Trust Page 11

  "You look beautiful!" Amy said.

  "The fit is good," Nellie said and seemed satisfied with her work.

  "It's absolutely perfect! Thank you so much." Amy was next and her dress was also a success. When they were both in their regular clothes again, Nellie zipped each dress into a tight, protective cover and then insisted that they both join her for a hot chocolate in the study.

  "You don't have to ask me twice," Lauren said. "Amy, what about you?"

  "Of course." Nellie led them into her small study, which was at the front corner of the house overlooking the Farmer's porch and Main St.

  "Thanks," Lauren said when Nellie returned a moment later with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows bobbing on top. "You have a great view here."

  "This is my favorite room," Nellie said proudly as she settled into a padded rocker that faced the window. "I sit here most afternoons with my knitting. I play a little jazz or big band music and watch all the activity out front, the kids coming home from school, trolley's going by, and people out walking their dogs."

  "That sounds relaxing," Amy said before taking a tentative sip of the very hot chocolate.

  "I don't miss much," Nellie added. "If something happens in this neighborhood, I know about it. Just before you got here for example, I saw at least a half- dozen of those media vans come bombing down the road. Going way too fast if you ask me. Don't know where they were going, but they were in a real hurry to get there."

  Lauren and Amy exchanged glances. "We should probably get going," Amy said.

  "Wait a minute. Let me turn on the police scanner, see what's going on. It might be a bad accident or something. You don't want to get stuck in traffic." Nellie switched on the ancient police scanner that sat on a little side table, in easy reach of her rocking chair. No wonder she didn't miss much. The radio crackled, then the static eased out, and a moment later, they could hear voices talking.

  "The old Graybar building finally went. Fell right off the cliff and into the ocean. On my way now."

  "Well, isn't that something." Nellie said. "That old building has been teetering for years. It was the only one left." Erosion was a big problem in some parts of Waverly. The Graybar building was once a stately home and turned into a bed and breakfast years ago, but for the past ten years had sat empty and waiting for a storm strong enough to shake it loose.

  That stretch of cliff had been hit especially hard over the years and one-by-one each home had toppled into the sea, with some of the worst Nor'easters taking more than one at a time. Graybar was the only one left and they were not allowed to build in that area.

  "The waves out there must be ferocious," Lauren said. Whenever there was a particularly bad storm, the media tended to flock to Waverly for storm coverage of giant waves crashing over the rocks and onto the streets.

  "The eleven o'clock news will be exciting tonight," Nellie said. "Still, it's a shame to see it happen."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  "I think we need to take a closer look at Randy," Jack said. The lights flickered for a moment in the office as the snowstorm raged outside. It was nearly five o'clock and the winds had really kicked in out there. Five officers were sitting in Jack's office reviewing their notes on the Eric Armstrong case. They were still waiting for the DNA results to come back from the lab in Boston.

  "I don't like the guy much either," Scott said, "but he does have an alibi."

  "Yeah, but it's his wife. I'm not sure how much stock I'd put in that," Chris the younger officer said.

  "I'm inclined to agree with Chris," Jack said "And so far, he's the only one who has any kind of motive."

  "I don't know if I'd agree with that," Scott said. "He has a temper and he was annoyed with the kid, but a reason to kill? Not so sure about that."

  "He's a hot-head though," Chris said. "He could have just snapped."

  "We still need to look more closely at Lauren. Jack I know you're friends with her, but it seems to me like she might have a pretty good motive here. If she was fooling around with the kid, maybe she tried to end it and he got all upset and threatened to go public. She stood to lose her job and her fiancé."

  "That's nothing but speculation," Jack said dismissively. "There's no evidence that there was any kind of inappropriate relationship between the two of them. So, no relationship means no motive."

  "There were people who thought something was going on. His friends wondered, said he was spending a lot of time outside of class with his hot English teacher. And there was his online journal talking about the 'mad crush' and hot 'older woman'."

  "Lauren admitted to spending time after class with Eric, but she was counseling him, trying to help him do better. He may have had a crush on her. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me a bit. But it doesn't mean it was mutual."

  "I wonder about his parents." Tim, another of the senior officers, spoke up. "The father was known to be a drinker and to have an ugly temper. In her statement, Lauren said Eric talked about trouble at home. Maybe he's the one that snapped."

  "He has an alibi too." Jack said.

  "Right, his wife. Did you notice how timid she becomes whenever he's around? I think she'd say whatever he told her to say."

  Jack rubbed his temple, willing away the beginnings of a stress headache.

  "All right, let's regroup tomorrow, dig deeper into all of this and see what emerges. Drive safely out there everyone, it's looking nasty."

  Chapter Thirty

  Lauren slept in the next day and stretched lazily in her bed. It was still snowing heavily outside and she could see several sharp icicles hanging just outside the bedroom window. The call from school went out last night—there would be no classes today. Lauren suspected she was as excited by that news as her students were.

  She flipped on the TV and landed on the local station where they were showing coverage of the Graybar house. The waves hitting the cliff were massive, reminding her of the giant surf you see in Hawaii and rarely saw in the northeast, except for particularly bad storms like this. The media got there too late to capture the house falling into the ocean, but a few teenagers were there and shot the footage on their own camcorders.

  The video was obviously amateurish, wobbly and blurry in parts, but the overall image of the house tumbling into the sea was spellbinding and surreal. It looked more like a Hollywood special effect than a real event. The rest of the news was tame in comparison, and after a few minutes, Lauren switched off the TV and rolled out of bed.

  She stayed in her pajamas most of the day, lounging on the sofa downstairs, wrapped in a soft fleece throw and watching old movies. Every now and then she got up to grab a snack or a bowl of soup. By mid-afternoon, she was movied-out, jumped in the shower and then got to work in the kitchen.

  She was going to make braised short ribs and had taken the meat out of the freezer first thing in the morning to defrost. The snow was still coming down hard outside and she was glad that David's car had four-wheel drive and that he didn't have far to go. His office was just a few miles down the road. He'd called earlier to say they were going to wrap up around 4:00 so people could get home before dark and before the roads got too icy.

  Lauren went to work chopping the vegetables to add to the braise. She liked to have all her ingredients ready and prepped in small bowls before she started cooking. Short ribs were one of her favorite things to make, and were the ideal comfort food in weather like this. The final dish would be similar to a rich stew, with a silky sauce of reduced wine, beef broth and aromatics over meat that was fall-off-the-bone tender from slow cooking for several hours.

  Once the onions, carrots and celery were finely chopped and in their respective bowls, Lauren pulled out her giant sauté pan—the one that was wide and about five inches deep—and set it on her largest burner. Everything would happen in that pan. First, she added a little olive oil and heated it until it started to crackle, then she browned the short ribs in batches until they were all deep brown and caramelized on the
outside. She then set the meat aside on a platter, dumped the vegetables into the pan and stirred them as they cooked to release the brown bits that were stuck on the bottom.

  These would contribute great flavor to the sauce. Once the vegetables were soft and slightly brown, she added a full bottle of full-bodied red wine and let it reduce down to about a cup of liquid, which would intensify the flavor for the braising liquid. She added a cup and one-half of tawny port and the same amount of beef broth, then put the short ribs in, covered the pan and set it in the oven to simmer at 325° for three hours.

  While the meat was simmering away in the oven, Lauren curled up on the sofa with the latest Jodi Picoult novel. By a quarter to five, when David came walking through the door, the house smelled amazing and her stomach rumbled a little in anticipation. David shook off the snow from his jacket, took it off and stepped out of his boots.

  "I think I've died and gone to heaven," he said. "Would you believe I left the office at 4:00 sharp? I've been sitting in gridlock traffic for the past forty-five minutes. The plows can barely keep up with it." His ride home normally took, at the most, five minutes.

  "This should be just about done. I'm going to pull it out of the oven and let it rest for a few minutes. Do you want a glass of wine first?"

  "That sounds great. I'm going to run upstairs and change into some sweats. Be down in a minute." While he was upstairs, Lauren opened a new bottle of wine, the same kind she'd used in the braise, poured two glasses and set them down on the coffee table by the sofa she'd been curled up on. She hit the switch on the gas fireplace and the flames roared high enough that she could feel the heat. David joined her a few minutes later and settled next to her on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table.

  "So how was your day?" Lauren asked as she took a sip of the wine.

  "Okay. Chuck was in a mood though. Sounds like he and Katy are going through a rough patch. Whenever they don't get along, he's a bear to be around."

  "That's too bad. They haven't been married long to be having difficulties I wouldn't think."

  "Well, they actually dated for years, but only lived together for the past year, once they got married. I get the sense from a few comments he's made that it's been a bit of an adjustment for both of them. Chuck's always been a loner of sorts. I think he misses having his own space."

  "This weather probably doesn't help much," Lauren said. "They'll really get on each other's nerves if this storm keeps up and they have to stay inside for a few days."

  "He was still there when I left, and didn't look like he was planning on going anywhere for a while." Chuck lived close by work too, so he could always walk home if need be.

  "Have you heard from any clients since the news piece aired, are they upset?" Lauren was concerned that Billy's fears could come true and that they'd lose clients.

  "Surprisingly, no. We've had a few clients call, but only to voice their support and contempt for the media."

  "That's reassuring. I think people are smart enough to see through the garbage the media tries to serve up."

  "For the most part, yes. But not always."

  "Are you hungry? The short ribs are ready if you are."

  "I'm starving and they smell incredible."

  Lauren had opened a container of Country Crock mashed potatoes a half-hour earlier and they were keeping warm in a big saucepan. She put a generous mound of the potatoes in two large bowls and then spooned the meaty short ribs and plenty of sauce over the top. David brought their glasses of wine to the dining room table and Lauren had just taken her first bite when the phone rang. David answered and then handed the phone to her, "It's Jack, he said he needs to talk to you. It sounds important."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jack had been sitting in his office, staring at his computer screen for a good thirty minutes before picking up the phone. The DNA lab results had come in and as expected, they confirmed that the blood on the golf club belonged to Eric Armstrong. They had a match on the fingerprints too and those results were not at all expected.

  Jack was having a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that the prints on the golf club were a perfect match to Lauren Stanhope. What he should do is go right over, arrest Lauren, have her spend the weekend in jail and then go to court on Monday to see about bail.

  But, no one else had access to the fingerprint report in his office, so he could delay acting on this for a few days. He needed to have a talk with Lauren though, to see what, if anything, she had to say that could shed light on how one of her clubs ended up as a murder weapon. And he needed to warn her things were likely to get very ugly once the media caught wind of this, which they would as soon as she was arrested.

  If he did it now, the media would go crazy with the story all weekend, whereas if he could hold off until Monday and she could be granted bail quickly, they could maybe keep the media at bay somewhat, though Jack had his doubts about that too.

  "Lauren, it's Jack. Are you and David in for the night?"

  "Yes, what's up?"

  "I'm done for the day and need to talk to you in person. I'm on my way." He hung up before she had a chance to respond, so Lauren clicked her phone off as well and turned to David who was looking at her for an explanation.

  "Jack is coming over to talk to me. But I have no idea why."

  They returned to their meal and ate in silence, all the enjoyment gone. Forty-five minutes later, they were done eating, dishes were in the dishwasher, and Lauren had packed the rest of the short ribs into a large glass bowl for storage in the refrigerator.

  She'd just topped off both of their wine glasses and they were back on the sofa, flipping channels on the TV, but not really paying attention. Instead, they were both anxious about Jack's visit. Finally, the knock came on the door and David jumped up to let Jack in.

  "Would you like a glass of wine or a beer?"

  He declined the offer for a drink and sat in the overstuffed leather chair across from where they were both sitting on the sofa. "I still need to get home from here and unfortunately this isn't a social call. This isn't easy for me, so I'm just going to come out with it."

  He paused and then looked directly at Lauren, "The results came back from the golf club we found and thought might be the murder weapon in the Eric Armstrong case. The DNA is Eric's. We also got a match on the fingerprints. Lauren, they're yours. Do you have any idea why that would be?"

  "My golf club killed Eric Armstrong?" Lauren couldn't believe it.

  "When was the last time you played golf?" Jack asked.

  "Several weeks ago, before Eric went missing. Jack you don't think I did this? What is going on here?" Fear swept through her.

  Jack sighed deeply. “It doesn't matter what I think. Where do you keep your clubs?"

  "In the trunk of my car."

  "Can we go take a look?"

  "Sure, we can go right through the kitchen to the garage." Lauren's voice was shaking as she spoke and David looked at both of them in disbelief.

  "Jack, this is ridiculous. What are you doing?" He jumped up from the sofa and started to pace.

  "My job. I don't have a choice." Jack's jaw was clenched and as bewildered as she felt, Lauren felt a pang of sympathy for him as well. He didn't look at all happy to be here, doing this to his friends.

  "Are you going to arrest me?" she asked; it all felt so surreal.

  "Yes, I’ll have to,” he said, "but I can do it first thing Monday, that way you won't have to spend the weekend in jail. Hopefully, they'll grant you bail and you'll be out the same day."

  "Well, that's something." David said in a sullen tone.

  Lauren shuddered at the thought of spending even one night in jail, but as upset as she was she realized the enormous favor that Jack was doing her. "Jack, thank you. This doesn't make any sense at all."

  She opened the trunk of her car and pulled out her set of clubs. They were all there, all except one, her three-wood.

  "Did you know you were missing a club?" Jack
asked.

  "Yes, I lost it on the course last time I played. Accidentally set it down. I called right away to let the club know if someone found it and brought it in to call me. Eric actually called me the next day. It was returned during his shift. He said he'd put a tag on it and keep it under the counter and I could just pick it up the next time I came in. I was supposed to play a few days later, but that got canceled at the last minute and I haven't been back since."

  "Was there anyone else's prints on the club?" David asked.

  "Yes, there would have to be right?" Lauren said excitedly.

  "There were several sets of prints, Lauren's, Eric's and several unidentified ones."

  "Well that's good right? If there were other prints on the club then you can't assume that Lauren did anything. Especially if her club was missing."

  "That will definitely work in her favor," Jack agreed. "It will be difficult to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt with additional prints on the club raising the possibility that someone else could have done this. We'll have to request prints from all club members and staff."

  "So, you won't have to arrest Lauren then?" David said with relief.

  "No, I'll still have to arrest her. It's all part of the process. Do you want these clubs back in your trunk?"

  "I'll keep them here. I think my golfing days are over for this year."

  "Right, well I'm sure I don't need to tell you both to keep this to yourselves over the weekend?"

  "Jack, should I just come in to see you first thing on Monday?" Lauren asked.

  "Yes, I'll try to make it as painless as possible. But it's still going to be rough going for a while."