This Bitter Treasure: a romantic thriller (Palmyrton Estate Sale Mystery Series Book 3)

by S. W. Hubbard

  “And she didn’t want him to be arrested?”

  Sean twists around in my arms. “Said she loved him. Said she didn’t want her kids’ father in jail. When we cuffed him, she went ballistic. Bit me. I still have the scar.” He holds out his powerful right arm. Beneath the downy golden hair and the freckles I can see two small white depressions.

  I caress his arm. “What happened to him?”

  “Guy had a great lawyer. Since he didn’t actually cut her with the knife, and since she wouldn’t testify against him, the judge ordered anger management classes.”

  “Does that ever work?”

  Sean snorts. “Court-mandated treatment for abusers never works. Doesn’t work for drug addicts like Amber Pileggi either.”

  “You’re so cynical. You think people can never change.”

  “Not true. People can change if they themselves want to change. People don’t change because someone else tries to make them change.” Sean brushes my bangs away from my face. “Anyway, anger wasn’t even this guy’s issue. Power was his issue. He needed to be king of the hill twenty-four/seven.”

  “Could that have been Parker’s issue? He was used to being the golden boy in the family and at school and at work. Maybe all the fuss about the birth of the baby made him violent. Maybe Parker slashed up those baby clothes. Then he lashed out at Leonie and killed her.”

  “And he covered up the crime and killed himself with the plane crash?” Sean ponders the situation. “A family annihilator. Could be.”

  “He couldn’t face going to prison. He couldn’t face being humiliated in the eyes of his family and friends and colleagues. I think it makes sense, but I don’t know how I’d ever prove it. Clothilde says the bodies were burned beyond recognition. They had to use dental records to confirm the identities.”

  Sean pulls me into an embrace. My head rests against his chest and I listen to the most reassuring sound in my world: the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart. “Staging a fiery plane crash is the ultimate act of control. Destroy yourself and all the evidence in one fell swoop.”

  I pull away and study Sean’s face. “Then why would he have left that bloody sheet behind?”

  “Even smart criminals make careless mistakes.”

  “Careless would be forgetting about the sheet. Why make the effort to hide it in the house when it would have been much easier to take it away with the body?”

  “So you think someone other than Parker hid the sheet?”

  “Someone else knows what happened that night. I’m determined to find out who.” I run my fingers through my hair.

  “First, I have to finish the sale. Then I’m getting this blood tested. Then I’m going to the jail to talk to Darlene.”

  Sean breathes in sharply. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Darlene got beaten up in the jail last night. She’s in the hospital.”

  “Sean! What happened? Is she all right?”

  “Unconscious.”

  Chapter 37

  Day Two of the sale and the Eskew house has been picked as clean as a Coughlin family Thanksgiving turkey. Adrienne has worked hard all day, but for the past hour her kids have been calling every ten minutes to ask for help with homework, help with finding a lost doll, help refereeing a fight. Finally, I send her home.

  The second floor is almost empty. Ty and I can finish ourselves.

  As I descend the staircase, I hear raised voices.

  “Can’t you see I’m workin’? I can’t take him now.”

  “Please, please, Ty. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. This is the third callback I’ve had for this job. He wants me to have coffee with him and the other person I’ll be working with. I know he’s going to offer it to me this time.”

  “Good. Maybe then you understand what it means to have responsibilities. I can’t drop everything every time you need help.”

  “Ple-e-e-a-se.”

  “Get that lazy-ass friend of yours—”

  Ty and Charmaine fall silent as I enter the kitchen. Baby Lo is sitting in his infant car seat waving his arms like he’s conducting the argument.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Audrey, please can I leave him for just an—”

  “I told her I can’t—”

  “—hour so I can go to—”

  I ignore them both and head over to Lo. I stick out my index finger and he grabs it with his strong, tiny fingers. “Hey, big guy! What’s happenin’?”

  Lo tucks his chin into his Cookie Monster bib and looks at me through his long, dark lashes. What a flirt!

  “Why can’t we watch him, Ty?”

  “I have three trips to make to the dump! I can’t wait—”

  “He can stay here with me while you’re driving.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize it. What’s come over me? Am I actually getting comfortable with baby care? Maybe I’m simply desperate for Charmaine to get a job so Ty won’t have to worry about her so much.

  “Thank you, Audrey! You’re the best!” Charmaine crows.

  I grab her arm as she heads for the door. “He’s got food?”

  “Two bottles. And I’ll be back in an hour, two, tops.”

  After she leaves, I can tell Ty is mad at me. He moves back and forth between the back door and the van, hauling impossibly heavy boxes without ever meeting my eye. There’s one stack of stuff going to the dump, and another smaller pile of kitchen tools, lamps, and small appliances that will go to Sister Alice in Newark on Monday.

  “Why are you mad? Lo’s no trouble. Look at him—he’s happy just watching us.”

  Ty drops the box he’s just picked up. “My sister needs to learn to make a plan. Why’d she wait until ten minutes before she needed to be there to look for a babysitter? You keep bailin’ her out, all you teach her is that people are put on this earth to take care of her.”

  “But you want her to get a job. What’s the harm in being generous and helping someone when you can?”

  Ty’s eyes narrow to slits. “World don’t work that way.”

  He slams out the back door

  I put my face in front of Lo. “Looks like it’s you and me, buddy.”

  He gives me a gummy grin and waves.

  An hour with a baby. I can handle this. I’m getting to be an old pro.

  There are unsold items upstairs that I need to carry down. I decide to take Lo with me to the upstairs hall, then I can consolidate everything there and carry it down while still keeping him in sight. My plan works fine until I stay in one bedroom too long and Lo starts to howl.

  I pop back out. “I’m right here. Relax.”

  But of course he doesn’t. His body stiffens and he strains against the straps of the carrier seat. I take him out and bounce him on my hip. Immediately he quiets down, so I put him back. Immediately he starts to howl.

  I sigh. Now I see what Ty meant. We’ll never finish up here if one of us has to hold the baby. I pace around with him. Even try singing “Sweet Child of Mine,” but Lo is not a Guns ‘N Roses fan. Eventually, his head lolls on my shoulder. It would be a nice feeling if it weren’t for the clock ticking in my brain. Two more trips to the dump before it closes. If we don’t make it, then there will be no room in the van for all the items that need to go to various charities on Monday. Our contract states the house is to be empty and broom clean by 9AM on Monday. To make matters worse, I know Ty has a test that day, so I can’t expect him to come in early to finish work that should have been done today. The tension in my gut must be radiating out into Lo because he begins to squirm and whimper. Maybe if I feed him and rock him he’ll doze off and I can finish up before Ty returns.

  I carry the baby downstairs and get his bottle. He sucks it down, belches and sighs. By the time I carry him back upstairs, he’s asleep. I set him in his carrier and start to strap him in. Instantly, his eyes fly open. Taking a deep breath I try to summon some Zen calm. I rub his tummy and rock the chair and eventually his eyes grow heavy. I keep it up until his breathing grows slo
w and steady. His head is slumped over on top of the seat belt. No way I’m pulling the strap and waking him up. He can’t fall out just sitting here on the floor.

  Finally, I can work.

  I spring into action, carrying loads into the hallway until every bedroom is empty. I glance at the door to the attic. Yesterday, Adrienne told me she brought everything down from there. But I’d better check. Lo is actually snoring. No way I’m moving him. I’ll just pop my head up into the attic.

  I scamper up the uncarpeted stairs and do a 360. Empty. Empty. Empty. Boxes. Three of them on the west wall. Damn that Adrienne!

  I stride across and grab one. Heavy as sin. I look inside. Encyclopedia.

  Shit. No wonder she left them here. But she could have told me. Maybe she told Ty and he forgot. I push the top one off the stack and shove it across the floor. Then do the same with the other two. Ty will have to take them from here.

  I scamper down the attic stairs ready to start carrying boxes downstairs.

  Twelve boxes wait for me in the hallway.

  The infant carrier is empty.

  Chapter 38

  A knife of fear impales me.

  I didn’t strap him in. Could he have fallen out and rolled down the stairs?

  But the carrier is nowhere near the top of the stairs. And Lo doesn’t crawl yet. He only recently learned to roll over. Still, I run to the stairs and look down into the foyer.

  Empty.

  Surely Ty couldn’t be back from the dump already, so maybe Charmaine is back. I grab the baby carrier and run downstairs calling as I go. “Charmaine?”

  If Charmaine is back so soon, she must not have gotten the job. And on top of that disappointment, she’s discovered her child unattended. This won’t be pretty.

  “Charmaine? Charmaine!”

  I run from the foyer down the long hall into the kitchen. As I move, a worm of doubt gnaws at me. How could Charmaine have found us so quickly upstairs? She’s never been beyond the kitchen in this huge house, and Lo wasn’t crying or I would have heard him in the attic.

  I skid into the kitchen and find it empty except for the boxes awaiting Ty’s return. Neither Ty’s car nor the AMT van is in the driveway.

  My whole body vibrates with the pounding of my heart. “Charmaine? Ty?” But I know they’re not here.

  Who is?

  I hold my breath and listen, every fiber of my body tuned to hear Lo’s cry.

  Silence.

  I drop the baby carrier in the kitchen and slip back down the hallway, stepping silently on the plush carpet. Outside the door to Mrs. Eskew’s former sickroom—her death chamber—I pause. Faintly, faintly, I hear a sound.

  Did he whimper? Cough? Or is it just my need to hear him playing tricks on my ears?

  Then I hear a keening moan, too loud and deep to have come from a baby.

  I stand against the wall and reach across to open the door the way I have seen Sean do it.

  “Go away, Mother! Don’t you come in here.”

  The voice is louder, stronger than I’ve ever heard it. But unmistakably, it’s Rachel.

  “It’s not your mother, Rachel. It’s me, Audrey. Can I come in?”

  “There’s nothing in here for you. You’ve already taken everything. Everything.”

  I’m not afraid of an eighty-five pound woman even if she is bat-shit crazy. I step through the door.

  There stands Rachel, holding Lo clutched to her chest. One pale white hand squeezes his plump brown arm while the other pushes his dark head against her bony shoulder.

  “Hi Rachel,” I try to keep my voice light and chatty. “I see you’ve met Lo. Isn’t he cute? He’s Ty’s nephew. Ty, who works with me.”

  Her eyes open wide. “His name is Parker Eskew the second. Not junior. I named him after my brother.”

  Whoa. Okay, I can roll with this. All that matters is that Lo is safe. “That’s quite an honor, to name him after your brother. Can I see him?”

  I take a step closer.

  Rachel rears back and squeezes the baby closer. He begins to struggle and whimper.

  I stop moving. “I think he doesn’t like to be held so tight.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I know how to take care of my baby. I know how to be a good mother. Not like you.”

  That’s a barb that hurts more than Rachel could know. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have left him alone in his carrier.”

  “You cut me up. You ruined me. You said I couldn’t have a baby, but I showed you. I showed you what I can do.”

  Don’t argue. Don’t try to reason. Just agree, agree, agree.

  “He’s a beautiful baby. You’ve done a good job. Can I see his face? Who does he look like?”

  Rachel loosens her grip on Lo and gazes down at his face. At least now he can breathe.

  “He looks like Parker.”

  I’m not seeing the resemblance myself, but I smile and nod. I know I could overpower her if all I needed to take from her was car keys, or a purse, but I can’t risk lunging at her when she’s holding Lo. She could drop him or fall on top of him. My best bet is to get her into the kitchen. When Ty comes back, he can subdue Rachel while I grab the baby.

  Lo begins to fuss. “I bet he’s hungry,” I say, knowing that he’s probably not. “Let’s go get his bottle in the kitchen.”

  I see Rachel’s eyes light up, and I lead the way pausing occasionally to make sure she’s following. She carries Lo awkwardly but doesn’t seem in danger of dropping him. Once we’re in the kitchen, Rachel spies the diaper bag and begins pawing through it, fascinated by all the baby paraphernalia.

  She finds the bottle and stuffs the nipple in Lo’s mouth. He takes a few listless sips and pushes it away. I just fed him half an hour ago. All the poor kid wants is a little snooze.

  Rachel’s face tightens. She doesn’t appreciate rejection even from one so young.

  “How about putting him in his carrier so you can rock him?” I suggest.

  But Rachel’s having none of that. She sits in one of the sun porch chairs that didn’t sell and sways back and forth clutching Lo. As she rocks, she talks to the baby in a breathy monotone. “I knew I could do it. No one ever believes me. Especially Mother. Only Kara can have a baby. Kara and Leonie, you said. Babies are for them, not for you, Rachel. That’s what you said. But you were wrong, see? There was no baby for Leonie. And now there is a baby for me.”

  Rachel is calm and Lo actually has dozed off. So why do I feel a shiver of dread pass over me? I don’t need to know this—not right now, not right here.

  But I have to know.

  “Why was there no baby for Leonie?” I ask softly, as if we’re chatting about why there’s no milk in the fridge. But I’m a ball of tension. I need to find out what happened to Leonie, not for me, but for Clothilde.

  Rachel hums tunelessly. She strokes Lo’s forehead.

  She’s not going to answer. Let it go, Audrey. Don’t push her too far.

  “I cut her open,” Rachel says in her breathy monotone. “The way Mother told the doctor to cut me open. What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. That’s what Mother always says. Isn’t it, Mother? Isn’t it?”

  “You had an operation?”

  “I was fixed. Just like you fix a cat. Because too many kittens are bad. No one wants them. No will take care of them. Especially if they’re not perfect. No one wants those. Right?”

  So that’s the operation Rachel depicted in her painting. Her mother really did force her to have her tubes tied. Sterilized her so she couldn’t reproduce. Because she wasn’t perfect.

  I hear a door slam. Thank goodness. Ty is back.

  A moment later, Charmaine breezes through the door. “I got the job! I start next week.” She sees Lo in Rachel’s arms. “Was he good? Smells like he needs a new diaper.”

  This isn’t good. Why was I so sure Ty would arrive before Charmaine?

  Charmaine reaches for her son. “Here, I’ll change him.” She tilts her head. “You a friend of
Audrey’s? I’m Ty’s sister, Charmaine.”

  Rachel pulls the baby closer. “Get away from Parker.”

  Confusion, concern, anger flit across Charmaine’s face in quick succession. I step toward her to try to explain. “We’re having a little issue here, Charmaine. I think it’s best to just stay calm until Ty gets back.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s a little, uhm, confused. It’s best not to get her worked up.”

  “You gave my son to a crazy person? And now you tellin’ me to just chill?”

  I put a calming hand on her arm. “I think it’s best to wait for—”

  She shakes me off and spins around in one movement. Charmaine is smaller than I am, but she’s strong and in good shape. She seizes Rachel by both shoulders and pries her right hand off Lo. I have no choice but to pitch in. I grab the baby while Charmaine struggles with Rachel’s left hand.

  But Rachel isn’t going down without a fight. She grabs Charmaine’s braids and wrenches her head back. She’s stronger than she looks.

  “Bitch!”

  I suspect Charmaine has participated in some catfights in her time. She knocks Rachel to the floor. I step back with the baby, who’s awake and crying now.

  Charmaine forms a fist and pulls her arm back ready to swing. This is not what we need. If Rachel gets hurt, Charmaine will be the one who gets in trouble. I see the job and the apartment evaporating all because of my carelessness. I set the howling Lo in his baby carrier and rush in to separate the two women.

  After some tussling in which the three of us stagger around and knock over a tower of boxes, I manage to pull Rachel down and get her arms pinned to her side. She twists and squirms with the strength of an enraged cat. We’re surrounded by a minefield of broken bowls and whisks and measuring cups.