Part 12 (2/2)
”No, I'm at Courtney's. Can I sleep over?”
”Again?” Jill sat down in a ladderback chair, and Beef came over, wagging his tail and sniffing the box, which had a paper plate of pancakes on top, covered with tin foil.
”I know, but we're working on our English project, and we're not finished yet.”
”What is this project, anyway?” Jill could hear the sound of the TV, playing in the family room.
”We're studying Romeo and Juliet, and we have to memorize a scene and do it for the cla.s.s, so we have to practice together. I'm Juliet.”
”How much longer will you take to finish?”
”A while, Mom,” Megan answered, with theatrical impatience, and Jill let it go, trying to take it easy on her.
”You can come home after you finish it. I'll pick you up, whenever.”
”Why can't I just stay here? Her parents are home.”
”But I was hoping to see you tonight. I know it's been a tough weekend for you, and I'm worried about you.”
”I'm fine, Mom.” Megan sighed, and in the background, Courtney was saying something.
”I have fresh potato pancakes,” Jill offered, though the days of food bribes had gone. Pizza bagels used to be her trump card. ”Wait, don't you have a meet tomorrow?”
”Yes, but I'll sleep, I promise.”
”Okay, you can stay, but don't make it a habit.”
”Thanks. Courtney's mom will take me to the meet, if you can bring my bag. It starts at noon, at the high school. Also, did you order that book for my report?”
Jill had forgotten. ”No, but I will. When do you need it by?”
”Next Monday. Courtney orders online all the time, by herself, from her iPhone. Why can't I do that?”
”Because you don't have an iPhone.”
”That's not funny, Mom.”
Jill laughed to herself. ”I'll take care of it, honey.”
”Thanks, I gotta go. Love you, too. Bye.”
”See you tomorrow. Sleep tight. Love you.” Jill hung up, set the phone down, and petted Beef on the head, his brushy tail awag. Sam hadn't greeted her, which wasn't like him, and she owed him an apology. She got up and went into the family room, but he'd fallen asleep on the couch, his book open on his chest and his gla.s.ses pushed onto his head, so his hair puffed through the nosepiece. The TV played on low volume, and Jill thought of the scene that Abby had described, when she found William lying in bed with the TV playing.
Dad never filled those scripts. They were planted there by the killer.
Jill shuddered, going to the kitchen, where she slipped Beef a piece of pancake and put the rest in the fridge. She went out to the entrance hall, got the box with the laptop and files, brought everything back into the kitchen, set it on the island, then sat down and dug in.
The manila folder on top was labeled MEDICAL INFO, and she opened it and skimmed through. It contained William's lab reports for his bloodwork, and the results were normal. The only drugs William reported as taking regularly were Crestor, 10 mg, and Co Q 10, commonly taken with statins. There was no mention of any other prescription drugs, so either he wasn't taking them or he was lying.
Jill went through the rest of the files, determined they were nothing but old bills, so she closed the box and opened the laptop, plugging it into the island outlet and getting busy. An hour later, she'd gone through William's laptop, but had found nothing unusual. His email was between his golf buddies, Abby, Victoria, Neil Straub, and various women, a sharing of blog posts, articles, YouTube links, and plans for golf dates or dinners. The email was more significant for what it didn't contain rather than what it did. There was nothing about his business investments, which had to be what was paying for his house, lifestyle, and the girls.
She navigated back to Quicken and skimmed the entries, which were equally mundane, and he still wasn't paying his bills online, so she couldn't connect to his bank files. It only took her twenty minutes to make a spreadsheet for Abby, because the household expenses were so routine, and there were no other financial files. She went back to the Programs files, but the laptop had only the programs the computer came with, and not much else.
She eyed the laptop, in thought. It was almost generic, as if it had been sanitized or kept purposely clean. She went online, clicked on the online history, and it was empty, erased. She went to the deleted email file, and it had been completely emptied, too. So either William had cleaned out this laptop or someone had done it for him.
Jill tried another tack. If she worked under Abby's theory and a.s.sumed that somebody killed him, it had to be someone close to him, since there had been no sign of a struggle or break-in at the house. So all she had to do was figure out who was close to him. She went into My Computer, scanned the list of programs, and found My Pictures. She clicked to open the file, and there were three file icons, the oldest dating only from a year ago: London trip with girls, Victoria's graduation weekend, Neil at Pebble Beach. She skipped to the folder with Neil, to see if he was a viable candidate for the man in the black ballcap, despite what Abby had said.
Jill opened the pictures folder, and there were photos of William on a golf course with Neil, who was wearing a white Callaway ballcap and aviator sungla.s.ses similar to those worn by the man in the black ballcap. The outfit obscured some of Neil's features, but he had a winning smile and a strong, jutting chin and he was tall and well-built, about William's height and weight. Jill clicked, and more of the file photos flashed by, but they were all taken outdoors and Neil wore sungla.s.ses in every one, and so did William, in a few shots. She clicked a photo of them together and hit PRINT.
She went online and Googled Neil Straub, but there were no listings. She checked him on Facebook, and he was on, but he'd blocked his profile except to his friends and had no picture. She logged ontofor his address and plugged in New York, but no address came up, so it must have been unlisted. Neil Straub kept a low profile, and Jill wondered why.
Just then her phone rang, and the screen flashed a number she didn't recognize. It was almost eleven o'clock at night, and it could have been a patient. She answered the phone. ”Jill Farrow.”
”It's Victoria. Let me speak to Abby.”
”Victoria,” Jill repeated, startled at the sound of Victoria's voice. She had heard it so many times before that she could've picked it out in a choir, and had, at so many school concerts, when Victoria was growing up. Victoria sang in a clear, strong alto, ringing with certainty, always pitch-perfect, more than a match for the showy top notes of the sopranos in the Stafford High Select Chorale, and her voice stood out so much for its clarity that the choir director had given Victoria a solo, even as a freshman, which had terrified the reserved young girl. That night, Victoria had called Jill from backstage, in a panic before she went on.
Jill, I can't do it, I'm going to forget the words. I can't solo!
Victoria, relax, you can do it, I know you can. Jill answered the call, sitting in the audience with Abby and Megan, at another concert that William had missed, supposedly working late.
Where are you guys sitting? Are you in your regular seats?
Yes, stage left, front row. We'll be right in front of you. Just forget everything and sing, honey. Sing it out. Let everybody hear your voice. We know you're wonderful, and it's time to show everybody else.
And after the concert, Victoria had come running, her eyes alive with pride and happiness, her arms reaching for Jill.
I sang it to you, Jill. I sang it to you.
”Jill, put Abby on,” Victoria was saying, her voice now so cold that the disconnect left Jill shaken.
”First, Victoria, let me tell you how sorry I am about-”
”Put Abby on, please. I need to speak with her.”
Jill swallowed hard, recovering. ”Listen, she's not here, and I'm so sorry about your father's death, and about what happened at the memorial service. I know this is an impossibly difficult time for you, and I wouldn't have come if I had known-”
”Save it, okay, Jill? I need to speak to Abby. I know she's there. I also know you were at the house with her tonight, and I told her not to go home with you, but once again, she didn't listen. Put her on, please.”
”She's not here, Victoria. She didn't come home with me, after your call.” Jill moderated her tone, trying to open the door between them. She couldn't accept that Victoria was a stranger, when she used to be her daughter.
”You're incredible, you know that? Let me talk to my sister, now. Stop lying for her.”
”I'm not lying. I never lied to you, honey.” The term of endearment just slipped out of Jill's mouth, and she knew it was the wrong thing to say before Victoria raised her voice.
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