by Blake Pierce
“We understand you were camping when this happened,” Chloe said. “When did you leave to start the trip?”
“We left home Friday morning,” Bev said. “Got to the campground around noon, I guess.”
“And your phones were off the entire time?”
“Yes. It was a way for us to reconnect as a family. Our daughter spends way too much time on her phone, so we designed this whole screen-free weekend. And I’m pretty sure she hated every minute of it.”
“Where is your daughter now?” Rhodes asked.
“With Mark. He…oh my God…he tried calling me. No one knew where we were…just the people we worked for. Is that terrible?”
“There’s no way you could have known this would happen,” Rhodes assured her.
“So, I assume you stayed until this morning, correct?” Chloe asked.
“That’s right. Woke up, had breakfast, and tore everything down.”
“We didn’t even think to turn our phones on until we got on the road,” Roger Givens said. “And when we did…we saw everything we had missed.”
“Mark told me most of the details,” Bev said. “And I just still can’t believe it.”
“Mrs. Givens, do either of you know if there were circumstances other than Mark’s job that caused them to move away from Boston?”
“Just the job,” Bev said. “I think Jessie was looking forward to the move. She was never really a big-city kind of girl.”
“They weren’t here for very long…did you ever speak to her while she was living here?”
“A few times. Three, maybe. On the phone. Jessie and I…we weren’t very close. No bad blood or anything. Just…we drifted apart after she left for college and we never truly reconnected. She married Mark and that became her life. Lots of money and vacations and just this whole other life I couldn’t even begin to imagine.”
“Would you say she flaunted her wealth?” Rhodes asked.
“God no,” she said with a sad little smile. “If anything, I think she was very uneasy with it. Even up until the moment they moved here, I don’t think she ever really got used to it. I think it’s one of the reasons she was always trying to do some good with it.”
“What do you mean?” Chloe asked. “What sort of good?”
“Oh, it was so much. She and Mark would give so much to different organizations and fundraisers. Fundraisers for cancer, donations to things like the Humane Society, local reading programs, Special Olympics, things like that. A few years back, I’m pretty sure she gave just about every cent she made in one calendar year to some sort of fund in Boston to help pay for medical bills for those affected by the marathon bombing. Of course, she could do that sort of thing because Mark is loaded.”
“Please forgive me for asking this,” Chloe said, “but I have to make sure I have a clear picture here. This was all charitable giving, it sounds like. Was she that sort of person or do you think they, as a couple, used it as posturing?”
“No. Mark wasn’t like that, either. They were both very kind people…a match made in heaven, really. Sometime a few years ago, they took a trip to Puerto Rico, right after those terrible hurricanes. They told no one where they were going or what they were doing. I only know this because I sort of tricked her into telling me. But they went down there and checked out some of the rebuilding efforts. Donated a ton of money to the cause. They were there for about a week and I think they maybe used a day to themselves, doing beach stuff…tourist stuff.”
Chloe slowly mulled all of this over. Sure, the source of information might be somewhat biased, but it was also easily applicable to what she had gathered about Jessie’s time in Falls Church. Maybe she wasn’t trying to join all of those organizations just to fit in or find ways to flaunt her status. Maybe she was legitimately wanting to help—and the majority of the other wealthy women in town weren’t able to see it yet.
“Back in Boston…do you know of anyone who may have held a grudge against your sister?”
Bev looked to Roger and they chuckled nervously. They shook their heads in unison. “No, not at all,” Bev said.
“Everyone loved her and Mark,” Roger said. “And I’m not just saying that to make them seem like super nice people. It’s the truth. I can give you any number of names to go speak with and you’ll hear the same thing.”
“I think maybe I should say this, though,” Bev said. “Not the last time I spoke to Jessie, but the time before that, she talked about how she was afraid Mark might be overworking himself after the move. She said he was sort of distant and depressed…and those were two things she had never seen out of him.”
“Did she give any particular reasons why she felt that way?”
“No. She just said she was worried about him. She thought maybe the move and the new location was trickier than he had thought. But it didn’t seem like anything serious…just something Jessie mentioned almost in a passing sort of way.”
“But she didn’t go into any more detail than that?” Rhodes asked.
“No. She wasn’t the type to speak ill about her husband…even when it came down to things he might be struggling with.”
As Chloe lined up her next question, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She checked in quickly, not wanting to be rude to a sibling who had just lost her sister. She did not recognize the number that was calling so she passed it off and concentrated on her next question.
“Do you know if there were ever any marital problems between them, no matter how small?”
“Again…if they did, I didn’t know about it. They were always so happy. They were always…”
There was a flicker that briefly crossed Bev’s face as the sadness of the situation—and potentially the reality of it all—seemed to catch up with her.
“Can we be done now?” she asked. “I’m happy to help but right now…can I just…”
“You’re fine,” Chloe said. “Please, yes, go. And take your time.”
Bev nodded, though she looked sad that she had not been able to offer more information. “Thank you…”
Roger also gave a quick nod of thanks and appreciation as the couple made their way out of the room.
“What do you think?” Rhodes asked when the door was closed behind the couple.
“I think my initial reaction may not be professional. But I’ll say it anyway. If these donations Bev is talking about were really made, there would be tax information and likely even receipts to back it up. Same with the Puerto Rico trip. And if it all pans out, I’d be inclined to think that all of the women we spoke to so far are nothing but jealous bitches. And that makes me angry.”
“I’m there right along with you,” Rhodes said.
Letting it stew and simmer for a moment, Chloe took out her phone. She checked the display and saw that the unknown number that had called had not left a message.
“Someone called while we were speaking with her,” Chloe told Rhodes as she pressed the number and placed a return call. “Maybe one of the jealous bitches.”
She meant it to sound lighthearted but it came out with some barb. The phone rang twice on the other end before it was picked up by a woman with a cheery voice.
“Hello?”
“This is Agent Chloe Fine. Someone called me from this number.”
“Yes, Agent Fine… this is Candace Derringer. You told me to give you a call if I heard anything that might help with the case. And I think I might have something.”
“What is it?” Chloe asked, recalling the almost nonchalant way Candace Derringer had discussed Jessie Fairchild over bagels and coffee on her porch.
“Well, I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that the presence of the FBI has made its way around the gossip circles. I’ve had a few ladies on my porch this morning talking about it.”
“You mean gossiping about it.” Chloe couldn’t help it; the comment came out before she could bite it back.
“Sadly, yes. But there is some good to come from it. I’ve heard from two very reliable
sources that maybe Jessie Fairchild did make something of an enemy not too long before she was killed.”
“Who would that be?”
“A woman named Evelyn Marshall. I’ve heard the story twice and it was quite different both times…so maybe you should hear it directly from her.”
“I’d love to,” Chloe said. “Do you have her number?”
“Of course,” Candace said with a proud little laugh. “Agent, I have everyone’s number.”
Chloe bit down the smart remark that sprang to her tongue as she wrote the number down, hoping for a promising lead.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Immediately after telling Deputy Nolan where they were going, Chloe and Rhodes left the station yet again. It was getting later in the afternoon and the day was starting to feel quite long…which was disheartening, given that they hadn’t really discovered all that much. They arrived at the Marshall residence at 4:35. A single car was parked in the U-shaped driveway, dwarfed by the massive size of the house.
It was located on a strip of land that looked to be at least twenty acres, the backyard a massive sprawling sheet of green, broken by rosebushes and a pool that was connected to the house by a spacious back deck. It was not located in a neighborhood, but about four miles away from any sort of neighborhood at all. It was isolated from everything, as if it was too good to be in the presence of other homes.
“I’d love to say this place looks pretentious,” Rhodes said. “But…damn, this is a beautiful house.”
Chloe agreed, but said nothing. As they got out of the car, she noted that the car in the driveway did not really seem to fit in alongside the house. It was an older model Honda Accord, no more recent than a 2005 model. Maybe they’re so rich because they skimp on certain areas, she thought.
They walked up the stairs, the porch ceiling towering at least ten feet over their heads. Chloe rang the doorbell; it sounded like ancient church bells on the other side of the house—a house she didn’t doubt was nearly hollowed out in its enormity.
It took a while for the door to be answered. The woman who opened the door was not at all what Chloe had been expecting. It was a younger woman—maybe thirty at most—who looked rather mousy. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, we’re Agents Fine and Rhodes, with the FBI,” Chloe said. “We’re looking for Evelyn Marshall.”
“Well, you’ve got the right house. But you just missed her by about twenty minutes.”
“Where did she go?” Rhodes asked.
“She and her husband are headed to the airport. They’re taking a trip to St. Croix for two weeks.”
Well, that certainly seems convenient, Chloe thought. But before jumping to any conclusions, she knew she had to get a better idea of who Evelyn Marshall truly was.
“And who are you, exactly?” Chloe asked.
“I’m Emma Ramsey, the Marshalls’ nanny. They hired me to watch Declan—their two-year-old—and house sit while they’re gone.”
“And how long have you worked for them?”
“Since Declan was about six months old. So a year and a half, I guess.”
“Do you mind answering a few questions for us?”
Emma looked back into the house awkwardly and then back to the agents. “I’d invite you in, but they are really strict about strangers being in their house. But Declan is down for his afternoon nap, so if you want, we can just hang out here, on the porch. He’ll wake up any minute now, though…I was afraid the doorbell would do it, but he’s still snoozing.”
“Here on the porch is just fine,” Chloe said.
“FBI…is there something wrong?” There was something in Emma’s tone that made Chloe think maybe Emma wanted something to be wrong.
“Well, we’re looking into a specific crime here in town and Evelyn’s name was given to us as someone who might know a thing or two about it. Or, at the very least, to be able to direct us to people who might know a great deal more than she does.”
It wasn’t a total lie, so Chloe didn’t feel too bad about misleading her a bit.
“What crime?” Emma asked.
“I can’t say just yet. But we just need you to give us your honest appraisal of Evelyn. And we need you to be as transparent and honest as possible. Nothing you say to us will be passed on to her. We need total honesty here.”
“How honest?”
“Very. And it goes no farther than the three of us, right here in this moment.”
“I can do that. The woman is a raging bitch most of the time. If I’m being honest.” She looked like admitting it released a massive weight from her shoulders. “But not in a loud and obnoxious or obvious way. It’s a quiet brooding…the sort of bitch that doesn’t make you hate her necessarily, but makes you hate yourself. You know what I mean?”
“I think I do. But can you explain a bit more?”
“Well, she likes to control people. Like, if she catches a friend in a lie or something like that, she seems all forgiving at first. But then she has no problem weaponizing that lie and threatening to use it against them in the future. I don’t know for sure, but I feel like she’s probably been doing that for quite a while. There’s a rumor going around town that she has some huge dirt on her husband and that’s the only reason he hasn’t left her. Something about an affair. I don’t know that there’s any truth to it, though.”
“Has she ever been emotionally or physically abusive to you in any way?”
“Oh, she’ll yell at me all of the time. For small things. But she never does it in front of company. Hell, she never even does it in front of Declan.”
“Does she have a reputation for showing off her money?” Rhodes asked.
“It depends on what you mean by showing off. She’s from a very rich family—one of those families that made a fortune farming tobacco in the seventies and eighties. That’s where the bulk of her money comes from; when her parents died, they left her everything. But she’s made some business deals on the side, selling some of the family farmland to environmental groups that want to use it for solar and wind power. She’s a very rich woman…and her husband is almost as rich as she is. So, no…she doesn’t flaunt her wealth. She doesn’t have to. People just know.”
“Do you know a woman named Jessie Fairchild?” Chloe asked.
Emma thought about it for a moment, a stern look on her face. “I don’t think so,” she said. “But the name does sound familiar.”
“What about any recent altercations Evelyn might have had with someone?”
“Oh, for sure,” Emma said, actually stifling back a bit of a laugh. “That was as recent as last Tuesday night. Evelyn tried to keep it quiet, but you know how the gossip circles in these kinds of towns can be.”
“Do you have any details?”
“Yes, I do. And I haven’t shared it because it just adds fuel to the fire. But I gathered all of what happened because I was over here the following morning. Between hearing her and her husband talk about it, and conversations she had on the phone, I gathered just about the entire story. See, there’s this fundraiser Evelyn puts on every year—she organizes it and pays for just about everything. It’s for local emergency services and it’s this whole gala type thing. And even though it’s to raise money for emergency services, Evelyn is the Queen Bee of it all. It puts her right there in the spotlight. But apparently, someone else showed up and sort of took that spotlight off of her last week. Evelyn was pissed.”
Must be nice for something so petty to be considered a problem, Chloe thought, ruminating on her own personal problems.
“Do you have a name for this person?” she asked.
“No. I just kept hearing Evelyn refer to her as new. Some woman that was new to the area.”
“You said the name Jessie Fairchild sounded familiar to you,” Rhodes said. “Do you think she could have been the new woman?”
“It could have been, sure. But I’d just be speculating, honestly.”
“Do you have any details about what happened?�
� Chloe asked.
“Well, from what I gather, this woman was meeting with higher-ups at this event and promising to make donations. Evelyn caught wind of it and pulled her to the side. Why, I don’t know. Maybe to tell her it was her show and she was butting in and stealing her limelight. Apparently, the conversation escalated into this huge thing. Evelyn even told one of her friends on the phone that she should have shut up when she realized people were looking at her. She said this new woman was even on her way out, trying to avoid making a scene but Evelyn kept going. She was bad about that—not knowing to shut up when she really got going. But this woman stopped at the door as she was leaving and must have said something…I don’t know what. What I do know is that part of what she said included her calling Evelyn petty and small-time. And those are two words no one has ever called Evelyn Marshall.”
“You’re certain all of this is factual?” Chloe asked.
“I heard it all directly from Evelyn’s mouth.”
Behind Emma, from the small crack she had left in the door, they could all hear the gentle fussing of a toddler walking up from a nap. A small, delicate voice called out: “Em? Where you?”
“That’s me,” Emma said, turning to head inside.
“Thanks for your time,” Chloe said. “Quickly, before you go back inside…do you happen to know the flight information for this trip to St. Croix?”
“Sorry…no.”
“Make and model of the car they were driving?”
“A 2019 Escalade. White.”
“We can work with that. Thanks again. Oh! One more question…”
“Yeah?” Emma asked, clearly torn between spilling details on Evelyn and her duties as a responsible nanny.
“What color is Evelyn’s hair?”
“She’s a blonde…though it’s starting to go gray.”
“Thanks.”
Emma nodded and headed back inside, closing the door behind her. Chloe and Rhodes hurried down the steps to the car.
“We rushing to the airport, I take it?” Rhodes asked.
“We are,” Chloe said, getting behind the wheel. “Get Nolan on the phone. Give him the description of the car and see if he can get us a plate number. I want to talk to Evelyn Marshall before she has the chance to skip town.”