Twisted at the Root--A Jane Lawless Mystery

by Ellen Hart

  “Did you ever start … using again?”

  “It’s been a struggle, but no. One day at a time.” He could see the relief in her eyes. “Before I flew here a few days ago, Sigrid and I had a fight. A bad one. She admitted that she’d been seeing Toby. That they’d been to bed a few times. She thought she was in love with him, but was confused because she said she loved me, too.”

  “Oh, Peter,” was all Cordelia could squeeze out.

  “It’s not all her fault. I screwed up. You have no idea what she put up with while I was using. It was a testament to her love for me that she stayed as long as she did.”

  “Are you saying it’s over?”

  The last thing he wanted was to break down in front of her. “I think so, yeah.” He cleared his throat, clenched his jaw. “I spend every night wondering what to do. I guess I’ll give her an easy divorce. The only thing I want is Mia. I want her with me. Sigrid is her mother and I’m not her biological father, but she’s always been closer to me. I was the one who found her, the one who brought her home. We have a special bond. Even Sigrid would have to admit that.”

  “But, if you continue doing documentaries, that means you’ll be gone a lot.”

  “I’ll find something else to do. She’s only got two years before she goes off to college. I want her to live with me. She loves her school in London, so I’d stay there. I can’t stand the thought that Pool might be under the same roof as Mia. Just the idea makes my skin crawl.”

  “You’re not suggesting he has his eye on Mia, too.”

  “I’m saying,” said Peter, “that for a genius psychologist, he doesn’t have much understanding of boundaries.”

  “Have you said any of this to Sigrid?”

  “No. Not yet. I need to do it face-to-face.”

  “So … you’re leaving?”

  “Soon,” he said. “It’s just … I hate to go when a friend of mine seems to be in crisis.”

  “Eli?”

  “No, his old girlfriend. I’d forgotten how much I liked her. She’s actually pretty amazing. I knew her as Kit Lipton. That was before she married John Henry.”

  Cordelia’s eyes bugged out. “Kit was Eli’s girlfriend?”

  “Long story.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I don’t think she’s happy. Not sure why. Every time I talk to her, she lets a little more out, but it’s like pulling teeth. I guess if I’m being honest, I’d have to admit that I’m attracted to her.”

  “Listen, Peter, I’m not sure I should say anything, but you know Jane and I have been digging into the Gideon Wise homicide. It seems not only possible but likely that someone at the gallery was involved in his murder.”

  Peter’s world suddenly tilted sideways. “What?”

  “Tell me: The night you took Rashad out to eat … was that your idea?”

  Gripping the arms of his chair, he said, “Partly.” He hated lying to her. He hadn’t considered his testimony at trial lying, though he had left out certain elements of the story.

  “What do you mean, partly?”

  “Eli asked me if I could keep Rashad away from the condo for a couple hours.”

  Cordelia eyes widened. Instead of responding, she stood. “Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You may not want a drink, but I do.”

  He followed her into the kitchen, where she opened the refrigerator and removed a can of strawberry soda. Crooking her finger at him, she flipped the light on in the breakfast room and sat down at the long table, nodding for him to do the same. She cracked open the can and took a gulp. “That’s better. Now.” Pressing her hands on the table, she leaned toward him and asked, “You do realize, Peter, my love, that you perjured yourself at trial.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “You were asked if it was your idea.”

  “It was. Partly.”

  “Would you have asked him out that exact night if Eli hadn’t been behind it?”

  “Well, I guess … no.”

  She emitted a low, exasperated moan. “Why did Eli need Rashad out of the way?”

  “He wanted to talk to Gideon about buying a painting. Rashad thought they spent too much money on fine art, so Eli wanted him out of the way. See, Eli was doing drugs, too. He was my dealer.”

  Cordelia emitted another low moan, closing her eyes and holding the cold can of pop against her forehead. “This just gets worse and worse.”

  “No, you need to listen. He was in the dog house at the gallery because … well, he was screwing up because of the heroin. When he learned a piece of art from a painter Gideon loved was about to go up for sale, he figured if he could make the sale himself, his dad would see him in a different light. But turns out he never saw Gideon that night. Gideon blew him off.”

  “That’s pretty convenient, don’t you think?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “You know that for a fact?”

  “Kit told me.”

  “And Kit has no reason to lie?”

  It was Peter’s turn to be indignant. “No. Why would she?”

  “I can think of a whopper. Eli murdered Gideon and she’s trying to protect him.”

  “No,” said Peter flatly. “You’re wrong. You don’t know her like I do. She’s kind of crazy, but … no, she’d never do something like that.”

  “They manipulated you into lying on the stand.”

  “No, I told you—”

  She cut him off. “Peter, this is bad. You were used. By Eli. By Kit. By both of them. And who knows? Maybe old John Henry had a hand in it, too.”

  “You’re way out of line. You say you’ve found evidence that someone at the gallery killed Gideon. What’s your proof? You better have something solid, because this conversation is seriously pissing me off.”

  “Okay, then listen up: A month or so before his death, Gideon asked the Chenoweth gallery to hang his artwork. This was right after they moved into their new condo. Since both Gideon and Rashad were gone during the day, Gideon gave Eli the code. Eli was the one who took charge of it.” She explained about the JHC tote bag and the stranger who approached the elevators that night carrying it. “Come on, Peter. Use your head. Someone from the gallery with access to that key code was in the condo that night. This is serious. Those people you consider your friends are in way over their heads. You need to stay away from them.”

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose.

  “There’s more, but I can’t get into it. Jane would strangle me. Will you be careful, Peter? Will you find some other friends to play with while you’re in town?”

  “I’m always careful.” As soon as he said the words, he realized how lame they sounded. “I have to go. I promised Mia I’d write her an email tonight.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  She had the gall to say that to a drug addict? A guy who rarely did anything else.

  “Always remember that I’m here for you, Peter. I love you. So does Jane.”

  At the sound of his sister’s name, he rose. Jane the virtuous. Jane the upstanding. “Thanks,” he said. He turned around and walked out, knowing that if he stuck around even for another minute, he’d say something he’d regret.

  * * *

  Eli held Charlotte in his arms as he carried a candle into his bedroom and set it on the dresser. Opening the top drawer, he removed an old cigar box. He flipped back the cover and touched the earring resting inside, caressed the one small, turquoise teardrop. He remembered when he gave the earrings to Harper for her birthday, the dinner he’d made, how pretty she’d looked. And now she was gone.

  Tucked under the earring was a piece of paper. He removed and unfolded it. He didn’t need the candle to read the words because he’d memorized them long ago.

  I’m sorry for how things

  turned out last night, but I

  had to tell you the truth.

  Maybe we can talk later.

  What you said about hostages,


  it’s how I feel.

  H.

  The filigreed gold at the top of the earring still had mud imbedded in it. When he thought about her now, he saw that her death had been a gift. Harper didn’t need to worry anymore about failures, difficult hurdles, all the myriad tiny struggles that faced him every day. She didn’t need to be sad when she learned that a friend had received some terrible news. If she did something stupid or maybe even something really, really bad, she didn’t need to feel guilty or worry about the repercussions that would surely fly at her. Eli vaguely understood that his views came from his depression and that most people didn’t see life that way. Still, it never ceased to amaze him that when upsetting things happened, Harper didn’t need to be any part of it. Wherever she was, even if it was nowhere at all, she was at peace.

  And he envied that peace.

  27

  Jane poured her father the last few drops of tea. They were seated at the kitchen table, nibbling on the oatmeal-raisin cookies she’d made last night—in the middle of the night. She often baked when she couldn’t sleep. The truth was, she wasn’t as “on board” with Julia’s potential decision to give up on chemo as she’d let on. She knew it wasn’t her decision, but still, it affected her and she would have to say something to Julia when she got home.

  Her dad was three days into a new trial, which was taking most of his focus. He’d stopped by after a meeting at his law office that had run late. Now it was going on ten and she could tell he wanted to get home to bed.

  “You hear anything back from Chuck Atchison?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I’ve left several messages.”

  Before he finished off a last bit of cookie, he said, “You seem pretty convinced that the Chenoweth Gallery is where you should put your energy.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Makes a certain sense. If Eli was the one in there that night, my assumption is that Gideon surprised him. That’s why he was murdered. But why was Eli in there in the first place?”

  “To rob the place? Do you know if anything was missing?”

  “I asked Rashad about that, back before his trial. Since he was never allowed to return to the condo once he was taken into custody for questioning, he had no idea if anything was taken. I would imagine if Marlo Wise had noticed anything missing, she would have said something to the police right away. That never happened. Then again, Marlo wouldn’t have been as knowledgeable about what was in the condo as Rashad.”

  “Can you imagine how that poor man must have felt? Marlo Wise inherits all of it. A woman who thought he was in it for the money, that he never loved her father. She walks away with everything.”

  Her dad turned the empty mug around in his hand. “Rashad did mention once that he’d given Gideon a small antique coin amulet. It was from Nepal, something Gideon wore around his neck on a thin silver chain. It wasn’t worth more than fifty bucks, but Rashad said it was beautiful, a mandala inside an eight-petaled lotus. When the paramedics moved Gideon from the bathroom floor to a gurney, Rashad said he noticed that the silver chain was broken and hanging loose. The amulet was missing.”

  “He never found it?”

  Her father shrugged. “He figured it got trapped inside Gideon’s wet clothing. Maybe Marlo has it. Whatever the case, he never saw it again. He regretted that. He did mention it to the police when they interrogated him, mostly because he wanted it back.”

  “Would it have had any evidentiary value?”

  “Probably not,” said her father.

  Jane watched his expression turn from resignation to puzzlement. “What?” she asked.

  “It’s probably nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, I never even considered this before, but if the person who murdered Gideon was into collecting trophies, that could account for it.”

  “Trophies,” repeated Jane.

  “It happens,” said Ray. “It’s twisted, but some murderers want a reminder of the killing, something they can pull out and look at and remember. We should keep it in the backs of our minds. Anyway,” he said, rising from the table, “I better hit the road.”

  With the dogs trailing behind them, Jane walked her father to the front door. “I’ll be in touch,” she said, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

  “You be careful,” he said, wrapping his scarf around his neck. “And keep me posted.”

  When she was back in the kitchen, Jane’s cell phone rang. Hoping it was Julia, she answered without looking at the caller ID.

  “Janey, you have to hear this.” It was Cordelia. Even though she was whispering, she sounded like she was about to explode.

  “Hear what?”

  “Peter. He’s a bigger idiot than I ever realized. Oh, I have so much to tell you. Or, maybe I’m not supposed to. But he didn’t swear me to secrecy, so I think it’s okay. Oh, hell. Are you sitting down?”

  “Just tell me,” said Jane, carrying the teapot from the table to the kitchen counter.

  “It wasn’t his idea to invite Rashad out for a drink that night.”

  Jane froze. “He actually said that? But … at trial—”

  “He lied, Janey. On the stand. A few minutes ago he said it was partly his idea, but it wasn’t.”

  “Whose was it?”

  “Eli Chenoweth’s.”

  Jane took Cordelia’s advice and pulled out a chair. “Why? There has to be a reason.” She listened through Cordelia’s long, rambling explanation. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said at one point. “Eli was Peter’s dealer? My brother is an addict?” She dropped her head in her hand and listened, growing more concerned with every revelation. “Why did he tell you all this and not me?”

  “That’s not the point. The point is, he could be in serious trouble if this comes out. Eli Chenoweth is a snake. He manipulated Peter into helping him and then got him to lie.”

  “Do you think Kit knew?”

  “She’s the one who told Peter what really happened that night. In fact, he admitted that he likes her.”

  “Romantically?”

  “That was my impression. Apparently her marriage isn’t happy. He’s staying in town mostly because of her. They’re all vipers, in my opinion. Well, maybe not John Henry. I’m not saying he’s not viperous in his own inimitable way, but you’d like to think a guy who’s the spitting image of Jesus would behave himself. Then again, he married Kit. By the way, did you know she used to be Eli’s girlfriend?”

  “What?” Jane’s mind raced.

  “There’s more, but those are the headlines.”

  Massaging her temple, Jane thanked Cordelia and said she needed time to think everything through. “Let’s connect tomorrow. Write everything down so you don’t forget.”

  “No worries, Janey. Mind like a steel trap.” After a few more inane comments, Cordelia said she needed another stiff strawberry soda. “Later, girlfriend. Out.”

  Jane set the phone on the table and glanced over at the dogs lying peacefully in their bed by the refrigerator. “This could be seriously bad,” she said out loud.

  Reacting to the last word, Mouse roused himself and came over, resting his head on her knee.

  “Not you,” she said, stroking his ears. “You’re a good boy. A very good boy. In fact, I wish all humans had your sense of morality.”

  He gazed up at her with his serious brown eyes and then gave her hand a lick.

  “God, but I love you,” she said, lifting his front legs into her lap and hugging him.

  Later, as she walked down the hallway to her study, she got a text from Julia.

  Flight was good. I’m at a house

  on Lake George. Lots of snow.

  Anxious and excited. May not

  be in touch for a few days. All is

  good. Love you so. J

  It wasn’t the call she’d been hoping for, but it was something.

  On her way upstairs to take a shower, she texted Nicole Gunness:

  Was anything missing from Harper

&n
bsp; Tillman’s body?

  If it turned out that something had been removed, it would give credibility to the theory that Eli might be collecting mementos—if, that is, the murders were connected. That was, in Jane’s mind, still a big if.

  Jane sat behind her desk and wrote Peter an email, detailing the information Nicole Gunness had dug up on Harper’s murder. Toward the end, she urged him to give the Chenoweths a wide berth. She didn’t mention Kit by name, and she didn’t get into any of the other information Cordelia had passed along. It was overwhelming to think Peter had been dealing with an addiction to drugs and nobody in the family had recognized it. The fact that he’d allowed himself to get sucked into Eli’s scheme was further proof that he hadn’t been thinking clearly before he left for South America. She needed to talk with him, whether he got angry or not. At the end of the email, she asked him to call her tomorrow, told him that she loved him.

  She went to bed around midnight. She’d just dozed off when her cell phone rang once again. Fumbling for it on the nightstand, she pressed it on and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Is this Jane Lawless?”

  She didn’t recognize the voice. “Yes?”

  “Marlo Wise. Why the hell did you call my husband five times today?”

  Jane ran a hand through her hair and cleared her throat. “Because I wanted to talk to him?”

  “About what?”

  “A tote bag he found in your condo.”

  “A what? Look, I’m at HCMC. My husband is fighting for his life. If you know anything about—”

  “Wait,” said Jane. She sat up and swung her legs out of bed. “What happened?”

  “His car went over an embankment. He’s got a bunch of broken bones, a bruised kidney, a severe concussion, and the poor man has cuts and bruises all over his body. He’s in a coma, so I can’t exactly ask him why you called.”