by Karen Rose
‘Only every woman he two-timed, every patient he cheated. The only people who’ll cry about his death are his parents and my boys – and me for their pain.’
‘Tell me about his patients. You say he cheated them?’
‘He’d been sued more than once for shoddy work. If you want to make a list of people who hated him, you’re going to need a lot bigger pencil.’
‘Do you know any names of disgruntled patients?’ Stevie asked.
‘None from after our divorce, only patients from five years ago who actually sued.’
‘I can get those names,’ Stevie said. ‘Ma’am, where were you on Sunday night?’
Her smile was thin-lipped. ‘Same place I am every night. Right here, with my sons. And no, I can’t prove it. Am I a suspect?’
‘Right now everyone is,’ Stevie said, ‘until we can cross them off the list.’
‘I wouldn’t kill him. I hated him for what he did to me, but he was still the father of my sons, and even if he was a lousy father, they needed him.’ Her thin smile grew bitter. ‘Besides, now that he’s gone, my alimony dries up, as does any child support.’
‘There will be life insurance,’ Stevie said and watched Helen’s eyes flash.
‘No, there won’t be. Russell stopped payments on his policy last year. He said he could barely afford his malpractice premiums. I’ll have to find a job and daycare and . . . Oh God.’ Her panic returned. ‘I can’t believe this. How am I going to tell my boys?’
Stevie took out her card and wrote a name on it. ‘This is a child psychologist who specializes in kids who’ve lost a parent violently. He’s good. My cell is on there too, if you remember anything that might help.’ She looked at JD, who had been surreptitiously checking the display on his own cell phone. ‘Do you have anything for Mrs Bennett?’
‘Just a few things,’ JD said. ‘When you told him to go to hell, what did he say?’
Helen looked away. ‘He said “That’s where I’m headed.” I didn’t understand then.’
‘Why would you?’ JD asked, understanding in his voice. ‘Do you remember anything special about that call? Any sounds? Anything you were thinking?’
Helen drew a breath. ‘There were birds. Seabirds. I could hear them. I accused Russ of ditching our son’s recital to have brunch at the harbor with one of his floozies.’
‘And what did he say to that?’
‘Nothing. He hung up on me.’
‘Did he mention the name of the client he planned to see?’ he asked.
‘No. I assumed it was a woman for that reason, too. I should have known something was wrong, should have called 911.’ New tears began to roll down her face.
JD took the chair next to her. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Bennett, but just a few more questions. Tell me, how did you first meet Dr Bennett?’ he asked, in a way that told Stevie that he knew something.
Helen hesitated. ‘I was his and his sister’s babysitter,’ she said and Stevie had to fight the urge to blink in surprise. ‘I was home from college for the summer and earning every cent I could for school. But we didn’t really meet until years later, at a party. We were introduced by a mutual friend and were so surprised to find we knew each other from before.’
‘So you grew up in Anderson Ferry too,’ JD said.
‘No, I grew up here. My parents divorced and my mother moved there to share a house with a friend, when I was in high school. She moved out a few years later. Why?’
‘Just gathering the facts, ma’am,’ JD said. ‘If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to tell us.’
Helen haltingly walked them to the door. ‘His parents will be devastated. Even though he was a disappointment to them, they loved him.’
JD paused at the door. ‘One more thing. What would you say if I told you that Lucy Trask found your husband’s body in the park behind her apartment this morning?’
Helen staggered back a step. ‘What? Lucy found him? Oh my God. Poor Lucy.’
‘Dr Trask was also threatened,’ JD said. ‘Who might hate them both?’
‘Oh my God,’ Helen repeated, horrified, then forced herself to calm. ‘If Lucy was threatened, I can’t see any of Russell’s floozies doing it. We all love Lucy.’
‘Because she broke his nose,’ Stevie said.
‘Partly. And partly because she stood up to him when he hit her friend.’ Helen sighed wearily. ‘Russell was a terrible husband. He’d hit me when he got angry. I stayed for the boys, but when I found out about the cheating . . . well, I couldn’t stay, for me. If Lucy was threatened, it wasn’t by one of the women.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Bennett,’ JD said. ‘We are very sorry for your loss.’
Stevie waited until they were back at their cars. ‘Now how did you know she had lived in Anderson Ferry?’ she demanded. ‘That woman had no accent.’
‘Lucy texted me with it while you were asking Helen questions. I’d asked her to tell me everything she remembered about Helen Bennett, but she didn’t know much. I don’t know how she found about this.’ He tapped on the car window and Lucy rolled it down.
‘Well?’ she asked.
‘She lived in Anderson Ferry for a short time,’ JD said. ‘How did you know?’
Lucy handed him her phone. ‘Facebook. You can find people who went to your high school. I was looking for people on this courier list when I got a what-if hunch. I checked a few years further back and saw her listed as Helen Anderson Bennett.’
‘Wow,’ Stevie said. ‘Really good work, Lucy. How many others did you find?’
‘Of the forty names on this list, so far there are twelve. That includes Gwyn, Brandi and Helen. Plus me.’
‘That’s a whole helluva lot,’ Stevie said. ‘Why?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Ages range from Helen, at fifty-two, to a girl younger than Brandi. She’s barely eighteen. I wrote down the names for you.’
Stevie nodded. ‘Fine by me. You two go to the parents and I’ll start running backgrounds on these Anderson Ferry names. Even if Mrs B thinks they’re all members of the I-love-Lucy club, one of these women could have knocked him off.’
Lucy coughed. ‘The I-love-Lucy club?’
‘She says her husband’s floozies think you’re the bomb,’ JD said dryly. ‘We need to get moving. Oh, I almost forgot.’ He pulled a small silver gift box from his pocket. ‘This is for Cordelia. I wanted to give it to her myself, but . . . Tell her it’s from me.’
Stevie smiled up at him, noting from the corner of her eye the look on Lucy’s face – curiosity and a touch of awe. ‘You got her a graduation present? Thank you, JD.’
He frowned for a minute. ‘You know, on second thought, you may want to check it before you give it to her. It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
Stevie waited until they’d driven away before opening the box. She sucked in a stunned breath. Oh. Tears sprang to her eyes as she lifted a silver locket from the box. The locket was open, revealing Cordelia’s school picture on one side and Paul’s face on the other. Nestled against the cotton was a small framed photo of a dirty but grinning Paul and JD – a copy of the photo from which JD had cut Paul’s face.
Stevie remembered the day the picture was taken. The men were playing baseball, the women watching. JD’s wife had still been alive. So was my son. The pain that never died stabbed deep, taking her breath away. She missed her son, her husband. Every day of her life. But as she preached to her grief groups, life went on. And so do we.
She swiped her thumb over the photo, a caress of Paul’s smiling face. Cordy would love the locket. It was so thoughtful of JD. Lucy Trask was a lucky woman.
Newport News, Virginia, Monday, May 3, 5.15 P.M.
Clay Maynard knocked at the door of the small house, hoping his luck would be better with Evan Reardon’s wife who’d left him than it had been trying to track down Margo Winchester. The house belonged to Frank Parker, Evan’s father-in-law.
The father-in-law opened the door, suspicion on his fac
e. ‘Yes?’
‘My name is Clay Maynard. I’m an investigator. I need to talk to Sandy Reardon about her husband.’
Parker’s expression darkened. ‘She’s got nothing to say about him.’ He started to close the door and Clay knew he had to get the man’s attention.
‘Wait. I’m concerned about the safety of her children.’
Parker’s face flashed pure fury. ‘You take these kids over my dead body.’
‘Whoa.’ Clay held up one hand. ‘Who said anything about taking her kids?’
Parker’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not from Children’s Services?’
‘No, I’m a private investigator. I need to ask her some questions about Evan.’
‘Like what?’
Clay hesitated. ‘Like if she’s seen him lately.’
Parker’s expression became shrewd. ‘You don’t believe he’s dead either.’
Clay played dumb even though he knew that Nicki had fabricated Evan’s demise, an accident in a rented catamaran off the coast of Mexico. The boat was found floating aimlessly, no Evan to be found – presumably lost at sea. ‘He’s dead?’
‘That’s what we were told. I don’t buy it. Evan was too good a sailor. Man don’t work his way through college on a fishing charter and get swept off a catamaran. But as long as the SOB stays away from Sandy and the kids, I don’t care.’
Parker stepped outside and closed the door. ‘She’s been through hell. It’s taken five years, but we can finally hug her without her flinching. The kids are settled. They’ve made new friends and don’t cry themselves to sleep. Please, just leave her alone.’
Five years? Evan had told Nicki his wife had left him months ago, not years. And because he’d cheated. But Parker was talking like Sandy had been battered. Clay felt sick. This wasn’t the picture he’d gotten from Nicki’s report. They didn’t help just anyone wipe out their past. There had to be a very strong case. After talking to a crazed and threat-spewing Margo Winchester, Nicki had been satisfied that Evan’s was.
Nicki’s interview with Sandy Reardon had been short and to the point. Sandy’s anger had been cold, her demeanor reserved. She’d answered only the questions Nicki had asked and had volunteered no more information. Yes, I left Evan. No, I do not intend to take him back. The children are safe with me. They will stay here. With me.
There had been no indication of abuse, of a flinching wife, of crying children. The bad feeling plaguing Clay intensified. ‘I really need to know why she left Evan.’
Parker narrowed his eyes. ‘Last time an investigator came, she told my daughter she was checking out Evan’s references for some job, but we knew better. That woman didn’t take my grandchildren and neither will you, by God.’
‘I am a private investigator. I work with the woman who came here before. Why would Sandy think we wanted to take her kids? That doesn’t make sense.’
‘Because the state office called Sandy, dammit. Told her that Evan had reported her for neglect. That they’d be sending someone to interview her. Then that investigator shows up, asking her if her kids are okay. What should she have thought?’
‘Hell,’ Clay muttered, wondering who’d made that call. He’d asked about the kids’ safety because he’d been worried that Margo would hurt them as she’d threatened. Now he wondered about the veracity of that threat, too. ‘Why did your daughter leave Evan?’
Rage burned in Parker’s eyes. ‘He beat her years ago, back when he lived here in town. If I’d known, I’d have torn his fucking head off. But she stayed then, because she was too proud to tell us. She didn’t leave until he got mean with the kids. Still hasn’t divorced the prick. But he kept up support payments until he “died”, so I didn’t push.’
Clay briefly closed his eyes, the scenario becoming all too clear. ‘Did your daughter report the assault to the police?’
Parker’s jaw clenched hard. ‘No. I wanted her to, but she said no. Evan’s got a friend in the police department and Sandy was afraid he’d make trouble for her.’
‘Evan’s got a friend in the department?’
‘That’s what I said,’ Parker spat. ‘Are you deaf?’
‘No, sir. I was just led to believe that Evan was afraid of the police.’
‘Like hell. He only left town because I threatened to blow his balls off.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘Eastern Maryland. Cambridge, I think. He got a job in a hospital there, but the support checks he wrote were off a bank in DC. Which stopped coming after he “died”.’
Hell. This was majorly fucked up. Nicki had talked to a cop when she’d been here before. A real cop, with real credentials. The cop had given her the same story as Evan had about Margo Winchester being a cop’s daughter – and that Margo’s daddy wasn’t to be crossed. But now Evan’s friend was a cop? Please don’t be the same guy.
‘What’s Evan’s friend’s name? The cop, I mean.’
‘Ken Pullman.’
Hell. Same guy. Either Evan had lied or Parker was now. My money’s on Evan for the lie. Still, somebody had died in that house fire. Clay stood for a moment, trying to decide what to tell this man. Something was very, very wrong here.
‘I can’t say much, but Evan is missing and that’s no lie. It appears there’s been foul play. If you have a gun, keep it handy and loaded. Watch your daughter and the kids.’
Parker paled. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘I really wish I knew,’ Clay said. ‘And that’s no lie either. One more question. When was the last time any of you saw Evan?’
‘Three months ago, at his mother’s funeral. He came back for it. Sandy thought it was important for the kids to go. I went to make sure Evan stayed away from them. Evan was in a mood, mad at everyone. Worse than we remembered. After that, he went through his mama’s things, then left. Next we heard, he was “dead” in Mexico.’
‘Thank you,’ Clay said. ‘Take care.’ He got into his car and called Alyssa. ‘What have you found on the old lady, Mrs Klein?’
‘She did have surgery two months ago.’
‘When Nic was here. How do you know?’
‘I called the local florist, pretending to be the granddaughter of one of Mrs Klein’s friends. I told them my grandma had made a mess of her checkbook and I was trying to figure out what one of the checks was for, that it looked like it had been written to them. They confirmed that Mrs Klein had been in the hospital then and had received other flowers, but none sent by sweet granny. I chatted them up some more and found out Mrs Klein has a granddaughter. Wild child, always in trouble, causing her sweet granny a lot of heartache. Maybe that’s the girl Nicki saw with Margo.’
‘Nice work, Alyssa,’ he said. ‘I just found out the real reason Sandy left Evan.’
‘From the tone of your voice, you’re not happy about it.’
‘No. He beat her and hit the kids.’
‘Oh God. Evan was lying?’
‘So it would seem. Add in the fire at the house he was not really renting and the fact that Margo was only squatting at Mrs Klein’s while she was in the hospital . . .’ And the cop who’d corroborated Evan’s story. This is very bad.
‘What have we done, Clay?’ she whispered.
‘You’ve done nothing. Nicki should have checked harder, but everyone she talked to backed up Evan’s story. Now that I look at it this way, I can see how she was manipulated.’
‘Somebody died in that fire. What if it was Evan?’
A dull, vicious throb had started at the base of his skull. ‘What if it wasn’t?’
For a minute neither of them spoke. Then Alyssa sighed. ‘What should I do?’
‘I want you to start calling hotels in Ocean City. It’s where Nic goes when she goes to the beach. Find out where the hell she is.’ He hesitated. ‘If you reach her through her hotel and she sounds drunk, call me right away. She’s been sober for a few years now, but this has happened before.’
Alyssa was quiet a moment. ‘Okay. I will. What will you
do next?’
‘I’m going to pay a visit to the morgue. I need to know if that body is Evan Reardon. Then I’m going to Margo’s dance club. I want answers and I want them now.’
Monday, May 3, 6.30 P.M.
Dropping the tracking device in Lucy Trask’s handbag had been the smartest thing he’d done. He now knew where she was at any given moment, day or night.
At the moment she was on her way to Anderson Ferry and he wondered why. After disposing of Janet’s body, he’d returned home, cleaned up, then checked his tracking website. The little blue dot was east of the Bay Bridge. If she was bolting, he was going to be majorly pissed, considering she was supposed to find Janet later tonight.
Maybe it was because of Russ Bennett. His murder was all over the news, but they weren’t releasing his name until the family had been notified. Maybe that’s where she was going. Bennett had told him that Lucy kissed up to his parents.
He doubted she was bolting yet, but if she did, he’d be able to find her. She can’t hide from me. For now he’d keep one eye on the little blue ball on his tracking screen while he kept the other on the home of Detective Mazzetti. Luckily there weren’t many Mazzettis in Maryland. It had taken him all of five seconds to find her home address.
He was looking for insurance, in case the unexpected happened and the detectives got too close. He needed a distraction to throw in their paths if he needed to bolt. There were few better distractions than family.
Five seconds after parking on Mazzetti’s street, he knew he’d picked the right detective to distract, should the need arise. Not only was she the more experienced of the two homicide detectives, but there was a swingset in her back yard and a small kid-sized bike on the front porch. A mom would get mighty distracted if something were to happen to her child. The kid was a girl, if the Disney Princess stickers on two upstairs windows were any indication.
The front door opened and a little girl raced out. Cute kid. She stood by the van, dancing in place on the curb, a backpack slung over one small shoulder.