Gossip (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  “I’d be upset, too, if I was in your position, but please don’t say anything to the police. They might not take it too well if they found out I’ve been blabbing confidential information.”

  “I’m a member of the victim’s family.” She sounded indignant. “Both victims.”

  “I know. Which is why I thought you might be able to help me find some answers.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  Bonding hadn’t been necessary after all. Just letting Maggie know how little the police had told her. “I’d like to have a look at your aunt’s financial records for the past couple of years. Have you come across them?”

  “Just this morning. They’re in the living room.”

  “Well then.” Jamie climbed down from the stool. “Looks like my coffee break’s over. Time to go to work.”

  Pausing, she waited for Maggie to lead the way and followed her to the living room. It was a spacious room with track lighting, comfortable furniture, built-in stereo equipment and a marble-fronted fireplace, above which hung a sadly out of place Victorian-era painting.

  Jamie chuckled. “Nick must have blown a gasket when he saw that particular piece of artwork hanging there.”

  Maggie took a seat on the couch, opened an accordion file sitting on the coffee table and started pulling out files. “Why do you say that?”

  “You don’t know Nick very well, do you?”

  “Not very well.” She paused, looking Jamie in the eye. “I had some business dealings with him when he bought Ty-Ken. And, as you know, we’ve been in-laws for the last two years. Aside from family get-togethers for birthdays and holidays though, we haven’t spent much time together, and we never spoke about much other than business.”

  “Nick’s an art lover,” Jamie explained. Funny to think how much better she knew Nick than someone who’d known him for years. “He would have never hung a period piece like that in this contemporary room.”

  “Nick likes art?” Maggie sounded genuinely surprised.

  Jamie nodded. “Loves it.” She paused. “What about his first marriage to Janelle? Didn’t you know him then?”

  “Yes, but I was pretty young at the time and head over heels in love with Preston. I’m not sure I paid attention to anyone but him back then. I actually got to know Nick better before he and Janelle were married the second time, when Preston and I sold our Ty-Ken stock to him.” She stopped talking and narrowed her gaze at Jamie. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “What?” Jamie opened her mouth in protest. Were her emotions so close to spinning out of control even a complete stranger could tell? “He’s my business associate and friend,” she said. “Nothing more.”

  Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen enough women in love to know one when I see one.”

  “Love?” Jamie nearly choked spitting the word out. “Who said anything about love?” Cue Tina Turner.

  Maggie smiled like she was hiding a crystal ball under that maternity top of hers. “Nick’s not such a bad guy, you know. He was kind of a player before he and Janelle got re-married and he conducts his business differently than I would, but, unlike my husband, I’ve always respected him. He’s loyal and passionate and a lot more honest than most people. You might want to consider being there for him when he’s done processing his grief.”

  Jamie frowned at her obviously sappy-hearted companion. “What’d you say your occupation was? Matchmaker?”

  Her question made Maggie laugh. “Matchmaker? I’ve never thought of that before. Maybe I should try my hand at it.”

  “Maybe, but you’ll have to look for another candidate to experiment with. I’m not in the market for a relationship.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I’m sure.” Jamie thought again of Nick, now hearing Maggie’s voice in her head saying words like love and relationship. Not helping. She grabbed a stack of Patrice’s paperwork. “We should probably get looking at your aunt’s financial records.”

  “Sure.” Maggie pulled more folders from the accordion file. “I’ve been able to account for the first year following her divorce from Rod.” She pulled a paper-clipped wad of sales receipts from one of the folders. “She was selling off antiques in the house to Sotheby’s. But for the last year her money seems to have been grown on a tree in the backyard.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at these entries in her checkbook.” Maggie opened the checkbook so Jamie could see. “There’s a series of twenty-five thousand dollar deposits beginning September thirtieth of last year. And you see here…” Maggie pointed to the memo section of the book. “…she has the deposits noted as furniture sales proceeds. Only there are no corresponding sales receipts to go with them. And as far as I can tell, there’s nothing missing from the house that hasn’t already been accounted for.”

  Jamie pulled the Nikon from her purse. “Do you mind if I get pictures of these entries?”

  “No. Go ahead.”

  After photographing the pertinent pages from Patrice’s checkbook, Jamie studied the dates. September thirtieth, October twenty-fifth and November nineteenth of last year. Then more this year; January seventeenth, March second and April twenty-eighth. “There’s something familiar about these dates.”

  “You recognize them?” Maggie had a curious glint in her eyes. “What’s their significance?”

  “I’m not sure off the top of my head, but it seems like I’ve seen these dates, or ones similar to them, not long ago.”

  “Were they dates that had something to do with Nick or Janelle?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it was something I saw a few weeks back.”

  “Will you let me know if you figure it out?”

  “Sure. No problem.” Jamie got up to leave. “I’ve taken enough of your time this morning. I’ll let you get back to settling your aunt’s estate. Thank you for your help and for the coffee.”

  As Jamie left the house and pulled out of the driveway, her mind split between two topics. She needed to remember where she’d seen those dates before. And she needed to get rid of her attraction to Nick before someone besides Maggie started spouting words like love and relationship.

  Chapter 31

  Nick’s thoughts increasingly flashed back to March and April. He’d brought up the subject of children to Janelle shortly after Christmas. Watching Preston and Maggie with Scott, and hearing them gush about their plans to expand their family, had made him realize how much he wanted a child. Janelle’s sharp rejection of the idea had shocked him. Throughout January, February, March and April, it was a subject of constant debate. Distance had grown between them during those months as Nick tried hard to sell her on the idea. She’d moved into the guest room and started going out at night with her girlfriends. By Easter tension had grown so thick between them they’d cancelled plans to visit Preston and Maggie. Their Easter dinner had consisted of Janelle going out with her friends and Nick eating Chinese take-out in the family room, watching TV.

  One night in particular stood out in his mind. Late in April. Janelle had gone out for the evening. As had become her custom. Another girls’ night out. This one had lasted most of the night. Nick had awoken at four in the morning and found the guest room still empty. Annoyed, he’d waited up for her. Waited to see just how long she’d be gone. When she finally came home, nearly an hour later, he’d greeted her at the door, his temper fully-stoked. He remembered the scene vividly. She’d stumbled through the door reeking of wine and tobacco smoke.

  He’d glared at her as she nearly tripped coming inside, clearly drunk, and followed her into the living room. “That must have been some girls’ night out.”

  “Don’ soun’ so damn accusa…tory. I’m entitled to have… a little bit of fun… every once in a while.”

  “You’re drunk. You drove yourself home in that condition?” He’d found her lack of judgment astounding.

  She’d slumped into an easy chair beside the sofa, her Chanel bag sli
pping from her hand and falling to the floor with a thunk. Her shoulder-length, red-brown curls fell in front of her face, obscuring most of it. A stain on her silk, white blouse bore witness to spilled red wine. “I was bein’ … care…ful.”

  “Oh, right.” He’d exploded. Screamed at her. “Goddamn it, Janelle. That was fucking irresponsible of you! You should have at least called a cab. You could have killed someone! You’re lucky you weren’t pulled over.”

  “Stop lec…turing … me.”

  “I shouldn’t have to lecture you. You’re forty years old. You should know better than to behave like that.” He’d stood in front of the chair where she sat, his anger pouring out like water bursting through a dam. “Hell! It’s no damn wonder you don’t want to have a child. That would require a little sacrifice on your part. You’d have to quit smoking and drinking and running around partying with your girlfriends until all hours of the morning.”

  “Stop it!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Jus’ stop it! You don’ know what kind of a … day … I’ve had.” She’d started sobbing, heaving out great cries as tears streamed down her face. “You jus’ think you know everything … don’ you? But you don’t. You don’ know anything … at … all.”

  Her tears got to him. The sight of a woman crying turned him to mush inside, like a secret weapon that could be used against him if it was ever discovered. As soon as Janelle’s tears started, his anger died down and he’d regretted yelling. “Janelle, don’t cry.” He’d knelt down beside the chair, placing his hand on her knee. “Let me help you to your room.”

  He’d tried helping her out of the chair but she jerked free of his grasp.

  “Leave me alone! I don’ need … any help … from you.”

  Standing there, feeling helpless, he’d watched as she made her way upstairs to the guest room, tripping twice along the way. That was the night he’d realized she would never agree to give him a child. And fighting with her about it wouldn’t do any good. When Janelle woke up, hung over and red-eyed, he’d brought her coffee and ice water and aspirin. And told her he’d stop bothering her about having a baby. Children were never discussed between them again.

  Even so, he’d resented her refusal, and she’d continued to sleep in the guest room. They’d stopped fighting, but they’d also stopped talking. Or doing anything together at all. They began living separate lives. He’d spent the summer wondering when she’d give up the pretense of a marriage and just move out. In his own mind, he’d given her until Christmas to make a decision before he made one for them both. Instead, she’d died on September fifteenth.

  It was all so clear, thinking about it now. Late April. She’d probably just handed over one hundred thousand dollars to Rod Skinner in exchange for him keeping a sex film under wraps. Funny thing was, he no longer felt hurt about it. He didn’t even feel angry. Just a disillusioned realization that his marriage to Janelle had died the day he decided he wanted a child.

  She could have told him about the affair though. Even after the fact, when Rod was pressing her for money, she could have told him. He’d have been angry, sure, but at least the secrets between them would have been gone. He could have helped. If she had trusted him things may have turned out differently.

  He’d spent their entire marriage trying to please her and make her happy. It was sad to realize how little she’d cared about reciprocating. One thing was certain now. He never wanted to be lied to by a woman again.

  A knock on the door interrupted his melancholy reverie. Jamie. She’d called to say she was on her way over. He jumped up in anticipation. Unlike Janelle, Jamie seemed to genuinely care about his happiness. It felt good to have someone care about what he wanted for a change.

  Familiar urges assaulted him as soon as he opened the door and saw her. A pair of blue and white striped shorts showed off her slim, athletic legs and the blue, sleeveless blouse she wore matched the color of her eyes. Looking at the blouse, he pictured the lovely breasts hiding inside. Breasts he’d marveled at, touched, almost tasted. He opened the door to let her in. “Jamie, honey. I’m happy to see you.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I have a great story for our next edition, by the way.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “No,” he teased. “I did say.”

  She smiled. “Okay then. You might be interested to know I’ve got a scoop of my own to pass along. Can I use your printer?”

  “Sure. What have you got?”

  “Just a few choice photos from Patrice McKenzie’s checkbook.”

  Hopefully not the result of another B & E. “Do I even want to know how you managed to get those?”

  “Relax. I came by them legally.” She was already headed toward his library.

  “Okay. How?”

  “I got a tip your sister-in-law Maggie was in Palm Beach settling her aunt’s estate. So I rushed right over for a little girl talk.”

  “You saw Maggie?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t know she was in Palm Beach?”

  He’d been cut out of the family already. How much had Janelle confided in her brother about their marital problems? For all he knew, the Tyler scissors had been sharpened to dissect him from the fold even before she was killed. “Actually, no. I hadn’t heard.”

  “Well, she was there and we had a little coffee together. And she was more than happy to let me have a look at Patrice’s financial records. Came up with a few entries you might find interesting.” Fishing her Nikon from her purse, she handed it to him and sat in one of the leather office chairs in front of the computer. “I can’t wait for you to see these.”

  Nick took the camera from her and plugged the memory card into the data port on his printer. After pushing the print button, he took a seat in the leather chair at the side of the desk. “You didn’t photograph any large cash deposits, did you?”

  “As a matter-of-fact, I did.”

  She beamed, looking every bit as happy as he should feel. He needed a drink. “Can I get you a beer?”

  She shrugged. “Sure, as long as you’re up.” She followed him to the kitchen, waiting while he retrieved two bottles from the refrigerator, opened them and headed back to the library. “I guess if you didn’t know Maggie was in town, you probably haven’t gotten any invites for Thanksgiving dinner either.”

  Now that she mentioned it, he hadn’t. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. “Thanksgiving’s coming up?” he asked. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “Next week. But don’t worry, I can probably scrounge up some turkey and maybe even cook it; unless you prefer to be a lonely diner at some local restaurant.”

  “Maybe next year I’ll be a lonely diner. This year I think I’ll take you up on your offer.” He winked at her. “But if you’re going to cook, how about if I do the shopping?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I already shopped yesterday. I can’t stand being in the stores once they get crowded.”

  No mistaking her for Janelle with that answer. Janelle had loved to shop. Anytime. Any place. “You like kids, Jamie?” He wasn’t sure why he’d asked.

  “Yeah. I love kids. You remember I have four siblings, right?”

  “I do.”

  “And you remember two of them were younger, right?”

  “I remember that, too.”

  “My parents, being gender conscious as they were, excused Jeremy and Justin from helping out with the younger kids. Which meant the entire task fell to me. I never minded though. My younger sister Jessie is like my best friend, even though she’s still in Michigan. Jake is pretty cool, too.”

  He imagined her childhood. Noisy and boisterous. In stark contrast to his upbringing as the only child of a single, working mother. Things hadn’t been great growing up in her home. She’d told him a few things after she’d been selling him pictures for a while. Her father drank and was gone all the time. And screaming and verbally abusive when he was there. But she’d had her brothers and sisters. And that seemed to have helped.

  “You want to have
kids with me?” he asked. He said it impulsively, the words flying out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to censor them.

  She blushed, looking afraid, he thought. Scared he might really mean it? “Or, at least practice.” He’d wanted to take her clothes off and lead her to his bed since he let her in his front door.

  “How about those pictures?” she asked, changing the subject. “Are they done printing yet?”

  “Yes.” In other words, no. He pulled the photos from his printer and handed her back the memory card. “Let’s see what you have here.”

  “There’s the first large deposit. There’s six of them. All for $25,000.” She pointed to a line dated September 30, and noticeably kept her distance.

  He nodded. “$25,000 must have been her cut from Rod.”

  She looked at him, clearly puzzled. “Her cut from Rod? What do you mean?”

  “That’s right. I haven’t told you what I’ve found out yet.” He hesitated. Every admission he made that Janelle had betrayed him made him feel like a fool. “Rod and Patrice were working a blackmail scheme. She found him wealthy wives whose marriage had hit a rough patch. He coaxed them into bed and made a sex tape, and then blackmailed them to keep it from their husbands.”

  Jamie’s mouth dropped. A strange, far-away look clouded her gaze, as if she were remembering something unpleasant. Nick touched her on the arm. “What is it?”

  She shook her head, pulling away. “Nothing. It’s just, well, I have to get back to my apartment and look over the pictures I took of those tapes in Rod’s basement. That could be why these dates seem so familiar to me. They might correspond to some of the names and dates I saw on some of the movies.”

  As she spoke, a new fear slowly dawned on him. “Jamie, when you were at Rod’s, did you check all of his cabinets? All the tapes?”

  She cast her eyes down, still looking as though she were thinking about something, remembering something. “I’m sure, Nick. I checked them all.”