Raining Cats & Dogs (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

by Laurien Berenson

  “So you bolted.”

  “I ran like the dickens.” Michael shifted uncomfortably on the shiny vinyl cushion. “Sylvia and some of the others will tell you that I left like a thief in the night. That I never even stopped to explain or say good-bye, but that isn’t true. I spoke with my mother. She knew I was doing what I felt I had to do. At the time, I was sure she understood, maybe even supported me.”

  “And later?”

  Michael snorted derisively. “Later came along pretty damn quickly. The way I heard it, I hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours before the shit hit the fan. And since I wasn’t there to protect her, my mother got the brunt of it. Recriminations from just about everyone else in the family about what a spoiled, ungrateful child she’d raised.”

  “Did you think about returning at that point?”

  “I might have, but I’d already left the country. It didn’t even occur to me that her own relatives would turn on her like that. While she was listening to their vitriol, I was on a plane to Paris, making plans to bum around Europe. I didn’t have a clue what was going on back home.”

  “Mary never called and told you?”

  “Don’t forget, we’re talking twenty years ago. No cell phones, no laptop computers. Everything wasn’t easy access like it is now. When I left, I told my mother I’d get in touch after a while and let her know how I was doing. In the meantime, she wouldn’t have had any way of finding me. I fired off a few postcards and went backpacking in Spain. Probably a month passed before I got around to calling home.”

  “After all that time your mother must have been worried about you,” I commented.

  Michael stared at me across the table. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re really thinking. That I took the coward’s way out and left my mother to pick up the pieces.”

  “Well…”

  “I was twenty-two, okay? Maybe I didn’t make the best decision at the time. But I had no idea that everything was going to blow up in both our faces. By the time I called home, the relatives had already had plenty of opportunity to work on her. They’d managed to convince her that I was the selfish, disloyal jerk they all wanted to believe I was.

  “One thing I have to say for the Livingstons, when you’re a member of the family, they’ll do anything for you. But they view the world strictly from their own perspective, and they’re a pretty unforgiving bunch. Once they begin to see you as an outsider, you’re done as far as they’re concerned. They don’t want anything more to do with you.”

  “So you only intended to be gone for a couple of months, but while you were away, the family ostracized you.”

  “That’s about it.” Michael frowned, whether at the memory or his near-empty glass, it was hard to tell. He tipped back his head and drained the last of the drink.

  “Be right back,” he said. He got up and carried his glass to the bar for a refill.

  Before meeting him, I’d thought of Michael as the villain. His story portrayed him as the victim. Of course, I was only hearing one side. Too bad, I thought, that I’d never be able to find out how Mary had felt about all this. She was the linchpin around whom the entire episode had revolved. And now, she was the one who was dead.

  I tried to imagine a circumstance in which Davey might do something so unforgivable that I could be convinced to disown him. I couldn’t make it happen. No matter what, he would always be my son. I’d find a way to bring him back, and if that wasn’t possible, I’d go to him.

  Michael slipped back into the seat opposite me. His glass was full, and he’d swiped a bowl of unshelled peanuts from the bar. “Protein,” he said, pushing it toward me.

  “And lots of fat.” I scooped out a couple anyway.

  “Live it up.” He stopped and sighed. “That was one of my mother’s favorite sayings. She was a big believer in getting the most out of every day, so that you wouldn’t be left with any regrets later on. And now the irony is that I was so busy living my life that I’m left with the biggest regret of all. That I never got to see her again before she died.”

  He looked utterly swamped by remorse. And yet…

  “Twenty years is a long time,” I said.

  “Livingstons tend to carry a grudge.”

  “You’re a Livingston. Does that include you?”

  “I guess so. They wouldn’t forgive me, and I refused to forgive them. So we reached an impasse, and neither one of us tried hard enough to get across it.”

  “So what finally brought you back to Greenwich after all this time?”

  Michael reached for the bowl and dragged it toward him. He pulled out a peanut and went to work. The shells on mine had popped right off. Michael made a production of his.

  “I guess there was some guilt involved,” he said finally.

  “A sudden attack of conscience?”

  “No. More like a sudden realization that nobody lives forever.”

  “Your mother had been in Winston Pumpernill for quite a while. Had her health recently taken a turn for the worse?”

  “It wasn’t my mother I was worried about,” Michael said softly. “You met her. You know what she was like. I thought she would always be there.”

  “Then who…” I began, then abruptly stopped. The answer was staring me right in the face.

  “Colon cancer,” said Michael. “Caught early, prognosis good. But still it makes you stop and reevaluate.”

  Yes, I thought. It would.

  “Did your mother know?”

  “Of course not. I was going to tell her. But for obvious reasons I wanted to do it in person. That’s partly why I came back, and also why I wanted so badly to see her.”

  “Your relatives think you came back for your mother’s money.”

  Michael was holding a peanut between his fingers. He squeezed the shell so hard that the nut shot out and skittered away across the table. “My relatives have been wrong before.”

  “Now that your mother’s gone, have you told your family about your illness?”

  “I haven’t told them a damn thing. Which is exactly what they deserve. You want to tell them, that’s up to you. I guess maybe they ought to know. Though now, with the Livingstons being the only reason I didn’t have the opportunity to see my mother before she died, I’m in no mood to extend any olive branches myself. That’s why I figured I’d talk to you. You want to pass the news along, feel free. Maybe that will finally end this acrimony once and for all.”

  I swallowed heavily. No wonder Michael had thought this was his meeting. He’d been the one orchestrating the flow of information and dropping all the bombshells. I’d merely been along for the ride.

  “They know where I’m staying. They have my phone number.” Michael levered his arms on the table. He pushed himself up and out of the booth. “Anyone wants to get in touch with me, they know how to find me.”

  I was in my car driving home before it occurred to me that I’d forgotten to ask him about the note he’d had passed to Mary Livingston. I still didn’t know what it had contained, or why it had upset her so much.

  18

  I didn’t call any of the Livingstons to tell them what I’d learned from my conversation with Michael. For one thing, despite what he’d said, I didn’t feel it was my place to convey news of that magnitude. For another, I had no desire to get involved in their internal family squabbles.

  Perhaps it was my silence that caused Paul to waylay me outside class on Thursday evening. He and Cora walked up as I was unloading Faith from the car. It didn’t appear to be a chance meeting. I got the impression they’d been waiting for our arrival.

  “Let’s walk a bit,” he said.

  I glanced at my watch. We had about five minutes to spare and several other people had yet to go inside. “Sure. Let me just hook up Faith’s leash.”

  The Poodle danced in anticipation while I tried to snap the lead to the small choke collar loop that was buried in her thick neck hair. She loved going to class. It gave her time alone with me and a chance to perf
orm in front of an audience; it also made her think. For a Poodle, a combination like that was pretty much nirvana.

  Paul watched impatiently for a few seconds, then strolled away, leading Cora onto the grassy verge beside the parking lot. A small stone wall separated the Y property from the middle school playing fields next door. They climbed the wall, hopped down the other side, then kept walking. Finally catching the loop and securing the lead, Faith and I hurried to catch up.

  “It’s been a week,” Paul said when I settled into stride beside him. “I want to know what you’ve found out.”

  His tone was curt, almost preemptive, as if he thought I owed him answers. That, plus the fact that I hadn’t found out very much, was enough to get my hackles up. Paul hadn’t asked me to look into Mary’s murder; he’d merely acquiesced grudgingly. Not only that, but he’d likened my detecting skills to those of a hotline psychic. By my count, I didn’t owe him much of anything.

  “A week isn’t very long,” I said.

  “It’s long enough. Or at least it should be. I know you saw Michael.”

  “Really? How?”

  “Your aunt got his phone number from my mother.”

  “That doesn’t mean I called him.”

  Abruptly, Paul stopped walking. “Look, let’s stop dancing around here. I know you had a drink with my cousin, okay? I’m sure he told you some sad story about how the family had treated him abominably and he only wanted what was best for his mother. Knowing Michael, he probably never mentioned a thing about his own failings.”

  “Michael told me he’d been out of touch with your family for more than twenty years.”

  “So?”

  I’d stopped when Paul had. Now I resumed walking, and he was forced to follow if he wanted to hear what I had to say. “So you must have been a teenager when he left. I’m surprised you would think you know him or what he might be likely to do.”

  “Some people don’t change.”

  “Maybe they’re not given the opportunity.”

  Paul scowled. “I guess he really got to you, didn’t he?”

  “I have no idea what you mean by that. In fact, I’m not sure I even want to know. Frankly, I’m still wondering how you know that Michael and I met for a drink.”

  “You have no idea—”

  “Who I’m dealing with?” My tone was snide. It matched my mood. “You make that sound ominous.”

  “That wasn’t my intention.” Paul moderated his voice. He reached out and laid a hand on my arm. Like we were friends, buddies even. “I just don’t want you to get sucked into one of Michael’s deceptions. First meeting, he comes off like a great guy. But once you get to know him better, you realize that you can’t trust a word he says. It’s nothing new; he’s always been like that.”

  I slid a sidelong glance in Paul’s direction. Either Michael had been lying to me on Monday, or Paul was lying to me now. I wondered which one it was.

  “All he wanted was to come home and see his mother,” I said. “I’m not sure I understand why your entire family had to be involved in that decision.”

  “For starters, Greenwich wasn’t Michael’s home anymore. He took care of that a long time ago. On top of that, Aunt Mary’s health was fragile. That was why she was living at Winston Pumpernill, where she would have around-the-clock access to medical care. Everyone in my family loved Aunt Mary. Of course we would see it as our duty to protect her.”

  “From her own son?”

  “If need be.”

  “Mary knew Michael was back,” I said. “She wanted to see him.”

  “I’m sure my cousin would say that now, since there’s no way to refute his claim.”

  “Michael isn’t the only one who said so. Mary’s friends at Winston Pumpernill told me the same thing.”

  Paul gazed at me speculatively. “I guess you have been busier than you let on. What else do you know?”

  “I know that Mary was planning to meet with Michael the day after she was killed, and that your family would have done almost anything to prevent that meeting from taking place.”

  “Now you’re the one who’s beginning to sound ominous.” A smile twitched at the corners of Paul’s lips. “Surely you don’t think anyone in my family had anything to do with her death.”

  “Last time we spoke, one thing you did mention was that your Aunt Mary had a great deal of money. Money your mother seems to think Michael needed and might have been trying to gain access to. And, oddly enough, when we talked at the memorial service, you neglected to mention your cousin at all.”

  “Maybe I didn’t think he was important.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Then why are we having this conversation?”

  It was Paul’s turn to look annoyed. “Maybe because I want to cover all the bases?”

  “Consider them covered.” I gave Faith’s leash a gentle tug and turned around. Everyone else had already gone inside. “We should get back. We’re going to miss the beginning of class.”

  “Steve never starts on time,” Paul replied, but he and Cora circled back, too.

  If I was ever going to tell him about Michael’s illness, I thought, now was the time. Maybe the news would help smooth relations between Michael and his relatives. Except that now Paul had managed to plant just enough doubt in my mind to keep me from blurting out what I knew.

  Had I been duped? Was Michael Livingston a liar? Unfortunately, I had no idea.

  I hate it when that happens.

  We came to the wall; Paul clambered over it first, then reached back a gentlemanly hand to help me balance on the rocks. Cora scrambled over, leaping from stone to stone, while Faith merely jumped the low obstacle with her customary grace.

  “How are the police coming with their investigation?” I asked when we were all on the other side.

  Paul shrugged noncommitally. “It’s not as if they feel any compunction to keep us informed. Our attorneys have to keep checking in with them, and even then I suspect there’s a whole lot they’re not telling us. From what we understand, they’re pursuing the possibility that drugs might have been involved.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “Why do they think that?”

  “You know, since it was a medical facility, where all sorts of controlled substances might potentially have been available.”

  “Yes, but…” From my admittedly limited experience, when crimes were committed, the police often suspected there was some sort of drug connection. That was either a sad commentary on our current society or else on the narrow-mindedness of law enforcement. “Your aunt seems like an unlikely candidate to have been involved with drugs.”

  “I won’t argue with you there. Truthfully, I think they’re just baffled, and it’s the only thing they can come up with. They may be spinning their wheels, but at least it makes them look like they’re doing something.”

  “Lynn Stephanopolus told me Winston Pumpernill does background checks on all their staff.”

  Paul nodded. “I’d imagine that must be standard these days.”

  “But I’ve also heard that one of the orderlies can be bribed to smuggle things in and out.”

  We’d reached the building. Paul pulled the door and held it open so Faith and I could precede him into the hallway. “Who told you that?”

  “I gather it’s common knowledge.” My answer was purposely vague. No way was I going to rat out my sources. “Even Michael, after all, was able to find a way to contact his mother after you and your relatives tried to block him.”

  Before Paul could reply, Faith and I ducked through the doorway into the classroom. I threw my things down on the nearest chair and joined the group of dogs and handlers already lined up along the mat. Paul stared after me for a moment, then found a place for Cora and himself at the other end of the line.

  “Well, Kelly,” Steve said, flicking a glance in my direction, “I guess you’re going to have to relinquish your title as the lateness queen.”

  “Sorry.” I maneuvered Faith into heeli
ng position at my side. “I got caught up in a conversation and forgot what time it was.”

  “Good excuse,” Steve nodded, playing to the crowd. “That’s why we all come to this class once a week, isn’t it people? For the good conversation?”

  The question produced a laugh, as it was meant to. But somehow that didn’t ease the unexpected tension that seemed to be eddying between us. I wondered if Steve expected me to apologize again.

  Instead, I lifted my chin and said, “I’m ready now.”

  He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Thank God for small favors. Everyone else?”

  Handlers looked down and checked their dogs. Only a beginner made the mistake of assuming that his dog was where he’d been placed moments earlier without checking to make sure.

  “Ready,” several people called back. Others nodded their agreement.

  “Forward,” Steve said. We all gave our dogs the command to heel and the line began to move.

  “Don’t pay any attention to Steve,” Julie said to me over her shoulder. She and Jack were directly in front of us. They were striding out; Faith and I had to really move to keep up. “He’s got a bug up his butt for some reason this evening. Before you walked in, he was picking on Stacey. I’m sure she was thrilled to see you two show up late and take the heat off of her.”

  Rounding a corner, I glanced down and monitored Faith’s position. Since she was on the inside, it would have been easy for her to forge ahead for a step or two, but she’d seen the turn coming and moderated her pace so that her shoulder remained even with my thigh.

  “Do you know what he’s upset about?”

  “Not me.” Julie gave her head a small shake. While I’d been checking on Faith, she’d been staring at Steve. The line was long enough to fill nearly half the matted floor, and he had his back to us as he watched the handlers on the other side. “I don’t have the patience to deal with Steve’s moods. When he starts getting pissy, I just try and stay out of his way.”