22
Cole
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked Carlie as we came to a stop in the circular driveway of the Richardses’ enormous house. Perched above the valley of Logan Bend, the home was built in a clearing on the mountain. Stucco exterior and precision landscaping.
“This is where they live only part of the time?”
“I’ve never been up here before. It’s well hidden from below.”
The house was built in a Mediterranean style with a grand design of sweeping staircases and forty-foot ceilings, expensive furnishings, and shiny wood floors covered with oriental rugs. We were greeted by a maid in a black uniform and white apron and followed her across the marble foyer and into a formal living room. Ford had already arrived and stood in front of a large window with Sharon.
Thom Richards was seated talking to an attractive woman with sleek black hair and dark eyes. Ford’s wife, I assumed. He rose to greet us as we approached, shaking both our hands with a politician’s vigor. Ford and Mrs. Richards joined us.
Ford slapped me on the back and squeezed Carlie’s shoulder, then introduced us to his wife.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mrs. Ford said. “Call me Lily, please.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I said.
We’d debated at length about how to handle tonight and had finally agreed to see how things went. If the opportunity arose, we’d decided to bluff our way into a confession. Carlie was prepared to say she’d heard from some of the other women that Richards had taken advantage of in phone calls and emails. This wasn’t true, of course, but he wouldn’t know that.
The maid served flutes of champagne and we all sat around an ornate square coffee table. I made sure to sit close to Carlie. I didn’t want her out of my sight tonight. This might look like a friendly dinner party, but I suspected there were enough dirty secrets in this room to bury us all alive.
“Nice to see you somewhere other than my office,” Ford said to Carlie and me.
“You too, man.” As I looked over at his earnest face, I questioned myself again. Was Ford part of the deception? If so, how far into the mud had he gone with these two?
“Tell me, Carlie, how’s your mother feeling?” Richards asked.
Right. Her mother was supposed to be sick. Would Carlie remember the ruse?
“Much better. We think it was a touch of food poisoning,” Carlie said without missing a beat.
“Please give her our best,” Sharon said. “I sent a get-well basket over to her earlier today with soup from that wonderful deli in town and some French bread.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” Carlie said. “She’ll enjoy not having to cook.”
“I saw a gentleman picking her up the other day from campaign headquarters,” Richards said, eyes twinkling. “Does your mother have a boyfriend?”
“Yes. His name’s Joseph Marley. They’re pretty serious.” Carlie smiled over at me. “Love’s in the air here in Logan Bend.”
“My husband tells me you two dated in high school,” Lily said.
“That’s right,” Carlie said. “But we were torn apart by fate.” She said the last part in a theatrical voice. As if it weren’t actually true. Probably orchestrated by the very people in this room.
“What do you mean?” Lily asked.
“Cole had to move away when we were sixteen,” Carlie said. “After his brother Luke was falsely accused of murder.”
“I remember, yes.” Lily looked at Carlie, then me. “The gossipmongers were strong back then.”
“We didn’t think so,” Carlie said. “Until my sister’s murder, I always thought Logan Bend was a close-knit community. But after what they did, I could see that perception was false.”
“It never made any sense why the paper ran that story,” Lily said. “Thom, it was your uncle who owned the paper, right?” Lily asked.
“Yes, he did. As a matter of fact,” Richards said, “we had a falling-out over it. One that lasted for years.”
“He wrote the article,” Sharon said. “We were both deeply troubled by it. Logan Bend was a different place back then.”
“It was all too easy to assume the boyfriend did it, I suppose?” Lily asked. “People are sheep even in the face of facts.”
“We think the boyfriend might have done it, after all,” Carlie said. “While cleaning out my mother’s house, I found Beth’s journal. She had another boyfriend. A married one. An older, married boyfriend.”
“No, really?” Lily’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Honey, have you finally got a lead on the case?”
“No, it’s been a bust,” Ford said. “She doesn’t say who it is.”
“Yes. We’re no closer than we’ve ever been.” Carlie paused, possibly for dramatic effect. My girl could think on her feet. “But we know she was pregnant.”
“What? That’s new information, isn’t it?” Richards asked. I had to give him credit. The man looked merely curious, not guilty.
“She wasn’t sleeping with Luke,” Carlie said. “So whoever this guy was—had gotten her pregnant and probably killed her to keep her quiet.”
I watched Richards. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
“That’s awful,” Lily said. “Do you think you’ll ever know who did it?”
“Your husband says no,” Carlie said. “But I still have hope. I have to.”
“Listen, babe, they don’t want to talk about this stuff.” Ford plucked at the collar of his shirt as if the room were too warm, when in fact the air conditioner made it too cold. “Anyway, the details of the investigation are confidential.” He turned to Carlie and me. “My wife was trained as a reporter. I’m afraid her curiosity is getting the better of her.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Lily said. “I had my reporter hat on there for a minute. I’m like a cat, much too curious. It must be terrible not to know. Your poor mother.”
“It’s been hard on her. My father went to his deathbed not knowing what really happened to his girl,” Carlie said. “The carnage that’s left behind has been
