Deadly Secrets Read online

Chapter 5

  I should have known not to worry that Missy might beat me to the restaurant. You would think that a lifetime of friendship would remind me that Missy never arrived first. It was not her fault that her mother stamped it into her that on time meant fifteen minutes fashionably late. So while I waited, I perused the bakery counter trying to decide what was on my personal breakfast menu for today’s celebration. Missy came in a few moments later, and I still had no idea what I wanted to put into my mouth.

  I smiled and waved her over to the counter. Missy was dressed in her usual everyday finery. I knew thanks to countless slumber parties and many years in a college dorm room that she looked pretty much perfect even when she rolled out of bed in the morning. At times it frustrated me; this was not one of those times.

  Her blond hair hung straight down her back and seemed to glow with an inner sheen that I was sure had something to do with some shine serum or some type of leave-in conditioner that she was always trying to push on me. I sighed to myself; maybe she was on to something.

  It was not even midday, but she was dressed for elegance in a lavender silk pant suit and an ivory lace camisole. And let us not forget the requisite pair of perfectly matched ivory 3 inch heeled sling back sandals, though in Missy’s case she wore the heels for the additional height and for fashion reasons. She saw me assessing her look and wagged her finger at me. “How many times do I have to tell you, Miranda? It is no harder to look like this every day than it is to throw on some sweats and sneakers!”

  I snorted loudly and good-naturedly, “Oh please. Maybe for you, but it takes me an hour just to look like a human being. If I wanted to look like a beauty queen, it would take a miracle.”

  Missy tilted her head and gave me a measuring look. “Miranda, you’re pretty the way you are, but you could be gorgeous. “ She gestured to my outfit. “You look fine in that, but you look old like our mothers. No strike that. That’s so unfair to them both; they’re both snazzy dressers themselves. You look old…period.”

  I rubbed a hand over my heart mockingly. “Ouch! That hurt Missy! Way to call a spade a spade. What about compassion for my poor self?”

  It was Missy’s turn to snort now. “You know you love it, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Touché, my dear,” I drawled. “So what’s your poison?”

  Missy shrugged, “No idea. Let’s get a table first, ok?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she glided to a vacant table against the far wall, well away from the other scattered diners in the restaurant. Uh oh, that was a bad sign for me. It seemed that Missy was going for the soul searching breakfast combo this morning instead of the expected hip, hip, hooray over easy.

  We had only just taken our seats when our waitress, Gelinda, came over and introduced herself. “Good morning, ladies. Are you ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?” I looked at Missy sure that she would concur that we needed a few minutes.

  Instead she smiled at Gelinda, “Good Morning to you as well, Gelinda. I think I’ll have a mimosa and the egg and cheese quiche with a side of the fruit salad.”

  Gelinda noted her order and turned to me. I was in shock but managed to get over it quickly. I ordered the first things that came to my mind. “I’ll have a glass of peach sangria and the eggs Benedict also with a side of fruit salad.”

  Gelinda smiled at us good naturedly. “I’ll have your order right out to you ladies in just a few minutes.” Then she walked away to put in our order, and I turned an amazed stare to Missy.

  “Wow! You never order right off the bat like that! What’s up?”

  Missy turned coy eyes to me, “I have no idea what you are talking about. I am always decisive.”

  “Uh……okay, if you say so. Are you going to the gym this afternoon to work off this breakfast?”

  “You bet. Will I see you there?”

  “Hell yes, I just ordered the eggs Benedict. That’s like a thousand calories or something.”

  “You’re right girl, and we have to keep you in great shape so you can date hot men.”

  I raised my eyebrow at her. “Who says that I want to date hot men?”

  Missy leveled me with her ‘mom’ stare. “No one wants to date ugly men, especially someone as good looking as you, Miranda.”

  “Missy, I married a good looking man and look what he turned out to be….a big asshole. When or if I decide to date, I will be looking for a nice man.”

  “Honey, you don’t want just a nice man; you want a real man. Flynn ran short on man and long on boy; we were just too young to notice that particular defect at the time.”

  Gelinda came back with our drinks, both of which were in scandalously tall glasses. I took a sip of my peach sangria and closed my eyes. “This is as close to heaven as I have been in years.”

  Missy’s eyes widened in shock, “Oh, honey, then we have more work to do than I though.”

  I looked down my nose at her, “Well, what exactly did you expect, Missy? It’s been years since Flynn and I had sex and even more years since the sex was any good!”

  Our food came, and thankfully the conversation turned to Missy’s two adorable kids: the twins Matthew and Morgan. They were precocious two year old cherubs with fat cheeks and blond curls just like their mother. However, they had their father’s eyes.

  “So what’s new with the twins?’

  “Don’t think you can distract me from your lack of a life by talking about my little angels.”

  I put down my fork and rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on. We have hashed out my lack of a love life enough. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

  Missy gave me another one of her hard looks, “Okay, how about you tell me what your plans are for the summer? Are you going to work part time at the Oatland Island Institute again this summer?”

  “No. I’ve decided to take the summer off…truly off this year.”

  “That could be bad, Miranda. Time on your hands right now might not be the best thing for you.”

  With a long suffering sigh, I continued. “I know that, Missy, but I will not have endless free time on my hands. Do you remember when I first moved into Grandma Hannigan’s house?”

  Missy nodded. “Yeah, I do. My God, I still miss her Miranda Panda.”

  I smiled at her use of my girlhood pet name. “Me too, I can still remember the night she died so clearly. I guess some wounds don’t ease with time; they just scar over the worst of the pain.”

  Missy’s eyes were filled with sorrow that I knew was a reflection of my own. Grandma Hannigan had been like a grandmother to Missy as well.

  “She has been in my thoughts this morning, or rather her death has been in my thoughts this morning,” I confessed.

  “Why? What happened? Is this the serious thing you mentioned on the phone?”

  “Yes and no. Something happened when I left the courthouse today, and it made me think of her.”

  “Geez, Miranda, don’t be so cryptic. Just tell me!”

  “Okay, brace yourself. I almost got run down in the street outside the courthouse this morning.”

  Missy’s mouth dropped open in shocked disbelief. “What! Are you okay? Who did that? Are they in jail? Were they drunk?”

  Her barrage of questions flew out, each unanswered before she asked another. I held up a hand to slow her down. “Wait, wait, wait! Let me answer one question at a time, please!”

  “Okay, start with; Are you, all right?”

  “Yes, just a few scrapes and bruises.”

  “Who did it?”

  I shrugged, “That’s just it. I don’t know. They didn’t stop.”

  “You mean they kept on going? That’s crazy! How did you get out of the way?”

  “I didn’t…someone did it for me.”

  Missy’s eyebrows went up at that. “Who got you out of the way?”

  “Flynn.”

  “Wow, not to be evil or anything, Miranda, but I would have through Flynn would
stand up and cheer if you got hit by a car.”

  “No offense taken, I would have bet money on the same thing.” I shrugged, “It seems we were both wrong.”

  “So who do you think was driving the car? I can’t imagine someone not stopping! That’s just not like people around here.”

  “I know. My first thought was that it had to be a tourist, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Your mind is working, Miranda. I can see it. What are you thinking?”

  “Well, I overheard mom and Marcus talking after the incident, and they both, especially mother, believe that it could be related to Grandma Hannigan’s death.”

  “What do you think?”

  I sighed, “I don’t know. I feel like it is something I need to check into. I can’t have people trying to kill me; I have Sam to think about. He’s only six.”

  Missy reached out and covered my hand. “I’ll help you any way that I can, Miranda. You know that, right?” I nodded. “So, where do you suggest we start?”

  “Normally I would say, call Dana, but Marcus already has. And I’m not supposed to know that. Beyond that, I have no idea what to do.”

  Missy thought for a moment, “Let’s start with the night she was killed. Take me through step by step how it happened. Maybe we will find a place to start.”

  I pulled my hand out from under hers and reached for my drink. After taking a fortifying sip, I looked at her and began. “I hate to start my story of that night with Flynn, but for me that is where the most horrible night of my life began.”

  “What do you mean? What does her death have to do with Flynn?”

  I took another sip of my drink; this was going to be hard. “I was home alone that night. I was home alone a lot then. Flynn was out with “the boys” almost every night, and he always came home late.”

  I shook my head in shame and disbelief, “Looking back now, I cannot even begin to tell you why I waited up that night for him to come home, but I did. I was tired Missy; I was so tired of all the lies and the hurt. I wanted to confront him. I wanted some answers.”

  Missy reached for my hand again, but I pulled back and shook my head. “No, Missy. I’m okay. You know me, one kind gesture and I will turn into a sobbing, hysterical woman.”

  Missy pulled back her hand and waited. When I did not continue, she prodded “Okay, so what happened after Flynn came home?”

  “Nothing,” I whispered. “You see, to this day I don’t know if Flynn ever came home that night.”

  “Why not,” she asked.

  “About two o’clock in the morning, I heard a car in the drive, and then someone coming up the walk. You know what my first thought was Missy?”

  “No, what?”

  “I told myself that at least Flynn appeared to be sober that night when he came home. But instead of Flynn unlocking the door and coming into the house, there was a knock at the door,” I whispered barely able to continue the tale past the lump in my throat.

  “Who was at the door, Miranda?”

  I sipped my drink again. I hoped it would soothe my dry throat. “I still thought it was Flynn, but now I assumed that he was drunk and a friend had brought him home. One can never be too careful though, so I looked through the peephole just to be safe,” I paused then lost in the memory of that night.

  Missy pulled me from my musings again, “Who was there, Miranda?”

  I shrugged fighting back tears. “A cop. I remember that I glanced toward the driveway, and there stood the patrol car. My heart slammed in my chest, and my knees threatened to buckle. Even though I was so mad with Flynn, I was crushed with worry for him. I threw open the door and yelled at the officer, “Oh, My God! Is Flynn hurt?”

  I chucked as I relived that moment here with Missy. Ten years had passed, and I could see humor in the situation now. “You should have seen that poor man’s face when I came flying out screaming like a banshee.”

  Missy grinned with me. “Yeah, I would have liked to have seen that, but I can picture it now. So what did he do?”

  I smiled sadly at the memory. “He caught me and set me back on my feet. Then his words knocked me right off them again.”

  Missy nodded her understanding, “You mean he told you about your grandmother.”

  I nodded too, “Yes. He asked me if I knew her, and I said that I did. I panicked then and begged him for information. Was she hurt? Was she at the hospital? Could he take me to her?”

  Silence descended at our table as we both felt the loss. Missy asked quietly after a time, “Did he take you to her, or were you alone?”

  “He was kind. I think that is what you are asking me or as kind as a person can be who must deliver the news that a loved one has died. At first, I did not understand the words that came from his mouth. My brain refused to acknowledge them. Then they fell on me like a ton of bricks taking my breath and leaving me in shock.”

  What did he say that got through to you?” she queried gently.

  “He asked me if I was alone, and I told him that I was. He needed me to go with him to identify the body. It was silly of me, but those words got me moving and hoping. I think he saw the hope and pitied me.”

  Missy interrupted me then for the first time. In her voice, I heard her confusion, “What were you hoping for?”

  I grimaced then, “That they were wrong, and that Grandma Hannigan was alive and well somewhere.”

  “Oh, Miranda,” Missy crooned.

  I held up a hand in self defense, “I know; believe me, I know, Missy. But that was all my mind and my heart could cope with at that time. The officer’s name was Heath Brandon. He took me to the hospital that night. I knew I must look like a crazy woman, but he didn’t seem to mind. I’ve always respected and admired him for that.”

  I stopped to take a long pull from my drink. I needed a hit of sweet and alcohol to get through the last of the story. Missy was on the edge of her seat, quite literally and could not wait for me to start again so she prodded, “And.. What happened next?”

  “We got to the hospital, and he took me through a back entrance to the Morgue.” I shivered, “I can still remember standing and staring at the door with that single word engraved upon it. I was terrified to go in and a lump the size of Mt. Everest was lodged in my throat. I knew what it was: fear, hysteria, tears. Do you know what thought kept running through my mind as I stared at that door, Missy?”

  She shook her head no, “No, I don’t, Miranda, but I hope that you will tell me.”

  I breathed deep and let it out once again. “I thought, ‘How had my life become this? How was it that I was standing here all alone?”

  Missy gave a broken sob and covered her mouth, “I’m so sorry, Miranda. I wish I had known. I wish you had called me. Why didn’t you call me?”

  I shrugged again. “I was not thinking Missy. I could not think beyond simply functioning then.” I smiled, “But even then when I thought that I was most alone, I wasn’t. As I stood there about to break, I felt a warm hand encircle mine.”

  Missy raised her brows in question, “You mean metaphysically?”

  I laughed. “No, Missy, in reality. Officer Brandon had taken my hand. I looked up and caught his eyes and in those eyes, Missy, was so much compassion and strength that I knew I could face what lay behind those doors. He seemed to sense that I was ready, and he opened the door for me to walk through.”

  I looked at Missy and saw that her face had paled. I understood, “Would you rather I stop?”

  “No,” rushed out of her in what sounded like a forced whisper.

  “There was a hospital worker dressed in blue scrubs. It’s rather amazing to me that I can still call up that poor man’s face. I guess trauma leaves quite an imprint in the brain. Heath walked me over to a wall of metal cabinets. For a moment, I stood there alone looking at that wall while he spoke to the man in blue. Then he came back to me and took my hand as a door on the wall opened and a metal table was pulled out.”

&
nbsp; A moan slipped out of my throat now during the retelling just as it had that night so many years ago. I breathed deep, in and out, in and out, in and out. I needed to get this done and fast. Shaking with reaction, I started again. “The man in blue slowly unzipped the bag covering the body on the table. Still, I hoped that it was not Grandma Hannigan, but then I saw her face. My knees buckled, and I would have gone down if Officer Brandon hadn’t caught me and lifted me back up on my feet.”

  I slurped my drink. There was no time for a polite slip. “I tried to be brave and swallow the scream that built in my throat, but I couldn’t do it. It came out in a wave as I cried out, “My God! That’s my Grandmother.” The man in blue zipped the bag back up swiftly and pushed the table away back behind its metal door.”

  Missy’s body trembled with the force of her own emotions, but her words surprised me, “Damn him! That cop should have called me or someone else to be with you, to help you, to hold you while you cried, if nothing else!”

  I smiled at her, “I wasn’t alone, Missy. Heath was there, and he held me while I cried. I’m not even sure how long I cried, but he held me till the last of my tears fell. Then he walked me outside to his patrol car. The sun was beginning to rise by then, and finally my mind was catching up to my body. I realized that I did not even know how she had died, so I asked him if he knew.”

  I paused and looked at Missy then. “You know now that I think about it; I can remember the indecision on his face in that moment. He was weighing his conscience about telling me the truth. In the end, I guess he felt I was strong enough for the truth. Looking back today, I’m strangely proud that I measured up in his eyes. But his words shocked me to the core when he told me that she had been murdered during a home invasion. For a long time, I could not even walk into the house on Habersham Street because I saw only her death.”

  Missy swiped impatiently at her eyes, “I’m sorry for crying, Miranda. This was harder than I thought it would be for me, and I suspect for you too.”

  I nodded, “Yes, it was hard, but I think I needed to get that out. Did you hear anything that might help us? I surely didn’t.”

  Missy hesitated, a sure sign she had something to say that I might not like. “Spit it out, Missy.”

  “Fine. It occurs to me that you have no idea where Flynn was the night Grandma Hannigan was killed. Maybe step one should be to find out?”

  I sucked in a breath, “Do you mean you think Flynn could have killed her?”

  Missy shrugged. “Who knows? It is a starting point. Do you have any other ideas?”

  I smirked, “Just one, and it was something I was already planning to do this summer anyway.”

  “What?”

  “I’m remodeling the house. If something is hidden in those walls, I’ll find it.”

  “Now I know why you want to get your hands dirty and be a part of it,” Missy grudgingly admitted, “Justice and a treasure hunt, nothing could thrill you more.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, well a girl needs to know how to take care of herself,” I said

  as I tried to lighten the melancholy mood that still hung in the air.

  Missy grumbled, “True, but all this woman needs is the name of a good handyman, which I have by the way if you want it.”

  “I may take you up on that because some of the things I want done, I am not crazy enough to attempt to do by myself, but I’m going to try to do most of it.”

  Missy laughed. “Insane more like it, but you’ll have fun. After all, that’ll give you the perfect excuse for the jogging pants, tank tops, and sneakers.”

  I raised my peach sangria to her. “You got that right, babe!”

  Meeting Missy for brunch had been an excellent idea. We had been friends since almost birth, and she had seen me through both good and bad times. I considered her to be as much a part of my blood family as I did mom and dad. Later that day as I sat in the backyard of my house and watched Sam play with our large Golden Retriever, Tub, I knew that we would be okay. We had everything going for us after all. We had a happy home with the three of us here on Habersham Street. We had a project that was surely going to add chaos and fun to our lives. We had in a few short weeks, a long summer vacation to look forward to. And added to all that, we had really great friends and a terrific family. I would say that all in all, we started our new life on a nice solid foundation much like the bedrock that had stood the test of time in this old Victorian. It might be ancient, but this house had stood strong through many of life’s trials and generations. It had character, and that was an important trait for a home and for a person.