Haunting Harold Page 12

  “As a matter of fact,” Jacquie said, and got that feline smile, too. Like a cat licking its whiskers after a particularly delicious bowl of cream. She and Heidi looked at one another for a second, and then they both looked away.

  Gwendolyn glanced from one to the other of them. “Maybe I need to bump off John,” she said.

  That would guarantee a visit from Mendoza, for sure. Although maybe not at ten o’clock at night. And the eventual outcome—prison—would probably not be worth the visit.

  Probably.

  “Have you heard from him today?”

  Heidi glanced at me, so maybe I’d sounded too abrupt. “Detective Mendoza? Not so far. Should I have?”

  “Not as far as I know,” I said. And because I was tired of beating around the bush, I added, “Greg told me that Harold’s second wife committed suicide.”

  “I told you that,” Heidi said.

  Had she? “You told me she died. I’m not sure you said she committed suicide.”

  Heidi shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  That’s what I was trying to figure out. “Greg told me that Harold’s mother-in-law thought Harold was responsible.”

  “He wasn’t,” Heidi said, while Gwendolyn arched her brows and Jacquie’s mouth dropped open.

  “Did you know him then?”

  She pressed her lips together, but eventually she pried them apart long enough to say, “Yes.”

  “You never told me how the two of you met.”

  “He hired me,” Heidi said.

  My eyebrows winged up, and she added, “Get your mind out of the gutter, Gina. I was a nurse. I worked for him.”

  A nurse? “That doesn’t seem like your kind of job.” You think of nurses as caring and compassionate—or at least I do—while Heidi was about as nurturing as a crocodile.

  “I don’t practice anymore,” Heidi said.

  Clearly. “Did you know her? Carly.”

  “Only as Harold’s wife,” Heidi said. “They were already married when I started working there. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. I wondered whether you knew her well enough to know what was going on.”

  “She overdosed,” Heidi said. “On pills. Some mixture of pain killers and anti-depressants. She wasn’t well.”

  “That’s what Greg said. Was there a reason to think Harold was responsible for what happened?”

  “Of course not,” Heidi said. “Carly’s mother just wanted somebody to blame.”

  I might have wanted that, too, if she’d been my daughter. “There was a sister, too, wasn’t there?”

  Heidi nodded. “Tara. She was younger than Carly. Just out of high school, I think. She and her mother came to visit just after the baby was born. The mother only stayed for a couple of days—I guess she had a job to get back to—but Tara stuck around.”

  So Tara would have had a front row seat to whatever was going on with her sister. And depending on what that was, she might be carrying a lot of guilt, too. As well as a lot of anger.

  “Greg said Tara and Janice took the baby to Knoxville. Has Harold had any contact with her since?”

  “He sent birthday gifts and Christmas gifts,” Heidi said. “She wrote thank-you cards. And this summer she came and spent a couple of weeks with us.”

  Oh, really? “How did that go?”

  “Not well,” Heidi said. “They didn’t know each other. And…”

  I arched my brows invitingly, and she added, somewhat reluctantly, “She was rude to me. Because I married her father after her mother died.”

  “That’s natural,” I told her. “Krystal and Kenny did that to me, too, when I married David. They were eight and ten or something like that back then. We still don’t get along very well.”

  Gwendolyn nodded. “John’s kids did the same to me. Little brats.”

  “Well, after two weeks we sent her back,” Heidi said. “I don’t think Harold’s seen her since. I’m not even sure she’s his daughter, to be honest.”

  “Any reason to think Carly was being unfaithful?”

  Heidi shrugged. “No. Just that I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  “Why not?”

  “She was common as dirt,” Heidi said. “Just the type who would go after a married man while sleeping with someone else.”

  There was silence. Across the table, Jacquie’s perfect cheekbones darkened. Gwendolyn looked maliciously amused.

  “On that note—” I began, and stopped when my phone started chiming from inside my bag. “Excuse me. I’m going to take this.”

  Heidi nodded, sipping her strawberry margarita. I got up from the table as I fished the phone out of my bag and looked at the display. And felt my jaw drop. “Oh, my God!”

  “What?” Heidi wanted to know, but I waved her off as I put the phone to my ear and wandered toward the door.

  “About time you called.”

  “It’s not like I owe you anything,” a female voice informed me from the other end of the line. “I don’t even know who you are.”

  “I told you who I am on the message.” On more than one message. By now I’d made it safely out of the sunroom, but I still lowered my voice as I wandered down the hall and farther out of range. “My name is Gina Beaufort Kelly, and I’ve been watching you follow Harold Newsome for the past five days.”

  “How did you get my number?”

  “Saw the car,” I said, “checked the license plate, got your name and address. Drove to Knoxville and spoke to your neighbor across the street. You’d given her the number in case she needed to get in touch with you.”

  “Good old Gladys.”

  “And then I saw you come out of Somerset yesterday morning, just after Harold was shot.”

  “Good old Harold,” Tara said.

  “Did you shoot him?”

  “Would you believe me if I said no?”

  No. Mostly because I didn’t know her well enough to be able to tell whether she was lying or not. Especially on the phone. In person I might do a better job. “We need to talk,” I said. “And now isn’t a good time. Will you meet me somewhere later?”

  She hesitated. “Where?”

  I did the same while I thought about it. “You could come to my house, but I don’t expect you’d want to. And it has to be somewhere at least a little bit private.” Since, if she’d wanted to have this conversation in public, she would have contacted the police instead. “I have an office on Music Row, if that would suit you. Or you can pick the place, if you prefer.” If that would make her feel safer.

  “The parking lot outside Harold’s office,” Tara said. “Nine o’clock.”

  Fine by me. We were both familiar with it, and it wasn’t so deserted that if she shot me, nobody’d ever find the body. “I’ll see you there.”

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  She hung up before I could respond. I arched my brows as I turned around and headed back to the sunroom.

  Heidi came out before I got there, and we met halfway down the hall.

  “Was that Detective Mendoza?” she asked. “Is there news?”

  Now, why would she think Mendoza would call me with news about the case instead of calling her?

  I shook my head. “Not at all. It was Tara Cullinan.”

  Her jaw dropped for a second before she hiked it up. “Carly’s sister?”

  I nodded. “Remember when Harold came home on Friday and told you that he knew you’d hired me?”

  Heidi nodded, and a shadow flickered across her face.

  “Well, the reason he knew that, was because he hired a PI of his own to catch the woman who was following him. The PI caught me. But I wasn’t who Harold wanted.”

  “Tara has been following him,” Heidi said.

  I nodded. “Remember I sent you that picture?”

  Her eyes opened wide. “That was Tara?”

  “You told me you didn’t recognize her—”

  “I didn’t,” Heidi said. “She didn’t look like that when she was eighteen. She
was dumpy and had brown hair.”

  “Well, it seems to be her. I saw her yesterday morning, too. Just after Harold was shot.”

  Heidi blinked. It took her a second to find her voice. “Where? What was she doing?”

  “Here,” I said. “Coming out of the gate. And I don’t know what she was doing. That’s why I want to talk to her. I guess she finally got around to returning my call.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I set up a meeting.”

  “When? Where?”

  I hesitated. Long enough that Heidi had to remind me, “I hired you, Gina. You wouldn’t even be involved in this if I hadn’t brought you in.”

  That was true. However— “I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “I’m paying you,” Heidi said. “And if she shot Harold, I have a right to know.”

  No arguing with that. But— “Couldn’t I just go see her by myself, and tell you what she said later?”

  “I want to see her for myself,” Heidi said. “If she shot my husband, I want to be there when you ask her.”

  If it had been my husband, a husband I cared about, I probably would have wanted the same thing. Besides, she was right. She’d hired me. I owed her more loyalty than I did Tara.

  “I’ll pick you up,” I said.

  “Just tell me where we’re going. In case she guns us both down. At least someone will know where we are.”

  “I’m going to tell my staff,” I said. And probably Mendoza, too. But I saw her point. “We’re going to the parking lot outside Harold’s office. Nine o’clock tonight. But she said not to tell anyone, so it really would be better if—”

  She nodded. “I get it. Pick me up at eight-thirty.”

  I refrained from saluting, but just barely.

  Chapter 11

  I did go back and forth about whether or not to call Mendoza.

  I knew I should. Tara was a suspect in Harold’s murder. She’d been nearby when the fatal shot had been fired. If she thought that Harold had killed her sister, or was otherwise responsible for her sister’s death, she had motive. And as Mendoza had pointed out, the means—a gun—was easy to come by.

  On the other hand, I wasn’t feeling friendly toward Mendoza today. Not only had he not called me so far, and the day was almost over, but he’d done something last night that had put a very satisfied sort of look on Heidi’s face when she talked about it. And not only that, but he’d done the same thing, or something like it, to Jacquie the night David died.

  And with me, meanwhile, he hadn’t gotten past calling me by my last name.

  To put off the decision, or at least the moment when I’d have to do something about the decision, I called Zachary. “Do you have a date tonight?”

  “Not so far,” Zachary said.

  “Would you like to do something for me?”

  “Sure thing.”

  I explained what was going on. “What I need you to do, is park nearby, but not so nearby that she’ll notice you. And when she leaves again, I need you to follow her. Carefully, so she doesn’t notice you then either.”

  “I can do that,” Zachary said. And added, “You’re sure this is safe, right, Gina?”

  “Of course it’s safe,” I said. “Just make sure she doesn’t notice you.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about me. I’ll stay at a distance. But are you sure it’s safe for you?”

  “Of course it’ll be safe for me. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Well,” Zachary said, “if she shot Harold, and she knows you saw her there, she might want to get rid of you before you can tell anyone.”

  “It’s too late for that. I’ve told you. And Mendoza.” And Heidi.

  “Does she know that?”

  Well… no. “I figured it was better if I didn’t mention it. Since I didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind about meeting me.”

  “Call Mendoza,” Zachary said.

  “I don’t want to. He was at Heidi’s house at ten o’clock last night.”

  “I’m sure he was just talking to her,” Zachary said loyally.

  “Not from the look on her face.” Although that shouldn’t matter. He was in charge of this homicide investigation. I had a tip. I needed to let him know.

  “I’ll let him know,” Zachary said. “And I’ll be there early, just in case she’s early, too. Want me to keep you updated on the way?”

  I thought about it, and shook my head. “No. Stay as low-profile as you can. Don’t use the phone. Just follow her home and let me know once she’s inside. Make sure she doesn’t see you.”

  Zachary assured me he wouldn’t be seen, and hung up.

  * * *

  No more than five minutes later, the phone rang again. I looked at the display and winced. Zachary hadn’t wasted any time.

  I was tempted to let the call go to voicemail, since I had a good idea what Mendoza was going to say. At the last moment, though, I grabbed the phone, since I figured if I didn’t, he would just call back until I picked up, and if I never did, he was perfectly capable of showing up tonight with a squad of police cars, all of them with flashing lights and sirens. And that would scare Tara off, and I wouldn’t be able to talk to her. So dealing with the yelling I was sure was going to ensue, seemed like the better option in the long run.

  I put the phone to my ear. “Detective.”

  “Mrs. Kelly,” Mendoza said.

  He didn’t say anything else, and as the seconds crawled by, I waited for the other shoe to drop.

  When it didn’t—when he didn’t start yelling—I said, “Zachary called you.”

  “Yes,” Mendoza said. “Zachary called me.”

  “Is that why you’re calling?”

  “Yes,” Mendoza said, “that’s why I’m calling.”

  There were another few seconds of silence. He still didn’t yell.

  “At least I told him,” I pointed out, “and didn’t tell him that he couldn’t tell you. I could have just gone tonight and not let either of you know about it.”

  “If you’d done that and survived,” Mendoza said, “I might have killed you myself.”

  Oh, really? “It’s not like you can tell me what to do, you know. I’m not—” I stopped before I got to, “your wife, or your girlfriend, or your subordinate…” Probably a good thing.

  “I could arrest you,” Mendoza said, “for interfering with an investigation.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “I would if I had to. Lucky for you, Zachary called me so that won’t be necessary.”

  “You don’t really think she’s going to kill me, do you?”

  “She’s near the top of my list for Harold’s murder. And she’s there because you saw her near the scene of the crime. She knows you saw her there. So yes, I think that meeting with her in a dark parking lot in the middle of the night might not be good for your health.”

  Nine o’clock wasn’t exactly the middle of the night. And besides— “I won’t be alone,” I said. “Heidi’s coming, and Zachary will be there, too.”

  “That only works if she plans to kill you up close,” Mendoza growled. “If she shoots you from across the parking lot, you’re out of luck. Sure, Zachary can call an ambulance. But you’ll still be dead by the time it gets there.”

  Well, yes. He was right about that.

  “It’s a chance to talk to her, though. I’m sure you’ll track her down eventually, but tonight, we know where she’s going to be.” If she showed up.

  Mendoza didn’t answer that, I added, “Come on, Detective. You know I’ll tell you what she has to say. I’m not trying to keep anything from you.”

  “If I thought you were,” Mendoza said, “I wouldn’t even consider this.”

  So he was considering it. Good.

  “Do you want to hide in the backseat of my car?” I suggested sweetly. “She probably wouldn’t notice you.”

  “Heidi would,” Mendoza said grimly. “No, thank you. I’ll get there on
my own.”

  Fine. “Just don’t do anything to spook her.”

  “This isn’t my first clandestine meeting, Mrs. Kelly.”

  “I’m sure it’s not,” I said. “I’ll see you there, then. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Same to you,” Mendoza told me, and disconnected before I could respond.

  * * *

  Heidi was ready and waiting when I pulled up in front of Chatsworth at eight-thirty sharp. And although she’s changed out of the wool slacks and silk shirt, she was still dressed in head-to-toe black, jeans and a fitted jacket, like we were headed out on a burglary instead of just meeting somebody in a parking lot. There was no reason why we had to blend with the darkness.

  I didn’t say anything, though, just unlocked the door so she could slide into the passenger seat, and headed back down the drive. “Everything OK?”

  “Fine,” Heidi said, flipping down the sunshade mirror and examining her face. Her hair was piled into a tousled bun on top of her head, with tendrils of blonde framing her face. Her makeup was flawless.

  “I didn’t realize you were friendly with Jacquie Demetros,” I said, as I turned the car south on Hillsboro Road, the same way I’d driven yesterday morning, hell for leather, trying to catch up to Tara’s yellow Beetle.

  Heidi shrugged elegantly and flipped the visor back up. “We spent some time together during the last couple of months David was alive. After…” She trailed off.

  After he’d dumped me and taken up with Jacquie, I guessed. Or maybe before he’d dumped me, but while he was carrying on with Jacquie. Maybe Heidi had known he was cheating before I did.

  “Whose husband is she going after this time?”

  Heidi pressed her lips together, to the extent that she could, with all the collagen, and I added, “It wasn’t Harold, was it?”

  “Of course not.” She gave me an unfriendly look.

  “Because I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s determined to marry money. And you were getting into the danger zone. Not in your twenties anymore.”

  “I’m thirty-four,” Heidi said.

  “Jacquie is twenty-five. That’s hard to compete with. For either of us.”