NAILED (22 page)

“I do. I took my niece and nephew to the beach on Saturday and Kendall told me that she saw Jenna and Mr. Jankowski kissing several months ago.”

“Mr. Jankowski? Brian? The principal of the school? Are you sure?”

My mouth was full of mashed potatoes, so I nodded and then swallowed. “I am. I went to speak with him and he admitted it. He told me that the affair started when Jenna and Victor were separated, but once she got back with her husband they stopped seeing each other.”

Several tears ran down Maddi’s face and she swiped at them with her napkin. “Oh, this is so heartbreaking. Brian is a wonderful man and he and Jenna would have been perfect together. Damn! Why did she have to go back to Victor?”

“Brain said he felt that she was doing it for Moshi. You know, trying to keep the family together. But he said right before she died he was certain she was about to leave Victor again and this time for good. I told Brian about the diary and he believes Victor must have seen it.”

Maddi leaned back and nodded. “That makes sense. He was a sneaky bastard. He must have found the diary and arranged that trip to get rid of her once the life insurance was in place.”

“But if he found the diary, then he must have found all that money, too,” I said. “Why didn’t he take it?”

Maddi pursed her lips and shook her head. “Oh, he was good. I’ll give him that. He found the diary and the money, but if he took the money, Jenna would have known that he found her secret hiding place. He had to leave it there, but I’ll bet my life he was reading that diary all the time to see what she was up to.”

“So why didn’t he dump the diary and take the money after Jenna died?”

Maddi leaned back in her chair and picked up a green bean with her fingers. “Jenna had to take the diary out of the toy box to write in it every day. Maybe Victor only found that. Perhaps Jenna left it somewhere after she was done writing one evening, and didn’t have time to put it back in the toy box before Victor came home. She kept the box in Moshi’s room and it was full of toys. You saw it. You had to push everything aside to get to the secret button, and she wouldn’t have done that with Moshi around to see. But the money doesn’t matter. The diary told Victor everything he needed to know. The entries for the last couple of weeks before she died said that she was getting stronger and felt giving her marriage one more try had been a mistake. And Brian was right, she even wrote down that after their trip to Maine, she was hoping to leave Victor for good. I’m just surprised Victor didn’t go after Brian.”

“Well, Jenna never wrote down his name. She just referred to him as Mr. Big.”

“That must have driven Victor crazy, trying to figure out who Mr. Big was. But he mustn’t have found the diary until after Jenna broke up with Brian.”

“Why do you think that?” I asked.

“Because if they were still together, Victor would have followed Jenna until he found out who Mr. Big was. I think as soon as he found that diary, he talked her into getting the life insurance and then he took her away for an anniversary weekend.”

“I have to agree. That sounds about right. I think he set everything into motion rather quickly.”

We finished our dinner and Maddi made us some hot tea and then took ice cream cones into the den for the girls. When we were seated back at the table I asked Maddi the question I had come here to ask in the first place.

“Maddi, did you know that Victor was planning on changing the trust? At least that’s what Ruth and Delilah think. Delilah said she was sure he had already done it. He was going to make his sister executor in case anything happened to him.”

Maddi picked up her tea mug and took a tentative sip. She looked at me with those piercing blue, smoky eyes of hers and said, “Then I guess it’s lucky that he died before he could.”

I never got a chance to ask Maddi anything further because the girls came into the kitchen to ask if they could go out and play in the rain. I left then and returned to the comfort of my own home where I was currently sitting in my cozy chair with a tea mug cradled in my hands while I stared out the window.

The rain came down and bounced off an old metal patio table I had planned to repaint, and so far hadn’t found the time. The drops bounced off the table in a steady rhythmic ping, which held me in an almost hypnotic trance. My mind freely wandered, finally coming to rest on Elizabeth Applegate. She had told me that Victor always had a bunch of money on hand. Maybe he did find Jenna’s secret hiding place after all, and had been steadily using the cash. The amount Maddi had found may have only represented a portion of what Jenna had been able to stow away. Interesting stuff, but none of it told me who killed Victor Sanjari. All it did was solidify the fact that Victor killed Jenna. I knew it. Maddi knew it. Everyone seemed to know it, but it would never be proved and that really made me mad. I wanted him to pay, and even though he was already dead, at least his reputation would be well and truly soiled.

“What are you thinking about? You look a million miles away,” John asked. He took a seat next to me and placed a bowl of grapes between us. He took a few and ate them slowly while watching me.

“I was just thinking about people who get away with murder. There must be hundreds of them out there living their lives all smug like, all the while knowing they killed someone and managed to get away with it.”

“Maybe. But they’re walking around wondering every day if today’s the day they’re going to get caught. That’s got to be some kind of hell, looking over your shoulder all the time,” John said. “Not like life in prison, I guess, but it’s certainly a form of retribution.”

“Hmmm.”

“You don’t have faith in me that the police will find Victor’s killer?”

I looked at my husband and smiled and then reached over and touched his arm. “Oh, no, I know you will. I was thinking about his wife Jenna. Her murder will never get justice even though everyone knows her husband killed her.”

“I’d say his getting nailed was definitely someone’s kind of justice.”

“So you think he was killed because of Jenna? Is that the official opinion?”

John shook his head. “I’m not sure of that. But the man was murdered so as the saying goes, what goes around comes around. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

“It may have to be.” I broke off a grape from its stem and popped it in my mouth. “But what I really want is for everyone to know he did it.”

“That may help you and Jenna’s sister, but what about Moshi? Would it be a good thing for her to know her father killed her mother?”

This gave me pause. “I hadn’t thought of that. If someone killed Victor because they felt certain he killed Jenna, would it make it any less a crime in the eyes of the law?”

“Of course not. Murder is murder, and don’t forget, in the eyes of the law Victor Sanjari didn’t do anything wrong. There’s no proof he killed his wife. You’re thinking it’s Mrs. Wickersham and you want me to go easy on her, is that it?”

I watched John finish the rest of the grapes. “Yeah, I suppose. I like her, but I saw something tonight in her eyes. I don’t think I realized the depth of her pain over losing her sister. Do you have any idea what Maddi’s arrest will do to Moshi?”

“It won’t be good, that’s for sure. What I’m wondering is if Mrs. Wickersham did kill Victor, why now? Why not several months ago?”

“Because she found out from Ruth or Delilah Sanjari that Victor had plans to change the trust.”

“Maybe, but we’re not going to solve this tonight. Come on. You have your treatment tomorrow morning. Let’s go to bed. I’ll close up down here. I have the upstairs windows already open for you so you can listen to the rain in bed.”

I got up and put my dirty cup in the sink. John was right. Murder could wait until tomorrow. Tonight I planned to fall asleep to the sound of a summer storm.

The Indian Cove Medical Center was a bustling place when my mother and I walked in the next morning. Once every eight weeks we met here first thing for a three-hour infusion treatment to help keep our rheumatoid arthritis, an auto-immune disease we both had, at bay. My mother treated the appointment like a picnic, and she once again had brought along a basket containing a breakfast of homemade coffee cake, cut up fruit, and two thermoses full of tea. I wasn’t thrilled that both my mother and I shared this disease—I would rather have inherited her thick hair and deep-set eyes—but if I had to sit somewhere with an IV in my arm for three hours while poison dripped into my system, it was nice to have my mom with me. The fact that she brought goodies made it all that much more bearable.

We settled ourselves into our recliners with pillows and warmed blankets provided by the nurse assigned to us this morning. While the pharmacist mixed his deadly brew, Nurse Helen took my blood pressure and temperature and then did the same to my mom. We were then each handed an antihistamine to counteract any negative reaction to the medicine we might have, and I washed mine down with a gulp of tea.

I winced and turned my head away when Nurse Helen stuck the IV into my right hand. She taped the line to my arm and once my mother was similarly connected to a long pole and beeping machine at her side, we settled into our breakfast before the antihistamine took hold and we both fell soundly asleep.

“Your grandmother and her gang need a ride to and from the bingo hall tonight. Theresa and Frances don’t mind driving around Indian Cove all night, but the game is in Bridgeport and it’s probably safer if someone gives them a ride. Your father and I are going out tonight for dinner and game night or else I would drive them.”

“It’s no problem. I’d be happy to take them and pick them up.” Time spent with Meme and her friends was always time well spent.

I finished off my piece of cake and a couple of chunks of honeydew melon, and then started to drift off to sleep thanks to the drugs. In my dreamy state Maddi and Brian Jankowski came into my thoughts. Last night my husband wanted to know why Victor was killed now after all this time if revenge for Jenna’s death was the motive for his murder. Why indeed. Of course the answer was simple in Maddi’s case: the trust. I didn’t think the forfeiture of any money would have upset Maddi. It was the thought of Moshi being raised by Ruth and Delilah that would have brought her to take drastic action to keep Victor from changing the trust. I didn’t know how she found out, if in fact she had, but I wouldn’t put it past Victor to rub it in or even his mother. But what about Brian? Why would the principal have waited so long after Jenna’s death to kill Victor? Had he finally obtained definitive proof of Victor’s guilt—proof that had somehow thus far escaped the police? Or maybe he wanted to get it over with before school let out for the summer? I didn’t think so. And then there was that pesky little problem about Gary Hachmeister’s attack, assuming the two things were related. Maddi and Brian had no connection to Gary.

I was vaguely aware of a familiar voice in the background of my antihistamine-induced coma, and wondered if it was real or just part of my dream. I opened my eyes and looked over at my mother. She was still napping with an open magazine spread across her lap. I heard the voice again and brought my chair to an upright position so I could look out the door of our private room toward the reception desk. A woman with a long ponytail trailing down her back and a black skirt that touched the floor stood there arguing with Tracy, the unit’s very patient receptionist.

“Ms. Sanjari, the next available appointment with Doctor Jessop is five weeks out.”

“Are you listening to a word I’ve said? I have to see the doctor in the next week. It’s imperative.”

“Are you having a lot of pain in your back again?”

“No, but I will be if I don’t get an appointment.”

“Let me speak with the doctor later this morning, and I’ll see if I can squeeze you in some time later in the week. Will that do?”

“Just make sure I get to see him this week. You have my number. Call me and let me know when I can come in or I’ll be back here again tomorrow morning and next time I won’t be so nice!”

Delilah turned and I called out to her.

“Ms. Sanjari—Delilah—in here. It’s Alex Harris. We met on Saturday.”

Delilah looked around, trying to figure out where my voice was coming from.

“I think someone in that room behind you is calling you,” Tracy said.

Delilah turned and I waved. She stepped into the room and looked at me and then my mother, who somehow still remained asleep.

“Gee, what’s wrong with you?”

“It’s nothing. An auto-immune thing that both my mom and I have. We get treatment every couple of months. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Are you okay?”

Delilah heaved her giant purse over her shoulders and crossed her arms. “I won’t be for long if I don’t get to see my doctor. My insurance expires at the end of the month, and I’m hoping he’ll give me a couple of prescriptions to tide me over until I can figure something out.”

“Figure out what?”

“That brother of mine. He was paying for my health insurance, and now that he’s gone, it’ll terminate at the end of the month. Son of a bitch promised me he changed the trust. Not only didn’t he do that, but he didn’t leave any sort of provision for me and my mother. Nothing. We’ll be kicked out of our apartment, too.”

“Can you get a job?”

“Not with this back.”

I had no idea what was wrong with Delilah’s back, but it didn’t seem to stop her from carrying a bag that had to weigh about twenty pounds judging by the size of it. And she managed to climb all those stairs up to her apartment. I had the feeling the Sanjari women were used to having Victor supporting them.

“I’m sorry for your troubles,” I said.

“Yeah, me, too. If only Victor had been straight with me.” She turned and walked out of the room.

My mother opened her eyes and looked at me. “The sister, I take it.”

“Yep, the one and only.”

“That sounded like some sort of a confession to me,” my mother said.