Seeds of Deception (25 page)

When she finally wound down, she said, “I know this seems improbable, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me. You're the lawyer, Daddy. Tell me where the holes in my story are.”

“I can't. Because I think you're right.”

That was the last thing Meg had expected to hear. “Really?”

“Yes. You must think I'm an old fool.
I
think I'm an old fool. I saw only what I wanted to see. I truly hoped that Enrique's death was simply a robbery gone wrong and had nothing to do with our family. Meg, I actually resented you for what I saw as trying to spoil a happy visit, and I apologize. I know you and Seth have given up part of your own time together to try to sort this out, even though I did nothing to encourage you. But I'm still incredulous that Miriam could have played any part in this. She's a lovely girl—woman. She's smart and hardworking. She's the ideal employee, I would have said. Now you're suggesting that she's been scheming against me for as long as she's worked for me?”

“I don't think this started that long ago—there must be
something recent that triggered it all. And she wasn't scheming against you, Daddy. She was looking out for her own family's interests, if what I guess is right. I can't speak for what she hoped to prove. Maybe she hadn't known about the Mob connection and didn't want to believe it, and was looking for proof. Or maybe her husband was behind it—he wanted to clean things up before his father announced his candidacy for governor, and make sure nothing would come back to bite him.”

“You think his father is involved in any part of this?” Phillip asked.

“Why are you asking me? I don't even live in this state. I don't know the man or his track record, public or private. But I'd be willing to believe that if it came out that he was involved with the Mafia, even at arm's length, it would not help his political career. Do you think he was, back then?”

Phillip shook his head. “I don't want to speculate any more than you do. But there is another piece of information that you need to know, that isn't in that file you have there. His son is a loose cannon. He has a criminal record, and he's prone to violence.”

The scenario keeps getting more and more complicated
, Meg thought.
At what point does it collapse due to its own absurdity?
“Why do you know this, Daddy?”

“Because his son Ricky was one of the men who beat up Chief Bennett's son while he was in the holding cell after his arrest and left him permanently damaged. But Ricky was never accused of that, because Tommy Bennett—the son—couldn't remember anything, and the others in the cell swore they hadn't seen a thing—to hear them tell it, he beat himself up. So that was dropped, but the damage was done. I'm going to guess that Ricky's been
involved in other incidents that have turned out the same way as well—kept off the record.”

“Are you saying the dear Dad Del Monte has pulled strings to keep his son out of trouble?”

“I think it's a strong possibility, Meg. But as in so much of this castle in the air that you've constructed, I have no proof. And it would be dangerous to fling unsubstantiated accusations around, particularly with an election coming up.”

“So this Ricky—he's Miriam's husband?”

Phillip sighed. “I don't know that for a fact, but I'll concede that it seems likely. If it's true, then they've been married for some time. All her work references were for Miriam Del Monte.”

“Well, if she's close to my age, that's not surprising. I'm the outlier on the marriage age curve.” Meg shook her head to try to clear it. “This just keeps getting worse. Joe Senior didn't want to work for the Mob but he was forced into it, simply because he was born into the wrong family. In a way he did you a favor by dismissing you as his attorney when he saw he couldn't win. His daughter may or may not have known about his involvement, but she—or her delightful husband—are worried that there might be something in those files of yours that could spell trouble for Anthony Del Monte. So Miriam enlisted her husband, Ricky—or maybe he enlisted her—to track down the files. It's clear that you like and respect Miriam, so I'll cut her a break and say she isn't capable of hitting people with heavy objects. That leaves her husband, Ricky, who is a known hothead, and he's the one who panicked and killed Enrique and clobbered Arthur.”

“You don't have to spare my feelings, Meg, because I may well have misjudged Miriam. But it does seem more likely that Ricky was the one wielding the brick. Miriam
could still have been the brains behind what they tried to do.”

“Which means you are still at risk. And if he finds out what we know, he's capable of coming after you again. Can we find a legal way to stop him?”

“Meg, I'd love to think so, but we're sorely lacking in evidence. I'm sorry I have to keep repeating myself.”

“Will Chief Bennett help?”

“I don't know. I don't begin to know how to approach him with something like this. Oh, and keep in mind, if we're right about this and make a public stink about it, the possible future governor of the state will be an enemy. Assuming, of course, he survives the double scandal of old Mafia ties and a psycho son he's been protecting for years, and gets elected.”

“Let's worry about one thing at a time.” There was one more point that troubled Meg. “Daddy, how much does Mother know about any of this?”

Phillip looked away. “I've always tried to protect her. She's long since stopped asking about my work. She knew I was helping Joe, at the beginning, but I told her he'd dropped the issue and that was the end of that. I never told her about the suspicions I had about Joe's involvement in . . . other things. For the record, no one from that—what should I call it? Way of life? Illicit side?—ever approached me about any other matter, personal or professional. Which made it easy for me to forget all about it, until now.” Phillip seemed to realize suddenly that Seth was still in the room. “What about you, Seth? What do you think of this mess?”

Seth responded carefully, after a moment. “I think it's possible that Meg is right about what she's laid out to you.
But as you pointed out, we have nothing tangible that we can take to any authorities, just conjectures and guesses. If I get a vote, I'd say we talk to Miriam tomorrow, without accusing her of anything, and see what she says. If she stonewalls us, we haven't lost much—”

“Except possibly a good employee,” Phillip interrupted.

“Yes, there is that, if she takes it the wrong way. She may get up and walk out on us without confirming or denying anything. But I don't have any other ideas.”

“Do we tell Mother what's going on?” Meg asked.

Phillip shrugged. “What's to be gained? It would only worry her, and if this comes to nothing, that would have been needless. If we learn anything useful from Miriam, we can fill her in then.”

They passed the rest of the day without bringing up anything about Miriam or murder, although Meg felt like her worries had to be painted all over her face in neon colors. But her mother didn't pry—did she prefer
not
to know if something was wrong? How had she so easily dismissed Enrique's death? Did this show hidden depth of strength on Elizabeth's part, or no depths at all? Meg was no longer sure.

They were clearing the table after dinner when Elizabeth asked, “Have you decided when you'll return home?”

Meg and Seth looked at each other. “We thought we'd stick around another day or two, if that's all right. We want to go see Daddy's office tomorrow, and meet Miriam, and maybe then we can decide.”

“That sounds like a nice plan, dear. Dessert?” And no more was said.

*   *   *

The next morning
Meg was rummaging through her suitcase, as Seth watched. “I really need to do some laundry,” she said.

“Won't it keep until we get home?” Seth asked.

Was that a complaint, buried in his question? “We could leave tomorrow,” she said tentatively. “After we've talked to Miriam.”

“And what if she says she has no idea what you're talking about? Or even if she admits to everything? What will you do then?”

“Turn it over to my father and the police, I guess. I can't stay here and badger my father's secretary, even if I think she's an accomplice to murder.”

“I'm glad you recognize that, Meg.” Seth jumped quickly out of bed. “I'm going to grab a shower,” he said, disappearing into the bathroom.

He was not happy with the situation, Meg acknowledged. Neither was she, but now that she'd gotten things rolling, she couldn't just walk away. Or was that just her rationalization? And she wasn't being fair to Seth. Throughout their jumbled honeymoon he'd been a rock, not demanding anything from her, letting her find her own way through this series of unexpected events. But he deserved better. This was
their
life, and he should come before her mother and father now.

She joined him in the shower. “I thought we could save some time if we showered together,” she said into his ear.

“We'll see,” he said, and then said no more.

When they went downstairs, Phillip was already dressed and finishing his coffee. “Do you want to go with
me, or take your own car?” he asked as soon as he saw them. Meg saw that he had somehow become energized by the idea of confronting Miriam and resolving at least one part of the puzzle.

Meg glanced at Seth. “We should probably take two cars, but we can follow you, since I don't know the way. Do you want some time alone with Miriam?”

“Not necessary. Look, I'm not going to tell you what to say, Meg. I like Miriam, but if in fact she is implicated in what you described, I can't defend her actions. On the other hand, if I think you're being unfair, I'll step in. Agreed?”

“Of course.”

“Phillip,” Elizabeth interrupted gently, “could they at least eat breakfast first?”

Phillip seemed startled by the question. “What? Oh, well, of course. We've got plenty of time.”

It was nearly half an hour later when they were finally ready to leave the house. Meg hadn't had much appetite, worried about the coming encounter with Miriam. She was effectively accusing someone she had never met of murder, and that didn't sit well with her. She found her mother staring at her with a concerned look more than once as she munched toast and drank coffee.

Phillip was plainly champing at the bit. “Ready? I'll go warm up the car. I'll wait until you two are lined up behind me before I go, all right?”

Meg and Seth nodded like obedient children, even though they had already found their way down a few hundred miles of the East Coast without mishap. Her father's subtle reminder that she was still the child here? Mixed messages again.

The ride to the office took only a few minutes. Phillip
drove to a small parking lot adjoining the building and parked, then waved them into an adjoining space. Meg watched him as they pulled in: he looked more excited than worried. Did he still trust Miriam? Meg wasn't sure. He led them into the building, a four-story, solidly built older structure, and well maintained. The brass in the elevator was polished, and the elevator moved smoothly if slowly up the few floors to Phillip's floor. When they emerged, Meg saw a corridor lined with similar doors, most with gold lettering of some sort, along a well-lit, clean hallway. Meg wondered briefly if her father was happier here than he had been in the corridors of corporate power in New York—she'd have to ask him, when she had time.

The Corey & Ackerman door was unlocked when Phillip reached it, with lights showing inside. Phillip opened the door and let Meg and Seth enter, then followed. “Miriam! How was your vacation? Is Arthur in?”

Meg studied Miriam quickly. Fairly slender, nicely dressed; her desk was tidy. But there were dark circles under her eyes, and she glanced briefly at Meg and Seth before turning back to Phillip. But Meg had seen a spark of fear. “Great, Mr. C. I got a lot done around the house. Is this your daughter?” She turned back to look at Meg, the smile still pasted on her face.

The resemblance to Joe Caffarelli was unmistakable.
One question answered
.

“It is,” Phillip said, “with her new husband. Miriam, may I introduce Meg and Seth Chapin? This is their honeymoon, and they've been kind enough to spend some of it with Meg's mother and me before heading home to Massachusetts.”

“Nice to meet you,” Miriam said mechanically. “I've
been hearing about your wedding plans for months now. Everything go okay?”

“It did,” Meg told her, trying to work out how to approach what she really wanted to ask. “It was a small wedding, in a local restaurant, but all our friends were there. That was what we wanted. Are you married, Miriam?”

“Sure am. Going on fifteen years now. This your first visit to your dad's office?”

“It is. I don't spend much time in New Jersey these days. I went to college in New England and I used to work in Boston, and then I ended up running an apple orchard at the other end of the state. I had a lot to learn when I started, so that keeps me busy. Seth owns the property next to mine, and we invested in a new batch of trees together. And then we got married.”