The Begonia Bribe (13 page)

“When is our mom coming back?” Lizzie said.

“As soon as she can.”

“Why can’t we stay with Dad?” Lauren asked.

Cam wondered how much to lie so these girls would blame the rules instead of their mother. They were smart, and she didn’t want to get caught in the lie. Then again, who was going to negate what Cam said about pageant rules?

“See, the pageant has rules that only the parent who checks you in can take you anywhere, so without your mom to take you to your dad’s, I can’t do it.”

Lizzie nodded, though Lauren looked a little suspicious.

“Do you girls take baths at night?” Cam asked.

“I do,” Lizzie said.

“I usually shower in the morning,” Lauren said.

“Can Annie help me when I have to rinse my hair?” Lizzie asked.

“I think so.” Cam looked at Annie.

Cam started the bath, then settled the girls into her room. The futon was comfortable enough for one night, and she felt better with the girls in a back room rather than the front. She had a small television in her room and got Lauren watching, stopped the bath, and let Lizzie get in.

“You holler when Lizzie needs Annie’s help, would you?” she said to Lauren.

Lauren nodded without looking away from the TV. Cam thought maybe her mom limited TV viewing more than Cam was but wasn’t sure how else to entertain them. She turned on a small lamp, turned off the overhead, then joined her friends in the front room.

“I am so not ready to parent!” Cam said as she sank onto the futon between Annie and Rob.

Rob looked startled for a minute, but didn’t say anything.

“I mean, how does a person find time to deadhead the roses and camellias between a day job and taking care of children?” Cam asked.

Annie and Rob looked at each other and shook their heads, but at least Cam had calmed the parental panic she worried she’d sparked. The three were nearly zombies until Jake tapped the door and let himself in. It had taken months for Cam and Annie to train him that that was just how they did it—friends just entered.

“Chinese!” Annie jumped to life when she saw the bags he was carrying. “Pot stickers?”

“Always.” Jake grinned and kissed her.

He put down his array on the chest Cam used for both a coffee table and a footrest. Cam retrieved plates and a mixed six-pack of beer.

“Annie? Lizzie needs you,” Lauren said from the door.

Annie gave each of them an unmistakable leer. “Right. I get two of those six pot stickers or somebody dies.”

She rose and left. Jake chuckled. Cam was glad Annie had finally found somebody who “got her,” but that made her feel the heat of her earlier contact with Dylan—not the sensation she wanted when her boyfriend was serving her ginger chicken.

She fought it and thought instead about the investigation.

“So did you look at who accessed Mindy’s hotel room?” she asked Jake.

“Cam, you know I can’t . . .”

“What’s this?” Rob asked.

Cam had forgotten that Rob was blissfully clueless on her day’s details, and as a reporter, he would dig. So she told him her belief about Officer Quinn and the proof that she was involved with Mindy’s soon-to-be-ex.

Rob played off Cam perfectly, posturing about how he’d look into it. Cam wondered why she wasn’t always so open, but then, this reveal in front of Jake was a huge part of why her strategy was effective. Jake would have sensed the setup otherwise. He finally seemed ready to talk when the doorbell rang. Cam scowled as she rose to answer it.

Mindy and Barry stood at the door together. Cam felt betrayed that Mindy would show Barry where she lived, but she let Mindy explain.

“Barry came to the police station with our lawyer; he talked them out of holding me longer. That woman would have questioned me all night.”

Cam looked at Jake and was glad to be acknowledged, but Mindy kept talking, so their attention went back to her.

“He didn’t know I’d been arrested until you told him, Cam. He thinks that woman, Officer Quinn, thought he might be more of a . . . family guy . . . with daughters and no ex, so she framed me. Barry will testify that’s how it happened if it comes to that. He’s making a statement tomorrow if I just let the girls stay with him for a few days.”

“And you trust him?” Cam whispered, knowing Barry could hear her just fine, but at least the girls wouldn’t. “Mindy, once he gets the girls, he can go back on his word. Why didn’t you have him sign the statement at the police station?”

“I . . . I didn’t know we could . . . do that.”

Cam felt someone behind her.

“I tell you what. We can still take care of this tonight. Lizzie’s in the bath. I can take . . . him . . . to the station, get it drawn up and signed, and then he can take the girls,” Jake said.

Cam smiled at him gratefully.

“That’s much too late for the girls,” Barry argued.

“Then you won’t mind leaving them until tomorrow?”

Barry looked like he’d bitten a lemon, but he finally nodded and went with Jake.

“What would I ever do without you?” Mindy asked as she stepped inside.

“Mama!” Lauren ran out and hugged Mindy, followed just a minute later by a still-damp Lizzie.

“Where’d you go?” Lizzie asked.

“I just had some important stuff to do.”

“Annie rinsed my hair!” Lizzie announced.

“Well, that was nice of her. Come here. I want to eat you up!” Mindy said.

The girls tackled their mom and then squealed as she hugged and kissed them. Cam doubted Lauren allowed this very often, as she seemed to see herself as a mature ten-year-old. Cam hoped this chapter was over for Mindy—that enough doubt had been cast that she’d be left alone.

That, though, reminded her of Dylan and the cloud over his head. It seemed her friends were always suspected of murder, but she knew it wasn’t that she had the wrong friends.

“Are you three hungry?” Cam asked.

“Pot stickers!” The girls leaped.

Annie had one on her fork, but Cam suspected that was the only one she’d get. Rob served the girls a little beef and snow peas and a pot sticker each and they seemed happy. Mindy refused food but looked fairly content.

Jake and Barry returned nearly an hour later. Barry looked a little sour until he saw the girls. And then he packed them and their things into the car.

Jake’s grin was triumphant. When they left, he explained.

“I made it clear that if the statement didn’t clearly say he was not doing this in exchange for custody and would not use it to seek custody, that it wouldn’t hold up. So right in his statement is a sentence stating that Mindy has had custody for the entire separation and this incident does nothing to change facts related to custody.”

“Oh!” Mindy’s jaw fell and tears followed. She swooped in and hugged him.

“I never would have thought of any of that,” she said.

“Yeah, well . . . one of my sisters is a divorce lawyer, and I’ve learned that in a town like Roanoke, most ugly legal stuff is domestic, so I just had a hunch.”

“You’re wonderful. Thank you!”

“You can cite this if, after the contest, he gives you a hard time about giving the girls back.”

Mindy’s tears fell full speed now and Cam handed her a napkin.

“I’ll be grateful forever. Thank you. But . . . I should probably get back to the hotel.”

“Should I call you a cab?” Annie asked.

“I can drive you,” Rob said.

It was a good solution. Cam hoped he’d get a good detail or two for the corrupt police woman article.

“You coming back?” she asked.

“If you save me some beef and snow peas,” he said.

Cam looked in the boxes and then closed one symbolically and winked.

C
am woke up with her brain in active Dylan-saving mode, and for the first time she realized the easiest way to clear him wasn’t to find the killer, but to prove he didn’t have means or opportunity. Sure, he had motive, but she believed he didn’t know about that until after the fact. She would try to establish where he had been to prove he couldn’t have committed the crime.

She looked at Rob, sound asleep, and realized guiltily she’d been out like a light before he’d gotten back the night before. The minute he’d taken Mindy, Jake and Annie had vanished, and Cam had put everything into the fridge. She’d rinsed dishes, but uncharacteristically left them in the sink. She was exhausted. She’d only brushed her teeth and stripped to her underthings before falling into bed and almost immediately to sleep.

She regretted her thoughts about Dylan. Rob was a good guy. The problem was, Dylan
wasn’t
the bad guy he had first seemed. And he was currently being framed by the woman married to the man he hadn’t even known was his father.

Cam showered, making mental notes as she did. If she could establish a certain time line, with backup evidence, of course, then Dylan would be exonerated and she could be free of him. Proving him innocent would finally close the door, and she could forget about him.

* * *

T
he pageant day devolved into chaos only moments after she arrived. It became very clear, very fast, that the girls weren’t capable of delivering their green presentations in three minutes. Each girl was too proud of her hard work on water-preserving landscape, composting, pest control, or multiuse to give up part of the content. Cam watched for an hour before it occurred to her to just record them, judge in the afternoon, and then have the five finalists deliver five-minute presentations that night.

“You’re a genius!” Nell said. “Why I didn’t have you plan this with me in the first place, I don’t know.”

“We can put a paragraph for each girl on your website, too—maybe you’d get their local support to visit and they could all feel like they won something.”

“Exactly! It’s perfect! In fact . . . could we make each girls’ video available?”

“Oh, of course . . . as long as parents approve.”

* * *

A
s the green recordings were winding up, Cam spotted Dylan. The planting was now completely done, so she thought he must have had the late guarding shift, which merged into his evening lighting duties.

She rushed out to meet him, admiring how cheerful the begonias made the grounds. “I’ve been working on your case,” she sputtered. “So where were you in the . . . let’s call it eighteen hours before Telly Stevens died? I saw him alive that morning, but it probably happened with his first drink of the day. If I can establish where you were the whole time, that solves all your problems.”

“Cam, you don’t want to do this.”

“Why don’t I?”

He approached her, close enough that his whisper burned her ear. “You won’t like the answer,” he said quickly, his lips brushing her earlobe.

Cam’s brain promptly emptied. Finally, though, she took a shaky breath and found her voice. “Do you want me to prove you didn’t do it or not?”

“I didn’t. It shouldn’t be that hard. Just find who did.”

“It seems a whole lot easier to prove you couldn’t have.”

“Well, there was some time I maybe could have been all by my lonesome, driving from one place I shouldn’t be to another. So why don’t you just find the real killer?”

He walked away from Cam then and she stared at his back. Was it possible he was using her to try to prove his innocence when he was actually guilty? But she didn’t think so. Why didn’t he want her to know where he was, then? Up to something illegal?
With
somebody he shouldn’t have been?

Deep down, she didn’t believe he was the killer, but it was frustrating to have to start over. She headed back to the Arts Commission building to try to sort her thoughts. She was tempted to leave it to the police after all, even if they didn’t seem all that good at finding real killers. But abandoning Dylan and Mindy to the Roanoke PD didn’t see very promising after her last experience.

* * *

“O
h, honey, your brain’s heavy.”

“What?” Cam stared back at Nell Norton, not understanding what she meant.

“Sit.”

Cam obeyed and Nell brought her a glass of sweet tea from a pitcher she’d requested when they were filming. It wasn’t icy anymore, but it was still chilled and Cam drank gratefully. She felt like she hadn’t had a break all day.

“My daddy used to say I had a heavy brain when I looked preoccupied. You just look like the world’s sitting on your shoulders, and I would have thought the hard part of this contest for you was over.”

“It’s the murder. Two people I know have been questioned, and I’m sure neither did it, but it looks like it because of the evidence.”

“What evidence?”

“One had a bad argument with Telly the morning . . .”

“Oh, honey, everybody had an argument with Telly. The man was a beast. I’m sorry your friend wasn’t wise enough to do it privately.”

“Did you have an argument with him?”

“Several, but they were small—you may have noticed I’m particular about how things are. Where my business and reputation are concerned, I’m insistent. I mean, the man knew gardening, but you know I do, too, and he kept trying to give me suggestions for my little contest. What that man
didn’t
know was kids need some freedom—he kept trying to steer me. I suspect he just liked telling people what to do, and I wouldn’t stand for it.”

Cam wondered how much to share. “Turns out the other friend is his son . . .”

“Son? Now there’s a twist.”

“Telly knew about it—mentioned Dylan in his will. The son didn’t know anything until the police started questioning him.”

“That’s a horrible way to learn about your daddy.” Nell, though, began to smile. “Who benefits if he’s out of the picture?”

Cam smiled. “Sort of what I was thinking.” While she’d considered this, she was glad someone else had come to the same conclusion.

“You probably never had a horrible relative try to manipulate money away from another. You’re lucky if that’s so.” Nell smiled and patted Cam’s leg. “Now, I need to get to judging these presentations. Only five present tonight, so I have my work cut out for me.”

“Good luck,” Cam said as she rose, freshly committed to investigating Judith Towers-Stevens, the person who’d already looked most likely to Cam, and who’d just had her motive reinforced. It was the last thing the pageant needed—for the television producer to be accused of murder, but the show only had two more nights, so Cam doubted she could do much harm before it was done.

She went back outside and found Dylan. He was going through the garden and was watering and nipping off the flowers that were done. The once-a-day sprinkler was not adequate for these new plants in the heat wave they were having.

“So have you seen the will?” she asked.

“What?” He stood straight and turned to look at her. He must not have heard her coming.

“Telly Stevens’s last will and testament. Have you seen it?”

“I got a copy in my truck. It didn’t make much sense to me.”

“But you got something? I mean, you’re inheriting?”

“Yeah—’bout a hundred thousand, but it’s in some trust—that was where it got confusing. It will pay me ten thousand a year, but there are exceptions for some stuff—a house, education . . . I’m thinking a house sounds good, but I need to establish the rest of the income—you know—work a job that isn’t all under the table for a while.”

“I imagine if you went to jail for murder, you wouldn’t get that?”

“No clue. I didn’t murder him.”

“I know. I’m looking at why somebody might frame you.”

“Oh! You think his wife?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“I like that thinking. She’s nasty, that’s for sure.”

Cam had seen a little of Judith Towers-Stevens being nasty of late, but all of it had been directed at Clancy Huggins or Jessica Benchly. She wondered how large a chunk of the total pie a hundred thousand
was
? Telly Stevens had been a television figure since before Cam was born. Surely he was worth at least a million or two. Then again, it might be tied up in property or investments. Maybe Judith was loath to give up cash.

* * *

T
he penultimate pageant night finally went into setup mode. Cam ran around throwing scathing looks at mothers who were too demanding. She gave gentle reassurances to girls and checked on props and the volunteers who would be escorting people to their places. Finally, she decided to check on the status in the amphitheater. What she found stunned her.

Dylan was at the lighting controls, and standing behind him, caressing him with some familiarity, was Jessica Benchly. What would Telly Stevens’s mistress be doing with his son? All the better to frame him?

Cam watched from the shadows for a minute, but it only made her feel dirty. Finally, she backed up several paces and approached making a lot more noise.

When she reached them, Jessica was back in the shadows—not hiding, but watching from a more appropriate distance.

“Everything set, Dylan?” Cam asked.

“Looks like it.”

“Jessica! I didn’t know you had stagehand aspirations?”

She laughed pleasantly enough. “Not stagehand. Acting. But the theater groups locally all say if you’re willing to pitch in, you have a better shot at being chosen. I was just trying to learn something.”

“I bet,” Cam said. She didn’t think Jessica heard, but Dylan raised an eyebrow. Cam doubted any local theater group would make a former Miss Virginia work lighting before she got an acting role, though, so the story was fishy.

“I need to get to work. Can you find your seat okay, Miss Benchly?” Cam asked.

“Of course I can,” she said, and went through the curtain.

Cam had to fight herself very hard to keep from asking, but she managed. It was none of her business. Dylan and Jessica were both free to see who they liked and she was
not
free to worry about it. It was curious, though, to think that Jessica Benchly, who’d most recently been seen with Clancy Huggins and Telly Stevens, was now chasing the son of one of them, one who’d been left a pretty good-sized chunk of change.

Cam left the amphitheater ready to dive into the night’s production, only to be nearly tackled by Hilary Sweeny, Judith Towers-Stevens’s assistant.

“Have you seen Judith? She was adamant we not start without her, but she was supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“I thought she’d OKed you to do those duties . . .”

“That was for one day only. She called today with new instructions.”

“Well I really think she needs some time off,” Cam said. “We have to start without her if she isn’t here. You know how to do all this, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, but . . .”

“Look. The FCC fines groups who don’t air what they say—you’re saving your network a lot of money by covering for your boss.” Cam felt a little guilty playing on the girl’s insecurities, though what she said was true.

“Right! But . . . we’re behind. Do you know anyone . . .” Hilary looked over Cam’s shoulder and said, “No! Never mind! I’m set.”

Cam shrugged and decided to take her word for it.

Hilary sped toward Dylan, and Cam hoped there’d be enough time to not have to improvise. That’s when Kyle Lance arrived with Jimmy Meares. It was the first time Cam had been glad to see either of them.

“Mr. Lance! Welcome! You’re opening tonight?”

Kyle looked at Jimmy, who nodded, then Kyle nodded himself. “When am I on?”

“Talk to Dylan about sound now, but Evangeline Patrick should introduce you in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

He looked at his watch. “Got it.”

Finally, Judith rushed in, shouting. Cam was too far away to hear what it was about. It looked like poor Hilary was on the receiving end of most of it, though Cam thought Judith owed Hilary a lot for stepping up when she’d been so late. Late, though, triggered another item on her checklist. Cam realized she hadn’t seen Evangeline yet, so she went into the library staging area. Evangeline had her own space in what appeared to normally be a book-repair room, but at least it was private.

Mr. Patrick was with her, in a black suit, ready to walk his wife to the stage.

“Cammi! Are they ready for us?”

“Just about. I just wanted to make sure you were set.”

“As I’ll ever be,” Evangeline said from behind a curtain.

Cam wondered how a local celebrity like Evangeline could still get nervous, but then the stalker stuff with Barry and the dead judge
had
made for a rather stressful week.

“Have you seen Nell?” Cam asked.

“She knows she’s on after Kyle. She went upstairs to check something. The Wi-Fi connection is better,” Evangeline said as she opened the curtain; she looked stunning.

Cam had to smile. A woman in her sixties had chosen her waiting spot based on Wi-Fi reception—the world was changing. Then again, Nell had a lot to keep track of. Running a business across five states was no small feat.

Cam double-checked that she had Nell’s number in her phone in case she needed to reach the woman quickly. She’d text her a reminder when Kyle finished his first song. He was doing three at the beginning tonight and then six spread over the following night.

Cam and Neil flanked Evangeline as she finally emerged from the library to start the event.

Out of nowhere, the woman who’d been vandalizing events all week leaped, squirting the three of them from a super-soaker water gun.

“Rob!” Cam shouted.

She hoped he was near enough that his speed could catch this woman, as she took off after splattering the three of them.

“Oh, heavens! Is it . . .” Evangeline said, staring at the front of her dress in horror.

Cam looked, then she touched it and sniffed. “Just paint, but I know it looks bad. Here, I have an idea.”

She ran through the crowd to the stage, people staring at her. “Dylan!”

He came over and frowned. “Have you been slaughtering hogs?”