A Bitch Called Hope

by Lily Gardner

  “Was he prodigal?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. We did have prime rib, though, in honor of Danny boy coming back to good old Portland.” Scott tapped his ashes onto an already brimming ashtray. Stretched his legs so that his foot grazed Lennox’s.

  How many years? Three, Scott thought. Lennox moved her foot out of reach. “Couldn’t he get away from work?” she said.

  “That’s what he said. The old man said it was bullshit. Wall Street practically rolls up the sidewalk in December, according to Pop. So his flight gets in at four, Priscilla and I come over at five and Dan and the old man are shouting at each other. We could hear them from the driveway.” He stopped and looked like the heavens had parted and he was handed an insight. “Maybe that’s why Dan didn’t come home so much.”

  “Could you hear what they were fighting about?”

  “Money.” Scott shrugged. “I heard Dan say, ‘You owe me.’ ‘I don’t owe you a goddamn thing,’ the old man says. Priscilla and I are at the front door going holy shit. Do we turn around and go home or what?”

  “What did you do?”

  “We let ourselves in. We found Mom crying in the kitchen.”

  “Then what happened?” she said.

  “More yelling. You couldn’t hear the actual words from the kitchen. Mom, Priscilla and I kind of hunkered down, drank wine until they came out.”

  Dan is desperate. If Jillian goes to the police, Dan goes to jail. His own father could save him and refuses. How could she not feel sorry for him and at the same time wonder? Bill was a heart attack waiting to happen.

  Scott reached for another smoke; his eyes slid from the end of his cigarette to Lennox’s face to see what kind of effect his story was having on her.

  “Scott, tell me, who do you think murdered your father?”

  His head snapped back. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

  “You don’t think your mom did it, do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well then, you must have a theory.”

  His eyes glanced off hers. He swallowed. “I figured Doctor Jerk-off for it; he’s so hot to marry Mom.” His leg bounced under the table. “I hate to say it. Maybe my brother?”

  “It’s possible,” she said. She acted like she was buying it. See where he’d go next.

  He leaned across the table so that his wrist brushed against her sleeve. “A guy doesn’t want to think his own brother would.”

  “Is there something other than the fight that makes you suspect him?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s crazy. Right?”

  “He needs money; his own father won’t help him. It’s definitely a motive,” she said. “Is it true Bill stopped paying your living expenses six months ago?”

  Scott shrugged. “I had my teaching gig. I lived frugally. It worked out.”

  “So you didn’t fight with your old man,” she said.

  “I’m not a fighter, I’m a lover.” And then he winked at her.

  Sometimes it took all her strength to stay professional. She said, “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “Top of the stairs past the bedroom. You want me to show you?”

  She told him she could figure it out. She walked past the bedroom. The bed was unmade, clothing lying off the bed or on the floor. Bright pink and silver shopping bags from the spendier boutiques roosted on top of the dresser and overstuffed chair. Priscilla had been busy. You know how you women are.

  Lennox locked the bathroom door and turned on the tap. She eased the door open on their medicine cabinet and struck pay dirt. The shelves were crammed with prescription drugs, the labels all made out to Delia. Scott was doing some major pharming, thanks to his mother and her candyman. All three shelves loaded with Vicodin, Ativan, Valium and Vitamin R, Ritalin. Lennox would lay down serious money that Delia never had attention deficit disorder but, God bless, she got rid of those pesky fifteen pounds. Lennox took a picture of the open cabinet with her cell phone.

  Priscilla had said it. Scott had his way with his mama’s medicine cabinet. He also knew about the will prior to his father’s death. Maybe he got tired of playing the starving artist. Maybe Priscilla started showing signs of restlessness, more scenes like the one with Bill the night of the party. Dan wasn’t the only one with a motive.

  Lennox eased the top drawer open beneath the sink. Lipsticks, eyeliner, dental floss. Two of the lipsticks were Dior’s Brown Sugar. The brand of lipstick that showed up on Bill’s inhaler. The lipstick smudge was Priscilla’s. Lennox took a picture of the drawer and the label on the lipstick.

  Flushed the toilet. Washed her hands.

  Scott was waiting for her on the other side of the door. “What were you doing in there?” he said.

  He stepped towards her until he was inches away, his breath reeking of coffee and cigarettes. She pushed his chest. Said, “You never heard of personal space?”

  “You don’t have to snoop,” he said. “You want to know something, ask me. I’ve been cooperative, haven’t I?”

  “Back off, Scott,” she said.

  He kept pressing against her, making her walk backwards towards the stairway. “You were snooping. I know,” he said in a singsong voice as if he were talking to a child.

  She pushed him again. “I’m working hard to get your mother out of jail.”

  “Tell me what you were looking for,” he said and edged her backwards.

  She glanced over her shoulder. She was a foot from the staircase. One little shove and she’d fall down the stairs backwards. Believe it, she used her cop voice when she said, “I don’t want to hurt you.” She reached in her back pocket with her free hand. With one fluid motion she had the Taser. Held it in front of her.

  Scott dropped her arm and jumped back. “You come over here with a weapon?” His eyes bugged out with disbelief. He looked like he might cry. “You’d Taser me? What kind of a bullshit setup is this?”

  “I hope you don’t hold this against me,” she said. But she knew he would.

  Lennox saw herself out. The sky grew darker; the bare branches of the avenue trees rattled in a sudden gust of wind. It was going to hail. She stepped up her pace. Scott was a wretch, but did he murder his dad? Were his nerves steady enough that he could plant the insulin inhaler in his dad’s sock drawer? Did he realize the police would investigate Bill’s death? And if he did, did he realize he was framing his mother for the murder?

  How did Priscilla’s lipstick land on the prescription label?

  The hail was the size of peas by the time she pulled into the parking lot of Pike Development.

  Chapter 36

  Lennox drove up and down the rows of cars in the parking lot until she found Bill’s Cadillac Escalade parked on the side of the office building adjacent to the wetlands. She parked next to it. The freeway traffic roared from a quarter mile away. She was dreading this.

  Hail speckled the blue hood of the Escalade. Lennox studied the bumper. The right side and up around the headlight looked as if the paint might have been recently retouched. It looked pristine whereas the other side of the bumper had little nicks from gravel and whatnot. She ran her finger over the painted area. The right side bumper and the body up over the headlight looked to have been dented then pulled out.

  Dan came hurrying out the front door of the office, still struggling to get his arm into the sleeve of his peacoat. The gum soles of his boots splashed through the puddles on the asphalt as he moved towards her. He looked half puzzled, half irritated.

  “What are you doing, Lennox?” he said.

  She pointed out the dents, the touch-up paint. “Looks like you had some front end damage here.”

  “What?” he said. He looked closer. “That’s nothing. It was probably there all along.”

  “You’re saying this vehicle hasn’t had a trip to the body shop recently?”

  Dan started to say something, then brought himself up short. If the look on his face was a leading indicator, he was not likin
g her just now. “You’ve obviously got a theory,” he said. “Let’s have it.”

  “Gabe Makem was hit by a dark blue Cadillac.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Gabe Makem was a caterer at your parents’ party. He saw something that night that he used to blackmail the murderer with. He was run over two days ago.”

  “I read about a hit-and-run.” His eyes skittered across her face. “When did that happen?”

  “Two nights ago,” she said.

  “I was with Mac. He picked me up here at three in the afternoon and we went to Hunter’s Ridge.”

  “Did you take the Escalade?”

  “No. Mac drove. He says the Mercedes is easier on his back. We went to Hunter’s Ridge. Went through the whole inspection report, item by item, Mac bitching the whole time, how I was mismanaging the project. I apologized all over the place and he cheered up. Drove out to east county, showed me a tract of land he was interested in. Then we went to Jake’s for dinner.”

  She said, “Is there anybody other than Father Mac who can corroborate your story?”

  He shot her the darkest look yet.

  He turned and marched into the office. He didn’t look back. Lennox followed him through the glass doors to the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist wore no makeup, which made her look like she was in junior high.

  “Would you check my calendar?” Dan said to her. “Tuesday.”

  The receptionist clicked through the computer program until she came up with the correct day. “Fidelity Title one o’clock. A three o’clock with Father Mac,” she said.

  “Do you remember when you left the office that day?” Lennox asked the receptionist.

  “I have to leave at five thirty to pick up my daughter at daycare.” So much for junior high.

  “Do you remember seeing Dan’s Escalade in the parking lot when you left?”

  “Uh.” She looked up as if the memory was lodged in her bangs. “I saw it in the parking lot one night when I was going home,” she said. “It could’ve been Monday or Tuesday. I can’t remember.”

  They walked down the hall to his corner office. The wetlands outside his window looked dark and lifeless.

  Dan sat behind his desk and motioned her to the chair facing him. He lifted the phone from the cradle, dialed a number and handed it to Lennox. “Mac’s my alibi. Talk to him.”

  The phone rang four times. A female voice finally answered. Father McMahon was with His Excellency, Archbishop Harris. Lennox left a message for Father Mac to call her.

  She said, “All I’m doing is gathering information and verifying it.”

  “But it’s the second murder you can’t rule me out for,” he said.

  What did he want from her? I’m so sorry, Danny. Please don’t take this the wrong way. She was a fucking cop. She said, “If we could put our feelings aside and you let me do my job, we’ll get through this.”

  Dan met her gaze. “I can’t do that.” He reached across his desk as if he’d take her hand, then stopped himself. “Do you want coffee?” he said.

  While he fussed with the thermos and sugar packets, she opened her bag and pulled out her notebook and a small recorder. “Do you mind if I record our meeting?” she said.

  “No, of course not.”

  He turned and slid the coffee mug alongside the recorder. Maybe there was a slight shift in posture, a shift in his voice. But then, it was her job to look for a shift.

  “There are just a couple details about your financial history you could clear up for us,” she said.

  The leather creaked as he leaned back in his desk chair. Lennox asked him about his history at Harkness-Deerborne Investments. She asked him whether he left Harkness voluntarily.

  “They told you I didn’t leave voluntarily?” His face stretched in a grin. “I told you back when we first met I’d quit to start my own investment business. You remember me saying that?”

  She remembered. But what she said to Dan was, “Why would they say you’d been let go?”

  Dan carefully set his coffee mug on the desk and made eye contact. “Truth is Harkness is too risk-averse for a guy like me. I attracted too many high rollers. Made my boss nervous.” He shook his head. “But they never fired me— that’s bullshit.”

  She made a note in her book. Whether he was fired or not made no difference. It was more about putting him on the defensive and seeing what he revealed. “Tell me about Pike Investment,” she said. She looked for gestures, changes in tone of voice, repetition of key phrases, a hundred little tells.

  “What do you want to know?” He resumed his relaxed posture like everything was peachy keen.

  “How did it work?” she said.

  “I took several clients with me when I left Harkness. Mostly the guys that wanted something with a higher yield than Harkness could offer. I was paying out two to three points over prime.”

  “One of the clients you took with you was your father.”

  “That’s right.” Dan leaned forward. “What about that is noteworthy?”

  “It’s just Ham was saying that Bill was financially conservative. Ham said Bill’s only foray into the market was with you. Did your dad know you were dealing in high-risk securities?”

  Dan smiled gently. “All respect to Ham, I’m sure he’s good at what he does, but I know more about my old man than he does.”

  “So you’re saying your father wasn’t a conservative investor.”

  “It wasn’t a question of conservative. He didn’t understand the markets. Didn’t want to. He liked making money and expected the same kind of return as his real estate. As long as I delivered he was fine. Not, and he’d gripe.”

  Lennox paged back in her notebook until she found a date. “Is that why he closed his account on November 2nd of 2007?”

  There was a slight hitch of tension in his jaw. “He was launching that subdivision with Mac, although I don’t know why he didn’t go to the bank.”

  “Did you ask him?” she said.

  “Yeah, I asked him. He gave me the I’m-your-father-it’s-my-money. He didn’t want to hear any bullshit, his word, about investment vehicles.”

  Dan’s expression read both put out and resigned.

  “Five hundred thousand?” she said. “Did you cut him a check the same day?”

  No wonder he looked so unhappy; listen to her, she was bulldogging him.

  “Where are you going with this?”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she said.

  “I don’t remember.”

  He looked out at the wetlands. Lennox glanced over and saw the heron fishing off a half-submerged log.

  She paged through her notebook again. “Less than a year later, last October 10, you shut down Pike Investments and filed Chapter 11. Did your bankruptcy have anything to do with your dad pulling out?”

  “The Dow fell twenty-four-hundred points that month. People are still blaming the Street for losing their pensions. And the handful of people who didn’t get creamed were keeping their dough in their mattress. Back in August, two of our loans defaulted. My investors wanted to pull out. They sued me. I sued them. The whole thing spiraled down from there.”

  She said, “Bear with me, Dan, I’m just trying to understand. Why were you being sued?”

  “They challenged the agreements they’d signed with me.” Said matter-of-factly like he was talking about the rainfall that winter.

  “I still don’t understand,” she said.

  “We were loaning money primarily to mortgage and finance companies. That kind of thing is different than playing the stock market where you can jump in and out. This was a closed-ended fund. When you invest you agree to stay in until the fund liquidates.”

  Dan had his hand up around his mouth and chin. She could feel him jitter his leg under the desk, become aware of it, and stop. She was on to something.

  She gentled her voice. “So, did your dad agree to stay in until the fund liquidated?”
/>   “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Why not?” she said. “It sounds to me like your father bankrupted your company.”

  “It’s not that simple,” he said. “My company was just getting its legs when the market puked. That’s what happened to my company.”

  She was not convinced. She watched him as she took a sip of cold coffee. “What about the argument with your father the night you got home?”

  A flush crept up his throat. “I asked him for money, he got all Merchant of Venice about it. You’re making a case against me based on an argument with my old man?”

  She kept her face neutral and waited for him to answer the question.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Like I told you before, I felt like I was done with Chicago. I wanted to day trade my own account. I wanted him to stake me.”

  Lennox knew what she was asking must feel like an attack, but she had to get to the bottom of this. It was hard to look at him knowing he was guilty of grand larceny. Maybe she could make her peace with that so long as he was innocent of murder. She took a deep breath and waded in.

  “You were desperate,” she said. “Jillian Oster was prepared to press charges if you didn’t reimburse her. You’d go to prison. And after all your father had done for Scott. You must have been furious.”

  Dan leaned back in his chair and studied her. His eyes glittered like mica. It felt awful to have him look at her like that. She waited for what seemed forever for him to respond. His silence was intense.

  Finally he spoke: “You’re setting me up for the old man’s death.”

  “Is that what you think?” she said. She sounded just like a cop. And he wasn’t answering the questions when they got too close to his relationship with his father.

  “You know what this is about?” he said. “This is about your jealousy. You go digging in my past, you take a stranger’s version of what went down. You don’t ask me, you just go for the throat. Well, I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was. That still doesn’t make me a murderer.”

  Who was jittering their leg now? How stupid to think she could have it both ways. Who was she trying to kid? She couldn’t investigate him and expect him to like it. She never had a chance of pulling this off.