Grace Cries Uncle

by Julie Hyzy

  “No, no,” I began, “I love what I do, I wouldn’t want to give it—”

  “What you want is the important consideration here,” she continued, louder, directing every ounce of energy toward Bennett. “You’ll want Grace to learn more of the family history and all that other business stuff you like so much. She’s going to be stretched too thin.”

  “And that’s where you come in, I take it?” Bennett didn’t even try to muffle his laughter. “With a selfless offer to help?”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m willing to take on the role as chief curator and estate manager, yes.”

  Bennett clapped Frances on the shoulder. “I will take it under advisement,” he said, then winked at me. “Or perhaps I should say we will take that under advisement.”

  The lawyers chuckled. Not to be put off, Frances piped up again, “I get it. We’ll talk about this later, in private.” Shooting me a triumphant sideways grin, Frances waggled her eyebrows and stepped away.

  Only Tooney held back, shuffling off by himself to watch from a distance. His soft, homely face had transformed—as it always did—when he smiled. When I caught his eye, he lifted his glass in a silent toast.

  “I hope you know you may count on me for confidentiality and discretion.” An older lawyer, one whose name I couldn’t remember, grasped my free hand in his spotted one. “I’ve served the Marshfield family for years and hope to continue to do so—”

  “Thank you, yes. Please excuse me.” I tugged my hand free, making my way over to Tooney.

  “Congratulations, Grace,” he said, tapping his glass against mine. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  After we both took a sip, I said, “Nothing’s going to change. Not really.”

  “You won’t change, but don’t for a moment believe everyone around you won’t.” He smiled to take the melancholy out of his words and said, “I may never get another chance.” Bringing his stubbly cheek next to mine, he brushed the side of my face with a quick kiss. When he stepped back again, he winked. “Couldn’t resist.”

  “Thank you, Bronson,” I said.

  “I really am happy for you.”

  The celebration continued until one of the security team reminded us that the mansion was scheduled to open soon. Bennett sidled over. “We have a lot to talk about Gracie,” he said.

  I leaned closer to him. “What do I do about Liza?”

  He transferred his glass to his left hand and placed his right arm around my shoulders. “As I suggested earlier, the better question is: What do we do about Liza?”

  Chapter 30

  I cornered Frances to let her know that Agent McClowery wanted to speak with her, and relayed his instructions to meet him upstairs. Her tadpole eyebrows shot upward. “It’s about time,” she said, but when she trundled out the door, she did so with a cheerful thump in her step.

  Before Bruce and Scott left, I pulled them over to enlist their help, explaining—as well as I could without divulging the truth about the FBI operation—that plans had changed and that Liza and I would be staying late tonight, attending Bennett’s reception.

  “This reception will probably be a chi-chi-pooh-pooh affair, won’t it?” Bruce asked.

  “I suppose.”

  Giving me a discreet once-over, he asked, “Don’t you need us to bring you anything? A change of clothes, perhaps?”

  I stammered. I couldn’t very well tell him that the FBI planned to keep Liza holed up out of sight and station me in their observation room, so I said, “That would be great. I don’t know what of mine might suit Liza though, so don’t go to any real trouble.”

  “Oh no?” Bruce asked with a pointed glance toward Bennett, who was clapping Dr. Lucatorto on the back as he escorted the man out. “If you think Bennett Marshfield isn’t going to use this opportunity to share you with the rest of the world . . .”

  He wouldn’t. Tonight wasn’t about celebration. Tonight was all about catching Eric and recovering the jeweled key.

  I couldn’t share that, so what I said was, “I guess you’re right. I ought to be prepared.”

  Scott nodded. “We’ll bring a few outfits and accessories for you and Liza. And necessities from your bathroom.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “I don’t understand why Liza is invited to this shindig though,” Bruce said, latching onto the part of my story that made the least sense. He waved a hand, encompassing the group. “With this many people in the know, and the news being so big, how can you possibly hope to keep the truth from her?”

  “Bennett and I intend to talk about that,” I said.

  Scott and Bruce exchanged a look of concern. “Good luck.”

  * * *

  I returned to find Terrence and Liza in opposite corners of the second-floor parlor. A female member of the security team stood immediately inside the door. Liza had her back to me, facing the wide window.

  “Grace,” Terrence said with enthusiasm when I walked in. His eyes were full of questions as he released the other officer. The moment she was gone he asked, “How did it go?”

  Liza hadn’t bothered to turn.

  “It went well,” I said, hoping to communicate with my eyes. “Very well.”

  Terrence’s face lit up. “Glad to hear it.”

  Liza twisted her head. “I won’t bother asking. I know you won’t tell me. But hey, I can be supportive. Whatever good news you’re hiding—yay, hurray. Congratulations. Whatever.”

  She spun, closing the distance between us. “Can I go now? I’m missing my favorite TV shows.” To Terrence, she added, “You know that my sister keeps me locked up day and night.”

  “Thanks for sharing.” To me, he asked, “Is there anything else you need?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is. My sister won’t be leaving Marshfield today.”

  “What?” Liza asked.

  “It can’t be helped,” I said to her, before returning my attention to Terrence. “I’ll explain more later.”

  Arms folded across her chest, Liza thrust a hip out. “Later meaning when I won’t overhear?”

  “That’s right.” To Terrence again, I said, “If things go well, Frances and I will keep my sister in our office for the rest of the day, and I’ll ask Frances to help out during the reception tonight.”

  “Frances?” Terrence repeated. “She’s invited to the reception?”

  He knew that Agent McClowery had chosen to keep Frances out of this operation. Having her play a role was a change. A big one.

  “Lots of last-minute updates,” I said vaguely. “If there are complications I may need to borrow one of your more . . . um . . . taciturn officers to help us out.”

  “Whatever you need, Grace,” Terrence said.

  Liza and I made our way back. “I’m not an idiot,” she said as we crossed through Frances’s empty office into mine. “Whatever is going on is a clearly a big deal. Everyone I’ve encountered today, from that FBI agent, to Terrence, to you, is acting weird.”

  “Maybe there’s a full moon tonight.” I took a seat behind my desk. “Isn’t that where the term lunatic comes from?”

  “Nice try.” She plopped onto the sofa along the wall. “I’ll find out what it is. You know I will.”

  Not if I can help it. “Be my guest.”

  She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands crossed between them. “Nothing I come up with makes sense.”

  Fighting to keep my happiness under control, I pulled a spreadsheet file up on my computer. Our accounting department had reported a spike in admissions last month. Year over year, we were up 10 percent. We expected a bump from the FAAC convention, but wouldn’t see those numbers until next month. Increased attendance during the colder months was always good news. Better still, we’d been trending upward for a while now.

  I clicked away, analyzing and crunching numbers w
hile adding notes to the margin. One of my goals was to grow Bennett’s enterprise and to implement modernizations that would not only bring the magnificent structure into the twenty-first century, but would captivate a new generation of tourists as well. I smiled. Business was looking up. Literally.

  Liza broke the silence. “You didn’t get married this morning, did you?”

  I glanced over to her. “You really do have an active imagination.”

  When she sprawled backward, one hand to her forehead, one leg stretched across the cushions, I realized she’d spoken aloud only to get my attention. In a pose every bit as melodramatic as that of an ingénue in a silent film, she worked up a woeful gaze. “Do I have to stay here all day? I’m bored.”

  “I can get you a book.”

  “Really? Is that the best you can do?” She lifted her head a couple of inches, enough for her to peer at the clock across the room. “It’s not even ten in the morning yet.” She let her head drop onto the armrest, fixing her gaze at the ceiling. “Can’t you at least let me wander around a little? Let me be a tourist. Ask one of your minions to tag along if you’re afraid I’ll try to escape.”

  She slid a sideways glance to ensure I was listening.

  “What part of ‘staying in my office all day’ didn’t you understand?”

  She rose up, feet to the ground. “This is torture,” she said.

  “It’s been ten minutes.”

  “Exactly. I have a whole day of nothingness ahead of me.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” And I was. “The offer for a book stands.”

  She made an unpleasant noise. I got back to work.

  A moment later she’d bounded from the sofa to settle herself in one of the chairs across from me. “If you don’t trust me wandering, then how about you invite someone here for me to talk to?”

  “Frances should be back soon.”

  Liza made a “You gotta be kidding” face. “How about somebody with personality?”

  “How about I call upstairs for a book?”

  “What about that Agent McClowery? He’s good-looking.”

  She was fishing for information now. “I don’t think so.”

  “What was he doing here, anyway? I was surprised to see him here this morning but you sure weren’t.”

  “He’s been here a couple times.”

  “That’s right,” she said with a knowing lilt. “You’ve always been a sucker for dimples on a man, haven’t you? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

  Before I could get another word out, she asked, “He had something to do with the meeting today, didn’t he? You’re interested in him, aren’t you?”

  Keeping my head down, I held tight to the storm of contradictions that fought to pour out of my mouth. Tempting as it was to correct her, every bit of information she got out of me—however slight—threatened to bring her closer to deducing the truth. I had two big secrets to hide from her: the DNA results and the reason for Agent McClowery’s presence here. I wasn’t willing to jeopardize either one.

  “Agent McClowery came to let me know that he’s leaving Emberstowne today, that’s all.” The lie came easily enough.

  “When is he coming back?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, hoping to convey disappointment over the agent’s fictitious departure.

  “He’s not your type,” she said.

  “Doesn’t matter anyway, does it?”

  “Where’s he going?”

  I looked up. “He’s an FBI agent. Do you really think he’d tell me?”

  “Does this have something to do with Eric?”

  I opened my mouth then closed it again, as though catching myself just in time. “Can’t say.”

  “But you know.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

  Hooked. Now to reel her in. I shrugged. “Sam—that is, Agent McClowery—couldn’t tell me where he was going or how long he’d be gone.”

  “Sam,” she repeated. “On a first-name basis now, are we?”

  When I didn’t answer, she thrummed her fingers against the top of my desk. “What about Bennett?”

  “What about him?”

  “You trust him, I know you do. While you putter on your computer, maybe he could give me a tour. He’d do it if you asked him to.”

  The door to Frances’s office opened and closed. At the welcome sound of her heavy footfalls, I called out, “I’m in here with Liza,” before my assistant had a chance to blurt something she shouldn’t.

  “So I gathered,” she said, clomping into the room. She planted herself in front of my desk. “What’s this about me having to work overtime tonight?” She thrust her chin toward Liza. “I better be earning more than time-and-a-half if you expect me to contend with her.”

  Agent McClowery had obviously brought my assistant up to date. Before she could utter another word, however, I jumped to my feet. “A moment of your time?”

  We left Liza sitting by my desk and had barely gotten into Frances’s office when she whispered, “What do you take me for? An idiot?” She leaned back to peer around the doorway to reassure herself that Liza hadn’t followed us to listen in. “I know not to mention any names.” Holding a finger to her lips, she shook her head. “That girl won’t get squat out of me.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that,” I said. “I wanted you to know that Liza is convinced I’m smitten with McClowery and trying to hide it.”

  She blinked in surprise.

  “I’m playing along,” I said quickly. “Let her think she’s onto me.”

  Frances nodded, peeked around the doorway again, then reverted to the angry expression she’d worn when she’d first walked in. “I knew you and the Mister were up to something. What took you so long to bring me in on it?”

  “Not now.” My desk phone rang, sparing me further explanation. “Excuse me.”

  Liza had gotten to her feet in order to read my caller ID. Before I could beat her to it, she’d answered the phone. “Good morning, Mr. Marshfield, how are you?”

  I grabbed for the receiver but she ducked out of my reach. “She’s here, yes. We were just talking about you. Grace was hoping you’d have time to give me a tour today. Yes, completely. Her idea.”

  Wrenching the handset away from her, I glared at Liza. “Sorry about that, Bennett. I was in the other office with Frances.”

  “She’s a wily one, that sister of yours.”

  Using my free hand, I shooed her away so that she wouldn’t be able to overhear Bennett’s side of the conversation. “I did not suggest you giving her a private tour.”

  “So I assumed, Gracie,” he said. “I have a number of things on my mind I would like to discuss with you, though. Would you be able to get away for a little while?”

  “Absolutely. What time?”

  I could hear the smile in his voice. “As soon as you can cajole Frances into sitting with your sister.”

  My assistant had followed me in and when I hung up, she and Liza looked at me expectantly. “Bennett and I have a few details to go over before the event this evening,” I said. “He’d like me to come upstairs to discuss them. Frances, would you mind keeping Liza company for a little while?”

  “As long as you share those details with me,” she said.

  I didn’t see how that would be possible with Liza around all day, but this was not the moment to argue the point. “You know I always do my best.”

  The offices’ outer door opened and a moment later, we heard a cheery, “Good morning. Anybody around?”

  Rodriguez. And probably Flynn. “In here,” I called.

  The two detectives ambled into my office, Rodriguez all smiles. “Ladies.” He tipped an imaginary hat.

  Flynn lifted his chin. “We have good news about your lover boy, Eric.” I couldn’t determine if he’d targeted the announcement to me, to
Liza, or to us both.

  I kept my expression impassive, but strove to shut the detective up by sheer force of will. Rodriguez and Flynn didn’t know about the ruse McClowery and I had concocted. One misstep and Liza would know I’d been lying about why McClowery had been here this morning. Not that she could do anything about it, but still.

  “Yeah, we already heard. He left town.” Liza’s affected nonchalance didn’t fool me. She was digging. “I forgot where Grace said he was going, though . . .”

  I could tell that the news of Eric’s leaving surprised them both, but Flynn shrugged. “Doesn’t matter where he is. At least not as far as we’re concerned,” he said. “He’s no longer a person of interest in the murder of Emilio Ochoa, a.k.a. Alvin Clark, a.k.a. Tomas Pineda.”

  She shot me an “I told you so” look. “I knew Eric was no killer. I can leave now.”

  “Not so fast,” I said.

  “Why? You were all so worried about Evil Eric coming after me. He’s not only skipped town, he’s no longer a murder suspect. That means, dear sister, that I’m free to go. I can see and talk with whomever I like. You can’t stop me.”

  “First of all,” I began, “as long as you’re living in my house, I still make the rules.”

  “You sound like a cranky parent yelling at a teenager,” Flynn said.

  “You’re not helping.” Addressing Liza again, I continued, “And unless you’ve been holding out on me, you don’t have the resources to go anywhere else.”

  She opened her mouth. I cut her off. “Lastly, as I’m sure our esteemed detectives will tell you, just because Eric isn’t the killer doesn’t mean you’re safe. Whoever killed that fake FBI guy is still at large.” I turned to Rodriguez. “Am I right?”

  “Sell it, amiga.”

  I stopped short of poking Liza in the chest. “And don’t forget, before he was killed, the victim came to see me. Which means the killer is fully aware of Eric’s connection to you. You think he’ll believe you know nothing? Or do you think he’ll do whatever it takes to squeeze information out of you?”