“That’s fine,” said Odelia. “You said something about your daughter?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Careen, and picked up a framed picture of a fair-haired child and handed it to Odelia. “That’s Poppy. She would have turned twenty this year.”
“Would have?”
“She died thirteen years ago. Hit-and-run accident on the street in front of the house. She and her brother both. Rick survived, but Poppy didn’t. Police say she died on impact. She didn’t suffer.” She sniffled. “At least there’s that.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Odelia with feeling, as she reached out a hand to the woman.
Poppy’s mother took Odelia’s hand and pressed it gratefully. “The day Poppy died was the last day I set foot outside this house. For some reason I haven’t been able to go out ever since. Psychologists say it’s not uncommon for people suffering a great trauma to have lasting damage. But in my case it’s extra hard, since my husband not only lost his daughter that day, he also lost his wife—or at least he lost part of me—and so did I.”
“Did they ever catch who did it?”
“No, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been working closely with a therapist for years, and we’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll never be able to work through this issue as long as there’s no resolution to what happened to my little girl.” She directed a hopeful look at Odelia, and scooted a little forward on the couch. “You see, the police interviewed a number of suspects, and their investigation focused on five men in particular. Five young men who were out joyriding that night, tearing through the neighborhood. One of those five men killed Poppy, and I want him identified and brought to justice. And maybe then I’ll be able to be healed—and so will my husband and son.”
“They’re not here?”
“No, both Dominic and Rick are foresters. I’m also a forester, but for obvious reasons I haven’t been able to work for the last thirteen years. And I must say I miss it terribly.”
“You and your husband used to work together?”
She smiled and nodded.“Yes. That’s how we met, actually. In the beginning we were colleagues. Our work was our passion—still is. And our passion for foresting gradually turned into a passion for each other, too. But while I developed this phobia, Dominic started distancing himself from me. We’re still married, but our family got broken that day, and I’m hoping that by bringing Poppy’s killer to justice, I can heal my family, too.”
“So who do you think killed Poppy, Mrs. Careen?”
“Kristina, please.” She took out a manila folder and opened it. Out spilled a number of press articles and photos. She spread out five of the photos on the coffee table. “These are the five men,” she said, her expression hardening. “One of them killed my daughter, and has been able to getaway with murder for the past thirteen years. But no more.”
Chapter 2
Obviously Kristina Careen felt very strongly about bringing the person responsible for her daughter’s death to justice, and I didn’t blame her. It was a horrible thing to do: first to kill a little girl and then to flee the scene of the crime and decide not to take responsibility for the terrible hurt you’ve caused.
“So who are these five men?” asked Odelia as she studied the pictures, picking them up one by one.
“Five friends,” said Kristina. “As the police informed us at the time they were five spoiled rich kids, racing around in the expensive cars their rich daddies bought them. They were inseparable, and even though the police leaned on them, and their families, they all closed ranks and claimed they had nothing to do with what happened.”
“Any witnesses?”
“Only Rick. But he was six at the time, and his testimony wasn’t deemed reliable. Also, he’d been mowed down alongside his sister, and was lucky to come out of the incident with his life. As it was, he spent weeks in hospital, and still walks with a limp.”
“Do they still live around here, these men?” asked Odelia.
“I’ve checked, and they do. I have to warn you, though, that three of them have filed a restraining order against me and my husband and my son. You see, we’ve been keeping tabs on them, determined that they won’t be allowed to get away with their crime.” She tapped the pictures. “Only one of them might be my daughter’s killer, but as far as I’m concerned, they’re all guilty for the crime of covering up the murder.”
“You think they know who did it?”
“Of course they do. Absolutely.”
“I only recognize this man,” said Odelia, picking up a picture of a blond-haired beefy fellow. “Sergio Sorbet.”
“Yes, Sergio is a big star now,” said Kristina, contempt clear in her voice. “He was the first one to take out a restraining order. I kept writing to his agent and the movie studio. Warning them about the kind of man he is. Of course they never wrote back.”
“Who’s Sergio Sorbet, Max?” asked Dooley.
“He’s a big action star,” I said. “Famous for the Zeus movies.”
“Zeus? Like the god Zeus?”
“Yeah, the god of thunder and lightning. Sergio plays Zeus, and his movies have grossed billions of dollars since he put that particular franchise on the map.”
“So he’s a movie star and also a child killer?”
“Possibly.”
Kristina had taken out more manila folders and placed them all on the table.“I have extensive information about all of these men,” she said. “You’re welcome to go through it. That’s Omar Wissinski. He runs an insurance agency with Jona Morro. Then there’s Sergio, of course, and also Joel Timperley.”
“Timperley? Doesn’t his family own the Keystone Mall?”
“They do. They also own Timpermart—the supermarket chain. And finally there’s Dunc Hanover—the artist.”
“I think I’ve interviewed him once,” said Odelia, picking up the man’s picture. He had a crazy mane of hair and looked exactly like what one would expect an artist to look like: wild-eyed, frizzy-haired and a little unkempt.
“He’s got a shop in his friend Joel’s mall,” said Kristina. “In fact they’re all located at the mall. Wissinski and Morro have their insurance business set up at the mall, as well.”
“And Sergio?”
“He’s in town for the premiere of his latest movie, which is to take place—”
“At the Keystone Mall. So they’re all here?”
“All of them. They never left. Shameless.”
“Do you remember which police officer was in charge of the case?”
“Your uncle handled it personally. Which is how I arrived at you.”
Odelia smiled.“You think I’ll do a better job than my uncle?”
Kristina shrugged.“Chief Lip did his best, but if you’ve got five people who all clam up and then their families, who are amongst the wealthiest in Hampton Cove, all put up a wall around their sons… There wasn’t anything he could do.”
“They never found the car?”
She shook her head.“Disappeared. And no witnesses, either.”
“Look, I’m not going to lie to you, Kristina. I’m not sure if I’ll succeed where my uncle failed. I mean, if it was impossible to finger the person responsible for Poppy’s death thirteen years ago, it will be even harder today. Evidence will have disappeared, witnesses won’t remember orwill have died…”
“I know. But I’ve heard so many good things about you.” She leaned forward and placed a hand on Odelia’s knee. “You’re smart, Mrs. Kingsley, and inventive. If anyone can find out what happened, it’s you.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” said Odelia softly. She’d picked up Poppy’s picture again. The blond-haired angel’s joy spat from the snap, and it was hard to imagine anyone would mow her down then think they could get away with it.