Chapter 16
Angel hung up the phone, her fingers pressed tightly to her lips in an effort to quell the trembling, thinking that would possibly keep the tears at bay. She fought unsuccessfully. The tears slipped down her cheeks until a sob wrenched from her body as she struggled to catch her breath.
How can this be? How can life be so cruel? She bent over at the waist, her face almost to her knees as her body shook with shock…anger…renewed grief.
The past four days had been wonderful. Monty was still working his cases and no new information had come in, but their evenings were filled with sweet words and steamy nights between the sheets.
Monty…I need to tell him. But there’s nothing that can be done about this death. This one has nothing to solve. Nothing to question. Another sob broke from her, rising up from somewhere deep inside. Somewhere that was so tired…so fucking tired of hurting.
Sitting up, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and tried to think of what needed to be done. Her friend, Caroline, had told her she was calling Cynthia and Sally. Sniffing loudly, she moved woodenly through her apartment in search of a tissue. Finally giving up, she headed to the bathroom to grab a long strand of toilet paper.
She glanced at the clock next to the bed and knew Monty would be coming soon. Releasing a shuddering breath, she moved back to the kitchen knowing she should prepare dinner. She found herself standing in the middle of the room, eyes tightly shut trying to stop the flow of tears. She was just as unsuccessful this time as she was earlier.
Grabbing her phone from the table, she called Monty. No longer caring if he were busy, she prayed he picked up.
“Hey, Cupcake,” he answered. “I’m finishing at Jack’s and getting ready to head there.”
“Mon…ty?” her voice hiccupped.
“Angel, what’s wrong?” he bit out, instantly on high alert. His eyes cut over to the other Saints in the conference room. “Where are you?”
“At…at home.”
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“I just got some b…bad news,” she answered haltingly.
His first thought was her brother, still serving with the Special Forces. Oh, Jesus, no! “Just tell me, baby. What happened?”
“Bet…ty. Betty,” she cried.
“Angel, I don’t know who Betty is,” he said calmly. “What about her?”
“She’s another sorority sis…sister,” she cried. “She’s dead.”
Monty’s eyes grew wide, both from relief that the news was not about her brother and on alert knowing another sister had died. “Baby, I’m going to put you on speaker right now. Don’t be embarrassed. Honest, the guys don’t care that you’re crying, but they need to hear this.” The other men stood around the table, each pair of eyes riveted to Monty. Whether business or personal—what affected one, affected all.
Sniffling, she replied, “Okay, but this has nothing to do with what you’re looking into.”
With the Saints now listening, he said, “Tell me who she is and what happened, Angel.”
She took a deep breath to slow her breathing, before answering. “It’s my sorority sister, Betty Mavery. I just got a call that she died sometime last night.” Another sob slipped out as she added, “How can this keep happening? It’s so unfair. It’s like we’re cursed.”
That thought brought Monty to his knees as he plopped heavily into a chair. Chad moved behind him, placing his hand on Monty’s shoulder.
Taking over, Jack spoke. “Ms. Cartwright, this is Jack Bryant. I’m the owner of Saints Protection & Investigations. I know how upset you are and I promise, as soon as we’re finished here, Monty will come straight to you. But can you tell us what you know?” He glanced over at Luke and Jude, who were already busy at their computers searching for information.
“Please call me Angel. Betty had a heart condition since birth,” Angel explained. “That’s why her death can’t have anything to do with the others.”
“I understand, Angel, but we can’t take anything at face value right now. You’re right, these could be unfortunate coincidences, but we need to make sure.”
Sniffling again, she nodded. Feeling foolish for nodding when she was on the phone and the Saints could not see her, she said, “I understand. Caroline, the sister that called me, said Betty’s parents told her she had a heart attack last night. Her parents found her.”
Hearing another hiccup from her, Jack nodded toward Monty, who switched his phone off speaker. “Babe, I’m leaving now and should be to your place in about twenty minutes or so.”
Disconnecting, he looked around the group. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or fuckin’ pissed.” Seeing the confused expressions, he explained, “She’s got an active duty brother who’s Special Forces.” That received understanding nods from the others. “But now, we’ve got one more death to investigate to see if it fits in or not. And if it does, how. And are we looking at a vendetta against the sorority?”
Several fucks sounded amongst the Saints. Jack interjected, “Monty, go home to your woman. Luke and Jude, see what you can dig up. We’ll meet back here tomorrow and add another death to our investigation. And bring Mitch up to date.”
As the men filed out of the room after Monty, Luke spoke up. “Just so you know, I’ve already determined that Betty Mavery had investments with Colonial Financial Group.”
“Yeah, well so does Angel,” Monty growled. Looking back at the men in the room behind him, he said, “As of now, I’m putting her under our protection.”
Every one of the Saints nodded in agreement.
*
On the way to Angel’s apartment, Monty called Mitch to fill him in on the news. “Mitch, I want that body to have an autopsy. I don’t care that Angel said Betty had a heart condition. It’s simply too convenient for another sorority sister to have a death so soon.”
“I agree. I’ll talk to the medical examiner and get back with you.”
Disconnecting, Monty drove as fast as he was comfortable to Charlestown. As frustrated with the case as he was, his heart was heavy for the grieving woman waiting for him. Bounding up the steps, once inside her door he saw her sitting on the sofa talking on her phone. Her eyes lifted to his, her watery smile shooting straight to his heart.
“Mom, Monty’s here now so I’m going to go. Tell dad I love him. Yeah, as soon as I know when the funeral will be, I’ll give you a call. Love you,” she said before hanging up.
Standing, she stood rooted to the spot, their eyes saying everything. Hers filled with pain. His filled with comfort. Walking toward her, he opened his arms as she rushed in. Wrapping her in his embrace, he held her as tears started anew. Turning around with her in his embrace, he sat on the sofa, pulling her into his lap, arranging her until she was comfortable.
He rocked her for a long time, his fingers stroking her silky tresses. She finally lifted her head, grabbed her wad of toilet paper, and wiped her nose. Sniffling, she complained, “I swear if I never cry another tear as long as I live it will be fine with me.” Lifting her gaze to his, she said, “I almost never cry in front of people and you’ve seen me cry a lot.”
“I’m not just people,” he replied, brushing the damp tendrils of hair from her cheeks. “And when friends die, it’s a time to cry. Especially when you can’t get very far in the grief process before getting hit again.”
Nodding silently, she heaved a huge sigh. Looking over at the kitchen, she said, “Oh, honey, I didn’t get anything fixed for dinner.”
“I ordered on the way home,” he responded.
She smiled weakly, but knew there was little she felt like eating after crying so much. The outer doorbell rang and he gently set her on the sofa and moved to get their food. As he headed down the stairs, she quickly snatched up the various wads of tissues and threw them away. Heading to the bathroom, she washed her face, placing a cold cloth over her eyes. Feeling slightly more refreshed, she walked back to the main room.
He stood at the kitchen counter, dishing out soup into two bowls and placing soda crackers by the side. Looking up, seeing her curious expression, he shrugged, “I figured you wouldn’t feel like eating much, so I ordered soup from the deli down the street. It’s their special chicken noodle.” Holding the steaming bowl out to her, she smiled as she reached for it.
“It’ll cure what ails you,” she said softly. “That’s what my grandmother always used to say. A bowl of soup will cure whatever ails you.”
Setting their bowls on the table, Monty pulled her in for another embrace. “I hope it does,” he whispered into her hair.
*
Two days later, Monty received the dreaded phone call from Mitch. “You’re not going to like this, but I got the word from the medical examiner.”
Monty held his breath, waiting for Mitch to deliver the crux of his news.
“Betty Mavery did have a heart condition and she did have a heart attack. But the medical examiner found high doses of pseudoephedrine in her system.”
“Plain English, Mitch,” Monty ordered.
“It’s basically like Sudafed. The decongestant you’d take for colds.”
“So that’s not really much of a find, right? She got sick, took over the counter medicines and it reacted to her heart?”
“According to her cardiologist, she knew the dangers and would have never, under any circumstances, taken any OTC like that.”
“What does her family say?”
“I’m heading there now. Want to join me?”
“Absolutely,” Monty confirmed. “Give me the address and I’ll meet you there.”
Forty-five minutes later, the two men sat in the small, but comfortable living room of the Mavery’s. Betty’s father, Charles, was a tall, thin man, his face pinched with emotion. Brenda Mavery’s hands shook as she attempted to pour tea.
Monty leaned forward, gently taking the teapot from her, saying, “I’ll serve, Mrs. Mavery.”
She smiled in gratitude before sitting back on the sofa, tucked tightly next to her husband. “We…we’re still in shock, you understand,” she said.
“Yes ma’am, we do understand. We know your daughter had a heart condition and took medication. Do you have it here?”
Brenda nodded. “Betty was between homes and staying with us for a few weeks. She sold her condo and had bought a small house, but the closing was not for another month. It was nice to have her in our home again.” She stood, saying, “I’ll go get her medications.”
Mitch jumped to his feet quickly and stilled her with his hand on her arm. “If you would show me the locations, I’ll bag them for evidence.”
A flash of pain sliced across Brenda’s face but she turned and led him down the hall. Betty’s father leaned forward in his seat toward Monty and asked, “Do you think there’s something in her medication?”
“Sir, we don’t know, but we want to find out everything we can. Tell me, do you or your wife have any over-the-counter cold medicine in your house?”
“No, none at all. I have high blood pressure and my wife makes sure to watch my medications very carefully. Plus, neither of us have had a cold in a couple of years.”
Brenda and Mitch came back into the room, his hand full of plastic evidence bags with Betty’s medications. Sitting back down, he asked, “Can you tell us about anyone who would have wished your daughter harm?”
The two parents shared a glance, easily caught by the two investigators. Charles heaved a huge sigh and said, “Maybe. It’s complicated, though.”
“That’s why we’re here, sir. Take your time.”
“We were unable to have children on our own and adopted Betty when she was about three months old. We never knew anything about her parents, but we were always up front and honest with her about being adopted.” He stopped and looked at Brenda, a wistful smile on his face. “We told her we wanted her and God graced us with the opportunity to have her in our lives.”
At this time, Brenda took over the story. “About a year ago, Betty was contacted by a man named Bill Bradley. He said he was her brother and had been adopted by another family. He had gone after his birth records and found their parents were now deceased. He wanted to connect with his birth family. Betty was cautious. She had a very lucrative engineering job and was making good money. As much as she wanted to know her possible brother, she was uncertain he was who he said he was.”
“They did genetic testing,” Charles said, “and it proved they were related. She was ecstatic and we were happy for her. We had Bill over numerous times, welcoming him into our family as well.”
Monty watched carefully, sensing the story was about to take a dark turn.
Brenda licked her lips as her hands clasped each other in her lap. “About six months ago, Betty came to talk to us. It seemed even though Bill worked as a pharmaceutical technician in a local drug store, he was short of money. He claimed he wanted a loan from her so he could go to college.”
Charles looked over at Mitch and Monty, quickly assuring, “Betty was hesitant. She had worked during college, taken out a few loans, and always said she was sure having that responsibility made her a better student. She didn’t mind loaning Bill some money, but it seemed he wanted more. I believe there were some debts that he needed to pay off first. And they began to argue about it. The more he pressured, the more she backed off.”
“A few weeks ago, they were both here for dinner when the subject came up again. Charles and I wanted to stay out of their business, after all, they were both adults, but we saw a change in Bill’s attitude. Bill accused her of making a killing with her investments from Colonial Financial and surely she could spare some. I mean it was no secret that she had investments, but it was just the way he said it.”
Monty, alert as ever, lifted his gaze to Mitch. The room was silent for several minutes, the investigators allowing the Maverys to tell their story in their own time.
“Yesterday afternoon, Bill came over here as we were making funeral arrangements and made a comment that just…well, it…um…” Brenda’s voice cracked.
Charles took over as he squeezed his wife’s shoulders. “He said he knew we would grieve Betty, but he’d try to fill her place in our lives.” Charles exhaled, his last words barely more than a whisper, “It was as though he thought he would now be our son since our only daughter was gone.”
Brenda looked back at the men and said, “Then this morning we get a call telling us our daughter was poisoned. My husband and I are barely holding on so I won’t give voice to my fears. But you can imagine what they are.”
Monty and Mitch soon left the Mavery’s house and walked back to their vehicles. “This fuckin’ case gets stranger by the minute,” Mitch said.
“So once again, we may or may not have any connection to Theresa or Marcia’s deaths. They could be three coincidences or…three murders tied together. And the only link is Colonial Financial Group and a sorority.”