Leave Tomorrow Behind (Stella Crown Series) (25 page)

Chapter Forty-three

Gregg’s ancient secretary, according to Valerie, was used to his conquests, and while she didn’t condone them, she didn’t do anything to stop them, either. So when Valerie told her she was supposed to meet him in his office that afternoon, the secretary took it in stride and let Valerie into the inner sanctum. And then Valerie let the rest of us in through a door in the hallway that wasn’t marked, but was locked with multiple deadbolts.

“He likes having an escape route,” Valerie whispered. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told. Plus, when he’s here, he can bring people into the office without anyone knowing.”

“Security cameras?” I said.

“Not that I know of. He doesn’t want people seeing what all he does in here.”

I tried not to think about what exactly she meant, but it was hard not to, with the comfortable couch, the thick carpet, and the heavy curtains, which served as much for showing off money as for privacy and comfort and the whole brothel feeling. I wasn’t going to get anywhere close to the couch, because it looked like the main place for Gregg to get up to those things he didn’t want anyone to see. That wouldn’t be a problem, staying far away from it, because the room was the size of my barn.

“So what are we searching for?” Miranda said, and we all shushed her. She rolled her eyes. “Sorry,” she hissed. “If the secretary’s that’s ancient, she won’t be able to hear us.”

“Anything that has to do with the Lovely Miss pageant,” Daniella said. “Or Summer.”

Valerie stayed by the door, probably thinking about how her career was going to blow up if we were discovered, and wondering if it was worth it. Daniella had sat right down at the desk, and turned on the computer. While it booted up, she looked through desk drawers.

Miranda opened a closet door and was struck silent when she saw the contents. Clothes. Shoes. A full-length mirror. Not all for Gregg, unless he made a habit of trying on women’s lingerie. Miranda dove in with enthusiasm.

I kept my hands in my pockets and wandered around—avoiding the sofa—thinking that maybe something would pop out at me. Platinum records? Nah. The artists weren’t my type, and couldn’t possibly be threatened by a white, country girl. White baby grand? For heaven’s sake. Did Gregg even play piano? Or was Liberace going to stop by? A stocked bar, a conference table so shiny I could see my reflection, photos of Gregg with every famous Philadelphian he’d ever come into contact with. Bill Cosby, Pink, Dr. J., Supreme Court Justice Alito, Kevin Bacon, Chase Utley, and Cliff Lee. In addition, there were plenty of other celebrities from other places, including politicians, actors, musicians, and models.

Moving around the room toward his desk, I studied another set of photos. These were more focused on local charities, where Gregg had lent his studio name and celebrities to further a cause. Or, more like, to further his own cause. The photos centered around him and people I supposed were the organizers of various benefits, rich folks who wanted to either make the world a better place, or avoid paying taxes by pretending to care about the needy.

Yes, I know how I sound.

Rikki was in several of the photos with him, sometimes in formal wear, sometimes in her concert dress. In all of them she smiled brightly, standing in groups with Gregg and the philanthropists, also dressed to the nines. Men, women, children…Summer’s mom.

“Hey,” I said, too loudly. “Look here.”

The others trotted over and followed my finger to the photo.

“That’s her,” Miranda said.

“But who’s with them?”

“Gregg,” Miranda said.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Just trying to help.”

Daniella leaned close to the photo. “I don’t know any of those other people. They would be part of the charity, I guess. Does anyone know the organization?”

Physicians United. Who’d ever heard of them?

“Let’s look it up,” Miranda said.

I took a step back. “But not in here.”

“Right,” Valerie said. “Let’s go.” She turned to leave.

“Valerie,” I said. “You’d better lock up after us and go out the way you came in.”

“But Gregg didn’t get here.”

“Tell the secretary he called to say he was running late, or was in the hospital. Or found a girl at the fair he liked better.”

She made a face. “I’m sure that wouldn’t surprise the old lady. Okay, you guys go on. But make sure there’s nobody in the hallway.”

“Where should we meet?”

“Back up in the green room. I have another recording session starting—” she looked at her phone “—in twenty minutes.”

We peered into the corridor, and when the coast was clear, we hustled out and up the stairs. Miranda had her phone out and searching before we’d even sat down.

“Physicians United. ‘To make the world a more beautiful place.’ It says here they’re a group of plastic surgeons who go on mission trips to help kids in developing countries, you know, who have been born with cleft palates or whatever.”

“A worthy cause,” Daniella said. “Where do they get their money?”

Miranda poked around a little longer. “Private donations. Federal grants. Some software pioneer guy. And—” she looked up at me, wide-eyed “—the Wilbur and Sherry Moss Foundation.”

It took me a second. But then it hit me. “They’re named specifically. By name.”

“We got that,” Miranda said. “It says their names.”

“But you know what that means.”

“They like to give away money?”

“It means they
have
a lot of money. And Gregg would know that.”

Miranda kept messing with her phone. “Wilbur’s dead. Died of a heart attack six months ago.”

“Ms. Moss doesn’t seem to have taken her husband’s death very hard,” I said. “You saw the way she drooled over Nick.”

“Everybody drools over Nick.”

“Not Daniella.”

Daniella gave a small smile. “Not that he’s not very good-looking, of course.”

“What did I miss?” Valerie burst into the room. Miranda filled her in.

Valerie made a face. “What do you want to bet one of those physicians rewards the Mosses’ contributions with free plastic surgery?”

“Not a bet I want to take,” Miranda said, “because it’s plain to see.”

“So.” I sat in the easy chair again. “What does this all mean?”

“Duh,” Miranda said. “That’s obvious, too. Gregg wants to tap into that money. This studio takes tons of money to operate, plus look at his office. How expensive was that to furnish? And his mansion up north? When Daniella and Taylor wouldn’t go along with the whole cheating thing, he moved right on to the next thing. If he couldn’t get her as his Front Page spokesperson to make money that way, he’d go on to the next best thing, which might actually be a better thing—cold, hard cash. Which means he needed Summer.”

“Like a runner-up?” I said.

Valerie laughed. “Yes. Just like that.”

But it wasn’t funny. “Runner-up. Summer is the runner-up.”

They all looked at me. “So?” Miranda said, speaking what they all were thinking.

“Remember that emcee’s description of the runner-up? That she would take over if something kept the winner from being able to perform the role?” They still didn’t get it. “Just how important is it to Gregg that Summer actually be Lovely Miss Pennsylvania?”

The blood drained from Daniella’s face. “You mean—”

“—if Gregg wants the Mosses’ money, he’s going to get it. Even if it means forcing Summer into Taylor’s role.”

Chapter Forty-four

We were flying back to the fair in Daniella’s car, although I was driving. Daniella was in the back seat and on the phone, texting Taylor, texting Zach, calling whoever she could think of. I had Watts’ phone number, as well as several other cops’, seeing how they’d been hounding me for more information, so she was sending them information, too. Watts said she’d be on the lookout for Taylor, who wasn’t answering her phone, and would also be watching for Gregg and his thugs.

“Take the wheel for a second,” I told Miranda.

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to call Willard.”

“But, traffic!”

“Miranda. We’re not moving.”

The Schuyllkill was not only packed, like on any regular day, but at a complete standstill. This meant it was Friday, which caused traffic to behave even worse. We were moving at a lame snail’s pace, if at all.

I got Willard’s voice mail and told him what was going on. I was sure he would at least be in touch with other law enforcement, even if he couldn’t get there himself.

Zach texted Daniella back, saying Taylor was fine. He was watching her at that very moment, awarding a junior 4-H prize to a kid who’d made a photo collage of her dog.

“So she’s okay,” Miranda said. “That’s good, right?”

“Of course it’s good,” I said. Had the woman turned into an idiot? “But it doesn’t mean she’s safe.”

“Do I call Gregg?” Daniella said. “Should I let him know we’re onto him, or would that just make him act sooner?”

“Call him,” Miranda and I said together. We glanced at each other, not quite sure what had just happened. Had we actually agreed on something?

Daniella punched some numbers, but was soon groaning. “He’s not answering. I’ll try again.” But the same thing happened. The third time, she left a message asking him to please call her, and to not do anything rash, that it would just be bad for everybody, and that the cops were keeping an eye on Taylor. She hung up and sank back into the seat. “I knew I never should have let her be in that pageant. I knew it couldn’t be good for her.”

I glanced into the rearview mirror. “Daniella, she’s going to be okay. And listen, it’s not the pageant’s fault.” Again, like when I’d complimented Bryan, I thought maybe the week’s heat had fried my brain. “The pageant has nothing to do with this.”

“Of course it does. If she hadn’t won—”

“She won because she deserved it. She’s in danger because Gregg is a crazy man. It’s his fault. Nobody else’s.”

“His wife,” she said, like I hadn’t been talking. “I’ll call her.” She dialed, and held the phone up to her ear. I expected a repeat of what had happened with Gregg, but suddenly Daniella was talking. “Edie? Hey, is your husband with you? No? Do you know where he is? I need to talk to him. No, no, it’s about…business. Okay. I understand. If you see him, could you please—Great. Thank you.” She hung up, but didn’t look appeased. “I don’t know who else to call.”

“Miranda,” I said, “call Nick. Tell him what’s happening.”

“We don’t want him going over there.”

“He’ll want to know.”

“I don’t think—”

“Call him.”

“Fine.” She did, and explained the situation. When she was done, she thrust her phone toward me. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Stella?”

His voice made me tear up. “Hey.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. I just…wanted you to know what was going on.”

“Thanks, Babe. Maybe I’ll go over there. See if I can help.”

I figured that’s what he’d do, and it was the last thing I wanted, to put him even close to danger. But he was an adult, and he cared about people. I couldn’t hold out information from him just to keep him safe.

“Be careful, okay?”

“You know I will.”

“I love you.”

“You, too.”

For once, Miranda didn’t make a gagging sound. Or even look like she wanted to. “How about Carla?” she said, instead.

“Sure.”

She called her, and let her know what was happening. Carla said she and Bryan would keep an eye out. Taylor was going to be watched over well, whichever way you looked at it.

Traffic finally began moving once we reached Route 476, and before we knew it, we were only a couple miles from the fair. Daniella was sitting forward on the seat, looking out the front window, as if she could see her daughter from there. As soon as I pulled into the grassy lot, she shrieked at me to stop the car, and went bounding across toward the entrance.

“Go with her,” I said.

Miranda, for once, didn’t question me, and took off without a backward glance. I found the closest spot and pulled the car in. As I trotted toward the entrance, I called Nick. “Where are you?”

“With Zach and Taylor, and about twenty cops. We’re in the home arts building.”

“So she’s safe?”

“She’s fine. And there’s been no sign of Gregg.”

I stood inside the gate and looked around, like I might see him right there. “Okay. I’ll be there in a minute. I want to check a couple places first.” I began walking toward the calf barn, where I knew Gregg’s daughter Melody still had a stall.

“I’ll join you.”

“No, stay with Taylor.”

“Stella, she’s got a couple dozen bodyguards. Plus Zach. He’s not going to let anything happen to her.”

“Which worries me. He’s not equipped to be facing a killer.”

“Neither are you.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“I’m going to the calf barn. Meet me there.”

He hung up, and I moved faster. The calf barn was empty when I got inside. A few kids just leaving, but that wasn’t surprising, since all of the animal judging events were over. There was really nothing left to do with the calves except make sure they were fed and watered before taking them home the next day, so the 4-H’ers were ready for a last night on the fairway, leading up to the fireworks display at dusk. I knew Zach and Taylor weren’t at Barnabas’ stall, and there was no sign of Randy or Laura, either, or even Austin. The place was deserted. Except…there was some movement over on the other side of the barn.

I tried to see who it was, but whoever it was was kind of skulking around. It was weird. Like a shadow, or a really slow-moving slug person. Quietly and slowly, I made my way around the outside of the stalls to come up behind the slug person, in the row.

It was Mrs. Gregg. She was standing all the way up now, and petting her daughter’s calf with her left hand. And she held something else in her right, that was shiny and long and…it was a syringe.

I crept closer. What was she doing? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Not with a shot in her hand. She was murmuring quietly to the calf, rubbing its ears, telling it that everything would be okay. That it would go quickly. And then she put the needle against the calf’s neck.

I shot my hand out, knocking the syringe onto the wood chips. The calf balked, stepping back, right on the syringe, breaking the tube and spilling the solution into the ground. I grasped Mrs. Gregg’s wrist as she tried to squirm away. “What are you doing?”

Her eyes were wild. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

“You were going to.”

“Stella?” Nick hustled up the row.

“Call Carla. Tell her we need her here right now.”

He didn’t question me, but pulled out his phone and made the call.

“I thought it was over,” I said to Mrs. Gregg.

She sobbed once. “I did, too. I thought it was over, but he said no. He said we could use them all again. That it was important to the girls. To our family. I tried to tell him that he was the only one who wanted it, but he wouldn’t listen.” She looked up at me with wide doe eyes. “After that happened the other day with the lemon, it all became so clear. If the cows couldn’t compete, we could end all this.” She sobbed again, sinking toward me, rather than pulling away. “Everyone hates us here. They always have, but David doesn’t care. He says it’s good for the girls. Good for business. And I just…” She deflated, her wrist hanging loosely in my hand.

“What were you giving to the calf?”

“Just something calming. Something to make him sleep.”

“Forever?”

She gazed at the sweet little calf. “It wouldn’t have hurt. He would have just—” She dropped toward the ground, like she was demonstrating. I caught her and laid her over some straw bales. Her skin sagged, and gray touched the roots of her hair. Her clothes draped on her bony arms and legs, and her mouth hung slack. She looked…pathetic.

Nick and I stared down at her.

The 4-H fair criminal mastermind.