“It depends on the relationship between the husband and wife.” I fumbled through the verbal minefield. “Some men regret having an affair and spend the rest of their lives making up for it. Some women never forgive them no matter what they say or do.” I tried hard not to look at Michael. “Some men can’t handle a monogamous relationship, period.”
“And some women put up with it—” Bernadette waved a hand in front of her as if brushing away a fly, “—because of the perks, to be rather crude. Dip your wick anywhere you want but keep the bills paid.” Her voice dropped a level. “And never, never look over the credit card bills and ask what this charge or that charge was for.”
“Bernadette...” Michael’s voice shifted to low and threatening. “Let’s go home and discuss this over a drink or two. We don’t need to bring Bran into this.”
“Yes, yes, we do.” She smiled at Bran. “You grew up to be a smart man.” There was a waver in her voice, scratching nails across my inner chalkboard.
Bran gave me a sideways glance before nodding. “Yes, Mom. I’m pretty smart.”
“Smarter than your father.” She looked at me for a second before returning her attention to Bran. “At least you’ve been careful. You don’t have any little bastards out there waiting to come knocking on our front door years from now to demand their inheritance.”
We all froze in place.
Michael stayed silent.
Bran took short, measured breaths.
A stabbing pain erupted behind my left eye.
“A child, Michael.” The sharp reprimand in her voice reminded me of Jess. “You idiot. I knew you were screwing around on me, but a child? What were you thinking? Haven’t you ever heard of a condom?” She brushed one hand across her face as if pushing a curtain aside. “You haven’t touched me in years and I never complained once even though you know I wanted another child.”
She shook her head. “You sent her down to the charity floor where everyone could see her, see the results of your infidelity.” Her voice broke on the last word, the sob tearing down the last barrier. “She complained about having to take off her ankle bracelet because of the swelling. The silly bitch showed it to a coworker as I was walking by.”
Bernadette took a deep breath before continuing. “She told her friend it was from a weekend trip, a visit to a little boutique in Montreal. Les Deux Amant. I may not be a private investigator but I’m not stupid. She couldn’t afford to go there, not on a temp’s salary. And she sure as hell couldn’t afford an ankle bracelet from an exclusive boutique you’ve taken me to a handful of times. I checked the credit card receipts and there it was, bright as day.” Her voice rose. “When I heard she’d transferred in from Brayton’s office I knew you were involved—Brayton’s an idiot at the best of times and wouldn’t buy jewelry for his own wife, much less a mistress.”
The headache blossomed into a full-fledged migraine with a nausea chaser.
Michael Hanover had sent Molly Callendar to her doom with a simple office transfer.
Bran stepped between his parents, caught between the pair. He lifted both hands, palms out between the two as if he could raise a wall between them with his mind.
“It was an accident,” Michael answered calmly. “She was going to leave us alone, take the child and go as far away as she could. It was the best solution under the circumstances.”
Bernadette gave a dainty snort.
“The best under the circumstances. Do you have any idea what that means?”
A single tear broke free and ran down her left cheek. The streak of dark mascara reminded me of war paint. “Do you know how hard I work to keep this company going? All the damned glad-handing, all the stupid board meetings, all the bloody charity balls and dinners and crap I have to deal with while you prance off with your business buddies to play golf and smoke cigars?”
Michael shook his head, frowning. “I don’t understand.”
“The best solution would have been for you to get legal custody from her, use the legal resources at our disposal and take the child.” Bernadette shook her head. “That child has your blood, Hanover blood. Despite your moral failings he deserves a better life than being raised in a trailer park by some trashy woman who’ll probably end up popping out baby after baby with anyone who wanders by. He deserves the same sort of upbringing our son received.”
Bran blinked. “Like me?”
I moved closer to Bran. His right hand moved toward me, finding and grabbing on to me like a drowning man to a life preserver.
“You had the best.” Bernadette looked at him. “You had the private tutors, the proper schools and the best university. Everything you deserved.”
“Because of my name,” Bran said.
“Because of the Hanover name,” Bernadette corrected him. She turned her attention back to Michael. “I was not about to let this baby roam through the public school system and become another dropout, another failed statistic of the educational system.” She shuddered. “What sort of man would he become? What sort of future would he have with that sort of handicapped start to life?”
I knew the truth but had to say it out loud. “You did it. You arranged for Molly Callendar to be killed.”
Bernadette nodded as if I’d asked her if she liked milk or cream with her coffee. There was no remorse in her eyes and more than a little crazy leaking out.
“It was the only thing to do. I couldn’t allow Michael to let this little baby go off into the world. A check arriving every few months for his mother to spend on cigarettes and beer? What could that silly bitch offer him?”
“She was his mother,” I replied.
Bernadette shrugged. “An accident of genetics.” She eyed Michael. “Your father and grandfather worked hard to make Hanover Investments a success; my family gave you what you wanted to move to the next level, including me. I couldn’t let you throw it all away with an uneducated, untrained illegitimate child showing up in a few decades to take it from us.”
“You followed me to the hotel. Or to be more precise your paid killer did.” I spoke calmly and slowly as if to a child. I wasn’t sure where to go with this or what to do. The situation was spinning out of control and all I could do was hang on for the ride.
“I knew Michael was talking to you about something sleazy, something your type would be dealing in.” Her upper lip curled away from brilliant white teeth. “It didn’t take a genius to figure out he wanted you to help Brayton finish out this little charade. It was easy to have someone follow you and find the woman.” She tilted her head to one side. “You’re not so bright when it comes down to it.”
I ignored the slight. “How did you find someone to do the job?”
“If you give to enough charities you can always find someone willing to take out the garbage.” She giggled. “He was shocked at first but we got down to negotiations soon enough.”
“Keith Shaw,” I added. “You met him when you were at Second Chance, Second Life. He was on parole for murder and you knew he’d be easy to buy.” I knew now why I’d had an odd feeling on the street, the feeling of being watched. “You told him to follow me the second I left the offices and he tracked me to the hotel and Molly’s room.”
Bernadette glared at me. “You’re not as incompetent as you look.”
Her right hand ducked inside the purse and returned with a small silver-plated automatic, a ladies’ weapon. She swung her arm out to one side, sweeping it around. “Now all of you listen to me.” Her voice hardened.
I took a deep breath. This was going from bad to worse to deadly at warp speed.
Chapter Eleven
I studied the weapon. It was a small caliber, most likely a .22. It wasn’t likely to kill you unless you placed a lucky shot right into the head or a vital organ. But a bullet was a bullet and I’d rather no one got shot in my house today.