Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3) (11 page)

She sat on the hood of her car, crossed her arms over her chest, and bowed her head. “When Brook came on to me that night over drinks, I'd never been with a woman before. I'd never even been propositioned. I guess I was flattered at first.”

“
And you?” Carter asked. “You were attracted to her?”

Vivian bit her lower lip and shrugged. “I was curious, that's all. Brook was the one who wanted to keep doing it.”

“
When did you get the idea to extort money from her?” I asked.

She looked up at me, eyes flickered with resentment. “I knew she was just using me. I was her little plaything for when Mr. Foster went out of town. She didn't give a shit about me.”

“
That's not what Brook told us,” Carter said. “In fact, she gave us the impression that she might even be in love with you.”

Vivian shook her head. “Don't believe her lies. She used to be like me, you know. Working hard to try and get ahead. To try to have a decent life with a decent home. She married a rich guy, well good for her. Now she acts like she's some kind of princess, like she's better than me. I've worked for Foster Realty for over ten years, and I barely get a bonus every Christmas. I live in a dump, with an asshole for a husband. I'm sick and tired of working for peanuts, just to get by. Sure, Brook bought me a few nice things; a bracelet and a purse. But it was like she was paying me off or something … to keep quiet. I don't need jewelry. I need to pay my mortgage.”

“
How'd you do it?” Carter asked. “Did you have Maria come to the office to take the photos?”

Vivian shook her head. “No. I set up a camera in the window. Had it programmed to take the pictures on timer with no flash. It was pretty dark in the room, but the images on the photos showed enough.”

“
So then you explained your plan to Maria, your neighbor. You must really trust her to have gotten her involved,” I said.

“
Maria is like a mother to me,” Vivian said. “I've known her for years. I took care of her when she had hip surgery last year. I knew she'd do anything for me. Plus, I promised to give her half of the money. It was so easy. Maria works at the airport; all she had to do was switch her schedule around a bit.”

“
Clever plan,” I said. “So you typed up the blackmail letter with the photo, then sent it certified mail under a false name. You knew Brook would pay the money, and you knew she wouldn't contact the police. But you probably never planned on Dennis having a heart attack. With Dennis out of the way, Brook was free to find her blackmailer. Thing is, she wanted to keep things hush hush, afraid your husband would get violent with you if he ever found out.”

Vivian closed her eyes. “I made that up. Roy is a jerk, but he's a pussy. He'd never raise a hand to me. He knows better than that. But I wanted Brook to think he was capable of harming me.”

“
Does Roy know anything about this?” Carter asked.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “No. The money is in a safe place. Once my divorce is final, I'd planned to use that cash to move away, start a new life. I guess that won't happen now. Brook will sure as shit take me to court to get her money back. God forbid she goes without her weekly facials for a few months.”

“
Maybe not,” I said. “Maybe she'll be understanding if you go to her, explain everything, and apologize.”

Vivian rolled her eyes and snorted. “Yeah, right. I'll admit I did a stupid thing, but she'll never forgive me for this. She's going to hate me, now.”

“
So,” Carter said, “if you have no feelings for Brook, then why would you care if she hated you or not?”

Vivian ignored the question and glanced at her watch. “I need to get back to work. Although, I doubt I'll have a job for much longer. I suppose you'll be running off to tell Brook about me.”

Carter stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, but it's our job.”

Vivian promptly walked back to her car. Before she opened the driver's side door, she regarded me and Carter with a resigned look. “I suppose bribing you with cash won't change your mind?”

Carter laughed. “Nice try, but I'm sorry we can't take you up on the tempting offer.”

Without another word, Vivian slipped into her car and drove out of the gas station.

Chapter 20

Carter had captured the entire conversation with Vivian on his cell phone. Brook listened to it twice. The whole time, she tried to remain stoic, but I noticed the hurt in her eyes and the quiver in her voice.

“
How could she do this to me?” Brook said, staring at her balled fists on the counter where the three of us sat. “I mean, I guess I can understand, but why didn't she just talk to me? Tell me how she really felt. I would have just given her the hundred grand if she needed it so badly.”

I shrugged. “Well, it's up to you now. What do you think you'll do about all this?”

Brook sighed heavily. “I don't know. I need to think. I need to … ” She stood up from the counter and looked around blindly, as if a stranger in her own home. “I guess I need to go to the bank, get the rest of the money I owe you for solving the case. I don't suppose you'd take a check instead?”

Carter smiled at her. “A check is fine.”

Brook nodded and walked across the room to fetch her purse, her expression strained, her body rigid. She quickly made out a check and handed it to Carter without a word.

Carter glanced at the check, then slipped it into his jeans pocket and held out his hand. “Mrs. Foster, was a pleasure doing business with you.”

She shook his hand wearily. “Thank you. I appreciate all your help.” She turned to me, gave a slight nod. “And to you, Sarah. Thank you for taking the case.”

I didn't feel compelled to shake her hand, offer a hug, or even a smile. I just got up to leave. “Well, good luck with everything. Now that Max is done with his job, looks like we'll all be heading back to New Hampshire tomorrow.”

Brook nodded. “Yes. Well, I'm sorry you had to work on your vacation.”

“
By the way,” I said, as Carter and I made for the door. “I did talk to Angela today.”

She looked at me, puzzled. “You did?”

“
She's been volunteering at the Delray Beach Community Center. She seems very dedicated to helping people cope with grief. All those times in the past year when she's come around looking for money, it wasn't for herself. She was trying to raise money, to keep the volunteer programs running. She thought her family might support her in that cause, but apparently not. Anyway, I just thought you should know.”

Brook gave me a funny look, as if she wasn't sure I had just insulted her or not. “I see. Well, thanks for letting me know, Sarah.”

When Carter and I got into the elevator, he turned to me and smiled. “You couldn't resist, could you? I half expected her to take the check back and rip it in half.”

I laughed in spite of my irritation. “I also wanted to ask her is if she'd poisoned her husband, just to see her reaction; I figured that would have really set her off.”

“
Thanks for not doing that,” he said. “But I would have backed you up if you had.”

“
I know. That's why we make a good team.”

“
So,” he rocked back and forth, toe to heel. “I can tell you’re still on edge. Want to tell me what's going on with Max and Jenn, now?”

“
I suppose. Let's grab some lunch down in the lobby.”

We sat at a booth and ordered salads. Once the waiter had disappeared, I told Carter everything about my conversation with Angela Foster – about the mysterious woman who showed up at the Foster's house, claiming to be the mother of Dennis's love child; who ultimately committed suicide and ended up on the evening news. Angela felt guilty for years, knowing she did nothing to help the woman, and she despised her father for not living up to his responsibilities.

When I told Carter that the woman's name was Charlotte Healy, his expression remained blank for a few seconds, but then I saw the light go on in his eyes.

“
Any relation to Jennifer Healy?” he asked me.

I nodded. “I think Charlotte was her mother.”

Carter stared at me, open mouthed. “Really?”

“
Can you believe it? Angela wants to hire me to find the daughter of the woman. Little does she know, I already have a pretty good idea who she is.”

“
No wonder you're distracted,” he said. “You think Max has any idea?”

“
I don't know. It could explain why he's been acting so strange.”

I looked down at my hands and noticed I had shredded the entire paper napkin, the remnants littering my side of the table. “Looking back on the day after Dennis died, it makes sense now that Jenn was so distraught. She wasn't upset about losing her job; she was upset because her father died. Big question is, did Dennis know that Jennifer was
his
daughter? And if not, why didn't she tell him?”

Carter raked a hand through his hair. “Maybe she was scared of his reaction. Or maybe she was just waiting for the right time.”

“
Well, Angela wants to find her. She intends on making up for lost time, doing what her father should have done many years ago. Whatever that means, I'm not sure.”

“
So what are you gonna do?” he asked.

“
I guess I'll try to talk to Jennifer. But after last night …”

Carter placed his hand over mine, covering it completely. “It's gonna be okay, Sarah. I'll come with you if you want me to.”

I smiled at him. “Thanks for the offer, but I need to handle this myself.”

He nodded and removed his hand from mine. “I figured as much.”

After lunch, Carter retreated back to his room to pack.

I went back to my room to see if Max had come back to shower or change, or leave me a note. The room was just as I'd left it that morning. Screw it. I didn't care about right or wrong, I just needed to hear Max's voice.

I took a deep breath and speed dialed his number. Straight to voicemail. I let out a frustrated sigh, tossed my phone back into my purse and made a decision. I was going to Jennifer's house, and I wouldn't leave until someone came out to talk to me.

Chapter 21

When I pulled into Jennifer's driveway, I noticed her car was gone.

Chances were good nobody was home, but I marched up to the door and knocked anyway. I knocked until my knuckles turned red.

Finally, I heard a voice. I looked to my right. An elderly woman in a rocking chair sat under an awning at the house next door. “If you're looking for the woman who lives there,” she said, pointing a crooked finger, “you just missed her. She left about an hour ago. Must be going on a trip. Had a suitcase with her.”

My heart plummeted. “Was she with a man?” I asked.

“
Yep. He went with her.”

“
Did they tell you where they were going?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm and steady.

“
Naw, they seemed to be in a big hurry, though. Like they were late to catch a plane or someth'n.”

“
Shit,” I said under my breath. I waved to the woman. “Thanks for your help.”

I got back in my car and sat there for a few minutes, a tight feeling in my chest. Were Max and Jennifer flying somewhere together? I refused to believe that he would do such a thing without letting me know. It didn't make any sense at all.

What could I do? Drive to the airport and try to catch them? There were three airports in the vicinity. They could be heading to any of them. I realized what I had to do, but it was going to be tricky. I had to get inside Jennifer's house to look for a clue.

I quickly devised a plausible story, then walked over to the next door neighbor. The woman was still rocking in her chair, head tilted back, basking in the sun.

“
Ma'am?” I said. “I need your help.”

She lifted her head and squinted at me. “Oh, hello. It's you again.”

“
Yes, look, I'm supposed to be taking care of Jennifer's pet hamster. She was supposed to leave a key under the mat out front, but it's not there. I've tried calling her, but she must be on the airplane. Do you know where she leaves her spare key?”

The woman scratched her chin. “What'd you say your name was?”

“
Sarah. I was just here yesterday. Do you remember seeing me or my car?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I do. But I'm sorry, I haven't the vaguest idea where she keeps a spare key.”

“
That's okay. I guess I'll have to break into a window or something. Jenn would be heartbroken if she came back to find her hamster dead.”

The woman laughed as she waved a hand around her nose. “Not to mention the smell.”

I sneaked to the back of the property, checking doors, windows, anything that might give easily. One of the windows was open just a crack. The screen was flimsy enough, so I tore it open. With all my strength, I lifted the window, then hoisted myself up and crawled inside.

I moved through the kitchen, out of breath, scanning the counters for paperwork, notes, or any other clue that might enlighten me. No dishes in the sink, no food left out on the kitchen table, no stacks of bills or paperwork of any kind. Just two empty bottles of cabernet in the recycling bin. The garbage was empty.

I proceeded to the next room and saw the love seat, where Max had been sitting the night before. A white, folded bed sheet was placed neatly on the edge. Had Max spent the night on that tiny couch? I couldn't picture it. But anything was better than an image of him sleeping in Jennifer's bed.

I continued on and found a bedroom. A queen size bed, with an ivory duvet cover, took up most of the space. A three-drawer bureau, and a mirror hanging over it, with several photographs taped to the sides. A small computer desk, no computer or laptop. On the floor next to the desk was a cardboard file. Inside, mostly utility bills.

I looked under the bed. A few pairs of sandals.

I went to the closet. A few nice dresses and casual attire hung on padded hangers. Behind the wardrobe was a shelf. Mostly knickknacks. A worn out shoebox caught my attention. In red marker, someone had written,
family photos
on the side of the box. I grabbed it, went to the bed, and sat down to look inside.

I thumbed through about a dozen polaroids and paused when I came across one of a young girl of about six or seven years old, wearing a ballerina costume. She looked just like Jennifer – same eyes, same smile, only with a few teeth missing. A few of the photos showed the same girl with a woman in her early thirties. They were at the beach in swimsuits.

At the bottom of the box was a newspaper article cutout, dated October 10th, 1991.

Woman jumps off Sunshine Skyway Bridge to her death
.

It showed the photo of a woman's face, resembling the same one in the photo with young Jennifer. I scanned the article, but there weren't many details about Charlotte Healy or why she had ended her life. Only that she was the third person to commit suicide that year by jumping off the tallest bridge in Florida. It did not mention that she had a daughter. The rest of the article talked about the statistics of suicide attempts from bridges around the country. I set the photos and newspaper clipping aside and continued searching the rest of the shoebox.

Jennifer's birth certificate. This confirmed that Charlotte was her mother. But, the space provided for the father's name was left blank. I wondered if Jennifer's mother had decided to keep the father's identity a secret from her own daughter. Did Jennifer have to figure it out herself?

A small notebook was at the very bottom of the box. Inside, hand written notes. The first page was dated a week after her mother's death. As I scanned each page, it became clear that Jennifer had kept this diary, a collection of clues to find the identity of her father. Conversations with Charlotte's friends and family, places she worked, hobbies, dates, random musings, and other shorthand that I could not decipher. The last page was dated two months ago. In large capital letters, the name Dennis Foster, underlined multiple times.

Had it really taken over two decades for Jennifer to figure out who her father was?

I returned everything to the box, placed it back in the closet, and continued to search her room. I was hoping to find an airline receipt, itinerary, or some other clue to tell me where she and Max were heading.

By three o'clock, I was ready to give up when I realized I hadn't checked the bathroom medicine cabinet. Inside were the kinds of things one would expect to find: eye drops, Q-tips, hydrogen peroxide, Advil, dental floss, and band-aids. And an empty prescription bottle for Cymbalta, to treat depression. I made note of the doctor's name, but I didn't know if that information would help.

And then a thought occurred to me. Jennifer must have taken the trash out before leaving. Was it still in one of the covered bins outside? Just the thought of going through her trash brought on feelings of nausea, but it was the last place to look.

I exited the house through the back door, making sure I had killed all the lights. The trash bins were located on the side of the house, facing the kind, old neighbor. I worked as quietly as possible, praying she wouldn't notice me going through the trash.

Lifting the lid, the smell hit me like a brick wall. There was no way in hell I was going to rummage through that rancid pile of slop that smelled like a dead body … not that I'd actually ever smelled a dead body, but I could only imagine.

I quietly replaced the lid of the trash bin and went back to my car. As I sat there, it finally dawned on me. This business with Jennifer and Max was none of my business. Just because my work with Brook ultimately led me to information about Jennifer's past, it didn't mean I had any right to dig into it. Sure, I was hurt and ashamed that Max had chosen her over me, but it was time to let it go. My time in Florida was up. And, apparently, my time with Max was up, too.