Playing with Fire (18 page)

The shower did more than wash off the grass and dirt from their bodies. It washed away the fury, the feeling of helplessness, the desperation that bubbled up after six years of hell. Griffin stood in the shower stall under the spray, just holding Cassie against him, letting her strength flow into him until they both began to feel waterlogged. When they stepped out, he kissed her for a long time, a very gentle kiss, but one that said more than any words. And when they were dried and dressed again, it was better between them. Something unspoken had wrapped around them and taken them to a new place of trust and commitment.

Cassie made coffee then filled a mug for each of them. They sat at the kitchen table, where so much of their life seemed to be playing out for the past couple of days.

“Now,” she told him, “we have to figure out why nobody ever told you about the DNA and who the real father of that baby is.”

“Easy.” There was no concealing the bitterness and underlying rage in his words. “In a town this size, it wouldn’t be difficult to match DNA. Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to cover this up and make sure the focus remained on me.”

“I hate to do this to you right now,” she told him, “but you’ve got to try and come up with some alternate names. Someone else who could have been the person who killed her.”

“I know, I know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve just blocked so much of it out of my mind that it’s hard to bring it all back. Besides, Diane used her charm on everything in pants. It didn’t matter if it was me, the dentist, or the bag boy at the grocery store.”

When they had listed everyone they could think of in the document she opened, Cassie leaned back in her chair. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We’ll end up listing every man in town.”

“No kidding.”

“There has to be a better way of doing this.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

Cassie snapped her fingers. “Did they give you Diane’s things after the…afterward?”

Griff frowned. “What things?”

“You know, her clothes, any personal items. Stuff like that.”

“No. I didn’t even ask. Why?”

She stared unseeing at the computer screen in front of her, lower lip caught between her teeth. “Didn’t you say Diane always had that little purse thing with her?”

He shrugged. “I guess. What about it?”

“I’ll call Dangler in the morning and ask about it. I’ll bet it’s still being held as evidence, even though the case is cold. If it’s not there, it could be what our mysterious stranger is looking for.”

“He’ll be angry again because you’re still digging this up, you know. Dangler, I mean. He still thinks I did it.”

She thinned her lips. “Too bad for him.”

Griff narrowed his eyes. “There’s one other thing we haven’t considered.”

“What’s that?”

“Dangler could be covering up for someone,” he pointed out. “The people who hold power in Stoneham take care of each other. If he knew, or even suspected who Diane’s lover was, he might just be doing a favor for an old friend.” He felt sick. The possibility was very real, and if that was so, their job would be a lot harder and a lot more dangerous.

They were both so emotionally drained, and even the coffee couldn’t keep them awake. Climbing into bed, they fell asleep holding each other like lost children.

***

When Griff got up at his usual early hour the next morning, Cassie rose with him. The day would be a busy one for her, no doubt unpleasant, and she wanted time to prepare herself.

“Come to the funeral,” she urged him.

“Better for you if I don’t,” he argued.

“Do you think I care what any person in this town thinks? This is my choice, not theirs.”

He pulled her to him and held her close, his lips brushing her hair. “Listen to me this once, Cassie. This will be a difficult day for you as it is. Don’t make it worse for yourself. And it will be if I show up at the church.”

She hated to admit it, but he made sense. Whoever chose to attend would make their disapproval evident. Worse yet, they would make Griffin feel uncomfortable, and she didn’t want that. “All right. But be here when I get back, okay?”

“You bet.” He hugged her, gave her a light kiss then was gone.

Carol Markham had left the listing agreement, and Cassie signed it, tucking her copy in the folder with the other papers she was accumulating. Then she called the agency.

“You can come by before noon to pick it up,” she told Carol when the woman came to the phone.

“Oh, honey, I don’t want to make you do business on the day of your mama’s funeral,” Carol protested.

“My mother won’t be any less dead,” she said, her tone pragmatic. “I’m sorry if that sounds cold, but I need to get this taken care of.”

Next, she called the insurance company and asked for the claims processor whose name she had pried loose from Neil. He came on the phone in seconds.

“Yes, Miss Fitzgerald, we have all the paperwork and everything’s in order.” He paused. “On the life insurance, we’ll send you a check, but on the annuities….”

“Yes?” she prompted.

“I’m not sure cashing them out would be a wise move. We could just transfer your name as the beneficiary, and you’ll receive checks every month.”

“I understood I could opt for the lump sum cash-out.” She’d been very specific when she asked Neil about that. “Can you tell me how much that would be?”

The claims agent cleared his throat. “A little over two hundred thousand dollars.”

Cassie dropped into a chair, stunned.
So much money!
Despite what Neil had told her, she was unprepared for the reality. When he said he’d been prudent investing the money for her, he hadn’t been kidding. “You’re right. That’s a significant sum, but my mind’s made up. Let me give you my bank account number, and you can do a wire transfer.”

She couldn’t wait to tell Griffin. What a shock!

Her next call was to the management agency for her apartment in Tampa to tell them of her plans. She wasn’t signing the new lease agreement but would drop off a check to them on Friday for one more month’s rent, to give her time to do whatever was needed. No problem, they said.

Her final call was to Barry Dangler.

“Yes, we still have all your sister’s things.” He sounded abrupt. “But since it’s an unsolved case, they can’t be released.”

“Okay. Can I just come by and look through them?”

“What is it you’re searching for, Cassie?” It was hard to miss the fact he was hostile and resentful. “Is there something you think we missed?”

“No. I just wanted to see the stuff. Is that all right? Is there some problem I’m not aware of?”

Silence drifted over the connection for a long moment.

“No problem,” he said at last, “except her killer is still loose. Bury your mother today, Cassie. Call me tomorrow, and I’ll make the arrangements. But I’m telling you, get off whatever crusade you’re on and close the door on this.”

Her head ached again. She dug aspirin out of her purse and swallowed two with the rest of her coffee. She dreaded the afternoon more than she wanted to admit to herself. If she was lucky, only a few people would show up and the service would be short.

Just before noon, Carol came by to pick up the listing papers. “I just want to say again how sorry we are about your mother.” She wore her sympathetic face.
Did she practice in front of a mirror?
“It was too bad you weren’t able to come home for your sister’s funeral, or your father’s.”

Cassie refused to rise to the subtle dig. “Thank you for taking care of this.” She handed the signed contract to Carol with exaggerated politeness.
Just sell the house and get out of my life,
she wanted to tell her.

“What are you planning to do with the furniture and things?” Carol asked.

“If whoever buys the house wants it, they can have it. I won’t be needing it.”

“I imagine you’ll be going back to Tampa?” She studied Cassie’s face with avid curiosity.

“My plans are somewhat up in the air at the moment.”
Get out of here!

“I hear those plans might include Griffin Hunter.” The woman’s eyes held an avaricious glitter.

Cassie sighed. She wished all these people a short trip to Hell. “If you don’t mind, I need to get dressed for this afternoon. When you need to show the house, just let me know. I put my cell phone number on the contract, so you can get hold of me wherever I am.”

She managed to push the woman out the door and close it behind her. The headache blasted back with the intensity of a rocket-propelled grenade. The sooner she and Griffin got out of this town the better.

At last, she put on the one dark dress she’d brought with her and her low matching heels. A deep breath and she was ready.

All Cassie could think of was the opening line from
A Tale of Two Cities:
“It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” More people came to the service than she’d expected, filling the small chapel at the mortuary. People she didn’t even recognize crowded every corner. Curiosity-seekers, she decided.

The room was hot and stuffy, the air cloying with the scent of the flowers banked tastefully around the platform the casket rested on. She couldn’t begin to imagine who sent them, unless people were salving their consciences. The babble of voices, hushed though it was, didn’t do her headache any good.

Donald Brandon greeted her with his practiced unctuous attitude, patting her hand and mouthing condolences. “I’ve made all the arrangements for the cemetery following this. They’ll be expecting us.”

“Thank you.”

She recaptured her hand and turned to the coffin. She and her mother had never been close, even on the best of days. But her death marked the closing of a chapter in Cassie’s life, and she felt a strange sadness. Here was a woman who never knew how to enjoy life, except through a daughter who brought violence and evil into it.

Donald positioned himself next to her, acting as the official greeter. Every time he spoke, his words grated on her nerves, the oily syllables sliding like water on glass from one sentence to the next. She longed for a Star Trek transporter.

Beam me up, Scotty.

Neil was there with his wife. At best a nodding acquaintance of Cassie’s, Leslie McLeod mouthed platitudes of comfort then moved away.

“I’m happy to see you haven’t dragged Hunter along with you today,” Neil said with approval.

“More for his sake than mine.” Cassie curled her lips in a nasty expression. “I didn’t want to subject him to the brand of etiquette this town practices.”

“You know, you need to take time to think about what you’re doing,” he admonished her. “I hate to sound like a broken record, but—”

“Then don’t,” she snapped. “I’ve had about all the advice I can take. By the way, I took care of everything with the insurance company this morning, so that’s one more chore you can cross off your list.”

Neil shrugged and moved off to join his wife.

Next in line was Cyrus, with his obvious disapproval in contrast to his sympathetic words. “Your mother was a wonderful woman.

“Yes. She was.” What else could she say?

He scowled. “I don’t think she’d be happy at the path you’re taking.”

“Cyrus.” She was beyond exasperation. “Could I please just bury my mother without another lecture?”

He looked as if she’d slapped him. “Of course, Cassie. I’m sorry to intrude on your grief.”

Last came Thad Lewis, Cyrus’s former partner and Leslie’s father. He bit back whatever he’d been planning to say. “I understand you’re listing the house,” he said instead. “Carol will get an appraiser out, but I’ve been doing a bit of that since I’m not practicing much anymore. I’m sure you’d want someone to evaluate the things inside the house so you get fair market value.”

“Are you offering to go through the house with me, Thad?”
Another one?

He missed the dangerous edge to her tone. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact. At your convenience, of course.”

“Thanks anyway, but I’ve got it covered.” She studied his face, looking for some kind of clue behind his words. “You know, it seems like a lot of people are anxious to go through what’s in the house. You wouldn’t have any idea why, would you, Thad?”

He backed away. “I’m sorry if I offended you in any way. I was just trying to be helpful.”

The pastor, Andrew Howell, provided the sole soothing note in the room. He drew her to one side, away from the sideways glances, and spoke with her about her mother and what he planned to say.

“I know this sounds terrible,” she told him, “but my mother and I hadn’t been close in years. If ever. I’m sure whatever you’ve prepared will be just fine.”

“You’re fortunate to have so many friends to help you through this.” He glanced around the room.

“Forgive me, Pastor, but these are not my friends. They’re gossips, sniffing around my private life.” She knew she sounded like a bitch, but she didn’t care. “My sister was murdered, my father drank himself to death over it, and my mother died well out of touch with reality. And of course, in case you haven’t heard, the icing on the cake for them is the fact that I’m playing house with the town pariah. So, if you mean it when you say you want to do something for me, get this over with so I can get away from everyone here as soon as possible.”

If he was shocked by her words, Andrew Howell was too trained a professional to show it.

“Of course. Yes. I am here to serve your needs.” He led her to a chair in the front row.

Cassie was sure the service was nice, but it washed over her like a passing cloud. Only the fact that the pastor’s lips stopped moving and Donald touched her arm signaled her it was over. Then she got trapped in an argument about transportation to the cemetery.

“I think I should drive you,” Donald told her, trying to guide her to the door.

“No, thank you.” She jerked her arm away. “That’s very nice of you, but I’d prefer to drive myself.”

“Leslie and I will be happy to take you.” Neil materialized beside her, his wife next to him, her face remaining blank.

“Please.” Cassie moved to the side. “Thank you, but I need this time to myself.” She all but ran to her car, leaving everyone staring after her, their unasked questions hanging in the air.