by L C Hayden
Mike cleared his throat. “I talked to Claudine, the school’s secretary.”
“I know who she is.” Durango studied Mike and puffed himself like a proud peacock. “What I don’t know is who you are.”
“Sorry,” Bronson said. “This is my good friend, Mike Hoover.”
“Your former partner.” A statement, not a question.
Still, Bronson nodded. “Seems you have me at a disadvantage. You know a bit about me.”
“Lorraine and I kept no secrets from each other.”
Mike leaned forward. “If you and Lorraine were as close as you claim, then why didn’t Claudine mention your name when I asked her to give me the names of those Lorraine was closest to?”
“I’m sure Claudine doesn’t even know about me.” Durango continued to rub his chin. “I’m not a full time faculty, only a substitute teacher. I don’t ever deal with Claudine.”
“Now that we settled that, what can we do for you?” Bronson asked.
“It’s the other way around. I know tomorrow’s the funeral, and I know you and Lorraine were not on the best of terms. I know she called you, repeatedly, and you ignored her. By the time you decided to pay attention, it was too late. She died in your arms, I understand.”
Bronson swallowed the large lump in his throat. Mike clutched the arm rest so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Bronson narrowed his eyes, telling Mike to let it go. Mike focused his attention on his shoes as though that was the most interesting part of the living room.
Durango continued, “When the past haunts you, you’re consumed with guilt and remorse, and at the same time, you must be riddled with unanswered questions. Ask me anything.”
“Why was my sister afraid?”
“Mr. Wellington, Lorraine’s benefactor, worshipped Lorraine, but I’m sure you know that. Mr. Wellington gave Lorraine an original La Carcé painting. Amanda, Wellington’s daughter, was furious. She felt it belonged to her. Lorraine was going to give it to her, just to keep peace in the family. That’s the kind of woman Lorraine was.”
Mike’s glance traveled from his shoes to Durango’s cool blue eyes. “Why did she decide to keep it?”
“She found out Amanda passed the originals to a lawyer named Sam Glass. He hired a local artist to duplicate them. Glass then sold the duplicates as originals. Lorraine was going to go to the police, but she was petrified what Glass and Amanda would do to her.”
“Who ordered her death?”
“I’m sure Amanda told Glass to do whatever was necessary. We see how Glass took care of it.”
“Who pulled the trigger?”
“A hired assassin, I’m sure. Unless Glass opens up, we’ll probably never know. I personally suspect one of the twins.”
“How do you know about the twins?”
“Lorraine told me. I guess she did her homework so that when she went to the police, she’d have a full picture.”
Bronson and Mike exchanged looks. Bronson said, “All the evidence at the scene pointed back to a pimp known as Matthew Devono and his right-hand man, Mario Serafin.”
“Mario was a set up. Glass figured Mario takes the blame, the heat is off them. The police never find out about the paintings. Amanda and Glass are free to continue with their little scheme.” Durango leaned back as though pleased with himself. He no longer rubbed his chin. His hands lay still by his side.
“With all that you know, why didn’t you go to the troopers with all the information?”
Durango covered his eyes and rubbed them. “I’m . . . ashamed of myself. I too feared Amanda and Glass, especially after what happened to Lorraine. I didn’t want to end up like her.” His chin quivered as though he were ready to cry. “These last few days, I’ve hated myself. I’ve been a coward, but this morning I decided to do what’s right. So here I am.”
Bronson remained quiet, absorbing what Durango had said. Nothing Bronson hadn’t heard before, but this guy sure knew a lot. Who was he and how did he know so much? “Lorraine had a baby. What can you tell me about that?”
Durango’s eyes widened. “A baby? When? Maybe she didn’t tell me everything after all.”
Bronson nodded. “She never mentioned the baby to you?”
“If she had one, that must have been way before I met her, while she was still a teenager. She must have given the baby up for adoption and forgot all about him.”
“How long have you known Lorraine?”
“Long enough to know she was a highly paid escort. Then she decided to turn her life around. She applied for a job as a nanny for an up-and-coming lawyer, now a congressman, by the name of Daniel Jenkins. You might know him.”
Bronson nodded. “I know of him. Who doesn’t? Think he’ll be our next President?”
“I think so.” Durango began to rub his chin again. “Any other questions?”
“Just one. Why would a preeminent lawyer hire an ex-hooker to be his son’s nanny? Surely, for a job like that, he would have investigated her thoroughly.”
“Wellington is a very powerful man and his influence runs deep, especially when he’s your main campaign contributor.”
Chapter 80
“Everything all right?”
Bronson turned away from the opened front door to face Carol. He wrapped his arm around her and drew her toward him.
Mike looked away.
Bronson kissed the top of Carol’s head. “He was a friend of Lorraine’s. Confirmed what we already knew but mentioned a couple of things I’d like to verify.”
Mike reached for the doorknob and closed the door. “Do you think he knew about the baby?”
Bronson nodded. “His reaction seemed a bit staged.”
“My thoughts, too.”
By now Ellen had cleared the breakfast dishes and put everything away.
“Got more coffee?” Bronson asked.
Ellen indicated the kitchen. Carol eyed him.
“What? It’s only my second cup.”
“And it’s not even nine.” Carol tapped her watch.
“It’s still only my second cup.”
Carol threw her arms up, and Bronson headed for the kitchen to refill his cup.
Mike followed him. “Do you think Durango might be the baby’s father?”
“That’s a hard one.” Bronson offered Mike some coffee. Mike shook his head. Bronson quickly scanned the area. Carol was nowhere in sight. He poured three teaspoons of sugar. “Why would he deny his son?” For good luck, he added one more teaspoonful.
“Son?” Mike raised one eyebrow.
“Durango always referred to the baby as he, but then again, it could have been he wasn’t being politically correct.”
“Maybe so, but Durango did make a couple of statements I’d like to verify.”
“Like what?” Bronson poured enough cream to turn his coffee the color of sand.
“Durango mentioned he was a substitute teacher. Then he suggested Wellington pressured Jenkins into hiring Lorraine.”
Bronson set his cup of coffee down. “I was thinkin’ of payin’ Wellington a visit. I need to update him. Want to come?”
“Yeah, it’ll give the girls a chance to talk. I think Ellen needs that.” Mike grabbed the car keys lying on the kitchen counter.
“And I’ll call Wellington to let him know we’re on the way.” Bronson gulped down his coffee, being a firm believer that no coffee should ever go to waste. He rinsed the cup, set it in the sink, and made his call.
*****
The air felt damp and oppressively hot even though the car’s digital clock told Bronson it was only 7:28. The day promised to be a scorcher, unless it rained. The bright blue sky smiled down at Bronson. Not a cloud in the sky.
Mike, normally chatty, sat silently behind the steering wheel, maneuvering the car around Pittsburgh’s early morning heavy traffic.
Bronson leaned his head on the headrest. “You and Ellen doing okay?”
Mike shook his head. “I thought this time maybe we had a chance, and then
the Raven went and messed everything up. Ellen quickly remembered why she hates my job. Drove a wedge between us.”
“Thanks for blamin’ the Raven and not me.”
“You didn’t ask to be kidnapped.”
“And you and Ellen didn’t ask to be put in danger, yet it happened.”
“And that’s what freaked her out. She hasn’t mentioned a single word, but since it happened, things haven’t been the same between us.”
“Sorry, buddy.”
“Yeah, me too. But life goes on.” Mike rolled up the windows and turned on the air conditioner. “Since we’re being personal, are you still on a guilt trip about your sister?”
Don’t leave me. Bronson shook the chill away. “Yeah. Always will be.”
“You’ve got to let it go. It’s not healthy. You solved her murder, not much more you can do.”
“Did I solve it? Who pulled the trigger?”
Mike shrugged. “One of the twins, we suppose.”
“And is the right twin in prison servin’ a life sentence?”
“No, not yet, but he will soon be arrested.”
“And tried for art theft, not Lorraine’s murder.” Bronson recognized the bitterness in his tone.
“Chances are one thing will lead to the other. Give it time.”
“Not sure I can.”
Chapter 81
Wellington roamed at death’s door. His pale yellow complexion and his sunken cheeks made him look like a wilted flower. One gentle breeze and he’d crumble to the ground. Yet, still he sat in his wheelchair, Lorraine’s blanket covering him from the waist down. He hunched over a bit but still managed to hold his head high.
The three of them, Bronson, Mike, and Wellington sat in the mansion’s palatial living room with a ceiling to floor glass pane that offered spectacular views of the multi-colored flower gardens complete with a creek running through them. The gleaming hardwood floor in the living room complimented the room’s high ceilings. Both Bronson and Mike sat on separate striped silk Queen Anne chairs. A massive mahogany coffee table separated them from Wellington. Bronson inwardly cringed. What purpose did the coffee table serve if not to serve coffee? So where was it?
“Mr. Bronson, Mr. Hoover, I want you to tell me everything in detail, and Mr. Bronson, you haven’t been making any charges to the credit card I sent you. You’re going to force me to pay you.”
“You may not want to after we report our findings.”
Wellington’s eyes widened and a coughing spell that lasted well into the minute mark ensued. He coughed into his hand, his frail chest collapsing and expanding with each effort. When he finished, Wellington took several deep breaths. “Sorry about that. Expect that to happen on a regular basis. Please begin and don’t leave anything out, even if you think it’ll hurt me.”
Bronson and Mike took turns with the narration. When Bronson got to the part about Amanda’s involvement, he hesitated, swallowed a breath through his mouth and plunged on. He figured it’d be better for Wellington to hear it from him rather than Detective Randig or Trooper Cannady.
As Bronson spoke, Wellington’s eyes watered. “I won’t be around to help her. Maybe that’s the problem. I always bailed her out. Not this time. I knew she was insanely jealous of Lorraine. I can’t believe her jealousy drove her that far.”
“Maybe it wasn’t all jealousy,” Mike said.
“Meaning?” Wellington coughed.
Mike waited until he finished. “Maybe it was greed and anger.”
“Is that a reference to me disinheriting her?”
Both Bronson and Mike nodded.
Wellington continued, “I thought I’d be teaching Amanda a lesson. She’s getting a hundred thousand dollars and she’ll be allowed to keep all of her personal possessions. She could make something good out of that. Instead, she chose this.” A tear ran down his cheek. “Do you think my daughter really ordered Lorraine’s death?”
Bronson shook his head. “Like I said, that’s what the police suspect, but at this point, they don’t know for sure.”
Wellington nodded and coughed. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth. “I’m going to Lorraine’s funeral tomorrow.”
Bronson gave him the thumbs up signal. “You’re welcome to sit with us. Lorraine would have wanted you to sit up front next to me.” Bronson closed his eyes for a second. Lorraine’s funeral. Lorraine’s death. The pain that grabbed him caused him to gasp.
Wellington studied Bronson, but said nothing about his pain. “I appreciate the offer, but I will gladly give up my seat to that nice Jenkins boy. Do you know him?”
Bronson remembered his meeting with Daniel Jenkins Jr. He recalled how the youth had impressed him. “I do know him.”
“Then you know that Lorraine practically raised him. They had a very strong bond, those two.”
“I gathered as much.” Bronson waited for Wellington to finish coughing. “Does the Jenkins boy know about her past?”
“Not to my knowledge, but then Lorraine didn’t tell me everything.”
“I’m glad Lorraine grew up to earn an honest living. Thank you for doing that for my sister.”
“Why would you thank me?”
“Aren’t you a major contributor to the Daniel Jenkins Campaign for President?”
“I am.”
“And were you one of his contributors when he first got involved in politics?”
“I was his only contributor.”
“At that time, as a special favor to you, did you make a call to Jenkins or in any other way suggest he hire Lorraine as his son’s nanny?”
“No, I didn’t. I could have easily, but Lorraine never asked me to. All I know is that one day she came in, grinning from ear to ear and told me she had applied for the nanny’s position and had been hired.”
Bronson and Mike exchanged looks. He knew Mike was thinking the same thing he was. Why would Jenkins hire an escort to be his son’s nanny?
Chapter 82
As Bronson and Mike walked down Wellington’s driveway, Detective Joe Randig and Trooper Cannady met them as they headed toward the mansion. When their paths crossed, each nodded a hello and kept on going.
When Bronson reached the car, he watched as the butler opened the door and allowed Randig and Cannady to go in. “I feel sorry for Wellington,” Bronson snapped his seat belt on.
“Because he’s dying?”
“No, because he has a daughter like Amanda. Being a father, every instinct in me orders me to protect Little Carol and Donna.”
“Which, by his own admission, is what Wellington has done his entire life. I’m with him, it’s time to let go.”
“It’s called tough love which reminds me, I need to call Daniel Jr.” Bronson reached for his cell.
Mike placed his hand over Bronson’s phone, preventing him from using it. “Are we heading back to Ellen’s?”
Bronson nodded.
Mike removed his hand from the mobile. “Okay, I’ll drive and you call Daniel Jr.”
Bronson flipped the cell open and punched in the numbers.
Daniel answered on the second ring. “Mr. Bronson, I’m glad you called.”
“Drop the mister. My friends call me Bronson.”
“Thank you, Mr.—uh, thank you, Bronson. Did anybody ever tell you you’re very much like Nanny?”
“Nanny?”
“That’s what I called her. Lorraine didn’t sound right, and I certainly couldn’t call her mom. As it is, my real mother resented her all of the time. That would be like adding gasoline to the fire.”
Bronson noticed that Mike put his Bluetooth on, took out his cell, and made a call. “Why did your mom resent my sister?”
“I don’t know. My dad denies she does, and mother and I—well, we’ve never been close. I know it sounds like sibling rivalry, but Mother always preferred my brother and sister over me. I would like to think Mother resented Nanny because we were close and Mother and I have never been.”
“I’m sorry
you feel that way. Would you like for me to talk to your mother on your behalf?”
“No, that would only create more problems. Dad aspires to be President and as such, we must be the perfect family. What I told you is in strict confidence.”
“I will honor that and keep my mouth shut, but know that if you ever need a friend or a word of advice, I’m here for you.”
“I know you are. Thanks, that’s comforting to know.”
Bronson scratched the bridge of his nose. Every time he thought of the funeral, he began to shiver. “Tomorrow is Lorraine’s funeral.”
“I . . . know.”
All of a sudden, Daniel sounded like a little kid. Bronson mentally whipped himself for not making the effort to visit him and talk to him in person instead of over the phone. “You mentioned before that you’ll go to the funeral with your family. Has anything changed? I’m still willing to pick you up early tomorrow morning so you can ride in the limousine with us.”
“I’d like that, but like I suspected, my parents are coming to the funeral to show the world how they support me. My dad would be furious if I didn’t arrive at the funeral with them.”
Bronson’s eyes widened. Daniel Jenkins Sr. would be attending his sister’s funeral. Who would have thought that a future President would be one of the mourners. Ah, Lorraine, you did good. “I understand your dilemma. By all means, be with your parents.”
“I’d rather not. Would you mind saving me a seat next to you at the funeral service? I’d like to be considered part of the Bronson family.”
Bronson’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “You are part of the family.” He sat back in the passenger’s seat. A fleeting thought bombarded his mind but before he could capture it, it vanished.
Chapter 83
Soon as Bronson hung up, Mike said, “Bet you didn’t even notice that I made a call while you were talking to Daniel Jr.”
“I did. I noticed. You shouldn’t drive and talk on the cell, you know.”
“So arrest me.”
“I can’t. I’m retired.”