Read Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery Online

Authors: Elaine Flinn

Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery (23 page)

BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
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Macomber shook his head. “I don’t. Carrie knew I wouldn’t leave my wife for her. Unfortunately, my wife found out. The end result was tragic. And then there was the mess Carrie got into.”
Molly waved him off. “I don’t want to hear any more about my sister or your infidelity, if you don’t mind.”
Molly rose and stared at Macomber. “Excuse me for a moment.” She headed for the storage room, lit a cigarette, and marched back to face him. “What is it exactly that you’re proposing?”
Macomber saw the determination on Molly’s face. He held up a closed hand and lifted a finger as he ticked off each demand. “Visitation rights. Financial support. A say in her education.” He paused, then lifted the last finger. “Taking her away now until this dilemma you find yourself in is resolved.”
“If I refuse? And decide to fight you?”
Macomber smiled. “You care too much for her to refuse.”
Molly avoided looking at him. She took her time stubbing out the cigarette. She knew he was right. Of course she wanted Emma to have the best of everything. And of course he would know she’d feel that way. She wished her sister were here now so she could throttle her. How like Carrie to set this in motion. How like Carrie to be so damn sneaky and manipulating. She’d stolen from their father, she’d stolen from Macomber’s law firm, she stolen from Molly, and now she was ripping her heart apart once again. Molly had little doubt Macomber was telling the truth about being Emma’s father. The resemblance, now that she had a chance to really look at him, was there. The chin and the eyes were so similar, a DNA report was hardly necessary.
“I’ve made arrangements for Emma to stay with a close friend until this mess is over. I...I didn’t want her caught up in this media thing. I think they’ll lose interest in me soon enough.”
“I imagine she’ll be wonderfully cared for by Mrs. Morgan,” Macomber broke in.
When Molly’s eyes widened, he quickly said, “I’m not following her, if that’s what you’re worried about. I expected that was where you would send her. It was the most logical assumption.”
“I don’t want you contacting Emma until I’ve thought this over.”
Macomber rose. “I’ll honor that wish for the time being.”
Molly faced him head-on. “There is no time being. Don’t you dare impose a time limit on me! You may know a lot about me, but I know nothing about you and until I do, you keep your distance, mister!”
Macomber moved closer to Molly. He stood only inches from her when he said, “Fair enough. Just don’t bankrupt yourself if you decide to fight me. I have no other children, Molly. I can offer Emma so much more than you’ll ever be able to manage. Remember that if you want the best for her.”
Molly watched Macomber’s leisurely stroll to the door and wished she could wave a magic wand and make him disappear. He turned and smiled. “I’ve extended my reservation at the Lodge at Pebble Beach. I’ve decided to work on my golf. That may take several days.” He tipped a nonexistent hat. “Wish me luck.”
Molly said nothing. She hoped the look on her face told him what she wished for him.
Chapter 21
 
MOLLY SAT IN THE storage room the rest of the afternoon thinking about her conversation with Marshall Macomber. She could almost lay out the emotions she experienced: shock, indignation, anger, and now the fear of losing Emma. She sat still for a very long time, clutching the small cross under her sweater as she wondered how she was going to solve this new problem. She smoked one cigarette after another and drank instant espressos until her throat began to burn and her stomach felt queasy. She started to call Randall at least four times, then changed her mind each time. This was her problem, not his.
She placed the CLOSED sign in the window and continued to ignore the occasional knocks on the front door. She barely listened to the five calls on the phone from reporters, three from clients wanting to see what was new, a call from Del Tinsley, and one from Bitsy asking if she had a line on more chairs for Del.
She had to leave soon for dinner at Daria’s. She wasn’t in the mood, but she knew her mind and heart, both feeling ready to implode, needed the comfort and wisdom of her friends. Everything Macomber had said about what he could do for Emma was true. And it was also true, Molly knew, that not to allow Emma those advantages would be selfish. If Macomber was as affluent as Molly assumed, there was no way in hell she could match the power of his wealth if he wanted a fight. As it was, Bitsy was paying for Emma’s private school tuition. The best she’d been able to manage was a new computer and moving up from buying Emma’s clothes at Target to Macy’s.
Not that she was poverty-stricken, but every dollar she’d managed to hold onto went for merch and a rainy day. Her salary from Max was minimal, her commission the standard ten percent, but then the apartment and utilities were free and so was the new van. The Fund, as she termed it, was at a respectable level and used carefully. There were days when Molly felt a little guilt over her self-imposed thrift, but she had to think of the future. Max was in his mid-eighties, and God forbid, he could go at any time. The Fund was her only stake for a future shop of her own. Her days of high-end merch and the glory of being a sought-after New York dealer were gone. She knew nothing else. Art and antiques had been her only life. She doubted she’d last long in any other profession. She simply had no other skills to fall back on.
Macomber might be able to give Emma the best of everything in a material sense, but what about love? Could he love Emma more than she? How much time would he spend with her? Would he sit on the floor and watch movies and eat popcorn and pizza until he was sick? Would he pretend to be all thumbs with an Xbox? Or take her to garage and estate sales and smile with bursting pride when she bested a book dealer or edged out a buyer after the same item? He sure as hell wouldn’t jog on the beach with her. Would he even eat her meatloaf or macaroni and cheese?
Molly’s past experiences with the media left her no illusions as to their persistence or ingenuity. She decided to sneak out the back way and to weave through the many alleys of downtown Carmel on her way to Daria’s It took her a good half hour to reach the alley behind Daria’s restaurant, but the walk had given her more time to think. She was about to knock on the kitchen door when she realized she’d forgotten Daria’s silver. Molly checked her watch. She still had time to go back and get the boxes. But that meant she’d have to take the van after all. She stared at the door for a full moment, then turned and marched out of the alley onto Dolores Street. Screw it, she thought. She was through hiding. If anyone was hanging around looking for her, she’d just ignore them. She was about to step onto the sidewalk when out of the corner of her eye she saw Macomber entering Daria’s.
Molly flattened herself against the wall and took a deep breath. What the hell was he doing here? Of all the restaurants in town, he had to pick this one? It only took a nanosecond for Molly to realize what he was up to. He was going to ask Daria about her. She made a quick about-face and hurried to the back door and into the kitchen. Molly brushed past the prep cooks and the pastry chef and almost ran into Manuel, Daria’s head busser. “Is Daria out front?” she asked.
“The boss is in her room making the ready for you and
the jefes.
You want me to call her for you, yes?”
Molly shook her head. “I’ll go right in. Thanks, Manuel.” Molly scooted out of the way of two waiters and rushed to Daria’s private room. She threw open the door. “Before you go out front, I have to talk to you!”
Daria set down a tray, put her hands on her hips. “Now what? I can’t keep up with you!” She tried a smile. “Don’t tell me Reynolds is after you, and you’re on the run?”
Molly sank into a chair. “That would be the least of my worries. Him, I can handle.”
Daria’s face turned serious. She sat opposite Molly. “I don’t like the sound of that. Spill, okay?”
As Molly told Daria about her session with Macomber, she saw Daria’s face run through the same gamut of emotions Molly had experienced earlier. “He’s out front in the restaurant,” Molly said. “I saw him come in. He’ll order dinner first, and then I’ll bet he’ll ask you to join him.”
Daria, however volatile she could be on occasion, was surprisingly calm when she said, “Screw him. I’m not available. We’ll fight him with you, Molly. We won’t let him take Emma from you.”
“And neither will I,” Randall said as he appeared inside the open door. “Why didn’t you call me?” He moved to Molly. “How long have you been sitting on this?”
Molly closed her eyes and tried not to cry. Just hearing them offer their support was reassuring. She sniffed loudly, then said, “I almost called you four times this afternoon. And then I remembered you’d said how much my life problems filled your calendar.”
Randall sat down next to her and laughed. “I was kidding, for chrissakes!”
“I know, but still. I just found out a few hours ago. Did you hear everything? I’m not sure if I can repeat it again. I might start to bawl.”
“Yeah, I got it all.” Randall looked at Daria. “When Lucero and Loomis get here, call me. I’m going out to see the gentleman.”
Molly put her hand out to stop him. “Don’t. He’ll think I ran to you for help. It will make me look like I’m running scared. Besides, I don’t think he’s easily intimidated.”
“Okay,” Randall said. “I’ll do it your way.” He gave her a hug. “For now.”
“I forgot to mention the postcards. He asked me if I’d been receiving blank cards from Europe.” Molly paused. “I almost fell over when he asked. I told him I had. And then he asked me if the latest one had a drawing of a rabbit on it. When I said yes, he told me he’d received them, too. He said they were from Carrie.”
Daria’s eyes widened. “Your sister? How did he know that?”
“He said that Carrie was a doodler, and she always drew rabbits. That’s how he knew they were from her. She also told him she’d sent them when she wrote to him.”
“And this all means what?” Daria asked.
“It means,” Randall said, “she’s up to her shit-stirring-tricks. She’s also taunting the both of you. Playing with your heads and letting you know she’s still out there.”
“And it all has to do with Emma,” Molly said. “How better to torment me? Leave her with me, let me grow to love her, and then set things up to lose her.”
Daria reached across the table and took hold of Molly’s hand. “Does she hate you that much?”
Molly squeezed Daria’s hand, then closed her eyes. “Apparently”
Manuel popped his head in the door and said, “The D.A. is at the bar, and he tells me to say he’s coming soon. He is with the Mr. Looms having the cocktail.”
Daria nodded, then said to Molly, “Uh, maybe Randall might like to join them? You know...and get a glimpse of this guy?” She looked quickly at Randall. “Just a glimpse, huh? No chit-chat.”
“Good thinking. Always better to know what the opposition looks like.” He smiled at Molly. “I promise not to get near him, okay? What does he look like?”
Molly described Marshall Macomber. “On your honor?”
Randall winked. “Sure. Whatever. Where’s Emma?”
“She’s going to stay with Bitsy for a few days until the media loses interest in me.”
“Good. We can talk openly then. Be right back.”
After Randall left, Daria said, “That was smart, sending Emma to Bitsy. I take it she’s not aware of this new development?”
Molly sighed. “No, and I’m not sure how I’m going to tell her.”
Daria pulled up a chair. “If you need me, you know I’m here.”
Molly reached for Daria’s hand, and smiled. “You’re a wonderful friend, you know?”
“Likewise. Okay, let’s not get soppy, or we’ll both start crying. Come on, let’s get dinner on the table.”
“I forgot to bring you the silver again.” Molly shook her head. “I’m just not thinking straight.”
“First things, first. The silver is the least of our problems.”
By the time Molly and Daria had set out the usual
melange
of platters, Randall, Lucero, and Loomis arrived. Dan took off his jacket, threw it on the French day bed at the end of the room, and said to Molly, “Don’t worry about Macomber. Randall just filled us in. I’ll get the brief on him and if I’m not mistaken, it won’t be sterling. I mean, what lawyer has clean shorts, huh? Emma has rights, and we know what her decision is going to be. But I gotta tell you, Molly, you may have a problem with the guardianship thing.”
Molly’s face paled. “What kind of problem?”
Lucero looked at Randall. They both knew the roadblocks that might be ahead. “You’ve been in the news since you moved here. You’ve played a major role in helping solve homicides.” Lucero saw Molly’s hands clenched on the table. “Look, it doesn’t matter that you helped law enforcement. What does matter is that a judge might consider your involvement as being prone to...well, hell, what I mean is...you’re in the middle of another one right now.”
Molly’s throat was too tight to speak. She reached for her water and took a sip. All she could manage was a nod. She took a deep breath, and said, “Endangering? Is that the word you’re looking for? Emma might be in an endangered atmosphere?” Molly looked around the room, noting the face of each of these wonderful friends. She was deeply touched by their love and generosity, but now she saw they, too, realized that keeping Emma with her was not going to be a slam-dunk. “We used to laugh at my being a magnet for trouble. It’s not funny anymore. In fact, I’ll bet this is what Macomber will try to use against me.”
BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
8.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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