Bad Intent

by Cheril Thomas

  “Are you still the family’s attorney?” he asked.

  She hesitated. Melanie and Whitney Overton had signed the new client paperwork and given her a retainer, but she expected the officious Sawyer Renne to ask them to drop her.

  “No one’s said otherwise, so I’m still on duty,” she said.

  “You have a low threshold for positive client relationships.”

  “Uh-huh.” She wasn’t going to be drawn into an easy banter that could lead to revisiting their conversation from the day before. “After reflecting on the information they shared with you and Detective Sergeant Marbury, and considering the concerns you both expressed for their husband, my clients asked me to speak to you on their behalf.”

  “The concern we expressed was that neither of your clients was being truthful as to the whereabouts of Mr. Overton.” The humor was gone from McNamara’s voice.

  Careful not to allow her surprise to show, she said, “Did you and the Detective Sergeant visit the Overtons together?”

  “We weren’t invited to a party, Grace. Heath Overton rented a Land Rover with a six-figure replacement value, and he didn’t return it. I accompanied Desi Marbury to question Mrs. Overton and her family as part of a multi-jurisdiction investigation with the State Police.”

  She’d envisioned the father of nine renting a van or some other vehicle impervious to spilled food and drinks and sticky fingers. “Investigation of what? The lease was renewed, and the car isn’t due back until today.”

  “That’s true,” he said. “But on Saturday, the rental agency received a traffic citation from the city of Anderson, S.C. The Land Rover had blown through a red light in a school zone three states south of the permitted travel range in the rental agreement. The car agency’s owner tried to connect to the vehicle’s GPS system, only to find it had been deactivated, which is never a good sign in a missing car. That’s when he reported it stolen.”

  “Did you tell my clients all of that?”

  “Yes.” His tone was genial again. “It sounds like they omitted some important details when they talked to you.”

  “Mac, if you’ve spent any time with them, you know the personalities I’m dealing with — just tell me what you think. Where is Mr. Overton?”

  “Hang on.” She heard him ask for a file; then, paper rustled at his end. “On Sunday, May 6, he passed through the west-bound toll booths at the Bay Bridge around nine forty-five, p.m. and hasn’t been seen since he left Mallard Bay. Whitney Overton told us he’s called daily and is fine and will be back in town today.”

  “Mrs. Overton believed that her husband would return in a timely fashion, but she may have exaggerated the extent of his communication with the family. They mistakenly thought a confidentiality requirement in the contract for their television show prevented them from talking to the police. I’ve advised them they should communicate with you, fully and honestly, and cooperate with your investigation.”

  “And they made you call for them so they could deny anything you told me.”

  She made herself count to ten before saying, “So? Where do you think their husband is?”

  “No idea, but I intend to find out.”

  “Those citations generated from traffic cameras usually come with photos. I don’t suppose you could tell if there were two people in the car? Another person connected to the family might have been with him. Felicia Jones.”

  “The fiancée?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are the wives worried about her, too?”

  “Don’t be judgmental,” she said.

  “There’s only one person visible in the car. Could be male or female, but only one.”

  She asked for an update on the garage fire. “Sawyer Renne said Aidan told him it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Did he, now? I don’t have any concrete answers yet, but you can tell the Overtons I’m looking into it.”

  An awkward silence fell between them.

  A series of beeps from an incoming call gave him a quick way to end the non-conversation, but that only made her feel worse. Their easy friendship was gone, and she didn’t know how to get it back.

  Since she didn’t have a single thing on her work list that wasn’t unpleasant, she started with the easiest. If Mosley fired her for taking on the Overtons, she could live with it. On her way to his office, she stopped at Lily’s desk and asked her to draft a letter to Ernie’s Royal Rides asking for a copy of the lease Heath Overton had signed.

  “You’re keeping that family as clients?” Lily asked, her disapproval clear. “We don’t do missing persons.”

  “For the time being. I’m off to see the big boss about it now.”

  “Yeah? Good luck with that.”

  Grace let the moment go. Whatever was bothering Lily would just have to play itself out.

  She found Mosley muttering at a golf ball that had become lodged under a glass front bookcase. At some point since her last visit, half of Mosley’s large and elegant office had been turned into a putting green.

  “You’ve redecorated,” she said as she threaded her way around the conference table and chairs which had been shoved up against his desk. She would have said a lot more, but office decor wasn’t her problem anymore.

  “Well, I had to do something,” he said peevishly. “If I don’t keep up with my putting, I may as well quit playing golf.”

  She knew he was winding up to the argument about how she was ruining his social life by leaving the firm.

  “We don’t take missing persons cases,” he said when she tried to introduce the Overton case as an exciting addition of new clients.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Have Marjorie pass them along to Harry Bork in Cambridge with my compliments. That bottom feeder will know every low life hideout where a man with three wives might go.”

  “Heath Overton only has two wives, and legally, he only has one. The third woman is a fiancée.”

  “Ever so much better,” he murmured as he abandoned the lost ball and lined up a putt. “These people don’t sound like my cup of tea. However, I’ve asked Lily to give you a few files to follow up on. Simple meet and greets and a few phone calls at most, m’dear,” he’d said. “You’ll breeze through them in no time. I’m taking the afternoon off. Once you’re gone, I won’t get many chances to do that.”

  Only a few months earlier, she’d worried he would never be able to pick up clubs again. As heartwarming as it was to watch the old Mosley return to life, the flip side was she had to work with the manipulative old crank the way he used to be. At least now, she usually knew when she was being played.

  She gave in, rearranged her task calendar for the afternoon, and saw she was already running too far behind to accomplish everything on it. David, Mac, and the office personnel problems all had to take a back seat to work, but as the day wore on, her thoughts kept drifting.

  She couldn’t do anything about Mosley and the staff’s disapproval of her decision to leave, and she was afraid talking to Mac would only make matters between them worse. But there was still David to deal with, and she wanted to do it as soon as possible.

  Chapter Eleven

  One convenient thing about the Overtons’ rental being next door to Avril Oxley was that Grace could combine three tasks into a single trip. Once she’d handled Cyrus’ assignments and the top layer of work on her own desk, she drove home, parked, and then walked through a dense stretch of trees between her house and Avril’s. Ordinarily, she avoided the woods, but Avril liked the shortcut, so Grace had cleared a wide path between their properties. Today, it saved her from parking next to her clients’ driveway. With a little luck, she could look around the scene of the fire without drawing attention.

  The garage was a small structure built when cars needed a hand crank to start. Grace was surprised to see how close the fire had come to the tree line at the wood’s edge. She resolved to send a donation to Mallard Bay’s all-volunteer fire department. Without their fast action, Delaney House
might not be standing today.

  “Will you come on over here?” Avril’s call was punctuated by a long barrage of yapping and a single deep woof. “These creatures want you for some reason, and they’re making me crazy.”

  Grace was met at the front door by a German Shepherd named Louise, and Leo, a white ball on sticks masquerading as a dog. Grace’s dog. The ball launched himself at her, and she stooped to catch him in mid-air. “How’s my good boy?” She whispered into his pointy ears.

  “Redefining ‘good boy’ is how he is,” said Avril, whose hearing was as sharp as the rest of her. She closed the door behind Grace and called the shepherd to her side. “You have the same taste in dogs as you do in men,” she said. “Louise, pay no attention to them.”

  The shepherd was small for her breed, but standing next to Avril, she looked like a pony. The old woman laid her left hand on Louise’s head, as if in benediction. “These dogs are very close. You know that, right?”

  “Hello. I’m fine, thank you. And you? Are you well?”

  “Oh, for… yes, missy, I am well. Please join me in the conservatory for tea and let us converse.”

  The conservatory was a cluttered sun porch that overlooked her side garden. Tea was store-brand diet soda and a package of Oreos.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on a new healthy eating plan?” Grace asked as she accepted the drink and debated the calorie worthiness of the cookies.

  “Keep up, girl. That was last month.” Avril took two cookies for her own plate and gave the dogs warning glares. “No chocolate. You know you get your cookies at night.”

  “You give them cookies?” Grace picked Leo up and patted his tummy. “That’s the last thing this guy needs.”

  “Everyone needs cookies, otherwise what’s the point? You’re born, you die. In between, you eat cookies to make it worth the bother.”

  “Words to live by.”

  Avril’s face darkened, and she motioned for Louise to lie down. “Yes, well, eating dessert first seems like a good diet plan after yesterday. That fire could’ve spread, and the dogs were here alone.”

  “I should have checked in with you last night. I meant to come and get Leo, but with everything that’s going on — ”

  “You forgot him,” Avril finished for her.

  “Not exactly.”

  On top of her miserable day, she was being called out for being a bad dog mother. Grace helped herself to an Oreo. The fat and sugar rush would be temporary, but worth the calories.

  “It’s fine,” Avril said. “I’d have called if I needed you. Besides, you had company. What was Mr. Wonderful doing here in the middle of the week?”

  The Oreo was working its magic, and Avril’s nosiness made her laugh. “It’s a story better told with a bottle of wine, I’m afraid. But not yet. I’m still processing his latest antic.”

  Despite Avril’s protests, Grace changed the conversation back to the dogs. “Thanks for keeping both of them; I know it’s a lot to ask. Before all the excitement yesterday, I intended to talk to you about Louise. I ran into Doris Bosworth over the weekend. She said Safe Harbor had to take two dozen dogs from a puppy mill down in Wicomico. They’re trying to leave all the foster dogs where they are for now while they use the shelter space for the new arrivals.”

  Safe Harbor Animal Rescue was a grassroots organization that supported local animal shelters and provided fostering services to relieve overcrowding. Kingston County’s shelter would soon celebrate its first full year as a kill-free operation due to Safe Harbor’s work.

  “The dogs aren’t a problem for me.”

  “You’re not getting attached, are you? Remember, I only adopted Leo, I’m fostering Louise.”

  “And you’re doing such a good job with both of them.” Avril’s smile took the sting out of her words. “But Louise doesn’t need to be fostered; she has a home.”

  Grace looked up from her inspection of what might be the beginnings of a rash on Leo’s pink potbelly. The dog had more allergies than she did. “What’s happened? Did the woman who adopted her originally decide she could keep her?”

  “No. Her apartment really wasn’t big enough.” Avril snapped her fingers to pull Grace’s attention from Leo. “Love doesn’t conquer everything, you know.”

  “You’ve mentioned that once or twice, and I’m still not going to discuss David.”

  “We’ll see about that. Anyway, this girl needed a home and I’m happy to provide one, so it’s settled. I worked it all out with the SHAR folks.”

  Grace pushed away the immediate worry of how Avril would manage a large dog long term, even a docile one. The happy grin on her friend’s face was contagious. “You’re keeping her? That’s wonderful.”

  Avril waved the congratulations aside. “Since you’re leaving and these two are so close, I’d like you to give Leo to me permanently. They kind of balance each other in a Laurel and Hardy sort of way.”

  “You want my dog, too? Are you kidding?”

  “One of us has to be practical. You’re moving on. Someone will have to pick up the slack around here.”

  The words hung between them in a rare silence. Grace felt wounded, which she knew was unreasonable.

  Avril broke the tension by asking about the Overtons.

  “We’re not finished with the subject of you stealing my dog.”

  “Whatever. About those kids. It’s the oldest girl I worry about the most.”

  “Hallie? Why?” Grace asked. “Her mother and aunt said she’s a big help with the smaller children.”

  “I’ll bet they think so. The child runs her skinny legs off taking care that brood. It’s not right.”

  “She’s old enough to be helping.”

  “What do you know about children? Hallie always has a bunch of kids in tow, and I never see her doing normal teenage things. She only gets a break when that infantile Sawyer person shows up. He’s sillier than the kids. I doubt he’s part of any professional production team.”

  Grace had to agree Sawyer Renne didn’t seem experienced, but she didn’t want to get Avril off-topic. “What do you think is going on with them? The Overtons, I mean. You obviously have strong feelings.”

  “I’m invested in them, in a manner of speaking. I own the house they’re renting.”

  Every time Grace thought she knew Avril well, she was reminded their friendship was still young. It impressed her to learn Avril was collecting a handsome rent from Lightning Strike Films for a three-month lease. “An Eastern Shore retirement plan is what my daddy called it,” Avril said. “Buy up properties as you can and lease them out. I sold most of the ones he collected, but I like selecting my next-door neighbors.”

  “Are you saying you thought a family with eleven children would be fun?”

  Avril shrugged. “The house has been empty a while, and the agent offered triple the rent for a short lease. I like kids, and I wanted to see how those shows are made.”

  “Those cheesy quasi-reality shows? You don’t even have a television.”

  “Don’t be a snob. Some of them are very entertaining. And for your information, I stream shows to my computer. When you have time, I’ll show you how to do it so you can catch up with the modern world.”

  Why had she ever assumed her friend wouldn’t be up to date on electronics as well as everything else?

  “I haven’t missed an episode of Survivor since 2002,” Avril said. “But we can talk about reality family drama versus situational competitions another time. I want to know what’s up with those Looney Tunes sisters and their children. Something’s off with them, and someone needs to watch out for Hallie.”

  It took a while to appease Avril without breaching client confidentiality, but eventually, the dogs had to go out, and Grace made her escape. She wanted to take Leo with her, but gave in to Avril’s insistence that he’d be happier staying with Louise.

  She walked back through the woods alone, glad for the silence that let her thoughts settle. That peace only lasted until she
got home.

  “What do you mean you’ve moved in?”

  The day before, the smallest bedroom on the second floor had only held a double bed and a dresser. Now it looked like the aftermath of a rummage sale.

  “I’d have told you if you hadn’t run off yesterday afternoon,” Niki said.

  “You would have told me?” Grace couldn’t believe her cousin had the nerve to sound insulted. Well, she could believe it, but it was irritating. “Asking me didn’t occur to you?”

  “I’m renting the first two floors from you for the inn. What I do with them, I do for the best interest of our business, which I run. By living here, I have more rooms to rent at the Victory Manor. Groups can rent the whole house, which will bring in more income. You’ll be making money before we even get this place open.” Niki beamed as she described her new plan.

  Grace knew what Niki was saying made financial sense. Still, the idea of living with her perpetually busy cousin gave her a headache, which added to the gnawing sensation in her stomach. For the second day in a row, she’d forgotten to eat lunch.

  “Don’t worry,” Niki said. “It won’t be for long. When you’re gone, I’ll move into your apartment and add this room to the rental inventory.”

  When Grace was gone.

  She agreed with Niki so she could end the conversation and escape to her nest on the third floor. At least for now, she could still claim it for her own, but who knew where she’d be by fall? The unfettered freedom she’d planned for didn’t feel right, only lonely.

  Chapter Twelve

  To Banks’ surprise, McNamara took him along to the Overton house on Thursday morning to interview the family. There’d been no mention of what had happened with the children on the day of the fire, but Banks had rehearsed several variations of ‘somebody had to do something,’ just in case. He’d also taken pains with his shift reports and was trying to be as quiet as possible. He didn’t want to be taken off the first interesting investigation they’d had in months. His resolve held out until they pulled up at the Overtons’ house.