The Last Thing She Said

by Lauren Carr

  Her phone in hand, Sierra emerged from the bedroom hallway. “Dad is ordering us to all sit down to eat together.” She plopped onto the sofa and put her feet up on the ottoman.

  Helen turned to Thomas to discover that he had run into the kitchen and returned with a spoon containing a taste of the tomato sauce. “It’s just about ready. Have a taste.”

  “I—” When she opened her mouth, he stuck the edge of the spoon to her lips—forcing her to taste it. The sauce embraced her tongue with a wonderful blend of Italian spices.

  “Brings back memories, huh?” Thomas said with a smile.

  “Hey, Mom, did you check out that link that Chris texted me?” Sierra crawled to the end of the sofa and gazed up at her. “The one about a barrel-racing competition in August. It’s in Berkeley Springs. That’s not far.”

  “Your boyfriend is texting our daughter?” Thomas asked.

  “Only about horse stuff,” Helen said.

  “Sure.” His upper lip twitched into a snarl.

  “One, he asked my permission first,” Helen said while holding up a finger. “Two, he copies me in every text. That’s why Sierra asked if I’d seen it, which I haven’t yet.”

  “And what about the ones you don’t know about that he doesn’t copy you?”

  “Chris isn’t a perv,” Sierra said. “He’d never abandon his family for a fitness instructor half his age.”

  “Now you listen to me, young lady!” Welding the spoon like a weapon, Thomas charged toward the sofa. “I may not be Saint Chris with his horses and federal badge, but I’m still your father, and you two are my family!”

  Sierra sprang from the sofa to hold her ground. “We stopped being your family when you walked out on us!”

  Helen stepped between them. “Stop it, both of you!” She gestured at Sierra. “Apologize to your father.”

  “Me?” Sierra clutched her bosom. “He’s the one—”

  “He’s your father. He may be a low-down, good-for-nothing, muck-raking cheat who walked out on us, but nothing changes that he’s your father and he deserves your respect for that, if nothing else.”

  “Your mother’s right.”

  “You may be her father, but you’re not my husband.” Helen poked him in the chest with her index finger hard enough to cause him to clutch at his breast. Advancing, she continued to assault him with her finger while making her point. “I have full custody of Sierra—that makes me her full-time parent. So don’t you come into my home thinking that you can criticize my parenting decisions.”

  In his retreat, Thomas backed into the kitchen counter.

  Helen gestured at the chicken in the kitchen. “And don’t even think you can worm your way back into our family with your grandma’s secret chicken recipe that she couldn’t bring herself to share with me before we got divorced. That time has passed.”

  Not wanting to stick around any longer, even to change her clothes, Helen threw open the door to leave. “I have a book club meeting.”

  “What book club?” Thomas asked while rubbing his injured chest.

  “The one Chris invited her to join,” Sierra said. “It’s very exclusive. Invitation only.”

  “What about dinner?” Thomas asked.

  “I’ll get something to eat there,” Helen said on her way out the door. “Don’t wait up!”

  Thomas stepped outside to watch Helen climb into her cruiser, start the engine, turn around, and leave. As he watched her speed out of sight, his face hardened into a brooding glare.

  Chapter Twelve

  The crime scene tape had finally been removed.

  Doris prepared to reopen the library the next morning while members of the Geezer Squad trickled in to compare everyone’s findings in the case so far.

  Shannon’s death was too fresh for Doris to tackle the chore of cleaning out her office. For the time being, she took whatever she needed from her associate director’s file cabinet and desk, and closed the office door. Even that simple act made her feel like she was intruding into a sacred chamber.

  Dropping the folders into the middle of her own desk, Doris plopped into the chair and buried her face in her hands.

  This can’t be happening. Shannon can’t be dead. She can’t be gone. It’s all a bad dream. She’s going to walk through that door any minute, and we’ll have a good laugh over her funny letter to Christopher.

  She felt something tap her shoulder. When she lifted her head, a bouquet of flowers was thrust into her face. Their floral scent floated up her nostrils. She focused her eyes on the pink and purple roses that Elliott held out to her.

  The smile lines in his face deepened as he hitched a leg over the corner of her desk and leaned toward her. “I had a feeling you would need some cheering up.”

  “They’re lovely.” She pressed her nose into the petals and took a deep whiff. “What would I do without you, Elliott?” She reached up to caress his face.

  “I have no intention of you finding out.” He placed a lingering kiss on her lips.

  A thick folder in his hand, Chris walked into the office. Seeing them kissing, he stopped and turned around. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “Yes,” Elliott replied.

  Chris held up the folder. “If I go, I’m taking the FBI’s case file with me.”

  Doris jumped to her feet and hurried around the desk. “Ripley came through.” She took the folder from him and ran her thumb through the pages.

  “Actually, the lead detective did. Kevin Crane gave me a digital copy of everything he had. I printed it up at home. Can I make copies on the big copier for the squad?”

  “Kevin Crane?” Elliott asked. “The Kevin Crane of KC Investigations and Security? He was the lead investigator in the Livingston case?”

  “Did he tell you who brought in the feds before anyone even knew there’d been a kidnapping?” Doris asked over her shoulder on her way to the copier in the computer room.

  “He happened to be on a date at the Bavarian Inn when they realized George was missing,” Chris said. “His second wife was attending the conference. I had to give Kevin Crane a copy of Shannon’s letter in exchange for this case file.”

  Jacqui walked through the main entrance in time to hear the exchange. “You let Kevin Crane in on the case?”

  “Crane’s got a whole private detective agency at his disposal,” Elliott said.

  “Including a forensics lab.” Jacqui went into the original wing of the library where Doris had set up tables and chairs for the meeting. She deposited her bag in her chair.

  At the table, Sterling and Bruce sat across from each other with a chess board between them. The German shepherd wore a Washington National’s ball cap backwards on his head. He also wore a dog vest with the ball team’s logo emblazoned on the sides.

  “Like you think he’s not going to assign a team to this case.” Elliott went into the computer room to grab a portion of a witness statement as it spilled out of the copier.

  “Chris, how could you?” Jacqui shrugged out of her jacket, draped it across the back of her chair, and went to join Elliott in sneaking a look at the case file. She searched for a copy of the medical examiner’s report on George Livingston’s remains.

  “It’s not his fault,” Elliott said. “Doris drank while she was pregnant with him.”

  “We didn’t know any better back then!” Doris said.

  “Excuse me for thinking we were all on the same side.” Chris walked away from the argument to finish preparing for the meeting.

  “This is my man.” Bruce picked up a white chess piece and waved it at Sterling. “You can’t use my rook to capture my queen.” He slammed the piece back onto the board and replaced his queen from where the dog had slid it off the board with his nose. With a shake of his head, Bruce picked up his glass of red wine and took a sip. “I thought since you were smart enough t
o figure out backgammon that you could learn chess. Guess I was wrong.”

  Sterling narrowed his eyes.

  “Maybe your rook is a traitor.” Elliott tossed his head in Chris’s direction while taking a seat to read what he had taken from the copier.

  “I am not a traitor,” Chris said.

  “What’d the kid do now?” Bruce asked with a sigh.

  “He gave Shannon’s letter to Kevin Crane,” Jacqui said while taking a highlighter to the reports she had gathered.

  “Of KC Investigations and Security?” His eyes wide, Bruce turned in his chair. “Why’d you do that, Christopher?”

  “We need the case file,” Chris said with a heavy sigh. “It’s Mom’s fault. She drank while she was pregnant.”

  Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed while he attempted to make sense of the conversation flowing around him.

  “Why didn’t you ask Ray to break into the FBI database and steal it like he always does?” Elliott asked.

  Chris’s eyes narrowed to gray slits. “Because that’s wrong.”

  “Actually, it’s not,” Bruce said. “The FBI is supported with taxpayer money. Since we’re all taxpayers, then technically those case files belong to us anyway. All Ray’s doing is checking them out.”

  “Tell that to the FBI when Ray gets busted for hacking into a federal database,” Chris said.

  “The point is that the kid handed the Geezer Squad’s biggest case to an elite private detective agency,” Jacqui said.

  With a shake of his head, Bruce made a ticking noise with his tongue. “That does it. Elliott, kill him.” He jerked his thumb in Chris’s direction.

  Elliott’s eye grew wide.

  “Every time something goes wrong, you want to have me killed,” Chris said.

  “We can’t have morons on the team. We have to have some standards,” Bruce said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “We can’t allow you to live because you know too much,” Jacqui said.

  “The only option left is to kill you,” Bruce said. “Elliott, you need to do it now before the kid forgets what he did. Otherwise, he won’t know why you’re killing him.”

  With a glance at Doris in the workroom, Elliott said, “I can’t whack Chris. Doris would never sleep with me again.” He whimpered. “She’s so soft and … she smells so good.”

  “You’re talking about my mother.” With a wave of his hand, Chris said, “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

  With a grumble, Bruce turned back to the chess board to discover most of his game pieces stacked up on Sterling’s side of the table—except for Bruce’s king, which was surrounded by the dog’s pieces. Sterling cocked his head at Bruce, who swore he saw one corner of the dog’s mouth kick up into a smirk.

  Balancing grocery bags with drink bottles and her briefcase in her arms, Helen opened the library’s back door and held it for Ray and Francine to breeze through. Francine’s arms were filled with pizza boxes. After depositing her briefcase on the table, Helen slipped her arm around Chris’s waist and lifted her face to look up into his.

  “The lead investigator gave me his copy of the George Livingston case file.” Chris planted a quick kiss on her lips.

  “Yay, Ripley,” Helen said.

  “He gave up the file in exchange for a copy of Shannon’s letter,” Jacqui said with a frown.

  “And?”

  “The retired agent is Kevin Crane,” Elliott said. “He owns a big private detective agency. KC Investigations and Security. Employs lots of retired federal agents.”

  “They have a whole cybersecurity division,” Ray said. “A lot of private companies have them on retainer to protect their systems.”

  Jacqui said, “Crane’s managed to keep the Livingston case out of his bio. If we break this case, then it will end up on the front pages. Everyone will then know that this master detective was the lead investigator in a major kidnapping case, and he lost a half million of Billingsley’s money. For damage control, it’s imperative that he solve this case ahead of us.”

  “We can’t let what happen,” Bruce said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with healthy competition,” Helen said.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Chris said while holding a chair out for her to take a seat next to him.

  Doris breezed in with stacks of reports from the case file and distributed them to each Geezer before taking a seat in a chair next to Elliott, who poured a glass of white wine for her.

  “Then I suggest we get cracking to find out where we are.” Francine waved her arms to indicate the three pizzas she had set in the center of the table. “Everyone, grab a slice, get yourself some wine or soda.” She placed a slice of pizza on a paper plate and set it in front of Sterling, who took the slice into his mouth, jumped out of his chair, and trotted into Doris’s office to eat in private.

  “Did the kid tell you the good news?” Francine asked while everyone gathered their food and drinks. “Mac Faraday’s wife invited him to lunch tomorrow at the Spencer Manor.”

  “I’m taking Helen with me,” Chris said. “My gut tells me that we’re going to get some worthwhile information. Archie Monday gave me the cold shoulder until I mentioned that our associate director had passed away. She knows something.”

  “Spencer Manor,” Doris said with a coo. “Fancy. Don’t forget not to slouch. Be sure to eat all of your vegetables and take lots of pictures. I heard Robin Spencer had an amazing personal library.”

  “You need to get a picture of Sterling with Gnarly,” Francine said, “and find out if he’s planning to run for re-election.”

  “Gnarly?” Helen asked.

  “Mac Faraday’s dog,” Francine said around a mouthful of pizza. “He’s the mayor and the town council has been trying to impeach him.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “This past winter, he lifted his leg on the chairman of the town council while he was ranting about Gnarly vetoing an ordinance outlawing snowballs,” Francine said.

  “Outlawing snowballs?” Chris asked. “Are you serious?”

  “Technically, they’re missiles,” Francine said in a low voice.

  “You can poke someone’s eye out with a snowball,” Doris said in a mocking tone.

  “Gnarly vetoed the ordinance and Adam Buttwrinkle, the chairman of the town council, held a press conference,” Francine said. “He was in the middle of saying that the mayor had thrown the town into a crisis with innocent citizens being targeted for missile attacks when Gnarly walked up behind him, lifted his leg, and peed on him. That was the first time the town council accused their mayor of making terrorist threats.”

  “I’d view that more as the mayor making a political statement,” Bruce said, “which is allowed under his first amendment rights.”

  “Do first amendment rights apply to dogs?” Jacqui asked.

  “Why wouldn’t they?” Doris asked.

  “Spencer’s mayor and town council have been at war ever since the pee attack. What can I say?” Francine lifted her shoulders and held up her hands. “Idiocy is the first qualification for becoming a politician.”

  Bruce plopped two unopened bottles of wine on the table in front of Chris. “Take these with you and give them to Faraday to serve with lunch. When it knocks his socks off, give him my number, and tell him to call me.” He winked. “It’ll be perfect on his resort’s wine list.”

  “Wine list?” Chris asked.

  “At the Spencer Inn,” Bruce said. “Mac Faraday owns the Spencer Inn. Five-star resort on top of Spencer Mountain. Built and passed down through his family.”

  “And you want me to use this opportunity to get your label on the Spencer Inn’s wine list.” Chris studied the labels on the bottles. “Should I do all this before or after I extract information about our cold case from his wife?”

  “During.”

>   “Whatever you do, don’t blow it. We’re counting on you.” Doris cringed. “Maybe Elliott and I should go with you. Deep Creek Lake is lovely this time of year.”

  “I can handle it,” Chris said with a growl. “I’ve been interviewing witnesses for over twenty-five years. I don’t need my mommy to go with me.”

  “Well, if you don’t come back with the goods, I’m going to have to kill you.” Elliott held up both hands. “No pressure.”

  “You can’t kill me,” Chris said. “If you do, Mom will stop sleeping with you.”

  “He’s right,” Doris told Elliott.

  Finished with his pizza, Sterling jumped back into his seat and everyone turned their attention to the white board. George Livingston’s picture was taped in the center at the top of the board. Chris had listed what little they knew about his disappearance below the picture.

  “George Livingston was last seen climbing into a red Camaro.” Chris stood and pointed at the picture of the subject of their case. “He got in willingly. That means he knew and trusted whoever was driving. He’d told witnesses that he was going to dinner with his wife, but Mercedes was meeting Billy. As a matter of fact, she says in her letter that she told people at Hill House that she was meeting George for drinks. We know why she lied to witnesses here in Harpers Ferry.”

  “Because she was running away with the love of her life,” Doris said.

  “What we need to find out is why George lied to witnesses from his world in Shepherdstown. Who was he really going to dinner with?”

  Elliott raised his hand. “I vote for mistress,” he said while scanning the witness statements in his copy of the case file.

  Chris leaned against the back of his chair. “Only Crane claims he found no mistress during his investigation.”

  “Maybe because he wasn’t looking for any,” Doris said. “Up until the other day, it was assumed that George and Mercedes had disappeared together.”

  “Everyone assumed Mercedes was the primary victim,” Jacqui said in agreement. “Her father was the one who received the ransom demand. Didn’t George come from money?”