Suspicious Origin

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “We have a bar menu,” the hostess said.

  “The bar will be fine,” said Britt. She wanted to turn her back on this fun-loving crowd and just sip some wine.

  The bartender approached her. “What can I get you?” he asked.

  “Red wine. Cabernet, if you have it.”

  The bartender nodded and eased a glass out of the hanging rack on the ceiling. He filled it from a bottle below the counter and placed the glass in front of her.

  Britt took a sip of the wine. The warmth of it sluiced down into her empty stomach, which was soothing. As she set the glass down on the bar, she noticed her wrist was still red where Alec had grabbed her. Threatened her. It gave her no pleasure to think that she was right about him.

  “Excuse me, miss, but has anyone checked your I.D.?”

  Britt turned sideways on the seat and scowled into the smiling face, and slightly glassy eyes, of Dean Webster. “Hardly,” she said.

  “No, really,” he said. “You look like you need a booster seat there.”

  Britt rolled her eyes, although she felt the warmth of the wine in her cheeks. “Don’t bother,” she said with a wry smile.

  Dean slid down on the stool beside her and placed his beer bottle carefully down in front of him. “You didn’t call me,” he said, wagging a finger at her.

  “I’ve been busy,” she said.

  Dean drained his drink and then frowned at his empty bottle. Then he turned his high-wattage smile on her. “So, you’re from Boston, eh?”

  “Guilty,” said Britt

  “I’ve got a good friend who lives in Boston. Peter Darien. He owns the Darien Gallery. On Newbury Street. Do you know it?”

  Britt didn’t know the gallery, but she knew the general reputation of the area. Rich, highbrow, and gay. She looked quizzically at Dean Webster. He seemed to ooze animal magnetism, but that didn’t necessarily make him straight. And then she chided herself for even speculating about it. He wasn’t trying to seduce her. He just wanted an interview and information. “I’m not much of a gallery-goer,” said Britt.

  “It’s nice. Nice place. Very expensive.”

  “Well, Newbury Street,” she said, as if he were stating the obvious. “Do you spend much time in Boston?”

  Dean took a deep breath and frowned. “Not as much as I’d like,” he said wistfully. Then he brightened. “Maybe I could come down and see you. You could do the town with me.”

  Britt had to smile at his cockiness. “I’m not sure we’re ready for weekends together. What is it you wanted with me?”

  “Okay,” he said, clearly making an effort to marshal his fuzzy forces and switch into his reporter persona. “Let’s get down to brass tacks. I want to know who you think might have wanted to kill your sister.”

  Britt started. “What makes you think…” she said.

  “Don’t pretend to be shocked,” Dean said, gesturing for the bartender to send him another beer. The bartender frowned slightly, and then complied. “Everybody in town knows by now. They’ve been running my piece on the news all day. It was arson. Somebody had it in for your little sister.”

  “Older sister, actually. And it’s hard to imagine anyone wanting to kill her,” said Britt evasively. “She was a very gentle person.”

  “It must be frustrating to the whole family to have to rely on the Coleville police.”

  “The chiefs been very nice,” Britt said carefully.

  Dean tapped his new, full bottle on the bar. “Well, Ray Stern is a very nice guy. But with all due respect, this department has no experience with this kind of a case. I don’t think there’s been a homicide here in years. They don’t know what they’re doing. They’re clueless.”

  Britt took another sip of wine but it now felt sour in her stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on. You’ve been around. You know how it goes in a small town. Nobody wants to rat out their friends.”

  “They seem to be doing all they can,” said Britt.

  “You must have an idea about who killed her,” said Dean resting his elbow on the bar and cupping his face in his hand.

  “No,” Britt said after a moment’s hesitation.

  “No offense,” said Dean, “but in cases like this, the answer often lies…close to home, shall we say.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she said.

  “So, what was the relationship like between the snowmobile mogul and his wife?”

  Britt reddened, and stared at her wineglass. “I wouldn’t know,” she said.

  He looked at her skeptically. “You’re awfully nice. There’s such a thing as being too nice, you know”

  Britt glanced over at him. He was practically a kid. But even with one drink too many in him, he was clever. His handsome face looked innocent in the candlelit bar, and the expression in his eyes was unreadable, as if he had no agenda of his own. She knew perfectly well what he was up to. And she knew also, that if her suspicions of Alec ended up on the late news, Zoe would never forgive her. “You’re wasting your time with me,” she said.

  “Tell me, Britt,” he said playfully. “Is that who you suspect?”

  “I wouldn’t tell you if I did,” she said.

  “Well, that’s who I suspect,” he said bluntly. “I’m doing some digging on this guy. Did you know that your sister had a life insurance policy worth $400,000?”

  “He said that was her idea,” said Britt, trying to conceal how startling she found the figure.

  Dean smiled broadly. “Yeah, I’ll bet it was. He bought it two months ago.”

  “Really?”

  “Surprised you, huh?” he said, looking satisfied with himself.

  Britt was jolted by the information, and tempted to order another glass of wine and stay. She was tempted to tell him about the private investigator, and the discord in the Lynch marriage. And the drugs in Zoe’s system. But she knew she had to resist the urge. She knew she had to get away from him because if she stayed much longer she was going to want to confide in him. Confide in someone who shared her suspicions. She glanced at her watch. “Look,” she said, “that’s going to have to do it for now I’ve got someone I need to see.”

  “Right now?” he said.

  Britt nodded. “Right.” She began to rummage in her purse for her wallet.

  Dean took out some money and laid it on the bar. “This one’s on me,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “But you don’t have to…”

  “Oh, no, I want to. And I’ll tell you something else. There’s a lot that hasn’t come out yet. I’m sure of that. And I’m gonna nail this son of a bitch. Just for you.”

  “I feel like I’m in a Western,” she said, smiling wryly. “What’s in it for you?”

  Dean shrugged and then grinned boyishly. “Oh, I don’t know. Satisfaction. A great story. And…maybe the gratitude of a well-connected sister.”

  “Ah,” she said. Britt nodded. Just as she suspected.

  “What? Are you saying that if I got the goods on this guy you wouldn’t put in a good word for me at the network?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Britt said.

  “Hey, you don’t know what it’s like out here in the boondocks. I’m like in exile here. I’m way too hot for this place. I’m ready to make the move to a bigger market.”

  “Modest, too,” she said.

  “Modesty’s for suckers,” he said.

  Britt watched as he swilled down another large gulp of beer. He was young and brash and rough around the edges, but his winner-take-all attitude was exactly what was required in the network news world. He might just make it. “Well, now I know the price,” she said.

  Dean looked indignant. “Hey, it’s not just that. I think he killed that woman. I don’t feel like watching him walk away.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” said Britt. She slid off the bar stool and hurried toward the exit.

  Where to now? Britt thought. She didn’t want to go back to that hous
e and see Alec, playing the concerned daddy with Zoe. And she didn’t want to hazard another restaurant for Dean Webster would see her and realize that she’d really had nowhere else to go. There had to be a convenience store, she thought, somewhere in the midst of all this quaintness. She could pick up a sandwich and eat it in her car.

  She knew she wouldn’t find a place like that on Main Street, so she followed the signs that led toward the highway. Sure enough, half a mile out of town on her left she saw an all-night convenience store and a service station, side by side. She pulled in, parked and walked inside the store. A bored-looking clerk put her premade sandwich in a bag and rang it up, along with a bottle of water. Britt took her dinner outside, and sat back down in her car. She unwrapped the sandwich and began to eat, looking around all the while to be sure that there was no TV newsvan in sight, to catch her at her solitary meal in the car. So preoccupied was she in her lookout for the white van that it took her a few moments to realize that she was sitting directly across the street from Lynch Rides, Alec’s vehicle dealership. The lights were on inside the showroom, and there were a couple of people in the parking lot. Britt put her half-eaten sandwich in the bag on the seat and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  She knew Alec was at home tonight. Perhaps Lauren was minding the store. Immediately, Britt thought of the rose-embossed card in Lauren’s jacket pocket with “Love, Alec” scrawled across it. This might be a good opportunity to speak to Lauren alone. Britt doubted that Lauren would tell anything willingly, but it was worth a try. If her suspicions were correct, Lauren Rossi might be at the heart of the matter.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A well-groomed young man in a Tattersall shirt and tie approached Britt as she frowned at the glossy purple snowmobile on the showroom floor. “Can I help you?” he asked. Then, he seemed to recognize her from the mornings excursion with his boss. “Oh, hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” said Britt. “Is Lauren here?”

  “In the office,” he said, gesturing to a corridor on the parking lot side.

  “I’ll find her,” said Britt. “Thanks.” She walked down the corridor, which had several offices. Most of them were dark, but in the last one, which guarded the doorway to an office labeled, “Mr. Lynch,” Lauren Rossi sat at a desk, talking on the phone. She was wearing a turquoise-blue leotard and black stretch pants, and even in the ugly fluorescent lighting she looked voluptuous and pretty. She finished her phone call and looked up at the doorway. Her smile faded at the sight of Britt.

  “Hello,” she said flatly. “Are you looking for Alec? He’s not here.”

  “Actually I’m looking for you,” said Britt.

  “Really?” Lauren asked warily. “What do you want with me?”

  “Can I sit?” asked Britt, pointing to a chair.

  ‘We’re about to close,” said Lauren.

  Britt ignored the warning and sat down.

  “Did you see the news?” said Lauren. “They said the fire was arson.”

  “I know,” said Britt. “I already heard.”

  Lauren made a face, and picked up a pencil and turned it over in her manicured fingers. “It’s unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s really terrible. Poor Alec.”

  “And Zoe,” said Britt.

  “Oh yeah, of course. Zoe.”

  “Lauren, I wanted to ask you something.”

  Lauren looked up, her eyebrows raised.

  “I’ve heard that my sister was very depressed about something,” said Britt.

  Lauren looked at her, wide-eyed. “Really?”

  “Do you know why she was depressed?”

  Lauren spread her hands and shook her head. “How would I know? I hardly knew her. She hardly ever came in here.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it and I have a theory. You want to hear it?”

  Lauren looked at her watch, and then gave a shrug of indifference. “I don’t care,” she said. “I guess so.”

  Britt crossed her legs and gazed at the toes of her boots. “Okay. I think she suspected that her husband was having an affair.”

  “That’s not true,” said Lauren. “He was not.”

  “My sister hired a private detective to follow him, you know.” She did not look up at Lauren who sat very still like a rabbit, sensing the proximity of a fox.

  Britt kept her gaze trained on her boots. “I’m no one to pass judgment about something like that,” she said. She hesitated, then decided to continue, hoping one confession might prompt another. “I was involved with a married man myself. A man I worked for. I’m not proud of it, but these things happen. No one knows better than me.”

  There was still no response from Lauren. She was silent, unmoving. Britt felt a little guilty. This girl was so young and transparent. It was almost too easy to manipulate her. But Britt wasn’t about to give up the advantage. She frowned, and continued thoughtfully. “It’s just that now it might seem as if Alec’s…fooling around might have something to do with my sister’s death. I imagine it won’t be long before the police find that other woman and start asking questions…”

  Britt couldn’t stand the silence anymore. She was confident that she had hit the nail on the head. She looked up at Lauren, expecting to see guilt written across the girl’s face and saw instead, to her surprise, that there was shock and dismay in Lauren’s eyes, and a tear, sliding down her creamy cheek.

  “I’m sorry. What’s the matter?” Britt asked.

  Lauren shook her head and opened her desk drawer, pulling out a Kleenex. She dabbed at her eyes and shook her head. “Nothing,” she said.

  Britt leaned forward and looked closely at the girl. “Something’s the matter.”

  Lauren shook her head, and sniffed, angrily wiping away more teas. Then she peered at Britt through teary eyes. “How do you know all this? I don’t believe you.”

  “I saw the letter from the detective agency.” Technically true, Britt thought.

  Lauren turned her head and stared out the door of her office, where her own reflection wavered in the glass wall of the corridor. Then she shook her head. “It’s time to go,” she said abruptly. “You have to get out of here now. I’m going to lock up.” She stood up and began aligning the papers, stapler and paper clip box on her desk.

  “Do you know who it was?” Britt asked. “The other woman?”

  “No,” said Lauren. “How would I know?”

  Britt hesitated. “It’s just today, when I pulled that card out of your pocket that said Love, Alec… Are you in love with Alec?” she asked bluntly.

  “None of your fucking business,” Lauren retorted, blushing beet red. She looked humiliated, like a nerdy schoolgirl caught doodling the name of the football hero.

  It’s a crush, Britt realized in that moment. A one-sided fantasy. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I just thought…” So, she had been wrong about Lauren and Alec. She felt a little ashamed of her own arrogance. She had been so sure that she was right. Well, she was half right. Lauren wished she was the one whom Alec was fooling around with. But, if it wasn’t Lauren, it had to be someone else…

  Britt took a chance. “So, if you’re not his lover, why did you lie for him?”

  “Lie for him?” Lauren cried.

  ‘“What else can you call it ” Britt asked. “You gave him an alibi. You said he was here on the night of the fire when you know he wasn’t. He was probably with her. And sooner or later the police are going to start asking why you were covering for him.”

  “It’s not an alibi. They will not,” said Lauren without conviction.

  “Yes, they will,” said Britt. “We all heard him say that he was back here, doing his taxes. And you backed him up. But if it turns out that it wasn’t true, and you knew about it, I think that could make you an accessory or something…”

  “An accessory,” she cried. “An accessory to what?”

  “Murder, Lauren,” said Britt. “My sister died in that fire. And if Alec was the one who set it… Well, yo
u can understand that it would upset me. The idea that you’d be protecting the person who may have killed her…”

  Lauren inhaled deeply and then shook her head at Britt. “If you think Alec set that fire…you can’t be serious. He would never…Zoe was home.”

  “I know.”

  “He wouldn’t do that,” she said indignantly. “He loves Zoe.”

  Britt nodded. “He says he loved my sister.”

  “That’s different. A child is different.”

  “And yet there are people who kill their children. You read about it in the paper all the time. People who look just like you and me, but are minus a conscience.”

  “Not Alec,” Lauren insisted, but her eyes looked worried.

  “Look, I don’t know who set the fire,” said Britt. “But right now the police are investigating my sister’s murder with false information based on what you said.”

  “I didn’t say I was here the whole time,” Lauren protested. “I just said I saw him here, working on the taxes.”

  “And did you?” Britt asked.

  “I’m sure Alec didn’t have anything to do with it…” she said.

  “But you don’t know whether he was here or not, do you?” said Britt.

  Lauren shook her head slowly. “I just wanted to help him. He looked so…lost. I knew he would never do anything like that…”

  All right, Britt thought. She did lie for him.

  “Afterward, when he walked me to my car, he was scolding me…He said I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “But you did,” said Britt. “And if you don’t tell the police the truth, it’s going to look like you’re trying to help him cover up something.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this,” said Lauren, summoning her determination. She jingled the office keys. “Come on. Let’s go. You have to get out of here.”

  Britt stood up and leaned toward her, speaking in a low, urgent voice. “You could end up in trouble for lying to the police. And you’re trying to protect someone who…I’m only saying, maybe you shouldn’t be sticking your neck out for him. You know, considering he’s involved with another woman.”