The microsd card was tiny, but if anyone could get to the information on it, it was Piper. Fenway thanked Amanada for being so forthcoming and she walked to the front of courtroom, around the witness stand, and to the judge’s bench, where she set the card next to the laptop.
Piper stopped typing and looked up. “What’s this?”
“It’s the Holy Grail,” Fenway replied. “This is the spreadsheet from Jessica Marquez. The one with all the payments in and out of the scholarship fund.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Amanda copied it. See if any of the usernames or codenames match with any of the dates and times of the payment information you have in the master spreadsheet. All we need is getting lucky on the right name and maybe everything will fall into place.”
Piper’s eyes lit up. “I think I have an adapter in my bag.”
“Really? I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one of these so small before.”
“They’re usually for mini cameras, or smartphones. A couple of e-readers support them too. Honestly, I wasn’t planning to get the adapter, but your father didn’t even blink at the price tag on this laptop, so I figured what the hell.”
Fenway looked at the clock on Piper’s screen. “It’s been about fifteen minutes. Any update from McVie on when we’re getting out of here?”
“Nothing yet.”
“I want to make sure I talk to Leda while we’re still in here,” Fenway whispered. “I really should talk to Xavier first to appease Bryce, but I want to make sure that Judith didn’t know about the baby. Or if she did, that she’s known about it for a while.”
“Long enough so that she’d have killed him long before now?”
“Exactly.” She walked down the steps around the witness stand again. How many times had she gone back and forth in the four hours they’d been stuck in here?
Leda Nedermeyer sat in the last seat next to the side aisle in the fifth row on the prosecution’s side. Fenway stepped sideways through the fourth row and sat down heavily in the chair in front of Leda. “Hi again, Professor,” she said.
Nedermeyer glanced up from Pride and Prejudice. “Hello again, Coroner. I take it you didn’t come over to chat about the role of garden pathways as motifs in Jane Austen.”
Fenway sighed. “I’d rather discuss that than what I’m about to say, Professor, believe me.”
Nedermeyer put her book down, and then crossed her arms. “I don’t believe you, but I appreciate you trying to protect my feelings.”
It wasn’t worth going through the past of Fenway’s failed attempt at being a literature major, so she simply smiled. “We’re doing background research on everyone in the room, Ms. Nedermeyer.” Then she paused, looking in the professor’s face.
Nedermeyer blinked and tilted her head. “And?”
“And we found a—a piece of information in your past. Something that connects you to Professor Cygnus. Beyond the simple affair the two of you had.”
Nedermeyer was silent.
“About nine years ago, Professor. It would have been on August fifth.”
The professor sighed and nodded. “Yes, Coroner, it’s true. Virgil showed me exactly where he drew the line with our relationship. His daughter had just graduated college, so there was no need to stay together with Judith for appearances. We could have been happy, I think. If he had wanted to. But—but I didn’t want to stop seeing him, and I wanted to keep my job, and—”
She looked down at her knees.
“It was a closed adoption. Those papers should have been confidential. I didn’t even think Virgil’s name was supposed to be on the birth certificate.”
“I’m sorry, Professor. I really am. But I have to ask. Does Judith know about the baby?”
“How should I know? I didn’t have any idea she knew about the affair until now. I don’t know how much Virgil told her about us.”
“Would she be angry with him? I mean, it’s one thing to have an affair. It’s another thing when your husband’s mistress is pregnant.”
“I don’t know. They had an unusual relationship.” A wistful smile touched the corners of Leda’s mouth. “I suppose he and I did too.”
Fenway hesitated. “Were—were you angry with him, Ms. Nedermeyer?”
“What?”
“Well—if he made it clear that if you wanted to keep seeing him, you had to give up the baby, and if staying with him, as you said earlier, ruined your chances for a family….” She let her phrase trail off, hoping it didn’t sound too forced.
Leda crinkled her nose. “Yes. You know what? Yes. I was mad as hell. I got him for six weeks out of the year, and Judith got him the rest of the time, and I gave up everything for that man. I waited for years for him to be free of her, to be free of everything she represented, so that he and I could be together.” She leaned forward and put her finger inches from Fenway’s nose. “But I didn’t kill him,” she said, her voice rising, “because then I wouldn’t have gotten what I wanted. I didn’t want him dead, I wanted her dead. And I just had to wait another six months at most.” Leda put her arm down as she stood, drawing herself up to her full height until she was looking down at Fenway, who was still sitting down. “I’d already waited ten years! I already gave away my baby with him! How much of an idiot would I have to be to kill the man I loved when I was so close to getting him?”
“I had to ask,” Fenway murmured.
A bloodcurdling scream—and the figure of Judith Cygnus, racing at Leda, sprinting like a woman half her age toward Leda Nedermeyer.
Leda’s eyes went wide, and she backed up—right into the side wall.
Judith Cygnus—all hundred pounds of her—slammed Leda into the wall with her body, then grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, gasping. “You—don’t get—to lie—about Virg—"
Leda squealed. Fenway bolted out of her seat and tried to wedge herself between the two women, but Judith hung on to Leda’s hair firmly.
“Let go!” Fenway shouted in Judith’s ear. The older woman flinched, and Fenway shot her fist out, hard and fast, about two inches above the inside of Judith’s elbow.
Judith yelped in pain and let go of Leda, who spun out of her grasp.
Fenway put her body between the two women, who were warily eying each other.
“You take back what you said,” Judith screeched, her eyes dilated and her voice raspy.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Leda said quietly, arms straight out in front of her body, palms out. What are you pissed off about? That I said you’d die of cancer in six months? Sorry to be the one to break it to you.”
“The lie about the baby,” Judith said through gritted teeth.
“Stop it,” Fenway growled. “I’m trying to find your husband’s killer, Mrs. Cygnus, and it doesn’t get me any closer to the truth if you insist Professor Nedermeyer hide things from me.”
Judith put down her arms and wilted into the closest chair, her head in her hands. “What am I going to do?” she moaned. “What am I going to do?”
“You have your daughter,” Professor Nedermeyer hissed at Judith. “I have no one. You can feel better knowing that when I die, I will be alone, without anyone around. They probably won’t even find my body until it starts to smell. My cats will probably have eaten my face.”
Judith raised her head and glared at Leda.
Then Judith began to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Leda demanded.
“I just—I just got this image of you lying on some horrible linoleum floor, and a big orange cat just snacking on your nose.” She bobbed her head up and down. “Om nom nom nom. Tastes like tuna.”
Fenway had to turn her head so Leda wouldn’t see the smile on her face.
Leda shook her head. Fenway thought she would start screaming or crying.
Instead, she snickered. “One does read some awful stories.”
“And cats are assholes,” Judith said. “Do you actually have cats?”
“No,” Leda said. “I think I’m considered quite loony enough by the Nidever community without being a crazy cat lady too.”
“Your face is probably too small to properly feed more than one or two cats anyway,” chuckled Judith, and then Leda was laughing too.
“I’m sorry, Judith,” Leda said. “I—I’m sorry I fell in love with Virgil, and I’m sorry I was such a shit to you all these years.”
“I was a shit to you, too,” Judith said. “Especially after I knew you were giving Virg something I couldn’t.”
“Oh, don’t,” Leda said. “You’re the scorned woman in this situation.”
“Are you two hugging it out now?” Fenway said, half annoyed and half amused.
Both women glared at Fenway.
“I’m going back to my seat,” Judith declared.
“I’ll come with you.” Fenway stood up. She nodded at Leda, who looked amused, if a bit dazed. Judith walked slowly through the empty row, with Fenway a few feet behind her. Everyone else in the room, even Rose Morgan, was staring at Judith as she went to her seat.
“Funny,” Judith said loudly as she sat down, “you’d think no one in the courtroom has ever seen an old woman completely lose their mind before.”
Fenway took a seat next to Judith.
“Oh, now,” Judith said, “I’ve just had to relive the worst news I’d ever gotten in my life. I’d successfully forgotten it. And you and Leda just made it come rushing back. I suppose you’ll ask me questions about it now.”
“You were angry enough about the baby to attack Leda. You might have hurt her.”
“I certainly would have. Leda Nedermeyer doesn’t know how to stand up for herself, never mind fight anyone. She’s weak.”
“So that makes me wonder, Mrs. Cygnus—were you angry enough at your husband for all of this—for the murder of Jessica Marquez, for essentially taking himself away from you for the last six months of your life—maybe even giving you flashbacks to when you first found out about Leda’s baby—to hide a gun in here over the weekend, and then shoot your husband?”
Judith looked pensive. “That would have taken a huge amount of planning that I simply no longer have the energy to do.” She sighed. “Speaking of which, that fight with Leda took quite a bit out of me. I’ll be feeling that this evening. Probably too exhausted to think tonight.”
Fenway nodded. “Okay. Thanks for the chat.” She got up. “Can I get anything for you?”
“My medication,” she said. “I’m late for it.”
“I’ll see how soon we can get out of here. Last time I checked, it wouldn’t be very much longer.” Fenway got up and placed a comforting hand on Judith Cygnus’s shoulder.
“Fenway?”
She looked across the aisle at her father, who was beckoning her over. Fenway stepped in front of Judith and walked over to her father.
“What is it, Dad?”
“This board vote that Heissner talked about—I need to see where I stand with that. Is there any way you can get in touch with Mel?”
“Mel?”
“Mel Cherrington. I know him, he’s in my corner. If I can present my side of things, I’m sure the board will be fine with me staying on.”
“Even if you’re charged with murder?”
Ferris waved his hand. “It’s all in the way you phrase it. Besides—I’ve got the best lawyer in the state, and a researcher who’ll be able to prove I was framed.”
“But—come on, Dad, Schimmelhorn and Heissner have leverage to force you out. And you won’t be able to present to anyone if Heissner was right and they’re adding charges.”
“Let me worry about that.” Ferris cleared his throat. “Aren’t you doing something with the computer where you can contact the sheriff?”
“Dad—we’re in the middle of a murder investigation. And I should hope that I don’t have to remind you that Piper is working her ass off to find evidence that acquits you.”
“Yes, yes, yes, I understand all that, but look, I could get kicked out of the company even though I’m innocent. If I’m cleared, it won’t matter—it’s not like they’ll give me back the ceo position, or give me all my shares back. I’ve got thousands that I’m still waiting to vest—”
“Dad.” Fenway’s tone was sharp.
Nathaniel Ferris closed his mouth.
“Do you have any about how pissed off this makes everyone around you?” Fenway continued. “There’s a dead man lying twenty feet away from you and you’re talking about vesting stock options. Options that will be the difference between you making a hundred million dollars or two hundred million dollars next year.”
“There’s a lot more that—”
“You will be fine.” Images of grocery shopping with her mother at nine years old flickered across her mind, the bargains in the cart, the coupon clipping, the normal food she couldn’t get. The Sunday evenings when neither she nor her mother ate dinner, and probably the times she didn’t see her mother go hungry while she ate. “Seriously, the worst thing that will happen to you is that you’ll have to sell the mansion and just live in a normal house. You’d probably be able to sell your Red Sox memorabilia for hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
Shock registered first on Nathaniel Ferris’s forehead, then cascaded down his face. “I—I don’t—”
“It’s because you have your whole identity wrapped up in that oil company,” Fenway said, trying to will herself into a calm passivity. “Listen, Dad, the last couple of weeks, first with Charlotte being falsely accused, and now you—haven’t you been happier connecting with Charlotte rather than connecting with your stakeholders and working fourteen-hour days?”
Ferris grunted.
“I didn’t get your money when I was growing up, and that’s fine.” Fenway forced a smile onto her face, even as more confusion registered on her father’s. “You were mad at Mom for leaving and taking me with her and not telling you. I get that. I get that you decided to leave me to my own devices to pay for college. It made me resilient, even if I’m up to my eyeballs in debt. And you gave me a way out when I needed it. An apartment I can afford, a job I’m good at, and a chance to put things right with a father I never really knew.” She sighed. “But the time and the effort you put in with Charlotte—all the stuff you do that isn’t stuff you pay for? That’s what I need, too. I don’t need the money. I don’t need the fancy Porsche or the mansion on the beach. I need to, I don’t know, walk through a museum with you. Get burgers at In N’ Out. Talk to you about how my day went. That kind of stuff.” She cocked her head. Her father’s eyes and mouth were turned up in disbelief.
“You—you didn’t get my money when you were growing up?”
“What money? I told you months ago that we had to go on food stamps!”
“I just figured what I was sending wasn’t enough.”
“Wasn’t—” A buzz started in Fenway’s brain. “What you were sending? You weren’t sending anything. Your lawyers made sure of that. Look, I get it—Mom essentially kidnapped me. So she didn’t get anything, no alimony, no child support, nothing.”
Ferris’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean, no child support? I gave your mother ten thousand a month until you turned eighteen!”
“You—you what?” Fenway’s voice barely registered.
Her mother, who’d always scrimped and saved and worked two jobs just so they could have a roof over their head. Who, that first year, slept in a bench in the closet that wasn’t even big enough for her to stretch out fully. Her mother, who said they’d have to make do with food stamps for a while.
Had Fenway actually seen the food stamps?
Her mother, who said being poor was the price to pay for Ferris not pursuing a kidnapping charge.
Who was so proud when they didn’t have to miss a meal for a whole month. And then it became a whole year.
Her mother, who always calmed Fenway when she was angry with Nathaniel Ferris.
Her mother, who was so proud of the small house they bought.
“What—what are you saying, Dad?”
“And I don’t understand you saying that you went into debt with college. I paid for every class you took—unless there were some your mother didn’t tell me about. I paid for that master’s program at Seattle U. What did you do with the—” He paused, the realization dawning on his face. “She—she didn’t give you any of the money?”
“We didn’t have any money, Dad! We were poor! I went to school and went into debt so I could get out of poverty. So I wouldn’t have to live like my mother. Why do you think I—” Her words caught in her throat. If he’d given her mother the money, then what the hell happened to it? All that money, and Fenway had to eat rice and ramen? Hardly ever in new clothes, unless her mother had sold a painting.
Ten thousand dollars a month for ten years of child support, That was over a million dollars. And all that money for her education—where the hell did it go?
Ferris grabbed the back of the chair for support. “Oh, Fenway. Oh, no. No wonder you hate me. No wonder you think I never did anything for you. I’d want to come see you, but your mother said you didn’t want me there.”
“What did you think after I told you I was mad at you for missing my graduation?”
“That I misread the situation. That you were being a typical teenager, I guess. Saying you wanted one thing but really wanting something else. You know, saying you were embarrassed of me, but secretly wanting me to be there. I figured I just botched it.”
“And you thought ten thousand a month wasn’t enough to keep us off food stamps?”
Ferris looked uncomfortable. “Well, it’s been quite a while since I, uh, did a lot of shopping for myself. I’m used to a certain lifestyle. Maybe I’m a little out of touch.”
“A little out of touch?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Fenway. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t make sure that everything was happening properly. I’m sorry I gave your mother the checks for your education and didn’t pay the tuition directly to the school.”
“If you gave my mother the money, then what the hell happened to it? You don’t buy a hundred grand worth of art supplies in a year.”
Her mother’s voice rang in her head. You haven’t seen the price of oil paints lately.
“Did she have a problem? Drugs, maybe?” That didn’t seem right—her mother never seemed high around her. She tried to think back, this time with a clear head. It’s always those that are closest to an addict who never see it. But Joanne Stevenson Ferris didn’t have the cloying cleaning-product smell of meth or the floral metallic scent of cocaine. She didn’t have the lethargy of pills or the mania of uppers. Yes, the cigarette stench on her clothes and in her hair that she’d come home with was due to the creative meetings often happening on the smoke breaks that the art director took so frequently, but that was a common job hazard. There was no alcohol on her breath—or rarely, anyway, and only in the evenings.
Ferris spun on his heel and spoke to Charlotte for a moment, before returning with a checkbook.
“How much do you owe on your college loans?” he said.
“I don’t—I don’t want your money, Dad.”
“I don’t care. I promised I would pay for your college. And I broke the promise. So I’m making up for it.”
“I don’t know what happened to it—maybe Mom invested it or something, or maybe she—”
“Dammit, Fenway, that money was supposed to be yours for college. The fact that I gave it to the wrong person—it’s like going to a restaurant for lunch, but accidentally dropping a hundred-dollar bill on the street and watching the wind take it away. You’ve still got to pay for lunch. You’re not dining-and-dashing.” He opened up the checkbook. “Who do I make it out to?”
Fenway gave her father a frown. “What?”
“The college loan company. Is it all with one organization?”
“Uh—yeah. Education Lending Fund of Washington. elfw. That’s what I write on the checks when I pay.”
“How much?”
“I—uh, I don’t know the exact amount. It’s about ninety-four thousand, I think.”
“Ninety-four thousand?”
Fenway grimaced. “Seattle University is pricey.”
Ferris dashed off the check and ripped it out, handing it to her. “There you go. elcw. An even one hundred thousand dollars, because I know you and you tend to lowball bad news.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I certainly do have to.” Nathaniel Ferris closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fenway must have gotten that from him. “Now it makes sense why you were so mad at me for flying the private jet to Sea-Tac to get your car. And for me getting you a new car in the first place.”
Fenway’s throat was dry.
“Of course. Here you are, barely making your college loan payments, and I’m burning thirty grand every time my plane takes off.”
“I’m sorry, Dad—”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said, but his voice broke. “I’m glad I found out before I went to jail so I could at least put that right.”
Fenway had no idea if her father was lying about her child support or the college tuition, but she wasn’t gl argue about finally getting enough money to pay off the college loans. If she had to do it all over again, of course, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten the master’s in forensic nursing, but it was certainly relevant to her current job.
“I—uh, thank you, Dad,” she said.
He nodded and turned away.
Fenway looked down at the hundred-thousand dollar check in her hand and suppressed an urge to vomit.