“Why would her two closest friends say such different things?” I wondered, not expecting an answer. “What did Marley say when you went back to interview her?”
“Uh…” Garrett was quiet for a moment but I heard papers turning. “Hmm, looks like we tried to follow up with her but couldn’t get in touch. Since the parents were satisfied, and we had a lot of other cases needing more attention, we didn’t pursue it after that.”
“I’m going to look into the friends again, but I don’t expect to find much. If it weren’t for Fiona’s murder, and based on finding nothing so far, I would say this was a waste of time. She might be a crappy daughter but there isn’t a lot that says Debby isn’t whom she says she is. The only person who said she wasn’t the real Debby is dead.”
“Which is why I need you to stay on it.”
“Can you get me their addresses? I’d like to speak to Fiona’s husband, too.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Jerry Queller returned to their house. I’ll tell him I sent you. As for the friends, let me run their names through the system and see what I come up with. Stay on the line.”
I said I would and while I waited, I tapped both names into Lucas’s email back-up. I added time parameters from now to ten years prior. Two email conversations came back for Marley, the dates roughly three and six months after Debby left. I read the brief emails with Debby enthusiastically raving about her new life and thanking Marley for her encouragement to live out her dreams while also saying how much she missed her. There were a couple of replies from Marley wishing her well, congratulating her on taking a leap into the unknown and hoping she got to see amazing things; then, nothing.
For Anna, there was only one email of any significance. She wrote to Debby saying the police had been to her house and she was worried, asking her to “please get in touch.” The reply she received a few days later was very similar to the one Debby sent Marley. She was fine, she was happy, and she was living a new and wonderful life. There were a couple more emails from Anna asking how Debby was but no replies. I guessed Anna eventually gave up.
“I didn’t get an address for Marley but I recall she didn’t live in Montgomery at the time of the disappearance. I have a local address for Anna. Do you have a pen?” he asked and when I replied I did, he spelled it out. Anna lived in the nicer part of Frederickstown, a low income neighborhood with poor transport links and a bad reputation.
“How many of your friends from ten years ago do you still keep in touch with?” I asked.
“All of them.”
“Really?”
“I’ve lived in Montgomery all my life. It’s hard to lose touch with people when you grew up with them and they still live in the same neighborhoods. A couple guys moved away but we still get cards and see each other whenever they’re in town or I have the good fortune to escape. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered if it were unusual not to keep in touch but I suppose not. I’m going to look into the friends.” Of my closest friends from ten years ago, my best was Lily and I let my brother marry her. I would never not know her, I realized.
“Not tonight,” warned Garrett. “Do something nice for yourself. This can wait.”
My stomach gave another warning rumble and I decided that doing something nice had to involve eating. “Sure thing. Good night.”
“Night, sis’.
I made a few notes about our conversation and emailed them to myself so I could add them to my file before I powered down the computer. I turned off the lights and headed downstairs. The refrigerator was sparse, neither Solomon nor I having enough time to shop for groceries. I pulled out the pizza menu and browsed through it. I was trying to decide between a plain margherita and a meat feast special when Solomon walked in. He held a grocery bag in one hand and a pizza box in the other. Even better, it came from Monty’s Slices, the best pizza joint in town.
“How did you know?” I cooed, my gratefulness seeping into every syllable.
“Lucky guess,” he said as he slid the box onto the counter, turning around to reach for plates.
“Who needs plates?” I flipped open the box and pulled out a slice, biting gingerly around the oozing, hot mozzarella.
“Wine?”
“Now you’re talking!”
Solomon returned the plates to the cupboard and extracted a pair of wine glasses. A bottle of white wine came from the grocery bag. He poured both glasses and handed one to me.
“I interrogated a grandma today,” I told him. “I pretended to be her granddaughter. It wasn’t my finest hour.”
“This is why I hired you. You take the toughest nuts and crack them wide open.”
I nibbled my way to the end of the crust and took a large swallow of wine, debating whether or not to tell Solomon about climbing down from a third-floor balcony. However, I decided there was no need for that. What he didn’t know, he couldn’t worry about. “I knew it wasn’t just for my gorgeous looks.”
Solomon reached over and wiped a stray piece of cheese from my lip. “That’s correct.”
“How did you hire Fletcher and Flaherty?” I asked, the question spilling out before I could filter it. I remembered the person who planted the thoughts about Solomon’s past in my mind. “Or Delgado or Lucas? Did you meet them through work too?”
“I met Fletcher on an op years ago and he showed plenty of interest when I was setting up the agency. I met Flaherty a couple of times and knew he had a solid cop background but didn’t want to be completely retired. Delgado was a buddy and Lucas… I caught him.”
I reached for another slice. “You caught him?”
“When he was hacking. I saw how smart he was, and knew he had a good heart. He didn’t belong in prison. I got him turned around.”
“What did you do to catch him?”
“His name came up during an investigation while I was monitoring his moves. During the course of his hack, I was watching.”
“No, I mean, what was your job?”
“Lot of questions tonight, Lexi. What’s up?”
“Just curious.” I shrugged the question of his job away. Then, I tried to banish the dozen other questions in my mind.
“Your mom called me earlier,” said Solomon, switching topics so quickly, I barely had time to notice. “She wants to know what season we plan on getting married.”
“She’s probably making a new binder. Spring, summer, fall, and winter,” I guessed, instantly distracted by wedding plans. There would be plenty of time to ask the more important questions, I decided.
“Lots of options. Should I be afraid?”
“Probably. What else did she want to know?”
“Who my best man was. Needs the names for the guest list.”
“Who is your best man?”
“Tony Delgado.”
I liked Delgado a lot. My first impression wasn’t the greatest; and the idea of running into him in a dark alley without knowing his agenda would certainly fill a lot of people with fear. Now I saw him as the man who chilled my uptight sister out, doted on my adorable niece, and was an all round nice guy. “Aww! That’s so nice!” I kissed him before sitting back on my bar stool.
“Glad you’re happy about it.”
“I can see you two now,” I said, holding my hands up to put Solomon in a fantasy picture frame. The wedding talk did distract me rather well from digging into Solomon’s past. “Hanging out, poring over my mother’s binders for bridegroom inspiration, trying on suits together, crying over your speeches…”
“No,” said Solomon.
“Are you going to have a crazy bachelor party?”
Solomon thought about it. “Define crazy.”
“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas crazy.”
“You want me to go to Vegas?”
“No, but now I want to go.”
“I’m thinking poker, pizza and a lot of beer. What are you thinking for your bachelorette?”
Dancing on tables, brightly-colored cocktails, high hee
ls, sexy dresses, lasting all night long, and doing my best to avoid wearing fluffy boas, princess tiaras, or any accessory with a penis on it. Solomon didn’t need to know that either. “Same,” I said. “But slightly different.”
“How different?”
“No pizza, beer, or poker.”
Solomon smiled. “I’m happy to give you any kind of wedding you want,” he told me. He reached for a slice and chewed it thoughtfully. “You want a big wedding for two hundred guests? You got it. A small, intimate affair? Not a problem.”
“Two hundred guests is considered intimate for the Graves family.”
“My point is: whatever you want, tell me and I’ll sign the check. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. Are you happy?”
“Very,” said Solomon.
“I suppose you can have the last slice then.” I nodded to the box.
“Now, I’m ecstatic.”
Chapter Thirteen
If anyone knew about Fiona’s concerns regarding Debby Patterson, I hoped it would be her husband. With Fiona’s suspicions permanently silenced, the only way I could find out what she planned to tell me was if she already shared her thoughts with someone she was close to.
Garrett set up the appointment for late morning. He told me that Jerry Queller decided he couldn’t stay in the family home without Fiona and was currently staying with friends. I could understand why he preferred to change his location. I doubted if I could have stayed in a house where my spouse had been murdered only days before. Just the idea of walking past the room where such an event occurred gave me shudders. I had no doubt it was far worse for him.
The man at the door looked gaunt and sad, his eyes rimmed in red, his jaw covered with a week-old stubble that was peppered with gray. He shook my hand politely and invited me inside when I introduced myself, insisting that I called him Jerry. “Lieutenant Graves says you have some questions for me,” he said, directing me into a spacious living room. “I’m not sure what more I can tell you that I haven’t already told the police about my wife’s… my…” He trailed off and gulped.
“I really appreciate you seeing me. I know this must be a horrible time,” I told him, my heart swelling with sympathy at his distress. “I wanted to talk to you about a few things your wife said to me before she died.”
“Will it help with the case?”
“It might, or possibly, a cold case that I’m also looking into.”
“Did the fiend who did this to my wife kill someone else?” he asked. He paused mid-step, and I could see the alarm lighting his face up.
“I don’t know but I don’t think that’s the case here. It might be connected, and it might not.”
Jerry sat down and placed his palms on his thighs, steeling himself for whatever I was about to shoot at him. I hoped to make it quick and easy without piling on more pain. I took the seat adjacent to him, knowing my time was limited. “Your wife, Fiona, was concerned about a woman she knew. She thought she might not be the person she said she was,” I started.
Jerry looked up from where he’d been studying his knees. His pinched eyes stared at me without really looking. “You mean Debby Patterson,” he stated.
“I do. Can you tell me what Fiona said about her and her unexpected return?”
“Uh…” He blew out a breath and looked up at the ceiling as he collected his thoughts. “Fiona always said it was the strangest thing when Debby took off and didn’t come back. She thought it was damned rude of Debby but Margaret and Rod never seemed to find it odd. I guess they got used to it. Fiona told me she would be pissed if our kids ever acted like that, but it was their family, not ours, so who were we to criticize?”
“Very diplomatic,” I said, feeling that way myself.
“They were happy when Debby came home. Right out of the blue, you know? I’m not sure anyone expected it, but they invited us to a dinner to celebrate the event so we went.”
“Was that the first time you saw Debby since her long disappearance?”
“First time in a decade or more, but you must have known they cleared up that disappearance thing with the police after a couple of months?”
“The case was officially left open until Debby returned to Montgomery and could be interviewed,” I told him even though he probably already knew. Given the trauma undoubtedly on his mind, it wouldn’t be amiss if he didn’t remember the finer details of the Patterson case.
“That so? Rod never mentioned it, neither did Margaret so I assumed it was over. I didn’t speak to Debby much beyond the casual ‘hello’ or ‘great to see you’. She was just a kid when we all met. Besides, I’m not a chatterbox. My wife was the chatterbox.”
“Fiona and Debby talked at the welcome home dinner?” I prompted, hoping to spark his memory. Fiona told me they did but she was not prepared to expand on their conversation until we were well beyond Margaret Patterson’s hearing distance.
“Yes, not for long, but I remember my wife taking Debby to the side before we left. In the car, on our way home, I could tell something was troubling Fiona so I asked her. She said the darnedest thing: that she didn’t think Debby was Debby. So I asked her who did she think she was?”
“What did she say?”
“Fiona said she had no idea but she was sure she wasn’t Debby. One hundred percent sure.”
“What else did she say?”
“I remember telling her that was crazy and Fiona said she didn’t think so. She said people change so much in ten years that it was absolutely possible for someone else to come back instead. She said something must have happened to Debby during those years and someone else just took over her life. I laughed. I said she’d been watching too much TV but now…” He stopped, his fists clenching and unclenching.
“Now you think differently?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, unclenching his fists and resting his palms on his thighs. “It’s so far-fetched. Who takes over someone else’s life? It’s… it’s just crazy.”
“What did you think of Debby?”
“I didn’t really know Debby back then. She was, what? Twenty-two or something when she left? I was in my forties. We didn’t socialize often because we saw her parents at the club or out somewhere. My wife knew Debby a little better because she was friends with her mom.”
“Did Fiona and Debby spend a lot of time together?”
“I don’t think they socialized, but I’m sure they spoke from time to time. Fiona and Margaret always had some event they were planning, or a dinner to attend, or a meeting. Debby may have dropped in from time to time but I don’t think she shared the same interests as her mother. She was a free spirit and her parents were go-getters.”
“Do you think Fiona saw Debby often enough to reasonably say that she wasn’t convinced the same woman returned?”
“That’s what Fiona thought. I asked her the first time she mentioned it why would our friends embrace someone who wasn’t their daughter? I said if anyone knows who Debby is, it’s Margaret and Rod! They knew her best and that was good enough for me. I’m sure I’d know my kids after any length of time, no matter how long.”
“Did Fiona mention her impostor theory again?”
“Yes, a couple of times. She didn’t want to say anything to Margaret or Rod but I think she asked around after that dinner.”
“What did she find out?”
“Nothing that I’m aware of. She couldn’t locate anyone who used to know Debby.”
“Didn’t you think that was strange?”
“No. Debby left for ten years and didn’t keep in touch. It’s unfriendly, sure, but not uncommon. I don’t think she was very well-versed in social skills. She was always rather awkward, not like Margaret. Fiona always said Margaret must have coined the term, ‘social butterfly’.”
“Were you aware that Fiona asked me to meet her shortly before she died?” I asked, trying to soften my voice. The words were horribly painful and I didn’t want the poor man to suffer a
nymore than he clearly was. He didn’t need me to remind him how dead is wife was; I was sure he thought about that with every breath.
“No, I didn’t know.” Jerry paused, thinking again, if his zoned-out eyes were any indication. He shook his shoulders, pulling himself back to the present. “Did she want to talk to you about Debby?”
“Yes.”
Jerry fixed me with an unwavering stare. “Do you think Debby killed my wife?”
“I don’t know.”
“Debby didn’t even know that Fiona believed she was an impostor. That is, I don’t think she did. Not one person mentioned the missing persons case at the welcome home dinner. As far as I know, my wife didn’t see her again after that. Rod cleared all that missing persons crap up when Debby came home. You should have seen them when they heard she was coming back. I was playing golf with Rod when he got the email. He was so happy. He could hardly wait to see his daughter again. I can’t see any motive to compel someone to impersonate Debby. Even if my wife said something to the Pattersons, it would have been swiftly straightened out.”
“Did her father ever say why Debby came home?” I wondered.
“No, I don’t think so. He just said they got an email saying Debby had booked a flight and would be home soon. She also said not to worry about putting her up because she booked a hotel.”
“Did you think that was odd?”
“That she came home so suddenly?”
“That, and booking a hotel room instead of staying with her parents? Mrs. Patterson showed me Debby’s old room. It looked like she never changed a single thing in it.”
“Margaret was a little fastidious. I guess I didn’t think anything about it. I assumed Debby valued her space. Maybe after her big adventure, she wasn’t ready to come home to her high school bedroom.” He laughed but there was no joy in it.
Ready, Aim, Under Fire (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 10) Page 15