by Wendy Tyson
“How did the search go?” Megan asked.
“Nada. Nothing. Zilch. The kid is still there.” King glanced at Denver, who was staring once again at Chase’s picture. “You heading over to your aunt’s?”
“I’ll stop by and check on them, but she doesn’t want me sleeping there. Says it will be disruptive to the boy.”
King huffed out a sigh. “I can’t talk people into having common sense. Sorry, I know she’s your aunt.”
“No offense taken.”
Megan and Denver were getting ready to leave when King stopped them in the hallway. “Megan, I forgot to mention that we got a lead on Camilla. It looks like someone may have been living in the storage unit next door. We found a desk and a sleeping cot and blankets. A whole set-up.”
“How did you figure that out?” Denver asked.
“One of the customers reported seeing the same car there every day. An older model BMW four series. She followed the person to the unit and reported the number to management. When they saw it was the unit next to Camilla’s, they grew suspicious. The units were rented under two different names, but we suspect the pig may belong to whoever was in that unit.”
“Do the plates match a Saul Bones?”
King shook his head. “Plates are stolen. Both units are rented out to men, so we’re still investigating, but I thought you’d want to know. Camilla may have been someone’s pet—nothing more nefarious than that.”
“She still lived in a five-by-five, hot space.”
King nodded. “As did the person who had her.”
Megan thanked him. As they made their way to the truck, Megan thought about what Bobby had told her. What would drive someone to live in a warehouse? At least this one was climate controlled, but the person would still have to deal with mice and heat and cold. Desperation, she decided. Mental illness. The vagaries of life. She was grateful Camilla was with them.
“Stop by the boarding house?” Denver said.
Megan looked at her phone. It was almost nine already. “It’s late. I need to swing by the hospital and then get home and feed the animals.”
“Want me to join you?”
Megan shook her head. “I’ll drop you off at your car. Check on Eloise, I’ll check on Bibi. Between the two of us, we have this covered.”
Denver’s kiss was long and hard and full of need. “I’ll come to your house afterwards,” he said. “With my dogs.”
Megan smiled. “That’s fine. We’ll be like the Brady Bunch of the canine world.”
“Someday, Megs,” Denver said. “Someday.”
Twenty-Eight
Bibi was asleep when Megan arrived, and she was still asleep when she was ready to leave, an hour and a half later.
“She’s had a lot of visitors,” the night nurse said. “She’s fine, just tuckered out.”
“I brought her some food.”
The nurse looked at the bag in Megan’s hand, which was stocked with three covered dishes, bread, and even Bibi’s favorite fruit-flavored soda water.
“That might be pushing it,” the nurse said. “It’s a lot of food.”
And it was all from Alvaro. “Could you just give it to her? She won’t eat it, but it will mean a lot to her.”
“Okay,” the nurse said eventually. “She is doing well. I think we can accommodate it.”
Indeed, Bibi looked fine. Her coloring was back to normal, and she slept without the horrible twitches and ticks Megan had seen Friday night. Megan said a prayer of thanks, kissed Bibi on the head, said goodbye to the officer stationed outside her room, and went home.
Clay was still at the farm. He said he was tending to evening chores, but Megan knew full well he didn’t want her to come home to an empty house. She offered to heat him up some soup, but he declined. Within fifteen minutes, Megan was in the kitchen with Gunther and Sadie, her laptop open.
Again, she focused on BOLD Pharmaceuticals. Again, she came up empty handed. Lots of good PR—much of it from Martine, she imagined. Nothing that gave Megan a clue about the company’s financials.
Next she turned her attention to Harriet Mantra. Harriet’s presumed presence at the school made her curious. Was she there to talk about Dillon? About the failed charity event? About donations to the school?
Presumably she’d given money to found that school so her daughter had somewhere to go. But why continue her involvement after her daughter graduated?
Harriet had no meaningful social media presence. A general search turned up lots of scholarly papers, a few patents, and an article or two about her husband, a wealthy investor. Megan plugged “Catherine” and “Cat” into social media outlets and was immediately rewarded with too many hits.
One thing seemed certain: Cat Mantra may have graduated, but unlike Dee Dee’s son, the graduate student, Cat hadn’t gotten too far. Megan switched to an images view. She was rewarded with snapshots of Cat Mantra in lingerie. Getting into a police van. With a bruised face. There was even a mug shot. Cat Mantra was no success story, at least based on this. Megan switched back and perused the articles. There was a police report from two years ago—shoplifting. Another from nine months previous—stalking a celebrity.
Or was this old news and Cat had turned her life around more recently?
Megan jotted down a few notes before turning to her last search for the night—the singularly named “Moira.” She searched Chase’s friend circles for the name but came up empty-handed. Ditto for LinkedIn. She looked at Martine’s social media pages but had similar luck.
On impulse, she sent a friend request to Martine. If Denver wouldn’t, she would. The woman hadn’t texted her back, but what did she have to lose?
Moira…Chase was going to see a woman named Moira.
Megan was at a loss. Unless the police found something in his phone or computer, Moira would remain a mystery.
Megan’s phone beeped. It was a text from her accountant, Lou. Check your email, was all it said. He knew her so well. She hated email—always had.
Sure enough, there was a new one from Lou:
Megan, I looked into BOLD Pharm with no real luck. The Articles of Incorp show Harriet Mantra and her husband to be the founders. Not much on their financials. They do seem active with charities, most notably the school you mentioned, Pioneer Village School. One oddity: the husband sold his interest in the company to Harriet about three months ago. She’s now the sole owner. Doesn’t mean anything except that the money had to come from somewhere. BTW, Dee Dee says hello. She enjoyed talking with you. Warmest, Lou.
Megan re-read the note. Harriet bought out her husband three months ago. Because she knew the FDA approvals were coming and the company would be worth way more? They were married, though, and nothing she saw indicated their marriage was in trouble. If that was the case, why not keep it as it was? What if the FDA approvals weren’t going through? Then Harriet might have reason to want sole ownership of the business. If it was going down, she wanted to be the only captain to drown along with it. Her husband’s money—family money—would be out, safely invested elsewhere.
Intriguing. And it went along with the empty promise to the school. Scholarships for rich kids. Empty gestures.
Megan was about to put her laptop away when she had another thought. What if the FDA approvals were going to be denied, and Chase knew it? Would he stay at BOLD? Maybe Moira wasn’t a person after all.
Megan searched pharmaceutical companies within one hundred miles of Winsome. She found a number of start-ups, but none named Moira. She made a list of the start-ups. She could plug them into LinkedIn, one by one, and search for a Moira who worked at one of them. She could get lucky and “Moira” could be a human resource associate at one of the firms.
This could take all night.
Megan was searching under the third company name when she heard the door to the kitchen opening. Denver s
tood there, but he was alone. No dogs. The expression on his face said he was bearing bad news.
“Just tell me,” Megan said. “Nothing will surprise me at this point.”
“Dillon ran away.”
Megan placed a hand on her throat. “Oh, no.”
Denver nodded. “Aunt Eloise isn’t coping well, and of course the police are on high alert.” Denver rubbed his eyes, which were red and irritated. “I’m afraid for the kid. He’s big and clumsy and medicated and on the top of the police’s suspect list. If someone decides vigilante justice is warranted…”
“Don’t even think it.” Megan wrapped her arms around Denver’s torso. “Did he say anything to Eloise?”
“Not a word. She said good night, closed his light, and when I stopped by to check on them he was gone. His window was open. Best we can guess, he climbed out the window and down the trellis on the back of the house. The bottom of the trellis was broken.”
“I’m so sorry,” Megan whispered. She thought of Bibi, alone in that hospital room. “I know the police are there, but—”
“Go, Megs. I’m going to stay with Eloise, whether she likes it or not.”
Megan nodded. She’d pack a bag and sleep on the chair in Bibi’s room. Denver waited for her and walked her to her truck.
“Call me in the morning,” he said. “Before you come back here. I’ll meet you at your house.”
“No need. Clay gets here by six. I’ll warn him to be on the lookout for Dillon.”
Denver gave her another hug. “I’d still like to come. Just call me. Promise.”
Megan promised. She prided herself on her independence, but in the world where no one seemed to be who they pretended to be, she would be grateful for the company.
Bibi slept soundly that night; Megan did not. Whether it was the uncomfortable angle of her neck on the chair or the knowledge that Dillon was out in the world, either alone and scared or alone and angry, Megan wasn’t sure. Probably a mixture of both.
She still believed, deep down, that he was innocent. Running away would make a certain sense, especially if Dillon was once again witnessing someone he cared about getting hurt. He wouldn’t understand that he wasn’t in trouble at this point, and neither was Eloise. Leaving home would seem like a solution to everyone’s problems.
Bibi whispered Megan’s name at 5:12.
Megan smiled. “Well, hello there.”
“Why are you here?”
“I was worried about you.”
Bibi frowned. She looked tiny in the hospital bed, connected to wires and tubes and swathed in cotton. “Nonsense. I feel great.”
Megan decided to be honest with her grandmother. The doctors had told her about the lithium—it was the only way to question whether she’d overdosed herself. She didn’t know about Dillon, though.
“Dillon ran away, Bibi. The police searched his home yesterday and he left later that night. There was some concern that he’d come here.”
“That would be fine if he came here. Wouldn’t it be a good thing?” Bibi looked genuinely confused.
“The police are concerned he’s the one who fed you lithium.”
Bibi put her head back on the pillow. She blinked, then closed her eyes. For a moment Megan was afraid she’d sunk back into unconsciousness, but her eyes snapped back open and this time she looked angry.
“Do you know what he told me, Megan? That he loved his mother. She was the only person in the world who truly cared about him. He said his father was a tyrant who degraded him every chance he got, but it was okay because he had his mother.” Bibi met Megan’s gaze with a fiery one of her own. “He said he wanted to better himself at the school so he could become a doctor one day and help kids like himself, kids who have trouble socially. Does that sound like a murderer to you?”
“It’s not me who has to be convinced.”
Bibi shook her head. Megan could see the numbers on the monitors creeping up, Bibi’s anger needed to run its course.
“I couldn’t tell you these things because of the lithium. He didn’t do that. I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t Dillon.”
“Bibi, I need you to be objective for a moment. Please. Dillon admitted to you that his father was a tyrant. He must be very, very angry with his father for what he did. In the time you spent with Dillon, did he at any point talk about Chase? Is it possible Chase was merely a surrogate for his dad?”
Bibi’s gaze never wavered. “I did ask him at one point. We were sitting in the parlor watching that office show. I asked him how he was dealing with everything that happened at the park. He said he tries not to think about it, but he’s scared that the real killer will come after him.”
Megan hadn’t considered that angle. Not until the lithium incident, anyway.
“I didn’t ask him straight away if he’d killed a man. He didn’t. I know people, Megan. He’s a large, anxious, brilliant, awkward young man who needs someone to believe in him.” A tear snaked its way down her face. “And now the only person who truly believes in him is locked in here.”
Megan stared at Bibi, open-mouthed. Was that the motive? Was Bibi getting too close, and someone was afraid she’d cause the case to swing another way? But who would have known that Bibi and Dillon were friends?
His therapist, Dr. Benjamin Star.
Megan couldn’t think of a reason for Star to kill Chase, but Dr. Star surely owed a debt to Harriet Mantra. And Harriet had been at the school the day Bibi was poisoned.
If Harriet was behind this, that meant she was colluding with someone else because she didn’t come into town until after the murder. Or had she? Megan shot a text off to King. Hopefully the police checked that out. Even if she had been in California while Chase was being murdered, Jatin was not.
When Megan and Denver talked to him, Jatin had been nearly salivating at the thought of the money the FDA approval would bring in. What if Chase had somehow threatened that approval? And what if he and Harriet decided they’d be better off without Chase. For all Megan knew, the company had a life insurance policy out on Chase, money that could see them through if they lost their best scientist. Not unheard of in the corporate world. She sent another text off to King.
“Megan, are you listening to me?”
Bibi’s voice cut through the chatter in her head. “I’m sorry, Bibi. I was thinking about who else could have committed the murder.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
One of Bibi’s monitors began beeping. “Now listen before these nurses come in and start fussing over me. Dillon told me something important. He saw someone fleeing the scene of the crime. He didn’t know who it was, and at the time he didn’t know Chase was dead, so he didn’t think too much of it.”
“Did he have a description of the person who fled? Anything to go on?”
One of the nurses came barreling into the room. She raced to the offending monitor. “I think your grandmother needs some rest. You should probably step out for a bit.”
“Bibi?” Megan asked over the din. “Anything that could help.”
Bibi strained her neck to see around the nurse. “It was a woman. That’s all he could remember. He wasn’t sure if she was the killer or just a witness.”
“And why didn’t he tell the police?”
The nurse took Bibi’s arm and began doing a blood pressure test. “Your granddaughter needs to leave.”
“She’s right here. You can talk to her yourself.” Bibi frowned. “Dillon says he did, but no one took him seriously.”
“That could be important. I’ll speak to King.” And Martine, Megan thought. Perhaps all of her drama over Jatin is because she witnessed something she’s afraid to tell.
“Tell King Dillon is a good boy,” Bibi said. “Tell him for me.”
Another nurse came into the room and ushered Megan into the hall. “I
will,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be back later.”
When Megan and the second nurse were by the nurse’s station, the woman said, “Next time, please bring something quiet for your grandmother to do. Maybe some knitting or a crossword puzzle.”
Megan smiled. “You don’t know Bonnie Birch very well.”
But she did, and her grandmother wouldn’t rest until Dillon was found and his name cleared.
Twenty-Nine
True to his word, Denver was at the farm when Megan arrived. He and Clay were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and eating donuts Denver had brought with him. The day was cloudy and humid, and a thick fog shrouded the house and muted the sunlight coming into the windows.
“Have some donuts,” Denver said. He fixed her a cup of coffee and put it in front of her. “No word from Dillon. Aunt Eloise is a basket case.”
Megan chose a sour cream donut and ate it in four bites. She shared her conversation with Bibi. “A woman fled the scene. Dillon wasn’t sure if she’d witnessed something or was the killer.”
“And he told King this?” Clay asked.
“He told the police. That could have been the state cops or even the state park folks.”
Denver seemed quiet this morning. His face was shadowed by several days’ worth of beard, and his hair was brushed back, off his face.
“I think I have to face the fact that one of my friends is a murderer,” he said finally.
“It could be Harriet,” Megan said. “I asked King if he was able to confirm her whereabouts the Saturday Chase was killed. I haven’t heard back.”
“Small consolation.” Denver poured himself more coffee. “I got a call from Diana, Chase’s ex-wife. She said she’d been thinking about her conversation with Chase. She assumed he said ‘Moira’ because she expected he’d see a woman while here. She said he could have said More-a or something similar.”
Megan told Denver about her research into pharmaceutical start-ups. “I was wondering if it was a job offer he was entertaining. If he was their chief scientist and the visionary behind their main drug, someone may not have wanted him to go.”
