We stared at each other for what seemed an hour, but it had to be only a few seconds. Then she relaxed the gun hand, letting it drop to her side. “He made me pay for what I did to him. For twenty long years.”
“But he’s gone now and maybe you and Megan can—”
“No. My daughter couldn’t possibly forgive me for what I did. I’m a common criminal.” Her eyes had misted, and she blinked several times until they cleared.
“And couldn’t possibly forgive your affair with her father?” I asked, wanting to add,
She nodded. “Believe it or not, I used to love that asshole.”
“And he was Megan’s biological father, right?”
She nodded.
“Listen, I promise to help you work things out with your daughter, but I need all the facts. How did you know about the wedding? How—”
“Abby?” came a muffled voice from the vicinity of the kitchen. Aunt Caroline’s voice. Damn her to hell!
My aunt started pounding on the back door, saying, “I know you’re home.”
As far as Laura Montgomery was concerned, Aunt Caroline might as well have been the FBI. She whirled and rushed out the terrace door into the darkness, shattered glass crunching underfoot, clothespins spinning on the tile after her retreat.
A part of me wanted to run after her, tackle her, make her tell me more, but a loud voice in my head overruled this idea. “Let her go for now,” it said.
So I closed the terrace door and went to let my stupid aunt in. She was the last person I wanted to talk to, especially since she’d just screwed up my chance of finishing the job I was hired for.
“Abby, what’s wrong?” she asked as soon as I let her in.
“Nothing. So glad you dropped by.” No hiding the sarcasm. I was too pissed off. I headed for the coffee-pot to refill the mug I’d emptied on my jeans earlier, not trusting myself even to be civil.
“No coffee for me, thank you. I can’t stay.”
“I see you’re upset,” she said. “You’ve got those little furrows between your eyebrows. Do you know how expensive it is to cosmetically repair damage that could be avoided if you’d pay attention to your emotions, Abigail?”
“No, but I’m sure you do,” I said wearily. “Listen. I’ve had a long day. Why are you here?”
“I found you some work, just as I promised.” She smiled like she’d just invented Coca-Cola.
“I told you not to do that,” I said.
“But Libby needs your help. You remember my friend Libby?”
I nodded, stirring sugar into my coffee. Libby had a fake British accent and carted an Irish wolfhound around in her Mercedes.
“She adopted a new puppy from the shelter—got a schnoodle if you can believe it. Schnoodles are very in. Anyway, this dog has seizures, and Libby feels it’s her responsibility to find the original owner and see if there are more puppies who might be afflicted. She hopes to then find them homes with owners who have the resources to —”
“You want me to work a
“Why yes. You fancy yourself an investigator and—”
“I don’t investigate dogs... or cats or birds,” I said, my voice rising. “And if she adopts an elephant with hives, I won’t do that case, either!”
Aunt Caroline stepped back, looking indignant. “How ungracious of you, Abigail. I taught you to be—”
“Save it,” I said.
She pulled her fur collar up around her chin. “I came here with the best intentions, hoping to show you that I’m willing to embrace the new
She, too, departed into the night, leaving me frustrated and angry.
And then there was the guilt. How did she manage to be such an idiot and still make me feel like everything wrong between us was my own doing?
21
The next morning, after I’d rethought the events of last night, I knew I had to report that Laura Montgomery had returned to the States. Since she had been arrested, though not tried for the embezzlement, that meant the statute of limitations didn’t apply. She was still wanted by the authorities. If I had any intention of moving beyond provisional PI status in the future, I had to play by the rules. I called Angel for advice, and he told me that since Montgomery had fled from a Dallas jurisdiction, I could report my “sighting” on-line. And, since the case was cold, Angel figured it would probably take the Dallas cops at least a week to put someone on it, pull the files, and get back to me. In other words, this approach would buy some time.
Next I called Kate at her office. With Megan’s mother making an appearance, it was time to tell my client what I had learned. That DNA results I’d been so eager to get didn’t even matter anymore, but Kate’s presence when I spoke to Megan did. The receptionist said Kate would be free for lunch at eleven thirty, which gave me an hour to get my act together and make it to the Medical Center. I also needed to find out what had become of Roxanne the Confessor, and once I was on the road, I called Megan to find out.
But she didn’t answer. Travis did.
“Hi, Travis. So what happened with Roxanne’s confession last night?”
“When we got home and told Sylvia what Roxanne had done, all three of us went down to the police station. Roxanne refused to see us. Fielder told us Roxanne is not under arrest, but she decided to keep her overnight as a material witness.”
“No arrest. Obviously Fielder wasn’t convinced by this confession—at least not yet.”
“Yeah. Not yet.”
“Fielder’s probably being careful this time after what happened when she hauled you in. Does Roxanne have a lawyer?”
“Apparently she refused legal help, too. Megan’s hoping Fielder will let her out in time for Graham’s visitation tonight. Sylvia’s decided he should be buried next to his brother—which I don’t get since they weren’t exactly best buddies—but I’m not making those decisions.”
“How’s Megan today? I’m concerned about her. She looked so tired and pale last night.”
“I’m pretty concerned myself. I wanted to talk to you about—” He paused. “Hang on. I hear her coming down the stairs.” A second later Travis said, “Hey, Meg. It’s Abby.”
Megan got on the line. “Did Travis tell you they kept Roxanne overnight?”
“He did, but maybe Fielder wanted to give Roxanne some time to rethink her confession.” I’d reached the Medical Center and had to pay attention to traffic or get myself killed. “If it would make you feel better, I’ll swing by the Seacliff Police Station later and see if I can find out anything.”
“Abby, you’ve helped so much already and—”
“Consider it done. I’ll see you at the funeral home this evening and give you a full report.” Megan gave me the time and location—the same as her father’s services—and I clicked off the phone and plugged it into the recharger.
Maybe tonight I could get Travis alone. Get his opinion on when I should tell Megan everything I’d learned. Would she be happy to know she’d been adopted by her biological father or angry he hadn’t told her the truth? And would she be happy to know her birth mother was alive or disgusted the woman was a fugitive? I had no way of knowing.
Finding a spot in the parking garage of Kate’s building proved as challenging as always, and after my fifth trip around winding narrow lanes and concrete pillars, I slipped into a spot meant for a “compact” car. Absurd. Ninety- nine percent of the vehicles in Houston are SUVs or trucks.
