“What was he like?” Diana asked. “Brian Riley, I mean. Tell me about him.”
Len ran his fingers through his thick mop of sandy brown hair. “It’s not important, Diana. Roy is who’s important. He and I may not have been best buddies, but he was a good man, and a loving husband and father. Whatever might have happened before he met you doesn’t matter.”
“Please,” Diana insisted. “I really want to know.” When Len still seemed to hesitate, she pushed harder. “You’ve no idea what it’s like to discover the man you’ve been married to is someone you didn’t know at all. This isn’t just something that happened in his past—I understand we all did things when we were young that make us cringe now—it’s about how little he trusted me, how much of himself he kept private. It’s like I didn’t know him at all. So, please, tell me what he was like when you knew him.”
Len rubbed his temples. “Okay, it’s your call. But I have to warn you, I don’t have a lot good to say about Brian. My impression was he had a chip on his shoulder and a bit of a temper. His father was the sheriff and I can see now that’s got to be tough for a kid who courted trouble.”
Diana swallowed against the knot in her throat. “Brian did that?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“I know he got into a couple of fights that summer. One of the guys he tussled with had to have stitches. And he didn’t like to follow rules. The hired help weren’t supposed to use the resort facilities, but Brian did anyway. He got tossed out of the pool area a couple of times. And there was some brouhaha when one of the guests’ wallet was stolen from her purse while she was in the restaurant. They never figured out who took it, but I know Brian was questioned.”
Diana’s chest was growing tighter with each passing moment. The young man Len was describing was so unlike Roy, and yet she herself had caught glimpses of a quiet fury in him that always made her uneasy.
“Do you think he killed Miranda Saxton?” she asked.
“Back then we didn’t know she’d been murdered. There were all kinds of rumors about what might have happened to her, but most people figured there was foul play involved. And did I think Brian had something to do with it? You bet. It was pretty obvious he had the hots for her. That’s why he’d sneak into the pool area, so he could watch her in her bikini. And one of the fights I told you about, the guy he beat up, was a guy Miranda was hanging with that afternoon. Brian was a hothead, and I suspect he lost it one night and killed her. Maybe accidentally. Probably accidentally, but he didn’t come forward.”
Len’s words stung even though Diana had asked him, had practically begged him, to tell her the truth. Devastated by the picture Len painted, she reminded herself that Roy had turned his life around. He’d been a successful and respected attorney. A good father and husband.
“The fact of the matter is,” Len continued, “until Miranda Saxton’s body was discovered a couple of weeks ago, I’d basically put that whole summer out of my mind. It seemed so unreal to me.”
“And when you heard the news about her remains, you still didn’t say anything to Roy?”
Len laughed in a humorless way. “Roy was the do-gooder, not me. I don’t go looking for trouble.”
That, Diana thought, was one of the basic differences between the two men. Roy could be almost preachy at times, while Len was much more laid back— unwilling, in Roy’s estimation, to go out on a limb for anything. A man without a core, he’d told her more than once. She’d seen that as the reason they never got along.
But Diana wondered now if there wasn’t more to it.
Chapter 34
Chloe was vacuuming the stairway when Digger suddenly went charging past her to the front door, barking.
“Mrs. Walker isn’t here,” Chloe told Joel Richards, “but she should be back any minute. She called to say she was running a bit late and that I wasn’t to let you leave, no matter what.” Those were Diana’s exact words, but now that Chloe had parroted them back to Joel, they sounded almost flirtatious. She felt herself blush.
He reached down and scratched Digger’s ears. The dog quieted immediately. “Shall I wait in the car? I don’t want to get in your way.”
“Oh, no. No problem. I’m just vacuuming. I’m happy for a break. Come on in.” She led him back to the large family kitchen, which seemed a better choice than the more formal living room. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No thanks. I never developed a taste for it, really. Probably the only newsman in the nation who doesn’t drink coffee.” He laughed.
“Me either,” Chloe said. “Developed a taste for coffee, that is. I like the smell of it though. When it’s fresh,” she added, remembering the cold cups half full of old coffee Trace used to leave around the apartment. Sometimes he’d stick cigarette butts in the cups, or chewed-up gum. Totally disgusting.
“Yeah. Fresh-ground coffee has an enticing smell. I’m also good with coffee ice cream.” He sat on one of the high counter stools and smiled at her.
“How about hot chocolate?”
“I’m good with that, too.”
“I meant, would you like a cup? Now?” Chloe opened the refrigerator and reached for the milk before Joel could answer. She’d never talked to a reporter before and it made her nervous. Or maybe it was Joel. He was a bit older than Trace, a little taller, his hair shorter and lighter. But Chloe found him attractive.
“Sure,” he said. “That would be great.”
Digger had followed them into the kitchen, carrying his rope toy in his mouth. He dropped it at Joel’s feet. “What do you like, boy? You want to play tug-of-war?”
“He loves it,” Chloe answered. “But I can put him upstairs if he’s a bother.”
“No, I like dogs.” Joel picked up the toy and dangled it for Digger. “How long have you worked for the Walkers?
“Not long.” Chloe spooned cocoa powder into two cups. She figured the less she said, the better.
“What was the husband like?”
“I never met him.” She felt a flush of guilt when she remembered the dying man Trace had shot, his blood pooling around him. Her hand shook as she poured heated milk into the cups. “I didn’t start here until after he died.”
“That’s too bad.” Joel seemed disappointed, and it took her a minute to understand why. Joel was after a story, a story about a man who was wanted for murder.
She hadn’t meant to listen in last night. Well, not at first. But the whole evening was pretty weird, with Joel and the cops showing up and Diana asking her to call Len and Allison and then changing her mind right away. Chloe knew something big was happening, so she’d listened enough to get the gist of it. Knowing about Roy made her feel a little less awful about what had happened to him. If he was a bad man, a murderer who’d run from the law, then it wasn’t like Trace had killed an innocent person.
Why did everything have to be so complicated? Rose always told the girls at the group home there was right and wrong, and what tripped people up was forgetting that. She made it sound so simple. But it wasn’t.
“So what’s Mrs. Walker like?” Joel asked, taking the cup of cocoa Chloe handed him.
“She’s wonderful. I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”
“In what way?”
Chloe struggled to explain. “You know, genuinely nice. She treats me like a real person.”
“A real person?”
“Like I’m somebody.”
Joel cocked his head and smiled. “Interesting.”
Chloe didn’t know what he meant and she worried she’d given something away. “Tell me about being a reporter,” she said. “It must be exciting.”
Joel laughed. “It can be, but what I do mostly isn’t. I’m hoping someday I’ll get hired by one of the major papers where I can cover big stories, maybe even do some investigative reporting. Littleton is a small town. It’s a popular summer tourist destination, but not much of interest happens there. Except for the discover
y of Miranda Saxton’s remains.”
“She’s the girl who was killed?” Chloe tried to fill in the gaps. She hadn’t understood everything she’d learned last night.
Joel nodded. “It was twenty years ago but she was a senator’s daughter so it’s still hot news.” He paused, sipped his cocoa, and studied her. “And the really hot story is that Roy Walker might be the person who killed her.”
Joel was a reporter, she reminded herself, and she was part of his story. The thought made her uncomfortable.
“I sort of figured as much,” she said finally, “from all that went on last night.”
“And here he was, a DA no less, living under an assumed identity. Pretty amazing, isn’t it? But maybe Roy didn’t kill her,” Joel continued, no longer looking directly at Chloe. “Some of the people who knew him twenty years ago think the cops acted too quickly, wanting to get the case solved. It’s a mystery. That’s part of why I find the story so intriguing.”
“And that’s what you’re doing here? Trying to figure it out?”
“Don’t I wish. That would be a real story.” He looked wistful, like someone talking about a dream vacation he’d never be able to afford. “But I did come up with the angle that Roy Walker was Brian Riley.”
She was impressed. “You must be really good to have figured that out.”
“Actually, I got a tip.” He sounded discouraged. “And now I can’t even run very far with an exclusive because this woman I work with jumped the gun on me.”
“That’s mean.”
“It’s the way things work. Mostly what I’m doing now is fleshing things out, talking to people who knew Roy back when he was someone named Brian Riley, and to people who knew him as a DA, a husband and a father. People like news stories that are more than hard fact. They like the human interest stuff, too. They want to know why and how, not just what happened.”
“That’s why you were hoping I’d met him.”
“Yeah. Too bad he was killed. Now we’ll never know what really happened.”
Joel probably hoped she’d jump in with something he could use in his story—a comment about Roy, even if it wasn’t directly about the girl’s murder. She pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out the truth about Roy’s death.
“Tell me about Len Phillips,” Joel said, changing the subject.
“I’ve only met him once. He and Allison are good friends of Diana’s.”
“Allison is his wife?”
“Girlfriend, I think. But he lives with her.”
“What’s her last name?”
Chloe realized she was probably saying too much. “I don’t remember,” she said.
“He hasn’t returned my phone calls. I’d really like to talk to him. I don’t suppose you know where he works?”
Chloe shook her head.
“Or where they live?”
“Sorry.”
He gave Chloe a wan smile. “Loyal and discreet—you’re a tough source to crack. I promise I won’t say where I’d got the information.” He paused. “Guess that will have to wait for a follow-up story, then.”
Joel’s hangdog expression might have persuaded Chloe to relent, but she heard Diana’s car pull into the garage. “There’s Mrs. Walker now,” she said with relief. “I’ll tell her you’re here.”
*****
Chloe was still thinking about Joel Richards when she went to pick Jeremy up from school. She arrived fifteen minutes early, before any of the mothers or other au pairs had begun to gather. She’d wanted to allow extra time so she didn’t make any stupid driving mistakes and wind up with a ticket. Plus, she knew Diana would rather talk to Joel in private.
He was so different from Trace. Different from any of the guys she’d known before. He was older, of course, and more educated. And really cute, she added, acknowledging the tingle she felt when she thought about him. Which she shouldn’t be doing. What was wrong with her anyway?
Being a reporter sounded interesting, even if Joel said it wasn’t. Maybe Chloe could be a reporter some day. She’d like that. She was good at talking to people and interested in learning about what was going on. There were all kinds of stories she could write.
She caught herself mid-fantasy. Reality check. She wasn’t going to be a reporter anymore than she was going to be a teacher. She hadn’t even finished high school. And with a baby to take care of, she never would.
Lost in thought, she hadn’t realized the bell had rung and the children were already gathering for pickup. She got out of the car quickly and headed toward the school. She’d gone only about a dozen steps when a man in a blue sweatshirt bumped against her. She turned, expecting some sort of apology, and instead found that he’d grabbed her arm.
“You’re doing real good without Trace, aren’t you?”
Chloe’s heart jumped when she recognized Weasel-face.
“You got a nice place to live,” he said, “nice car to drive. “It’s a pretty cushy job—if you like taking care of little brats. You ought to be able to get your hands on some cash real easy. Maybe some fancy jewelry, too.”
Chloe shook her head, too scared to speak.
“Sure you could. The Missus wouldn’t even know it was gone. Or you get us a key and the code to the alarm. There’s all kinds of ways you can make good on Trace’s debt.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Sure you can. You wouldn’t want the Missus to learn that you were a party to her husband’s murder, now would you? Might not sit too well with her. Or with the cops.”
“Please,” Chloe begged. “I had nothing to do with the money you say Trace owed you. I didn’t even know about it.”
“That’s not really the point,” Weasel-face said. “Point is, you can make it right.”
Jeremy had spotted Chloe and was skipping toward her, backpack bouncing with each step. She pulled her arm free and stepped protectively between Weasel-face and Jeremy.
“Your choice,” Weasel-face said, lowering his voice. “You can get us out of your hair for good, or not. We could always take the kid instead, but it would be easier to skip the ransom route.”
Chloe snapped her head his direction. “Don’t you dare.”
“Hey, kid,” Weasel-face said, giving Jeremy a high-five. “You have a good day in school?”
Jeremy, uncharacteristically subdued, nodded.
“That’s good.” Weasel-face turned to Chloe. “You’ve got forty-eight hours to decide. I’ll be in touch.”
Chloe grabbed Jeremy’s hand and, gripping it tightly, practically dragged him to the car.
“Is that your boyfriend?” Jeremy asked.
“Hardly,” she said. “He’s not a nice man. If you ever see him again, run the other way.”
The back of her neck was damp with sweat and she felt lightheaded. She thought she might throw up.
“Run away and tell an adult, right?” Jeremy said.
“Right.”
Maybe she should follow the same advice. But where would she run, and how could she possibly tell Diana she’d been there when Roy was killed?
Chapter 35
“Chocolate or wine?” Allison asked. She set the brown paper bag she was carrying on Diana’s kitchen counter and gave Diana a hug. “On second thought,” she added, stepping back, “you probably need both.”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Diana pointed out. “A bit early for wine.”
“Says who? Besides, think of the medicinal effects.” Allison pulled a pink bakery box from the bag and set about opening the wine.
“Okay,” Diana said with a laugh, “you’ve convinced me.” She felt less despondent already. A good friend was truly an elixir.
“Len told me everything,” Allison said simply. She’d come straight from teaching and was still wearing what she referred to as her “proper” clothing—in this case, black wool slacks with an amber sweater and darker toned jacket. “I’m so sorry, Diana. What you must be going through. I still can’t believe it’s
true. Roy must have changed a lot from his younger days, because I never knew him to be anything but a sweet and wonderful man.”
“He was, wasn’t he?” Diana’s voice broke. The emotional roller coaster of recent events had pushed her to the verge of tears. “Most of the time, anyway,” she added with a stab at levity that only brought the tears closer to the surface.
Allison poured them each a glass of wine and divided four tiny éclairs onto two plates. “Tell me why you’re so certain Roy was this Brian Riley guy.”
Diana told her about the birthmark Joel had mentioned. “That’s what clinched it for me, but that’s on top of the fact that Roy was using a false identity and had hired a detective to keep an ear to the ground regarding Miranda Saxton, not to mention the physical resemblance between the two men.” Diana swallowed hard. “It all adds up. After a while denial is no longer an option.”
“Len insists he didn’t know,” Allison said with a huff, “but I think he’s being a bit disingenuous. He didn’t want to know because he didn’t want to have to deal with it. He can be so irritating in that way.”
“I was pretty angry at him, myself. But after listening to his side, I can understand why he didn’t speak up.”
“Still, I think he ought to have been more truthful, especially after Roy died.” Allison slipped off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. “Len’s been in such a bad mood recently that I didn’t want to jump on him. But my gosh, he totally misled you.”
“I appreciate your outrage, but it doesn’t really change the facts. I’m sure Len realized that, too.” Diana took a tiny sip of wine. Given her mood, she could easily have downed the entire glass.
Allison shrugged. “He should have been more honest.”
“He didn’t want to stir up trouble. He cares about you so he wanted to be nice to me.”
“Sometimes I wonder how much he really cares.”
Diana remembered Allison’s comments to the same effect the day of Roy’s funeral. Diana had been so wrapped up in her own troubles the past few days, she’d forgotten that Allison had worries of her own. “What do you mean?”
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