Death of a Russian Doll Read online

  “Val?” I called out. Not that I expected her to come. I found her sitting impudently on top of the refrigerator, licking her paws.

  “I should take you to the vet just for spite.”

  She paused for a moment as if considering my words, then went right on licking while I tossed the rest of the bacon into the trash and dug out my phone to look up whether bacon was safe for cats.

  That’s when I saw the texts. Three from Ian. I’d half expected them to say, “Never mind. Just fooling with you.” But instead, he seemed more determined than ever to have this date. I left his texts for later, once the caffeine hit.

  I clicked on the text from Mark.

  Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer is playing at the Aurora Monday night. I know you’re a Cary Grant fan. Care to go?

  I slid my phone away and buried my heavy head on the table.

  Ian and Mark. Great. Not only was the universe stingy when it threw men in my direction, but when it finally did, they came two at a time. Kind of like that phenomenon where you can only find a job when you already have one.

  I drummed my fingers on the table. What did I want?

  The answer came like a shot: more coffee.

  * * *

  I was still drying my hair after a leisurely morning and a late shower when Dad returned. He poked his head in the bathroom door.

  I must have jumped half a foot. I bobbled the hair dryer and managed to catch it before it hit the floor. I turned it off. “Don’t you have a murder investigation?”

  “Yeah, but it’s Parker’s birthday.”

  A wad of unresolved hurt feelings welled to the surface and lodged in my throat. “You’ve missed plenty of birthdays.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and paused before answering. “Very true. And no, this is not favoritism. You know I’ve missed plenty of Parker’s important moments, too.”

  “Then what gives?”

  “Maybe Mars and Jupiter have aligned. Or maybe my priorities have. The older and hopefully the wiser I get, the more I value family over work.”

  “But this investigation …”

  “Is important,” he said. “But it’s not going anywhere, and I have a capable department working on it. So when do you want to head over to Parker and Cathy’s?”

  I unplugged the hair dryer and wrapped the cord around the handle. “We have some time yet. Cathy said sometime in the afternoon.”

  “Good. I brought home lunch. I thought you and I could have a talk.”

  “I’ll be right out.” I shooed him away, stalling. “And if lunch is in the kitchen, you’d better keep an eye on it. Val’s up to her old tricks.”

  Dad turned toward the kitchen, and then started yelling. “Val, get down!” As if she would listen.

  I closed the door and took a deep breath. Not sure what Dad wanted to talk about, but since East Aurora is a small town, he’d probably already heard about last night’s adventures. While I stalled, I scrunched up my curls with some goopy gel. I simplified my makeup routine, going instead for light powder, mainly on the nose, and a tiny bit of blush that played well with the magenta tunic I’d put on. Comfy jeans. Funky Christmas socks. Sneakers.

  This was me.

  I was no dewy-eyed eighteen-year-old in a mad rush to get to the altar, nor was I an old maid, destined to live a solitary, lonely existence. I had much to fill my life, to fulfill my life. And if any man was going to enter this equation and upset the fragile balance, he’d better be worth it.

  Yes, it took a while, but I was comfortable in my own skin. I smiled in the mirror. And the mirror smiled back.

  Maybe just a touch more blush.

  * * *

  For lunch, Dad had gone all out. Beef on weck from Wallace’s. He’d even put the sandwiches on real plates, instead of just unfolding the paper wrappers. He poured two glasses of Pepsi over ice. For Dad, this was fine dining.

  “Do I need reservations?”

  He smirked at me then pulled out my chair. “I’m afraid all the reservations are mine today.”

  I took a fortifying breath and sat. This free lunch would cost me. “How’s the investigation going?”

  He cocked his head but didn’t answer, code for either “I’m not allowed to talk about it,” or “I’m not going to talk about it.” So lunch started with a deafening silence. He waited until I was two bites in before he broached another subject. “A little bird said you met Ian Browning last night.”

  “Did Cathy have much else to say about it?”

  “Cathy didn’t tell me,” he said, shaking his head. “First thing this morning, I hadn’t had a chance to meet with the men yet, and the mayor shows up at my desk. Does he want to know how the case is going? How his police chief is holding up? No. He wants to know if it’s serious between my daughter and Ian Browning. And there I am with egg on my face, perhaps literally because he caught me in the middle of eating my breakfast sandwich, and I had to tell him I knew nothing about you and Ian.”

  “The mayor?” I leaned my elbows on the table. “What business is it of his who I date?”

  “So you are dating him?”

  “He may have asked me out.” I tried to take a casual bite, but Jack’s sandwiches were so generous that I found this nearly impossible.

  Dad wiped his fingers and took a long drink before responding. “I think we need to have a talk.”

  “About boys?” I quipped. “We had that talk years ago. It was confusing then.”

  “About the Brownings.”

  “I know we don’t exactly move in the same social circles,” I said.

  “That’s not what bothers me.” He bit his lower lip before continuing. “Without getting into too many details, the mayor is concerned about a Browning dating the daughter of the current chief of police. That’s all. But I admit, I have my own concerns.”

  “I know Ian has a bit of a reputation as a playboy.”

  “I wish it were only his reputation I was concerned about.”

  My head jerked up. “Meaning?”

  Dad rubbed his hands together, as if he were kneading out his next words. “The Browning family is one of the oldest and wealthiest in our community. And the most generous to local charities.”

  “So the mayor is afraid of ruffling feathers.”

  Dad closed his eyes. “Without going into too many details, the Browning family has also been the target of recent allegations, and may or may not be currently under investigation.”

  “Under investigation for …”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.” He drummed the table. “But one could imagine with a family that rich and powerful, allegations might be made if certain bids get accepted over others, or if zoning restrictions are lifted, or if red tape seems to disappear when they approach the right people.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “So fraud, racketeering, and bribery?”

  “Wow, you have a good imagination.” His face had remained grim, but a slight twinkle of pride in his eyes betrayed him.

  “And this investigation includes the whole family?”

  “I never said there was an investigation,” he hedged.

  “Could one imagine this investigation includes the whole family?”

  Dad shrugged. “Mainly Ian’s father. I imagine. Remember, no charges have been filed, and nothing has been proven. Nor did I confirm that there was an investigation.”

  “Is that who Mark Baker was watching at the party?”

  “Mark was there?”

  I nodded once.

  “Possibly. I’m not privy to any FBI involvement.”

  I traced the rim of my glass with my finger. I found it disturbingly coincidental that Mark’s sudden interest in me came so quickly on the heels of my meeting with Ian Browning. Was Mark interested in me? Or just what info I could get about Ian’s family?

  I pushed away the half-eaten sandwich, my appetite gone. “Seems a whole lot of people in this town are more interested in me dating Ian than I am. Should I just cancel?”
r />   “That’s up to you. I just didn’t want you to be swept off your feet before you knew the score.”

  “Or before I could imagine the score.”

  “And if you do see him, I’d appreciate it if he didn’t know of this conversation.”

  “What conversation?”

  He patted my hand. “Good girl.”

  “And now that you know I can be discreet, perhaps you could give me a little hint as to how the murder investigation is going?”

  His shoulders stiffened. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be appropriate, other than to say it’s a huge can of worms.” He let his hand rest on mine. “Life sure has gotten a whole lot more complicated since I used to bounce you on my knee.” His eyes glistened ever so slightly. “Even though you’ll always be my little girl, I want you to know I’m proud of the woman you’ve become.”

  “But you’re still not going to tell me anything.”

  He tapped my chin. “Not on your life.”

  * * *

  After lunch, Dad returned to the station for a “few hours,” but had promised to meet me at Parker’s later. Before picking up his birthday cake at a local bakery, I wanted to check in at the shop. Not that I didn’t trust Amanda and Miles, but as official manager, I thought I should at least poke my head in and make sure the place wasn’t burning down or anything.

  “No, no, no!” Amanda tried to shoo me out of the shop. “A day off is a day off!”

  I put my hands up. “I’m not working. How’s everything going?”

  Miles looked up from his laptop at the counter. “We’ve had a few people in. In fact, we finally sold that old Bonanza action figure.”

  “Hoss is gone?” I felt a tinge of sadness. TV westerns were a favorite of my father’s and something I’d grown up with, and Hoss had been my favorite Cartwright brother. Well, at least after Little Joe, he was cute. And Adam was smart. But Hoss? Hoss was kind, and that put him right up there in my book.

  The next thing I knew, Amanda waved a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Liz.”

  “Sorry.” I startled out of my daydream. “A little short on sleep lately.”

  “I heard you had another late night last night,” she said airily.

  I laid a hand on her arm. “What did you hear?”

  “Just that you hit it off with the town’s most eligible bachelor.”

  “Where did you hear this?”

  “Jack.”

  “Where did Jack hear?”

  “From said bachelor. Apparently Ian came to the job site this morning and they had a nice little chat. Really, Liz, I know you and Jack are history—and for that I’m personally grateful—but you could have given the man a heads up that you were seeing one of his oldest friends.”

  “I’m not seeing him. Well, I guess we have one date coming up, and not really a date date. Well, it might be a date date, but it’s certainly not fodder for the town’s gossip network.”

  Amanda blushed.

  “How many people?”

  “A few may have stopped in to ask about it. Or casually mention it, to see if we might supply a few details. Which, of course, we couldn’t, because we had to tell them that we didn’t know anything about it.”

  “I still say we should have made up something juicy,” Miles said. “I wanted to tell them that you had eloped to Peru and were having his love child. Or better yet, twins.”

  “Why Peru?” I asked. “Twins, what?”

  “The more details you add, the more people tend to believe you. Up to a point, that is,” he said.

  “I appreciate that you didn’t add to the nonstory. If anyone else hints around, just tell them there’s nothing to it.”

  Amanda saluted. “Any other orders?”

  “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” I looked over at Miles, still behind his computer. “Unless you’re playing Words with Friends or something on the company dime,” I teased.

  He turned around his computer to show me an online auction page of doll heads. “Just trying to source some parts for Cathy’s new pet project.”

  I averted my gaze. “Better you than me. Carry on, then. Dad and I will be at Parker and Cathy’s. If you need us, call.” And then I considered Miles’s prowess at online research.

  “Miles?” I asked. “Do you think you could look up something for me?”

  “My Google-fu is at your disposal. Want me to search for hidden skeletons in your new boyfriend’s closet?”

  “Not exactly.” I leaned in closer. “Marya Young. I want to know what you can find out about her life before she moved here. There’s a rumor that she was an illegal alien. And I’m curious if there’s any truth to that and when she came to this country. Has she been in any trouble? Anything you can dig up.”

  “Liz.” Miles looked uncomfortable with my request. “You know I like helping, but is this a secret from your father? Because I think that man can read minds.”

  “I wouldn’t mention it unless he asks,” I said, “but if he does, you can say I twisted your arm.”

  He held out his arm, and I gave it a slight pivot.

  “Gotcha.”

  * * *

  It was Parker’s first birthday as a father, and he held Drew in his lap while we sang to him, but Dad took the boy before Parker leaned in to blow out the candles. Cathy snapped pictures of the whole thing on her cell phone and paused to wipe an errant tear from her eyes. It was hard to imagine that just a year ago she’d been nervous to tell him they were expecting, and now Parker and Drew were best buds.

  Dad had arrived half an hour after he’d promised and seemed distracted. We played a newer game that Parker had unwrapped for his birthday, Lost Cities. The premise was that we each had a team of explorers looking for artifacts and the game had a nice blend of chance and strategy. Once we worked through a practice round, we were all hooked. Or “digging it” as Dad deadpanned.

  But around seven, his phone started going off, and his eyebrows furrowed at the most recent text.

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Parker said. “I know that face. You’re needed.”

  “You sure?” he asked, already out of his chair.

  Parker laid a hand on Dad’s arm, then hugged him. “I’m so glad you came.”

  Dad paused only long enough to rub Drew’s head before waving goodbye to Cathy and me and heading out.

  I crossed my arms. “There’s a familiar sight.”

  “Now, Liz,” Parker admonished as we heard Dad’s engine start. “He stayed longer than I thought he would, considering.”

  “Has he mentioned the case to you at all?” Cathy asked.

  “No, he’s left me completely out of the loop.”

  Cathy slid back into her chair at the table. “You can see why, can’t you? After all, he’s leading the investigation, and you and Ken were once … intimate.”

  I laughed. “Ken and I were never intimate. At least in the sense I think you mean. Look, I understand why Dad’s not talking to me. He really shouldn’t be.”

  She leaned her chin on her fist. “But that bothers you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She raised her eyes. “Why?”

  “Okay, Sigmund. What are you after? Yes, I’m upset that Dad is back working. I almost lost him once. When he retired, I thought everything would be different.”

  “Liz.” Parker slid back into his chair. “This is how it’s always been.”

  “But this isn’t how he promised it would be.”

  “He’s worked other cases since he retired,” Cathy said.

  “Unofficially,” I added. “Temporarily.”

  “This is supposed to be temporary,” Cathy said. “Just until they figure out if—”

  “If Ken killed his wife?” I asked. I could feel the emotion welling up again.

  “Are you concerned about Dad or Ken?” Parker asked.

  I stared down at my fingers and picked at a cuticle. “I’ve worked hard to get over Ken. And I think I succeeded, mostly. Only now I can’t help feelin
g sorry for him.” I raised my face, even as I felt hot tears in the corners of my eyes. “You didn’t see him go into that empty house.”

  “It’s sympathy?” Cathy asked.

  I inhaled deeply. “I hope so. All my emotions are just so jumbled. I keep thinking that if I could help, I’d feel better.”

  “Help Dad or help Ken?” Cathy asked, her voice trembling as she bounced Drew on her lap.

  “If Ken’s innocent, that’s the same thing, right?”

  Cathy didn’t answer but sent a questioning look in Parker’s direction.

  It had to be the same thing.

  * * *

  Dad hadn’t returned home by ten, but I was determined to try once more to pry info out of him. So I stole a page from his playbook, from back when I was a teenager. A chair against the door—with some tin cans and metal pie plates balance precariously on the edge—alerted me to his homecoming just before three in the morning.

  I staggered down the hall in my pajamas.

  Dad was picking up the cans when I hit the kitchen. “What was that for?”

  I crossed my arms. “What time was curfew, mister?”

  “Liz,” he collapsed into the chair and untied his shoes. His shoulders were hunched, his hair mussed, and his face pasty with dark circles growing under his eyes. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. I’m so tired, and I only have a few hours before I have to be back.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “Look, I know you’re curious.”

  “Dad, not just curious. I want to help. I can’t sit home doing nothing when you’re out killing yourself.”

  “Not killing myself.”

  “Look in a mirror on the way to bed and try saying that. Look, I know this is what it takes to solve a case, and I know this is how you’re used to working, but you’re not as young as you once were.”

  Dad made a shocked sound, as if this was news to him.

  I slapped his arm. “Don’t make light of this.”