Grave Misgivings

by Kristen Houghton

  I see that she has convinced Myrtle to meet Harry at the restaurant on Saturday. All the while they were in the salon, she let Myrtle pour her heart out and offered a sympathetic ear. She also gave her some good advice. “Walk in like you’re royalty, Myrtle, look Harry in the eye and tell him you want an explanation concerning his late night activities over the past couple of weeks. You’re a strong woman, darling, let him see that. Put up a fight for your man. Don’t let this other woman win. You’re too good to be treated so shabbily.”

  And after much convincing on the part of Melissa, Myrtle decided that she was right. “I am a strong woman. I will meet Harry and get to the bottom of his shenanigans. If he’s cheating, then, well I have to know. After all the years I’ve invested in this marriage, I won’t let him go so easily.” She stops and looks at herself in the mirror. “But let me tell you young women that as far as that trollop is concerned? If Harry is cheating with her, I will rip her hair out! At his age, really!”

  ๕๕๕

  The party was a success with a very attractive Myrtle marching determinedly into the restaurant intending to confront a cheating Harry and his “trollop” only to be greeted by shouts of “Surprise!” and “Happy birthday!” She was flabbergasted when Harry Tuttle, resplendent in a silver tux, came over to her and hugged and kissed her in front of everyone and then introduced Alex. Prepared for a fight, Myrtle truly was speechless.

  GRAVE MISGIVINGS 139

  After the cocktail hour she and Harry disappeared for a walk around the outside of the building and came back twenty minutes later with their arms around each other. They came up to me together and thanked me profusely for caring enough to meddle.

  “Meddle? That’s Cate’s unofficial middle name,” said a very handsome Will handing me a cranberry martini with a strong shot of Grey Goose vodka. He was wearing a dark gray suit with a dark blue shirt and blue striped tie and pretty much took my breath away. We matched. I looked damned good myself in the indigo blue short cocktail dress I had worn when Will and I had dinner with his mother last year. It was nice to take it out of my closet and show it off again.

  Giles was there with Dr. Felicia and we were all cordial to each other. Will and Giles even joked about the whole Tuttle comedy of errors. I walked past Myrtle’s table and overheard her and Alex deep in conversation about Alex’s twelve-year-old son who was having a problem with math. Myrtle was offering her experience of thirty-five years as an educator and Alex was listening intently. As Shakespeare said, “All’s well that ends well.”

  After the party we drive Melissa home. Before getting out of Will’s car, she asks me to come to her brownstone the next morning. “Come over to my place for coffee and brunch.”

  “Sure, yes, I can be there around ten. We haven’t had a nice long chat in quite a while.”

  Will and I drive home emotionally exhausted but happy for Myrtle and Harry. Once inside the brownstone Will suddenly grabs me and kisses me deeply before feverishly undressing me. “Promise me you won’t ever change, Cate.”

  “What brought this on?” That deep, tongue thrust kiss has me dizzy with anticipation of what comes next. He gently holds my face in his two hands and looks earnestly into my eyes.

  “You know how I told you not to meddle? To let Harry and Myrtle work it out on their own? Well, I’m telling you now to keep meddling in the lives of those you care about. You’re a royal pain in the ass, you can drive me crazy with your slightly illegal actions, you stick your nose in where it doesn’t always belong, and there are times when you act without thinking and put yourself in way too much danger. To top that off, you’re severely domestically challenged.” He laughs. “But, babe, you’re fiercely loyal and anyone you love knows that you’ve always got their back and are looking out for them. So, I’m telling you now, just this once, don’t ever change. Keep on being you, exactly the way you are.”

  It’s as close to an apology as I’ll ever get from Detective Will Benigni and I begin to say as much but he lays me down on the soft carpet and his tongue begins a slow descent from my neck downwards, touching special places on my body that leave me too breathless to speak.

  Chapter 26

  THE TWIN AROMAS of good coffee and Creole seafood quiche greet me as Melissa opens the door to her beautiful brownstone. She gestures me to sit in the kitchen and gets right to the point. “I need your help, Cate. Do you remember that friend of mine who died not too long ago?” I nod.

  “His daughter is in the process of having his body exhumed and that can spell disaster. She is that vicious a person.” Seeing my look of concern she quickly says, “Not for me, disaster for this gentle man whose forty year political and humanitarian career will be sullied and he will be made a mockery of a human being. He was a man who had certain…sexual preferences that I was able to fulfill. There are pictures of him with me fulfilling his fantasies.” She holds her head high and fixes me with a challenging look.

  “Melissa, you know I’ve never asked about how you earn your money or what your profession entails. The truth is I don’t care. Our friendship is what matters, not what either of us do to pay our bills. I don’t have to know anything that involves you personally if you don’t want to tell me.”

  For an answer Melissa hands over a manila envelope. “No, it’s better if you do know what this entails. Actually, you need all the info I can give to you to be able to work the case. The pictures in here are duplicates of the ones buried in my friend’s jacket pocket.” I begin to open the envelope as Melissa continues. “I don’t care what anyone knows about me. I am who I am, Cate; I make no apologies for that. If you feel uncomfortable then I’ll have to find someone else to help me. But I want you to know something; I chose you, not because we’re friends, I chose you because you’re the best at this private investigation business and right now I need the absolute best to deal with this issue.”

  The pictures that were buried with Mr. V. are very erotic to say the least but I don’t change expression as I look at them. This is real porn with real sex toys. They show the usually elegant Melissa in a very different light as a dominatrix, carnal and frightening, and Mr. V. as her slave. Melissa is right about ruining her client’s legacy; if these pictures of him were ever leaked to the public, the memory of him as a compassionate politician and humanitarian would be completely erased. The public would judge him wrongly as a perverted old man.

  “Melissa, I have to ask one question: Why did you put the pictures in his jacket pocket?” Her eyes well with tears before she answers. “It was his request. He knew he was ill. The last time I saw him, he told me that having the pictures buried with him was what he wanted. How could I not honor that wish? I had no idea his daughter would find out.” She takes a deep breath to control herself before continuing in a soft but firm voice.

  “I need you to stop this woman, Cate. This man, this kind, gentle man does not need to have his wonderful political legacy destroyed by a vicious scandal.” She pauses. “There’s one thing you should know. I believe his daughter is hiding a secret of her own that she doesn’t want to come out. Something her father told me about a possible affair. She’s principal of a private high school for girls and a stickler about morals. She’s been quoted at educational seminars about how she lives her life according to a strict God-given moral code and expects the same of her faculty and students. In my experience, someone who shouts that loudly about morals has very few of their own.”

  I nod; I’ve met too many moral crusaders who have been true degenerates. “Anything else you can tell me about her?”

  KRISTEN HOUGHTON 141

  “I know her son married into a very well-to-do family with social connections. My client said that his daughter was in awe of them. I also know that her husband has a criminal record for gambling and that her father kept him out of jail.”

  Suddenly I remember what Giles had said about that exhumation case on Staten Island. Is Melissa the woman who was given an expensive painting? “Does any of this have
to do with a certain Artemisia Gentileschi painting worth over $200,000? Giles is being consulted about an exhumation. The person who is insisting on having a body exhumed claims a Gentileschi painting that was given away as a gift is rightfully hers.”

  She nods. “He wanted me to have it. He said that the painting always reminded him of me. I have it in a bank vault. I’ll never part with it.”

  “Okay, Melissa, you’ve given me a lot to go on. I’ll tail her and find out any secrets she has hidden. This is all I need.”

  Taking a deep breath, Melissa gets up and pours coffee for us both with a shot of Sambuca on the side, something we both need. We silently agree to drop the subject. Then we settle down to more coffee and quiche and talk about last night’s party.

  The next day I do a complete background search on a woman named Laurie Clerke. Within a week I have all the info I need and am ready for action.

  ๕๕๕

  Finding out the dirty, distasteful secret life of one Mrs. Laurie Clerke, principal of Lakefield High School, proved easier than expected. Mrs. Clerke leaves the building at four on the dot every Thursday. Her afterschool trips on those days take her to a seedy motel on the New Jersey side of the Lincoln Tunnel. There she meets a married teacher employed at the same school and they spend several hours inside room 229. That they don’t completely pull the vertical blinds together is a plus for me and I take shot after rapid shot of their “activities.” After their second Thursday tryst, I have more than fifty pictures of them doing the nasty.

  My meeting with Laurie Clerke takes place three days later. Inside the closed door of Mrs. Clerk’s office I confront her with pictures of her marathon sex-capades with the married teacher from her school.

  “Yes, I can see that the pictures are upsetting to you. Here are the others. I understand your shock, I mean, seriously, Laurie, these don’t exactly show you in the best light now, do they? Especially the one where your butt is in the air and your mouth is on his…well we won’t go into that.

  “Now let’s get down to business, shall we? You’re not going to have the body of your father exhumed and expose his private life to the world. That painting you so covet? You’re going to forget about it. If you even attempt to have him dug up or locate that painting, these pictures will go out. They’ll go to the son of the man you’re having the extramarital affair with and then his family. Oh, and I don’t think that you’ll want your daughter to see you like this, or your son and his wife or his very wealthy in-laws, right? No, of course not.” I smile at the woman in front of me. “And your husband who has a criminal record and is known for having

  GRAVE MISGIVINGS 142

  such a short fuse that you fear him enough to have your bills from Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s

  sent here to your place of work rather than face his fury. Imagine his anger when he sees these!

  “You can keep these pictures if you want. You know, as a sort of memento? I’d just be very careful where I kept them if I were you. I have copies in three different locations as a security measure. Oh, and Mrs. Clerke? Speaking of being careful, I’d be very, very careful of ever calling anyone a perverted whore again if you know what I mean. Those pictures of you prove that you have firsthand personal knowledge of what those words mean.” I hand over the last two pictures. “Especially in these back and front pictures here? I think your kids would definitely call that perversion.”

  I walk out the door, smile at the secretary and whistle all the way to my car. Case closed.

  Chapter 27

  “HELLO AGAIN, CATE.” Marc Croft is standing in my living room in the dark. I put my hand on my gun. “Christ! You!”

  “Let’s keep this friendly now, Cate. No need to try to play hero. Besides, realistically you’d be dead before you got to point the gun at me. Sit down and let’s talk.”

  The room is dark but I see a glint of silver and know he has a gun fixed on me.

  “I’m not going to harm you in any way. I’m simply here to congratulate you on a job well done. And I got to keep the money, ten thousand from Brooks-Warren. Plus I helped myself to Edward Penn’s vast collection of diamond jewelry scammed from his other victims I’m sure. They will bring in a nice payday. I’m content, Cate, I really am.”

  His voice is low and smooth but I remain standing. “And I’m truly glad that Jennifer is alive. Come on now, Cate. Sit down a while. I want to talk to you.”

  “What about? I was kind of hoping I’d never see you again? I did have my locks changed and a new alarm put in.”

  He laughs. “My God, Cate, I can get into anywhere I want. No locks or alarms can stop me from getting to you or anyone else. I’m a consummate professional. Now you should know that.”

  “Great, so for the rest of my life I have to be concerned about coming home and finding a professional killer sitting in the dark in my living room? What a way to live!”

  “Ah no, sweet lady, after tonight you will never see me again, that I can promise. I have other things I want to do. I’m going to disappear for a good while. I’ve got quite a stash of money to keep me going. Don’t forget that, in a strange way, I helped you find Jennifer Brooks-Warren. That should earn me at least an hour of your precious time. Detective Benigni is at his precinct, Dr. Barrett is dining with colleagues; both of the men in your life are occupied. You’ll have to settle for my company tonight. Now, sit down Cate. I won’t tell you again.” He smiles but his eyes are hard. “Let’s talk. I want to tell you about Victoria. You’re so very like Victoria. Not a killer, of course, unless the situation warrants it; I bet you could kill if you had no other choice. I know you must have thought about it.”

  He’s right. I have thought that if it would save an innocent life, I would be able to kill another person. I’d like to think I’d find another way. But then, who really knows? I’ve never been in that situation and I hope that I never am.

  “You’re strong, the same way Victoria was strong. But you’re vulnerable too; you care too much about helping people. Victoria couldn’t afford to care. Your vulnerability works for you but it destroyed Victoria. So let me tell you about her.”

  “Victoria? What about her?” I ask moving to a chair nearest the door.

  “I want you to know how she died. In a strange way Victoria saved your client or at least the memory of her did.” He looks straight at me, those piercing cold, so very cold, blue eyes that have seen so much of the dark side of the world. “Just like your client, Victoria was buried alive but unlike your client I wasn’t able to get to her in time to save her.”

  I let my breath out slowly. “Why was she buried alive?”

  “We were on a mission; we did a lot of missions back then. Victoria was a skilled infiltrator; she could get you in and out of a place without anyone knowing you had been there until after your job was done. We were a good team; so good that it was almost as if we could

  KRISTEN HOUGHTON 144

  read each other’s minds. We didn’t have to talk to communicate, we just knew what had to be

  done and we did it.

  “You’re not supposed to fall in love with your mission buddy,” he laughs abruptly. “But I did. Oh, we fucked, of course we did. Sex was a given. It happens and usually it’s just a way to deal with the stress of dangerous missions; it doesn’t mean anything. Danger heightens your senses to an incredible degree. The unbroken rule is that you don’t cross the line; you don’t fall in love because that becomes the real danger. If that happens, you become human and you begin to look after your partner more than you’re supposed to do. You tend to get sloppy with the rules, jeopardizing missions and your own life.”

  I think about the way Will and I kissed with such deep, urgent passion after the ordeal on Hart Island. We could never be partners on patrol; we’d always be distracted with worry for each other. “What happened?”

  “Our last mission together was in South America. Victoria got us in quietly and quickly the way she always did. It wasn’t even a major kill. Some
petty official was trying to make a name for himself by attacking the central government. This guy wasn’t so clean himself; he was into the drug trade. We needed to eliminate him and get out. We’d done so many missions like this one, no one foresaw any major problems.” The Eliminator shifts in his seat and doesn’t speak for several minutes. “The guy’s brother was an enforcer in a local drug cartel but he wasn’t supposed to be a threat because intel had checked and found out that he would be in Venezuela the night of the kill. For some reason I’ll never know he didn’t go to Venezuela and he found out very quickly what had happened to his brother. He was soon out for blood, our blood.

  “According to set plans, mission members split up after a kill. We did just that and went separate ways intending to rendezvous at a small plane hidden in a jungle area. We had less than two hours to get to the plane and we both knew that if we were caught we’d be in the hands of a man capable of the most hideous tortures. Victoria made it but I didn’t. I was shot but managed to escape and hide out in the jungle. But Victoria didn’t know that; she thought I was captured and she knew what was going to happen to me.” His voice becomes low and cold.

  “She should have just left, saved herself; the mission was over, the order was to leave and get out. She was safe, alive, but she went back to find me! Victoria, my strong, brilliant Victoria loved me enough to go back into that hell-hole and try to save me.” He stops, and even in the half-light I see him shaking his head in disbelief, remembering what she had done. “She was captured, which is something that never would have happened to her if she was thinking the way she’d been trained to think: survival at all costs, no mistakes allowed. But she was only thinking about saving me. Her feelings and her fear for me made her a vulnerable target.