by Cate Conte
“I don’t know, Maddie,” he said quietly. “I’ve been desperate. I wanted her to be doing something really crappy so I could bring it to your grandfather to help my case.” He looked at me pleadingly. “I know you think I’m a terrible person, but my grandmother…” he shook his head. “I loved her a lot, but toward the end she wasn’t really … herself.”
“That’s a lie.”
All our heads whipped around to find Ethan standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest. I’d never seen him look this angry, but it made him look taller. His face matched his fiery red hair, and he glared at Stevie.
Stevie rose and faced him. “Sorry?”
“I said, that’s a bunch of lies.” Ethan came forward to face him. Val went to him, but he shook her off. “Your grandmother was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. She was stuck in that place all alone when you had that huge property where she could’ve stayed.”
“She needed twenty-four-hour care,” Stevie said quietly. “Do you … work at the facility?”
“I volunteer there,” Ethan said.
“Ah.” Stevie nodded. “She mentioned you. Not by name, but said she’d found a good friend who worked there who spent time with her. I was glad for her.”
“Yeah. Well, she told me a lot of stories about her family. And none of you seem like you deserve anything of hers. Did you ever even go visit her?”
“She wouldn’t let me in,” Stevie said, incredulous. “The last couple of times I went to see her she refused to see me.”
Grandpa interrupted. “Ethan. I appreciate your fondness for Marcella, but I need to agree with Stevie. Her condition had … deteriorated.”
“Still,” Ethan said, his gaze still fixed on Stevie. “You could’ve let her be at home.”
“There was no money to take care of her, man!” Stevie shouted, startling us all. “She froze all her assets when she got sick! What she didn’t spend, that is.” As fast as the fight had come into him, it went out and he sat back down heavily on the couch. “That’s what no one realized. The land is worth money, sure. But the main house needs a ton of work and landscaping that place alone…” he shook his head. “And good home care on this island is incredibly expensive. She needed constant care. You know that, right? You were there.”
He waited for Ethan to give a curt nod of acknowledgment.
“The place she was in, they let us pay in installments and I was going to pay them off once the property was mine,” Stevie continued. “So yes, she was right. I wanted to sell part of it. To pay off her debts, and to keep my daughter in her school. The rest of it, I would keep and live on forever. I love it there. My cousin didn’t. Jillian would have sold all of it off to the highest bidder and never looked back. And worst part? She didn’t need it. Mish and I need it. The rents here for retail are insane, as you know, and Mish’s store doesn’t make a huge profit. And we can’t keep paying for Mirabelle’s school without the extra income. She needs to be in that school.”
Mirabelle was their daughter. “What kind of school is it?” I asked.
“Mirabelle is … on the spectrum,” he said quietly. “But she’s a really gifted musician. She needs the extra attention and she can’t get it on the island. It’s why she’s in a special school.”
I looked at Grandpa. Why hadn’t I known that? Maybe I wasn’t as good a friend as I thought.
“Anyway, that’s my reason for wanting the property so badly. And I know, if Grandma was in her right mind, it never would’ve been a question. But she’d started fixating on Jillian, and her mother, and even my mother, and then she got kind of obsessive about it. And then she got sick. Like, really sick. There’s nothing I can do about that. But what I do know is, my wife had nothing to do with Jillian’s death.” He looked at me, deadly serious. “And if they try to go forward with charging her, I’m going to confess. I can’t let her go to jail. Mirabelle needs her.”
Ethan looked properly chastised. “I’m sorry,” he said to Stevie. “I got very attached to her.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Stevie said. “I’m glad she had a friend during her last days.”
I reached over and squeezed Stevie’s hand. “No one is confessing to anything. We’re going to figure this out. I don’t believe Mish is a killer either.”
His eyes filled again. “Thank you, Maddie.”
“Of course.” Really, I was dying to drop my bombshell and see his reaction. “So this Chad Novak. He’s actually Peyton Chandler and Marco Moore’s agent. And I heard the strangest thing about him.”
“What?” Stevie asked.
“Someone told me he’s Jillian’s brother that she never knew until about ten years ago.”
I thought Stevie was going to pass out. His whole face turned white. He looked at Grandpa. “Did you find this out?”
Grandpa shook his head slowly. “Where did you hear this, Madalyn?”
“I can’t reveal my source, but this person heard it directly from Jillian,” I said. I turned to Stevie, “Is that possible? Wouldn’t you have known? Wouldn’t Jillian have known? I would think it would be kind of obvious.”
Stevie massaged his temples, ostensibly to ward off a headache. “My aunt, Deidre, was married to Jillian’s father for a while—right out of high school, I think. They got divorced within a year. That was probably the last straw for my grandmother. She didn’t believe in divorce.” He rolled his eyes, then caught himself and glanced at Ethan. He didn’t comment. “She was very prim and proper. So maybe my aunt just never bothered to tell anyone about a new relationship … or a kid. My mother and her sister weren’t close and when my aunt and my grandmother had their falling out, my mother kept her distance as well. I haven’t actually spoken to Deidre in about twenty-five years. I remember my grandmother saying she was always looking for the glamorous life. Whatever that meant.”
“Would your aunt have given her son up for adoption? If she had gotten pregnant soon after her divorce…” I trailed off, trying to piece the story together in my head. “Or, maybe her mother isn’t the common parent. Maybe it’s the father. Since I’m assuming he is a half brother. In that case he’d have no claim, right?”
Stevie looked at Grandpa. “Can you find any of this out?”
“I’m sure I can,” he said. “But why do you want to know?”
“What if he did it?” Stevie asked. “If he really is her brother and no one knew it, what if he thought he had a claim to something she had? Like the estate?”
Exactly what I was thinking.
“She didn’t have the estate,” Grandpa pointed out. “And if he wanted something she didn’t have yet, why would he kill her? Then he wouldn’t get anything. And if it’s the same father, like Maddie said, it’s a moot point.”
Stevie had no good response to that. He left a short time later, dejected and looking lost.
Chapter 33
After Stevie left and I explained my bike accident to Grandpa—avoiding the part about Marco of course—I went up to take a shower. My knee hurt, and my whole left side where my bike had landed also hurt. JJ, my steadfast companion, accompanied me, which I appreciated. I couldn’t wait to turn on the hot water and let it soothe my aching muscles.
While I waited for the water to heat up, I turned to JJ. “What a mess,” I said.
He squeaked his affirmation.
“I don’t believe Mish killed her. But someone did. How do I figure out who? This is way too complicated.”
JJ flicked his tail and dropped his face between his paws, clearly tiring of the conversation.
“Yeah, that’s what most people think of me lately.” I sighed and got into the shower.
After, I called Katrina. I figured she’d be my best way into Ellory’s confidence.
“Hey,” she said. “Did you hear? About Mish?”
“I did. That’s why I called. I need to talk to your boyfriend and was hoping you could pave the way.”
“He’s coming by in about half an hour on his bre
ak,” she said. “Don’t tell him I told you.”
“On my way.”
I snuck out the back door and drove over to the Daybreak Island Animal Control Center where Katrina spent most of her days when she wasn’t out doing actual rescues. I’d grabbed us coffees on the way, so I’d have an excuse to be there. A dark sedan that I recognized as Ellory’s unmarked car was parked outside next to Katrina’s van. I parked behind them and headed inside, ignoring the Closed sign on the door. Katrina tried to take a lunch break every day. Most days she was unsuccessful, but Ellory had been helping her with that, coming over to take her out for lunch or at least spend lunch with her when his schedule allowed. I guess since he’d made an arrest, he could do that today.
Now, he sat on the floor petting a German shepherd, who looked blissfully happy. He—or she—was the only one, though. The humans looked extremely serious. Katrina glanced up when I came in. The dog rolled over, giving Ellory more access for belly rubs.
“Hey. We were just talking about you,” Katrina said casually. “I told Mick you were stopping by to see me.”
“Yep. Here’s your coffee.” I handed her one. “Sorry, if I’d known you were going to be here I’d have gotten you one. Want mine?” I smiled brightly at him.
He rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t born yesterday, Maddie. I’m assuming you heard, then?”
“About Mish? Yeah. Stevie’s at my place and he’s a mess. Why are you so sure it was her? Did you actually find, like, DNA or something?”
“No, Miss CSI,” he said. “No DNA.”
“What time did Jillian…” I swallowed. “Do they have a time of death?”
“She hadn’t been dead long. They estimated maybe a half hour to an hour before you found her.”
So somewhere around nine or nine thirty, which meant the fact that Mish had been at my place since ten didn’t matter.
“Did you find out if she was staying with someone at the Paradise?” I asked.
“They didn’t have her registered as a guest, but they said she’d been in and out for days. She was clearly visiting someone there, but I haven’t been able to find out who yet. They did see her with a guy, having a serious conversation in the restaurant. Apparently the guy got angry and left her there.”
“Was he staying at the hotel, or was he with her as a guest?”
“The woman I talked to didn’t know.”
“The purple-haired woman?”
“Yes.”
“You got a guest list?”
“Of course I did,” Ellory said. “But thanks for the reminder.”
“Do you recognize any names? I can look if you want.”
He looked like he was weighing that, then sighed. “Sure. Fine. It’s in the car. Why, you know anyone who she might have been staying with?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I’m happy to look. So who else did you talk to?”
He gave me a look. “Only half the hotel, the League staff, her family. Sister, mother. They both live in Pennsylvania. Sister is out of the country on vacation. No story there. No dad—he died years ago. Your celebrity friends—let me tell you, it took a lot of work just to get on that fancy boat of theirs to talk to them.”
Peyton and Marco. “What did they say?”
“Neither of them seemed that broken up about it. Said they didn’t know her all that well, just through the animal events. They alibied each other. They were doing yoga together or something through some virtual class.” His face suggested what he thought of that.
“Peloton, probably,” I said.
“Whatever. That older woman, Peyton’s…” he cast about for the word.
“Assistant? Esther?”
“That’s it. She and one of the bodyguards confirmed their story. Which isn’t saying much, since I assume they make a pretty good salary to do whatever they’re told, but I have no evidence of either of them being there.”
“Which bodyguard?” I asked, thinking of the Italian wannabe who’d chased me and Val off the dock.
“Guy named Joseph Francetti.”
Since I didn’t know any of their names, that meant nothing to me. “Okay. So what’s your big evidence about Mish, then?”
“Because she was seen screaming at the victim in public—by you, among others—and her family was involved in a legal drama with her.”
“Jillian was also having a disagreement with all three of the others right outside my place! If that’s your only evidence—”
“Along with the small fact that no one could account for Mish’s whereabouts that morning after her husband dropped her off at the Bean,” he continued, ignoring me. “And she had access to the murder weapon—according to you.”
I hated when my own words came back to bite me. “She and Stevie both did.”
“What time did Mish get to your place that day?”
“I wasn’t home, as you know,” I said. “Adele confirmed she showed up just after ten.”
“Stevie dropped her off at eight forty at the Bean, he said. Which still gives her plenty of time to get to the hotel, kill Jillian, then get to your place.”
“But that’s assuming Jillian was just sitting there in the gazebo, waiting for someone to come along and strangle her,” I said. “Mish would have to be really lucky to just arrive and have her sitting there alone like that, kill her, and get to my house without breaking a sweat.”
“She’s right,” Katrina said. “It’s a big hotel. Jillian could’ve been holed up in her room all morning, for all anyone knew, if she was staying there. No one would know that they’d closed off the patio for the meeting, right? No one except the guests who tried to go out there.”
“Unless they had arranged a meet,” Ellory pointed out.
“Sure. I’m assuming you checked her phone records for that?’
“Waiting on them,” he said. “But that’s my best guess.”
“Stevie admitted to being there,” I said. “At the hotel. He told me if the charges against Mish don’t get dropped, he’s going to confess.”
Ellory’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”
“He was there. I told you I saw his car.”
“Right. I checked it out. He told me he thought she might be there and wanted to talk to her, so he was waiting to see if he could spot her.” He rolled his eyes. “Sounded pretty unorganized to me, but what do I know about detective work. Members of the staff reported seeing him in the hotel lobby, waiting, between nine and ten. So I have witnesses who saw him at the time of her death.”
“But what if he snuck out back to kill her, then came back in?” I asked.
Katrina stared at me. “Are you trying to get Stevie arrested?”
“No. I’m just trying to poke all the holes in the story now that will come out later,” I said. “Their lawyers could also say they were in on it together, and the fact that you couldn’t definitively say which one did it means you can’t prove it.” I read a lot of murder mysteries.
“I thought about that,” Ellory said. “If they really were in on it together. But I’m not feeling the cousin. That guy is kind of a wuss. No offense,” he said when Katrina and I both opened our mouths to protest. “I don’t think he has what it takes to strangle someone. Especially a relative, no matter how much he doesn’t like her. Plus I don’t think he’s that good of an actor. He may not have liked her, but he seemed pretty shocked that she was dead. And he was distraught when we took the wife away.”
I sighed. “Much as I hate to say it, I agree with you. But you think Mish has what it takes to strangle someone?”
“I can see that more than I can see him doing it,” Ellory said.
“That’s all you have?” I asked Ellory.
He shook his head. “A staff member saw what she said was a woman down by the back of the property. Dressed in black, a hat, glasses, like a jogger.”
I waited. “And?”
He shrugged. “And nothing. It was right around that window of time the coroner said she was killed.”
Oh, boy. Police work at its finest. I tried to remember what Mish was wearing that day, although she could have changed. “That’s a little weak, no?” I asked. Something about Ellory’s demeanor made me think perhaps he wasn’t as sold on this idea as he was trying to convince us he was.
He shrugged. “It’s enough.”
“It’s so not! This place is crawling with joggers looking to experience all the sights. The route behind Paradise is an ocean view, for God’s sake. You don’t think a hundred tourists are out there every day? What’s really going on, Mick?”
“Maddie. I don’t have to justify our arrest—”
“It’s because your chief is friends with the hotel guy, isn’t it,” I said. “You had to do something fast.”
He said nothing.
Katrina stared at him too. “Is it? Because we all know he’s quick to jump the gun.”
Ellory sighed. “You know the chief hates when out-of-towners get killed. Especially in prominent establishments.”
It was such a funny statement that I had to giggle. I could picture Chief McAuliffe presiding over a meeting with the department, telling them in a serious tone that no tourists were allowed to be killed. Residents, fine. Then I realized they were both staring at me as if I’d kind of lost it. Who knew, maybe I had. I cleared my throat. “Go on.”
He frowned at me. “Obviously, it’s not the kind of tourism advertisement we want. And we certainly don’t want our residents thinking that we can’t close a case.”
“Okay,” I said, still waiting for a better reason.
He didn’t have one.
“Mick,” Katrina said. “Did he order you to arrest someone? And poor Mish ended up as the scapegoat?”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way,” Ellory said. “The chief wanted to make sure that if we had enough to make an arrest, we didn’t sit on it. That’s all. Believe me, I want to make sure we have the right person too. And right now, it looks like Mish is it.” He stood and brushed off his pants. “Come on. Let’s look at that list.”
I followed him out to the car. He got in, riffled through some papers, and handed me a few sheets. I scanned the list, stopping with a triumphant finger-point at Chad’s name. “This guy,” I said to Ellory. “Chad Novak. He’s Peyton and Marco’s agent. And I have it on good authority that that he’s Jillian’s long-lost brother. Stevie says he didn’t know.”