Last Whisper

by Carlene Thompson

  Hannah smiled in delight. “Oh, thank you! I was afraid it was the wrong color for me, but I got it on sale.”

  It was the wrong color for her, Madeleine thought with her impeccable taste. The color made Hannah look sallow. And Madeleine immediately spotted a crooked seam in the right sleeve and shoddy rayon lining sewn in carelessly, throwing off the flow of the whole outfit. But Madeleine knew better than to openly criticize. People never appreciated it, no matter how helpful the comment. “Nonsense,” Madeleine said firmly. “The color complements your . . . eyes.” She smiled graciously. “Is my brother in?”

  “Oh, sure. He’s always here at the crack of dawn. He’s not with a client, though. You can just go right in.”

  “Thank you, my dear.” Madeleine sounded exactly like the grande dame her mother was and loved it, because it usually gave her a sense of superiority, which she felt compensated for the bad leg that made so many people pity her. She could not stand to be pitied or patronized or treated as if she were somehow lacking. The grande dame manner intimidated almost everyone, preventing their treating her with anything except respect or even awe.

  She bestowed the imperious air on all members of Townsend Realty and it seemed to work on everyone, excluding Brooke Yeager. Brooke did not show her the proper respect, Madeleine thought as she stepped into Aaron’s office. Brooke did not recognize Madeleine’s superiority and acted as if they were equals. Also, Aaron always seemed to treat Brooke with maddening kindness and respect. Madeleine did not like Brooke. Actually, she couldn’t stand Brooke. She was relieved the woman was not here today.

  Madeleine stood for a moment, looking at her brother’s dark head bent over a sheaf of papers. The hair was still thick, but strands of gray had begun to run through the dark brown. She had noticed it first on his temples about a year ago. Now the gray appeared throughout. “Good morning, Mr. Bright and Early,” she said sweetly.

  He looked up, his face haggard in the glaring morning light, his dark eyes slightly bloodshot. The facial skin didn’t look as tight on the bones as it should at only forty years old, Madeleine thought with concern. He had lines from nose to mouth she’d never noticed before, and the tiny worry wrinkle between his eyebrows had become a definite furrow.

  “Are you upset about that poor girl, Aaron?” she asked gently.

  He looked at her incredulously. “Of course. Mia Walters was blown apart by a rifle last night. You haven’t forgotten that she worked here, have you?”

  Madeleine cringed slightly at his tone. “Of course I haven’t forgotten, Aaron. Do you think I’m empty-headed?” Before he could answer, she held up a manicured hand. “What happened to Miss Walters was a terrible tragedy. We agreed I’d come in this morning to lend you moral support while you addressed the employees about Mia’s death, so certainly I didn’t forget, and I could hardly not care after talking to her mother for nearly an hour. The woman is crushed.”

  “I’m sorry for biting off your head, Maddy,” Aaron said quickly, rising from his desk, slim and well toned even if his suit was not as crisp as usual. “I’m upset by this whole thing. Distraught, really. Mia was a sweet little thing and she died while on an assignment for me and . . .”

  “And you’re worried about how the manner of her death will affect this company,” Madeleine finished for him.

  “Affect the company? No! That’s not why I care. I’m worried about . . . well . . .” He looked at her, his expression ashamed. “Oh, I never could lie to you, Maddy. I don’t know why I even try. To be honest, I am worried about the firm. That’s awful of me, I know.”

  “No, it’s practical,” Madeleine said with both comfort and confidence in her voice. “You’re being realistic. I’m sure Mia was nice, but we barely knew her. How long had she been here—two months? I’d only met her once. Her death will be hard on her family, but they’ll get over it in time. We’ll see that they receive a substantial death benefit from us no matter what insurance arrangement Mia had made, which was probably none considering she was only a bit over twenty. Anyway, the newspapers will be full of this sordidness for a few days; then it will fade and people will forget it ever happened.” She gave him an assuaging smile. “There’s nothing to be so worried about, Aaron.”

  “You sound just like Mother,” he said with a trace of resentment.

  “And you sound all softhearted like Father. There is no room for the softhearted in business. After all, look what happened to him. He fell flat on his face with all of his empathy and sensitivity and generosity. If it hadn’t been for Mother’s money and strength, he would have ruined this family, ruined our lives. Don’t ever forget that, Aaron. And that statement is not as selfish as it sounds. All the employees of Townsend Realty are counting on you. By being strong, no matter how hard it is sometimes or how insensitive it feels, you’re doing them a favor by holding the business together and providing them with a future. You are standing tough for all of them!” She ended with a graceful hand flourish toward the staff outside of Aaron’s office.

  Madeleine beamed at him after this speech, and Aaron thought he felt a tad better. In fact, he felt a lot better. And stronger. More capable. No one could ever guess the courage his delicate, beautiful, injured little sister could give him now, and had given him most of his life.

  “I suppose you’re right.” Worry and doubt still shone in his dark eyes. “I don’t want to seem callous, though. I can’t put off saying something to the staff about Mia. And Brooke.”

  “I agree. That’s the smart thing to do in this situation, and the sooner the better. In fact, I’ve already gathered all the information on Mia’s funeral from her family. Nothing is written in stone at this point because there will be a murder investigation”—Aaron winced—“but at least it won’t seem like we’re ignoring Mia. I don’t know much about Brooke. I was told she’s not a patient at any of the hospitals, so I suppose she wasn’t seriously injured.”

  “No, she wasn’t. She called this morning and told me she was okay. I gave her the rest of the week off, of course. She said she wasn’t staying at home, but she changed the subject when I asked where she was staying, because some of the people here want to call her. She said she didn’t want to talk about the incident right now, even though she appreciated everyone’s concern. She’s very popular here.”

  “Not with everyone.” Madeleine didn’t need to mention the name Judith Lambert. The tall, once-attractive woman made no secret of her ongoing desire for Aaron, although he’d ended their relationship over a year earlier. In fact, she seemed almost obsessed with him and her appearance had suffered drastically since their breakup. She’d lost at least twenty pounds and looked ten years older than she had last year, not to mention that she’d cut her auburn hair and dyed it bright red and begun wearing flashy clothes. Madeleine thought she now looked like a hooker.

  “Judith has a ludicrous notion that I broke off with her because I’m romantically interested in Brooke,” Aaron said. “I don’t know how she got such an idea, but she’s made things uncomfortable in the office with her jibes at Brooke.”

  Madeleine raised her eyebrows. “Aaron, Brooke is good looking in that common, blond sort of way and you are always especially nice to her. Almost . . . respectful.”

  “I treat her like I do any employee who does good work. Charlie Burton, for instance, but you don’t think I have a crush on him.”

  Madeleine laughed. “Well, he’s fifty-five, weighs almost two hundred pounds, and has the most appalling comb-over I’ve ever seen! Really, Aaron, you must make him do something about his hair!” Aaron smiled and seemed to relax a bit. “But I’m not worried about Charlie. People like him. Judith, on the other hand, has no class, Aaron. Neither Mother nor I ever approved of you being involved with her, no matter how casually. And that was when she looked and acted with some decorum. Now she’s a wreck, not to mention the fact that she bickers with Brooke in the office in front of clients. Robert told me. You really should let Judith go, Aaron.”

&nb
sp; “She’s my top seller.”

  “No matter. She’ll cause trouble in some way, and avoiding trouble is more important than the fact that she sells a bit more real estate than other people here do. Besides, I’ve always suspected that she’s not above using sex to sell that real estate.”

  As if hearing her, Judith’s head jerked up from her desk. She looked through the long glass panel in Aaron’s office and fixed Madeleine with a blue laser gaze that would have made most people flinch. Madeleine merely smiled at her sweetly, then turned back to her brother.

  “Maddy, I wouldn’t keep Judith in my employ if I thought she used sex to sell houses,” Aaron snapped. “Don’t you think I have any principles?”

  Madeleine took four steps closer to her brother, emphasizing her limp, and looked warmly into his eyes. “I think you are the most principled man I have ever met. It’s just that you give these women so much leeway. After all, Judith is older than you and has been divorced twice—”

  “She’s only three years older than I am.”

  “She appears at least seven or eight, not to mention that she wears too much makeup and douses herself in that awful cologne and smokes cigarettes like there’s no tomorrow when she’s out with clients, which I know you forbid.”

  “How do you know she smokes when she’s showing properties?”

  “I’ve asked some of your clients. I was only trying to help, Aaron, and I will tell you that a lot of them don’t like the smoking. Besides, you told me yourself last month that her sales are slipping.” Madeleine paused. “And while we’re on the subject of unsuitable employees, I have to bring up Brooke Yeager trailing clouds of scandal. Oh, don’t give me that disapproving look. I know it’s not her fault her stepfather murdered her mother, but some people do remember the murder and that awful trial, and many people will remember now that she’s been involved in another murder. They won’t know what to say to her.”

  “They don’t have to say anything.”

  “Oh, but they’ll be thinking about it and it will make them uncomfortable. They’ll want to get away from her as soon as possible. And of course, they’ll talk about it after they go home. The last thing any of us want—especially you—is unnecessary and unflattering attention drawn to Townsend Realty. I think you have no choice but to let Brooke go. I realize you can’t fire her now. You’d look completely unfeeling and that certainly wouldn’t be good for office morale or for business, if word got out. Maybe you could do it gracefully in about six months. Or she might decide to quit, just like Robert Eads did.” Madeleine paused. “I’ve checked and he doesn’t have another job.”

  “You checked?”

  “Well, yes. I was puzzled. One day he was here doing excellent work and the two of you were friends—playing golf and racquetball together—and then he was gone.”

  “He just quit. Greener pastures and all that.”

  “Well, I guess there weren’t any greener pastures like he thought there would be.” Madeleine looked at her brother closely. “You’re insulted that he quit. You don’t want him back here, do you?”

  Aaron’s hand shook slightly and he said quickly, “No, I don’t want him back here.”

  Aaron reached for something and swept papers onto the floor. He swore and stooped to pick them up. Madeleine looked at him, flustered and clumsy, and something changed behind her dark eyes. For a moment, the gentleness vanished, replaced by anger.

  “Maddy, let’s discuss all of this later,” Aaron said edgily as he stood up, a sheen of perspiration on his upper lip. “I have this whole long damned day to get through and I didn’t sleep. Let’s just go out, face the masses, and get this speech about Mia over with as soon as possible.”

  Madeleine nodded, her eyelids lowered to hide her eyes’ unaccustomed sharpness. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry I’ve upset you. Mother always says I ask too many questions—”

  “Mother says lots of things, most of them untrue and all of them unflattering.”

  “Well, you are in a mood!” Maddy gave him a smile. “But I was being nerve-racking with my interrogation. Anyway, people are staring in at us, so we should go face them. You say all the right solicitous things, then give me a little nudge when you’re ready for me to deliver a rundown on the details I know about funeral arrangements.” She smiled lovingly. “All right?”

  Aaron smiled back, relief easing the handsome, hawkish lines of his smooth-skinned face with its aquiline nose and high cheekbones. “Has anyone ever told you what a remarkable woman you are, Maddy?”

  “Just you. Everyone else sees me for the quite ordinary person I am. You’re prejudiced.”

  “No, I’m not. There’s not an ordinary bone in your body. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Madeleine’s beautiful smile seemed to glow. “You’ll never have to find out, Aaron. Never.”

  six

  1

  The morning had gone in a whirl. After Stacy and Vincent left, Brooke quickly changed out of Laura’s robe and into her jeans and blouse, even if her tight jeans seemed to bite and chafe at her sore body. Later, Sam had reminisced about his detective days while listening to the police scanner at what seemed full volume. Vincent sat in a corner trying to write and not being too successful, if the number of times Brooke saw him sigh and hit the DELETE key was any indication.

  After noon, when Sam and Vincent had both picked at their lunches, Sam had retreated to his room for a nap. Vincent had told Brooke she looked tired and suggested the same for her. She’d promised she would, although after Vincent had checked all the door locks and made certain she pushed the dead bolt shut on the front door before he went for a run, “just to shake the cobwebs,” she had sat down on one of the wing chairs in the living room and picked up an old photo album she’d seen Sam looking through earlier. She felt a tad guilty, expecting to see a collection of family photographs that she hadn’t been invited to view.

  Instead, she stiffened as page after page of newspaper clippings about the murder of Anne Yeager Tavell seemed to jump out at her like an old, malevolent ghost that refused to leave her at peace.

  Meanwhile, Vincent Lockhart jogged down Fitzgerald Lane. He’d invited Elise to go with him, but she’d merely cowered near Brooke. “She’ll never go with you unless you take her on a date and show her you’re a proper gentleman,” Brooke had told him with mock seriousness.

  Vincent had given her a tight smile and started on his run, trying to clear his head but obsessing over Brooke. He was no longer suspicious of her having anything to do with the shooting last night, but she was another complication he didn’t need, not with his father in such bad shape. Still, Vincent felt grudgingly sorry for her and even a little responsible for her. After all, she’d almost been his sister.

  Except she wasn’t his sister. Not even close. He could never think of her that way, even last night, since he’d really looked into those depthless violet-blue eyes so full of intelligence and vulnerability and toughness mixed together, all he had done was think about her, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he were a novice with women. Just the opposite. His friends often teased him about his many affairs. “You’re going to use up the supply,” one of them had joked. “Just because you’re the celebrity doesn’t mean you can’t leave some for the rest of us.”

  Another, more serious friend had told Vincent he was trying to prove something. “You think your father is disdainful of what you do for a living, so you believe you’ll impress him with the number of women who are so dazzled by what you’ve made of yourself, you can seduce them without even trying.” Vincent had told the guy to keep his pop psychology bullshit to himself but actually had given the words some somber thought. It was true that most of the women he dated didn’t really mean much to him. And he didn’t think he really meant much to them, either. They liked the fact that he was a best-selling author and an okay-looking guy. A “gorgeous” guy, they said, a compliment that Vincent took with a grain of salt.

  But most of
those women had at least been flashy. Guys looked twice at them in bars and restaurants. The women looked great and had looked great on his arm when the paparazzi took photos at premieres of movies based on Vincent’s novels. Brooke wouldn’t draw that kind of attention, although on close inspection she was naturally prettier than most of the highly groomed, salon-addicted women he dated in California. In fact, he’d hardly been able to take his eyes off her this morning when she wore that filmy blue robe. Her long hair had hung loose and wavy and her face had looked nearly flawless, almost luminous, even without makeup.

  But Brooke seemed a little shy. Vincent didn’t like shy. He didn’t like serious. He liked fun. He wanted to be with a fun woman, a woman who was carefree and lighthearted, with a great sense of humor without being bawdy or loud, certainly a woman who didn’t come with a lot of baggage, like a murdered mother and a killer stepfather. No, Brooke Yeager was definitely not for him.

  Not for him? Vincent almost stumbled. His thought seemed to indicate he was even considering her as a romantic interest. She was a seemingly nice girl who needed help. That’s all.

  And yet . . .

  2

  Brooke stared at the first page of the album. Each page had been covered with a page protector, keeping the newspaper clippings underneath in excellent condition even though they were fifteen years old.

  I should close the album cover right now, she thought when she realized she was looking at a collection of newspaper material about her mother’s murder. I should just put the album back where I found it, turn on the television or listen to music or . . .

  Right hand shaking slightly, she turned a page, unable to stop herself from facing a recap of the horrible events of fifteen years ago. The first thing her gaze fell upon was a newspaper headline: