The Secrets She Kept (7 page)

“You’re talking about Hugh Pointer.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a confirmation. “Yes.”

“I thought so.” Underwood clasped her hands in front of her. “He’s already married, Maisey.”

This news hit Keith like a solid right hook.
“What?”

“You heard correctly. I called to get a statement from him before he could hear the news from someone else.”

“So...what was he doing with our mother?” Keith asked.

She moved some papers onto a pile to her left. “This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s cheated.”

“I’d be willing to bet it was the first time someone cheated on our mother,” Maisey said. “Did she
know
he was married?”

Keith answered before Chief Underwood could. “No way. Mom would never
tolerate second place.”

“I tend to agree,” Underwood said. “She didn’t strike me as someone who’d accept anything less than total devotion. Although I couldn’t say we were friends, I met her on several occasions—at the playhouse one night, at the opening of the new art gallery a block over, at the event we held to raise money to equip our volunteer firefighters. She was...formidable, to say the least. So I’m guessing she didn’t know but found out, and that may have precipitated her death. Could be she suspected something was up, hired a private detective to follow Hugh around and...”

Underwood didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to. If Josephine had suspected, she could’ve done exactly that. Their mother wouldn’t hesitate to protect her interests. From time to time, Keith had even suspected she had people watching
him
.

No longer sure what to say, he sank back into his seat. “What a bastard.”

“Well, if she was hoping to marry him for his money...” Underwood raised her hands as if she didn’t care to spell out
that
thought, either, and she had a point.

Keith had expected the fact that Josephine had packed her bags and had a fabulous vacation lined up to serve as proof that she’d planned to stick around long enough to enjoy it. But if she’d been battling to save her fortune, her land and her house, and she’d just learned that her only hope of solving these problems wasn’t going to pan out...

God, she could’ve called
him
, Keith thought. He was shocked at how good he was at making money, once he really started to apply himself.

But, as Chief Underwood had mentioned, Josephine had too much pride...

“Wait,” he said. “If she was planning to go visit him at his home...what about his wife? How would he keep them from meeting up?”

“Lana Pointer was touring Europe with their daughter, who’s eighteen. They have two sons, who’re closer to your age, married and on their own, and then this girl, who came as a late surprise when his wife was in her forties.”

Les Scott, a uniformed police officer and someone Keith had gone to school with before ninth grade—at which point Josephine had shipped him off to boarding school—stuck his head in the room. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m going to lunch and wondered if you’d like me to bring you a sandwich,” he said to his chief.

“That’d be great. I’ll have the meatball sub, extra sauce,” she told him and the door closed. “So...does that answer your questions?” she asked when they were alone again.

No. In Keith’s opinion, what she’d told them only created
more
questions, and he could tell Maisey felt as bewildered as he did. “Our mother would never commit suicide,” he replied. “Despite everything you’ve said.”

“It’s a long time since you were home.” Underwood spoke as if he wouldn’t really know. She seemed to think she had it all figured out. But nothing about Josephine was simple. It never had been.

“Her phone’s missing,” he said. “So’s her computer. I take it you have them?”

“Yes. I’ve got her phone right here.” She delved into a drawer and held up his mother’s Samsung Galaxy. “Her computer’s with an evidence technician in Charleston.”

“Because...”

“I’m doing my homework.”

“When can I get them back?”

“When I’m done. I’m still tying up loose ends. If I can prove she had a private detective looking for information on her boyfriend, for instance, we’ll be able to fit in that piece of the puzzle.”

The nervous energy passing through Keith made him bounce his knee. Thanks to his exercise regimen, he couldn’t remember being this tense in quite some time. “You’re trying to prove suicide.”

“If I prove suicide, I’ll disprove murder.”

“You’ll never prove suicide because she didn’t kill herself.” He indicated the folder. “Any chance I can get a copy of what you’ve got in there?”

Underwood returned the file to its drawer. “Not right now. Maybe later.”

“Why wait?” he asked. “I only want the truth.”

She met his gaze. “Keith, I’m doing all you can reasonably expect of me. I don’t need you getting in the way or making my life difficult.”

Apparently, his reputation had preceded him. He lifted his hands. “All I asked for is a copy of the file, Chief. That can’t be too hard to provide.”

With a long-suffering shake of her head, she got out the file again—but set it beyond his reach. “Fine,” she conceded. “I’ll have Les scan the contents and email them to you. Fair enough?”

Keith wrote his email address on a notepad he found on the desk and handed it to her. “This is where it should go.”

“He’ll jump right on it.”

Keith caught a hint of sarcasm in her response—as if he was being too high-handed—but he ignored it. He wouldn’t let anyone stand in the way of the answers he sought. Including her. “I’d also be grateful if you’d call over to the morgue and make arrangements for us to see her today.”

Underwood’s mouth tightened, suggesting this put her off even more. “The morgue isn’t designed for public viewings. You’ll be able to see her after they release her body. Once she’s at a funeral home, you can go ahead and have a viewing or bury her or whatever you’d like.”

“That’ll be after the autopsy, which will take another day or two. Maybe more. Chances are she’ll no longer resemble the woman I remember, and you know it.”

“That’s not necessarily true. People have open caskets after autopsies all the time—”

“I haven’t seen her in five years, Chief Underwood. Could you show me a little compassion and make it possible to spend ten minutes with my dead mother today?”

“I’d like to see her, too,” Maisey piped up. “I don’t think any of this will feel real until I do.”

Chief Underwood closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if she was digging deep for patience. Keith could tell she thought she was already bending over backward by agreeing to give him a copy of the file. Ultimately, however, she gave in. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t. Just keep in mind that they’re busy over there and probably won’t welcome you. This will force someone to take time out of his or her schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you’d be as brief as possible.”

“You have my word,” Keith said and waited while she made the call.

“You can head there now if you like,” Underwood told him when she hung up and wrote down the address. “The supervising technician, a man by the name of Dean Gillespie, will meet you when you arrive and take you back.”

“Thank you.” Keith shook her hand before leading Maisey out into the cool, damp weather of another rainy day.

“The morgue?” Maisey said as they climbed into his rental car. The keys of his mother’s Mercedes were where she’d always kept them, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to drive her car quite yet. “We’re going to the
morgue
?”

“Would you rather not?” he asked.

She seemed a little shell-shocked. “I’d like to see Mom, as I said. I’m just not sure what else you’re hoping to accomplish.”

“I want to see the condition of her body.”

“You’re afraid there might be injuries they’re not telling us about?”

“I’d rather not take someone else’s word for it. Doesn’t hurt to stay involved, right?” He started the car but didn’t shift into Drive. “So...are you in? Or should I drop you off at home?”

Although she frowned, she didn’t take long to decide. “I’m in. But then what?”

“Then we choose a pathologist we feel we can trust from the list they gave you. Whoever it is will probably need to have her transferred to the hospital where he or she works.”

“And after that?”

“I’d like to talk to Hugh.”

She buckled her seat belt. “Why? So you can ask him if Mom knew he was married? You’ll have no way of knowing whether he’s telling the truth.”

“I can ask him that and other things. Compare what he tells me with what he told the police. Look for inconsistencies. I can also research his background, find out what’s going on in his life and what he might’ve been after by dating Mom in the first place. That might be more useful.”

Maisey rolled her eyes. “Why? Isn’t it obvious? Men adored Mom. I’ve never seen a woman attract so much attention—except maybe Marilyn Monroe.”

That the starlet had also died naked with an empty bottle of pills nearby made the comparison a bit chilling. Was that where their mother’s killer had gotten the idea? “So why wasn’t he willing to leave his wife for her?”

“Maybe he loves his wife. Or he wasn’t willing to break up his family. Chief Underwood mentioned two sons and a youngish daughter.”

“His wife
has
to be easier to live with than Mom would’ve been.”

“He wouldn’t have realized that yet. No one can resist Mom when she’s pouring on the charm.”

“Still, I can’t buy that she’d ever take her own life.”

“Even after what we just heard?”

“Did it change
your
mind?” he asked.

She looked dejected as she stared at the wet, shiny pavement ahead of them. “Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“No,” she said.

“There you go.”

He’d finally shifted and pulled away from the curb when he saw a woman carrying a fluffy Chow Chow—a dog too big for that sort of thing—down the sidewalk ahead of them. “That’s Nancy, isn’t it? And her dog, Simba?”

Maisey took so long to answer he thought she was going to ignore the question.

“Isn’t it?” he prompted, throwing her a sharp glance.

She squinted through the windshield as if she wasn’t quite sure. “Maybe,” she said.

He
knew
it was Nancy. He’d recognize her anywhere.

Pulling alongside her, he lowered the passenger window. “Hey, climb in,” he called out. “We’ll give you a ride.”

She started at the sound of his voice. She’d obviously been so intent on not dropping her heavy bundle that she hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on around her. She was probably also a little surprised to see him. The only interaction they’d had in the five years he’d been gone was a handful of calls, all instigated by him and all of which she’d ignored, and the car he’d tried to give her a few years ago, which she’d forced the driver to return.

“That’s okay,” she said. “It’s not much farther.”

If she was still in the same house, and he guessed she was, she lived just down the street in a small cottage she’d inherited from her late aunt. She was right—it wasn’t far. But she was already struggling to hang on to her dog. “Simba’s got to be getting heavy,” he said. “And he doesn’t look comfortable. Let us give you a ride,” he said again.

“We’re wet,” she responded.

“Avis will clean the car when I return it,” he told her.

“Come on!” Maisey chimed in and, rather than say no to both of them, Nancy slowed to a stop.

7

NANCY COULDN’T BELIEVE IT.
Maisey had stopped by just this morning to warn her that she might run into Keith and here he was—at the worst possible moment. Her hair was plastered to her head. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. She had on a jogging outfit that probably showed every extra pound. And she was breathing heavily from exertion.

She told herself not to even think like that. She didn’t care if he admired her. She’d been crazy to believe he could ever give her what she needed. Maybe she wasn’t a svelte 120 pounds, like his mother, but she was done hanging on to his every word and feeling grateful for any scrap of attention. She was done starving herself in order to be something she wasn’t. She’d find the right companion eventually—or she’d continue to build a fulfilling life alone.

“What happened?” Maisey asked as Nancy situated her dog beside her. “Why were you carrying Simba?”

She held Simba back so he couldn’t stick his muzzle between the front seats. “He stepped on a piece of glass while we were on our walk, so I took him to the vet.” And here she’d thought she’d been fortunate that the incident had occurred only two doors down from the animal clinic. If she’d taken him home and looked after him herself, she wouldn’t have been on the side of the road at that particular moment, and then she might’ve been able to put off encountering Keith until the funeral. She told herself she didn’t care what he thought of her looking so bad, but being around him wasn’t exactly comfortable...

“Poor baby. Will he be okay?”

This came from Maisey again. Keith hadn’t said anything since she’d climbed in, but she could see his stunning blue-green eyes in the rearview mirror as he eased into traffic. She still dreamed about those eyes...

Only because she hadn’t found the guy she was going to fall in love with, she quickly told herself. She was working on that; it was just a matter of time. At least ten new prospects from her online dating site had left her a message over the weekend. And more were coming in every day... “Should be. He cut his front paw, but the vet cleaned and dressed the wound.”

Maisey held her seat belt away from her body so she could turn around and pet him. “You were trying not to set him down until you got home?”

“I didn’t see any reason to let his bandage get dirty.”

“He’s too big to carry,” Maisey said with a chuckle.

Nancy refused to let her gaze shift back to that rearview mirror and what it revealed of Keith. She could smell his cologne, which was bad enough. “I do it all the time—pick him up and carry him over to the couch so he’ll sit with me, or to the tub out back for his bath. He’d never
voluntarily
get in the tub. But I’ve never tried to haul him several blocks. The distance makes a difference.”

“I’ll bet,” she agreed. “I’m glad we saw you.”

“So am I,” Nancy lied and turned her face toward the window so Keith wouldn’t be able to get a good look at her even if he tried.

“How’s business at the flower shop?” he asked.

She cleared her throat. “Better than ever.”

“Who’s working today?”

“Marlene Fillmore, a new girl. You wouldn’t know her. She moved to the island about a year ago. From Charleston.”

“Did you train her?”

“Didn’t need to—not really. She worked out of her house doing flowers for weddings, so she’s had plenty of experience.”

“That’s good.”

Why would he care? He’d left all of this behind...

“I’m sorry about your mother,” she said to finally get that out of the way. “I...” She wasn’t sure what else to add. She knew how he’d felt about Josephine. She also knew that some of his problems revolved around the fact that he couldn’t completely hate her, couldn’t completely turn away from the woman who’d raised him.

Or had he come to terms with cutting her off? Maybe that was why he was doing so well. “I was shocked and saddened,” she finished.

“Thank you.”

His response was polite, nothing that offered any clue as to how deeply he was hurting. But they’d arrived at her house. There was no need to make more conversation.

As soon as he came to a full stop, she reached for her dog, but he spoke before she could take Simba in her arms.

“Did my mom ever say anything to you that sounded like she might be contemplating suicide?”

“No. I got no indication whatsoever.”

“Would you say she was acting the same?”

Mrs. Lazarow had been as irritable and caustic as ever. But Nancy couldn’t say that. Keith and Maisey had to be mourning, no matter how they’d felt about their mother. “I got the impression she was in good spirits. So I’m as stunned as everyone else.”

Simba’s collar jingled as she lifted him into her lap.

“Nancy?”

Keith again. She waited while he turned to look directly at her.

So much for avoiding his gaze...

“Have you ever met Hugh Pointer?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Who?”

“Hugh Pointer. My mother was dating him. Did she ever bring him into the flower shop? Mention him to you?”

“She told me she was going to Australia to see someone she was dating. Maybe that was Hugh. She asked me to complete the work schedule at the shop for the next few weeks so she could leave feeling confident that I’d be able to get by without her—having someone to take over on my days off and so on. That’s it.”

She got the feeling that he would’ve liked to ask her more, but she didn’t give him the chance. She climbed out as gracefully as she could while cradling a sixty-five-pound dog.

“Thanks for the ride,” she called and managed to close the door with her hip.

Unfortunately, he got out, too—and hurried around the car. “Here, I’ll take Simba,” he said. “You go unlock the door.”

She wished Simba would growl or refuse to be touched, but he was the friendliest Chow on the planet. Even if he hadn’t remembered Keith, he wouldn’t have balked. He lowered his ears and wagged his tail in greeting while Keith took him from her.

Traitor.
Cursing herself for ever going out of the house this morning, Nancy hurried up the walkway ahead of them—and nearly dropped her keys, she was in such a hurry to open the door.

Several seconds later, she managed to get the key in the lock. “Go ahead and set him inside,” she said as she swung the door wide.

As soon as Keith put Simba down, Simba limped off to curl up in his bed by the couch.

“Thanks again.” She thought that was it, that she’d soon be able to breathe a sigh of relief and congratulate herself on not melting at the sight of her former lover. However, Keith put a hand on the door.

“I can tell you’re not interested in hearing this, but...I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you. I was...I was a wrecking ball back then. I destroyed everything and everyone I came into contact with.”

He’d been trying to destroy
himself
more than anything, to escape the pain he was in. She understood. But it didn’t make things any easier that she’d wanted so much more from him than he’d ever wanted from her.

She pushed the wet hair out of her face. “You have nothing to worry about,” she said. “That was years ago. I don’t think about it anymore.”

“Really? Because I still owe you money.”

He withdrew his wallet, but she stopped him before he could open it. Maisey had already reimbursed her for what Keith had borrowed. Keith’s sister had made her take the money and asked her not to tell Keith she’d stepped in. They both knew he wouldn’t appreciate her getting involved in his business, especially since her actions revealed doubt that he’d ever take care of the debt himself.

The old Keith wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have been able to...

“Don’t worry about that, either,” she said. “I helped out a friend. No big deal.”

He blinked at her. “You won’t let me pay you back?”

Shit...
Considering the situation, and the fact that he now had way more money than she did, pretending wasn’t believable, wasn’t even
reasonable
. The amount was too great. “To be honest, your sister paid me a long time ago, Keith. So, please, give the money to her.”

There went her promise but, short of accepting the money, which she didn’t want to do, she felt she had no other choice.

“Oh.” He frowned as he put away his wallet.

Eager for a shower so she could begin her day, Nancy nearly shut the door and let it go at that. She planned to forget she’d ever encountered him. But she did feel
some
sympathy for the loss he’d suffered. “I’m sincerely sorry about your mother. If there’s anything I can do to help out with the funeral, please let me know. I’m already doing the flowers—for free, of course.”

He studied her through the crack she’d left between the door and its frame. “You should get paid for that.”

“No. I’m happy to contribute. She was my employer for seven years. I learned a lot from her. I’m a much better designer thanks to...”
her intense criticism
“...her high standards.”

“Okay.”

“Enjoy your stay on the island.” No doubt she’d see him at the funeral, but she didn’t plan on speaking to him again. They’d both said all that needed to be said.

After she closed the door, she leaned against it and forced herself to stay put instead of hurrying over to the window so she could watch him return to his car. For five years she’d been telling herself she never wanted to see him again—and yet she craved a better look, a chance to study him without his looking back at her.

He’d changed as much as Maisey had said, she decided, picturing him in her mind instead. He’d filled out that tall, spare frame, packed a lot more muscle onto it, but he was still lean and wiry. He didn’t have a weight problem like she did. His face, once so exaggerated, so angular, had softened, as well. He no longer appeared gaunt, which suggested he was eating—something he didn’t do enough of when he was on drugs. His eyes were clearer and brighter, too, his whole bearing more confidence.

That he was doing so well made her breathe easier. But that in itself concerned her. If she didn’t care about him anymore, why would she feel such relief?

“Damn you,” she muttered, but she wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself, for still being so susceptible to the attraction she’d always felt, or him, for not feeling any attraction at all.

* * *

“Nancy’s lost weight,” Keith said over a Beatles song that was playing on the radio.

The way Maisey fidgeted with her seat belt gave Keith the impression she didn’t want to discuss Nancy. “A few pounds,” she finally said.

“She looks great.”

His sister folded her arms as he came to a stop at the light. “She’ll never be model-thin.”

Her comment struck him as odd. Her weight had never bothered him before; why would it bother him now? “Who says she has to be?”

“No one. I’m just making an observation.”

“And that is...”

“She’s never been your type.”

“I have a
type
?”

“Yes. Skinny, blond and beautiful. More like the police chief. She’s pretty, don’t you think?”

She
was
pretty, but that was beside the point. “Not everyone I date is blond—or skinny,” he said. “I was with Nancy before, wasn’t I? And she was heavier than she is now.”

“You can’t use Nancy as an example.”

The light turned green. He made a left, onto the main drag. “Why not?”

“She was a divergence. Even
she
was surprised when you took an interest in her.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not. You’re used to getting whoever you want. And when you can have anyone, you typically don’t choose someone who’s a few pounds overweight.”

“She’s not that heavy!”
She
thought she was, and had always been self-conscious about it. The first night they’d made love, he’d had a hell of a time getting her to trust him enough to take off her clothes. But it had been worth the battle. She’d given him intimacy and warmth, someone to cling to when he had needed it most. And once she grew comfortable, there’d been plenty of physical attraction and enjoyment. He’d liked the softness of her curves and the fact that she was exactly as nature had made her. Although he wouldn’t be vulgar enough to say it, especially to his sister, she had the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. Her legs weren’t bad, either. She just carried a little extra weight around the waist.

“Name one other woman you’ve dated who’s been overweight,” Maisey said.

“Maybe I wasn’t
initially
attracted to Nancy, but the more I got to know her, the prettier she became.” She just couldn’t compete with the cocaine that’d kept him going back then. No one could.

“She’s not capable of dealing with someone like you. That’s all.”

“You remember what I was like back then, Mais. I wasn’t capable of having a relationship with
anyone
. Even you. But I’m clean now. Things are different.”

“She’s still outgunned, doesn’t have nearly as much experience with men as those women you’ve been dating in LA. You need someone more...sophisticated.”

He turned down the radio. “You mean someone who can’t get hurt because she doesn’t know how to care in the first place? Someone more like Mom?”

“Of course not! But what you had with Nancy wasn’t a real relationship, either, so don’t try to pretend it was.”

Keith told himself to relax so this wouldn’t explode into an argument. He understood why she might be protective of Nancy, but he didn’t need Maisey piling on. He already felt like shit because of what he’d done. “How was it not a real
relationship? I liked her. A lot.”

He’d never been around anyone less
like his mother. She’d been exactly what he needed at the time. He still wasn’t sure what he would’ve done without her friendship and support. But she’d definitely given him the cold shoulder a few minutes ago. She hadn’t been happy to see him; he could tell.

“You’ve liked plenty of women,” Maisey said as if that was meaningless.

He shot her a scowl. “I’m not going to hurt Nancy. For your information, I just apologized to her.”

His sister’s attitude seemed to improve. “That was nice of you.”