Decorating Schemes Read online

  “Have you talked to your son-in-law? About the murder, that is.”

  She flinched at the word. “Just that first day. He came home, and the detective was still there. She took him into the library and questioned him there—just as she did with Deanna and me.”

  “When he came out, did he say anything?”

  Madeleine paused, thought. “He was upset that the girl died, and on his property, of course. But I think what bothered him most was the effect it would have on his brand-new marriage. Deanna was a wreck by the time the detective left.”

  “Haley,” Dad said, worry in his voice and on his face. “This is weighing heavily on Madeleine. She hates to see her daughter under so much strain, and I can understand her feelings. I hate to ask, but since you had such success last year, would you be willing to dig around a little to see what you can find out? For a worried mother’s sake, of course.”

  “Oh, she needn’t bother, Hale,” Madeleine said. “I’m sure the police can handle everything just fine.”

  “Ah... you know how Lila Tsu feels about me stepping on her toes, Dad. I’m not sure it’s such a good—Ow!”

  Dutch’s under-the-table kick did permanent damage. “Excuse my yelp. Dutch has no idea how big his feet are, or how heavily he treads.”

  It was Dutch’s turn to glare. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you. Just needed to stretch my legs.”

  Dad’s eyes narrowed, no doubt in memory of Dutch’s past transgressions against me. “One should always tread lightly, not run roughshod over anyone in one’s path.”

  My sideways glance caught Dutch’s blush. “You’re right, sir,” he said. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”

  I swallowed a laugh. So much for my shy, humble father. “Oh, why not?” It was what I wanted to do anyway. “Sure, Dad. I’ll do a little snooping, as Bella would say.”

  Madeleine’s eyes widened in alarm. “Don’t tell me you plan to take the madwoman with the wildcats along!”

  “Bella’s not a madwoman—”

  “Bella’s okay—”

  “She’s not as bad as she looks—”

  Dad, Dutch, and I stopped our simultaneous defense.

  I chuckled. “Bella’s harmless. But the jury’s still out on the cats.”

  Dutch laughed. “Haley’s had a run-in or two with Bali H’ai. It’s a personal thing.”

  “Bella’s a lonely widow,” Dad said. “Bali H’ai’s all she has, and she spoils the cat too much. I think you can understand that, my dear.”

  Madeleine smiled for his benefit. “I understand the loneliness, but I would never take in a pair of feral beasts.” She shuddered. “Domingo found his slippers torn to shreds after Bella and her cats left. He was furious, and he’s not especially charming at his best.”

  That brought up an interesting point. “I didn’t see him this morning. Is Domingo on vacation?”

  “You might say that.”

  “A permanent vacation?”

  “Not exactly,” Madeleine said, her cheeks a bit pink. “Let’s just say that Stewart felt Deanna and the butler’s relationship needed time to cool down.”

  I’ll bet. And I wouldn’t count on Domingo’s return either. “I see.”

  Dad stood. “Well. It’s been great to talk with you two, but we really must leave if we want to get decent seats for today’s lecture.”

  “I didn’t know you were going out,” I said.

  Madeleine slipped her arm through his. “The University of Washington is hosting a series of talks by an art historian who’s guest-teaching there this semester. The first two have been fascinating and very well attended. I talked Hale into coming with me today.”

  Dad? At an artsy lecture? “Okay. Have fun.”

  I waited until the glass door closed behind them, then turned to Dutch. “Nothing she told us was worth my crushed ankle.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You can pump her for information when she thinks you’re helping her. Besides, the bridegroom’s awfully cool about a patient’s death, and I find the vacationing butler interesting.”

  “I don’t. Didn’t you hear Deedee and Domingo? I thought for sure they’d go for each other’s throats. And if Dr. Marshall treated KC a while ago and only briefly, then I don’t know if he should be all broken up about it.”

  As soon as I said those words, I knew I’d messed up. Dutch went ballistic.

  “Anyone with half a heart would be torn up about a little girl’s murder. I can’t believe you’re not taking this more seriously. I know you’re a flake, but this is murder—”

  “Hey! That’s not true. I’m not a flake, and I do take it seriously. More seriously than you’ll ever know.” I shot up a quick prayer. “Theoretically, yes. Everyone should care deeply. Practically, not necessarily. Remember your own response to Marge’s murder.”

  He took in a sharp breath. “Okay. Point well taken. So where do we stand?”

  “Right back at the beginning. And you know Lila’s going to go ballistic if she finds out what I’m up to.”

  “So what do you want to do? You promised you’d help.”

  “I figure I’ll do what I did last year. I’ll talk to everyone who knew KC. I’ll start with the kids at school. Maybe you should call her family, offer condolences.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one, Haley. Give Ron another reason to call the cops on me.”

  “Maybe if you called while he was at work, talked to her mom.”

  “That might be an even worse idea.” His blush kicked up a few more notches. “Um... I used to date Lori.”

  “You what?”

  “We were high school sweethearts, even though she was a senior and I a freshman when we started going together.” He ran a hand through his hair, his discomfort obvious. “ She met Ron when I went to college, and Ron was my RA—residence advisor. Lori came to visit me, and, as they say, the rest is history—history that doesn’t make for great covert telephone conversation, if you get my drift.”

  Yikes! “Fine. I guess I’m on my own again.”

  “That’s not fair. I just don’t want to make things worse.”

  “And we know how good a job you can do at that.”

  He winced. “Okay. I’ll try the call, but don’t expect a whole lot.”

  “At least you’ll have tried.”

  He stood. “I should go back to the Marshalls’ and finish the measurements.”

  “And I’m going to talk to a girl who was in concert choir with KC.”

  Arms crossed, he gave me a hard look. “You planned to snoop all along, didn’t you? But you still made me beg. What was that? Payback?”

  “No, of course not. I didn’t make you beg, and I told you I wanted to find that baby. I still do.”

  “Seems to me,” he said, “the sooner you find out who fathered it, the sooner we’ll find KC’s killer.”

  I slung my backpack purse on one shoulder and headed for the door. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “Look at me.”

  I did.

  “It wasn’t me.”

  At that moment I believed him. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  But would I still believe him after I raked up a little more muck?

  Adrienne’s daughter Grace hadn’t known KC very well, so she couldn’t tell me much about the dead girl. She knew KC had loved scuba diving and that she’d dated Jackson Maurer through all of ninth grade. Jackson’s address was right in the school directory.

  In a perfect world, I’d meet Jackson and he’d look contrite and admit to more than movie dates with KC. Only this isn’t a perfect world. And Lila had said the boyfriend hadn’t known about the pregnancy. Had he told the truth? When I spoke with him, would I be able to tell?

  Jackson’s neighborhood was nothing like the Marshalls’. Neat Craftsman bungalows, very typical of the Pacific Northwest, lined both sides. The house number, 6109, was painted in muted shades of tan and brown on a mellow olive green background. I climbed the stairs to th
e deep porch and rang the doorbell.

  A blond woman opened up. “May I help you?”

  I hadn’t thought ahead, so I went with the truth. “I’m a friend of the Marshalls, and I have a few questions for Jackson. About KC. She died on the Marshall’s back patio—”

  “I know.” Her lips turned white at the edges. “The police were already here. I don’t know what you would have to do with any of this.”

  “I’ve spoken with Detective Tsu—” a true statement “—and with Mrs. Marshall—” also true “—and we wonder if Jackson could help us understand a few things.”

  Heavy footsteps approached from the rear of the house. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll talk to the lady. I don’t have anything to hide. It’s not as if I had anything to do with...”

  He closed his eyes, and pity swamped me. His grief for the girl was deep and sincere. Jackson had clearly cared for his girlfriend.

  “Would you like to join me here on the porch, or would you be more comfortable inside your home?”

  A long, warm look passed between mother and son. He sighed and walked outside. The mother, a familiar look of concern mixed with love on her face, closed the door.

  Jackson sat on the top porch step. “What do you want to know?”

  “How long did you and KC date?”

  “I’ve known her since grade school, but we only got together for real when she started ninth grade—almost a year ago.”

  No wonder he was having such a tough time. “I know this is hard for you, but I’m sure you want to find out what happened to her.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  I met his gray gaze, and something there told me he’d grown too old in a few short days. I looked away to give him space.

  “But nothing’s going to bring her back,” he added.

  “I hear you.” I studied my hands, then came to a decision. “Last year a woman who was like my second mother was murdered. It was tough for a while there.”

  Silence.

  I took a deep breath. “You know I have to ask this, but do you have any idea what happened?”

  “Give me a break, lady. KC bled to death after she had a kid. I’m not dumb, you know.”

  “I didn’t think you were.” So much for common ground. “So tell me something else. What about the baby?”

  He erupted to his full six-foot height. “I know nothing about the baby. I didn’t know she was pregnant. She didn’t look pregnant, and I don’t know how she hid the belly. I had no reason to ask, ’cause I just didn’t know.”

  One long lunge took him down to the concrete walk. Then he got in my face. “It sure wasn’t mine. We never—you hear me?—never had sex. I made the True Love Waits promise the same day KC did.”

  The raw emotion in his face and in his words left little doubt as to his honesty. I nodded slowly. “Then let me ask you this. Do you know who else KC hung around with? When she wasn’t with you, I mean.”

  His long fingers curled into tight fists; the knuckles turned white. “She got into diving a couple of years ago, but not like this last year. At first, she did a bunch of snorkeling, then she started the junior diver program—they dive shallow stuff, maybe... oh, I don’t know, I think she said about twenty feet deep. But then she began to spend all her time down at that place on the pier, especially the last couple of months, and she decided, now that she was fourteen, to go for her open-water certification. We had a fight about it, about all the time she spent at the dive shop. I lost. If I wanted to keep on seeing her, it was going to have to be during leftover time. Scuba came first.”

  “I take it you’re not into scuba, then.”

  He snorted. “I can’t afford all that stuff. My part-time job barely covers car insurance, gas, and a couple of dates a week.”

  “So you’re thinking—”

  “You want to know who KC’s kid’s dad is?” When I nodded he went on. “Then you’d better check out those diver guys at the shop. After KC got so serious about diving, I was lucky to see her once a week, sometimes even only every two weeks. She didn’t have much time for me. Now we know why.”

  He spun and strode down the street, his smooth gait that of an athlete, an angry athlete.

  I was torn. My heart ached for the betrayed teenager. His pain was almost palpable.

  As was his anger.

  Jackson Maurer probably would’ve slain dragons and walked on sizzling embers for KC Richardson. He’d loved her enough to respect her.

  But that anger...

  Did it get the better of him when he learned the extent of her betrayal?

  Jackson might have killed for KC. Had he killed her?

  “So have you gone to the scuba shop?” Tedd asked. She leaned back in her desk chair and watched me wriggle in my chair.

  I’d caved. I’d called her after I found myself staring at the bottle of nighttime headache medicine hours after my talk with Jackson Maurer. I knew better than to fall into the trap of the easy out offered by a drug, even an over-the-counter one.

  “That’s my plan for tomorrow. I haven’t had enough sleep to do any good as it is.”

  “Want to tell me about it? What’s keeping you awake now?”

  “The same thing. The baby.”

  As I poured out my fears, Tedd took a couple of notes, but for the most part, she listened. That’s one of the best things about her. Whatever you tell her, you know she hears it. And she remembers.

  I have to watch what I say around her.

  But I don’t do so well with that. When I mentioned my agreement with Madeleine, she gave me a long look. “Was that a good idea?”

  “It seemed pretty good at the time.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  So I told her about my agreement to help Dutch.

  She asked the same questions.

  This time I gave her a different answer. “I feel pretty rotten about it, Tedd, but I don’t know if I trust him.”

  “Why should you feel rotten? You don’t know who killed KC.”

  “Yeah, but he’s so torn up about it—she was his godchild, you know.”

  “You told me. But he hadn’t seen her in years.”

  “That’s because of her father. From what I can figure out, KC’s dad is no great prize. He and Dutch fought about... a scheme he couldn’t stomach is how Dutch put it.”

  “And you’re sure that Dutch was on the right side of that disagreement?”

  “I’m sure I want him to be.”

  “Why?”

  I stood and paced. “Because he saved my life.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No, and you know it.”

  “Want to tell me about that?”

  “No.” I chuckled. “And you know that too.”

  “You know, Haley, it’s wise to use caution in this case, but you can’t go through life suspecting every man you meet.”

  “I don’t. It’s just that... well, Dutch has all those connections. He was Lori Richardson’s boyfriend. She dumped him for Ron. Then he was Ron Richardson’s partner. They fought. Dutch lost a bundle there too. He was KC’s godfather, but he lost her too after the fight.”

  I dropped back into the chair and laced my fingers tight. When I looked up, Tedd’s gaze seemed to reach right into all my pain. Tears welled up.

  “I’m scared,” I said, my voice little more than a whisper.

  “What are you scared of?”

  Lots, but that wasn’t what Tedd meant. “I’m scared I’m going to learn that Dutch... that he... he’s the baby’s father, and then killed KC. And then... that he might have done something to the baby.”

  By the time I got out the last word, my cheeks were wet and a knot had a choke hold on my throat. I shook as though I’d been out in the cold for a long, long time.

  “Why does that scare you? Has he done—or said—anything to make you think he’s the baby’s father? That he might have hurt the baby? Or KC? Has he threatened you?”

  “No, of course no
t. It’s just... well, you know. Rape is... rape.”

  Lame, but it was all I could come up with. The word said enough. “I just don’t want him to be like that...”

  Almost like water that bursts through a dam, my feelings rushed up, and I sobbed. Big, painful bursts of sound ripped up from the deepest part of me, and tears poured in streams from my eyes.

  “She’s dead,” I managed to choke out. “But the baby, Tedd. I have to protect the baby...”

  My voice broke, and fresh sobs made it impossible for me to say more.

  Tedd let me cry. Then, when I thought I couldn’t squeeze another drop from under my eyelids, she called my name.

  I looked up. I felt the urge to run. “No, please. Don’t...”

  “Why don’t you tell me about the baby. Why are you so obsessed with KC’s newborn?”

  “Because I couldn’t save mine! I have to save hers.”

  I’d never talked about the miscarriage I suffered three months after I was raped. Not to Marge before she died and not even to my father, who drove me to the hospital, my legs drenched with blood.

  But I told Tedd.

  “It was horrible, especially for Dad.” I could still remember his stricken face. “For the second time, he feared he was about to lose me. But the one we lost was his grandchild.”

  “Had you told him you were pregnant?”

  “I could barely accept it myself. How was I to tell him or Mom?”

  “So you dealt with it on your own.” It wasn’t a question.

  I shrugged. “I didn’t know what to feel when I learned I was pregnant—by my rapist. I hated him. I didn’t want a child to remind me of what he’d done.”

  The anger surged, and the memories burned inside me. In seconds I relived those days of helpless desperation, of wanting to be anyone but me. All my efforts were futile, of course, and the futility brought its own burden of despair.

  “You didn’t want the child?” Tedd asked after a while.

  I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together. “I didn’t really know how I felt about it. I spent those months in the hell that comes from not knowing anything anymore. Some days I just wanted to turn back the clock.”