by SUE FINEMAN
Trevor blew tea all over the living room, and Donovan choked on a laugh. Hannah planted her hands on her hips and stared at Donovan, eyebrows raised in an unspoken what-did-I-tell-you. Monique was trying to explain to Trevor that she’d never had herpes and didn’t know where Hannah had gotten such an idea. Pop turned away, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. She’d think it was funny under other circumstances, but there was nothing funny about two grown people who couldn’t take care of themselves. They were pathetic.
“You two can sleep on the sofa or in the attic tonight, and tomorrow you can find someone else to take care of you. Goodnight, Pop.” Hannah walked upstairs, followed by Donovan, who was still chuckling. Thank God she wasn’t living in this house alone. If she was, those two would settle in like they owned the place and Hannah was their personal servant.
Sounds of Monique and Trevor arguing drifted up the stairs. Donovan wanted to sleep with Hannah, but if they shared a bed tonight, the other bed would be taken and they’d never get it back. They kissed in the hallway, and when he heard footsteps on the stairs, he sent Hannah to her room.
Trevor walked down the hallway toward him. “Don’t wake my son.”
“Where’s Hannah’s room?”
“It’s off-limits. Tonight and every night.” Donovan took a step closer. “She’s with me now, and if you touch her, I’ll have you locked up so fast you won’t know what happened.”
“You’re a cop?”
“Detective.”
“Hoookay.” Trevor stepped back. “How do I get to the attic?”
Donovan pointed to the attic stairs, and Trevor fled with his bag. That one was easy. The one downstairs was another story.
They had to find those other diaries, and he wanted Hannah to see if she could get more information from her great-grandmother, but not now. If Hannah had a vision or they opened any more of those hiding places while Monique and Trevor were here, they might never get rid of them.
Chapter Nine
Donovan was up before six the next morning. The house was so quiet he was tempted to go back to sleep, but he had work to do and people to chase out of his home. Hannah didn’t want those two leeches living here, and he didn’t either. Monique might be her mother, but Donovan had no use for the woman.
Monique was sprawled on the sofa, sound asleep in a fur coat and a cloud of perfume. Donovan sneezed and opened the front door to air out the room.
Pop, always an early riser, had the coffee started. “I know she’s Hannah’s mother, but I never could stand that woman.”
Donovan opened the living room drapes, retrieved the newspaper off the porch, and slammed the door. Pop got in the spirit of things by sitting in Sonny’s old recliner and turning on the television to watch the morning news. Monique stirred and went back to sleep.
Minutes later, Hannah called downstairs and then Billy clumped down the steps, making noise only a nine-year-old could make. “Pop, Hannah wants to know if you want oatmeal for breakfast.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Billy yelled, “Pop said oatmeal is okay, Hannah.”
Monique sat up and moaned. “What time is it?”
“Morning,” said Pop. “See, the sun is almost up.”
“Almost?” She groaned and covered her face, and Donovan knew his plan was working. Don’t make them comfortable and they won’t stay. Maybe.
The rising sun sent tendrils of golden light through the kitchen window as Hannah put four steaming bowls of oatmeal on the table. Donovan gazed at her, regretting the interruption last night. If not for Hannah’s two uninvited guests, they would have been lovers by now. He winked and she blushed a little. He wanted to kiss her and hold her, and he would, after he chased Monique and Trevor out of the house.
They were nearly finished eating when Monique walked in and poured herself a cup of coffee. Without so much as a good morning, she said, “Hannah, I’ll have an egg over medium and wheat toast.”
Hannah stayed in her chair. “I used the last egg yesterday, and I’ve been too busy to go shopping. There’s some oatmeal left in the pot. Help yourself.”
While Pop drove Billy to school, Donovan went upstairs and began hammering on those attic steps. No one could sleep through that racket. Not even Trevor.
Hannah sat at the kitchen table with Monique, sipping her second cup of coffee. “I nearly froze to death last night,” said Monique. “I can’t believe you’d keep the house so cold.”
Those cold pockets were the ghosts. Grandpa and Grandma had always hated Monique. They wouldn’t want Monique in their home. Hannah didn’t want her there either. This woman was her mother, but she’d never acted like a mother. Now she expected Hannah to be a dutiful and grateful daughter? Grateful for what? For lying about Grandpa and Grandma?
“I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me, Hannah.”
“You told me my grandparents died years ago. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“After your father died, they tried to take you away from me. Why do you think we moved so often?”
“Because you couldn’t stay with one man.”
“Sonny and Virginia had always hated me. They claimed I was an unfit mother. Every time Sonny found us, he sicced the state on us, so we had to keep moving.” Monique’s words tripped out, cajoling one minute and hard the next. “I didn’t want to lose you, baby. You were all I had to hold on to, the only person in my life I could count on to love me. I didn’t mind you coming here when your father was alive, because I knew he wouldn’t keep you from me, but I knew once Sonny and Virginia got their hands on you, I’d never see you again. They didn’t leave me any choice.”
“I was old enough to make my own decision about where I wanted to live, but you didn’t give me any choice.”
“I know I haven’t been the best mother in the world, but I’ve always loved you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”
Hannah almost believed her. Grandpa had never hidden his hate for Monique. “I don’t have a room for you to stay in. The house is all torn up. We found a body buried in the basement and the room with the hole in the floor, that’s where he was killed. There are police in and out of here all the time, and Donovan is buying the groceries. I can’t buy anything without a job, and I haven’t had time to look for one.” If Monique knew about the stocks, coins, and jewelry they’d found, she’d expect a share, and Hannah wasn’t feeling generous.
“I heard about the body in the basement. It was on the national news a few nights ago. That’s how I knew where to find you, but I didn’t know Donovan and Kevin and that noisy little urchin were living here with you.”
Monique sipped her coffee. “I’m sorry about Trevor, honey. He’s such a helpless guy. The finance company repossessed his car and his landlord evicted him.”
“Finance company? Monique, he bought himself a new car when we were married, and I ended up paying for it. I drove an old wreck and lived in a one-room dump for two years after the divorce to pay for all the things he bought while we were married. I’m not going through that again.”
“He’s such a nice guy, Hannah.”
“Yes, he is, but nice doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Good morning.” Trevor came into the kitchen, and Hannah wondered how long he’d been standing outside the door, listening to a private conversation.
“What’s for breakfast?”
She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “You have twenty minutes to make yourself some breakfast and get to work. This house is in sad shape and everyone who lives here – and I mean everyone – works or moves on.” Hannah turned to her mother. “Trevor can help Donovan and Pop rip out those stairs, and you can wash windows or pull weeds from the flower beds.” Hannah set her cup in the sink. “Or you can strip wallpaper.”
“I most certainly cannot.” Monique sounded indignant, and Hannah understood. Her mother didn’t work at anything except snagging a man, preferably a rich one. There weren’t any men in this h
ouse who’d have anything to do with her except Trevor, and he couldn’t take care of himself, let alone a high-maintenance woman like Monique. After driving her all the way to River Valley from Tacoma, he was probably sick of her.
Hannah glanced at the clock again. “Nineteen minutes, Trevor. If you’re not upstairs and working in nineteen minutes, you’ll be on the street before dinner.”
She didn’t care that she was being rude. Her early years had revolved around Monique’s unstable relationships, lies, and whimsical moves. And then she married Trevor. She’d stepped from one miserable situation into another, and they still expected her to take care of them. Bring him some tea, fix her some breakfast. If she gave in, they’d take more and more and more, until she lost herself again. Trevor would want another new car, and Monique would need money for manicures and new clothes. It had never bothered Trevor that she was working and he wasn’t, and Monique didn’t care what Hannah had going on in her life. It was always about them, what they wanted. They took advantage of her, and Hannah had no one to blame but herself, because she’d let them get away with it. But no more.
From now on, it was about her and what she wanted.
Hannah handed Monique a bottle of glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels. “You can start with the outside windows on the porch.”
Monique gasped. Hannah stared her down. “Or you can leave.”
After Monique walked outside in her fur coat to swipe at a window, Donovan came downstairs smiling. “Trevor is working up a sweat. Pop has him hammering, pulling nails, running down to the basement to fetch things, and prying loose the hidden stairs from the second floor up to the attic.”
“Trevor working? That’s a first.”
“Where’s Monique?”
“Outside washing windows and complaining about her ruined manicure. Trevor may be broke, but she isn’t or she couldn’t afford professional manicures and waxing. Someone paid for gas and motel rooms on the way here, and I know it wasn’t Trevor. He never pays for anything.”
“Why did she bring him?”
“Monique uses people. Her husband dumped her, so she wanted me to support her until she found someone else, but she wouldn’t have driven this far by herself. She needed Trevor to drive her here. Now she’s done with him.”
When Hannah began dating Trevor, he filled her head with his lofty dreams. He wanted to study law and become the next Perry Mason. But Trevor didn’t go to law school. He didn’t graduate from college, but he neglected to tell her that little fact until after the wedding.
Trevor couldn’t find a job that suited him, although he didn’t apply for anything he was actually qualified to do. The job market was bad that year, and Hannah was forced to take the first job she was offered. It didn’t pay much, but they were broke and the rent was due. Trevor said as soon as he found something, she could quit and find something better, but it didn’t happen.
Trevor found a job and quit three weeks later, saying it wasn’t right for him. It took four months for him to find another job, and it lasted nearly two months before he was fired. It was the longest stretch he’d worked during their three-year marriage. He always had some kind of sob story, a reason why he didn’t have a job, and he was always quite convincing. But Hannah knew the truth. He was a likeable guy, but lazy at heart. He wanted to live like Donald Trump, but only if the money was handed to him. He wasn’t about to work for it.
“I’m sorry about last night, Donovan. I had no idea they were going to show up here. The last time Trevor came crying to me for money, I told him to join the Army or go find a bridge to sleep under, and Monique… I haven’t seen or heard from her since my divorce. I spent three days with her and her husband-of-the-month in San Diego. He was a creep, always putting his hands on me, and I couldn’t wait to get back to my dingy little apartment in Tacoma.”
She hadn’t told either one of them where she was going, because she didn’t want them mooching off her again. Yet here they were, and this time they weren’t just taking advantage of her. Donovan was the one buying the groceries and paying the utility bills.
Didn’t they have enough to deal with in this house without Monique and Trevor?
And where were those spirits when she needed them?
<>
Donovan walked into his glassed-in office at the police station and found Peterson and Carson and three of Cordelli’s men deep in conversation. “What’s going on?”
“Cordelli is meeting with Captain Rogers and Chief Vittore,” said Carson. “If that slimeball gets the captain’s job, I’m gone.”
“Me, too,” said Jalinski. “My brother said there’s an opening in Columbus.”
“We’ll all be gone,” said Peterson. “I hate that son-of-a-bitch.”
Donovan perched his behind on the corner of his desk. “They’re counting on us quitting.” He looked from one face to the other. “So why don’t we stay and turn this place upside-down. Drag out everything you have on Cordelli and let’s use it.”
“Yeah, right. The chief will have all our jobs,” said Jalinski.
Donovan cocked his head. “Would you rather quit and walk away or fight back?”
“Fight back,” they said together.
“Okay then. We’ll fight back. Vittore has been running the show long enough. If Cordelli doesn’t quit and if the chief doesn’t stop showing favoritism, we’ll take our evidence to the press and end both their careers.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” asked Peterson.
“If Cordelli takes over, some of us will be forced out, including me, but I don’t intend to go down without a fight, and I don’t want to see anyone quit except as a last resort. Gather evidence – pictures, videos, names, dates, witnesses – everything we’d collect as evidence on a case. That’s the first step. I want copies of everything, just in case. Things have been known to disappear around this place.” He’d hide the copies in the false ceiling in Sonny’s bedroom. Nobody would ever find them there.
Glancing around at the men, he asked, “Are you with me on this, or do you want to handle it another way?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Carson.
Joseph mumbled, “Unless someone accidentally shoots the bastard first.”
The captain wandered through the station and back to Donovan’s office. Carson pointed him out to Donovan before he got halfway there. Captain Rogers had a scowl on his face. “Don’t any of you have work to do?”
“They’re doing it right now,” said Donovan, daring the captain to dispute him. “Are the rumors true?”
“Damn bastards want me out at the end of the year, so they can put Cordelli in to run things. I told them he wasn’t qualified and they threatened to take away what little retirement they left me.”
“If Cordelli takes over, he’ll be the only one working here,” said Peterson.
Captain Rogers sat beside Donovan’s desk. “If I’d known the situation in River Valley, I wouldn’t have taken the job here. I never would have made captain in Cleveland, but I didn’t have to compromise my principles there.”
Vittore had screwed the captain big time. He’d come to the smaller city to take a job that meant something to him, and then wasn’t allowed to do the job he was hired to do.
“The school crime prevention program we just set up? Gone. It isn’t politically advantageous.”
Donovan said, “Fine, I’ll do it on my own.”
“No, you won’t. If you don’t do it through the department, you don’t do it at all.” The captain stood, a man not quite sixty who suddenly looked eighty. “Cordelli doesn’t believe in crime prevention. Says to let the gang bangers kill each other and save us the trouble.”
The captain left, slamming the door open with the heel of his hand. Donovan felt sorry for the guy, but he’d brought it on himself by allowing Vittore to manipulate him. If he’d taken a stand in the beginning and gotten fired for it, he could have found a job elsewhere. Now he was being pushed out, and he’d been in River Valley lo
ng enough that his other references were no good. At his age, he’d never get another job.
“Get me that evidence,” said Donovan. “Everything you can come up with. I’ll take it from there. If Cordelli takes over, I’ll be the first one gone, and I’m taking that SOB with me.” Eleanor would have to pay the rest of Maggie’s hospital bill, because he wouldn’t have a paycheck.
Pop was right. It was her turn.
<>
Instead of leaving, Monique and Trevor stayed that night. Trevor had put the bed together in the attic and found the sheets and blankets in the linen closet. He made his bed and settled in, and Hannah knew it would take an Act of Congress or a crowbar to pry him out.
Monique slept on the sofa again, wrapped in her furs. She spent some time on the phone the next morning and told Hannah she’d invited a friend to come over for a visit.
Hannah was surprised to see Rupert Bosch, the man who owned River Valley Properties, walk up to the door. She’d seen his ads in the newspaper and on TV.
Hannah stayed out of sight, but Monique was showing him the house as if she owned it. “My former in-laws left it to my daughter, but Hannah doesn’t need a big house. What do you think we could get for it, Rupert?”
Was Monique just trying to impress the man, or did she need money so badly she’d try to push Hannah into selling? It didn’t matter, because Hannah couldn’t sell anything. She not only didn’t own the house, she didn’t intend to sell it when she took possession next October.
Unable to listen to any more, Hannah went down to the basement to do the laundry.
Donovan overheard Monique talking to Bosch and wondered if Hannah was aware of what her mother was doing. A title search would show the house in Sonny’s name, not Hannah’s. Monique couldn’t sell anything she didn’t own. Neither could Hannah. But this was Monique’s doing, not Hannah’s.
Monique stood at the bottom of the stairs talking to the broker. They were far enough away that Donovan could no longer hear what they were saying. Knowing Monique’s reputation, he was fairly sure she was up to no good. Did she know he was a cop? No, probably not. She knew Pop was Charlie’s partner, but he didn’t think anyone had mentioned that Pop’s son was a detective in the River Valley Police Department.
