Seeds of Deception (22 page)

“Yes, that's true.”

“Do you have a copy of her job application? A CV?”

“At the office. Not here at home. You think she's related to Joe?”

“I don't remember any other Caffarellis in town.”

Phillip sat back in his swivel chair and looked up at her. “And what conclusion do you draw from this?”

“That's it's one more coincidence in this whole mess. And I don't like it.”

“What do you propose to do about this, Meg?” Phillip asked.

“Tell me more about Miriam. How did you come to hire her?”

“Sit down, please.” Phillip gestured toward a couple of straight-backed chairs opposite the desk. Meg and Seth sat. When they were settled, Phillip leaned back in his chair again and steepled his hands. “As I've told you, I went into private practice with Arthur just over five years ago, after working at Blackwell, Hyzy, and Cates for something like a quarter of a century. Arthur and I had talked about doing this for some time, and had discussed what our goals were. We're not young, and we wanted a lighter and less demanding client load. We found a small office—which, it occurs to me, you haven't seen yet—and we moved into it and set up shop.”

“Has private practice met your expectations?” Seth asked, ignoring Meg's glare at his interruption.

“By and large, yes, Seth. We take what clients we choose, and we turn away some. I think it's worked well for us.”

“And Miriam?” Meg demanded.

“When we went out on our own, we brought one of our secretaries with us from our former firm. I've told you this before, Meg. A lovely woman, and she was used to working with us, but her skills had not kept pace with the times, and she decided to retire. We were sorry to see her go.

“So we needed to find a replacement, although we had ample lead time for the transition. I think we went through a local agency, and asked for someone with some legal experience and a general interest in the law. There were several strong applicants, and Arthur and I interviewed a number of them. We wanted to find someone who would stay around for at least a few years.”

“Did Miriam come through that agency?”

“To tell the truth, I think she was referred to us by a client,” Phillip said. “We asked among our friends, if they knew anyone who was looking for a position, and she could have heard of the opening through one of them.”

“Do you remember that interview?” Meg asked.

“Darling, we talked to perhaps a dozen people, and I haven't thought about it since we hired Miriam. She has been a dependable employee, and she's smart and hardworking. We've had no complaints about her performance, and we were satisfied with our choice.”

“Did she ever mention Madison?”

“Not that I recall. Where we had lived in the past would not have come up in a job interview. Where we had worked would. We told her that both Arthur and I had worked at a
large New York firm, but we were looking to take a step back. As I think about it now, I believe Miriam admitted up front that she had little office experience, but she was taking classes to become a paralegal, and she had strong computer and office management skills. Arthur and I agreed to take a chance on her, and it's worked out well for all of us.”

“What do you know about her personal life?”

Phillip gave a brief laugh. “Surely you know that a prospective employer is not permitted to ask that sort of question?”

Meg nodded impatiently. “Sure, but you've been working with her for a year now, right? Don't you ever talk about things unrelated to the law and the office? Is she married? Does she have kids? Where does she live?”

“Meg, I think you're overreacting about this. Don't you agree, Seth?”

“Humor her, Phillip,” Seth told him. “This will go more quickly if you do.”

Seth's comment irked her—it sounded condescending, which was unlike him.

“Daddy, do you agree the photograph in the yearbook looks like Miriam?”

“Perhaps, but it's an older photo and the girl Miriam Caffarelli was much younger then.”

“And the coincidence of the surnames?”

“I haven't ruled out the possibility. But what does it matter?”

“Daddy, you're saying you don't know about husband or kids?”

Phillip took a deep breath to compose himself. “I have no information about either. Miriam has never made nor received many personal phone calls at the office, nor has
she asked for time off unexpectedly, which I would anticipate if she had young children at home or at day care. But I have not asked about her interests outside of work. We have discussed the legal classes she has taken. But that has been the full extent of our personal interaction. She has been an exemplary employee.”

“She knew you'd be attending my wedding?”

“Of course she did. Arthur and I discussed it, and we saw no reason why Miriam couldn't take the time off while we were gone—with pay. She had vacation time coming to her, in any case. We have always tried to be fair employers. And this is perhaps our slowest time of year, just before the holidays.”

“Did Miriam have any issues with Arthur?”

“Meg, you have no idea how silly a question that is. Arthur is a very kind man, although he does have a mind like a steel trap when it comes to legal issues. He gets along with everyone, especially Miriam.”

“This isn't helping,” Meg said, almost to herself. “Any noteworthy or controversial cases that you're working on now?”

Phillip sighed. “Arthur and I opened this firm so we wouldn't have to deal with that kind of case. Our client base is stable. We don't make an extraordinary amount of money, but we're comfortable. I hate to burst your balloon, but everything has been going just fine.”

“Do you mind if I talk to Miriam?”

Phillip cocked his head at her. “I probably can't stop you, can I? Today is presumably her last day of vacation, but under the circumstances it seems appropriate to call her and see if she can meet with us tomorrow. Perhaps at the office?”

“If she's willing. I'd like to see your office anyway. Do you know if Arthur will be in the office on Monday?”

“I haven't spoken to him since I gave him a ride home from the hospital, but he seemed to be well on the road to recovery then. I assume he'll be there.”

Meg glanced at Seth. “Would it be rude to ask him to join us today?” Meg hated the way she sounded: pushy and petulant. Did her father take her seriously? Or did he actually believe she was wrong and was only humoring her? She really didn't know if she believed her own reasoning, but she couldn't seem to let it go. “The sooner we can get this cleared up, the sooner we can get out of your hair.”

Phillip smiled. “My hair is happy to have you, Meg. Let me make some calls.”

When Phillip had left the room, Meg stood up abruptly. “I need some fresh air. I'm going outside.” She stalked away without anyone following, and that included Seth. Did she want him to follow? No, she decided, at the moment what she wanted was time to think. Alone.

She grabbed the first heavy coat she came to in the hall closet and went out the back door to the patio. The place where Enrique had died. It was ample in size, partly covered with an old-fashioned metal awning. The outdoor cushions had been taken in for the winter, but the bare seats were still there, under the awning. She dropped into one of those, facing the lawn with its brown patches, and sulked.

This is why I don't come visit my parents often
, she said to herself, silently.
I'll always be their child, and they'll always be my parents. There's no way they can see me as an equal—the deck is stacked against that. It's not even
personal. But that doesn't explain why I'm so upset. So, Meg, why?

All right, I'm upset because I'm scared. There's a threat out there, but I don't know where it's coming from and Daddy and Mother refuse to acknowledge it. They think I'm overreacting. Am I? A man is dead, and another was hospitalized. There's no reason to think this is over, because we don't even know why it started. Someone was looking for something. They didn't find it on their first try at the house because they ran into Enrique, and it's been pretty much continuously occupied since, so no one's been back here to continue the search. Which is not the same as saying they won't be back. Whoever it is tried looking at the office after that, and ran into poor Arthur in the way. This mysterious searcher wasn't very smart, and was definitely unlucky. And is most likely getting frustrated.

She had a new thought.
This person is an amateur, who didn't think through the basics, like, make sure no one is around. If you want to break in, do it at night, when it's unlikely you'll run into anyone. If you're worried about a flashlight showing, shut the blinds. But both the house where I'm sitting and the office are unlikely to be observed after dark anyway.

What about the alarms?
Meg asked herself. Maybe he had known about Enrique and was waiting for him to disarm the alarms when he arrived, so he could get in. Maybe the intruder hadn't meant to kill him but had planned to sneak in behind him and wait until Enrique left, before searching. But Enrique had turned back or something and startled the guy. The weapon—a brick—suggested he had been killed outside. Maybe the intruder had meant to
knock him out and had hit him too hard, then panicked when he realized what he had done.

Or she.
Meg regretted she hadn't asked her father some basic questions about Miriam's build. In the yearbook photo she had looked pretty average, but she could have changed since. Would she have been strong enough to drag Enrique's body out of sight? She probably wasn't strong enough to stuff him in her car and dispose of him elsewhere. Had Enrique ever met Miriam? If he had, her presence wouldn't have alarmed him at first. She could have said Phillip had asked her to get something from the house, and that would have sounded believable. Why kill him? It didn't make sense.

And what would Miriam want in the house?

“Meg?”

Meg hadn't even heard Seth approaching. She realized she was freezing, and wrapped the borrowed coat more closely around her before turning to him. “Hi.”

“Are you all right? You look like you want to bite my head off.”

“I won't, I promise. But I don't know if I'm all right. I know I'm scared, and frustrated, and a bit angry at my parents for dismissing what I believe are real concerns. For them, not for me. Us.”

Seth moved a second chair closer to hers. “They're your parents. It comes with the package.”

“Am I being unreasonable? No, don't answer that, because I probably am. But something is wrong here.”

“Is that all that's bothering you?” Seth said quietly.

“I . . . Seth, is that going to be us in twenty, thirty years?”

“Meg, their relationship has worked for them for over thirty years,” Seth pointed out.

“But that's not what I want for us!” Meg burst out. She stood up and started pacing. “Every marriage is different—I get that. But we should be able to argue, and to share, and to lean on each other. I don't want to be them.”

“That won't happen, Meg. We won't let it. If you see any signs of that, feel free to tell me.” He stood up and pulled her close. “You're freezing.”

“I don't care. I needed to get away from everybody and clear my head. I feel so mad that there's nothing I can do right now, so I have to wait until tomorrow, and smile and play the dutiful daughter. And both Mother and Daddy treat me like I'm twelve.”

“Maybe they're scared too, and can't admit it—to themselves or to each other. Face it, an unexplained death can be terrifying, especially when it's in their own backyard, in this case literally. Maybe they're in denial.”

“Maybe,” Meg said, her voice muffled by his coat. “So what do I do?”

“Stick to your guns. If you believe what you're saying, follow through. I'm with you all the way.”

“Thank you. I wish I knew what this person was looking for. Since they checked the office, it must have something to do with a legal case, but Daddy says he hasn't been involved in anything controversial for a while, and neither has Arthur. What's so important that someone resorted to violence to get it? And why now? What's changed?”

“Meg, I can't possibly answer any of those questions, particularly if you can't.”

“You can be an objective observer, a sounding board,” Meg pointed out. “You don't have a history with any of these people, so if some part of their behavior looks wrong to you, it probably is. You could go have a man-to-man
chat with my father—maybe he's holding back because he thinks he's protecting the poor little womenfolk.”

Seth smiled. “Maybe. But is he really that macho?”

Meg had to smile in return. “The term ‘macho' has seldom been applied to my father, by anyone that I know of. Gentlemanly, maybe. Courteous. And just a wee bit sexist.”

“Meg, you've asked him whether he knows anything about any of this, and he's told you no. You're going to have to find out more, if you want him to listen to you.”

“How?” Meg shot back.

“Google New Jersey Caffarellis?” he said, after a pause.

Meg considered. “Well, it's a start, if I can finagle some computer time. Since it was our honeymoon, we didn't bring our laptops along, remember? In any case, it beats sitting here in the cold worrying.”