Domestic Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mystery) (15 page)

“I thought your retirement had been approved and signed already.” I took a sip of tea, then a deep breath.
 
I got up from the table and walked outside.
 

“It hasn’t gone all the way up. Even if it had, I can be recalled at any time until I turn sixty-five. The Army can keep a general on active duty, and there’s less paperwork to get me to do something if they keep me on active, rather than recalling me.” He hesitated, then plowed ahead. “An officer is retired at the highest rank served on active duty
satisfactorily
. That’s what they’re threatening me with, if I don’t return to testify on night raids.”

“I know that three and four star positions are temporary but you’re two star. They can’t take that rank away from you, can they? Even though there’s no military judicial action over your head?”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Wait, I thought the Army didn’t want you to testify?”

“They don’t, but the Secretary of Defense obviously does.
 
Gotta go.
 
I’ll call when I can.”

Tara and Victoria were looking at me when I came back to the table. I leaned in so I could speak in a low voice. “He’s on a plane. He left because they want him to testify before the Senate Armed Services Committee in an open hearing instead of a closed session, and he doesn’t want to.” Saying it, I realized it sounded like he must be guilty of something. “You know how he feels about military officers making political statements and he’s tried to stay above all that. He doesn’t want to get pulled in now that he’s about to retire.”

Tara pointed at me with her spoon. “How can the Army do this to him? Who do I need to write to?”

“He doesn’t think it’s the Army, he thinks it’s the Secretary of Defense or someone in the Senate.”
 

The waitress brought our food. She smiled down at us.
 
“What’s the matter, girls?
 
Men trouble?”

“Men
are
trouble,” Tara answered.

“I hear that.”
 

We laughed, then tore that food up.

About half way through, Tara came up for air. She steepled her fingers under her chin and squeezed her eyes shut. “I keep thinking about finding Thomas’s body.”

I rubbed her back. “That was upsetting. Especially since you now know he was Paul’s stepfather. We’re not used to having our different worlds overlap.”

“It’s not that. It looked like a tableau, or a setting in a painting. Crime scenes are supposed to look messy.”

Vic’s eyeglasses were on the table by her plate, and she put them back on. “What’s been bothering me is the statistical likelihood we would be at the scene of another murder.”
 

“You mean, why us?” They both nodded. “If Bea didn’t recommend us to Thomas, who did? I guess he could have found us on the internet or in the phone book….” I trailed off because those possibilities were about as satisfying as fat-free cookies.

We paid the check, then Tara rode with me and we followed Vic to the Toyota dealership to pick up my Highlander Hybrid. We made another detour to my house to leave the Jeep, then it was on to Alpharetta for Vic to drop off her car at her house. From there it wasn’t far to the house where Thomas had lived and loved.
 

CHAPTER 16

Continuation of statement by Leigh Reed.
 
Since we were in the car together we were talking business.
 

Tara said, “I’m a little worried about Bea. She’s not over that kidnapping and what’s to say it won’t be attempted again? The police don’t know who kidnapped her or why.”
  

Victoria twisted in the seat and looked back at her.
 
“Who are you and what did you do with Tara?”

“I know last time I wanted nothing to do with murder, but….Whewee! This is swanky.”
 

“Your house is this big.” Whereas Jack and I had turned right onto Abbotts Bridge Road from Peachtree Industrial when we went rafting, today we turned left, or south.
 
Several streets along there are named Bridge this or Bridge that. The bridges referred to traverse the Chattahoochee River. The houses were set back very far from the road and were very large.
 

“All three of ours are, but they don’t have a majestic approach like this,” Tara said.

Vic was laughing. “Uh-oh, Tara’s going to get a new driveway, landscaping, and move her house back in the lot.
 
Leigh, are you finally happy with your windows?”

“I am! The mahogany trim is beautiful. But now the bedroom looks like it needs painting.”

As Bea had promised, there was a fake rock beside the front porch step, hiding––sure––a key. The porch was square and only the front was open. On the left and directly ahead there were tall windows. The front door was on the right. A layout like that gave us each something to do. I unlocked the door, while Vic looked in the side window and Tara peeked in the middle section.
 

“The office is over here and I can see his computer waiting for me.” This was Christmas for Victoria.
 
“What do you see, Tara?”
 

That was when I realized Tara was frozen to the spot.

“There’s someone looking at me.”

We couldn’t just take her word for it and get the hell out of there. Oh, no. That would have been too easy.
 
We each had to look and get the sin scared out of us.
  
Paige Ford stood there in blue jeans and a Peachtree Road Race t-shirt from a couple of years back.
 

“Do you think she sees us?” Vic was talking out of the side of her mouth, like a ventriloquist.
 

Paige raised a gun. It was about as big as her hand, but when a gun is pointed at you it looks like a bazooka.
  

“I’m guessing, yes,” I said.
 

She pointed with the gun to the open door. “Do you want to come in?”

In unison, we shook our heads no, keeping our eyes on the gun.

“This was my father’s. It’s not loaded.”
 

Tara and Vic turned to go in, but I stopped them.
 
“Put the gun down first.”

“Sure.” She threw it onto an ornate, antique loveseat, in the foyer. The damn thing went off, giving new meaning to the term, throw pillow, when two of them became airborne. Because she seemed genuinely startled, I ran in.
 

To be on the safe side, I planted myself in between Paige and the gun. If she made a move for that poor loveseat, I was going to knock her down. I gave up blueberry cobbler at Cracker Barrel for this? To be cut down in my prime? “Why would your father have a loaded gun?”
 

Since he’d been murdered, I guess he had it for protection, but I wanted to give her an opening to start telling us what she knew.

“He had received several threats.”

“From whom?” I asked.

“I don’t know who it was. He never told me.”

Tara walked over and put her arm through Paige’s.
  
“I just peed in my pants. Just a little, but still, so we’re going to have to do better than that.”

“There were phone calls and he didn’t recognize the voice. She never called when he was here. She always left messages.”

“She?” I asked.
 

Paige nodded.

“Saying what?” I thought that was a logical next question, but maybe that was just me.

“I couldn’t get any specifics out of him. Other than it was a woman calling and giving him instructions. To my dad it sounded like an ultimatum.”
 

“Could it have been someone at CDC?”
 
Of course, Bea had talked about Thomas having a dispute with a man, but there was always Janice Marshall.
  

“No.” She sounded certain.
 

“If you don’t know who it was, why are you convinced there wasn’t a CDC connection?” I asked.
 
My heart rate had returned to normal, but when she took a step toward me, it sped up again.

Vic took her arm. “Let’s go in here.” She led her into the home office off the foyer.
   

Tara was walking toward the back of the house. “I’ll get you a glass of water.” Our eyes met and I knew she’d do as much snooping as she could get away with while she was at it.
 

I folded one of the dead pillows around the gun and took the whole business into the living room. An ornately carved Chinese trunk sat against the far wall and looked like a good hiding place. Gingerly I put the pistol and pillow down on the sofa, and unlatched the lid. It was empty so I placed the gun inside, with all the respect a gun like that deserves. It had a new home until we could tell Detective Kent about it. I gave the heavy lid a tap and let it fall. When it landed, the damn gun went off again. I jumped. What the….?

From the kitchen, Tara screamed. Victoria yelled my name.

“I’m okay, y’all.”
 

Vic and Paige sat on a black leather sofa. I collapsed on a matching recliner. I don’t know who invented the recliner, but that is a piece of furniture I hate myself for loving. The oversized cherry desk and built-ins kept the room from looking like a total man cave. I didn’t see any bullet holes, which was, of course more than I could say for the foyer and living room.
 

“What the hell would make a gun do that? I’ve heard of hair triggers, but that’s downright unsafe.”

“Not all of my dad’s reconfigurations were improvements.”
 

Tara joined us and stood in the archway. “Ya’ think?” Then she walked, back to the kitchen, touching the wall now and again for support.

Victoria touched Paige’s hand. “There might be something on his computer that would tell us.”

“You can look.”

“If you insist.” Vic was sitting behind the desk and had his computer on before the phrase was out of her mouth. She pulled a box about the size of a pack of cards out of her handbag and attached it to Mr. Chestnut’s computer via a USB port.

“I’m going to get back to work. I’m donating his clothes to the Salvation Army.”

Tara was back. “And then you’ll put the house on the market?”

Paige spun around. “Why shouldn’t I? Do you think Dr. Armistead is going to try to take it from me? My dad’s will left everything to me! I was his only real child.”

I hoped the gun was hidden well enough.

“Paul’s not interested in this house, or anything else that belonged to your father.”
  

Paige dropped down on the bottom step and, hiding her face in her hands, cried. Tara sat down and put her arms around her. I went to check on Vic, but she came out to us.

I knelt down in front of Paige. “Did you put the chip in your dad? You didn’t answer when we asked you that on Sunday night.”

“No! And I never even saw a scar on his shoulder.”

Did I say where in his body it was implanted? No, because I didn’t know. “His shoulder?”
 

 
“He asked me to. He thought it would help in case he was kidnapped. I was so afraid that was what killed him. That it had bacteria on it.”

“What did the police say about that?”

“Dr. Asher, or Dr. Charles, or whatever his name is, didn’t seem to think that was possible, but Detective Kent said the chip had been sent to the state lab for analysis and it was too early to tell.”
 

It was Victoria’s turn to ask her a question. “Why were you outside when we came to your house Sunday night?”

“I had a lot to think about. I wanted to think, not be told what I thought.” The reference to her husband was clear. “Sure enough, Al was trying to follow me out when you three showed up.”

Victoria wasn’t letting her off that easy. “Where is the receiver the chip communicated with?”

Paige rolled her eyes, like she was getting bored with us. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
 

“What would be the use of inserting a piece of hardware in case you’re kidnapped if the hardware can’t transmit any data––like your location?”
  

It dawned on Paige that she had intellectually brought a knife to a gunfight. “It was at our house, and when the chip was found in Dad’s body, I wanted to get rid of the receiver.”

Then she got up. “I’m okay now. I’ll get back to work.”

I wasn’t done. “Who did implant the chip, if you didn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

I pressed on. “Where did he get it? You don’t exactly find those at Home Depot.”

“The person who put it in, got it for him. I swear I don’t know who it was. I would tell you, or I’d tell Detective Kent, if I did.” It was too soon after eating to hear the way her voice softened over the detective’s name.
 

Tara handed her a business card. “Please call me if you need to talk.”
 

“You have a detective agency?!” Oh, Tara, wrong card. “I thought you were here because Paul wanted to know what the house was like. Why
are
you here?”

I stood up and ran my hand through my hair. “Our friend was kidnapped and the police aren’t taking it seriously.”
 

Victoria came and stood next to me. “There’s this police detective who is sick and needs our help, but doesn’t want to admit it.”
 

Paige smiled.

Tara stood on Vic’s other side. “I love Paul. And we’re family, girl.”

***

We had loads to talk about on the way back to Victoria’s. I drove out of the horseshoe driveway and looked in the rear view mirror. “That is a beautiful house.”

Tara looked out the side window. “That house is her freedom.”
 

I pulled out onto Abbotts Bridge, headed for Peachtree Industrial Boulevard. “After what he did with that gun, I don’t think we can rule out suicide.”

“State your case,” Victoria said.

 
“How about this for a theory on what went down, the fool could have been reconfiguring something else and poisoned himself. May he rest in peace.” I gave instructions to my phone’s voice dialer. “Call Detective Kent’s mobile.”
 
And it did.

“Yes, Leigh? What’s happened now? Did the thieves come back for the P’s?”

Of course, this totally confused Tara and Victoria.
 
We’d been so busy I hadn’t had time to tell them about the
R
theft. “Ha-ha-ha.” Then I told him about the gun and where I hid it and gave him the address.

“I’m feeling better, so I’ll go over there.” He hesitated and I thought he had disconnected.
 
“Leigh?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the health tip.”

“Thanks for not outing us at the funeral home on Sunday night.” I hung up because I didn’t want to discuss the reason behind our secrecy with him.
 

Vic looked up from checking Tiara Investigations emails and voice mail. “Why did Paige lie about worrying bacteria on the chip caused her father’s death, if she didn’t implant it? And why was she trying to get rid of the receiver, after the crime lab determined it was atropine that killed him?”

 
“She certainly knew more than she was saying about whoever made those threatening phone calls to her dad,” I said.
 

 
Tara readjusted her seat belt like she couldn’t get comfortable. She was getting panicky. “We know Al has a motive, and after what he did to my car, I wouldn’t put murder past him.”
  

I stopped at a red light and took the opportunity to reapply clear lip gloss. “I would love to know who referred Thomas to us, if it wasn’t Bea. Tara, I was thinking about what you said about it looking like a scene that was set, as if someone wanted
us
to find the body.
 
Or was that us, being full of ourselves?”
 

Victoria’s phone, still in her hand, rang. She looked at the screen then tossed it back into her Prada handbag.
 
“It’s Frank.”

“When will he be Shorty again?” I could almost feel sorry for him.

“We’re doing better but still up and down.” She was sitting in the backseat typing up a storm.