Love Inspired Suspense January 2014

by Shirlee McCoy

  For that matter, he had no way to be sure that this trio of females wasn’t in cahoots on disposing of Melissa Eldon. Motive was pretty hazy yet. Dislike of a teacher’s personality wasn’t sufficient for murder, unless there was more going on than they were willing to say. And how did any of this connect to Alicia? He had to keep digging, but the more he was around Laurel and Caroline the more he wanted to be around them. He’d hate to find out they weren’t the innocent victims of a devious frame-up.

  But if they weren’t guilty, who was?

  NINE

  “Thank you for your help today,” Laurel said as she walked David to the front door after a delivery-pizza lunch.

  “Glad to do it. Sorry I have to run off like this. There are a few things I need to handle this afternoon.”

  He smiled, and her feet seemed to take leave of the floor. What was up with the teeny-bopper reaction? And why did his gaze dart away from hers so quickly? Was he nervous? That niggling sense that he knew something he wasn’t telling her anchored her shoes to the tile.

  “’Bye, Mr. Green.” Caroline came up beside Laurel as David stepped outside.

  “See you, squirt.” David turned and winked, but it wasn’t a playful wink. A searching stare accompanied it.

  Caroline suddenly found fascination in the toes of her tennis shoes. More secrets? Laurel frowned as she watched David retreat up their sidewalk. What had her child and David talked about while they straightened the living room and dining room?

  Laurel closed the door and turned, mouth open to ask, but Caroline had disappeared like a puff of smoke. Small sounds from the girl’s bedroom betrayed her location, but Laurel restrained herself from pursuit. She’d give the teenager a little space and see if she came clean. If not, Laurel might have to kick up some dust with her daughter and with David.

  She was alone in the downstairs now. Janice had left for her home office to deal with some work. Heaviness weighed Laurel like a lead mantle. Shoulders bowed, she retreated to the kitchen and began a third scrubbing of the kitchen floor. She might not have to replace the tile if she could get the last traces of egg to fade a bit more.

  “Mo-o-om?”

  Caroline’s tentative, almost frightened tone brought Laurel’s head up. Her daughter was standing in the doorway twisting her fingers together.

  Laurel rested on her haunches. Wary didn’t begin to describe her body and mind. “Did you find something missing or damaged upstairs?”

  The teenager lowered her gaze and shook her head. Laurel dropped her scrub brush into the bucket and rose. She mopped at her forehead with a gloved hand and left a wet streak behind to mingle with the sweat she had meant to brush away. No matter. She stripped off her gloves and dropped them to the floor. Whatever this was with her daughter looked serious.

  “Come sit down. I’m all ears.”

  She pulled out a pair of chairs from the kitchen table. Caroline sat, fingers twined on her lap, gaze averted. Laurel held her tongue and waited, harder to do than one would think when everything within her strained to know what was gnawing at her precious child.

  “What would you do,” the teenager began as if treading on verbal egg shells, “if someone who thinks they’re all that was trying to get you to do something you didn’t want to do?”

  Laurel laid a hand over her daughter’s. “Sweetheart, you know I believe in standing up to a bully, but I also believe that sometimes we need help to do it. Is someone giving you a hard time?”

  “But what if they could maybe hurt more people than just you if you didn’t do what they wanted?” Caroline peered up at her with knotted brows. “I know you also believe in protecting the innocent even if it costs you something. I’ve seen you sacrifice lots of times, especially when it comes to me.”

  Warmth spread in Laurel’s chest and battled the chill in her stomach. Caroline had taken note of her mother’s sacrifices whether she said thank you or not, but now that very ethic, passed on to her daughter, was conflicting with self-preservation. Her mommyness dictated that she go to war with whatever or whoever threatened her child, but Caroline seemed genuinely worried about the potential consequences. Diplomacy might do the job better.

  “I need more information in order to answer your question, honey.”

  Caroline removed her fingers from beneath her mother’s and used them to tuck stray strands of hair behind both ears. “Mr. Greene said I should trust you.”

  Laurel’s backbone went stick straight. “You talked to David about this?”

  “Only a little,” Caroline said hastily. “He’s pretty good at asking questions and figuring stuff out, even when a person doesn’t say much. Kind of like you, which is why I haven’t said anything. But he told me if I didn’t talk to you, he was going to do it.”

  Laurel sat back, air gushing from her lungs. She should want to hug David for fostering a breakthrough, but honestly, right now she’d rather slap him. How irrational was that? He’d given her daughter the proper advice—talk to your mother. But Laurel was pea-green jealous—and hurt—that Caroline had opened up to him first.

  Laurel swallowed a sour lump from her throat. “Tell me what?”

  Caroline shook her head. “I don’t want to name names. I just want some advice about a situation. Haven’t you often told me you want me to grow up confident and able to stand on my own two feet?”

  “I can respect that, but you need to remember you’re thirteen and still need a parent to help with some things.”

  Her daughter nodded. “How about this? You give me advice, and I’ll try it out. If it doesn’t work, then I’ll tell you more. Deal?” Caroline extended her hand.

  How could Laurel stay grumpy in the presence of such earnest maturity? She smiled and clasped her daughter’s hand. “Deal. Now, what’s the situation?”

  Laurel’s eyes widened as Caroline outlined a scenario of a teenage crush that had gone overboard. Of course, she couldn’t blame a young man for becoming infatuated with her lovely daughter, but daily persecution wasn’t acceptable. The boy must be spoiled rotten and stuck on himself. Unfortunately, Grace Academy was full of kids who fit that description. The enrollment list was a close reflection of the country club roster—the only saving grace was that the quality of education was of the caliber to match.

  “How do I get this lame jerk off my case?” Caroline spread her hands. “Telling him no doesn’t seem to make a dent in his ego. He thinks I’m playing hard to get.”

  Laurel pursed her lips, then cocked her head. “How about this? Take Janice to school with you on Monday and let her give him the royal smackdown.”

  She smirked, and the haunted look faded from Caroline’s eyes as she let out a giggle.

  “That would be way fun!”

  Good, her joke had worked to lighten the mood—but now she needed to be sure Caroline understood what was at stake. “Sure, while it lasted, but Janice might land in a pile of trouble.”

  “I guess we won’t go with that idea.” Another giggle escaped, then faded. “For real now, what should I do?”

  Laurel gazed into her daughter’s expectant face, and her heart swelled. David, I owe you big-time. Caroline hadn’t looked at her with such trust and openness in months. No doubt, mother and daughter still had tensions and growing pains to work out between them, but Laurel savored the moment.

  “Tell him yes.”

  “Huh?” Caroline’s eyes widened.

  “But here are the stipulations to your agreement. Number one, your mother or your mother’s best friend will accompany you on any outing.”

  “Mo-o-om, he’ll think I’m a dweeb!”

  “What do you care what he thinks as long as he lets you alone?”

  “I guess.” She sounded half-convinced.

  “Number two,” Laurel went on, “his parents are also to be invited, whether they come or not will be up to them.”

  Caroline brightened. “I like that, but he’s only got one—” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

&n
bsp; “Giving away clues as to his identity, are we?” Laurel smiled. “Never mind. These days, a great many kids have only one parent in the picture. Let’s stick to business. Number three—and this is the zinger—the only time you two can be together without a parent or Janice is at your youth group meetings at church every week. And if he wants your friendship, he must attend those.”

  Caroline’s mouth dropped open, then she jumped up with a squeal and threw her arms around Laurel’s neck. “Brilliant!” She danced around the room, clapping. “My mother the genius! He’ll hate that one worst of all.”

  Laurel’s heart sang even as it sank. Caroline hadn’t given her such a spontaneous hug in a long time, and she was desperately proud of her daughter for resisting peer pressure. But that sorry young man had so many strikes against him. Either a mom or a dad was absent from his life, he clearly had too much privilege without being taught about responsibility and, despite attending a faith-based school, it seemed he had no spiritual roots to anchor him for the storms of life.

  Laurel rose. “Someday you’ll tell me this character’s identity?”

  “Someday.”

  They grinned at each other and smacked a high five.

  The house phone rang, and still smiling, Laurel went to the kitchen extension on a corner of the counter. Caller ID showed the SPC office. Someone among the holiday skeleton crew must have caught wind that she was at home and hadn’t reached the site for her speaking engagement. The weather report for the Rocky Mountains would be enough to explain that without any inkling about the trouble in which she and Caroline had landed.

  At least, Laurel hoped that was the case. She wanted to break the news about their involvement in Ms. Eldon’s case herself, and had been putting off the conversation with Howard, the organization’s no-nonsense administrator. Had she waited too long?

  She picked up the handset. “This is Laurel.”

  “Don’t come in to the office until the media attention dies down,” Howard said without preamble. “You should be able to work from home well enough.”

  “Media attention?” Laurel’s stomach plummeted to the floor.

  “You didn’t watch the noon news?”

  “I’ve been a little busy and haven’t had access to a television. While Caroline and I were away, someone broke in to our house and trashed the place.”

  Howard sucked in an audible breath. “I’m sorry to hear it, Laurel. The police didn’t say anything about that. They were here this morning asking questions. Didn’t give us much information except to say that a dead body was discovered in the trunk of your car. The noon news supplied the woman’s identity, and the newshounds are on the scent of a sensational story—camping out on SPC’s doorstep already. I’m surprised they haven’t been to your house yet.”

  The doorbell pealed loud and long.

  “Mo-o-om!” Caroline’s cry carried from the living room. “There’s a news truck outside, and some guy with shaggy hair and a camera on his shoulder is walking around our lawn.”

  “I think they’re here,” Laurel said to Howard as tremors swept through her bones.

  *

  On the drive over to Gilbert Montel’s estate on the outskirts of the city, David mulled over his morning spent cleaning up the results of savagery. He’d overheard Laurel calling contractors, hoping to find someone willing to come that day to fix the sliding door to the patio and change the locks throughout the house. So far, the project was a no-go until after the holiday weekend. Even the security company couldn’t schedule a system upgrade until next week sometime.

  David wasn’t surprised. It looked as if Laurel and Caroline would make Janice’s house their home for the next few days.

  At noon, relaxing into easy camaraderie over steaming slices of delivered pizza, he’d realized he was enjoying himself too much for his peace of mind. Why did he have to like Laurel and Caroline so much when he couldn’t allow himself to fully trust them? Even Janice seemed to have put her reservations about him on hold and was downright funny with a wacky sense of humor that cheered Laurel and Caroline no end. He’d found himself feeling grateful to the woman.

  Not that he could trust her either. Naturally, Laurel would buy any explanation approaching reasonable that her friend supplied, but to his way of thinking, her response to the milk issue was both too vague and too pat. Then again, the subjective nature of Janice’s explanation could be the best argument that it was genuine.

  Pain shot through his jaw, and he commanded himself to cease grinding his teeth. God, I need to find answers pretty soon, or I may have no teeth left!

  As David pulled up at the gate of Gil’s acreage enclosed behind high walls, he forced from his mind the troubling issue of his relationship, if one could call it that, with the Adams females. He rolled down his window and pressed the button on the communication box. A full minute passed, then finally a brisk female voice laced with a vague brogue inquired who he was and what he wanted. Housekeeper, most likely.

  “David Greene,” he answered. “I’m an acquaintance of Gil’s. I’d like to offer my condolences in person.”

  A beat of silence followed. “That’s most kind of you, I’m sure,” the woman said. “But Mr. Montel and young Grant have gone out of town for the Thanksgiving holiday.”

  Grant? Oh, yes, that was Gil’s son. The man had mentioned his boy a couple of times during their emotion-laden encounter in the hotel bar after a day of sessions at an investor’s symposium in Dallas.

  “I’m sorry to have missed them.” Disappointment tasted foul on his tongue. “I’ll come back another time.”

  “You do that. They will be home on Friday.”

  At least he didn’t have to wait until Monday to make contact with Gil. Just another lonely Thanksgiving Day to endure between now and a face-to-face encounter with a guy who should know something meaningful about the murder victim.

  What next? Grace Academy would be locked up tight throughout the holiday weekend, so no point in stopping there in hopes of talking to someone today. That left Melissa Eldon’s apartment complex.

  David found the place—a three-story, redbrick structure sprawling over an acre of land. Each unit sported an air conditioner poking from the outside wall and a pint-size balcony. He was able to open the outermost door and enter a cubicle where the mailboxes filled one wall. He’d be surprised if the police hadn’t been here to interview the manager and gain access to the victim’s apartment, but M. Eldon still graced the label on mailbox number 212.

  David tried the inner door, but it was locked. Typical. He pressed a button that was supposed to buzz the manager, but got no response. As he gazed helplessly through the window of the inner door, a thirtysomething woman came down the steps, trundling a baby on her hip and holding a toddler by the hand.

  Brow wrinkled in inquiry, she came to the door. The infant snuggled close to her bosom, sucking her thumb and gazing at him with large eyes. The little boy fixed him with a skeptical stare as he clung to his mother’s leg.

  “Who are you looking for?” the woman asked through the glass.

  “I was trying to buzz the manager,” he answered.

  “She’s gone for the holiday. If you want an application, one can be downloaded online.”

  “Actually, I was going to ask her about a tenant here—Melissa Eldon.”

  The woman’s tweezed brows climbed upward. “You a reporter?”

  He shook his head and tried what he hoped was a nonchalant grin. “I’m an acquaintance of an acquaintance looking into what might have happened.”

  Her gaze narrowed, and then a sly smile formed on her lips. “A private investigator,” she said as if delighted by her deduction. “Always wanted to meet one.”

  Denial sprang to David’s lips, but his tongue refused to form the words. He wouldn’t lie to her directly, but what could it hurt to let her think what she wanted?

  “Mommy! Canny bar!” the toddler whined and tugged at the woman’s jean-clad leg.

  “Just a s
econd, Austin.” She glanced down, then returned her attention to David and shrugged. “Guess I can tell you what I told the police. Miss Snip is—er, was my neighbor.”

  The woman’s color heightened. “Sorry about speaking ill of the dead, but she wasn’t easy to be around. Got annoyed with any of the kids in the building if they made noise or went a little fast in the halls. C’mon, kids are going to be kids! She was especially hard on my two if they laughed or cried too much, and she told me about it. Frequently. Even called the manager on us if our little dog yipped now and then. Quite a prima donna.” She shook her head. “Made me wonder why she moved into this family-oriented apartment complex.”

  “Logical question,” David said. “Do you have any idea where she was from?”

  “Not a clue…” Her lips pursed. “I just remembered. Didn’t even tell the police this. I should probably call them about it.” Eagerness skimmed her expression.

  “About what?”

  The woman smirked. “I noticed Melissa wearing a college T-shirt one day when I ran into her in the laundry room.”

  “Which college?”

  “Not sure. The shirt was baggy and faded. Some of the letters were worn off, and her long hair covered others. I made out the word university, and I remember a picture of an animal—some kind of fierce-looking cat. I didn’t bother asking. She always thought she was too good to make small talk with the likes of me, unless she wanted to make some more complaints.”

  David’s heart sank. The number of colleges and universities with feline mascots were legion.

  The toddler started to whine again, and David lifted his hand in farewell. “Thanks a lot. You’ve been very helpful. Have a nice day.”

  “You, too.” She transferred her attention to her offspring. “Yes, Austin, we’re going to the vending machine now.”

  The trio drifted away from the door, and David went outside to his SUV, wearing a frown.

  A teacher who didn’t like kids or pets. That was red-flag weird, especially since she’d gotten engaged to someone with a son. Did Gil’s money make up for having to deal with a stepchild? Did she take a job at an exclusive school in the first place in order to have access to the well-to-do parents? An intelligent beauty looking to make a match with a monied man was an old, old story. These factors made an unsavory combination with potential to have bearing on the reason she was dead.