On screen, a man whose name was either Brad or Brent said, “Who would have believed that an over-the-hill actress could manipulate a congressional candidate, a chief of police and the financial head of a major corporation, and leave a trail of bodies in her wake? Stay with us as we review for you the incredible events that have unfolded in the sleepy town of Sundown Valley.”
When a commercial came on, Joseph lowered the sound. “Sleepy town?” he repeated in amusement. “Isn’t sleepy a synonym for boring?”
“Marie would hate being called an over-the-hill actress,” Suzanne added. “Not that I care, after what she’s done.”
Joseph took a handful of popcorn. It was lightly salted, the way he liked it.
He wished Erin were here with them. Since he came home, he kept waiting for her to appear as if she’d simply stepped out of the room.
Her presence lingered in the scent of shampoo on her pillow. Once he’d imagined he saw her bright eyes peering around the edge of the shower door, and while reading last night he’d listened subconsciously for her light humming as she flipped through a book.
There she was on TV, head held high as she faced a news conference. That tailored suit looked new, he reflected as he raised the sound.
“We still don’t know the full amount of the embezzlement, but it may be as high as a million dollars,” she said. “Next question, please.”
The woman who less than two weeks ago hadn’t known where to go or how to protect herself now faced an armada of microphones with confidence. “I always knew she had it in her,” Suzanne said as Erin discussed her plans for finding a new CEO.
“She’s her father’s daughter.” Able to stand on her own two feet, he thought. Part of a different world now.
“In some ways, yes.” His mother handed him a paper napkin. “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Mom!”
“Sorry,” she said. “You know I never interfere in your private life.”
On screen, Erin’s press conference yielded to a streaky photograph of Brandy Schorr. Heaven knew where they’d dug that up. The announcer cited the housekeeper’s past attempts to overcome substance abuse and how she’d been grateful for the job offered her by Marie.
“Ms. Schorr and Lance Bolding, who are cooperating with prosecutors, provided much of the information used in this report,” said Brad or Brent. “The housekeeper admits she recognized Marie Flanders right away but claims she didn’t know what had happened to the real Mrs. Bolding. She contends that she quickly became terrified for her own safety.”
The screen shifted to a shot of Lance in a tuxedo. “Bolding, a former video producer, says he was financially strapped when Marie came to him with a proposal. The actress, whom he’d worked with, suggested he romance her widowed sister and marry her. However, he insists he never intended to take part in a murder scheme.”
“I don’t buy it,” Suzanne said.
“It’s hard to tell.” Several times when he’d believed Lance was threatening Marie, Joseph now realized, the man had probably been trying to rein her in. The D.A. would likely consider them both accessories to murder, although given her peripheral role, Brandy might be granted immunity in exchange for her testimony.
“Bolding apparently didn’t suspect the depths of Marie’s resentment or the extent of her greed.” Over news footage of Alice and her late husband dedicating a wing of the medical center, Brad or Brent described her prominence in the community.
He reviewed what was known about Alice’s drowning. Lance’s alibi that he’d gone shopping had finally been verified, with two customers confirming that they’d seen him at the mall that evening. “It seems Marie arranged to see her sister, drugged her, took her out in a boat and dumped her overboard.”
His mother shuddered. “How cold-blooded.”
“Marie Flanders gave the performance of her life, posing as her sister,” the newscaster continued. “Most people ac cepted that this had been a simple near drowning. The one man who refused to believe it was Detective Joseph Lowery.”
“We can skip this part.” He muted the volume and averted his gaze from the footage of him leaving the hospital in a wheelchair. How embarrassing to see himself portrayed as some kind of hero when he’d simply been doing the right thing.
“I like this part,” his mom teased.
“I’m sure it will be repeated ad nauseum,” he responded. “You can watch to your heart’s content.”
In the silence, they heard a car halt in the driveway. “That had better not be some reporter.” Suzanne went to the window. Usually mild-mannered, she’d proved to be ferocious when it came to protecting her son. “It’s Rick. Good. But I’m afraid I’ve got to leave for a tutoring session, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” Joseph lowered his leg and started to rise until his mother waved him back.
“I’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow.”
“You’re taking off work?”
“The law office is closing for a half day. Mrs. Marshall was one of our biggest clients,” she said. “I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“Don’t bother. I can handle it.” Thank goodness Marie had had the consideration to shoot him in the left leg. Joseph had gone for a short drive earlier today and enjoyed the sense of freedom.
“Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Spoken like a mother!”
“You bet.” She opened the door, greeted Rick and let herself out.
Rick came inside. “Mmm. Popcorn.” He lowered himself onto the couch. “You’re living a hard life.”
“I’m cooped up like a wild animal.” He was only half joking.
“What’re you watching?”
“What everybody else is watching, apparently.”
Rick didn’t object.
On TV, the narrator was speculating that Marie had persuaded Stanley Rogers to kill her niece to keep her from learning of the embezzlement or perhaps claiming she already suspected.
“Fortunately for Miss Marshall, she was an old friend of Joseph Lowery,” the announcer said. “The reignited relationship between the heiress and the cop whose father had been disgraced—more on that later—probably saved her life.”
Another commercial followed.
Rick dug into the popcorn. “Thank goodness they haven’t found out about Tina and me. Just imagine what a fuss they’d make.”
“How’s that going?” Joseph asked.
“She’s sick about this whole business,” Rick said. “I think she’s going to give me a chance. In fact, she said she hopes I’ll give her a chance, as if I’d be stupid enough to let her go.”
“How’s Gene doing?”
“Recovering.” Rick never wasted words on more details than necessary. “As soon as he’s well enough, according to Tina, he’s going to plead guilty to being an accessory to murder and testify against his father.”
“Did Norris make bail?”
“On the initial charge, yes. Then ballistics matched the bullet we found in the Wilde case against the chief’s gun. He’s back in the slammer, stubborn as ever and blustering away.”
“What about the shot that hit my car?”
“Stanley Rogers’s hunting rifle.”
“Marie practically enlisted an army.” In retrospect, it was partly dumb luck that he and Erin had escaped death, Joseph thought. Plus the fact that Chet Dever, for all his many faults, really had cared about her.
“Too bad she didn’t put her organizational talents to constructive use.” Rick downed more popcorn. “Say, producing horror films.”
“You call that constructive?”
“I like horror films.”
They watched more of the report. It detailed the murder of Binh Nguyen, Gene’s apparent role and his father’s culpability in framing Lewis Lowery.
During the next break, Rick excused himself. “Some of us have to work tomorrow. Chief Hernandez has us a
ll providing security for the funeral.”
“What’s it going to be like when I come back?” Joseph asked.
“In what way?”
“I brought the chief down,” he said. “Heck, I violated orders from the get-go. Norris may not be the best-liked guy in the world, but cops don’t appreciate a renegade.”
“The truth is, you saved our butts,” Rick said. “Imagine the heat we’d have taken when this case eventually broke and none of us had had a clue. You’re the detective who never gave up.”
“So I can expect a ticker tape parade?”
Rick clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve always had a me-against-the-world attitude. It’s due for a major adjustment.”
“Excuse me?”
“You figure it out.” Rick jostled the bowl as he rose, and only Joseph’s quick grab stopped it from spilling. “Sorry.”
“No harm done.”
They parted amiably. On TV, the program was reviewing the short life and poor choices of Chet Dever. Thanks to a careless fingerprint left on the door frame of his house, police now suspected Stanley in his slaying.
Chet’s perfect white smile flashed from a campaign com mercial, no doubt paid for by Erin’s trust fund. A golden boy, the narrator called him, but an amoral one.
Joseph remembered that, when he’d learned of Erin’s engagement, he’d figured Chet was a good match for a woman in her position. If the man had possessed more integrity, it might have been true. He’d have known how to help her run the company, handle the press and assume her position in society.
But she didn’t love Chet. And he couldn’t have really loved her because he hadn’t known her, not the way Joseph did. He hadn’t experienced her glints of humor, her inner resolve or the way she’d tried to stick by an old friend when everyone else deserted him.
Still, nothing changed the fact that Joseph was a cop and planned to remain one. What would he do with millions of dollars and a leading position in town? The role of wealthy executive and patron might fit Erin, but never him.
The newscast showed her again, responding to a reporter’s question with a quick jest that brought a round of laughter. The truth was, Joseph thought, she didn’t need him anymore.
The problem was that he still needed her. And he didn’t know what to do about it.
The telecast concluded with a photo of a gaunt Marie in her mother-of-the-bride dress. “Even without intervention, it’s unlikely Marie Flanders would have enjoyed her wealth for long. Ironically, according to inside sources, the former actress suffered from advanced liver cancer.
“This is Brent Bartell reporting from Sundown Valley, California.”
Joseph killed the picture. Beyond the circle of light cast by a lamp, evening shadows filled the house.
He’d felt at home in this place from the moment a realtor showed it to him three years ago, and yet tonight the spacious main room and wraparound vista failed to lift his spirits. The place echoed with Erin’s absence.
Without her, it no longer felt like home. Besides, although a great site for Super Bowl parties, it was clearly too small for the family he hoped to have someday.
He’d outgrown his canyon hideaway. Maybe he’d outgrown a lot of things.
The phone rang. When Joseph answered, Manuel Lima identified himself. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all. I’m glad to hear from you.” He’d thought of the retired chief many times since their meeting. “What’s up?”
“I owe you an apology,” Lima said. “And it’s long past due.”
Joseph didn’t have to ask for what. Although he held no grudges, the former chief was the one person who could have thrown a monkey wrench into Norris’s scheme.
“When Edgar investigated your father, I should have followed my instincts, even though I knew he had an alibi for that night,” Lima said. “If I’d pushed harder, I might have discovered he was covering for someone.”
“You had no reason to second-guess him.” Joseph didn’t hold any grudges against Lima. “Gene was only seventeen. Nobody suspected him.”
“A man’s responsible for what happens on his watch,” his caller said. “Even if it hadn’t been Norris’s son, he could have been helping a fellow officer. I should have been more suspicious. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Joseph said.
“I’m going to call your mother and tell her the same thing.” Lima took a deep breath. “There’s one more thing. It’s probably not important, but I’d like you to know.”
His curiosity piqued, Joseph asked, “What’s that?”
“When you applied to the force, Norris opposed my hiring you, as you’ve probably figured. He also implied that An drew Marshall opposed it. I got the impression they’d had a conversation about you on the golf course.”
“So I understand.” By way of explanation, Joseph added, “One of the other officers overheard.”
The chief clicked his tongue. “Then I wish I’d said something sooner. All this time, you’ve labored under the wrong impression. Andrew Marshall was an important man and he’d known you for years, so I checked it out.”
“You called him?”
“I did,” Lima confirmed. “He told me he considered you an honorable young man who deserved to be judged on your own merits. He had no idea why Edgar thought otherwise. In hindsight, I believe the man invented it.”
Marshall had called Joseph an honorable young man. Given his well-known tendency for understatement, that had been high praise.
“Thanks for telling me,” Joseph said. “It means a lot.”
“I only wish I’d done it sooner.”
After hanging up, Joseph sat staring into the semidarkness as bits and pieces of memory assailed him: Gene’s comment, in this same room, about Joseph being popular. The way the patrol captain—now the acting chief—had spoken highly of his father. Rick telling him it was time to lose his me-against-the-world attitude. Now, the news that Andrew Marshall had spoken highly of him.
The rejections during his teen years had stung so badly, he’d built a wall between himself and anyone who might hurt him, including Erin. Joseph knew he’d been unfair to her. Maybe he’d been unfair to a lot of people.
Sometimes during an investigation, a slow accumulation of seemingly insignificant evidence would suddenly rearrange itself in his mind. Seeing a pattern take shape, he would wonder how he could have missed it all along.
He felt that way now.
Eleven years ago, he’d pushed Erin away. He didn’t intend to repeat that mistake, but events were happening fast. He’d better move even faster.
Joseph thought of something he’d kept in a drawer all this time without understanding why. Abruptly it, too, made sense.
He might regret this, Joseph thought as he reached for his cane, but tomorrow he was going to take the biggest chance of his life. If he made a fool of himself, at least he’d go down trying.
Chapter Nineteen
Mourners packed the Sundown Valley Community Church to say farewell to Alice Marshall. Although she’d been wed to Lance Bolding, the minister—following Erin’s suggestion—omitted his name in view of the discovery that he had entered into the marriage for fraudulent reasons.
She was certain her mother would have approved.
At the conclusion of the service, tears sprang to Erin’s eyes as a soprano’s voice filled the sanctuary. Flooding through the high windows, sunlight bathed the banks of flowers and the brass-appointed coffin. What a welcome change from the darkness that had swathed the lakeside home, Erin thought.
To her right sat Suzanne, with Joseph just beyond his mother. They’d decided on the discreet arrangement to stem gossip, but Erin kept wishing she could reach for the comfort of his hand. To her left, she’d placed the Van Fleets.
The previous day, a talk with the minister had helped lay to rest Erin’s sense of guilt for returning to her job after her father’s death. Alice Marshall had been a strong-willed woman capable o
f making her own decisions, he’d told her. Furthermore, no one could have foreseen that the enmity between her mother and her aunt, which had begun long before she was born, would take such a violent turn.
Each person was responsible only for doing his or her best, he’d told her. And he knew her parents, in their love, would have wanted Erin to release the past and focus on the future.
That was what she intended to do, if she could only figure out how.
The problem was, she discovered after the service, a seemingly endless number of people wanted to talk to her. Although she’d decided to skip a formal receiving line, the crowd that formed around her blocked any possibility of finding a moment alone with Joseph.
She followed his movements from the corner of her eye as she stood on the church’s broad front lawn. Strikingly handsome in his dark suit, he moved with the aid of a cane, not that he could have made rapid progress through the throng in any case. Well-wishers kept approaching to shake his hand or clap him lightly on the shoulder.
She would have loved to dart away, take his arm and haul him through the churchyard until they vanished from sight. Unthinkable, of course. She hadn’t needed the public relations consultant’s warnings or the sight of TV cameras on the edge of the property to remind her that the world was watching.
At last the crowd began to thin. The news vans left quickly, no doubt seeking fresher sensations. Only the local reporter, Lynn Rickles, stayed behind for a few final questions.
Since Lynn, a woman in her fifties, had interviewed Alice many times over the years, Erin relaxed with her while a staff photographer clicked away.
They’d nearly finished talking when Lynn indicated the gold chain at Erin’s throat. “I wondered if your pendant had some special significance.”
She fished the jagged pendant from the collar of her blouse, where it had slipped out of sight. “It’s something I’ve owned for many years.”
“That’s an unusual design.”
Erin knew she shouldn’t volunteer anything further. The last thing a woman in her position ought to do was to announce that she loved a man who didn’t belong to her.
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