by Liz Mugavero
“Whoa.” Jake sat back. “You think he’s scamming your mother for her money?”
“I don’t know!” Frustrated, she threw the blanket off and got up to pace. “That’s part of the problem. I don’t know him. I know Richard well enough to say I don’t think he killed anyone. I can’t say that about Tony, and it bothers me.”
“How does Monica fit in?”
“I don’t know that, either,” she admitted. “But I do know if you push a kid too far—especially one who’s fragile—they’re eventually going to break. The question is, if Monica broke, would she hurt someone else?”
Jake nodded slowly. “And not knowing about Scott and this car is making it worse.” He got up. “I’m going to take a ride by Jessie’s house. See if she’s home.”
She jumped up, the unease she’d felt earlier returning doubled. “I’ll go with you.” Jake was clearly worried, she realized as they slipped out the front door. He wouldn’t go out in the middle of the night if he wasn’t. And when Jake worried, things were serious.
Chapter 50
They’d found Jessie’s house dark and empty. Jake let them in to look around and found nothing out of place, but it still didn’t sit well. Especially when they drove by Marty’s and didn’t see her car there, either. Marty’s car was in the driveway, but his house was also dark.
“She could be working on another case. Out at the barracks,” Stan said into the darkness sometime around three a.m. as they both tossed and turned. “Maybe they’re trying to keep her out of this case and asked her to work overtime on something else.”
“Maybe,” Jake agreed, but Stan knew he wasn’t convinced. For that matter, neither was she. “I’ll call Sturgis in the morning.”
“Good idea.” She could call Colby, too. Maybe he could shed some light.
Stan finally fell asleep around four. When she woke a few hours later, Scruffy and Henry were the only ones around. Scruffy slept at her feet, Henry in his usual spot by the bed.
Scruffy rolled over and looked at her, stubby tail wagging. “Morning, sweetie,” Stan said, reaching down to rub her belly. “Where’s everyone?”
Scruffy didn’t answer. For one blissful moment she thought about staying in bed for the day and pretending none of this drama was happening. Then she sat bolt upright, remembering she’d promised to be at Francie’s for a yoga and meditation session this morning bright and early. Like, in half an hour.
“Crap,” she sighed. “There’s nothing relaxing about rushing to do yoga and meditate.”
She rolled out of bed. Scruffy and Henry followed her into the bathroom, where she took a fast shower. They all trooped downstairs. Stan had to blink when she entered the kitchen. Caitlyn stood at the stove making scrambled eggs and talking with Jake, who sat at the table drinking coffee. Eva sat on the floor on her knees, using what looked like Caitlyn’s hairbrush on Gaston, who sat patiently. Duncan watched from under the table. The cats watched from the counter, Benny curious, Nutty disdainful.
“Morning.” Jake rose when he saw her and gave her a kiss, then went to get her a mug of coffee. His bloodshot eyes and tense jaw gave away his state of mind, but he put on a good show for Caitlyn and Eva. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Some.” Stan glanced at her sister.
“What?” Caitlyn asked. “I know, you didn’t think I could cook, either.”
Stan held up her hands in defense. “I didn’t say a word.” She sipped the coffee Jake handed her. “I have to go in a minute. I’m going to yoga and meditation at Francie’s studio this morning.”
“That sounds nice,” Caitlyn exclaimed. “Can I join you? Oh. Shoot.” She grimaced. “I’m so used to having a nanny.”
“Don’t worry about it. Go do your thing. I’ll stay with Eva,” Jake said.
Stan and Caitlyn both stared at him. “You will?”
He nodded. “We’ll have a good time. We can do yard work and play with the dogs. How’s that sound, Eva?”
She continued to brush Gaston. “I can help in the yard too,” she offered. “Dominique lets me rake leaves.”
Caitlyn arched an eyebrow at that, but didn’t comment. Instead, she looked at Jake. “You’re fabulous.”
He made a no big deal motion with his hand. “She’s a lot of fun.” He looked at Stan. “I have a bunch of calls to make, anyway.”
Caitlyn looked at Stan. “He’s fabulous.”
“I know.” Stan hugged him and drained her cup. “I’m a lucky girl these days, murder aside.” She whispered to him so Caitlyn couldn’t hear, “Text me if you hear from her.”
* * *
It took Stan and Caitlyn seven minutes to get to Francie’s house across town. Barely enough time to drink half her travel mug of coffee, but she pulled in at eight-oh-three. Francie lived in a neighborhood called Strawberry Hills, which didn’t make sense because there was no hill Stan could see. Strawberry Hills was one long, U-shaped street and Francie lived smack in the middle of it. Her little white house looked cozy and inviting, with its picket fence and carefully planted flowers. A small sign with a yin-yang symbol in front of her garage said YOGA.
Francie opened the front door as Stan pulled in, waving. A golden retriever tried to nose his way out behind her. “No, Cooper. You have to stay in the house. Hello! I’m so glad you brought Caitlyn,” she exclaimed as they got out of the car. “But where’s your mother?”
Caitlyn looked at Stan and burst out laughing. “Mom was coming to meditate? You’ve got to be kidding.”
Francie looked from Caitlyn to Stan. “This must be something we can work on with her.”
“We could try,” Stan said. “She’s been busy. I never connected with her yesterday. Not about meditation, anyway.”
“I’ll put her on my contact list,” Francie announced, opening the door leading into her garage. “I have a newsletter going out later this week about my upcoming meditation groups.” She led them up a flight of stairs and opened another door, waving them in ahead of her.
Stan stepped inside and admired the studio’s gleaming wooden floors and mirrors all along the back wall. A selection of yoga mats were already laid out on the floor. Yoga balls, additional mats, and yoga blocks lined one side, and a selection of weights the other. The recessed lights were dimmed and candles glowed on a small table. Soft meditation music sounded through a speaker system. The light, airy scent of incense sweetened the air.
“This is so nice,” she said. Caitlyn nodded her agreement.
“Thank you.” Francie beamed. “I love this room. It used to be a storage area for all kinds of junk. It’s so peaceful now, isn’t it? The perfect place to center yourself. Would you like some tea?”
“I would love some,” Caitlyn said.
“Wonderful. Stan?” Francie walked over to a small cabinet where a teapot boiled merrily on a small burner.
“Sure,” Stan said.
Francie took out three small teacups. “This is a special herbal blend. Good for de-stressing.” She added water to the tea and poured into the cups. “After this week I think we all need a little de-stressing.”
“Tell me about it,” Caitlyn sighed, sinking down onto a mat. “Finding a dead body was no picnic. And having my ex-boyfriend come to town was quite possibly even worse!”
Stan swallowed her inappropriate giggle with a mouthful of tea. Her sister hadn’t lost her flair for the dramatic, which struck her funny despite the subject matter.
But Francie looked distressed. “You found that poor woman? Oh, dear. How awful. I hadn’t heard.”
“It was pretty awful,” Caitlyn agreed.
Stan added a little more tea to her cup. As she turned to walk to her own mat, she noticed a picture half hidden behind the selection of candles. She peered more closely at it. A younger Francie leaned against a handsome man who had his arm wrapped around her. In front of them, a young boy of maybe ten or eleven struck a silly pose. His sandy blond hair fell in his eyes, giving him an impish look, complemented by the contagious sm
ile on his face. Her deceased son, most likely. Stan itched to ask what happened, but didn’t want to be rude.
“Are you ready?” Francie asked, taking her elbow and steering her to the mats.
After a relaxing half hour of yoga and another half hour of guided meditation, Stan felt like a new woman. She hoped it lasted longer than her ride home.
“You try to keep that stress at bay,” Francie instructed as she walked them outside. “Remember the breathing technique I taught you. If you feel tension, just find a quiet place and breathe for five minutes. It will center you.”
“Thanks,” Stan said.
“You’re welcome. I’m working at the church today. And your mother and Tony have an appointment with Pastor Ellis tomorrow about the wedding. You’re aware, right?”
Stan shook her head. “I don’t keep her schedule.” It came out snippy, though unintended.
Caitlyn elbowed her. “Do you need to breathe already?”
“I know she wanted you girls to be there. Didn’t she invite you?” Francie asked. “It’s very important they keep that meeting. Pastor Ellis is going out of town Thursday night on a retreat with his counseling group. If they can’t get there, he won’t be back for a week. I don’t want them to miss out.”
“You should try calling her,” Stan said, slipping into her car. “If you can’t get her on her cell, try her at Char’s.”
“She’s still staying there?” Francie asked. “Why hasn’t she moved home yet?”
“I wondered that, too,” Caitlyn said. “Are they keeping it as a crime scene? Does that mean they’re having second thoughts about Richard?” She brightened. “That’s good, right?”
“I heard rumblings about that at the senior center when I did a yoga session there yesterday evening,” Francie said. “Is that really true? Who do they think did it, then?”
“I have no idea if it’s true or what anyone thinks,” Stan said. “We should let you get to work. See you later, Francie!”
She hit the gas before Caitlyn closed the car door all the way. “Jeez,” her sister said. “What’s your problem? You just got de-stressed!”
“Right. And then you started talking about murder again. That subject is off limits,” Stan said.
Caitlyn huffed. “Tell that to the rest of the town.”
Stan looked at her in disbelief, almost crossing into oncoming traffic. “What do you know about this town?”
“Hey, I’ve been getting around,” Caitlyn said, settling back in her seat. “I’m practically a native now. People are starting to recognize me and everything.”
Stan didn’t know if that was good or bad, so she said nothing.
Chapter 51
When they got home, Eva was having a blast playing in the yard with Jake and the dogs. He tossed tennis balls and all four dogs plus Eva scrambled to catch them. She sent him a questioning look. He shook his head slightly. No news.
“I’ll take over,” Caitlyn told him. “Thanks for watching her.”
“Anytime.” Jake squeezed her arm, a friendly gesture that said he meant it. Stan had to laugh. Her sister and Jake. An unlikely friendship.
“I’m going to see Marty,” Jake said. “I’ve been trying Jessie all morning. I can’t reach Sturgis, either.”
Somehow that made Stan feel better. “Maybe that means I’m right. They could be on some case.” She checked her phone again. No messages, but an e-mail from Tony popped up in response to her media statement. She ignored it.
“I won’t feel better until I talk to her. I called Brenna but she hasn’t heard from her, either. I didn’t want to upset her, so I didn’t say much,” Jake said.
“Let me know what Marty says. I’m going to see Curtis Wallace,” Stan said.
“Be careful.”
* * *
Jake left, and Stan had one leg inside her car when a dark blue Jag pulled up in front of her house. She turned to look, shading her eyes from the sun. She didn’t recognize the vehicle. A man wearing a Yankees cap climbed out of the driver’s side. Sunglasses covered his eyes. He had a couple days’ worth of beard. Stan’s eyes widened when he pulled off the glasses, and she stepped back out of the car.
“Richard?”
He glanced around when she said his name as if he expected someone to swoop in, pick him up, and whisk him back to jail. “Hey. I’m sorry to show up like this, but I didn’t know . . . Can I talk to you for a second?” He shifted from foot to foot, not the picture of confidence Stan remembered.
She couldn’t stop staring at him. He’d lost weight since Saturday. Plus, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been face-to-face with anyone officially accused of murder. She shook it off. “Hey. Yes, of course. Do you want to come in?”
“Am I holding you up? Were you heading out?”
“I have a few minutes. Come on.” She led him inside. The dogs immediately barreled over, their various sounds a cacophony of happiness.
Richard took a surprised step back. “Dogs?”
Stan nodded. “Jake had two and I had two.”
“What happened to Nutty?”
“Nutty’s great. We have a second cat, too.”
“Impressive,” he said.
“We love them. Caitlyn?” she called.
“Yeah?” Her sister appeared in the kitchen doorway, a butter knife in her hand. “I thought you were leaving? Want a sandwich? Oh, sorry. Didn’t know you had company.” Then she did a double take. “Richard?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “Although I have to say I’m surprised to find you two hanging out together.” He tried for a smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
“We definitely didn’t see each other often enough in years past,” Stan said, looking at her sister. “We’re trying to do better.”
Richard nodded. “That’s a good thing.”
They lapsed into silence.
“I’ll let you guys talk,” Caitlyn said finally. “I’ll take the dogs. Guys, snacks!”
Obediently the dogs all raced after her to the kitchen.
“Let’s go in here.” Stan led him to the living room.
Richard followed her in, looking around the house. “It looks good in here,” he said. “You did a nice job.”
“Thanks,” Stan said awkwardly. She motioned to the couch. “Sit, please.”
Richard perched on the edge of the sofa, steepling his hands under his chin. “So you ended up with the pub guy,” he said.
Stan smiled, despite all the questions desperate to pour out of her mouth. “I did.”
“He live here now?”
“Yep.”
“That’s good.” Richard nodded. “I’m glad you’re happy, Stan.”
Stan perched on the edge of the love seat facing him. If anyone had told her she’d be sitting here with Richard a year and a half after their demise talking about her new boyfriend, she’d have laughed them right out of town. A kinder, gentler Richard? Could it be? “That’s nice of you, Richard. But I’m guessing you didn’t come out here to talk about my love life.”
His face clouded over. “No.” He dropped his hands to his knees and rubbed them against his pants. “Stan, I didn’t kill Eleanor.”
Relief flooded through her. She knew it in her heart, but hearing him say it cleared away any remnants of doubt. Still, she wanted to know why they were so certain it was him.
“Why do the police think you did it, then? What evidence do they have?”
He took off his hat and raked his hands through his hair, clutching the clumps in his fists for a moment. Then he rose and walked slowly around the room. “I don’t know. I swear, I have no idea what happened to her. Swear to God. I was thinking about myself, as usual. And how sick of everything I was. Sick of her, sick of everyone I worked with, sick of my job. Sick of spending every waking hour at other people’s beck and call.” He faced her. “I really thought you were crazy last year, you know. When you decided not to come back.”
Stan nodded. “I kn
ow. A lot of people did.”
“I figured you’d come to your senses eventually.” He smiled a little. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“But I did,” Stan corrected him. “That’s why I didn’t come back.”
“Yeah. I get that. Me, I kept doing what I’ve always done. I found another woman to replace you, one who still lived in my world. We worked together, we traveled together for work, we talked about work.” He smiled, but now it was sad. “Kind of like what you and I did for so many years.”
“Yeah,” Stan said. “What a colossal waste of time. No offense,” she added quickly. “We were both at fault.”
He nodded. “You’re right. The crazy thing is, I’d just started to realize that. And then, Saturday happened.” He sat back down. “I didn’t want to go to the party, but we had to. It was one of those ‘mandatory fun’ things we used to laugh about.” He faced her again. “One thing’s true. I hated Eleanor. Hated her with a passion. The police asked me if we had problems and I didn’t even lie about it. We did. But I didn’t kill her.”
Stan held her breath, not wanting to break the spell. Richard seemed to need to tell her this. Therapeutic, perhaps. And it made her feel a whole lot better hearing him so adamantly deny doing this.
“Anyway, I tried to stay away from her Saturday. Pretend she wasn’t even there. So I got drunk.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you heard she and I got into it.”
Stan nodded. “What were you fighting about?”
He shook his head. “Work stuff. it was so unimportant and stupid. I finally walked away and got another drink. I never saw her again. Then your boyfriend—well. You know. I got mad, I went outside in my drunken stupor. And I accidentally let the black cat out. I ran after it. I remembered what you always said about Nutty. How he didn’t belong outside anymore. I felt bad so I chased the cat. Into the woods. Which in hindsight was pretty stupid, given that it was getting dark and the cat was black.” He laughed, but there was no humor. “I tripped over something and fell. Landed in a muddy puddle. Twisted my ankle. It’s what I get for drinking, I guess. I ended up sitting outside for a while, thinking about how I could have possibly ended up in this moment. I don’t even know how long I stayed out there. When I finally got my act together, it was like I’d had an epiphany. I didn’t want to do this anymore. You know?”
