Mayhem & Mass

by Olivia Matthews

  “Is that what you’re going to ask him?”

  “Smart man.” Sister Lou gave Chris an approving smile. “That’s one of the things I want to ask him.”

  “Why isn’t Shari joining us?” Chris sounded too casual. He didn’t fool Sister Lou.

  “She’s on deadline. I told her we’d call her tonight to let her know what, if anything, we learn.”

  Chris held the front door open for Sister Lou. She released his arm, then preceded him into the cozy Cape Cod. Her nerves were strained as they approached the front desk. Beatrix Thorne, Kevin’s office manager, looked up at their entrance.

  “Sister Lou.” Beatrix paused in sorting a sizable stack of mail. Her round, freckled face brightened with a welcoming smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “It’s good to see you as well.” Sister Lou couldn’t help returning the other woman’s smile. She gestured toward Chris. “This is my nephew, Christian LaSalle. Chris, this is Beatrix Thorne.”

  Chris greeted the office manager with a handshake and a smile, then stepped back.

  Beatrix returned her attention to Sister Lou. Her honey-blond hair seemed washed out against her black blouse. “Kevin’s out this afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?”

  Sister Lou was deflated. She’d worked up her nerve to confront Maurice’s partner again, despite his complaints to the sheriff’s office, only to find that he was out. “I was afraid he wasn’t in.” Sister Lou was distracted by Beatrix’s diamond earrings. Were they real? “Your car was the only one in the parking lot.”

  “The Beemer?” Chris’s eyebrows shot upward. “Very nice.”

  Beatrix giggled as she continued sorting the mail. “Thank you. It was a gift to myself with the money my husband left me. He died last year.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Sister Lou murmured.

  “I’m so sorry.” Chris slipped his hands into the front pockets of his suit pants. “Do you know when Kevin will be back?”

  Beatrix gave him a dry look. “I’m afraid not. I suppose he’ll be in in the morning. Kevin’s not very forthcoming with information, if you know what I mean. He gives me information on a need-to-know basis, and, apparently, I often don’t need to know.”

  Sister Lou glanced at her crimson wristwatch. It was just after two-thirty in the afternoon. After making the trip, she didn’t want to leave empty-handed. “How long have you worked with Kevin?”

  “I’ve been with him since the beginning, almost four years.” Beatrix finished reviewing and sorting the mail. She set the envelopes aside. “To tell you the truth, it feels like dog years, twenty-eight.”

  “It must have been exciting to watch the company grow.” Chris moved closer to Sister Lou. “I’ve heard Kevin has had a lot of success with his productions recently.”

  “Ever since he changed the company’s name from Appleby Productions to Spreading the Word Productions and started focusing on religious topics.” Beatrix tucked a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. The brown roots were beginning to show.

  Beatrix’s work area was very different from Kevin’s. A casual glance of the items neatly arranged across the surface of her desk revealed an attraction to religiously themed trinkets. A daily scripture calendar lay in the center of her desk. Beside it were several small sculptures: a metal crucifix, a blond-wood angel, and a marble woman at prayer. Her white porcelain mug was half-filled with hot tea. A message displayed on her mug in red cursive letters read TO ERR IS HUMAN; TO FORGIVE, DIVINE.

  Chris inclined his head. “I’d forgotten that the company started as Appleby Productions.”

  It continued to amaze Sister Lou how much her nephew knew about the people in their little town. She’d lived in Briar Coast for six years. Chris had been here half that time, yet he had much more knowledge of the community.

  It also impressed her that he could retain so much of the information. People liked knowing that Chris was interested in who they were and what was important to them. It made them feel special. These skills were what made him so good at his job as the college’s Interim Vice President of College Advancement. Hopefully, the “interim” part of that title would be removed soon.

  Beatrix looked from Sister Lou to Chris. “Kevin changed the name of his company to Spreading the Word Productions before he pitched the idea of a partnership to Maurice.”

  Chris cocked his head. “Spreading the Word Productions does sound more religious.”

  “It really does, doesn’t it?” Beatrix’s chuckle sounded forced. “Still, I was really surprised when Maurice agreed to go into business with Kevin.”

  Sister Lou frowned. “Why were you surprised?”

  “It’s just that Maurice was such a decent man, and Kevin isn’t.” Beatrix giggled again. “I probably shouldn’t talk about my boss this way. You probably think I’m a terrible person.”

  Sister Lou considered Beatrix and her apparent comfort confiding in her and Chris. “Does Kevin have a temper?”

  “Boy, howdy.” Beatrix rolled her eyes. “He can fly off the handle faster than you can change your shoes.”

  That was worrying. “What could make him lose his temper?”

  “That’s super easy—not getting his way.” Beatrix rolled her eyes.

  Sister Lou exchanged a concerned look with Chris. “Did Maurice ever witness Kevin’s temper?”

  “They argued a lot.” Beatrix shrugged. “Kevin always started it. Like I said, he could snap pretty quickly and pretty often.”

  Sister Lou considered this sobering information. “Thank you for your time, Beatrix. Could you let Kevin know we stopped by, please?”

  “Of course.” Beatrix giggled as she looked from Sister Lou to Chris and back. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  “You do the same.” Sister Lou smiled at the office manager from over her shoulder as she led Chris from the room.

  Chris was silent until they reached the company’s parking lot. “She’s not exactly Kevin’s greatest fan.”

  “No, she’s not. But she certainly seemed to be fond of Mo.” Sister Lou ran the contrasts between Beatrix and Kevin, and Kevin and Maurice, around her mind.

  “I can sense something’s troubling you, Aunt Lou. What is it?”

  Sister Lou hesitated. “Beatrix doesn’t appear to be on a tight budget. By her accounts, her husband left her a lot of money. If Kevin is such a bad boss and has such a horrible temper, why has she stayed for four years?”

  * * *

  “The deputies brought me in for questioning this afternoon.” Jessica sounded as shaken as Sister Lou felt on hearing that the deputies suspected Maurice’s widow of killing him.

  Hadn’t I suspected the same thing? When had I changed my mind?

  Sister Lou sat with Chris, Jessica, and Nestor in Jessica’s living room Friday evening. Jessica had asked her to come over. Sister Lou had invited Chris and Shari to join her. Chris had agreed, offering to drive, but Shari had declined.

  The reporter had seemed anxious to get off the phone. Sister Lou wondered whether Shari had been on deadline, or if Kevin had complained to the deputies about her just as he’d complained about Sister Lou. She placed her bets on the latter, but kept her suspicions to herself. She’d told Chris that Shari was on deadline and couldn’t join them. Later, she’d check on Shari. For now, she’d focus on Jessica and the reason her friend’s widow had called her.

  “What evidence do the deputies have against you?” Chris asked from his position beside Sister Lou on the black leather sofa. He’d changed out of his suit and tie and into a bronze jersey, dark khakis, and black-and-white sneakers.

  “They said people saw me in the hotel that night, and that they’d talked to me and I’d introduced myself as Missus Jordan. I couldn’t believe it. Me. How’s that possible?” Jessica’s sapphire blue eyes were stretched wide. They conveyed her shock even more clearly than her words.

  “What people?” Sister Lou felt suspicious of the vague reference to “people” in ge
neral.

  “I don’t know. How should I know? People who work at the hotel.” Jessica shook her head frantically, causing her honey-blond hair to bounce around her head and shoulders. “They even searched my house. They had a warrant. Why would they search my house? What were they looking for?”

  Sister Lou folded her hands together to keep from wringing them as Jessica was. “The murder weapon. Mo was hit by a blunt object.”

  “What object?” Jessica’s voice lifted several octaves above her normal range. She rose from her armchair and spread her arms, encompassing the dark furnishings and décor of her living room. “I’m not hiding any murder weapons here.”

  “Mom, were you at the hotel that night?” Nestor’s firm tone cut across the room, commanding attention.

  Jessica spun toward him. “What?”

  Nestor stood beside the fireplace, separate from the others. “Did you go to the hotel the night Dad was killed?”

  “No, I didn’t go to the hotel,” Jessica screeched. “How could you even ask me that?”

  Nestor propped his shoulder against the fireplace mantel and crossed his arms. “Do you have an alibi?”

  Jessica grew still. “I’m your mother. Do I need an alibi with you?”

  A muscle pulsed in Nestor’s jaw. “Were you with Emmett Wagner while my father was being killed?”

  Jessica stumbled backward. Her thin hands pressed against her chest as though protecting her heart. She turned, sending a beseeching look to Sister Lou. Her expression was lost and alone.

  Sister Lou stiffened, rejecting the reflexive reaction that urged empathy. Jessica had created this atmosphere of distrust. Now she had to fix it.

  Jessica pinned her son with an accusing glare. “Do you think I was at the hotel, too?”

  Nestor’s gray eyes never wavered. “Were you?”

  Jessica confronted Sister Lou. “Did you tell the deputies your suspicions about me?”

  Sister Lou shook her head. “No, I did not.”

  “I did,” Nestor said.

  Jessica gasped as though absorbing one more body blow.

  Sister Lou sensed Chris’s tension as he sat beside her. It matched her own. She knew that, like her, Chris wanted to leave. But neither of them could move. It was as though they were trapped, held against the sofa by the wealth of emotions swelling in the great room.

  “So you think I’m either an adulterer or a murderer.” Jessica’s voice cracked. Her throat muscles moved as she looked at her son. “I’m not a murderer.”

  Nestor considered his mother over a long, painful silence. “I believe you.”

  “How did you know . . . ?” Jessica’s voice trailed off.

  “That you were having an affair?” Nestor moved his shoulders in a restless shrug. “I’m not stupid, Mom.”

  Blood drained from Jessica’s face. “Well, I guess that’s why you’ve been so cold to me the last several months. I couldn’t figure that part out.” There was a sadness in her eyes and in her voice.

  “Maurice knew as well.” Sister Lou pinned Jessica with an I-told-you-so look.

  “I still don’t believe that.” Jessica’s voice was adamant. “In any event, I didn’t kill him.”

  Sister Lou believed Jessica, although she didn’t know why.

  “Were you going to divorce Maurice?” Chris asked.

  Jessica rolled her eyes at Chris. “No, I wasn’t going to divorce him. Why would I? Emmett and I aren’t looking for anything permanent. We’re just having fun.” Her voice dwindled almost as though she realized too late how selfish and self-centered she sounded.

  Sister Lou swallowed her anger. “Are you sure Emmett doesn’t want something more permanent?”

  Jessica’s gaze circled the room, landing on Chris seated beside Sister Lou on the sofa, and Nestor standing in front of the fireplace. “He’s never mentioned wanting anything more than what we have.” She didn’t sound confident.

  “Do you know where Emmett was the night Maurice was murdered?” Sister Lou had to ask.

  Jessica was silent for a moment. Surprise took over her expression. “No, I don’t.”

  That bore looking into. “We need to find out.”

  Jessica gave Sister Lou a hopeful look. “You could ask him. You could go to Fit Up: A Health Space tomorrow. He works Saturdays, and has Sundays and Mondays off.”

  Sister Lou gave Jessica a pointed look. “Shari and I weren’t well received the last time we tried to speak with Emmett about Maurice’s murder.”

  “Please, Lou.” Jessica’s blue eyes begged. “I need to know—and I trust you to be able to tell whether Emmett’s lying.”

  Sister Lou’s resolve wavered. “Has he lied to you before?”

  Jessica sighed. “I didn’t know about his three ex-wives and seven kids.”

  In that case . . . Sister Lou caught Chris’s gaze. “Will you join Shari and me in the morning?”

  “Of course.” Chris nodded once.

  “Why?” Nestor’s question burst free, shattering the brief silence. “I know Dad wasn’t always there for us, but why did you have to cheat on him?”

  “Emmett needed me.” Jessica spread her arms in a helpless gesture. “Your father didn’t. After years of being married to him, I began to feel invisible and unnecessary. Unwanted. Unattractive. Then I met Emmett, and he needed me.”

  “Does he make you happy?” Nestor asked.

  Jessica shrugged. “Happy enough. Happier than I was with your father.”

  Nestor frowned, his gray eyes confused. “Then why didn’t you just leave Dad?”

  “Why?” Jessica dragged her fingers through her hair. “I was happy with my life the way it was. I didn’t see any reason to change anything.”

  Sister Lou considered Jessica’s self-centered response to her son’s question. “Someone must have seen a reason to change your life. If you’re telling us the truth—that you didn’t kill Maurice—then someone is framing you for his murder.”

  Chapter 21

  “Why are you so certain Jessica didn’t kill Maurice?” Chris waited while Sister Lou unlocked the door to her apartment in the motherhouse later that night.

  “You don’t have anything better to do on a Friday night than argue with your aunt?” Sister Lou spoke over her shoulder.

  Chris winced as he followed her into her apartment. She never missed an opportunity for a dig at his social life—or lack thereof. “When you started your investigation, Jessica was your prime suspect. Now you’re certain she’s innocent. I just want to understand why.”

  And to get a sense of how much longer this investigation will continue.

  The sitting area carried the scent of the apple and cinnamon potpourri that filled the bowl on the corner table. Chris smiled at the sudoku puzzle book that lay on Sister Lou’s coffee table. It was the only sign of disorder in his aunt’s otherwise well-organized apartment.

  “Jess doesn’t have a motive.” Sister Lou settled onto the armchair on the opposite end of the coffee table, closest to her puzzle book. Her brown dress looked out of place against the brilliant sky-blue upholstery and vibrant afghan.

  Chris sat on the sofa to Sister Lou’s right. “You said her affair was her motive.”

  “She was never going to leave Mo. You heard her. She liked her life just the way it was.”

  “Especially Maurice’s money.” Chris’s voice was dry. “Maybe that’s her motive.”

  “If she was going to kill Mo for his money, she wouldn’t have waited thirty-three years.”

  “Good point.” At this rate, Chris could see the investigation stretching far into their future. He massaged the muscles knotting at the base of his neck.

  “I need to know who’s framing Jess.” Sister Lou touched the blue, gold, and white Hermionean cross pinned to the upper right of her dress.

  “How do you know she’s telling the truth?” Chris leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his thighs.

  “What makes you think she’s lying?”

&nb
sp; Chris dragged a hand over his close-cropped hair. “For all we know, she was at the hotel that night. She probably hadn’t realized anyone would notice, or maybe she didn’t think it would matter.”

  “If she didn’t want to be noticed, why would she introduce herself by name?”

  Chris saw the faraway look in Sister Lou’s eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  Sister Lou stared at a spot across the room. “Someone pounded on the back of Mo’s head several times with a very heavy object.” She spoke the words slowly, thoughtfully. “The scene was violent.”

  “It was a crime of passion.”

  “That’s right. Passion.” Sister Lou turned and met Chris’s eyes. Her gaze snapped back into focus. “Whoever killed Mo had lost control. What would cause the killer to become that upset? What would make Jess lose control?”

  Chris chewed on that for several silent moments while his aunt went back to contemplating the wall across the room. Jessica claimed she didn’t have any feelings for Maurice anymore. How could someone care so little for the person they chose to marry and raise a family with? But unless Jessica was lying she couldn’t have committed this crime of passion. She didn’t care enough.

  “Why didn’t they try to fix their relationship?” Chris hadn’t planned to ask the question aloud.

  “Mo was trying. He was making changes to spend more time with his family.”

  “It seems his efforts were too little and too late.”

  “It was worth a try.”

  Chris agreed. “So we’re eliminating Jessica from our suspect list.”

  Sister Lou hesitated several long seconds. “Not quite. We’re just moving her lower on the list.” She pulled her gaze from the wall and met Chris’s eyes. “You can get it off your chest.”

  Chris sighed. “The longer you continue your investigation, the more dangerous it becomes.”

  “You’re probably right. I’ll understand if you’d prefer not to continue the investigation.”

  She was the definition of stubborn.

  “Aunt Lou, I’m not walking away from this investigation without you.”