“Duncan has the intelligence of my shoes and only one percent of the beauty,” I muttered. “How long are you making him sit out there?”
“All day.”
Well, that was good news. Not having to worry about Duncan was always a delight.
“What do you have going today?” Fish asked.
Jake is holding a news conference after lunch,” I said. “He’s going to release the name of the homeless guy.”
“We already have that name,” Fish said.
“We do. Eliot also took photos on his cell phone when I was talking to him. I can include some of the material from when I talked to Leo in our story so we’ll still be ahead of the pack after the conference.”
“Do you think Jake has found Leo yet?”
“I don’t think Jake would be holding another conference if he had Leo,” I replied. “I’m going to run over to Eliot’s and have him pick a few photos so we can publish them tomorrow. Then I’m going to the conference. If I come up with anything good I’ll give you a call.”
“How close do you think this is to being over?” Fish asked.
“Close. I don’t think it’s going to take the police long to find Leo. Once that happens, though, things will start falling into place.”
“That’s a bummer,” Fish said. “This story has been great for circulation.”
“It has. How much fun do you think the trial is going to be when all of those kinky sex details come out?”
Fish visibly brightened. “You always know how to make a Monday better.”
I grinned. “Thank you.”
“You always know how to make it worse, too. Now go.”
“HEY there, Trouble,” Eliot said, shifting his gaze from the sterling silver jewelry box he was polishing behind the counter in his pawnshop and smiling. “To what do I owe the honor of a Monday drive-by?”
I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Did you ever consider that maybe I just wanted to see you?”
“That’s sweet,” Eliot said. “I know you, though. What do you want?”
I scowled. “Sometimes I think you like to be mean to me.”
“That’s funny because I know there are times you like to be mean to everyone,” Eliot said. “What do you want?”
“I need those photos of Leo for tomorrow’s edition,” I said. “Jake is holding a news conference this afternoon. I’ll still have more than everybody else, but I’m going to need those photos.”
“I’ll see what I have,” Eliot said. He watched me as I prowled through his store. I wasn’t really looking for anything, but I was too agitated to sit down. “What’s up with you?”
“Something feels … off,” I said.
“Do you want to be more specific?”
“Not really. I’m still figuring things out.”
“I love the way your mind works,” Eliot said. “Don’t even think about doing anything crazy without telling me, though. If you do, we’re going to have a huge fight and I’m not going to give you your Valentine’s Day gift.”
That brought up another sticky subject. “I don’t know what to get you for Valentine’s Day,” I said.
Eliot appeared surprised by the statement. “I told you that I don’t need a gift. Don’t worry about it. You have enough on your plate.”
“I have to get you something,” I said, frowning. “Don’t you dare think for a second that I’m going to sit back and not get you a gift.”
“I’ll like anything you give me,” Eliot said, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the jewelry box.
“It should be something special,” I muttered, although I was mostly talking to myself.
“What did you say?”
“I’ve never really gotten anyone a Valentine’s Day gift before,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck as I paced. I had no idea why I admitted this to him. I didn’t have anyone else to talk to, though. Although … . “I should probably call Carly,” I said. “I haven’t talked to her in days. I’ve been so busy I kind of forgot about her. That’s going to totally piss her off.”
“Wow. Your thinking is never linear, but that whole statement baffled even me,” Eliot said. “You should call Carly. Don’t get me anything she suggests for Valentine’s Day, though.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve seen the clothes she picks out for Kyle and I’m not wearing anything like that.”
I snorted. “I’m not buying you clothes. That’s too … impersonal.”
Eliot finally shifted his full attention to me. “I don’t want you tying yourself into knots about this. I don’t need a big Valentine’s Day gift. I’m not a chick.”
“I know you think that’s helping, but it’s not,” I said. “It makes me feel like a … loser.”
“How?”
“You have some big gift planned for me and I’m going to give you … what … a card and a kiss?” My frustration quotient was amping up.
“That’s fine.”
“Shut up,” I grumbled.
“Avery, you’re starting to get manic,” Eliot said. “I don’t need a gift. You have enough on your plate with the Grisham murder and Tad’s derangement. How about you take Tad down and we’ll call it a gift for both of us?”
That was an interesting option. “No. You need something to unwrap.”
“I can’t talk to you when you get like this.”
“No one can,” I said. “Speaking of people no one wants to talk to, you haven’t heard anything from my mother, have you?”
“Nice transition there, Trouble.”
“I haven’t heard one peep from her since I was arrested,” I said. “That happened on Thursday. It’s Monday. She’s either dead or I finally did really achieve the impossible and her head imploded.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Eliot said. “If you’re really worried, though, you could always call her.”
“Yeah, I’m not going to do that,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “I’m not a glutton for punishment.”
“I’m not so sure sometimes,” Eliot said.
I shook myself out of my reverie and rolled up onto my toes so I could give Eliot another kiss. “Can you email me those photos before four?”
“Sure. Do you want me to take you out to dinner tonight?”
“I think I owe you lobster,” I reminded him.
“That can wait until this is over,” Eliot said. “I don’t want you distracted when you’re spending heaping piles of money on food for me. We could go to that Mexican place you love.”
“That actually sounds nice,” I said. “Call me around five. I should be able to get out early tonight.”
“That would be a nice change of pace.”
I LEFT ELIOT’S SHOP lost in thought. While many things in the Grisham case were coming together, there were still a lot of loose ends to tie up. I was convinced Adam Grisham had a hand in his wife’s death. My biggest problem was that he didn’t seem the type to get his hands dirty. If Leo was his patsy, how did he convince the man to kill Julia?
Leo was another problem. Jake was going to have his hands full tracking a homeless man down. I approached Leo in Chene Park and he was more than antsy with the meeting. That probably meant he was going to change locales. I was having trouble reconciling Leo being a murderer with my interaction with him, but I also didn’t think Grisham would be dumb enough to murder his own wife. There was a disconnect there, and the only thing I could figure was that I was missing a big part of the story.
I was distracted by my own mind – a regular occurrence in my world – and didn’t notice the figure moving into my path until I was upon him. Two shaking hands shot out and grabbed my shoulders to hold me in place, and when I lifted my face I was stunned to find Leo standing there. “What the … ?”
“I … you’re the woman from the park the other night,” Leo said, his eyes refusing to focus on any one thing. “I’ve been looking for you. Someone told me you would be here.”
“Her
e I am,” I said, studying his pale and sweaty countenance. “You don’t look so hot there, Leo. Do you need something to eat?”
“I need money,” Leo said. “I need to get out of town.”
“Why do you need to get out of town?” I glanced around Mount Clemens’ usually bustling Main Street. Leo and I were the only visitors this fine, frigid morning. The realization left me … well … cold.
“Everyone is looking for me,” Leo said. “Dirty Pete told me the cops were all over Chene Park yesterday. They think I’m a murderer.”
“Are you?”
“I’m … no!”
“Okay,” I said, holding up my hands. “If you’re not the murderer then all you have to do is tell the police that. I can take you there myself. I know a few good police officers. I even know a fairly nice sheriff. They want to help you. Let me take you to them.”
“No!”
“Leo, you have to make a decision here, and running isn’t the right one,” I said, tugging on the limited patience reserves I possessed. “I want to help you, but you’re going to have to help me to do it.”
“You’re the reason I’m in this mess,” Leo shouted. “I was fine until you showed up!”
“You weren’t fine,” I countered. “I know Julia was helping you and she wanted to get you into rehab … .”
“I’m not going back to the hospital!” Leo exploded with anger, his hands gripping my arms so tightly I couldn’t move. “I’m not going back!”
“I … ow! You’re hurting me.”
“Get your hands off of her!” Eliot bulled in from the side and slammed his shoulder into Leo, forcing him to release his grip on me. Leo careened into the wall of the nearby building, bounced off and hit the ground because he wasn’t sober enough to regain his footing.
“Are you all right?” Eliot asked.
“I’m fine. I didn’t even notice him until he was on me.”
“You need to pay better attention to your surroundings,” Eliot said. “You have a list of people who want to hurt you. Pay attention.”
I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “We need to call Jake.”
Eliot kept one eye on Leo and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “You realize you just became part of the story again, right?”
“Yes.” I turned my attention to a miserable Leo, muttering to himself from the cold pavement. “Did you kill Julia Grisham?”
“No,” Leo whimpered. “I loved Julia. She was nice to me.”
“Did you drive her car to the parking lot and abandon it?”
“I had to. I needed the money.”
“Did someone pay you to abandon the car?” I asked.
Leo nodded, gnawing on his filthy fingernails as he glanced around. “I shouldn’t be here.”
I knelt down, grimacing as Eliot grabbed my shoulder to make sure I didn’t get too close. “Leo, this is very important,” I said.
Leo lifted his tear-laden eyes to mine, confusion practically rolling off of him.
“Did you know Julia’s body was in that trunk of that car?”
“That’s not true!” Leo wailed.
I was losing him. “Leo? Who paid you to drive that car to the parking lot?”
“I was just trying to do Adam a favor,” Leo said. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought I was helping.” Leo dissolved into a puddle of wracking sobs and tears, and I knew I wouldn’t get any more information from him.
I straightened and glanced at Eliot. “Well, that answers that question.”
“Jake is on his way,” Eliot said, disconnecting his phone and pulling me in for a warm hug. “This thing is almost over, Trouble.”
Was it? I was still missing … something.
Twenty-Seven
“Your story is already up on the website.”
Fish met me in the lobby when I returned to The Monitor several hours later.
“That was fast,” I said.
“Good job using Eliot’s computer to write at the sheriff’s department,” Fish said. “You beat everyone by a long shot. A few media outlets have gotten headlines up but no stories. The website is on fire.”
I wasn’t used to accolades from Fish. “I … okay.”
“Why do you have that look on your face?”
“This is how I always look,” I protested.
“Whatever,” Fish said, rolling his eyes. “I’m proud of the work you’ve done. I’m not ashamed to say it, so you shouldn’t be ashamed to take your props. You’re acting like a … weirdo.”
“You’re acting like a weirdo,” I shot back.
“If you even think of pulling those shark mittens out to deflect this situation, I’m going to shred them,” Fish warned.
How did he know I was planning that? “I was looking for a tissue. My nose is running.”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
I needed to change the subject. “Not that I’m not happy to see you and hear how wonderful I am, but why did you meet me up here?” I asked. “You could’ve praised me in the newsroom and then we would’ve had an audience. I prefer an audience when people tell me I’m awesome.”
“And I’m back to being annoyed with you,” Fish said. “Actually, I wanted to meet you here because we’ve had a surprise player roll in off the street and I wanted to warn you before you talk to her.”
Surprise player? This was either going to be really good or … really bad. “Who?”
“It’s Celeste Grisham.”
I had no idea who that was. “Um … .”
“Julia and Adam Grisham’s daughter,” Fish clarified.
“Oh,” I said, my mind reeling. “Wow. Does she appear angry with me?”
“She appears to be a young woman in mourning and she asked to speak with you,” Fish said. “I explained you were at the sheriff’s department and it might be a few hours, but she insisted on waiting. She’s in the little conference room because I didn’t want to risk anyone eavesdropping.”
“Holy crap,” I said. “I might get two great stories out of this today.”
“Here’s hoping,” Fish said. “Now … try to be nice to her.”
“I’m always nice.”
“Be nicer than that,” Fish said. “This woman could be the key to a blockbuster story and you have a tendency to rub people the wrong way.”
“I’ll have you know that a good thirty percent of people I cross paths with happen to love me,” I said.
“You cross paths with a lot of crazy people, though.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Wish me luck.”
CELESTE Grisham was a pile of nerves when I let myself into the conference room. The sound of the door caused her to snap her head up, and I pasted a friendly smile on my face in hope of putting her at ease.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” Celeste said, pushing her auburn hair behind her ears and studying me for a moment. “I saw you on television, but you’re not what I expected.”
I glanced down at my “Laugh it up, Fuzzball” shirt. “I guess not,” I said. “Most people say that when they meet me.” I slid into the chair next to her. “I have to apologize. I’m not even sure I knew your name until my boss told me a few minutes ago.”
“Didn’t you want to interview me?” Celeste challenged. “Were you only interested in going after my father?”
“Your father is a … person of interest … in your mother’s death,” I said, choosing my words carefully. She was already in mourning. I didn’t want to traumatize her further. “I’m sorry if you feel I’ve been … unfair … in my coverage of your mother’s death.”
Celeste barked out a hoarse laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose as her shoulders shook. “Is that why you think I’m here? Do you think I want to take up for my father and say you’re on the wrong track?”
My heart rate increased. Wait a second … . “Why are you here?”
“I need information,” Celeste said. “My father certainly isn’t going
to give it to me. I thought you might be the one person in this whole sordid scandal who would.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” I admitted, studying the girl thoughtfully. She was in her early twenties, but something about her demeanor gave her the appearance of wisdom beyond her years. “Have you tried talking to Sheriff Farrell?”
“He’s been nothing but nice to me,” Celeste conceded. “He’s also been hiding things. I think he’s worried that I’m going to freak out and not be able to handle the truth about my father. What he doesn’t seem to realize is that I’ve always known the truth about my father.”
“What truth are you referring to?”
“All of it,” Celeste said. “I’ve known about the affairs since I was fourteen. I found out about the freaky sex fetish when I was sixteen. I found out he was taking women to that disgusting bar when I was twenty-one and my friends and I decided to go there on a whim.”
“Did he see you there?”
“He did.”
“Did he say anything to you?” I asked.
“My father is not a … normal … father,” Celeste said. “I’m not saying he’s a bad father. I’m saying he doesn’t think the way other fathers do.”
“I’m going to need more information than that,” I admitted.
“My father is a good provider. He’s a good … friend. He’s never been someone who feels that discipline is the answer to good parenting,” Celeste explained. “I know that probably sounds weird coming from someone my age, but I think parents should at least care what their kids are doing. My father always wanted to hang out with my friends and me. I’m starting to wonder if that’s because he’s a pervert.”
I swallowed hard, considering her statement. “Were you close with your mother?”
“My mother was tough,” Celeste replied. “She was also fair. She expected decent grades. She expected my brother and me to abide by a curfew. She expected us to grow into fully-formed human beings … something my father was not a good representation of himself.”
“I’ve talked to a few people who said your mother knew about the affairs,” I said. “Did she ever talk about them with you?”
Headlines & Deadlines (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 7) Page 21
