He smiled again. “You got mad.”
“I sure did.”
“I like you,” Ricky said.
“Hey.” Mac grinned. “I like you, too.”
I could tell his words were genuine, but I could guarantee he didn’t feel any of that same warmth for Ricky’s horrible mother. And I was right there with him.
“Ricky,” I said, ready to change the subject. “Lately, do you ever sneak inside the Gables and hide?”
“No.” He made a face. “I hate it in there.”
“I saw you up here the week before the groundbreaking ceremony.” I watched his expression for a sign that he was going to lie. “Do you remember seeing Mac and me walking on the grass?”
“I remember.” He scowled. “I didn’t want you to see me.”
“What were you doing up here?”
“I was looking for Jud. He went inside to find something.”
“So Jud was going inside the Gables, even before the groundbreaking?”
Ricky stared at the ground. “Maybe.”
“Did Jud live in there?”
“Sometimes.”
I frowned. “Didn’t he have a place to live?”
“Yeah, he has a place. But he was looking for information.”
Information? What information? I sighed inwardly. Whatever information he was trying to find, it was probably what killed him. Whether he found what he was looking for or not. “Ricky, I’m really sorry to talk about this, but I need to tell you that we discovered Jud’s body in the space behind the heavy door inside that pretty brick passageway. Do you know the place I’m talking about?”
“Yeah.” He nodded briskly. “We called it the Passage. Before they put up all the brick walls, we used to go through the Passage to get to the Baths.”
“There’s a bathroom behind that wall?”
He laughed out loud. “No, not a bathroom. The Baths. If you get sent to the Baths, you get really quiet.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the water’s so cold, you can’t talk anymore. It’s ice-cold.”
I glanced at Mac and grimaced. Ice-cold baths? Ugh. “Ricky, did you ever go in the Baths?”
“Once, when I was being unruly.”
I had to take a few deep breaths, exhale slowly, and try to calm down. Because I really wanted to kill this guy’s mother.
“When did you leave the Gables, Ricky?” Mac asked, changing the subject again, thank goodness.
“It was a little while after the shock therapy. Jud sneaked into town and called my dad and a few weeks later he came and picked me up. He had a court order and everything. Dad got there right after Regina died.”
“Who’s Regina?”
He smiled. “We called her Reggie. She was pretty. Her daddy sent money to keep the hospital open.”
Was this the wealthy benefactor who kept the place open well into the 1990s? “Do you remember Reggie’s last name?”
“Pomeroy.” He smiled. “I remember because I like to say it. Pomeroy.”
“Do you know how Reggie died?” Mac asked.
Ricky frowned. “The newspapers said that she killed herself. But Jud was pretty sure she died in the Baths.”
* * *
* * *
Mac offered to drive Ricky home and I hoped he would be able to pry more information out of him on a man-to-man level. He promised Ricky that they would take a quick detour into the drive-through at Goody Burger on the way. It turned out that Ricky had been staying with Jud, who had a small apartment over by the high school.
Meanwhile, I stopped at the market for veggies and a few other items, along with pet food and paper products. My luck ran out when I got to the checkout line and had the misfortune of running into Whitney Reid Gallagher. I was this close to escaping unscathed, I thought. But it was not to be.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Dirty Boots,” Whitney said, and did her usual snotty perusal of my outfit, from my work boots all the way up to my mop of curly red hair. Talk about unruly, I thought. But Mac seemed to like my curls just fine, so Whitney could kiss my butt splicer.
“Well,” I said in the same haughty tone, “if it isn’t the formerly rich princess turned—”
“Shut up!” She whipped around to make sure no one had heard me.
“Hey, I’m just here trading quips with the townies.” It was amazing to see that she was still trying to pass herself off as the pampered daughter of her tycoon father who was swindled out of his fortune last year.
Now Whitney was forced to live on her adorable husband’s salary as the assistant police chief and the pin money she made pretending to be an interior decorator. But she still stuck her nose in the air whenever I saw her. Still called me “townie” at every opportunity—which was why I had just called her that. And she still went grocery shopping in her usual uniform of sequined halter top, shiny black spandex jeggings, and black patent leather Christian Louboutin stiletto death heels. Comfy.
“I’m glad I ran into you,” I said, realizing I really did have something to talk to her about. “I wanted to ask how you know Ricky Patterson.”
Her lip curled. “Why is that any of your business?”
“Because I met him today and he was saying lots of nice things about you.” When in doubt, flatter the woman, I thought. Worked every time.
“Oh.” She waved her hand breezily. “His mother was a dear friend of my father. In case you don’t know, Dr. Fairchild was a very important woman around here for many years and when my family used to visit here—years before we had the bad luck to actually move here—Daddy was on the board of directors of the Gables. It was a very prestigious institution once upon a time. So naturally Ricky and I were friends.” She studied her manicure. “Now, of course, it’s become so tacky, I hear they’ve even leased a space to your little friend Jane.”
Sometimes I just had to stare at her in disbelief. Was anyone really that shallow and stupid?
Yes, Whitney was all that.
“Well, I’d love to stay and chat,” I said, “but I’m already bored. Buh-bye.” I stepped up to the clerk, paid for my groceries, and escaped out the door.
I raced to my truck and I confess I might’ve burned a little rubber in my rush to get away from that woman.
What did it say about me that I would’ve rather dealt with a murder than talk to Whitney?
Chapter Thirteen
Mac walked into my house at four o’clock carrying a bottle of chilled white wine and a bouquet of yellow roses and multicolored peonies. How could I not love him?
“I saw these and thought of you,” he said, handing me the bouquet and kissing me soundly.
“You’re so sweet.” I kissed him back. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
He gave me another kiss. “You’re more beautiful than any flower,” he murmured.
“Wow, thank you.” I breathed in the scent of roses and peonies. “I love you for thinking of me.”
“Can’t seem to think of much else,” he muttered, and leaned back against the counter. “You look good, Shannon.”
I blinked in surprise. “Thank you, Mac.” I couldn’t help but smile as I touched his cheek and kissed him again. “So do you.”
“Yeah, I’m a rock star.”
“Ricky certainly thinks so.” I grinned. “And I do, too.”
After another long moment of mutual admiration, we both began to laugh. It was definitely not the right time to bring up the “relationship” question. I was happy just to live in the moment for now.
“We need a drink.”
I was still smiling as I stooped down to pull a vase from one of the cupboards under the island. “I’ll put these in water.”
“And I’ll open the wine.”
“Perfect.”
Robbie, meanwhile, was practically shaking w
ith excitement, waiting for us to play with him.
Mac took a step toward the wine bottle, then stopped. “But first, I’d better give this little guy some attention.”
I laughed. “Because he’s so calm and dignified and not starving for affection at all.”
“Poor neglected critter.” Mac sat down and gave the side of his leg a pat. Robbie hurled himself up onto Mac’s lap, then rolled over to get his belly rubbed. “Who’s a good boy?” Mac said as he gave the little cutie a brisk rub and some scratches behind his ears. “You a good boy? Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”
I stopped to enjoy the two of them, then watched Tiger saunter in. Aloof and totally cool, she stared at them for a moment, then started batting at Mac’s shoelaces.
“You have made their lives complete,” I said, and put the vase of flowers on the island so I could admire them while we got dinner ready.
After a few minutes, Robbie finally jumped down and Mac moved on to open the bottle of wine. After pouring it into two glasses, he handed me one. “Let’s toast to something great.”
“How about, to us,” I said. “So brilliant and only slightly punchy.”
He chuckled. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard a better toast.”
We clinked glasses and took a sip.
“Isn’t that nice?” I said, savoring the rich flavor.
He grinned. “I’m sure you noticed it’s from your uncle’s winery.”
“I noticed.” I smiled and took another quick sip. “I love the earth tones he captured.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Pete told me this one barely touched the barrel, so you really get that great mellow mineral taste in every sip.”
I nodded. “It really comes through.”
A buzzer went off so I set my glass down and walked over to the stove. “The rice is done and it can rest on the stove for now. We can start the grill whenever you’re ready, but I would love to sit and relax for a little while if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I think we both deserve that.”
I would’ve suggested the back patio, but the March weather tended to turn cool in the late afternoons. Instead we took our glasses out to the living room and sat on the couch together. I turned on some music and for a few minutes we just chilled out and enjoyed the peace. After a day like the one we’d had, we needed it.
Finally I had to ask, “How did it go with Ricky?”
Mac took a deep breath and let it out. “I want to kill his mother, but other than that, it was an interesting trip home.”
“As soon as you left, I thought of so many things I wanted to ask him.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, you know, does he think his own mother would try to kill him?”
He frowned at me. “Are you worried about that?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you? You’ve seen her. She’s scary.” The chilled wine was causing condensation to form on our glasses, so I opened the drawer in the end table and brought out two coasters. “She seems to lack maternal empathy, for sure.”
Mac nodded. “She’s got all the warmth of a black widow.”
“I’d say that’s putting it mildly.”
“It’s kind of a giveaway,” Mac said. “When a mom wants to electrocute her unruly twelve-year-old child.”
I still couldn’t wrap my head around that one. “Isn’t that sickening?” I shook my head in dismay. “Okay, so maybe she wouldn’t kill her own kid, but I’d like to ask Ricky if he thinks his mother killed Judson.”
“Good question,” Mac said. “And important, too. She’s definitely on our suspect list.”
“And speaking of suspects, guess who I ran into in the market? You won’t guess so I’ll tell you. It was Whitney. And I asked her how she knows Ricky. Remember they were talking together at the pub?”
He grimaced. “I wish I’d remembered that. I would’ve asked him about her. But you’re just kidding about Whitney being a suspect, right?”
“She’s always on my dream suspect list, but I guess she doesn’t qualify for this one. Darn it.” I took a quick sip of wine, then let him in on what Whitney had told me about her father and the doctor being good friends and board members. “So Ricky and Whitney have known each other for years. That’s why they were talking at the pub.”
Mac gave a low whistle. “There’s a lot of weird connections weaving their way through this case.”
“Sure are.” I thought about it for a moment. “I wonder if Whitney’s father knew what kind of torment the good doctor was putting her son through.”
“I doubt it.”
“Me, too. She’s had a lot of people fooled for a long time.”
We sat in silence for a long minute and then Mac said, “Speaking of the pub, Ricky said he might walk there tonight. He said he wanted to be around other people.”
“I guess that’s a healthy attitude to have.” I sipped my wine. “That reminds me. Chloe texted me earlier to say that she and Eric were going to the pub for dinner. She asked if we wanted to join them, but I felt like eating healthier tonight. But if you’d like to walk down there later for a nightcap and to say hello, I’m up for it.”
“I wouldn’t mind saying hello to them and checking up on Ricky. He’s an interesting guy.” Frowning a little, Mac looked down into his wineglass. “I want to call him a kid because he seems so young, but he’s not. Guess how old he is.”
“I was thinking he must be about thirty-four.”
Mac chuckled. “You nailed it. He was ten years old when his parents divorced and his mother got custody. She moved him to the Gables to live with her.”
“What a nightmare for him.” I shook my head. “Imagine being a child living at a mental facility. It had to be awful even before the electroshock incident. And his father got him back when he was twelve. So for two years Ricky lived there.”
“Two years is a lifetime for a kid or for anyone when they’re being abused.” Mac scowled.
“She should be in jail.”
“I agree one hundred percent.”
“Believe it or not,” I said, “I was about to ask him if he wanted to come to the police station with me and report his mother to Chief Jensen. You drove up just then so I wasn’t able to. I doubt he would’ve gone with me, though.”
“Maybe I’ll bring it up when we see him again.” He swirled his wine, took a sip, then said, “So, do you honestly think that Dr. Fairchild killed Judson?”
“Oh, yes,” I said firmly. She was cold, ambitious, egotistical. She checked all of my boxes. “I honestly do.”
“Just like that? I mean, we have no real clue to any of this.”
“That’s okay. I still think she did it. I think she’s certifiable.” I set my wineglass down on the coaster. “And you just know that Judson was trying to find some way to prove that Fairchild killed that girl, Reggie.” I adjusted the pillows to sit up straighter. “Maybe Judson found the proof he was looking for, but even if he didn’t, the doctor had to get rid of him.”
“You’ve been giving this a lot of thought.”
“I have. Am I wrong?” I tilted my head to get a better look at him. “What do you think?”
“Oh, I totally agree.” He lifted his wineglass in a toast. “She did it.”
“I’m glad to hear you say it.”
“Who else would have a reason to kill him?”
“That’s the big question.” I thought about it for a second. “You know, it’s really bugging me that we don’t know how Jud died. Eric wouldn’t tell me, and frankly, I’m not even sure he knows yet. But I didn’t see any blood so I don’t think it was a bullet or a knife wound.”
“I couldn’t get a very good look at the body, but from my vantage point, I didn’t see any blood, either,” he said. “That’s what led us to think that he might’ve been killed somewhere else and moved.”
I nodded. “Yes, but after talking to Ricky, I’m not so sure he was moved.”
He sat forward to rest his elbows on his knees and glanced back at me. “What are you thinking?”
“The doctor and Judson used to work together closely. I think she could’ve lured him to that spot because it was a familiar place that they went to every day. The Baths.” I shivered. “Ugh. The name alone gives me the creeps.”
“I want to get in there and see these Baths.”
“Right now my imagination is doing a fine job of picturing them.” I thought of all the poor patients who were sentenced to be dunked in icy water. Hadn’t they had enough problems to deal with without Dr. Fairchild’s less-than-kind benevolence?
“I just remembered, what about Prudence? Who is she? She’s cranky about everything, unless Dr. Fairchild tells her to do something. Then she can’t wait to bow and scrape.”
“They must’ve worked together,” he said. “Let’s ask Ricky when we see him.” He drank some more wine, then set down his glass. “Okay. Now as an intellectual exercise, let’s come up with three more suspects and three more motives.”
“Seriously? Are you teaching a class?”
“No,” he said with a grin. “But you’re good at this. And besides, as much as we would hate it, the doctor might be innocent.”
“That would be a total bummer. But okay.” I mentally went through every possible suspect I could think of. “It’s too bad we didn’t get to know some of the other protesters.”
“Yeah. They pretty much stayed in the background and let Ricky and Judson take the lead.”
“And they were all pretty hostile to us until they saw Dr. Fairchild speaking. Then they just seemed sad and scared, like Ricky.” I sat up straighter on the couch. “But until further notice, they’re all suspects as far as I’m concerned. Even though I see no reason why they would kill their protest leader.”
“I wonder if they’ll keep coming around the Gables.”
“Good question.” I took my last sip of wine. “I need to get things ready for dinner. Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
Premeditated Mortar Page 20