Trespass

by Marla Madison

  After an hour without one discovery worth saving, all I had to show for my time were my plugged sinuses from the dust covering the aged accumulation at the back of Norman’s desk drawers. About to sneeze, I reached to grab a tissue from the top of the desk, and as I grabbed for it, a photograph fell from between a handful of old papers I had gripped under my arm. I picked it up from the floor, shocked at what I saw in the photo.

  I felt the room begin to swim like it did after I indulged in too many margaritas. Norman stood in the foreground wearing a tuxedo and had his arm around another man’s shoulder, the two of them laughing at a shared joke. They were obviously not idle acquaintances—Norman knew this man well—he was Anthony Harcourt, Taylor’s father. I turned it over. Norman had written, “With Tony – 1992.”

  I looked through the stack of papers I’d been holding, hoping to find which file had contained the photo. I found a small file folder with two sheets of paper in it, my resume and cover letter from when I applied to work at Cityscapes fifteen years ago. Behind them was a brief thank-you note with a signature I would recognize anywhere. Taylor Harcourt. My heart stopped beating as I realized what this meant.

  I was with the agency for two years before I confided in Norman about my affair with Taylor Harcourt. Norman and I had grown close, and he was always curious about my lack of involvement in the dating game. The truth was, I had been so busy fighting to rise to the top in the advertising business that I had little time left for dating, much less a relationship. Norman had kept his friendship with the Harcourts to himself. It had probably never come up before the day he found out about Taylor and me, and then after I told him about our affair, he realized why Taylor had asked him to hire me.

  I’d been manipulated by the two men I cared for the most. Without my knowledge, Taylor had been responsible for my career with Cityscapes, and Norman kept it from me.

  Tossing aside my usual determination not to act while upset, I picked up the phone and dialed TJ before I could change my mind.

  “Hey,” she answered, “you got that stuff for me already?”

  I told her earlier that I was collecting Norman’s things this morning and planned on letting her go through them later to be sure I hadn’t missed anything.

  “No, I’m still at the agency, but I’ll bring it home with me and you can go through it when you come over. I need you to do something for me now if you have time. It’s nothing about Norman or this case.”

  After the briefest hesitation, she said, “Whatever you need.”

  “There’s this man I know and I need to see him. I want you to find out where he is right now.”

  If TJ thought my request cryptic, she didn’t comment. Instead, she took the information and said she would get back to me. By the time she called back, I had the boxes packed and ready to go except for the photos on the wall. I would bring them in another trip if I decided that I wanted to keep them; I couldn’t think about them now. I’d gone through one of the boxes, and another I marked unfinished. Luckily, a mailroom guy stopped in and I enlisted his aid carrying them to my car.

  Equipped with the information TJ gave me, I left the office. If Taylor had played puppeteer with my life, I wanted to know. I just had no idea what I would do about it if my suspicions were true. If he’d arranged to make sure I got the job at Cityscapes, that was one thing, a thing far in the past, but it had occurred to me he could be the reason Pierpont called the newspaper for me. That meant he was still trying to run my life.

  I arrived at the Potawatomi Casino just west of downtown Milwaukee. I was in an emotional knot brought on only in part by the surge of betrayal I felt. I couldn’t deny the excitement shooting through me at the thought of seeing Taylor again, the man who had been the love of my life. Even after sixteen years, the thought of seeing him felt like food for my soul.

  I checked my makeup or my hair at every traffic light and kept telling myself my appearance didn’t matter; this was not a reunion. In spite of that, I still felt a sense of satisfaction that I had dressed up for my trip to the office for the staff meeting, although I’d probably be missing it now.

  I entered the casino and ignored the greeter in my hurry to intercept Taylor before he left. TJ had told me that Taylor’s law firm represented the casino and he had a lunch meeting here with the owner. When I arrived at the casino owner’s office, the door was open, a busboy visible at the side of a conference room table, gathering dishes. I ignored my brain, which was telling me to wait before barging in on them. My emotions were out of control. I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and entered the room.

  The massive office had windows facing the panoramic view of Milwaukee’s downtown skyline on the edge of Lake Michigan. Four men were seated around a table at the opposite side of the room. The busboy made a silent exit wheeling a tray of dishes.

  The men stopped talking and turned to gape at me as I approached the table. My gaze fell only on Taylor, my heart beating wildly. I expected him to be annoyed at having his meeting interrupted, but his eyes crinkled at the corners when he recognized me. He was amused—I remembered that look. Taylor could smile using only his eyes. Before I could speak, he stood and excused himself.

  He steered me into a smaller conference room and closed the door, staring at me as if I were a vision. He stood close to me, his arms on my shoulders. “Gemma,” he whispered, “You’re as beautiful as the day we met.”

  “You did it all, didn’t you?” I took a step back, refusing to be influenced by his nearness. “I got the damn job at Cityscapes because of you, and you were the one who hired that hotshot attorney. What else have you done to orchestrate my life?”

  Still smiling, he reached out and touched the diamond pendant I was wearing. “I knew this would match the gold flecks in your lovely eyes.”

  I forgot that I had put it on this morning. It suddenly occurred to me now that I had accepted his extravagant graduation gift without complaint, yet now here I was, railing at him for helping me. Was I sending mixed messages? Confused, I took another step back. His eyes were as I remembered them, clear, dark hazel eyes that made me feel like I was the only thing in his life that mattered. Looking into them transported me back to the summer I fell in love with him. I could almost feel the wind in my hair as we rode the roller coaster, the spray of water on my skin when we were on his sailboat, and the sun on my face as we walked the shores of Lake Michigan.

  “My dear Gemma, I didn’t ‘get you’ your job. When I found out there was an opening at Cityscapes, I called Norman, yes. But I only asked him to give you a chance if you applied, a personal interview. You got the job on your own qualifications. He even called me later to thank me. I only give you a leg up, made sure your résumé wasn’t lost among of hundreds of others.”

  His admission deflated some of my anger, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. His hair had a few gray strands at his temples, but other than that, he looked like the twenty-two-year-old man I fell in love with so long ago. He seemed taller, but that was likely because of the custom-made, heather brown suit he wore.

  “What about the attorney who called me this week? Was that your doing, too?”

  He stepped closer and ran his hand over my hair. “I’m sorry if it upsets you, but I’ve kept in touch with your life. When you married Carter, I was happy for you, but I worried about you when I found out you were divorced. It’s my habit to check out all the local papers in the morning, and when I saw that article, I knew it was talking about you because I knew you lived across the street from Norman. He told my father and me about it when you moved in. I hope you don’t feel like I’m a stalker.” He grinned, apparently confident I would never feel that way about his interest in my life.

  I couldn’t help thinking that’s exactly what he was, a stalker, but there was a part of me that basked in his interest. I suddenly felt like an idiot, rushing in here without a plan. He stood close enough now that
I could smell his cologne, expensive and masculine. I wanted him so badly it hurt.

  I walked to the window and looked out on the view of the city I loved, trying to gather my thoughts. He came and stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders, so close I felt his breath on my neck. “Gemma, what can I say? I think about you every day. I was in love with you then, you know that. Leaving you hurt like hell.”

  “But you still left.”

  “You never asked me to stay.”

  He was right. I hadn’t. But I couldn’t have lived with an answer other than “Yes, I’ll stay with you.” Knowing he would say no was one thing, hearing it would have ripped my heart out. I wasn’t prepared to make that admission.

  Instead, I said, “If I asked, and you stayed with me, I couldn’t have lived with myself if it ruined your life. Eventually, you would have hated me for it.”

  I turned to him and he wrapped me in his arms, murmuring to me that nothing could make him hate me. I felt safe for the first time in weeks. We clung to each other for a minute before I pulled away. The wetness in his eyes told me he hurt as much as I did, and my resistance nearly melted. How easy it would be to kiss him, to fall into the trap of being his part-time love. Stolen time together would only end in heartbreak whenever he left me. I would be alone, yearning for him, knowing he would go home to another woman he loved. His wife.

  He cupped my face in his hands. “I’ll always love you, Gemma. I want so badly to be alone with you, take you out on the lake in my boat like I did then, but I don’t want to hurt you. You deserve so much more than I can give you.”

  Although I ached to be alone with him once more, I pulled away. “I have to leave.”

  Chapter 21

  TJ parked two aisles over from Gemma’s red Murano. Her curiosity had drawn her here to the casino, and she sat in the Mini watching for Gemma and mulled over the possibilities. Gemma hadn’t clued her in to why she wanted to see Taylor Harcourt, had only said it had nothing to do with Teschler.

  Despite the claim, TJ remained curious. Her brief search of Taylor Harcourt revealed he was the son of Anthony Harcourt, head of Milwaukee’s most prestigious law firm, Harcourt and Harcourt. Taylor Harcourt, a partner in the law firm, was married. Gemma had never hinted about a relationship, but she wouldn’t be the first woman to take up with someone else’s husband.

  TJ had her fingers on the door handle, ready to get out of the car, when she saw Gemma walk out of the casino entrance with Harcourt. Whatever had gone on between them, it hadn’t taken very long.

  The photos of Harcourt she’d found online hadn’t done him justice. The guy was hot. Part of the attraction was the confidence he wore like a badge of honor, and it made him the kind of man who could have any woman he wanted. Was Gemma one of them?

  They made an awesome couple. Gemma wore an outfit right off the cover of Vogue: an equestrian-cut, rust-colored suede skirt with high brown leather boots that emphasized her long legs and a tunic-length beige sweater belted at her hips, showcasing her generous bust. The wind tossed her luxurious hair, and her complexion was rosy, high with emotion.

  Harcourt turned to Gemma when they reached her car. As Gemma opened the door and faced him, there couldn’t be any mistaking it—the way they looked at each other told the story from twenty yards away—they were lovers. He handed her something. A business card? TJ wasn’t close enough to be sure. He leaned in and gave Gemma a hasty kiss before turning and walking back to the casino. As soon as he disappeared inside, Gemma dropped her face into her hands. TJ could tell she was sobbing.

  It was hard to speculate what had gone down between them—a breakup? Now she felt like a voyeur. It was time to get back to investigating the explosion.

  There were still some of Norman’s neighbors TJ wanted to talk to, so she headed back to Wauwatosa. Two other deaths in the area, one as suspicious as Teschler’s, made it hard to ignore the possibility of a connection between them. Norman’s house explosion looked less like an accident and more like a murder.

  Richard would be pissed; after she had JR, she had promised to do security work and stay away from anything remotely dangerous. But if she’d gotten herself involved in something ugly now, it hadn’t been intentional. When she accepted Gemma’s case and studied the facts, there had been little doubt in her mind the explosion was an accident. And JR had just turned one year old; it wasn’t like he was a baby anymore.

  She stopped at home and added a shoulder holster and a Ruger .380 to her ensemble, well aware of the excitement she felt being back in the game. She would have to duke it out with Richard later.

  Gemma’s neighborhood, shaded now by heavy clouds that dotted the early autumn sky, looked peaceful except for the blackened hole where Norman Teschler’s home once sat. It gave the neighborhood a sense of the surreal, a feeling of vulnerability.

  She parked in front of Gemma’s next-door neighbors’ house, the home of Lucian Krause, the boy with cherubism who’d done yard work for Teschler. The trees had just started to turn; it wouldn’t be long before raking projects began in earnest. At the side of the house, a few willows, yellowed and dry, adorned the grass with a yellow blanket of the season’s castoffs. Lucian, his head swathed in a navy hoodie, worked at raking them into manageable piles. She walked over to talk to him.

  “Lucian Krause?” she asked.

  He kept raking. “Who wants to know?”

  What was the kid’s problem? “My name’s TJ Peacock.” She held a business card in front of him. He grabbed it and stuffed it in a pocket of his jacket. “I know who you are,” he muttered. Obviously, it hadn’t taken long for the news of Gemma hiring her to spread through the neighborhood.

  “If you got a minute, I’d like to ask a couple questions.”

  He stopped raking and turned to her, his face nearly hidden by the material of his sweatshirt. She could see part of the oversized jaw, a puffy cheek, and felt sorry for the kid. It was hard enough to be a teenager these days without looking freaky.

  “You used to help Norman Teschler out with his yard work, right?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes, yeah.”

  “I heard you were working with him in his yard the day of the explosion.”

  “Maybe. I don’t remember for sure.”

  Was he hiding something or just being antisocial?

  “Accordin’ to some of your neighbors, you were with him that afternoon, trimmin’ the shrubbery around the house. Does that poke your memory?”

  “I guess.”

  The kid was acting like a real pain in the ass. “Do you remember if Norman was upset about somethin’? Somethin’ botherin’ him?”

  “He didn’t act any different.”

  “Did you go into his house at all?”

  A moment passed. TJ thought he wouldn’t answer.

  “I went in to get a glass of water. That’s all.”

  “An’ when you were in the house, did you notice anything unusual?” It was possible there had been a slow gas leak, but if the kid noticed it, he would have mentioned it to Teschler, since everyone knew he had no sense of smell.

  He sneered. “Like did the house smell of gas?”

  It had been a rather obvious question. “Did it?”

  “No.”

  TJ sensed there was something the kid wasn’t telling her. “Did he say anything about expecting a visitor that night?”

  “No. I told you, nothing was different.”

  They were interrupted when the side door opened and a woman TJ assumed was his mother approached them.

  “Are you the investigator who’s asking everyone questions about Norman?” She turned a pair of beady, dull brown eyes on TJ, taking her in from head to toe. “We didn’t know him very well, but Lucian here helped him out around the yard from time to time, didn’t you Lucian?” She turned to her son, who had started to back away as soon as his mother j
oined them.

  TJ called after him, “If you think of anything else, my number’s on that card I gave you.”

  His back to them, he began stuffing leaves into black garbage bags. She turned to Mrs. Krause. TJ couldn’t remember her first name, but she had it in her computer notes somewhere. Started with an A. Ann? In case she hadn’t heard, TJ explained she was working for Teschler’s relatives. No need to mention Gemma.

  “Mrs. Krause, did you see Mr. Teschler the day or evening of the explosion?” TJ asked.

  Mrs. Krause wiped her hands on an old-fashioned apron she wore tied around her narrow body. It covered the kind of housedress women wore fifty years ago, well-washed cotton with a tiny floral print. “No, I was working that night. My shift started at eleven.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “I’m a nurse at the mental health center out at the medical complex. Have been for nearly twenty years now,” she said proudly.

  “When was the last time you talked to Norman Teschler?”

  Krause cupped her face in one hand, her eyes moving to the right as if to give the impression she was deep in thought. “I really can’t say. Maybe two weeks ago, or really it could have been longer than that. I don’t go out in the yard much. I’ve got my Lucian to do the yard work.”

  Krause had lived across from Teschler for decades. You would think the woman would have more to say about the man. Once more, TJ had the feeling she was being shined on, and something in the woman’s attitude said Norman wasn’t her favorite person. Not surprising, if she was super religious and knew about Norman’s sexual proclivities. Or possibly she was sour because she hadn’t been one of them? TJ glanced at her notebook. “Is your daughter home, Mrs. Krause? I’d like to talk to her, too.”