"Well, we're making up some of that time now," she said, also feeling a twinge of guilt. "I'm glad you're feeling better. Have you remembered anything else about what happened the other night?"
Phoebe shook her head. "No, I wish I could. Edwin keeps asking me, and Officer Lassen came by again this morning, as well. I try to remember, but nothing comes into my mind. I feel like it's right there, but I can't see what it is."
"Well, that's okay. Don't stress out about it." Maybe it was good that her aunt couldn't remember and all her friends knew that. News would get around town, and hopefully her aunt would be less of a target.
"I can't help but wonder what the thief took. I want to get back to my shop, but the doctor says I need to stay here for a few more days. I feel so helpless."
"You can't worry about it right now. You need to concentrate on getting better. The police are investigating, and Braden and I are looking into some things, too."
"You and Braden. It has a good ring to it. I've been worried about Braden. He's been through a lot, and I think he needs support, but he's stubbornly independent. The two of you had a special friendship. Maybe you can break through his walls."
"He's not really interested in my help. As you said, he's stubborn."
"Well, you can be persistent, too. See if you can get him to open up."
"I don't know if I can -- or if I want to. I'm afraid I'll be taking the lid off Pandora's box."
Phoebe smiled. "Sometimes you have to take a risk. And you have to make time, too. Every time I ask if you have a boyfriend, you tell me that you don't have time for love. You need to make it a priority, or you'll end up alone."
"Falling in love doesn't mean I won't end up alone. Look at my mom. Now Braden. There are millions of divorces every year. I don't really know why anyone gets married."
"Because they want to commit to each other. I had a beautiful, strong marriage. I wish you could have known your uncle. Charles was an amazing man. He was strong and kind and intensely loyal."
"He sounds amazing. I haven't met many men like that."
"Braden fits the description."
"Maybe," she conceded. "But his walls aren't going to come down in a day, so let's talk about something else. Let's talk about you."
"I'm fine. I'm getting better. In fact, I'm starting to feel bored."
"Boring is good. That means you're resting."
"I'm trying. I'm not used to being in bed all day." She paused for a moment. "Have you spoken to your father yet?"
"No, not yet. I'm sorry."
"Well, he's busy."
"Yes, he's always been busy," she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
Her aunt's gaze narrowed. "He hurt you. I'm sorry about that."
"We don't need to talk about him."
"Sometimes I'd like to kick his ass, the way I used to when he was a kid. My little brother can be very selfish."
"In my opinion, he could use an ass kicking," she said.
"Do you talk to him much?"
"Hardly at all. But I will call him again. Dad should be here for you. You're his only sister, and you did so much for him."
"That's why I'm here," a man said from behind her.
Alexa was shocked to see her father walk into the room. It had been a year since she'd seen him briefly after the birth of his youngest child, and he hadn't changed much. He looked a bit older, but it was clear that he was still a perfectionist when it came to his appearance. His hair didn't show a hint of gray, and his black slacks and button-down shirt didn't boast one wrinkle. The only thing marginally different about him was a slight receding of his hairline.
He smiled at her, then brushed past her to kiss his sister on the cheek. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Phoebe. How are you feeling?"
"I'm a lot better today, Rob. My head doesn't hurt as much. I'm so glad you came. I know how busy you are with your job and the kids."
"I apologize for not getting here sooner. But I know Alexa has been taking good care of you."
"Of course she has."
"I understand you interrupted a robbery. Did you see who did this to you?" her dad asked.
"No. If I did see someone, I don't remember. I have a concussion."
"Do the police have any suspects?"
"No."
"Do you have any idea why someone would break into your shop? Did you get something valuable in?"
Alexa was surprised at her father's sharp interrogation. Wasn't it clear that Phoebe had no idea what had happened?
"My shop is filled with valuables," she said a little tartly. "I don't understand why most people don't realize that."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."
"How are the children, Rob? You haven't sent me any pictures in a while. They must be getting very big."
As Alexa listened to her father talk about her half-siblings, she felt very disconnected from him. Over the years she had loved him and hated him, and now she felt almost ambivalent, as if he were a stranger.
"Alexa?" he queried.
"Sorry, what did you say?" she asked, realizing her father and aunt were both giving her an expectant look.
"Phoebe says you're helping her with the shop for a few days," her dad said.
She nodded. "Yes, there are a lot of boxes to unpack."
"I'm not leaving until tomorrow, so I can help you."
She was shocked by the offer. "Really?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Okay, I guess so," she said, stumbling a little over the words. The idea that she and her dad might spend a few hours together seemed unimaginable.
"I want to stop by the police station first," her dad continued, "But I can come by the shop after that."
"All right. I'll be there."
"Good."
Her dad smiled at her aunt. "I'll come back later tonight. Try to sleep for a while."
"I will."
He turned to Alexa. "I'll see you in a bit."
"Okay," she replied, still not quite able to believe he was going to help her do inventory at the antique shop.
"That's a first," her aunt commented when they were alone again. "I can't remember the last time Rob even went to my store, much less offered to help out. Your father has a lot of layers."
"What does that mean?"
"Just that he's not all one thing – good or bad."
"I don't really know him, Aunt Phoebe."
"It looks like you're going to get a chance to talk to him. Don't waste it."
"I won't," she said.
There were a few things she wanted to talk to her dad about. She just hoped she could find the courage to ask a question she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to. As Braden had warned, that could be dangerous.
Chapter Nine
After Drew dropped him off at his apartment, Braden picked up his car and headed across town. Edwin Hayes was just pulling into his driveway when Braden parked in front of his house.
He stepped out of the car and called, "Chief Hayes."
Edwin gave him a look of surprise, then crossed the grass to join him on the sidewalk. "Braden? Is that you?"
"Yes it is."
"I heard you're helping us out," the chief said.
"If I can."
Chief Hayes nodded. "Good. From what I've heard about your military service, we're fortunate to have your help."
"Thanks. Drew thought you might be able to answer a few questions for me."
"Shoot."
"I wanted to know what you could tell me about the drowning death of Shayla Cummings," he said.
Surprise flashed in the chief's eyes. "I thought you were going to ask me about the crime scene at the antique shop and what I'd seen, but you're asking about a woman who died here a long time ago? Why?"
"There's a link between the Wellbourne delivery and the break-in. I've been researching the Wellbournes and there's one odd note in their history – the fact that one of their renters drowned under somewhat mysterious circumstance." As he stat
ed his theory, he realized how tenuous the link was. The chief was probably going to regret approving his involvement.
"She didn't die mysteriously; she drowned," Edwin said.
"There was never a thought that it wasn't accidental?"
"Of course there was a thought, but the investigation determined there was no foul play. Her sister said that Shayla couldn't swim very well and also mentioned that she'd been depressed after her movie failed."
"So it could have been suicide?"
"There wasn't a note, but it was a possibility based on what the sister had to say and how Ms. Cummings was dressed. That's why we did a thorough investigation, which resulted in the conclusion that whether it was accidental or deliberate on Ms. Cummings' part, there were no other parties involved in her death."
"Was Shayla a friend of the Wellbournes? Did they have any comment on her death?" he asked, changing the direction of their conversation.
"She had been staying in their house prior to her death, but she was just one of many summer renters."
"Were there many?" he asked doubtfully. "Alexa and I saw her on the deck of that house a lot, but we never saw anyone else."
"I think there were a couple. It was a long time ago." The chief gave him a thoughtful look. "I had forgotten how close you and Alexa were. I remember the two of you riding your bikes up and down this street every summer."
"We did that a lot."
"I saw Alexa at the hospital a short while ago. It was good she came back for Phoebe."
"She's worried about her aunt."
"We all are. But you're on the wrong track, Braden. I know it's more imaginative to try and combine mysterious events to each other, but I doubt Shayla Cummings' death has anything to do with the current break-in. You could be wasting valuable time."
"Well, it's not like I'm overlooking any other leads. Let me ask you one more question; did Shayla have any friends in town?" he asked, unwilling to quite let it go yet.
"I recall that she had a few friends, yes."
"I was wondering if I could take a look at the case files, the people you interviewed."
"Well, that would take some effort to find," the chief said.
"I'd still be interested in looking."
"You'll have to look through the storage unit."
"That's what Drew said." He paused. "What about Rob Parker? Was he friends with Shayla?"
"Phoebe's brother?"
He nodded.
The chief's heavy brows drew together in a frown. "Well, he was married at the time."
"Married men sometimes cheat."
"I didn't know Rob well, and he wasn't on any interview list that I recall," the chief said. "What I do know is that Phoebe wouldn't like what you're implying, Braden. And I don't think Alexa would, either."
"Alexa wants to find out what happened at the antique store and to Shayla," he said.
"Even if her father is implicated?"
"You just said Rob didn't know Shayla."
"I said I didn't interview him." He shook his head. "Maybe it was a mistake getting you involved. You're complicating things unnecessarily."
"I'm just trying to help."
"If you want to help, then stop trying to create a mystery where there isn't one and concentrate on what's happening now. Alexa won't thank you for trying to put her father in the middle of an affair."
"I'm not looking for thanks, just the truth."
"You are covering a lot of bases, I'll say that for you. Do you have any other questions?"
"That's it for now. Thanks, Chief."
As Edwin headed into his house, Braden returned to his car. The chief had been fairly forthcoming until he'd brought up Rob Parker. It was clear that Edwin was fond of Phoebe and very loyal to her. He wasn't going to provide any information that might hurt the Parker family.
Had Edwin Hayes always felt that way? Had he deliberately overlooked a connection between Rob and Shayla just in case there was some tie?
Or was he completely on the wrong track as Edwin had suggested?
Rolling his neck around on his shoulders, Braden considered his options. He doubted the police files would give him more information than the chief had, and it could take days to even find the case notes. How she died wasn't as important as finding out who was in her life at the time of her death. He needed to find out more about the house rental, and he knew just the person to talk to.
* * *
When Alexa got to the antique store, she found the door open, and her father inside. He was going through one of the boxes on the counter.
"You beat me here," she said, a little surprised. "How did you get in?"
"Evie opened the door for me."
"Oh, I didn't realize she was coming here today."
"There's a shitload of stuff in these boxes," he said.
"And there's a system for organizing," she replied, noting the haphazard collection growing rapidly on the counter.
"Well, I figured I'd just unpack the boxes first, and then it would be easier to see what's here." He took out an old carved box of dominoes. "Most of this looks like crap to me."
"Don't say that in front of Aunt Phoebe," she said.
"I guess it's good she has a store. Otherwise, she'd probably have all this in her house. She's always been a hoarder." He tossed the dominoes back in the box and rifled through a few more items.
"Dad what are you doing here?" Nothing about this moment was adding up. Her father didn't like antiques. He wasn't a big fan of Sand Harbor. And he never had time for anything but his job as a stockbroker. He was always making deals and rarely far from his phone or email.
"I'm helping," he said, glancing back at her. "I told you I would."
"It seems out of character."
"You've always told me I should spend more time with you. This seems like a good opportunity."
"What about your wife, your little kids? Don't you always tell me that they need you more?"
"I can't win with you," he grumbled.
"You never tried to win with me. When you ended your marriage, you ended your relationship with me, too. You divorced me just like you did, Mom."
He looked surprised that she'd spoken so bluntly. She was a little surprised, too. But she wasn't going to back down. She rarely had the opportunity to speak her mind with her dad, so she might as well use the opportunity to be direct.
"I'm sorry that you felt that way," he said. "It was never my intention to hurt you, Alexa. I wanted the divorce to be amicable, but your mother was so angry with me. I couldn't talk to her for five seconds without her screaming or crying. I just couldn't take it anymore."
"Why didn't you ask for joint custody?"
"Your mom needed you."
"And you didn't," she said flatly.
"It wasn't like that. And you can't pretend you wanted to be with me either. Your mother poisoned your mind. Even when I called, you didn't want to speak to me."
"You rarely called. Don't act like there were dozens of calls that I turned down. The phone only rang on my birthday and occasionally on Christmas, and after a while, not even then."
A grim expression entered his eyes. "I can't go back and change things, Alexa, even if I wanted to."
"It doesn't sound like you do want to."
"Some things I would definitely do differently, and that includes spending more time with you," he said. "But I'm not perfect. I make mistakes. Everyone does. All we can do is try to learn from them and move on." He turned back to the box, pulling out a tarnished silver candleholder. "This should probably just go in the trash."
"It can be cleaned up," she said. That was the problem with her father. He was always more interested in throwing things away than trying to fix them.
"If you say so," he muttered, setting it aside.
"Why did you and Mom split up?" she asked abruptly.
He sighed. "Too many reasons to count."
"Was one of those reasons that you were having an affair?"
He jer
ked at the question, whirling around in surprise. "Why would you ask me that?"
"Because I want to know. It's something I've thought about for a long time. I'm an adult now. I just want an honest answer."
"Did your mother tell you I cheated?"
"I'm asking you, Dad."
He stared back at her for a long moment. "What happened in my marriage is not your business. You're my daughter, Alexa. Some things are private."
She found his reply astonishing. "Some things are private?" she echoed. "Do you have any idea how loud your arguments were? I used to put in my swimming earplugs so I wouldn't have to hear you talk about personal things. I find it odd that you're suddenly so worried about me hearing anything now."
"What's the point? I don't want to drag the past between us yet again. Can't we start from now? You've reconnected with your aunt and your cousin. Let's not go back to all the ugliness. Let's move forward."
"You have to answer my question," she said, ignoring his plea to just move on. "Did you cheat on Mom with an actress named Shayla Cummings?"
He drew in a quick breath. "What do you know about Shayla?"
The way he said her name told Alexa that her father did indeed know the actress. Her stomach grew queasy. Was Braden right? Was she going to hurt herself even more with her endless questions? It was too late to turn back.
"I know she used to rent the Wellbourne's house," she replied. "I know she was fighting with someone a few weeks before she died."
"Where are you going with this?"
"That depends on your answer."
"I don't understand why you're bringing this up now."
"Someone broke into the shop right after these boxes were delivered."
"So?"
"So, there's a mysterious death that could be connected to the robbery."
"I can't imagine how you're putting the two events together. And why would you put me with Shayla?"
She debated for a moment, then said, "I saw a photograph from what appeared to be a birthday party for Shayla Cummings. There was a gold lighter next to the cake. It looked like the one Uncle Stan gave to you."
His jaw dropped. "Are you out of your mind, Alexa? Do you hate me that much that you'd try to make up some story about me and Shayla?"
"It sounds like you knew her."
Just a Wish Away Page 11