In the Running Page 10

Pete told her gruffly not to fuss.

  “Fine,” Bronwyn gave in. “Gus offered to pick us up in the morning. We’ll be here with your stuff bright and early.”

  “I’ll have breakfast ready by eight,” Reenie told her.

  “Sleep in. We won’t be here until at least nine-thirty. It’s easier to get Tommy moving after he’s had his fix of cartoons.”

  After Bronwyn left to pick up her son from school, Pete informed Reenie that he liked to have his evening meal early so that he could have his dessert and coffee in the living room while he watched the six o’clock news. Thus it was that the three of them were seated in front of the television set when the interview with Gladys Fitzpatrick was aired.

  “…understand that a major development has occurred in the search for your granddaughter.” Barbara Bellman’s hushed tones indicated that the news was not good.

  “Yes, Maura telephoned me yesterday afternoon.” Gran’s face was stiff with strain. “She told me she had not been kidnapped. She said she was in hiding because she thinks her life is in danger.”

  “You say she thinks she is in danger.”

  “I am afraid that my granddaughter has not been well lately. Her enemies could be imaginary.”

  Reenie stared at the screen in shock. Gran had allowed Jon to convince her that the strong-minded granddaughter she’d known for almost thirty years was suddenly mentally unstable. How could she have so little faith in her? They’d had their confrontations over the years, but Reenie had always thought Gran had grudgingly respected her independent spirit. Oh, Gran, why couldn’t you just love me? The cry came from her heart, not for the first time.

  “That is why I am making this plea to the public. Please inform the local police if you see this young woman. Or you can call this toll free number. It is vital that we find her as soon as possible.”

  “Am I to understand there’s a chance Maura Fitzpatrick may be suicidal?” the reporter asked quickly.

  “Definitely not. Maura would never take her own life.” Gran didn’t sound as if she believed what she was saying.

  The telephone number that the GEL committee was publicizing flashed on the screen under the engagement photograph.

  “Glad Fitzpatrick has aged a lot since the governor died,” Pete said with a sigh. “‘Course, she must be eighty if she’s a day. Well, we’d better get that members’ phone list ready,” Pete said. “I hate to see Glad looking so worried.”

  “I think I’ll say goodnight,” Reenie said, rising stiffly.

  “Sit a while, child,” Pete said. “You’ve barely touched your coffee and or your pie.”

  “She’s exhausted, Pete.” Matt got her jacket from the closet. “I’ll walk out with you.”

  “No!” she said. “I’m fine. I can walk that far on my own.”

  He didn’t argue but simply handed her jacket to her and put on his own. She looked so pale and tired Matt would have picked her up bodily and carried her to her bed if he thought she’d allow it.

  “I’ll be right back, Pete, and I’ll put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher. Finish your dessert.”

  He hurried after her.

  “Wait up. The shop’s outside lights are on a timer, but I want to make sure you can find the inside light switches.”

  Judging by the speed she was walking, Reenie’s body was healing fine. However, she was in no mood for conversation. She had her key out when they reached the shop and reached unerringly for the light switch just inside the door.

  “I remembered that one,” she muttered, “but I can’t see the switch for the landing at the top of the stairs.”

  “That’s because these kayak paddles are in front of it,” he said, removing the offending paddles. “Looks as if I’ll have to straighten up the stock even if it does get Pete’s back up.”

  “There’s no need. It’s only for two weeks.” She unlocked the apartment door. “Thanks, Matt. I’ll be fine now.”

  “Reenie,” he began. His need for her to be open with him was almost as powerful as his desire for her. However, he couldn’t resist the pleading in her eyes to be left alone. If he asked one question, she would probably fall apart.

  “Goodnight, Reenie. If you need anything, just call.”

  When he got back to the house, Pete was hard at work at the computer. He seemed pleased that he didn’t need any help. Matt finished loading the dishwasher and spent a couple of hours at the kitchen table clearing away some of the end of season paperwork that he’d been avoiding. He was packing the papers into their filing box when Pete wheeled his walker into the kitchen.

  “Well, I’m done!” Pete announced. “Looks like you’re finished with the billing, too. What do you say you open a couple of beers and watch the news with your old man?”

  Matt wasn’t particularly interested in the beer at that moment, but he wasn’t going to turn Pete down. He couldn’t remember his father ever making that kind of friendly overture to him.

  “Sounds good,” he agreed. “I’ll be right there.”

  As soon as Matt joined him, Pete took a long swallow.

  “First beer in a month and a half. Forgot what I was missing,” he said, smacking his lips. He turned and studied his son’s face for a few seconds. “Is Reenie going to be all right?”

  “She seems to be getting stronger every day.”

  Pete moved his hand impatiently as if he were wiping the answer off the air between them. “I mean the trouble she’s in.”

  Matt put the beer can down carefully on the end table between them, then met his father’s concerned look.

  “I can’t get her to tell me what that trouble is,” he confessed.

  “Well, Hell, son. Make her tell you.”

  Matt gave him an incredulous look.

  Pete took another swallow of beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then granted Matt a crooked smile. “Yeah. Try to make a woman do anything. I like her.”

  “So do I.”

  “Good.”

  In spite of the brevity of their conversation, Matt had the feeling that he and his father had never communicated so clearly.

  He watched the news with only a small fraction of his mind on it. Pete was right. He had to get to the bottom of Reenie’s problems with her ex-fiancé. As Pete said, somehow he had to make her tell him about it.

  He was snapped out of his reverie by an image on the screen. Film clips of the lovely blond socialite at various events had augmented the replay of Gladys Fitzpatrick’s plea. There was a shot of Maura at Jon Casen’s side at the opening of the opera season at Ann Arbor, and one at a Good Earth League fundraising dinner. The picture that shot him out of his chair, however, was of Maura Fitzpatrick working as a volunteer at a soup kitchen in Detroit. She was stirring a huge pot and blowing an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. He had seen that same gesture and those same eyes in the kitchen of this house!

  “What’s the matter?” Pete asked.

  “Just stretching,” Matt answered, trying to cover his reaction to the revelation that everything he thought he knew about Reenie Kelly was a lie.

  If Pete hadn’t seen the resemblance, Matt wasn’t ready to blow the whistle on Reenie - make that Maura - without giving her a chance to explain. “I’m more tired than I thought. You need any help getting to bed?”

  “I’ve been putting myself to bed for some years now.” Pete was eyeing him with some curiosity.

  Not trusting himself to make any kind of conversation, Matt went upstairs, trying to make sense of the thunderbolt that had just hit him.

  Jon Casen was the man who wanted to kill her? That was absurd! But was it? Reenie said that her ex-fiancé was not the man she thought he was and that she knew something that could ruin him. According to the media pundits, Casen had the party nomination for Congress in the bag. He was a man with an important reputation to ruin. If she’d been telling the truth, Jon Casen could be desperate enough to harm her.

  The instincts he’d relied on for years had led him
to believe her. Instincts! He’d been thinking with his gonads!

  Reenie’s own grandmother had announced to the world that she was emotionally unstable. Walt Ames had hinted that Maura Fitzpatrick was using drugs. Memories hit Matt in a sickening wave. He saw her clinging obsessively to her tapestry bag after the accident, then, in Pete’s bedroom, furious, not because Matt had her diamond ring but because of something else in the bag. Did she have her drug supply in there?

  But Reenie didn’t look or behave like a woman on drugs.

  Reenie! Her name was Maura. And she was engaged to Jon Casen.

  And if she was telling any part of the truth, if Matt was right about the terror in her eyes, Maura Fitzpatrick was convinced that Jon Casen intended to do her harm.

  Good Lord! GEL was practically running Casen’s search for his fiancée from this house. This couldn’t wait until morning. As soon as he was sure Pete was settled for the night, he was going out to the apartment. He had to confront Maura Fitzpatrick tonight.

  Unaware that she had already run out of time, Maura sat curled in a large armchair in the cavernous, warm living room of the apartment over the marina shop shivering and trying to read. Her perverse mind would not allow her to escape into her book for even a minute. She figured she was safe for a few hours, maybe even days, but someone was sure to recognize her soon. When they did, who would believe her story?

  Gran had told the world she was emotionally unstable, having delusions of persecution. Jon was a fraud in every aspect of his life. He was a thief and a killer. But Gran would rather believe him than her own granddaughter.

  Hurt and betrayed, Maura knew only one person she might be able to rely on. She did not want to involve Matt in this mess, but he had to be aware of the danger to all of them if Jon found her here. There was no other way; she had to tell him what had happened at the lodge on Sunday night. He’d believe her. He wanted to understand why she was frightened.

  She had the pictures … and the printouts, whatever they might prove. The pictures showed clearly what kind of a dishonorable cheat Jon was. The printouts must have something to do with the falsified invoices.

  If it hadn’t been for those invoices, she’d have gone merrily off to Lansing for her days off and been nowhere near the lodge when Danny was killed. Earlier in the week, when she’d showed Danny an inflated invoice she’d come across Danny had dismissed the whole thing as a mistake by some new employee at the suppliers. The last outrageous bill had sent her back to her little kitchen office.

  And the incredible, ugly nightmare began. It was still going on. Every second that passed, the search for her intensified. Maura wrapped her arms tightly around herself. She felt crowded, yet alone. And more damned vulnerable in this isolated apartment in one of the most thinly populated areas of the country than she would ever thought possible.

  What was that? In the ringing silence of the northern night she could hear the crunch of heavy footsteps on the gravel down below. Now, the same determined feet were stamping up the outside wooden staircase! The intruder didn’t have to be quiet. There was no one near enough to hear. She prayed Jon hadn’t found her. Could Walt have recognized her, after all?

  Loud banging on the outside door only a few feet away startled her. Jon wouldn’t knock.

  A determined voice commanded, “Open the door. It’s Matt.”

  Almost sobbing with relief, she scrambled to her feet and rushed to open the curtained door. The pounding increased in volume.

  She was actually sliding it open as Matt roared, “Right now, Maura!”

  He knew who she was.

  Chapter Ten

  She had never seen Matt like this. His whole body was rigid with fury. His eyes flashed black fire.

  She backed slowly away from him. He matched her step by step, holding his clenched fists tightly against his sides until finally, she had nowhere to go. Her back was pressed tight against the wall.

  His glittering black eyes boring into hers, Matt raised his hand to her face. Gripping her chin with his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her face first one way, then the other.

  “I have to admit you were more spectacular as a blond,” he drawled. “But I do think I like the new hairdo better.”

  His voice was so cold she could hear ice particles in it.

  “And the new name, sweetheart,” he rasped in a bitter mockery of sophistication. “I do like Reenie.”

  His fingers tightened painfully as he began to lower his hard mouth toward hers.

  “Matt!” she protested.

  He dropped his hand with a curse and spun away from her. Flinging himself down on the sofa, he glared at her from halfway across the room.

  “Damn you, Reenie,” he exploded. “Why couldn’t you trust me? I gave you every chance to tell me the story. Now I hear about it on TV. I’m supposed to believe Jon Casen is the man who is threatening you?”

  She had lost him. He’d never trust her now. Her attempts to keep him in the dark had ruined everything that had been building between them.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “He wants me dead.”

  “Why would he want that?” Matt’s eyes narrowed.

  She could understand his skepticism. She had to tell him the whole story now or he would turn her over to Jon.

  “I told you. I have evidence that can ruin him.”

  For all the reaction she got, she could’ve been talking to a statue.

  “Last Sunday night, I went back to the Lodge kitchen to check some figures that didn’t seem right to me,” she began. “When I was digging around in the invoices, I found an envelope that contained some information about Jon that really upset me.” She couldn’t bring herself to be more specific. “I steamed down to Danny DiMarco’s office with it. When I got there, Jon and the assistant manager, Wilson Foster, were beating Danny to try to get him to tell them where he’d put some negatives. Actually, I didn’t see Jon hit him. I only heard him tell Wilson to hold him while he did. I saw Wilson knock Danny across the room.

  “His head smashed against the corner of his desk, Matt.” She felt the shock again, saw the blood. She swallowed hard and went on. “Wilson went over to him and said Danny was dead. I didn’t stick around to check Danny’s pulse but Jon saw me before I ran.”

  Matt took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly.

  “Your grandmother gave the distinct impression on the evening news that she thinks you’re imagining things,” he said

  “She probably does. For years, my grandmother has been trying to convince me that my work is wrong for me, that I should accept my heritage and come home to Lansing to immerse myself in the political scene. That fits in with Jon’s agenda so he’s been telling her for months that I’m overworked and mentally exhausted. Now, he has Walt hinting around that I’m on drugs. The fact that I’m strong and healthy doesn’t change Gran’s mind a bit. She wants to believe everything Jon tells her.”

  “Casen has a reputation for being a straight shooter.” Matt didn’t sound convinced but he was still listening. “She also said you had phoned her. When did you manage to do that?”

  “While I was shopping in Manitowoc. I thought it wouldn’t hurt for Gran’s phone records to show I had made it to Wisconsin.”

  Matt grudging nod of approval seemed to indicate he might be inclined to give her a fair hearing. She made a quick decision.

  “Come with me,” she said, leading the way into the kitchen.

  She lifted a large wooden breadbox off the counter and reached for the brown manila envelope she’d concealed under it.

  “This is what Jon wanted from Danny. Sit here,” she said, pulling out a chair at the big round table just outside the kitchen. “I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

  Her fingers that held the envelope trembled slightly, but her voice was steady enough as she explained why she’d been going through the old invoices in the Driftwood Lodge kitchen office that night.

  “That was when I found this.”

  She hande
d him the envelope and told him to open it. Matt pulled out the printouts and handwritten memos first, as she had. When he pulled out the large glossies that were wedged into the tight fitting sleeve, his eyes widened. He raised one eyebrow quizzically at her.

  She sighed. “When I make a mistake about somebody, I do it up brown.”

  “He’s fooled a lot of people,” he said, shaking his head. “Bronwyn would have a fit if she saw these.”

  “Bronwyn wasn’t stupid enough to get engaged to him. I never pretended we had a fairytale romance, but I respected Jon. To tell the truth, I finally agreed to marry him mostly to please Gran. In her mind, Jon is the future leader of the state, if not the country. She thinks he hung the moon.”

  Matt gave a kind of muffled snort. “Sorry,” he said, with an embarrassed grin. He waved weakly at the photo in his hand. “Too appropriate.”

  Strangely, that was enough to lower the tension a little.

  “If Gladys Fitzpatrick is right, we’re all in trouble,” Matt said. He gave a long soundless whistle when he looked at the last print, the one of Jon in earnest conversation with two men. “I wonder what kind of business Casen is doing with Gerardo and Chang Lu. Now that’s a combination that’s worth thinking about.”

  “I never heard him mention either one. But I didn’t even know until Sunday night that Jon was Danny’s partner in the Driftwood. Wait a minute. Danny’s mother is a Gerardo.”

  “Tell me again exactly what you saw and did from the moment you found the envelope.”

  She did just that. Matt listened intently. He looked at her sharply when she mentioned Walt Ames’ presence, but he didn’t interrupt her story.

  Strangely, of everything she’d gone through, it was describing her makeover at the dingy small town beauty parlor that brought tears to her eyes.

  “And I told the hair dresser to cut it short and dye it dark brown. I hate this!” Her voice broke, and she waved her hand in the general vicinity of her head.

  “If she’d shaved it all off, you’d still be beautiful,” Matt stated with a shrug that said he couldn’t understand what she was making a fuss about.