“Hold on, let me show you something.” Mary slipped a hand into her purse, pulled out the scrap of paper with the handwriting, and showed it to Allegra. “We found this in our car, which is how we knew you were here. Do you know who wrote this? Do you recognize the handwriting?”
“Yes, totally. Alasdair wrote that.”
“Aha! Mystery solved. You’re sure?”
“Totally.” Allegra moved her index finger back and forth over the paper. “Alasdair wrote this. He’s English. My mom used to go over there on riding vacations with Fiona, and that’s where she met Alasdair.”
“Do you ride?”
“No, I’m allergic.”
Mary noticed that outside the door, the escort was standing up and stretching. “Do you know why Alasdair would tell us where you were, when your parents wouldn’t?”
“He loves me.”
“Your parents love you, too, sweetie.”
“Oh, right.” Allegra permitted herself a sardonic smile. “I keep forgetting.”
Mary felt her pain. She couldn’t blame Allegra and she didn’t want to judge her. “How did Alasdair know where you are? Would your parents tell him?”
“My mom would have, when she used to ride. He would tack Paladin up for her and they would ride together. But she hasn’t ridden since Fiona.”
“So how did he know?”
“He’s in the house all the time. He could have heard them talking.”
“How come you didn’t hear them talking?” Mary noticed the escort outside the door, motioning to her through the window, then pointing at his wristwatch.
“I was outside a lot. I was actually avoiding them, after I hired you. My dad was pissed.”
“Okay, I think our time is up.” Mary gestured outside the door, then stood up, and so did Judy. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. We better say good-bye, and we’ll be in touch with you tomorrow. I assume that’s within the rules.”
“They gave me a phone in my room, but we’re not allowed to use cell phones and they restrict our email and online. You have to call the main number and connect to me.” Allegra rose, her forehead collapsing into a new frown. “This sucks, I hate to see you guys go. Do I really have to stay?”
“Yes, honey, for the time being.” Mary opened her arms and gave Allegra a final hug, feeling the young girl squeeze her tight. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be all right.”
“Would you visit me? Can you stop by tomorrow?” Allegra sprang out of Mary’s arms, alarmed. “Oh my God, I almost forgot to ask you. Can you help me out with something really important?”
“Sure, what?”
“My bees are coming in the mail, and they’ll be at the post office tomorrow morning. If you don’t pick them up, they’ll die.”
“Live bees?” Mary recoiled. “What, do they come in a box?”
“Yes, with screens for air. They’re Italian bees, very docile, and I even got an Italian Queen.”
“Is this a joke? I am an Italian Queen, and I don’t know what to do with live bees.”
“You have to get them when the post office opens or they’ll die, and please mist them, first thing when you pick them up. They’ll be thirsty.”
“Bees drink?”
Allegra smiled. “Everything drinks.”
“What if I get stung?”
“Are you allergic?”
“No.”
“Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” Allegra smiled in a way that was supposed to be reassuring, but didn’t succeed. “I order from an apiary that sells bees to people who want to get stung.”
“They want to?” Mary never understood people’s sex lives. She was Catholic.
“It’s a holistic remedy that helps a lot of people. It’s called apitherapy, and you can even buy bee venom in a bottle.” Allegra brightened. “I rubbed propolis on my zits and it helped.”
“I’ll remember that.” Mary opened the door. “Just tell me what to do with the bees. Let them out, right?”
“No, then they will sting you.”
“So what do I do?”
“Bring them to Alasdair. He’ll help you. He knows a bit about how to install them.”
“A bit?” Mary asked, aghast. “Does he know or not?”
“He’s never done it by himself, but he’s a sweetheart and he’ll help you. He can show you how the smoker works and he knows where my outfit and veil are. Wear them and you’ll be fine. You can install the bees with his help.”
“I can install software, but bees?” Mary said, dismayed, as the escort approached them. They were out of time, and somehow she was getting stuck babysitting bees, or beesitting. “Can’t I just let them die?”
“No, please,” Allegra wailed. “Please don’t.”
“Allegra,” Judy chirped up, and they passed through the door. “Does Alasdair have a cell phone?”
“Sure, I’ll give you the number.” Allegra brightened. “He doesn’t email or text, and don’t call him this late, okay? He’ll be at work at six o’clock in the morning.”
Judy turned to wink at Mary. “Think, girl. The bees will help with our next step.”
“Great,” Mary said, but the only next step she saw was a trip to the emergency room.
Chapter Twenty-five
Mary and Judy left the Pavilion, walking down the long flagstone path to the visitors’ parking lot. The night air felt cool and the breeze velvet-soft on Mary’s face, and there were no lights this far out in the country. She looked up at the starry bower of night sky, wishing she knew some constellations, and breathed in the loamy smell of fresh crops, but when she exhaled, it sounded like a sigh. “I feel bad leaving her here, all by herself,” Mary said, folding her arms across her chest.
“I know you do, but I think it was the best thing for her.” Judy walked slightly ahead, her leggy stride characteristically longer, her head bent over her BlackBerry. “God, I have a ton of email.”
“She’s right, it does suck.”
“We could never have gone to court on these facts, and she’s smart enough to understand that.” Judy scrolled through her email and stepped off the flagstone, taking the most direct path over the grass, though Mary would’ve stayed on the path. She was a color-within-the-lines kind of girl.
“Can you imagine what it’s like to live in a family and not feel close to a single one of them?”
“No.” Judy looked up from her BlackBerry and led them through the parking lot, which was empty except for the blue BMW. Circles of light shone on the black asphalt, like hazy halos cast from mercury vapor lamps. “Allegra Gardner is your basic poor little rich girl.”
Mary thought it sounded harsh. “She’s such a sweet kid, though. She’s smart and funny, and she has an open heart.”
“I didn’t say she didn’t.” Judy halted at the car and gestured wearily at the door. “You want to unlock it?”
“Sure.” Mary dug in her purse for her keys, chirped the door unlocked, and they both got in. “So what’s your idea about the bees?” she asked, plugging the key into the ignition, starting the engine, and reversing out of the spot. “And did you follow what she told us later, about misting them and making sure they had enough syrup?”
“No. The bees are a complete nuisance, but they make a perfect excuse to get back on the property.”
“True, but live bees? Sheesh.” Mary steered out of the lot and onto the road that led from the Churchill campus. She switched on her high beams because the darkness was so complete, and her headlights illuminated underbrush, tree trunks, and moths flying this way and that, in random fashion. “I figure we go out to the post office in the morning, after we pick up the plant mister she was telling us about. I assume it’s the same thing I use on my fig trees. Maybe I’ll bring one from home.”
“Let me stop you right there, though. We need to talk about something more important.”
“More important than fig trees and bees?” Mary was making a joke, but when she glanced over, Judy wasn’t smiling, i
n the reflected glow of the dashboard lights. “What’s up?”
“I’m more worried about this case than I was before, even after today at the farm.”
“Why? I feel better about it. We actually have a lead, in Alasdair, and if that note means anything, he might be on our side.”
“True, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m worried about you and Fiona. The stuff I was telling you about before, but more so.”
“Like what?” Mary steered through the darkness, trying not to be spooked by the bugs flying into her high beams. They were traveling on another endless country road that she prayed would eventually lead to civilization, or failing that, Philadelphia.
“You were calling her ‘sweetie’ and ‘honey,’ and you hugged her.”
“So? I do that.”
“I know, but even though you do that with a lot of people, she doesn’t.”
Mary didn’t get it. “She needed a hug, and I gave her one.”
“Or three.”
“What difference does that make?” Mary felt herself on edge, between trying to understand what Judy was saying while worrying if a deer was going to jump out in front of the car, or maybe even a bear or a dragon.
“I just don’t think it’s such a good idea, and you see that she’s already beginning to identify you as her big sister, as Fiona.” Judy’s tone sounded concerned. “Plus she asked you to visit her, and now you’re running around getting her bees, and me, too. I didn’t go to law school to go fetch bees, and neither of us have the time to visit her, though I note she didn’t ask me, only you.”
“But we just said, the bees give us an excuse to talk to Alasdair and get information from them. It’s not only getting bees, it’s getting information on the case.”
“I’m not talking about our motives, I’m talking about the effect we’re having on her. Allegra is latching on to us, and by us I mean you. That concerns me.”
“I’m trying to understand why.”
Judy fell silent a minute, and the only sound was the rumbly tackiness of the BMW’s dry tires on the road.
Mary hated silence, so she started yapping. “I’m close to all of my clients. I built an entire client base of people from the neighborhood. Relatives, people’s parents, and girls from my high school Latin Club. Every one of my business relationships is personal.”
“I know that,” Judy said, her tone quieter.
“I go to their weddings, funerals, and their baby showers. I’m godparents to kids from a plumbing company and an auto body shop. I love them all, I do. It’s a different business model. You don’t have to be distant to be professional. You just have to be smart and work hard. You just have to care.”
“I know all that, too.”
“So why is this different?”
“It’s different because of the nature of the client. The clients you just named, and I’ve met plenty of them, are normal adults. They’re couples or they have families and support systems.”
“So? We take our clients as we find them. We don’t pick and choose.”
“Allegra is none of those things and has none of that.”
“So she needs it, even more.”
“She’s a depressed young girl, who’s completely at odds with her family, which by the way, sounds like it was profoundly traumatized by the murder of Fiona.”
“Murder is traumatizing. Can you hold that against them? And how can you hold it against Allegra, if she has an emotional illness?”
“I don’t hold it against her, and you know me better than that.” Judy’s tone changed, but Mary felt like they were sliding toward a fight, which she couldn’t seem to derail.
“I do, and that’s why I’m surprised.”
“I just feel that you’re going in a direction in this case I’m not sure I approve of, and now we’re not getting paid at all.” Judy turned to her, shifting position, which made her voice louder, reverberating off the hard surfaces of the car. “And you were right before, you don’t have to justify it to Bennie, you have to justify it to yourself. Is this the best use of your time?”
“To me, it is.”
“Is it the best use of mine? I’m not sure I think it is.”
“It’s so unlike you to not be on board in a case.”
“Evidently, it happens, and I’m not on board.” Judy sounded resigned and angry. “Allegra confounds me. She thinks Tim Gage was at the party, she thinks Lonnie Stall was at the house. We run around chasing ghosts or keeping her company in the hospital. She doesn’t even want any other visitors but us. I’m an appellate lawyer, not a paid friend. And by the way, we’re not even paid.”
“She said we will be, in the end, and I believe her.”
“But she’s thirteen, so she doesn’t realize the complexities of trust administration or distribution of a trust’s assets, which can take years. She thinks you break open a piggybank.” Judy paused. “So, no, I’m definitely not on board. I have plenty of cases to work, and they’re only piling up. I’m along for the ride, but you’re driving the car.”
Mary felt stung. “It sounds like you’re not even along for the ride.”
“And you don’t like that, I can tell.”
“Of course I don’t like that. It’s not like us.” Mary steered the car straight, but she felt so out of control of everything, suddenly. Of the cases, of Judy, and of their friendship. “I like it the other way, the way it always is. We work a case together, side-by-side, and we figure it out. We win. We do amazing things. We catch the bad guy. We’re a team.”
“Not this time,” Judy said softly, without rancor, and Mary felt hurt and nonplussed.
“So what do we do now?”
“You’re the partner. You tell me. Take me off the case if you want.”
“Aw, Judy, don’t be that way.”
“What way? I mean it, no hard feelings. You have the power now. Wield it.”
“If you want off, why don’t you just ask me?”
“I wouldn’t do that, with Bennie. I’d never ask to be taken off a case. If she thought it was the right thing, she’d take me off.”
“For real, we’re having this conversation?” Mary gripped the steering wheel. Her head began to pound, and her contact lenses were sticking to her corneas like adhesive name tags.
“It’s your law firm now, and I’m your associate. Maybe it’s kind of fun if we drive around together, trying to answer questions that trouble obsessive children, but is it the best use of the firm’s resources?”
Mary couldn’t understand what was going on without being able to look Judy in the eye. They hadn’t eaten in hours, and Mary couldn’t help but feel that a nice plate of gnocchi would make all of this weirdness go away.
“Mare? Is that what you really need me to be doing, for your law firm?”
Suddenly, Mary’s cell phone rang. “Hold on.” She tucked her hand into her pocket, and pulled up the ringing phone, showing the screen to Judy. “Do I need to get this?”
“It’s Lou. I’ll answer, you talk.” Judy took the phone, pressed the button, and answered, “Hey, Lou, it’s Judy. Mary’s driving. I’m putting you on speaker.”
“How’s my girls tonight?” Lou’s gravelly voice emanated from the BlackBerry and echoed throughout the car.
Mary answered, “We’re great. How are you?”
“Okay. Where are you guys? Why aren’t you home?”
“It’s a long story, but we’ll see you first thing in the morning. Got good news for us?”
“Good news and bad news. Which one you want first?”
“The good.”
“I’m emailing you the guest list from the party. Another buddy of mine from Blackmore slipped it to me, without his boss knowing.”
“Whoa. Nice move.” Mary smiled at Judy, but she was looking away, out the window. “Does it show Tim Gage?”
“Lemme check, it’s alphabetical.”
Mary felt her heart rate quicken, waiting.
“No Tim Gage or any Gage
on the list.”
“So he wasn’t invited, but it doesn’t mean he didn’t show up.” Mary felt more confused than ever. “Allegra says he was there, but he says he wasn’t. Can we persuade your buddy to let us have a videotape?”
“No way. They gave up the guest list only because it’s fairly predictable: the Mayor, the Philly Chamber of Commerce, and all the rich people that show up at every benefit. I know from reading the society pages. I’m not sure Lou The Jew would be especially welcome.”
Mary smiled. “So I guess we get busy, Lou. I’d ask everybody on the list if they saw anything odd or unusual that night, and also if Tim Gage was there. You can print his picture off his Facebook page.”
“They’re not gonna talk to me if they’re friends of the Gardners, you have to know that. Lemme think if that’s the best way to go about it, Mare.”
“Okay, we’ll talk about it in the morning. I do have a lead I’d like you to get started on.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“There’s a caretaker at the Gardner residence named Alasdair Leahy, he’s English. I’d like to find out about him before I meet him tomorrow. Where exactly he lives, anything you can learn.”
“I’ll start in the morning.”
“Lou, I might need it by the morning. I have to go out to the property early, to deal with something, and I’d like it before then.” Mary omitted the part about the bee retrieval, avoiding Judy’s eye. “There’s also a young girl named Hannah Wicker, a classmate of Fiona’s at Shipwyn. She’s the sole survivor of a horrible car accident that killed Fiona’s three other friends, and they’d been drinking. I’m betting she’s on Facebook, and Alasdair isn’t. I’ll take her.”
“That damn Facebook’s gonna put detectives out of business.”
“Ha, not you, Lou.”
Lou hesitated. “Mare, you don’t sound good. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Mary wasn’t inclined to elaborate.
“Judy, what’s the matter with our bride? She should be on top of the world.”
Judy paused. “She’ll be okay, I’ll take care of her. Good night, Lou. Thanks for your hard work. Get some sleep.”
“You, too,” Lou answered, then hung up.