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I park my pink cruiser in the bike shed outside of my apartment complex, and start climbing the stairs towards home. When I reach my door, I hesitate.
I’ve been thinking hard the whole time I was riding home.
I keep circling back to one thing.
The will.
The reason this whole thing started in the first place.
It doesn’t make sense to me. If Victoria and Rich were alone with Felix when he died, wouldn’t it be their handwriting on the will? Victoria even said that she was the one that faked Felix’s signature.
Yet the signature on the will doesn't look like Victoria’s handwriting. Or Rich’s. What am I missing here?
Instead of opening the door to my own apartment, I turn down the walkway and head for Chris’s door.
I reach Unit G and knock.
Chris opens the door within a few seconds.
I’ll report the facts here, as an unbiased member of the female population. The guy looks handsome. He’s wearing navy blue sweats, and a grey Hillcrest Police Department tee shirt. His sandy blonde hair is damp as though he just got out of the shower. I’ve had some pretty wonderful showers with Chris. We used to like to—
Nope! My mind can not go there right now. I’m here on business.
“Hey!” I say. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
He shakes his head. “I’m just about to have a beer and pizza. There’s plenty if you want to come in...”
“I’d better not,” I say. Without meaning to, I glance over the railing and down towards the courtyard. I can’t quite see Max’s door from here, but I look in that direction.
Max is not the jealous type. However, I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of being alone with Chris in his apartment. There are too many memories in there. Plus, drinking beer and eating pizza was kind of our thing. That probably sounds pathetic, but it’s true. I’m doing really well with my break up from Chris, but I’d better not test my limits.
I speak up. “I just ate,” I say.
He nods. I know that he knows there’s more to it than the fact that I’m full. Historically, I always have room for a good microbrew or a slice.
“Did you find out anything interesting about Victoria?” I ask.
“Nothing too great.” Chris leans against the door frame and crosses his arms over his chest—my guess is to ward off the chill from the outside air. He is in a tee shirt after all. “A little bit about her past. She studied acting in Rhode Island before moving to Hillcrest. She was even in some commercials. Then she moved out here and was in the drama club for a while.”
“The one that puts on ‘Shakespeare in the Park’?” I ask. “She doesn’t strike me as the type.”
“Well, she was,” Chris says. “She even married the director. They divorced after a year. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Hunh,” I say. “Any kids in that marriage?”
“One,” says Chris. “A boy. Born just a few months after the wedding took place. I found records of it. Maybe that was the reason for the marriage. You know how it goes sometimes. And guess who her child is?”
“Declan Nelson,” I supply.
Chris raises his brows. “Lucky guess?” he asks.
“Nope. I... I er—stumbled upon the Dempsey’s bank records.”
Chris frowns. “I don’t like the sound of that,” he says. “You didn’t break into the bank, did you?” He eyes me, as if judging just how far I’d go for a case. “You know you could go to jail for a very long time for that... right? And that they have video cameras that cover every square inch of—”
“I didn’t break into the bank,” I say.
Chris relaxes. “Oh, good,” he says. “I don’t know if I could arrest you Penny. I like you too much.”
“Thanks,” I say. Then, “I just—I... happened across a history of the Dempsey’s bank transactions, and saw that she and Rich gave eleven million to Declan Nelson, twenty-nine years ago. I was trying to figure out what they did with the money. I mean, everyone knows that Rich and Victoria are not well-off now. You said it yourself—they’ve had that same little bungalow and old Cadillac forever. So I looked into it. I found out that they transferred all that money to Declan.”
“Declan Nelson,” Chris asks. “Victoria’s son.”
“Apparently!” I say. “It’s so weird. I never knew Victoria and Declan were related.”
“Me either,” Chris says. “Until I started researching Victoria. I don’t think it’s a surprise really; why would we know that Declan was Victoria’s son? I barely know anything about Declan. He rarely leaves his apartment during the light of day. And then when he leaves, he goes right to the bar. I don’t think he works at all.”
I nod. “And now we know why,” I say. “He doesn’t have to. He’s a millionaire. I don’t think I’ve ever really talked to him, except one night when I was at The O.P. way too late. Marley and I got into a fight with him about what songs to play on the jukebox.”
Chris rolls his eyes. “Let me guess. You and Marley wanted Michael Jackson so you could practice your moonwalk.”
“Of course!” I say. “And Declan refused to comply! He kept changing it to hard rock. Gross.”
“I had to give him a citation once,” Chris says.
“For what?” I ask.
“I forget, now,” Chris says. “It was a couple years ago. Two or three, I think. Actually, it was almost exactly two years ago because I remember I was the only cop on duty because the rest were at the Heroes of Hillcrest Awards.”
“You mean Night of Hillcrest History?” I ask.
“Same thing,” Chris says. “It was when the whole police department was being honored.”
Ug. I remember that. I remember how bitter I was about it. I’m not proud, but I do remember staying home instead of participating. I couldn’t help it. I used to want to be a cop so bad. Watching them all be proclaimed heroes was too much for me.
“I remember that, too.” I say. “You’re right. It was two years ago. Why were you the only cop on duty?”
“I drew the short straw,” says Chris. “Let’s see. I remember he was driving a silver Porsche... I forget if it was a DUI or just speeding. Hang on, I probably have it in my SWIFT account.” He pulls out his phone.
“What’s a swift account?” I ask.
“It’s our new software,” Chris says. “Keeps records of everything. It’s really cool. Hang on... I just put in a few search terms and... “
We both wait while his phone works away. After a minute he says, “Here it is. His ticket. Yeah. Looks like he was speeding.”
“Where?” I ask.
“On Main Street,” Chris says. “Stupid place to speed. I nailed him going thirty-five in a twenty.”
“Oohhh... thirty-five,” I say jokingly. “That’s criminal.”
“It is for a zone that’s supposed to be twenty!” Chris says.
I laugh a little. “Alright,” I say. “Don’t get your cop-sweatpants in a twist. Can you send me that citation?”
“Sure,” Chris says, surprising me. I expected some push back there. Maybe Chris is serious about working together. I guess we really are going to be sharing information.
As he taps away on his phone, I say, “Thanks. It’s nice—this whole working together thing. I’m glad we can be mature about our break-up.”
“We have to work together,” Chris says. “You’re a PI, Penny. I’m a cop. Working together is mutually beneficial for us. It makes sense. There.” He stops tapping his phone, and then pushes it into his pocket. “I sent a copy of the ticket to you.”
“Thanks,” I say. Then, “I should get home. It’s been a draining day.” I consider telling him about the tension at dinner, but then think better of it. It would be hard to tell the story without revealing all that I know about Felix Greene. It felt right to tell that to Owen and Marley, but I don’t want to start spreading it around town just yet.
I bite my lip, thinking.
Then again, Chris did just share information with me. I should show him that I value our working relationship. I should tell him what I’ve discovered.
I speak. “But before I go... there’s one more thing we should talk about. It might pertain to the case.”
“Shoot,” Chris says.
“Today at the memorial service, I pulled Victoria aside to ask her some questions,” I say.
“I saw you step outside with her,” Chris says. “How did it go?”
“She really opened up to me,” I say. “She told me that... well...” I bite my lip again.
How exactly am I going to phrase this?
I speak slowly and carefully. “You know how everyone knows about how Felix saved Rich’s life in that tunnel collapse up at the mine?” I say.
Chris nods. “Sure,” he says. “I’ve been hearing that story since I was two.”
“Me too,” I say. “But Victoria told me that everything may not have really gone down in exactly the way that we know it.”
“Really?” Chris says.
I nod. “In her version of the story, Felix died of a head wound in the mine parking lot. The story of the accident in the tunnel was a sort of... exaggeration.”
Or lie, but I’m not ready to say that yet.
“People love drama,” Chris says. “I’m not surprised that the story got more and more elaborate over the years.”
“Right,” I say. “You’re absolutely right. No surprise there.” I’m playing it down, but at least I sort of clued Chris in to what I found out.
“Chris,” I say. “I think it’s all connected. The will, the events of that night thirty years ago. The nugget of gold. Felix’s death... maybe even Victoria and Declan somehow. I just can’t put the pieces together. We don't have enough facts. If you could just ask your chief to start the investigation, we could really make some progress.”
Chris rubs his hand over his head. His blonde hair stands on edge. “Penny, I don't think we should get ahead of ourselves. Technically, there’s nothing wrong with a mother giving her son a gift of money. Victoria hasn’t done anything wrong. We don’t even know for sure that Rich was murdered. We won’t know until we have the autopsy results. What we’re doing now is good. I think we should keep doing research and collecting data so we’re really ready to go on Monday.”
“Monday will be too late,” I say.
How can I explain to Chris this feeling that I have inside of me? I know. I know that Rich was murdered—and I know that we have to act now. I feel it in my gut.
Chris has never been one to understand womanly or witchy intuition in the past, and I doubt he’s going to tonight. Not while he’s shivering cold and anxious to return to pizza, bottle of microbrew, and a college basketball game no doubt on the tube.
“We have to be patient,” he says.
I guess I’m going to have to count my wins for tonight, and cut my losses. You can’t win them all!
“All right,” I say. “I’ll wait ‘til we see the results before jumping to any conclusions.”
Really, it’s too late for that. I’ve already jumped.