by Elise Noble
“I’m not even allowed a radio here. Too dangerous, or so they say.”
“There’s no music at all?”
“Nothing. I tried humming to myself, and they sent the shrink in to talk to me.”
Some prisons had education and rehabilitation programs, but Redding’s Gap seemed to prioritise extra razor wire and fresh batteries for the guards’ stun guns over cultural enrichment. Imprisonment here must be worse than death for a man like Ethan.
A knock at the door made me jump, and a sour-faced guard opened it seconds later.
“Time, Miss di Grassi.”
“Right.” I turned back to White. “I’ll come back, okay?”
A quick nod. “Will you say hi to Ronan for me, I mean, if you see him again? His wife’s pregnant, and she’s been real sick. It wasn’t an easy time for him even before…this.”
More evidence of White’s good side. Or was he just a great actor?
“I’ll call him.”
And I’d get Leah to pick up a little gift as well.
“Thank you.”
White’s gaze met mine again, but only for a second. As the shadow of the guard fell across the table, he looked away. I tried to push my chair back then remembered it was bolted to the floor. Guess they weren’t taking any chances. I slid out sideways instead, cursing under my breath as I snagged my pantyhose on a sharp screw. Shit. This place was the fucking pits.
As the guard herded me from the room, I took one glance back at White, head bowed, shoulders slumped in defeat.
Who was he, really? The mild-mannered musician I’d seen today, passionate about his work, tongue-tied about everything else? Or the monster who killed a woman in a frenzy then tried to flee the scene?
Right now, I couldn’t answer that question, but I did know one thing for sure. I was going to find out.
CHAPTER 8
WHEN I ARRIVED back late that Thursday afternoon, I settled Emmy’s helicopter behind Riverley Hall, the larger of the two Virginia homes she shared with her husband. Their other house, Little Riverley, lay right next door, a starkly modern contrast to the gothic palace that Charles Black had inherited from his parents as a teenager.
Why did they have two homes? Well, that was another story, but in short, the arrangement worked for them.
This time last year, the helipad had been a utilitarian grey slab, but one sunny summer’s day when Emmy and Black weren’t looking, Bradley had got out his paintbrush. Now it looked as if a florist had thrown up over it. Bad enough in daylight, but at night, the whole thing glowed in the dark like an otherworldly funeral. Of course, Black had issued orders to repaint it, but Bradley kept finding excuses not to. Fifty bucks said the flowers were here to stay.
I stepped out onto a giant tulip, and as the rotor blades stopped turning, Emmy and Ana half ran, half stumbled across the lawn, pursued by a large man on a dirt bike.
“Pick your feet up!” he yelled.
Ana swore over her shoulder in Russian, and Emmy gave him the finger.
“Afternoon, Alex,” I said.
He paused next to me and gave what passed as a smile. “Privet, Dan. You have good day?”
“I’m not sure.”
He chuckled and accelerated off, already shouting instructions at the two girls again. Rather them than me. I trained with him occasionally, but mostly I stuck to the gym.
Inside the cavernous kitchen, I’d made myself a delightfully healthy peanut butter and jelly sandwich by the time Emmy reappeared, her hair damp from the shower.
“Good run?” I asked.
“I can’t believe I pay that man money.”
“Me neither. If you want to be tortured, why don’t you just get kidnapped by a dictator with a dubious human rights record and save yourself a few dollars?”
“Because Black would say I’d got off easy. How was your trip?”
Hmm. How was my trip? I mulled it over, even though I’d thought of little else on the flight back.
“Question too difficult for you?” Emmy asked.
“It was funny.”
“Funny ha-ha or funny strange?”
“Strange.”
“In what way?”
“White wasn’t how I imagined. Everyone I spoke to said he was a good guy, but with what he supposedly did, I guess I didn’t believe it.” I paused again. “I expected a touch of arrogance with a veneer of nice over the top, but that wasn’t what I got.”
“Interesting. Supposedly?”
“Huh?”
“You said ‘what he supposedly did.’”
“Did I?” Dammit, I did.
“Whenever you spoke about him at first, you were quite certain he was guilty.”
“He refused to discuss the case. But I’ve met enough crazy people in my time. Sociopaths, psychopaths, and sundry freak show participants.”
“Me.”
“Yes, you. But I didn’t get any creepy vibes from Ethan. The only thing he’d talk about was music.”
“He’s Ethan now, not White?”
Shit, she had me again.
“Now I’ve seen him with the mask off, I’ve realised he’s human after all.”
Just as I finished my sandwich, Mack called. I swallowed down the last mouthful and quickly answered.
“I’ve got that info you wanted from White’s phone bill.”
“Ty and the girlfriend?”
“For the girl, I’m gonna go with Melinda Frame. A couple of calls and messages a day from August to October last year, then they fizzled out.”
What happened five months ago? “Fizzled out? They didn’t end with a bang?”
“Seems not. There’s been the odd call since, once a week, then once every two weeks, and only one in the month before the murder.”
“That doesn’t fit with a big bust-up.”
“Nope. And while the initial calls originated in the Richmond area, Melinda’s phone is now located in North Carolina.”
“You figure she moved away?” I asked.
“If I was a gambling woman…”
“You are a gambling woman.”
Last week, she’d bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t go an entire morning without chocolate. The Hershey’s wrapper that fell out of my back pocket at a quarter to twelve had given the game away. I’d been so, so close.
“Only because you’re so easy to beat.”
“Can you get me Frame’s address?”
Mack gave a little, “what do you take me for?” harrumph. “Check your email.”
“And the guy?”
“Ty D’Angelo. He’s still in Richmond, working at a bar downtown.”
“The call pattern?”
“Every day, every other day for the two years back I analysed, mostly D’Angelo calling White. Stopped abruptly two months before the murder.”
Now, that was more interesting.
“Thanks, sweetie, I owe you one.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Dinner at my place, three weeks from Tuesday.”
Oh, crap. I’d walked right into that invite. “What’s the occasion?”
“Luke’s mother’s in town, and I need all the moral support I can get. Carmen and Nate are coming, but I can’t exactly ask Emmy.”
I could see her point there. The last time those two had crossed paths, the argument had ended with Emmy asking Mrs. Halston-Cain who her late husband had been fucking behind her back. No, it was down to another of Blackwood’s directors, Nate, to take one for the team along with his wife. Although if Emmy did come, the meal might not be quite so boring.
I swallowed down my sigh of doom.
“Sure, I’ll come. You gonna find me a hot date? With all this shit going on, I won’t have time to look for my own.”
She laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Research showed that Melinda Frame lived in a small town just east of Fayetteville, North Carolina. An interesting move from downtown Richmond, but when I dug a bit deeper, I found out the insurance company she worked for
had transferred her there to set up a new branch office. She may have landed in a hick town in the middle of nowhere, but it was a step up for her, career-wise at least.
I pencilled her in for a visit tomorrow morning. With the amount of spare time I didn’t have, I’d need to use one of Emmy’s jets and land at Fort Bragg. Oh, the hardship. But hey, she was the one who gave me this damn case. As I called the pilot, I mentally added up the fuel costs. Those kids had better hit the big time.
Melinda Frame lived on the third floor of a shabby walk-up. It looked as if the insurance industry didn’t pay so well. Weeds grew through cracks in the sidewalk outside, trash blew in the breeze, and mustard-yellow paint peeled from her door. More flakes dropped off when I rapped on it with my knuckles.
Nothing.
I knocked again and waited. And waited. I’d almost given up hope of anybody answering when the door inched open, big brown eyes peering through the gap above the security chain.
“May I help you?” a polite voice asked.
“Melinda Frame?”
She nodded, her knuckles pale where they gripped the door jamb.
I plastered on my most benign smile. “My name’s Daniela, and I’m a private investigator. I was hoping you might answer a few questions about an important matter.”
“Ethan?”
I nodded, and Melinda stared at me in silence for a whole minute, thinking.
“Whose side are you on?”
Good question. Before I trekked to Redding’s Gap, I’d have said the dead girl’s, but now? Nothing about this case made sense.
“I’ve been hired by a friend of Ethan’s. He doesn’t believe everything the police are saying, and he wants to find out the truth.”
Well, that wasn’t a complete lie.
Melinda let out the breath she’d been holding. “Thank goodness. You’d better come inside.”
After she’d fumbled with the door chain, I followed her into a tiny lounge filled almost entirely by a flowery sofa and a mismatched armchair. Paperwork lay scattered across a small coffee table, and a black-and-white movie played in silence on a TV in the corner.
“Excuse the mess.” Melinda fidgeted from one foot to the other as she motioned me to take a seat. “Can I offer you a drink? Coffee? Water?”
“Coffee would be great. Cream, no sugar.”
Sometimes I took cream, sometimes I didn’t. It depended on what mood I was in. Right now, I wasn’t even particularly thirsty, but doing something familiar often calmed people down. And Melinda looked flighty as hell. She bustled through a door opposite the TV, and I heard running water followed by the clink of cups. Melinda wasn’t what I’d been expecting. The murdered girl, Christina, had by all accounts been a party girl, outgoing and popular. In my mind, I’d painted a picture of Ethan’s “type,” but Melinda didn’t fit it. Her shyness, her nervy, bird-like mannerisms… She still hadn’t made eye contact. In some ways, she reminded me a little of Ethan himself.
Five minutes later, she came back with a tray. Silence reigned as she poured out two cups of coffee from a cafetière, and I breathed in the rich aroma. She added a splash of cream to one before looking up at me to see if that was okay, seeking approval.
I nodded, and she sat in the armchair, holding her own cup and saucer, her feet tucked underneath her. The china rattled as her hand shook.
“Have you lived here long?” I asked her.
“A few months.”
“How have you settled in?”
“Okay, I guess. I mean, the people seem friendly.”
“It’s a big move, from Richmond all the way out here.”
“I needed a fresh start.” A nervous giggle. “Things weren’t so great back in Richmond.”
“With Ethan?”
She shook her head, and coffee slopped into her saucer. “Ethan was the only thing that kept me there for so long.”
“So what was the problem?”
“I moved to Richmond with another guy. My ex. All those sweet words… The promises… But he turned out not to be so good for me.”
That I could understand. “And how did you meet Ethan?”
“I was standing on the edge of some bridge over the Potomac. I don’t even remember which one. Ethan was the only person who stopped.”
Holy shit.
“He talked me down.”
I’d been expecting Melinda to say their paths had crossed in a club, or a bar, or possibly the studio. Not that. A lone tear rolled down her cheek, and I wanted to give her a hug, to tell her I’d been there too, but I didn’t dare.
“What…” My voice came out as a croak, and I tried again. “What happened next?”
“I was soaked through from the rain, so he took me home with him. Yes, I’ve seen what they’re saying on TV. I’ve thought ‘that could have been me.’ But deep down, I don’t believe it. Ethan was nothing but gentle.”
“What did he do?”
“That night? Wrapped me up in a blanket and made me a hot drink. I couldn’t stop shivering, so he got one of those portable heaters, you know the type with the fan?”
I nodded.
“He set that in front of me until I dried out, and then we talked.”
“What about?”
I felt guilty having to pry, but at this point, I didn’t have a lot of choice.
She laughed, a thin, reedy sound with no joy behind it. “Me. Well, I talked and he listened. Nobody ever did that before, you know? Listened. I’d split with my boyfriend, and I was sleeping on a friend’s sofa, only her man was getting pissed because he didn’t want me in their space. I had no money and nowhere to go.”
“And talking to Ethan helped?”
“More than I ever thought it could. The next day, he drove me to pick up my stuff, and I stayed with him till I moved here. One of my girlfriends from high school lives in the next town, and she told me it was real nice.” Melinda wrinkled her cute little ski-jump nose. “It’s not quite what I imagined, but it’s better than what I had with my ex.”
“Hold on—you lived with Ethan?”
“Only for a couple of months. He said I could stay for as long as I wanted, but he refused to accept any rent money, and I always felt kind of guilty, you know? For the way I’d intruded in his life.”
“What was he like in the house?”
“Easy to be around. Quiet.”
Inside, I was buzzing. Aside from Ronan, Melinda was the first person I’d found who’d interacted with Ethan outside of business. And she was yet another of his acquaintances who didn’t have a bad word to say about him.
“Did you spend much time together?”
“Not really. I worked during the day, and he was always out in the evenings. He never told me what he did. I mean, I knew he was into music, but finding out he was this famous DJ… That was a surprise.”
“How did you know he liked music? Did he talk about it?”
She paused to blow across her coffee then took a tentative sip. “Ethan never spoke about himself. But he always had a song on in the background, and sometimes he’d play the guitar or the piano. And he had, like, a recording studio in his basement. Just a small one, but sometimes he’d disappear in there for hours at a time.”
“You say he never mentioned anything personal? That’s unusual for a man.”
I forced a laugh, thinking back to the time I’d spent with Jay. He’d always loved to drone on about his favourite subject—himself—but boy he did struggle with listening. Case in point: I hated Brazil nuts, and I’d told him this over and over, yet he still bought me an entire box of the little bastards coated in chocolate for my birthday. Oh, and then he’d skipped the birthday dinner Emmy arranged because he had to work on a case. Prick.
Melinda shook her head. “No, I can’t remember Ethan ever getting personal. Not once.”
There was a long pause, and I didn’t rush to fill it. If Melinda wanted to say something, I’d give her the space to do so.
She stared off into the distance and h
er voice dropped to a whisper. “You know he’s broken, right? Broken inside? He spent all his time trying to fix me, but I couldn’t fix him.”
Her eyes glistened, and she wiped at them with her sleeve. A tear escaped, followed by another, and another. Oh, fuck it; she needed a hug.
I gathered her up in my arms and held her tight as she wept, her tears soaking into my cashmere sweater. I’d dressed for work today, and I couldn’t help wishing I’d stuck with my leather jacket. At least it was waterproof.
“What do you mean, broken?” I asked, once her sobs had subsided to sniffles.
“It’s hard to describe. He’s got this air of sadness, and there’s this barrier between him and the world. I don’t think he has many friends, and not once did he mention his family.”
“Did he ever do anything that worried you?”
“You mean to me?”
“Or anybody else?”
She shook her head so hard a barrette flew out of her hair and skittered across the floor. “No, never! Ethan was the kindest man I could have ever hoped to meet.”
“Didn’t you think of staying with him?”
“Yes, but I know deep down it wouldn’t have worked out. Two damaged souls like us? We’d only have ended up hurting each other.”
“Did you sleep together?”
I felt like a bitch for even asking, but I had to know.
“No, but if he’d ever wanted to, I would have.”
That told me a lot. Melinda had spent more time than most with White, and she wouldn’t have hesitated to get closer.
“Can you think of anyone else Ethan knows who might have more information?
“Sorry. Like I said, he wasn’t very social.” Her lips had gone dry, and she flicked out her tongue to moisten them. Stress, probably. “Are you going to see him?”
“Yes, next week. He won’t talk about the case, though.”
“Will you… Will you tell him I’m thinking of him?”
“Yes, I’ll tell him.” I offered her a card, and she reached out slim fingers and took it from me. “Call me if you think of anything else?”
She nodded. “If there’s any way I can repay him for the kindness he showed me, I’ll do it.”
“Believe me, you’ll be the first to know.”