Miranda has to be behind it. Controlling her. Making her do it.”
“Well, I dunno about that, but you’re right about one thing. She ain’t stupid.”
“Is that just an opinion, or do you know something I don’t?”
“Besides the fact she’s got a doctorate in psychology? Yeah, a little.”
“She has a doctorate?”
“Yeah,” he grunted, as he reached into his pocket and dug out his notebook then flipped it open. “Got some background on ‘er if ya’ wanna hear it. I’ve had it for a while, and I tried ta’ tell ya’ about it the other day but you said you didn’t wanna talk about the case anymore.”
“Mea culpa.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he said as he flipped through the pages then settled on one. “So, anyway, here it is in a nutshell. Near as we can figure from what we’ve been able ta’ piece together, Devereaux started out life as Mary Kathleen O’Brien. But, about two months after birth those records suddenly stop. It’s like she never existed…”
“But, if the records stop…”
“Hang on, I’m not finished. Ya’ see, that’s just all part of the big soap opera. Apparently the birth mother had a friend try ta’ adopt ‘er. When they caught on to what was up, they changed ‘er name ta’ Cynthia Anne Smith and shipped ‘er outta state to a different orphanage in Mississippi.”
“How’d you figure that out?”
“I didn’t. The Feebs did.”
“Well, how did they manage to make the connection?”
“Dunno. Maybe they leaned on a nun or somethin’. So anyway, she bounced around foster homes for about six years, startin’ from when she was just a few months old until she eventually ended up in yet another orphanage.”
“That had to be rough on a kid. Any idea why she wasn’t adopted out as a baby?”
Ben shook his head. “No one’s sayin’. Rumor has it that as she got older she was in and outta trouble here and there though. At least, that’s what they managed to pick up from the files, such as they were. Anyhow, she finally got adopted by the Devereaux’s when she was around eight.” He flipped through the pages of the notebook. “Yeah, here it is, Scott and Andrea Devereaux. Older couple from Tupelo, Mississippi. Old enough to be more like grandparents, actually.”
“That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, a little. But, they wanted a kid and they had money. A lot of it… Big numbers followed by lotsa zeros if ya’ know what I mean. An’ apparently they donated quite a bit to the orphanage where she was livin’.”
“So, after they adopted her, they changed her first name as well as her last? That seems like a cruel thing to do to an eight-year-old kid. That’s had to screw with her sense of self identity.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Guess it’s no wonder she’s so fucked up.”
“So, have you been able to contact them?”
“Nope. Both deceased. Have been for quite a few years. And, there weren’t any other livin’ relatives, so they left the whole shootin’ match to guess who?”
“Annalise.”
“Bingo. Speakin’ of that, it seems the address she used for her driver’s license might’ve been kinda bogus. The place actually exists and all… Or, it did before the flood… And, she even owned it… But accordin’ to one of the neighbors NOLA PD managed ta’ track down, they don’t think she actually lived there. A lawn service came by and kept the place up, and the guy said he noticed a car there a couple of times late at night, but he never saw anyone actually livin’ there.”
“Do you think she was planning ahead for the eventuality of getting caught?” I asked.
“Possibly. That, or she was usin’ it in the middle of the night or somethin’. Who knows? Doesn’t really matter much ‘cause since the flood, it’s totaled. If there was any evidence there, it’s gone now.
“So, anyway, on the doctorate thing… She attended three separate colleges. Not sure why the moving around, but in the end she did her post-grad work at George Washington University in DC, which is where she got the doctorate. She didn’t really put it to use though. Not professionally anyway because after she got it, she worked as a VP for her dad’s company. But, that only lasted about a year.”
“What happened?”
“Dunno. Apparently she just up an’ quit. But, after the parents kicked, she sold off a lotta property as well as the family business. Been a lot of turnover there, so nobody really remembers much about ‘er. However, after that, even though she didn’t need the money, she spent some time working as a pro-dominatrix.”
“That really doesn’t come as a big surprise.”
“No, it doesn’t. She even owned one of those fetish clubs for a while ‘till it got shut down.” He flipped a page in the notebook and scanned down the page. “Yeah, here it is, Gwendolyn’s Keep.”
“Another pseudonym…”
“Yeah… Back then she was callin’ ‘erself, Mistress Gwen. Regular identity crisis with this one.”
“Any idea why she was shut down?”
“Yeah, actually. That took some diggin’, but it seems one of ‘er clients filed assault charges. Said she took the ‘game’ a bit too far. Accordin’ to the police report, she fucked ‘im up good. Lessee… Yeah… Whole lotta stitches, a broken hand, broken nose, and several bad cigarette burns.”
“I guess there’s no surprise there either.”
“Yeah, well her contention was expressed consent, which didn’t necessarily fly. So, the club got closed down and there was a big stink. Almost went ta’ trial, but she had the money ta’ make the whole situation go away. The nasty rumor is she not only paid off the client but a coupl’a local officials as well because they were lookin’ real hard at criminal charges. Anyway, after that she pretty much just dropped off the map. Not even a parkin’ ticket since. Pulled a Garbo. Total recluse. No friends or acquaintances ta’ speak of. She just pays ‘er taxes, donates to a coupl’a charities for the write-off, and that’s about it.”
“Well, I think we know better than that.”
“True story.”
“Of course, with all that money, I suppose it isn’t hard to disappear if that’s what you want.”
“Yeah, that’s a fact… Of course, right now ‘er bank accounts and credit cards are bein’ tracked, but somethin’ tells me she’s prob’ly got a stash we don’t know about… Maybe even whole ‘nother identity or two… Hell, I’d bet my paycheck on it.” He flipped the notebook closed then stowed it back in his pocket. “Okay, I showed ya’ mine. Your turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean this whole Miranda thing. You seem ta’ think she’s the real reason evil sis-in-law would come back… So, explain it to me. Why would this dead chick be after you?”
“Oh, that… Well, it’s simple really. When I severed the binding, I took Felicity away from her.”
“So she’s really after Felicity, not you?”
“Probably. But, my bet is that Miranda wants Felicity alive and well so that she can continue using her as a horse. Annalise, on the other hand, based on what I picked up from that vision, would rather that not be the case. So, she’s going to be severely conflicted.”
“Could be good for us if she is. Might cause ‘er ta’ make a mistake that’ll let us get a bead on ‘er,” he offered then thrust his chin toward me. “So technically, you’re safe.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’m a roadblock for both of them. I’m the one who took Felicity away. I know that didn’t sit well with Miranda at all. And, since I’ll also protect my wife at all costs, Annalise isn’t going to be terribly happy with me either. Neither of them will.”
“So you’re pissin’ em both off.”
“Essentially, yes. That would be my guess. Therefore, I’m expendable as far as both of them are concerned.”
“So, ain’t you worried about Firehair out runnin’ around by herself?”
“At the moment, no.” I shook my head. “Miranda exercises too much control over Annalise. She isn’t going to let Annalise come after Felicity. If anything, she’ll probably attempt something magickal again. I’m just not sure what.”
“Somethin’ with the bones?”
“Possibly, although that would be more curse oriented and more likely directed at me. If I had to speculate,
