“Only that she expected quid pro quo.”
“What?” Startled at Banks’ use of the Latin phrase, McNamara forgot he was trying to look disinterested.
“It means she wants a favor in return for the information,” Banks said, slowly, enjoying himself. “The wives want Grace to find Overton, and she figures the quickest way is to get us to do the work for her.”
“She did not say that.”
“No, she said quid pro quo.”
Banks went back to his pastry, and McNamara reread the report.
Overton sounded like a man with imagination and drive, willing to buck social norms. McNamara wondered if the missing man always looked for the fastest route to what he wanted. Would he quit if he didn’t find it?
“Guy’s a nutter, right?” Banks said when the Chief set the report down again.
“You sure seem interested in him.”
“I have more gossip from last night. Do you want it?”
“If it’s about an open case of ours, yes.”
Banks reluctantly skipped his observations on the chilly behavior between Grace and David Farquar. “Nik told me that Avril told her the first two Overton wives got into a catfight with the new one while they were all in Grace’s office yesterday. A real fight with screaming and hitting. The Bat had to break it up.”
Marjorie Battsley’s nickname and the mental image it conjured got a bark of laughter from McNamara.
“Despite all that, the Jones woman is staying with the family. Can you believe it?” Banks pushed the last chunk of cinnamon roll into his mouth and groaned in satisfaction. “That bakery woman is older than my mom, but I may have to marry her. God, that was good.”
The ‘bakery woman’ at Three Pigs was all of forty. Maybe. “Niki does a nice pastry,” he said and watched the younger man’s smile shut down. “You two doing okay?” When Banks didn’t answer, he prompted, “That bad?”
“Nothing new. I’m just losing a taste for it, you know? Everything’s a fight. Everything. I watched Nik with Grace the other day, and I didn’t recognize her. She looked like a different person, and that’s when it hit me — she was happy. Not the ‘wanna be happy’ crap, either. They were laughing, and they were both happy. I don’t make her laugh like that.”
“Does she make you — ”
“No.”
There wasn’t much to say to that. Aidan and Niki were a pair of magnets, alternately attracting and repelling each other. For years, McNamara had counseled, mentored, and tried to drag Banks out of adolescence and into adulthood. Now that he seemed to be making the transition, it wasn’t how McNamara had expected.
He crumpled his empty bakery bag and cleared off the table. “Well, let’s give Grace her quid pro quo. Check in with the State guys and see if any new information on Overton or the missing car, then finish up the daily report. I’m going back to visit with the wives. Somebody knows something.”
Banks looked surprised. “Why? I realize I went overboard on the report, and we have more background on these people than we need. It’s not actually a real stolen car issue, yet, even if there is an APB.” He stopped and studied McNamara. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
McNamara broke an uncomfortable silence saying, “Remember Cappy Ulner?”
Banks nodded, thinking he was seriously sick of the reminders of his shortcomings.
“You should be a sergeant climbing the ladder in MSP right now,” McNamara said. “And then there was the time you — ”
“Got it,” Banks stood and reached for his hat. “For the hundredth time, I didn’t know Cappy was running that bush league burglary ring out of his parent’s upholstery shop. I was a twenty-five-year-old trooper, drunk at a party and running my mouth about having to do surveillance on the midnight shift. I think I’ve paid for it a few times over.”
“You still tell Niki everything?” McNamara asked.
“No.” The regret in Banks’ voice said it was the truth, but he’d passed that test before only to fall flat later.
“Talking about the stakeout at Cappy’s ended your career with the State Police. Talking about department business limits your usefulness to me.” It was a subject they’d covered before.
“Maybe it’s time for me to move on.”
McNamara nodded. “Maybe it is. Let’s both think on it. Meantime, let me get your take on the drugs we found in the Overtons’ garage.”
“So that’s why Desi Marbury showed up yesterday,” Banks said. “I thought she might be angling for my job.”
“She’s not looking for a demotion.” McNamara handed over the MSP’s lab results from the fire scene. “They found marijuana and cocaine residue next to the burned area, but no evidence to point to any one person as the owner.”
“Enough nutters around the site to give you lots of suspects, though.”
“Put another way, there are enough inconsistencies in the Overton family’s behavior to warrant our interest. The father disappears with an expensive rental car, and his wives insist everything’s fine. And then there’s the film company’s representative, a smooth young man who’s one DUI away from serious jail time. Seems like an unwise choice for a liaison to a family with eleven children.”
“Sawyer Renne.”
The Chief nodded. “The garage would be easily accessible to him, yet isn’t his property. No one else was using it, but it was padlocked, and he had a key. If that’s where he stored his inventory, it would explain why he ran into a burning building and stayed so long. He’d have saved what he could carry and made sure the rest burned before the fire department arrived.”
“That works,” Banks said. “Hallie’d already called 911. The pole sirens would have been going off, and Renne probably thought the Marines would come through the door any minute.” It wouldn’t be the first time a newcomer had mistaken the village’s ancient fire and ambulance notification system for a civil defense end of the world warning.
“The adults claim they didn’t use the garage and didn’t know it was locked. Renne told you he’d locked it to keep the kids out because it wasn’t a safe place for them to play. He unlocked it when he saw it was on fire to make sure none of them had found a way in. He had no good reason for staying inside long enough to suffer smoke inhalation.”
“If he had smoke inhalation,” Banks interrupted.
“All of which adds up to nothing.”
“That we know of.” Banks made the comment reflexively, but he knew it was true. Something was right in front of him. But what?
“Do you think either of the women or Hallie knew about the drugs?” McNamara asked.
“Not Hallie,” he said without hesitation. “I mean, that’s not the feeling I get.”
The feeling Banks got was that the Chief was allowing him to continue to work on the case because Hallie and Melanie talked openly with him. It was ridiculous to feel disloyal to the Overtons, but he did.
McNamara was studying the half cup of cold coffee he held, but Banks knew the signs. The Chief was working something out, and Banks was afraid he’d caused whatever was about to happen. Hoping to redirect his boss’s thoughts, he said, “It might have been Renne’s personal stash. There’s no way to know how much there was, and he didn’t have anything on him when the paramedics treated him.”
“We’ll see.” McNamara rose and stretched. “You can do the grunt work for Grace when we get back. Let’s go see the Overtons and ask to interview the newest wife about her missing husband. That’ll get us in the door, and then you can work your magic. Who knows what we’ll pick up.”
“There’s no magic. They just like me.”
“Exactly. Let’s go.”
“Why are we bothering with them?” Banks persisted. “Let’s pick up Renne and see what we get from him.”
The Chief hesitated, then said, “Desi’s team handled it. There were trace amounts of both drugs in the trunk of Sawyer Renne’s car. Naturally, he doesn’t know how it got there, and his uncle has an excellent attorney
. I’m thinking the Overton women will be outraged at this news and might talk to us. Now, are you coming?”
Banks stayed where he was. “I can’t see Melanie or Whitney having anything to do with drugs around their children, and Hallie’s a nice kid.”
“And you’re a nice guy. I can handle it alone.” McNamara left, but Banks caught up to him and slid into the passenger seat of the Explorer.
“Good choice,” McNamara said.
Chapter Twenty-One
They could hear the yelling before they were halfway up the front walk. Two young girls sat on the porch steps eating apples. McNamara figured whatever was happening inside was either commonplace or not as bad as it sounded.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said. “I’m Chief McNamara. I was here the other day with Corporal Banks.”
“Hello, Aidan,” the girls chorused.
“Ah, yes,” McNamara said, grinning at Banks. “Your fan club.”
A woman yelled, ‘You little bitch!’
Both girls gasped, jumped off the porch, and ran for the backyard.
“All of you kids are out of control.” The front door flew open, and a tall woman came out, stopping as soon as she saw the officers. Her height and sleek, streaky blonde hair matched the description they had of Felicia Jones, but the ill-fitting clothes she wore were a surprise. She didn’t look like the rag-bag type.
McNamara made their introductions and showed her his badge.
“Oh, come on. We aren’t that loud.” She went back into the house, leaving the door behind her open.
“That sounded like an invitation to me,” McNamara said.
Melanie and Whitney Overton were shocked into momentary silence when the men walked into the living room. Several children made a bee-line for Banks, who returned high-fives and managed to lower the emotional level of the room by half. McNamara explained that they’d come to get Felicia’s statement about their missing husband.
Banks offered to help Hallie with the children and ignored McNamara’s nod of approval. However this turned out, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. If it cost him his job, so be it. He figured he wasn’t losing much.
“The kids are pretty hyper this morning,” Melanie said. “That’s why we didn’t hear you arrive.”
“The little hellions were so loud I have a headache,” Felicia interrupted. “There’s no discipline at all in this house.”
The women had taken seats around the kitchen table, leaving McNamara the chair at the head. He wondered if the gesture had any significance and decided it didn’t. They were too angry at each other to care where he sat.
“How old are your children?” McNamara asked Felicia.
“Sean is four, and Rebecca is two. If I’d realized how the behavior in this family had disintegrated without Heath in charge, I’d have never allowed them to stay here.”
McNamara said, “Two and four are pretty young to live away from their parents. How long has it been since you gave your children to the Overtons?”
All three women looked alarmed.
“It wasn’t like that,” Felicia said and was immediately supported by a chorus of agreement from the sisters.
“We’re family,” Melanie said.
“Especially now that Heath and I are married,” Felicia added, splintering the fragile peace. “And, no, Melanie, I will not keep quiet about it. Heath is my husband. I won’t deny it.”
“Is that what the yelling was about?” McNamara asked. “They asked you not to say that you were married to Mr. Overton?”
Before Felicia could answer, Whitney said, “Nothing of the kind, just a family squabble. You said you wanted Felicia’s statement about Heath, so why don’t you move on to that?” She gave Felicia a look that could have been a warning or a threat.
Not waiting to be asked, Felicia jumped in and said, “I don’t know where my husband is. I thought he was here. I would have come up here sooner, but I was trying to respect their privacy. Heath said they needed some time to adjust to the news that we were married.”
McNamara couldn’t imagine any of them ever thinking a four-way marriage of these personalities would work. “When was the last time you heard from him, Ms. Jones?”
“Mrs. Overton,” Felicia said, and then leaned across the table toward the sisters. “He left me Sunday morning and flew here to tell both of you. I never heard from him again. One of you knows something. Maybe we should get Hallie in here. She doesn’t seem as quick to lie as you two.”
McNamara said he’d like to see Hallie, too, then sat back to observe the arguing and threats that rocketed around the table. When the women wound down, he asked Felicia why she was staying with the family if she didn’t like them.
“Because my credit cards are maxed out, and I’ve got nowhere else to go,” Felicia said.
“You’re killing any chance we have of saving the show if you keep talking like that,” Melanie said. For once, she was dry-eyed, but McNamara didn’t expect it to last.
“You’d rather I said because we’re family?” Felicia said, pronouncing ‘family’ like it was a different F word. “Well, if you want me to stay on script, then give me some cash, sister wives. I’m not wearing your castoff leggings a minute longer.”
Whitney got up and took a small leather backpack off the top of the refrigerator. She fished out a wallet and handed Felicia a credit card.
“Knock yourself out,” she said. “There’s a Walmart in Easton.” She picked up a set of keys off of a rack by the back door. “You can drive the green van, but have it back here by noon. Unless you want to do the grocery shopping while you’re out?”
Felicia radiated anger but only said ‘later’ as she snatched the keys and left.
McNamara said, “That was uncomfortable, but I’m glad she left. I was hoping to talk with you both without her.”
“Uncomfortable?” Whitney said. “You can’t imagine.”
“We have nothing to say to you without our lawyer,” Melanie said.
“Understood,” McNamara pulled his notebook out of his pocket and flipped it open. “I have some information for you about Mr. Overton, but I can wait until you find Ms. Reagan if you’d prefer.”
“Tell me right now,” Melanie said before he could finish the last words.
“Since I’m the oldest girl, I’m another mother, really,” Hallie said.
Banks had been giving her space and occupying himself by picking up the Lego pieces that were scattered around the room. Now he joined her, where she sat rocking a small girl. The child had fallen asleep despite the activity around her.
“This is Rebecca, Felicia’s daughter,” Hallie said. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Becca’s so sweet.”
Banks watched her cuddle the toddler closer.
The master bedroom suite had been turned into the playroom. The corner where Hallie sat was the quiet zone, so designated by the lettering artfully painted on the wall. Banks hoped Avril had gotten a hefty security deposit. With the older kids in a basement rec room watching videos, the upstairs was reasonably quiet.
The rocking chair was the only adult sized seat, so he sat on the rug and tried to ignore the uncomfortable tug of his gun belt. The old movie Kindergarten Cop came to mind, and he pushed it away.
“That’s how you see yourself? Like another mother to all the little kids?” Banks asked. “You’re a teenager. In high school, right?” She frowned, and he knew he’d said something wrong. “I mean, you’re great at it, taking care of the children. I saw that right away.”
Her expression lightened. “I love them,” she said. “And somebody has to help Aunt Whitney. Mom’s great and all, but she’s not able to do much. And Felicia,” she rolled her eyes in a perfect copy of Whitney, “is an I-D-I-O-T.” She whisper-spelled over the head of the child sleeping in her arms. “That girl is just useless. The only good thing about Dad marrying her is that Becca and Sean are ours now, and she can’t take them away.”
Banks hadn’t thought about the new wife
from Hallie’s point of view. Felicia, in her mid-twenties, was closer to Hallie’s age than Heath Overton’s.
“And for your information, I already have my high school equivalency certificate. We’re all home-schooled and can go at our own pace.”
“Wow. You must be really smart.” And have no social life, he guessed.
“Yes, I am. Not that it will do me any good anytime soon. I can’t leave the family and go to college until the show’s off the ground and money is coming in. I’m taking some courses online, though.”
Banks imagined trying to study when all the children were at home. He’d barely made it out of high school with a room of his own and his mother at his elbow every step of the way.
“How about friends?” he asked. “It must be hard to be yanked up from your life in Atlanta and have to leave everyone you know.”
“Friends. That’s a good one. When you’re as smart as I am and your family’s famous, you don’t waste your time with stupid stuff. Cheerleading and sleepovers are for losers.”
Banks thought cheerleading and sleepovers might be exactly what Hallie would have rather been doing.
“Besides,” she said, “I can get friends anytime I want them. I just don’t have time right now.”
“Is Sawyer Renne a friend?”
“I hate him.” Hallie’s words came fast and angry. “And I didn’t do anything wrong. Aunt Whitney and Mom said I can’t talk to you without them here, anyway.”
The toddler she held woke up. With a practiced move, Hallie flipped the child from her arms to her shoulder and rubbed her back. Becca popped a thumb in her mouth and settled again.
“Okay. I understand,” Banks whispered. He got up — ungracefully enough to make her smile — and went back to picking up Legos. When she let several minutes go by without speaking, he said, “Can I ask another question, not about anything official?” He got a curt nod and continued. “I’ve wondered about your names. Most of your brothers and sisters have biblical names. How’d you get Hallie?”
Bad Intent Page 10