Murder Follows Money (23 page)

“Incredible.” Don shook his head. “That she would plan to do such things. It makes me even more grateful for the way I was raised by my adoptive mom. We were poor, but she gave me everything I needed.”

“You were lucky then.” I pushed the cup of tea farther away on the table when I leaned forward to pat Don’s hand.

“I didn’t always know it.” He looked down at his hands. “I made trouble when I was a teenager. Was sure that because I was adopted, no one loved me. Didn’t help that my dad—my adoptive dad—bailed on us a couple of years before that.” His hands clenched, and he looked up, staring at us with deep gray eyes—Naomi’s eyes, I suddenly realized. “By God, no kid of mine will ever have to wonder if his dad loves him.”

“Then your children will be lucky.” Drake stood and clapped Don on the shoulder. “That soup is making me hungry. What say we go see if we can get some?”

“Good idea.” I started to get up too.

“Not you, mate.” Drake pushed me back onto the couch. “You’re staying right here. You’re not moving an inch, no matter if you see Godzilla rampaging through the streets of San Francisco. Did you get a sandwich earlier?”

“I got no food at all.” I made my voice as plaintive as possible. “And I’m very hungry.”

“I’ll be glad to serve you, milady.” He treated me to a grin. “And while you wait, you can finish that tea.”

I enjoyed the feeling of being cherished. I didn’t actually want to be treated that way most of the time; I like my independence, standing on my own two feet, beholden to no one. But danger and stress affect each of us differently. It had made Don unnaturally loquacious. It threatened to turn me into a marshmallow of a woman who had to be pampered and waited on. I wondered how soon it would pass, and who would tire of it first—Drake or me.

Bruno said, “The tea, Liz.”

I jumped. “Thought you went with the soup brigade.”

“They will not need me.” He leaned closer. “So you and Paolo have fixed things?”

I didn’t pretend not to understand him. “I’m not sure. I think we still have some hammering out to do. His reaction this afternoon was totally over the top. I can’t deal with that.”

“He cares very much, and his way of expressing it is to yell.”

“I don’t like yelling.”

Bruno shrugged. “In any lasting relationship, there will be times of anger. It’s not whether you get angry at each other that matters. It’s how you work through it, and whether you let it drive a wedge between you.”

“So are you taking classes in marriage counseling as well?”

He looked abashed. “Not exactly. I speak from experience, you understand. Lucy is a counselor, and she has told me some of it. But also, we have been married for over fifteen years. In that time, we have learned something about how to handle the other person.”

I wasn’t really comfortable talking about this with a man who wasn’t Drake. But at the same time, Bruno knew his work partner probably better than anyone else, including me. “Bruno, there are things I just can’t accept from any man, and one of them is this overbearing male behavior. It sets up very unpleasant echoes for me.”

“And yet you accept Paolo’s concern, and that he expresses it by ordering you to wait to be served, by trying to make you take things easy. It is his nature to show his care this way.”

“I know. But it’s my nature to find that difficult to be around.”

Bruno looked troubled. “You will find a way to compromise. You must, because each of you is completed by the other one."

I stared at him, mouth agape. “What ever makes you say that?”

“It is true.” He shrugged. “I have known it since soon after he met you. He has known it for nearly that long. You, I think, struggle against the knowledge. Perhaps you could have gone through life without him, never missing what he could bring to you. But now, I think, you begin to understand that you are bound to him, as he is to you."

“You must be taking shrink lessons,” I muttered. “Either that, or you’ve been listening to your wife too much.”

“I speak only what I see,” Bruno said, drawing himself up. “In this case, evidently you have blinded yourself, Liz, because you too are capable of seeing this. If you choose not to acknowledge your feelings, that is your problem. But in this case, it becomes my friend Paolo’s problem, and that makes me apprehensive for him.”

“Soup’s on.” Drake came through the kitchen door, carrying the tureen carefully between oven-mitted hands. “It’s nice and hot. I’ll bring you a cup, Liz. Bruno?”

“I will serve myself,” Bruno said. He smiled at me. “But I know Liz appreciates your care of her.”

I cleared my throat. “Of course I do. Thanks, Paul.”

Chapter 22

We sat around in the beautiful room, drinking our soup. Don had soup too, slurping it up moodily. I ate three of the sandwich triangles, despite their somewhat dry bread. Nothing ever tasted better. Hannah joined us, but she kept throwing glances over her shoulder at the kitchen and the bedrooms beyond it.

“When will they be done?” She tore a piece of the stale bread into crumbs. “Poor Kim is having quite an ordeal.”

“What will happen to the shop, anyway?” I looked at her over my second cup of soup. “Beaned in Boston. Who’ll run it now?”

“I don’t know.” Hannah seemed struck. “Let’s see, Naomi and I each made a will a couple of years ago, and many of our business concerns were left to each other, to obviate any legal problems arising out of either of our deaths. I might inherit the shop from her. Or it might go to her next of kin, which would be—”

We all looked at Don. He looked alarmed.

“It wouldn’t be me. I don’t think I could inherit unless she acknowledged me as her son, and she hadn’t done that.”

“She might have, but I agree, she was unlikely to unless she’d told you about it.” Hannah patted Don’s hand.

“Your mother was a bit manipulative, you know. She would have wanted you to be properly grateful for anything she chose to give you.”

“I didn’t need anything from her. I still don’t. But wouldn’t her next of kin be her brothers and sisters? Like, my aunts and uncles? Kim said there were several.”

“I think you might be right,” Drake said. “Maybe Richard Kendall would know.”

“The laws in Massachusetts are different from California,” Hannah announced, her tone of voice making it clear that Massachusetts’s laws were far superior. “I will call my attorney and ask him.”

“No need, not right now.” Don held up a hand. “I just wondered, because it occurred to me that Kim would be good at running that thing. From what she was telling me on the plane, she knows everything but the paperwork, and a good accountant could help her with that until she catches on. I think she’d like to keep it in the family.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Don.” Hannah gave him her most gracious, most motherly smile. “I’m certain I can arrange that. After all, Kim saved my life.”

“I wouldn’t mention that part, if I were you.” I pushed my soup cup away. “Kim doesn’t regard that as her most shining hour.”

“I shall be tactful, of course,” Hannah said.

We all exchanged glances, wondering if she knew how. Kim’s bedroom door opened, and Scarlatti came crunching through the kitchen, followed by Daly, Kim, and Mr. Kendall.

Hannah made a sound of annoyance. “Inspector, when can we have that mess cleaned up? I can’t tell you how distressing it is to try to work in a kitchen full of broken glass and other assorted rubbish.”

“I can imagine.” Scarlatti looked around at us, a measuring look. “We’re about to wrap up our investigation. You’ll be glad to know that we’ve decided to bring it in as accidental death. Your statements will all be used, and you may be asked to return to testify, but the likelihood is that this ends your involvement. As our evidence procurement is at an end, you may have your kitchen cleaned without further ado.”

Drake spoke. “And what about Liz? She was abducted at gunpoint. Will you file charges in that case?”

Everyone looked at me. I looked at Hannah.

“I’m sorry I did that, Liz.” Hannah looked abashed, but I wondered cynically how good she was at calling up whatever emotion seemed currently useful. “All I can say is my mind was most unsettled by Naomi’s death. If there’s any way I can make it up to you . . ".

“Ms. Sullivan may, of course, press charges.” Scarlatti didn’t sound too enthusiastic about it. Prosecuting Hannah Couch probably struck her as a public relations nightmare.

“I’m not going to press charges.” I had meant to string Hannah along for a while, make her sweat in return for the damage she’d done my livelihood, but the words popped out of my mouth. Sometimes my mouth knows too much about what my brain intends.

“That’s generous,” Hannah said approvingly. “Thank you, Liz.”

Scarlatti smiled. “I think you’ve made the wisest choice, Ms. Sullivan. If you don’t want media scrutiny, at any rate. Because pressing charges against a celebrity is a good way to get stuff splashed all over the papers."

“Speaking of the press, will you be issuing a statement?” Hannah gave Scarlatti a steely look. “After all, you were the ones who led them to believe that something untoward happened.”

“Something untoward, as you say, did happen.” Scarlatti was made of sterner stuff than to buckle at this juncture. “You were lucky to escape death. Is that what you want me to say?”

“Not at all.” Hannah was a master at backpedaling. “I merely wondered if you would tell them that no charges will be filed, no crime was committed, and the death was accidental.”

“Thank you for writing the script.” Scarlatti gave an ironic bow. “We’ll be making a statement to the press, as it happens.”

“Speaking of a statement,” I said, feeling as if I’d somehow gotten short shrift through my own stupid readiness to let go of my grievances, “I’d like to point out that I’ve been branded as an abductor and ex-con all across the nation. I will find it hard to get temp work, and the only writing assignments anyone will want to give me will involve dishing dirt on you, Hannah. ‘The untold story of my terror ride with Hannah Couch.’ That sort of thing.”

Hannah exchanged glances with Richard Kendall. “I don’t agree that my client is totally to blame for this situation, Ms. Sullivan,” he said smoothly, “but of course she wouldn’t want anyone to suffer through her actions, no matter how innocent they might have been. I’m sure we can come to some reasonable settlement.”

“I don’t want a settlement,” I said, beginning to get steamed. “I want Hannah to announce to the world that no kidnapping occurred on my part, and she was in complete control the whole time. It’s the truth. I know she believes in the truth.”

Hannah sighed. “You’re right, Liz. I do believe in the truth. But you don’t understand the consequences. I’m not just me, Hannah Couch. I’m a whole corporate empire.”

“Well, your whole corporate empire can apologize to me on national TV, or kiss my ass in court.”

“Children, please don’t quarrel yet.” Scarlatti smiled around at us all. “Wait until we leave the room. And turn on your TV set. I guarantee, our sound bites will be on every network.” She looked at Hannah. “They’ll be after you like vultures. And you’ve lost your pit bull person who used to protect you, haven’t you? Do you want to come down and make a statement with us? We can have an officer escort you back up afterward.”

“That might be best.” Hannah hesitated, then stepped forward and hugged me. I couldn’t have been more surprised. “I am sorry if I impinged on your life, Liz. That was truly thoughtless. I have . . . I had a habit of riding roughshod over people who didn’t seem important to my business. You’ve helped me see the fault in my behavior. I’ll try to do right by you. I promise."

She sailed out of the room after Scarlatti and Daly. Richard Kendall paused to say to me, “I don’t advise you to write anything for the tabloids, Ms. Sullivan. It might be considered actionable.”

After they left, I turned to Kim and passed the hug to her. “We knew you would be okay.”

“I don’t feel okay,” Kim said wanly. “They really put me through the wringer. I thought they were going to charge me with second-degree murder.”

“They just say that to make you talk.” I ignored Drake’s snort of laughter.

“That’s what Mr. Kendall said. He was very nice, really. He also said Hannah won’t do the rest of the tour, at least not now. Maybe in a few months, when the furor has died down.” Kim shivered. “I’m so glad. I just want to get home.”

“I think we all feel like that. I know I do.” I looked at my stalwart police companions. “Can we leave yet?”

“Don’t you want to see Hannah on the news?”

“Not really.” I went over to the library desk, found Judi Kershay’s cell phone number in my knapsack, and dialed, while Don opened the doors of what I had thought was an antique armoire to reveal a huge TV. He turned it on and changed through the channels.

Judi came on the line. “Hi,” I said. “It’s your most troublesome temp worker.”

“What’s the latest?” She sounded worried. “I’ve been thinking about all of you.”

“Well, the latest is, no one’s arrested. Naomi’s death was the result of an accident. And Hannah’s canceling the tour.”

“That would be best.” Judi sounded relieved.

“I guess they’re going to be leaving. Will the publisher make arrangements?”

“I’m sure they will.” Judi hesitated. “Look, if Hannah wants me to, I’ll clean up the loose ends for her. But then that’s the end of our association.”

“She’s changed, I think.” I stared at the TV screen. Don had found an all-news cable station, and they were doing a live feed from the hotel lobby downstairs. Flanked by the two police inspectors, Hannah began to speak. “Hold on. She’s on TV. I have to hear this.”

“I want to see it too. Call me later, or tell her to call me,” Judi said. She hung up.

Mesmerized, all of us moved closer to the TV. A forest of microphones, a cacophony of shouted questions, greeted Hannah. The front steps of the hotel appeared to be rendered impassable by the phalanx of news people we’d avoided earlier by being brought up in the service elevator.

Hannah raised her hand to quiet the jackals of the press. Richard Kendall stood at her shoulder. As usual, she looked totally in command, although, without the special makeup, washed-out and pale. “As you can see, I am fine. Thank you for your concern. The unexpected death of my close associate Naomi Matthews overset me this morning, and I insisted that my driver get me away. She did not constrain me at all; I’m afraid the shoe was on the other foot. She very kindly drove me around until I could regain my composure, at which point we returned.”