Fake I.D. Wife

by Patricia Rosemoor

  But Logan could hardly miss the man’s dissatisfaction with the way the case had been handled. A lawyer’s dissatisfaction. “I’ve always loved history myself,” he said, hesitating only a second before adding, “and murder mysteries, too.”

  “Well, then, you might want to join the mystery readers group that meets on Wednesday nights over at the North Bluff Community House.”

  Fearing he’d lost the retired lawyer to a tangent, Logan wanted to kick himself. “Unfortunately, I work at night.”

  “Hmm.” Bob nodded in understanding. “I have too much time on my hands now, ever since I retired. The wife died even before that. That’s why I read so much. Some nights all that extra time keeps me up, thinking. I take walks…”

  “Really.”

  From Bob’s expression, Logan knew he had something on his mind. Was the old man going to say he’d seen him and Elise down on the beach the night before?

  “Been retired for nearly ten years now. I’ve seen a lot of goings-on at night. That night, too.”

  Goings-on? “That night?”

  “Brian’s murder. I told the officer about it, but the police had their suspect and they just weren’t interested.”

  “In what?”

  “Why, the car. I saw a dark car parked in the wooded area along the ravine north of the house.”

  “And that didn’t interest the investigating officer?”

  “He figured it was some kids messing around in the ravine or down by the lake.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. You see ’em out there once in a while, but not often. That car didn’t belong to any kid. Couldn’t see the make—it was too dark—but it was a big, conservative job.” Bob shook his head. “It seemed like a coincidence to me, that the car would have been out there on the same night Brian Mitchell was killed. Forty years of lawyering leaves me without much faith in coincidences.”

  Logan had never believed much in coincidences himself. “Too bad the investigating officer didn’t listen to you.” Had the officer judged the retiree to be too old and too shortsighted to know what he saw?

  “If he’d had as much interest in the case as you seem to,” Bob said, his expression thoughtful, “who knows what he might have found out.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something if Elise Mitchell was innocent,” Logan said, more to himself than to the other man.

  Bob shook his head. “Doesn’t matter anymore, her being dead and all.”

  But Elise Mitchell wasn’t dead and she did matter.

  To him.

  And suddenly he realized that while he’d chosen to talk to the neighbor to get information on Kyle Mitchell, he hadn’t asked a single question pertaining to his own investigation.

  He was searching for a way to segue into a discussion of the politician, when the old man asked, “What line of work are you in, Logan?”

  “Security. Uh, computer security,” Logan amended.

  “Humph. Now, if you hadn’t told me that, I might have thought I had myself an officer of the law for a neighbor.”

  Logan laughed, not because it was funny but because he figured it was expected. “Yeah, right. Like an officer of the law could afford North Bluff.”

  Old Bob laughed, too, but his expression was anything but amused. He was onto something and he knew it. Logan only hoped the man didn’t share his suspicions with anyone, lest he blow Logan’s cover, and Elise’s.

  ELISE WAS STANDING at the counter pouring herself a mug of coffee when she heard Logan come into the house. Despite the freshly made pot, she hadn’t even known he’d been out. Thinking he’d gone back to bed, she’d been creeping around quietly so as not to disturb him.

  When he entered the kitchen, Logan looked like a man with a zillion watts of energy. Electricity practically crackled off him as he leaned his elbows on the counter next to her. This morning he seemed to be the casual Logan again, though his posture was anything but. He might be wearing a hint of beard stubble, but his gray eyes gleamed silver, a trick of the light coming through the kitchen window, no doubt, and the muscles of his shoulders and arms seemed especially well-defined through the soft cloth of his work shirt.

  Eyeing him warily, she said, “You certainly got up with the birds.”

  “With the garbage men. I’ll have coffee if you don’t mind.” As she reached for another mug, he said, “Rather for the garbage men, though they haven’t been around to collect yet. I’m assured it’ll be any time now.”

  Pouring the coffee, she slid the mug over to him. “Assured by whom?”

  “Not your in-laws. By the neighbor on the other side.”

  “Mr. Hale?”

  “Bob.” He took a long slug. “Pretty interesting fellow, that Bob. Retired lawyer. Middle-of-the-night stroller. Keen observer.”

  He was going somewhere with this and his mental energy was contagious. A shiver shooting through her, Elise sipped at her coffee and asked, “Observer of what?”

  “How about a car parked where it shouldn’t be, late at night, in the ravine just north of Mitchell House?”

  “When was this?”

  “The night of your husband’s murder.”

  Her heart thudded against the wall of her chest. This information hadn’t come up at the trial.

  “A car in the ravine,” she murmured. “What make, what model?”

  “Bob couldn’t see well enough to tell, but he said it was a conservative job. Probably black.”

  She thought back to the six weeks she’d lived in Mitchell House, to the few times she’d seen cars parked in that ravine—kids making out, a couple of skinny-dippers, guys who stopped to turn the woodsy area into a latrine. Probably that was it, the explanation.

  She shouldn’t raise her hopes.

  Still…

  “Could it be?” she whispered, gripping the mug tightly in both hands. “I thought I heard someone else in that house…a door closing. First I thought maybe Carol, but she didn’t answer when I called out to her. Then, afterward, I just assumed I’d heard Diane moving around…”

  Her mind alive with the possibilities, Elise set down the mug.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I—I don’t know.” She could hardly breathe as she met Logan’s intense gaze. “For the past three years, I was convinced that I knew what happened that night…that Diane did it—but what if I was wrong?”

  “Wrong about what?” he asked, too casually.

  Realizing how muddled she felt, Elise began to pace, as if moving would absorb some of the nervous energy now filling her. She needed to think clearly.

  “Wrong about who murdered Brian, of course,” she said, moving but keeping eye contact with Logan. “As far as I knew, Diane and I were the only two people in the house that night. Carol was staying with us, but she was out, had left the party at the yacht club early…” Elise shook her head. “All this time, I was certain Diane was the one. That’s why I broke out of prison, to save my son from her before she could…”

  Logan had gazed at her steadily through all this, but now he looked away, out the window toward the lake. Elise stopped pacing and waited for him to digest her diatribe. She didn’t know why, but it was important to her that he believe her. Believe in her.

  As much as she wanted to divorce herself from feelings she associated with permanence, she seemed to be developing them for this sometimes hostile man.

  When he finally turned back to her, he seemed thoughtful. “Who else could it be?” he asked, his tone noncommittal.

  “That’s the problem.”

  “Who were Brian’s enemies?”

  “He didn’t have any! He was a good man. A kind man. Everyone liked him. No, loved him. He was going to run for office. He’d clerked for a judge, then tried his hand at teaching. He always intended to get into politics, but when we married, he decided it would take too much time for a newlywed. He contented himself with building a law practice and working on literacy and several other issues. But his mot
her kept prodding him to follow family tradition. His father had been a U.S. senator until his health deteriorated. Finally, Brian agreed. Minna always said he had enough charisma to get him anywhere he aimed. That wasn’t just mother-love talking. She was right. She saw him in the governor’s seat someday, maybe even higher.”

  “The governor’s seat? Of Illinois? The seat that his brother may soon occupy?”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “Ironic, all right,” he echoed, his expression thoughtful. “So if everyone loved him so much, why was he murdered?” Logan was mumbling more to himself than to her. “Who had both motive and opportunity?”

  The breath caught in her throat and she called herself every kind of fool for having opened herself to disappointment. “Other than me, you mean.”

  He flashed her a look. “Other than you,” he agreed.

  “At least for once you’re being honest about something.”

  Elise stood there, her gaze tangling with his. Then, gathering her dignity around her, she spun on her heel and headed for the stairs.

  He called after her, “Elise, wait a minute, you misunderstand me,” but she wasn’t in the mood for any more conversation.

  While she’d suspected Logan had his own reasons for posing as her husband all along, she’d hoped he really was on her side. Not that she’d counted on it.

  Having learned the hard way to count on no one but herself, she couldn’t believe she’d forgotten that, not even for a moment.

  LATER THAT AFTERNOON, approaching the back door of Mitchell House as Diane had instructed her to do, Elise hesitated when her stomach clutched.

  You’re alone in this, a little voice whispered, reminding her of the way Logan had let her down. Now was not the time to think about him—she shouldn’t think about him at all. He was a distraction, and she needed to focus if she really was going to go through with this.

  She drew herself to her full height, which was fairly impressive since she was wearing the nubuck heels to complement the camel skirt, salmon-colored cotton pullover and salmon-and-green patterned scarf. Too bad her only jewelry was the knockoff watch she’d picked up and a pair of fairly conservative earrings that Cass had insisted she take, in addition to the plain wedding band Logan had provided. Women with money tended to notice the jewelry others wore.

  Still, she was Nicole, she reminded herself. Confident and outgoing, the exact opposite of the old Elise. No one would recognize her if she kept her wits about her.

  Even as she knocked at the back door, she heard voices drift from the conservatory, so she took Diane at her word and let herself in. Moving to the right, she heard Minna and Diane and another voice she didn’t recognize.

  Her gaze swept the kitchen, which hadn’t changed much. Diane never had spent much time in that particular room. She preferred eating out whenever possible. But the conservatory came as a shock. Not only had the simple furniture been replaced with other pieces too ornate for a room that was meant to duplicate an outdoor garden, but the plants that Elise had tended so lovingly had been superseded by larger cousins, bigger always being better in Diane’s book.

  “There you are,” her sister-in-law said. “Minna Mitchell, my mother-in-law, Kat Sanford, Binny Blake…this is my new neighbor, Nicole Smith.”

  “Nicole Hudson Smith,” Elise corrected in her practiced southern drawl, relieved that she’d never met Kat and Binny before. “Of the Louisville Hudsons.” The fewer acquaintances she had to fool with her act, the better. “But y’all can call me Nicky, if you like.”

  “We didn’t think you were coming, Nicole,” Minna said, her demeanor reserved.

  Elise blinked her lashes, thick with mascara, directly at her mother-in-law. “And here I thought I was being fashionably late.”

  She boldly grinned at Minna, who had always demanded promptness. The old Elise had invariably been early and appropriately demure. Not so the “Nicole” she’d created in her head.

  “We are so grateful for your help,” Diane said. “Minna is the invitations chair, Kat is in charge of decorations, and Binny, the food. And Nicole has volunteered to help me with the silent auction, since Roslynn is out of town.”

  “Aren’t you brave,” Kat said. “We couldn’t have taken on another thing.”

  “These events are always riddled with last-minute details that need to be finessed,” Binny added.

  “Well, I’m ready for my assignment.”

  Diane quickly brought her up to date. The fund-raiser was a combination silent auction, dinner and dance to be held the following Saturday night at the North Bluff Yacht Club. Another irony, Elise thought, since the yacht club had provided the state with a motive for her killing Brian. Attendance was expected to be in excess of four hundred. Diane made certain that “Nicole” understood that as the chairwomen, she, Minna, Kat and Binny would be the official hostesses, so Nicole wouldn’t have to “worry” about taking on that burden during the event.

  Elise figured Diane worried about competition, and while it was obvious that Kat and Binny looked to her, and that there was nothing she could do about her mother-in-law, she obviously didn’t want the newbie stealing her thunder.

  Diane said, “We could use your help a few afternoons during the next week to fetch the items and bring them here, and then you could help in displaying them for the actual auction, of course. How is your penmanship, dear? We need someone to handwrite the cards for each piece.”

  “Adequate, I think, but you’ll have to be the judge of that.”

  “Yes, well, beggars can’t be choosers,” Diane said. “Once we sit down to dinner, you’ll be free as a bird to center your attention on that new husband of yours.”

  Meaning: she needn’t try to interfere with Diane’s plans for the rest of the evening. Diane would be sure to want as much of the spotlight as she could manage.

  Elise thought quickly. A public event. The entire Mitchell family would be present. All but Eric. Diane would never have a child around, when her purpose was to attract the attention of the elite on herself. Probably he would be left behind with Petra, and Elise already had the idea that the nanny wasn’t as attentive to the boy as she should be.

  Diane’s asking, “What do you think, Nicole?” barely registered. It occurred to Elise that this might be the perfect opportunity to snatch Eric, if only she got to spend some time with him so that he would be comfortable with her—

  “Nicole?”

  Suddenly realizing that Diane was speaking to her, Elise came to. “Oh, sorry, I was going over next week in my head, thinking of what I needed to do to clear my schedule.”

  “Perhaps this is too much for you to handle,” Minna said dryly. “We wouldn’t want you to tax yourself.”

  It was the kind of put-down that used to make the old Elise cringe the few times she’d been in her mother-in-law’s sphere. But Nicole would let it roll off her back.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m used to multitasking. You can’t imagine how capable I’ve become in the past few years.”

  Though Minna’s cool stare chilled her straight through, she wouldn’t give the older woman the satisfaction of seeing her true reaction. But when Minna’s gaze dropped down to her hand with its plain wedding band sans engagement ring—the other women all flashed huge diamonds—Elise had to still the urge to hide it.

  She was thankful that the meeting was almost over and she could soon go back to the other house and collapse for a while until it was time to get ready for work.

  But when Kat and Binny left and Minna disappeared into the bowels of the house, Diane said, “Perhaps you would like another cup of tea?”

  Though she wanted to leave in the worst way, Elise decided staying a while longer might be to her advantage.

  “Maybe half a cup?” And as Diane poured, she said, “Isn’t your sister Carol on your committee?”

  “Sister-in-law,” Diane corrected her. “No, I’m afraid she has other interests.”

  “We met the other day.
She seemed quite charming.”

  “There are those who think she has her charms—usually of the male persuasion.”

  Elise raised her eyebrows as if in surprise, when all along she had known Diane despised Carol. “Oh, I see. It must be difficult to live together in one house.”

  “At times. But Minna wants to be near both her children. And Eric, of course.”

  “Oh dear, she’s not ill?”

  “Just a bit…demanding.”

  She’d gotten the information she had wanted to confirm. The entire Mitchell clan was officially in residence.

  “Well, at least this house is big enough.” Elise craned back and looked through the kitchen as if trying to get a glimpse of the rest of the place.

  “Would you like a walk-through?”

  “Why, I would love to see more of this magnificent home,” Elise said enthusiastically.

  Although she did want to re-familiarize herself with the place, what she really wanted was to get a glimpse of her son, to make certain that he was all right.

  Despite her conversation with Logan that morning, she was certain Eric was in danger, if not from Diane, then from someone else in this house. She remembered that Kyle had been driving a black BMW three years before, probably still was. He’d been in Springfield on government business the night his brother had died, but who was to say he hadn’t driven back in secret….

  She couldn’t fathom it, brother killing brother, but perhaps she was naive.

  No sooner had they entered the hallway from the kitchen than Eric wandered out of a room that had once been Brian’s sanctuary—the office. The boy had a book in his hand. It was all she could do to keep her distance. She wanted to run to him, to scoop him up in her arms and never let go. Instead, she froze.

  “Eric, where’s Petra?” Diane asked.

  He shrugged his little shoulders. “Read, please.” He pushed the book at her.

  “Not now. I have a guest.”

  “I wouldn’t mind.” Elise stooped and smiled at her son, who gave her a million-watt response.