by S. R. Grey
“This dude you askin’ about, you gotta description?” Jimmy persisted.
Oh hell, it was worth a shot; maybe the kid did know something. So I said, “Better, I have a picture.” I pulled the photo of J.T. out of my bag, and Jimmy tossed the dishrag aside before grabbing the picture and giving it what appeared to be a good, long look.
At last he lowered the photo, and his narrowed eyes met mine. “You’re not some kind of a cop or somethin’?”
“I’m not a cop, I swear.”
“Reporter then?”
“No,” I said emphatically.
Jimmy glared at me, glanced back down at the picture of J.T., and then flicked the photo back at me. It landed faceup on the bar, and he turned away with a mumbled curse.
“So?” I asked Jimmy’s back.
“Uh, never seen him before,” he replied flatly, while showing a sudden interest in straightening the liquor bottles on the shelves behind the bar. The one with the turkey on it apparently didn’t belong next to the one with someone’s—I squinted—old granddad on it. Yeah, right.
I met Jimmy’s eyes in the reflection from the mirror; the lie was written all over the kid’s face. “Come on, Jimmy,” I pleaded. “Tell me what you know.”
He turned back around but kept his eyes down while muttering, “You know, I could tell ’ya, but business has been kinda slow here lately.” He nodded to a tip jar nestled between two bottles. “Hard to remember things from the past when you’re worried about makin’ this month’s rent.”
OK, so the kid was shaking me down to pay for whatever information he had. I wasn’t entirely surprised, and luckily I’d brought extra cash in anticipation of this exact sort of thing. I pulled out a wad of bills and peeled a fifty off the top. Jimmy’s tongue darted over his chapped, peeling lips as I pushed the crisp bill across the bar. I thought I saw him salivate a little.
With his hand hovering above the money, he hesitated. “Ya know, you wouldn’t believe how much it costs for a dump around here.”
The kid was like a pro. I huffed and peeled off another fifty. I resignedly threw the bill atop the other one. Jimmy quickly grabbed the money and stuffed it into the tip jar which—a few seconds ago—had held only coins. He fished out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of the threadbare jeans that hung too loosely on his slender frame.
I tapped the heel of my boot impatiently against the leg of the bar stool, waiting while, with his lips, Jimmy pulled a cigarette out of the pack. He lit it, and drew in deeply. “OK, OK. Yeah, that guy used to come in here,” Jimmy said, exhaling.
“And…” I prompted.
He shot a glance around the bar, which was still quite empty, but he lowered his voice anyway and said, “The guy in your picture used to come in here with that girl who disappeared. Chelsea, uh, something.”
“Hannigan,” I whispered.
“She was a friend of yours?” he asked, eyes widening.
“Kind of,” I lied. “It’s a shame what happened to her. Gone missing, and all.”
“Hell, I’m surprised something didn’t happen sooner, to tell you the truth,” Jimmy chortled, cold and uncaring.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, a little sickened by his callousness.
“Well, for starters, that girl did some crazy-ass shit. Things that are bound to catch up to ya.”
“Drugs?” I ventured.
“What do you think?” Jimmy snorted, blowing smoke in my direction. “But that was just the tip of the ol’ iceberg with her. She’d pick up guys here and do ’em right in the backroom after we closed up.” He nodded to the room with the pool tables. “Bet you didn’t know that about your friend, huh?”
I shook my head. Holy hell, this was much more than I’d expected.
“She brought that guy in a bunch of times,” he said, pointing to the picture of J.T., still on the bar, with his cigarette. “People used to talk. Said that guy got married on the rebound after she dumped his ass to get engaged to some rich prick that was away at college. Boy, that dude had no fuckin’ clue what his girlfriend was up to back home.”
Or did he? I wondered. That might explain Adam’s supposed reluctance to marry Chelsea. Not to mention lend credence to the blackmail theory. Oh, Adam, how much did you know?
Jimmy stubbed his cigarette out on the floor, picked up the dishrag, looked at it like he didn’t remember why it was even there, and then threw it back down on the bar. “You wanna know somethin’ even funnier?”
I took another fortifying drink of beer. “What’s that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
“She still brought that guy in here even after he got married, and she was engaged to that college dude. Guess a girl like that doesn’t give a shit ’bout things like marriage and engagements, huh?”
“Guess not,” I whispered, glancing down at the picture of J.T. He looked so young, so innocent. Not like a guy who’d end up doing drugs and cheating on his wife. Had I ever really known him? What else was he capable of?
“Hey, you OK?” Jimmy asked.
“Yeah, fine,” I replied heavily as I crumpled the photo and stuffed it into my bag.
I drank the last of the beer, which had grown warm, and readied to leave. But as I pushed the empty bottle away, Jimmy said, “Oh, hey, there was someone else she used to bring in here once in a while.” I raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Not a guy though.” Jimmy smirked.
“You remember a name?” I asked.
“Nah, but the chick sure was hot.” He whistled. “Had a killer body and sexy long blonde hair.”
“Was that it?” I asked, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
Jimmy shook his head, a lecherous smile turning up his lips. “No, there’s more. I remember this one time…”
I stood, waiting. Hell, I’d paid a hundred bucks for information; I wasn’t going anywhere until he finished. Jimmy shuffled around behind the bar, acting strangely excited. “And?” I said impatiently.
“Yeah, so like I said, Chelsea was wild.” He paused, all the while looking like maybe he was replaying in his head whatever tawdry tale he was about to tell. “So this time I’m talkin’ about, she was here with that hot girl…the blonde…and they’re both really drunk. Hangin’ all over each other.” Jimmy snickered. “Shit like that, you know what I mean?”
He looked at me, waiting, so I decided to humor him. “Sure.”
“So it’s late…like closing time late. Only people left are me, Old Carl, Chelsea, and her friend.” Jimmy leaned on the bar, continuing in a low voice, “So Old Carl pulls out one of them Polaroid cameras from behind the bar. He tells Chelsea he’ll let her bar tab slide for the rest of the week if she makes out with her friend. Oh, and lets him take some pictures, of course.”
“Of course,” I said dryly.
“Hell, she wasn’t offended or nothin’,” Jimmy said, snorting. “But it sure as hell wasn’t like she needed a pass on her bar tab. Everyone knew she had money. No, her ass was all over that shit just for kicks. Full on tongue action too, man. And Old Carl got his pictures. A bunch of ’em too.”
I perked up. Who was this mystery blonde? Nothing like this had been mentioned in the case files. Maybe it would turn out to be nothing, maybe she was just another wild girl who happened to meet up with Chelsea that night. But no, according to Jimmy, they’d been in here more than just that one time. She had to have been someone Chelsea knew. And that made me wonder why the police had never found her, never questioned her. What if she held some kind of key to the case? How much more had she known about Chelsea’s secret life? Without a doubt, I needed to find out the identity of the girl.
“Do you know what he did with those pictures?” I asked Jimmy.
“Don’t know what that old perv did with his, but he did g
ive me one.”
It was looking like my hundred bucks was about to pay off after all. “You still have it?”
“Yeah, somewhere, I think. I’ll have to look for it, but I could call you if I find it.”
“That’ll work,” I said, writing my cell number on the back of a coaster.
Jimmy picked up the coaster, but as I got up to leave, he stopped me. “Oh wait. I remember one more thing about that night. It was somethin’ I overheard Chelsea sayin’ to her buddy.”
“What was that?”
“Right as Chelsea leans in to lay one on her friend, the girl starts pulling away…suddenly acting all uptight and shit.” Jimmy took out another cigarette. “Then I hear Chelsea whisper something to her, like ‘just go with it, nobody knows who you are here,’ and ‘it’s not like we haven’t done this before.’”
I blinked a couple of times, stunned, and stared blankly at Jimmy.
“That’s it,” he said, lighting his cigarette.
“Uh, OK, thanks,” I said hastily.
I practically ran for the exit. I needed some air, and I needed it fast. Chelsea had obviously been way more out of control than I’d ever dreamed. Poor Adam. She’d been messing around with J.T. for a long time, their presence at Billy’s confirming it. So that moved J.T., and probably Jennifer if she’d known, further up my suspect list.
But had Chelsea also been cheating on Adam with a woman? It was more important than ever to find out the identity of the blonde. I hoped Jimmy would truly search for the picture. Maybe he’d put some extra effort into it, thinking he’d make another quick hundred.
How could Adam not have known about Chelsea’s many extracurricular activities? Surely he had to have heard the rumors. Why on earth had he still been planning on marrying such an unfaithful bitch? There was really only one explanation: Chelsea must have had something on him. And what she had on Adam must have been huge. Like, life-ruining huge. But what could it have been? The police had turned up nothing unsavory in Adam’s past. But Chelsea obviously knew something more than they did.
But the question that haunted me the entire drive back to Cove Beach was this: Was this secret devastating enough for Adam to want to make Chelsea disappear?
Chapter 7
The following day, after my dad called to tell me he was making some progress in tracking down those pay phone records, I stopped by the café to visit Helena. Seated at a table near the front, staring out the picture window to her left, Helena was absently tapping her perfectly manicured fingernails on the side of a porcelain coffee cup.
“Helena?” I queried softly, reticent to intrude on what appeared to be an introspective moment.
She started at the sound of my voice, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Oh, Maddy, you startled me.” She laughed a little. “I’m sorry, I was just daydreaming.”
“I can always come back later,” I offered.
“Don’t be silly. Have a seat.” Helena stood, smoothed out the long, white cardigan sweater over her black leggings, and began walking back to the coffee bar, black heels tapping out a staccato rhythm. “What can I get you? Cappuccino?” she called back over her shoulder.
I shimmied out of my trench coat and replied, “Just regular coffee’s fine,” before taking a seat.
Helena returned with the coffee. “I’m glad you stopped by,” she began as she sat down across from me. “Nate left Sunday evening with Adam on a business trip, and it’s been entirely too quiet around here.”
I was more than a little surprised to hear Nate was traveling with Adam. As manager of the island, it seemed unlikely he’d be expected to accompany Adam on business trips. Maybe this particular trip had something to do with “managing” an island? After all, I felt pretty certain it had been Nate interrupting our time at the lighthouse. Perhaps it was all related.
Focusing back on Helena, I asked, “Well, I guess you’re happy they’ll be back tomorrow, huh?”
Helena flipped her blonde tresses back, shot me an all-too-knowing glance, and took a tentative sip from her cup. “Hmmm, bet I’m not the only one who’s happy.” Instead of answering, I too took a careful sip. Undeterred, Helena continued, “Nate tells me you’re going on a date with Adam tomorrow night.” I nodded. “Flying down to Boston even,” she finished, one eyebrow arched.
“Yep, we are,” I confirmed, trying to play it cool.
“Excited?” she pressed.
I shrugged, and Helena sighed exasperatedly. “Come on, Maddy, Adam Ward asked you out. On a date. He’s taking you to Boston, for heaven’s sake,” she said, her voice raising an octave following each sentence. “So spill it, girl!”
I was secretly relieved and ecstatic to finally have someone to gush to about just how incredibly excited I actually was. So I squealed out an “I know,” as I fully reverting back to a teenage girl level of enthusiasm.
Helena either had an Oscar in her future, or else she was genuinely thrilled for me, because she grabbed my wrist and squeezed. “Do you realize how momentous this is? Adam never asks anyone out. Like never.”
Well, this was surprising news. “Really?” I asked, incredulous. “You mean Adam hasn’t dated since…” I hesitated. “Well, since Chelsea? I mean that’s a long time to go with no, er, physical contact.” I was shocked—but kind of pleased—by the possibility that Adam was not out there actively pursuing female companionship. Well, other than mine, that is.
Helena gave me a measured look. “I didn’t mean that exactly. I’d hardly characterize Adam as some kind of a monk. I’m just saying he never dates anyone.”
A sick feeling began to form in the pit of my stomach, and jealousy reared its ugly head. The thought of Adam touching some other woman like that just bothered me to no end. Irrational as it was, I felt oddly possessive of Adam. Another sure sign I was falling for the man. Damn.
Helena’s expression softened once she noticed my dejected demeanor. “Don’t let it bother you. You know Nate was just saying the other day that Adam hasn’t even seen Lindsey for a couple of months. So I think that ship may have sailed.”
“Lindsey? Who’s Lindsey?” I cringed. “If you know her name, it must have been something ongoing, something long-term, right?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Helena insisted. “Just listen.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m waiting with baited breath.”
Helena ignored my sarcastic tone. “Adam met Lindsey in Boston—”
“Oh great, Boston,” I lamented, while dramatically resting my forehead on the table. “Maybe she can meet us while we’re on our date. How cozy.” I knew I was being ridiculous, but it just bothered me.
“Maybe we should talk about something else?” Helena muttered.
“No, no. Go on,” I mumbled into the surface of the table. “I can handle it.”
“Look,” Helena continued, “Adam met Lindsay a while back, but it was never anything serious. It was just a physical thing. And it really sounds like it’s over from what Nate says.”
When I really thought about it, I knew I shouldn’t be worried about this Lindsey-person, hookup, whatever. After all, she was in Boston, and I was here. And Adam hadn’t dated her, according to Helena. But he had asked me out on a date.
I appreciated Helena’s candor, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much more she knew about Adam. I lifted my head from the table and sat back. “Can I ask you something, Helena?”
“Sure,” she replied.
I nervously traced the rim of my coffee cup. “It’s about Adam, and if you don’t want to answer, or you don’t know, I’ll understand.”
Helena reached over and stilled my hand. Our eyes met, and she said, “Maddy, just ask. I’ll tell you what I know.”
I took a deep breath. “Was Adam still in love with Chelsea when she disappeared?”
/> Helena’s lips set in a hard line, and her face grew serious. She answered with a simple, “No.”
Well, if that had been the case…
Curious about the other part of the allegation from the anonymous sources, I asked, “Do you know then if they were still, uh, sleeping together?”
Helena shook her head and barely whispered, “No, Maddy, they weren’t.”
“Then why was he going through with the wedding? In fact, why was he even still engaged to her?” I asked, desperately hoping she had the answers.
“I don’t know, Maddy. I really don’t,” she said, looking away.
“But you must have some idea? Was there any indication of trouble? There had to have been something? Anything?” I pressed. “Please, Helena.”
Helena leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her temples. Finally she cleared her throat. “Chelsea knew something about Adam. Something nobody else did…and I think she was leveraging whatever it was against him to get her way.” She hesitated, biting her lower lip. “I don’t know what it was, Maddy. Neither does Nate. But I’m sure it was bad, because I’m absolutely positive Adam did not want to marry that girl.”
“You have no idea what it could have been?”
“None,” Helena whispered, voice cracking and tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “I just wish I’d never introduced them. Some days I feel so guilty. Like all of this could have been avoided. But Chelsea wasn’t that horrible early on. Sure, she could be bitchy, but she was nothing like the person she ended up becoming.” Helena wiped a tear from her cheek.
I wasn’t sure if Helena was crying over Chelsea’s disappearance, guilt over introducing her to Adam, or something else entirely. I placed my hand over hers. “Helena, it’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself. You had no control over what happened.”
“Yeah, but Chelsea hurt Adam in so many ways.” She blinked back more tears and then met my eyes. “Like did you know she had an affair with J.T. O’Brien?”