CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
If Amanda had been put in a room with a hundred other women and told to pick out Sean Mercer’s blood relative, Greer Kennedy would have been guess number one hundred. Where Sean was tall and dark, Greer was petite and blond. Where more often than not his facial expression was somewhere between scowl and skepticism, Greer’s was cheery and open, and she exuded a generally happy nature that her brother seemed to lack.
“I’m so sorry about your friend.” Greer met Amanda in the driveway outside her home with a hug that was both welcoming and sympathetic. “What a terrible thing. Now, you come right on in here and, Sean, you bring her bag. Don’t make her carry that. . . .”
“Oh, it’s okay, I can—” Amanda reached for the bag she’d dropped when Greer had first embraced her.
But Greer had already taken her arm, and Sean had picked up her bag, so Amanda permitted herself to be led inside of the little house that was every bit as cheerful as Greer herself.
“Your home is so lovely.” Amanda stood in the entry, from where she could see the dining and living rooms, both of which were painted in rich jewel colors, the furniture polished and pampered, the hardwood floors draped in oriental rugs. Homey touches abounded, from the plump pillows on the sofa to the bowl of phlox and black-eyed Susans that sat in the middle of the dining room table. “It’s so generous of you to let me stay. I mean, a stranger, no notice . . .”
“Don’t be silly. Any friend of Sean’s, and all that.” Greer dismissed her compliment with a wave of one hand.
“You’re very kind.” Amanda smiled, wondering when she and Sean had become friends.
“Now, don’t mention it again. Sean, you just take that bag of Amanda’s up to the guest room—she’ll be in the room you stayed in when you first got to Broeder—then come back down to the kitchen.” Greer turned to Amanda. “Unless you feel you need to rest. I can only imagine how terrible this day must have been for you. . . .”
Amanda shut her eyes, trying to avoid the memory of Marian’s body on the floor. The blood. All that blood.
“I’m all right. Thank you.” I will be all right. I will be. . . .
“Then let me get you something to drink. Perhaps some soothing herb tea. Or something stronger maybe? A glass of wine?” Greer was all motion, all energy. She talked fast, and her footsteps seemed to keep pace with her mouth. Amanda had trouble keeping up.
“Actually, I think a glass of wine would be wonderful, if it isn’t too much trouble. Thank you.”
“Oh, no trouble. Now, would you like to sit out on the patio? We just had it screened in. West Nile, you know.”
“What?”
“West Nile virus. Spread by mosquitoes. We screened in the patio so that we could sit outside and enjoy the nice summer evenings without slapping ourselves silly.” Greer continued to talk even after she disappeared through the dining room door. “Those mosquitoes were brutal this year. Damned things were everywhere. And of course, the summer is nearly over now. Won’t be but another month we’ll be able to sit out there without bundling up.”
She bustled back into the room, two crystal wineglasses in hand.
“We’ll use the good stuff today. Just because I feel like it.” She smiled at Amanda as she pulled a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. “Not every day that Sean brings a girl home.” She searched a nearby drawer, pausing to say, “Actually, Sean has never brought a girl home. . . . Ha, here it is.”
She held up a corkscrew, then turned her attention to using it.
“Oh, Mrs. Kennedy, Sean and I aren’t—”
“Greer. Please call me Greer. Mrs. Kennedy was my mother-in-law, God rest her soul. What a character she was. Sean tell you about her?”
Pop. The cork was out.
“Jesus, Greer, what the hell was that?” Sean appeared in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room.
“It was a cork. What do you think it was? You think someone was shooting at us?” She laughed, then looked at the expression on her brother’s face. “Shit, you did think someone was shooting at us.”
Sean sighed.
“Sean, why would you think—”
“Got any coffee left from lunch?”
“I’ll make a pot. That’s been sitting there for hours. And while I do that, you can tell me why you thought someone might be shooting at this house.”
“It’s not the house, it’s me,” Amanda told her. “Sean, didn’t you tell Greer about Derek? Don’t you think she deserves to know what she’s getting into?”
“I started to tell her,” Sean began to explain, “but sometimes, when you’re trying to talk to Greer . . .”
“Who’s Derek?” Ignoring Sean, Greer turned the spigot on and began to fill a glass carafe with water.
“See what I mean?” He turned to Amanda.
“Derek England was my partner. We owned an antiques shop together out at St. Mark’s.” To Sean, she said, “You could have tried a little harder.”
“Oh, which one? I shop out there all the time. Why, that little clock out there on the hall table came from St. Mark’s.” Greer poured water into the coffeemaker, set the carafe, and hit the on button.
“Our shop is Crosby and England. And Derek—”
“Derek England is the man who was found shot in his car two weeks ago, Greer,” Sean filled in when he saw Amanda falter.
“Oh, my God. Of course. I read about it.” She turned to Amanda. “Oh, honey, that was your partner? You’ve really had a time of it, haven’t you? I’m so sorry. What you must be going through . . .”
“Thank you, Greer.” Amanda swallowed back the lump that was forming in her throat.
“Didn’t I hear that the police—” Greer stopped midsentence and turned to Sean. “Sometimes I still forget that’s you. You have no leads, right? I heard it on the news.”
“Right. And then this morning we found another shop owner from St. Mark’s dead—another friend of Amanda’s, as I explained to you when I called earlier.”
Greer stared at Sean for a long moment. “So you’re saying that someone is killing off shop owners at St. Mark’s?”
“You could say that.”
“Should I expect the rest of them sometime between this afternoon and this evening?” Greer asked.
“The rest of who?”
“The other shopkeepers.” Greer fixed her brother with a stare. “Or is there some reason why Amanda might be a target whereas the others are not?”
“We don’t know. Right now, she looks like the only obvious common thread between the two. The only one I know of who was close to both victims.”
“They’re not just victims, Sean, they’re her friends,” Greer admonished him as if Amanda wasn’t sitting at the kitchen table.
“You’re right. They were friends. Sorry.” This to Amanda.
She nodded and reached for the glass of wine Greer had poured for her.
“Did you eat anything today?” Greer asked.
Amanda shook her head.
“I thought Dana picked up lunch for you.” Sean frowned.
“She offered. I couldn’t have eaten anything.” Amanda sipped at the wine. It was cool and slightly fruity and just what she needed at that moment.
“Then go easy on that and I’ll see what I can find for you,” Greer said.
“Please don’t go to any trouble . . .”
Greer waved off her protests. “Not a problem. I was in the mood for an early dinner, actually, and just about to have some of this wonderful tomato and cheddar cheese pie I made yesterday. Oven’s already heated.” Greer turned back to the refrigerator and pulled out a light green pie plate covered with aluminum foil. “What do you think? Want to try it? It really is delicious.”
“Sure. Thank you.”
“How ’bout you, Sean?”
“I’ll pass, Greer, but thanks.” He grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter. “I’ll pick up something later on. Right now, I need to get back to the station.”
“Oh, sure. Of course. You go on back to work and find the person who killed Amanda’s friend.” She filled a plastic travel mug with the freshly made coffee and handed it to her brother. “Her friends. The same person, right? The same person killed them both?”
Sean nodded. “It looks that way.”
“Then go catch him. I’ll save you some dinner.”
“What can I do to help?” Amanda asked, watching Sean cross the grass on his way to his Jeep, then wave to someone on the opposite side of the street. She leaned a little closer to the window, saw a parked police cruiser. Someone to watch the house, she thought, while Sean was at the station.
“Not a damned thing. You just sit right there, and I’ll heat this up. We can go outside for a bit and put our feet up and drink our wine. And after you eat, you can go lie down for a bit, if you like, or you can sit outside by yourself, if you need to be alone. I’ll understand.”
“Thank you. I appreciate how kind you’re being.”
“Well, this has to be just a terrible time for you.” Greer took a baking sheet from a cupboard and a knife from a rack that stood on the counter. She sliced off two pieces of pie and deposited them on the baking sheet, then popped the tray into the oven. Everything the woman did was quick and smooth.
“Now, shall we sit out on the patio while our dinner heats up?” Greer asked.
Not waiting for an answer, Greer picked up her wineglass and motioned for Amanda to follow her out the back door. The patio was a snug enclosure, with a white wicker love seat and two chairs grouped around a matching table with a glass top. Greer sat on the love seat, and Amanda chose the rocking chair.
“I love a rocker, don’t you?” Greer asked as she set her glass on the table. “So soothing.”
Amanda smiled and sipped her wine. It was cool and silky going down, and she leaned back against the thick chair cushion, grateful for its comfort.
“Now, Sean said your brother was here?”
“He was. He went back to Lyndon, where he lives. He’s got a chance to train down in Virginia at the National Academy.” Amanda heard the trace of pride in her voice. “I didn’t want him to miss the opportunity.”
“Of course not,” Greer agreed readily, though she wasn’t sure what the National Academy was, or why it was important that Amanda’s brother go now, but she let it pass. “So, you don’t have other family in the area?”
“No. Our parents divorced years ago. Mother and second family in California, Dad and second—and third—family in Minnesota.”
“Oh.” Greer appeared momentarily surprised. “You have half siblings? Stepsiblings?”
“Both, but they’re all much younger. We hardly know them.”
“A pity.” Greer sipped thoughtfully at her wine.
“Why?”
“If something’s more important than family—however far extended—I do not know what it is.”
“Are you and Sean from a large family?”
Something settled over Greer’s face. “Sean didn’t tell you?”
Amanda shook her head.
“Why am I not surprised?” Greer rolled her eyes skyward. “We lived with our grandmother until she died, then we were put up for adoption. Separately. I was placed with a wonderful couple. Just the loveliest people. I had the best upbringing possible. They’re retired now, living in Arizona and living life to the hilt.”
“And Sean?”
“He . . . had a harder time of things.” Her voice was level, matter-of-fact. “He was a tough cookie, even as a little kid. Too much of a handful, they all said. The county would send him out with a family, he’d last maybe a couple of months before they sent him back. Eventually, they just put him into foster care, and he bounced around for a while, until he was eighteen and could join the army.”
“Poor Sean.” Amanda frowned. She’d had no idea. “How did your parents die?”
“What?”
“Your parents. I’m assuming, since you said you were living with your grandmother and later adopted, that your parents had died?”
“I don’t know how our father died, or if he did, for that matter. He could still be alive, for all I know. I have no memory of him at all, nor does Sean. He was never in our lives, and apparently in our mother’s only from time to time, and then just long enough to get her pregnant before he took off again.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I wouldn’t have asked . . . Please, don’t feel as if you have to talk about it.”
Greer waved away Amanda’s protests. “And our mother . . . well, we’re still not certain what happened to her.” Her jaw settled into a hard line even as her voice softened.
“I don’t know what to say.” Amanda flushed with embarrassment, but Greer didn’t appear to notice. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Greer stage-whispered, and forced a smile. “On the one hand, I figured you knew, if you were close to Sean, but on the other, knowing Sean, I should have known that he wouldn’t have talked about it.”
“Greer, Sean and I are . . . not close. He’s brought me here because he thinks I’m at risk at home alone.”
“I see. Oh, there’s the timer. Shall we eat out here? No, don’t get up, I’ll bring it. You just sit and relax.”
“Are you sure I can’t—”
“No, no. You just stay put.”
Amanda took another small sip of wine, mindful that it would take little more than a thimbleful to make her head spin, given the day’s events and the lack of food. She put the glass down on the table and looked around the room. On the table next to her chair was a small photo album. She picked it up and began idly thumbing through it.
“Oh, that’s our Kevin,” Greer said as she returned carrying a tray laden with two salad bowls and two plates, each holding a generous wedge of tomato pie.
“Your son?”
“Yes.” Greer set the tray on the wicker coffee table. “He was the joy of my life. I miss him like crazy, every day.”
Amanda was afraid to ask.
“Yes.” Greer recognized the look on the younger woman’s face. “We lost him last year.”
“He was sick?”
“Kevin had Down’s syndrome. He also had spina bifida. Poor baby had so many problems . . .”
“Greer, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She shook her head. “He was a challenge in every way, that boy of ours was, because he faced so many challenges developmentally, physically. But God, how I—we—loved him. He brought us such joy. It was hard sometimes, but he brought us the greatest joy. . . .”
“I’m so sorry,” Amanda apologized for what seemed like the fifth time that afternoon.
“Thank you. So are we.” Greer fussed with her plate. “He just picked up one infection after another. Colds so often turned into pneumonia. That last infection, well, we caught it early, but it was just determined to do him in. It all went so fast. . . .”
Amanda reached out her hand and Greer took it.
“I haven’t really known what to do with myself since he died. Kevin had needed so much care, and I was so happy to be with him, in spite of the fact that it was pretty much continuous. I was lucky that Steven’s job was such that I didn’t have to work, so that I could be with Kevin every day. We always knew he was just here on loan to us, that we wouldn’t be keeping him.” She brushed away a tear. “Well, we just figured we’d have had him a little longer than we did. It’s been hard to . . . adjust . . . to it just being the two of us. In a way, I think it’s easier on Steve, because he travels with his job, and that keeps him busy.”
“Have you thought about looking for a job?”
“I don’t feel ready to commit to something all day, every day. But I’ve been doing some volunteer work at the local hospital, and some over at the library. That’s where I started reading up on ways to use the Internet to look for lost people—you know, people from your past?” She smiled. “That’s how I found Sean. I searched
the Internet. Of course, he was easy to find. Well, I keep telling myself how lucky I am. I lost my son, but I did find my brother. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to see Sean again. And here’s the icing on the cake. I just recently found—”
“Hey, girls.” A tall, thin, balding man with an easy smile poked his head into the room.
“Steve, honey, this is our guest for a few days. She’s a friend of Sean’s. Sort of . . .” Greer made the introductions and gave Steve a quick rundown on Amanda’s situation.
“I’m grateful to you for staying here with Greer while I’m away,” Steve said as he shook Amanda’s hand. “I always hate to leave her alone.”
“I’ve always been fine.” Greer wagged the fingers of one hand at him. “But I think it will be fun to have Amanda here. Now, honey, are you all packed?”
“I think so. I just stopped home to pick up my suitcase. I was hoping to take along my blue shirt, though. I can’t seem to find it.”
“I know just where it is.” Greer put her plate down and excused herself to Amanda.
“Oh, no, please. Do whatever it is you need to do. I hate feeling that I’m holding you up.”
Greer and Steve left the room in a flurry, and Amanda continued to nibble at her lunch. She flipped through the photo album again, one picture to the next. Kevin with Greer, Kevin with Steve. The three of them together in the backyard. At a lake. In front of a large building that could have been a museum, Kevin in a wheelchair, wearing a New York Giants cap and a crooked smile, Greer and Steve standing proudly on either side. So sad that they’d lost the son they’d both clearly loved so much.
“I lost a son, but I did find my brother. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to see Sean again. And here’s the icing on the cake. I just recently found—“ Greer had been saying when Steve had entered the room.
Amanda couldn’t help but wonder who else Greer had found. Whoever it was, she hoped it was someone who would bring a little of the lost joy back into Greer’s heart. And maybe, just maybe, a little of that might rub off on Sean.
Later, when Sean showed up after ten—and several hours after Amanda, citing exhaustion, had excused herself and gone off to bed—Greer tried pumping Sean for information. As far as she was concerned, if he was involved with Amanda—or wanted to be—she wanted to know about it. If he wasn’t, he needed his head examined.
Dead Certain Page 14