Killing Secrets Page 7

  “When were you going to tell me that you’re dating Ashton?”

  “Dating? That’s so old-fashioned.” Emily picked up her burger and took a bite.

  Nan kept her temper in check. “Okay. When were you going to tell me that you and Ashton have been…hanging out?”

  After Emily finished chewing, she said, “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would give me the freaking third degree. You hate every guy I like. It was the same way when I liked Ken. I kind of get that because I was younger then, but I’m older now.”

  Vining reflected that the saga with Ken had been just over a year ago. Ken was a nice kid. Nan had issues with Ken’s mother, which was the main reason she hadn’t wanted Em seeing him. Now she’d take Ken over Ashton in a heartbeat. Ken was bookish and sweet and didn’t have Ashton’s overt sexual energy and bad-boy charm, which Nan had hoped and prayed her daughter would be immune to. But why should she be? Nan hadn’t been.

  “Are you having sex with Ashton?”

  “Mom.” Emily dropped her veggie burger onto her plate. “Before you go off the deep end, I’ve never had sex with anyone. Nothing like that. Just kissing and stuff.”

  “And stuff? That leaves room for a lot of sexual activities that I hope you’re not doing. Is Ashton pressuring into things like—”

  “Mom. If you don’t want me to have boyfriends, you should just send me to a convent.” Emily bolted from her chair and pressed the heels of both hands against her temples. “I can’t stand this third degree. I can’t wait until I go away to college. And I mean away.”

  “Emily, please sit down. And I don’t care for that tone of voice.” Nan didn’t know what to make of the defiance in Em’s eyes. In adolescence, Nan’s sweet girl occasionally seemed to be taken over by a smart-mouthed evil spirit, but it had floated past, like fast-moving clouds, revealing Emily’s underlying amiable nature. This recent spate of rebelliousness was different. Emily seemed truly angry with Nan about something.

  Emily plopped back onto her chair. She pulled a pickle slice from her burger and dropped it onto her plate before taking another bite.

  Nan grabbed hold of her emotions and said in a calm voice, “You seem to know Ashton’s parents well. Are you over at his house a lot?”

  “I drive Ashton to school and back home sometimes. His mom’s nice. She’s, like, ‘Come in and have a snack.’ She’ll have homemade hummus with veggies from her garden. She’s all about farm-to-table. She’ll make us cappuccinos and sit with us outside. Their house is awesome.”

  As Em dreamily described this Leave It to Beaver scene, updated for millennials, Nan privately seethed. She was angry at Becky McCarthy for wooing her daughter’s affections with Martha Stewart perfection. She was miffed at Emily for being sucked into it. She was mad at herself for falling short as a mom. But hell, she was a single mom and had to work. She and Em used to be a team. Them against the world. How had Em been so easily swayed by cappuccinos and hummus? The old Em would have said, “Thank you very much. It’s been nice,” and would have come home and told her mom all about it. She wouldn’t have kept it a secret.

  Nan finished her glass of milk. “Doesn’t Ashton drive?”

  “His license was suspended. Some cops pulled him over by Dodger Stadium for reckless driving. Stupid L.A. cops. All they do is look for ways to write tickets to make money for the city.”

  “Are you sure he wasn’t arrested for a DUI and his stepfather argued it down to a reckless?”

  Emily again bristled. “Mom. See how you are? You always have to go there. Thinking the worst about people. Ashton told me it was reckless driving and that’s what it was. That’s it.”

  Nan’s instincts told her there was more to it. “What school did Ashton transfer from?”

  “Wilson.”

  That fit Nan’s expectations about Ashton. A boy from a well-heeled family would attend the Wilson Academy or one of Pasadena’s other prestigious and expensive private schools rather than a public magnet school. “Why did he leave Wilson?”

  “It doesn’t have the great arts program that Coopersmith does.”

  Nan leveled a gaze at Emily. “Coopersmith is a fine school, but I find it hard to believe that the esteemed Wilson Academy doesn’t have programs that are at least as good as Coopersmith. Was he kicked out of Wilson?”

  “No. He came to Coopersmith for the arts program. There you go again. Ashton’s not like you think. He’s really sweet and kind and he’s scary smart. He had a tough life. His parents put him in boarding school back East when he was ten. They totally didn’t want to raise him. Then they got divorced and his mom married Mr. Balsam and Ashton was finally able to come home. That’s why he’s kind of rebellious. It’s just a front.”

  Emily and Nan ate in silence. A police chopper circled somewhere in the distance.

  Emily pushed her plate away after eating half her food. “I knew you would pull apart Ashton’s life and that’s why I didn’t tell you about him. And you hate every guy I like and I’m kind of sick of it, actually.”

  “Emily, I don’t hate Ashton. I think he’s a troubled young man and it’s a situation that’s not going to be beneficial for you.”

  “Who isn’t troubled? Life sucks.”

  “I’ve had it with the back talk. Enough.” Nan saw Em struggle to keep her mouth shut but she did it. “I don’t get this hostility that you have toward me lately. Is something going on that you’re not telling me?”

  Emily stared at her mom. The air felt heavy with things unsaid.

  Nan said, “You know you can tell me anything. We’re a team. We always have been.”

  Emily dubiously raised her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes as she finished her milk.

  It was a small gesture but it cut Nan to the core.

  Emily set down her glass and said, “May I be excused?”

  “Sure. I’ll clear the table. Go straight to bed. No texting. No Internet. Okay?”

  “ ’Kay. ’Night.” She came around to her mom’s chair and kissed her on the forehead.

  —

  In her bedroom, Emily picked up her smartphone. She turned off the lights and climbed into bed with her phone under the covers. She read Ashton’s text: Hey sexy. Come meet me. Miss U.

  Emily typed: Can’t. My mom’s being a real B. I’m even going to have to delete these texts. She spies on me.

  Ashton responded right away: Like Leo says, where there’s a will there’s a way.

  Em replied: U don’t know my mom.

  Ashton: Chicken.

  Em: Am not. Don’t want to lose my cell. She’s done that b4. Or my car.

  Ashton: Just need 2 b creative.

  Em: Don’t tempt me.

  Ashton: I’ll tempt you.

  Em: LOL. Gdnite.

  Ashton: Stay. Cmon. Don’t wimp out.

  Em waited a few seconds, hesitating.

  Ashton quickly texted: U there? Sneak out when she’s asleep.

  She texted: Tired. Going 2 bed.

  Ashton: There’s no school 2morrw. Cmon Em. Miss U.

  Emily had never openly defied her mom and she didn’t like the way Ashton was pushing her. She was tired. Didn’t he understand that? She texted: Going 2 bed. C U tomorrow. Bye. She shut off her phone.

  Chapter 15

  “Nanette, look who’s here. It’s your granddaughter and your great-granddaughter.” Vivian, Granny’s caregiver, stood at the screen door to Granny’s house with her arm around the old woman’s waist. She spoke loudly since Granny was hard of hearing and had never managed to adjust to her hearing aids. Nan was Granny’s namesake and Granny was the mother of Nan’s mom, Patsy.

  “Well, come on inside.” Granny slid the lock to open the screen. “What do you have there, Nan?”

  “I’m Emily, Gran.” Em set a rosebush covered with yellow blooms in a plastic pot on the porch and dusted off her hands before opening the screen door and stepping inside the living room of the small house. She hugged her great-grandmother and kissed her pap
ery cheek.

  “Of course you’re Emily,” Granny said.

  “Hi, Viv,” Emily said to the woman at Granny’s side.

  “Hi, Emily. So nice to see you.” Vivian reached her arms out toward the girl. “How about a hug? We’re huggers in our family.” She enveloped Emily in her strong, reedy arms and gave her a warm hug. She was Latina, in her fifties, and had spiked salt-and-pepper hair. She favored clothing that matched her cheerful and bold personality, and today she didn’t disappoint, wearing a red apron over a bright yellow, sleeveless blouse tucked into floral-print cropped pants, and jeweled sandals. Around her neck, she wore a thin gold chain with a charm of a heart with a cross inside it.

  Nan set the two rosebushes she was carrying on the porch beside the one Emily had brought and went into the house. She gave Granny a hug. She visited her grandmother often yet was always dismayed at how the old woman seemed to shrink a little more each time she saw her. “You’ve been to the hairdresser,” she said with an admiring smile.

  Granny’s silver hair was an architectural marvel. In the back, it was pinned into a French roll, and across the top of her head were three curls arranged side by side. From the time when Nan and her sister were kids, they’d called Granny’s curls “turd curls.”

  Granny held up her hands, the backs facing out, sending two stacks of heavy gold bangles clattering down her thin wrists and displaying several flashy rings, set with real gems, all bought by her hardworking machinist husband, who’d loved to lavish gifts on his wife. “Got a manicure too.” Her long, perfect nails with pointed tips were painted coral, Granny’s traditional springtime color.

  “You look great, Granny.” Nan went to hug Viv.

  “How are you, my dear?” Viv asked her.

  “Good,” said Nan without conviction.

  Viv stepped back and studied her, still holding on to one of Nan’s arms. “You getting enough rest?”

  “I am tired. Nothing gets past you, dear Vivian. I thought we’d replace those roses that aren’t doing so well in Granny’s front yard.” Nan noticed that the house was spotless. She had gone through several caregivers before finding Viv, who was a godsend. Nan shouldered the bulk of overseeing her grandmother. Nan’s sister, Stephanie, four years younger than Nan, and their mom were too busy—and why did they need to when Nan was taking care of everything? After a battle, Nan had extracted funds from her mom to pay for Granny’s caregiver, shaming Patsy into parting with some of the recent financial windfall she’d inherited from a wealthy friend.

  Nan’s sister contributed a small token even though her business-executive husband earned plenty to provide private school tuitions for their two boys and a country-club lifestyle. Since the battle over trying to get the family to step up and help with increasingly frail Granny had started, Nan’s shaky relationships with her mom and sister had become even more strained. They called her bossy and controlling behind her back. Nan had learned that a person’s true character was revealed in how one treated the aged, the frail, and the dependent. Nan could never disrespect Granny. Granny had basically raised her and her sister. Even though Granny was diminished both physically and mentally, Nan cherished the memories of the spitfire that Granny had been. She’d been a giant in Nan’s life.

  “You make sure you take care of yourself,” Viv said to Nan. “Why don’t you and Em put in the roses now? Before it gets too hot. And I’ll make everyone lunch. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great,” Nan said. “Come on, Em. Gardening time.”

  Em had flopped onto the couch, where she was busy tapping on her phone. She stood with undisguised annoyance and put her phone into her jeans back pocket.

  “You don’t need your phone, Emily,” Nan said. “Just leave it on the bookcase.”

  She smirked but did as she was told. They’d had a row earlier that morning when Em had wanted to hang out with her friends rather than visit her grandmother. It hadn’t gone Em’s way.

  “No school today?” Viv asked.

  “Em’s school is closed,” Nan said. “She goes to Coopersmith. A Coopersmith teacher and her student were killed last night.”

  Viv gasped. “I heard about that. How horrible. Are you involved with that, Nan?”

  “I participated in the investigation. The case has been closed. It was determined to be a murder-suicide.” It pained Nan to utter those words because she wasn’t at all convinced that was what had happened. The news was out because the PPD had issued a press release early that morning.

  “Oh,” Viv said with sorrow, pressing her eyes closed. “Those poor souls.” She opened her eyes and said to Nan, “You’re better off staying away from it. All that darkness. It’s not good for your spirit.”

  Nan had to agree but that had never stopped her from flying full speed into the darkness. She couldn’t stay away from the Erica Keller–Jared Hayword case. Unable to sleep after Emily had gone to bed, Nan had surfed the Net, researching Dr. Ambry, who’d done the rushed autopsies. She’d learned some surprising things. Dr. Oscar Ambry had a long reputation for rendering controversial decisions in the autopsies he’d performed. Before he’d moved to Pomona, he was the chief medical examiner in a county in Florida. There he’d conducted the autopsy of the CEO of an investment firm who’d died of a heroin overdose shortly before the CEO was to testify to a grand jury about his firm’s questionable accounting practices and billions of dollars of investor money that had gone missing. Ambry had concurred with the police department’s conclusion that the overdose was accidental, even though the CEO had had no history of using drugs.

  Ambry had also been chief medical examiner in Baltimore, Maryland. There he’d performed an autopsy on an investigative reporter who had allegedly shot himself. The reporter had been digging into the circumstances surrounding a fire at the construction site of a large hotel and conference center. The project had been abandoned during the Great Recession. The fire, which had burned the complex to the ground, was attributed to the accidental combustion of chemicals and had killed a homeless couple and their two children, who had been squatting at the site. In both the Florida and Baltimore cases, Ambry had completed the autopsies and rendered an opinion in lightning speed, within hours of the bodies being found.

  Nan had relayed what she’d learned to Jim Kissick when he’d made his daily phone call to her at seven A.M. He was as flummoxed and dismayed as she was about what had transpired. He told her he’d put out feelers at the PPD to see if he could get any intel about why the case had been shut down so quickly. He knew from personal experience that Lieutenant George Beltran and Sergeant Ryan Keller were buddies and often went to sporting events together.

  Nan had said to Jim, “That’s some friendship if Beltran’s loyalty extends to covering up Keller murdering his wife. Beltran wouldn’t put himself out on a limb like that for anybody. There has to be something in it for him. Maybe a favor exchange. Maybe Keller has something on Beltran or maybe it goes higher up in the PPD and somebody enlisted Beltran as their lackey to do the dirty work and close the case quickly. I’d love to know why Wales and Tovar were hanging around and seemed to be having a weird standoff.”

  Jim had said, “It’s tempting to hatch a conspiracy theory, but the evidence does point to murder-suicide. I understand Mrs. Hayword insisted that her son was killed as part of a devious plot, but no mom wants to admit that her son is a murderer.”

  Nan missed him terribly and wished he were here.

  “Nanette, let me help you.” Vivian rushed to assist Granny in lowering herself onto her La-Z-Boy swivel rocker.

  Granny brushed her away. “Stop treating me like I’m some invalid. I don’t know why you’re here all the time anyway.”

  “Because I love to be here with you.” Viv stood in front of Granny and made sure she got safely onto the chair. “You make my day, even when you’re grumpy.”

  “You’d make anyone grumpy.” Granny picked up a remote control from an aluminum TV tray beside the chair and clicked on the TV. Her huge old
tube TV had finally gone out and Nan had gotten her mom to buy Granny a big flat-screen. The volume was blasting.

  Viv winced. “Put on your headphones, Nanette.” She grabbed headphones from the TV tray and put them over Granny’s head and ears.

  She picked up the remote control and started turning down the volume when Nan raised her hand and said, “Wait a second, Viv. Let’s listen to this.” She walked closer to the TV. Emily moved to stand beside her.

  A press conference was starting at the Pasadena Police Department. Commander Andrew Tovar was standing behind a podium in the assembly room. To his right were Lieutenant George Beltran and Sergeant Kendra Early. To his left were Alex Caspers and Lydia Narayan, who seemed to be trying to hide behind Alex. Early had texted Nan that it wasn’t necessary for her to attend and again interrupt her time off. That was fine with Nan. She hated press conferences.

  After thanking everyone for coming and introducing himself and his team, the commander turned the podium over to Beltran.

  Granny pointed at the television and Beltran. “That’s the one who’s always grabbing the spotlight.”

  Nan said, “Yes, Granny. That’s him.”

  “He’s a dapper devil, isn’t he?” Granny said.

  “Good-looking,” Viv said. “He married?” She let out a throaty laugh.

  “Divorced,” Nan said. “You wouldn’t want him. Believe me.”

  “Shhh, please. I want to hear.” Emily crossed her arms over her chest as if protecting herself from the news.

  Beltran said, “We have completed our investigation into the deaths of Erica Keller and Jared Hayword, whose bodies were found yesterday evening in a remote area of Lower Arroyo Seco Park in Pasadena. After examining all the evidence, interviewing witnesses, and evaluating the medical examiner’s autopsy report, we have concluded that sometime in the early evening of April thirtieth, Mr. Hayword and Mrs. Keller drove separately to the park. Mrs. Keller was forcibly taken a quarter mile to a secluded ravine where Mr. Hayword stabbed her to death. He then committed suicide by slashing his wrists and bleeding to death. The thoughts and prayers of everyone in the Pasadena Police Department family go out to the families and loved ones of the two victims of this horrendous and sad incident. I’ll take a few questions.”