me.”
Diane groaned. In her worry about her mother, she’d forgotten about their plans to pick out new sinks, faucets, and a tub for the loft apartment. “How about I call him and cancel? You might need—”
“I don’t need a thing except sleep, so you can go without a moment’s concern. But I’ll be fine as frog’s hair once this pill kicks in. What time are we supposed to meet?”
“Ten.”
“I’ll make it.” She wriggled downward and tucked her arm around Miney. “Shut the door on your way out, please.” She closed her eyes.
Diane tiptoed out but left the door cracked wide enough for the dachshund to leave if she had a mind to. Miney was like a cat when it came to closed doors—she’d paw at it and wake Mother. Diane returned to the kitchen and poured a fresh cup of coffee. She glanced at the clock. It would be almost nine thirty in Arkansas. And since it was Saturday, Meghan shouldn’t be working. They’d texted back and forth only a few times since Meghan’s arrival in Fort Smith. Curiosity about how the case was progressing, not to mention an odd yearning to hear her daughter’s voice, struck hard.
Diane retrieved her cell phone from its charging station and pulled up Meghan’s number. She hit Call, then tapped the speaker button. “Hello. You’ve reached Meghan’s voice mail. I’m sorry I missed your call, but—” Sighing, Diane hit End. She’d try again later. After her meeting with Kevin. She’d need to hear her daughter’s voice even more then.
Fort Smith, Arkansas
Meghan
Meghan glanced at the clock. Another fifteen minutes had passed since the last time she’d peeked. She, Greg, and Sheila had already been waiting an hour for officers to tell them why they’d been escorted to the station. If it was important enough to pull them away from breakfast, shouldn’t someone have talked to them by now?
Sheila sat next to Meghan, gnawing at her thumbnail. She’d already bitten her middle finger’s nail to the quick. The younger woman’s forehead wore a series of lines that seemed out of place on someone her age. Greg, on her other side, sat with his arms folded and his face fixed in a thunderous expression.
He caught her looking at him and grunted. “We’re going to end up wasting our entire morning sitting here. This is nuts.”
Meghan had no answer, so she only shrugged and offered a sympathetic grimace. She wanted to check her cell phone. The vibration a few minutes ago had made all three of them jump. If it would be a while yet, she might have time to call whoever had tried to call her. She hoped it was Sean. She missed him so much her chest ached.
Another glance at the clock, then a glance into her purse propped on the floor between her chair and Sheila’s. She reached for the purse.
The door swung open and a tall, slender man dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase entered. Two police officers trailed him. The man in the suit slapped his briefcase onto the table, then seated himself across from the detectives and Sheila. The younger of the two officers rounded the table and held his hand toward Sheila.
“Ma’am, would you come with me, please?”
“Why?” Sheila shot a frantic look at Meghan.
Meghan frowned at the officer. “Where are you taking her?”
“To the front lobby.”
Sheila drew back from the policeman. “I’d rather stay here.”
The suit-wearing man huffed. “This meeting is between my client and the detectives. Confidentiality will be breached by your presence. Kindly depart so our meeting can begin.”
Meghan squeezed Sheila’s wrist and whispered, “It’s okay. Go on.”
Uncertainty creased the younger woman’s features, but she followed the officer out of the room. The second officer closed the door and positioned himself in front of it, his stance similar to a soldier at parade rest. Meghan’s stomach tangled into knots. Were she and Greg about to be arrested for some unknown local infraction?
The suit-wearing man aimed a tight smile at Greg. “My apologies for leaving you waiting. I’m afraid the delay was unavoidable.” He stuck his hand across the table. “I’m Attorney Philip Johnske of Bailer, Johnske, and Long Law Offices.”
Greg gave the man a single pump of his hand. “I’m Detective Greg Dane. Of the Arkansas Cold Case Investigations Department.”
“Yes, I know.” Johnske didn’t offer to shake Meghan’s hand. He opened his briefcase and took out a stack of typed pages stapled together in the upper-left corner. He flattened the pages on the table, leaned forward slightly, and rested his linked hands on top of them. “I represent Union National Bank and Trust. I understand you’ve spent a significant amount of time there recently, interrogating employees and examining private records.”
Meghan’s jaw dropped. The bank president had been cooperative from the moment they’d arrived in Fort Smith. Why would he now sic a lawyer on them?
Greg cleared his throat and gestured to Meghan. “Mr. Johnske, this is Detective Meghan DeFord, who is lead investigator for this case. Why don’t you direct your comments to her?” He sat back and folded his arms over his chest, his expression bland.
Johnske set his lips in a grim line, glaring for several seconds at Greg, and then shifted his dark eyes on Meghan. “What exactly is your purpose in Fort Smith, Detective DeFord?”
Meghan met the man’s icy glower. “We’re investigating the mysterious disappearance of Anson Menke, who was an employee at UNB&T at the time.”
“According to legal records, the ‘mysterious disappearance’ of Anson Menke in”—he glanced at the pages—“March of 2002 was declared intentional abandonment by a judge in the Sebastian County court system. Furthermore, Menke was found guilty of embezzlement by that same judge.” His lips curved into a smug smile. “Detectives from a bureau outside Sebastian County have no authority to overturn that conviction.”
Meghan smiled in return. “Maybe we can’t overturn the conviction, but since the cold-case unit is
a state rather than county agency, we do have the authority to investigate the disappearance of a man from Sebastian County, Arkansas. If our investigation uncovers what we suspect, we will petition the court to amend the indictment and absolve Mr. Menke of wrongdoing.”
Johnske didn’t even blink. “And what exactly do you suspect, Detective DeFord?”
She disliked the way he said her name, as if he questioned her credentials as a detective. She sent up a quick prayer to maintain professionalism. “I’m sorry, but since this is an ongoing investigation, we aren’t at liberty to discuss details with anyone outside the agency.”
He sat in silence for several seconds, as if waiting for her to change her mind and answer his question. Then he gave a little jerk and lifted the stapled pages. “Your presence at the bank has been disruptive, intrusive, and—to be blunt—nosy. The bank’s board of directors has filed a stay-away order against the two of you specifically and the Arkansas Cold Case Investigations Department generally.”
Meghan’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”
Greg leaned forward and took the pages. He scanned them, his expression unreadable.
Johnske gave a firm nod. “I assure you, I am serious. More important, they are serious. The board is satisfied with the judge’s ruling, and the bank employees have neither the time nor the interest in assisting you in an unnecessary investigation. Therefore, your presence is no longer welcome.” He pointed to the papers. “You’ll notice it is duly notarized and signifies a date of issuance.”
Greg glanced at Meghan. “It’s dated yesterday.”
Johnske’s smug smile returned. He closed his briefcase and rose. “Since we have this matter settled, I’ll leave you to pack for a return to Little Rock. Good day, detectives.” He strode out, and the police officer followed him.
Meghan slumped into her chair. “A stay-away ruling. I sure didn’t see that coming.”
“Me neither.” Greg plopped the pages on the table and shifted to face her, a secretive smile playing on the corners of his lips. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah.” Meghan released a soft snort of mirthless laughter. “Someone’s running scared.”
Greg grinned. “Yep. But guess what? We don’t need to go to the bank to dig into personal property records. And this stay-away order doesn’t include any building in town except the bank. So the courthouse is fair game.”
“Except we can’t get in there until next Tuesday.”
Greg shrugged. “So let’s let Johnske think he’s won and go home for the weekend.”
Twenty-Eight
Las Vegas, Nevada
Kevin
Kevin trailed Diane and her mother through aisles showcasing an array of bathroom faucets. Diane paused only in front of the gold-plated ones marked “water efficient.” Gold would best keep with the art deco theme, she’d said, and even though he preferred brushed nickel, he opted not to argue with her. What did he know about interior design?
The interactions between Diane and Hazel intrigued him. Things had changed in the mother-daughter relationship since Diane was in college. Back when he knew her, Diane overflowed with resentment toward the woman she derisively called a neurotic perfectionist. He’d related to her, having been raised by the male version. But apparently Diane had put aside her resentment or Hazel had shed the perfectionist title, because any fool could see that the two of them got along fine now, bouncing ideas back and forth, sometimes bickering but always laughing. At ease.
Oddly enough, he envied them. He’d never been at ease around his father, even though he did his best to please the man. Chuck Harrison was a genius in business. Except for the one decision that became his downfall. Then Dad’s death ruined Kevin’s relationship with his mom. They loved each other, but their interactions were stilted, hindered by the ugly secret they shared.
Diane looked over her shoulder at him and tapped the arched spout of a faucet set. “What do you think of this one?”
He peered past her at the faucet. It seemed pretty much like half a dozen others they’d already seen. “It’s okay. Do you like it?”
She nodded, her expression serious. “I do. It has really nice lines, the spigot is high enough to get your hands under without having to bend yourself in half but not so high it resembles a kitchen faucet, and the handles have a shape that’s easy to grasp. Plus, it has a spot-proof coating guaranteed to last for the life of the faucet. It’ll be easy to keep clean, and that should appeal to anybody who’s spent time scrubbing water spots from their fixtures before.”
Why did her formal recital of the faucet’s positive aspects tickle him? He forced himself not to laugh, and he struck a formal pose, like a butler in a classic movie welcoming dignified guests. “My, that is appealing.”
She narrowed her gaze and eyed him. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Of course not.” His lips quirked. He couldn’t help it.
Her jaw dropped. “You are making fun of me.” She propped her fist on her hip and gave him a saucy look. “Listen, mister, finding the right faucet is a big deal. It’s only the central point of the entire bathroom vanity.”
He knew he’d regret it later, but he burst out laughing.
She rolled her eyes. “Honestly. We should have left you out of this excursion.” She pulled a little card from a plastic holder in front of the faucet and linked arms with her mother. “C’mon, let’s go to sinks.”
Hazel shot an impish grin at him. He winked in reply and fell in step behind them. They rounded the corner at the end of the aisle, and his cell phone rang. He recognized the name on his screen and grimaced. He pushed Accept Call and turned his back on Diane and her mother. “Julie…hello. What’s wrong?”
Her huff carried through the connection. “Why do you immediately think something’s wrong?”
“Because there usually is when you call.” He glanced and discovered both of the DeFord women watching him. He lowered his voice. “Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now. It’s not a good time. Can I call you later?”
“It’s never a good time with you, Kevin, is it?” She blasted his ear. His phone wasn’t set to speaker, but he was pretty sure Diane heard every word.
He took a few steps away from the women. “I’m in the middle of a business deal. Let me call you this evening.”
“It’ll be too late by then. No business deal can be more important than your son, can it?”
He really didn’t want to answer that.
“I need you to transfer three thousand dollars to my personal checking account.”
He closed his eyes and hung his head. “What did he do now?”
“He didn’t do anything, but a friend who was a passenger in his car had marijuana on him. Kip found out when he got pulled over for running a red light and the officer frisked them.”
“For Pete’s sake, Julie, that’s a class A misdemeanor. He could get a year in jail.” In his aggravation, he forgot to temper his voice. Two customers a few feet farther up the aisle sent curious looks his way. He shifted to avoid them and came face to face with Diane and Hazel. He glanced left and right, searching for a cubby to jump into and finish the conversation. Not one hidey-hole in sight. He set off for the front doors.
Meanwhile, Julie harangued him. “You think I don’t know the laws, Kevin? I looked everything up before I called you. That’s how I know what I’ll need to bail him out. Even though it’s his first time being caught with an illegal substance, it’s the friend’s third time, so—”
“When is he going to grow up and stop making such stupid decisions?” Kevin burst out of the store onto the sidewalk. More people were outside than had been inside. Was there no place in this town where a person could find privacy? He leaned against the building and hunched around the phone, hoping everyone else was too occupied with their own business to worry abou
t his. “Have you considered leaving him there until he has his appearance before the judge? It might do him some good to—”
“Leave him in jail with drug dealers and who knows what other kinds of criminals? How can you even suggest something like that?”
Of course Kevin couldn’t leave Kip there. Twice before in moments of angst, Kip had threatened to do away with himself. If he followed through while in a jail cell Kevin could have rescued him from, how would he live with himself? He carried enough guilt already. “All right, listen. You’ve got the number for my attorney. Give him a call and tell him he’s authorized to take what he needs from my business account to cover Kip’s bail. Have him see a bail bondsman and get Kip out. You stay out of it.”
“Why can’t I do it?”
“Because I want David to handle it, that’s why. And since I’m paying for it, I get to make the decision.”
“I still think—”
“Call David, Julie.”
“But—”
“Call David.”
“Fine!”
The connection went dead. Kevin gripped his cell phone and rested his forehead against the cool glass pane. Would it ever end? How many times would he and Julie be forced to pay Kip’s way out of trouble before the kid grew up and developed some maturity?
“Kevin?”
He spun around. Hazel was over by the doors, but Diane stood only a few inches from him. He glared at her. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to know something is seriously wrong. What is it?” She’d lost her earlier feistiness and seemed genuinely concerned.
He dropped his phone into his pocket and moved toward the doors. “Nothing. Let’s finish up in there and—”
She stepped into his pathway. “No, really. If something’s happened with your son, you can go back to Fort Smith. Mother and I are capable of handling the apartment changes on our own.”
She was capable. Completely capable. So was her daughter. While his son was nothing but a mess. He placed his palm on her lower back and urged her toward the doors. “My going back to Fort Smith won’t make an ounce of difference. So let’s finish our shopping and pretend the phone call didn’t happen.”
Unveiling the Past Page 22
