Broken Vows Mystery 02-For Richer, for Danger Page 12

  “Excellent.” Catherine nodded. “This might be the break we need.”

  Or it could amount to nothing. I kept that thought to myself as I carried the bowl over to Noelle’s highchair and gave her a spoonful. “Erica is having dinner with the Greens this evening. She’s going to have Theo ask about inheritance … among other things.”

  All of a sudden I wished I really was a fly on the wall at the Greens tonight, especially since entering my own home had been such a shock. “That’s all I have to report.” I swiped the spoon around Noelle’s lips to scoop up the cereal overflow. She opened her mouth for more.

  “All right. I agree you should head to Buffalo tomorrow, but I need you to save Saturday, if you would.” Catherine looked at Ray. He nodded as if to encourage her, and she returned her gaze to me. “On Saturday, I was hoping you would take Noelle to visit the girl at the jail, then call me at the office and let me know what she says. She still isn’t talking to me except to ask to see the baby. I’m hoping she’ll crack once she does.”

  Noelle wailed when the spoon stopped halfway to her lips. “Sorry, sweetie.” I managed to continue feeding her while I considered the significance of the girl’s request.

  Perhaps sensing my hesitation, Catherine rambled on, “I know you’re probably not too excited about the idea—taking a baby to jail and all—but I think it could help move things forward. And you’re the only one she’s really said anything to so far.” Catherine tilted her head as though waiting for my decision.

  I didn’t want to take Noelle to the jail, not so much because babies don’t belong there but because the girl was sure to fall in love with her—and almost as certain to want her back. I couldn’t bear to give her back.

  Noelle ate her cereal happily, pushing it off her lips with her tongue and smearing her fingers in the drops of it on her highchair tray. Then she lifted her fingers to her hair and rubbed a little in to condition it, I supposed. She’d need a bath when we were done. She loved baths, splashing in the water and playing with her rubber ducks.

  “Darlin’, did you hear Catherine?”

  I realized Ray and Catherine were staring at me. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “She asked if you would take Noelle to see her mother on Saturday.” Ray’s words were gentle, but they still tore at me.

  I slid the last spoonful of cereal into Noelle’s mouth. “Yes, of course I’ll take her.”

  ____

  Catherine finally left sometime around eight. Ray had ordered a pizza that arrived while I bathed Noelle, soaking the cereal out of her hair and pores. I laid her down for bed and joined the two of them at the table to eat. Catherine told us about another case she had where a father and son wanted to plead not guilty to robbery, even though their fingerprints were all over the crime scene and the police found the victim’s flat-screen TV in their living room. Then she told us a few more cases with equally amusing circumstances. I might have enjoyed her company if I didn’t resent her so much.

  Ray cleaned up the pizza box and the dishes while I took a shower. The air conditioning in our little bungalow left much to be desired on a ninety-degree day like this one, but the cool shower water relieved some of my discomfort. The rest of it wouldn’t go away.

  I lay down on the bed. The image of Ray holding Catherine pushed its way into my mind and refused to leave. The only other image that could overtake it was the image of me handing Noelle over to her birthmother—for good. I curled into a fetal position and pulled my pillow over my head. I could cry—or go have it out with Ray.

  This time, I couldn’t just let my misgivings pass.

  I found Ray in front of the television with his feet on the coffee table and his eyes closed. I sat diagonal to him and studied his face. Was it the face of a cheater? I’d dated him since junior year in high school. He’d been my one and only love. I didn’t even kiss that many toads before I found him. But I’d never asked him about his experiences. He’d dated Catherine for a year while we were separated. She thought he wanted to marry her. He had bought her a diamond ring, but he never said the magic words she waited to hear. At least I knew about her.

  But what about other women? Was I his first? Had he slept with other women while at the police academy? While I was away at college? During our separation before he met Catherine? Had he gotten a taste for variety? Was he a cheating rat-bastard like a lot of other men I knew, including several police officers? It seemed to be a common complaint among the wives of policemen and firemen. His buddy Gumby was now a week into married life. Based on his track record, he’d probably already strayed. Had I missed the signs all the years Ray and I were together?

  Ray’s right eyelid rolled open. “Are you trying to burn a hole in my forehead?”

  “Maybe. Or etch a big red A.”

  His other eye opened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “A for adulterer, like The Scarlet Letter.”

  “I read the book in high school. I got that part, thank you.” Ray lowered his legs to the floor and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “What are you trying to say?”

  “You had Catherine in your arms when I got home today. It looked very … intimate. It seemed intimate when you met her at Gumby’s wedding. Are the two of you still … intimate?”

  Ray looked at me like I had two heads. “Why would you leap to that conclusion? Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to ask me why I was holding her or why she was crying? A good investigator doesn’t leap to conclusions.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Ray. A good husband doesn’t do things that make his wife question him. But when he does, he damn well better answer the question.” I locked gazes with him and waited.

  A hint of irritation ignited his gaze. “Catherine was crying over Brennan Rowe. I was just comforting her. That’s all.”

  “So he told her he was gay and not interested in dating her.”

  Ray nodded. “He also said he was looking for a woman to bear his child. He wondered if she might be interested.”

  “Ew. Like a surrogate mother?”

  “I think he meant more like a shared custody arrangement. Both of them as parents, but, of course, not a married couple.”

  I wondered how he planned to impregnate Catherine, but didn’t want to wander too far off topic. “Why would she cry over that?”

  “She didn’t cry over that. She cried because her clock is ticking and she wants a child.” Ray looked at his hands. “She thought at one point she’d be having her children with me.”

  Why didn’t that make me feel any better? Nice to know she coveted him as both a husband and a father.

  Ray continued, “She doesn’t want to have a child with Rowe, but she’s upset at the thought she might not ever have any children at the rate she’s going.”

  I felt bad for her, really I did. But she couldn’t disrupt our lives this way. “She understands that the two of you are through, right?”

  “Completely.”

  Ray might omit the truth once in a while, but he never told a bald-faced lie. I’d already given him a pass on the year he spent with Catherine. We’d been separated for a couple years, one signature away from divorce—mine. A surge of happiness flowed through me, drowning any lingering doubt. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling a little unsettled. You and Noelle are my whole world. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

  I dropped my gaze, fighting tears. I hated feeling so uncertain and out of control.

  “Everything will work out for the best. Don’t worry.” He studied me for a moment, then stood and walked over to my side. “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”

  I swung back toward the keyboard. “In a minute. I want to find the map and figure out how to get to Buffalo tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” He brushed his hand over my hair before he walked away.

  I should have chased after him, but I didn’t.

  In the morning, on my two-hour drive to Buffalo, I thought about all the times Ray showed up when I needed him
the most. All the times he wrestled with Erica’s issues when I no longer had the energy. The three years he waited for me to realize that I still loved him. All the slack he cut me last year when I looked like the prime suspect for murder. Maybe I didn’t know everything about him, but I knew everything important, just like he knew everything important about me. I needed to have faith in him.

  My cell phone rang at nine a.m. I swerved to the side of the road like a good, law-abiding citizen before I answered it.

  Erica’s voice blasted over the airwaves as though she were in the backseat. “Last night was a freakin’ disaster.”

  I refrained from saying “No kidding?” and settled for “What happened?”

  “Sam’s parents wigged out. His father is a son-of-a-bitch. He won’t give his only son a nickel. He’s ‘a self-made man’.” Erica mimicked Sam’s father’s gravelly voice. “He thinks Sam should be ‘a self-made man’, too. He’s leaving all his money to foundations so they name hospital wings and other stuff after him. He said it’s ‘his legacy’ and a living testament to his hard work. There’s no money for anyone else.”

  “So the dinner was a disaster?”

  “Dinner was great. Shrimp cocktails, filet mignon, and baked Alaska for dessert. I ate the whole thing. But my future in-laws hate me.”

  “So now what?”

  “Sam’s getting another job.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “He’s having a sign painted today. He’s going to put it up at the yacht club, offering private sailing lessons. He said he could charge $50 an hour.”

  That would employ him for the next month and a half if he was lucky, but then what? “That’s a start, Erica. Listen, I’m on my way to Buffalo. Can I call you later?”

  Erica was too wrapped up in her own affairs to ask me about my trip. Just as well. My hopes of identifying the girl today were very high, and I was afraid to curse my luck by admitting it to Erica. After we disconnected, I checked my mirrors and glided back onto the road.

  So Theo and Noelle had no money coming to them. Inheritance was not a motive for Theo’s murder.

  Wait a minute. Didn’t Ray say Theo’s parents had paid his bail money after his arrest for robbery? Didn’t he say that was the only reason they wanted to see him again? Where did all that bail money come from? Mrs. Tibble said they had no money. The condition of their home and persons certainly bore that out. Did they get the bail money back upon his death? Would they have killed him just for the money?

  I’d lost my mind. No parent would kill their child for money. Besides Mr. Tibble was too drunk to leave the house and Mrs. Tibble was too slow to catch Theo. Still, I needed to find out where they got the money for Theo’s bail. Maybe I would have time to stop by their home later today. But first I needed to meet Candace. I stepped on the gas.

  The Wardmont House sat on an overgrown lot on the west side of Buffalo. Its parking lot held only two cars, both ready for the junkyard, in my professional opinion. The deep grass in front of the house made me wonder if a snake might slither onto the cracked cement sidewalk, and the austere brown stucco building itself said “Run for your life!”

  I rang the doorbell anyway. It gonged and echoed for a few vibrations.

  A middle-aged black woman with long dreadlocks opened the door. “Yes?”

  “Hi, I’m Jolene Parker. I’d like to see Candace Morton, please.”

  “Is she expecting you?”

  “No.”

  The woman arched an eyebrow and waited.

  I turned my smile on full blast. “I’m a friend of her neighbor. She suggested I stop by to see Candace.”

  “What’s the neighbor’s name?”

  Rats. I supposed any investigator worth her salt would have taken down the woman’s name for future reference. Think diversionary tactic. “Did I come at the wrong time? Do you have special visiting hours?”

  “No.”

  “Then would you please ask Candace if she would see me?” I took a step forward and the woman moved out of my way. “Thank you.”

  She closed the door behind me and gave me a look that said “I don’t like you.”

  I ignored her, glancing about the foyer of the old house. It was beige and brown, just like the exterior. Beige wall paint and brown-stained gumwood trim. Even the commercial grade carpeting was beige. The air in the house felt heavy, almost oppressive, even though the air conditioning had cooled it enough to raise goose bumps on my arm. Or maybe they were a reaction to the mental climate.

  Candace Morton was a ray of sunshine. Her wide toothy smile grew and her sparkling eyes danced with excitement when she caught sight of me. She wore black leggings and an orange maternity T-shirt that reached her knees. “Hi, are you Jolene?”

  I introduced myself and asked if we could chat.

  “Sure. Come on in and sit.”

  She grabbed my elbow and propelled me into the sitting room off the right side of the foyer. Surprise! The room held brown furniture. Only the red mat around the picture of the house which hung over the fireplace cut the bleakness.

  “You’re a friend of Mrs. Binder?”

  “Is she the elderly lady who lives next door to your mother?”

  Candace grinned. “Yeah.”

  “I chatted with her a couple days ago when I stopped at your mother’s house.”

  “She knew I was here?”

  It was my turn to grin. “Yeah.”

  “My mom wanted to keep it a secret. How did she find out?”

  “She got a piece of your mother’s mail in her mailbox.”

  Candace nodded. “They make me write weekly letters to my mother. If I don’t write one, they won’t let me watch television.”

  I glanced around the room. It didn’t hold a television or a book or a magazine, just brown furniture. “Is this place like a prison?”

  Candace’s laughter echoed in the room. “No, but they have rules. You have to follow the rules.”

  Opening my purse, I fished the pictures of Noelle’s birthmother out. “Do you know this girl?”

  Candace accepted the pictures and studied them. “No. Who is she?”

  Candace listened to my story without interruption, appearing starved for companionship and something novel in her day.

  When I finished, she frowned. “I do know the Bryces, but not this girl.”

  “Were you a friend of Abigail’s?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I saw her at school and we were in ski club together, but we didn’t hang out with the same kids. She was quiet, real quiet.”

  “How do you know her parents?”

  “Her mom works at the diner. The kids from school ate there a lot. And her dad works at the water park. I worked there last summer, too.” Her tone sounded wistful.

  I slid the pictures back in my purse. “I guess it’s not much fun living here, huh?”

  Her eyes glistened. “It’s for the baby. I’m giving it up for adoption. Then I can go home and start over.”

  “What about the father, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  She picked at a cuticle. “He didn’t want anything to do with it. I don’t blame him.” Her cuticle started to bleed. I handed her a tissue from my purse, and she pressed it over the spot. “I made a mistake, and now I have to pay the price.”

  She sounded like she was parroting an adult’s words. I checked my watch. Eleven thirty. “Are you allowed to leave here? Can I take you out to lunch?”

  She leapt to her feet. “Would you?”

  Absolutely, I would.

  ____

  Candace asked to go to the pizza parlor. While we ate our mushroom and green pepper pizza and sipped lemonade, she told me all about the other girls in the home, even their names. It occurred to me the information might be confidential, but I wouldn’t be telling anyone. I hadn’t realized in this day and age that so many families still tried to keep unwanted pregnancies a secret.

  After we ate, she asked to buy some magazines at the drug store. She
picked Cosmopolitan and Glamour. I tried to seem enthused, but I would have picked Car and Driver myself.

  I dropped her off in the driveway. She opened the car door, but didn’t get out.

  “Is everything okay, Candace?”

  “Yeah.” She looked out the window toward the Wardmont. “I just think I should tell you about Mr. Bryce.”

  “What about him?”

  She moved her gaze to her lap. “He hits on all the girls who work at the water park. He even hit on me, but when he found out I was under eighteen, he didn’t talk to me anymore.” She twisted her maternity shirt in her hands. “I think he does more than talk to the older girls.”

  “I’m not surprised. Thanks for telling me, though.”

  “You’re welcome, and thanks for taking me to lunch. My mother doesn’t come to visit me. She’s still mad at me because I wouldn’t tell her the baby’s father’s name. For a while she thought Mr. Bryce was the father. I told her he used to talk to me and the other girls a lot.”

  Ah, that explained the way she glared at his wife—as if it was Mrs. Bryce’s fault her husband was a philanderer.

  “Mom wanted to speak to him and make him take responsibility, but I convinced her Mr. Bryce wasn’t the one. My baby’s father is only seventeen. He’s got one more year of high school.” Candace’s gaze met mine. “And sometimes taking responsibility sucks, you know?”

  I thought of Erica. Yeah, I knew all about that, too.

  ____

  The drive home to Wachobe started to drag around two o’clock. To avoid falling asleep, I called Cory and put him on speaker phone, filling him in on the latest events.

  “Geez, Jo, you’ve been busy. You have more drama in your life than I do, and I’m in the theater.”

  “Yeah, but what I really need is a car sale. Any prospects?”

  “We got two new maintenance customers: a BMW and a Saab. The Saab came in for an inspection, and I couldn’t pass it. It needs about two thousand dollars worth of work.”