Hidden Vices (6 page)

Twelve

I stared out the
window at the police, the gawkers on shore, the news vans—basically the sheer chaos of it all—and my only thought was, “I need to get to work later, I hope there's no traffic.” It sounds cold, but if you'd known him, it was quite fitting and quite deserved. I glanced over at the Macks' house. I could just barely make out Megan's figure on the deck. I assumed she felt as little about the situation as I did.

Megan had just over an hour before she had to walk down to her new neighbors' house for dinner, and she took Dog and a glass of wine down to the dock while it was still light. She'd spent the day zoning out in front of the television, ignoring the activity on the lake. Now the only sign of the earlier commotion was the yellow tarp and police tape, now covering a wider spectrum. A police car was positioned at the shorefront, but there was surprisingly little happening.

Three people parasailing on the ice skidded over the lake. Megan couldn't imagine what speed they were moving, but she was sure they'd reach the other side in no time. She enjoyed the crisp sound that traveled up to her from their sails. It was somehow soothing. Even Dog was relaxed as he yawned and leaned against Megan. She scratched his head and rubbed his ears.

“I need to give you a real name until I find your family. It has to be Irish. My family all has—” She stopped. “
Had
Irish names. My brother Brendan is alive, but the others …” She sipped her wine and reluctantly welled up. But she quickly regained control and put those feelings back up on a shelf. “Let's go back inside, pal.”

Megan reluctantly looked over the water at the house Billie had pointed out, the one next to Vivian's gatehouse. Which made it the missing judge's house. She hated the feeling she got staring at the that house. She hated it because her internal compass was moving and pointing straight there. It was the detective hunch she'd learned to hone over the years, which she now shoved onto the same shelf as her family drama.

That shelf is getting heavy
, she thought.

It was less than a ten-minute walk down to Megan's new neighbor's house, for which she was grateful; it started to snow as she approached the front door. Leigh greeted her with a warm smile. “Come in! Let me take your coat.”

Megan handed Leigh her coat and a bottle of red wine. “I brought this.” The house smelled spectacular. Megan smiled inside thinking,
This is not a take-out Chinese kind of night
.

“I'll give you a quick tour.”

It was interesting to see a different house on the lake other than Chez Mack. Everything here looked state-of-the-art, very modern for a lake house. Leigh explained they had been working on an overhaul for the last sixteen months, renovating the kitchen, bathrooms, and finishing now with the lower level. Just as Megan sat down, she was greeted by the golden retriever she'd met earlier in the day.

“Hey, I remember you.” Megan scratched her ears. “I didn't get your name, pretty lady.”

Leigh handed Megan a glass of red wine. “This is Lady Sadie.”

“You must be royalty then, Lady Sadie.”

“She thinks she is!” Leigh laughed, poured herself a glass of wine, and brought out hors d'oeuvres, then sat down on the couch across from Megan. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Jo just called and she's on her way home. She just finished her last surgery for the day. She's a doctor in Morristown, not too far from here. I guess the roads are getting a little icy. So she's taking her time.” Lady Sadie started to get a little amped up, likely smelling another dog on Megan's pants and shoes. “Sadie, in your bed.”

Megan's jaw dropped.

“I'm guessing
Dog
doesn't listen quite as well?”

They laughed. “Not in the last twenty-four hours,” Megan said.

“So, how are you enjoying our small lake town so far? I know you haven't been here long, but is it what you were hoping for?”

Megan felt a ping of warning in her stomach and hoped the conversation wouldn't turn to her life beyond the last few days. “I'm settling in. It's quiet.” She smiled.

“Wait until we get our first real snowstorm; it will get even more quiet. Whatever happened in Great Cove will probably be the most interesting moment until spring.”

Megan wanted to say,
I don't think so
, then decided against it.

Moments later the sound of the garage door opening provided a welcome distraction.

“That would be Jo. You get to meet my other half.” Leigh placed her hand up to her cheek like a school girl sharing a secret. “Whom I occasionally refer to as General Nightingale.”

“Lovey, I'm home,” a British voice boomed down the hall.

The sound of keys hitting the kitchen counter echoed before Leigh answered, “In here, hon.”

Jo was in her late forties, with typical English translucent skin making her look much younger. She had a confident demeanor, yet Megan could sense a definite kindness, probably due to working with patients. Her mane of tight blond curls was pulled back in a clip. Marching across the room, she gave Leigh a kiss and a hug. She held Leigh's face, looking directly into her eyes.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“I'm good,” Leigh responded.

She raised an eyebrow, giving Leigh a skeptical look. “You're quite sure?” She inspected Leigh's face, muttered something about her color, and gripped her hands. “Are you cold?”

Leigh turned to Megan. “As I was saying, this is General Nightingale.”

Jo knocked Leigh's shoulder. “That's a fine way to introduce me to our new neighbor.” Jo shook Megan's hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to McGregor Avenue.” Jo then excused herself. “If you don't mind, I'm going to go change into something less stuffy.”

“Everything is nearly ready,” Leigh said before Jo was out of earshot.

“Grand. I'll be down in a bit.”

“She cuts into people; I cut into beef, chicken, or fish. Oh, and the ‘feeling well' comment was based on a nasty flu I experienced last week. I teach philosophy, and when one of my students comes down with something, it moves through the classrooms like fire.”

Jo returned, made herself a martini, and proceeded to fill Megan in on some of the characters of McGregor Avenue, which surprised her because she'd yet to see that many people. Jo mentioned the psychiatrist who was just released from the state mental facility; a wife down the street (allegedly) running a call girl ring out of their house while hubby went to work in Manhattan; and then (least interestingly) the kind, small-town people who were really good friends. Leigh mentioned that they had a holiday party every year, which Megan was welcome to join.

Megan was far from ready for heavy socialization, but she thought it was a nice gesture on their part.

Throughout dinner Megan enjoyed watching Leigh and Jo's give and take, finishing one another's stories, easily knowing the other's line of thought. Then the gears switched.

“Is anyone going to bring up what happened in Great Cove today?” Jo blurted. “There were a zillion cars and a big hole in the ice.”

Megan began, “I watched the news, but nobody said what they hauled out of the water.”

“You're in the Mack house—you probably had a good view of what was going on down there.”

And the martinis have kicked in.

“Jo.” Leigh tossed a look her way.

“Oh, sorry,” Jo offered.

“I've been busy with a dog I found last night, who's temporarily staying with me,” Megan said with a forced smile. She didn't want Leigh or Jo to feel badly. “Didn't see much.”

Jo was nodding. “Leigh told me about the humping of Lady Sadie.”

They laughed and talked about the dogs for several minutes. The conversation, of course, returned to the lake activity.

Jo sipped on her third martini. “I wouldn't be surprised if it was that prick Judge Campbell. What a son of a bitch that man is—hopefully
was
.”

“I'm sure everyone is thinking that, but who knows?” Leigh offered.

Megan noted again that whoever this judge was, he was not well liked at all. “I read about it in the paper the other morning. Him being missing, that is, but it didn't really say much. It read more like his resume.” She sat back with her drink, knowing she was about to hear mostly the truth with a small amount of innuendo. When someone is hated that much by a large number of people, there is usually a good reason.

Leigh and Jo looked at one another with raised eyebrows. Jo took the lead. “Well. Judge Montague Campbell. Where to start?” She paused to take another sip before blurting, “He
is
a prick.”

Megan laughed. “Jo, seriously, don't hold back. Tell me what you really think.”

Leigh added, “Can you tell I go for the shy type of woman?”

Jo smiled. “Well, he is!”

“Go ahead, Jo, tell her more about the … prick,” Leigh prodded, though you could tell by her pause, she wasn't as comfortable with the expression as Jo was.

“Monty Campbell is one of Morris County's most prominent citizens,” she said, adopting a mock reverential tone.

“He comes from old New Jersey money and is a very powerful man in this state,” Leigh said.

“So, it's not just because he's a judge that the papers have it splashed all over.” Megan folded her arms. “What do they think happened to him?”

“No idea so far,” Leigh answered.

Jo topped Megan's glass off. “Apparently, he'd scheduled a trip to go up to his cabin in Vermont, so he put a hold on his mail, his cleaning service …” She waved her hand in the air. “All that kind of stuff. Well, ten days later when he was expected at a gala—”

“He was being honored for all the”—Leigh made quotation marks in the air—“
work
he's done for a children's hospital.”

“
Work
my English bum, it was just a nod for all the money he'd given over the years.” Jo rolled her eyes. “All of his cohorts were to give speeches to rub the prick's ego, if you'll forgive the pun. But he didn't show up.”

“At first the police thought he'd been kidnapped, but no ransom call ever came in.”

“He lives on the lake. Actually, you can see his house from your place.”

“That huge white mansion, at the tip of the cove?”

“It's easy to miss, isn't it?” Jo added sarcastically. “Turn the clock back to a few months ago when Mrs. Campbell died—” She pointed to Leigh. “Tell her what
everyone
in this town was thinking.”

“Basically, it was fairly common knowledge the judge and his wife didn't have a
real
marriage, not for a very long time. At least since Vivian was born.” Leigh stopped, turning to Jo. “Megan met Vivian at Krogh's.”

Jo nodded. “Sweet girl. People in the town keep an eye out for her since her mother's death. A plus to small-town living, I suppose.”

Megan attempted to not appear too interested, but she had to ask: “How did her mother die?”

The two women looked at one another, rolling their eyes and answering in tandem, “Good question. Word was she hung herself, but …”

Megan squinted. “There must be a coroner's report, right?”

“She was cremated within an hour of being found. Found by Vivian,” Jo answered.

As Megan walked back to the Macks' house, it was now clear the light snow had taken a dramatic turn—becoming a storm while she enjoyed dinner. The moment she approached the driveway she regretted not leaving the garage door open so she could use the stairs to get back down to the house.

“Great,” Megan moaned. Taking baby steps and keeping one hand on the wall of the garage was as helpful as holding on to a breaking icicle on a steep mountain. Her second step down the driveway was her last. One minute she was standing, the next she was staring up at the evening sky. She flew down the black ice like a hockey puck on its way to the goalie. There wasn't even time to scream it all happened so fast. Moaning from the bounce off the aluminum fence, she groaned. “You bastard. Bastard ice.”

After a few moments of ensuring that nothing was broken but her pride, Megan lifted herself up on her elbows. She laughed. “I would give myself a score of nine-point-eight.” She sat up, looked around for her wallet. It was still in her fist. “I take that back. Nine-point-nine.” She twisted from side to side checking she hadn't pulled anything in her back—nothing wrong, as far as she could tell after a few drinks. She pulled herself up using the fence and was surprised to see the upper level of the judge's home lit. As quick as the light caught her eye, it winked out. Megan stood as still as the freezing night air. Waiting. Watching. Seconds later a light turned on, nothing as overt as the first, moving erratically from room to room. Up, down, in circles. A flashlight.

What are you looking for?
she thought. One or two minutes passed by Megan's estimation, and the house turned dark again. Curious. She made her way into the house and called Callie at Krogh's. It took a moment for him to come to the phone.

“Callie? It's Megan.”

“Hey, gorgeous. What's up?”

“I just have a quick question, I know you're probably busy.”

“Sure, what's up?”

“Is Vivian working tonight?”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

Megan had to come up with something fast. “Oh, good, well, do you mind giving her my number and having her text me when she gets a chance? I slipped on the ice tonight and could really use a massage.” Megan stared down at the phone, impressed with her instantaneous fabrication.

Did I lie this easily when I was a teenager? Probably.