"I hope it doesn't upset you. You know, because of ..." I trailed off and pointed upstairs where Chip was.
She shook her head. "No. I gave it a lot of thought while we were in Atlanta. Chip's innocent. So the only reasonable way to handle this is to act as normally as possible. Under normal circumstances, I'd be glad to hear you lent her a hand. So, I'm glad you did." She didn't sound completely sold on the idea, but I'd take what I could get.
"Good," I breathed. "Have the police said anything more?"
"Well, there hasn't been any new good news."
Just then, Chip tiptoed down the back staircase with Roman creeping along behind him.
"Great success," Chip whispered loudly. "Neither one of them so much as opened their eyes. And Sky was snoring before I left the room."
Muffy smiled at her husband but her smile faded almost instantly. "I was just about to tell Sage that police said that the only usable prints on the murder weapon were yours and that a staff member reported overhearing Fred and Chip arguing a few days before the murder."
He frowned and draped his arm around his wife's shoulder. "I don't know why they're making anything of it. Of course my fingerprints were on my golf clubs. I'm sure Roman's are on there, too."
At his name, Roman startled. "I doubt it. I'm pretty good about wiping them down. In fact, I'm sort of surprised they found yours."
Chip's forehead wrinkled at that but he didn't respond.
“What about the argument?” I asked. The fingerprint evidence was easily explained away, but fighting with the victim shortly before he was killed seemed more problematic.
Chip said nothing.
Muffy continued, "Well, the detective wants to re-interivew the witness to the exchange between Chip and Fred, and he did say they aren’t ready to charge him. Yet.” She shifted her gaze from me to Roman. "I'm sure you both were hoping to hear otherwise, but nothing's changed with our situation ... or yours, I'm afraid."
I leveled Roman with a look and held it until he gave me a small nod that said 'go ahead.'
"We should sit down. There's something Roman and I want to talk to you about."
Chip and Muffy exchanged looks of their own. With all the heavy, unspoken subtext, the room was beginning to feel like the stage of a Russian play. But they each pulled out a kitchen chair and took a seat. Roman and I joined them at the hand-scraped wood table.
Chip looked like he'd eaten some bad fish. "If this is about a severance, guys, I'm sorry but--"
"We've been trying to clear your name," I blurted.
"Clear my name? How?"
"By finding out who actually killed Fred Spears. Because we know you didn't," Roman explained.
Muffy's blue eyes widened, and her mouth formed a little moue of surprise. Chip scrubbed his hands over his face while bowing his head and shaking it. "Guys, you shouldn't get mixed up in this."
"Too late." I said. I reached around to the back of the chair where I'd hung my handbag with Fred's ledger and pulled out the little notebook. I placed it flat on the table and pressed my hand down over it.
"What's that?" Chip asked in a voice that suggested he really didn't want to know. "Your Encyclopedia Brown notebook?"
I ignored the dig. "This is Fred's. Was Fred's, I guess. It's a register where he recorded initials, dates, and amounts of money." I watched Chip carefully as I spoke.
"What's it for?" Muffy asked.
"We think Fred was blackmailing some of the members of your club. In addition to the notebook, Sage found a lot of unexplained cash deposits into Fred's accounts."
"And a box full of cash that he didn't get around to depositing," I added. "Assuming we're right, and he was a blackmailer, anyone whose initials are in this book would have had a motive to kill Fred."
Muffy's eyes lit with excitement. "This is great news. Don't you think, Chip? We need to tell the police." She was almost vibrating with energy.
Chip in contrast looked like he was carved out of stone. "I don't think we should interfere with the investigation, Muffs." He spoke slowly and with a great deal of apparent effort.
She stared at him. "I don't ... I don't understand." She turned to me. "Whose initials are in that book?"
I hesitated. I had already decided that I wasn't going to out Chip to his wife. But I also didn't want to lie to cover it up for him. I'd had a Catholic roommate in college who'd insisted that a lie of omission was just as bad as a lie of commission. I sincerely hoped Mary Catherine was wrong as I took a deep breath and answered, "Well, there's an 'LL.' We figured that was probably Louie Lewis."
She nodded rapidly. "Almost certainly. Who else?"
I tried to ignore the acid churning in my stomach. I shot Roman a look and he shook his head at me. "It's your party."
Gee, thanks.
"And there are entries for a 'GV'--"
"Giorgio Valetta. Oh, I'll bet he's got plenty of secrets." She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips then said, "Why do you look like you're going to be sick, Chip?"
He managed a queasy smile. "I'm not comfortable ruining someone else's life on an assumption--even if it's a reasonable one."
"Ruining someone else's life? Are you crazy? Our lives are being ruined. Our children's lives. This is your chance to clear your name and protect your family." To her credit, Muffy kept her emotions more or less in check but she was trembling with what I imagined was rage.
Chip gave me a long, unreadable look then pushed back his chair and crouched beside his wife. He took both her hands in his. "I have to tell you three things."
She turned sideways in her chair and stared at him with eyes that were rapidly filling with tears. My stomach clenched.
"One, I love you. You're my whole world."
She smiled uncertainly.
"Two, taking that notebook to the authorities won't clear my name."
"Honey, yes, it--"
He put a finger on her lips to stop her. "Muffy, it won't. My initials are in there, too. Isn't that right, Sage?"
My mouth was too dry to answer, so I just bobbed my head miserably.
Then Chip swiveled his head and stared hard at Roman with a weird expression that was at once regretful and proud. "And, three, I'm trying to protect my family."
Roman furrowed his brow. Muffy mirrored his puzzlement. I had to confess I was with them. I couldn't imagine what Chip was going on about. The three of us sat in quiet confusion and waited for him to explain.
Chip cleared his throat. "I don't know how Fred found out. But ... Roman's my son."
Chapter 17
"Roman's Chip's son?" My sisters squealed in unison.
I pulled the phone away from my ear. "Right."
"Ooof. I bet that was a gut punch. How'd Muffy take it?" Thyme asked.
"Better than Roman." Muffy had turned so pale that I thought she might faint, but she managed to stay upright. Her only response had been a quiet 'oh.'
"Uh-oh, what did Roman say?" Rosemary wanted to know.
"Not a word. He pushed back his chair and tore out of the house. He just got up and ran."
We sat in mutual silence for a moment.
"Wow, Sage, you really mucked things up, huh?"
"Thanks, Rosie. That's helping," I told her.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you feel worse. But it's not like you don't already know you have completely upended their family. I mean, right?"
"Rosemary," Thyme snapped.
I sighed. "No, she's right. I made a mess of things. I can't imagine how Roman and Muffy and even stupid old Chip must be feeling right now. Not to mention, Chip's right. He had just as good a reason to kill Fred as either of the other two guys. I mean, he was paying hush money to keep the existence of an illegitimate son secret."
"An illegitimate biracial son," Rosemary added.
"Rosemary!" Thyme and I shouted at the same time.
"I'm not saying that makes it worse. I'm just noting that you are in South Carolina. And didn't Roman himself say he was looked down o
n because of his race?" Rosemary shouted right back.
"Well, yeah," I conceded. My stomach turned again. "You don't think ... you don't think Chip abandoned Roman and his mom because ...." I couldn't even say it.
"No way," Thyme said firmly. "I'm sure he had a reason."
"Well, it's none of my business. But what am I going to do now? And, Rosemary, so help me, if you tell me I've done enough, I'm going to fly to Los Angeles and beat you with your own rolling pin."
Thyme giggled softly.
"I'm sorry I'm cranky, guys. I just--" Rosemary paused and let out a great whoosh of breath. "I got a call from the bank about the business loan."
I didn't think it was possible for my stomach to cramp any worse than it already had, but, turns out, I was wrong. Very wrong. I groaned. "What now?"
"They're selling the debt."
"Same terms?" Thyme asked hopefully.
"Not exactly."
I closed my eyes and fought back the bile that was rising in my throat. "Just spill it, please."
"Okay. Well, they’re in the process of selling it back to the original investor."
"When you say 'investor,' please tell me you don't mean 'possibly mobbed-up loan shark.'"
She was silent.
I swallowed. "So we owe the balance to Herk the Jerk?"
"Yeah. But ... that's not all."
Of course it wasn't. Even over the racket of my heart banging against my rib cage like a gerbil on a wheel I could hear Thyme 'ohming' softly in an effort to meditate her way out of this mess.
"What's he want?"
"He wants to buy us out and take over the business."
"Hell, no." I was seething now.
"Or he wants the balloon payment in sixty days instead of at the end of the year."
Thyme's ohm turned into a moan. "Can he do that, Sage? Legally?"
"I don't know. We'll have to check with the lawyers. But does it matter? I mean, it's Herk."
I don't know what they were thinking at that moment, but I was remembering our last encounter with the man who put the squeeze on our parents.
"Should we ... I mean, maybe it's time?" Thyme's voice was thick with tears.
"One crisis at a time. When does he want an answer, Rosemary?"
"He said to take our time and talk it over. Next Friday--not this coming. He's a real peach," she said in a brittle tone.
Poor Rosemary. Having to field that call and then bear the news. "I'm sorry you had to deal with it by yourself," I said gently.
"It's okay." She took a great, heaving breath, and I could tell she was barely holding back tears of her own. "You're right though. One crisis at a time. Why don't we try to meet in Chicago this weekend, just for a day. We can figure it out in person. Can you both get away?"
"I'll try," Thyme promised.
"I'll probably be unemployed by then, so, sure, why not?"
Just before we hung up, Rosemary said in a very tentative way, “Sage, do you think there’s any chance at all that maybe Chip really did kill that guy?”
I answered instantly. “None.” But for the first time since I’d heard the news of Fred’s death the tiniest shard of doubt stabbed at me like sharp ice.
Maybe I didn’t know Chip as well as I thought. I chased away the notion as quickly as I formed it, but its shadow remained.
We said our goodbyes and our I love yous and I ended the call, slightly amazed that my day had gone from bad to worse to craptacular. It was time to go to sleep and end this day before a meteor landed on the lawn.
Tomorrow would be a better day, I assured myself. It could hardly be worse.
Chapter 18
As I walked the short distance from the cottage to the main house, I focused on the bright blue heron that streaked across the sky. The fragrant magnolias in full bloom. The warmth of the morning sun on my shoulders. I inhaled the sea salt air.
It's a beautiful day. I'm healthy. I'm safe. I'm lucky. I'm blessed.
I repeated the words silently, my own private mantra.
It even worked. As I walked through the Moores' kitchen door, my smile was genuine.
"Morning," I said to Muffy's back. She was standing facing the coffeemaker. "I thought I might take the kids to the sand art place today. They loved it last time and then we--"
She spun around and locked eyes with me. "The kids are already gone. I dropped them off at Gella and Chris's for a playdate."
"Already gone? I don't--am I fired? Now, I mean?"
She grimaced. "No. I just thought you'd need some time to come to terms with your newfound fame."
"My what?"
Maybe Muffy wasn't handling the fact that her husband had fathered a child out of wedlock a decade before he ever met her quite as well as I'd hoped.
She reached beside her on the counter, picked up a thin glossy magazine, and pressed it into my hand.
I stared down at the garish pink cover. Bright yellow letters screamed "Golf Club Shocker: Killer Duffer's Nanny Cozying Up to Caddy. Did Jealous Chip Clip Fellow Member in a Rage?"
"What kind of headline is that? It doesn't even make sense?" The important words were 'nanny' and 'caddy,' and I understood them perfectly. But I was trying to pretend this wasn't happening.
Muffy tapped a manicured nail against the cover, right under a picture of Marilee hurrying into the club for the memorial service, her face partially obscured by a Jackie O-style headscarf and sunglasses get up. My frantic brain noted that the pinks of Muffy's nail polish and the cover clashed. I snorted. Get a grip on yourself, Sage.
"The gist of the article is that Chip and you have been carrying on an affair. You apparently are a hussy, and you got busy with Roman, too. Fred spilled the beans to Chip about his caddy and nanny canoodling and Chip lashed out in a jealous rage, killing the messenger."
I stared at her. "None of that is true."
"I know."
I wasn't sure. "You have to believe me, Muffy. Chip has never been anything but appropriate and circumspect with me. And I would never--"
Muffy laughed. "Honey, I don't think you and Chip were sneaking around behind my back. I don't get my news from The Orbit."
I exhaled. "Okay, good." I thought I was going to melt in a puddle of relief.
"As for the rest of it. Well, only you and Roman know what's gone on between the two of you, but there are pictures inside."
My relief morphed into dismay. "What kind of pictures?"
She took the magazine from my hand and paged through it then wordlessly handed it back to me.
Me and Roman holding hands in the ballroom during the memorial service. Us on the golf course, with his arms wrapped around me correcting my swing--but, of course, that's not what it looked like we were doing. And Roman bent over my foot, rubbing it tenderly, while I had my head thrown back and my eyes closed.
"Ooooh, no." I could barely form the words.
"They must have had a telephoto lens."
I stared down at the grainy pictures for what felt like hours. Then I met Muffy's eyes. "I need to talk to Roman."
"I'd like to speak to him, too, Sage. I think we all have a lot to hash out. But he didn't show up today. Chip went to the apartment he's renting, and he wasn't there. I suggested he go find Roman's mom, but I don't think he's ready for that yet."
In my personal panic I'd sort of forgotten that Muffy's world had been rocked, too. Mainly thanks to me. "Where is he?"
"Chip?"
I nodded.
"He's meeting with his agent. Damage control caucus, she called it."
"Don't you usually go to those kinds of meetings with him?" Chip had the golfing talent, but Muffy had the head for business.
"Usually. But I trust Linda to handle this one. Besides, you and I have enough on our plates today."
"We do?"
Muffy nodded. "We're going to see Marilee and convince her to go to the police. Do you have that notebook?"
I patted my bag.
"Good. Let's go."
*
* *
Muffy and I took the beach path to Marilee's house. We walked slowly, swinging our shoes in our hands, and skirting all the runners and dog walkers. The warm sand between my toes grounded me, reminded me that this was my real life, really unraveling. I sneaked a peek at Muffy. Her life was unraveling, too.
The breeze lifted her blond hair from her shoulders. She turned and squinted into the distant water. I followed her gaze and watched the sun glint silver on the waves.
"I think there's a photographer following us," I said out of the side of my mouth.
"Figures."
"What should we do? Run?"
She shook her head. "No. That'll give him a great picture. Unless you want to stage a fist fight, which I do have to admit is tempting, just ignore him and keep walking."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Are you really this calm or are you dying inside?"
She cracked a lopsided smile. "I'm definitely dying inside. But what am I going to do? I have two small children and a husband who's been accused of murder. I know Chip didn't kill Fred. So, I have to focus on what I can control. No, control's the wrong word. I have to focus on the things I can affect. I can keep my children happy and safe. And I can fight to prove Chip's innocence."
"What about the Roman thing?"
She shrugged. "Am I hurt that Chip never told me? Of course. Is it any of my business? Not really. We had a long talk last night. Roman's mother begged Chip to stay away. She had her reasons, I'm sure. Just as he had his reasons for agreeing to it. The only person I'm worried about in that situation is Roman."
"I'm worried about him, too," I said quietly.
She cocked her head and gave me a curious look. "Are you sure you and Roman aren't a thing?"
"Yes. No. I don't know."
Muffy laughed. "Clear as mud, huh?"
"It's complicated."
"It always is, Sage. It always is."
We reached the branch of the path that led past the dunes to Marilee's house and turned away from the water.
"Do we have a plan for when we talk to Marilee?" I asked.
"Nope."
Sage of Innocence Page 10
