“That he phonied up sources.”
“That’s right.” Gillian’s chin was high and steady. “He told me they were jealous.”
“And you believed him?”
Her eyes flashed and, honestly, if I wasn’t so anxious to get a handle on this case, I would have let her go right on being mad at me. She deserved it for believing that line of bull Brad had handed her. But I couldn’t afford to alienate her, not when I was desperate for answers.
“It’s not that I’m doubting you. Or him,” I hurried to say. “It’s just that…well, been there done that, when it comes to the cheating significant other. I know that guys don’t always tell the truth.”
“Maybe that’s true of some men. Brad wasn’t one of them.”
Good thing Kegan chose that moment to come back in the room. I didn’t know how I would have responded. Instead, I looked Kegan’s way, and I was instantly sure that he’d actually been in the bathroom, that he hadn’t taken a quick look around. How did I know? Nobody as honest as Kegan could look that innocent if he had something to hide.
I admit it, I was disappointed. I didn’t approve of the snooping plan, but I wouldn’t have objected if he’d found something interesting. I also wasn’t going to let that stop me.
When I asked my next question, I watched Gillian closely. “What about the other women, then? The ones whose pictures are in Brad’s office?”
“You’ve been inside?”
I realized my mistake the moment she asked the question and was all set to scramble with a lie about how the police had let me go to Brad’s with them when they searched his home. But the next moment, Gillian spoke, and I knew I’d panicked too soon. She wasn’t questioning what I’d been doing in Brad’s house, she was talking about his home office.
“We were in his office. Yes.” I did my best not to sound as guilty as I felt about this. “There are pictures of six women there on the wall. You’re one of them. The other five are women I’ve talked to. Women who say they were harassed by Brad.”
“No. It isn’t possible.” Gillian sank into the nearest chair. “He told me none of that was true. But he never—” She chewed her lower lip, and I knew she was trying to decide if she could trust me. When she looked at me through her veil of long, lush lashes, I knew she’d made up her mind. “He never let me in his office. He always kept it locked. He said there was nothing in there but boring papers for work.”
That explained why Eve hadn’t seen her own picture on Brad’s wall. He kept his office locked, and it wasn’t until after Brad died and the cops looked around his house that it was left open.
“Then I’m sorry, but he lied to you. I’ve talked to the other women, and they each have an alibi for the day Brad was murdered.” Could I be blamed for leaving out the part about Eve? I think not. I went right on. “When we saw your picture, we didn’t know who you were, and we thought—”
“That I killed Brad?” The color washed out of Gillian’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I could never. I loved Brad. With all my heart.”
I didn’t bother pointing out that this was probably one of the dumbest things she’d ever done. Eventually, Gillian would figure that out on her own. For now, I had to stick to the facts. “Then maybe you can help me find out who killed him,” I said.
“Anything.” Gillian clutched her hands together on her lap so tight, her knuckles were white. “Ask me anything, and I’ll try to answer. If one of these other women—”
“We don’t think so.” It was the first thing Kegan had said since we walked into the house. For this, I was grateful. I was feeling my way through this interview, and I didn’t need to worry that he might say the wrong thing before he even realized it was wrong. I sent him a look to thank him for his help and took over before he could say another word. I remembered something Gillian had mentioned earlier.
“You were right when you said we needed to learn more about Brad’s life. Now that we know you were close, I know you’re the perfect person to ask. Had he been acting odd lately?”
Her shrug said it all. “Brad never acted normal. I mean, normal is boring, isn’t it? And Brad was anything but. He was dynamic. And exciting. Though now that you mention it…” Her eyes clouded, and she tipped her head, thinking.
“He told me he was going to come into some money,” she said.
“Did he say how?”
“No. He just said it was a kind of bonus. He was very excited about it, though, so I assumed it had something to do with his work. And oh…” She stopped to think again. “He said something about sending a package here to the house. He addressed it to himself, he said, and I had strict orders not to open it.”
At this, I could practically hear Kegan purr with excitement, and I couldn’t blame him. I, too, was captured by the intriguing idea of a mysterious package that came along with the caveat to leave it unopened. It might not mean anything at all, of course, in terms of Brad’s death. Then again, it might be a significant clue.
I scooted closer to the edge of the couch. “Has the package arrived yet?”
“No.” Gillian rose. “In light of everything that’s happened, I forgot all about it until right this moment. But Martha, my housekeeper…if the package had arrived sometime while I was out, she would have put it on the desk in my study. Especially if it was addressed to Brad and not to me. She knows how much he meant to me.”
A fresh stream of tears poured down Gillian’s cheeks, and this time, she didn’t even attempt to wipe them away. “Oh, Brad!” Her shoulders heaved, and she sobbed. “I miss him so terribly. You’ve got to help me find out who killed him, Miss Capshaw. You have to help me find justice for Brad’s killer.”
“It’s what I want, too.” I knew we’d get nothing else out of her, not when she was that upset, so I rose and put a hand on her shoulder. “You can help,” I told her. I handed her one of my Bellywasher’s business cards. “When that package arrives, give me a call, will you?”
She looked up at me, and her eyes shone with tears. “You mean, you think there’s something in that package that will tell us who killed Brad?”
I couldn’t make those kinds of promises. Instead, I told her we’d find out when the package arrived. A moment later, we showed ourselves out.
I didn’t dare say a word to Kegan until we were in the car.
“So?”
He looked out the window. “So, nothing. She was telling the truth about the package.”
I wheeled my car along the long, curving drive. “And you know this, how?”
“Because I looked around, of course. While I was supposed to be in the bathroom. I checked out her study. And her bedroom and—”
“Kegan!” I was appalled. I kept one hand on the wheel and pressed the other to my heart. “You didn’t!”
Kegan laughed. “Of course I did, Annie. That’s what real detectives do. And we’re real detectives, aren’t we?”
Fourteen
IT WASN’T AS IF I FORGOT ABOUT GILLIAN, IT WAS just that in spite of Kegan’s twisted logic to the contrary, I didn’t think she was really much of a suspect. She loved Brad Peterson.
Go figure.
And though, thanks to Peter, I had learned from firsthand experience that love could turn sour, go wrong, go bad, and just plain shrivel up and die, I couldn’t wrap my brain around any scenario that would have morphed Gillian, devoted and supportive as she was, into the one who had shoved Brad into the path of that Metro train.
Except for that wall of photographs in Brad’s office, of course.
Gillian said she’d never seen the pictures. She’d acted surprised to hear she was just another of Brad’s trophies. But was she? Surprised, I mean. What if she knew about the other women? About Brad’s reputation? The other women had their careers ruined by the man, but what if it was even more serious for Gillian?
What if Brad had broken her heart?
I knew exactly how that felt. Though I’d never plotted Peter’s demise (except in the blackest
of moments, and even then, I knew it was only a stress reliever and not an actual plan), I could well imagine that a woman’s hurt could grow and swell beyond anger and all the way to a hate that might make her kill.
Was Gillian one of those women?
It was a tantalizing thought, and I promised myself I’d consider it—as soon as I had time. Believe me, over the next few days, I didn’t have time to think about Gillian or much of anything else. Not when I had Fi to worry about.
Fi had a doctor’s appointment and needed someone to watch the girls while she was gone. Jim insisted the restaurant was busy that afternoon (the daily receipts did not bear him out, but I didn’t know that until after the ordeal was over) and begged me to please, please, please babysit on my lunch hour.
Fi had to go shopping for boy’s clothes and desperately wanted someone along who was focused enough to keep her out of the pink-clothes aisle and firmly in the blue.
Fi needed moral support and a shoulder to cry on. Boy, did she need a shoulder to cry on. By the time it was all over, three days had flown by, and I was too tired to care who had killed Brad. As long as it wasn’t Eve.
I guess that’s why I forgot all about that package Brad said he sent to Gillian. Or at least I forgot that she was supposed to call and let me know when the package arrived.
In fact, I wouldn’t have remembered it at all if not for Kegan mentioning it the next Monday after class (Veggie Night, but don’t worry, it wasn’t nearly as healthy as it sounds, considering that the menu included homemade potato, sweet potato, and root vegetable chips; onion rings; and fried mushrooms). I’d just stepped into my office, and he was right behind me.
“Seems weird, don’t you think?” He scratched a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Gillian said she’d call, and she hasn’t. I’ve been trying to think like a detective, and I think this makes her look guiltier than ever. I’ll bet the package from Brad arrived, and there’s something incriminating in it. That’s why she doesn’t want us to know.”
I was looking through the day’s mail and only half listening, but that didn’t dull my logic. “Or it means the package hasn’t arrived. Or it has, and Gillian hasn’t opened it. Or she did open it, and it has nothing to do with Brad getting killed, or—”
Kegan laughed in an embarrassed sort of way. “I get the message. I’m jumping to conclusions, and that’s one thing a detective should never do. No wonder you’re so good at this, Annie. You’re—”
Something he said struck a chord—now, if I could only figure out what it was. My head came up, and I looked at him hard. “What was that you said?”
Thinking, he wrinkled his nose, and since he didn’t know what I was getting at any more than I did, he hesitated. “I said…I said I was jumping to conclusions. At least that’s what I think I said. I said…I think I said that because you don’t jump to conclusions, it proves you’re a good detective and I’m just a rookie.”
It didn’t click. “Not that. Before that.”
“I said…” He thought some more. “I think I said I got the message.”
“That’s it!” I tossed down the pile of mail and grabbed my phone. It had a little red light on the side of it that flashed when there was a message waiting. It wasn’t flashing. Did that stop me? I connected to my voice mail, put in my password, and heard a computer-generated voice tell me that I had one saved message.
Yes, it was from Gillian. She said was calling just like she promised she would. The package had arrived, she told me. Since whatever was in the package might be important and might help solve Brad’s murder, she was waiting for me to come back out to Middleburg before she opened it.
According to that same computer voice, the message had arrived a couple hours before.
When I was helping Jim in class.
It didn’t take a detective to figure out who had picked it up. At the time, Eve was the only one in the restaurant. She was helping arrange the flowers we’d ordered for a retirement party the next evening. Eve—the only one around there besides Jim, who knew my voice mail PIN.
I think even before I clicked off the phone, I was already grumbling. That would explain why Kegan looked a little worried.
“I’m not mad at you,” I told him because he was so darned cute and he looked so darned concerned that he’d said something to offend me that I felt I owed him. I guess slamming the phone down on its recharger didn’t exactly prove my point. “It’s Eve. She’s got to be the one who picked up the message. You know what this means, don’t you?”
Of course Kegan didn’t. That didn’t stop him from following me when I grabbed my purse. Jim was behind the bar, and I didn’t stop to explain where I was going. I waved good-bye and pushed out the door.
“She wants to help,” I told Kegan. “Eve always wants to help.”
He scrambled to keep up. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”
“Because Eve is Eve. Because Eve is a suspect. Because Eve hated Brad, and she shouldn’t be one-on-one with the woman who loved him. Not without someone there to run interference.”
I unlocked my car, and Kegan and I jumped in. I knew he was still trying to work his way through the problem, because he was quiet for a couple minutes. It wasn’t until we were on the Capital Beltway and heading west that he spoke. “So why would Eve take a chance?” he asked. “I mean, why make things more complicated? She must know it would just be better for you to handle this whole thing with Gillian. Why does Eve want to get involved?”
I was changing lanes, and I waited until I was safely where I belonged before I answered. Then again, a sigh isn’t much of an answer. “Maybe she’s feeling left out,” I said. “She’s seen that we’ve been investigating together and, knowing Eve, she feels like she’s missing out on the action. She wants to be a part of it. Maybe she’s just trying to save me the time and money of driving all the way to Middleburg again. That would be just like her, going out of her way to save me a couple bucks when she can’t afford it any more than I can. Maybe she thinks now that you and I are friends, I’m pushing her out of my life. Who knows!” I took my hands off the wheel just long enough for a gesture of utter frustration.
“So you think that she’s…?”
“Gone out to Gillian’s on her own? I’m sure of it.”
“And you’re worried?”
“Do I look worried?”
“Well, you are speeding.”
I was. I let up on the accelerator. “Eve knows better than to do anything stupid,” I told Kegan and reminded myself.
I actually might have gone right on believing that if when we arrived at Gillians’s, the place wasn’t teeming with police cars and if in the pulsing glow of their lights, I didn’t see Eve being led away in handcuffs.
THE MIDDLEBURG, VIRGINIA, POLICE STATION IS A nice enough place, but believe me when I say that I wished I was anywhere but. Kegan and I waited while they processed Eve (though they refused to tell us what they were processing her for) and thank goodness he was there with me. Sure, I’m graceful under pressure. In most situations, anyway. Yes, I’m logical, reasonable, and rational. But none of that applies when it comes to watching my best friend get arrested.
I was a basket case, pure and simple, and Kegan—bless his little environmentally friendly heart—was a trooper. He brought me hot chocolate and apologized because it was in a foam cup. He called Jim because he said I was too upset to talk (he was right) and explained where we were and what was happening. He sat at my side, and he held my hand, and when a fresh-faced officer finally came out to the waiting room and told me I could go back and talk to Eve, Kegan came along, too. But only as far as the doorway.
“I’d better wait here.” Kegan peered into the hallway beyond the front desk. “Eve’s probably upset. She needs a friend more than she needs me poking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
See what I mean? When it came to knowing what to say and when to say it, the kid was darned near perfect. He even gave me a pat on a back to buck me up.
It worked. A little. My breath tight in my chest and my heart beating double time, I went toward where the officer pointed, rounded a corner, and saw immediately why we’d had to wait so long.
No doubt, it took Tyler Cooper a while to drive out there.
He wasn’t any happier to see me than I was to see him, but that didn’t stop me from closing in on Tyler and grabbing on to his arm with both hands. Any port in a storm, as they say, and at times like that, a familiar face is a familiar face, and a familiar face offers at least a little comfort.
“They arrested her, Tyler.” My words bubbled around the tears I’d refused to let fall when I was out in the waiting area. “They’ve got her locked up somewhere. What’s happening? What did Eve do?”
He gave me that enigmatic look of his, the one that was so annoying. It made me want to scream. “You don’t know?”
“Would I be asking if I did?”
Tyler had been leaning against the wall, and when he straightened up, I let go of his arm. He worked a kink out of his neck. “Did you know Ms. Gleeson?” he asked.
“Gillian?” I hadn’t been thinking straight. I hadn’t been thinking at all. For the first time, I realized I hadn’t seen Gillian there at the station, and that if Eve had been accused of something—like breaking into Gillian’s house or refusing to leave when Gillian asked or upsetting Gillian enough for her to call the police—I would have thought she’d be there filing her complaint. Then again, maybe people with money get to do that sort of thing from the comfort of their own homes.
“I’ve met her,” I told Tyler, because I knew until I told him what he wanted to know, he’d never tell me anything at all. “She was engaged to Brad Peterson, you know.”
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