Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery)

  I put Flash’s ball into my backpack. “Math gives me a headache. Can you give me the Cliffs Notes version?”

  Kevin grinned. “There might be a third party involved.”

  “With the con?” I asked.

  Kevin nodded.

  “Who?”

  “I’m working on it, Nina.”

  Patience was never one of my virtues. “Would the bank withdrawal come from someone with a last name that rhymes with isthmus?”

  “Possibly.” He nodded.

  Ah. So, Benny had paid off the sisters.

  I thought of Benny and couldn’t help but shudder. I’d been doing my best to forget about how he’d trapped me in his office yesterday, but several times today I could still feel his breath on my face. Phantom breath. Ick.

  “What?” Kevin asked.

  “What, what?”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Nina, I was married to you for a long time. I know when you’re upset.”

  Hmm. I wasn’t so sure about that.

  “What’s wrong?” he pressed.

  I told him about what had happened with Benny.

  “Steel toes?” He winced.

  “He deserved it.”

  His eyes had darkened. “He deserves worse.”

  “What are you going to do?” I kind of wanted him to meet Benny in a dark alley, but that was just me. Nina Colette Bloodthirsty Ceceri Quinn.

  “Bring him into the station. Are you willing to press charges?”

  “What kind of charges? I was the one doing all the attacking.”

  His lip quirked. “You were defending. We can get him on a sexual battery charge, attempted at least.”

  “We can?”

  “Nina, what he did was against the law.”

  I nodded. “I’ll press charges, but isn’t it going to turn into a he said, she said?”

  “Probably. Are you ready for that?”

  “There was a witness,” I said. The office phone rang, and I heard Tam pick it up.

  He sat straighter. “Who?”

  “Jenny. I don’t know how much she saw, but she definitely saw me take him down.” I told him about finding her in the doorway.

  “I’ll talk to her,” he said. “After all that’s happened, she might be willing to testify if it gets to that point.” He gazed at me. “Are you okay? Really okay?”

  I thought about the panic, the adrenaline. “I’m fine, but I just keep thinking about any other women he may have cornered.”

  His fists clenched. “Me, too.”

  Tam tapped on the doorframe and stuck her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Bobby is on the phone. I thought you might want to take it.”

  I glanced at Kevin. He said, “Go ahead, take it. I’ll get some coffee.”

  Tam said, “We’ve got donuts, too.”

  He looked back at me. “I’m not the least bit surprised by that.”

  I waited till they were out of sight and picked up the phone. “Bobby?”

  “Hey,” he said. “I tried calling your cell but it’s off.”

  “Maria.”

  “No other explanation needed.”

  “How’re you?” I asked. “How’s your mom?”

  “Still in the ICU, but doing a little better. The doctors say she has a good chance of pulling through, it’s just going to take time.”

  “That’s great news.” I bit my lip. “Did the doctors give you any kind of timeframe?”

  There was a long pause. “Months, most likely.”

  My heart sank. “Oh.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I’m,” he cleared his throat, “not going to be able to make it back for Christmas. I hate to cancel our plans...”

  “It’s okay,” I said. And it was. Really. It just...hurt a little. “Family first.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Definitely. I can drive down there so we can spend the holid—”

  He cut me off. “I still don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Bobby.”

  He sighed. “Nina, this isn’t the place for you. I’m at the hospital all day, then I’m writing at night. I’m taking care of Mom’s stuff, my stuff, medical stuff, and barely eating three meals a day. Not to mention Mac and all the trouble he gets into. I’m a mess, I’m stressed, and I don’t think I can add one more thing into the mix.”

  One more thing. Meaning me. “I think being together, no matter what we’re doing is what counts, even if it’s at a hospital and not a country inn.” Why didn’t he think so, too? We were supposed to be getting married. Didn’t he understand the “for better or worse” part of the vows?

  Or maybe he did. And didn’t want it.

  “Not here. Not like this,” he said.

  A heavy suffocating weight settled on my chest, and I spun my chair to look out the window. The garden behind the office was covered in snow, sparkling white in the sunshine. The tears pooling in my eyes blurred everything. “Then when?”

  “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I’m going to rent my house to Kit. The added income will come in handy.”

  “You’ve thought a lot about this.” I thought my heart might be breaking clear in half.

  “Yes.”

  “And me?” I asked. “Where do I fit into your plan?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  Then why did it already feel like he’d let me go?

  “But,” he added quickly, “a long-distance relationship isn’t fair to either of us, and the reality is that I’m going to have to be down here for months. Maybe even a year with all the rehab my mom will have to do.”

  A tear slid down my cheek, and I whisked it away. We had tried the long-distance thing before and it had failed miserably. My voice cracked as I said, “Since you’re the one making all the decisions about our future, how about you decide what you want for certain and let me know?”

  “Nina...”

  I hung up. Maybe it wasn’t fair of me, but if I’d stayed on the line I would have burst into tears. I kept trying to tell myself that he was under a lot of stress right now, that I should simply wait for him to have time for me—or to make time for me—that he loved me and wasn’t purposefully tying to freeze me out of his life.

  But...the hard knot in my stomach told me otherwise.

  Either that, or I was coming down with the flu, too.

  “Nina?”

  I spun around in my chair and found Tam in the doorway, sympathy etched on her face.

  “Want some chocolate?” she asked. “I’ve got a secret stash of Toblerone. I’ll share.”

  I managed a smile. “No thanks.”

  “That bad?” she asked.

  Biting my lip, I nodded.

  “I’m so sorry, Nina.”

  “Me, too.” I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Where’s Kevin?” I croaked.

  “He just left. He said he’d talk to you later.”

  “Did he hear everything?”

  She nodded.

  I clunked my head on my desk.

  My day had gone from good to bad in the blink of an eye. It couldn’t possibly get worse at this point.

  The bells jingled on the front door. Tam turned to see who’d come in and then whipped back to me. “Jenny Christmas just walked in,” she whispered.

  I’d been wrong. It could get worse. Much worse.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jenny came in, sat down, crossed her legs, adjusted her skirt, and finally looked me in the eye. “Oh my God, Nina. You look terrible. What’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you have that stomach bug going around?”

  I so wasn’t in the mood. “I think it’s food poisoning. I had the chicken at Christmastowne’s food court yesterday. You might want to look into that.”

  She blanched. “You’re kidding.”

  I shook my head. “I wish I was.” I was a good liar, a skill that came in handy more often than I liked to admit. “I
don’t have a lot of time, Jenny. What are you doing here?”

  Swallowing hard, she opened her purse and pulled out a check. “I brought the final payment for the work you did at Christmastowne.”

  “You could have mailed it.”

  “I know.” She set the check on my desk and fidgeted in her seat. “There’s a little extra there. A bonus of sorts, for the extra good job you did.”

  My nerves were raw, and I had no patience left. “Are you sure it’s not a payment for me keeping quiet about Benny?”

  She tipped her head and tried to look confused. “Benny?”

  “About how he came after me in your office yesterday?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Her cheeks turned crimson.

  “Don’t you, Jenny? This money isn’t to buy my silence?”

  Her shoulders snapped back, her eyes narrowed, and she jabbed a finger at me. “If you hadn’t been in the office.”

  I couldn’t believe she’d even tried to blame this on me. I stood up. “Get out, Jenny. Now. Any extra money in that check will be refunded to you. I’ve already spoken to the police about what happened yesterday, and I will press charges against Benny.”

  Slowly, she rose. “No one will believe you.”

  I guess that meant she wouldn’t testify on my behalf. So much for being friends. “We’ll see about that.”

  Jenny said, “You don’t know what it’s like, Nina, to live in someone else’s shadow.”

  “Maybe not,” I agreed. “But I know I certainly wouldn’t cover for someone who obviously doesn’t know right from wrong. Especially if I was married to him.”

  “Don’t you judge me.”

  Oddly, when she said that phrase it wasn’t the least bit amusing.

  “Judged, tried, and convicted,” I snapped. “It’s one thing to pretend you don’t know about his many affairs. But it’s quite another to witness an assault and do nothing to stop it. You’re just as guilty as he is. All to protect what, Jenny? Your precious Christmastowne?”

  “Go to hell, Nina. I earned Christmastowne. And I won’t let you, or Benny, or anyone take it away from me. Do you understand?”

  She turned and stormed out.

  As I sat back down, I thought about Fairlane. If she’d go so far as to blackmail her own lover, why wouldn’t she try blackmailing his wife, too? Had it been Jenny who’d paid Fairlane off?

  And in return, had it been Fairlane who paid the ultimate price?

  ***

  “I’m in a mood,” I announced as Maria opened the door of her McMansion.

  “Well, I’m still dying,” she said, “so we make quite the pair.”

  “Don’t get too close, then.” I held out a take-out bag. In it had her soup, a baguette, and a big chocolate cookie.

  Gracie raced over and sniffed my feet. I looked down at her and my eyes went wide. “What is she wearing?”

  Maria closed the door behind me. “A doggy diaper.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

  “What?” Maria said.

  I followed her into a spacious family room. “Does it seem to you that the diaper is wearing Gracie, rather than the other way around?”

  Maria stopped and studied the dog. “Maybe.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “What’s that smell? Please don’t tell me it’s that diaper.”

  “It’s lye. I made soap. Well, I tried to make soap. It didn’t turn out so well.”

  “Two things. One, when did you start feeling sick? Because that smell is turning my stomach.”

  She sat on her pristine white sofa. “You might be on to something. I did start feeling sick while I was making the soap. What’s the second thing?”

  “Why on earth are you making your own soap? Did you lose your job? Do you need to borrow some money?” I whipped out my check book.

  “What? No, I didn’t lose my job. And I don’t need your money, though, if you want to throw money at me, I wouldn’t be opposed to a new handbag. The Birkin bag is on my Christmas list.”

  “A Birkin bag that costs, give or take, ten thousand dollars?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “That proves it. You’ve lost your mind.” I sat next to her. “What is going on? The baking, the scarves, the soap?” I glanced at the table. Dozens of old pictures were spread out. “Don’t tell me you’re scrapbooking, too?”

  She picked at her acrylic nails. “Nothing is going on. I’m just looking for...a hobby.”

  I tossed my hands in the air and fell back onto the couch. “I can’t deal with this today.”

  Pulling her soup out of the bag, she took of the plastic top. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Where to start?”

  “With the good stuff, of course.”

  “I think Bobby and I broke up.”

  She spilled soup on the couch. “Shit!” Dabbing the stain with a napkin, she glanced at me. “You’re not kidding?”

  I explained about his mother, the long-distance thing, and how he didn’t want me to come down there.

  Maria set her soup on the table. “I don’t understand.”

  “Me, either.”

  “What if you’d been married?”

  I stared at her, wondering if she was trying to make this more painful. “What do you mean?”

  “What if you two were already married?” she said again. “And this had happened to his mother? Would he have divorced you? I don’t think so. You two would make it work, long-distance or not.”

  “Yeah!” I said, feeling validated. Then I frowned. “But...”

  “What?”

  “It would be hard. Very hard. It would take its toll. We’d probably fight. A lot. We’d get lonely.” I didn’t want to think about what would happen then.

  “So maybe he’s doing the right thing?” Maria asked.

  “If he is, why does it feel so wrong?”

  “Because sometimes being right, and doing the right thing, isn’t easy?”

  Damn it. When did she get so wise? “This sucks.”

  “You want some of my cookie?”

  I nodded.

  She broke her cookie in half and handed it over. We nibbled in silence. I looked at the photos on the table and contemplated her scrapbooking.

  A hobby, my foot.

  Then I remembered when I stopped by the other day how the curtain had shifted upstairs... “I’ll be right back. Just gonna freshen up.”

  She nodded and pulled a chunk of her baguette off to dunk in her soup.

  I bypassed the downstairs bathroom.

  “Nina? Where are you going?”

  “Just going to use the upstairs bathroom.”

  She jumped up. “What? No! Don’t go upstairs!”

  I sprinted for the steps. She raced after me. Gracie ran around barking.

  I’d almost made it to the top of the stairs when Maria grabbed my ankle. I fell to my knees. I pulled out a phrase from my past as I tried to shake her loose. “No playing on the stairs!”

  It was something my mother had always yelled at us.

  “Come downstairs, Nina!”

  I finally freed my foot and dashed down the hallway. I pushed open the guestroom door and gasped. Tears sprang to my eyes. “Oh, Maria.”

  “Now you’ve done it, Nina!” she said, coming up behind me. “You ruined my surprise.”

  The room had been freshly painted a light yellow and a mural of baby ducks—maybe a scene from Make Way for Ducklings?—took up one whole wall. There was a rocker and a changing table and a decked-out crib. A shelf held a teddy bear, a few toy blocks, and a shiny pink piggy bank.

  I turned to her. “You’re pregnant?”

  Slowly, she nodded. “About two months. I was going to tell everyone on Christmas Eve at the big family party.”

  “You’re two months pregnant, and you’re tackling me on the stairs and using lye?”

  “Sometimes I forget.” She burst into tears.

  I pulled her into a hug. “Why the te
ars?”

  “I’m going to be a horrible mom!” she wailed.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am! I can’t cook, I can’t bake. I can’t knit. I can’t even make soap. Every kid needs to use soap! I can’t even diaper a dog! How am I going to diaper a baby?”

  Ah. So this was what her newfound quest for a “hobby” was about. It also explained how tired she’d been lately and why she was reluctant to get her roots done. “You can buy soap, Maria.” Now that she knew where the grocery store was.

  “But what about the other stuff?”

  “You can learn how to cook and bake. Obviously. Mom raved about the bread you made.”

  She sniffled. “I bought that at a local bakery and passed it off as my own.”

  Of course she had. It seemed to be a family trait. “You’ll learn, Maria. Being a mom isn’t about cooking, or baking, or sewing. It’s about love. And I have a feeling this little baby is going to have a lot of that in his or her life. Right?”

  Maria nodded.

  “The other day when I stopped by—were you working in here? Is that why you didn’t answer the door?”

  “Actually, I wasn’t home. The muralist, a neighbor, was working, but I told her not to answer the door if anyone stopped by.” Her eyes grew wide with excitement. “Do you know that she’s the size of a grape now? And that she’s starting to get ears?”

  “The muralist?”

  She smiled. “The baby!”

  “She?” I asked, wrapping my arm around her as we headed back downstairs.

  “Of course it’s a she.”

  I smiled. I had a feeling, by sheer will, Maria would have a daughter.

  And I hoped that Riley would find a new little cousin a good substitute for a sibling.

  In the living room, we found Gracie chewing on the baguette. I sat down and stared at my sister. A baby. My mother was going to flip out. Flip. Out. “Are you starting a scrapbook for the baby?” I asked, nodding toward the pictures.

  “I should—that’s a great idea, but these photos aren’t about the baby.”

  I picked one up. It was of a teenaged Maria cheering at a high school football game. “What’re they for then?”

  “I’ve been thinking about the woman at Christmastowne yesterday. The one you were talking to.”