by Mary Birk
The decorator’s blonde helmet hairdo bobbed as she talked. “I would have had some more custom pieces made if there’d been more time, but this should turn out splendidly. The fabrics you’ve chosen, along with the antiques, will give the room a quiet elegance. Romantic, but not feminine.” She started up the stairs, her stylish peach suit making the best of her rather stolid shape. “I’d better pop up there and supervise. We don’t want the cornices put in upside down, do we?” She bustled upstairs, calling to the workmen as she went.
Meg whispered to Anne, “That Lady Anne stuff seems to help things get done faster.”
“I guess so. The bedroom is going to be beautiful.” She pressed her hands together. “Terrence will love it.”
“He’d love it no matter what if you just moved in there with him. He can’t like this separate bedrooms thing.” Meg’s voice was overly casual. “You are still in separate bedrooms—at night, I mean?”
“It wouldn’t matter. He figured out the six-week thing. I think Rick told him about how it works.”
Meg laughed. “Good thing. You’re such a marshmallow with him.”
The sound of hammering came from upstairs. Anne started for the stairs as Michael’s wails erupted. “I’m going to have to move him down here for today. It’s only going to get worse before they’re done.”
She gathered Michael and returned downstairs. He was still put out but mollified by having her hold him close. “Can you help me set him up in the study? Then when I get him back to sleep, we can close that door, and he shouldn’t hear too much banging and noise from the furniture movers.”
Meg brought the carrier basket and laid it down to make it into a bed. When Anne finally got Michael back to sleep, she placed him into the makeshift bed, tiptoed out, and closed the door behind her.
She found her sister in the front room. Digging out a piece of paper from her jeans pocket, she said, “I’ve got my list all planned—what I need to get done to have everything ready for tonight. I’m going to try to get as much done as possible while Michael’s sleeping.”
Meg was peering out the window. “A truck just pulled up in front. It must be the things from Dunbaryn. I’ll go let them in so they don’t ring the doorbell and wake the baby.”
Anne sighed. She’d never get her list done. “I better get Priscilla and see if she wants to go through the wedding presents with me. She might want some of the things for the bedroom.”
Miraculously, the baby slept through movers and workmen coming in and out. When he woke in the early afternoon, Anne took him upstairs with her to consult with Priscilla on the arrangement of the furniture and their personal items. The designer had found several pieces in the wedding present crates she approved of for the bedroom and was trying to decide where best to place them.
Anne nursed Michael as she went over her list. The workmen were almost finished, but because it got dark so early and the warmth of the sun was gone, the house, with the exception of the little study, had now definitely gotten on the uncomfortable side of chilly. Anne put Michael, asleep again, in his bed upstairs and turned up the heat.
Back downstairs, she looked at her watch. “Damn. It’s almost five and I haven’t gotten the champagne yet.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll go. There’s that little wine shop a few blocks away, will that do?”
“You don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind. It will be good to get outside, and I’d like a walk.”
Anne threw her arms around her sister. “You’re wonderful. Thanks so much. I think Priscilla is almost ready to finish up. I’ll just go up and thank her and get the last of the people out of the house.”
“I should be back by six at the latest. There may be a bit of a wait if they’re busy since it’s Hogmanay, or is it Hogmanay Eve?” Meg shook her head. “Where did that name come from?”
Anne shrugged. “No idea on either question.”
“We should ask Terrence.”
Anne nodded. “After I get rid of Priscilla and her crew, I need to get a fire going and get the house ready. I can’t wait for Terrence to see the room. I’m so glad Priscilla got it finished for our first actual New Year’s Eve together.”
Meg narrowed her eyes. “I still don’t understand what exactly is on the menu for after dinner that you need the bedroom finished? We’ve established it’s not been six weeks.”
“Meg, stop it.” Anne brushed her hair off her face. “We’re just having dinner and champagne. I want us to start the New Year in our room together. Nothing else, unfortunately. He’s making us wait for the check-up, though I think we’re close enough. When the hell did men get so much stupid self-control?”
Meg laughed. “Maybe when they love you.”
“I guess. Thanks for watching Michael tonight.”
“No problem. I’m going to watch a movie and celebrate my divorce being final. I’m so glad the judge finally signed the papers. Michael and I will have a lovely time and you two can have a romantic dinner. You guys haven’t been on a date since . . . it has to be months?”
“Since April. Our anniversary.”
“I don’t think I’ll be ready for dating for a while.”
“We’ll see, now you’re single again.”
Meg laughed. “Don’t hold your breath. I’m making a list of my New Year’s resolutions and plans tonight with Michael’s help, and I doubt that will be on my list of things to do this year.”
“You have to move on eventually.”
“I will, eventually. But for now, I’m going to scoot out and get the champagne.”
Chapter 66
FELICITY LOOKED shorter in real life than in her photos, Reid thought. She wore a tight red tube top covered at the shoulders by a little white half sweater. Her long dark hair wisped around her shoulders, tendrils twining down to rest on her fulsome cleavage. Stirling moved toward her, took her arm.
“Felicity, this is my good friend, Terrence Reid. He’s police as I told you, but he’s not a bad fellow—most of the time, at least.”
The singer extended her hand to Reid. “Superintendent. I believe we’ve occupied some of the same issues of the gossip magazines.”
Reid wondered when the collective memory of that time would die. “I don’t know if you’re used to it, but I’m hoping Anne and I never catch the interest of the press again.”
“I don’t think you ever really get used to it. I’ve learned that the best thing to do is to control the story that goes out. It took me years to finally learn that—and to learn to stop being stupid enough to do things that were bound to get negative attention.”
“Words of wisdom.”
“Yes. John tells me you and your wife just had a baby. Congratulations. I’m happy things have worked out for you both.”
“Thank you.”
She led the way to an ultra-luxurious lounge done in shades of cream. Full-length windows covered adjoining walls, commanding a breathtaking view of the city. Once they were all seated and tea had been offered and declined, she looked to Stirling, who nodded at her to begin.
“I guess the place to start is with the problem that got me all the negative publicity. I’m anorexic as well as bulimic. Recovering, but it’s always there.”
“Felicity’s become an advocate to help other women with eating disorders to overcome their problem.”
She nodded. “I went years thinking my body and food were my enemies—finally, I got help and realized what was wrong with me was an illness that could be treated.”
Stirling nodded at her encouragingly, and Reid wondered where this was going.
“I checked into the Frost rehabilitation hospital after it had gotten so bad it was threatening my life. Frost handles patients with all kinds of problems.”
“Go on.”
“That’s where I met Broddie Pooley and Miranda Greene. Broddie was getting help for a drug problem—he’d started using cocaine and just couldn’t handle it, so his doctor sent him to hospital for treatment. Miranda
was there because she’d had an emotional breakdown.” She shook her head. “This is all so private, but John says you can be trusted.”
“He can,” Stirling assured her.
“Anyway, Broddie and Miranda and I became friends.”
“When was this?”
“Three years ago.”
That matched with what Duggan had said.
“Miranda, as I said, was in hospital for an emotional breakdown. She’d had an abortion and knew the baby’s father would have been against it if he’d known, but she couldn’t marry him, so she made the decision and it devastated her for a time.”
Reid’s stomach clenched into a tight ball. Had it been his child? He’d been scrupulously careful with every woman he’d been with except Anne. If he’d caused this pain to Miranda, and if she’d terminated a pregnancy with his child, he couldn’t think how he could ever atone.
Felicity went on. “After she tried to kill herself over it, her family brought her to Frost.”
Had this been what Flora had wanted to tell him before she was murdered? “When exactly was this?”
“I think it happened a little while before she came to the hospital. I didn’t meet her right away, so I’m not sure exactly.”
“Was she already there when you checked in?”
“I can’t remember. You might be able to get the dates from the records at Frost.”
“Yes.”
“The three of us became friends. We stayed in touch after we left, got together now and then. I saw Broddie more than Miranda, for a variety of reasons. The day before Broddie died, the three of us met for coffee and a little informal support chat.”
“Where?”
“The Green Apple. It’s a dingy little place, but no one bothers me like they do at more popular places, so we’d found it worked best. We usually just go over what’s going on, how we’re dealing with things, problems we were having, things like that. That’s what we were doing when Miranda went off on Broddie.”
“They fought?”
“An argument, not an actual physical fight, of course, though Miranda smashed her cup to bits hitting it on the table.”
“What was the argument about?”
“Broddie said he’d finally met with you about the threats he’d been getting. To get help.”
“He’d told you about the threats before that day?”
Felicity nodded. “Not in great detail, but he’d talked about having problems with a client who’d lost a packet of money in an investment. This was some time ago, and when he said the name of the client, Miranda told him to call you.”
“Did you recognize the name?”
“Not really. It sounded vaguely familiar, but Miranda seemed to know who he was immediately. She said he was dangerous. Broddie said he’d also been given your name by someone else, and that he’d think about it, if things got worse.” She drew a breath, went on. “So this time when we met, he said he’d contacted you, and that you’d met. He said things were under control.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking her head, as if to keep from crying.
Stirling moved his hand along Felicity’s arm. “You’re almost finished. Tell the rest.”
Composing herself, she started again. “Miranda started going on and on about you. She said your marriage was over, and she was going to get you back. Broddie was taking the piss and kept asking what she would do if he told you about the abortion, that you, being Catholic, would write her off. He took it too far, and she flipped. Broddie told her she was acting like a crazed cow. She practically threw her cup at him, then ran out the door.”
“Did you hear her make any actual threats?”
“I don’t think so. She told him to shut up, things like that. Called him names, but I don’t remember her threatening to kill him. At first, when I heard it was a drug overdose, I thought maybe he’d relapsed, that the stress had gotten to him. But then, when I heard he’d been murdered, I did wonder if she’d been involved. She’d been so upset with him—I’d never seen her like that. I decided I was being ridiculous, so I didn’t say anything.”
“Do you know if Pooley was seeing anyone in particular?”
“Yes. I don’t remember his last name, but his first name was Darryl.”
“Could you identify him if I showed you a photo?”
“I’m sure I could.”
Reid pulled up a digital photo of Darryl Duggan on his mobile.
She studied it. “That’s him. I met him at one of Broddie’s parties.”
“Do you know how long they’d been seeing each other?”
“A few months, I’d say. Broddie said the sex was great, but that it wasn’t serious.”
Reid shifted, waited. He could sense she wasn’t finished.
When the silence went on, Stirling took her hand. “Reid, there’s something else Felicity needs to tell you.”
Reid waited.
“Who the father of Miranda’s child was.”
Reid fought the urge to close his eyes. Dread paralyzed his throat, so he just nodded.
Felicity splayed her hands out in front of her, studied them. “I don’t know if I should be telling this. What’s said in rehab is supposed to be confidential, anonymous.”
Reid knew he had to hear, but he almost prayed she’d decide not to tell him.
“I already told you about the abortion, so I guess I’ve already broken trust. I might as well tell it all. The reason she was so devastated wasn’t just because she’d had an abortion, or that you’d gotten married. It was something much more awful than that causing her depression. Shame, I think.”
“Shame? But not about the abortion?” Confusion swam around his brain.
Felicity shook her head, and Stirling put his arm around her.
“Tell him. If she was afraid Pooley would tell her secret, she might have a motive for killing him. You know the secret as well. You might be in danger.”
“Felicity, I promise we’ll keep it confidential if we can.”
Anguish rippled over her face. Her voice came out in a whisper. “It was her brother’s child.”
Revulsion replaced anxiety. “Rodney?”
She nodded. “They’d had that kind of relationship on and off for years. It started, she said, when they were just barely teenagers. I think they may have stopped for a while, but I don’t think it's ever ended.”
Reid tried to absorb what she was saying and suddenly all the pieces fit together. “Do you know if she told Rodney about what Pooley said—about telling me about the abortion?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt if there are many secrets between them. I try not to be judgmental, but it’s a sick and sad relationship.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Miranda or anyone else that you’ve told me all of this.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll go now. I’m going to stop by and see if I can have a couple of minutes of Rafe Kensington’s time.”
Stirling stood up. “I’ll stay here with Felicity.”
“Yes. Thank you for your time, Felicity. Stirling, I’ll talk to you later.”
*****
Reid dialed Allison, spoke to her quickly, then crossed over to the door across from Felicity’s and rang the doorbell.
He heard Rafe’s puzzled inquiry from behind the door.
“Rafe, it’s Terrence Reid. Sorry I came up without having the attendant ring you to let you know. Can I speak to you for a few minutes?”
The door opened and Reid beheld a Rafe Kensington he’d never seen before. Usually immaculately groomed, now Rafe’s hair stuck up untidily and his clothes looked as if he’d slept in them.
“Come in. Excuse my dishabille. I’ve been trying all day to get myself together, but I’m not having any luck.”
Reid stepped in, closed the door behind himself.
“I’m glad you came, Terrence. I wanted to tell you I appreciated you volunteering to officially identify Lance’s body, but I had to see for myself.” He led the way to
the living room.
“I understand.” Reid waited for Rafe to motion for him to sit down before taking a place on the sofa.
Rafe chose the chair opposite. “I kept thinking, how sad this would make Flora. She may not have had feelings for me anymore, but she loved Lance.”
“She did.”
“I don’t know what to do. I guess I’ll have him buried with Flora in her family’s cemetery.” He met Reid’s gaze. “I assume this isn’t a social call?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“I need to ask you some questions.”
“Go on.”
Reid took a deep breath. “Darryl Duggan told us about the relationship between the two of you.”
Rafe shoved his hand through his hair. “Did Lance know?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Have you arrested him for Lance’s murder yet?”
“No. We’ve questioned him.”
“I heard about the will Lance made.”
“Yes. Duggan said they each made out a will leaving everything they had to each other.”
Rafe nodded, his eyelids heavy. He dropped his head back against the chair.
“Are you all right?"
“I’d just taken a couple of sleeping pills when you rang. I don’t think I can talk anymore right now. Can we do this tomorrow?”
Reid’s mobile rang and he moved away to take the call. Listening to Harry’s news, his head began to throb. He disconnected after a brief conversation and went back to Rafe. “Rafe, where did you go when you left the police station?”
The sleeping pills were definitely having an effect. Rafe yawned. “For a walk.”
“Where to?”
“I’m not sure. I just walked and walked, and then ended up here.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No one I know.”
Reid weighed whether to disclose what he’d just learned, then decided he needed to see Rafe’s reaction. “Miranda’s just been found dead.”
“Miranda?”
“Yes.”
“God. Was it suicide? She’s tried before, you know.”
“I don’t know what happened. When’s the last time you saw her?”