I knew it was my only chance at helping Helena and Ursula but also at building a better relationship with the sheriff. I shared as much as I could without revealing anything confidential. I told April that Cheney had seen Helena fighting with George at the inn and that it seemed to revolve around something in his room. I explained what'd happened at the Stoddard restaurant and how I knew beyond any doubt they were hiding something. I also mentioned Millard's news about George renting a cabin and hiring an assistant, as well as the notion George could be someone who'd had facial reconstruction. I left out what his real name might be, to see what the sheriff would actually reveal to me.
“The autopsy's not complete, but I can confirm George Braun had extensive plastic surgery done to his face and various parts of his body. The coroner suspects he'd been marred in a fire or an explosion at some point in the past. The skin-grafting work was intricate and probably handled by an experienced specialist, but it's at least twenty years old based on some of the scarring.”
“Do you know what his real name might be?”
The sheriff shook her head. “Not yet. We found no evidence in his room at the inn or office-space on campus that points to anything other than George Braun. If he's changed his name, it was done a very long time ago. He has records dating back to at least the mid-1990s, but we've sent out an alert to check a wider area and period.” She opened a file on her computer and turned the monitor around, so I could see the screen. “This is a close-up picture of the knife. What can you tell me about it?”
I cleaned a smudge on my glasses with a tissue from the box on the corner of her desk, then leaned in to study the photo. It was a touchscreen monitor, but when I attempted to double tap with my finger to magnify the results, it didn't work.
April extended her hand near mine and enlarged the image with two fingers. “You have to use both with this software program, not one finger.” When I turned my head in her direction, our faces were inches apart. Her breath smelled like a tempting peppermint candy covered in dark chocolate and magical dreams. My finger slipped, brushing against hers, causing us to both flinch from the encounter.
“I'm sorry.” I might have blushed at the sudden intimacy between us. It was weird and soothing at the same time.
April took a deep breath, glanced away for a few seconds, then said, “Well, anything?”
“Oh, right,” I mumbled trying to push a very unexpected and alarming thought from my head. Did I feel something or was my brain playing tricks on me? “It says Mück. I'm sure that's someone's last name, perhaps a family crest. It's German.” Guilt began to consume me for leading April directly to Ursula, but it needed to be done.
“That's helpful, I appreciate it.” April turned the screen back around to only face her.
“I was just at the new Stoddard restaurant. Doug Stoddard collects knives. You might want to check out the display on the wall when you first walk in.”
“I get the feeling you know more than you're saying.”
Had one of the Stoddards stolen the Mück knife? Was it just a coincidence? “I'd like to speak with someone before I reveal anything else. It might not be important or even have anything to do with this case. I promise I'll share whatever I know. Can you give me a day?”
“No.” There was a hint of yes somewhere in her voice.
“A few hours?”
“No,” she said emphatically. Maybe I was wrong about the hint. It could've been a hiccup.
“One hour?”
“Fine,” April consented, pushing her chair backward in a grand flourish.
“I should get going. Either I'll contact you again, or someone else will call to share what he or she knows. Is that fair?” I stood and backed up a few steps like a teenager awkwardly entering puberty.
“You have one hour, but if I don't hear from either of you, I'll have Officer Flatman arrest you for obstruction of justice. Am I clear, Kellan?”
“You called me Kellan.” I ignored the electric shock racing inside my body. What was going on?
“It's a segue into the other topic I need to discuss with you,” April added with noticeable discomfort. “It's of a more personal nature.”
I wasn't sure where the conversation might go next because I was still keenly focused on whatever peculiar moment had happened when we were both touching the monitor. “I'm all ears.” I silently kicked myself for taking the bait. What was she about to scream over now?
Chapter 9
“You probably realized I mentioned in the library the other day that you were connected with the Castigliano family. More specifically to Vincenzo and Cecilia's dastardly branch of criminals.”
I gulped. Was she about to say she'd located Francesca? “I was once married to their daughter.”
“I knew your wife had died, but I didn't know about the circumstances.” When the sheriff clasped her hands together on the back of the chair, her face showed a touch of empathy. “I know what it's like to lose someone you love unexpectedly, especially when the facts surrounding their death don't add up.”
I couldn't tell what she might be trying to convey to me, but I wasn't about to interrupt her with more questions. “Thank you.”
“What I'm trying to say, perhaps not as well as I could be, is that I hope I didn't offend you when I talked about connections to a mob family. I'm starting to understand why you behave the way you do.”
“Meaning?” I asked apprehensively, staring at a water stain on the ceiling. My right hand couldn't stop squeezing my thigh. I was certain I'd bruised myself from the pressure, but at least my hand was hidden in my pants pocket so she couldn't see it flinching.
April went on to say she'd taken a step back after I helped her team solve the Gwendolyn Paddington murder investigation earlier that year. When part of their discovery revealed the culprit's connection to the Castigliano mob, April was determined to get to the bottom of the shenanigans. She wanted Wharton County to be free of any crime family's dominance and shady deals. “When I learned Francesca Castigliano was your wife and that she'd been killed in a car accident, I felt awful for you and for your daughter. Emma is such a sweet girl.”
“She's my reason to keep on living,” I said as my heart skipped a beat. Did the sheriff know Francesca was still alive?
“Did you ever wonder if the circumstances of your wife's death were a little suspicious? I'm not trying to open old wounds, but I read many of the reports. They never found the other driver, but the car smelled like liquor which is the only reason it was attributed to a case of drunk driving. A witness reported seeing another dark-colored car pull up and take something in a black bag away from the scene.” She paused to see if I had any reactions.
I hadn't been aware of that detail. When I showed up at the accident scene, they wouldn't let me get close to Francesca's car. I also couldn't verify the body at the morgue and asked her father to do it. In retrospect, I couldn't imagine what Vincenzo Castigliano would've done if I'd wanted to see my wife one last time. I trembled at my increasing fear over how far her family would've gone to keep me in the dark. “I was a mess when she died. I crawled into a hole for several weeks and barely paid attention to anything on the news. My nana came out to Los Angeles to take care of Emma for me.”
April reached a hand in my direction but paused before actually trying to physically comfort me. “As I said, I know what it's like to lose a loved one. There's a reason I'm mentioning this.”
“I'd rather not talk about the past,” I said, worrying Francesca had blown her cover.
“Listen to me, Kellan. Your wife died in a way that you had no control over. I understand the cause was listed as a drunk driver t-boning her car and pinning her against a tree. I'm worried that you're letting yourself get too close to the couple of murders we've had here in Braxton, as a way to help you move on. To accept Francesca's death. To eliminate any traces of guilt you might still feel.”
“Huh?” It's all I could manage. Was she trying to tell me that I wanted to resolve
what happened to my wife by helping the friends and family of victims discover who killed their loved ones? “I don't understand what you're insinuating.”
“It's a coping mechanism. Rather than process everything you've been through, you're throwing yourself into complex and risky situations,” she added.
“Are you not convinced Francesca's death was an accident?” I muttered.
“I'm slightly concerned at this point. I've read all the reports, as I said earlier. I've also learned what that family is capable of, and one of my former colleagues who's now in the FBI has hinted at something sinister going on in that family's LA mansion the last few years.”
I needed to escape. It didn't matter whether I could or couldn't trust April with the reality of what went on. I had to put Emma first, and no matter what happened or what the sheriff discovered, I would always focus on my little girl's safety. “I don't know what you're talking about, but I also can't discuss this right now. Francesca's gone. I had to accept it. Maybe in time, I can think about the past again, but not today.” I began walking away quickly with loud, determined steps past Officer Flatman.
April followed and grabbed my shoulder, unwilling to let me leave. “I'm not trying to pry. Nor am I intentionally looking to hurt you. But I need to investigate that family based on what happened with the Paddington Enterprises drug case. I thought you might be interested in helping me at some point. I hope I didn't upset you by bringing up what my instincts are telling me about Francesca's death.”
“I should go. I have to pick up Emma soon,” I explained and rushed out of the sheriff's office. I heard April apologize but also remind me of my promise to share what I knew about George Braun's death within one hour. When I reached the front lobby, I exited without looking back.
By the time I walked to my SUV, my entire body was fueled with rage and anxiety. As much as I was furious with April for bringing up the topic, I'd already detached my emotions about losing my wife. Francesca wasn't dead. April's message didn't evoke pain or loss. It made me realize how frustrated I was that my wife was hiding from us and had left a horrid mess for me to deal with. Again.
Organizing my priorities, I called Ursula and explained what I'd learned. She knew it was time to tell the truth and promised me she'd talk to April within the hour. Ursula also mentioned the knife sounded exactly like a family heirloom she'd brought with her to the office weeks ago. “I kept it in the drawer to protect myself from the stalker. I'll have to check if it's still there.”
“Did anyone know it was in your office?” Like Doug?
Ursula took a few seconds to reflect. “Dean Mulligan walked into my office the day I brought it on campus. He saw me put it in the drawer, even made a joke about having weapons on campus.”
After we hung up, I spoke with my mother who agreed to pick up Emma from school and watch her for the evening. I wanted to hold my daughter in my arms, but before I could see her, I needed to lose the tense aggression building up inside me. I was grateful I had my gym clothes in a bag on the backseat and quickly changed into them to go for a run before dinner that night with Nana D. It was our last opportunity to strategize how she could pull off winning the mayoral race. I desperately needed a distraction that evening where I focused on anything but death. Whether it was Francesca's or George Braun's, my mind required a night off from morbid thoughts.
* * *
“He's bringing a surprise guest… a date… what's that all about?” I finished setting the dining room table in Nana D's house as the concern escaped my lips. While the run had helped, I wasn't completely relaxed. Millard and my nana had dated for a brief period, but it was not meant to last. All she ever said was that he could be selfish and too old-fashioned.
“I don't believe it's a date. Millard only told me he had someone who could assist with the campaign. We need all the help we can get, especially after that unfortunate incident at the Paddington estate. Eustacia still hasn't forgiven me completely,” Nana D said raising her voice from the other side of the kitchen. She pulled open the oven door and tasted the beef brisket. “Twenty more minutes and this baby will melt in our mouths.”
I loved how she casually mentioned the Paddington estate incident where she thought Eustacia and Millard had been cavorting with the enemy, Marcus Stanton. The Paddington family housekeeper, Bertha, had told me Nana D went berserk by dumping a pot of meatballs and sauce all over everyone. Nana D had not been in the loop on Eustacia's trick to force the councilman to reveal some of his campaign secrets. “I thought you'd resolved your differences again. I can't keep up. You two are worse than twin sisters out to hurt one another over the silliest of misunderstandings.”
“What's that, brilliant one? Did you say you needed a margarita?” Nana D shut the oven and poked her head in the dining room to see if I'd laughed at her idle threat. “Water glass on the right, please. Just above the knife. You never did learn to set a proper table. As far as Eustacia, we're still close, but I'm waiting for that old bag to get her revenge.”
It was going to be a long night. I offered to answer the door when the doorbell rang. I wondered if Millard was bringing Eustacia to smooth over the whole situation. I checked the table one last time and walked through the main hall to greet our guests.
“Good evening, Kellan. It's always a pleasure to see you. Let me introduce you to someone,” Millard said while stepping to the side so I could meet the person hiding behind him.
It was Lissette Nutberry. She wore a stylish little black dress that covered her knees and shoulders, with a turquoise-colored silk wrap draped across her chest and matching high-heel pumps. The radiant hue brought out the blue specks in her hazel eyes. She looked much different than when I'd seen her at the costume extravaganza with Marcus Stanton. Wasn't she on the enemy's team?
“Kellan Ayrwick, twice in one week. Aren't I a lucky gal?” Lissette said leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I'm very excited to catch up with you. There simply wasn't enough time the other evening.”
I gave Millard an inquisitive look and ushered them both inside. After taking her wrap and his coat, I complimented them both on how they were dressed and escorted them down the hall. Nana D wasn't one for formalities and preferred they hung around the kitchen while she finished cooking.
Lissette rushed right to my nana. “Oh, Seraphina, it's been ages. I've missed you so much.”
I recalled our families had known one another, but those two seemed quite close. “May I get you a drink?” After pouring four glasses of a California pinot noir Millard had brought with him, I decided to be blunt. “Lissette, it's wonderful to see you again. I didn't realize you and Councilman Stanton were so close. He seemed smitten at the library.”
Lissette guffawed. “That old horse's patootie? Don't be a fool! I certainly know him from the social scene, but I wouldn't be caught dead on his arms. In his dreams!” She gulped a third of her wine and then raised the glass upward to offer a toast. “To Seraphina Danby, the next mayor, and her darling grandson, Kellan, who's finally come back home.”
After a rousing round of 'hear, hear,' Nana D noticed my discomfort. “Kellan, dear, Lissette has offered to talk to all the ladies in her auxiliary league about supporting me on election day.”
“We're also going to put up some campaign signs around the family pharmacy and the funeral homes. I thought it might be a little tacky, but Seraphina astutely reminded me she was counting on the senior citizen's vote. Who spends more time at a pharmacy or a funeral home than this county's elder population? Am I right, or am I right?” Lissette clinked Nana D's glass, and they both swallowed another huge gulp.
“Lissette grew up with your mother and your Aunt Deirdre. I've known this one since she was a tiny girl begging me to help shear the sheep every year,” Nana D noted while dropping a few pads of butter in the bowl of mashed potatoes. If she didn't kill me with pastries, my arteries would clog up before Emma reached her teenage years. Oh, did I dread those days!
“Watching you spin wool was
magical. I have the fondest memories of this farm,” Lissette added with a distant stare in her eyes. “I do wish Deirdre would come home from Europe. She's been gone for far too long. Like my sister, Judy.” Lissette's voice grew soft and held a momentary pang of sadness.
Millard grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled her glass. “Lissette and I had tea yesterday. We got to talking about the upcoming flower exhibit and how I needed to find someone to help me get it organized now that we've lost George Braun. Awful business, eh, Kellan?”
“Truly. I can't make heads or tails of what happened to the man.” I turned to Lissette. “Are you a gardener like Millard?”
Lissette reached out to grab his hand and brightened the room with a huge smile. “Millard's not a gardener. He's a brilliant landscape architect with an immense knowledge of the world of flowers. I could never attain the success he's achieved, but I have won Braxton's annual Grand Garden award a few years in the past.”
“Don't be shy. You and Judy ran the Grand Garden committee for years. It's a shame she felt Braxton was too small for her, but I'm glad she found happiness somewhere else,” Nana D said as she carried a giant orange, enamel-coated cast iron pot full of brisket, carrots, onions, and delicious gravy to the table.
“I wish I could be sure she found happiness, Seraphina. Judy and I kept in close touch the last two years, but she's been hard to reach ever since she got sick and moved again,” Lissette huffed as she poured water in everyone's glass. “I'm so worried about her.”
“What do you mean she got sick and moved away?” I asked.
Since Lissette was swallowing another mouthful of wine, Millard responded. “Judy wrote to Lissette a few months ago telling her she'd met a wonderful man on the train one day. She planned to come home this spring to introduce him to everyone, but he whisked her away to some secluded little town where she could recover from her heart condition. You must remember what new love is like.”
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