As they sat, Margot turned to her friend. “Are you sure you want me in here? I can give you guys some time to talk.”
“No.” Tamera clasped Margot’s hand. “I want you here. Besides, I think it’s time I asked George why he came back early and I want you here with me.”
When George was shown in, he sat down in the chair facing the two women and reached across the table for Tamera’s hands. “Tam,” he said, his voice scratchy.
Margot saw tears enter her friend’s eyes and she again realized how difficult this had to be for her. Not only was her husband still in jail, she had reason to believe he had lied to her.
“How are you, sweetie?”
Tamera sniffed. “Not good, George. I want this all to be over.”
“I know, honey, me too. Me too.” He patted her hand gently and Margot felt a wave of longing wash through her. She and Julian had had this kind of love. And though he’d been gone almost five years now, she could still almost feel his touch in rare moments of quiet when she closed her eyes.
But that was in the past and she needed to focus on the present. And if she was going to save her friend some of the heartache she was facing, Margot had to begin the difficult conversation.
“George,” she said, hating to interrupt their moment but knowing it was necessary, “I’ve got some difficult questions to ask you.”
He turned to her, surprise on his sharp features. “What do you mean, Margot?”
Margot glanced toward Tamera and then back at her husband. “We know that you didn’t come back for a work meeting.”
The color drained from George’s already pale features. “W-what do you mean?”
“I called your boss, George. When I mentioned the meeting, he didn’t know what I was talking about.”
The silence dropped heavily between them as George’s gaze drilled into the metal tabletop. Finally, after a few moments, he took in a deep breath and looked up.
“I suppose I should have come out with all of this long before now, but I was…I don’t know. I suppose I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come up.”
“What do you mean?”
His brow furrowed more deeply and he turned his gaze to Tamera. “I should have told you before we got married. I was going to…but then I thought it was behind me and it wouldn't affect our lives. But then…then it did and it was too late and…”
“George,” Margot pushed into the one-sided conversation. “Start from the beginning. Let us know so we can help you.”
He looked at Margot for a long time then nodded, turning his focus back to his wife.
“You knew that I was married before, but what I didn’t tell you was that I had a daughter during that time.” Tamera merely nodded, not wanting to interrupt the flow of her husband’s confession. “She’s a sweet girl. Her name is Sarah, and I would do anything to protect her.”
Margot felt her stomach twist into knots. Anything?
“But by the time she graduated high school, I had been out of her life for a few years, estranged from her mother, and I’d barely seen her. I did hear stories of how she wasn’t doing well, but I didn’t even know how to find her.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Finally, when my private practice was established, that was before I moved to Washington, D.C., I got an email from her. She was in some deep trouble and needed money. We met and, as I talked with her, I could see she wanted out. She’d been involved in all sorts of terrible things and just needed a new start. So, I helped. I got her out of the situation, moved her across the country to Virginia, and she started over.”
“Wait,” Tamera interrupted. “Sarah. As in…Sarah Newman?”
“You know her?” Margot wasn’t following.
“That’s where things get complicated.” George seemed to deflate before Margot’s eyes. “We hadn’t been close and just because I helped her, didn't mean our relationship was healed. I was satisfied to know she was safe. But…then I was offered a job at my current company, a big step up for me, and came to find out that it was due to my daughter, who had married the head partner’s son.”
The pieces began to click. This was why Tamera had known his daughter’s name. Was it possible she had even met his daughter at an event? Margot looked to her friend and saw an expression of pain and confusion on her delicate features.
“When I came east, we met and decided it was best for us not to mention our familial ties. She had reinvented herself and taken another name before marrying Trevor—my boss’s son—and she said that Trevor knew nothing of her past. I wasn’t about to ruin what little relationship we did have, and besides, I wanted my daughter to succeed so I kept my mouth shut.”
“But someone found out,” Margot said, almost to herself.
George’s eyes snapped to hers. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Because I’m beginning to see that there are several things going on here, and this is only part of it. You were—or are—being blackmailed, aren’t you?”
“I am.” George looked shocked that she knew.
Margot thought of the regular payments George had taken out of his account. “What happened when you came back early from the honeymoon trip?”
He sighed heavily. “Years ago, I had been contacted by a Harry Beakman.”
Margot’s mind flicked back to the email address she’d seen. Beaky123.
“He had gone to high school with Sarah and apparently fallen in love with her, but she’d never returned the feelings. When he came on hard times years out of high school, he looked her up. Somehow he found who she used to associate with and followed her trail to Virginia. That’s when he came to me saying he’d ruin Sarah’s new life unless I gave him a little something to tide him over.”
George ran a hand over his face, the weariness of all that had happened taking its toll on him.
“At the time, I wasn’t really sure what to do. I wanted my little girl to succeed and I was afraid that Harry showing up on her doorstep and telling her new husband what she’d been involved in in the past would ruin everything. So I paid him. He went away and I thought I’d seen the last of him, but that was too good to be true. He started to show up every few months like clockwork. He never demanded so much that I couldn’t pay him, but I knew he’d be coming back.”
“Oh, George,” Tamera said, grasping his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That’s just it.” He locked gazes with her. “When I met you, my life changed. Everything changed. I not only fell in love with you but I wanted you to meet Sarah and know she was my daughter. I wanted to tell you everything. I was going to—on our honeymoon in Hawaii—but then I got an email from Harry. I knew if I was going to tell you, I wanted to be able to say that it would never be a problem again. So I took more money than he’d asked for and went to meet him.”
Margot thought of what Adam had told her about the larger withdrawal he’d made. The facts were lining up.
“I met with him and told him this would be the last of it. I was going to give him the money and then I wasn’t going to give him any more. He threatened me, told me he’d go public with everything, but I’d already fessed up to Sarah and she’d agreed it was time. She was going to tell Trevor soon too. There really wasn’t anything left for Harry to hold over me.”
“What did he say?” Margot prompted.
“He got mad. We’d met at the park down the street from the shop, and he started throwing his hands up and arguing with me. Something snapped in me. I saw how foolish this all had been. I know that Trevor loves my little girl and I know that Tam loves me. There was no reason to keep secrets. So instead, I said forget it, pocketed the money, and walked off. That’s when I stopped by the shop to get the glue stick since I was already in town. I went by the bank on my way back and deposited the money, then went home.”
Margot leaned back. It fit. All of it. She needed to tell Adam that they were holding the wrong man.
Strong hands caught her as she rushed from the room and straight into Adam’s firm chest.
“Wha— Adam!”
He looked down at her, his gaze narrowing. “How did you know?”
She blinked. “Know? Know what?”
“About all of that?”
“Oh.” She looked through the viewing window.
“I got your text,” he said by way of explaining.
“I didn’t know.” She bit her lip, wondering what Tamera would think of her sending a text to Adam about meeting with George. “I just thought…well, I knew he hadn’t told the truth about coming back to meet with his boss and—”
“Stop right there. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to talk with George?”
“I sent you a text.” Margot bit her lip. She knew she’d messed up. She hadn’t waited for him.
Adam shook his head. “If we’re doing this—” He gestured between the two of them. She wanted to ask him to clarify exactly what this was, but he kept going. “—then we need to tell each other everything. Especially about important conversations like this.” He pointed into the room.
“I didn’t want to betray George’s trust.”
“I get it.” He let out a sigh. “It’s inadmissible but it’s information I need so I can hone in on the right person.”
“I know. And we’ll persuade him to talk with you.”
He stared off into space for a moment before he looked back down at her. “I put out an announcement to all of the patrol units in town and got a call from someone on the west side of town. Someone saw the SUV, right down to the paint on the front and back bumpers. Got a license plate number on it too. Seems like this Harry guy is the one who’s been following you and Tamera.”
“What?” Margot tried to reason through all of this and Adam’s change of subject. So Harry hadn’t gotten his money and now he was terrorizing Tamera? Was he doing it to send George a message? Seemed risky, but someone in need of money could stoop to something foolish like this.
“After this—” Adam motioned toward the two-way mirror into the room she’d just come from. “And your run-in with him, I think we have enough to bring Mr. Beakman in for questioning.”
“I'm sorry, Adam,” she said, resting her hand on his arm. “I really wasn’t trying to keep anything from you.”
“I know.” He roughed his hand over his jaw again. “I’m just overly tired. This case—or cases, as it’s turning out to be—are doing a number on our small staff.”
Margot felt so sorry for her friend and the weight of responsibility that rested on his shoulders. They had to solve these cases—and quickly.
“We know George didn’t kill Mark—”
“Or we’re reasonably certain,” Adam cut in.
“Right, so where does that leave us.”
Adam huffed out a sigh. “I think it puts us back to a Carow sympathizer. Maybe a paid hit?”
“But it’s clear the murderer wanted us to think it was George.”
“Explain.”
“Aside from the obvious—the body being found in the shop—I think Mrs. Henderson saw Mark go into the shop. Remember how Rachel said she loaned Mark her fedora? George almost always wears one, so it was as if Mark was being set up to look like George. Meanwhile, the killer waits for him in a darkened shop and attacks him.”
“Making all leads point to George.”
“Yes.”
“So that leaves us with someone who knows George, knows he wears fedoras, and has access to the shop.”
“That could be any number of people. Well, minus the access to the shop. That wouldn’t be easy.”
Adam nodded just as footsteps came down the hall toward them.
“Chief,” he said, his voice sounding strained.
“Eastwood,” the police chief said. He was a tall man in his mid-fifties with graying hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look through a person. He was rail thin and stood with his hands on his hips as he first looked at the two-way mirror and then at Margot before resting his gaze back on Adam. “Want to tell me what’s going on here?”
Adam filled the man in with a concise wrap-up of what they’d just discovered. He finished by saying, “So we need to figure out what the link is between North Bank and Mark Jennings. Among other things,” Adam trailed off, grimacing. Margot assumed he hated how vague it all sounded.
“And you, Mrs. Durand?” the chief said. He had only just transferred to North Bank around the time that Julian had been killed so her interaction with the hardened man had been limited.
“I was, um…” she fumbled for words.
“She was helping me.” Adam stood a little straighter as if expecting lash back from this.
“In what capacity?” the man barked.
“She knows Tamera and George and was able to uncover the blackmail going on.”
The chief’s eyes narrowed again as he turned to look at her. “I won’t underestimate the observations of an outsider. God knows our small staff could use a consultant or two. You run everything through Adam, you hear?”
“Y-Yes, sir,” she responded. Had he really used the word consultant? Then again, he hadn’t called her one…yet.
“Keep up the good work,” the man growled over his shoulder as he turned back down the hallway.
“What…”
When Margot looked up at Adam, he had a strange expression on his face but it slipped away as soon as she rested her hand on his arm again.
“Does this mean you can take me back to the crime scene?”
He blinked. “What?”
“I need to see the inside of the shop again. I think we’ve missed something.”
Adam let out a long breath. “Sure. But I’m making an executive order that we stop by The Coffee Kraft first or else I’m not going to make it.”
Chapter 12
After telling Tamera that they were going back to her shop, she handed over her keys and said she would wait there for George to be released. Margot tried to warn her that she could be waiting a long time, but her friend said she didn’t mind. She told her that if they needed to get home, they could call a cab or another friend but that she knew Margot would need to check on her shop as well.
Reluctant but knowing her friend needed to stay, she took Tamera’s keys and met Adam in the hall. He said he’d swing by The Coffee Kraft and get them both coffee and that they could meet up outside of the Craft Boutique in ten minutes.
The trip downtown took seven minutes, giving Margot just enough time to park near her shop and walk up the street to meet Adam in front of the boutique, the yellow tape still sealing it off from public entrance.
The scene had already been picked apart and documented, the tape only a precaution in case they needed to gain access again. Adam opened the door with his key and they stepped inside.
Everything felt—and looked—the same as it had when Margot had come in that night with Tamera. Everything except for the body, of course. Something she was grateful not to see again. A shiver at the mere thought made her wrap her arms around herself.
“You okay?” Adam asked. His penetrating gaze didn’t miss anything.
“Just remembering the other night.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
She gave him a halfhearted smile. “I would have preferred not to walk in on a body lying on the floor of my best friend’s shop too,” she quipped. “But thanks.”
“So,” he said, holding his hands behind his back and looking around. “What is it that the great Margot Durand saw that she can’t put her finger on?”
His light tone made all of this feel more normal than it should have, but she ignored the second shudder that threatened to course through her.
“I’m not sure.” She was still shocked that Chief Heartland hadn’t dressed her down for poking her nose into Adam’s case. Was it the fact that she had helped with the previous case at the beginning of the summer? Or was he so desperate to wrap this up that he welcomed her help? The moment she gave space to that thought, she dismissed it. John Heartland
was anything but desperate. No, there was something else that she couldn’t put her finger on but she wasn’t going to spend time thinking about it. Not now when they were in the midst of an investigation.
She circled the area where Mark Jennings had been found. Nothing around him was disturbed. He had either fallen, or been placed, in one of the only areas where his large frame wouldn’t hinder the already cramped aisles of the boutique. Coincidence? Or careful planning? But why was it so important that nothing be disturbed? If you had murdered someone, organization seemed to be the last thing you would worry about.
Margo closed her eyes and tried again to remember what had felt off about the space to her. She was certain it was a subconscious feeling that had seeped in to her conscious thought. Those annoying types of feelings that you knew existed but disappeared when you tried to put your finger on them.
She sidestepped and then stopped, standing up straight. “That’s why,” she uttered to herself.
“What? What’s why?”
“I wondered why he had been placed here, but I think I know why.”
“Care to enlighten this extremely tired detective?”
She looked up at Adam and noticed the deep bags under his eyes and the way his hair was ruffled on the side, probably from when he’d been dragged from sleep to come down to the park. He was guzzling coffee now, but she knew only true rest would make him feel better.
“Nothing is disturbed, and I thought that was on purpose—it may very well be—but look at the sight line.” He joined her, looking where she indicated with her arm. “This aisle goes straight to the back door. Just that one rolling cart that Tam uses for go-backs is in the way. Move it, and you’ve got a direct path from the back door to here.”
Adam nodded. “I can see that.”
Margot stepped forward and knelt by the wheeled cart. “I’m not an expert, but it looks like the indentations are slightly off. Granted, it’s a wheeled cart so we don’t know if it’s been moved recently or not. It’s just at theory.”
“So where does this theory get you?”
“To the back door.” She stepped around the cart. “It wasn’t forced, was it?”
Desserts and Deception: A Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Page 8