“Life is not fair any way you cut it, Michelle. You know that and I know that. We’ve lived that stuff too often to recognize it any other way.”
“That can’t stop me from feeling guilty. From feeling like a piece of shit.”
“You’re right, it can’t. But keep this in mind. Somebody brought Hilary Cunningham to that house against her will in all likelihood. And if you did shoot her I don’t believe it was accidental, at least on their side.”
“What, you mean they wanted me to shoot her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Hilary might have known something that certain people didn’t want to get out. And if you shoot her then the police are all over us. That puts us out of commission, or so they think.”
“If that’s the case these are some pretty sick people we’re up against.”
“We’re always up against psychos, Michelle. It’s what we do. But I want these sons of bitches more than I’ve wanted anybody else.”
CHAPTER 25
THE HOUSE WAS A WHITE SINGLE-STORY clapboard with a black shingle roof in need of replacement. The porch was wide and inviting, with a couple of beat-up-looking rockers moving slightly to and fro in the breeze. The sun was coming up to the left of the house, but the reach of a monster oak blanketed it in shadows.
The front drive was more dirt than gravel. The lawn was cut short, there were a few flowers in pots, and a rooster strutted in front of the Toyota as Michelle braked to a stop. The bird cocked its head in their direction, rustled its feathers, gave the pair a withering one-eyed gaze, and crowed as they got out of the Land Cruiser.
The edge of a chicken coop could be seen sticking out from behind the rear of the house. Beyond the coop a red barn rose up about a hundred feet from the house and at an angle to it. A clothesline hung in the right side yard, and the few garments strung on it lifted lazily with the dull movement of air.
“Okay,” said Michelle. “Five gets you ten that a fireplug of a woman in either bib overalls or a cotton print dress and work boots is going to answer the door smelling of chickenshit. And she’s going to be holding a shotgun pointed right at our guts.”
“I’ll take that bet,” said Sean with an air of confidence.
Michelle shot him a glance before gazing up at the house. Somehow the woman had materialized on the porch seemingly without making a sound. Michelle, who had perfect vision and hearing, hadn’t seen or heard anything.
“You must be Sean King. I’ve been expecting you,” said the woman. Her voice was deep but still remained feminine. It was an assured voice.
When Michelle’s boots hit the top step of the porch she did something she almost never had to do with another woman. She had to look up. The lady must have been at least six feet tall in bare feet. She was lean without an ounce of fat on her frame. And even though she wasn’t exactly young anymore, she had retained the physique and the graceful movements of a formidable athlete.
They had to be related. Same eyes, same nose, obviously the height factor. The only differences from Edgar Roy were the color of the hair and the eyes. Her hair was light brown and the eyes were green instead of black dots. The green was less intimidating.
And obviously she could talk.
Sean put out his hand. “We’re sorry for coming by so early, Ms. Paul,” he said.
Her long fingers enveloped his hand and then she waved his apology off. “This isn’t early, at least in these parts. I saw your truck out there at five this morning. I would’ve gotten you to come in for some breakfast, but you were sleeping and the lady here was doing her business in the woods.”
Michelle looked at Kelly Paul with a mixture of admiration and astonishment. “I’m Michelle Maxwell.” She shook hands with Paul and came away respectful of the woman’s grip.
“Would you like some breakfast now?” she asked them. “I’ve got eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits, and good, hot coffee.”
Michelle and Sean glanced at each other.
Paul smiled. “I’ll take your famished looks as a yes. Come on in.”
The interior didn’t have a homey feel to it. It was minimally furnished, but was clean with simple lines one would have expected from the exterior. She led them down the hall and into the kitchen that was sturdily and plainly built out with old appliances. There was a fireplace set against one wall that looked as old as the house. Another fireplace was in the front room.
“Have you lived here long?” asked Sean.
“By local standards, no. It’s a typical little farmhouse. But that’s what I wanted.”
“So where did you move from?” asked Sean.
She reached out a hand and flicked on the coffeepot, then pulled a bowl and skillet from the cupboard.
When she didn’t answer, Sean said, “You said you were expecting us?”
“You called me last night. I recognized your voice when you spoke outside just now.”
“But I didn’t speak to you before you said I must be Sean King.”
Paul turned around and pointed a long-handled wooden spoon at Michelle. “But you spoke to your partner here. I’ve got excellent hearing.”
“How’d you know we’d come to visit you? Or that we even knew where you lived?”
“Coffee will be ready in just a minute. Can you pull down some plates and cups from the cupboard right there, Michelle?” She pointed to her left. “You can just set them on the kitchen table right here. I’ve eaten but I will have coffee. Thank you very much.”
While Michelle got the dishes, Paul tended to the eggs and bacon sizzling in another pan. Grits simmered in a closed pot, and Sean could smell the biscuits rising in the oven.
“Got a Smithfield ham in the refrigerator. I can fry that up too if you’d like. Nothing better than a salt-cured Smithfield.”
“The bacon will be fine,” Sean said.
When it was ready Paul filled their plates with food and apologized that the grits were instant. “Otherwise, it would be a while, I’m afraid.”
She sat down across from them with her cup of coffee and watched with what looked like sincere pleasure as they ate.
Sean glanced at her every few seconds. Kelly Paul had on khaki pants, a worn denim shirt, a light blue jean jacket, and beige Crocs that seemed too small for her long feet. Her hair was shoulder length and tied back in a ponytail. Her face was fair and relatively unlined. He estimated the woman to be in her early forties or perhaps even younger.
When they had eaten their fill and she had topped off their coffee cups, they all sat back, looking expectant.
She said, “Bellies full, let’s get to it. Of course I knew you’d come to see me after I hung up on you. As to how you’d know where I lived, I assumed that former Secret Service agents would be able to find that out. I expect that’s why Teddy Bergin hired you.”
“Teddy?”
“My pet name for him.”
“So you knew Bergin before all this?”
“He was my godfather. And one of my mom’s best friends.” Paul studied their reaction to this revelation and then said, “I want you to find out who killed him.”
“So you know he’s dead?” said Michelle. “How?”
Paul tapped the table with her long index finger. “Does it matter?”
“We’d like to know,” said Sean.
“Hilary phoned me.”
Sean looked angry. “She said she had no idea who the client was.”
“That’s because I made her promise me she wouldn’t tell.”
“Why?”
“I had my reasons. Same ones that made Teddy keep everything under seal with the court.”
“What’s your relationship to Edgar Roy? Are you his sister? You have the same height, same features.”