“Do you know her?” Lia asked.
“I don’t recognize her,” Tracy said. “But that name is familiar. Maybe it’ll come to me. If it does, I’ll get back to you.”
Lia smiled gratefully.
No further thoughts came from the women, and they took a break to refresh their drinks and help themselves to the nibbles. Jen’s husband, Bob, popped in to thank Lia for taking Daphne. His eyes looked less reddened and his voice sounded clearer, but Lia detected regret at being the cause of giving up their pet. She did her best to assure him he needed to consider his health first and that Jen felt exactly the same.
When they’d settled back down, Maureen asked about Hayley. “Has she made up her mind about her job?”
“She said she’s getting close. She went back to work today. Maybe that will help her decide.”
“I hope she’ll be thinking long-term,” Maureen said. “As well as benefits, and all that.”
“Tom had a good talk with her on those points, back when she was first sending out applications.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Jen said. “She learned from the best, after all. You and Tom.”
Lia smiled, appreciating the sentiment but aware that Hayley was her own person. All Lia and Tom had been able to do was to show their daughter what they believed were the best ways. It was up to her to agree or not. Many times she went along with their advice, but there were occasions when she’d decided, a bit impulsively, to do things her own way—and not always with great results. Although some claimed mistakes were the best teacher, Lia would much rather her daughter learn from others’ mistakes. That, unfortunately, was out of her hands.
Chapter 20
Friday morning, Lia got a call from Belinda. “How’d you like to snoop around Darren’s place with me?”
“Isn’t it sealed off?”
“It wasn’t the crime scene,” Belinda pointed out. “So, no. And I have a key.”
“You have a key?”
“Well, I can get my hands on one.”
“What do you hope to find?” Lia asked.
“I don’t know. Probably nothing. I’m sure it’s been searched already, so there won’t be anything sitting around that will point to his murderer. I just want to look. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be of some use.”
Lia thought about it. Yes, the police would have carried off anything needed for their investigation. But Belinda knew Darren better than the cops did. There might be something that wouldn’t have caught their attention but would catch hers.
“Okay.”
“Good. I’ll come pick you up.”
By the time Lia buckled herself into Belinda’s car, she was having second thoughts. “Is there a chance this is illegal?”
“We won’t be breaking in. And,” Belinda added with a sideways smile, “it’s possible there was something of mine I wanted to retrieve. I mean, if anyone happened to ask.”
“Something such as . . . ?”
“It’ll come to me any minute, now.”
Despite Belinda’s assurances, Lia remained uneasy. She hoped none of Darren’s neighbors would be around to take notice of them, coming or going. Maybe they should have waited until dark? Or would that have looked more suspicious?
Belinda drove to a newer development on the outskirts of Crandalsburg and through opened, unmanned wrought iron gates that defined the entrance of a group of upscale homes, all beautifully landscaped. When she pulled up in front of a large colonial-style brick house fronted with a manicured lawn and tidy shrubs, it was clear that Darren had come through the divorce in better shape than Belinda.
The street and surrounding houses were quiet, but who knew how many eyes might be watching? Lia did her best to project an air of confidence as she followed Belinda up the walk, though it began to slip as Belinda paused near the door, her gaze scouring a small flower bed uncertainly.
“It should be . . . ,” Belinda said. “Aha!” She stooped to pick up a small gray rock lying beside a clump of marigolds. She flipped it over and worked at it until it came apart. Inside the hollow interior lay a house key. “Fake rock,” she said, showing it to Lia. “Darren was always losing his keys. He took this with him after the divorce. Couldn’t just buy a new one. I knew he’d still be using it.”
She unlocked the front door and stepped inside, holding the door open for Lia. The hall and living room were dim, and Belinda moved toward the closed draperies.
“No,” Lia cried. “Don’t open them. Use the lamps.”
Belinda shrugged, but she clicked on one lamp next to the sofa, glanced around, then added the light from its twin at the other end.
The room fit the style and affluence of the house and neighborhood, everything in it shiny and new but also impersonal. It could have been the showroom of a furniture store. Lia pictured Darren writing a check to a decorator with directions to “make it look good” and nothing more. There were no photos anywhere, nor memorabilia. But this was an area where Darren might hold business-related gatherings. His personal items might be in more private areas like the bedroom or home office.
“Hmph,” Belinda said as she gazed at the large watercolor painting of sailboats on a windswept lake hanging above the sofa. “Like he ever set foot on a boat. Darren got seasick watching a waiter fill his glass.”
“It doesn’t look like a room he spent much time in,” Lia said.
“The kitchen was always his favorite place. Not to cook. To eat.” Belinda led the way through a formal, chilly-feeling dining room and into a large, stainless steel–equipped kitchen.
“Did he have a housekeeper?” Lia asked.
“Nobody regular would be my guess. He didn’t like anyone poking around his things without him there. But he probably had someone come in once in a while and before a big bash. When we were together, if I didn’t cook, we’d eat out, or he’d get stuff delivered.” A peek into the refrigerator confirmed this was still the case, with shelves full of take-out cartons. Belinda sniffed. “Somebody should probably dump all that. It won’t be me.”
“What happens to his property?”
Belinda shrugged. “Beats me. We don’t have kids, his parents passed several years ago, and he didn’t have siblings. Maybe some relative will crawl out of the woodwork and claim it, unless he left a will.” She turned toward the hall. “Nothing to see down here. Let’s look upstairs.”
As they walked toward the wide, curving staircase, Lia asked, “Did you know Adam Mathis’s wife?”
“Eva? Sure.”
“What is she like?”
Belinda paused at the staircase. “Odd. She and I never clicked.”
“Odd in what way?”
“A little spacey. Big on New Age stuff. Lots of weird kinds of wellness ideas.”
“Attractive?”
“Yeah, I suppose so. Always dressed in the latest, and she drove to Philadelphia to shop and get her hair done. Probably spent ninety percent of her time on herself.”
“And that was fine with Adam?”
“Oh, he doted on her. Whatever Eva wanted, she got.” Belinda started up the stairs. “Why do you ask?”
“Darren was being cagey about something. There was a phone call he got after he left the barn that afternoon from a caller who didn’t want to be traced. I wondered if he might have been having a secretive affair with a married woman.”
“And you think it was Eva Mathis?”
“I don’t know. There were rumors it might have been. What do you think?” Lia asked.
They’d come to the upstairs landing, and Belinda paused to consider that. “I’d be surprised for a lot of reasons. First, that she’d put what she had with Adam at risk. I mean, she had everything she wanted that he could afford. Then again, maybe she wanted more? And the excitement of the game? But I’d also be surprised on Darren’s part. I mean, the one thing he had
going for him was brains. Eva might be attractive in her own way, but an affair generally means long-term, right? She’d bore him to death in half an hour.” Belinda started down the hall. “Let’s check out his office,” she said and turned into a doorway on the right.
The room had obviously been thoroughly searched, with bookshelves in disarray and desk drawers left open. “Looks like they took his computer,” Lia said, noting an empty space on the desk surrounded by papers. She glanced at the walls, which held framed awards and photos of Darren shaking hands with local politicians on flag-flanked stages. There was also a framed headshot of himself, one that she recognized having seen on the firm’s website. Hanging it on his own wall said a lot.
Belinda noticed Lia looking at it. “Yeah.” She snorted. “I’m surprised he didn’t put it over his living room sofa. Bet it crossed his mind.” She rifled through the papers scattered over the desk, picking up a few to scan, then held out one stapled sheaf to Lia. “This is interesting.”
Lia flipped through the papers. It was a contract for demolition of a property. “What’s interesting about it?”
“It’s to do with the Graham mansion,” Belinda said. “That place is in the heart of Crandalsburg and has been crumbling away since the last occupant died about fifty years ago. From what I’ve heard, Martin Brewer has been badgering the mayor for ages to buy the place and restore it.”
“It’s historic?”
“It was built during the robber baron age in the nineteenth century. The first Graham made a bundle of money and put it up as his showplace. I think the history comes from the guests they entertained—people like Vanderbilts and such. It must have been gorgeous at one time.”
“And Darren bought it and planned to tear it down,” Lia said.
“Probably made better sense financially than trying to restore it.”
“Martin Brewer wouldn’t have seen it that way.”
“You’re right about that. But if you’re thinking it gives him a reason to kill Darren, wouldn’t that be after the fact?” Belinda asked. “I mean, the property was bought. His partner, Adam, could go on with demolition plans.”
“True.” Lia’s thoughts went further. Maybe losing the Graham mansion tipped Martin over the edge? Or maybe Adam Mathis saw it as a way to throw suspicion on the historian while getting rid of Darren for his own reasons? All conjecture and too wild to share with anyone until she had more to go on.
Belinda pawed through the desk drawers, then straightened, shaking her head. “Nothing more to see here.” She whisked out of the room and strode down the hall and into the master bedroom, with Lia following.
The room was a jumble, which also might have come about from the police search. Belinda went straight to the closet and threw open double doors to reveal an area about the size of Lia’s small living room. Darren Peebles owned more clothes than Lia thought she’d ever possessed, including before downsizing: suits, shirts, pants, and—good heavens—rows and rows of shoes! The man could have put Imelda Marcos to shame.
Belinda wasn’t interested in the clothes but started checking various-sized boxes stacked on the shelves.
“What are you looking for?” Lia asked.
“I don’t know. Sometimes Darren would put things in odd places and forget about them. Things you’d never think he’d want to keep. I’m curious if he still did that.” She flipped covers off a couple more boxes. “Ha! This is what I mean.” She held the box out for Lia.
“Notepads?”
“Right. Sticky notes. And piles of pens with logos on them. He probably picked it all up at some convention. They’re that giveaway kind of stuff that people might not ever use but makes them feel like they’re getting something for free. One something. But he’s got dozens. And where does he put it all? In a box in his closet where he’ll never find it again.”
Lia didn’t know what to think about that, so she turned toward an end table beside the bed. The drawer was partly open and had obviously been shuffled through. The top held a lamp, a box of tissues, and a book. She picked it up to read the title: Finding Health and Peace Through Astrology.
“Was Darren interested in astrology?”
“What?” Belinda had opened a second box and was peering into it. “Astrology? God no. Why?”
“He had this book on his end table.” Lia held it out.
Belinda moved over and took the book, then turned it over as if it were some mysterious object. “Why in the world . . . ?” Her jaw dropped. “Good Lord! Eva! It must be hers, or it came from her.”
“You think so?”
“Of course! Why else would he have something like this? Wow.” Belinda sank onto the bed. “So it must be true, the rumors, I mean. He and Eva Mathis. Who’d’a thunk?”
“It’s not proof,” Lia pointed out. But it was a strong indication.
“C’mon,” Belinda said, jumping up and tossing the book away. “I’ve had enough. Let’s get out of here.” She started heading for the hall, then froze at the sound of a sharp ring from the doorbell. “Someone’s at the door!”
“I’d assume that’s the case.” Lia said it lightly, but it jarred her, too. Was someone checking on them? Wondering why they were there? How would they explain it?
Belinda rushed to the window to look out. “It’s a woman. Casual at-home clothes. Probably a neighbor who saw us go in. What do I say?”
The bell rang again, this time more insistently.
“Go on, answer it,” Belinda said. “I’ll be down in a second.”
“Me? But what do I say?”
“Anything. Stall. Hurry!”
Lia hurried out of the room, picking up her pace as the bell sounded again. She sprinted down the stairs, then paused at the bottom to calm herself and catch her breath. With a fake smile she hoped would pass, she opened the door to a woman of about her own age, heavyset, and with a stern face that shouted neighborhood watch to Lia. “Yes?” Lia asked sweetly.
“I noticed you and another woman come in. I live across the street. The man who lived here is dead. Do you have a reason to be here?”
Lia spotted the cell phone clutched in the woman’s hand. She was ready to call the police if she didn’t get a good answer.
“I, um, that is, we—,” Lia stammered.
“Hi there!” Belinda’s voice sailed from above. She trotted down the stairs. “So you’re one of Darren’s neighbors! So good to know someone’s watching over his place. I’m Belinda Peebles.” She held out her hand. “And you are?”
“Kathy Linden.” She took Belinda’s hand automatically but didn’t look pleased about it. “You’re Darren’s ex-wife?” The woman had obviously been following the news accounts.
“Yes, I am!” Belinda said cheerfully, then turned solemn. “So sad what happened to Darren, wasn’t it?”
“Why are you here?”
Lia had stepped back. She noticed Belinda had brought down one of the boxes from Darren’s closet.
“Oh.” Belinda flapped a hand. “Darren’s lawyer asked me to find some papers he needed. He figured I’d know where Darren might have kept them. I said I’d try, but Darren was such a pack rat. Look at this!” She pulled off the box’s top to show Kathy the jumble of sticky notes and pens. “And there’s piles more of stuff like this. Can you imagine? I mean, who keeps things like this?”
Much to Lia’s relief, Kathy grinned and nodded. “Men! You should see what my husband hangs on to. And heaven forbid I suggest he throw out any of it.”
“I know!” Belinda agreed. “You’d think you were asking them to toss out family heirlooms.”
The two chuckled together as Lia smiled along, awed at how smoothly Belinda handled the situation. It ended with Belinda inviting Kathy in for coffee, which she smilingly waved off.
“No, no, I’ll let you get on with your work. Just wanted to check that everything was on the u
p-and-up.”
“That was so good of you!” Belinda said, thanking her as she also inched the door forward. When it finally closed, she waited a few beats, then peeked out the window. “She’s going home. We’re clear.”
“Hallelujah,” Lia said quietly and drew a relieved breath. “Let’s us leave, too.”
“Uh-uh. Kathy thinks we’ve got more work to do. We’ll have to wait awhile. Let’s see if Darren kept any decent coffee around.” She turned and marched toward the kitchen, her box of Darren’s pens and sticky notes tucked blithely under her arm.
Chapter 21
Lia followed Belinda to the kitchen, and together they searched through the cupboards for coffee grounds and filter papers. Belinda set up the drip coffee maker on the counter, and Lia was glad to find powdered creamer, not trusting anything in the refrigerator. Within minutes they were sipping from two nonmatching logoed mugs, more conference giveaways, at the small kitchen table.
Lia stared through the window at the flagstone patio. “You handled the self-appointed security guard really well.”
Belinda added a little more sugar to her mug and stirred. “If I’d been smarter I would have found out if she’d seen Eva Mathis coming to the house alone.” She tasted her coffee, then took a longer swallow. “I’ll bet she could have told me.”
“Probably better to keep it short and send her on her way. You had me worried when you invited her in.”
Belinda smirked. “Yeah, I took a chance there. But I think it convinced her we were legit. Not taking me up on it and thereby holding me up from my work made her feel virtuous. A win-win.”
“You know,” Lia said, “if you put that kind of effort into dealing with all the craftspeople, you’d have fewer complaints and a happier atmosphere at the barn.”
Belinda leaned her head on one hand. “I know. But I’m not you. Being diplomatic doesn’t come naturally.”
“You think I don’t struggle to bite my tongue sometimes? Everyone does. Eventually it gets to be a habit. You handle the business side of the craft fair brilliantly, Belinda. You could manage to crack a few smiles and throw out more words of encouragement. You’d be surprised at what you’d get back.”
A Wicked Yarn Page 12