Daddy's Little Killer

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

If good news travels fast, scandals dwarf the speed of light. By the time I got home from Rick's funeral, Seleeby had arrived with a warrant to search my brownstone. To say that it made me amenable to a ridiculous offer that rolled into my voicemail before the silk cushions on my sofa were mutilated was an understatement.

Of course Wendell taught me well. There was nothing to find in the brownstone.

I started wading through messages while agents debated whether they should crack through the plaster and lath walls looking for evidence.

The first call was Rick's attorney. Yahoo. I'm an heiress and the recipient of his life insurance policy-double indemnity since he was murdered. When we were married, he carried a two million dollar policy. Nice nest egg. Great for proving my motive. I didn't need it.

Sixteen calls from area newspapers asked for interviews, statements, reactions to the FBI turning on one of their own. I changed the outgoing message to include that my response to media inquiries could be summed up in two words. No comment.

David.

Four more reporters.

David again. "Please consider what your resignation looks like, Helen."

Police Commissioner George Hardy from Darkwater Bay.

My brain did a double take. Darkwater Bay? This cannot be a coincidence. Why would they want to talk to me?

The crystal swan figurine Dad gave me for my twelfth birthday crashed to the floor, and shattered. He tried to remind me that I was his swan, no matter how much I was teased for being too tall, too thin, too plain. 

The snap decision was made for me. Darkwater Bay was blissfully far away from Washington D.C. I hadn't been there in nearly a decade and a half, the summer after Dad's conviction to be exact. What was that young man's name? The undergraduate who befriended me while I was working as a teaching assistant during my postgraduate studies... Roger? Rodney something... at the time, I thought he had a bit of a crush and was flattered by it more than anything else. After two weeks in Darkwater Bay, I was ready to return to the balmy spray of the North Atlantic and leave the icy shards of the North Pacific forever.

And I hadn't seen much of the young man during my stay in Darkwater Bay. He was busy currying favor with the locals on his quest to join the police academy after his graduation that spring. Rodney Martin.

I grabbed my cell phone poised to dial directory information. The shadow of one of the agents ransacking my home gave me pause. Did I want them knowing who I spoke to after I became a person of interest in whatever case they were pursuing now? Dad's words echoed in my head. Admit nothing. Deny everything. Demand proof. 

Defiance burned through my veins. I grabbed my purse, stalked over to Seleeby and thrust it under his patrician nose. "Search it. I don't want to be accused of hiding anything."

His eyebrows stitched together and slid down in a narrow V. "Did anyone say we thought you were hiding something, Mrs. Hamilton?"

I didn't bother correcting him. He wanted to provoke an angry reaction from me. "I want it entered into the record that I offered my bag and you refused to search it."

Seleeby and I had never been what I would term friendly toward one another, even before Rick's arrest. With an irritated huff, he grabbed the leather straps and dug through the contents of my purse quickly. "There. I searched your purse. Happy now, Helen?"

"Delighted. Good bye, Mark. Please be sure that your team locks up before they leave."

"Where are you going?"