Truth-Stained Lies (17 page)

C
athy had just arrived at Michael’s office when Juliet burst in with both barrels loaded. “We’ve got to get Warren away from him!” she cried.

Cathy felt the same way. Jackson’s life was in danger.

Michael was the only one who seemed calm. “Okay, I’ve got a plan.”

Cathy shook her head. “If it’s the one about going to Mrs. Haughton, I don’t think it’ll work.”

“Just hear me out. Mrs. Haughton is grieving over her murdered daughter and is upset about her grandson. If we tell her … show her … what Holly found, she may agree to let Max and his team search her house. They can’t get a warrant yet, but if she voluntarily lets them in …”

“She won’t,” Holly said. “She’ll protect her son to the death.”

“Even if we show her that he’s tried to kill two of the people she loves most in the world?”

Cathy stared in front of her, trying to imagine how it might go.

“But I’m not sure she’s in her right mind,” Juliet said. “I mean, think about it. She let Warren take Jackson home, even though she knew she couldn’t care for him. She listened to him crying for hours and hours and didn’t let him go back to Juliet. She sat by while he had diarrhea and vomiting, and didn’t even call the doctor.”

“I know,” Michael said, “but my guess is that she’s already thinking of things that Warren said and did. She may be in denial, but there must be things gnawing at her.”

“But I wasn’t supposed to be prowling around in their house,” Holly said. “Wouldn’t it mess up the case if it went to trial and it came out that I found the mail when I was snooping in his room?”

“You were invited in,” Michael said. “You got a little nosy, but you weren’t breaking and entering. And you weren’t doing an illegal search, because you’re not a police officer.”

“So let me get this straight,” Juliet said. “If Mrs. Haughton gives the police permission to search, then it’s not an illegal search? And they won’t need a warrant?”

“That’s right. And it’s probably the only way we’re going to get the police to do it.”

“Are you sure they will, even then?” Cathy asked.

“Yes. Max has already told me he would if he got her permission. I’ll call him as soon as we hang up so he’ll be ready if she gives the word.”

Cathy sighed. “I guess it could work. We can be persuasive. And as sick as she is, Mrs. Haughton is a reasonable
woman. She must want the truth, especially if Jackson is still in danger.”

Holly closed her eyes. “We might just kill her. Hearing this is just gonna put her over the edge. I don’t know how much more that woman can take.”

“That’s the whole point,” Cathy said. “When we tell her that her son is trying to get her money, that this is all about greed, that he was taking his sister out of the equation and now is trying to take her grandson …”

Juliet brought her hands to her face. “I can’t stand thinking about the danger Jackson’s in.”

“That’s why we have to hurry.”

T
wenty minutes later, the three sisters stood at the front door of Mrs. Haughton’s house. Cathy was tense, but she bolstered herself. But Holly was breathing hard enough to hyperventilate. “Get a grip, Holly,” Cathy said. “We don’t have time to fall apart.”

Holly bent over, hands on her knees. “I’m just feeling a little sick.”

“We can do this together,” Juliet said. “Just stand up and breathe.”

Cathy rang the bell and followed it up with a hard knock.

“I feel horrible about this,” Holly whispered. “When she answers the door, she has to get up and get her cane and roll that oxygen tank with her. And for what? So we can rip out her heart and stomp on it?”

“It’s kind of important,” Cathy said.

They heard a creaking, a shuffling, and finally the door opened. Mrs. Haughton’s breathing sounded more asthmatic than before. Her eyes were wet and sunken. Her skin was even more gray.

Holly was the first to speak. “Mrs. Haughton, I’m so sorry to bother you again.”

“Is Jackson all right?”

Cathy answered before her sisters. “Actually, he’s not. We need to talk to you. Can we come in?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Haughton looked stricken, and she stepped back from the door and allowed them into the house. They closed the door. The smell of stale air and disease wafted over the room. Cathy remembered those smells from her mother’s illness. “Let’s go sit down, if you don’t mind.”

A look of stark dread on her face, Mrs. Haughton shuffled back into the living room. Holly took her tank and helped her get there.

Mrs. Haughton’s sunken eyes looked haunted by the time she reached her couch and sank down onto it. “Just tell me. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“No ma’am,” Holly said quickly. “He’s alive.”

The woman blew out a sigh of relief, then doubled over in a coughing fit.

“He’s still in ICU,” Juliet said when the coughing slowed. “His kidneys have failed.”

“He’s
worse
?” Her face twisted, and she brought her hand to her face. “It should be me, not him. Is Warren still with him?”

“Yes, that’s why we’re here.” Cathy nudged Holly. “Why don’t you tell her what you found?”

Holly shot Cathy a look of protest, so Cathy kept talking. “Mrs. Haughton, we need to be very honest with you
about what we know about Annalee’s death and about Jackson’s illness.”

The woman drew her brows together, her forehead pleating like an accordion. “You think the two are connected?”

“We know they are,” Cathy said.

Holly looked nervously at her sisters, then patted Mrs. Haughton’s cold hand. “Mrs. Haughton …” Her voice sounded shredded. She cleared her throat and tried again. “When I was here earlier today and I went to the bathroom, I saw Warren’s room. I went in there and looked around.”

“You did
what
?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her pitch rising. “It’s just that things weren’t adding up, and I had some suspicions.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way he’s been acting,” Cathy said. “Warren’s insistence that Jackson come home with you even though he was so upset … Jackson’s sudden illness.”

“He just wanted to … look after his nephew,” she said with as much indignation as she could muster. “You had no right!”

Mrs. Haughton began to cough again, and for a moment, Cathy thought she wouldn’t be able to catch her breath. She waited, hand on her shoulder, as the sick woman worked to clear her lungs.

Finally, Mrs. Haughton got a breath and gaped at Holly. “You searched his room?” she said, touching her chest.

“I just … looked around, and I saw something in his wastebasket.”

“His wastebasket?” Her shoulders heaved. “You were looking … in his trash? What for?”

“Mrs. Haughton,” Cathy interjected. “Holly was looking for a clown suit.”

The woman pulled her head back as if that didn’t make sense. “A clown suit?”

“Yes. Our brother told us that when he got to Annalee’s house that day, he saw a man coming out in a clown costume. That’s the person who killed Annalee.”

Mrs. Haughton shook her head. “But that’s a ridiculous made-up story. Even the police don’t believe it. It didn’t really happen.”

“Mrs. Haughton, we’ve been working with Michael Hogan,” Cathy said, “and he was able to find where it was purchased, and the post office box it was shipped to here in town. It was shipped to a man named Doug Streep. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“No.”

Holly picked up the story. “Juliet and I sat outside the post office, taking turns watching to see if any of the men we thought might be guilty showed up to check that box.”

“But it wasn’t one of them who showed up,” Juliet said.

Holly shook her head. “It was Warren.
He
showed up that day.”

Mrs. Haughton grunted. “Just because … he has a post office box …”

“Mrs. Haughton, if you go with me to his room right now, you’ll see what I saw this morning. Mail addressed to Doug Streep at the same post office box. Why would he have that mail if it’s not his box?”

For a moment Cathy thought the woman might shut this talk down, but she didn’t. Not yet.

“I don’t know who Doug Streep is, but … it isn’t Warren.” She dragged in a breath. “Your brother created that clown story … to get himself off the hook.”

“He didn’t make it up, Mrs. Haughton,” Holly said.

“It’s true. Warren’s getting mail addressed to Doug Streep because that’s the alias he used to rent the post office box.”

Mrs. Haughton hacked again. Holly shot a troubled look at Cathy. The woman got to the end of it, her words ripping out. “I want to see it. Show me.”

“All right,” Holly said. “Come and I’ll show you.”

She helped Mrs. Haughton get up, wheeled her oxygen tank, handed her her walker. Cathy and Juliet followed as she shuffled into Warren’s bedroom. Holly pointed to the mail in the trash can.

“
You
could have put it there!” Mrs. Haughton said. “Prowling around in my house …”

“You know I didn’t. You answered the door when I got here. I wasn’t carrying anything but donuts. I didn’t even bring my purse in.”

Mrs. Haughton stared at the catalog, sweat breaking out on her temples. “Get the mail out of there. I want to see all of it.”

Holly gathered it and showed it to her.

As she flipped through it, her body seemed to shake harder.

“Mrs. Haughton, do you remember if Warren ever brought a package home that might have held a clown suit?” Cathy asked.

She rubbed her eyes. “No. He wouldn’t …”

“Are you sure? Maybe he lied about what was in it,” Juliet said.

“No! I told you, there’s no clown suit.”

“Mrs. Haughton,” Holly said, “we want you to do one simple thing, and it will prove whether Warren is guilty or innocent.”

“He’s innocent!” she said as forcefully as she could
manage. “I don’t know why he has a post office box in someone else’s name … it’s nothing to do with Annalee. Your brother did this! He was there.”

Cathy wasn’t going to give up. “Why do you suppose he didn’t tell you earlier about Jackson’s bloody stools? It’s E. coli, Mrs. Haughton. He could have gotten a culture at work.”

Mrs. Haughton gasped. “You think
he
hurt Jackson?”

“Worse,” Juliet said. “We think he tried to kill him, and that he’s going to keep trying. He’s with him right now. He won’t leave his side.”

She gaped at them, her face reflecting her anguish.

“Mrs. Haughton, I know this is painful,” Holly said. “But is protecting Warren worth losing Jackson?”

Mrs. Haughton looked from side to side, as though she didn’t know what to do. “I … I can force him to let Juliet take over.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “We need you to do more than that,” Cathy said. “We want you to let the police come in the house and look around.”

“You mean search this house for evidence?”

“If there was any evidence, you would want to know, wouldn’t you? Don’t you want your daughter’s murder solved?”

Mrs. Haughton was trembling now from head to toe. Cathy kept pressing.

“Your grandson has E. coli,” Cathy said. “He almost died right here in this house. Warren works at a lab where they test for E. coli. He gets your inheritance when you die, and he doesn’t want to share it. He got rid of his sister, and now he’s taking out his nephew.”

Cathy knew her words were harsh, but gentleness wouldn’t pierce Mrs. Haughton’s denial.

“He’s my son!” She took a step and almost dropped.

All three of them reached out to steady her. “Are you okay?” Holly asked.

“No, I’m not okay,” she said. “This is absurd!”

Juliet made her look at her. “If you would just let them come in and look around, you could be sure. It could put your mind to rest. If there’s nothing to find, then it’s okay. But if there is something …”

“Then I lose my daughter
and
my son,” Mrs. Haughton rasped out.

They all got quiet as she stood there, holding onto Cathy and Holly, staring into space. Finally, Cathy tried again. “Mrs. Haughton, Jackson’s life is hanging by a thread.”

“Then get him away from him,” she said. “I’ll relinquish custody.”

Cathy wasn’t satisfied. “If you love your grandson, you’ll let the police come in here,” Cathy said.

Mrs. Haughton seemed to be replaying the week’s events. “I need a lawyer,” she said. “I have to call.” She shuffled back to the living room, dropped onto the couch, and grabbed her address book out of the end table drawer. She flipped through the pages. “I have to —”

“Mrs. Haughton,” Cathy said, knowing that if she called her lawyer everything would come to a halt. “Listen to me!”

The woman looked up, her eyes frantic.

“Later you can get a lawyer for Warren if he gets in any trouble. But right now, don’t you want to know if he killed your daughter?”

“Of course I do!”

“Don’t you want to know if your grandson was poisoned?”

“He wasn’t!”

“Don’t you want to know if your son is trying to
manipulate things so that he’ll get the whole inheritance for himself?”

Mrs. Haughton shook her head hard, her mouth hanging open in a silent cry.

“You know you have doubts,” Holly said softly. “You know that Jay’s story could be true. You know he loved his wife, that it wasn’t his idea to get a divorce. You know he couldn’t walk in there and murder her and take away Jackson’s mother.”

Tears escaped and rolled down Mrs. Haughton’s wrinkled cheeks.

“I know this is hard,” Holly said, tears assaulting her too. “I wouldn’t do this to you for the world. But all you have to do is open the door and let the police come in. We can have them here in a few minutes. Mrs. Haughton, please say yes. For Annalee’s sake. For Jackson’s.”

For a long moment the woman just trembled, wiping the tears from her face with unsteady hands. Cathy was certain that she was going to say no and call the attorney, who would make sure no one searched without a warrant. She also knew they’d probably never get one.

But finally, the old woman slid her hands down her face. “Call them,” she said.

Cathy sucked in a breath. “Call the police?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll let them in.”