by Lee Hollis
Frances stepped forward, a hand on her belly. “What did he say to you that made you so suspicious of him?”
“Maisie had posted some things about him in the early days of her Dirty Laundry site, and I’m just questioning everyone she had written about.”
“What kind of things?”
“He asked me not to say.”
Frances scoffed. “He didn’t want you to tell me?”
Maya nodded slightly.
“Fine. I don’t care. You don’t have to tell me. What I do know is that he had nothing to do with Maisie’s death.”
“I know, I was just being my usual—”
Frances cut her off. “How could you for one minute think Vinnie was capable of harming anyone?”
“It’s what I do. I can’t help—”
“I think we’ve got the rest of this. There are only a few boxes left in the truck. You can go.”
“Frances—”
“Thanks for the coffee and doughnuts.”
Maya opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. She knew it was pointless, because once Frances was on a tear, there was no calming her. It was best to let her cool down until she called and apologized for overreacting. They had been through it so many times before.
So Maya just gave her partner a shrug and a thin smile and walked out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
When Maya unlocked the door to her apartment and entered, she instinctively knew she was not alone. There was a Cardi B song playing on the Alexa speaker, and Maya heard soft moaning coming from the living room. Her guard instantly came up. Vanessa had told her that morning that she would be at her friend Kristy’s house, studying for a chemistry test, but that story was quickly disproved when Maya entered the living room to find Vanessa sprawled out on the couch with Ryan lying on top of her, their lips locked and their bodies gyrating. The only saving grace of the situation was that both teens were fully clothed, at least at this point.
Maya loudly cleared her throat, startling them both, and Ryan quickly sprang up from the couch, wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm before extending a hand and smiling at Maya. “Hello, Mrs. Kendrick. Nice to see you again.”
Maya glanced down at Vanessa, who had a hand stuffed down the front of her shirt, frantically adjusting her bra.
As most teenagers do when caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing, Vanessa adopted a confrontational tone as she glared at her mother. “What are you doing here? I thought you were helping Frances move!”
“I was. I got done early,” Maya said flatly.
“Oh,” Vanessa said. “Well, you could have called and told me.”
“Are we really doing this? Shifting the blame to me because you lied about where you were going to be today, and now I’ve walked in on you sucking face with your boyfriend and about to do God only knows what else?”
Vanessa straightened her shirt and rolled her eyes at her mother. “Mom, please!”
Maya ignored her. She turned to Ryan. “And where did you tell your mother you would be right now?”
Ryan wavered a moment, not sure if he should admit to a lie, but then, giving up, sighed. “Cast photo shoot for the school newspaper.”
Maya raised an eyebrow.
Ryan threw up his hands defensively. “Which is technically true. We did have a cast photo shoot after school today. But it only took ten minutes, so when we were done Dylan dropped us off here where we could . . . hang out.”
“Hang out?” Maya asked, folding her arms.
“Yeah. . . .” Ryan nodded, wincing.
“Maybe you ought to go home now, Ryan,” Maya suggested.
“Yes. Good idea. Thank you,” Ryan said, nodding again and heading for the door.
“Mom, he doesn’t have a car, and it’s over a three-mile walk to his house,” Vanessa complained.
“What about an Uber?” Maya offered.
“My mom canceled my credit card after I took a bunch of my friends to Ruth’s Chris Steak House after play rehearsal last spring, so my app doesn’t have an up-to-date payment method.”
Maya certainly was not going to pay for this kid’s ride herself. She reached for her cell phone.
Vanessa looked worried. “Who are you calling?”
“His mother. We exchanged numbers when we went out for pizza the other night,” Maya answered.
“Mom, no! Don’t bother Mrs. Wallage! She’s a very busy woman!” Vanessa pleaded.
“So am I,” Maya growled.
Ryan kept his eyes fixed on the floor. He knew not to argue with Maya. She was intimidating enough as it was.
The call went directly to voice mail. Maya waited for the beep and then calmly spoke. “Hi, Sandra, this is Maya Kendrick. Your son is here and has no way of getting home, so if you wouldn’t mind swinging by and picking him up at some point, I sure would appreciate it. Thank you.” She ended the call. “Now why don’t we watch a little TV while we wait for her to call back.”
Vanessa and Ryan sat down on the couch, frustrated. Vanessa reluctantly picked up the remote and turned on a movie channel that was playing one of those old Lord of the Rings movies.
Without missing a beat, Maya sat down, squeezing in between them, to keep them physically apart, her eyes glued to the television set. “I don’t think I’ve seen this one.”
Sandra called back fifteen minutes later to tell Maya she had just arrived home and could be there in twenty minutes. Sandra arrived soon after, bearing a casserole dish, which she held out to Maya when she answered the door. “I know you are out working on your cases all day long, so I thought it might be nice if you didn’t have to think about dinner tonight. This is one of my mother’s recipes. Ham, potato, and broccoli casserole.”
“You are too sweet,” Maya said, smiling, accepting the gesture.
“You just need to heat it up at three hundred and fifty degrees for about thirty minutes. I figured you don’t need my help with the actual investigating, but maybe I could be useful making things a little easier on you by helping this way.”
Genuinely touched, Maya smiled. “Thank you, Sandra, it looks delicious.”
Sandra, still standing in the doorway, leaned in closer to Maya. “What did you catch them doing? Please tell me they used protection. . . .”
“They didn’t get that far thankfully,” Maya sighed. “But if I hadn’t come home early, there’s no telling what kinds of questions we’d have to be asking now.”
“I let his father explain to him about the birds and the bees, so who knows how helpful that information was. Do people still say the birds and the bees?”
“I know I do,” Maya said, smiling. “Please, come in.”
Sandra entered, marching toward the living room, where Ryan and Vanessa sat upright on the couch, at least twelve inches between them so as not to arouse any more ire in their respective mothers.
“Come on, let’s go,” Sandra said quietly as Ryan shot up to his feet to follow his mother out the door.
Maya looked down at the casserole she was holding and then back up at Sandra. “Vanessa and I couldn’t possibly eat all this. Why don’t you two stay for dinner. I mean, if you don’t have to get home right away?”
Sandra thought about it for a second. “No, we don’t have to get home. Jack is out with some teammates tonight. We’d love to stay, wouldn’t we, Ryan?”
Ryan looked as if he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer. Was his mother just being polite? Was this some kind of trap? Was there a correct answer? He ultimately decided the best course of action was to just shrug and follow his mother’s lead. “Sure.”
“Great,” Maya said before turning to her daughter. “Vanessa, why don’t you set two more places at the table?”
Vanessa, who was still shell-shocked by what was happening, not sure what to make of this growing friendship between her own mother and the mother of her boyfriend, simply nodded and walked like a zombie into the kitchen and began rifling through the silverware drawer
.
Ryan and Vanessa stayed relatively silent throughout dinner, mostly just exchanging nervous glances, not sure what the fallout would ultimately be for getting caught lying in order to pave the way for them to fool around. Maya and Sandra, on the other hand, were chatty and gregarious, and Maya finally had to admit to herself that she was really starting to like this woman, this woman she had very little in common with. That day, especially, Maya needed someone to talk to, after Frances had unceremoniously kicked her out of her apartment, and Sandra not only seemed to be a sympathetic ear, but she brought dinner to boot.
When Maya stood up to clear the plates and pour them some coffee, she excused Ryan and Vanessa and told them they could adjourn to the living room. But she also warned them that she had excellent hearing and would be able to hear any smacking lips or soft moaning.
“You never know, I might even have a nanny cam installed somewhere, so think about that when you consider entwining any body parts.”
Red-faced, Vanessa threw her head back dramatically. “Stop embarrassing me!”
Ryan actually chuckled over that one, but his smile quickly faded when he glanced over at his own mother, who stared at him, stone-faced. “I won’t try anything, I promise.”
“You better not,” Sandra warned. She tended to believe him, but there was a tiny part of her that didn’t trust him. After all, he had been swimming in his father’s gene pool.
The kids walked out of the little dining area and disappeared into the living room, leaving the two mothers to talk some more.
Sandra listened as Maya quickly explained that she had an argument with Frances earlier that day, not getting into too many details. Sandra offered a few words of encouragement, how it would probably blow over soon, and how envious Sandra was of Maya’s strong bond with Frances, both as partners and as friends.
Maya explained to Sandra that Frances could oftentimes be mercurial and self-absorbed, and when Maya herself had first met Sandra, she thought—as a fancy U.S. senator’s wife—she would be the stereotype of one of those ladies who lunch, a shallow fashionista, obsessed with her image. But Sandra had surprised her. She was nothing like that. In fact, in some ways, Maya envied Sandra. She had financial security. Something Maya sorely lacked at the moment. And she told her so.
Sandra laughed bitterly. “I guess that’s something.”
Maya hadn’t seen this side of Sandra before. She had always been so positive and perky, but now she appeared angry.
Sandra finally snapped back into the moment and touched Maya’s hand. “Well, I have to say, I admire, no, I’m downright jealous of, your independence.”
“I didn’t ask for it,” Maya snickered. “When they carted my husband off to prison, it was sort of forced upon me.”
“Well, I wish I had more of it. I’d trade half my financial security for just a smidgen of your independence.”
“Right back at you,” Maya said quietly.
Sandra leaned back, making sure the kids were out of earshot, and then, satisfied they couldn’t hear, leaned toward Maya. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
“About what?” Maya asked, though she strongly suspected what Sandra was talking about.
Sandra sighed. “The whole Stephen thing. Deep down I knew you were right. I just wasn’t ready to accept that he had lied to me again.”
“Again?” Maya asked, quickly regretting it the second the word rolled off her tongue.
Sandra nodded. “It’s not the first time. In fact, I’m not sure if it’s the second, or third, or twentieth time. I decided to brush all those negative thoughts under the carpet for years, not really wanting to know. Sometimes it’s easier to just stay in the dark.”
“And now? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Sandra said solemnly. “I honestly don’t know.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Maya hadn’t finished her first cup of coffee that she had picked up at Starbucks on her way into the office before there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer, Chelsea Portman blew in, bedazzled in expensive jewelry, a smart tight-fitting pink top that boasted a smidge too much cleavage and dark blue-tinted sunglasses that hid her eyes even though the window shades were drawn and there was very little light seeping into the cramped office.
“Chelsea, I thought you were in New York,” Maya said, jumping to her feet and scurrying around her desk to greet her. “I was going to call you.”
“Good, because I’ve been waiting for what seems like forever for some kind of update, and I’m still waiting,” Chelsea sniffed, more than a little perturbed.
Maya geared down into her professional mode, calmly reassuring the client. “We’ve been following up on a few leads, talking to a few people, and should know more by the end of the week.”
“That sounds like detectivespeak for ‘we have nothing to report so far,’” Chelsea growled, lowering the sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose so Maya could see the displeasure in her eyes.
Maya tried to make direct eye contact, but Chelsea had already pushed the sunglasses back up to shield her eyes. “We’ve made some headway, I promise. We just need a little more time.”
“We? You keep talking about we, but I’ve never met anyone else but you,” Chelsea exclaimed.
“My partner, Frances, is pregnant—eight months, in fact—so she’s been out of the office a lot, but l can assure you she’s heavily involved in the investigation.”
“That really doesn’t appear to be the case,” Chelsea barked. “I try to be nice; I work hard not to allow myself to be taken advantage of, but I always wind up disappointed. I’m paying you a handsome fee for results, Maya, and I’m starting to lose my patience.”
Starting?
Maya held her breath, waiting for the inevitable ax to fall.
“If your partner is AWOL, then I suggest you find someone else to help you, otherwise I will have no choice but to enlist another detective agency to find the answers I’m looking for,” Chelsea warned. “An agency that boasts more than just one harried, overworked investigator.”
Maya silently breathed a sigh of relief. She was not going to get fired. Yet. Which was definitely a good thing, because she desperately needed this case.
“Am I making myself clear?” Chelsea asked.
“Crystal,” Maya said, wondering what happened to the charming young woman who had breezed into her office to hire her a week ago.
“Thank you. You have my number. Call me. Soon,” Chelsea said before dramatically whipping around like a seasoned soap actress and marching back out the door, effectively slamming it shut behind her.
Maya rubbed her eyes. She was already tired, and the day had barely started. Chelsea was right. The client was always right. She needed to get some results and fast, or she was going to lose her biggest client. Okay, if she was being honest with herself, pretty much her only client. She just couldn’t afford that. And with Frances not speaking to her after the Coach Vinnie debacle, she was working this important case solo. She needed help. And she knew who she could call to get it. But if she did, Maya felt in her gut that there would be no turning back. It would be like bringing a puppy home from the pound temporarily to see how it adjusted but knowing you could never take it back once he staked out his territory.
Still, she didn’t have a choice.
Maya picked up her phone and made the call.
* * *
Sandra arrived within a half hour. It was almost as if she had been waiting by the phone, ready to suit up like Wonder Woman and fly over in her invisible plane to answer the distress call. She even had time to stop for bagels and more coffee, and before Maya even had the chance to slather some cream cheese on her poppy-seed bagel with a plastic knife, Sandra had already rolled up her sleeves and was sifting through a pile of Maisie Portman’s personal papers that Maya had taken from Maisie’s apartment without Chelsea’s knowledge. Maya considered asking for permission, but she was worried Chelsea might not ag
ree if they were too personal, so she just casually slipped them inside her briefcase and walked out with them. Frances had promised to go through them but never did. Frances had always been better at reviewing paperwork than Maya. But Sandra was a speed-reader, absorbing the tiniest details in seconds. It was truly amazing to watch.
“Have you always been able to read this fast?” Maya asked, impressed.
Sandra nodded. “When I was twelve, I must have read a hundred books during my summer vacation, and after I married Stephen, he’d send me the bills he had to vote on. Sometimes they were close to a thousand pages, and I’d tell him exactly what was in them by the time he finished watching his cable news shows at night.”
Sandra could barely contain her excitement. She was so enthusiastic, in fact, that Maya felt the need to tamp it down just a bit. “This is not a permanent situation though, Sandra, I could just use another set of eyes until Frances gets back.”
“I totally understand,” Sandra said, before looking up with concern. “I hope there are no complications with her pregnancy.”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. She is just feeling a bit overwhelmed as the due date gets closer,” Maya lied.
“Well, been there, done that. In my last trimester with Ryan, I could barely get off the couch.”
“Don’t you want a bagel?” Maya asked, pushing the plate toward her.
Sandra waved her off as she studied some papers. “I already ate two on my way over here. So Chelsea didn’t know you took these papers from Maisie’s apartment?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s just that I came across a life-insurance policy.”
Sandra handed the stapled papers to Maya, who perused them.
“It’s for one point two million dollars,” Sandra said. “And take a look at the primary beneficiary.”
Maya scanned down the page. “Chelsea Portman.”
“The sister. Your client,” Sandra said, tapping her finger on the desk a few times.
Maya wrinkled her nose. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would Chelsea go to the trouble of hiring me to prove her sister was murdered if she was the one who did it? Why not just keep quiet and collect a big fat check once the police ruled Maisie’s death a suicide?”