“Look at this!” Rachel’s voice pipes from across the attic.
I have no desire to quit what I’m doing, so I ignore her.
“Audrey Nealon, come here!”
Rachel sounds like a mother calling her disobedient child in the supermarket. I didn’t realize she even knew my full name. So I humor her and cross to the corner where’s she’s standing. When I get close enough, I can see that she’s pointing to a stack of boxes against the wall. Not big storage boxes, but different-sized gift boxes all wrapped in blue and white and yellow baby gift paper.
I feel a little queasy.
“These were for Jean-Claude. Mother bought them. But she couldn’t give them to him.” Her voice is matter-of-fact. “Jean-Claude was going to be my nephew. He was dead before he was alive.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Yoo-hoo! I’m here!”
Adrienne. Thank God!
Adrienne’s presence banishes all that’s creepy from the attic. Her expensive perfume overwhelms the mustiness. Her pink peep-toe espadrilles and paisley boho blouse brighten the gloom. And her amusing chatter about overbearing PTA moms and jihadist New Jersey drivers brings a healthy dose of normality into the room. Rachel doesn’t leave, but Adrienne’s vitality mesmerizes her into silence. She perches on a stool and quietly watches us work. Half an hour passes, and when I lift my head out of a deep box full of lace tablecloths, I realize Rachel is gone.
I elbow Adrienne, nod toward the empty stool, and mouth, “Did she leave?”
“Yeah, thank God!” Adrienne answers in a normal voice. “She stood at the top of the stairs and stared at me for, like, a full minute. Then she went down. Weird. But Tom says she’s always been that way.”
“Oh? When were you talking to Tom?”
“Last week when I was working in the kitchen, Tom helped me move some boxes. He’s very friendly.”
“The two of them seem to have an awful lot of free time during the day, popping in here like they do. Doesn’t either one work?”
“Who would hire Rachel? Anyway, Tom implied they all have trust funds. Except there are a lot of restrictions. He’s is in PR—a consultant, so I guess he makes his own hours.”
“Right. Consultant is the way rich people say they’re unemployed.”
“Oh, Audrey! You sounded just like Sean when you said that. And the other day, I heard him tell his mother to analyze the costs and benefits before she bought a new vacuum, and I swear I thought it was you talking. The two of you are gradually becoming one person.”
Not anymore we’re not. I turn away so she can’t see the tears that have sprung into my eyes. I remember what my dad said about being drawn to what you lack. Sean and I have absorbed some of each other. What will happen to it if we split up?
Before I have to reply, I hear Ty’s cheerful shout below. “Yo, Audge! Where are you?”
We work steadily until 1:00. Ty carries anything saleable from the attic to the second floor, and Adrienne sorts the rest for charity or trash. We get about half the attic cleared when we decide to break for lunch.
“I have an errand to run back in Palmyrton,” I tell them, “so I’ll eat there.”
“Ima take a load to the dump,” Ty says. “I’ll be back by two.”
“I brought my lunch,” Adrienne says. “I’ll just stay here.”
“No!” Ty and I chorus.
She cocks her head. “What’s the big deal?”
“It’s not safe. Rachel is prowling around here. We don’t know who else has a house key. Let’s stick together. Meet us back here at two.”
Adrienne shrugs. “Fine. I’ll eat my lunch in the park.”
I make it halfway to Palmyrton when I realize the folder I need for my meeting with my accountant is in my tote bag. And my tote bag is in the Eskew’s attic.
Shit!
Now I have to double back. And I have to go into the house alone. After the Rachel encounter, I’m even less willing to be there alone. But that’s what has to be done.
Back at the Eskew’s house, I unlock the back door and make my way into the kitchen.
Low voices greet me.
I freeze. Is someone in this room? The door to the butler’s pantry is partially open. Through the crack, I see a man’s back, shirttails flapping. He’s got a woman pinned up against the built-in mahogany china cabinet. Her long, naked legs are wrapped around him and her hands grip his shoulders.
It’s Tom Eskew. Why did he bring his girlfriend here?
Embarrassed, I back out. Then I spy a flash of fuchsia.
I’d know that pedicure anywhere.
It’s Adrienne.
Chapter 26
In my shock I stumble backward. My foot catches on a kitchen chair and knocks it over.
The murmuring voices in the pantry fall silent.
I want to turn tail and run, but I’m frozen. My mind can’t process, my feet can’t move.
After a brief period of shuffling, Tom’s head pokes through the partly opened door. “Oh, hey Audrey. Didn’t realize you were working here today. I was just looking for some champagne flutes. Pretty sure my mom had a few in here.”
I feel my mouth hanging open stupidly. A cold sweat has broken out on my chest. My future sister-in-law is in that pantry pulling her clothes back on. In a moment I’m going to have to think of something to say to her. My brain is not up to this challenge.
Tom steps back inside and re-emerges a moment later with two tall, thin glasses in his right hand. “A friend is leaving for a job in Milan. Champagne in tumblers is no way to say bon voyage.”
I stop gaping and grind my teeth to keep from screaming.
He ducks his head and gazes at me through that flopping forelock of his, holding the glasses out for my inspection. “They’re mismatched, see? Surely the estate doesn’t begrudge me these.”
I feel like smacking the glasses right out of his perfectly groomed hands. Does he honestly think he can manipulate me the way he manipulates every other woman he meets?
“I’ll be working in the attic until five,” I say in a slightly louder voice than necessary. “I can use your help, Adrienne. When you’re…free.”
Ten minutes later, Adrienne appears in the attic. The color has drained from her face, leaving her tan looking blotchy and dirty.
“Audrey, it’s not what you think.”
I toss down the old golf club I’ve been staring at, my accountant meeting now cancelled. “How could screwing Tom Eskew in the pantry be anything other than what I think?”
“I didn’t…we didn’t go all the way.”
“Only because I stumbled into your, your…”
She creeps toward me. “You can’t tell anyone, Audrey. I don’t care about Tom. It’s just…I’ve been so…” Adrienne begins to cry. “You and Sean are still head over heels in love. Wait ‘til you’ve been married fifteen years. Brendan doesn’t even see me anymore. I’m just this woman who manages his house and his kids. He’s no more aware of me than he is of the guy who pumps his gas.”
It’s a good thing I’ve dropped the golf club because if it were still in my hand, I swear I’d clobber her with it. “Brendan works seventy hours a week. You don’t mind decorating that fabulous house and driving that BMW and wearing those—” I point to today’s designer shoes. “And then you have the nerve to complain that he doesn’t dote on you like a princess?”
“I never asked for any of this. He’s the one who wants the country club life, to show off to everyone how far he’s come up in the world. I wish things were still like they were when we first got married…when we were both working, when we’d come home and talk about our days. We’d make plans for the future and save up our money for the things we wanted to buy. It was—” She slumps into a heap at my feet. “Fun. We wanted each other. Now he just needs me because a good executive needs a lovely wife and two smart and accomplished kids.”
I look down on Adrienne’s shiny, dark hair. I feel a little tug of sympathy—Brendan doe
s enjoy showing off his status, but I’d always assumed she was a willing accomplice. “And you think Tom Eskew wants you? He wants every woman he sees. You’re nothing to him.”
Adrienne cringes. I’ve kicked her with my words. “I know,” she whispers. “I’ve never done anything like this before. It was a moment of madness.” Her eyes are wild with fear, like the chipmunk that Ethel cornered once in my neighbor’s driveway.
“You can’t tell Sean.” Adrienne grabs my hands in hers. “I can’t lose my kids. They’re everything to me.”
“You want me to lie?” Adrienne doesn’t know that I’m not speaking to Sean, but still I’m outraged that she has the nerve to ask me to cover for her.
Adrienne shakes my arm. “Just promise me you won’t tell Sean tonight. Give me a chance to work things out with Brendan myself.”
I turn away from her pleading face. There’s no danger of my telling Sean anything tonight. And even if I were speaking to Sean, I don’t want to be sucked into the vortex of Coughlin family drama. “Go home. I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I don’t even want to look at you.”
Having banished my assistant, I’m left to keep working in the attic alone until Ty gets back. I cross the attic and stand looking at the gift boxes. Each one has an elaborate bow and little tags that read “welcome Jean-Claude” in elaborate script. How sad. How terribly sad. Can I really sell the twenty-year-old gifts of a dead baby? Is it less sad to toss them in the Dumpster? I pick up one of the boxes and the ancient scotch tape releases. The faded and brittle gift paper slips to the floor. Feeling like I’m reading old love letters, I open the box.
And drop it like a hot rock.
Inside, the delicate little blue sailor suit has been slashed to ribbons.
Chapter 27
That evening, in a throwback to our bachelorette days, Ethel and I are sharing an order of Kung Pao chicken when there's a knock at the door. Ethel’s ears perk up, but she doesn't run into the foyer barking like a lunatic. Instead, her tail swishes twice across the floor and she goes back to licking the inside of the carryout container. This can only mean one thing.
I open the front door. Sean fills my tiny porch. Relief floods through me but I keep a stern face.
“Hi.” His hands are jammed in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched.
“Hi yourself.” I stand back and let him enter. We face each other in my cramped entrance hall.
Words tumble out of him in a gush. “I'm sorry, Audrey. What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have left you with the kids.”
I nod. “True. I accept your apology.”
Sean looks like he just won the Powerball. “Really? We’re made up that easy?”
I turn and march into the living room, talking as I walk. “I didn't say I wasn't still mad. I just said I accept your apology. We need to talk.”
When we’re sitting across from each other with Ethel sprawled between us, I begin. “Look Sean, we’ve both been living our lives letting our jobs take precedence over everything else. But if we have kids, that’s got to change.”
He lifts his hands in protest. “I only—”
I cut him off. “Hear me out. I want us to have children, but I'm worried about the enormous responsibility… about the never-endingness of parenthood. I have to know that you're in it with me fifty-fifty. I can't be the default parent, the one who always picks up the slack.”
Sean nods. “I understand. It was just…this case, it’s so important…I got carried away.”
“It’s not just this case. There will always be another important case. Work isn’t going to change. You have to change.”
Sean shifts uneasily.
“If you want a woman like your mother, you’d better not marry me.”
Sean snorts. “I’m well aware of that, baby!”
“Or a woman like your sister Deirdre, either,” I continue. “Deirdre has a full-time job, but her husband never stays home when the kids are sick, never changes his plans when the babysitter bails.”
Sean’s brow creases. “I thought you liked Deirdre.”
“I do, but I’m not her, Sean. I can’t be her. If that’s what you want,” I twist my engagement ring around and around, “you need to keep looking.”
Sean stands up, steps over Ethel, and pulls me out of my chair. “I’ve found what I’m looking for, Audrey.” He wraps his arms around me and murmurs into my ear. “I can be a good cop and a good father. Pete Holzer does it. I’m going to ask him for advice.”
Sean’s officemate has four kids and a wife who used to be a power forward for the UConn women’s basketball team. Despite my inability to dribble, I suspect I may have a lot in common with her. “That sounds like a good first step.”
Sean kisses me long and hard. “How about this for second step? Let’s see if your dad will watch Ethel tonight.”
Now that is a plan.
The sun streams through Sean’s bedroom window illuminating the reddish stubble on his chin. He sleeps with his mouth slightly open, his lashes brushing his freckled cheeks. How dear that face is to me!
I stretch, luxuriating in the slight ache in my thighs resulting from our vigorous reconciliation. The conversation we had in my condo was the beginning and end of talking last night. Now, in the light of day, I realize how much has happened in our days apart that I must tell Sean.
Ty’s identification of Rob at the carnival…my visit to Clothilde…my trip to the jail…the slashed baby clothes.
Adrienne.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, no.
I turn on my side and touch Sean’s hand lightly. He doesn’t stir. I long to blurt out the whole awful story about Adrienne and Tom, but I can’t. It’s not that I feel any loyalty to Adrienne. It’s more that I’m terrified of the consequences of ratting her out. Brendan’s pain. Sean’s anger. The Coughlin family circling of the wagons. I need to think this through before I make a decision. Adrienne asked me to give her a day. I can do at least that much. But how can I lie to Sean, even by omission? We’ve just made up. He’s just promised me that he’ll change.
This is too hard!
I slither toward the edge of the king-size bed. A strong arm pulls me back. “What’s the big rush?” Sean murmurs.
“I have a busy day. I need to get to the Eskews’ house to meet Ty at nine. Kara wants us to hold the sale this weekend.”
Sean raises himself on one elbow. “Doesn’t matter if her mother died of natural causes or was murdered, the sale must go on?”
“This is one weird family, Sean. A lot has happened since we were together at the carnival.” So I tell him about Kara’s threat to take the job away from me if I don’t hold the sale this weekend. And I tell him about my visit with Clothilde.
“So I’m kinda nervous because…honestly…I’m still not convinced Darlene killed Mrs. Eskew. I think she may have confessed to protect her son.”
“Say what?”
“That kid you were chasing at the carnival, one in the Devils hat? Ty recognized him. He’s pretty sure it’s Darlene’s oldest son, Rob.”
Sean jolts up. “And you never thought to mention that?”
I jump out of bed and head to the bathroom. “I’m mentioning it now. As you will recall, we weren’t speaking to each other for a few days.”
Sean follows me into the bathroom, hammering me for details about how Ty knows the kid at the carnival was Rob. I fill him in, then face him with my arms crossed. “Now you tell me why it matters so much. What exactly was going down at the carnival?”
Sean shakes his head. “Audrey, if every person on the Drug Enforcement Task Force told his or her spouse all the details of our investigations, and each of those spouses told one other person, the whole freakin’ town would know who we’re watching, who we’re ready to arrest. Our work has to stay confidential.”
“I’m not asking out of idle curiosity. I’m involved in this. Is Rob a dealer? An addict? Could he have killed Mrs. Eskew? Did you ever catch up with him at the carnival?”
Sean shakes his head. “We caught the other kid, his customer. Found some pills on him—Oxy. He claimed they were prescribed for his wisdom teeth. I shined a flashlight in his mouth. Stupid kid still had all four wisdom teeth. But he wouldn’t give up his supplier.”
“So Rob is just a small-time pill dealer, selling pills he pressures his mom to steal. Don’t you have bigger fish to fry?” I ask as I squeeze toothpaste on my brush.
“He’s in deeper than that. You might say Rob is in charge of demand creation for a much larger organization.”
I take the toothbrush out of my mouth. “What are you talking about?”
“From what we can tell, there’s a group of young people who sample pills. They give a few away, then they sell a few more, then when the customer craves more and can’t afford the pills, they refer him to a heroin dealer. And get a kickback.”
My eyes widen. “Was Amber part of that?”
“Yep. Until she started sampling her own merchandise. Imagine if the ladies who pass out samples at Costco ate one themselves every time they handed one to a customer.”
“So we don’t know if Rob is headed in the same direction. Could he have killed Mrs. Eskew when he was using?”
“PCP and crack make users crazy when they’re high. Heroin addicts are more likely to be dangerous when they’re coming down and there’s no more candy in sight.”
“So could Rob have killed Mrs. Eskew in a fury because his supply was drying up? I heard the supervising nurse giving Darlene a hard time about the pill count.”
Sean puts his hands on my shoulders. “Look, there’s something you need to know. There’s a lot of scuttlebutt circulating about Darlene’s confession and plea bargain. The county police were searching for her with no leads. Then suddenly on Sunday she comes in of her own free will for questioning. Next thing you know, the DA is talking about a plea bargain.”
“Are the cops railroading her into a confession?”
This Bitter Treasure: a romantic thriller (Palmyrton Estate Sale Mystery Series Book 3) Page 16
