Stiff Penalty (A Mattie Winston Mystery) (22 page)

“My condition?”

“Well, yeah. I’m sure that being pregnant makes you more emotional. You know . . . the hormones and all.”

“My
condition
, as you put it, has nothing to do with this, Richmond. I’m simply sharing my take on the case. Besides, what the hell would you know about being pregnant?”

“Just because I’ve never been pregnant doesn’t mean I don’t know what goes on.”

“Who’s pregnant?” said a voice behind us.

I turned to see Charlie and Hurley standing in the doorway holding bags of food from the Peking Palace.

“Is everything okay here?” Hurley asked.

“It’s fine,” I said, wishing it was.

“Who’s pregnant?” Charlie asked again. “Are you, Mattie?”

“Yes.”

“Congratulations!” She looked genuinely happy for me, which made it all that much harder for me to understand why I wanted to wave a wand over her head and make her disappear. Forever.

“Thanks.”

Apparently I didn’t sound sincere enough because Charlie’s broad congratulatory smile faltered. “You don’t seem very happy about it,” she said.

“Oh, I am. It’s just that it was rather unexpected, and it kind of came at a bad time.”

“Is your husband happy about it?” Charlie asked as Hurley shifted nervously from one foot to the other. Charlie’s brazen nosiness made both me and Alison Miller look like amateurs.

“I’m not married,” I said.

“Yet,” Hurley added. “But she might change her mind.”

“Ooh, I love weddings,” Charlie cooed, clasping her hands together. “If you’re planning one, I’d be happy to shoot a wedding video for you if you want. I’ve done several already.”

“There isn’t going to be a wedding,” I said, and Hurley huffed his irritation.

Charlie looked back and forth between me and Hurley with a bemused expression. Then her face lit up with dawning. “Wait a minute,” she said, pointing a finger at first me, then Hurley. “Are you the father?”

“I am,” Hurley said.

“O-o-oh,” Charlie said, her eyes growing big. “Well, now that I’ve stuck my foot in it, I think I’ll pull it back out and disappear.” She flashed an awkward smile, took the bag of food Hurley was holding, and backed out of the room, heading down the hall toward the break room.

Richmond shook his head in dismay. “It sounds like you two have some things to sort out. I’m going to go talk to Jacob about that computer and see what he has to say. I’ll let you know.” Then he, too, left the room, leaving me and Hurley alone.

“You are a stubborn, fascinating, and puzzling woman, Mattie Winston,” Hurley said.

“I thought we were in agreement on this marriage thing, Hurley.”

“Obviously not. I want to get married and you don’t.”

I sighed, cocked my head to one side and said, “Why do you want to get married?”

“We’re having a kid together, aren’t we?” he said, looking at me like I was an idiot.

“And it’s the right thing to do?”

“Yes! Exactly,” Hurley said, looking relieved that I finally seemed to get it.

I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m not getting married again simply because it’s the right thing to do, Hurley. That’s an obsolete and archaic social more that I don’t ascribe to.”

“I’m not saying we should get married simply because you’re pregnant,” he said, looking as exasperated as I felt. “We should get married because we . . . because I . . . because you . . .”

Silence stood between us like a brick wall for what felt like an eternity, and then Hurley blew out an irritated sigh. “Oh, hell, have it your way,” he said finally, throwing his hands into the air. Then he stormed out of the room.

“S
o maybe now you can see why I’m reluctant to marry Hurley,” I say to Maggie. “He had a chance to say it; I think he wanted to say it, but he couldn’t.”

“You’re referring to the fact that he didn’t say he loved you?”

“Well, yeah.” I stare at her like I would a dumb child who doesn’t get the concept of the sky being blue. “It’s obvious he only wants to marry me because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. I don’t think he has the same feelings for me that I have for him.”

“Or maybe he’s one of those men who has a hard time saying what he feels. Did it occur to you that maybe he doubts your feelings for him? Maybe he was waiting for you to declare your feelings.”

“He knows how I feel about him,” I say, frowning.

“How does he know that? Have you told him?”

“Well, no, not in so many words. But I show it all the time.”

“And you don’t think he shows it?”

I sigh. “He has shown me that he cares about me, but I don’t know that he’s shown that he loves me, at least not the way he should if we’re going to get married.”

“Why haven’t you told him how you feel?”

I consider my answer carefully and for a long time. I can hear the little windup clock that Maggie keeps on her desk ticking the time down. “I suppose it’s because I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That he’ll laugh at me. Or that he’ll run away scared.”

“Like your father did?”

I shoot her an irritated look. “You think this is about my unresolved feelings for my father?” I say askance. “That’s rather clichéd.”

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“I had stepfathers who did a fine job of being there for me.”

“How many of them do you see or talk to on a regular basis?”

Right now I hate Maggie. She has this uncanny ability to get right to the heart of any emotional wounds I have. Then she digs around in them, poking, and prodding, and causing me pain. “They don’t live around here anymore,” I tell her. “Desi’s father remarried and moved to California. And my mother’s third husband went back to England to be near his family.”

“So they aren’t a significant part of your life at this point.”

“No, but I’m not at a point in my life where I need a father figure.”

“What about any strong male figure? Your husband more or less abandoned you, too, didn’t he?”

“That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose. But I was the one who made the decision to leave him.”

“Yes, you did, but not until after he abandoned you by having an affair with someone else.”

“Whatever. I think you’re nitpicking and getting bogged down in semantics.”

“My point is that the important men in your life thus far haven’t stuck around for the long haul. I want to know how that makes you feel.”

At the moment it makes me feel like I want to kill Dr. Naggy. Lucky for her I’ve already reached my kill quota for the year. “It makes me feel like the only person I can truly rely on is me. And that’s okay. Because I’m a strong woman with good intelligence, common sense most of the time, and a supportive group of family and friends.”

“I’m curious, how did David react to the news of your pregnancy?”

“I think it’s safe to say he wasn’t pleased. Despite the fact that he and Patty have already moved into the new house together, he told me I was rushing into things headlong without enough thought.”

“Does David’s opinion matter to you?”

“Not really, but Lord knows what he’s been saying about me behind my back.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because this is a small town. People talk, and sometimes they do it in front of their kids. I don’t want my kid growing up and getting teased by his friends and classmates because of some malicious gossip.”

“Don’t you think David’s reputation and past behaviors reflect on anything he says?”

“I don’t know. People like dirty gossip. They latch onto it and milk it for all it’s worth. Plus, David has redeemed himself in a way. He and Patty are engaged. So he’s doing things ‘the proper way,’ as he puts it. Humph! Like David would know proper if it jumped up and bit him in the ass.”

“You seem bothered by David’s progress with his personal life. Is it possible that Hurley was right? Do you have unresolved feelings for David?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that David has come out of this whole mess happy, and paired up, and living high on the hog. And I’ve come out of it pregnant, single, and potentially hunted by some homicidal maniac. It isn’t fair.”

“Life seldom is. Do you regret your choices?”

I shake my head and smile. “Not at all. I’m happy about the baby, and I’m determined to make this single parenting thing work.”

“So you don’t need Hurley, is that it?”

“I don’t need him, but I do want him.”

“Then why don’t you talk to him, say what’s on your mind, tell him what’s in your heart. What have you got to lose? With the path you’ve chosen thus far, he’s not a permanent part of your life, so if he tells you he’s not interested, you haven’t lost anything.”

“It’s not that he isn’t interested. He is. At least for now, anyway. But I don’t know if we have what it takes to make it over the long haul. And I’m feeling too vulnerable right now to risk sticking my heart out there that way. Besides, what’s the rush? If we have what it takes to make it as a married couple, time will tell.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know. I’ll know when it’s right. Right now there are too many things working against us.”

“I get the sense there’s something else you aren’t telling me.”

Once again Dr. Naggy has seen through my attempts at subterfuge, but I’m not ready to reveal my other secret yet. I may never be. So I shrug and say nothing.

Maggie sighs and sags in her chair. “Okay, enough about you and Hurley for now. You said there was something else you wanted to discuss.”

“There is. It’s this whole motherhood thing. I’m afraid of screwing it up. I’m afraid I’m going to be a horrible parent. It’s not like I have any good role models for the job other than my sister, and she’s a stay-at-home mom. I can’t afford to do that. I mean, I have a decent amount saved up, but I’ve got all kinds of new expenses coming up. Hell, this baby stuff costs an arm and a leg. There are so many different things I’ve had to buy: a crib, diapers, clothing, bottles, a bassinet, blankets, baby cleaning products, a changing table, a mobile, toys . . . it’s this never-ending list. And that’s just the stuff I’ve had to buy so far. I’ve heard kids outgrow clothes so fast they hardly wear any one thing more than a time or two. Plus there’s college to think about. By the time this kid reaches college age, it will likely cost more than a house.”

“You’ve got plenty of time to plan for college,” Maggie says.

“I’m not sure I agree. Everyone says the time goes by so fast. One day they’re in kindergarten, and then, before you know it, they’re talking tuition and degrees. And speaking of college, how do you sort through all these educational theories about child rearing? One book says bright colors enhance learning, and another says to go with black and white. One says singing helps kids learn, and another says singing dumbs them down. Who do you believe? How do you know if you’re doing the right thing?”

Maggie smiles at me. “I think just the fact that you’re so worried about being a good parent is a good sign, Mattie. You’re smart, you’re a nurse, you’re caring, you’re self-sufficient, and you’re loving. That’s all a kid needs. Half of it is determined by genetics anyway.”

That gets a scoff out of me. “If that’s true, my kid is doomed. Look at my mother. And who knows what kinds of skeletons are hiding in my father’s family closet.” Actually, I knew exactly what skeletons were in there. I just wasn’t ready to reveal them yet.

“Hurley and his side of the family have a role in this, too, remember?” Maggie says. “And regardless of what happens between the two of you, you aren’t alone in this. You said Hurley intends to play an active role in parenting your child, plus you have your extended family: Izzy and Dom.”

For once, Maggie is making me feel better about things. She is right. I’m not alone in this, even though it feels that way sometimes.

“Do you have doubts that Hurley will hang in there for the long haul?”

“No, I have doubts about us hanging in for the long haul. There are so many things we don’t see eye to eye on.”

“Such as?”

“Sometimes it feels like he’s all about what he wants out of this. He isn’t listening to what I want, or what I don’t want. And there are some other issues, bigger issues I’m dealing with.”

“Can you give me some examples of what you mean?”

I debate whether or not to reveal my big secret and decide that it’s time. “Okay,” I said. “But prepare yourself. This story is more tangled than the skein of yarn my cats play with.”

W
ith the Ames case seemingly resolved, Richmond wanted to let the issue of the laptop go. But after some cajoling from me—or perhaps badgering is a better term—he agreed that tomorrow we would do another search of both Wendy Ames’s house and Derrick’s, and pay another visit to the Fitzpatrick house, in case Richmond’s theory that Jacob might have given the laptop to Sean turned out to be a viable one. Not only wasn’t I yet convinced of Jacob’s guilt, I was worried that Richmond might be so convinced of it that he wouldn’t dig as deep as he should into any other suspects. So I decided to give Alison Miller a little test, to see if her newfound alliance was an honest one. I returned her call from earlier in the day, and learned that she knew about Jacob’s arrest. I discussed my doubts with her and asked her to look into some things for me, but not to say anything or print anything without permission from me first. She agreed and I gave her an assignment.

“Look into Mandy Terwilliger for me. See what you dig up. But do it so that no one knows you’re doing it, if you can.”

“Okay. What exactly do you want to know?”

“I’m interested in her finances for one thing. She works part-time, has two teenage boys at home, and she’s a single mother. She told us she got a small settlement when her husband died but implied it wasn’t much, so I’m curious as to how she is able to afford the sporty little convertible I saw her driving. And I’m also interested in any scuttlebutt you can dig up about the relationship between her and Derrick Ames. Some witnesses made it sound like the two of them were going to split up, but Mandy didn’t give us that impression at all.”

“I’ll let you know,” Alison said.

Trooper Grimes called Richmond back around five to report that the call I had received that afternoon had been made from an untraceable burner phone located in Florida. So it seemed the call might have been related to Schneider after all. This both frightened and disappointed me because it not only meant that I might still have someone out there hunting me; it also dashed my briefly resurgent hope that it was my father trying to contact me.

At the end of Monday’s workday, Junior Feller drove me back to the Sorenson motel and hung out for a while, taking Hoover for a walk and sharing my take-out dinner. Then he went back to his car and sat outside my room until his relief showed up at eleven. I had hoped that Hurley might be the one to do all these things, but he had to get back home for Emily. Hurley did, however, pick me up the next morning and drive me in to work.

“How was your night?” he asked, as soon as we were settled in his car. “Any more mysterious phone calls?”

“No phone calls. I didn’t get much sleep, though, because the mattress on my bed is as hard as a rock. I really want to get back into my own place.”

“Yeah, about that, I’ve arranged to have a security system installed on the cottage. I spoke to Izzy, and he’s okay with it. In fact, he wants me to have them install one on his place, too.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. On the one hand, it did seem like a nice security blanket to have, given the current situation. But it also seemed presumptive of Hurley to arrange it without talking to me first.

“Have the state guys said when they think they’ll be able to release my place?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I talked to Richmond about it last night, but he was kind of cagey about the whole thing. I got the sense that something was up, but if it is, he wasn’t talking. However, I do have some news on your car.”

“Good news, I hope.”

“I spoke to Marty about the window replacement and made a slight alteration. It means it will take a little longer to get the car back, but it will be worth it.”

“What kind of alteration?” I said, giving him a suspicious look.

“He’s putting bulletproof glass in all the windows.”

I gaped at Hurley, slack-jawed.

“What?” he said, glancing over at me. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit much? Hell, next you’ll have them reinforcing all the side panels.”

Hurley gave me a guilty look, followed by a cheesy grin.

“You didn’t,” I said.

“It didn’t cost that much extra, and I know you well enough to know that you’ll likely balk at being chauffeured around very much longer. Plus I know you don’t want to wear that vest, so I did what I thought was best to insure your safety.”

“You’ve turned my hearse into a popemobile.” I shook my head and tried to figure out if I was upset or simply amused.

“Speaking of the pope,” Hurley said, “what church should we use to have Junior baptized?”

Once again I was speechless.

“My parents were both practicing Episcopalians,” he went on, this time clueless to my stunned state. “And while I haven’t attended church much over the past decade or so, I went regularly when I was a kid. And I went a couple of times with Emily when we were in Chicago. That church was Catholic, but it’s very similar to the Episcopalian Church, and I kind of enjoyed getting back into it. If you don’t have a preference, I thought I might get in touch with the minister at the Episcopal Church over on Dunkirk.”

“Hurley, I don’t have any plans to take our kid to church, or to have him or her baptized. I’ve never been a churchgoer. In fact, I’m an agnostic.”

“You don’t believe in God, or some sort of higher power?”

“Not really. I’m open to the possibilities, the same way I’m open to the possibility of ghosts, or Bigfoot, or life on other planets. But until I have proof positive of such an existence, I remain skeptical. I don’t buy into the whole superior being idea. If I’m in trouble or really want something, I might throw a prayer out there, but I don’t actually believe it does anything or goes anywhere. I’m just covering all my bases. It’s no different than throwing a pinch of salt over my left shoulder if I spill some.”

“Huh.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Are you dead set against having our kid baptized?”

I thought about it for a few seconds. “I guess I’m not opposed to letting him or her go through the ritual if it means that much to you. But I don’t see myself attending church on any kind of regular basis, and I think the kid should be allowed to make his or her own decisions in that regard, once he or she is old enough.”

The rest of our trip was made in silence while I waited for a lightning bolt to strike me from above. When we arrived at the police station, I put in a call to Henderson to let him know where I was, fill him in on what Richmond had planned for the day, and see if there was anything in the office he needed me to do.

“I don’t have anything pending at the moment other than your case, and unless you need to do something on the Ames case, I’m fine with having you stick with the cops today while they do their searches and interviews. If a call comes in, I can handle the on-scene stuff, but I would like you to be available to assist me if I have to do an autopsy.”

“Not a problem. You have my cell number, right?”

“I do. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Then Hurley, Charlie, Richmond, and I had a planning meeting over coffee and donuts in the break room, mapping out our day. Richmond informed us that Blake Sutherland’s alibi had checked out, eliminating her as a suspect. Then he suggested another trip to Derrick’s house to make sure the laptop wasn’t hiding in a desk or had simply been overlooked, and if nothing turned up there to head to the Fitzpatrick house to see if Sean had it. If that didn’t produce anything, the next stop would be the high school to search Derrick’s desk and the teacher’s lounge, and talk to some of his coworkers. I then suggested that this would be a good time to take another run at Mandy Terwilliger.

“What useful information can we get out of Mandy at this point?” Richmond asked.

“I just feel like we need to cover all the bases. I’m bothered by Jacob’s claim that Derrick told him he was going to break up with Mandy. I want to know why, and I want to know if she knew about it.”

“I don’t see how it has any bearing on the case at this point,” Richmond argued.

“Just humor me,” I said.

Richmond rolled his eyes and let out a put-upon sigh, but he agreed to talk to her.

Once all the details of the schedule were laid out, Richmond turned to me and said, “What are you going to do today?”

I stared at him in confusion for several long seconds before I answered. “I’m going with you guys.”

“Not a chance,” Richmond said. “It’s too risky. You need to stay here. At least that way we know you aren’t a target.”

“You want me to hang here at the police station all day?” I said, my voice rife with skepticism.

“Bob’s right,” Hurley piped up. “It’s the safest place for you.”

“No way. Besides, you need to have someone from my office overseeing things, remember?”

“We have a videographer with us for that now,
remember
?” Richmond shot back.

Like I could forget Charlie’s ever-presence. And the simple fact that she was going to be hanging with Hurley all day made me even more determined to go with them. “If I have to stay here all day long, I’ll lose my mind. I might as well go home.”

Richmond shrugged, indicating that was a perfectly acceptable option as far as he was concerned. I turned and gave Hurley an appealing look. Then Hurley shrugged, too.

Seeing that I was outnumbered, I came up with a new strategy. “If I agree to wear that stupid vest, will you let me go with you?”

Hurley and Richmond exchanged looks. Charlie leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest, looking amused.

Finally Hurley said, “We might as well let her come. Otherwise she’ll do something stupid.”

“Fine,” Richmond said. “But you have to wear the vest the entire time, and do everything we tell you to do.”

“Okay,” I said a bit petulantly.

“And before we head out,” Richmond added, “I need to speak with you. In private.”

With that, Charlie got up from her seat and said, “Come on, Steve. Let’s go over those panning techniques again.”

As Hurley followed Charlie out of the room like a dutiful dog, I glared at Richmond. “What now?” I said irritably.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said. The concerned tone of his voice worried me. “I had a little chat with Trooper Grimes earlier. They did some background research on you and came up with something that’s a bit worrisome.”

I fought down a frisson of panic. What had they discovered? Was that package of gum I shoplifted when I was in high school going to come back to haunt me? Did they know about that bar charge I accidentally skipped out on when Desi and I went to Chicago for a weekend a couple of years ago? Had they found something horrible and incriminating when they searched my house? I thought fast, trying to remember if I had anything embarrassing hidden away at the cottage, but I came up blank.

“They dug up some information on your father,” Richmond said.

Now my mind was really spinning. I knew the state cops had scoured my cell phone records to try to trace the strange phone calls I’d been getting. Had some of those calls come from my father, as I’d originally thought? I felt a thrill of excitement, quickly followed by a throb of fear. Richmond’s face told me this news wasn’t going to be good.

“Do you remember the Quinton Dilles case?”

Remember it? The man’s name was burned into my brain. He was Hurley’s biggest enemy, and the reason Hurley lost his job in Chicago. In a way, that was a good thing since it brought Hurley to Sorenson and to me. But Quinton Dilles was also a deadly, vindictive, cruel man who had nearly cost both me and Hurley our lives.

“What does he have to do with anything?” I asked.

“There’s something about his past you may not know. About five years before Dilles met his wife, the one he eventually killed, he owned one of those mailbox stores in Chicago. Some narcotics guys were working a case on a big drug ring in the area, and they thought that Dilles’s mailbox store was a front for the group. They suspected Dilles was running both drugs and money through the place, shipping the stuff in packages that appeared to be from legitimate businesses. So one of the guys went undercover and started working to get proof by buddying up to the store manager, a guy named Cedric, who they thought was Dilles’s right-hand man. Eventually the undercover cop, a guy named Roy Gilligan, who, by the way, was Hurley’s partner at one time, let it be known that he was on the verge of getting the proof he needed. No one knows for sure what happened after that, but Roy ended up dead, shot once in the head and left in an alley. Cedric was the suspected hit man, but there was no evidence to pin it on him. Then Cedric disappeared. There were some reports of possible sightings down in Florida about a year later, but the cops down there couldn’t find him, and no one has seen or heard anything of him since then.”

“That’s all very interesting—and tragic—but what does it have to do with my father?”

“Cedric’s last name was Novak. Does that ring a bell with you at all?”

It did, but it was a very vague and distant bell. “Maybe. Why? Should it?”

“Cedric Novak was once married to a woman named Jane Obermeyer.”

“That’s my mother’s maiden name.”

Richmond just stared at me, waiting for me to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I did, and it shocked me to my core. “Cedric Novak is my father?” I said.

Richmond nodded. Then he opened a file he had on the table in front of him, a file I had thought was part of the Ames case. He slid out a rap sheet and handed it to me. On the sheet, which listed a number of crimes—mostly robberies—was the name Cedric Novak and a picture.

“That picture is about ten years old,” Richmond explained. “But I think you can see the resemblance.”

Indeed I could. The picture on the rap sheet was the spitting image of the man in Emily’s drawing, the man who had been peering in my cottage windows one night, the man my mother identified as my father. The picture also fit with the vague image I had in my head from my childhood memories.