The Secrets She Kept

by Brenda Novak

  “I’m sure I would have, since I’m here now.”

  “Here...where?” Suddenly, he was afraid she was the one who’d knocked and not Pippa. He would’ve responded...

  “On your beach, with Simba. I didn’t want to wake you too early.”

  “So you haven’t been inside the house.”

  “No.”

  He pulled on a pair of basketball shorts so he could go to the front windows without fear of shocking Pippa, should he bump into her. Sure enough, Nancy’s car was parked in the drive. “What about work?”

  “Marlene’s filling in for me today. Said she could use the extra hours. And I was interested in having some time off.”

  The wind was playing havoc with their connection, but he was able to make out her words. “Perfect. Why didn’t I think of that yesterday? We could’ve spent the whole day in bed.”

  “I’m not sure my boss would’ve liked that,” she teased.

  He lowered his voice. “I can guarantee he would.”

  “Are you coming out?”

  “Yeah.” He could hear Pippa moving around downstairs. From the sound of it, she’d decided to reassemble the kitchen before turning her attention to the rest of the house, which made sense. It wouldn’t be easy to cook in the mess he’d left last night. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Once he’d quickly dressed, he went to acknowledge Pippa and found her in the pantry, putting away all the stuff he’d torn from the shelves. “Sorry about the mess,” he said.

  She looked a little uncertain when she poked her head out. “Are you okay, Mr. Lazarow? At the risk of being...impertinent, I’m thinking some grief counseling might be in order.”

  He waved her words away. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. I wasn’t being destructive. I was looking for something—and I may have found it,” he added with a wink.

  She pursed her lips. “Too bad you couldn’t have found it a bit sooner.”

  “You should be grateful I never made it to the far wing,” he said and they both laughed as she peered around at the mess that remained.

  “No problem,” she said. “The challenge will keep my mind occupied. I’ll get it taken care of.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate your help.”

  “Of course.”

  He’d just started to go when she called him back. “Mr. Lazarow?”

  He turned expectantly. “Yes?”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but if it’s not a secret, I’d love to hear what you found. I cared a great deal about your mother, so if it has anything to do with her death...”

  “I found some letters, Pippa—from Hugh Pointer’s wife. Did you know anything about them?”

  She shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

  “Did you ever meet Lana Pointer? Ever hear my mother talking to or about her? Do you have any knowledge of her whatsoever?”

  “None. I was completely shocked to learn that he was married.”

  Keith turned, once again, to leave. Then she said, “But,” and that caused him to hesitate in the doorway.

  “What?” he prompted.

  “I don’t believe your mother only started seeing him recently, sir.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s been speaking to a Hugh Pointer ever since I came here. She was very clandestine about it at first, but I definitely heard his name—now and then from almost my first day. I even answered a few calls from him, when he couldn’t reach her on her cell. So I’d say she knew him for fifteen years, at least.”

  Up until five years ago, Keith had been in and out of the house. He didn’t remember his mother ever speaking to or about a Hugh Pointer. But he’d been completely caught up in his own life and his addiction. When he and his mother did talk, they generally fought, so he tried to avoid her as much as possible. She could’ve been dating a whole host of men he knew nothing about, especially if she was keeping her mouth shut about them. Besides, for a while there, she’d flown to one destination after another, only to come home briefly before setting off again. “So they were friends before they got involved.”

  “No, sir. I think they’ve been involved for ages—on and off.”

  “Then...why was it such a secret?”

  “Pride, I guess.”

  Of course. That would be his guess, too. His mother wouldn’t relish playing the role of “the other woman,” especially if Hugh wasn’t going to leave his wife and prove to the world that she was most important to him. But how long had the relationship been going on?

  It wasn’t like his mother to spend too many years with one man...

  “Thanks,” he told Pippa and hurried down to the beach. Now that Nancy was at the house, he didn’t want to keep her waiting another minute.

  * * *

  The weather was drier and warmer than it had been since before Christmas, but it was still cold enough for a coat and there was a steady wind. Nancy wished she’d tied back her hair. She held a hand against her forehead to keep it from blowing into her eyes as she watched Keith descend the steep stairs from the house and stride toward her on the beach. “Morning,” she called out.

  He didn’t say anything. He glanced at Simba, who was completely enthralled with chasing the waves in and out. Then he grabbed her and kissed her soundly—and somehow he never pulled away. Before she knew it, they were both reaching under each other’s clothes to touch bare skin.

  “We’re outside on the beach,” he said when she slipped her hand inside his pants instead of up his shirt, where it had been a moment earlier.

  “It’s a private beach,” she responded. “Cut off from the rest of the coast.”

  “But I’m afraid you’ll get too cold. Shouldn’t we go in?”

  “No.” Pippa would be there, and Nancy would suddenly feel self-conscious. She didn’t want to change anything. The beach was secluded, they were alone, and the sea made a lovely sound. So, cold though it was, she wanted Keith right here, right now, before all the doubts and self-reproach could overwhelm her again.

  “Are you sure?” he breathed when their excitement escalated.

  “Do you have a condom?”

  “In my wallet.”

  She got it out for him, and that was all the encouragement he needed. A second later, he was stripping off her jeans.

  At first, the cold air stung. But when he put on the condom and lifted her up, holding her in his arms, she locked her legs around his hips and threw her head back, reveling in his warm body. She loved feeling so carefree and lost in the moment.

  But then Simba decided he could leave his fun long enough to greet the new arrival. Her dog came bounding over and jumped up on Keith, and with his pants partway down, that made them both fall onto the cold, damp sand. They laughed as Simba stuck his head between their two faces to see what strange thing was going on.

  “Go back to the water, Simba,” Keith said, shooing him away.

  They continued to laugh, but their levity didn’t last. Simba returned to his fun, and soon Nancy grew numb to everything except the heat and pleasure generated by Keith. She could feel the tension mounting as she stared up at the morning sky over his shoulder and watched the wisps of clouds drifting across it. She felt like she was floating on top of those clouds, propelled who knew where by the wind. “That’s it,” she said. “Oh!”

  She gasped as the pleasure washed over her like a particularly strong wave and saw Keith close his eyes as if he’d been awaiting her signal. His body jerked several times, and then he dropped to his elbows to prop up his own weight.

  “What?” she said, when she noticed him grinning down at her.

  “Nothing,” he replied.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Looks like you’re pretty pleased with yourself.”

  He kissed the end of her cold nose.
“I am. I admit it. I love watching you come in my arms. The way your lips part as you gasp and your body grips mine. Just thinking about it makes me want to do it again.”

  Her smile faded as she smoothed the hair off his forehead. Then, before she could stop herself, she did what she swore she’d never do again. “I love you,” she whispered. “More than anything.”

  The second those words were out of her mouth, Nancy wished she could take them back. They were true; they’d come from the very depths of her being, which was probably why they’d welled up almost of their own accord. But she knew there was nothing to be gained by putting Keith in such an awkward situation. He’d only back off. What the hell was wrong with her?

  She thought he might make a joke, so it wouldn’t be quite as obvious that he couldn’t say the same. But he didn’t. He stared down at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. “I’d love you, too, if I was capable of it,” he said.

  Suddenly far colder than she’d been before, she started to wriggle out from under him so she could get into her clothes. “That’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile that felt frozen on her face. “It’s not as if I expected anything more.”

  He took her arm before she could escape him. “It can’t be much consolation, but you’re the closest I’ve ever come to that sort of thing, Nancy—the only woman I completely admire and miss, the only woman I think about.”

  Somehow, she managed to broaden her smile to mask the gut-wrenching disappointment. “That’s nice. Thanks for...trying, I guess.”

  He looked at her as if he wasn’t sure how to take her words, but she didn’t want to elaborate—or ever address this again. She grabbed her clothes and, with shaking hands, pulled them on while he fastened his pants.

  When he was finished, he reached out for her, and she felt she had no choice but to take his hand. “Let’s go have breakfast,” he said.

  What a fool! She felt like one of the countless admirers who’d fallen at his mother’s feet only to have her step over them. But what could she say? She’d just told him she had the day off, so she had no excuse to leave. Besides, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He couldn’t make himself love her. “Breakfast sounds great,” she mumbled.

  On the pretext of adjusting her clothes, she let go of his hand as soon as possible and called her dog. Simba had disappeared behind a rocky outcropping, which didn’t alarm her until he didn’t come as he normally would.

  Turning, she shaded her eyes against the sunlight, watching for any sign of him. “Simba!” she yelled again, putting more authority in her voice.

  Finally, he came trotting into sight. But he had something soggy and hairy in his mouth. Nancy wrinkled her nose in distaste as he dropped it at her feet, proudly wagging his tail.

  “What the heck is that, Simba?” Assuming it was the remains of some dead animal she didn’t care to investigate, she grasped his collar to drag him away.

  But then Keith, a shocked expression on his face, bent to retrieve what Simba had found.

  “What are you doing?” she cried, backing away.

  “This is the wig,” he said as he picked up the dripping mess. “Oh, my God! This is the wig!”

  28

  AFTER HIS TWO great finds—the letters and the wig that’d been thrown out to sea—the next few days seemed entirely anticlimactic to Keith. Nothing noticeable had happened with his mother’s case. Chief Underwood told him she was still digging and sent the wig to the lab that had the single fiber from the tub. Pippa slowly but surely put the house back together while he continued to run his business long-distance. And Nancy hung out with him whenever she wasn’t working. She was the bright spot of every day, and even stayed with him at night. But she seemed...guarded again, ever since that morning on the beach, and he could understand why. He wished he could fall in love with her. He didn’t want to prove Maisey right—that he should’ve kept away from her. But, like his mother, he seemed to be fundamentally flawed. He and Josephine had been blessed with the ability to attract just about anyone who caught their interest, and yet they couldn’t fulfill their partners emotionally, which made their good looks and whatever else drew people to them more of a curse than a blessing.

  Although he checked in with Chief Underwood daily, it wasn’t until Friday afternoon, when he was approving payroll for his own business as well as his mother’s employees, that she called with any news.

  “Have they examined the wig fibers?” he asked first thing.

  “They have—with a microspectrophotometer, which can discern the seven thousand commercial dyes used in the United States.”

  He put down his pen. “And?”

  “The fiber found in the tub was from the wig you gave me. Both were dyed the same color and to the same industry standard. They were even from the same dye lot.”

  “So that’s a perfect match.”

  “Yes.”

  He slowly let his breath go. “Now we just need to connect that wig with whoever tossed it in the ocean.”

  “That would be a nice touch, but it’s no longer essential.”

  At this, he shoved his chair away from the desk so he could get up and move. He could hear a note of triumph in her voice. “What does that mean? Don’t tell me...you’ve got her.”

  “I do, Keith. Lana Pointer confessed. Can you believe it? It’s official. I wanted to call you first thing.”

  “So she did come to the States.”

  “Yup. And Marliss confirms it.”

  “How can Marliss confirm it?”

  “She brought her daughter with her.”

  “Lana brought her daughter to a murder? That’s sick!”

  “She claims she wasn’t planning on hurting anyone. She merely wanted to confront your mother, to finally have it out with her. Also, Hugh had given your mother some money that Lana felt Josephine should repay.”

  Keith thought that could be true; Hugh had told him he’d tried to help Josephine financially. “Is that how she found out?”

  “Yes. She discovered he’d been sending money to your mother—quite a bit. She wanted to get it back and tell Josephine not to contact Hugh again.”

  “I still don’t understand why Marliss didn’t stay with her friends from school and finish the trip,” Keith said. “That’s what I would’ve done—what most teenagers would do.”

  “She refused to continue the tour without Lana. Apparently, they’re very close. And she’s so spoiled. God forbid they ever say no to that child. I could tell just by talking to her.”

  “If Lana was planning a murder, that must’ve been damn inconvenient.”

  “I don’t believe she was, Keith. Or she wouldn’t have brought Marliss. I believe her about that. She was pretty convincing, in tears and all of that.”

  He got up and started across the room, doubling back when he reached the far wall. “How did the confrontation and a demand for repayment turn into murder, then? There didn’t appear to be any type of altercation in the bathroom...”

  “I’m getting there. They landed in Washington, DC, the Friday before your mother was murdered and rented a car, which they drove to Charleston. Once there, Lana got a motel room, left Marliss at seven to order room service and watch a movie and hurried to catch the last ferry of the day to Fairham. Lana claims that when she first got to the house, there was a car in the drive. So she waited until whoever was inside had left.”

  “Rocki.”

  “Judging from the description of the vehicle, it was the rental your sister was driving.”

  “And that’s something only the killer would know.”

  “Yes. I’m telling you, we’ve got her.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “She knocked and your mother came to the door and let her in. That’s why there was no forced entry. But she admitted that Hugh used t
he spare key when they returned on Wednesday. He knew all about it.”

  As Keith had thought... “I can’t imagine my mother was pleased to see her.”

  “No. Josephine was in a bad mood. She’d already had an argument with Landon, and then Rocki. And when Lana demanded the money, your mother told her she didn’t have to pay it back, that Hugh loved her and wanted to help her. Then she proved it by showing Lana the flowers he’d sent.”

  “And that’s what pushed Lana over the edge.”

  “That’s what did it. Your mother threw her out, but she didn’t leave the island.”

  “She couldn’t. Not until morning.”

  “Right. So she drove around, waiting and steaming for hours over her husband’s infidelity before she went back.”

  “How’d she get in the second time? I can’t imagine Hugh told Lana about the spare until they needed to use it after the murder, and I doubt my mother would’ve answered the door again.”

  “Lana claims it was unlocked.”

  “That seems careless.”

  “I’m sure your mother was quite upset, probably wasn’t thinking straight, and she’d gotten rid of Lana. She must’ve believed that was the end of it. Anyway, Lana let herself in, quietly climbed the stairs, entered your mother’s bedroom and, when she didn’t see her, checked the bath.”

  “That’s where she was.”

  “Sleeping in the tub.”

  “Which made killing her easy.”

  “Yes. Lana took a pillow off the bed and used it to suffocate her.”

  “Lana’s sixtysomething years old,” Keith said. “Would she be strong enough to do that?”

  “Standing above her, using her weight to bear down? Absolutely. She said the bottle of sleeping pills was on the counter. She was convinced Josephine had taken one, because she was so groggy she couldn’t even put up much of a fight.”

  “And that’s what gave her the idea of staging the scene.”

  “Yes. She got a bottle of wine and a glass from the kitchen, to make it look as if Josephine had also been drinking. Then she flushed all of the pills down the toilet and dropped the bottle on the floor as if it had been knocked over.”