I found Dad and Jimmy sitting at the kitchen table eating Chinese food. Take-out boxes were spread across the table. Their plates were heaped with food that made me weak at the knees. Jimmy looked up at me and grinned.
“Grab a plate,” he said.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
I took a plate out of the cupboard and sat down next to Dad. Jimmy slid the cartons across the table and I began scooping fried rice onto my plate. He was dressed in his navy police uniform and he’d slicked back his black curls with hair gel. He looked good.
I’d avoided being alone with Jimmy since my return to Ottawa a few months before. There was still something between us. It was in his eyes every time he looked at me. I knew he loved my sister Cheri, but we’d loved each other once. Why had he come here alone? He looked across at me and seemed to read my mind.
“I came to keep your dad company. Cheri took Evan to the pet store to buy a hamster. We promised him one for his birthday.”
“Yeah, that’s coming up, isn’t it?” I moved on to the box of spareribs.
“Detective Shaw came by my office today,” Jimmy added. “He tells me that you’re trying to prove Paul Taylor innocent.”
I stopped spooning ribs onto my plate and looked at him. “Now why would Shaw do that? Is he trying to warn me off?”
“No, I think he’s actually concerned about you. He said that you’re going to lose the Taylor case, because he’s guilty. He also said that Jada Price was a trouble maker when she was a cop. You might not want to be connected with her. He wanted me to convince you to re-apply for a job with the force.”
“Great to know that the two of you have my best interests at heart.”
“I don’t know if you’ve thought this through.”
Dad held up a hand. “Don’t you want to hear what I found out today, Anna?”
I continued dishing food onto my plate with jerky motions. “Yeah, Dad. What did you find out?” I glared at Jimmy and then loaded soy sauce onto my rice.
“After Laura Flint’s husband died in the hunting accident, she went travelling. Paris, Rome, London . . . people lost track of her the last few years.”
“Sounds like she was enjoying the single life.” I licked my fingers. “Did she get a new boyfriend?”
“I couldn’t pin anybody down on that.”
“Well, I have a few more names for you to check out, Dad, if you’re interested.”
Dad pulled his notebook and pen from under a carton of chicken balls. “Go ahead.”
“The two vice presidents of Taylor’s company, Kyle Short and Gordon Tate. They’re a bit too eager to see their boss rot in prison. Gordon Tate also seems to think Taylor took credit for his designs. I’d also like you to look into the bank account of Laura’s cousin Maddie and her husband. I have a feeling it’s on the low side.”
“Anybody else?”
I thought for a second. It was nice to see Dad’s mind busy with something besides being sick. One more name popped into my head. “Alex Dowd. He was Laura’s high school boyfriend. See if you can find out what he’s been doing all these years.” That should keep Dad busy.
“Okay,” Dad said. He pushed away his full plate and stood. “I’ll get started on these.”
“Wait! I didn’t mean to start working on them now. You need to eat.”
“That’s okay. I’m not hungry. I can heat the food up later.”
I frowned and watched him leave. Had he lost his appetite again? Was he feeling sick and not telling me?
Jimmy looked up from his plate. “He ate two spring rolls and a bowl of hot and sour soup before you got here.”
I met his eyes. They were warm hazel and flecked with green. “I just worry about him,” I said.
“I know.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t make it through this.”
“He will and so will you.” Jimmy paused for a moment. “I didn’t mean to upset you about Shaw. I
don’t want to see you get hurt.” He tucked his head back over his plate. “It’s just that I’ve never stopped worrying about you, either.”
CHAPTER TEN
Dad was still sleeping when I left the house the next morning at nine a.m. I’d heard him up half the night talking on the phone and clicking keys on his laptop. I left him a note to call me later.
I drove toward Hintonburg to check in at the office. I was hoping to catch up with Jada before I headed back to Rockcliffe. First, I made a stop at Fil’s Diner for breakfast. Fil’s had that sixties feel— booths and a long counter with stools in front of the open grill. The place was busy as usual, but I found a seat at the counter. I ordered French toast, sausages, and coffee, and read the Ottawa paper while I waited.
The front page had a photo of Katie Taylor leaving the jail. Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. Her lips were painted bright red. The article talked about the murder and the upcoming trial, but it focused on the Taylors’ marriage. It was the first time Katie had agreed to be interviewed. She’d even given the paper private family photos. She’d told the reporter that Paul was fifteen years older than her. They met on a beach in Mexico and married three months later. She believed in love at first sight. She loved Paul even more today than she had when he asked her to be his wife.
I tossed the paper onto the counter. Katie’s interview left a sick, sugary taste in my mouth. All that gooey love when Paul Taylor had just slept with their neighbour. Was this woman for real?
My food arrived. The waitress saw Katie’s picture and said, “Hard to believe her husband fooled around on her. Most men would do anything to have her as their wife. She sure does love the bum.”
“She certainly appears to.”
I ate slowly and had a second cup of coffee. All the while, I was trying to understand how a woman with Katie Taylor’s looks and career could settle for a cheating husband. Her words of undying love were even stranger when I considered she’d all but moved out the month before. Call me jaded, but I was having trouble swallowing her new-found devotion.
I paid my bill and stepped outside. The morning was cool but sunny, the sky deep blue. I inhaled deeply and tried to focus on the day ahead. The more I looked into this case, the more questions popped up like dandelions. I was going to have to get busy tracking down answers before the entire investigation got away from me.
* * *
Jada was on the phone when I climbed the stairs to our office. I took a seat on the other side of the desk and waited for her to finish the call. Less than a minute later, she hung up and grinned at me. “Free at last! I’ve convinced the wife that Dick is faithful. No more nights chasing him from bar to bar.”
“How did you find out that he’s not cheating?”
“Easy. I sat on the stool next to him and asked. It’s amazing what strangers will tell you after a few drinks in a bar. He said that he’s been filling in time by hanging out with the guys. He was celebrating last night because he starts a new job as a security guard on the weekend. It means he can work nights and be with his wife during the day. He’s going to tell her when she gets off shift. He was thrilled that he’s going to get to spend more time with her.”
“Well, that’s sweet.”
“Isn’t it? She feels bad for doubting him.” Jada leaned back and relaxed in her chair. “So, what’s up with your case?”
“A few leads. I’m still working on Laura Flint’s history. I’ll start looking at Katie Taylor this afternoon. I can’t say that I’ve got anything concrete.”
“Let me know if you need help. Today, I’m writing my report for Dick’s wife. Then I have four people coming in to interview for the office manager job. After all that, home for some sleep.”
“I should be fine. Dad’s helping me with research.”
“That’s great that he’s feeling up to it.” Jada knew all about Dad’s cancer scare. I suspected that she also knew he was the reason I was sticking around Ottawa.
I started toward the door. I stopped wit
h my hand on the door knob. “If you get hungry, drop down to Gino’s around noon. Tell him that I sent you. I hear he’s handing out free pizza.”
* * *
Peggy Plum opened Laura Flint’s front door and invited me in. The first thing I noticed was Peggy’s rust red hair, shoulder length and permed into a tumble of tight curls. An orange dress hugged her two hundred pounds of curves. Plum Pickings Real Estate had been selling homes in Rockcliffe since before I was born. Peggy was the owner and poster girl.
“Heck of a shame about Laura Flint,” she said. “I sold her this house just six months ago.”
Peggy led me down the hall into the living room. Two chairs and a lamp stood in front of the bay window. The rest of the large space was empty.
“Is most of her furniture in storage?” I asked.
“No. This is about it. There’s a bed and dresser upstairs in one of the bedrooms, a table and chairs in the kitchen, a closetful of clothes and some costume jewelry. Nothing worth very much.”
“Laura lived here for half a year. I would have thought she’d have more . . . stuff.”
“I guess some people like to travel light.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
Peggy led me into the big, sunny kitchen at the back of the house. It opened into a dining area. Three steps down was the family room. Both rooms were empty.
“She could have held barn dances in here,” I said, walking across the family room to the sliding glass doors. They opened into the backyard. An inground pool took up the left side of the yard. It was filled with brown water and leaves. The three garden beds were mainly growing weeds and the grass between them was knee high. I couldn’t see any way that the yard would have become this overgrown in six weeks. “I would have thought Laura would hire a gardener or pool boy to look after the yard,” I said.
Peggy crossed the room to stand next to me. “Between you and me, I don’t think she had much money. She had enough for the down payment, but my friend at the bank tells me her account was nearly empty.”
Peggy would have her spies everywhere, of course. She’d kept her business booming while others went under. “Who lived here before Laura?”
“An older man. He fell last winter and broke his hip and had to go into a home. He was losing it, though. Kept saying someone pushed him. Anyway, Laura came with an offer the day his house went on the market.”
I stood very still. Maybe the old gentleman hadn’t been losing it. Maybe he really had been pushed. What were the odds of Laura Flint showing up the day after he broke his hip? It was the second accident to work out in her favour. In the first, her husband had died from a stray bullet while out hunting. She’d ended up with all his money and her freedom.
Was Laura in fact the evil one? Maybe that was something I’d have to consider. But she hadn’t been in the woods when her husband was shot. And she sure hadn’t smothered herself in the Taylors’ bed. Was somebody else involved? If it wasn’t Paul Taylor, who else could it be?
We finished a tour of the upstairs. Only one of the five bedrooms had furniture. I didn’t find anything of interest in her few possessions, but hadn’t planned to. I knew the police had already been through the place.
“Thanks for everything, Peggy,” I said when we reached the front door. “If I’m ever looking to buy a house in Rockcliffe, you’ll be the first one I call.”
She smiled. We both knew that would never happen. “Well, I might have a bigger house next door on the market soon, the way things are going.”
We both looked over the cedar hedge to the Taylors’ house. The look on Peggy’s face reminded me of a vulture circling a dying animal.
I waited until she shut the door before scooting across the lawn to Katie Taylor’s front door. I rang the bell and waited. I thought I heard music coming from inside. When a minute went by and nobody came, I rang the bell again. It chimed deep in the house. Still, nobody came to open the door. Either Katie was busy or she didn’t feel like seeing anybody. That wouldn’t stop me from poking into her past, though. I was already late for my next meeting downtown.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A skinny boy with large black-framed glasses and dressed in a pink shirt pointed me to the white leather couch. “It shouldn’t be long,” he said.
I made myself comfortable and flipped through fashion magazines. A steady line of tall, underfed girls trooped in and out of Maggie Wren’s office while I waited my turn. The room smelled of coffee and sweet vanilla. At first, I found the smells pleasant. After half an hour, I had a head ache.
At last, the guy on the desk put down the phone and called over. “Anna Sweet, Ms. Wren will see you now.”
I’d been reading an article on how to improve myself in five easy steps. The first three were on how to lose weight. The fourth step involved learning how to say no. I guess that was learning how to say no to food, if the first three steps meant anything. I’d keep the fifth step as a surprise. One should always leave room for improvement. I jumped up and headed for the closed door. I pushed it open and took a look around.
A glass-topped desk sat in the middle of the inner office under three long, narrow skylights. The furniture was sleek and modern; low red and grey chairs were artfully placed on a white shag carpet. The wall facing me was red brick with a row of square windows near the ceiling. Framed photos of models lined the other walls, which had been painted a charcoal colour.
Maggie Wren fit into the decor. She was another tall woman, elegant in a black dress and boots. Her silver hair was cut into a short bob, her red lips a pop of colour. Her arms jangled with gold bracelets as she lifted a hand to shake mine. I cringed as I remembered what I’d put on that morning. I’d found the only clean pair of jeans rolled into a ball in my closet, then chosen a long blue turtleneck to cover the rip in the back pocket. I’d topped these off with my black leather jacket, mainly to hide the ketchup stain on the turtleneck. There was no doubt. I was going to have to take myself shopping when this case was over.
Maggie led me to a low red couch under the bank of windows. I lowered myself with care. I was surprised to find the seat comfortable.
“We were shocked to hear that Katie Taylor’s husband was charged with murder,” Maggie began. “Such an awful tragedy. We all adore Katie.”
“I understand she began working for you early last year.”
“That’s correct. February to be exact. As you might know, most of her career was with a large agency in New York City. She joined us when she married Paul and moved to Ottawa. That was about five years ago. She stopped taking jobs three years ago, but decided to come back recently. It only lasted a few months, though. In July, she said no more travel. I have no idea why.”
“Do you know the reason she came back in February? After being away so long from the business?”
“Katie told me that she was bored at home. She stopped work the first time to have a family. She told me that she got cold feet because Paul was always working. She didn’t want to raise their children alone. I don’t think they were getting along last year, to be honest.”
“I’m told that they were happier the last few months. She’d agreed to try for a baby again in July. That must be why she didn’t want to travel.”
“If you say so.” Maggie didn’t look convinced.
“Katie was away on location for most of May and June. Can you tell me where?”
Maggie shook her head. “You have it wrong. Katie did a two-day shoot in Toronto in May and a week in Montreal. That was it. Most of our big jobs are for younger models. Katie worked out in the gym daily and was in great shape, but still, she was thirty years old.”
“Are you sure that’s all her jobs those months? Could she have been working for another agency?” I thought back to my notes. Paul Taylor had told me that Katie was away for most of those two months. That was why he’d started up with Laura.
“No, her contract says that I have to approve work from other agencies. One moment.” Maggie walked o
ver to her computer and clicked open a file. She printed it off and handed me the copy. I scanned the dates and locations. Sure enough, Katie had been on two shoots for a total of seven days. The question was, who was lying, Katie or Paul?
Paul might have padded his wife’s time away to make me believe he had reason for an affair. Katie left him alone so often, he got lonely. Katie’s actions led to him sleeping with the neighbour. A cheater’s logic. On the other hand, Katie might have lied to Paul because . . . why? Why did most women lie to their husbands? Yet, she’d cut back on shoots a second time to start a family. She was standing by him and insisting he was innocent.
I was getting more than a little confused.
I thanked Maggie Wren and headed for the door. If I hurried, I’d just have time to make it to the toy store before it closed. Even tracking down a killer needed to take a back seat to finding a birthday gift for my one and only nephew.
* * *
I’d just finished parking my car on the main street of Westboro, the neighbourhood that butted onto Hintonburg, when Dad called on my cellphone. I leaned against the car while we talked.
“Anna,” he barked. “I’m ready to file my report.”
I smiled. Sometimes, I found him awfully cute. “All set, Dad. Let me know what you’ve got.”
“Well, the two VPs, Gordon Tate and Kyle Short, are a couple of boring fellows. I couldn’t dig up dirt on either one. Both grew up in Ottawa and signed on with Taylor five years ago. Neither is married. Work appears to be all they live for.”
“Not what I was hoping for.”
“Their bank accounts are solid. No strange activity.”
“Anything else?”
“No, but I’ll keep looking. I also located the high school boyfriend. Alex Dowd. Last known address is New York City.”
“Really? How long has he lived there?”
“No idea. I have an address and another army buddy on his way down to check it out.”
The Hard Fall Page 4
