by Alexa Steele
Mack didn’t finish the sentence. He was too peeved. Big tough guy like Mack rattled by little old Ethan, Bella observed, as Mack moseyed his way to the car. I guess we both had soft spots hit today, she thought.
It was 10 a.m. and the rain had petered to a soft, sporadic drizzle. The streets in town were crowded with women, and women only: pushing strollers, heading to exercise class, filling the cafés. One SUV after another, driven by women with aimless expressions, drove past. Bella noticed there wasn’t a man for miles. There also wasn’t a 7-Eleven or a Dunkin’ Donuts in sight either—Starbucks, Mrs. Greens, The Organic Muffin Factory, and Pip’s Cakery were the only choices for coffee.
“You want a drink or something?” Mack asked sweetly once they were back in the car. “I’ll run out and get us one.”
Bella smiled, slowly.
“You feel like shelling out four bucks on a latte? Or are you just anxious to mingle with all these girls?” she teased.
She imagined Mack waltzing casually into one of these places. She thought the women might fall down and die.
“I just wanted to get you a drink, that’s all. If you wanted one.”
He said this so quietly and seriously she was taken off guard for a moment. They looked at one another and she smiled again.
“No, thank you,” she said gently.
“So she was pursuing this story on her own, pretending she had the backing of the paper,” Bella pointed out. “Jamie didn’t mention a thing about it.”
“No, he didn’t,” Mack replied. “Maybe he didn’t know.”
“Why wouldn’t she have told him?” Bella asked.
“He didn’t mention her academic credentials either, huh? She was one smart lady.”
“He did call her bright,” Bella remembered.
“He’s not kidding. Princeton and Columbia. And she spent all those years out here. Doing what?”
Bella thought about that as she looked out the window. Other than this small strip of town, lined with cafés, restaurants, a spa, two gyms, a yoga studio, a high-end kitchen place, and clothing stores, there didn’t seem to be much else going on.
Bella shook her head. “I have no idea,” she said.
“Well, however she spent her time it sounds like she added amateur sleuth to the list with this story. She was snooping around,” Mack said.
“Maybe her buddies will shed light. Let’s see what they say. If any of ’em are half as smart as she was we should know a lot more real soon,” Bella replied.
Mack nodded, grabbed the steering wheel, and made a sharp U-turn in the middle of the busy town, oblivious to the numerous hostile glares.
Bella looked at him coyly:
“Time to meet the girls of Greenvale.”
CHAPTER 10
Adrianna Westin’s back stiffened as she sat in her living room listening to the voice on the other end of the line. The police had come and gone and, for once, she was sincere when she told them she had no idea where Ridley had gone. She could see the unit parked out front and knew from experience it would remain there, waiting. But it would be in vain. This time he was not coming home. She was sure of it. Some things a mother just knew.
The deep, gruff voice of her lawyer droned on, ignorant to the fact she had stopped listening a while ago. She could hear him speaking into her ear, but her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking about Ridley, wondering if she would ever see him again.
Such a poor, frail soul her son had turned out to be. So shameful really. Ever since he was a little boy he had exhibited most of the traits she detested. Weakness, for one. Emotion too, which was kind of the same thing. Even joy. Especially joy, as it was such an unpredictable and unmanageable way of reacting to one’s environment. She had tried mightily to rein him in, to teach him right from wrong, to mold him into a man. It had not worked, though. It simply had not worked.
She reflected on this as she peered out from behind her drapes at the police car parked out front and absentmindedly held the phone to one ear. If Harold had proven a better husband, and father, then maybe Ridley would have known how to act. But Harold hadn’t spent much time at home, almost from the start. His work and golf were his passions; his wife and child two footnotes in an otherwise austere, privileged, well-lived life. She didn’t mind that. On the contrary, she didn’t mind at all. She was free to do as she pleased and that was how she liked it. But Ridley, poor Ridley. The dear boy missed his father so.
She had meant well all those years ago. She really had. She had asked Margaret to stay after bridge for a drink only because she knew Margaret had a soft spot for Ridley and might coax him out of his shell. She didn’t like Margaret much herself, but she recruited her for her son. That was the kind of mother she was.
But Margaret was as much a fool as Ridley in her own way—genuinely believing that a young boy would be interested, after the fact. So silly. So juvenile. So self-aggrandizing. All these years later, she still couldn’t get over Margaret’s demand to see Ridley again, and her threats to tell others of their tryst if he didn’t comply. But that was how Margaret was. Always about Margaret.
Even so, she was not about to let that happen. Margaret simply went too far. One shot and all was over, clean and simple. Well, not so simple, it turned out. Poor Ridley. He took the fall, as a good boy would. Hauled off like an animal, locked away for years. He never said a word to anyone, including her, even though she wrote and even visited, once.
It had been so good to have him home these past months. He had become so much of what she had hoped he would be. Prison seemed to have toughened him up. Finally.
They were just getting a fresh start, she and her boy. A team. A pair. And now this.
She had heard of Joslyn Freed, considering her husband’s stature, but they traveled in different circles in town. Some nerve she had coming into her home and accusing her son of dealing drugs. She looked and acted just like the rest of the new batch of women who now populated town, lavishly staking their place with an outlandish sense of entitlement. She had dared to come into their home and confront Ridley right there in the living room. Was she out of her mind? She had droned on about her “pursuit of the truth,” as she had called it.
As though truth had anything to do with it.
Adrianna could have told her it would not end well. Actually, maybe she did.
CHAPTER 11
Bella and Mack rolled the regulation blue Ford sedan slowly past a mammoth gold sign emblazoned with the name Glen Oaks. Two massive gold-painted gates stood at the base of the entrance. Once inside, they were afforded a bird’s-eye view of a four-block development carved out of the woods around it. In the center of the circular enclave sat a large pool of water, out of which a massive fountain cheerfully sprayed water into the air.
The houses in this new construction development were all built as Georgian-style colonials, each one red brick, black shuttered, with black front doors. Each had a straight stone path leading directly alongside the attached two-car garages. Each had a row of hedges delineating the neighboring plots. It seemed as though the builder had tried to create an impression of old-world money and wealth, to make the homes look organic to the land. With very few trees, though, only a few scrawny saplings planted as an afterthought, it hadn’t worked. The development looked forced.
The home to which they had come to visit was a different story. The almost 10,000 square feet of ivory limestone façade sat grandly atop a man-made hill at the end of one of the blocks. Its black shutters and matching black door anchored it, as rows of rhododendrons, azaleas, and evergreens lined the circular driveway, wrapping around a thirty-foot blue spruce standing regally in the landscaped center island. A black Range Rover and black Audi A8 sat in the driveway in front of a paneled three-car garage. The Jordan home was the granddaddy of the neighborhood it seemed.
Bella and Mack casually exited their car and approached the front door. Just as they were reaching the front steps the door swung open and a woman stood there, staring at Mack with an express
ion of shock and awe.
Her jaw and mouth literally hung open as she kept her eyes fixed on Mack, who dragged himself slowly, almost deliberately so, behind Bella. Bella saw the effect he had on this woman, whom she assumed was Jenna Jordan, and was taken aback at how she made no effort to hide it. Mack sauntered past Bella toward the woman, held out his hand, and grinned.
“Hello there,” he said with a smile. “My name is Detective Menendez. Please call me Mack.”
The woman didn’t even answer—she simply stared.
“Is everything OK, ma’am?” Bella inquired, annoyed.
“Oh, yes, I am sorry…yes, please come in….oh my god, I just, I don’t usually see people…. I just lost my head for a second…please come in…” She opened the door wider and stepped aside, allowing them to enter.
They stood in a huge, glistening, all-white foyer. White marble Carrara floors shined beneath their feet, stark white walls wrapped around the room, and a white feathered chandelier hung down from the twelve-foot ceiling. A white settee with gold trim sat under a gold-framed mirror and a circular staircase whose steps were covered in ivory sisal led up to an open-air second-floor landing. To the right hung an 18”x18” photo of the woman, a man, and two young girls on a beach, wearing all white and smiling. A toy poodle ran up and began yapping loudly at Mack. The dog was white too.
“Be quiet!” the woman admonished.
“Seems quite ferocious,” Mack laughed.
“His bark is louder than his bite. I am Jenna. Jordan. But you must know that already.” She smiled demurely. She directed her words and her eyes at Mack and Mack alone.
“This is my partner, Detective de Franco,” he answered slowly. She shot a quick glance in Bella’s direction, reluctantly acknowledged her, and pivoted her eyes back to Mack with laser precision.
“Welcome,” she said in a high-pitched voice that dripped with ceremonial phoniness. She almost seemed happy, Bella noted. Any grief she may have been reeling from was certainly not on display.
Jenna was about 5’4”, with dark brown shoulder-length hair that looked to have been flattened with an iron into perfect, straight submission. She had brown eyes, tanned skin, and flawless white manufactured teeth—a mouthful of caps it looked like. Wonder what she looked like before, Bella laughed to herself. Jenna wore workout clothes with the name “Lululemon” displayed prominently on the jacket and leggings. She wore ankle-high white socks. Her outfit displayed her petite frame and her washboard abs and her behind, which was quite large.
“We apologize for the intrusion,” Mack said deferentially, “especially as we are still kind of wet from the rain. We don’t want to drip.”
“Pleeease, no intrusion at all,” she interrupted Mack in an exaggerated way, not seeming to mind at all. On the contrary, she seemed to love having Mack in her home.
“Lucy!” she bellowed. A woman who apparently was the housekeeper came running. “Please take our guests’ jackets, won’t you?”
The short Hispanic woman held out her arms without looking them in the eye.
As Jenna led them through the dining room they stole a quick, puzzled glance at one another, but Jenna pivoted around and asked Mack if he was hungry.
“No ma’am, thank you,” he said graciously. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Ohhhh…thank you!” she crooned in a high-pitched squeal.
“We stopped by to speak to you about Joslyn Freed. We assume you have heard the news?” Mack asked. Bella’s lip curled at his too-delicate tone. What was up with the guy?
They were standing in the huge dining room now, at the tip of a table set for eighteen. A fireplace stood in the middle of one wall and eighteen Louis XIV chairs flanked a wooden inlaid dining table. A blue Persian rug, stretching from one end of the room to the other, covered the floor. In the middle of the table stood a stone statue of a lion with a mouse in its mouth.
Bella tried not to stare at Jenna’s choice of table decoration, but it was all she could see while Mack, despite himself, appeared overwhelmed with the grandeur.
“Quite a home,” he said to Jenna. “Love your taste.”
“You’re too kind,” Jenna replied flirtatiously. “And yes, of course I have heard the news. I am beside myself.” She wrapped her arms around herself tightly.
Bullshit, Bella thought.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Mack asked gently, smiling down at her.
“Yes, yes, of course, come into the living room, but can I at least get you something to drink?”
She batted her eyes at him, oblivious to Bella’s presence. Bella noticed an elaborate lunch was laid out on one end of the table as though she were expecting guests.
Mack saw it too. “You are expecting guests?” he said, pointing to the food.
“No, no, not at all—it’s just brunch.”
She waved her hand in the air as she said this and walked away, motioning for them to follow. Not knowing what that meant, they obeyed and allowed themselves to be led into an even larger room. Two separate seating areas filled the space. Each had two couches and three-side upholstered side chairs, with a large glass and gold leaf coffee table in the center. The furniture in the room was fluffy and perfectly color coordinated down to the last stitch. No originality at all, Bella thought. It looked like she bought the entire room out of a catalogue; an expensive one, but a catalogue nonetheless.
The windows in the colossal room had floor to ceiling draperies, and a grand piano held court in the corner. Bookshelves covered the walls, but were devoid of books. Only photographs of the Jordan family, picture after picture, lined the shelves—the same four people over and over, smiling, wearing white.
“Who plays piano?” Mack asked, as he sat down on one of the sofas.
“No one,” answered Jenna, giggling. “I needed something to fill that corner and the piano seemed to work. I wasn’t going to go get another couch!”
She laughed again and twirled her hair. Mack went along with her. “Very good choice,” he said with an easy smile. “And chess?” he asked, pointing to a table on the far side of the room.
She looked over her shoulder at the chess table and waved her hands as if to say, who cares? “Doug used to play. It was a gift from his grandmother,” she said.
“Would your husband happen to be home?” Bella asked, now that she mentioned good old Doug. Jenna had just sat down next to Mack on the sofa and clearly didn’t want to move.
“He is actually,” Jenna answered a bit warily. “Although normally not, as it’s Thursday,” she said, pronouncing THURSDAY with a happy lilt in her voice. “But today with the rain…” She shook her head and looked out the window, hugging her chest. “And of course, last night…”
The lilt was gone. A hushed silence filled the air between the three of them.
“Can you ask your husband to come join us, please? Doug is his name, you said?” Bella asked as sweetly as she could.
“Yes. Douglas, but he goes by Doug,” Jenna replied. With a skeptical look at Bella, she rose to go find him.
Alone with Mack for a moment, Bella widened her eyes but one second later Jenna and her barking dog were back in the room.
“Fangsy, be quiet! I’ve asked Flora to bring us drinks,” she notified Mack. “Doug will be right down,” she added, as an afterthought. Fangsy ran over to Bella and jumped up on the couch beside her.
“Good puppy,” Bella soothed as she petted him. The dog quieted down. Jenna just rolled her eyes.
Moments later Doug entered the room behind Flora, who carried a silver tray with bottles of Poland Spring water, Pellegrino, and club soda. Jenna grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino off the tray without looking at Flora and sat quietly, sipping out of a straw, subdued and far away. Gone was the gracious hostess. Now she sat sulking.
Doug hardly made eye contact with anyone. He wore dark blue jeans, a gray cable-knit sweater, and brown suede J.P. Tod’s. At six feet tall, with cropped dark brown hair and green eyes, he was not only wel
l put together but had cachet and swag. He was extremely tan, as though he had just returned from an island vacation, and was curt to Bella and Mack when they introduced themselves. When Bella began to ask questions about Joslyn and the events of the night before, Jenna spoke up first.
“I saw Jos in the restroom at about, oh, I don’t know, toward the end of the night. She was drunk. She slurred her words and lost balance. It was actually kind of embarrassing,” Jenna whispered in a conspiratorial kind of way, as though she knew she was talking behind her back but just couldn’t help herself.
She claimed she told Jos to wait in the bathroom while she went to look for Doug so he could drive her home but, by the time she returned, Jos was gone.
“How long did it take for you to get back to the bathroom?” asked Bella.
Jenna smiled, which Bella found inappropriate. And disturbing.
“I really couldn’t say. I was a little tipsy myself,” she giggled.
“Would you say five minutes? Longer?” Bella prodded, wondering what was so funny.
“Maybe ten-fifteen minutes,” Jenna replied, shaking her head as though she was entirely unsure. “Simply guessing.”
“So long?” Bella sounded surprised.
“I couldn’t find Doug anywhere,” Jenna explained. “He was in the corner talking to Pete and Miles. It was pretty crowded. By the time I got back she was gone.”
Bella made a note to talk to Pete and Miles.
“Where did you think she had gone?” Bella inquired curiously.
Jenna twirled her hair and responded, “I wouldn’t know, really. She was just gone.” She snapped her fingers and shook her head. “Sooooo unbelievable, really…just so sad.”
Doug raised his head for a brief look at his wife then looked away.
“Did you try to find her?” Bella was trying to elicit a satisfying answer, but that was proving extremely difficult.
“I didn’t see her anywhere,” she replied.
“OK,” said Bella. “Did you look for her?”