CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

C HAPTER T WENTY -F OUR

Chloe had been so eager to leave her house and be done with Wesley, she’d arrived at Becky and Holly’s a little too quickly. Discombobulated, she walked right into the house without knocking first, surprised the house wasn’t on lockdown.

Becky and Holly were in the kitchen, quarreling, and hardly spared her a glance. She walked straight past them to Charley and Ethan, who were watching television, and easily got them to follow her upstairs. In the loft, she grabbed the bin of Marvel characters, dropped a few Barbies on top, and went straight to Ethan’s room, where she dumped the figurines onto the bed.

Charley clapped her hands with glee. “Can all the toys play on the bed?”

“Absolutely,” Chloe said. “The more the merrier.”

Both kids started running back and forth, grabbing toys from the loft, carrying them into the bedroom, and tossing them on the bed while Chloe listened to the conversation below.

If Dianne could see her now, she would be ashamed to see Chloe falling right back into her old habits. These things take time, Chloe told herself as she put an ear to the vent.

“Did you have to ask Chloe to watch the kids?”

“Yes!” Holly barked. “And thank God she could do it, because otherwise we’d have to reschedule and still pay the lawyer because he requires a twenty-four-hour cancellation notice.”

“I was only asking a question,” Becky said. “I don’t know why you’re so upset.”

“Well, I don’t know why you have a problem with Chloe watching the kids for free. You don’t seem to understand what living within our means is all about. We don’t belong in the Fabulous Forties. We can’t afford it. But I went along with your idea because we agreed to stick to a budget, knowing it would be difficult for a few years. I used all of my grandmother’s inheritance for the down payment for a giant house already in need of some serious upkeep. I work a minimum of sixty hours per week to make this work. And then you go and hire a criminal lawyer for three hundred and fifty dollars an hour.”

“I’m not the one with my fingerprints all over the murder weapon,” Becky said. “Which begs the question ... Why are your fingerprints all over the murder weapon?”

“I never said they were.”

“The second Detective Seicinski told you there were multiple sets of fingerprints found on the weapon, you turned white and agreed to get a lawyer.”

Chloe couldn’t see them. They were over by the refrigerator, out of sight. But she imagined Holly’s shoulders slumping forward. She felt bad for her. Did Holly know about Becky and Wesley? Holly Bateman was the sweetest person she knew. She couldn’t imagine Holly having anything to do with Rosella’s death.

“We’re leaving now!” Holly shouted from below, prompting Chloe to scramble to her feet and run to the loft.

“Okay. See you in an hour or two.”

“We’ll lock the door when we leave,” Holly told her.

“Okay.”

Chloe was back in Ethan’s room when she heard Holly ask Becky, “Are those new?”

“What?”

“Your sunglasses. Are those Celine? When did you buy those?”

“Why does it matter?” Becky wanted to know.

Holly was standing by the table now, and Chloe saw her clicking away on her iPhone. “Those sunglasses cost five hundred dollars! What the hell?”

Chloe felt sick to her stomach. Wesley must have bought them for her.

“I’m sorry,” Becky said. “I was tired and bored and needed something to cheer me up. I ordered them online. I’ll send them back.”

Tired and bored, my foot. Well, maybe tired, Chloe thought.

Holly said nothing in response.

Chloe heard footsteps, mostly stomping, then the sound of the door opening and closing before the lock rattled.

The house was peaceful. Even the kids were quiet as they sorted through their toys.

Shannon needed to get some air. She’d been spending way too much time reading over Rosella’s notes and scribbles. So far, she hadn’t been able to identify any connections between different pieces of information. But she had noticed a recurring name. Bradley. The name came up three times, and yet Shannon could find no relationship between Rosella and anyone named Bradley. The month of July was also mentioned six times, written in all caps and circled in the center of one of the pages. So far, those were the only two pieces of information that stood out. Bradley and July.

Shannon slid off the stool, plunked her hands on her hips, and did a side stretch. She and Chloe had a lot of work to do. She put on her sneakers and grabbed her crossover bag with her keys and cell phone. Mac would be home from school in a few hours, so she wrote her a note on the pad of paper in the kitchen, letting Mac know she would be back soon. After gathering some heavy-duty tape, a stapler, and the stack of flyers Chloe had left her, she headed out.

Nearly two hours later, it was hotter than hell and Shannon had already drained her water bottle. She had made it as far as Forty-Third Street. Sweat dribbled down her back. As she attempted to staple the last flyer to a thick oak, the bark crumbled.

“Stop what you’re doing right now!”

A woman waved her arms overhead as she ran across a sizable expanse of lawn. She was coming straight for Shannon. It was the same woman from the meeting at Chloe’s house the other night. Peggy was her name, and she was not happy. She got right up in Shannon’s face, her eyes flashing, her breath reeking of garlic. “Who gave you permission to deface my oak tree with that flyer?”

“I was asked to hang the flyers. I’m sorry.”

Peggy pointed a finger, the tip of her brittle nail nearly touching Shannon’s nose. “You were at Chloe Leavitt’s house. You two are friends. She told you to ruin my tree, didn’t she?”

“No. Truly she didn’t.”

Peggy grabbed the flyer from her and read it. “They already sold two hundred tickets! How many people does she think the Knightleys and others want trampling through their homes?”

Shannon kept her mouth shut. Nothing she could say would make this woman feel better.

Peggy lost some of her bluster. “Well, I guess you’re just a volunteer.” She picked at a loose thread on her blouse. “You’re new to the area?”

“I am. Not quite two weeks yet.”

“My. Oh. My. You probably didn’t get the chance to meet Rosella Marlow.”

“I met her. She wanted me to assist her with a writing project.”

Peggy’s eyes twinkled. “Ahh! So maybe she told you about her son, Daniel.”

“No. She didn’t mention Daniel.”

“Well, I’m sure Chloe has no idea, since she hasn’t a clue what her kids are up to, but Daniel, bless his heart, was in love with Chloe’s daughter, Ridley.”

Shannon tried to hide her surprise. “How old was he when he passed?”

“Nineteen. Everyone who’s been in the neighborhood long enough knows that Daniel and Ridley grew up playing together. But only a few of us were aware that their friendship had evolved into young love. The two lovebirds agreed to keep their friendship platonic until Ridley Leavitt turned eighteen.”

“Who told you this?” Shannon asked.

“Not important. Do you want to hear the rest of the story, or not?”

Shannon wasn’t sure. Because then she would have to tell Chloe, and Chloe was already feeling horribly disconnected from her children.

“Guess what Rosella did when she caught wind of their blossoming relationship?”

Oh no, Shannon thought. Curiosity got the best of her. “What did she do?”

“She invited Ridley to her home to let her know Daniel would be going away to college and it would be best for everyone if she stayed away from him. If she refused, Rosella would cut Daniel out of the will and kick him out of the house.”

“Why would she do such a thing?”

“Nobody knows. I always felt sorry for the kid. Most people who knew the dynamics of the Marlow family felt the same way as me.”

“I was under the impression that Rosella was a doting mom.”

“You could say that. She showered the boy with attention and affection, fussing over his every need. From the moment he entered her life, he became her world.”

“And yet she threatened to kick him out of the house?”

“I never believed she would follow through. An empty threat, if you ask me.” Peggy swatted at a fly. “Anyway, Daniel was sent across the country to attend NYU, and to meet his mother’s demands, he blocked Ridley from his contacts. But kids are smarter than their parents. They both got burner phones.” She laughed. “They talked every day.”

“A happy ending,” Shannon said. “I should go.”

“You haven’t even heard the worst part.”

Shannon waited. How could she not?

“After Daniel died, Ridley changed. Once loud and animated at events held in the neighborhood, she became reserved, quiet. Her eyes no longer sparkled. And then Rosella was killed, and everyone I know”—her gaze followed the length of her street and back—“wonders if Ridley had something to do with Rosella’s death.”

Shannon’s brow furrowed. “What proof does anyone have? You shouldn’t be spreading rumors like that.”

Peggy pointed at the telephone pole on the corner. “Please remove the flyers before you go, dear. Nice talking to you.”

Shannon turned and walked away, leaving the flyers she’d already hung. Peggy could take them down herself if they bothered her. As she neared Kaylynn’s house, their oldest son was being dropped off by a friend. He was a gangly kid, six feet tall with red, wiry hair. His friend drove off.

“Hi,” Shannon said. “I’m Shannon Gibbons, your new neighbor.”

He simply stood there, his eyes not quite meeting hers. He wore baggy denim pants and a heavy-metal tee beneath a checkered, button-down flannel shirt that hung open. There wasn’t a drop of sweat on him.

“You must be Holiday.”

He nodded.

“Nice to meet you.” They shook hands. “Is your mom home?”

“No. She works on Fridays.”

She sighed. “I was going to ask her about a woman named Peggy.”

“Peggy Chandler,” he said with distaste.

“Yes. I was posting flyers about the Best House on the Block award when she started talking about some of the kids in the neighborhood.”

“Let me guess, she’s still going on about Ridley Leavitt and Daniel Marlow being more than friends.”

“That’s exactly what she talked about. She seemed upset.”

Without saying another word, Holiday started walking toward his house. Shannon followed him. “Did I say something wrong?”

They were standing at the front door. His gaze scanned the area as if to make sure nobody saw them. “Did you ask Chloe Leavitt about this?”

“No. Not yet.”

“You might want to keep it to yourself,” he told her. “If I were you, I wouldn’t mention it to anyone.”

“Why not?”

His face reddened as he reached deep into his pocket for his house key. “Because Ridley would freak out and probably go have a talk with Peggy Chandler and give her a piece of her mind.” His eyes rounded. “If Ridley ever finds out I talked to you, I’ll be dead to her.”

He opened the door, and right as he stepped inside, she saw a hole in his shirt. The shirt was checkered. And the hole, a piece of gray fabric, big as a nickel, was missing.

She froze in place.

Holiday stepped inside and shut the door behind him, leaving Shannon to wonder what the hell she’d just seen. There was no doubt in her mind that the missing fabric from Holiday’s flannel shirt was the same piece of material she’d found stuck in the woodwork at Rosella’s house.

Why would Holiday have been inside Rosella’s house? And why was he so afraid of Ridley?

Shannon recalled the look on Chloe’s face after she’d read Rosella’s notes about Rosella possibly having a problem with Daniel and Ridley’s friendship. Much more than a friendship, according to Peggy Chandler. If Peggy and her friends thought Ridley had something to do with Rosella’s death, why hadn’t they called the police? Maybe they had.