by Blake Pierce
“Hell no. Not me.
“Chloe maybe?”
“Right now, there would have been a better chance of it having been me.”
He considered this for a moment and then started for the door again. “I’m going to go. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Go around the building. Don’t go back through. Spare me some awkwardness for the rest of the night, please.”
He hung his head, as if doing his best to milk some sympathy from her. He did as she asked, walking to the other side of the building and disappearing into the shadows. Danielle watched him go as she slowly made her way back to the exit door. Yet as she reached for the handle, her mind kept returning back to one particular moment of the awkward conversation.
While she may have slipped up in revealing that they had seen their mother’s diary, it had been telling. He had perhaps revealed a bit too much about himself.
Because unless she was totally reading too much into things, it seemed to Danielle that the moment she had accidentally mentioned the diary, her father had suddenly been in a rush to leave.
CHAPTER NINE
The following morning, Chloe and Rhodes swapped positions from the previous night. Rhodes made the drive from DC to Falls Church while Chloe made several calls. The first call was made at 7:30, to Deputy Nolan. When he answered, he did so with the sort of vibrancy in his voice that made Chloe assume he was a morning person.
“Good morning, Agent Fine. Headed back our way this morning?”
“I am, actually. And I was hoping you could put a list together for me. Between what you’ve determined on your own and what Mark Fairchild has offered, could you get me a list of all of the organizations and groups Jessie Fairchild was speaking with since they arrived in Falls Church?”
“Can do. I’ll text it to you within fifteen minutes.”
It was the sort of morning that got Chloe’s blood pumping. She’d had a well-rested night, a decent breakfast, and now, before eight o’clock, had a list of things to get done coming her way. It was a day filled with promise and potential—and while she usually wasn’t one to buy into the power of positive thinking, feeling so hopeful this early in the morning was always a plus.
Nolan texted the list as promised less than ten minutes later. As Rhodes closed the gap to Falls Church, Chloe started to make calls. There weren’t too many names on the list, but finding the right contact information within each of the groups and clubs took more work that she had been expecting.
By the time they arrived at the police station, it was 8:12 and they had come up with a plan of attack. Chloe watched as Rhodes typed down her own to-do list on her phone, as they had decided they would cover more ground by splitting up. When it came to interviewing multiple people—especially within what seemed like an atypical suburban neighborhood—it was often the most effective way to get things done.
“Want to meet back up for lunch?” Rhodes asked as Chloe got out of the car. One of them would need to use a loaner from the PD, and Chloe had volunteered. A chance of pace and scenery—even something as minor as a mode of transportation—sometimes got her thinking differently, seeing things from a different perspective.
“Yeah, we can do that. Hopefully we’ll have enough notes to start comparing.”
Rhodes gave a nod and then pulled away, leaving Chloe to head into the station. Nolan was sitting at a desk in the bullpen area, speaking on the phone with someone. He saw Chloe come in, gave her a smile, and then tossed a set of keys to her. He then gave a little nod, his eyes lingering a bit longer than necessary, and looked away.
Chloe turned away to hide her grin. She was sure Nolan had no interest in her, but it was always nice to be appreciated in a non-verbal (and, more importantly, a non-creepy manner). She headed back outside and to the lot along the side of the station where the patrol cars were parked. The tag on the keys Nolan had lobbed to her was labeled with the number 6. She was pleased to find that it was to one of two unmarked Dodge Chargers—probably the second or third most common unmarked police car next to the Crown Vic.
Chloe got into the car, pulled up the address to the first meeting she had scheduled while on the way into town this morning, and headed out to start what she hoped would be a productive day.
***
The first woman she was scheduled to meet with was Candace Derringer. Ironically, she lived just three houses down from the Fairchild residence. Candace was the director of a local charity called Feed the World, an organization that worked to assist the city government with making sure the homeless in the area had somewhere to get a warm meal.
On the phone, Candace had seemed a little too enthusiastic about meeting with Chloe, sounding as if she was having a friend over for coffee and bagels rather than an FBI agent. As Chloe pulled into the driveway, she saw that Candace Derringer had perhaps been thinking exactly that; she was sitting on the large wraparound porch, perched at an ornate patio table with a carafe and a plate sitting in front of her.
Chloe walked up the porch steps, trying her best not to seem put off by Candace’s little setup. Candace smiled at her, a smile that lit up her forty-something face to the extent that it made her look closer to thirty.
“Agent Fine?” she asked.
“That’s me,” Chloe said.
“Good, good. Have a seat. The coffee is fresh and the bagels, regrettably, are plain.”
“That’s fine. I think I’ll just have some coffee if that’s okay.”
“Sure,” Candace said, instantly pouring the coffee into one of the available cups sitting on the table.
“Ms. Derringer, I hope you understand that I have several people to speak with today. I appreciate the spread here, but I really can’t stay long.”
Candace smiled and gave a polite nod. “Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to, Agent Fine. This is just something I do a few times a week. Sitting out here, inviting up anyone that might be walking by. Most people in this neighborhood are quite close and either work from home or are retired. So you never know who might stop by on any given morning.”
“That’s a great segue to why I wanted to speak with you,” Chloe said as she doctored her coffee up with sugar and creamer that were also sitting on the table. “I wanted to ask you about the Fairchilds.”
“I figured that’s what this was about. That poor woman…”
“Did you know Jessie Fairchild very well?”
“Not very well, no. But she sat in that chair you’re in right now on two occasions. She was looking for ways to volunteer with Feed the World. She seemed very genuine about it, but we never really got her started.”
“Any reason why?”
“She never really followed up. We’d set up an appointment for me to take her to the little headquarters we have but she would always ask to have it pushed back.”
“Did she give any reason for pushing the appointments back?”
“She’d just say something had come up. But I think—and please forgive me for making ill assumptions of the dead—I think she just wanted to appear like she wanted to be involved.”
“Why do you say that?”
Candace looked visibly uncomfortable, peering into her coffee cup. “Well, keep in mind that I did not know her all that well, so this is all based on a general perception of her…but I feel that she was faking it. And I can’t say I blame her. New to the neighborhood, in her late forties, early fifties…you have this need to fit in, you know? I think she was desperate to fit in. But it didn’t really work.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…if I’m being honest, you’re going to be hard pressed to find anyone in this neighborhood—or in the little groups and organizations some of us are part of—that got a good impression of Mrs. Fairchild.”
Chloe was a bit surprised. She had not been expecting this level of honesty. From her experience, most women from these sorts of neighborhoods were hesitant to speak badly of someone, even not behind their backs. Those conversations were usually saved for sharin
g with spouses and close friends.
“Do you know why?”
“I’ve only heard it from a few people, but I think moving here sort of backfired on the Fairchilds. They are extremely wealthy, as I’m sure you know. Most of the people in this neighborhood have a good amount of money. But the Fairchilds were different. You can just look at them and the way they carry themselves…they’re spoiled. Do you know what I’m trying to say?”
“So it’s a jealousy thing?”
Candace smirked a bit, as if slightly offended. “No, not really. Maybe way down deep for some people. But I think it’s more of not being used to having someone look down on you. Jessie did that and I don’t think she even knew it. It rubbed people the wrong way, you know?”
“When you had these little morning meetings with her, did she ever say anything that upset you?”
“Not really. Like I said…she never made anyone feel small on purpose. But when you can’t talk about anything but the three weeks you and your husband spent in Paris two years ago or the weekend away in Maui…it gets a little old.”
“I don’t suppose you ever took note of the jewelry she wore, did you?”
Candace took a moment to think it over and then shook her head. “No. The only jewelry I know she wore regularly was her wedding ring. I stared at it for a while the first time she was over here. It’s gorgeous…and another soft-spoken example of how loaded the Fairchilds are. That ring…it had to have cost at least fifteen to twenty grand.”
Chloe mulled this over as she sipped from her coffee. This was what she had feared the most: trying to get any useful information out of socialite women who likely saw anyone wealthier than them as a threat of some kind. Sure, Candace was doing her best not to come off as such, but the fact that she kept bringing up the Fairchilds’ wealth spoke volumes.
“But what I’m hearing you say,” Chloe said, “is that you never heard her out and out insult anyone?”
“No.”
“Not even in a gossipy wort of way?”
“No. And that’s the irritating thing. I think she was a nice person when you got right down to it. It was just the way she carried herself.”
“And what about her husband, Mark?”
“I don’t know. I never met him. But I spoke to a few others here in the neighborhood that met him—a few that spoke to him at length. From what I hear, they’re both genuinely nice people.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have had some sort of altercation with Jessie? Maye just a few cross words?”
“Well, there’s a woman who sets up the schedules for the Chamber of Commerce seasonal events, particularly the fundraising side of things. Her name is Lauren Engle. She met with Jessie a few times, too. Sort of the same story as with me. They met a few times to see how Jessie could volunteer but nothing ever came of it. Lauren seemed to really not care for Jessie. I don’t know that anything ever transpired between them, but Lauren said she just had this gut reaction to Jessie.”
“But she wouldn’t say what it was about?”
“No. Again…look, I know women like us might be known as gossiping busybodies and it’s slightly unfair. But for the most part, we’re innocent. Lauren never told me one specific thing. She just said she really didn’t care for Jessie Fairchild and would never give me a reason.”
“That didn’t seem odd to you?” Chloe asked.
Candace shrugged as she sipped from her coffee. “Maybe a little.”
“Do you know where I might find Lauren right now?”
“She works at the city courthouse…an assistant for the Recreational Department. It’s Monday, so I’m sure you’ll find her there.”
“Great. Thanks so much for the time…and the coffee.”
“Of course,” Candace said. She seemed a little shocked that their time together was over. To Chloe, it looked as if she was thinking hard about something, like there might be something she was trying to decide on.
Chloe reached into her inner pocket and retrieved one of her business cards. She set it down among the coffee and bagels, Candace watching on closely.
“Please call me if you think of anything else or hear anything.”
“I will,” Candace said, taking up the card.
Chloe turned and left, wondering what it was about Candace that seemed a little off. She doubted Candace had been one hundred percent honest. If she’d had some sort of disdain for Jessie Fairchild, she probably wouldn’t come out and admit to it.
She got into her borrowed Charger and pulled up directions to the city courthouse. By the time she pulled out onto the street, feeling the morning already starting to get away from her, she wished she’d reconsidered and taken one of Candace Derringer’s bagels.
***
Lauren Engle was a mousy little woman who did not look at all surprised to have a visitor from the FBI. Even when Chloe showed the woman her badge, Lauren did not seem fazed. It made her wonder if Candace had tipped her off. And if that was the case, why?
Lauren sat at a desk in a quiet office. Somewhere in a room behind them, two people were talking. Other than that, Monday morning in the Falls Church Office of Events and Recreational Planning was dead.
“Can I ask what this is about?” Lauren asked. She had a deep southern accent that was so deep it almost sounded fake, like a bad actor trying it out.
“I’m investigating the murder of Jessie Fairchild. And since she had not yet made many friendships in town, I’m forced to speak to just about anyone who had any significant conversations with her.”
She could have easily stopped after mentioning Jessie’s name; the look of scorn on Lauren’s face said enough.
“Well, I didn’t know her very well personally.”
“Oh, I know. But I spoke with Candace Derringer and she said you had spoken with Jessie about potentially helping with Chamber of Commerce seasonal events.”
“Yes, that’s true. But that never happened.”
Chloe felt bad for wanting to cringe every time the woman talked. The accent was incredibly annoying. But the more she spoke, the more Chloe became certain it was not an act. This was the real thing.
“Any reason?”
“She wasn’t interested. I got the feeling she was just testing the waters of several local organizations, charities, groups, things like that. I think she was just looking for that right fit.”
“It was implied that you had a distaste for her. Any reason?”
A brief look of shock went across Lauren’s face, but she quickly got it under control. Chloe figured this was an internal struggle for her. Lauren had clearly not expected Candace to tell others just how strongly she had disliked Jessie Fairchild—especially not a federal agent.
“You could tell her nice attitude and cheerful smile were all just sort of fake. She wanted to fit in, wanted to pop right into the social circles after coming to a new town. I had a brief lunch with her and at first thought she was genuine. But we started cracking jokes, sort of easing the tension of meeting someone new, you know? I’m sure it was a slip-up on her part, but she referred to other people in her own neighborhood as ‘small-time.’ I thought it was just really tacky, you know?”
“Did she flaunt her wealth in front of you?”
“Not directly. It was weird…she didn’t have to. She carried herself in a way that made it clear she thought she was better than you. Sort of snobby, but in a very vague sort of way.”
“Do you know if she’d made any enemies in town?”
“I don’t have any idea. She was just…God, this sounds terrible, but she was easy to dislike, you know? But I’m sure Candace told you all about that.”
Chloe kept to herself the fact that Candace had, in fact, not told her such a thing. She only nodded, trying to think of a way to steer the conversation. Sadly, she felt that it was pretty much already over. She didn’t necessarily suspect either Lauren or Candace of any sort of foul play, but it was clear that they were both trying to save face. They did not want to admit
to the federal agent that they thought the recently murdered woman in town had been a stuck-up bitch.
“You know,” Lauren said, an idea suddenly coming to her. “I wouldn’t call it an enemy by any means, but there was this gala event two weekends ago. There was a silent auction and one of the big ticket items was this really nice boat. Jessie outbid another woman—a woman who typically wins those sorts of things. There aren’t many in this area that flaunt their wealth, but this woman did from time to time.”
“And were there words between the two?” Chloe asked.
“No. But you could feel the chill in the room, you know? It was very uncomfortable. There was a change in the air…and when you get around a lot of wealthy people, change isn’t usually accepted very well.”
“Do you have this other woman’s name and contact information?”
“Her name is Rachel Dobbs. I don’t have her contact information available, but I could get it for you.”
“That would be helpful.”
As Lauren went looking through a few files on her computer, Chloe noted just how relieved she seemed to have passed the burden of answering questions about Jessie Fairchild onto someone else.
It left Chloe with the uncertainty of whether or not Lauren was relieved because her own feelings toward the deceased weren’t the best or because she was keeping pertinent information from her. Honestly, she assumed the former because the deeper she got into this, the more she was coming to realize that seeking information from wealthy women who hardly knew the victim was not going to amount to much.
And if that was the case, she was going to have to find a different approach.
CHAPTER TEN
Chloe and Rhodes met at a quaint little sandwich shop for lunch. By nothing more than the look on her partner’s face, Chloe could tell that Rhodes hadn’t been very successful this morning, either. They sat down at a table by a window, Rhodes wasting no time getting to the point.