by Susan Fox
“She’s an attractive woman,” Meyer said.
“And you don’t clean up too badly,” Singh put in. “They always say that opposites attract. Is that right, Jesse?”
“That’s not how it usually works for me.” Maura was the sole exception.
“So,” Singh said, “if Ms. Mahoney said you were having an affair, she’d be lying?”
Had she? Had she actually said it, on public record? No, he didn’t believe that. “She wouldn’t have said it.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Meyer said. “Guess guys like us only get to dream about women like her, huh?”
Guys like us. As if that was going to soften him up and make him confess to something he hadn’t done. “Whatever. So where’d you get the idea we were sleeping together?”
Another bit of page-turning, then Meyer gazed across at him. “Ms. diFazio.”
“Who? I don’t even know a Ms. diFazio.”
“Nedda diFazio, who works evenings on reception.”
“Oh. That sour bitch.” She might’ve seen him and Maura leave a time or two, just a few minutes apart, but she didn’t know a damned thing.
“Her word against yours.”
“And Ms. Mahoney’s,” he reminded them.
“She also says that, after Ms. Mahoney left last night, you came back to Cherry Lane.”
“What? No, I didn’t.”
“You’re sure you don’t remember?” Singh asked. “You came back, wearing a black leather jacket, and said you’d forgotten something in the garden. You walked down the hall, out of Ms. diFazio’s sight. When you came back five minutes later, your jacket was zipped up and it was bulging like you had something inside it.”
“No! Fuck, no, I never went back.” He’d ridden straight to Maura’s and sat outside on his bike, waiting impatiently for her to get home. “That bitch is lying.”
“She’s not the one who’s had a run-in with the law,” Singh said calmly. “Why don’t you tell us about that?”
He went through the story. When he told them what Pollan had done to Con, he saw Meyer’s heavy jaw clench and anger flash in Singh’s dark eyes.
When he finished, Meyer said, “That the only time you’ve been in trouble with the law?”
“Haven’t you checked?” Aside from a few speeding tickets, he’d kept his nose clean since he was a teen.
Meyer shrugged. “You look to me like the type of guy who might have a juvie record. What you think, Singh?”
“Looks that way to me,” she said.
Yeah, he’d shoplifted some stuff, stolen a bike, got himself into all sorts of trouble. But juvie records were sealed. “Gonna tell me what was stolen?”
“Happen to remember a jewelry box that sat on the dresser in the bedroom?” Meyer asked.
Jewelry. He’d noticed the flashy ring on Mrs. Trotter’s left hand. Seems that wasn’t all she’d owned. He recalled the bedroom: old double bed in a mahogany frame, little bedside tables and dresser to match. Paintings he didn’t like, kind of dark and European looking. Clutter on the top of the dresser. “Yeah, there was a box there.” He made a rectangular shape with his hands. “About this size. Is that what went missing?”
“Did you touch the box, Jesse?” Singh asked.
He shook his head. “Didn’t touch anything in the bedroom, just set up a dehumidifier on the carpet between the bed and the dresser.”
“So we aren’t going to find your prints on that box?” she went on.
They had the box, which meant the jewelry inside it had been stolen. “Nope.”
“Your prints are on file,” she said. “As soon as the prints from the site are processed, we’ll check them against yours.”
“Good.”
“Smart guy like you’d know not to leave prints, though,” Meyer said.
Jesse was starting to get worried. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? That bitch Nedda had lied her ass off and it seems these cops had their minds made up about him. “It wasn’t me.”
“Then who?” Singh asked. “The only other person in that bedroom was Ms. Mahoney. Are you saying she did it?”
“Jesus, no. That’s crazy.”
“Why?”
“If you knew her, you wouldn’t ask.”
“Know her pretty well, do you, Jesse?” Singh asked in a suggestive tone.
Fuck. “I’ve seen her with the seniors. She cares about them. She’d never do anything to hurt them.”
“Gotta be you or her,” Meyer said.
“No.” He thought quickly. Who else could it be? “Maybe Nedda diFazio took the stuff. She’s trying to pin this on me, so I bet she did it herself.”
“Her word against yours,” Meyer said for the second time. “Guy who’s been in trouble with the law, versus a woman who has no criminal record and is sister-in-law to the Chair of Cherry Lane’s Board of Directors. Wonder who a judge would believe, Singh?”
“Seems pretty clear to me, Meyer.”
There were people at Cherry Lane who’d vouch for him. Fred and Virginia, some of the other seniors. Maura? It seemed not. If she had, the cops wouldn’t be harassing him this way. Okay, she wouldn’t alibi him because that meant revealing that she’d slept with him, but she could’ve at least vouched for his character.
Last night, he’d realized she didn’t think he was good enough for her. Today, did she believe he was a thief? That hurt like hell.
But this wasn’t the time to worry about his fucking feelings. He was up shit creek.
“I want to call my lawyer.”
Chapter 20
Maura wanted to close her office door, rest her head on the desk, and cry.
The Chair of the Board had phoned, having been alerted by Nedda, his sister-in-law. Maura had given him the basic details and said she was confident the police would resolve the matter.
Cherry Lane was buzzing. By the time lunch was over, everyone in the place knew Nedda had accused Jesse of theft, and Jesse and Maura of being lovers.
The latter part was embarrassing, though it was almost amusing to hear the varied reactions. Some people said it was impossible; they were too different. Others said it was a great match, but Maura was too much of a lady to have an affair with a man she’d known only a few days.
As for the accusation against Jesse, the residents who’d gotten to know him were talking about going en masse to the police station to tell them he couldn’t have done it.
Maura picked up a fork, toyed with a piece of cucumber in the untouched salad in front of her, then dropped the fork when her phone rang.
“Maura?” It was Louise Michaels’s voice. “What’s going on?”
“Did someone phone? No one should have bothered you with this. It’s under control.”
“The Chair of the Board called. There was a theft?”
Maura gave her the short version. “The police took fingerprints. I’m sure they’ll catch the thief.”
“You don’t need me to come in and help with anything?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I can deal with it.”
“Good practice for being general manager,” she said teasingly. “Doesn’t the job look more and more attractive?”
“Not so much. But you’re right, it’s been good for me, filling in for you.”
“And since the old GM retired, you’re basically in charge of the place.” She chuckled. “And to think I once had my eye on that job.”
Louise had decided she’d rather have a regular nine-to-five job and raise a family. “How are things with you?” Maura asked. “And Don and baby Jeff?”
“Perfect. Fabulous. I couldn’t be happier. Oh, Maura, this is a dream come true.”
“I’m so happy for you. Just hearing the joy in your voice has brightened my day.”
“You know, a couple of people said we should think twice about adopting, that it’s not the same as having your own baby. But Maura, aside from not going through nine months of pregnancy, it’s exactly the same. Jeff’s ours. We couldn’t
love him any more if—” She broke off, sniffling. A moment later she gave a shaky laugh. “See, I’m even all emotional and hormonal.”
“You go back to enjoying your baby, and don’t worry even the tiniest bit about Cherry Lane. Everything here’s going to be fine.”
“Thanks, Maura.”
She hung up, smiling. At least something was going totally right.
Her hand was still on the phone when it rang again.
This time a male voice spoke, sounding harried. “Maura, it’s Barry. Barry Adamson. What’s going on?”
“Barry? Why are you calling?”
“Got a call from Jesse. The police think he stole some jewelry.”
She jerked to her feet, a hand at her throat where her pulse jumped erratically. “They’ve arrested him?”
“I don’t know what’s going on. I’m on my way now. Figured while I’m driving, you could give me some background info.”
Yet again, she explained what had happened. “Jesse’s no thief, but it’s hard to come up with any other suspects. I can’t see any of the seniors doing it, I can’t imagine the Trotters committing insurance fraud, and I hate to think it could be any of our staff.”
He huffed out a sigh. “Okay. Thanks. Gotta go, I’m here.”
“Call me afterward, will you?”
“Sure.”
Maura hung up and took a deep breath. As Louise had reminded her, she really was in charge here. The Board hadn’t chosen to appoint an acting general manager, but in a situation like this, Maura was de facto it. Which meant she shouldn’t be hiding here in her office, nursing her angst over what had happened. She needed to go out and answer questions, reassure people, and try to keep them occupied and happy.
A couple of hours later, Maura hurried to her office to take Barry’s call.
“They haven’t arrested him, but he’s their prime suspect,” the lawyer said. “I believe him, but that woman Nedda diFazio is adamant that he came back after you left last night, and he left with something stuffed under his jacket.”
“What? No!” He’d been at her apartment.
“He says she’s lying; he never returned to Cherry Lane. It’s his word against hers, and the police don’t believe him.”
Jesse hadn’t told the police he’d come to her place. He’d protected her, even though he hated her. And he was suffering badly for it. Worried and frustrated, she said, “I believe him, and so do you. Why don’t the police?”
“Because they don’t know him. They see his record and don’t know who he is as a person. As for diFazio, she’s never even had a parking ticket, and she’s got the Chair of Cherry Lane’s Board vouching for her.”
“She’s his wife’s sister.” Maura, who normally would never bad-mouth someone, went on. “I never liked Nedda. She’s the wrong kind of person to be working here, but we can’t fire her because the Chair got her the job, at his wife’s urging. I don’t care for his wife, either. They’re both sour, bitter women.”
“Which raises another point. The woman alleges that you and Jesse are having an affair.”
“What on earth makes her say that?” Nedda couldn’t know. Even if she’d listened outside the office door—a thought that disgusted Maura—at most she’d have heard a groan or cry, and those could have another explanation.
“She admitted it was circumstantial evidence. Being alone in your office for long periods, leaving at the same time, looking flushed and tousled when you left. Nothing of significance. But why would she say it?”
“Because she’s a bitter, nasty woman with a vivid imagination?”
“Does she have a grudge against one or both of you?”
She reflected. “I can’t see why. She just likes to stir up trouble.”
“Jesse suspects she stole the jewelry herself.”
“Oh! Oh, my gosh. That makes sense, doesn’t it?” she said excitedly. “The seniors go to bed early, and she was alone at the reception desk. She has access to the master key that unlocks all the doors. Everyone knew about Mrs. Trotter’s lovely jewelry. And Nedda knew Jesse’d been in the apartment, that he could have left the door unlocked and gone back later. She knew about his record and that he’d be an easy person to frame. The police have to search her house.”
“They don’t have grounds for a warrant. They only have Jesse’s accusation and no evidence to back it up.” He sighed, sounding discouraged. “I’ll keep you posted.”
After he hung up, she sat there with her head in her hands. She could give Jesse an alibi.
Without it, he probably wouldn’t be convicted, maybe not even charged, because there really was no evidence against him. The true culprit would surely be found.
And if she told the truth, she’d lose her chance at the promotion, maybe even lose her job. Maybe—or was this too far-fetched?—she’d face criminal charges for obstruction of justice.
Agnes and Timothy would be shocked. Disappointed. Furious.
Her parents. Did she even care about the promotion, except to make them proud of her?
But . . .
“Oh, my God.” She sighed. How could anyone be proud of her? She was a terrible, horrible, awful person. How had she let her need to win her parents’ approval lead her to be such a bitch?
She’d thought her parents wouldn’t consider Jesse good enough for her. The truth was, she wasn’t good enough for him. Jesse had protected her, even though he had good reason to hate her. He was an honorable man. In everything he did, he was an honorable man.
He’d told her she was caring, but she’d cared more about herself than about anyone else. “I’m not like that,” she murmured. “Not deep inside. I don’t want to be like that.”
This past week, she’d found out some things about herself, and now it was time to dig even deeper, to find out who she really was. To find out if she was a woman who could be proud of herself. And if she was, then it didn’t matter what her parents thought.
If Agnes wanted to start being more maternal, then she’d need to learn that her daughter wasn’t an obedient clone of her parents and had a mind of her own. Even if that mind led her places her parents would rather she didn’t go.
Maura sat up straight and dialed the phone. “Barry, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Later that afternoon, she hung up the phone after talking to the Chair of the Board. Well, she still had a job, which was more than she deserved, and the police hadn’t pressed charges against her.
Immediately after confessing to Barry, she’d talked to the police, and next she’d phoned the Chair and told him everything. She’d withdrawn her application for general manager, telling him she knew she wasn’t the right person for the job. She’d also said that she would understand if the Board decided to terminate her completely.
He’d said he’d call an emergency Board meeting by teleconference and would get back to her.
Now, she had the verdict. It no doubt helped that the stolen jewelry had been found at Nedda’s apartment. The Chair had also admitted he’d never liked the woman himself, but it was hard to say no to his wife.
Maura was still Cherry Lane’s accountant. Unbeknownst to her, Fred Dykstra and Virginia Canfield had phoned the Chair that morning to discuss Jesse’s situation and ask if there was any way the Board could help him. After Maura’s confession, the Chair had contacted them again, and their strong support of both Maura and Jesse, combined with her own sterling record at Cherry Lane, had saved her job. It had also saved Jesse’s community service, not that there was the slightest chance he’d still want to work here.
He probably never wanted to see her again. It would be easier to avoid him.
But no, that’s what the old Maura would do. The Maura who took the easy route, who avoided risk, who didn’t stand up for what she believed in. She’d been so busy being the little girl who wanted to please, she hadn’t grown into a woman with a strong moral core. And that was her fault, not her adoptive parents’.
Feeling about a hundred year
s old, she left Cherry Lane and turned her car toward Jesse’s apartment. Probably, he wouldn’t be there. He’d be out celebrating with Consuela and Juanito, or with other friends. Jesse had friends. He was a good, strong, wonderful man who made friends. He, the man with a seriously disadvantaged childhood, had turned into a decent, well-adjusted person.
She, the one who’d been raised with all the advantages, was a selfish, inhibited weakling who didn’t have friends because she didn’t deserve them.
She was going to change, though. And if Agnes and Timothy didn’t like it, then so be it.
Jesse’s bike was parked below his apartment. Praying he was alone, she mounted the steps. The worst he could do—the thing he was bound to do—was tell her he hated her and never wanted to see her again. That would break her heart, but it was her own damned fault.
For once she’d do what was right, even if the consequences meant rejection and pain.
Jesse sprawled in a recliner, a cold beer in his hand. He was free. He should be celebrating, but he was too confused.
A knock sounded on his door. Con, probably. He’d had voice mail from her, asking him for dinner, and he hadn’t replied. Soon, he’d tell her all that had happened today, but not right now.
The knock came again, louder, and he sighed and heaved himself to his feet.
When he opened the door, he almost dropped his beer bottle. “Maura?”
Her hair was down for once, tousled around a pale face that looked tired and strained, falling loose and free past the shoulders of a green shirt. Despite himself, his heart gave a skip of joy, before he remembered the way she’d rejected him.
She walked past him, into the kitchen. Uninvited, just the way the two cops had done earlier.
He hadn’t expected her to come, but now that she was here, she could clear up some of his confusion. Keeping his distance, he leaned his hip against the counter. “You told the cops I was with you. Gave me an alibi. Why?”