The Class Reunion: A psychological suspense thriller

by N L Hinkens

  Heather scrubbed her hands over her face. Her head was pounding, and her thoughts were growing choppier by the minute. She needed to talk this over with someone in a logical manner, get another perspective. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled out her phone and texted Josh. He had unmasked Reagan’s duplicity—she hoped she was right that she could trust him.

  The server stopped at her table and reached for her empty plate. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked, his tone verging on snippy.

  “I’ll take a refill on the Diet Coke, please.” Heather flashed him an apologetic smile. She could tell by his expression that the pizzeria was getting ready to close, but she needed a few more minutes to locate a current address for Judy Kinney—if she even went by Kinney anymore. She could have reverted to her maiden name after her divorce, or she might have remarried. After another twenty minutes of research, Heather finally had the information she needed in hand. Damien’s mother was living in Davenport in a one-bedroom condo. Marital status: divorced.

  Heather packed up her laptop and left a generous tip on the table, before making her way out to her car. She had planned on driving by Roy’s house again this evening, but he was no longer a priority. The investigation had taken an abrupt change of course. Instead, she would pay Judy Kinney a visit. She wasn’t sure what the best approach to take would be. Perhaps she should stick with some version of the truth and introduce herself as Lindsay’s best friend. She could say she was trying to track down Bill to return some belongings of his—play dumb to the fact that he was dead. Alternatively, she could admit to being a private investigator hired by Lindsay’s friends to look into her death, and watch Judy’s reaction. Either way, it was too late to knock on the woman’s door tonight. She would have to content herself with driving by her condo and scoping out the situation.

  Heather had just put the car into gear when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was a local area code. “Hello,” she said, waiting for the person on the other end of the line to identify themselves.

  “Is this … Heather Nelson?”

  “Speaking,” Heather replied.

  “It’s Aidy. You know … the third party.” Her attempt at humor fell apart—at odds with her agitated tone.

  Heather frowned. This wasn’t a distraction she needed right now. “Has Roy returned?”

  “No. That’s why I’m calling. He’s … he’s dead.”

  24

  “The police found Roy’s body in his truck last night,” Aidy went on to explain, her voice wavering. “His brother had reported him missing.”

  Heather gripped her phone tighter, her brain exploding from the dizzying news. Just when she’d zeroed in on the link between the threatening messages and Lindsay’s death, a wrench had been thrown in her theory. Roy had turned up—dead. Did he have some connection to Damien’s family? Or was Reagan’s shady ex just muddying the water of her investigation? “Are they sure it’s Roy?” she asked.

  “Yes. He had his ID on him,” Aidy answered. “The cops asked his brother to identify the body.”

  “I’m so sorry, Aidy,” Heather blurted out, still trying to absorb the shock. Her mind was racing in myriad directions. Did this have anything at all to do with her investigation? Roy had been spooked when he heard someone was looking for him. But why? What did he have to hide? “Do the police know what happened?”

  “Blunt force trauma to the head,” Aidy replied. “They found his body in the bed of his truck. They don’t think he was killed there though. They think someone dumped him there afterward.”

  Heather frowned. “Do you have any idea who would do something like this to him?”

  “Not really. I mean, Roy fell out with enough people—me included.” Aidy hesitated. ”That spiel you gave me—law offices of Bodensteiner and Kern. It’s bogus, isn’t it? There is no inheritance. What did you actually want to talk to Roy about?”

  Heather thought for a moment before responding. There was no need to pretend anymore now that Roy was dead. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be more upfront with you the other day. It’s a confidentiality thing. My name’s Heather Nelson. I’m a private investigator. I was hired to look into something that Roy may or may not have been involved in.”

  “Is that why Roy was killed?”

  Heather blew out a breath. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. The case I’m working on takes more twists and turns by the minute. As you said yourself, Roy made his fair share of enemies along the way, so his murder could be totally unrelated to my investigation. I’m not at liberty to say much more than that, but I’m sure the police will keep you posted on any developments.”

  “Yeah, right,” Aidy said, sounding peeved. “I’m not family, remember? I only found out Roy was dead when his brother called me after the police came knocking on his door last night.”

  “I’m truly sorry,” Heather said. “Will you have to move out of the house?”

  Aidy let out a scathing laugh. “Not much point in waiting to be kicked out. Not that I have much stuff here anyway. Most of it’s at my sister’s place where I was living before.”

  “Look, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best to dig around and see if I can shed some light on what happened to Roy,” Heather said. “Keep me posted on your end if the police inquiry unearths anything.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Aidy said in a tone that suggested she wouldn’t put herself out to get in touch again.

  Heather hung up and dropped her phone into the center console. Her breath baulked at a disturbing thought. Someone might have been watching her stalking Roy’s house and killed him to stop him talking.

  Late the following morning, Heather received a cryptic message from Marco.

  I need to talk to you privately. Not at the restaurant. Can you meet me at Centennial Park at noon?

  Heather frowned as she reread the message. What could Marco possibly want to talk to her about that he didn’t want the others knowing? Another confession? Perhaps Josh was right, and the affair with Reagan had never ended. Heather felt sick to her stomach at the thought. Dave seemed like a genuinely nice man who deserved better, and, as for Anna, it was clear that she had been deeply hurt by Marco’s betrayal, resigning herself to staying with him for the sake of the children.

  See you at noon, Heather typed back, adding a thumbs up emoji. She checked the rest of her messages, disappointed to see there was still no response from Josh. Was he deliberately avoiding her?

  She spotted Marco before he saw her. He was sitting on a bench by the river, hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, deep in thought.

  “Hey, you!” she called out to him as she drew closer.

  He glanced up and flashed her an absent smile before reaching for a paper bag on the bench next to him. “Hope you like turkey. I brought sandwiches.” He handed her one, along with a bottle of water. “Thanks for coming. I know we didn’t part on the best of terms. Reagan was way out of line. I still want to help you with this investigation—whatever you need, it’s yours.”

  Heather shrugged. “It’s just business. I work better alone anyway. So, what did you want to talk to me about? Your message sounded urgent.”

  His dark eyes locked with hers. “Roy’s dead.”

  Heather nodded slowly. “I heard. His girlfriend, Aidy, called me last night.”

  Marco frowned. “Did she say what happened?”

  “Only that he was found in the bed of his truck and that there was evidence of blunt force trauma. How did you find out about it?”

  He rubbed a hand over his dark stubble and glanced at a couple walking by with their poodle. “The police called me this morning.”

  “The police!” Heather arched a questioning brow. “Why did they call you?”

  Marco swallowed and lowered his voice. “They found accelerant in Roy’s truck—the same accelerant that was used in the arson. They wanted to know if I’d had any dealings with Roy in the past, so I had to tell them about the affair.” He was
quiet for a long moment and then added, “The thing is, I’m wondering now if Reagan planned the arson and talked Roy into doing her dirty work for her. You know how she kept pushing the idea that he was behind everything before she started on you. She might even have planted the accelerant in his truck after he was killed to make him look like the guilty party.” He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned. “I can’t believe this is happening. I should never have gotten involved with her.”

  “That’s water under the bridge,” Heather said. When Marco didn’t respond, she asked, “It is over between you two, isn’t it?”

  He got to his feet and paced back and forth in front of her, his sandwich untouched. “I’m still living with the repercussions.”

  Heather held her breath, waiting for him to elaborate. He flopped back down on the bench and unscrewed the cap on his water bottle. “You haven’t reacted yet to my theory about Reagan masterminding the arson. It’s a pretty bold allegation.” He narrowed his dark eyes and studied her. “You know she’s still trying to convince me that you’re behind everything—that you’re unhinged.”

  Heather twisted her lips. “I’d have to be deranged to risk my career like that. Do I look like an arsonist or a poisoner to you?”

  “Give me a break.” Marco leaned back on the bench and stared up at the iron gray sky for a moment. “But I am worried Reagan had something to do with it. She’s protesting too much, trying too hard to pin it on other people. First it was Roy, and then it was you, and now Roy turns up dead and, conveniently, there’s accelerant in his truck.” He blew out a heavy breath. “What if she murdered Roy?”

  “That’s a stretch,” Heather said. “To hear Aidy tell it, Roy made a lot of enemies. Besides, Reagan had no motive for killing him. She’d moved on with her life. Dave seems like a great guy.”

  “If she convinced Roy to set the fire, he might have threatened to talk afterward. That would be motive enough to silence him.”

  Heather interlaced her fingers and cracked her knuckles. “Marco, I get the feeling you’re talking all around the issue. If there’s more to this triangle then you’re telling me, I can’t help you unless you come clean. Why would Reagan, or Roy for that matter, want to set fire to your restaurant? Was there money involved? Did Reagan invest in your business or something? Or are you still carrying on with her? Whatever it is, I need to know if I’m going to get to the bottom of this before someone else ends up dead.”

  Marco set his water bottle back down on the bench next to his uneaten sandwich. “She wanted more money. A lot more money. Shares in the restaurant.”

  Heather scrunched her brows together. “Why were you giving her money in the first place?”

  “It wasn’t for her.” Marco sniffed and stared at the ground in front of him. “It was for our daughter.”

  25

  Heather inhaled a shallow breath as she digested Marco’s words. She’d had her suspicions all along that Lucy might be his daughter. This was what Anna had been alluding to when she hinted that Marco and Reagan had a deeper connection than anyone thought. No wonder Roy had been enraged when he discovered the truth.

  “How did Roy find out?” Heather asked.

  “He grew suspicious that Lucy wasn’t his—she doesn’t look anything like him. He took a paternity test. When he found out the truth, he went ballistic. That’s why he and Reagan split up. He threatened to take her to court and sue her for custody just to expose the truth. He wanted money to keep his mouth shut. I paid up so Anna wouldn’t find out.”

  “I’ve been giving Reagan money every month for Lucy,” Marco went on. “She came to me a few weeks ago and said Roy was blackmailing her again. She needed more money to shut him up. I told her I didn’t believe her. You can imagine how well that went over.”

  Heather rubbed her brow, sifting through the information. Was it possible Reagan had persuaded Roy to set fire to the restaurant when Marco refused to give her more money? Heather chewed on her lip as she pondered the idea. It didn’t sit right with her—it verged on fantastical. She threw Marco a sharp look. He hadn’t been entirely honest with her either up until now. Could he have schemed with Reagan to set fire to his own restaurant and make it look like an arson attempt in a crazy bid to frame Roy? Marco had quite the temper when he was wound up, and he wouldn’t take kindly to being blackmailed, directly or indirectly. Her thoughts scrambled for purchase as she tried to make sense of things. Crime was always about love, money, or revenge—in this case, there seemed to be no clear winner when it came to landing on a motive. And was any of this connected to Lindsay’s death?

  “Have you shared your suspicions with the police?” Heather asked.

  Marco threw her a horrified look. “Reagan’s the mother of my child. I don’t want to destroy my daughter’s life without being sure of my facts. I could be way off base. Roy was a lowlife. Anyone in the circles he hung out in could have bumped him off.”

  “So why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to find out if Reagan was involved in any way in the arson or Roy’s death—just be discreet about it.” He ran a hand through his hair, a strained expression on his face. “Obviously, I don’t want Anna finding out about the affair, but I have to protect my daughter too. If Reagan’s capable of murder, I can’t have my daughter living with her any longer.”

  Heather briefly considered telling Marco that Anna already knew about the affair, and possibly even suspected Lucy was his child. In the end, she decided against it. It was up to Anna to confront him or not.

  “You do realize if you’d told me this earlier, Roy might still be alive,” she said in a clipped tone, as she got to her feet. “I’ll see what I can find out. I’ll be in touch.”

  She could feel Marco’s eyes on her as she walked back to her car. She hadn’t got the impression that he’d set up the meeting under false pretenses. He seemed genuinely afraid Reagan might be behind the arson. But Heather wasn’t in a particularly trusting mood—not after Marco had schemed with Reagan behind her back to pump Violet for information, and hidden the fact that Lucy was his daughter.

  She climbed back into her car and texted Aidy. She needed to find out more about Roy Krueger. His girlfriend was as good a place as any to start.

  Can you meet me for coffee this afternoon?

  If I can bring Trevor. Aidy responded.

  Heather sent her a thumbs-up emoji, gritting her teeth as she arranged a time and place. She would have preferred to have Aidy’s undivided attention, but she would take what she could get. After that, she would pay a visit to Damien’s mother.

  A flushed and frazzled-looking Aidy walked into Darcey’s Diner a little after three that afternoon pushing a stroller. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, exhaling loudly as she shrugged out of her jacket. ”Trevor was being a real pill.” She unstrapped him from the stroller and placed him in the highchair at the end of the table, before taking her seat. Heather smiled tentatively at the tear-streaked toddler who immediately pulled his lips into a pout and jerked his face away from her. Aidy scattered some Cheerios on the tray in front of him. Trevor proceeded to chomp his way through them, glaring intermittently at Heather while throwing the occasional glance down at the Cheerios that escaped his clumsy thumb and forefinger pincer grip.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” Heather said. “How are you doing?”

  Aidy shrugged. “If it isn’t obvious by now, there wasn’t much love lost between me and Roy. I tried to make it work, for Trevor’s sake, but Roy was always fooling around. I haven’t shed a tear over his death.” She cocked her head to one side and looked at Heather quizzically. “Does that make me a monster?”

  Heather shook her head. “It makes you human—more honest than most.”

  Their waitress appeared at their table and took their orders for coffee and pie, even managing to get a smile out of Trevor in the process—which made Heather feel more inadequate than she already did. She pushed the disconcerting thought aside that she was probab
ly going to be a complete failure as an aunt. That was a worry for another day. She had a few months to work on it.

  She leaned across the table and looked intently at Aidy. “You know how you said Lucy wasn’t Roy’s child—do you know whose child she is?”

  Aidy’s face closed over. “Maybe.”

  “It’s really important for my investigation.”

  Aidy cast a furtive glance around and then said in a half-whisper. “It’s the guy who owns The Sardinian—that fancy Italian restaurant.”

  “How do you know?” Heather asked, keeping a neutral expression.

  A look of apprehension crossed Aidy’s face. “I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

  “This is a confidential conversation,” Heather assured her. “I have no connection to the police. I’m a private investigator. Believe me, the clients I work for have no interest in you.”

  Trevor let out a yelp and slapped a fat hand down on the tray table causing the few remaining Cheerios to jitterbug sideways. As if on auto pilot, Aidy tipped some more snacks onto the tray table. “I read the messages on Roy’s phone between him and Reagan.”

  “What did they say?”

  Aidy curled her lip. “They were always arguing about money. Roy said stuff like, she’s not my daughter so pay up or I won’t shut up. And she was always going on about how hard it was to get more money out of Marco—that he kept spending it all on jewelry for Anna.”