Snowfall (28 page)

“What did you find out?”

Buddy looked up, wondering as he did why women colored their hair. Hers wasn’t just red, it was brassy.

“Not much,” he muttered. “I’ve got to return these calls first, and then I need you to do something for me.”

She nodded. “Yes, all right.”

He sifted through the messages, making himself focus on their topics. These days, his mind had a tendency to wander more than usual. Picking up the phone, he made the first call. It rang once, then twice, then an answering machine came on. He left his name, then laid that message aside and picked up the next. He smiled then, his thoughts on everything but his work. It was time to quit playing around. Once Caitlin Bennett was out of his mind and six feet under, his promises would be kept. It wouldn’t fix what had been broken, but it was the only justice he could ever have.

Not much longer now, Mother. Soon she’ll have to pay.

Caitlin was in the middle of her second piece of pizza when she suddenly jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Mac! I just remembered something!”

“Are you going to eat that?” he asked, pointing to the pizza she’d left on her plate.

“Yes,” she said, slapping his hand away. “There’s more in the box, for Pete’s sake. Leave mine alone.”

“Just asking,” he said, pulling out his fourth slice. “So…what did you remember that’s so exciting?”

“Charles Abernathy, Daddy’s lawyer. He might know even more than Juanita would have known.”

“But the police have already checked with your firm. They didn’t know anything.”

Caitlin was all but dancing. “No, no. Not them. Abernathy was before.”

Mac swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and dropped his pizza onto his plate.

“Before what?” he asked.

“Bernstein and Stella have only been representing us a little less than ten years. Before that, it was Mr. Abernathy. Oh, Mac, what if he’s no longer alive? I haven’t talked to him in years. He must be eighty-five, at least, maybe older.”

“Do you know where he lived?”

“I did once, if only I can find it. I know! It would be in one of Daddy’s old address books. I think they’re in a box in the office closet.”

“Finish your pizza before it gets cold,” Mac said. “We’ll look in a few minutes.”

“I like cold pizza,” Caitlin called, already on her way out the door.

“You would,” Mac muttered, eyeing his slice with regret. Taking one last big bite, he followed her out. If she was right, and the old man’s faculties were sharp, they might get the break they’d been needing.

Seventeen

C
aitlin leaned over the seat back and patted her chauffeur on the shoulder.

“Uncle John, are you sure we’re on the right road?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I know where we’re going. My sister was in the same retirement home.”

“Okay,” Caitlin said, smiling as she sat back in the seat. “It’s quite a coincidence that your sister and Mr. Abernathy wound up in the same place.” Then she looked at Mac, savoring the skip her heart made when he winked and reached for her hand.

“Oh, it’s no coincidence, missy. I used to bring your father to visit Mr. Abernathy. Later, when Sylvia needed a place to stay, we naturally thought of Glen Ellen Village. Of course she’s long since gone.”

“My father came here?”

“Oh, yes. Once a month, regular as clockwork.”

“Why didn’t I know that?” she muttered.

“Your father…he was a very private man,” the chauffeur said.

“Yes, he was,” Caitlin said. “I think, more than I knew.”

“We’re here,” Mac said, pointing to a large entrance gate and to the facilities beyond. “It wasn’t such a long drive after all.”

“At the foot of the Catskills, you know. You should see it in the fall when all the leaves begin to turn. A rare beauty it is,” John said.

The car rolled to a stop, and the old man got out, grabbing the door before Mac could move.

“Mac, let him do his thing. He likes to be needed.”

“Don’t we all,” Mac said as the chauffeur opened the door, then stepped back, giving Mac room to get out. Once Mac was out, he turned and took Caitlin’s hand, helping her onto the front walk, where the snow had been shoveled away.

“You give Mr. Abernathy my best, missy.”

“I will, Uncle John, and we shouldn’t be long.”

“Take your time. Take your time. It’s a nice enough day. I’m just glad to be out of the house.”

Mac took Caitlin’s hand. “Okay, honey. We’re off to see the wizard.”

“We hope,” Caitlin said.

“Don’t give up before we’ve even talked to him.”

“You’re right,” Caitlin said. “But let’s hurry. I keep feeling like I’m being watched.”

They reached the front door. Caitlin paused long enough to fiddle with her hair.

“How do I look?”

“Good to go,” Mac said, and gave the stray lock of hair over her left eye a tug.

Minutes later, they were escorted to the room that Charles Abernathy now called home.

“Mr. Abernathy, you’ve got visitors,” the nurse said, and then motioned for Caitlin and Mac to go in. “He’s a little hard of hearing, but sharp as a tack.”

Mac gave Caitlin a quick wink, as if to say, I told you so, and then followed her inside the room.

Caitlin had retained a mental picture of the man who’d been her father’s lawyer, but this old, withered gentleman wasn’t him. Charles Abernathy had been well over six feet tall and portly. This fellow was bone-thin and wizened. In fact, he looked as if his body had crumpled, leaving him in the wheelchair like a discarded piece of paper. She quickly moved to the window where he was sitting and pulled up a chair so that she could face him as she sat.

“Mr. Abernathy, I’m Devlin Bennett’s daughter, Caitlin. Do you remember me?”

The old man squinted, staring for a long silent moment at Caitlin’s face. Then he suddenly smiled, and she saw the man that he’d been.

“Why, Caitlin, of course I remember you. I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing. I couldn’t attend the services, you see. I hope you don’t think less of me for not going.”

She clasped his hands and felt a very faint warmth from the blood persistently pushing through what was left of his veins.

“Of course not, and I’m the one who should be apologizing for not visiting you. You were one of my father’s most trusted friends.”

“It’s not proper to mix business with pleasure, you know. But Devlin and I did have a friendship that transcended that of lawyer to client. I miss his visits. We used to talk of the old times.” His smile withered as his eyes grew dim. “There’s no one left, you know, who remembers those times.”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said.

Abernathy shrugged, as if shaking off a bad dream.

“Where are my manners? You there…young man. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“It’s Connor McKee, sir. Is there something you need?”

“Another chair for you. There’s one at the desk. Please be so kind as to pull it up by us and seat yourself.”

“Thank you, I will.”

Caitlin bit her lip, uncertain how to broach the subject of her father’s past, but time was not on their side. And judging from the blue cast around the old man’s mouth, time was not on his side, either. Oddly enough, before she could figure out how to ask what she’d come to ask, the old man beat her to it.

Once Mac was seated, Charles straightened his lap robe and then lifted his head, looking Caitlin square in the eye.

“You must have come for a reason. How can I help you?”

Mac smiled to himself. At one time, Abernathy must have been a fierce courtroom competitor.

“You’re right,” Caitlin said. “I’m in a terrible dilemma.”

“I don’t practice law anymore, you know. Too old. It’s a damn shame when the body wears out before the mind. I can still think, but my legs don’t remember how to walk.”

“It’s all right,” Caitlin said. “I don’t need a lawyer. I need you and your memory.”

He slapped his leg with a smile. “Then you’ve come to the right place. What do you need to know?”

She hesitated, looking to Mac for guidance, but he only gave her a nod, as if to say the floor was hers. She sighed. He was right. Only she would know what to ask.

“Before I ask you any questions, you need to know why I’m asking. Do you know that I’m a writer?”

“Oh, yes. I listen to your books on tape quite often. I’m especially fond of
Detour.
”

Caitlin hid her surprise. “Why, that’s…marvelous. Thank you,” she said, then went on to explain. “For the past six months or so, I’ve been receiving some very disturbing letters from what I assumed was a disgruntled fan. Recently we learned that he’s not just disgruntled, he’s deadly. He’s tried once to kill me and failed, and in what we think is frustration, he’s begun killing women who look like me, instead.”

“Oh my!” Abernathy looked closer at Mac. “Are you an officer of the law?”

“Not now, sir. But I was. I own and operate my own private security business. I’m acting as a bodyguard for Miss Bennett until all this has been resolved.”

“I should think so,” Charles said, then took Caitlin’s hand.

“Your father would have hired more than one bodyguard,” he said softly.

Caitlin smiled. “Mac wasn’t hired, Mr. Abernathy. He’s with me because he chooses to be.”

“Ah…so that’s the way it is,” he said, eyeing Mac even more closely.

“Look, Mr. Abernathy, the reason I’m here is that we’re grasping at straws. We have no leads as to the killer’s identity, but there’s some speculation that his motive could be related to my father’s past, rather than my books.”

All of a sudden the old man grew still.

“I can’t talk about your father’s private affairs,” he said gruffly.

Caitlin dropped her head in defeat, but Mac wasn’t ready to quit.

“Please, Mr. Abernathy. You don’t understand. He’s not just killing women, he’s butchering them.”

“He killed Juanita Delarosa so she couldn’t talk to us,” Caitlin added. “No one knows we’re here. I told no one, not even the police, that you even exist. For all they know, Bernstein and Stella have always represented us.”

Charles waved away her concerns. “Oh, I don’t care about safety. I’ve far outlived my time as it is.” Then he shook his head in disbelief. “Poor Juanita. I remember her well.” He looked at Mac with a piercing gaze, quite startling in an old man’s face. “Did she suffer?”

“Yes.”

He leaned back in his wheelchair and closed his eyes. As they sat, awaiting his next move, a single tear rolled down his face. When he opened his eyes, they were fierce.

“What do you want to know?”

“Did Daddy have any enemies who would be capable of something like this?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “None that I know of. His enemies were all about money.”

Mac laid his hand on Caitlin’s arm, begging her forgiveness in advance as he asked. “Did he have any secrets? Something that only you knew?”

Caitlin looked startled and wanted to argue that her father wasn’t that kind of man, but then, she hadn’t known of his visits to Glen Ellen. Maybe there were other things about him that she hadn’t known, things that would matter—things that might save her life.

Abernathy frowned. “I’m sorry, but you’ve taken me by surprise with that question. It’s been so long since I was in the habit of keeping confidences that I…”

He stopped, then looked up, his eyes widening in memory.

“There was one thing that I always thought rather strange, although I can’t imagine how it could have any bearing on these murders.”

“Anything,” Mac urged. “I was a cop long enough to know that one man’s garbage is another man’s treasure.”

Abernathy looked at Mac and smiled. “And that includes information. Am I right, son?”

“Yes, sir, you are. Now, what were you saying?”

“Well, for as long as I could remember, your father had two thousand dollars a month sent to a woman in Toledo, Ohio. There was even a clause in his will that the monies be continued after his death. I did so up until the day I retired, and I distinctly remember giving Julius Bernstein that information myself when he took over your father’s affairs.”

Caitlin was flabbergasted. “Two thousand dollars a month?”

He nodded.

“How long had that been going on?” she asked.

“Close to thirty years, I’d say.”

Mac looked at Caitlin. “Can you think of any reason why he would do that?”

Caitlin shook her head. “No. In fact, I’m shocked.”

“Mr. Abernathy, do you by any chance remember her name?” Mac asked.

Abernathy smiled. “Why certainly. I told you it was my body that quit, not my mind. Her name was Georgia, like the state. Georgia Calhoun.”

They were all the way back into the city before Mac thought to ask John Steiner if he’d ever heard of Georgia Calhoun. When he asked, the chauffeur tilted his head, as if giving it some thought, then shook his head.

“No, I can’t say that I have. Is she a relative of yours?”

“No, sir. We were thinking you might have heard Mr. Bennett speak of her in years past.”

“Oh, no, sir,” John said. “Mr. Bennett didn’t confide in me at all. I just drove his car, you understand.”

“It’s all right, Uncle John. I confided in you enough for both of us, didn’t I?”

Ignoring the blare of a horn and the cabdriver cursing in the lane beside him, John chuckled as he braked for a red light.

“That you did, missy. And I kept your secrets, didn’t I?”

Caitlin grinned. “Did you ever. Daddy never did find out that it was me who broke the headlight on his vintage MG. He thought he’d done it. He raged for weeks at his carelessness.”

John laughed. “And it took him six months to find a replacement, remember?”

“It broke me from ever driving a car again,” Caitlin said.

Mac looked at her with surprise. “You can’t drive?” he asked.

Caitlin met John’s gaze in the rearview mirror and then broke into laughter.

“Well, let’s just say that it would be in everyone’s best interests if I never got behind the wheel of a car again.”

“You just needed some practice, and this city is no place to learn to drive a car,” John explained.