Never Kissed Goodnight

by Edie Claire

  Leigh cast a glance around the table. Her relatives had gone pale en masse.

  Maura took a deep breath before continuing. "According to Mason Dublin, 'Torr,' as he's called, knew Mason had a sister because she had been part of the counterfeit operation. This tells us that Torr knew all about the counterfeit operation, which is probably what ties him to Mason in the first place. Torr would have been too young to have had anything to do with the original ring, but he might have had some interest in either Mason's expertise or leftover paraphernalia." As Maura explained about the bill-stamping plates and Mason's widely revered artistic abilities, Leigh watched her cousin's face. It remained perfectly blank.

  "One way or another," Maura continued, "Mason got on Torr's bad side and took off. But Torr didn't let it go. He went so far as to drive to Pennsylvania and track down Trudy Dublin in Pittsburgh. He wanted to know where Mason was hiding, and he might also have thought Trudy had something he wanted—like the plates. Either way, she resisted. You know the rest."

  Leigh's stomach flip-flopped, and from the look of the table's other occupants, it wasn't the only one.

  "Torr stayed in Pittsburgh after he put Trudy in the hospital, probably hoping her brother would show. He did. The fact that Mason was running around the hospital outside of visiting hours wearing scrubs tells us that he knew somebody might be watching. But he wasn't careful enough, because eventually Torr saw him. Unfortunately, that was the same day he ran into Leigh and followed her home."

  Lydie uttered an exclamation and dropped her chin into her hands. She exchanged a tortured look with Frances, but said nothing more.

  "Torr took a shot at Mason in the parking lot—whether it was just a warning or meant business, we don't know. Mason was injured, but nonetheless managed to give Torr the slip."

  Maura paused a moment. "And if you want my take on the big picture, here it is. I don’t think Torr's presence in Pittsburgh—or even Mason Dublin's—had anything to do with the blackmail attempts. I think Mason's probably telling the truth that he heard about the kidnapping on the news, and panicked because he thought Torr might be behind that, too. He was worried about Torr taking a step beyond Trudy and terrorizing the rest of the family. That's what he wanted to warn Leigh about. But he screwed up—because in following Leigh home from the hospital he led Torr right to her."

  Leigh could see her mother's face going gray, and she piped up quickly. "But Torr has no reason to pester the rest of us now. He's just waiting for Mason to respond."

  Six hopeful pairs of eyes turned toward the detective, but her answer was less than reassuring. "Torr can't know for sure that Mason ever got the message on the mirror. He may be looking for other ways to lure him back out in the open." She looked at the anxious faces around the table with sympathy before continuing.

  "In the beginning, Torr probably went to the bar to seek out Mason's counterfeiting expertise, and/or equipment. After Mason double-crossed him and took off, he would have pressured some of the bar's regulars for information. My guess is they didn't have anything to give him, not at first. But after Movers and Shakers aired, one or the other of Mason's "buddies" decided the info on his family could be worth a buck. So as for whether Torr knows who and where all of you are—I'm afraid we have to assume the worst."

  Dead silence descended. Mathias, who had been sitting happily in his honorary uncle's lap, suddenly started to squawk, and Warren took him quickly out of the room, tossing him in the air on the way. Mathias's discontent turned at once into squeals of pleasure, and his happy laughter cut through the tense air like a knife.

  "We can assume that for safety's sake, sure," Leigh began, struggling to say something—anything—positive. "But this whole situation is only temporary. This Torr guy wants something Mason has, and Mason plans on giving it to him as soon as possible. So once that's done, it'll all be over. Right?" She looked hard at Maura, willing her not to disagree. But either telepathy wasn't the detective's thing or, more likely, she didn't choose to lie.

  Maura threw a sober glance back at her friend, and exhaled. "It's possible this whole thing is about the counterfeiting plates. The message on the mirror certainly gives that impression. But I don't think that's all of it. Maybe Mason took Torr's money and never delivered the goods. But it's hard to believe the plates alone were worth this much trouble." She paused again, clearly not anxious to deliver the rest of her thoughts. "The traveling, the tracking…the unnecessary violence against Trudy. I'm afraid it all points toward something more personal."

  "So what does than mean to us?" Gil asked harshly, jabbing an expensive fountain pen against the table. He look more unnerved than ever, which Leigh didn't find surprising. He'd been dealing with the Movers and Shakers fallout for almost two weeks now, and despite his diligent efforts, things had only gone from bad to worse. Tough-going for a man who existed to fix things.

  "It means that a nice, neat drop-off of the plates—if that's even what Mason went to get—isn't going to satisfy Torr," the detective answered.

  "So he wants revenge," Gil responded, letting out a frustrated breath. "And he won't be happy till Mason suffers." He threw a hard glance at Maura. "One way or another."

  Cara stood up from the table, her face flushed. For a moment her eyes flashed fire at her husband, and her mouth moved as if she were ready to say something. But then she turned and walked out of the room.

  Gil's expression turned guilty, and after a moment he shoved his chair back from the table and followed her. Leigh, her mother, and her aunt remained at the table, staring helplessly at each other.

  "Mason's a fool," Frances said solemnly. "If this Torr does have it in for him, he can't possibly confront the man and walk away."

  "I have a feeling he knows that," the detective offered quietly. She looked at Lydie. "The only way Mason can end the threat to his family is to stop running. And if he won't work with the police, I'm afraid that leaves only two options. Either he's willing to commit murder himself—"

  Lydie quickly shook her head, and Maura finished heavily.

  "Or else it's a suicide mission."

  ***

  Gil came back down the stairs looking miserable and angry at the same time. "See what you can do," he said to Leigh, tossing his head in the direction of his and Cara's bedroom. "She won't talk to me."

  Leigh mounted the creaky stairs of the farmhouse with trepidation. She wasn't sure what had been going through Cara's mind lately, and she doubted she was likely to find out. When her cousin got in one of her stone-wall moods, she was virtually impossible to crack.

  Yet it wasn't long after Leigh had settled herself on the edge of the bed that her cousin, who was standing at its foot, began talking. Loudly.

  "He's going to get himself killed now, do you realize that?" She was looking not at Leigh but at her own reflection in the antique floor mirror. "He hides out for thirty years, shows up and gets to know you, then kicks the bucket. Isn't that just priceless?"

  Wicked sarcasm was a tool Leigh wasn't above using. She decided to take a risk. "Maybe you could kill him yourself."

  Cara whirled around, her eyes flashing. Then, as Leigh had hoped, her composure finally broke. Tears welled up in her eyes, followed by great, racking sobs that shook her body as she slumped over the mattress. Leigh sat quietly nest to her, and after five minutes, the worst was over.

  Cara raised her swollen face, her eyes once again resolute. "He can't die, Leigh," she said firmly.

  "He won't."

  "It's not fair. I want to see him first. I want to see him so I can look him in the eyes and tell him I never want to see him again."

  Leigh cracked a smile. She hated herself for being such a sentimental pushover, but she couldn't help it. If they ever had a chance to meet without the baggage, Mason and Cara would adore each other—she was sure of it. "Your mother told you why he really left?" she asked carefully.

  Cara nodded, then shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Infidelity, bank robbery, what's the difference? He ha
d a child and he didn't care. He could have come back after the statute of limitations had run out. He didn't."

  Leigh took a deep breath. It was Lydie's place to tell the rest of the story, but when would she? There was no excuse for Cara being kept in the dark any longer. How could she possibly resolve all the convoluted feelings she had about her father when half of them were based on a falsehood?

  "He did come back, Cara," Leigh said before her mind had a chance to change. "He came back a lot." Thinking no more, she dove headfirst into the truth as she knew it—how Mason had agreed with Lydie that their baby daughter was better off without him, but that he hadn't been able to stay away. She relayed Mrs. Snodgrass's claims, the story about his attendance at The Homecoming play, and Lydie's confessions about keeping the wedding and Mathias's birth a secret. Cara sat perfectly still through it all, listening with a blank expression on her face.

  When Leigh had finished, she sat back and waited for her cousin's response. She expected a brief show of anger toward Lydie for keeping her in the dark—and perhaps just the smallest glimmer of happiness. Though it wasn't the happy ending of her childhood dreams, it had to mean something to know that her father—in some bizarre way—did care.

  But neither emotion materialized. Her cousin stood stiffly, then began to repair the rumpled bed.

  "Cara," Leigh asked, concerned. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

  She turned around then, her tear-stained face as blank as it ever had been. "Because," she said matter-of factly. "I have nothing to say."

  Chapter 21

  "I'm just really in the mood for it, that's all."

  Warren stared at his wife as if she'd gone even more insane than she usually seemed to be. "Your family is living under armed guard here at this farm, the countdown to Mason's mystery rendezvous with a violent criminal is on, and you want to do a dinner dance on the Gateway Clipper?"

  Leigh nodded sheepishly. "Come with me, please?"

  He continued to stare at her. "How dumb do you think I am? Now tell me what's up. Because if you're planning on some clandestine rendezvous of your own—"

  "It's nothing like that!" she insisted, getting desperate. "It has nothing to do with Mason, I swear. I just need a change of scenery, and we haven't had much time alone together lately. Don't you trust me?"

  He surveyed her carefully with his soulful, puppy dog eyes. "No."

  Leigh groaned. She had tried. She really had. But since she hated admitting defeat, she would give it one more shot. "Just get in the car, Harmon."

  He didn't move. They stood in Cara's driveway, the Brittany spaniel, Maggie, reaching new heights of centrifugal force as she raced around their legs in a wide arc. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on." He leaned back on his VW bug, his arms crossed lazily across his chest. "There's no rush."

  "Yes, there is," she argued, opening his car door. "I'll explain on the way. Get in."

  He still didn't move.

  "Warren!"

  He cocked one eyebrow at her defiantly, then leaned down to pet Maggie, who had temporarily ceased her orbit. "Spill, it, my dear," he said calmly. "The truth this time, please."

  Leigh narrowed her eyes at him. "If it weren't for all this stuff going on with Mason, you'd go with me, wouldn't you?"

  "Sure."

  "Okay," she said with relief. "Then it's not my fault. You can tell them that. Better yet, you can test out those great acting skills you're always bragging about. Now get your butt behind the wheel and drive us to Station Square pronto, Councilman—or you're going to miss your own surprise party."

  ***

  Once the cat was out of the bag, the rest of the family decided to head down to the party right behind Leigh and Warren, rather than following at a respectful distance as had been the original plan. All seemed anxious to escape the confines of the farm—so much so that even traveling with a posse of private security guards seemed a reasonable price to pay.

  To his credit, Warren did a wonderful acting job, and Leigh enjoyed garnering kudos from the campaign volunteers who had planned everything so carefully. The Gateway Clipper was in fine form, and as the old-fashioned riverboat sailed away from the dock, Leigh took in the twinkling downtown skyline with a sigh. She had always loved dinner cruises, but she would enjoy this one a whole lot more if she knew Mason Dublin was not about to do something stupid.

  A hand clapped her heavily on the shoulder blades, and she didn't need to look to know it was Maura. She also didn't need to look to know that her friend would be wearing that same bizarre, goofy smile she always seemed to wear these days—except, of course, when she was talking business. "Councilman today—President tomorrow," she said proudly. "I always knew that kid would go far."

  Leigh chuckled. "As I recall, you used to say the only thing he'd ever be president of was the International Brown-Nosers Society."

  Maura smirked. "Yeah, well, we were young. We both underestimated him. But now, I'd say you're in serious danger of that First Lady thing."

  "Tell me about it," Leigh made a face. "Highest-ranking unpaid job in the country, and I'd probably get fired."

  "Be a trendsetter," Maura joked. "Make the White House business casual."

  Leigh's eyebrows rose. "I like that."

  "At least you wouldn't have to cook."

  "True." Leigh noted the rosy glow on her friend's plump cheeks, and couldn't stand it anymore. "All right, Polanski. Fess up right now. Who is it that's making you so blasted happy all of a sudden?"

  A flicker of self-consciousness crossed Maura's face, but was replaced just as quickly with her policewoman demeanor. "Look, Koslow," she said stiffly, "I do need to talk shop for a minute. I just came from the hospital. Trudy Dublin's talking."

  Leigh's eyes widened. "Really? Does she know where Mason is? Does she understand the message?"

  Maura shook her head. "I'm not sure what she knows. All I'm sure of is that she doesn’t trust police. I couldn't get a thing out of her." She let out a breath. "That's why I was hoping Cara would be willing to take a shot at it. Any information Trudy could tell her about Mason might help us figure out where he and Torr are planning to meet. Without that…"

  Her voiced trailed off, and Leigh looked at her intently. "You think Torr will kill him, don't you?" she asked quietly.

  The detective answered without hesitation. "Yep."

  Leigh looked away. It was a reality she wasn't prepared to deal with. Not now. Not when Cara had finally gotten so close to having all her questions answered. It just wasn't fair. "Maybe Torr does just want the plates," she reasoned out loud. "Maybe Mason can deliver them and still get away."

  Maura threw her friend a heavy look. "I got a call back from an ATF agent today—one who's been on Torrence Bagley's trail for a while now. The perp is even worse news than I thought. He's an antisocial personality, and wily as they come. The agent thinks he's responsible for at least three homicides, but there isn't enough evidence to prosecute. He's wanted on smuggling and weapons charges all along the Gulf Coast, but no one has managed to apprehend him. This case is big, Koslow. If we could just get hold of Mason, I'm sure we could work out some sort of immunity deal in exchange for his cooperation."

  "You said Mason wasn't wanted."

  "He's not, not that I know of. Yet. But something's keeping him from coming forward. Maybe Torr knows something that could put him away, too."

  Leigh's shoulders sagged. She wanted to believe that Mason was over his illegal proclivities, but she knew that was naïve. Hadn't Lydie been wanting to believe it for the past thirty years?

  "So we have to reach Mason first, somehow," she thought out loud. Had she remembered to forward their home calls to Warren's cell phone? She had. But there had been no further word from Mason. Not even a hang-up when Warren answered.

  The riverboat sailed slowly past "The Point," the picturesque downtown park that marked the junction of Pittsburgh's three rivers and the birth of the Ohio. Veering north, the boat glided smoothly u
pstream on the Allegheny, giving them an impressive view of the new Pirates' stadium. It was a balmy night for November, but the wind over the water—and the thoughts in her head—were making her shiver. "Maura," she asked thoughtfully. "What do you think Torr really has against Mason? What could he have done?"

  The detective was quiet for a moment. "I have a theory," she said finally. "The ATF agent told me that he almost had Torr six months ago. It seems that he was peddling explosives, and had found a primo clientele. Domestic terrorists—a band of messed-up rich kids with money to burn. They were set to make a purchase, but somebody tipped off the authorities in time to intercept it. They got the terrorists, they got the explosives, but they didn't get Torr."

  Leigh swallowed, her heart lightening a bit. "You think Mason tipped them off?"

  Maura shrugged. "It's possible. The timing's right. It would explain why Mason dropped out of sight, and why Torr's so hot to find him."

  "But that means Mason did a good thing!" Leigh said brightly. She knew she needed to stop it—stop trying to make Cara's father out to be something he wasn't. But somehow she couldn't help it.

  Maura raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Yeah. It would also mean Torr is out for blood."

  Before Leigh had a chance to dwell on the thought, she was whisked away by one of the volunteers. Dinner had begun. She picked nervously at her chicken breast, trying to smile as Warren's supporters treated him to an impromptu roast. She wished she could put Mason Dublin out of her mind long enough to enjoy her husband's big night, but it wasn't to be. As the boat sailed back down the Allegheny and along the Ohio toward Avalon, her mind kept returning to Cara. Would she be willing to talk to Trudy? Would she go tonight?

  As dinner wrapped up, Leigh made her way toward her cousin, who was pointing out to an uninterested Mathias the spot on the bluff where her beloved Victorian house had once stood. Cara saw her and turned immediately.