“What do you think you’re here for?” she demanded, confronting him. “How did this woman get in? Why aren’t you doing your job?”
The bodyguard jumped to his feet and his right hand slipped beneath his jacket. “Mrs. Franklin told me to let her in. She said it was okay.” His eyes were on Lucy, watching every move.
“It’s true,” said Lucy, making sure not to make any sudden movements and keeping her hands clearly in view. “I’m Lucy Stone from the Pennysaver and Mireille asked me to come and interview her.”
“Oh, sorry, Lucy. I spoke to you on the phone. I’m Mimsy, Mireille’s mom,” said the woman, who Lucy realized was an older version of Mireille. She was heavier, and her frizzy hair was obviously colored, but beneath her carefully moisturized wrinkles, she had the same enviable cheekbones and little pointed chin. Like her daughter, she was casually dressed in yoga pants and ballet flats, though she had topped her T-shirt with a matching hoodie.
“I’m sorry about this,” she added, giving the bodyguard an apologetic smile. “I’m a bit paranoid these days and I can’t wait to get out of here. Believe me, if Mireille wasn’t due any minute and hadn’t made arrangements to have the baby here, we’d be long gone.”
“I think you might want to check on her. She just rang for the nurse,” said Lucy.
“Thanks,” said Mimsy, hurrying across the hall to the library.
The bodyguard was standing by the front door, which he opened for Lucy.
“Take good care of them,” she said, catching his eye.
“I certainly will,” he replied with a serious nod.
Pausing for a moment on the front porch to take in the million-dollar view of the bay dotted with pine-covered islets, she felt a sharp stab of envy. Imagine being able to live among all this beauty, she thought, in a big, beautiful house with plenty of helpers just waiting to satisfy every whim. She grabbed the handrail and descended the stone steps carefully, comparing them to the scuffed wooden steps that led to her back porch.
And then she remembered that her husband was healthy and alive and so were her children, and even though she lived in a modestly sized home, she didn’t need a bodyguard. Ed Franklin’s wealth hadn’t protected him or his daughter from sudden death.
* * *
When she returned to the office, Ted was eager to hear all about the interview. “What’s she like? What did she say?” he asked, looking up from his desk.
“I think she just wants everyone to know she’s not a gold digger, she truly loved Ed, and she has nothing to do with his business affairs.”
“If you believe that, I’ve got a bridge I’d like to sell you,” said Phyllis.
“I do believe her,” said Lucy, who was hanging up her jacket. “In fact, she didn’t even know about the funeral Saturday. It came as quite a shock when I told her.”
“That’s weird,” said Phyllis. “Planning a funeral without consulting the wife.”
“That’s what I think,” said Lucy. “It’s like Munn doesn’t take her seriously, like she’s kind of temporary.”
“Well, she is very pregnant. Maybe he thought it would be too much for her,” said Ted.
“I wonder whose side he’s on,” said Lucy, seating herself at her desk. “If the will stands, Mireille’s baby will be the sole owner of Ed Franklin Enterprises. As the baby’s guardian, she’ll be running the show.”
“I bet she’s really a crafty little wench, out to make everybody think she’s a little angel, while she makes off with the loot,” said Phyllis.
“She’s got the looks for the part,” said Lucy, remembering how she’d been struck by Mireille’s beauty. She went straight to her e-mails, catching up with the messages she’d missed while she was out. She couldn’t miss the one from Zoe, which had arrived just minutes before, with the subject line in capitals: MATT ARRESTED.
Quickly opening the file, she found no details. There was only a terse message, also in caps. MOM, CALL ME.
CHAPTER 14
Lucy immediately reached for the phone on her desk and called Zoe’s cell phone, which Zoe must have been holding in her hand because she answered immediately.
“Why don’t you answer your phone?” she demanded. “I called and called, but all I got was voice mail.”
“I turned it off. I had an important interview and didn’t want to be interrupted,” said Lucy, fumbling in her bag for the forgotten phone and switching it back on. “But I got your e-mail. Is this true?”
“Yeah. Mom, he called me from California. He said he got a call from the DA that he was being charged with Ed Franklin’s murder and there was a warrant for his arrest. The DA said he should turn himself in, otherwise the California cops would arrest him and Maine would start extradition proceedings.”
“Well, it was nice of Aucoin to give him that option,” said Lucy, thinking of the police shootings that were getting so much attention these days. By turning himself in, Matt would avoid being seized on the street in some sort of risky armed confrontation.
“Are you crazy?” demanded Zoe. “Being charged with murder isn’t nice . . . especially if you didn’t happen to do it.”
“Did he say why they think he did it?” asked Lucy.
“He says it’s because he used to date Alison.”
“What did you say?” demanded Lucy, who couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Matt used to date Alison. I thought you knew.”
“I didn’t know, but it explains a lot,” said Lucy, thinking of the antagonism she’d witnessed between Matt and Ed Franklin.
“He said it’s that thing about husbands and boyfriends being automatic suspects. You know how her father gave him a lot of grief. Franklin kept saying how Matt was a Mexican, and wouldn’t let him come to the house or anything. I guess they think there was some sort of confrontation and he got real mad and killed him.”
“I think there must be more to it than that,” said Lucy, suspecting that Matt hadn’t given Zoe
