"Just checking."
We stopped and rinsed our feet then put on our shoes and circled around to the front of Marilee's house.
She was sitting on her front porch, rocking back and forth in a chair that matched the pair on her back deck. When she saw us, she stood and waved.
"Muffy. Sage," she said as we approached the porch. "I'd say this is a nice surprise but I've been expecting you."
"You have?" I asked, startled. I don't know how she could have expected an unplanned visit.
"I have. I've been doing some light reading," she said, picking up a bright pink magazine from the table beside her.
I felt my cheeks burn, but Muffy just laughed lightly.
"Let's go inside. I've got some fruit and cheese all cut up," Marilee suggested.
"That sounds lovely."
"And a pitcher of Bloody Marys."
"Even better," Muffy replied.
I trailed the two of them into the shade of the cool house and wondered if rich people received some sort of secret lessons in handling big, ugly messes gracefully. Maybe I could get into a session or two on a scholarship.
Once we were all comfortably seated around Marilee's kitchen table, she poured us each a drink and passed the fruit and cheese platter.
"So," she said, as she nibbled on a piece of cheddar. "Is there so much as a nugget of truth in that dreadful article?"
"No," I said.
"Well, there may be some feelings between Sage and Roman," Muffy disagreed. "But she claims not."
Marilee appraised me. "That photo of him caressing your feet did seem extraordinarily tender."
"Can we talk about something else? Please?" It was one thing to put up with my sisters' incessant questions, but this was way worse.
Muffy relented. As she plucked a fat, red grape from the bunch on the tray, she said in a casual voice, "Fred was blackmailing Chip."
Marilee gasped. I hoped she hadn't sucked a cheese cube into her windpipe. After a moment of coughing, she reached for her cocktail and took a long drink. "Was he really?"
"I'm sorry to have to tell you. But Sage figured it out when she was going through your financial documents. I think we need to deal with it, Marilee."
The older woman nodded. "Of course. Is that where all those hundred dollar bills came from?" she asked me.
"Some of them. I think Fred may have also been ….” I trailed off, searching for a delicate way to phrase it.
"Extorting?" his widow helpfully supplied.
"Right, extorting some other golfers as well."
Marilee closed her eyes and pursed her lips. After a moment, she opened her eyes and caught Muffy's eye. "I'm so sorry. I loved Fred very much, but, well, he had his shortcomings."
"Don't we all?" Muffy answered. "Chip isn't blameless here. He could have stood up to Fred but he chose the easy way out. And now we have this mess."
"Who are the others?"
Muffy nodded to me. "We think he was blackmailing Mr. Valetta and--"
Marilee interrupted me. "That's not a surprise. Fred told me that Giorgio had rigged the club election and had cheated in at least two club tournaments."
We both gaped at her.
"If Fred could prove he cheated, I think he could be tossed off the tour," Muffy said slowly.
"I'd imagine," Marilee agreed. "But I don't know if Fred could have proven anything. He was prone to imagining slights, coming up with conspiracy theories, that sort of thing."
"Still. If Fred told you that, I'm surprised you asked Giorgio Valetta to eulogize him," I said.
"I didn't. Giorgio insisted. And I felt I couldn't argue. I mean, I held the memorial service at the club where he's the sitting president--even if he stole the office. It was odd, though, that he was so emphatic. I wonder if he wanted to give a speech just to cement a public image that there was no bad blood between the two of them? An alibi after the fact, of sorts."
"Linda Zaharee told me that Mr. Valetta was in Maryland playing in a pro-am tournament when Fred was killed. He already has a solid alibi."
Marilee and Muffy gave me twin looks of disappointment.
"Trust me, I know. I wish he were a viable suspect, too." I sighed and popped the olive garnish from my drink into my mouth.
"Who else is in the book?" Marilee asked after a moment.
"LL. Roman and I figured that would be Louie Lewis." I removed the book from my purse and slid it across the table to her. "It belongs to you, after all."
Marilee narrowed her eyes in concentration. "I can't imagine what secret Fred would have been holding over Louie's head. I don't think he ever mentioned it to me. But, of course, it could be virtually anything. Louie's a thoroughly unsavory person--or at least that dreadful wife of his is."
I nodded my agreement.
"Don't you want to know what he was blackmailing Chip about?" Muffy asked in a quiet voice.
"Only if that's something you care to share with me."
While Muffy considered that, I picked up my drink hesitantly. Bloody Marys always seemed like a good idea in concept, but every time I drank one I was reminded that I didn't particularly like the way they tasted. Yep, still gross. I managed not to spit it all over Marilee's kitchen, returned the glass to the table, and reached for a hunk of Swiss to get that taste out of my mouth.
"I think I do want to tell you," she said finally. "I think that Chip mishandled the situation by keeping it a secret. It likely makes Roman think that Chip is ashamed of him."
"Roman's involved?" Marilee asked, tilting her head.
"Apparently, Roman is the product of a relationship Chip had when he was in college."
Marilee blinked. "Are you saying Roman is Chip's son?"
"That's what I'm saying."
"I had no idea."
"Neither did I," Muffy said. "And neither did Roman."
"But Chip knew? I mean, obviously he knew, but ..." Marilee's voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
"Actually, Chip says he didn't know until Fred told him about two years ago."
I stared at her. "You mean it was a total coincidence that Roman was working for Chip?"
"Believe it or not, yes." Muffy shrugged. "Serendipity, I guess."
My parents would have called it karma. But call it what you want--coincidence, serendipity, karma, the great cosmic wave--this little happenstance didn't pass the sniff test.
"I did once read an article about two women who became friends at work and eventually learned that they were sisters who'd been adopted by two separate families and had grown up thousands of miles apart. So I suppose anything's possible," Marilee offered.
"Regardless of how Roman came into our lives, he's here now."
"You mean you'd want to have a relationship with him?"
"He's a grown man who has a mother, so I'm not sure what sort of relationship I could have with him other than to be a friend, which I hope I already am. But, you know, he's Skylar and Dylan's half-brother. I'd like them to have a relationship with him. And Chip, of course."
I slumped back in my chair. Somehow I hadn't thought about the fact that Roman now had two much younger, half-siblings.
"Dear, don't slouch. It becomes a habit," Marilee said absently. Then she said, "We've got to right this mess. I'd like to do it in a way that doesn't ruin whatever good memories people may have of Fred, if possible."
I yanked myself upright.
"Of course. So the question is, knowing what we know, and having the goals we have, what's the wisest course of action?" Muffy mused.
I sat back with a very nice assortment of cheeses and listened as they planned, plotted, and pondered. It felt for all the world like I was watching a library committee plan a gala book auction and not two women trying to clean up the bloody, heartrending mess their husbands had created.
Chapter 19
Twenty-five minutes later, we left Marilee's house with a plan. And, in my case, a slight stomachache from all that cheese.
We waved go
odbye to Marilee, who patted her quilted handbag, which now held Fred's notebook, and settled into the porch rocker she'd been occupying when we arrived. We set off toward Muffy and Chip's place, eager to disappear before the arrival of the homicide detective Marilee'd summoned.
When we reached the beach path, I gestured toward it. "Do you want to go back the same way we came?"
She checked her watch and frowned slightly. "No, let's walk through the neighborhood. I said I'd pick up the kids from their playdate before eleven. Let's swing by and get them on the way home."
I swiveled my head, scanning the quiet street. "What if that photographer is around somewhere?"
She waved a hand. "We can't go into hiding. Just make sure you wash Dylan's face before we leave."
I had to laugh at that. That kid. He didn't so much eat as smear food across his cheeks. He didn't so much paint as rub paint on his forehead. No matter the activity, the evidence of it was literally all over his face. "I wonder if Roman was like that as a boy," I said then instantly regretted it. "Sorry."
"No," she said forcefully, "don't be sorry. If, as the saying goes, sunlight really is the best disinfectant, we can't suppress completely natural, harmless thoughts like yours."
I walked and thought. "But what if Roman and his mother aren't down with this whole openness plan?"
Muffy answered in a deliberate fashion. "They're entitled to handle the situation however they find most comfortable, but they can't dictate how the rest of us deal with it. One thing I truly believe is that hiding from ... let's call them challenges ... gives them power over you. And that's how one ends up in Chip's situation, cornered and frightened at the thought that this secret he's been worrying over and working so hard to bury is going to come out."
I didn't answer. I was thinking about my own challenges. Would Rosemary, Thyme, and I be better off letting everyone know what was going on with the resort? Even thinking about bringing our family drama out into the open made me feel vulnerable and shaky.
I stole a sideways look at Muffy. Before today, I would have used a lot of words to describe my boss--fashionable; big-hearted; maternal. But 'brave' wouldn't have been one of them. She was undeniably brave though.
She must have felt my eyes on her because she turned and smiled. "It'll be okay, Sage. Chip just needs to lift his head and face it."
We reached Chris and Gella's front porch then followed the sounds of squealing kids around to the backyard. After a flurry of hugs and kisses and a quick swipe at Dylan's grimy face with a washcloth, I headed out with the kids. Muffy stayed behind chatting about Junior League business as if there were nothing more pressing on her mind.
As we walked, I listened to them chatter about their weekend with their grandparents and their morning playing superheroes with their friends. I wondered if Muffy's 'let it all hang out' plan would really translate to the playground crowd.
"What are we doing today?" Skylar asked abruptly.
"I thought we might take your kites out and give them a test flight before the festival this weekend. How's that sound?"
They exchanged looks. Then Dylan said, "We thought we could see our brother. Didn't Mom tell you, we have a big brother?"
Crap. And no, your mom failed to mention that she told you the big news.
They stared at me expectantly, buzzing with excitement at the thought of claiming Roman as theirs. My heart felt tight in my chest.
"I'm not sure Roman's ready for that," I answered slowly.
"Why not?" Skylar's lower lip was already trembling.
"Well, for one thing, it was a big surprise for him--"
"Us, too!" Dylan shouted. He grinned from ear to ear.
"Yes, but ...," I searched for the words to explain the situation, "it's a little different for Roman. You guys have known your dad your whole life, right?"
Skylar giggled. "That's silly, of course we have--he's our dad!"
"Right. And he's Roman's dad, too, right?"
"Yep."
"Only Roman didn't know him when he was a kid like you. He didn't know his dad--your dad--until he was already a grown up. Can you see how that might make him sad or mad?"
They were quiet for a moment, considering that. "Is he mad at us?" Dylan finally asked in a small voice.
I exhaled loudly. "No, kiddo, he’s not mad at you. I think he might be mad at all of the grownups."
At that, Skylar jutted out her chin and pulled back her shoulders. "Well, then you have to go see him. Mom always says if someone's mad at you, you have to talk it out. Have to."
We reached their house just as Chip was backing out of the driveway. He stopped in the road and lowered his window.
"Daddy!" the kids squeaked.
"Did you have fun?"
"So much!"
"Yes!"
He smiled broadly at them. "Awesome sauce. Hey, go wait for Sage on the porch, okay? I need to talk to her for a minute before I head back to the club."
He waited until they skipped up the walkway to the house then turned to me with a tense expression. "Have you heard from Roman?"
I shook my head.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Neither has his mother. He's not at his apartment. He's not at the course. I'm starting to worry."
"I'm sure he just needs some time to process all--"
"You don't understand. Fred came to me a little over a month ago and told me the price for his silence had gone up. I said no way, I was scrambling to pay him as it was. I wasn't going to pay more and if that meant he was going to tell Muffy, then so be it. I'd face the music. He got up close to my face and laughed right at me. I could smell the stale coffee on his breath."
"Eww."
"Anyway, he more or less growled that Muffy finding out would be the least of my worries; he was going to start with Roman. He planned to tell Roman that I had known all along that he was my son. Meanwhile, I didn't even know I had a son until Fred told me--"
"Wait. How did Fred find out?"
"I don't have a clue. But I didn't want him to be the one to spring the news on Roman, so I scraped together the money he was demanding. I figured I'd bought myself a month and that I'd use the time to talk to Muffy and to explain the situation to Roman."
"But you didn't."
His eyes drifted away from me and up to the porch where Skylar and Dylan were playing leapfrog. "I couldn't bring myself to do it," he said in a choked voice. "I'd told Fred I wasn't going to pay him anymore at all. But, I chickened out. I took the money from the kids' savings account and went to the club to meet him. When I got there, his body had already been found. He'd been dead for hours."
"I feel like there's more you aren't telling me."
He swallowed. "What if he made good on his threat and told Roman?"
"Roman didn't know."
"He'd have to say that--if he killed Fred."
I could feel my mouth hanging open so I snapped my jaws together. "You think Roman killed Fred?"
"I hope not," he said.
"Roman wouldn't do that," I said forcefully.
"I hope you're right. But taking off isn't going to help him prove his innocence if Muffy goes through with her damned plan to tell the police about the blackmail. He's going to have as much motive as anyone to have killed Fred."
I stared at him miserably for a long moment.
"What?" he said.
"Muffy's not going to have to tell the police. Marilee's meeting with the detectives right now. I gave her Fred's blackmail ledger."
He groaned. "Well, the die's cast now. All we can do is hope for the best."
I made my decision while I watched him pull away.
As soon as Chip cleared the driveway, I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat and rushed the kids into Muffy's minivan.
"Where are we going? Dylan demanded as he fumbled with his car seat buckle while I strapped his sister into her seat.
"You know that book, We're Going on a Bear Hunt?"
They nodded
their blond heads in unison.
"Well, we're going on a Roman hunt."
"Yay!" Skylar clapped her hands together. "I hope we don't have to go through any oozy mud."
"Me, too. Or a snowstorm," Dylan added.
I started the car. "Me, three," I said to peals of laughter from the backseat.
As we headed for the highway, Skylar said, "Do you know where to find a Roman?"
"I think so," I told her.
I hope so.
* * *
I got turned around a few times on St. Helena Island, so by the time we reached the ruins of the chapel, the kids were tired and thirsty.
"Just hang in there," I promised. "We're almost there. We just have to go a little bit further. Then we'll get out of the car and catch a Roman!"
Maybe.
I wasn't at all convinced about this plan, but the news that our quest was nearly over perked up the kids and they started jabbering about what they were going to do when we found Roman.
"First, I'm going to give him a big hug and ask him for a piggyback ride," Skylar announced.
"Well, I'm going to welcome him to the family and share my chocolate bar with him," Dylan countered.
The cuteness nearly did me in. But luckily the moment passed quickly.
"You have a chocolate bar? And you didn't share it with me?" Skylar yelled.
"I'm saving it for my brother."
"But you're my brother, too!"
Skylar did that thing where she swung her feet, kicking them against the driver's seat, which really makes me crazy, if I'm being honest.
I took a breath. "You can share it three ways, Dylan. Did you know that?"
"Three ways?" He asked. His voice oozed suspicion.
"Yep. It's called fractions. I'll show you."
I slowed the car and scanned the fields, looking for the spreading oak tree and the clearing. I spotted it and pulled over to the shoulder and parked.
"Where are we?" Skylar wanted to know.
"This is Roman's special place. Like your fairy tent. Or Dylan's fort," I explained. "I think this is where we'll find him."
I hoped so, at least. Otherwise, I'd just taken two small children on a two-hour round-trip drive with no pay off. Which was a serious rookie move for a childcare professional. I popped the locks and unbelted the kids. They scrambled out of the car and started running around in the field. While they burned off some pent-up energy, I tried to decide what I'd say to Roman. 'Your dad thought you killed Fred and was protecting you' seemed like a bad opening volley. Maybe I'd better let Dylan lead with his no-doubt half-melted candy bar.
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