Revenge could be sweet, no matter what they say.
Lindsay glanced at her watch and jumped up next to me. “I’ve got to go. I’ve already been out too long,” she stammered, her voice edged in panic.
“Is Tom due home soon?” I asked, instantly recognizing the hysteria in her voice.
She nodded. “I dropped the kids off at my neighbor’s house. If I hurry, I’ll have enough time to pick them up and start dinner before he gets home.”
I put my hand out to stop her. I couldn’t let her leave without saying something. “Lindsay, I know Elizabeth would want you to carry out your part in the deal you made with her. I can’t show you the art world like she could, but she left me a list of names that might help you...and me, for that matter. And I’m positive that Elizabeth would want you to take your children and move to a safe house, even if she couldn’t be there to help. She’s not here. But I am.”
She stared at me, wide-eyed, like I’d knocked the wind out of her. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to help me. That’s why I called you and warned you to stay away.”
“You what? You called me?”
“I had to. I knew you’d keep coming back otherwise.”
“You’re the one who called and threatened me?”
“I didn’t know what else to do, Maggie. You were determined to get information. If Tom knew you were coming around asking questions, there’s no telling what he would do.” After taking a few steps, she swiveled around and faced me. “I couldn’t let you end up the same way Elizabeth did.” Before her words had a chance to sink in, she turned away and started walking rapidly around the lake.
I was so startled by her confession that I stood looking out on the water, my mind a blank slate, a common occurrence these days. It felt like the blood had drained from my brain and pooled in my feet, leaving them heavy and too clunky to move.
“You really think Tom had something to do with Elizabeth’s murder?” I yelled, sprinting halfway around the lake before catching up to her. “Why didn’t you go to the police if you were suspicious?” I managed to ask between some heavy wheezing. I really had to start some type of workout program.Lindsay stopped and glared at me. “What do you think? Tom finds out I’m Cranford Boyer’s daughter, goes to visit her, and the next thing I know she’s dead. Surely you don’t think it was accidental that Elizabeth ended up murdered right after she visited me.”
“Look, Lindsay,” I panted, “as much as it pains me to say this, your husband may not have had anything to do with her death. If you took this to trial, a defense attorney would blow your case right out of the water. The whole thing is based on circumstantial evidence.”
“You’re defending the man?” she asked incredulously.
I shook my head vehemently. “No, of course not.” I stooped over and propped my hands on my knees, willing my breathing to become even and steady. I had to admit; an aerobics class was looking more and more appealing...and necessary. “Believe me. From what you’ve said, I think your husband is as endearing as tooth decay. I thought so the first time I met him and I would like to avoid ever running into him again—”
“What do you mean ‘again’?” she asked, interrupting me.
“I mean, I’ve already met the man. He was the cop who interrogated me the day Elizabeth was discovered in my septic tank.”
“How did you know it was Tom? How did you connect him to me?”
This was no time to bring up my aborted stakeout. Lindsay would never trust me again if I admitted to spying on her. “I recognized him as I drove away the first time I came to your house.”
“But he didn’t come home after you left that day.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe he just drove by to check on you and went back to the station.” She looked doubtful, but clearly, checking up on his wife without her knowledge wasn’t too far out of character for old Tom. Lindsay started toward the cars again. I tried to keep up with her long-legged strides.
“I remember looking at his name tag,” I added. “Why do you go by ‘Burns’ instead of ‘Mailer’?”
“Because my mother’s name was Burns. I didn’t want to change it when we got married... for sentimental reasons. And Tom didn’t really complain.” She brushed her hair back. “In the beginning, he could be sweet when he wanted to.”
I found that hard to believe. “But why didn’t you go to the police with your suspicions?”
“My husband’s a cop, remember? Those guys are thick as thieves down there. It’s like a fraternity. If one of them is guilty, they protect each other, no matter what. If I said anything, I’d be laughed out of the station house and Tom would be furious with me. The way he treated me this last time... I’m sure he would have killed me.”
“Lindsay,” I said, still trying to keep pace with her, “no matter what really happened to Elizabeth, whether your husband had a hand in it or not, you have to get away from him. I know that Elizabeth would be adamant about that. She belonged to a lot of organizations, but the only one that she was really passionate about was CDV.” I grabbed Lindsay’s hand and forced her to stop. “I knew Elizabeth for several years. I can say this with all honesty. Cranford Boyer was a very abusive man.” I shook my head at her unspoken question. “No, he never hit her. But he was verbally abusive and emotionally distant. Elizabeth was alone during their entire marriage. The only time they were together was for public functions that were held in order to benefit his company. So when he died, Elizabeth finally felt free.” I took both of her arms and turned her toward me. “I know that Elizabeth would feel like her death was not in vain, even vindicated, if she knew that you and your children were safe.”
“How can I do that? Tom would track me down like an animal. Don’t forget, he’s a cop. And now, with Elizabeth’s death, he’ll be even more determined to find us. And when he does.. .” she added in a whisper, “I just can’t take that chance. Not with two kids.”
“Look, don’t do anything right now, but I have a friend who can help you.” I hurried on despite the skepticism clouding her face. “He’s a detective on the case and I’ll talk to him. He’ll know what to do and how to keep you and your children safe.” There was no reason to mention that Villari was already checking out her husband, albeit discreetly. It would only frighten her, and the woman was frightened enough.
“Maggie, I don’t know who your friend is, but Tom is dangerous. Please be careful. It’s hard enough for me to live with the knowledge that I might have caused Elizabeth’s death by telling Tom everything. I can’t live with another murder on my conscience.” She held my shoulders and shook me. “Listen to me. Don’t come to my house again. Don’t call me. Stay away. Elizabeth loved you, and the only way I can repay her kindness is to keep you safe and away from here. Go home and forget about me.”
“I can’t do that, Lindsay. Elizabeth won’t stand for it.”
She tilted her head quizzically.
“I dream of her all the time,” I responded. “It’s like she’s looking over my shoulder. You have no idea of the lectures I’d have to endure if I let you slip away.”
Lindsay loosened her grip and smiled.
“So get used to it,” I added. “I’m not going away. I promise to be careful, but I’m not going away.”
“Elizabeth was right,” she said softly, “you are easy to love.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lindsay drove off like a woman possessed, and considering the threat of her husband’s fists, she wasn’t too far off the mark. Dust flew up behind her tires as she squealed out of the parking lot. I was still coughing and trying to insert my key into the car door when a black sedan pulled up next to me. Frightened, I whirled around, positive that Vacuum Nose had gotten wind of our conversation and was here to land a few punches before heading home and finishing up with Lindsay. Then it dawned on me that cops don’t drive BMWs and my heart sank when I recognized Preston Boyer, behind the wheel.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded as he jum
ped out and strode purposefully around the hood of the car to stand in front of me.
“That’s exactly what I’d like to know, Maggie. What are you doing out here in the boondocks with some lady who looks like she pushes all her belongings in a shopping cart?”
Enraged by his callousness, I stuck my hands on my hips. “Look, you little rodent. I’ve never answered to you before and I’m not about to begin now. Since when did you decide to take on the role of bodyguard and start following me?”
“Interesting choice of words, Maggie,” he mused. “Now, why would you need a bodyguard?”
Apparently, the prospect of Vacuum Nose rearranging my nose had spooked me more than I’d realized. “That’s just the point. I don’t.” Even in the sun his face had a chalky, sallow cast. When authors wrote, “All the blood drained from his face,” they could have been describing Preston. A vampire had more color.
Preston leaned his khaki-clad butt against the car, crossed his feet at the ankles, and stared, clearly not believing a word I said. “You’re such a smart-ass,” he declared insolently.
“Gee, Preston, is that the best you could come up with? I thought snappy repartee was your forte.”
He glared. Any minute now I expected him to stick out his tongue like a pouting two-year-old.
“I didn’t come here to spar with you.”
“That’s just the point, Preston. Why are you here? I live right next door to you, remember? We’re neighbors. This is a long way to drive just to swap insults.”
“I’m following you.”
“No, duh. That much is obvious. The question is why? What possible reason would you have for trailing me all the way out here?”
“Because I’m suspicious.”
“Of?”
“Of how you wiggled your way into Grandmother’s will. Suspicious of where her body was found. And I’m suspicious of the sudden relationship you have with Detective Villari.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked coolly.
“Let’s not play coy.” He sneered contemptuously. “I’ve seen his car in your driveway several times—”
“Well, that’s quite an indictment of guilt. The man’s investigating the scene of a crime. Would you rather he park down the street?”
“And when I drove by last night,” he continued, ignoring my outburst, “I saw the two of you fogging up the windshield like a couple of teenagers on prom night.”
Blood suffused my face. So much for remaining cool under fire. I was already embarrassed about Villari’s rejection and the last thing I needed was a discussion about my personal life with this little twerp.
“Jealous?” I taunted, throwing the ball back in his court. One thing I’d learned over the years: when your defense is crumbling and your back is up against the wall, shore up your offense and attack. Attack in full force.
“In your dreams, Maggie.”
“You’re never in my dreams, Preston. I like to sleep peacefully at night.”
“Look, you little—”
“Don’t call me names and don’t threaten me, Preston. The detective and I are good friends, remember? He might not take too kindly to your nasty behavior. Say what you have to say and then get lost. And don’t follow me again. If you do, I’ll sic him on you.”
“You’ve got a big mouth, Maggie, and nothing to back it up.”
I scratched my head. “Well now, that’s not exactly true, is it, Preston?” I drawled in my best “down on the bayou” Southern accent. “Right now there’s that little question of Grandma’s pile of money, and I do believe I have a wee bit of a say over what happens to that stack of bills.” I paused. “And I’ve got to admit, I don’t really cotton to sneaky, low-down little vermin like yourself.” “Believe it or not,” he said tersely, “I didn’t come here to battle with you.”
“So far you haven’t explained why you did come. Why don’t you clear up that little question?” I scowled. “Was it Cassie? Did she come crying because I turned down your terribly generous offer?”
His voice hardened. “You should have taken the offer, Maggie, although that’s not the reason I’m here. Like I said, I was suspicious. But there’s more.”
“Well?” I drummed my fingers on the hood. “Dr. Cole called the house today.”
“Who is Dr. Cole?”
Preston frowned. “He’s an oncologist.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Grandmother had cancer, Maggie. Terminal cancer.”
I knew even before I arrived home that I’d find Villari pacing up and down the driveway. The man had an uncanny knack for knowing when I was off sticking my nose someplace he didn’t think it belonged. And although I would never admit it aloud, not unless someone was prying my fingernails off with a pair of rusty pliers, I was very glad to see the guy. Preston’s sudden revelation about Elizabeth’s cancer had thrown me for a loop, and as old-fashioned as it sounded, I desperately needed a steady man and a strong shoulder to lean on.
A million thoughts collided and crashed in my head like carnival bumper cars. I didn’t have the slightest clue how to slow them down or stop them completely. How could I have been so clueless? A woman walks around riddled with inoperable cancer and I don’t notice a thing? Either Elizabeth was an unbelievable actress or I was a shoo-in for the “Most Self-Absorbed Neighbor” award.
The moment he yanked open the car door, I lashed out. “Don’t say a word, Villari. I’m not in the mood. It’s been a lousy day and listening to you growl is the last thing I need right now.” He took one look at my face and dropped the anger like a hot potato. He lifted one of my hands off the steering wheel and threaded his fingers through mine, tugging me gently out of the car. Villari shut the door behind me and then stood and blocked my way as I started toward the house. Holding both my hands captive, he backed me up against the car.
“What happened?” he asked, his warm breath fanning my forehead.
Suddenly I saw Elizabeth in my mind... the bright scarf, the impeccable Chanel suit... my chest tightened and my throat closed, choking me so I couldn’t speak. I shook my head.
“Talk to me, Maggie. Are you hurt?”
Yes, I was hurt. Deeply hurt. The knife slashed through my insides until I was one bloody mess of guilt and regret and sorrow.
“Maggie, say something... anything,” he said, tilting my chin up with one hand. “If you don’t start talking, I’m taking you to a doctor right now, even if I have to drag you there. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I lifted my eyes and gazed at his face, a warm, rugged face that stared back at me with worry etched in his eyes. My heart slowed down a beat and my throat eased. This man touched me someplace deep inside, a place I didn’t even know existed.
“Elizabeth was dying of cancer, Villari. She had less than six months to live... if she hadn’t been murdered first. I didn’t even know she was sick. How could that be?”
He brushed my hair off my face. “How did you find out?”
I looked up at him. “You knew?” I asked incredulously. “And you didn’t say anything?”
“It’s part of the investigation, Maggie. We’ve tried to recreate Elizabeth’s last few days as closely as possible in order to find a clue, some piece of evidence that could lead us to the killer.” His face grew more serious. “I didn’t see how that information would help you.”
I put my hands flat on his chest and pushed him back. “She was my neighbor, my dearest friend, and you didn’t think I should know that she was dying?” I demanded, my temper flaring. Without waiting for an answer, I stomped off toward the porch.
“Why would you want to know, Maggie?” he called to my retreating back. “So you could beat yourself up with guilt?”
I stopped and spun around. “I could have been there for her. I should have been.”
Villari took three long steps toward me, grabbed my arms, and hauled me against his chest.
“You were with her, you idiot, exactly the way she wanted you to be.�
�� He held me still, held me together as though I’d explode into a million fireworks, holding me so tight I wasn’t sure I could breathe. “Elizabeth didn’t want you to know, can’t you see that? From what you’ve told me, she was one proud lady. That’s the way she lived her life and that’s the way she wanted to die.”
He was right, of course. Elizabeth would have hated being waited on, or worse, being pitied and treated like an invalid. Once her prognosis was definite, she would have wanted to live the last few months of her life in full gear and, as she grew weaker, to die in a quiet retreat by herself. I relaxed in his arms and laid my head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of sheer masculinity, of fresh scentless soap, of clean sweat that only a man can wear. If I’d been brought up with horses, I would have said he smelled of the outdoors, of leather, of hay, of long hard days and cool sweet nights. No matter what words I used, his fragrance defined pure male.
Villari’s heart pulsed in strong, rhythmic beats, so calm and steady I couldn’t resist snuggling closer, the sound soothing me like a lullaby. I burrowed in and let myself enjoy the safe haven of his arms, knowing the respite he offered was brief. Sooner or later he would break the spell with his insistent questions and the peace he offered me right now would come to an end.
“Maggie, I know it doesn’t help,” he said, his tone soft and gentle, “but I didn’t know until just recently.”
Tears flowed in thin rivulets down my cheeks. “It’s okay,” I said, my words smothered against his shirt. “You were right. Elizabeth wanted it that way, and Elizabeth always managed to get her way.” I tilted my head back and smiled at him. “Thanks for putting up with me. I have a tendency to cover my emotions with anger.”
His mouth twitched. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
With one hand splayed against his chest, I shoved him back again. “Why do people always feel the need to gloat when someone apologizes,” I said, grinning and swiping at my tears.
Villari frowned. “That was an apology? All I heard was a thanks for putting up with your very limited repertoire of responses.” Jamming his fingers through his hair, he gazed up into the clouds as he added, “Let me see if I can list them. Would they be—in alphabetical order, no less—anger, anger, and maybe more anger?”
Artful Dodger (Maggie Kean Mis-Adventures) Page 17