Threads of Suspicion

by Dee Henderson

  “David said you’re singing tomorrow late in the program. Will you be able to join him for the meal?” Evie asked.

  “I’ll be missing dinner. If I want to get through a performance, I don’t dare touch anything in the hours before I’m on. It’s butterfly city.”

  “After all these years?”

  Maggie laughed. “When I started this career, I didn’t know what nerves were. A performance is nothing but things that can go wrong. What if I miss the pitch on a high note, or mistime a breath and can’t hold the tone, or draw a blank on the words as I begin the second verse of a song I wrote? I love singing, I love the crowds and the enthusiasm and people enjoying the music with me, yet still I’m terrified at being the one leading the experience. Music is to be shared, but I find the recording studio so much easier than live performances. It’s free do-overs whenever I need them.”

  “Will you ever quit performing live?”

  “Probably not. I need the fear—it motivates me to do my best work. The songs would be a step less true if I wasn’t driven to get every bit of the music and the words right. Not perfect—I don’t have the skills for that—but right.”

  “I think I understand.”

  “Tomorrow night I’ll change after I sing, come join David for the dessert course. I like to have him be part of the audience at events like this. Seeing him there is a huge boost, and he can give me the straight scoop on sound, lighting, balance with the band—those kinds of things.”

  Maggie found the pair of shoes that perfectly matched the yellow dress, slid them on the shelf above it, said over her shoulder, “Your Rob Turney sounds like a good guy.”

  “You’ll meet him tomorrow night at the charity dinner. And his parents.”

  “Ahh. A wealthy family? Or a political one?”

  She must know the ticket prices. “The parents have ‘politically connected’ wealth. Rob is more on the earned-wealth side of things, a dealmaker who likes working in the financial world.”

  “You really like him, Evie. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I do. My travel schedule is a problem for us. I work for the State Police when I’m not doing this task-force job. It makes it hard to build a life in Chicago when I’m rarely here.”

  “Being a cop is how you think of yourself?”

  “It is. I enjoy solving real-life puzzles.”

  “You could become a private investigator, do that work for yourself.”

  Evie paused as she unboxed a red dress. “I’ve never even considered that for myself. That’s a pretty big oversight. Especially considering David’s been living inside a PI’s world and giving me an up-close look at it.”

  “If you can handle not having the authority a badge brings, I imagine it’s got some interesting benefits for what you do—when, how.”

  “It’s something to think about,” Evie agreed. “I’m so sorry for how it’s been with you and David. You’ve been very gracious with him, given the limbo his decision about faith has created.”

  “I’ve decided he’s my guy, for better or worse,” Maggie replied, placing more shoes on the shelf. “I’ve stepped away from him twice, thinking it was better to accept reality and move on, only to find myself coming back. Walking away sounds like a solution until you try it and find your heart stayed behind. I loved David before he found his new faith, and that love had time to sink deep roots. The car accident and his decision following it took us on an unexpected turn, but it didn’t damage the love we feel for each other.”

  Evie wasn’t sure what to say. That answer just made it clear how deep the impasse was affecting them both.

  Maggie sighed as she sank down on a nearby ottoman. “I’ve thought deeply about this quandary I’m in. There isn’t a better life waiting for me out there, married to someone else. There isn’t a greater love for me to find. I could form a different life and be content, find a different love, be fairly happy, but I would always regret what I’d let go. I don’t want to start over. I want what my heart has always wanted since high school—to be David Marshal’s wife. I suppose I’m pretty stubborn on some matters. But the truth is, being in limbo with David is actually the lesser pain than the alternative.”

  “Wow.” It was the only word that fit the emotion Evie felt. She wondered if David had any idea how much Maggie really loved him.

  Maggie half smiled, paused, looked around the room. “I try very hard not to seem bitter when I talk about this, or angry at the religion David chose to believe, because I know his sincerity, that he never intended to hurt me. I’m honestly not hurt inside anymore. I’m just puzzled because I can’t make sense of it. David accepts that this Jesus is alive. I don’t see how it can possibly be. But I know you believe like he does—he mentioned that in one of our calls when you had first started working together. I’m glad he’s got a friend he can talk with.”

  Evie set aside the next boxed gown and sat down on an upholstered chair facing Maggie. “It will feel pretty gentle, Maggie, that moment of ‘Oh, I see it now, I understand now.’ It’s something God, the author of faith, does for you over a period of time. His Word settles in your heart. You can’t will yourself to believe, but you can read the Bible with an open mind and listen to what it says. That’s your part. God is very willing to take you to that moment when you understand and accept it as truth. His promise is that those who seek Him will find Him.”

  Maggie nodded. “David has shown me those statements from the Bible. That is what I hope for this year—actually, what I’ve hoped for every year as this has evolved, this faith you two talk about so easily. But it’s not so easy, Evie, not for me.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s just wonderful.”

  Maggie laughed. “I watch David and realize it’s all that to him. He’s a better man now than he was before. I can see the changes, good ones. Finding Jesus has been a good step for him. If the same thing comes true for me, I’ll be glad for it. I just . . . well, I just don’t understand it yet.”

  “Did you decide to come back to Chicago because this is where you two have the deepest roots to your relationship?” Evie wondered.

  “Partly,” Maggie replied. “Life starts running by too quickly when a career takes off. It’s all constant opportunities. I wanted that in the early years, to have a singing career, then to reach for what was possible with this talent.” She smiled at Evie. “But I’ve realized the career will become my life if I let it. It never slows down—always a need for new songs, another concert, the next album, an interview—it’s mostly an exciting, fulfilling life that has no natural boundaries or checks on itself. I’ve decided I want to impose a few, to dictate the pace of my life, at least give it a try. That’s easier to do when you live away from New York. Chicago is busy, but it’s not that almost frenetic grasping for more. I want to spend some time with Charlotte and Bryce, asking more questions about faith, have hours with David less hectic than New York.”

  “I’m glad for you both.”

  Maggie’s phone chimed, and she looked at the message. “David says dinner is served. Let’s go see what miracle he’s managed to work.”

  David had put together an easy meal of chicken and fried rice, alongside slices of fresh tomato sprinkled with parmesan and balsamic. Evie listened to the two of them sync their lives back together as she ate the tasty meal. They talked about the house, what of Maggie’s was shifting from New York to Chicago and when, logistics for the next day’s charity event, some things going on with mutual friends. Evie was enjoying this glimpse into their lives.

  “I’m sorry, Evie,” Maggie interrupted herself. “It’s like listening to shared to-do lists. Not particularly interesting conversation for our guest.”

  Evie smiled, shrugged. “I’m enjoying the meal, I didn’t realize David was such a good chef. Getting your world transitioned halfway across the country is a major undertaking. It’s not only you, but the band, your staff, the business partnerships.”

  “Most, thankfully, aren’t doing this move,”
Maggie responded. “Planes are constantly flying from here to New York, and the internet is even faster. We’ll figure out how to make things happen here as well as there. It’s just going to take a lot more planning.” Maggie gestured with her fork. “I speak from experience, Evie—relationships can handle a significant amount of travel and still stay bound together. But it’s meals like this, time spent actually together that the phone and texting can’t replicate. I love the work I do, but if it costs me too many evenings with David, it’s asking too much.”

  Evie understood where Maggie was coming from, thinking of the recent meal with Rob. “Then I wish you both many more evenings like this one, and I’m glad the two of you are returning to Chicago. I’ve really enjoyed working with David.”

  “He’s like you, Evie, he loves solving real-life mysteries. He likes being a cop.”

  “A fact I’m grateful for. His input’s been invaluable on my case.”

  “You two are getting awfully close to shoptalk,” David cautioned, picking up his plate. “I found ice cream for dessert. Sundae or milk shake? What’s it to be?”

  He ended up fixing three milk shakes. “So what’s the biggest, heaviest item I can deal with, Maggie?” he asked as they finished the shakes.

  “Greg promised to put the music room equipment together, get it all connected and working properly. You want to tackle setting up the planters and lights for my herb garden? I’m thinking that south wall in the mudroom gets decent sunlight and would be a perfect place for it. It’s also close to the kitchen.”

  “I can handle that,” David said.

  “The boxes are in the garage,” Maggie told him. “Meanwhile, Evie and I are going to go finish unboxing and hanging the gowns.”

  Their evening wrapped up an hour later when David caught Maggie’s yawn. “You’re starting to fade,” he teased, rubbing her back. He’d joined them upstairs when he finished his task and had started unpacking her books. “Those on East Coast time need to call it a day.”

  Maggie walked with them to the front door. “Thank you for coming with David, Evie,” she said with a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Maggie.” Evie stepped out to the car to give the two a few minutes for a private good-night. She envied them the ease and comfort they had with each other.

  David slid into the driver’s seat, started the car.

  “You have a very nice girlfriend.”

  “Thanks,” David said. “I’ll get a chance to meet Rob tomorrow?”

  “And his parents.”

  “Don’t fret too much on that score, Evie. They’ll eventually warm to you.” He smiled. “I find you’re hard to resist.”

  “Let’s hope that’s not just optimism. Maggie, now—in spite of the commotion from her move—seems ready for tomorrow night.”

  “The songs she’s been asked to sing are longtime favorites, so it’s less stressful than working in new material. But she’s very aware the mayor is hosting this, and the room will be filled with society types. She’ll be glad when her part is over.”

  “Rob’s going to want to introduce me to several of those people.”

  He grinned. “I imagine you’ll survive the evening too, Evie.”

  He drove them back to the office park and pulled in beside her car. “If you’re going inside to work, I’ll come in with you.”

  Evie considered that, reached for a quarter in the change dish. It was just after nine p.m. so either would work for her. “You call it, we work another hour, otherwise it’s the hotel.”

  He nodded. She flipped the quarter and he called “Heads” as it dropped to the floor. He turned on the overhead light so they could see it. “Heads.”

  Evie scooped up the quarter, put it back, and pushed open her door. “I don’t mind working at night. I find my ideas are more . . . free form.”

  “And I’m willing to put in the hours, because it’s the only way this thing gets finished. With a case like this one, you push until it’s figured out.”

  “How very true, David.”

  He locked the car, and they headed inside.

  Eighteen

  Evie had been looking through Jenna’s albums and scrapbooks earlier, particularly at the photos of guys. The materials were still spread across the desk, and she turned her attention to the girls. She’d interviewed most of Jenna’s girlfriends—all those from the group at the concert that night, several more from shared classes. But there were always one or two more who might know something, those on the periphery of her inner circle. Even interviewing the boyfriends of those in that outer circle might lead somewhere useful.

  One photo struck her as particularly interesting—Jenna with two of her friends, singing together on a karaoke stage. A jacket matching best friend Robin’s dress was draped over a chair on the left side of the photo. Two girls were sitting at the round table, one Evie recognized as the girl living in the apartment across the hall from Jenna. The other girl wasn’t happy, that was clear. In a room of smiling and laughing people, this girl obviously wasn’t in a good mood.

  Evie searched through the pages, found the girl in one other group photographed on another night of music. Guitars rested on stands on a low stage beyond the group’s table. There were no names written on the back of either photo, but she knew someone who might know her.

  Evie looked up the place where Candy Trefford worked as a hostess three nights a week. It was getting late—a good time to chase down the woman. “David, I’m running out to get an answer from someone I spoke with before. She works nights. Anything you want me to bring back?”

  She looked around when she didn’t get a reply, saw his concentration on a photo, holding up a hand to request a minute. “Sorry,” he said eventually. “Yeah. I’m good. The FBI lab people taking another look at the three smothered girls think they have a partial print—a composite from three marginal partials lifted at the three scenes. It’s this.” He pointed to the photo on his screen. “I see what they’re doing, the science behind it, but it’s going to be a challenge to get a judge to accept it.”

  “Did they get a database match?” she asked, coming around to look at the screen with him.

  “They just started running it. This thin of a partial is just going to create another list of names.”

  Evie’s chuckle turned into a laugh. “David, that should be stenciled on a wall around here,” she said, shoulders shaking. “We’re the master list creators—music majors, drunk drivers, pickpockets, guys with criminal records living within four blocks of Jenna, loyal fans of Triple M, friends and enemies of Jenna.” She finally quit laughing, added, “And that’s before we add all the details of the other four possibly related cases.”

  “I admit, I can’t help but be amazed at our tenacity,” David agreed, matching her humor. “We’re going to pin this guy down somehow, someway. It’s inevitable now.”

  “I am off to get a name to go with this photo,” Evie said, holding it up, “and should be back within half an hour.”

  “Watch for idiot drivers on the ice out there—nighttime brings out the drunks.”

  “Such fond memories you bring back from when I worked patrol,” Evie joked, then headed out.

  At ten p.m., the Ocean Wave Restaurant’s incoming guests were down to a handful. Candy stood at the reservation desk talking with a server. She stiffened when she saw Evie. “I’m working tonight.”

  “You can spare five minutes.” She nodded to the privacy of an empty area by the drink station. Candy’s reluctance was evident in every step.

  “I’m not here to ask about Jenna.” Evie held out the photo and tapped the girl sitting at the table. “Tell me about this girl.”

  Candy glanced at the photo. “Wannabe Maggie?”

  Evie felt the shock all the way to her toes. “Yes, that one. What’s her real name? Then tell me everything else you know about her, please.”

  Candy cast a suspicious glance at Evie. “Am I getting her in trouble?” />
  “I don’t even know her name, so probably not, unless she’s done something seriously bad she shouldn’t have. Help me out here, Candy.”

  “Lynne Benoit. Music major, good voice, wanted a career as a singer. Devoted Triple M fan. A little weird. Over-the-top ticked off when someone messed up a song and didn’t sing the lyrics as originally written. I’ve seen that scowl on her face so often I don’t even need to guess the problem. Jenna and her pals were improvising lyrics again.”

  “Lynne ever get that break as a singer?”

  “Not that I’ve heard. She worked backstage at the Fifth Street Music Hall during her college years, for all I know still does, trying to snag a manager or connect with a band, another performer. It wasn’t much of a job. She was the dressing room staffer—basically a gofer—bringing in food and drinks, finding misplaced curling irons and shoe boxes, whatever performers and their staff needed. But to listen to her, that job was the highlight of her life. She plastered autographs and photos of everyone who played at the Music Hall on her walls. Maggie was everything she wanted to be one day—great lyrics, the band, the singing career. She was trying to copy her style. Lynne was probably Maggie’s most devoted fan.”

  “You said she was weird?”

  “She wasn’t good at reading social cues. Didn’t get that Jenna saw her as the misfit, was simply playing fairy godmother by letting her be around the group who had it all together. Even I felt sorry for Lynne when I saw how they were using her just to show how nice they were. Jenna always had the do-gooder image going, but it was so she’d be noticed. It wasn’t real.”

  “Jenna gossiped about Lynne, laughed at her behind her back?”

  Candy shook her head. “More subtle than that. Lynne made Jenna look good—‘See how accepting I am of this out-of-place one?’ But she didn’t like Lynne, wasn’t a true friend. She didn’t want her to succeed and become someone. Just let her flounder and didn’t clue her in, didn’t help her.” Candy looked away a moment, then back to say, “Put a good boyfriend with Lynne, some guy who’s kind, someone who ‘gets’ her, he could have steered her to a successful career. Lynne had a strong voice and the desire to make it in the music business—if someone had bothered to help her, to coach her. But Jenna wasn’t into helping anyone but herself. I wasn’t into music, so Lynne’s help couldn’t come from me. I felt sorry for her, but she didn’t realize what was going on and, far as I know, never did realize it.”