by Clea Simon
***
This realization knocked me back so hard, I nearly drove off the road. Well, that and the fact that a little red speedster had just sped by me as if it owned the road. In reality, the highway was big enough for both of us—nobody else was out here—but he’d come charging up the hill as if he owned it, riding the median like a daredevil with a grudge. I’d swerved again as I felt the wind of that little car, and found myself staring at its bumper in the rearview for the few seconds before it disappeared over the next ridge. I’m, as you might have figured, a little bit of a car nut, and there was something familiar about those wheels. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the driver, but in truth the car might have been more distinctive.
Especially this time of year. Fall—foliage season—is when we get everything up here. Dodge Caravans and SUVs more fit for off-road trailblazing than highway driving clogging up the roadways, mostly trudging along five miles under the limit. They support the local businesses, or at least buy our knickknacks, so the authorities like them. Me, I’m usually live-and-let-live, but if I can scare a few of them off the pavement, I consider that my civic duty.
Winter, we get some skiers—either passing through or looking for cross-country trails. And some of those folks like the sportier models, not that any of them know how to drive in snow.
But it was too late for the slopes and too early for anything else. Stick season, which brings nothing but the runaways. Year-round, they show up: adulterers looking for a place to play. A few odd scofflaws who have their own reasons for leaving the city. My ex Tom was one of those, a former cop who had come around on a private job—and had tried to enlist me in some shady dealings. Not that I’m averse to a little easy money, but time hadn’t been kind to him, and with Creighton around, Tom had been easy enough to ignore.
Still, it didn’t figure. That crowd doesn’t want to be seen. They certainly don’t drive sports cars. And that little red model? It sparked something. I remembered a diner. An older gentleman…But with that thought in mind, I’d come to the turnoff for the Haigens. I’d be at their door in five minutes, so it was time to concoct my story.
Chapter Fifteen
“Dierdre, great to see you.” I plastered my biggest grin on my face as I climbed the front stairs. The petite brunette who stood at the top had already opened the door with a look like a deer in the headlights, and I needed to get inside. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her makeup was impeccable. It didn’t move at all as she returned my smile.
My story, I’d decided, was that I was doing a preparatory home visit. An almost-final run-through before we settled Spot on her husband. It wasn’t a bad cover. In the weeks to come, it would even be true. Basically, I wanted an excuse to ask about her and her husband’s habits, their visitors and friends. Figuring out how Spot’s routine might fit into all of that seemed reasonable enough.
“Pru.” I didn’t hear anger in her voice. Annoyance, maybe, but there could be other reasons for that. Fatigue. For all I knew, she was cooking dinner. Having a fight with her husband. Or getting rid of the evidence. “What a surprise.”
It’s the kind of thing people say when they don’t want you there. Since she was unlikely to growl, it was all the warning I would get. And one I could easily ignore.
“I just had a very good day with Spot,” I started in. “I think he’ll be ready ahead of schedule, and I wanted to check in with you and Mr. Haigen to see where you stand.”
“Where we stand?” She was confused, which is what I intended. In the moment of silence that followed, I shifted from foot to foot. She got it. “I’m sorry,” she said. She wasn’t, but she was as well trained as that dog would be. “I was—We’ve had a visitor. Won’t you please come in?”
“Thanks.” I looked around for the other guest. Not seeing anyone, I stepped by her, into an entrance hall that could have doubled for my old apartment, only neater. White stone tile would’ve shown any mud that tracked in, if any had dared, and the little rug—I’d have bet Tibetan—clearly wasn’t for wiping my boots on. I slipped them off. I didn’t like feeling unbalanced, but I wasn’t sure of my options as I stood there, uncertain. Waiting. The only other vehicle out front had been a Mercedes SUV with tinted windows.
I knew that car. I’d seen it here before, and had asked about it then, being a gearhead in my own way. “Richard’s eyes…” Dierdre had said, by way of an explanation, though I’d been more interested in how the GL drove. “We’ve put it on the market.”
“No takers on the Benz?” I asked today. I couldn’t see her driving it. Then again, it would have made driving Spot around easier. For all its size, I bet it had pickup.
“What? Oh, we’re not selling locally.” I nodded, unsure of what to make of this non sequitur. “Nick has it over at his dealership in Amherst.”
Nick, the rich man’s factotum. Then again, it was probably a smart move. Blue book value on this model was close to fifty thousand, more than most folks around here made in a year—and they had to eat on that. Yes, I had checked.
“And I should be getting it back there.” The voice, deep and resonant, startled me. For all his size, Nick Draper moved quietly, coming up behind Dierdre. “Richard’s asleep now.”
I watched as he walked by me, pulling on a heavy barn coat that magnified his bulk. “You’re taking care of him?” I wasn’t sure what the dynamics were here, or if the buddy were actually more of a dogsbody.
“I’m helping out.” He smiled, showing his teeth.
I smiled back. It wasn’t reflex, it was a mutual display and completely conscious on my part. Brawny and craggy looking, rather than wrinkled, with a mop of dark hair that still looked like his own, Nick was probably used to women returning his smiles. I wondered again about Mariela. For all her apparent devotion to Richard, she might have found this big guy attractive. Then again, she might have found him as smug as I did.
“Think you can sell the car?” I hadn’t realized he had a dealership. Hadn’t realized any of this set had anything like a job.
He shrugged, but the smile didn’t dim. “Better chance in Amherst than here. I had some people looking at it yesterday. They might want it for their summer home, the four-wheel drive and all.”
He made it sound like a beater. Richard hadn’t thought of it that way. Back when I’d first seen it, he’d looked miffed when his wife talked about selling it. “So, you’re a used car salesman?”
He chuckled, low and deep. “You can say I’m a facilitator. I have an interest in a dealership out there, and if I can help a friend…” He let the sentence hang there, but his meaning was clear. He was a useful leech.
Dierdre cleared her throat with a dainty little cough. I’d almost forgotten about her. Nick’s smile must have had more wattage than I’d been aware of.
“Thank you for all your help, Nick.” Her voice had gone all formal; she was dismissing him. It was the wrong move, and it made me look at her harder. Was he here for more than her husband? “Richard was really upset,” she said, turning to me, her dark eyes wide. “The whole thing with the girl…”
I nodded, wondering again about the dynamic, as her voice trailed off. Mariela was hardly a girl, and Richard wasn’t the only person in the household who would have known her.
I’d taken the Haigens at face value. Ailing older husband. Picked-on younger wife. Somewhat younger, I amended my thoughts. Dierdre was probably a trophy at some point, but the glittery leaf had been flaking off for some time now. Maybe it wasn’t Mariela who Richard was trying to pawn off on Nick. Maybe it was Dierdre.
“Not a problem, Dieds.” Nick’s low voice cut into my thoughts. The diminutive was intentional, I was sure of it. I’d seen his eyes dart to me as he’d said it. I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d touch her. How she’d respond.
He didn’t. Bouncing the keys in his hand, he nodded to me and sailed out the door. I watched him drive the big
Benz away.
When I turned to Dierdre, she was watching, too. The light raked her face, highlighting the fine lines around her eyes and her mouth that nothing could erase. She was last year’s model, all right, and I wondered if Richard had made moves to replace her. You don’t need sight to be vain. I’d heard how he talked, how he’d treated her, never mind that his wiry mop had more gray in it than she would ever allow. With all the work she put into herself, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d sought a little extracurricular attention, though I might have questioned her taste. Nick was younger than her husband. Taller, too, his size coming from bones and muscle rather than flesh, but that smile wasn’t much of an improvement over Richard’s permanent scowl.
Had I interrupted a tryst, or something darker? She’d had too much work done for her brows to furrow, but something about her mouth, about the way she clasped her hands together, made me think that she wasn’t happy to see the big man leave. Dierdre Haigen, I thought, was afraid.
I studied her for another cool minute before she remembered I was there.
“Sorry.” She reached for her brow in a girlish gesture, as if to fix her hair. Her smooth, dark ’do was lacquered in place, but the move served as a screen, and when she looked up, her smile was back. It could have been the Botox that kept it from reaching her eyes. “Richard has just been devastated by all of this.”
“All of this” was a neat summary for a woman’s death. I nodded, wondering again how Dierdre felt about it.
***
“Won’t you have some tea?” Dierdre’s voice was softer now that she’d decided to welcome me in. There had been something about Mariela. Something, I’d had the feeling, she’d been about to say. “Richard, as you heard, is napping, but perhaps I could help you?”
“Actually, I’m here to help you.” I put Mariela out of my mind. What I needed to do now was regain the ground lost when I’d taken my shoes off. I needed to assert my dominance over the situation. “And, of course, to express my deepest condolences.”
Dierdre blinked at that, and I had a quick flash of Wallis purring. My tabby would have enjoyed seeing me toy with this pampered little mouse of a woman. When she didn’t say anything, I threw out another prompt.
“Mariela was part of your household, wasn’t she?” We were still standing right inside the foyer.
Dierdre Haigens’ unnaturally plump mouth opened and for a moment the mouse resembled a goldfish. When those dark red lips snapped back shut, I knew that whatever came out next would be a lie.
“Why, yes, and thank you.” Her dark head bobbed and one manicured hand fluttered in acknowledgment. Noblesse oblige. “It’s not as if she were a member of the family, but still…” With another limp wave, she dismissed the life of a woman.
“Even so, you must have been devastated.” I doubted anything touched this woman that deeply. Then again, I have my own prejudices.
“It was a shock.” She dabbed at dry eyes. “Mariela had been with us for years.”
That wasn’t an answer, and it didn’t do anything to break down my preconceptions about this woman. She might as well have been speaking about me, and we’d only met a handful of times.
“She did live on the premises, though, didn’t she?” It was a guess. From the sudden tightness around her mouth, it was a good one.
“Well, yes. In the staff apartments.” One of the outbuildings, I figured. If only I could get a chance to look at them. “But you came about the guide dog?”
“Indeed.” I’d have my chance later, I determined. “Because Spot will be living here with you and your husband, I wanted to come by and see if I could get ahead of any problems.”
“Problems?” Her brows managed to rise. “I thought the dog would be fully trained.”
I had to smile at that. “He is.” I nodded toward the room behind her and took a step. After only a brief hesitation, she followed me in. “But often people who don’t live with animals don’t realize what their limitations are. Or,” I paused, taking in the room, “what the limitations of a newly disabled person may be.” I saw more white, a fireplace that looked like it was never used, and the kind of furniture you see in design magazines. This wasn’t a cozy room, and I wondered if anyone ever sat here. Then again, she had paused for some reason. I was going to find out why.
“That grouping, for example.” Under the big picture window, metal-frame chairs were pulled up close to a glass-topped table. “That may become more difficult for Richard to maneuver around, as his sight deteriorates. Spot will keep him from walking into things—he’ll stand in front of him to stop him, if he needs to—but it’s just as easy to change a few things around. Make more space for both of them.”
A noncommittal little snort greeted that. I had the feeling that Dierdre would more likely ban both her husband and his dog rather than rearrange a designed grouping.
“Richard is used to things being a certain way.” She wasn’t looking at me, and I wondered if she was telling the truth. “He’s very…particular.”
Maybe I had been unfair. If so, a barked shin—or a fall—would change that.
She turned back to me. “But you were talking about accommodations for the dog?”
“Not accommodations, exactly.” I was watching her and decided to risk it. “After all, I assume Spot will stay with Mr. Haigen. Will sleep by his bed.” I paused, waiting. “In case he needs the dog during the night.”
Another little nod that said nothing.
“Will that be a problem?” I couldn’t ask outright what their sleeping arrangements were. Hell, to an outsider, Creighton and I wouldn’t seem much like a couple either.
“Oh, no. No.” She was distracted by something. I’d bet anything it had to do with the dead woman.
“Was caring for the dog going to be one of Mariela’s duties?” It was a reach. I couldn’t come up with anything better.
“I thought—You said that Richard would be with the dog constantly.” There was a question buried in there.
I nodded. “Yes, but of course a dog has his needs. He’ll need to be walked. Unless—” I looked out the window. The grounds were huge. “Have you considered putting in a dog run?”
“What? No.” She crossed the room and reached for the curtain before catching herself. She’d been about to pull it closed, I was sure. What I didn’t know was why. “We can have Raul walk him.”
She didn’t have to say that Raul was the help. The way she said his name did that, as did her easy assurance that he’d accept additional duties without question. Hey, it was a job. And it might, I realized, be an entrée to someone who knew Mariela better than this ice queen.
“Raul…” I let his name linger. Gardener, I’d wager. Maybe handyman or groundskeeper? That was my in. “May we check out the grounds?” I softened my tone, put on the smile again. “They look lovely, and it might help me get a sense for anything Spot might need.”
“Now? No, no.” Despite the smooth mask, the faintest suggestion of a furrow appeared between her eyes. “In fact, I was just on my way out. Do you mind?” She wasn’t going to say anymore, I could see that. But just as clearly, she couldn’t take her hand off that curtain. Not with me there. So I nodded as if I didn’t notice, and let her lead me back to the front door. I took my time with my boots—if she really had an appointment, she’d have donned her own coat by then. When I finally couldn’t stall anymore, I stood to shake her hand. She took it, but I’d swear she wiped it off as soon as I was gone.
***
I didn’t go far. I didn’t think she had any appointment, but I was hoping that the lie would spur her to get out of the house, just as cover. Maybe she’d rabbit off in search of help or advice. Either way, I figured it was worth a little wait. Parked as I was, a half-block down from her driveway entrance, I’d see if she pulled out, and I’d trot back to investigate. Those outbuildings intrigued me, and Creighton
had said that Mariela had been moved. Creighton’s people would have checked her living quarters. Creighton’s too good a cop to let the obvious things go. But the Haigens were a big deal in this town, and I’d bet they could limit just how much of their property would be inspected, at least without a court order. Besides, I knew Creighton. He was tougher than he looked, but he didn’t flaunt it. Until—and unless—he had reason to pounce, he would wait. My boyish beau was like Wallis in that way. Smooth.
It wasn’t a cat that I wanted here, anyway. Once again, I kicked myself for not bringing Spot. His nose would have picked up a lot that I’d miss. Not that it would necessarily be easy getting the taciturn beast to share any of it.
Chapter Sixteen
I was almost ready to go get him when I saw her leave. A different Mercedes, one of the little sporty ones, edged out of the woods and took off, making full use of its power. I saw her as she drove by, head back, hands easy on the wheel, and for a moment I could relate. Fast cars bring their own kind of freedom, a sense of power at your command. I wondered how Dierdre Haigen felt married to a man whose life was becoming increasingly circumspect, who must, at some level, be becoming more dependent. A man whose money had paid for those nifty wheels. Then she disappeared in the deepening shadows, and I turned my mind to the task at hand.
I didn’t exactly saunter as I made my way past the house. I didn’t hide either. I was a local, a professional, and perhaps more to the point if I met Raul or any of his colleagues, someone else hired by the Haigens to do a task. If anyone asked, I’d stick with my original story: I wanted to check out the site of a possible dog run. Hey, maybe I’d even do it, and talk the lady of the house into building one.
For now, I took my time—and the scenic route. A slate path skirted the big house before splitting. One branch led to a barn-like building—the garage, I figured, since an offshoot of the driveway also headed that way and I hadn’t seen the missus’ little speedster out front. The other wound its way through what would probably be gardens in a month or two, and so I followed, doing my best to look as if I belonged. As I walked, I listened. Birds aren’t the brightest, but they do serve as an efficient early warning system, and if I was going to have to explain myself, I could use a heads-up. I figured something was waiting: up ahead, behind a screen of closely planted evergreens, I could see a cluster of buildings. Everything looked still, but it sounded still, too, which was weird. Granted, it was late in the day, but someone should have been peeping. Someone should be making a last-ditch attempt to claim those arbor vitae as his own. Instead, there was nothing more than the occasional muted rustling.