He wasn’t sure what to say to her. While she spoke with the attorney, he’d waited in the family room, watching television and playing dinosaurs with Connor. She and Michael talked for over two hours alone. He desperately wanted to know what was said.
He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and rocked back on his heels. “How did everything go?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow.
“Fine.” She tossed the pinecone back into the bowl, and placed her hands between her knees.
“Are you ready to go back to Stapleton tomorrow?” He felt strange standing there, kicking the edge of the area rug, so he sat down on the other end of the couch.
“Honestly, no.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “I mean, I’m ready to stop running away, but I’m not ready to see people I thought I had left behind for good. I’m going to have to face them, and the only thing I have to shield me from their hatred is my flimsy story.”
Steven swallowed. “But your flimsy story is the truth.” He didn’t mean to sound so unsure.
“Yes. But I’m not ready to face William’s parents. I can’t even imagine what they think of me. I took off, and they don’t even know they have a grandchild. They were never very nice to me when I was just their daughter-in-law. Now I’m their son’s suspected murderer. Then there’s his best friend Vincent. He was always so kind to me, but I doubt he’s going to be throwing a parade when he sees me.”
“Emily, Richard messed with your head. He made you believe you were to blame, he forced you to leave town, manipulated you, and God only knows what else he did to you.”
She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. “He never touched me.”
Part of him felt relieved to hear this, but another part felt annoyed. “And here you are, rushing to his defense. What power does this man have over you, to do these things to you, and still you can’t see him for what he is?”
Emily picked up the pine cone again, squeezing it, and rolling it between her palms. “I know Richard. He has problems you and I could never begin to understand. He moved in with his grandmother when he was only ten years old, because his father beat his mother until she lay in a lifeless heap, and then blew his own brains out with a revolver. Richard saw the whole thing.”
Steven closed his eyes for a few moments. “That’s horrible.” He almost felt sorry for Richard. Almost.
She nodded. “He’s always felt responsible for what happened to his mother.”
He pressed his fingers together, and tapped his chin. “Still, that’s no excuse for murder.”
“I understand that. I’m actually surprised he had it in him, to murder William I mean. He’s usually all bark and no bite.” She began to twist and pull the scales off the pine cone.
“What are you saying, that you think Richard didn’t kill William?” he asked, leaning a little closer to her.
“No, I’m sure he did. He must have snapped when he saw the bruises on my face. I’ve just never seen him strike another person. When he gets mad, he’ll yell, throw things, punch the wall, and scare the daylights out of me, but I’ve never seen him hurt anyone.”
“How can you say you haven’t seen him hurt anyone? There’s more than one way to abuse.”
She looked down at her hands, and whispered, “You’re right. He has hurt a lot of people.” What used to be a pine cone was being twisted into an unrecognizable shape.
“You know, that pine cone cost me three hundred dollars.”
Her mouth dropped open, and Steven laughed, putting his hands up. “Just kidding.”
She smirked, leaned over and punched him in the arm. “Very funny.”
******
Theodore Grant felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn’t believe the conversation he’d just had on the phone.
Priscilla turned her head his way. He could tell her interest was piqued. “Who was that, darling?”
He cleared his throat. “Jim Bradley.”
“What did Jim want?” She put the book she was reading in her lap and took off her glasses.
“Um, he wanted to let us know that Emily has been found, and she is being brought in for questioning tomorrow.”
Priscilla gasped. “Where on earth did they find her?”
He rubbed his temples. This was not going to be easy. “I don’t know, dear. I think she called to turn herself in.”
She pursed her lips together in a tight line. “So, she admits to killing our son?”
“No, actually she’s bringing a lawyer, and says she has an alibi for the time of the murder.”
“Poppycock. Everyone knows she killed William. Who does she think she’s going to fool?”
Theodore’s stomach lurched. He didn’t want to think about what Emily would be saying when she arrived in town tomorrow. How much did she know? He stood up and slapped the table. “I don’t know, but something must be done about it.”
Chapter Twenty
Emily felt like a child being led into the hotel lobby. Steven had insisted he come with her to Stapleton to get her situated, as he had put it, but she strongly suspected he was making sure she didn’t bolt. She was beginning to resent him immensely, but she hardly felt like she could tell him off, with everything he’d done for her. Her attorney stood at the counter ahead of them checking in. Connor quietly clung to her hand, observing everything.
“Emily? Emily Grant?”
Startled, she turned to see who was calling her name. Vincent rushed toward her, a briefcase in his hand.
“Vincent?” He had lost weight since the last time she had seen him. He still wore a full mustache, but his dark hair was thinner and cropped shorter than he used to wear it. “You look fabulous.”
“Emily!” He opened his arms, pulled her into a large embrace, and relief washed over her. “It’s been ages. How are you?” He took a step back.
“I’m fine. How have you been? Did you and Ashley get married as planned?”
“No, things didn’t work out. She moved to Long Beach to be closer to her family.”
She frowned. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
His eyes traveled over her, then flickered to Connor standing there holding her hand. A look of surprise came over his face for a brief moment, and then it was gone. “And who is this young man?”
Connor puffed out his chest. “I’m Connor.”
“Nice to meet you, Connor.” He turned back to Emily. “He looks just like…”
“Yes, he does, doesn’t he?”
Vincent’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe it. It’s so good to see you. What are you doing here?”
She felt her face grow hot. “I’m here to deal with what happened to William.” Saying his name out loud brought an uncomfortable silence to settle on them, which didn’t disperse until Steven coughed.
“I’m sorry, Vincent; this is Steven. Steven, this is my old friend Vincent.”
Steven stepped toward Vincent and they shook hands. Emily detected a slight scowl on Steven’s face, but then he smiled and said, “Nice to meet you.”
Vincent looked from Emily to Steven, then back again. “Are you two...?”
“No.” Emily smiled. “We’re just friends.”
“How long are you going to be in town?”
She glanced at her shoes. “I’m not sure.”
He rubbed his mustache, and seemed to realize where they were. “What, you’re not staying in a hotel are you?”
“Yes.”
“No, you must stay with me. I have plenty of room.”
Steven frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “Her hotel room is already paid for, but thanks for the offer.”
Emily glared at him, and turned to Vincent. “Thank you, I appreciate your kindness, but I’ll be fine here.”
“Then you must come over for dinner tonight. I have to go meet with someone now,” he pulled a business card out of his breast pocket, “but I want you to call me this afternoon. We have lots to catch up on.”
“I’d love to have d
inner with you, thank you.” His eyes reminded her of William. He had the same grey eyes. She blinked and squeezed Connor’s hand. She had never had the chance to mourn William’s death, but the level of emotion that overcame her was surprising. Even with everything he put her through, he didn’t deserve to die. She shoved all thoughts of William to the back of her mind. Now wasn’t the time to deal with it. “I’ll call you.”
Vincent grinned and left, waving one more time before he disappeared around the corner. Steven flipped open his cell phone and started pushing buttons.
“Who are you calling?”
“The office. I think I should stay here, to help with Connor.”
Emily rolled her eyes, hating that her stomach was now fluttering with butterflies.
******
Steven zipped Connor’s coat up, careful not to catch his chin.
“You ready, buddy?”
“Uh, huh.” He nodded, his little arms sticking out with the bulk of the coat. His blond hair peeked out from under the knitted cap, getting in his eyes.
“Hey, maybe after we eat lunch we can go get a haircut. Would you like that?”
He stuck his chin out, looking up. “Well, my mom always cuts my hair.”
“Then she might like it if we got it done today. Would you like to surprise her? I heard they give lollipops to little boys who are good.”
His eyes widened, and he grinned. “Okay.”
Steven laughed. “All right, let’s go get you some lunch.” He took Connor’s hand and guided him outside. The drive to Stapleton took a half an hour from the hotel on the outskirts of Minneapolis. Connor seemed to be in a good mood, even though he hadn’t wanted to leave his mother that morning.
Steven slowed down as he came to a house with Christmas decorations littered about the yard. “Look Connor, there’s Santa Claus and his reindeer.”
“Santa!” Connor twisted in his seat to get a glimpse.
“What do you want for Christmas this year?” Steven turned the car toward the downtown strip, scanning for a place to park near Aunt Edna’s.
“I want a tyrannosaurus rex, the biggest and strongest dinosaur. He eats all the other dinosaurs.”
“Ooh, he sounds scary.”
“Yeah, he’s scary. He can protect me and Mom.”
Sadness descended over Steven, thinking about what Connor must have gone through in his short life. “Of course he can.” He resolved to get him the biggest t-rex he could find.
They entered the diner, and Connor squealed as Steven lifted him up on a stool. Edna stopped wiping the counter and bustled over to them, patting her curly red hair.
“Mr. Ashton, I’m surprised to see you here. Did you come with Emily?” She leaned a little closer, and lowered her voice. “I heard she is down at the station right now talking to the police.”
“Yes, she is.”
Her eyes traveled over to Connor, and she pulled back, smiling. “And who do we have here?”
Steven knew that this piece of juicy gossip would soon be all over town. “This is Connor, Emily’s son.”
She peered at him for a few moments before her jaw dropped. “He’s William’s?”
“Yes.”
She drew in a short breath. “He looks just like him. I had no idea she was even pregnant. Theodore and Priscilla don’t know, do they?” she asked, putting her hand up to her mouth.
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh my word. I can’t imagine how that’s going to go over. Well, now, forgive me. What would you two like me to get for you this afternoon?”
“I’ll have a ham and cheese sandwich,” he said, turning to face Connor, “and what would you like?”
Connor fidgeted on the stool and said, “I don’t know.”
“Do you want a hamburger?”
He made a face and shook his head.
“What about a hot dog?”
His response was less than favorable.
“What do you usually eat for lunch?”
“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with apple slices and milk.”
Steven looked at Edna with what he hoped were puppy dog eyes.
She smiled and said, “We don’t have peanut butter and jelly on the menu, but I think I can talk the cook into making one up special just for you, sugar.”
Steven winked at her. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll be right back.” Edna pulled out her short order pad, wrote something down, then tore the paper off and clipped it to the order wheel. Then she went to take an order from an elderly man sitting alone at a table.
The soft sounds of classical music chimed from Steven’s pocket. He flipped his phone open.
“Hello?”
“Steven, Michael Pittman. Emily’s been arrested for the murder of William Grant.”
Chapter Twenty One
Steven’s throat tightened, and his palms became sweaty.
“What?”
“Emily’s been arrested. They’ve set the arraignment for tomorrow afternoon, pending no further delays.”
The room felt hot, and he tugged at his collar. “What happened?” Steven realized several people were staring at him, so he lowered his voice and added, “I thought you said everything would be all right.”
“This isn’t a big surprise, Steven. Emily ran, which makes her look guilty. But the evidence is purely circumstantial. I’ve been looking over her case files. There was evidence the police overlooked because they figured Emily was the killer, and didn’t bother to investigate any further. I have enough right now to cast serious doubt on Emily’s guilt.”
Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better. “So, what happens now?” He ran his fingers through his hair, and tried not to pull it out.
“Emily will be held until her arraignment tomorrow, where they will decide on the bail.”
Steven felt the bottom of his stomach drop. Connor sat, quietly making the stool spin back and forth, his foot hitting the bottom of the counter each time it passed. “Okay, Michael. I’ll take care of Connor as long as I need to. Tell Emily he’s safe with me.”
“Yes, I’ll tell her. She knows you’ll take good care of him. She trusts you, Steven.”
The words hit him; he hadn’t realized how much that would mean to him. He wondered if Emily would ever admit it to his face.
“What will happen after tomorrow?” He nodded to Edna as she set their plates down. Connor grabbed his sandwich and started eating with such gusto he wondered if the child had eaten any of his breakfast.
“There will be a preliminary hearing in a week. If there’s not enough evidence against her, the prosecutor will drop the charges.”
“What are the chances of that happening?”
“Very good. There’s just not enough proof that Emily was involved in William’s murder.”
Steven sighed. “Okay. Thank you for calling. Let me know if I can do anything.” He snapped his phone shut, and slid it in his pocket. Edna was furiously wiping the counter, as if the Pope was due to arrive at any moment and she wanted to make sure the place was clean.
The door to the diner opened, making the bell ring against the glass. He glanced behind him, just in case it was the Pope. A distinguished man in a dark blue suit stood just inside the door, surveying the tables. His blond hair was thick and full for a man of his age. Edna rushed over to him. Her cheeks were flushed, and she fiddled with the bottom of her hair.
“Mr. Grant, so nice to see you. It’s been ages. Please come in and sit down.”
******
Emily sat in the interrogation room on a hard wooden chair that made her bottom fall asleep. Michael had told her not to say anything else, so she listened to Detective Reed and her attorney talking about her like she wasn’t there.
A headache started to throb behind her eyes. She wanted to scream at both of them to listen to her, but clenched her jaw tight instead. That would probably only get her into more trouble. She couldn’t understand why her attorney wouldn’t let her
tell them what happened. He said that admitting she had a fight with William was a bad idea, that it would only add fuel to the fire. But it was the truth. She realized Detective Reed was speaking to her, his pencil thin neck stretching so he could look down on her.
“I understand, Emily. William was abusing you. Maybe he lost his temper. Did he hit you that day, Emily?” The detective leaned forward, his arms on the table. His round glasses were perched on the end of his nose, and she had the biggest urge to reach over and push them up.
“Don’t answer that.” Michael folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. His short curly hair reminded her of a black poodle. She hoped he had something brilliant planned. At this point, all he had been good for was telling her to shut up.
Detective Reed exhaled, clasping his hands together. “If you’re not going to cooperate, things are only going to get worse for you.” Emily’s breath caught in her lungs, and her vision blurred. The detective continued. “Your fingerprints were all over the murder weapon.”
The chair made a noise as Michael stood up. “Of course her fingerprints were on the murder weapon – and on everything else in the house. She lived there. You’re going to have to come up with a lot more than that if you expect a conviction.”
“She also was the sole beneficiary of a large sum of money. That’s motive enough without the abuse factored in.”
Emily stared at the detective. She didn’t wait for Michael to tell her not to speak. She blurted out, “What are you talking about? William didn’t have any life insurance. He thought it was a waste of money.”
Detective Reed peered at her over his glasses and frowned. “I mean his estate. William left everything to you.”
“Emily, I advise you–”
“We didn’t have much,” she interrupted, not caring anymore what her attorney thought, “the house had no equity, and we’d only lived there one year.”
Not What She Seems Page 12