William had locked down his emotions since Caitlin’s interruption. He gave Max a half smile. “Truce.”
She nodded curtly, but they both knew this conversation wasn’t over.
“After you,” William said.
Max walked down the hall, passed the elegant white living room with its dark antique furniture, the stately French dining room that was set for nine—who else was coming tonight?—the hall that led to her bedroom suite, the two rooms that had once been her mother’s. The library, where the family liked to gather before dinner, was in the far corner of the house, two walls of bookshelves and two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the infinity pool on the side and a hundred-year-old oak tree in the middle of the large lawn in the back.
The library was Max’s favorite room in the house because it was the most lived-in. Before his death when she was fifteen, her grandfather spent most of his waking hours in this room watching baseball—his one, true love—and reading military history books—his second love. Max had often hidden in here with her grandfather, he at his desk, she on the leather couch with her homework or a book.
Stepping inside brought back a rush of warm memories, reminding her that her childhood was marked with quiet joy she sometimes forgot.
She glanced at her grandfather’s favorite chair, half expecting him to be seated there, reading. Of course he wasn’t, he was sixteen years buried, but Eleanor hadn’t moved it from its original spot. Though Eleanor was a hard woman who was critical of everyone in the family, including her husband, she had truly loved James Revere.
William handed Max a glass of wine.
She sipped. It was a perfectly chilled private reserve chardonnay. “Where’s Brooks and Grandmother? Still on the phone with the police chief?” She smiled.
Caitlin tilted her chin up. “You should be more concerned. This is serious.”
Max rolled her eyes.
Two little boys, Tyler and Talbot, ran into the room, each carrying a Maltese. “Auntie Max! Grams got two dogs!” the older of the two, four-year-old Tyler, exclaimed. He said “auntie” like “Annie.” She adored her nephews, and the worst thing about living so far away was that she rarely got to see them. William had brought them to visit her last September in New York, but she hadn’t seen them since.
Last year, her grandmother’s precious Pomeranian had died at the old age of sixteen. Before that had been a Maltese, which Max had adored. She’d never had a dog with her mother because they moved around so much, but she missed Eleanor’s pups.
“Boys,” Caitlin said, “I told you to stay in the playroom.”
“But Auntie Max is here—” Tyler said.
“Don’t argue with me.”
Max walked over and led the boys out of the library. “I want to see the dogs,” she said. “Let’s hang out in the playroom. Less stuffy.” She glanced over her shoulder and caught the glare from Caitlin. Max stuck her tongue out at her cousin-in-law, and caught a half grin on William’s face.
The playroom was filled with state-of-the-art toys and classic games. The boys put the dogs down—the pair were about nine months old. The puppies immediately began wrestling and the boys laughed. “What are their names?” Max said, though she already knew because her grandmother had sent her pictures. She knelt on the floor with the boys and the dogs sniffed her, then licked her hands.
“Winston and Queen Anne,” Tyler said. “They’re brother and sister.”
“I wish I could take them home with me.”
“Me, too,” Talbot said. His little three-year-old voice had a slight lisp, which Max found cute. She wasn’t much for babies, but she loved the innocent sweetness of young kids. She wished Tyler and Talbot could stay this young forever.
“Why don’t you get a dog, Auntie Max?”
“I travel a lot for work. It wouldn’t be fair to a dog to keep him locked up or in a kennel when I wasn’t home.”
“Yeah,” Tyler said as if he completely understood. And maybe he did.
Max looked up and saw Eleanor standing in the doorway. She had an odd expression on her face, almost wistful, until she saw Max looking at her.
“Maxine,” she said.
“Hello, Grandmother.” She said to the boys, “I can’t play tonight, guys, but I’ll come see you before I go back to New York, okay?”
Tyler gave her a spontaneous hug. “Daddy said we can visit you again. Right? Can we?”
“Of course you can.” She got up and left the boys to play with the dogs. “Handsome pups.” She kissed her grandmother on the cheek. She looked both regal and disapproving. “I hear you’ve been chatting with the police chief.”
“I don’t know where to begin,” she said, closing the door. “The police, Maxine!”
“Kimberly overreacted,” Max said.
“You know better than to talk to that woman,” she said. “After the scandal—you should never have been there. You’re lucky she didn’t insist on having you arrested.”
Max laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Scandal?” They weren’t talking about Lindy’s murder. They were talking about what had happened three years before that. “Really, Grandmother. Are affairs even scandalous anymore?”
Eleanor reddened. “What are you doing here?”
“William invited me to dinner.”
“You know what I mean.”
Eleanor was seventy-nine, but looked and sounded a decade younger, owing her health to remaining active and eating properly. But suddenly she looked weary, and Max felt a pang of guilt for putting the age on her grandmother’s face.
“When I arrived yesterday morning, I had no intention of opening an investigation into Lindy’s death,” Max said as they stepped back into the library. “Circumstances have changed.”
Eleanor didn’t say anything. Brooks was there, but his wife was not. William glared at her, and the intake in Caitlin’s breath sounded rehearsed. Eleanor crossed to the bar and mixed herself a martini. Max waited for her to finish straining the chilled alcohol into her glass. But she didn’t sip.
“William,” Eleanor said, “take your wife to the dining room.”
“But—” Caitlin began. William grabbed her by the arm and half dragged her out. He closed the library doors behind him.
“Grandmother, I don’t think this is your business.” She looked at Brooks who stood like the Tin Man in the corner. “Nor yours, Uncle Brooks.”
“Anything that touches my family is my business.” Eleanor picked up her drink and took a long sip. She crossed to the windows and looked out into the lit backyard. “When I heard Mr. O’Neal committed suicide, I feared you’d do exactly what you’re doing.”
“Kevin didn’t kill Lindy.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You were always overly confident,” Brooks said.
“Why don’t you join William and Caitlin in the dining room?” Max said, mimicking her grandmother.
“Watch your tongue, Maxine.”
“Don’t start with me, Brooks.” She wished her grandmother would send him packing, because his presence was making the entire situation worse that it would have been.
Instead, Eleanor ignored the exchange as if it were between two of her children. “Let’s assume that he didn’t kill poor Lindy,” she said. “What good could come from digging into the past? What do you hope to accomplish?”
Max was perplexed on how to answer her grandmother’s question. “Isn’t the truth a good enough reason?”
Eleanor turned to face her. With her chin up she said, “No.”
“I think it is.”
“I don’t think it’s the truth you’re after.”
“I’m always after the truth.”
Brooks stepped forward. “You simply want to embarrass me, embarrass the family.”
Max said to Brooks, “You? Yes.” She shouldn’t have. She should have bitten her tongue, but Brooks always brought out the worst in her. She said to her grandmother, �
��My goal is not to embarrass anyone.”
“Being called by the chief of police is embarrassment enough! But you go beyond the pale. Dredging up the past, hurting people, digging around into other people’s business.”
Max laughed. “You’re one to talk.”
Her grandmother looked grossly offended. “I don’t gossip.”
“No, but you use information to your advantage.”
“To protect my family when necessary. That includes you, Maxine.”
“I don’t need your protection, Grandmother.”
“I wasn’t going to let you go to jail.” Her voice cracked, just a bit, but Max realized that Eleanor was worried about her fate. They had rough patches—many—but Max understood Eleanor. Too well.
“I appreciate that, really, and you know I love you.” Family was complicated. She could be so angry with them, with one or all of them, but she still loved them. Her grandparents had treated her the same as William and all her other cousins. She would never forget that. But that didn’t mean she was going to let her grandmother cover up a crime.
“Kimberly called the police out of spite,” Max said. “She doesn’t like me, and it has less to do with Kevin than it does with me exposing her infidelity—”
She looked pointedly at Brooks. Then she smiled.
He took a step toward her and raised his hand.
Hit me. Please hit me.
“Brooks!” Eleanor said.
He turned around and drained his Scotch before pouring a double.
“Hypocrite,” Max said to him. “You’re just mad that Aunt Joanne walked out and Kimberly’s husband forgave her. She probably told him it was just you—while you couldn’t very well tell Aunt Joanne that Kimberly was the only woman you screwed—”
“Maxine! Enough!” Eleanor crossed over to her, put a hand on her shoulder. “You need to stop.”
She took a deep breath. Brooks always did that to her. Brought out her cruel streak.
“I don’t know why Kimberly called the police,” Max said slowly. “There was no reason to, other to intentionally try to embarrass our family. Besides, I can take care of myself, I’ve been a reporter for a long time.”
Eleanor winced when Max said reporter.
“You’re going to damage our family,” Brooks said, his voice vibrating in anger.
“Did someone in our family kill Lindy?”
Her grandmother gasped audibly. “Of course not!”
Brooks added, “This has nothing to do with murder. Leave this alone.”
It clicked. “You know about the parking ticket.”
Eleanor didn’t acknowledge her statement. “I said leave it, Maxine.”
“No.”
“It’s your immature, misplaced arrogance that brought you here,” Brooks said “You have a psychopathic need to scratch at old wounds. To prove you are better than others? To embarrass and mock your friends and family?”
“Brooks,” Eleanor began, but he was on a roll.
“You’re just like my sister,” he continued, “selfish to your core. You don’t care about the family name, who we are, what we stand for in this community!”
“The only thing I despise about my name,” Max said through clenched teeth, “is that I share it with you.”
“Enough,” Eleanor said. “Please.”
“I’m sorry, Grandmother,” she said.
“I can’t let you tear apart our family.”
“Clearly”—Max finished her wine—“I should leave.”
“Go back to New York,” Brooks said.
“Kevin O’Neal killed himself because his life was destroyed after being accused of murder. After thirteen years he still couldn’t exonerate himself. He didn’t kill Lindy. I’m not leaving until I find out who did.”
Eleanor’s hand was shaking. What did she know? Who was she protecting?
William?
Max’s chest tightened. Could she do this if her own cousin, her friend, was guilty? Could she put her faith in William that he hadn’t killed Lindy, the same faith she’d put in Kevin’s innocence?
Why was he at Lindy’s house the night she was killed?
Max put her wineglass on the bar and walked out. She heard the boys laughing down the hall and yearned to be that carefree again, to roll on the floor with puppies. She passed the kitchen, where William and Caitlin were talking quietly, their heads close together. Max glanced at them, wanted to force William to tell her the truth about that night. She wanted to believe anything he told her, but knew that she’d have to prove it. He’d been lying for too long.
She walked out of the house without saying anything.
“Maxine?”
She almost ran into Archer Sterling, her grandmother’s brother. “Uncle Archer!” She gave him a hug, surprised. “I didn’t expect you.”
“You’re not leaving so soon?”
“I—it’s not a good night,” she said lamely. Archer was eighty-one, and though like Eleanor he looked and acted younger, she didn’t want to trouble him with the drama with Brooks. “How’s Aunt Delia?”
“She wanted to come, but since her hip surgery, mobility is difficult. I hope you’ll come to the house and see us before you return to New York.”
“I’d like that. Thank you.” She squeezed his hands. “I heard about the Sterling Pierce Sports Center. It’s wonderful what you and Jasper Pierce put together.”
“I wish I could take credit, but it was Jasper’s idea. He and Jackson graduated together, I’ve known him since he was a boy. He had the vision for the project, he needed matching funds. I was glad to do it.”
“I’d like to talk to Jasper about the project. Do you have his contact information?”
Archer pulled out his BlackBerry and pressed a few buttons. “Hmm, my eyesight is fading. Can you read this?”
She took the phone and copied down Jasper’s private cell phone and address. “Thank you,” she said, and handed the phone back to Archer. “Give Delia my love, please.”
“You certain you can’t stay?”
She smiled but shook her head. She waved good-bye, and walked out to her car.
Max had just turned the ignition when William tapped on her window. She rolled it down.
“Uncle Archer wants me to convince you to stay. What did you say to him?”
“Nothing. He doesn’t need to know what an ass your father is.”
“Maxine.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jet lag.”
“Max, what’s going on?”
She looked up at him through the open window. “I want the truth. Now.”
He glanced at the house, then back at her. “Don’t do this.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Look, it was a long time ago.”
“Did you kill Lindy?”
He blanched. “No! God, no.”
There was something in his face that made Max believe him, but she didn’t know if she could trust her instincts when she had been so close to him growing up. She truly liked her cousin, warts and all, and maybe their history was clouding her judgment.
She turned off the car. “Why did you lie about being at Lindy’s the night she was killed?”
“I didn’t lie. I was never asked.”
“Excuse me?”
“Until you brought it up today, I didn’t think anyone knew I was there. The police didn’t ask me, no one did.”
“But you talked to them.”
“I didn’t kill her. Why would I tell them about seeing her that night and put myself on the hot seat?”
“Because it’s evidence. Maybe you saw or heard something—”
“I’ll tell you the truth, but it has to remain between us.”
Max didn’t want to agree, but the reporter in her couldn’t help it—she had to know the truth.
“Agreed, unless you lie to me.”
He shifted uncomfortably, then squatted next to her car so he could lower his voice. “Lindy and I were sleeping toget
her.”
Suddenly, everything made sense. Lindy being so secretive. Picking fights. Not wanting to spend time with her. Lindy knew Max would have been furious, at both of them. Not because she would have cared that they were dating, but because they’d both publicly been dating other people. The dishonesty of the situation would have angered Max more than anything, and she’d have had a hard time keeping her mouth shut.
“How long?”
“On and off—about a year.”
A year. During the time Lindy was with Kevin.
“It just kind of happened.”
“A year—you went to the prom with Caitlin. I caught you two—” Her stomach rolled uncomfortably. “Shit, William.”
“I left Lindy’s bedroom at a quarter after twelve. We’d had sex, but she was preoccupied and we fought. She’d broken up with Kevin, I’d split up with Caitlin after the prom, I thought—well, I thought maybe it might work between us. I cared about Lindy, you know that. But—I don’t know. She said we were done. We were both going away to college, she said she wanted a clean break. She seemed angry with me about nothing. So I left.”
“And the ticket?”
“I paid it, didn’t think anyone knew about it. No one asked me about it.”
“Eleanor knows. So does your father.”
William couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. “How?”
“She knew the police kicked me off the Ames property less than fifteen minutes after it happened. Chief of Police Ronald Clarkson has been here for a long, long time. Since before my mother dumped me here over twenty-one years ago.”
“You’re not going to say anything, you promised,” William said as Max put the car in reverse.
“You know, William, that you and Lindy fought makes you a suspect. It would have thirteen years ago.”
“I didn’t kill her. I swear to God.”
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