by Camryn King
“Ms. Walker, Karen . . . I am so sorry. I wasn’t even thinking. I just saw the piece and . . .”
“Look, I got it. I saw the pictures you took. But that’s not cool. Walk around in the wrong house and you might get taken out in a body bag. Coming in your room and finding a stranger can have a bad ending in this neighborhood.”
Karen walked out of the room. Mallory hurriedly and gratefully followed behind her into the living room. She couldn’t wait to get out of that house. She needed space and time to think. What had just happened? What had she just seen? Could her running across the jigsaw puzzle sculpture be a mega coincidence? Mallory didn’t think so, but something didn’t add up. The sculpture was completely out of place. Leigh being involved with this family was even stranger. She had questions for Karen but knew that now was not the time. Instead of coming here and getting answers, more and more questions filled her mind.
Mallory reached the door. She turned to Karen. “Thanks for letting me use your restroom. That was a lifesaver. And again, my apologies for trespassing.” She turned to Harmony. “Thanks for going shopping with me and helping me get the items for my windowsill garden. I’ll take pictures if anything grows.”
“Just remember to keep the soil moist. Use the sprayer every day.”
“I will. Bye, Harmony.”
“Bye.”
Mallory forced herself not to break into a flat-out run down the hall, bypassing the elevator and taking the stairs. She punched the down button and waited, pulling out her phone and sending a text just as a ding announced the car’s arrival.
You two free tonight? If not, phone chat at seven? The plot thickens.
Once home, the girls touched base by phone. Sam and Ava had other commitments that night but promised to meet at Mallory’s house the following evening for an investigative pow-wow. Mallory changed into a comfy fleece sweat suit, and after grabbing a throw and the gold puzzle piece she settled into the couch. She fired up her laptop and opened the email where she’d forwarded the picture of Karen’s art piece. She clicked on the attachment and after enlarging it, placed the piece she held in her hand above the screen. The piece she held matched the shape of what was missing in the art on Karen’s wall. Coincidence? Or the artist’s intention? And if the latter, how did Leigh come to possess it? She opened a search engine and used various words to try and find the artwork online.
The next evening after work, Mallory ordered pasta takeout from her favorite neighborhood restaurant and then went to the corner for a bottle of wine. By the time Ava arrived shortly before their agreed-upon meeting time, Mallory had found a white poster board and rounded up Sharpies. She wanted to put what they’d gathered so far in writing. Somehow words became clear for her when written down.
Ava’s questions began before her coat hit the couch. “Did you see the accountant?”
“The financial consultant, Bankole? I did.”
Mallory drew a rough chart and placed his name on the first line, followed by Graham, DuBois, Weir and a question mark.
“Did you learn anything?”
“Nothing, really. He was tight-lipped, cautious, like a man with something to hide.”
“I could have told you that. Much like with an attorney, client privilege is protected by law.”
“I knew that, but was hoping that by presenting myself as the best friend come to him on Leigh’s high recommendation he’d let down his guard.”
“So he’s a dead end? Sorry, I could have probably found a better choice of words.”
“Because of his history and the bad vibe I got, he seems capable of doing really bad things. But I have zero proof that he was anything other than Leigh’s consultant. Which means . . .”
Mallory drew a line through his name.
“One down, four to go. Is that all you found out?”
“Not hardly.”
The doorbell rang. Ava stood. “I’ll get it.”
Sam entered rambling about a sick baby and a husband who had been called out of town. Rarely harried, the normal epitome of peace didn’t pick up on Ava’s disinterested expression or that Mallory had barely acknowledged her and kept writing on the board.
“Leigh was pregnant.”
“. . . and then my mother-in-law came here and—What?”
The comment turned Ava’s head as well. “Pregnant?”
Sam plopped into one of the dining room chairs. “How do you know?”
“I saw the records, and have the copies to prove it.”
“You took the cleaning job?” Ava asked, shocked. “And didn’t tell me? Or Sam? Anybody?”
“All of this just happened in the past few days. I wanted to share it when we were all together, like now.”
Sam looked from Ava to Mallory. “Cleaning job? What are you guys talking about?”
Mallory filled her in. “When Anna fired me, I almost gave her a hug. Couldn’t have written a better ending.”
“I can’t believe you risked your career like that,” Sam said. “You could have been caught, arrested, and charged with a felony.”
“But I wasn’t, so calm down.”
“I will not calm down!”
“You really should,” Ava suggested. “Or else you’ll have a heart attack when you find out about Christian, and how she got his DNA.”
Mallory quickly brought Sam up to speed and told them both about the puzzle in the bedroom at Harmony’s house. “That’s why I’m not so focused on Joseph anymore,” she finished.
“The financial consultant,” Ava said, answering the question on Sam’s face.
“Here’s what we have so far.”
She went back to the white board, and spoke as she wrote.
“I have nothing on Bankole so for now have crossed him off. When it comes to Graham, there are several connections.”
“Leigh. Navigator fan.”
“Graham. Navigator, founder of Christian’s Kids.”
“Puzzle found in home of CK student.”
“Matching piece—Leigh. Oh, and I did a search online. Couldn’t find an exact replica of that sculpture anywhere. So however it was obtained, it’s not mass-produced.”
“You should have the piece tested,” Ava offered. “See if it’s real gold.”
“Good idea.” Mallory wrote the suggestion on the board.
Sam leaned forward. “Maybe to Christian she was more than a fan. The picture we found makes that a definite possibility. But wouldn’t she have told you, Mal?”
Mallory shook her head. “When it came to matters of the heart, Leigh was really private. She was seeing someone for about a year before she died. Someone wealthy.” She joined her girls at the table. “Honestly, I thought the guy might have been married and that’s why she kept him a secret. But if it was Christian, I can see her being quiet as well. Keep what was developing out of the spotlight until they were officially dating.”
“Why?” Ava asked. “I’d think she’d want to flaunt that man for the world to see.”
“Not initially. She would have never wanted to be considered just one of his many flings, as a thought. Leigh was proud that way, and very aware of her image. Then there’s her staunchly religious parents who, given his reputation with the ladies, would surely have disapproved. As rocky as their relationship was, she always tried to please them.”
“What about the kid?” Sam asked. “The one Christian visited. At one time, you thought there was something there, too.”
“Yes, and now I’m even more convinced.”
Mallory returned to the table and jiggled the mouse. Her laptop screen came to life, fastened on a picture of the puzzle sculpture taken in Karen Walker’s bedroom.
“This is why I called you two last night.”
Ava leaned forward. “What is that?”
Mallory walked over to the mantel, retrieved the puzzle piece, and returned to the table. She set it next to the laptop screen, sat down and crossed her arms.
The room grew quiet as all three stared at th
e screen.
“That piece fits in the puzzle?” Ava finally asked.
“Testing it is the only way to be sure for certain, but given how it appears the shapes align, it’s a pretty close match.”
Sam looked over. “Where’d you get the photo?”
“I took it, this past weekend.” Mallory paused for effect. “At Brandon’s house.”
Ava cursed. “Wait a minute. Hold everything. Now I am totally confused. How could that boy have anything to do with Leigh’s murder, or with Leigh, for that matter?”
“I don’t know,” Mallory said. “But this was in Leigh’s belongings.” Mallory held up the puzzle piece. “And this artwork, from which it appears the piece was taken, is in the home of a boy whose father was shot and has since disappeared.”
“That can’t be mere coincidence. I can’t imagine what connection Leigh would have with this family. But I’ll keep searching until I find out.”
21
In between basketball and bed bouts with various women, Christian was surprised at how often Mallory Knight popped up in his mind. Like now, for instance. He’d put in two hours at the Navigators’ training facility in Port Washington—almost three hours of practice followed by physical therapy and watching film—and while getting into his car he thought of her. He pulled out of the lot and headed home, checking voicemails that included messages left by seven different women, all requesting the pleasure of his company. Christian checked in with DeVaughn and Zoey but decided the other calls could wait. Tonight, he was only in the mood for a big meal and a good night’s sleep. Shortly after the chef had prepared his paleo meal, Christian released him from the duty that usually included a healthy snack around eleven p.m. and a full, hearty breakfast the following the morning. From high school on, Christian almost always had a crowd around him. He enjoyed it for the most part. But tonight he wanted to be alone.
His solitude lasted a full fifteen minutes, long enough to enjoy the delicious meal of glazed salmon over wild rice and a mountain of veggies while listening to an audiobook. Any other woman calling would have gotten the red reject button, but he’d always take this call.
“Good evening, Mother.”
“Good evening, son.”
“Haven’t talked with you all week. What’s up?”
“Your schedule, busy man. I called a couple days ago but didn’t leave a message. But I’ve kept tabs on your whereabouts somewhat through your father. How’s the shoulder?”
“Fine. Totally healed.”
“Good. I’m going to come watch you on Friday.”
“Nice!”
His mother’s melodious laughter warmed his heart. “I thought you’d be pleased. While I’m not as able to attend as many games as your dad, please have no doubt that I’m as proud of you as both he and Pete combined. In fact, I’ve invited a few of my friends to join me tomorrow so they can see for themselves what I’ve bragged about. Do you think you could secure a total of four tickets for me and a few of my friends?”
Christian’s brow raised as he looked at the phone. While his mother had always supported his athletic and educational efforts, she wasn’t big into sports and rarely attended a game. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d requested extra tickets.
“Of course. No problem at all. I’ll have DeVaughn make sure they’re at the will call window.”
“Thanks, Christian.”
“Who’s coming with you? Anyone I know?”
“Well, dear, funny you should ask.”
Oh, no. Here we go.
“You remember the Gateses, don’t you? The next-door neighbors to our Hawaiian vacation home, at least during your high school years?”
The better question would have been how could he ever forget? Heather Gates. Tall. Light. Brown hair and green eyes. She was a junior when he was a freshman. The woman who introduced him to oral copulation. Rocked his world and blew his mind. For the rest of their stay that year and the next, he followed her around like a puppy dog. Of course, neither set of parents ever had a clue. Christian hoped it would stay that way.
“Sure, I remember the Gateses. Didn’t know you were still in touch with them. How’s Heather?”
“So you remember her as well?”
“I rarely forget a pretty face.”
“If you thought that way then, you should see her now. Absolutely stunning, Christian. She graduated Vassar, you know, with a degree in business administration. Not that she’ll ever need it, except for managing her own estate. Her grandparents died and left her a fortune. That, on top of her father’s wealth and social standing as one of California’s premiere surgeons and her mom’s philanthropic efforts, makes her quite the catch for both the man lucky enough to win her heart and the families as well.”
“Wasn’t she engaged to a doctor?”
“Yes, but that’s over. Susan, Heather’s mother, hired a private investigator who uncovered that the young man had left out a few critical details about his life, and had outright lied about other matters. At any rate Heather and Susan are in town for one of her sorority sisters’ engagement party. She asked about you, and when I learned your game was here tomorrow, I thought it would be a nice way for us to catch up.”
“I don’t mind getting tickets for you, but I won’t be available this weekend.”
Rebecca chuckled. “I didn’t mean for that ‘us’ to include you, Christian. Susan, Heather, and I, and one of her friends, will have dinner somewhere near the arena and then come watch you play. I also wanted to give Heather your number so that the two of you could chat in the future.”
“I don’t mind talking to her, but I’m not looking to date anyone seriously right now, and I’m definitely not looking for a wife.”
“Men never are, darling,” Rebecca murmured. “But I thought you’d enjoy speaking with someone on your level socially, financially, and intellectually. For a change.”
Christian knew where this conversation was heading. He didn’t want to go there. So after agreeing to meet his mother one day next week, he ended the call.
Moments later he lay in bed scrolling through his cell phone, recalling the day. He placed Heather’s name in the search engine. Several images appeared, mostly related to either social or charitable efforts. His mom hadn’t lied. Heather was even more beautiful than he remembered. Maybe hooking up with her wouldn’t be so bad. He mentally went through the list of women who’d left messages, examined the role they played in his life. While he wasn’t one of those athletes with hook-ups in every city, Christian had had his share of sexual partners. He felt that since both participants were grown, knew the rules, and wanted it, why not? Three of the seven who’d called were just that. Sexual hook-ups. Of those three, one was a celebrity, the latest pop sensation. A lot of fun and cool Hollywood-style perks, but not the material for a serious relationship. He didn’t judge divas, but he didn’t date them long-term. He didn’t date women like Vivica, either, his video vixen. He knew the summer fling with her was all they’d ever have. She was funny, smart, and one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known. But she’d been with too many men that he knew. A double standard, perhaps, but the truth. Plus, she was beginning to catch feelings and want something more than a casual friendship. No bueno. Two of the women who’d phoned him were friends who’d become lovers. Friends with benefits. One he’d known since college, the other since the earliest of his pro playing days. Successful, smart, beautiful, independent, almost too strong. He was sure some of his female executive and entrepreneur friends would disagree with him, but at the end of the day, no man wanted a woman whose dick was bigger than his. Then there was Zoey. His publicist. Someone he’d grown up with, played with as a child. Pete had tried to warn him about taking the relationship to another level. He had said she’d never be able to keep the personal and professional lines straight. He’d been right. Christian knew that now. Not that Zoey said so directly. She was too smart, too classy for that. But Christian knew she wanted more than he could give h
er. Then there was Mallory, the jazz lover, the professional, who showed no interest in a personal connection. He smiled to himself and wondered how long it would take for that to change.
Switching over to a search engine, he typed in the name of her column, “Knightly News,” and clicked on the latest article. He liked the second one even better than he had the first, especially how she’d involved the students and expounded on his program’s highlighting subjects not emphasized in many urban school curriculums, subjects like computer technology, science, and math. He smiled when reading about Harmony’s horticulture projects, remembering how the quiet girl had come to life and grown in social ability along with her plants. He loved that her dream was to see urban gardens on every block to provide healthy eating options for the families living there. Christian made a mental note to speak with Emma and the board about helping this happen. Too many kids in poor neighborhoods limited their dreams to music and sports. Honorable work when you could get it, but the road to riches had several lanes. He wanted to be a catalyst in highlighting more of them to the kids his foundation served.
“Pretty good stuff, Mallory Knight,” he mumbled, even as the warnings from Zoey and Pete niggled at the back of his mind. Still, he tapped the phone’s face and dialed her number, ready to do some investigating of his own. He placed the call on speaker and settled himself comfortably against the headboard.
“Mallory Knight.”
“Mallory, it’s Christian. How are you?”
“Hello, Christian. I was just thinking about you.”
He nestled further into the feathery pillows behind him. “All good, I hope.”
“Mostly, yes.”
“Mostly? Which parts weren’t good?”
Mallory laughed, a sound that caused Christian to smile and want to make it happen more often. “Are you pouting? None were bad, really, at least not personally so. I interviewed some of the kids for this week’s article.”
“I read it.”
“Really?”
“Yes, that’s partly why I called. When you first reached out, the team was leery of your intentions, but so far your articles have been on point.”