Sky High (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 2) (15 page)

If Bruce’s injuries had been caused by a tennis racket, we’d have our killer.

“I remember Andrea’s face when she said her dad wouldn’t hurt Bruce. I didn’t completely believe her,” I said.

“And based on what we just heard, you shouldn’t have.”

“What reason would Eli have to lie to us now?” I wondered.

“He knows the evidence is stacked against him, and he’s probably grasping at straws. His lawyer is going to be pissed. Actually, talking to us is a sign of poor self-control.”

“Maybe. You know what’s bugging me? The missing fifty thousand dollars.”

“Right. Eli dug his own hole there. He’s a banker. He does know the ins and outs of the system. He had time to hide the money, and it could be anywhere. And now that Bruce is gone, there are other financial issues we have to consider immediately—life insurance, investments, wedding gifts, and who knows what else. In a family with that much, at least on Frank’s side, we’ve got a lot to think about.”

We’d already run checks on Bruce’s property and possible involvement in civil and/or tax cases. Nothing surprising had turned up. Now we needed to dig deeper and wider, and not just into Bruce’s history.

“Do you think he or Andrea sent someone after us in Florida?” I asked.

Dean had asked Eli about it at the last minute, and Eli had seemed genuinely confused by the question.

“I don’t know. He was hard to read. I almost wish we’d been hit so the police had more evidence to work with. Maybe they could have tracked down that car.”

“But then it might have crashed too, and someone might have finished the job. I don’t have regrets about it.”

“That’s looking at the bright side,” he teased.

We agreed to sit in the car and jot down notes, check email, and make a to-do list before pulling away.

“I have an email from Mia. Do you?” I asked.

“No. What is it?”

I didn’t think it could be more bad news, unless Lydia had taken a turn for the worse.

I was wrong.

Twenty

“Mia got her lab work back, and there was a problem,” I told Dean, hardly believing what I’d just read. Mia hadn’t mentioned getting together to talk, but she’d asked me to call Liz about the test results, so that’s what I did.

“Nicki?” Liz said when she picked up.

We commiserated about the day’s sad news, and I explained the second email I’d received from Mia.

“I’m afraid to ask what she meant by a ‘problem,’” I said.

“You won’t believe it, Nicki, or maybe you will. She tested positive for syphilis, and she can’t be Lydia’s donor.”

“What?” I thought syphilis was an outdated STD, but I was questioning my recollection. “I’m not even sure what that is.”

“I don’t know much about it, but remember how you got all that testing done after you found out about Jason?”

“Of course. I’ll never forget it.”

Because Jason had cheated on me, and partly because no one was alive to talk about it, I had to get tested for every STD under the sun. I didn’t have the courage or emotional energy to ask my OB-GYN what she was checking for, other than HIV. I just wanted a clean bill of health. Dean could rest assured I was as close to Mia’s purity as he’d find anywhere. At least that’s what I’d thought until now.

“Well, this is the same sort of thing,” Liz said. “Mia thinks there’s only one way she could have gotten it, and that’s from Bruce. Given what she’s learned from the police about Eli’s daughter, if Bruce wasn’t honest about his past, maybe he was hiding things in his present, too.”

I was angry on Mia’s behalf, but I tried to sound calm. “You mean she thinks he was unfaithful during their relationship?”

“She doesn’t know, and she has to have another test to confirm the diagnosis. But syphilis is usually sexually transmitted, although not necessarily through intercourse, and you can have it without realizing it. Thankfully, it’s treatable with antibiotics, but it’s important to catch it early.”

“Is there a vaccine?”

“Not that I know of. Mia was told the disease had become less common in the U.S., but there’s been a resurgence recently. I don’t know why.”

“She must be devastated. How on earth is she getting through this?”

Maybe she was breaking down the same way I did when I lost Jason. Ceasing to function except for the most essential of acts, such as eating and caring for others, and even those could be mechanical, if they were possible at all.

I rested my head in my hand, and I felt Dean touch my shoulder. I was so lost in thought I’d forgotten he was there, waiting to pull out of the jail parking lot.

“Focusing on Lydia is saving Mia,” Liz said. “She hasn’t told Lydia the specifics yet. Just that there was a glitch they need to resolve. She knows it could be the last straw for her. Can you imagine Lydia finding out about Bruce and then not getting the transplant from Mia?”

“No,” I said. “I can’t.” I’d had to tell Jason’s parents about his death and the choices he’d made before it. It was unspeakable, and unlike Lydia, they’d been healthy. I’d never been close to them, and they lived in Oregon, so we kept in touch mostly through mail, photos, and occasional visits.

“The doctors are sorting through the options,” Liz continued, “and she and Mia will have to decide how to proceed.”

“Aunt Liz, is Mia sure Bruce is the only one who could have given her this?”

“I think so. She only dated one other person seriously, and it wasn’t serious in that way. In fact, that’s why they broke up.”

“Because she doesn’t believe in sex before marriage?”

“Even more than that. Back then, she didn’t believe in almost anything before marriage. She was very shy, and she was heartbroken.”

“You’re talking about her relationship with Austin?”

“Yes, and it’s good he came up. She found more of his contact information and asked me to give it to you. Hang on.”

I heard papers shifting, and I tried to gather myself in the few moments of silence. When I had the courage, I looked at Dean and smiled weakly. His expression was so concerned that I wanted to comfort him.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I think it’ll be okay. Eventually.”

Maybe that was too hopeful. C. diff? Syphilis? Heartbreak? That was a lot to cure.

“Ready?” Liz asked.

“Oh, sorry, no.” I rummaged in my purse for note-taking supplies. “Okay. Go ahead.”

She gave me Austin’s address, which I’d been meaning to track down.

It looked like money wouldn’t be the only trail we’d be following. We couldn’t forget love.

Every new couple should have a discussion about STDs. Just maybe not this soon.

I was honest with Dean about how I related to Mia. It was an opportunity to put it out there, and part of me wanted him to know the intensity of my feelings about cheating. My only concern was that if he’d done it in the past, he might never admit it, since it was a potential deal breaker for me. I’d actually prefer an STD to a history of infidelity.

“No one should have to go through that,” I said. “And Mia’s situation is much worse than mine was.”

“You’re right. No one deserves that,” Dean said, holding my gaze. “Nicki, I’m really sorry about everything you’ve been though.”

I looked down and then back at him. “Have you ever cheated on anyone?”

I’d once read that it’s best to ask what you really want to know. Especially the tough questions. But that was in regards to picking a safe school for my kids—not picking a boyfriend. “Are you a cheater?” was a lot different from “What’s your emergency evacuation plan?” (Although the questions were remarkably similar.) I was surprised I’d been so blunt with Dean.

He chuckled under his breath, taken aback, but his answer was quick. “No, and I never would. That’s one thing I know.” He paused. “How about you?”

“No, and I never would, either.” I was as likely to cheat as I was to run a marathon. As absurd as either idea was, I’d have to prove myself to Dean, just like he’d have to prove himself to me. Or would we? Was it ever okay just to trust someone?

I pushed away thoughts of Ginny and was glad when he changed the subject.

“Back to our to-do list,” he said.

“Right. Add Mia’s ex-boyfriend Austin. Liz gave me his address, which we should have gotten sooner. Every time I call him, his voicemail box is full. Should we call again or just stop by?”

“Do you have time to do either?”

“Actually, I do. Kenna’s watching the kids tonight.”

“Great. Let’s go by his house and see if he’s home. Football’s on tonight, and it’s a big game. Maybe he’ll be home for it.” He glanced at his phone. “Let’s try to catch him before it starts.”

Austin’s house was cute as a button and probably affordable because it was in a neighborhood you’d have to pay me to enter. Since Frank was doing just that, and I had Dean by my side, I pretended I didn’t mind getting out of the car and gripping my purse.

Lights glowed through Austin’s thin curtains, and an old, economy sedan was in the driveway, so I hoped he was home.

I surveyed the nearby houses, some of which were unkempt. In one, the curtains hung askew, and in another, stacks of junk filled the windows of a “sunroom.”

There were signs of hope, though, including Austin’s lit porch, which was decorated with two large pumpkins and interesting, lumpy varieties of squash that reminded me of toads. Sophie and Jack would have loved them.

“Got your ID handy?” Dean asked. “Just in case he wants to see it?”

I unzipped my purse and pulled it out. “Now I do.”

We climbed a few rickety steps to his porch, and I rang the bell. A figure moved slowly to the door and pulled back a sheer curtain before opening it. An elderly woman with thin, silver hair and suspicious eyes scrutinized us through protective iron bars. I gave a friendly wave and said hello, hoping she could see me clearly. Maybe we had the wrong house.

“What do you want?” she demanded, erasing my smile.

“We’re looking for Austin Fry, ma’am. Do we have the right house?” Dean said loudly enough for her to hear through the door.

Instead of answering, she yelled, “Austin!” and turned away, letting the curtain close. “Are you expecting company?”

Pounding feet made their way down steps I’d glimpsed behind her, and the curtains parted again, this time revealing a handsome redhead about Mia’s age. He had the same crew cut as Jack—short enough to prevent bedhead.

“Can I help you?” he said, still not opening up.

“We’re private investigators,” I said. “We’re looking into the death of Bruce Fallon. Mia Gordon gave us your address.”

He turned a lock and opened the door.

“I already talked to some detectives,” he said. “But you said Mia sent you?” We nodded, and he stood back to let us enter. “You can come in, I guess. Sorry about my grandma. This neighborhood has kind of tanked.”

“No problem,” I said, putting out my hand. “I’m Nicki, and this is my partner, Dean. ” We held out our state-issued IDs.

“Okay,” he said, inspecting them. “I’m getting ready for a softball game, so I don’t have long. Is Mia doing okay? I heard about Bruce on the news. I still can’t believe it.”

“It’s a really tough time,” I said. “But I’m sure she’ll pull through.”

The softball story seemed legit, since Austin sported a white thermal shirt under a royal blue uniform with “20” and “Polo Plumbing” on the back. He wore it well, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he and Dean bonded over fitness.

We followed him to a living room where Grandma sat by a waning fire and gold-ribbon-themed Christmas tree. Its dim, white lights were the only things brightening the room. It would be hard to see much, including the dirt stains I’d noticed on Austin’s jersey and pants in the hallway.

“I’m Betty,” Grandma said, rising slowly and grasping our hands more than shaking them. “I’m sorry about the door. I have to be careful these days. Austin’s staying with me while he looks for a job. I hope he finds one, of course, but I appreciate his company meanwhile.”

“Looks like you’re ready for the holidays,” I said after we finished introductions. “I love your tree.”

“Oh, I leave it up all year,” she said proudly. “What’s more cheerful than Christmas?”

On December twenty-fifth, not much. In early November, I wasn’t sure. Austin rolled his eyes while Dean and I smiled politely and took wingback chairs across from him and Betty, who shared a sofa. No one offered to take our coats, and I was happy to stay warm in mine.

“Where do you play?” Dean asked Austin. If he answered Jones Falls Park, this was going to get interesting quickly. Instead, he named a field I hadn’t heard of, and he and Dean talked softball. “I know you’re headed out,” Dean continued, “so we won’t keep you long.”

“Don’t worry. I know why you’re here,” Austin interrupted. “I’ve already been through this with the police. I’m Mia’s ex, and I still care about her, so I was a potential suspect. Blah, blah, blah. I get it. But they know who did it now, so why are you on the case?”

He still cared about her? He might have been a suspect?
Thanks for sharing, Austin.

“Well, given how close you and Mia have been,” Dean said, leaning forward, “we knew you’d be willing to help her by talking to us. We’re just trying to understand the background of her relationship with Bruce and what kind of guy he was. Just dotting i’s and crossing t’s.”

I took a mental step back and let Dean take charge.

“I don’t know,” Austin said. “He was the kind of guy who pissed people off.” He looked at Betty, whose lips were pursed. “Sorry, Grandma. Mia was upset about our breakup, and he swooped in senior year and took advantage of her.” He set his jaw and stared at Dean. “He’s one of those pretty boys who looks great on the outside but’s slime on the inside, you know? And Mia’s the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet.”

“That’s what I hear.” Dean nodded toward me. “Nicki knows her, and she says the same. When did you realize what kind of person Bruce was?”

“Pretty quickly. Good looks. Nice car. Big money. Just…a jerk. Not to speak ill of the dead or anything.”

“It’s okay. We need the truth. Can you give us some examples?” Dean asked.

Austin sighed. “I didn’t even know who he was until he started cheap-shotting me in college intramural basketball. I was banging back, and that’s when one of my buddies told me why he was such an ass. I mean, Mia and I hardly spoke anymore, but Bruce would look at me crazy if he and I ran into each other socially, especially if she was there.”

“Did you ever get into it with him—verbally or physically?”

“No. I’d stare right back at him, but I wasn’t gonna interfere with their relationship. I figured it would run its course and she’d see through him. Apparently I was wrong.”

“What do you know about Bruce’s life before he met Mia?”

“Nothing. He transferred from somewhere. That’s it.”

“Have you ever had any one-on-one conversations with him?”

“No. No interest, obviously.”

“You said you still care about her. Were you hoping they’d break up and you’d get back together?”

Austin folded his arms across his chest. “Eventually, I guess. I think she would have been a trophy wife to him. Someone he could show off. I only broke up with her because I was too young and immature to commit. I dated other people, but in the end, no one compared to her. I just needed to grow up. We keep in touch occasionally. Text and stuff.”

“What about before the wedding?”

“I texted her when I heard about it. I told her straight up I thought she was making a mistake. She didn’t invite me, obviously, but I said I might show up and sit in the back, just to remind her she didn’t need to do this. She’s so innocent. I think she was easy prey for someone like him.”

“It sounds like you were really looking out for her.” Austin nodded. “How did she feel about that?”

He squinted at Dean and shifted uncomfortably. “Honestly, she told me not to come. She thought it would set Bruce off.”

“Set him off?”

He shrugged. “He was cocky, but he had a jealous streak. Like I said, he never liked me.”

“I know the type,” Dean said. “Could we see those texts just briefly? We’d really appreciate it.”

Austin paused and rubbed his lips together. “Ah, no. That’s getting a little personal.”

“Okay. So did you end up going to the wedding?”

I was putting two and two together, and I thought maybe he was the guy I’d seen sitting outside the church after almost everyone had left. I wished I’d paid more attention to the car he—or someone—was in.

“I went, but I stayed outside. When it looked like a bust, I went to the reception to see what happened. I thought maybe she called it off.”

“And what happened there?”

“Some groomsman stopped me at the door and told me to leave. When he said Mia wasn’t there, I headed home. But I’m not gonna lie, I texted her again, and she didn’t answer.” He looked at me. “You really think she’s doing okay?”

“She is,” I said. “Austin, does Mia know how you feel about her?”

“I’ve never come out and said it, but if she reads between the lines…”

“Don’t you have to get going, Austin?” Betty interrupted, poking his leg. “Don’t let your team down. You know they need you.” She looked at us.

“You’re right, Grandma. Thanks.” He stood, took his cap, wallet, and phone off a credenza, and offered to walk us out.

“Before you go, Austin,” Dean said, “where were you the night before Mia’s wedding?”

“Where was I? I don’t see why that matters.”

“Austin was with me when that young man went missing,” Betty interrupted. “He had a softball game at seven, and then he came home, and we watched the news. We went to bed early that night.”

Austin nodded in agreement. “Same thing we told the police.”

“Which newscast did you watch?” I asked.

“The ten o’clock local news,” Betty said, “and then we turned in. Right, Aussie? I had a ladies’ group the next morning.”

“That’s right, Grandma, and I drove you.”

“How many cars do you two have?” I asked.

“Just one,” Betty said. “I don’t drive much anymore, so Austin is my chauffeur.” She patted him on the back. “He’d never do anything to hurt Mia. He’s been sweet on her for so long. He wouldn’t put her through anything like this. Please tell her we’re sorry for her loss.”

“Will do,” I said. We thanked them for their time and stepped onto the porch with Austin.

“Don’t you need your softball stuff?” Dean asked him.

“Nah,” he said. “I keep my bat and glove in the trunk.”

Dean shook Austin’s hand, and I did too. Knowing he was in a rush, we let him pull out before walking to our car, noting his license plate as he drove away.

“Thoughts?” I asked Dean quietly before we got in.

“He seemed like an okay guy. A little nervous about that night. Not someone who’s going to take shit or go quietly. Grandma Betty was covering for him like crazy, too.”

My thoughts exactly.