Torrid - Book Three Page 4

  Chapter Five

  Tora

  For the second morning in a row, I woke up behind bars. Mercifully, I was still in a cell alone. The guard who woke me slid a tray of cold oatmeal, a banana and bland coffee through the opening in the bars.

  “Your lawyer is coming to get you in about an hour,” she said. “You’ll have time to shower.”

  I forced the majority of my breakfast down. I needed to keep as clear a head as I could and if that meant choking down awful food rather than starving¸ that’s what I would do. I was given a fresh set of tan prison garb and taken back to the interview rooms after a quick shower. My wet hair still hung in strings when the officer opened the door. Addie was already waiting for me with her battered briefcase open on the long metal table.

  “You look like hell,” she said, unhelpfully.

  I tried to smile as I slid into the chair opposite her. “I’m fine. Just antsy. Do you have any good news for me?”

  Addie smiled and clasped her hands together as she set them on the table. “I really don’t,” she said. “But I do have more information for you.”

  I took a deep breath. An icy ball of panic settled low in my gut; I knew I couldn’t give into it. Whatever Addie had to tell me couldn’t be worse than not knowing.

  “You’ve been formally charged with Miranda Manning’s murder.” I was wrong. That was worse. “You’ll be arraigned tomorrow morning on that and the identity theft. I wanted to move it up but now that we’re officially dealing with first-degree murder, I could use the extra time to try and figure out an argument for bail.”

  “You’re not optimistic about that?” I scooted my chair closer to the table and ran a hand through my still-dripping hair.

  “You don’t have a place to stay,” she said. “If that doesn’t change before tomorrow, I’m going to see if I can get you a bed at a halfway house.”

  “That doesn’t sound a hell of a lot better than jail,” I said.

  Addie pushed her purple horn-rimmed glasses up her nose. They stayed there for about a second before sliding back down. “You’re not in jail at the moment, Victoria. You’re still in holding. If they transfer you to the county jail that’s a different story. It’s not as bad as the penitentiary, but you won’t like it. You’ll be in there with hard drug dealers, prostitutes, you name it. I’m guessing you’re tougher than you look but you’ve never been inside before.”

  My stomach lurched. I couldn’t help it. My thoughts kept going back to my father and what he must have felt in the same situation. That, and I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that I may have failed him when all was said and done.

  “Do you know what evidence they have against me?”

  Addie set her mouth into a grim line. “I know the broad strokes of it, yes. Are you ready to hear it?”

  I shrugged, turned my palms up then slapped them against the table. “It looks like I’ve got nothing but time, Addie.”

  “Right. Well, Judge Manning’s cause of death has been listed as acute oxalic acid poisoning. They found a high concentration of calcium oxalate crystals in tissue samples they took of her kidneys.”

  I shook my head. “Seth told me she died in her sleep from a heart attack.”

  “It looks like it presented that way. She did die in her sleep. The medical examiner ran some detailed toxicology tests; that’s why we’re only hearing about this now, ten weeks later. They ran everything twice. She also tested positive for benzodiazepines. Those were within therapeutic levels. Xanax, probably to help her sleep. It worked well enough that she appears not to have woken up with any other symptoms from the poisoning.”

  “I’m sorry.” I pressed the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. “Exactly what am I supposed to have poisoned her with?”

  “Antifreeze,” Addie said. “Do you know anything about health shakes or smoothies Judge Manning drank?”

  I nodded. “She was a health nut, yes. Pretty much the only thing in her fridge when I moved in was fruit and vegetables.”

  Addie spread her hands on the table. “Well, the prosecution’s theory is that somebody slipped a high quantity of antifreeze into her shake that night. As much as twelve ounces. Two can be enough to kill somebody. It’s sweet to the taste and she may not have even noticed it. That’s why they tell you not to leave puddles of the stuff where a dog or cat might get at it.”

  “This is nuts, Addie,” I said. “I didn’t poison Miranda Manning. When exactly are they saying I could have done this? Seth and I had dinner with her that night. I don’t even remember her drinking a shake. We had wine with dinner, actually. She went on and on about how expensive the cabernet was. Just because I was maybe with her during her last meal doesn’t mean I’m the one who did this.”

  “Right.” Addie pulled her yellow notepad back out and shoved her glasses back up. “Now, you need to understand I haven’t had a chance to really comb over the prosecution’s physical evidence. I’m hearing this second-hand so far so I will have a chance to bring in our own experts, cross examine their witnesses, all of that. But here’s the case as it’s being laid out so far. They have a witness. The housekeeper.”

  My heart sank and the ball of panic crept up into my throat. Mary Barlow. She had hated me from day one and had a big, sharp ax to grind since I’d just fired her. Addie must have seen the look on my face. A new line of worry creased her forehead.

  “Apparently you know her.”

  I nodded. “Mary Barlow. She’s not my biggest fan. Miranda had her convinced I was nothing but a gold-digging, white-trash slut. I fired her after Seth and I came back from our honeymoon. It’s safe to say we did not leave things on good terms.”

  “Okay. Well, Mrs. Barlow claims she saw you snooping around the house the night Miranda died. She says she confronted you. She says she saw you in the kitchen. So, the cops think they can show you had the opportunity.”

  “She’s lying!” My temper boiled over. “I’ll tell you right now. Yes. I did snoop in that house and we did have a confrontation but it happened long after Miranda was already dead. She caught me in the attic looking through some of Miranda’s old case files. I was trying to find her notes on my dad’s case.”

  “Okay,” Addie said as she jotted a few notes down. “We’ll explore that in more detail later. I’m going to need dates, times, exactly what was said. The housekeeper also gave the police a series of notes she claims Judge Manning wrote her. Notes where she expressed concerns about her suspicions of you. She told Mrs. Barlow she didn’t think you were who you said you were. In one of the last notes, she apparently told Mary Barlow she was afraid of you. That you had threatened her.”

  My hands shook. “It wasn’t like that. I think once I told Miranda I wasn’t afraid of her. As to the rest of it, how am I supposed to control what Miranda did or didn’t tell that evil witch of a housekeeper?”

  “Calm down,” Addie said. “I need your memory clear right now. I know this is hard to hear. There’s one more thing.”

  My eyelids fluttered as I took a breath.

  “Your phone. They’ve run preliminary forensics on it. The recording of you and Seth the other night is there, of course, and as we discussed, that’s what the cops are circling for a motive. You left out the little detail about George Pagano. You should have told me you suspected he was behind your father’s troubles. It’s public record that she represented him. There’s something worse though. They also zoned in on your browsing history from about two weeks before Miranda died. They found about twenty searches related to the effects of antifreeze poisoning, how to disguise the taste of it and several news articles about other murder cases involving that mode of death.”

  My stomach roiled. Breath left my lungs in a whoosh and white spots swam in front of my eyes.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I croaked out. Addie was quick. She leaped to her feet and grabbed a small metal garbage can from the corner and got it under my chin just as I threw up the remains of cold oatmeal and ban
anas. She wound my damp hair in her hand and held it back as the coffee came up next.

  “Thanks,” I said after my stomach stopped churning. “I’m sorry.”

  Addie smiled. She set the garbage can next to me and went back to her seat.

  “Now.” She started again. “What can you tell me about the phone?”

  My brain was a blank. It was like my synapses were coated in frozen molasses.

  “I don’t know,” I finally said. “It had to be Seth. He gave me the phone, Addie. After we got engaged he gave me the phone. He was possessive and controlling. I let him tell me what to wear, who to talk to, all of it. Anything. I just wanted to get him to let me in close. I thought the closer I got to Seth, the closer I’d get to Miranda and then one of them would slip. You have to believe me. I didn’t want Miranda dead. Until Seth admitted he had a part in framing my dad, I never would have suspected it of him. I never would have pegged him for being smart enough. I still don’t. When Miranda died, I thought for a while my hopes of finding anything concrete to help my dad died with her.”

  “You think Seth made those searches?”

  I ran shaking fingers across my brow. “I don’t understand why, but yes.”

  “This is a lot to process, Victoria,” she said.

  “I know. And I also know how bad this makes me sound. I know I’ve admitted to having an agenda where Seth and Miranda were concerned. So in that, both Miranda and Mary Barlow’s suspicions about me were right. But this was never about killing Miranda. I didn’t kill her. Do you believe me?”

  I know I shouldn’t have asked that last part. It didn’t matter whether Addie believed me or not. It only mattered if she was good at her job. But, in that moment, I needed someone to be on my side for some reason other than an ethical obligation.

  “Yes,” Addie said and my heart stopped beating for half a second. “I actually do. I shouldn’t. But I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. It comes with the territory. So there’s my gut. The other thing is, you make sense. I think you’re right about what happened to your dad. And if you are, killing Miranda might have killed your chances of proving it. I get that. Now, I’m not going to lie to you. As far as circumstantial evidence goes, what they have is pretty bad. Not insurmountable, but bad. It’s not hopeless.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and a weight seemed to lift from my shoulders. “So what do we do now?”

  “Well.” Addie shoved her yellow pad back into her briefcase and closed it. “Now, you tell me whatever it was you were holding back yesterday when we met for the first time. I mean it, Victoria. Everything.”

  I swallowed hard as a new respect for Adeline Moscowitz grew in my heart. “Okay. I don’t think you’ll like any of it. And I’m sorry for keeping anything a secret. I swear to God I won’t anymore. The first two you kind of already know about.”

  Addie sat back and crossed her arms in front of her. “Out with it.”

  There was no way to sugarcoat any of this so I didn’t try. I held up three fingers. “There are three things. One, I started a sexual relationship with Jack Manning, Seth’s step-brother, pretty much after the funeral. I don’t know if Seth knows about it. Two and three, you might already have figured out if you heard the tape I made of Seth from my phone. George Pagano is the man my father was framed to save.”

  Addie let out a hard breath as I held up my last finger. “I don’t know if I can take number three.”

  I smiled. “The morning they arrested me, I had a suitcase packed that I put in the trunk of Jack’s car. He still has it, I assume. That morning I told him Seth admitted that Jack’s father, Jackson Manning Sr., was the one who actually planted the evidence against my dad. I found Jackson’s journals in the attic the night before. He partially admits everything in there. Jack has all of that. I’m hoping it’s enough to at least get my dad’s case reopened.”

  “Whew.” Addie whistled low. “Okay. Now I have three things for you.”

  I nodded, praying that one of them wasn’t her telling me to kiss her ass.

  “One, don’t ever lie to me or hold anything back from me again. I can’t help you if you do.”

  “I understand.” I nodded.

  “Okay. Two, puking in a bucket notwithstanding, I hope you’re as strong as you look. We’re going to have to make a lot of waves to get you out of this mess. And three, I need to have a conversation with Jack Manning like today.”

  She rose and held her hand out to mine. “Are you okay with all of that?”

  I took her offered hand and shook it firmly. “Puking in the bucket notwithstanding, you bet your ass.”

  Chapter Six

  Jack

  Beverly Bradley held me against her in a great bear hug. She was short and round, just like I remembered. The top of her cotton-white bun touched the middle of my chest as I held her close and she sobbed against me. I knew how she felt. Like Reed and Margie before her, it had just been easier for me to cut ties with anyone who reminded me of my father. Memories of her connection to my childhood flooded back. My father worked eighteen-hour days and more as he started up his business. For a time, my mother went back to school and Bev Bradley became our de facto nanny at my dad’s office. She had no children of her own. While I tinkered with the computers, Bev sat for hours teaching my little sister how to knit. She helped me with my homework, read out loud to me when my eyes got too tired in the evenings, made sure we had a proper dinner.

  Finally, Bev pulled herself back and peered up at me. Her eyesight was going and she squinted at me from her plump face that had deep wrinkles and rosy cheeks that reminded me a little of a crab apple doll. When I looked over her head, I saw Margie leaning against the wall in the corner. Her eyes shone with tears as she clasped her hands under her chin.

  “We have a lot to talk about.” Reed broke up the scene. “Everybody come on down to the basement. I’ve got everything laid out.”

  I kept my arm around Bev as we made our way downstairs. She felt about ready to collapse as she clung to me.

  “I’m sorry I’m such a blubbering mess,” she said. “It’s just so good to see you. And you look so much like him. I wasn’t prepared for that.”

  “It’s okay, Bev,” I said. “I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to get in touch with you. And I’m doubly sorry it’s to drag you into this kind of a mess.”

  We assembled in Reed’s basement and my teen years flooded back to me. It was decorated in the same seventies-style dark wood paneling. Reed had a pool table in one corner and four leather couches arranged around a flat screen TV in the center of the room. R.J. and I had spent hours down here playing video games and making out with girls after Reed and Margie went to sleep. The flat screen was different. It used to be one of those clunky console TVs, but everything else down here seemed exactly the same. There was a wide glass coffee table in the middle of the room and Reed had my father’s journals, newspaper printouts and a few other files arranged over the surface of it.

  I sat on the couch next to Bev. She rested her hand on my knee and looked at me with a mixture of love and awe. I imagined it was strange for her to see me now. I knew she saw the thick-headed teenage boy I used to be, but also the man I’d become that reminded her so much of my father. I patted her hand and winked at her.

  “I filled Bev in on the highlights,” Reed said, picking a seat directly across from us. “Let me get to what’s going on tomorrow first.”

  I nodded. Since this morning, I’d received calls from Detective Haney, the prosecutor assigned to Tora’s case, as well as Tora’s public defender. As Reed instructed, I’d returned none of them before talking to him. Of all of them, I wanted desperately to talk to Tora’s lawyer. I wanted to know how she was doing. Had she asked about me? With every hour that passed without me seeing her ... without talking to her ... a hole seemed to widen in my heart. I still loved her, even though it hurt.

  “Tucker Henderson,” Reed said. “He’s the criminal defense lawyer I’ve asked to represent you. I
think you’re going to be okay. You’ve got an appointment in the prosecutor’s office in the morning. You’ll take all of this stuff in then. Tucker thinks they might try to bully you a little to see if they can rattle you into saying something that might help them. He doesn’t think there’s a real threat that you’re in any trouble. That’s the really good news. Just do what he says and you’ll get through this all right.”

  I nodded. “Thank you. Truly. I don’t know what I would do without you, Reed.”

  Margie came down the stairs carrying a tray of iced tea. Bev stood up and helped her pour it. When she sat back down, I took a deep, steadying breath and asked her the question I’d been dreading the answer to.

  “Bev,” I started. “If Reed filled you in, then you know what I have to ask you.”

  She took a slow sip of her tea and shifted on the couch so she faced me squarely. “I’m just trying to understand,” she said.

  “Believe me, so am I.” The journal with the account numbers lay open to that page and I leaned forward and picked it up. “What do you know about this? Seth is claiming Dad was responsible for fabricating evidence against this Declan McLain. Do you know about that? I mean how could he?”

  Bev set her tea down and put her hand back on my knee. “I don’t have all the answers you’re looking for but I think I have quite a few. I can tell you about that year. 2002. It was the last year your father worked at the company full time. Going into 2003 was when he really started to decline. It was rapid and startling and I always felt like there was something else going on. Some event or catalyst that made him withdraw even further. And medication. He seemed so dulled toward the end. Like he was on something.”

  It hurt to breathe. Like the air around me held something sinister in it, though maybe it was just the truth.

  “I remember thinking that too.” I admitted it, I think, to Bev and myself all at once.