Broken Vows Mystery 02-For Richer, for Danger

by Lisa Bork

  Erica leaned into the car. “I am never speaking to you again, you bastard. Don’t come anywhere near me. Ever. Do you hear me?”

  I checked the street. It had cleared after the fireworks display, but I noticed a few porch lights flick on. Who didn’t hear her?

  “Erica!” I tried to get her attention, but the woofers drowned me out.

  Ray folded his arms and made his I-told-you-so face.

  I ignored him, watching the scene on the street play out instead.

  Erica screamed, “Give me my purse.”

  Her purse sailed out the open car door. Its contents spilled onto the sidewalk.

  “YOU BASTARD.” She slammed the door and fell to her knees to gather up her belongings. The Nova burned rubber, fishtailing around the corner at the end of our street.

  Ray pulled out his cell phone and started dialing. I knew the driver had better slow down before the nearest on-duty sheriff’s deputy caught up with him.

  Erica stumbled up the steps onto the porch and threw herself into my arms, sobbing. “I hate him. I hate him.”

  I tugged her inside the house and settled her on the sofa. “Okay. Who?”

  She accepted a tissue from me, mopping her face. “Sam. You remember Sam, don’t you?”

  I met Ray’s wary gaze as he clicked his cell phone closed. “Sure, we remember him.”

  “He’s an asshole. I’m never, ever speaking to him again.”

  A muscle in Ray’s cheek twitched. “Darlin’, we might need a Plan B.”

  The next morning when Ray dropped onto a stool at the raised breakfast bar separating our kitchen and dining room, he didn’t say anything about the fact that Erica was still asleep on our couch. He didn’t say good morning to me either. He simply dug into his plate of pancakes. I poured him a cup of coffee and leaned against the stove to watch Noelle carefully place each piece of her torn-up pancake in her mouth and chew with great concentration. I loved to watch her eat. She took it so seriously.

  Ray finished his breakfast within two minutes. He kissed both of Noelle’s sticky cheeks and pecked mine. “I’ll call you later.”

  “No kiss on the lips?”

  “Is your sister sleeping on our couch again tonight?”

  “No.” Now I just needed to tell her that.

  He leaned in and brushed my lips with his. “Thank you.”

  I loaded his plate and silverware into the dishwasher and wiped down the granite countertop. Noelle banged her hands on the highchair tray, sending a few pieces of pancake flying through the air onto the floor. I knelt to pick them up.

  A cheerful voice called out behind me, “Who’s making all the racket?”

  Startled, I jerked upright and slammed my head on the underside of Noelle’s tray, launching the rest of her pancakes. She wailed. I bit back a swearword a second before it left my tongue.

  Erica perched on a barstool with a broad smile on her face. It did little to offset her swollen red eyes with their black mascara rings. She hadn’t bothered to clean up before crashing on the couch last night.

  I returned her smile with a grimace. “You’re feeling better, I take it.”

  Erica grabbed a pancake off the serving platter and ripped it into tiny pieces for Noelle. Then she tickled Noelle’s chin and kissed her hair. “Every time I see this little sweetie, I feel better. Keep drumming, Noelle.” Erica tapped a few beats to get Noelle started again.

  The back of my head throbbed. I wished Noelle would stop, but I let it pass. “Have some pancakes, then we need to talk.”

  “No pancakes, just coffee.” Erica grabbed a mug, filled it, and added two heaping teaspoons of sugar. “I don’t want to talk about Sam anymore.”

  What a surprise. She’d spent two hours last night filling me in on every detail of their past relationship as well as all his current faults. For a certified sociopath, he didn’t have that many. I figured she’d missed something in her analysis, blinded by her own shortcomings, perhaps. I was, however, very clear that he stole fifty bucks out of her purse last night, and she never, ever wanted to speak to him again.

  Too bad. She’d suck his toes if necessary to get the information I needed. I had waited until this morning to tell her, though, hoping the night would bring her more perspective.

  “Sorry, but you’re going to have to. Abigail Bryce is not Abigail Bryce. She stole the identity of a dead girl. We need to know who she is to finalize the adoption. You’re going to have to talk to Sam to see if we can find Theo and Noelle’s birthmother.”

  Erica set her coffee mug down with a thump. “No shit?”

  I covered Noelle’s ears. “Watch your mouth.”

  “Sorry.” Erica looked down at her rumpled and skimpy clothing. “Okay, not to worry. Do you have anything I can wear?”

  “Help yourself.” I was a size eight. She wore a size four. I silently wished her luck.

  She disappeared into my bedroom. I heard muffled words. I followed her in. “What?”

  She emerged from my closet. “You wear granny underpants.”

  “I wear hipsters. They’re comfortable and don’t make panty lines.”

  “That’s what you think. Take me home. I need a thong.”

  “What for?” I headed back into the kitchen with Erica in tow and wiped Noelle down before lifting her to my hip and grabbing my car keys.

  “Sam’s not going to want me anywhere near him. I need a mini-skirt.”

  I led the way to the garage and strapped Noelle into her car seat in the back of my silver 2004 Lexus ES 330 sedan. A new-to-me import, it was a concession to my family status. The Porsche 944 my father had restored and given to me for graduation had presented too much of a hassle for car seats. But I missed my Porsche. Erica drove it now, and I cringed every time she ground the gears. “I still don’t get it, Erica.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to either.

  She flopped into the passenger seat. “When Sam pis … angered me last night, I gave him a squeeze.”

  “What do you mean, a squeeze?”

  “I squeezed his ba … man parts.”

  No wonder he threw her purse out of the car. I was surprised he didn’t turn her into road kill. “So what’s the thong for?”

  “I’ll have to do a little Monica Lewinsky on him. Flash him and … promise to play with his cigar.”

  “Erica!”

  “Do you want the information or not?”

  ____

  I dropped Erica off at my … her apartment and drove to the shop in time to flip the sign to “Open” at eight-fifty-eight a.m. Cory strolled in on the last tick before nine.

  “Did you see the fireworks last night?”

  “More than I cared to.” I filled him in on Erica’s road show and the need to learn Noelle’s birthmother’s true identity.

  “So you need me to watch this little cutie tomorrow? That’s cool, but unfortunately I’m only available until two. I have an afternoon rehearsal.” Cory picked Noelle up out of her playpen and tossed her in the air, much to her delight. I crossed my fingers her pancakes wouldn’t reappear.

  “Maybe you could take the morning shift.” I didn’t know what time Erica rolled out of bed after a work night. Or who she might be rolling out of bed with, for that matter.

  “I’ll try to finish up the maintenance on Brennan Rowe’s Jaguar today and get a head start on the McDonalds’ Mercedes. We should be able to deliver on all our promises.” Cory set Noelle down and headed out to his kingdom, the three-bay garage that ran across the back of the sports car boutique.

  I played peek-a-boo and pony with Noelle, hoping to tire her out for a nap before Dave Barclay and his wife arrived at ten o’clock. As she bounced on my knee, I reviewed the selling features of the Ferrari in my head and tried not to picture the dead body falling out of it seven months ago and the furor that followed. The car still gave me the creeps. It also gave me acid reflux every time I made a payment on the outstanding loan. Pretty soon I might be desperate enough to sell it for scrap metal value.
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br />   At nine forty-five, Noelle finished her bottle. I laid her down for her morning nap. Perhaps I’d been too entertaining because she popped right back up and held her arms out to me. I laid her down again and offered her pacifier. She took it and started sucking, closing her eyes. I tiptoed into the showroom and eased my office door shut.

  I sat at the table by the reception desk for a few minutes then sprang to my feet, not wanting to look like I had nothing to do but wait for them to arrive. I grabbed the phone and tried to think of someone to call who I could hang up on fast. Isabelle didn’t answer her cell. Ray either. I started to dial Erica and changed my mind. I didn’t want to know what she was currently doing.

  Dave Barclay and a pinch-faced woman strode through the door. Where Dave was fair, his wife was dark. Dark hair, dark clothes, dark expression. Where Dave looked athletic, she looked gaunt. Maybe she was ill? Dave introduced her as Kim.

  When I shook their hands in turn, her chilly touch felt skeletal. I stifled a shiver. Her voice didn’t make me feel any warmer. “You’re Jolene Asdale?” She curled her upper lip and said my family name as though it were synonymous with dirt. I could smell her perfume, an overpowering spicy scent.

  “Jolene Parker, actually. That’s my married name.”

  Kim Barclay sniffed.

  Dave didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “Kim and I couldn’t wait for this morning to arrive. We skipped breakfast to be sure we’d arrive on time.” He rubbed the palms of his hands together. “It’s a beautiful car.”

  Much better looking than his wife. I wanted to tell him not to let her skip too many meals or she’d disappear. On the other hand, her snarl deepened as she gazed at the car, and I realized her disappearance might not be such a bad thing after all.

  “Let me tell you a little bit about it. It’s a 2006 F430 Ferrari Spider. I purchased it from a collector in Arizona. It has only 1,502 miles on it and—”

  “I thought we were here for a test drive. I didn’t realize we were going to be subjected to a sales pitch.” Kim Barclay took two steps toward the door. “Maybe I’ll peruse the merchandise at Talbots until you’re ready to drive, David.”

  He looked between her and me. “Would it be any trouble for us to take the car out on the road now, Jolene?”

  “No trouble at all. Let me get the key.” I tried not to let it show the woman had gotten to me, but my hands shook with anger as I entered my office and pulled out the desk drawer for the key. Unfortunately, enough to make me bang the drawer.

  Noelle awakened with a wail. I set the key on the desk and tried to soothe her by rubbing her back. She wasn’t having any of it.

  Cruella De Vil appeared in my office doorway. “Is that a baby?”

  I swallowed my first response and managed a politer one. “Yes.”

  “Is it yours?”

  I picked Noelle up, stroking and soothing. “Yes.”

  “I heard she belonged to a couple of thieves.”

  Dave appeared in the doorway behind his wife as I choked on my outrage. “We’ve caught you at a bad time. Perhaps we could reschedule for later in the week.”

  I’d heard those words before. They meant “no sale.”

  I struggled for composure. “Of course. Here’s my card. Please give me a call and let me know what day is good for you.”

  I heard Kim Barclay say, “Any day that crying creature isn’t here” just before the showroom door closed behind them.

  ____

  Cory bought me a tuna sub for lunch to try to erase my new streak of bad luck. He also purchased a chocolate cupcake decorated like a turtle for Noelle from the new bakery on Main Street. The bakery only sold cupcakes—delicious, sugary ones. Cory and I invested almost daily in their success, but Noelle didn’t get to participate often.

  “Mark and I are going to the Keuka Lake Arts Festival in Hammondsport this weekend. Then we might hit all the wineries around the lake. What about you and Ray?”

  Keuka Lake lay forty-five minutes southeast of Canandaigua. It didn’t qualify as a true Finger Lake because of its Y shape, but it did lie in the heart of the region. Ray and I had considered exchanging our marital vows at Garrett Chapel, a one-room historic stone sanctuary set on the tip of the bluff between the forks of the lake. Then we eloped to Disney World instead.

  “Ray has to work and Gumby’s getting married this weekend.”

  Cory choked on his sub. “Isn’t Gumby the guy who hit on you a week after you and Ray separated?”

  “That’s him. He’s quite a prize. The bride’s a lucky, lucky woman.” I crumpled the wrapper from my sub and tossed it in the trash can. “So you and Mark have been dating since December. That’s got to be a new record for you. Do you think you’ll ever become Cory Wynn instead of Cory Kempe?” The minute the words left my mouth, I feared they were politically incorrect. New York didn’t permit same sex marriages.

  Cory didn’t take offense. Maybe after three years of working together almost daily and lunching just as often, we had reached the point where none would ever be taken.

  Instead he continued, “I’m thinking about asking him if he’d like to live together. The drive between his apartment and mine is getting to be a little too much. I was thinking we could buy a house together. Build some equity—in a home and our relationship.”

  “Have you talked to him about it yet?” I tried picking the cupcake crumbs from Noelle’s hair with little success. They smeared into chocolate highlights, blending with the yellow baby cereal streaks. I decided to give her a baby wipe bath instead.

  “Maybe this weekend. We’re staying overnight at a bed and breakfast in Hammondsport. I figured that would be a good time.”

  “Call me when you get home. I can’t wait until Tuesday to hear what happened.” We closed the sports car boutique on Sundays and Mondays. If the phone didn’t start ringing more often, I’d have to close it more days—like Monday through Sunday. Moving the shop to Canandaigua started to look appealing.

  The phone rang as if on cue. It wasn’t a customer.

  “I saw Sam. Good news.” Erica sounded as if she’d just finished running a marathon.

  “He knows where to find Theo and Noelle’s birthmother?”

  “No.”

  Nausea waved over me. “He doesn’t?”

  “No. He’s not even sure they’re still together.”

  That was a lovely thought. They’d be easier to find if they were, since we could get pictures of Theo. If Noelle’s birthmother had gone her separate way, we might never find her.

  Erica continued, “Sam said to try all the casinos in the state first or maybe the one just over the bridge in Niagara Falls. Theo has a thing for gambling.”

  Now I was trekking two hours to Canada. Maybe we would need to hire a nanny.

  “Is that all he said?”

  “No! I told you I have good news.”

  “So tell me.”

  “Sam and I are getting married!”

  Good news was meant to be shared. I phoned Ray. He answered from his patrol car, somewhere east of the lake. I suggested he pull over.

  He liked the idea of checking the casinos. “They hid out at Turning Stone last year. I’m sure they’ve gone farther away by now, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. I got a video from the convenience store that shows Abigail. I’m going to have a print made. It’ll be black and white, but better than nothing. I also got Theo’s high school yearbook picture and a more candid shot from his parents. I’ll fax both pictures to the head of security at Turning Stone and have him look over the current guests. Did Erica say anything else?”

  I closed one eye, scrunched my shoulders, and held my breath. “Erica and Sam are getting married.”

  Silence.

  “Ray, are you still there?”

  I heard breathing. At least he hadn’t died of a heart attack.

  “Ray?”

  “You are not leaving Noelle with that lunatic. That’s final. If Cory can’t watch her all day, then you can’t go t
o Canandaigua tomorrow.”

  Big mistake. Never tell me what I can and can’t do. Oddly enough, I liked to decide for myself. “I’ll talk to Erica and make sure she isn’t planning to spend time with Sam tomorrow.”

  “That’s not good enough. She’s unfit.”

  “Her doctor says she’s fit.” Fit for society anyway.

  “I’d like to hear that from him.”

  “Maybe I’ll call him.” He might be able to ease my doubts—and run interference on Erica’s pending marital disaster.

  “You do that, Jolene. Let me know what he says. I have to go now.” The dial tone came through loud and clear this time.

  I flipped through my Rolodex and found the number for Erica’s psychiatrist, who continued to monitor her medication and progress through monthly appointments. His secretary paged him. He picked up the line within a minute. “Dr. Albert.”

  After I identified myself, I gave him the rundown on Erica’s recent activities. He listened without interruption. I wrapped with “I’m very concerned.”

  “Jolene, I’m not sure how I can help you. Rushing into a marriage is not a certifiable offense.”

  “But her judgment is impaired. She’s fallen right back into her promiscuous patterns and now it’s escalated.”

  “Promiscuity is not a mental illness. Marrying the wrong guy isn’t either. I’m on my third wife myself. You can’t hold your sister to a higher standard than the rest of the world. You can only offer her advice when she asks for it.”

  I choked back a sigh. “Is my child safe with her?”

  Dr. Albert chuckled. “My wife and I let the thirteen-year-old down the street babysit our son. I think Erica has at least as much going for her, but there’s no guarantee.”

  I had my answer. Ray wouldn’t like it. But I felt silly now for even calling Dr. Albert, although he assured me I’d been no trouble at all.

  Erica would watch Noelle tomorrow afternoon as planned. It would be for less than three hours. But I’d threaten Erica and make her swear not to let Sam near Noelle. The man had stabbed his own mother’s hand with a fork last year when she tried to serve him pork chops. I didn’t want to take any chances.