Both Nana D and April gasped, ready to interrogate me, but I crossed my arms furiously. “No! Not happening. Don't move an inch. Don't speak a word. Don't even breathe more than necessary while I graciously share with you everything that happened to me tonight. It's time I stood up for myself, and you're both gonna listen to me for a change. Got it?”
April relented first, directing a softening glare at Nana D. I watched them nod and slowly retreat to the main table, understanding they'd gone too far in their assault on me. It was time the members of my family and immediate social circle showed me respect. “Now, here's what happened tonight….”
Chapter 16
The next morning, after catching up April and Nana D on the escapade with the real Madam Zenya and Bartleby Grosvalet, I arranged a discussion with one of Hiram's granddaughters. April needed time to ponder all the news I'd spilled, so we agreed to meet later that day for a recap.
The last time I'd seen Carla Grey was at Braxton's graduation the previous spring. She'd become a junior art dealer at a charming boutique revitalizing the downtown district. A pretty, blue-eyed blonde who viewed flirtation as a competitive sport, Carla constantly played the field in search of the ideal husband. Although surprised to hear from me last night, she was thrilled to meet for coffee and had suggested I stop at the Grey mansion on my way to campus today.
I'd just been led into a grand sitting room to the immediate left of the Millionaire Mile estate's octagonal foyer and patiently waited for her to arrive. A kind, attentive butler brought me a mug of coffee while I perused a painting of the Grey family including Hiram, all five of his sons, and grandchildren. There were no wives in the artwork, as Hiram deemed them inconsequential to the Grey name, at least according to what Lara had once conveyed.
In the center stood a stately Hiram, dressed in his full magistrate's classic black silk gown, jabot, and bench wig, who endeavored to always look as traditional as possible. Immediately to the left was his eldest son, Damien, and to the right was his second eldest son, Xavier, from his third marriage after divorcing Belinda. As far as Nana D had been aware, Belinda and Hiram didn't have any children together, other than her agreement to raise Damien as her own son once Prudence had disappeared.
Based on Damien's true parentage, Carla's father, Xavier Grey, was technically the eldest biological son. Since Finnigan had confirmed for Hiram—when I'd overheard them in St. Mary's—that he had changed the will, I was most curious whether Xavier had designs on his father's money. Hiram's next two sons from his fourth and fifth marriages were in their respective thirties and twenties and had received none of their father's money to date. In line with the standard Grey inheritance guidelines, they wouldn't get their shares until their fortieth birthdays. Hiram's youngest son, begotten through his sixth wife, had escaped to Europe after graduating from high school the previous year, according to Eleanor who'd recalled the rebellious youth's exploits at her diner.
Carla entered the room wearing an open-collared, coral blouse that showed off her buxom chest and a tight black skirt that stopped mid-thigh. With nowhere safe to cast my eyes, I settled on the painting as she jogged toward me with a salacious grin and unavoidable embrace.
“Professor, you look absolutely smashing. I can't believe I ever let you escape earlier this year,” Carla teased in a seductive voice, separating from me. “Or have you come to your senses?”
I drummed my fingers on the mug. “You're a beautiful girl, Carla, but I am a married man.” The entire world knew Francesca had returned to life, and it often became a valid excuse to prevent a woman from flirting if I wasn't interested in her. “I also think of you as one of my students, even if you've graduated and moved on to an exciting career in the art world.”
“I understand. Maybe in the future, things will be different.” Carla noticed me examining the Grey family portrait and sighed. “It's quite a gem. Not nearly as valuable as the ones I'm showing at the gallery. You should swing by sometime. I could secure you a heavy discount.”
“I'll give that some consideration.” I wasn't paying five figures for a portrait of fruit in a bowl. I'd swung by her boutique during the summer and had the most immense sticker shock. I found art fascinating but parting with money was not something I was prone to do easily. “I'm so sorry about your grandfather. How is Hiram this morning?”
Carla sat next to me on a royal-blue chenille sofa. “No change. Daddy and I visited him last night. He flew home as soon as they took Grandfather to the hospital. I believe they want to bring him out of the coma soon, though.” Carla signaled to the butler she wanted her latte to go, as she had a client arriving at the gallery soon.
“I can see you're busy and will make this quick.” My primary concern was whether her father, Xavier, had any motive or opportunity to kill his father at the Fall Festival. Learning about the rest of her family would be the icing on the top of this overly baked cake. Based on the standard Grey inheritance guidelines and Hiram's will, the only two people with any real benefit seemed to be Damien and Xavier. “I'm worried about your grandfather's accident.”
“You're investigating again, aren't you? Like you did when you thought I killed those two women over the baseball team's grade changes.” Carla pursed her lips together and reapplied pink gloss.
“Yes, I suppose you could say that, but I've been concerned about some vandalism at my house.” I explained how I'd purchased the Garibaldi-Grey house from her grandfather and wanted to ensure it was a legitimate sale, assuming Prudence was still alive.
“Never met the woman. She was Grandfather's first wife. Uncle Damien's bio-mom. Everyone says she's dead, but we're uncertain.” Carla tossed her hand out for the butler to deliver the latte, forgetting to even thank the man for his effort. “My father is a total wreck over the whole situation with his brother. He's wanted to come home sooner but had too many deals in London and Germany.”
“Has your father been away for the last three years? I heard a rumor about it.” I finished my coffee and placed the saucer and cup on the nearby table. I declined the butler's offer to refill it.
“Yes. Daddy is a busy man. He's negotiated several new contracts in Europe for his company.” Carla explained that her father owned a pharmaceutical corporation and had been earning so much business, they couldn't spend the money fast enough.
“I guess he's not worried about inheriting anything from your grandfather then,” I voiced, pushing the guilt over my brash statement further into my stomach. Although I didn't intend to be that blunt, it went over Carla's head, anyway. If what she had told me was truthful, it seemed unlikely Xavier Grey would've tried to kill his father. I was still assuming that Xavier, or someone else, had discovered Damien wasn't Hiram's biological son. Father Elijah indicated no one else currently knew.
Carla shook her head and waved her hand at me several times. “No, definitely not,” she confided, leaning in closer so that the staff couldn't overhear her. “Daddy's worth way more than Grandfather. Uncle Damien is the one who needs the money. He's squandered it all away on bad business investments.”
I asked a few more questions about the rest of the Grey family, reconfirming that the other three brothers were also all out of town the last week. “Hiram has a lot of sons to protect him. Will they all be coming home now?”
“Understand something about our family, love. Grandfather is difficult to take. We all adore him, but he is judgmental and vengeful. If you don't do what he wants, he will intentionally make your life difficult.” Carla quipped about the age differences between each of Hiram's sons, noting how they were in their teens, twenties, thirties, forties, and fifties. “With each new wife, he kept trying for the perfect child. At least that's the story he tells us. Even tells all my uncles he had been hoping for a daughter but never had one. Maybe with this new chick he's dating. She's even younger than you.”
I shrugged, curious whether his new girlfriend was involved. “I suppose there's a chance he'll marry again. Hiram could wake up from
his coma and identify who attacked him and Madam Zenya.”
“That's what we're all hoping. Some of us are fine waiting until our fortieth birthdays for our inheritance, but we have a better chance to convince him to give us the money if he's alive. If he passes away, they hold the money in trust until we come of age.” Carla assured she wasn't being insensitive when talking about the graveness of Hiram's injuries and potential to die. “It's just a way of life in this family. We love each other, but we've also been brought up by a man who's a stickler for the law.”
I followed Carla outside, and while one of the family chauffeurs escorted her down the driveway, I walked to my SUV in the side parking lot. Carla had provided valuable insight into the Grey family. Neither Xavier nor his younger brothers had any reason to murder their father. Damien was the only one who might've thought he'd inherit most of Hiram's wealth, assuming no one learned about his true biological father. Investigating the new girlfriend might also be a valuable angle to consider.
All my classes flew by that day. I narrowly squeezed in time for a quick lunch and was starving. A midafternoon snack would keep my stomach from growling before dinner. While idling in line at The Big Beanery, Nana D texted to tell me she remembered Raelynn Trudeau. I agreed to stop by that night so she could fill me in on everything she'd learned. I was curious to find out how Raelynn fit into the puzzle, which prompted me to remember that Hope offered standing office hours for her students at four o'clock. Rather than head home, I would intercept her in Diamond Hall. Despite several attempts to contact her after learning that Raelynn had injured her back, we never connected.
Balancing a bag full of mini pumpkin scones and two large hot ciders, I climbed the stairs and meandered toward her office. The door was ajar, and she was chatting with one of her students. I waited across from the entry until the excited girl thanked her professor for the advice and left the office with a smile on her face. “Hope, I'm so glad to catch up,” I greeted, shaking the bag with one hand and lifting the cardboard tray containing our drinks with the other. “Please tell me you can spare fifteen minutes for a friend.”
Hope capped the pen in her tense hands and placed it in a holder on the desk. “Most definitely. I know I've been difficult to catch. I'm so sorry.”
I sat in a chair across from her, then divvied up the snacks. “Life at Braxton is difficult. Don't apologize to me for something I undoubtedly understand.” While I knew Hope couldn't have killed Ian O'Malley, as she was unborn or barely a few years old, an uncertainty hung in the air regarding her involvement in Hiram and Prudence's accident.
“Between Dr. Castle's sadistic style of wielding power over her professors and my mother's fall, things are not what I expected when I took this job.” Hope dabbed a napkin on her chin when powdered sugar dust fell from the scone.
“What happened to Raelynn? All I know is your mother injured her back.” Playing dumb was usually the best way to confirm the truth, even though in this case, I didn't know much more.
“She'd been eager to take a haunted hayride at the festival and couldn't wait for me to meet the other day. Apparently, as she climbed down the steps off the back of the cart, she tripped.” Hope explained that her mother had tumbled hard to the ground and needed help to get to the rest area.
While Raelynn wasn't delicate or frail, I suppose she could've had a minor accident that resulted in Hope requesting time off to care for her mother. On the flip side, she might've injured herself when attacking Hiram.
“Were you there when it happened?” I planned to verify her story with Chip.
“No, I'd been late getting to Danby Landing because of a few errands. By the time I showed up, she'd texted me she was recuperating near a picnic table.” Hope described the setting and mentioned she'd driven her mother home and put her directly to bed. That's when she later awoke from the nap and found her missing.
It'd occurred within an hour of Hiram's accident and Bartleby's attack. The timing of the two events potentially aligned, but I could verify with a few of the supervisors at the festival to determine if they'd seen Hope and Raelynn in the picnic area. I didn't want to believe that mother and daughter were partnering to exact revenge on Hiram. It still didn't explain why Ian O'Malley had been killed unless he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Was your mother fond of horses?” I needed to understand whether Raelynn was knowledgeable enough to cause the animals to gallop away.
“Yes, that's why she wanted to experience the ride. She'd spent years volunteering at an equine therapy institute outside New Orleans. My mother grew up around horses and often said she felt closer to the majestic animals than she ever had to the people in her life.” Hope finished the last scone and thanked me for reaching out to her again.
I was about to ask whether her mother had reconnected with Hiram before the accident when Raelynn appeared in the hallway, limping and leaning against the wall.
Raelynn grimaced, then turned to her daughter. “Hope, my child. I heard about Hiram Grey's accident. We need to talk as soon as possible.”
“Mrs. Lawson, it's a pleasure to see you again. I'm sorry you hurt your back the other day. Hope was just telling me what happened.” I helped Raelynn into my chair.
“Thank you, Kellan. I appreciate it. My body is sore, but it's healing well.”
I wanted to stay and listen to their chat but had no straightforward way. Although my office was on the other side of the wall, I couldn't hear the conversation even if I pressed my ear to the vents. Perhaps I could drop my cell phone and record the discussion?
Hope tossed her cider cup into the garbage. “Yes, Momma. I don't have any additional student meetings. Let's head home.”
“I believe I saw you at St. Mary's the other day. You were talking with Father Elijah. In a pew near the table of candles. After Mass,” I spit out in rapid-fire like I couldn't control my mouth.
Raelynn sat stiffly against the back of the chair. “Yes, you did. I had something important to discuss with him.”
“Father Elijah is a good man. He knows how to support his parishioners, get them through rough times. He and I chatted after you left. I'd been sitting nearby,” I rejoined, pointedly staring at Raelynn to suggest I'd overheard part of their conversation. If she thought I already knew what she'd told him, she might speak freely in front of me now.
Raelynn apprehensively scanned me. “I visited with your nana earlier. She's the mayor, right?”
Hope cocked her head. “Kellan, maybe we could catch up another time. It seems my mother has something important to discuss with me.”
“Well, hold on now, Hope. Kellan didn't answer my question.” Raelynn turned to study me and waited for my response. “I could also do with a brief sit to relax my back.”
“Yes, ma'am. The citizens elected Nana D this summer. I trust you two had a positive conversation?” I leaned against the doorjamb, curious where she'd go next with the topic.
“I met your grandmother over fifty years ago. She and your grandpop hired me to work on their farm one summer. As soon as I ran into her today, I couldn't believe my eyes. A blast from the past.” Raelynn slapped her hand against her knee. “Seraphina was always good to me. I felt bad that I never came back to see her all those times I've visited Braxton.”
Hope said, “Momma, you never spoke about your time living here. I'm glad to see you remember more of it again. Let's finish this conversation at home, please.”
I couldn't believe my luck. Nana D had said she'd recognized the name Trudeau but couldn't pinpoint the reason. Raelynn had worked on the farm in the past, and they'd practically been friends, it seemed. “How wonderful to reconnect again.”
“Seraphina told me you've been digging into who tried to kill Hiram Grey. Is that true?”
“Yes, it is. I don't suppose you have any theories, do you?” Was she about to confess? I truthfully couldn't picture her as the killer, and there wasn't a valid enough reason from what I could determine. Perhaps she might h
ave information to help me find the real villain.
“Possibly. But that's not why I came here to speak with my daughter.” Raelynn swallowed, then peered at me in a concerned but welcoming manner.
Was I supposed to leave? “I should give you some time alone.”
“I'd rather you stay, Kellan. While my reason for showing up right now won't reveal who almost killed Hiram, you might find what I have to say helpful. It's a private family matter, but Hope has spoken fondly of you. If you're anything like your grandparents, then I'm certain I can trust you.” Raelynn pointed to the door, noting I should close it for the conversation.
I steadied myself against the bookshelf on the side wall, ready to listen to their discussion. Hope was worried about my presence, so I intentionally remained quiet from that point forward.
“After graduating from Braxton, I attended law school with Hiram. He and I were working for the Wharton County court system and a local law firm. He'd just had a new baby with his wife, Prudence. The poor woman wasn't doing well, and she hadn't been able to take care of her newborn son.” Raelynn explained the missing part of her past to us, including that she'd initially been friends with Prudence. They had taken the photo in front of the library the day Raelynn admitted to herself that she'd fallen in love with Hiram. She'd been worried Prudence would figure it out and was forced into the pose by a school photographer.
Hiram had turned to Raelynn for comfort when his wife had acted strangely. After Prudence's parents were killed, she'd stopped communicating with anyone. Prudence and Raelynn had been friends in the beginning, but then things fell apart. “This might be hard for my daughter to accept. Hiram and I became intimate. We couldn't tell anyone because he was married, but there was a mutual love and respect for one another. I thought he would leave Prudence for me, even though society still frowned upon a white man and a black woman having a relationship.”
Haunted House Ghost: Death At The Fall Festival (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 5) Page 24