3 Dime If I Know

by Maggie Toussaint

  “Did she stay away?”

  “I saw nothing to indicate that any of them would associate with her. Rafe’s mom is ultra class conscious. She probably wouldn’t visit the grocery store with her own housekeeper. I don’t see any reasonable connection. Starr lived an hour north of them. Judging by the trailer she occupied, she lived a modest life. She drank too much and had a gambling problem.”

  “Starr’s sister then. Did she do it?”

  “Jenny Kulp? Britt said she had an alibi. I’d like to talk to her again, but I need an angle.”

  “What about the kid that’s the spitting image of Rafe? That screams angle to me. Why not demand a paternity test?”

  My feet stopped moving, but the dogs didn’t notice my lack of momentum. They tugged me forward. “That is a wonderful idea.”

  “I know. I’m good at being nosy. I had the best teacher in the world.”

  I ignored her slight on my character. “Rafe needs to prove the child isn’t his. I shouldn’t have any trouble convincing him to request a test. That’ll be our ticket to see the sister and the daughter.”

  A mustard seed of hope sprouted.

  Our plan sounded good.

  Would it bear fruit?

  CHAPTER 29

  * * *

  Macaroni and cheese with ham is one of my go-to meals when I want comfort food, and given Rafe’s vomiting bout, this choice seemed eminently safer than spaghetti, my other comfort meal. Rafe ate the little helping of applesauce, a whole-wheat roll, and the tidbit of ham I served him. Moments later, he loaded his plate with mac and cheese, more ham, and a heaping spoon full of string beans.

  “Feeling better?” I asked.

  “Much better. I could eat everything on the table. Maybe even the table, too. Is it edible?’

  My kids burst out laughing. “Do it,” Charla said, her red curls bouncing with impish delight. “I want to see you eat the table.”

  Rafe leaned down and looked like he would take a bite of the table edge, but then he grinned. “I’ll stick with the food for now. Better not invite too much trouble with my stomach.”

  Forks scraped plates as we ate. It felt nice having the four of us at the table. Mama was with Bud, and Charlie was thankfully elsewhere. Other than the potential murder charge hanging over Rafe’s head, it felt like I had a family again. I know I don’t need a man for completion, but the mathematical symmetry appealed to me. Four was a great number for a family.

  Charla nudged Lexy. “Tell her.”

  Lexy bit back a smile. “Something nice happened today.”

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “The yearbook staff selected random photos of kids around school to fill a bonus page, and they used more of my pictures than John Paul’s.”

  John Paul? Oh, yes. The new boy who had the keen eye for pictures. Lexy’s rival on the yearbook. “How wonderful!”

  “That’s not all,” Charla said, egging her sister on. “Tell Mom.”

  “Well . . .” Lights danced in her eyes. Lexy wasn’t her grandmother’s daughter for nothing. She knew how to draw out the drama and suspense.

  “Tell me,” I urged, hoping that this secret was a good one.

  “John Paul saw my pictures of the puppies. He liked them. He said they were terrific, Mom. Can you believe it?”

  “I can. You are an excellent photographer. About time the whole yearbook staff recognized your talent.”

  “She has a date!” Charla crowed.

  “Charla! You weren’t supposed to tell. You promised,” Lexy said, tears in her eyes.

  “A date?” I choked on the word. I wasn’t ready to hear it coming out of my baby’s mouth. “You’re thirteen. A date?”

  “He asked if I wanted to go hiking with his family so we could take pictures together. I really want to go. Is it okay?”

  “It sounds okay, but I need to speak with his mother first.”

  Lexy’s eyes flashed in defiance. “I’m not a child.”

  “You are a precious teenager, and it’s my duty as your mother to make sure you’re in safe situations. I’m not singling you out. I called Charla’s friends’ parents, too.”

  Charla nodded. “She did.”

  “I guess that’s okay,” Lexy said. “But you won’t embarrass me, right?”

  I caught Rafe’s curious gaze and nodded. “I’ll be myself. That’s the most I can promise.”

  While the girls were bathing and finishing homework after dinner, I drove Rafe home in my car. Dark shadows striped the road, bringing my fears for my boyfriend’s long-term freedom back to the surface. I needed to pry into his family history without alienating him.

  “You’re good with them,” Rafe said, as I turned off Main Street and headed to Manor Run Road.

  “What?”

  “Your kids. You listen to them, and you allow them to make their own choices.”

  I nodded, uncertain where he was going with this. Rather than let my imagination run wild, I held my tongue and waited for him to make his point.

  “My mother wouldn’t have allowed us to be on the yearbook staff. She didn’t allow us to play with other kids, especially if their families weren’t our social equals.”

  “Being a parent isn’t an easy job,” I began, hoping I was reading him right. “We make mistakes, but we do our best. I don’t agree with your mother’s choices for you now or in the past, based on your comments about your childhood. That doesn’t mean she’s wrong, though.”

  “She was wrong. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to strike out on my own as a kid, to walk out the front door and never look back. I packed up my stuff a few times, but I didn’t go through with it. Instead I bided my time and left when I could support myself.”

  “I’m glad you found a way to be happy. That’s important.” I shot him an appraising look. Now that he’d rested and eaten, his color looked good. He’d been downright playful at the dinner table. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind answering a few personal questions.

  “Your stomach okay now?” I asked.

  He rubbed his belly. “Feels better than it has in days. You’re a great cook.”

  “Thanks.” I navigated a few quick twists and turns in the road. “About your stomach—your mother implied you threw up a lot as a kid.”

  “I did. Thought I’d outgrown it, too.”

  “It struck me as odd, your having a weak stomach, given that I’ve seen you eat Mama’s crazy meals and even my spaghetti with never so much as a burp. I’ve never seen you throw up before.”

  “It’s a solo sport. It’s not something I break out on hot dates.”

  “You know what I mean.” I pursed my lips and drove.

  “Maybe I’m allergic to my parents’ house,” he offered as an olive branch.

  “Maybe.”

  “I hate it when you do that.”

  “What?”

  “When you placate me like that. If you don’t agree, say so.”

  “I don’t know what to believe. I thought you had a bug or food poisoning, but the ER doctor spooked me. He’s running extra tests. I don’t know what that means, what he suspects.”

  “It means he doesn’t know either. No point in worrying about a test. It’s not like I flunked it or anything.”

  “Guess not.” Though I drove at the speed limit, my thoughts raced. “I don’t understand your family. Why do they act the way they do?”

  “That’s easy. Money. It’s all about the Golden money.” His sharp tone worried me. “My father’s grandfather amassed a small fortune, set up trust funds for the family, and the money keeps growing. My father enjoys the things money can buy, but he still remembers how tight his family was. He wants us to be like that, but we can’t. I can’t. It’s too hard. There are too many memories.”

  Finally. We were getting somewhere. “This goes back to your sister? To Brenna?”

  “Yes. Everything goes back to that. My family changed after her death. We weren’t close-knit before, but afterward we could barely spend time in
the same room together. Everyone was so sad, so fragile. It’s still there in that house, that tension. Did you feel it?”

  “I did, and I wondered if it bothered you. I’m sorry I encouraged you to visit them. I thought you’d feel better with your family’s support behind you in this trying time. I made the situation worse, and I apologize for that. And then to have you become physically ill while we were there only added insult to injury. I promise I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over this. My family won’t change. They’re too rigid in their thinking, and they don’t even see it. I’m lucky I got out, that I’m able to have a limited objective view.”

  “Care to share your observations with me?”

  “They’re chasing empty dreams. My father drinks too much and indulges himself with boats and golf. My mother’s off doing her charity work. Reggie’s burying herself alive in the company, and Hill’s still a child in his attitudes and spending patterns. He may never grow up.”

  “Interesting.” I had similar inclinations about his family. But there was something missing. “What about you? What do you see about yourself?”

  “I’m chasing after independence, but it isn’t enough. It may never be enough.”

  The way his voice trailed off alarmed me. I’d never heard him sound so sad. “Rafe?”

  “I carry the burden and shame from Brenna’s accidental shooting because I shot first. That knowledge is there when I wake up in the morning, it’s there when I close my eyes at night. I was part of that. I caused the death of a person I loved.”

  I parked the car outside his place and wished I could stop his pain. Poor guy. I couldn’t imagine what that would feel like. I’d never killed anyone, and I hoped to high heaven I never would. The police. The mess. The guilt. I shuddered.

  “I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do, name it.”

  “You can spend the night with me.”

  “Now I know you’re feeling better. Mama’s sleeping over at Bud’s house tonight. I have to go home, and you know it. We had our big chance last night.”

  “Some fun that was.” He kissed me on the lips, lightly. “I’m glad you’re in my life. I don’t know how I’d make it through this without someone strong at my side.”

  “Thanks.” The things we’d spoken about tossed around in my head like damp towels in a clothes dryer. Certain aspects of his sister’s death struck me as inconsistent. “Not to belabor a point, but did you ever see your sister’s death certificate?”

  He drew back, his eyes searching my face. “No.”

  “I’ve heard you speak about her death twice now, and I can’t quite visualize the logistics. How’d your sister get down there? Did she often hide at the shooting range? Why didn’t she cry out? Why didn’t she move when she heard you guys talking or shooting? For her to have been struck the same as the paper target, she had to be standing at the same height. Didn’t that strike you as odd?”

  “Never thought about it before. Back then it was all about sorrow and loss. Still is, but I see your point. Why didn’t Brenna help herself? Why didn’t she stick to our routine? Why didn’t she wait?”

  “Did anyone else know of your plans?”

  “We didn’t confide in the adults, but it wasn’t a secret. We kids had free range of the property back then.”

  My suspicion-o-meter spun into high gear. “I need to see that death certificate. I’m going to request one through Vital Records.”

  “Why? What do you suspect?”

  “I doubt it occurred as you were led to believe. We’ll see what the death certificate says. Oh, and one more thing before you go, Rafe. That little girl, Kylie, we haven’t talked about her.”

  “Starr’s kid? Why should we talk about her?”

  “The resemblance is strong. If I were you, I’d request a paternity test.”

  “Kylie is beautiful, but she can’t be my kid. I’d stake my life on it.”

  “Hope it doesn’t come to that. But a paternity test will clarify who her father is. That might lead us to someone with a motive to kill Starr.”

  “It will help clear my name?”

  “Proving she’s not your daughter will support my theory that the police rushed to judgment in labeling you a person of interest.”

  “All right, then. Let’s demand a paternity test. I want to get out from under this cloud of suspicion.”

  As I drove home, I mulled the possibilities. The child shared the same coloring as Rafe. If he was wrong and Kylie was his daughter, the paternity test would add weight to the evidence against him.

  But if the child wasn’t his, that opened the door to another Golden being the father, another person who had a vested interest in Starr’s life or death. After meeting Rafe’s family and learning they all golfed at the club where Rafe met Starr, I had no doubt that his brother and father knew Starr. And there must be other Goldens in the extended family—Ashley’s father, for one.

  A Golden had fathered Starr’s child, but which one?

  CHAPTER 30

  * * *

  Deer Pines Mobile Home Park in Madeira had seen better days. A smorgasbord of worn-out vehicles accented the postage-stamp lawns and faded trailers. Last time I visited here, Jonette had helped lighten the tension, but my passenger today, Rafe, seemed underwhelmed by his lackluster surroundings.

  But he had good reason, given the call he’d received from the golf course trustees this morning placing him on administrative leave. I’d hoped they wouldn’t be so heartless, but I’d hoped in vain. Everyone wanted to be associated with a winner. With the negative press about Rafe, he’d changed from winner to loser in their eyes.

  Ouch.

  On the bright side, he now had time to help chase down leads. Good thing my accounting business was slow this time of year. I couldn’t leave Rafe’s future to chance.

  I stopped on the street in front of the tan trailer and stared at it with growing unease. A maroon sedan with a cardboard passenger-side window sat in the one-car driveway. Would Starr’s sister even talk to us? “This is her place.”

  “I’ve been here before.”

  “Oh. Right.” Heat steamed up my collar. Of course he knew where his former girlfriend lived. “I knew that.”

  He craned his neck to scan the neighborhood. “Looks the same, except for the vehicle. Never seen that before.”

  “Must be the sister’s car.” The curtains inside the trailer moved. I hoped with all my might we would find answers inside. “Someone’s home. Let’s go.”

  We walked up to the door and knocked. A television blared inside.

  Jenny Kulp, Starr’s sister, answered the door. Her bloodshot eyes and matted hair gave her a wild look, worrying me. Had we awakened her at eleven in the morning? Was she a fit parent?

  “I’m Cleo Jones,” I began. “I met you at Starr’s memorial service. I apologize for dropping in unexpectedly, but I didn’t have your phone number.”

  “I know who you are.” Her narrowed gaze drifted over to Rafe and warmed. “I can guess who you are. Hello, handsome.”

  “May we come in?” I asked. “We’d like to talk to you about Kylie.”

  A little imp in clothes a size too small peered around Jenny’s denim-clad leg. The Golden family resemblance appeared even stronger in person.

  I knelt down to her level. “Hi. I’m Cleo.” I reached into my purse for the small stuffed animal I’d brought and offered it to her. “Would you like this bear?”

  Her eyes rounded like saucers. She nodded yes, but she didn’t reach for the toy. My heart went out to the timid child.

  Rafe knelt beside me and smiled. “Hello, Kylie. I’m a friend of your mother’s.”

  “I don’t want to do this outside,” Jenny said, her reedy voice sailing over our heads. “Come on in.”

  She stepped aside, and I saw a jumble of clothes heaped on the sofa. Jenny-sized shoes and one cheap plastic doll were on the floor. I scanned the room as unobtrusively as possible. There
were no other toys in sight. A whiff of garbage tainted the air.

  “I’m glad you showed up,” Jenny said to Rafe as she zapped the TV remote. “We can’t make ends meet, and I’m plain worn out worrying over it. A thousand a month. That’s what you paid Starr, right? A thousand a month would put food on our table and keep our electricity turned on.”

  My God. This woman had never met Rafe before, and the first words out of her mouth were gimme gimme? That wasn’t right. Though I wanted to blast into her, I held onto my patience. It wasn’t easy.

  Rafe didn’t speak for the longest time. “Your sister told me she was going back to school. I loaned her tuition money to get her back on her feet. She signed papers saying she would repay the loan. I helped her so she could help herself.”

  “People like us don’t ever get back on our feet. Don’t you get it? I can’t repay you the money you already gave her, but I can’t take care of Kylie on the money she has coming in either. It isn’t enough. Do you want the kid going to foster care?”

  Rafe muttered something under his breath. He reached for his wallet. The big doofus. This woman was playing him, same as Starr had played him. Rafe had a big heart, but he wouldn’t hang on to his money long with the likes of Jenny around.

  I stayed his hand. “Let’s think this through. How about if we head back to the discount store on the edge of town and buy some things to help out? That would be a start in the right direction. But, if we agree to help you, we want something in return.”

  Suspicion darked Jenny’s pinched face. “What’s that?”

  “We need Kylie’s toothbrush or a lock of her hair,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Paternity test.”

  “Wasting your money,” Jenny said. “The truth is staring you both in the face.”

  My chin went up. “That’s the deal. If you want our help today, we want something in return. Otherwise we’re walking out the door and never coming back.”

  Jenny searched our faces. We must have looked formidable because she agreed. “Deal.”

  I squatted down and offered Kylie the tiny bear again. This time she took it, hugging it to her tummy as if it would fill an empty spot. I rose with a sigh. “We’ll be right back with items for the child.”