The Killing Game (21 page)

“Is chamomile okay?” Mimi asked as Andi stood by the small kitchen table at the end of the U-shaped kitchen.

“Sure.” Andi had harbored a lot of bad thoughts about Greg’s lover, but faced with this pregnant woman child, those feelings started to slip away. Mimi was too open and gullible to despise, though Andi could sense she might grow impatient with her very easily.

“Could we talk about Greg a little?” Mimi asked. “I’m . . . I’m just . . . I know he is . . . was your husband and all, but . . .”

Mimi was holding two mugs and suddenly her hands started trembling so violently that hot tea splashed onto the backs of her hands. Andi jumped forward to help as Mimi dropped one mug, shrieked, then burst into a fresh flood of tears.

“No, leave it,” Andi said when Mimi bent down to address the mess. “Sit down.” She led her toward to a chair.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Just take a breath.” Once Mimi was seated, Andi grabbed a paper towel and picked up the mug, which had stayed remarkably intact except for a broken handle. She threw the mug into a trash bin under the kitchen sink, then grabbed more paper towels and mopped up the rest of the tea. Throughout, Mimi apologized profusely. When Andi was finished, she tried to hand Andi the still unbroken mug in her hand with its half-full contents, but Andi refused.

“You keep it. I really can’t stay long anyway,” Andi said. “We need to work this out, but I need to talk to Carter and Emma, Greg’s brother and sister, and remind them about the baby.”

Mimi looked down at her stomach. “They’ve forgotten?”

“A lot’s happened,” Andi said. “We really didn’t know where things stood with you after Greg died. When are you due, by the way? I think you told us, but I really can’t remember. I was ... processing.”

“Oh, um ...” She looked away. “I don’t know if I’m keeping it.”

“You’re putting the baby up for adoption?” Andi’s mind grappled with the thought.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She gulped down some tea. “I wish Scott were here. He always knows what to do.”

“Is Scott not around?” Andi questioned.

She thought that over hard. “He’s at work.”

“He still lives around here?”

“He never wants to leave the lake,” she said, almost in a whisper.

Andi automatically looked past her and through the window that looked over the back parking lot. Schultz Lake was somewhere beyond, but the view was blocked by more apartments. “What’s Scott do?”

“You mean like a job? Um ... lots of things.”

Andi wondered if that meant he was between jobs. “Is he . . . helping you with the baby?”

“Kind of. He wants to talk to Carter, but the receptionist won’t put him through.”

“Did he leave a message with Jill?”

“I don’t know. I guess. That’s just what he said.”

Carter hadn’t let Andi know he’d been contacted by Scott Quade, but then, Carter didn’t believe Mimi was carrying Greg’s baby. However, the way Mimi felt about Greg made it hard for Andi to believe the child was anyone’s but his. “I’ll tell Carter to talk to Scott.”

“Okay,” she choked out.

“I promise we’re not going to ignore Greg’s child any longer,” Andi told her.

She flapped a hand at Andi, too overcome to say anything more.

Andi said a few more words of encouragement, aware how ironic it was that she was the one comforting Greg’s paramour. She let herself out the door, almost feeling bad about leaving Mimi. She put a call in to Carter, who didn’t pick up his phone, and left him a message about Mimi’s pregnancy, saying they could talk about it further the next day.

She didn’t notice the car that eased from a parking spot down the block and followed after her.

* * *

The Bellows’s cabin was much like he’d remembered it from his first visit: same tired-looking siding, same listing porch, same sense of abandonment. The landscaping was trimmed and tended, courtesy of Art Kessler undoubtedly. But Peg had said she was at the cabin, so Luke bent his head to a soft but persistent rain and hurried to the front door. He knocked loudly, the sound harsh and foreign in the bucolic setting. He could see through the cabin to the other side, where the gray waters of Schultz Lake were dimpling with the rain.

No answer.

Luke checked his watch and saw it was two minutes past two. He was right on time. He grew impatient, wondering if she’d stood him up. What the hell was that about? Bolchoy had intimated that she’d found the Carrera brothers attractive and that he should expect the same, but Peg had cooled off on them. At least that was the impression he’d gotten on the phone.

He heard a noise inside the house and peered through the window once more. Peg Bellows was moving toward the door slowly. She wore a bathrobe and a scarf was tied around her head.

Some kind of cancer . . .

Luke had a sinking feeling. He’d pushed and pushed and now realized she was ill. When the door opened he half expected her skin to be gray or sallow, but her cheeks were flushed pink.

“Luke, right?” she greeted him with an ironic smile.

“That’s right. How’re you doing?”

“You mean the breast cancer?” She shrugged lightly. “It’s a battle I’m losing.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head and sighed, then waved him inside. “Come in. Take a seat. You want some coffee? I’ve got a pot brewing.”

“Sure. Would you like some help?” He felt embarrassed that he’d pushed her into playing hostess.

“I’ve got it. You want cream or sugar?”

“Black’s fine.”

Luke saw one particular chair arranged directly in front of the television and bypassed it for a worn, overstuffed plaid chair angled to one side. He perched on the edge, wondering if he should ignore her command and follow her into the kitchen.

But she returned a few moments later with two mugs of coffee. “My vice is loads of cream and sugar. I figure, what does it matter now? I struggled with weight all my life and now I just keep losing pounds. Be careful what you wish for, huh?”

“Thank you,” he said, accepting his coffee. “Let me just say, I’m sorry I left you so many messages.”

“Don’t back down now. You want the Carreras and so do I. Let’s work together.”

“Okay.”

She settled herself in the chair in front of the television. As she sat down, one skinny white leg escaped the robe, but she tucked it back in quickly. “They killed my husband.”

“I’d like to prove that.”

“But there’s no hard evidence. It’s just a theory proposed by a grieving widow. Make that a guilt-stricken grieving widow because well, she had an affair with one of them and her husband found out.”

This was more information than Luke had expected, but he sensed that Peg was racing against time and was bound and determined to make things right, or as right as they could be, no matter at what cost to herself. “Which one?” he asked, and she barked out a short laugh.

“That’s the question? Not did your husband know? Did you tell him? Or did he go to a watery grave thinking you were still the starry-eyed ingénue from forty years earlier?” Before he could answer, she said, “Blake Carrera. The sexy one with the scar. Brian’s good, too, but Blake’s the really dangerous one. He’s the predator.”

Little birds need to fly . . .

“Can you give me an example?” Luke asked.

“Whenever Ted was away, or engaged by something that took his attention, Blake was always touching me. He was careful at first, I realize now. Testing the situation. He was funny, too. Clever. I found myself thinking about him a lot, and I looked forward to any time they would be coming by to talk about selling the cabin. At first I was against selling, like Ted. I thought, if they want it so badly, we should hang on to it. But I’ve never really liked the place, and then Ted kept stringing them along and stringing them along, and one night he was with Brian at some bar and Blake came by and . . .” She drew a slow breath and exhaled it carefully. “We just fell on each other like we were the last people on earth. Or at least that’s how it was for me. And then he was like a drug. I couldn’t have enough of him. And that’s when he started pulling back. Just a little, then a little more. You know how it goes.” She looked at the blank eye of the television, but he could sense she was seeing something else. “Then they went out on that boat. Not Blake. Brian and Ted. And then Ted was gone, and you know what my first thought was? Now I’m free.”

Luke didn’t say anything. She was on a roll, and he sensed she’d been waiting to unburden herself.

“The breast cancer came back with a vengeance after Ted’s death. Maybe it was karma. I don’t know. I’ve been away to ‘cancer camp.’”

“Cancer camp?”

“That’s just what I call it. Living with my sister. Chemo and radiation.” She shot him a sideways look. “Fun times.”

“I really would like to put them away,” Luke said.

“I’m not above manufacturing evidence,” she said, “but then, I’m dying and I don’t care. Your old partner . . .”

“Bolchoy,” Luke offered.

“He would take the risks, but I’m guessing you walk the line more.”

“I want them behind bars, not me.”

She smiled and it lit up her face. Then she immediately grew sober. “I want both of the Carreras to pay for taking Ted’s life. I owe him that.” Her eyes grew moist, but her expression was set and angry. “So, whatever I can do to help you, just let me know.”

“Let’s go over their tactics. How they first approached you and Ted. What they offered.”

“They were insistent right from the start. They wanted our property more than the others, at least that’s the way it seemed. They were undone that the Wrens were building the lodge, that it had been approved. That really pissed them off. Made them see red and more determined than ever.”

“Might be just the way they do business, from what I understand.”

“They’re cruel. Blake is anyway. They want it all. More than just the deal. I think they wanted to cut Ted’s balls off. Steal his wife, his home, his life. It’s like a game to them, and I fell for all of it.” She gazed back at the blank television. “Just promise me you’ll make them pay.”

“I’ll certainly give it my best shot.”

“I want to see Blake Carrera dead,” she stated flatly.

Luke understood the sentiment. “All right. Tell me all about how you met the Carreras, what your first dealings were with them, when you determined you weren’t going to sell to them. Things like that.”

She nodded and got up from her chair, heading toward the kitchen. “This is going to take a while, and if that’s the case, I’m going to add some rum to my coffee. Let me know if you need a shot yourself.”

“I think I’m okay.”

“Suit yourself.”

* * *

Waiting for Luke to contact her after his meeting with Peg Bellows was torture, and it gave Andi way too much time to review her meeting with Mimi. She texted Carter as soon as she was home, because he still hadn’t gotten back to her, and she added Emma to the string as well. Both of them got back to her almost immediately.

Emma: Shit what r we spose to do about that?

Carter: Is it Greg’s?

Don’t know yet, she texted back to both of them. She was just delivering the information, not analyzing it. Let them stew on it a while, and then maybe they could all work out how they wanted to deal with the baby’s impending birth. As far as she was concerned, the child was a Wren until proved otherwise.

It was half past four when Andi heard Luke’s truck rattling up her long drive. She glanced out the window in time to see him sweep into view from beneath the canopy of fir boughs. Her heart beat light and fast. It had been a long time since she’d seen him. Too long, she thought.

At that same moment she heard a text come in on her phone, which she’d left on the table by the door, where she always dropped her keys. She glanced at the screen and saw the message was from Trini: Bobby coming by Friday. I’m asking him if we can get together Saturday. Work 4 u?

Saturday was two days away. Andi didn’t have plans for either Friday or Saturday. Sure, she wrote back, dreading the meeting a little. It would be different if she had a date herself, she supposed, and idly wondered if Luke was busy.

Like you’re really going to ask him to go with you to meet your friend and her boyfriend.
Then she thought:
If you hire him as a bodyguard, you’ll see him all the time.

“I worry about you, Andi. I really do,” she murmured aloud as she, with a glance at the window, watched Luke’s long legs stride across her small yard and up the steps to the front door. He rapped once and she crossed the room in an instant.

He looked . . . good. She imagined what that hard chest would feel like pressed up against her and felt a jolt of awareness even though he hadn’t touched her in any way.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a big smile.

“Hey yourself.” She held the door wide. “Come on in.”

“Been a while,” he said as he entered her small cabin and looked around. “Looks nice.”

Andi followed his gaze to the furniture arrangement, a few items of artwork that included an impressionistic painting of sunflowers she’d done herself and hung over the fireplace. “I’ve been making it mine.”

“How’re you doing?”

“Fine. Really. I’m fine.” He looked at her closely, as if checking the veracity of her statement and she shook her head and said, “I don’t know if I thanked you enough for calling in the cavalry at Lacey’s that night.”

“You thanked me over and over. Trust me. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah, well, bad things happen and we get past them.” She half laughed. “I wish that were true of the Carrera brothers.”

“One way or another, we’ll get past them.”

“You promise?” She lifted her brows.

His flashing smile made her heart squeeze a bit. “Gonna do my damnedest.”

This was a dangerous conversation. She purposely changed it by asking, “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got coffee, tea, water, and I think there’s a diet cola rattling around somewhere. Or beer, wine . . . a martini?”

“You having anything?” he asked curiously.

Andi’s thoughts returned to Mimi and her baby bump. “I sure am. Red wine and a lot of it.”