“You’re really not going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nope,” Mandy said. “And I guess me and Tommy will just have to live with the consequences.”
Some customers came in and Mandy wiped her eyes with her apron.
“Could you yell at me later?” she asked. “I need to get back to work.”
Ed considered confronting Patrick, then decided it would only upset Mandy more. He left the bar and walked back toward home, not seeing anything that surrounded him.
“Hey,” Scott said, and Ed realized he’d just walked past his best friend.
“Sorry,” Ed said.
He stopped and Scott caught up with him.
“What’s going on?” Scott asked. “You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“Something’s going on with Mandy,” Ed said. “And for some reason she can tell Patrick but not me.”
“I wouldn’t make too much of that,” Scott said. “They’ve known each other a long time. They’re more like brother and sister than anything.”
“No,” Ed said. “She was crying and he was holding her, but it wasn’t like you’d hold your sister.”
“What do we know?” Scott said. “Neither of us has a sister.”
“Let me put it this way,” Ed said. “I would not have been surprised if the next thing Patrick did, if I hadn’t interrupted them, was kiss her.”
Ava was expecting an FBI agent, so when one showed up at the back door with a suitcase, she wasn’t surprised.
“Agent Brown,” she said politely as she opened the door to him.
“Hi, Ava,” he said, and smiled at her.
“I’m booked up,” she said, refusing to be defrosted by his familiar manner.
“I have a reservation,” he said. “It’s under James Randolph.”
“Oh,” she said. “I see.”
He followed her through to the front parlor, where she checked in her guests. She went through the motions of checking him in without saying a word. He seemed comfortable enough with her silence, and she wasn’t willing to waste her hostess chit chat on him. She showed him to his room, the tiny single with a three quarter bath in the attic. He was so tall he could only stand up straight in the center of the room.
“If you need anything, press zero,” she said. “I’ll pick up.”
“Could I possibly have some coffee?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said, reminding herself he was a paying guest. “I’ll brew a fresh pot.”
Agent Jamie Brown had shown up in Ava’s kitchen one night the month before, while her husband was still at large. It was right after she’d been threatened by Mrs. Wells, Brian’s drug supplier, that if she didn’t cough up half a million dollars within thirty days something bad would happen to her children. Jamie was a tall, handsome man with dark eyes and hair, and he seemed kind and friendly, but the information he brought her was horrible and hard to believe.
Jamie had asked for her cooperation in the federal investigation and Ava knew she had no choice. He knew things he could only know if Ava’s home and phone were bugged. They struck a deal that allowed her to get custody of Little Fitz and Brian was apprehended. Although Jamie treated her with compassion and delicacy, once Brian was behind bars, Ava hoped never to see the agent again.
When Jamie came downstairs he had on jeans and a sweatshirt with “ARMY” printed on it. Ava poured him a mug of coffee and offered him a plate of muffins, cheese, and grapes.
“Thank you so much,” he said. “I’ve been driving all day and didn’t take the time to stop and eat.”
Ava softened a little toward him as her innate graciousness was stimulated, and she replenished the plate as soon as he finished all she’d offered.
“I guess you heard,” he said, in between bites.
“Oh, yes,” Ava said. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Have you seen or heard from him?”
“No.”
“How’s the baby?” he asked her.
“Fine. He’s upstairs sleeping,” she said, gesturing to a baby monitor on the kitchen counter.
“They’ve officially declared his wife’s death a homicide,” Jamie said.
“You said before you expected they would,” she said evenly, determined not to reveal anything by her expression. “But you didn’t tell me how it happened.”
“He took her scuba diving and came back without her. He reported her missing, and after they found her remains, he stayed long enough to get the death certificate so he could collect the life insurance. The police in Bimini were tipped off that he’d taken out a large insurance policy on her right before she died, but he fled with the baby before they could bring him in for questioning.
“The woman traveling with him, who was caring for the baby, had been working as a housekeeper for the wife, who was very wealthy. She’s back in Bimini now, and she was able to tell the police a lot of what happened before and after they fled. Evidently Brian cheated on the wife, she threatened to divorce him, he talked her around, and then they went scuba diving. The housekeeper said there was a prenup, and if he cheated he got nothing in a divorce.”
“So he killed her for the insurance money.”
“The authorities think so.”
“He abandoned the baby. He might have died.”
“If not for you,” Jamie said.
“Are you only investigating Brian because of what he did in Bimini?” Ava asked.
“No. That’s someone else’s investigation.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To talk to you about Mrs. Wells.”
Ava said nothing, just looked at him with as blank an expression as she could muster. She realized she was gripping the baby monitor so hard her fingertips were white. She took a deep breath and willed herself to stay calm.
“I know you applied for a home equity loan of half a million dollars, Ava, and I know that Brian owes Mrs. Wells that much. I’d like you to tell me about that.”
Ava felt her body start to tremble although she willed it to stop. She could feel a lump forming in her throat and tears stung her eyes.
“My children are my reason for living,” Ava said. “I won’t risk their lives because you want to catch a drug dealer.”
“Mrs. Wells is much more than a drug dealer, Ava. If we don’t put her behind bars and break up her business, there will be more death and destruction in this region than you can imagine. You may not know it, but there’s a war going on, a battle for territory, and she needs to show her enemies just how powerful she is. She’ll kill as many people as she has to just to make that point.”
“I just want to pay her off so she’ll go away.”
“But she won’t go away,” Jamie said. “She’ll come back for more money, or worse, for favors. You’ll never be free. You can’t even run away. She’ll threaten every person in this town that you love. She’s a sociopath. She has no conscience, no scruples.”
“Why don’t you arrest her?”
“We want to be sure our case is a slam dunk, and that takes time. We are so close, and if you cooperate, it will happen even faster.”
“What about my kids?”
“We won’t let anyone harm your children,” Jamie said.
“Those are just words,” she said. “They don’t mean anything.”
Jamie put his hand over Ava’s, which rested on the kitchen island.
“I promise to personally do everything I can to insure that you and your children are safe. Between the two of us, we can accomplish that.”
Ava felt as if the decision to cooperate had already been made, and all she could do was go along with it.
Scott knocked on Ava’s back door just then, and Ava let him in. He looked from Ava to Jamie, who stood and offered his hand while Ava introduced them. Scott shook the agent’s hand, and took a seat at the kitchen island, accepting the coffee that Ava offered.
“I trust Scott,” Ava told the agent. “I won’
t help you unless he’s involved.”
“I know all about Chief Gordon,” Jamie told her, and then to Scott, he said, “I was planning to bring you on board tomorrow, but we may as well get you up to speed tonight.”
Maggie closed the front door of Fitzpatrick’s Bakery and locked the door behind her. The streets of Rose Hill, which had felt so safe to her for most of her life, now seemed to be made up of places in which someone could hide and then jump out at her when she least expected it. She walked in the middle of the street instead of on the sidewalk, down two blocks and then left on Marigold Avenue toward the high wall that separated the Eldridge College campus from the town.
Her parents’ house was the last one on the block, and all the lights were on inside. As she opened the front door she happened to look back and saw the town’s only police cruiser coming down the street. Her first thought was that Scott was following her to make sure she was safe. Her second was that it was more likely the police were keeping an eye on her parents’ house in case Brian decided to come home.
Inside, her father, known as Fitz, her Grandpa Tim, and Uncles Curtis and Ian were watching the news on the television. Her father glanced at her briefly but didn’t seem to see her, and her Grandpa Tim winked.
Uncle Curtis nodded to her and Uncle Ian grabbed her hand as she walked by. She leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.
“Brian’s escape hasn’t been mentioned on the news yet,” he murmured.
In the kitchen her mother, Bonnie, eyes swollen, skin blotchy and a tissue clutched in her hand, was sitting at the kitchen table with Aunt Delia.
“Do you want tea?” Delia asked Maggie, who shook her head and sat down across from her mother.
“Your last words to him may well be those spoken in anger,” Bonnie said, glaring at her daughter. “Not many mothers can boast of having been kicked out of a prison, but I can, thanks to you.”
Delia clasped Maggie’s hand under the table and squeezed. Maggie bit back what she wanted to say and asked instead, “Have the police been here?”
“The state police were here,” Bonnie said. “They said Brian is considered armed and dangerous.”
“Has Scott been here?”
“He’s at Ava’s,” Delia said. “He’s going to stay there until Brian is found.”
Maggie felt a sharp stab of jealousy but was determined no one should see.
“That’s good,” she said. “At least we’ll know they’re safe.”
“As if he would harm his own flesh and blood,” Bonnie said. “I guess I’m the only person who still believes a man is innocent until proven guilty.”
Maggie, who knew way more about what Brian was capable of than their mother, resisted the temptation to enlighten her on her first born son’s greedy and murderous impulses. She could tell that far from consoling her mother, she was only agitating her, so she got up to leave. Of course, that was wrong, too.
“Don’t mind us,” Bonnie said. “We’ll let you know when they shoot your brother down like a rabid dog. I’m sure it will be in all the papers, if you’re interested. Will you be able to make the time to come to the funeral, do you think?”
Maggie walked out the back door and her Aunt Delia followed.
“She’s beside herself,” Delia started but Maggie interrupted.
“Don’t even try,” Maggie said. “She only becomes more who she is when she’s upset. This is when I get to see how she really feels, as if I didn’t already know.”
“I’m so sorry,” Delia said, and hugged her. “You’re a good girl, Mary Margaret, and you’ve been good to your family. She knows that. I don’t know why she can’t acknowledge it.”
“I was late getting here because I was running the bakery she walked out of this morning.”
“I know.”
“Will I need to open it tomorrow?”
“I’ll find out and let you know.”
“Has anyone called Sean?”
“He’s coming as soon as he can get away; it may be tomorrow or the next day. It’s complicated, he said, but he’ll be here.”
“That should please her. She likes him.”
Delia shook her head.
Maggie walked down the alley next to the wall that separated the college from the town. She walked all the way to the college entrance on Rose Hill Avenue without worrying about anyone jumping out at her. She thought the way she felt right now she could tear a man apart with her bare hands if he so much as looked at her funny. She walked around the block behind her store and went upstairs to her apartment without looking in on the staff. She was afraid of what she might say if anyone spoke to her.
The phone was ringing in her kitchen and she ran down the hall to answer it, but was too late. When she checked her voice mail a few minutes later there was a message from Scott.
“Hey Maggie, I know we aren’t on the best of terms right now, but if you need anything, I hope you know you can call. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I just want to help if I can. Bye.”
Maggie rested her forehead against the kitchen wall for a moment, wishing she could crawl through the telephone toward his warm, familiar voice. A pre-recorded voice asked her if she wanted to delete the message. She saved it.
The bar wasn’t busy, and only the local stalwarts were left come closing time. Mandy locked the front door after the last one tottered out, and Patrick began to put the chairs up on the tables so she could mop.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Patrick asked her.
“Nope,” she said.
She went in the restroom to fill the mop bucket and Patrick followed her.
“Ed being mean to you?” he asked. “I’ll kick his ass from here ‘til Sunday.”
“No,” Mandy said with a sigh. “Ed’s not bein’ mean to me.”
“It ain’t that time of the month, is it?” Patrick asked. “I got the calendar marked wrong if it is.”
“No!” Mandy said, and flicked water at him from the faucet in the utility sink.
“C’mon, Mandy,” Patrick said. “You were pretty upset earlier. You knocked up or something?”
“No,” Mandy said as she dunked the mop in the rolling bucket and pushed it past Patrick out into the bar. “I’ll figure it out myself. Don’t you worry ‘bout it.”
Patrick performed all the tasks of closing up the bar: counting the money in the till, locking the deposit and the base funds in the safe, and then gathering the trash to take to the dumpster. Mandy put on her coat and they left by the side door. He locked the door, hefted the trash bags and flung them in the dumpster in the alley behind the bar. He walked with Mandy down Iris Avenue, and stood outside Ed’s house with her. She seemed reluctant to go inside.
“If this isn’t working out,” Patrick told her, “you say the word and I’ll have you moved back in your trailer in no time.”
“I thought you liked living there,” she said.
“Oh, I’m not moving out,” Patrick said. “I’ll just make room for you and Tommy.”
“No thanks,” Mandy said. “I told you, don’t worry ‘bout it. I can take care of myself.”
“I mean it,” Patrick said as she walked down the path to the front door. “Just say the word. I won’t even beat him up if you don’t want me to.”
Mandy shook her head and then waved as she let herself in the door. Ed was sound asleep on the recliner in front of the television. He woke as she turned off the TV.
“Hey,” she said.
“I waited up,” he said.
“I’m beat,” she said. “Do you mind if we leave it until tomorrow?”
“Let’s leave it altogether,” Ed said. “I was just jealous when I saw you and Patrick. You have a right to your privacy and your own friends.”
He stood up and wrapped her in a bear hug, then kissed the top of her head.
“I don’t have to know everything,” he said. “But if I can help in any way, I hope you’ll let me know.”
Mandy said, “Okay.”
All Margie demanded was that Mandy pretend to be her friend in return for her silence. Mandy put her off for a long time, until finally Margie threatened to reveal what she suspected. When Margie disappeared after mailing several poison pen letters, Mandy was worried. When Hannah found Margie’s body in a snowdrift at the Winter Festival, Mandy was ashamed at how relieved she felt.
Later, lying in bed beside a snoring Ed, Mandy stared at the ceiling and let the tears roll down onto the pillow beneath her head. The old feelings of desperation and despair returned and she wondered what she could do. The problem was she’d been Miranda for so long she’d almost forgotten what it was like to be Melissa. Lying in the dark, crying softly to herself, she remembered.
When Scott knocked on Ian Fitzpatrick’s front door, the recently retired police chief answered right away. Scott knew that Ian was a night owl, and through the window he’d seen the flickering blue glow of the television in their living room.
“Come in, come in,” Ian said. “It’s good to see you, son.”
Scott entered the modest house Ian shared with his wife Delia and followed his former boss to the kitchen. Ian filled the tea kettle and turned on the gas ring.
“Sorry to come by so late,” Scott said. “I’m in a tough spot and I need to talk it through. I hope you don’t mind.”
Ian put two mugs on the table and dropped a tea bag in each. He sat down across from Scott and took the lid off the sugar bowl.
“I’m always glad to help you, Scott,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
“While going through the mail Margie stole I found out something about Mandy, something serious enough that Margie was blackmailing her over it.”
“Is this about Melissa Wright?” Ian asked.
Scott sat back in surprise as the kettle began to whistle. Ian got up, turned off the gas ring, and poured hot water into each mug.
Iris Avenue Page 6