The Missing Piece

by Sala, Sharon

  Carter was too emotional to speak. All he could manage was a quiet “Thank you.”

  “Again, I caution all of you. Tell no one. You wouldn’t want her to get out of the country before she’s arrested,” Charlie said.

  Carter wrapped his arms around Eddie and hugged him.

  Jason was obviously gutted and too weak to process this new reality.

  “I’d suggest Jason be taken to his room now, and if they sent him home with pain meds, use them,” Wyrick said.

  Dina and Kenneth quickly wheeled him away, commiserating as they went.

  “I’m going to take Eddie up and stay with him until he falls asleep,” Carter said.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlie murmured.

  Carter shook his head. “No! Never be sorry for finding the truth. None of this was easy to hear, but thanks to the both of you, we’ll all live to see another day. If none of this had come to light, and she kept picking us off one by one, according to how our family estate is set up, she could have come forward as the only surviving member and inherited it all—if she’d escaped being a suspect.”

  “That’s it! That’s what we couldn’t figure out!” Wyrick said. “But she’s already rich. Why would any of this matter?”

  “She’s almost thirty years old and has never been married or even engaged. She grew up as a butcher’s daughter—granted, a butcher who became a wealthy entrepreneur—but it’s a whole other thing to be the heiress to the Dunleavy fortune and live in a castle,” Charlie said.

  “There’s one other victim in this mess,” Carter said in a quiet voice. “This is going to destroy Johannes.”

  * * *

  Two days later, the Denver PD arrived at the Deutsch residence with a search warrant for everything on the property, and an arrest warrant for Miranda Deutsch. A half-dozen police cars with lights flashing immediately blocked off the drive and both ends of the street. Someone had tipped off the media, because they were right behind them all the way. They were stopped a block back, where police were already setting up barricades. Once they could go no closer, they piled out of the vans with cameras aimed at the residence, while journalists began getting ready to broadcast live.

  Detective Bruner finished the text he was sending, and then dropped his phone in his pocket and picked up his warrants as he got out of the car. He and a half-dozen officers moved toward the door, while two search teams stood at the ready. He glanced back once to make sure everyone was in place, then turned around and rang the bell.

  A moment later, a woman answered the door, then gasped at the sight of all the police.

  Detective Bruner and his men pushed their way into the foyer.

  “Ma’am, we have a search warrant for the property, and an arrest warrant for Miranda Deutsch. Where is she?”

  The woman stared at him. “I’m sorry, but there must be some mis—”

  Detective Bruner raised his voice. “Ma’am, where is Miranda Deutsch?”

  The woman pointed behind her. “She and her father are in the breakfast room.”

  “Lead the way,” Bruner said.

  She led them directly into the room.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’m so sorry. They made me,” she said, then threw her apron over her face and ran away.

  Johannes stood abruptly. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you storm into my house without—”

  “I’m Detective Bruner from the homicide division. We have a search warrant for this property, and an arrest warrant for Miranda Deutsch,” he announced and put them both in Johannes’s hand.

  Miranda leaped up from her chair with the obvious intent to run, but was quickly subdued and cuffed.

  “Stop, stop. You’ve made a mistake!” she said, then started weeping. “Father, do something!”

  But Johannes was still standing there, staring at the warrants in his hand, so she turned the tears on for the detective. “Please, sir! Let me go, please let me go. I didn’t do anything wrong. You have to believe me.”

  When Bruner didn’t even bother to answer her, she screamed, “Father, for the love of God, do something!”

  Johannes was in shock. “Miranda, I don’t understand. It says you killed three people. What is happening? Why are they saying these things?”

  “She’s being arrested for the murders of Wilma Short, Buddy Pierce and Rey Garza,” Bruner said and began to read Miranda her rights.

  “Who are they?” Johannes asked. “We don’t even know these people. Why would you say she did this?”

  “Miranda knows them. She hired them to kill Carter Dunleavy and then Jason Dunleavy. When they failed, she killed them to keep them silent.”

  Miranda’s heart skipped. They knew all that? But how? Panic was setting in. This couldn’t be happening. “I didn’t do it!” Miranda screamed. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

  “Then why did you try to run?” Bruner asked.

  Miranda let out a scream of such rage it took all of them aback.

  “Is this the father who raised me? Where is your anger? Where is the love you profess you have for me? Is talk all you’ve got, Sausage King? Now, in my time of greatest need, you let me down? To hell with you! It doesn’t matter! You’re not even my father. My father is Carter Dunleavy.”

  “No, Carter isn’t your father. Edward is. You guessed wrong.”

  Tears dried up within seconds. “The blind one? It was the blind one? Why the hell would she fuck a blind man?”

  Johannes gasped, suddenly seeing the monster she was behind the mask she’d presented to the world.

  “Take her out,” Bruner said.

  Miranda walked with her head down, her shoulders slumped, completely ignoring the fact that her father was behind her, still in shock, still begging for answers.

  * * *

  Charlie was getting out of the shower when his cell signaled a text. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around himself like a sarong and dashed to answer. It was Bruner.

  We’re serving the arrest warrant. Media got wind so it’s probably going to be on TV. Chief Forsythe asked me to personally thank both of you for closing this case.

  Charlie ran toward their adjoining door and knocked.

  “Turn on the TV. The arrest is going down!” he yelled and then called Carter as he ran back to turn on his TV.

  “Good morning, Charlie, what’s up?” Carter asked.

  “Just got a text from Bruner. They’re serving the arrest warrant now. He said to turn on the TV.”

  Charlie was scanning for local news stations as Carter hung up. He was adjusting the sound when Wyrick opened the door.

  “What were you—” she began, then took a deep breath. “Look!” Charlie said. “They’re making the arrest as we speak. Ah, damn it. Her father just collapsed!”

  Wyrick stepped up beside him. “Look at her. She saw him fall and just kept walking. That’s one cold bitch, and I’m going to pack.” She hurried out of the room.

  It took a couple of seconds for that to register, and then Charlie realized she was leaving.

  “Pack. Right. This is over. We get to go home.”

  At the same time, he noticed that the towel was all he had on. He was as close to naked as the law would allow, and she’d been standing right beside him.

  “Well, hell,” he muttered. “The flight back to Dallas should be interesting.”

  * * *

  The entire Dunleavy family was waiting for them when they exited the elevator with their gear.

  Jason was in his wheelchair, and as Charlie and Wyrick stopped for their goodbyes, he reached out to shake Charlie’s hand.

  “Charlie Dodge, it took an act of God and the mention of my uncle’s name to make you call me back, but I am forever grateful that you did. You found Uncle Carter when no one else could, and you and Wyrick saved us all. Now I’m going to owe Ted a favor, and
he’s a total ass about collecting.”

  Charlie laughed. “You also owe Wyrick some thanks. I’d never heard of your family or the business. She’s the one who read me the riot act for being so uninformed. And she’s the one who told me to call you back. If it hadn’t been for her, it would never have happened.”

  “However you got here, we’re grateful to you,” Carter said. “And we couldn’t let you leave without a proper Irish send-off. Ruth packed a lunch, including chocolate goodies for you, Wyrick, and a bottle of our finest Irish whiskey for Charlie.” Then he took an envelope from his pocket. “And this, Charlie Dodge, is a printout of the money transfer from my bank to yours for a well-earned fee. What I want both of you to know is that you’ve become friends, and friends are always welcome in this house.” He hugged Charlie, then in a grand gesture, kissed the back of Wyrick’s hand. “I’d hug you, too, but I’m afraid you’d take the hide off me for doing it.”

  Wyrick hid her delight with sarcasm. “Is this where I’m supposed to say ‘I’ll never wash my hand again’?”

  Everyone laughed, including Charlie, but it was the laughter that prompted Edward to lift his own hand as if asking for permission to speak.

  “Laughter. Such a beautiful sound, and I was feeling we’d never hear it in this house again. Thank you, dear Wyrick, for your wit. It is a thing highly revered by the Irish. I also thank you for your kindness, and I will miss our little talks.”

  Wyrick was suddenly fighting back tears, and in a move she never saw coming, she pushed past all of them and wrapped her arms around Edward’s neck.

  “I didn’t want your last hug from a woman you didn’t know to have been a sad one.” Then she lifted his hands to her head, and then to her face, and let him “see her” in the only way he could.

  A sudden hush moved through them as Edward “looked,” beginning with the shape of her head, cupping the smooth, silky dome and then the shape of her face. Moving the sensitive tips of his fingers along the curve of her brow to the length of her nose. Then her mouth to the jut of her chin, until finally, he sighed.

  “Ahh, Wyrick, you are a beauty.”

  Charlie couldn’t look away. The thought flashed through his mind that he’d never been that close to her in all the years he’d known her. And if he knew what was good for him, he never would.

  The family led them down the hall and then through a smaller hallway into the kitchen.

  “Friends come and go through the kitchen, which is the heart of the home,” Dina said. “On behalf of all of us, thank you for caring, and for sharing our life and our world without judgment. Kenneth will carry the food basket to the car for you.”

  Peter, the chef, and Ruth, Arnetta and Louise were standing beside the table where Charlie had sat with them, sharing coffee and tarts when he’d first arrived.

  “Safe journey,” Ruth said.

  “Safe journey!” the maids echoed.

  “Godspeed,” Peter said.

  Charlie stopped, scanning the faces of family and staff with purposeful recognition.

  “You have something special going on here. You are far richer in family than any amount of money you can claim. My daddy always said a thing is stronger when it’s held together by many smaller parts, rather than just one of a matching size. That it’s because when one falters, the others are always there to shore it up. That’s how I see all of you.”

  Wyrick groaned. “Somebody open the door. I don’t like tears or goodbyes.”

  Laughter followed their exit as they took the bricked path to the garage and loaded up. A few minutes later, they were on their way back to the chopper.

  “Are we still on truce time?” Charlie asked as they left the castle behind.

  “I don’t see the need,” Wyrick said.

  Charlie paused, accepting the disappointment and then letting it fall away.

  “If you can’t see a need, I guess it’s over,” he muttered and thought about seeing Annie.

  Wyrick heard what sounded like regret, but ignored it. They still had a flight back to Dallas together. She opted for the old rule of thumb that “silence is golden,” and Charlie didn’t seem inclined to interrupt it. On the way to the airport, they learned Johannes Deutsch had suffered a heart attack, and that Miranda was behind bars on suicide watch.

  “The higher you are, the farther you fall,” Charlie said.

  Wyrick was noncommittal as they loaded the chopper. She went through the usual flight checks, then powered up and headed south, back to Texas.

  Only twice did Charlie even acknowledge her presence. Once to offer her a bottle of water, and once to give her half of the Hershey’s bar he’d found in the basket Ruth had packed.

  When they landed at the hangar outside Dallas, Benny was there, waiting to help her. They transferred the luggage to their respective vehicles, and then Charlie followed her to her car and handed her the food basket.

  “Take it. I’ve got all I want,” he said, holding up the bottle of Irish whiskey. Then he left her standing there.

  He was tired to the bone and tired of dealing with her and an anger he hadn’t caused.

  He drove out of the hangar without looking back, and when he got home, he ignored the “office” still present on his dining room table.

  There was only one thing on his mind, and that was having dinner with Annie. Morning Light had private rooms for family visits, and he called them to set it up.

  To pass the time, he began searching online for new office spaces and bookmarked five before he quit to get ready for his date.

  After a quick shower and shave, he chose dark blue slacks, with a blue-and-gray sports coat and a white dress shirt sans tie. He stopped on the way to get flowers, then drove to the center with one hand, steadying the vase with the other.

  His gut was already in a knot as he walked in with them, mentally preparing himself for the crying woman, the man looking for his lost son, Marty, and his first sight of Annie. It was always a jolt to see the absence in her eyes, but he told himself that there was a part of her somewhere that might still register his existence.

  Pinky, the receptionist, was getting ready to leave. The doors would soon be locked to visitors, but she’d been notified that he’d be dining in and was waiting for his arrival.

  “Good evening, Mr. Dodge. I’ll let them know you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” Charlie said as he signed in.

  He waited at the door for an escort, who arrived almost immediately. He didn’t know her name, but he recognized her face.

  “Oh, the flowers are lovely, Charlie. We have your dining room all set up, and they’ve gone to get Annie,” she said as she led him into their private room. “Do you want someone to be here with you?”

  “No. Why?” Charlie asked.

  “She doesn’t feed herself anymore.”

  “I’ll feed her,” Charlie said.

  “As you wish. There’s a call button on the wall. If you need help, or whenever you’ve finished, just press it. Someone will come.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Charlie said and had a moment of actual fear when she walked out, thinking of being alone with Annie, which was stupid as hell, but that was how he felt.

  A crisp white tablecloth covered a small dining table, with flatware, napkins and drinking glasses already in place. As he placed the flowers on the table, he noticed how close the chairs and place settings were, like an intimate dinner for lovers.

  A few minutes later, he heard footsteps, and then an orderly arrived, pushing Annie in a wheelchair. They’d dressed her in beige slacks and a ruffled yellow blouse, even done her hair and painted her nails. She was beautiful—and she looked right through him.

  “Good evening, Mr. Dodge. Let me get Annie settled in the dining chair before I leave.”

  “Can I help?” Charlie asked, wanting to put his arms around her just t
o feel the shape of her body again.

  “I’ve got it,” the orderly said.

  Charlie stood back, watching as the orderly grasped both her hands, gently coaxing her to stand, then settled her in the dining chair and pushed it up to the table.

  “Oh, here comes your food,” the orderly said and stepped out as a couple of servers brought in a small food trolley, transferred the plates to their settings, filled the glasses and set the desserts in place before leaving.

  Finally, they were alone.

  Charlie sat down beside her, then laid his hand on her arm.

  “Hello, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful tonight. It’s me, Charlie. I came to eat dinner with you. Everything looks good. I hope you’re hungry.”

  He knew she heard him talking, because she turned her head toward the sound of his voice, but she didn’t react, not even when he tucked her napkin into the neckline of her blouse, then unfolded his own napkin and put it on her lap.

  Looking at the meal, he realized they were now feeding her foods that were easy to chew and easy to swallow—meat loaf, mashed potatoes with gravy and a serving of peas. The little dishes of fruit cobbler were dessert. The drinks were cold. No danger of burns from hot coffee.

  He picked up a fork, then put it back and chose a spoon. Checking to make sure none of it was too hot to eat, he scooped up a bite of potatoes and gravy. But when he lifted it to her lips and she didn’t open her mouth, he realized she needed a prompt.

  “Annie, open your mouth,” he said, and she did. When he put the spoon in her mouth, she ate what was on it.

  He took a bite of meat loaf while he was waiting for her to swallow, then spooned up a small bite of meat loaf for her, which she ate. Then the peas, which she also ate, and he forgot about his own food. Everything he’d imagined, hoped, planned on, was out the window. It was all about the sustenance he was getting into her body. He was finally doing something for Annie, and the whole time he was feeding her, he was talking.