A Justified Murder (Medlar Mystery #2)(48)

Sara groaned. “I’m sure it was law enforcement. My brother was always running from the police. But then, he stole whatever wasn’t bolted down. And even then he still took it. When he was a kid I had to empty his pockets, then figure out how to secretly return the items he’d stolen.”

“A klepto?”

“No. Just a thief.”

“What did your mother say?”

“Her son could do no wrong.” She looked at Jack. “You aren’t going to tell Kate any of this, are you?”

“She knows something is wrong and she’s going to ask.”

“It’s your answer that concerns me.”

Jack thought for a moment. “I’m going to tell her the truth with as little detail as possible. Are you hungry?”

“Not at all.”

“Mind if I take Kate out?”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

Jack and Kate were in a booth in a restaurant on Broward. He waited until she was on her second glass of wine before he spoke of anything serious. “I called your mother.”

Kate choked on the wine and began coughing.

Jack handed her a glass of water.

“Tell me this is one of your jokes.”

“No. It isn’t.”

Kate checked her phone. There weren’t twenty-plus calls from her mother spaced thirty seconds apart. In fact, there were no calls from her. She looked back at Jack. “She either liked you or she’s on a plane to here.”

“Should I book a hotel?”

“Not funny. Tell me every word that went on and do not give me any more to drink.”

Jack took a breath. “It’s this damned White Lily Kidnapping. Sara got the idea that Tayla might have something to do with it.”

“How was she involved?”

“Don’t know. But she did mention it on the phone call we overheard, and today she told Sara...”

“Told her what?”

“That your father had a short-term affair with Charlene when she was in high school.”

“My father?” She sounded incredulous. “He was a little old for her, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. Too old, too young. A perfect match.”

“So what makes Aunt Sara think Tayla, my father’s...affair, and a kidnapping are connected?”

“The dates are right,” he said softly. “Tayla said Charlene was heartbroken when...uh, your father broke off with her. Maybe she...did something.” In spite of what Kate had said, he refilled her wineglass. “Drink up. I’m driving.” Kate just kept looking at him. Waiting. He gave in and continued the conversation. “Why would Tayla blurt out about your father now, after all these years, if it weren’t because of the murder? It seems to have everyone on edge, ready to confess anything.”

“This is all conjecture.”

He saw the way her jaw was clenched and her hands were clutching her fork as though it were a weapon. It was obvious that she didn’t want to consider any such possibility about her father. If he could, he’d erase the pictures he’d just planted in her mind. “How about if tomorrow after the memorial service we go visit Charlene? You can—”

“No.” Kate’s voice was firm. “I’m afraid of what I might say. ‘Hey, so did you sleep with my father when he had a wife with a child on the way?’ Not exactly friendly girl talk.”

Jack moved a bite of his steak around on his plate. “It could have been the other way around.”

“Great! If she didn’t instigate it, my father did. He went after a teenager while my mother was home with her endless morning sickness. You should hear her tell of what she went through to bring me into the world.”

Jack was definitely wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Should he change the subject or try to fix this? But then, he always had been a fixer. He told her what he’d asked her mother about her father’s whereabouts at that time, and was glad when he saw Kate’s pretty face relax somewhat. “I know your father died when you were what? Three? What do you remember about him?”

He was glad to see her give a slight smile.

“I was four and I remember whiskers and numbers.” She smiled deeper. “Sometimes his face was baby soft and sometimes it had prickly whiskers. I thought it was a magic trick.”

“Razors aren’t magic. They’re lethal.”

“Which is why you so seldom use one?”

“Don’t have a pretty girl watching me shave.” He was referring to the one time she did watch him. “So what about you and your dad and numbers?”

“Years ago, I asked Mom about what I remembered. She said I was a precocious child and my father was teaching me arithmetic.”

“I can believe you were smart enough to learn your multiplication tables at four.”

“And words.” She began to quote. “‘Fuzzy Chain—quick to the break. Quinella wheel 5 with 1-7. $4.’” She’d started strongly but trailed off. “I haven’t thought of that since I was a kid. Confusing, right? Seems like gibberish, not the preschool arithmetic Mom said it was.”

Jack looked down at his plate. Unfortunately, he had inherited his mother’s ability to blush deeply. Combine that with his father’s darkness and he knew his face was looking like a sunburned walnut. He hoped Kate wouldn’t see it.