THIRTY-THREE

  

Mark’s office was a stark contrast from her own. Utilitarian, dirty and crowded were words Allison would have used to describe it, and that would be generous. He had a small reception area, a conference room that doubled as a law library and his own cramped office. The place smelled of Italian hoagie and stale cigarette smoke. The hoagie smell came from the crumpled wax paper in the trashcan, presumably Mark’s dinner remnants, and the cigarette smell emanated from the man before her.

Mark folded himself into a chair in the meeting room. “Sit. Talk. Unburden yourself.”

“I won’t take up much of your time. I’m still trying to understand what happened to Scott and—”

“Sounds like you never got over my brother.”

“To the contrary,” Allison said. “I hadn’t thought of him in years. Until…until Leah called me, after he was killed.”

Mark waved his hand dismissively. “Leah. He should never have married her. Scott should never have married anyone. He wasn’t meant for that life.”

“Because of his philandering ways?”

“Because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, to put it simply.” Mark smiled. “My brother had a thing for women. I’m afraid being his wife wasn’t easy.”

“Is that why she was here?”

Mark’s facial expression hardened. “What do you want, Allison?”

Allison studied the man before her. It was hard to believe he was Scott’s brother. Where Scott had been all hard angles and muscle, Mark was soft and squishy. He may have been attractive once, but his jowly face, red nose and beady eyes gave him the look of a longtime alcoholic.

“The police have arrested three boys for your brother’s murder.”

Mark nodded. “And?”

“Do you believe they did it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You told me before he wasn’t into drugs.”

“I also told you he was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time. I still believe that.”

Allison cocked her head. “What would Scott have been doing on that block on that morning?”

Mark sat back, stretched his arms over his head. “How the hell would I know? A hooker? Lost? But clearly he was. And it got him killed.”

Allison wasn’t buying it. “Scott’s latest fling, a woman named Eleanor Davies, is missing. Did you know her, Mark?”

“Did I know her? No. Did I know of her? Yes. My brother was rather fond of Eleanor, at least in the carnal sense. She had, shall we say, few boundaries.”

“He told you that?”

“Scott told me a lot of things.”

“Is it possible that Eleanor had your brother murdered, Mark?”

Mark laughed, a hearty, mean laugh. “Are you joking? Why would his girlfriend want him dead?”

“I don’t know.” And that was the sad truth of it, Allison realized. She didn’t know. She had just come here hoping something would connect for her, that her intuition would begin sending off alarms. Her mobile buzzed, indicating a text, but Allison ignored it. “Maybe he’d recently ended the relationship and she hadn’t accepted that well.”

“So she killed him for revenge?” Mark scowled. “I don’t think so.” Mark leaned in and, from across the desk, Allison could smell onions on his breath. “Why are you really here, Allison?”

“I just told you why I’m really here. Lingering questions. That’s all.”

“You can’t let go.”

“Of Scott? I let go long ago. Of a need for the truth?” Allison looked away. Her mind wandered to Jason, to her sister’s daughter, to a cat left out in the cold. “No, I suppose I can’t.”

“Then I am going to tell you something very important. Scott was a no-good bastard. He didn’t care about his family, including me, and he especially didn’t give a rat’s ass about his wife. The only thing he cared about, really cared about, was his job. Things were slipping, he was getting heat, and he made stupid decisions based on that. He succumbed to the pressure.”

The disgusted look on Mark’s face told Allison exactly what he thought of people who succumbed to the pressure.

“For what? That’s what I can’t wrap my arms around.” And why the photos, Allison thought, why send them now? But she couldn’t share that. Not with Mark, of all people.

“He was human.”

“The job—was it too much for him? You were the matchmaker for the position. Did you have doubts?”

Mark sat back. “I’m the older brother. Do you know what it’s like to see a younger sibling make bad choices again and again and be helpless at stopping them?”

Indeed, Allison did, but that was something else she wouldn’t say.

“That’s how it was with Scott. He had such talent: good looks, charisma, brains. But he always did something to screw it up.”

Something in the way Mark spoke caused Allison to wonder whether his brother’s shortcomings were less a reason for concern than a source of self-worth. As long as his brother made bad choices, Mark could be the better person and have something to lord over him.

“So yeah, I had doubts,” Mark said. “Scott had screwed up at his last job. He had a series of extramarital affairs that could have ended poorly. And my ass was on the line with this job, too. I’m the one who convinced Brad Halloway to hire him in the first place.”

“You and Brad are friendly?” Somehow Allison couldn’t see it.

That stopped Mark. “You know him?”

“Yes. He helped me with some charity work years ago.”

Mark looked at her over steepled fingers.

“Really. Wouldn’t have guessed that.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. The bottom line is my brother was a fuck-up, plain and simple. And now he’s dead. There’s a moral there, but I’m still trying to figure out what that moral is.”

Mark’s desk phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said and answered it. “Sure, come up,” he said into the receiver. To Allison, he said, “My son.”

Allison rose, happy for the exit strategy. “I appreciate your time.”

“I didn’t tell you anything new.”

“It all helps.” And it did. Allison felt like maybe buried in this discussion was a nugget or two that might offer some insight. “If you hear from Eleanor, please give her my number.” Allison passed her card. “I have her cat.”

Mark smiled.

“Perfect. You have her p—”

“No,” Allison didn’t let him finish. “Don’t do that. None of this is a joke, Mark. None of it.”

Mark looked offended. Before he could fire back, the glass door opened and Mark’s son, Shawn, walked in. His jeans were covered in bright splotches of paint, and a forest green hoody was ripped at the cuffs. He carried a large leather art portfolio in one hand and a camera bag across his shoulder. He stopped short when he saw Allison.

“Didn’t know you had company, Dad.”

“She’s leaving.”

Allison nodded to the younger Fairweather. “That, I am.”

Allison headed toward the door, aware of two sets of eyes on her back. She wasn’t sure which of the Fairweather men made her more uncomfortable, Mark or Shawn. Happy she didn’t have to choose, she walked back into the night.

  

The text was from Mia. Call me immediately. Allison did but got no answer. In frustration, she checked her email. Nothing from Mia, but Delvar had sent her a note. In it, he’d attached the guest list for the award celebration. Hope you find what you need, he’d written. Let’s lunch soon. The attachment was hard to read on her phone, so Allison saved it for later. She got back on the road, dreading a trip to a Jason-less house. Feeling sorry for herself, she put on some Jack Johnson and let herself feel mellow. She needed to think. She needed a plan.

About twenty minutes into the drive, her phone rang. Mia.

Mia said, “Thomas found two addresses. Both properties belong to Doris Ann Long, originally of Connecticut. Your tip about her interest in guns was the answer. She’d created an LLC a few years ago, probably to shield herself from liability. Shrewd woman. Really hasn’t used the company since. She has no losses or income.”

“Two addresses?”

“One’s in Connecticut—maybe her childhood home?—and the other is in Maine. Rural Maine. I just texted you the addresses. The Maine location may be hard to find. A quick Google Maps search showed that it’s somewhere inland, off the mid-coast.”

“Was Svengetti able to tell where Doris currently lives?”

“He thinks it’s the Maine address. The other is listed as a rental property, although she hasn’t claimed any rental income in some time. I bring it up because it’s possible Eleanor is staying there.”

Allison considered her options. She had a fairly open day tomorrow, and Jason wouldn’t be home anyway. But if Eleanor was there, that could spell danger. After the last encounter with danger, she was in no mood for more violence.

“Can you watch Brutus and Simon the cat?”

“Promise me you’re not going alone.”

“I’ll take Vaughn, if he can go.”

“Then yes, I’ll watch the animals.” Mia hesitated, and Allison picked up on the undercurrent of maternal concern. She was grateful, but she’d been down this path before and trusted herself to do it again. “You promised,” Mia said eventually, “that this would be the last avenue. There is no guarantee that Eleanor will be with Doris Long. If Eleanor is a dead end, no pun intended, you stop.”

Allison was slow to respond. She had promised, though, and she would keep her word. And Mia was right: there were no guarantees. But she had a hunch, and she was also learning to trust her hunches. “You’re right,” she said. “If I don’t have any luck with Eleanor, I will put this whole issue to bed. Pinky swear.”

  

Vaughn wasn’t available.

“Sorry, Allison,” he said, sounding genuinely upset. “Duty calls. I told Mrs. T to go home early, she has some family stuff going on, and now it’s Jamie and me for the night.”

“That’s okay,” Allison said. She’d just fed Brutus and Simon and left detailed instructions for Mia on the kitchen island. Her bag was packed, and she was ready to go. “What does tomorrow look like?”

“Just wait a minute, okay?”

While she held, Allison watched Brutus and Simon. Brutus was licking the cat’s face, one eye on her, one on the cat’s leftover food. Her heart swelled with affection for that dog. He’d been in her life for less than two years, but when she considered how terrified she had been of dogs, of anyone or anything that needed her so totally, she realized she owed him a debt of gratitude. “A whole box of treats when I get back,” she told him. “And a new toy.”

She could have sworn Brutus smiled.

“I’m back,” Vaughn said. “I was hoping Angela could come tonight but she’s away. Chicago. She’ll be here in the morning, though. We could leave then.”

Allison wanted to get an early start. If she left now, she could at least see if the Connecticut house was a non-starter, as Mia seemed to suspect.

“How about this,” she said. “I’ll head to the Connecticut house tonight. If it’s not occupied, there’s no sense in wasting time. Then you can meet me in Maine. Also, I’m going to forward you the list of attendees at Delvar’s award ceremony. Can you ask Jamie to cross-reference it against Scott’s co-workers at Transitions?”

“Sure.” Vaughn hesitated. “Wait for me before you go into either house. If the Connecticut house is promising, wait for me there. Please don’t go in alone.”

Allison was hopeful, but her instincts said the Connecticut house wouldn’t be promising. “I will,” she said. “I reserved two rooms at a little hotel in Maine, about five miles from Doris’s residence. I’ll email you the details. If you don’t hear from me otherwise, meet me there tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay,” Vaughn said. He didn’t sound sure, but Allison wasn’t going to give him time to change his mind. She hung up with a “thank you” and reached for her coat. Brutus glared at her balefully. “You know I’m leaving, huh boy?”

Brutus put his head between his paws, holding her gaze. Simon was now asleep beside him.

The last thing Allison did before leaving was to call Jason. He didn’t answer, and she hadn’t expected him to. “I love you,” she said. And then, at a loss for words, “That’s all I called to say.”