Roxy headed to the heart of suburbia. According to the file, Gretchen lived in a four-bedroom in Henderson. Roxy parked the Jeep in the driveway in front of a two-story beige stucco house with brown trim.
She passed a little boy running and screaming as she made her way to the front door and hit the bell. The neighborhood was alive with kids playing kickball in the neighbor’s driveway. Bike spokes fluttered and tapped as kids raced down the sidewalk.
The door opened and Gretchen stood there wearing a kiss the cook apron. Her red hair was pulled back, away from a face covered in flour. “You’re that woman who talked to my father.”
“I am. And I was hoping to talk to you as well.”
“About?” Gretchen wiped her hands on the apron.
“Donnie Dunne.”
Gretchen nodded. “Do you want to come in?”
“Thanks.” Roxy came inside and followed Gretchen into the living room.
Ivory walls, tan furniture, and a bin of toys in the corner. Wooden signs—Family and Love— hung among a multitude of photographs.
“What can I do for you today?” Gretchen settled on one end of the couch.
Roxy moved the peach and blue pillows and joined her.
Boots clomped in from a back hall. “Mrs. Ramstad.”
“Sorry.” Gretchen turned from Roxy to the man. “What do you need?”
“We’ll finish the drywall tomorrow. But we’re quitting for today.”
“Thank you.”
“See you tomorrow.” The workman stomped out the front door, followed by two men and a woman—all covered in drywall dust.
“Sorry. We’re adding an addition to the main floor. They’re finishing up my father’s bedroom and bathroom.”
“That’s nice of you to bring him into your home.” Nice didn’t even cover it. Roxy couldn’t imagine living with her parents, again. Not that it couldn’t happen, but the ramifications of why she’d need to move back in with either set of her parents wasn’t something she wanted to think about.
“He’s done so much for me. I couldn’t turn him away.”
“Does your husband mind having your dad here?” Was there a husband?
“He loves my dad, and we could use the help.”
The front door swung open. “Mom. Can we jump on the trampoline?” A red-haired boy covered in dirt ran into the house. It was impossible to tell where the dirt began and freckles ended on his adorably chubby face.
“Okay, but only two jumpers at a time.”
The little boy’s face lit up with a smile. “Okay.”
“Miles, only two of you on that trampoline at a time.”
“I know, Mom.” Miles ran out, slamming the door.
“Sorry.” Gretchen shook her head and ran a hand over her stomach. “This is a madhouse. Always.”
“Miles is adorable.” Like an Internet kitten meme. Looked just like his mom. “Is he your only child?”
“No, we have two sons. Nate’s outside riding his bike somewhere.” Gretchen grabbed at her stomach. Her face took on a troubling green hue. “Can we go into the kitchen?”
“Sure.”
When Roxy followed her to the other room, Gretchen leaned over the sink, splashing water on her face. Slowly, her face turned a normal color as she ran a towel over her neck. “Sorry. Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.” But Roxy had a feeling Gretchen could use something. Saltines. Water. EPT. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes.” Gretchen sighed and tossed the towel onto the counter. “No, I’m not. Don’t say anything. I’m waiting till we see my husband’s family next month. Not that it really matters anymore. I’m pregnant.”
“Congratulations?” Roxy assumed that was a congratulations type of announcement.
“Thank you. It really is a good thing. The first three months are usually hard for me, but I’ve never been this sick in the second trimester. It’s weird, but the doctor says it’s normal.” Gretchen sat at the white kitchen table, the color returning to her cheeks. “You wanted to talk about Donnie Dunne?”
“Yeah.” Roxy really should have thought about how she was going to phrase it. But here she was, and she had no idea. “When I spoke to your dad, I didn’t get a chance to talk to you. Did you have any contact with Donnie before he passed?”
There. Easy peasy. Give Gretchen the chance to tell Roxy what happened. Unless she lied. Don’t lie. Don’t lie.
Gretchen stared at her hands as she twisted her fingers together. The look of a lie. Darn it. “I met with him a few weeks ago.” Her words stopped, but her fingers kept bending and weaving. Something was obviously on her mind—or she was trying to knit her fingers together into a scarf. But the words weren’t coming.
Roxy knew about the meeting, so Gretchen hadn’t lied. But she also wasn’t speaking. Maybe she needed a nudge. “Why?”
“Please don’t tell my father.” Gretchen sighed. “Donnie was my dad’s best friend way before they became business partners. Donnie was my godfather, for goodness sake. I wanted to try to reason with him. He was upsetting my dad.”
“What did Donnie say when you talked to him?”
“What you’d expect. That he was fixing it. That my father was confused.”
“Confused?”
“My dad caught him skimming money from the company. Donnie said it was a misunderstanding. But my dad had the numbers. He’d found the irregularities and he was working with Harold Maas to figure out exactly how much.”
Harold, the financier Donnie’s wife mentioned. He had a name. Well, he always had a name, but now Roxy knew what it was. “Where does Harold work?”
“He’s a lawyer at Maas and Brickman.” A lawyer. A lawyer that both Donnie and Steve were using.
Roxy didn’t know rich people, but was that normal? “The lawyer that Donnie was using?”
“He might have gone to Harold, too. They were all college friends. They were in the same fraternity.”
“I’m too sexy” buzzed from Roxy’s phone in her pocket. “Sorry.” She pulled it out and looked at the screen. Rafe. Which she already knew because that was the ringtone she’d given him.
That needed to change. His sex appeal had dropped a few notches when he brought her to the cops. Snitch. Snitches get stiches.
The chair Gretchen sat in scraped against the floor, taking Roxy out of her thoughts of giving Rafe a few wallops that would require stitches. Gretchen stood up. “Is that it? I have to get dinner ready.”
“Yes, thank you.” Roxy walked toward the front door. “Congratulations on the little boy or girl.”
Gretchen’s face lit up. “Girl. My mom’s going to flip. She’ll finally have a girl to spoil rotten with dresses and dolls.”
Roxy smiled and left out the front door. The sun was sliding down. She had a half hour to get to Sarina and an hour till beer would be in her belly.
Her phone vibrated with “I’m too sexy” again. She hit ignore. She wouldn’t talk to him. Not today. And if she was lucky, not tomorrow.
Next week she was busy, and next month wasn’t looking good either. She just had to remember that when she was drowning the betrayal with beer and chips.