by Mary Birk
She got up and followed him, passing through the door he held open. “What else? What was worse?”
He put his hand on the small of her back, leading her down the stairs. He turned to her, his eyes pained. “Lenore had been being sexually molested over a long period of time, and they think it might have been Andrew.”
“Oh, my God.” She looked at him. “How awful.”
He nodded.
“Will, did you ever see anything? I mean when you were taking care of Lenore? Anything that made you think something was going on?”
Will shook his head, but she had the feeling he knew something he wasn’t telling her. He held out her sable coat and she slipped her arms into it and wrapped the warm fur close around her before following him into the cold garage.
Rita shook her head. “I hope it wasn’t him. He hasn’t said anything to you about the other thing has he?”
“What other thing?”
She tried to look nonchalant. “About hiring the specialist for Lenore?”
Will frowned. “No, of course not.”
“I was just thinking, you’re not letting that get in the way of telling the police if you know something about the other? You know, that he’d bring that up?” She knew Will had been nervous when Andrew had gone to that specialist. Afraid the guy would second guess him, blame him.
“No, absolutely not.”
She looked at her husband, and wished she believed him.
Chapter 52
DINNER AT THE COLONY had been tense and, as was to be expected, Meg guessed, depressing. They had to drive past reporters before getting through the gates to the house and the whole thing gave a kind of siege-like feel to the evening. Nathaniel had insisted that his daughters stay at the Colony, so at least Meg and Graham didn’t have to entertain anyone at their house. With what was going on with her and Graham, having company would have made things even harder. She’d never been close to either one of Graham’s sisters. Julia and her husband were artists, and Ellen was a writer who wrote esoteric literary books that Meg doubted many people read.
Meg couldn’t eat much dinner. No one else seemed to have much of an appetite either. Anne had been quiet, Andrew on edge. Will Kempton had been his usual charming self, but Rita was acting strange. And of course, Rita hadn’t eaten anything but some salad. Salad and wine. Rita was getting too thin and she was definitely drinking too much.
Back at home, Meg and Graham went about their usual routine getting ready for bed. She looked over at her husband when his cell phone rang. He flipped it open and looked at the screen. He got up and moved out of the room, pressing the button to receive the call.
Meg listened—he hadn’t moved far enough out of range for her not to be able to make out his words if she kept very still. She heard him answer, saying his name in a business-like voice. Then his voice dropped and his tone changed to a whisper. She could hear the undertone of admonition. Her heart sank. There had been too many telephone calls like this in the last few months.
He came back into the room, and flipped the phone shut. “It looks like I have to go back to the lab tonight. We have some test results that need more interpretation than what the tech monitoring them can do. I might be late.”
“You’re going out tonight?” She tried to keep the sharp edge out of her voice.
“I have to. The project is at a critical stage.”
“How long will you be gone?” She felt tears coming to her eyes.
“I don’t know, but don’t wait up. It’s likely to be pretty late. We have a lot to do.”
Meg couldn’t stand it. She could not pretend everything was okay. She knew he was lying. Without saying anything to him, she walked past him and went upstairs, followed more slowly by her little dogs. A few minutes later she heard the front door open and close.
Chapter 53
IN A RENOVATED BUILDING near the historic part of downtown Santa Rosa, Lucy Shearling cleaned her condominium in a controlled frenzy. She looked at the clock. Almost eleven. This cleaning late at night was ridiculous, but her schedule at the hospital, along with her social life, left her little free time. Tonight she was determined to tackle getting the place in the shape she—and her lover—liked it. He was very particular about things being orderly and immaculate.
She put music on her sound system with the volume as high as she thought she could get away with at this time of night. She took all of her cleaning supplies out of the cupboard and lined them up on the kitchen counter.
Lucy knew she had been lucky to get a unit this size on the first floor. It was all hers, and she was proud of it. Not only did she have a large master bedroom suite and a kitchen that opened into the living room in a modern open floor plan, but she had an extra bedroom and bathroom that she could use as an office area or for guests if she had company. And she had two patios, one off the living room and one off the master bedroom. When they got married—and he promised that would be soon—they would have a real house, but until then, she was happy with her little place.
She squirted the johns with toilet cleaner and let them soak, then sprayed down both bathtub shower units with disinfecting cleanser and let that sink in while she cleaned the counters and mirrors in each bathroom. After the last mirror was clean, she pulled off her sweatshirt and examined what remained of her snake tattoo. She’d had her second treatment, and after the redness died down, it would look a lot better. Seth said it might take a half dozen more times to finish the job. She wondered if he was deliberately stretching it out for the perks, but decided it didn’t matter. Whatever she had to do, she would. Besides, she liked Seth well enough.
She pulled her sweatshirt back on and thought about the telephone conversation she’d had with her lover yesterday. He’d finally called her back, incensed about the message she had left and that she had called at all. In response, she’d said things she shouldn’t have said, threatened to do things she wouldn’t ever do. But then tonight when they talked, he had been so sweet to her, and she knew things were fine again.
She’d wanted to see him tonight, but he said he didn’t think he could get away. He said he might call her later if he could get away, but it would probably be late. She told him that she would be home, waiting, just in case, and that she had the papers about Marisol she’d promised to give him to prove she trusted him. He said he loved her and she didn’t need to hold anything over his head for him to want to marry her. Besides, she didn’t blame him for what had happened to Marisol. The woman had gotten what she deserved. She shouldn’t have cheated on Andrew.
But none of that mattered now. He’d said he loved her. It felt so good she yelled it. “He loves me!” She smiled and hugged her arms to her chest. He had assured her that Lenore’s death wouldn’t make any difference, wouldn’t change their plans. Next Valentine’s Day she would be the one on his arm at the party, and she’d have his ring on her finger.
Lucy could hardly stop herself from thinking about the wedding. She had even bought some bridal magazines. And as much as she had mocked other girls who got caught up in the whole wedding mania, now she was caught up in it herself. She didn’t tell him, of course. No reason to spook him. She’d hidden the magazines on the top shelf of her guest room closet with her copies of the papers. He didn’t need to know she was keeping those for herself. Just in case.
After she finished the bathrooms, she decided to take a smoke break on the patio. He hated the smell of smoke in her house, hated that she smoked, but she just couldn’t give it up yet, so she compromised by trying to keep the evidence of her habit as unobtrusive as she could. She went to the kitchen to get her cigarettes out of her big cream leather purse, then heard a knock on the front door. She frowned. Who would visit so late? Maybe the music was too loud, and one of her neighbors was coming over to tell her to turn it down. Shit.
Lucy opened the front door of her condominium slowly. She left the chain that held the door from opening attached so that she could see who was there but still be safe. When
she saw who her visitor was, she smiled broadly and unhooked the chain, opening the door all the way to let the man in.
“I thought you were going to call first. I look like a mess.”
She smoothed her hair and looked ruefully down at the sweatshirt and leggings she was wearing. Her feet were covered with fuzzy gray slippers with the head of a cat on each one, slippers that had been given to her as a funny gift for her birthday from one of the other nurses at the hospital. She felt ridiculous and unsexy.
“Let me go change. I don’t want you to see me looking like this. I’ll be right back.” She scurried to the bedroom, leaving the door ajar. She pulled the grungy sweatshirt off over her head and unhooked her bra. She’d just bought a new set of underwear, a lacy red bra and panties, and she wanted to put them on for him. She slipped off her sweat pants and the old cotton underwear she was wearing. Then she noticed the bedroom door open and saw he had followed her into the bedroom. Her surprise contained nothing but pleasure.
“Just wait a minute—I want to get fixed up for you.” She turned toward him, displaying her neck and chest. “My tattoo’s coming off pretty well.”
Ignoring her words, he turned her around so that her buttocks leaned against his erection.
She felt him roughly flick the small iron ring that pierced her nipple, sending a stab of erotic pain down through her. She moaned with desire, ready to forget about the red underwear. She could tell from the stiffness in his pants that no red lace was necessary to excite him tonight. She turned her face to look into his eyes, expecting to see his lust for her. Instead, they shone with a stony coldness.
Her fear shocked her senses to instant attention with the recognition that she was in danger. Real danger. Her bladder released with her terror and she felt the warm, slow dribble down her legs. She opened her mouth to protest but he clamped a sweet-smelling cloth over her nose and mouth. Briefly recognizing the smell, she lost consciousness and collapsed into a limp heap on the floor.
DAY SIX - THURSDAY
FEBRUARY 19
Chapter 54
“CHIEF, I’VE GOT MARTHA WARREN on the line. She sounds real upset. It’s about her niece. Lucy whatever-her-last-name is.”
“I’ll take it, Rose.” Dougal punched in the button on his telephone to take the call.
“Martha, it’s Chief McLendon. What’s this about Lucy?”
He could tell she was crying, and her words came out in short jerks between her sobs. “She’s been murdered. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know a lot. I just got a call from the hospital where she works in Santa Rosa. She didn’t come into work today. They were worried and sent someone to her place and they found her body. Someone killed her.”
“I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?”
“I just don’t know if I can stand this. First, Lenore, and now Lucy. Chief, please could you call and see what you can find out?” The woman sounded like she had had all that she could stand.
“Of course. I’ll let you know what I learn.”
He put the telephone down and got his jacket. “Rose, I’m heading out to Santa Rosa. Martha’s niece, Lucy Shearling, was murdered. Has Shelton already left?”
“Yes, over an hour ago.”
“Okay, I’ll catch him on his cell.” Dougal called Jack Shelton’s number on the car’s speaker phone. The FBI agent picked up after a few rings.
“Jack, I’m on my way to Santa Rosa. Martha Warren’s niece, Lucy Shearling, the nurse, was murdered last night.”
There was quiet on the other end of the line. Then Shelton spoke. “The one that took care of Marisol Grainger?”
“Yep.”
“What are the chances that this has nothing to do with Lenore Grainger’s murder?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Give Reid a call. He’s going to be talking to Grainger. Have him check whether Andrew Grainger’s got an alibi.”
“Will do.”
*****
Hal Martin, the Santa Rosa police chief, welcomed Dougal with a clap on the shoulder. “McLendon, long time no see.”
“Yep, too long.” Dougal looked around, and was reminded of his days working in Oakland. The Santa Rosa police headquarters building was about ten times bigger than Bodega Bay’s tiny station. But of course, Santa Rosa was much larger than Bodega Bay.
“How’s Susan doing?”
Dougal shrugged his shoulders. “She’s holding her own.”
“Want some coffee? I make my own in here. The stuff out in the coffee room sits all day—tastes burned.” He made a face.
Chief Martin was a short, compact man. Solid, but no gut. Something of an accomplishment for a man in his late fifties with a desk job. Seeing Dougal’s nod to the offer of coffee, he filled two cups and handed one to him. “Your town’s been in all the papers. Shame about the Grainger kid.”
Dougal took a sip of his coffee. “Yes.”
The older man raised his eyebrows. “Is it true what I heard? The father’s a suspect?”
“Too early to tell. The kid was molested. Apparently was being molested even before she was killed.”
Chief Martin whistled. “Generally that means it’s someone close to home. There’s some big bucks in the case for a good defense lawyer. And Andrew Grainger’s got the money to pay for it. So what brings you to see me? Not a social call, I’ll bet.”
“I haven’t got much time for social calls right now. Actually, you just had a young woman killed here that is of some interest to us. Someone kind of peripherally involved with the Grainger family.”
“You think there’s a connection?”
“Maybe not, but it’s a little bit of a coincidence. Also, the girl’s aunt, Martha Warren, kind of a second mother to her, asked me to see if I could find anything out about what happened. One of the coincidences I mentioned is that Martha Warren is the Grainger’s housekeeper. She took care of Lenore Grainger.”
“You’re talking about that nurse?” Chief Martin pulled some papers from a pile on his desk. “Lucy Shearling?”
“That’s her. What can you tell me?”
“Chloroformed, then smothered. The coroner was lucky to have found chloroform in her bloodstream because the killer poured bleach on her face and in her mouth. Looks like he came in the patio door. It was unlocked, and the lock hadn’t been forced. Her front door was locked and the chain was attached. The place was ransacked, but nothing big taken that we know of so far. Whoever it was may have taken a laptop computer if she had one, maybe some cash, and if she had any prescription drugs, maybe those.”
“Raped?”
“Doesn’t look like it. She was naked, though. Maybe he got interrupted or spooked before he got to it—or maybe he couldn’t get it up. She had a bruise on her face, like she’d been punched. Looked like it was old, though. She also had a large-area body tattoo that had been partially removed.”
“Was there a boyfriend?”
“No sign of one in the condo. The neighbors say there used to be a bunch of men, but lately not so much. One of them mentioned the smell of grass coming from the place sometimes. We talked to some of her friends, too. Apparently she was serious about some guy, but no one knows his name. We’re still asking questions.”
“Any leads?”
“Not yet. Still running prints, things like that. If you guys solve this one along with yours, can’t say I’d be upset. I don’t need a Ted Bundy type scare around here. And I’ll let you know if we find out anything. It can’t hurt to share information.”
“Would it be possible for me to get a copy of the police and autopsy reports? The FBI will be interested, I’m sure, if even just to eliminate the possibility of any connection to our case.”
“Sure.” Chief Martin hit the intercom and spoke into it. “Get me copies of the Shearling reports for Chief McLendon.” He turned back to Dougal. “So, how do you like having the FBI on your patch?”
“Remai
ns to be seen. I can’t say I want to have this thing on my plate all by myself. We’re too small time to handle it if Grainger ends up being arrested, so I hope they stick around if that’s where this is going. It’s going to be a big time circus, and I don’t want to end up being the circus clown.”
Chapter 55
MEG SAT ON THE BED, ignoring the wrinkles she was making. Graham hated it when she sat on the bed, insisted that it damaged the duvet. But he wasn’t home. In fact, he was rarely home. She dialed the cell number she’d gotten earlier from Anne. The wait for it to be picked up seemed interminable. When Terrence finally answered, she spoke. “It’s Meg. Do you have time to talk?”
“Of course. Let me just step into the other room.” His voice was warm and reassuring and sexy. And that wonderful accent. No wonder Anne was crazy about this guy.
A moment passed and she heard a door close. “All right, I’m back.”
Meg hesitated. Was she making too much of this? “I don’t know what to do, but I need to tell you something. Or at least I need to tell someone and I’d prefer that someone be you.”
“Go ahead, just tell me.”
She didn’t quite know how to start, so she just plunged in. “It’s about Graham. He lied to the police and said he was with me all night the night Lenore was taken. But he wasn’t. He was gone all night.”
“Where was he?”
“He said he was driving around. We’d had a fight on the way home from the party, then he dropped me off and drove away. He didn’t come back till morning. But he told the police he was with me all night, and asked me to back him up if they asked me.”
“Did you?”
“No. They never asked.” She paused. “I wouldn’t have lied. Anyway, when you said you didn’t see him at the Colony Sunday night, the night the kidnappers were supposed to call, I didn’t know what to think because he told me he was there most of the night—from about five until eleven when he got home.”