“You’re right, Eve. I don’t think the man Grandy cared for was spineless. He loved her enough to see how right she was about what might happen, and he let her go. I was tossed away with a huge sigh of relief that all I wanted was support for my child.”
“So he did give you financial support?”
Irene nodded. “Money every month, cash, delivered by a trusted servant. He rang my doorbell and handed me an envelope the first day of the month. The money continued until Brenda was eighteen. Untraceable, unless the servant told someone. I don’t think he did. Brenda’s father did the least he could do for her in a way that never compromised his position as one of Hartford’s richest men and most eligible bachelors.”
“Did you love him?” I asked.
“I thought so at one time. When I got pregnant, we talked about marriage, but I said no. I stopped loving him when I saw the relief written on his face when I turned him down.” She gave a derisive snort. “You’re right, Eve. It wasn’t easy raising a child alone, and Brenda required special care.”
“You didn’t tell him about her problems?”
“Would you have told him, knowing how little he wanted to be involved?”
“No, but I think there’s more to the story than you know. Brenda was admitted to Hopkins, and she used the name ‘Mary Appel’ as a patient there. That’s how Eleanor and Henry Montrose knew her. As my mother.”
“Eleanor told me about Mary Appel,” Irene said. “I think she still believes in some way that your mother is her mother. Eleanor thinks her mother is Mary Appel, and she’s more than a little resentful that you were the preferred child.”
“I can’t shake her from that.”
“She told me you believe it too.”
I shook my head. “For a time I wanted to believe my mother was alive, but now I know that the name ‘Mary Appel’ was a cover identity, part of her delusions, and what better way to hide than by assuming a dead woman’s identity? Your daughter may be mentally ill, but she’s not stupid. Her father had the resources to keep an eye on his daughter without your knowing. She knew, or she thought she knew, that someone shadowed her—her paranoia helping her to form that delusion. Friend or foe? Brenda couldn’t decide. Her father decided at one point to rescue her by placing her in Hopkins in hopes that the facility could help her through her troubles, but it only served to convince her that she was her cover identity. Her father then helped her to disappear into the life she’d begun with Henry Montrose and her daughter. Unfortunately, it was a life filled with Brenda’s continued problems, which resulted in her mistreatment of Eleanor.”
Irene dropped her head into her hands and sobbed, coming up for air when dismissive laughter replaced her crying. “Wasn’t that just like Robert Farley? He walked back into her life thinking he could enact some kind of miracle cure for her at Hopkins. When that didn’t work, he walked away. Again.”
When Irene spoke the name of Robert Farley, a shockwave went through me. I expected the father had belonged to a wealthy Connecticut family, but I didn’t expect him to be part of the Farley family, rich beyond belief.
Leaving the story there was sad, but what I had to add would increase Irene’s distress.
“Irene, I think the Farley family has gotten hold of your story, and I believe one of them wants to do harm to her, to you, to Eleanor, and to anyone who knows about Brenda’s birthright.”
“What do you mean?” Irene blew her nose and looked puzzled by my comment.
“The father of your daughter was one of the wealthiest men in the Northeast. Don’t you think his family would want to protect any claims she might make on his estate?”
“You’re right, of course.” She paused and looked away from me again, as if there was something she knew she should say but didn’t want to. “I think I know why everything is coming to a head now. I should have told you this earlier, but I was still trying avoid using Robert Farley’s name.”
I waited. She heaved a deep sigh, straightened her shoulders, and met my gaze.
“Those men who came from the hospital to visit me about Brenda’s records … you remember I told you about them?”
I nodded. When she told me about the visit it seemed plausible that a hospital was trying to close files that had been open for a long time. Irene’s mentioning them now made me wonder.
“Something about them made me uncomfortable. Don said he thought one of them was armed.”
I felt a humming up and down my spine. “Can you describe the men?” I asked.
“One of them didn’t say much. He was average height like Don, with sandy, thinning hair. The one who did most of the talking was short, not more than five feet tall. The odd thing about him was his hands. They didn’t seem to go with the rest of him. His fingers were long and slender, the hands of a concert pianist almost. He had a high-pitched voice. When he spoke, it sounded like he was whining.”
Well, well. Freddie the Bull and one of his goons had visited Irene in the guise of hospital personnel. I didn’t tell Irene she had been visited by men probably hired by the Farley’s law firm to find out about her daughter.
Irene continued speaking, her words breaking into my thoughts. “You see, I remember the timing well. It was right after I read Robert’s obituary in the Connecticut papers. He’s been dead to me for many years, but he died about six weeks ago.”
So that was what started this whole thing: Brenda coming to Florida to find me, followed by Henry and her daughter, and then the murder of Mr. Montrose. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Brenda took flight soon after her father died. She had her mental issues, but she wasn’t wrong in thinking someone was after her. The Farley family didn’t want her existence known. In fact, they wanted her and her daughter wiped off the face of the earth.
“I think we need to find your daughter, not just for your sake, Irene, but because I think she and your granddaughter are in real danger.”
She nodded. “His family is after them.”
“Robert Farley’s known heirs are trying to protect what they have. They aren’t willing to share. You’d be in danger also if you decided to come forward on behalf of your daughter and granddaughter and claimed part of his estate.”
A red flush spread upward from her neck onto her face. “I’d never do that. I read the obituary, and my one thought was that he was gone for good. It was a kind of relief to know he’d never intrude in my life again. I would never claim any part of his estate.”
“I’m not so certain you shouldn’t. Brenda is his daughter. You told me he never acted like a father to her, only providing you monthly stipends, which ended when she turned eighteen. He tried to keep you a secret from his family, but it appears he wasn’t successful. Given Brenda’s mental issues, you and she deserved more than a monthly allowance. The family money could buy her a lot of therapy now. She also has a daughter who needs a mother who is sound and happy. Brenda and you are all Eleanor has now.”
“Are you saying I should come forward and make a claim on their behalf?”
I nodded. “Yes, but first we need to make certain all of you are safe.”
Help for Brenda, if Brenda was still alive. I didn’t say that to Irene, nor did I share my concern that Brenda’s uncertain mental state might have led her to kill Henry. Why, I reasoned, would the men sent to silence Brenda and her daughter have any interest in murdering Mr. Montrose, who believed Brenda was Mary Appel and knew nothing about her connection to the Farley fortune? If the authorities knew about the Farley family connection and Freddie the Bull’s role in all this, they might have doubled their efforts to find my father-in-law.
Not as a suspect, but as a witness to the murder.
Chapter 20
I wasn’t certain when I left her room that Irene believed what I was saying about the danger to her and her daughter and granddaughter, but she insisted it was time to see her daughter. I told her I agreed. In fact, it was past time for the authorities and any family to meet with Brenda. Family included me. I
wondered what this woman who had called herself Mary Appel for such a long time would think of me. I still wasn’t clear why she had come to Florida or how she knew where to find me.
As difficult as it was for me to deal with Irene’s disbelief about everything that had happened surrounding her daughter, Eleanor posed a greater problem. Irene might listen to reason as she had this morning, but Eleanor was flighty, naive, stubborn, and side-stepped questions so well I figured she’d be a natural at the Electric Slide.
When Nappi picked me up at the motel, I filled him in on what I had told Irene. He agreed that she could use protection, which we both knew the police would not provide. Nappi made a call and took care of that. As we pulled away from the motel, another black SUV pulled into the parking lot. Nappi nodded at the driver, who nodded back. I sat back in the passenger seat and relaxed. For a moment, anyway.
“Where to?” asked Nappi. “I already stopped to see how Jerry was doing with Eleanor.”
“Do you think she’s safe with Jerry looking after her?’
He gave me a wink. “No, but she said Irene was joining them for lunch at the Biscuit. It’s a favorite restaurant for several of my, uh, associates.”
Why did I worry? Nappi’s so-called associates would babysit everyone at the Biscuit. Nappi, my dear friend, had everything and everyone covered, even me.
I wiggled around in my seat so that I was facing him. “You know, I’ve managed to involve you in a lot of my, uh, adventures over the years, and …” I began.
Nappi held up a hand to stop me. “This is where you thank me and say how you cannot repay me, blah, blah, blah. Shut up, Eve. I don’t want to hear this from a friend.”
He was right. I was insulting him.
“Where to?” he asked.
“To the shop. I need to check to see if Grandy and Madeleine can use some help.”
“I already checked while you were talking to Irene. Business is slow today, and Shelley is in, working on some dresses, so she’ll provide backup if things start jumping.”
“Then it’s time to check in with my boss, Crusty. I owe him an update on how I’m doing with my case. I’m supposed to be working on the Montrose murder, not warning my relatives about mob guys looking for them.”
“It’s all related,” Nappi said.
“Yes, but I should be providing him with written reports he can forward to his clients, Grandfather and Sammy.”
Nappi dismissed my concerns with a flap of his hand. “I think they know what you’re doing, don’t you? Besides, do you want to hear McNabb natter on about how you shouldn’t be working this case in your condition?”
“He knew my condition when he took me on. I’m nosey, impulsive, and intrusive. That was why he took me on.”
“That wasn’t what I meant,” Nappi said.
“I know what you meant and forget it.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Nappi reached over, opened the glove box, and extracted a cellphone. “Compliments of your friendly pickpocket.”
“I thought you said you didn’t do that kind of work. You implied it was not on your mob-guy list of acceptable jobs.”
He handed the phone to me.
“I didn’t take it. It was Jerry’s doing.”
I raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Hmm. So Jerry does have some marketable skills after all.”
“Are you drooling over what you’ll find in there? You look like a coyote about to take down a rabbit.”
I swallowed. It was a correct observation. I was drooling, but not over what the phone records would provide. I had opened the phone to Eleanor’s contacts.
“Look at this,” I said, showing the screen to Nappi.
He glanced at it out of the corner of his eye.
“Most of her contacts are restaurants and food places around here,” I said, scrolling down the page.
“And you’re hungry,” he said with compete certainty.
At the local diner in the middle of town, Nappi ordered one of their famous giant burgers with a side of fries, but I, aware that I shouldn’t be feeding my little one greasy foods, opted for protein and vegetables—a giant burger with extra tomato and lettuce, no fries. I bit into the burger and wiped the ketchup and mayonnaise that oozed from it off my lower lip.
“I was so proud of you when you didn’t ask for fries, but now I’m not so sure,” Nappi said as I picked yet another crispy potato off his plate.
“It’s like smokers when they’re trying to quit—they bum cigarettes so they can maintain the illusion they’re no longer smoking.” I picked at my burger and Nappi’s fries as I scrolled through Eleanor’s call list again.
“Find anything?” Nappi asked.
“Mmm.” I nodded with a mouthful of fries. “Aside from food places—getting her a place with a kitchen was unnecessary because it’s clear she does not cook and I know Jerry doesn’t—there’s one number she calls several times each day. That has to be her mother because it’s a cell with a New York area code.”
We finished our food and talked about our next move. Should I turn over the telephone to Frida and let her use the GPS to track Brenda’s location or should I call it myself and try to get Brenda to meet with me and her mother and daughter? Or, third choice, use Eleanor to intercede with her mother and set up a meeting?
“I veto the last option,” I said to Nappi as we headed toward the car. “Eleanor has been anything but cooperative. I can understand she’s trying to protect her mother, but I’m finding her attitude as annoying as crab grass in my lawn.”
Nappi smiled. “Eve, you still haven’t learned the fine art of patience, have you?” He reached out and patted me on my shoulder, then pulled back his arm and said, “I must be losing my touch. Look at that, would you? I’ve got ketchup on my sleeve.” He moved his wrist and leaned toward me so I could get a look at the offending stain. I heard a loud bang and the ketchup stain spread over his chest and drops spurted onto me. He sank to his knees and pulled me down with him.
“Get behind the car!” he yelled as he collapsed on the pavement.
There was so much blood—on the pavement beneath his body, on me, and all over his expensive designer jacket. I crawled over to him. His eyes were closed, but his chest heaved with each breath. He was still alive.
“Nappi, Nappi. Can you hear me?”
He opened his eyes. “I hear you. Are you okay? Were you hit?”
I shook my head.
“Freddie,” he said, then lost consciousness. I looked around at the crowd that had gathered. Up the street I spotted the taillights of a black SUV driving away from the crowd. If it was one of Nappi’s men, it would have been heading this way.
“I’ll make him pay,” I whispered in Nappi’s ear. There was no response, and his chest was no longer heaving.
The ambulance arrived in minutes. The EMTs moved me to one side, one of them ascertaining I was not injured, the other two checking Nappi’s vitals and beginning an IV. Thank God he was not dead, but could they get him to the hospital in time to save him? They loaded him in the ambulance, and it sped away, sirens blaring.
Frida’s cruiser pulled up at almost the same time. She looked at the blood on me and asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m not hurt, if that’s what you’re asking, but I’m not okay. They wouldn’t let me go to the hospital with him.” I pointed with a shaking finger at the retreating ambulance.
“He’s being taken care of, but I need you to tell me what happened,” Frida said, walking me to her car and putting me in the passenger seat. She gave a curt nod to her partner, who began securing the scene.
“I need to make certain he’ll be okay,” I insisted.
“You can do that by helping catch the person who did this.”
“Oh, I know who did this,” I said with certainty.
Frida sighed. “Okay. Tell me everything. My partner can handle interviewing witnesses and taping off the scene.” She took out her notebook.
I told her everything I knew
about my investigation of the Montrose murder in New York and Connecticut and about my Great-Aunt Irene’s daughter and granddaughter. I finished with a description of Nappi’s and my lunch. “We had just left the diner and … you know how neat he is?”
She nodded.
“For once he wasn’t. If he hadn’t spilled on his jacket and leaned toward me to show me the stain, he wouldn’t be alive.”
In an attempt at humor, Frida said, “Well, good for you, Eve. You taught him how to eat like you do.”
At first I looked at her in horror at the callousness of her statement, then I got it. I tried a small smile, but my lower lip quivered.
“Here’s Grandy,” she said. “I called her to give you a ride to the hospital. You can check on your friend.”
I got out of the car, but Frida called to me.
“He may not be my favorite person, but I know how much he means to you. I hope he’ll be okay.”
I retold my story to Grandy. We parked and ran up to the emergency room entrance.
“He’s in surgery right now,” said the attendant behind the counter. “Are you family?”
“Yes, I’m his daughter and this is his …” I could have said “mother,” but instead I said, “sister.”
“His younger sister,” explained Grandy.
The attendant didn’t blink an eye at Grandy’s white curls, but pointed to the corridor leading to the surgical area waiting room.
“I’ve got to call Jerry,” I said.
Jerry, Eleanor, Irene, and Don were still at the restaurant, finishing lunch. I told him what happened and ended with, “He warned off Freddie once, but I’d wager my best pair of ostrich leather boots that this is the work of Freddie the Bull. He thinks if he takes out Nappi, the men he assigned to guard Irene and her granddaughter will back down.”
“He’s wrong about that. Don’t worry, Eve. I’m on it. If you talk with Nappi before I get there, tell him everything will be taken care of. By me.” He disconnected.
Killer Tied Page 19