To Love and to Perish (5 page)

On the other hand, we did grow up in a lakeside town, where most teenage activities revolved around the water during the summertime. I wouldn't dump her in the middle of the lake and expect her to swim to shore, but Erica had no genuine fear of the water and could do a decent doggy paddle, especially when in heat for a nearby dog.

But I didn't want to argue with her when she was being so forthcoming. “So just tell Maury that.”

“I tried, but he brought me a dozen roses and told me he wanted to serenade me in the canoe on the lake.”

Maury has a thing about roses. He used to give them to lots of women. In fact, he was so aggressive about it that one woman filed a complaint with the police. I guessed every woman didn't want roses … or his attention. And with his current occupation as a floral delivery man, the roses remained plentiful, especially when he pulled the discarded, slightly defective ones out of the trash. But Erica had married him ten months ago, granted on the spur of the moment and in the throes of depression. She wasn't going to be able to opt out quite so easily.

“Where does the baby come into all this?”

“I told him we would have a baby together. I told him that would bond us. He got all excited.”

“Oh, Erica.” It was just like her to take the quick—yet completely absurd and bound to explode in her face—way out. How could the two of us ever have come from the same womb?

“I know, I know. It was dumb.”

“You're going to have to tell him the truth. Now.”

She bit her lip. “What if he leaves me?”

“He won't.” I said this with great confidence. Maury looked at my sister like she was a goddess. Besides, any man with the urge to “bond” wasn't likely to leave, at least not right away. He probably liked the bonding notion of a child, but I doubted he really wanted to sign up for parenthood, both he and Erica being way too childlike themselves.

“He's going to be really, really upset, Jolene.”

“Undoubtedly. You'll have to make it up to him pretty quick.”

“How?”

The answer seemed obvious to me. I just looked at her, eyebrows raised.

Erica cringed. “No. Oh, no.”

I nodded.

“I'm going to have to get in the freakin' canoe?”

“Wear a life jacket. It'll be fun.”

“Oh, crap.”

Seven

Monday morning rolled around
without word from Cory. Given the sports car boutique's regular hours of nine to five Tuesday through Saturday, I wouldn't see him again until tomorrow. So I called him from home minutes after Danny climbed onto the school bus, curious to know if he planned on attending Brennan's bail hearing and arraignment. I had offered to go with him before we parted on Saturday. He said he'd let me know. When he didn't answer his phone at home, I tried his cell, only to go directly to voicemail. I didn't bother to leave a message; his phone would record the missed call. Cory could get back to me on his own time.

Ray called me around lunchtime. “Brennan's got bail trouble. The judge asked for cash bail of $100,000. Apparently Brennan's not that liquid.”

“He's got a rich father.”

“Really? Catherine didn't mention him.”

“You talked to Catherine?” I tried not to let the green monster poke me. I failed. Ray had already chosen me over Catherine a couple years ago now, but I still felt insecure. No wonder all my friends and relatives felt the same about their relationships—they actually had more reason than me.

“Yes. She's building his defense.”

“Which is?”

“Flimsy. Brennan's word that he was reaching out to save Gleason, not pushing him, and the photograph itself.”

“How does that help Brennan? It's part of the evidence against him.”

“Catherine's going to contend that the picture shows Brennan's hand reaching out in a position like he was about to shake hands or grab something. She said if he was pushing Gleason his hand would have been in an upright ‘Halt' or shoving angle.”

I considered this notion. “Is that all she's got?”

“She thinks it's enough. She's confident she can discredit the one female witness, and knowing Catherine, she can. Eyewitness reports are notorious for inaccuracy, and no other witnesses have come forward to say anything other than the crowd surged toward the street. She's going to contend it's simply unbelievable that no one else witnessed Brennan shove Gleason into the road with so many others close by. She doesn't even think it will go to trial.”

Catherine was good, but she might have to be Perry Mason to make that one work. “Did she say what the prosecutor contends?”

“He says Gleason held Brennan responsible for the death of his sister, that the two of them argued bitterly, and that Gleason threatened to kill Brennan. He said the eyewitness saw Brennan shove Gleason into the road, most likely in retaliation for that threat.”

I wondered what a jury would think. Truthfully, with the way the story appeared on the news, if I hadn't known Brennan, I might believe he had pushed Gleason. I certainly wouldn't brush it off without wanting to hear all the testimony myself. Apparently, the judge agreed.

“Did she say if Cory was at the hearing, by chance?”

“That's why she called me. She needs us to throw a net over him. Brennan does not want him around, and he kept trying to speak to Brennan during the hearing. We have to keep an eye on Cory. He's not taking the hint.”

And that task apparently fell to me. Wonderful. “Does Catherine know why Brennan feels that way?”

“If she does, she didn't tell me. She's not repeating anything Brennan said except to keep Cory out of this.”

A nasty thought wiggled its way into my head. Brennan liked to keep a low profile as to his sexual orientation. In fact, he once asked Catherine on a date, misleading her as to his intentions by omission. For years, I'd had no idea he preferred men, although I hadn't known him well then. I'd thought he'd become more open of late, especially since he and Cory could be seen together frequently. Of course, I'd never seen them hold hands or exchange any sort of public affection. Maybe Brennan didn't want to admit his relationship with Cory. If so, their relationship would be over quickly. Cory didn't like being kept in the closet. He'd burst through that door a long time ago.

“Darlin', I got a call. Can you get the net out and use it on Cory?”

Ray hung up before I could tell him that Cory wasn't returning my calls. So I hit the speed dial button for Cory's cell again—and went right to voicemail. Now he'd apparently turned his phone off altogether. I left an urgent message for him to call me immediately.

When Ray and I went to bed that night, Cory still hadn't called me back.

_____

Tuesday I left for work right after Danny got on the bus at 7:45 a.m. I visited the donut shop on the way, bought a newspaper from the machine in front of the store next door to it, and parked my Lexus around 8:10 a.m. behind Asdale Auto Imports, a cedar-shingled, white-trimmed building that stuck out like a sore thumb in among the historic, more picturesque and stately buildings that made up downtown Wachobe, causing the town mucketymucks no end of angst. Of course, now they could sweat the bad publicity of being the hometown of an accused murderer. Wouldn't that do wonders for tourism? My building would be the least of their worries.

I unlocked the doors, turned off the alarm, flipped the light switches, checked the messages and my emails, then dusted and straightened my desk. Afterward I wandered into the showroom to inspect the Austin Healey, Mercedes, and Mazda under the pin lights, checking for any fingerprints that might be marring their shine. I didn't find a one. Nor could I find any scuff marks or dirt on the black and white checkered tiles covering my showroom floor.

Seated at my desk with not much more work to do, I couldn't find any mention of Brennan's case in our local paper either. From the looks of the world news in the paper, reporters had plenty of other violent things to report.

Cory arrived for work on time at nine a.m., properly groomed with his stainless steel travel mug of coffee in hand. I sat waiting for him in my office. He called out “Good morning, Jo” from the showroom and disappeared into the garage.

Never once in the last four years had he failed to come in my office to sit and chat for a while, nor in all the years prior when he'd worked for my dad. Most days he even had a few jokes to tell. No way was he going to get away from me today.

My heels rapped the floor as I marched through the showroom and entered the orderly three-bay garage. Cory had a Volvo on the lift and a Mercedes on jacks. I didn't know what he was doing to either of them. The garage was his domain, and he was a certified mechanic for at least a dozen common foreign manufacturers.

“I got donuts.”

“Awesome.” With his back to me, Cory stepped into a pair of overalls and pulled surgical gloves over his hands. He'd learned a long time ago that grease under the fingernails didn't work for a man who liked to be on stage, not to mention he was a bit of a clean freak. No oily floors or smelly rags in his garage.

“Want to come in the office and have one?”

“Maybe later. The Volvo's due at eleven.”

I leaned against his workbench, determined not to be driven away. “I called you twice yesterday.”

He grabbed a wrench and stepped under the Volvo to work one of its bolts. “I know. I'm sorry I didn't call you back. I had a busy day.”

“I heard you attended Brennan's hearing. How'd that go?”

“As expected.”

“Really? I was surprised Brennan doesn't have the cash to post bail. He must be worth millions.”

Cory's shoulders slumped. “Most of his money is in real estate, and he has expenses.”

“Like what?”

Cory sprang from underneath the Volvo and tossed the wrench on his workbench, where it clattered to a halt inches from the far edge of the bench. “I'm not sure, Jo. I'm not sure about anything, okay? Brennan won't talk to me. He doesn't want me around. And you won't help me. Everything I find out just makes me more worried.”

I studied his face. Dark circles and a pinkish tinge to the whites of his eyes suggested Cory hadn't slept much since I saw him last. “Why? What have you found out?”

“Nothing.” His face was the picture of innocence.

Of course, Cory was an accomplished actor, but he'd given the answer Danny always gave Ray and me when we caught him doing something he shouldn't. Nothing, my sweet fanny.

I decided to try a new route. “Where were you the rest of yesterday?”

“Nowhere.”

Another of Danny's favorite answers. I burst out laughing. “Cory, you're lying to me, and you're not even doing a very good job of it.”

He had the good graces to blush. “Then stop asking me questions and I won't have to lie anymore.”

“Cory!”

He stripped his gloves off and tossed them in the nearby plastic garbage can. “Okay, okay, let's go in your office and sit down.”

We settled in the black leather office chairs, Cory in front of the laminated desk and me behind it. I handed him a donut. He ate it in two bites and washed it down with his coffee. I slid another one in front of him. It disappeared. I wondered when he'd eaten last.

He waved off the third, mine. “What do you think Brennan had for breakfast this morning?”

The bite of donut I had taken wedged in my throat. All I could do was shrug.

Cory didn't seem to notice. He was too busy looking toward the floor. “I did something I probably shouldn't have. You're not going to be proud of me.”

I'd managed to dislodge the donut and swallow it. “What did you do, Cory?”

His gaze met mine. “You can't tell Ray.”

This presented a problem. It wasn't that I told Ray everything. Heavens, no. Although Ray was the first person I wanted to tell anything and truly my best friend, some things he didn't want or need to know. Often in the past, the most significant of these things had related to Erica. But if Cory had done something illegal or found out something pertinent to the case, my obligation would be to tell Ray, even though another county altogether had charge of this investigation and he wasn't really involved. I wasn't going to pretend any different.

“No promises until I hear what you did.”

Cory signed. “First I drove to Albany and went through the newspaper archives at the library.”

No harm there. “What did you find out?”

Cory's eyes lit up. “Brennan was a track star in high school, a long distance runner. He won a lot of medals.”

Not the answer I expected, nor the one Cory really wanted to tell me, I suspected. “That's cool.” I waited for him to continue.

“He was in Torque Club, too, just like me.”

I smiled. The club for gear heads. For some boys, it was all about the toys, and cars were one of the best toys of all, lucky for my business.

Cory's shoulders sagged. “And I found articles about the crash. The car left the road and hit a tree around eleven o'clock at night. A passing motorist found them an hour later. Monica Gleason died on impact. The other girl sustained serious injuries and spent months in the hospital. At her family's request, she wasn't named in any of the articles. Brennan sustained head injuries and was in a coma for a couple days after the accident. When he woke up, the last thing he remembered was leaving his home to go to the reunion picnic in the park around noon. He claimed he didn't have any memory of anything after that.”

Interesting. “Anything else?”

“James Gleason attacked him the day he was released from the hospital. He jumped him in front of his house. Brennan didn't press any charges.”

A vision of Gleason's waving arms on Friday night flashed through my mind. I could picture him attacking Brennan, frustrated and enraged at the legal system's failure to punish the man he believed responsible for his sister's death.

“Did you learn anything else from the papers?”

Cory swigged his coffee. “Not really.”

I still hadn't heard anything I couldn't tell Ray. “There must be more.”

He sipped of his coffee and licked his lips. “Lots more.”

Oh boy. “Go on.”

“I went over to Brennan's house. I just wanted to be … to feel …
close to him. I started thinking about the weird phone call from that guy and how Brennan doesn't want me around now … about how sometimes I think I don't know him as well as I should. I remembered all the jokes about the skeletons in Brennan's closet.” Cory sucked in a deep breath. “Anyway, I went through all his stuff.”

“Huh!” I couldn't help it—the gasp just burst from my lips. It sounded judgmental, even to me.

Cory hung his head in shame.

I didn't know what to say. It was a huge breach of trust, certainly not the foundation upon which to build a solid, lifelong relationship. In fact, it sounded too much like Isabelle's crazy notion to hire a private detective. I didn't approve. But I had to admit I was curious as to what Cory found. Did that make me guilty by association?

“You didn't break in, did you?” Ray would want to know about that; Brennan's residence was in his territory.

“Of course not! Brennan gave me a set of house keys months ago, and the alarm codes.”

Well, that made it all better, didn't it?

I still wasn't grasping the problem. If Ray knew about all this, he might lose respect for Cory, but nothing more.

“You found something you don't want me to tell Ray about?”

“Sort of, but not exactly.”

“Then what is it?”

Cory laid his hands flat on my desk and leaned forward to whisper his confidence.

“I don't want you to tell him about the evidence I took out of there.”