Running on Empty (26 page)

'The inheritance, maybe?' Daisy said. 'Remember that Nanney Estill died just a month
ago. With Rance gone, Kathleen wouldn't have to worry about him drinking their money
away. She could start over — maybe even with Bobby Bradenham.'

AnnaLise shifted uncomfortably. 'You think he still has a thing for her? And vice
versa?'

'What I think is that each human believes there's a soulmate awaiting them somewhere
in the world. Bobby's fixated on Kathleen as his. That's why he never married anybody
else.'

And just maybe some influence from his mother, as well.

'Like Daddy was your soulmate.' AnnaLise said it offhandedly, the way you ask someone
how they are and just expect them to say 'fine'.

She wasn't prepared for Daisy to look up at her in surprise, then turn away. 'Timothy
Griggs was a very good man.'

'But you
did
love him?' The question was out of AnnaLise's mouth reflexively, like she was back
on the beat in Wisconsin, putting questions to strangers. Now, though, the reporter
was intruding on her own mother, a completely different emotional vector.

Truth to tell, AnnaLise had been so young when her father died that she could barely
recall life before the hospitals and the waiting rooms. And what she did 'remember'
was probably highly subject to nostalgic embroidery.

Being hoisted onto her father's shoulders to place the star atop the Christmas tree.
Did AnnaLise actually remember the moment or had she concocted an internal video to
expand the photo in the family album?

Tim Griggs crooning a song to Daisy in the middle of Sal's Taproom. Fact, or a scene
from some movie, with her father and mother substituted for the actors performing
the leading roles?

'Yes, I loved Tim,' Daisy said, meeting AnnaLise's eyes. 'It just seems like such
a long time ago.'

'I know.' Silly, but AnnaLise's world was righted. Her personal love life could be
as ambivalent as... well, it currently was, but she wanted an ironclad fairy-tale
for her parents, living or dead. To know that Joanie really
did
love Chachi.

AnnaLise smiled.

'What?' Daisy asked.

'Just thinking about an old TV show,' AnnaLise said. 'Hey, did you ever tell me about
any uncles?'

Daisy looked heavenward. 'No. You have no Uncle Jesse or Auntie Em, or Cousin It,
either. You just spent way too much time in front of the television, adopting imaginary
family as your own.'

'Well, I certainly didn't have any
real
relatives to play with.'

They both laughed.

'Nope, but you did have real friends. At first, only Bobby Bradenham. Then, when you
got a little older, Sheree and Chuck. You were — and remain — very lucky in your friendships.'

AnnaLise couldn't dispute that. 'Speaking of Bobby, I'm worried about him. If he
is
in love with Kathleen, as you believe, that gives him a motive for killing Rance Smoaks.'

'Using the same gun that wounded Dickens Hart?'

'Well, that's just the problem. Or one of them, at least,' AnnaLise said, warming
to her subject. 'If Bobby turns out to be Hart's potential heir, it'll look to the
police like Bobby had a pretty good reason to kill Hart, too.'

'Another inheritance? That would mean you have a mighty greedy friend.'

Daisy was right: Bobby gets the money and the girl. And the girl's money to boot.

AnnaLise decided to change tacks. 'Let's look at this from the police point of view.'

'And by that, you mean Chuck's?'

'Yeah. Weird having both the chief of police and the primary suspect as friends.'

'Probably even worse for them,' Daisy said.

There was that. 'You know what I don't understand? I've known Bobby for more than
twenty years and always thought his father was killed in a car accident. Now, all
of a sudden, people are talking about his being "a little Dickens", as Mama so delicately
put it.'

'You can't rely on everything Phyllis says.'

'But I heard it from Sheree, as well. And who knows what Bobby has picked up on.'
A thought struck. 'Maybe that's why he was interested in doing a DNA test like Ichiro
Katou did.'

A slight cloud across Daisy's face. 'Didn't you tell me that paternity testing is
different from this grand, "worldwide" kind?'

'True,' AnnaLise admitted. 'To prove paternity you'd have to have samples from both
people.'

'Samples?'

AnnaLise slipped her right hand through the railing, using her thumbnail to click
flaking paint off a spindle. 'Like the scrapings from inside your cheek.'

Daisy gazed up at her. 'Or the blood from a shooting?'

'Doesn't that sort of put the cart before the horse?'

'My point exactly,' said Daisy.

AnnaLise had come down from her encampment on the staircase landing and was sitting
at the kitchen table with her mother.

Which didn't mean she understood the woman. 'And what "point" is that?' AnnaLise asked.

'Look, Bobby wouldn't shoot his maybe father in order to get proof that he was
his
real
father. Even if he was.'

Well, that certainly clarified things.

'Besides,' Daisy continued, 'in North Carolina, an illegitimate child can't claim
any portion of a parent's estate unless the parent acknowledges that child prior to
the parent's death.'

AnnaLise's jaw dropped. 'How in the world do you know these things?'

'You're not the only one who watches television, you know. I just prefer cable access
and news. Educational programming that broadens the mind.'

Well, lah-dee-dah. 'But assuming Hart knows Bobby is―'

'
If
he is―'

AnnaLise started over. 'Assuming Bobby is Hart's son, Dickens may already have a will
naming Bobby as his heir. And, by now, Chuck should know about that.' AnnaLise glided
her mother's purse away from her and picked up her own cellphone.

'You're just going to call the chief of police and ask him?' Daisy seemed stunned
at her daughter's directness.

'Of course.' AnnaLise punched up Chuck Greystone's official number. 'You'd be surprised
how much law enforcement will tell you. A lot of it's public information available
on the department's daily blotter, anyway.'

Daisy began to say something, but AnnaLise cut her off. 'Ugh. Just his voicemail.
I'll try him later.'

The cell beeped as she went to put it down. 'Battery's dying,' AnnaLise said, waving
it off.

But Daisy wasn't paying any attention to the phone. 'You know, maybe we're bothering
about the wrong thing.'

'What do you mean?' AnnaLise asked. 'You don't think Hart's will is important?'

'Maybe, maybe not. But isn't the real question what
Bobby
knows? Does he believe — or at least, suspect — Dickens Hart is his real father? Because,
if not, none of the rest of this matters.'

Daisy was right. Maybe a confused mind throws a stronger beam of light into darker
corners. AnnaLise picked up her cell again.

'I thought your phone was dead,' Daisy said. 'Besides, are you sure you want to talk
with him about this over the telephone?'

'Good point.' AnnaLise plugged her phone into its charger and checked her watch. 'I
have just enough time to get dressed and meet Tucker at Ichiro Katou's apartment.'

'What do you expect to find there?' Daisy asked as AnnaLise got up from the table.

'I'm not sure. Maybe some connection between Dickens Hart and Ichiro. Who knows,'
she teased, 'maybe he's a "Little Dickens", too.'

'You really do enjoy digging up all this dirt, don't you?'

Startled by her mother's tone, AnnaLise laughed, trying to recapture their earlier
mood. 'C'mon, Daisy — you say that like it's a bad thing.'

But mother was standing — or sitting — her new ground. 'You just be careful, AnnaLise
Marie Griggs,' she called from the table as her daughter mounted the stairs to change.
'Sometimes secrets are kept for good reason.'

Daisy's words were echoing in AnnaLise's head as she retrieved her car from the inn
and drove toward Hart's Landing.

Her mother knew something — something that she wasn't prepared to share with AnnaLise.
All of the doubts that had been set aside by Daisy's cogent conversation in the kitchen
came rushing back. The Daisy who had discussed the shootings of Rance Smoaks and Dickens
Hart was the old Daisy. Hell,
better
than the old Daisy.

AnnaLise's mother had ably laid out possible motives, including those for Bobby Bradenham
and young Widow Smoaks. Then, when AnnaLise said she was meeting Tucker at Ichiro's
apartment, Daisy'd done a 180 — telling her it might be best to just leave things
alone.

Almost like Bobby and Kathleen were a diversion, designed to keep AnnaLise off the
trail of the real perpetrator. But why?

The obvious choice — Daisy as stone-killer — didn't merit thinking about. Still, as
AnnaLise left the house, she'd paused on the landing to give the door of the cabinet
that housed her father's old deer rifles a half-hearted tug.

Locked. But how much weight did that carry if Daisy still had the key in a drawer
in her bedroom? Had she ever fired guns? Most locals had, almost a rite of passage
in the High Country. Though, come to think of it, knowing how to swim would seem a
requisite of lakeside life, and Daisy couldn't do that.

AnnaLise felt sick. Sick to be thinking such things about her own mother. Even sicker
to be wishing the crimes on innocent friends, instead.

The more you looked at it, in fact, the sicker the whole scenario had become.

Daisy Griggs had no reason to shoot Rance Smoaks or Dickens Hart, AnnaLise told herself
as she crossed the bridge to Hart's Landing and parked. And Ichiro Katou? How in the
world did he fit in? Anywhere?

Tucker Stanton was waiting for AnnaLise at the door that had stymied her on the last
visit. Not that it ended up mattering much. By that time, Katou was already dead.

'So, what are we looking for?' Tucker asked as he opened the lobby door and moved
aside for her to enter.

'I'm not sure,' AnnaLise answered honestly. 'Maybe some sort of connection between
Ichiro's death and the other events.'

'Events?' Tucker was unlocking one of the small mailboxes lined up on the facing wall.
Very few label spaces had names on them.

'You know, the two shootings?' Could Tucker really be so dense? 'One fatal, one not?'

'Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.' The young man turned away, three white envelopes in his hand.
'I've been a little preoccupied with Torch.'

Apparently. 'What are those?' AnnaLise pointed at the mail.

'My dad asked me to check the mailbox.'

'Ichiro's? Anything interesting?'

Tucker started to hold out the letters, but then snatched them back. 'Hey, wait. Sharing
these could be a federal crime, right?'

'For you to show me the envelopes that were in the mailbox for the condo you and your
father own?'

'Well, when you put it that way.' He held them out again.

AnnaLise extended her hand to receive, but Tucker withdrew once more..