The Girl with the Kitten Tattoo Page 14

  Lara wasn’t so sure. They last few talks they’d had hadn’t ended well.

  Strolling over to sit next to Lara’s chair, Munster gazed up at her and then reached up with a paw.

  Lara patted her lap and grinned. “Come on, you cute little pumpkin. If you promise not to be greedy, I’ll give you a tiny bit of egg. No onions, though.”

  Munster leaped onto Lara’s legs and rested his chin on the table, his nose nudging her plate. Lara knew she was encouraging bad manners, but at that moment she didn’t care. She cut off a smidgeon of her omelet and let him eat it from her palm. Munster licked his lips, then curled into a circle in her lap, content.

  Her aunt smiled over at them. “No one can say we don’t spoil our cats.”

  “We spoil them, but we take excellent care of them.” Lara lightly kissed Munster’s head, then set him down on the floor. “You made dinner, so I’ll do cleanup duty.”

  Aunt Fran didn’t protest.

  While her aunt went into the large parlor with her constant companion, Dolce, Lara finished up the dishes, then went back into her studio and closed the door.

  She was beginning to feel discouraged. By now, she thought she’d have made better progress on Amy’s watercolor project. Although Amy hadn’t set a deadline for the painting, it depressed Lara that she hadn’t even completed the preliminary sketches.

  Lara turned on her tablet and plugged Wayne Chancer’s full name into Google’s search box. She’d checked him out before, but only to get his background info. Maybe it was time to check him out a little further.

  Almost instantly, his obituary popped up. A photo of a smiling man with a wide face and a head full of lush sandy-colored hair stared back at her. She had to admit, Chancer had been fairly good-looking. But something about his charming smile didn’t ring true. How many people had been fooled by that fake grin?

  She continued reading.

  Wayne Thomas Chancer had been born in Peasemore, Massachusetts. On the day he “died suddenly at home,” he had just turned forty-three.

  Suddenly at home. Not exactly a cause of death. His death certificate had to be more specific than that. What, precisely, had he died from?

  The obit went on to describe Chancer’s “illustrious career” as a personal injury lawyer, as well as his “deep commitment to local charitable causes.” Oddly, none of those causes had been listed. Lara sensed that whoever had written the obit had struggled to find glowing things to write about the man. She hated to be negative about Chancer, especially in light of his unexplained death, but everything about him screamed phony.

  Chancer was survived by his “loving wife” of five years, Karen Becker Chancer, and by his mother, Julia Harper Chancer Stevens, and stepfather, Dennis Stevens, both of Ithaca, New York. Plans for a memorial service would be announced at a later date.

  With nothing to latch on to in the obit, Lara tried Googling him again. Several articles came up, the one about his triumph in the Japanese restaurant lawsuit being prominent.

  The claimant had been a man in his late fifties—Perry Owens, of Madison, New Hampshire. He’d suffered “undue pain and suffering” along with gastrointestinal problems after consuming a bowl of miso soup at the Japanese Garden. Owens claimed that the restaurant’s owners had become “defensive and arrogant” when he pointed out the bloody Band-Aid in his bowl after he’d already swallowed half the soup. To avoid going to trial, the Tanakas had agreed to a settlement that Owens claimed he could “live with.” Lara suspected that between legal fees and costs, about half the amount ended up in Wayne Chancer’s pocket.

  Lara clicked on several other links, but nothing raised any red flags. She thought back to Gary Becker’s cryptic remark about “knowing what he knew” before his daughter ever married Chancer, and how he should have halted the wedding then. Whatever it was, it had to have happened before the Chancers got married.

  Fatigue burning her eyes, Lara set aside her tablet. Her heart wasn’t in doing much of anything. Her powers of concentration were at an all-time low.

  After saying good night to her aunt, Lara headed to her room, Panda trailing at her heels. He’d been leaning against the door to her studio, waiting for her. She’d almost tripped over him when she opened the door.

  In her bedroom, she found Amber resting on her favorite perch on the cat tree. Sienna was curled up with Munster at foot of her bed. As gloomy as Lara felt, she couldn’t help smiling. The cats always made her feel better, no matter what murky thoughts were weighing on her mind.

  She went over to Amber and tickled her under the chin. The sweet girl closed her eyes blissfully but didn’t purr.

  Lara showered and put on warm pajamas, then tucked herself into bed with Panda, Sienna, and a mystery she’d borrowed from the library. Her mind wandered off the page so many times that she finally put aside the book.

  The moment she turned off her bedside lamp, Gideon’s face floated into her vision. It was the face of the man she loved, and who she’d thought loved her. Over the past month or so, as Sherry and David’s wedding approached, he’d dropped a few not-so-subtle hints about “following in their path.” Lara knew he’d been hinting that it was time they got engaged, but no proposal had been forthcoming. Had he been worried that she’d refuse? That she’d say she wasn’t ready?

  Tomorrow would be D-Day—decision day. They’d either agree to continue their relationship and work out their issues, or make the sad decision to end it. Lara was terrified that it might be the latter.

  With worries over Gideon straining her brain, it was Abraham Lincoln’s message of over a century and a half ago that she couldn’t eject from her head.

  You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today.

  If only she could figure out what that responsibility was.

  Chapter 20

  Sherry’s joy shone from her face the moment Lara stepped inside the coffee shop. “Guess what?” she squealed. “Pastor Folger is going to co-officiate our wedding ceremony! He told us that we were one of the most compatible couples he’s ever met!”

  Lara smiled, genuinely thrilled for her friend. She went over and gave Sherry a hug. “That’s great news, Sher. Have you and David shared the news with Loretta yet?” She dropped onto her usual stool and lowered her tote to the floor.

  “Not yet.” Sherry snatched a mug from beneath the counter and poured Lara a cup of coffee. “We’re taking her to dinner tonight and telling her then. Who knows? She might not even be impressed. With Loretta, anything’s possible.”

  “Call me an optimist, but I think the news is going to please her.”

  Sherry grinned. “Yeah, I think so, too. After dinner, David and I are taking her over to see our new apartment. David picked up the keys yesterday. Oh God, Lara, I can’t wait to move in. Do you realize I’ve never lived anywhere except with my mom? And now, David and I have our own beautiful place. The carpeting is spotless, and the kitchen has all new appliances. I’m dying to show it to you.”

  “And I can’t wait to see it,” Lara assured her. “Remember, I promised you a watercolor. You still haven’t told me want you wanted.”

  “I know. That’s one of the million things on my list. David and I make all these decisions together.”

  Lara smiled, wondering how long that would last. She knew Sherry was the dominant partner in the relationship, and that David usually deferred to her judgment.

  Holding the coffeepot aloft, Sherry stared hard at Lara. “Are you coming down with something? Your face looks way too pale. Don’t you dare get the flu before the wedding.”

  “I’m fine. I promise. I’ve just got a lot on my plate.”

  “Well, start getting some rest,” Sherry ordered. “We’re officially in countdown mode. The wedding’s only a few weeks away, and I want to see you rosy-cheeked and as chipper as a sparrow.”

  Lara laughed. “‘Ro
sy-cheeked and as chipper as a sparrow’? How did you come up with that one?”

  “Made it up.” Sherry winked at her. “I’ll get you a muffin.”

  Lara let out the breath she’d been holding. She had to pull herself together.

  Jill zipped out of the kitchen holding a massive tray loaded with breakfast platters. She lifted a hand and waved at Lara, and for a moment Lara thought the tray was going to sail off into space. Fortunately, Jill was a pro at juggling. She managed to deliver the orders intact to a table of waiting customers.

  Lara ate her muffin as quickly as she could, then made a thousand excuses for why she had to rush home. She prayed Sherry wouldn’t mention Gideon. If she did, Lara wasn’t sure she could keep her expression neutral.

  Luckily, Sherry’s head remained firmly planted in the clouds. She waggled her fingers at Lara as she pushed through the door into the kitchen.

  Her scarf tucked securely around her neck, Lara hurried home. The sun was bright and the sky nearly cloudless, yet the temps remained in the twenties. When she reached their driveway, she saw a car parked next to the Saturn. Her heart plummeted.

  It was Megan Haskell’s red Honda.

  * * * *

  In the kitchen, Aunt Fran was putting on a kettle. Three mugs were lined up on the counter, along with a package of marshmallows. Her aunt nodded silently in the direction of the large parlor.

  Megan sat on the sofa, her eyes looking sadder than they had during her prior visit. Panda rested atop her skinny thighs, his long white whiskers a contrast to Megan’s candy-pink sweater. The cat stared up at Lara but remained where he was—content and cozy in the comfort of their visitor’s lap.

  Dark smudges rimmed Megan’s lower lashes. Her sweater bore a blob of something she’d spilled—either spaghetti sauce or ketchup, Lara guessed. She couldn’t help thinking of the elderly woman Megan had screamed at in the pizza shop for getting sauce on her blouse.

  “Megan, what are you doing here?” Lara pulled off her scarf and jacket and tossed them over a chair.

  Megan’s lower lip quivered. “I know, I should have called first. But I was afraid you’d tell me to leave you alone. I’m sorry, Lara, but this time I want to come clean. I realized you can’t help me if I don’t tell you the truth.”

  “I can’t help you anyway,” Lara retorted with a firmness that made Megan flinch. “I’m not a lawyer, and…my God, Megan, I barely know you. You need to work things out with your attorney, not with me. I really think you should go.”

  Megan’s eyes filled, and she swallowed. “Okay, but…can we talk just for a minute? Please?”

  Lara huffed out a frustrated breath, just as Aunt Fran came in with a tray bearing three mugs of marshmallow-topped cocoa and a pile of napkins. “I’ll take mine into the kitchen,” she said. “Why don’t you two go in the meet-and-greet room, where you can talk privately.”

  Thanks a lot, Aunt Fran.

  Lara took the tray and motioned to Megan to follow her.

  Megan gently moved Panda to the sofa. They went into the meet-and-greet room and Lara closed the door. The cats would only distract Megan and keep her there longer, so she didn’t invite them in. She set the mugs and napkins on the table and motioned to Megan to sit.

  “I know I’ve caused a lot of trouble,” Megan said meekly, twisting her hands in her lap. If a cat had been there, she’d no doubt have woven her fingers into the fur.

  Lara lifted her mug and blew on her hot chocolate, sending chocolaty waves rippling through the marshmallow. When she lifted her gaze to meet Megan’s, she was startled by the anguish she saw there.

  “Okay, look,” Lara said softly, setting down her mug, “why don’t you go back to the beginning, when all of this started. Why did you really go to Gideon’s office last Friday? Something tells me it wasn’t about getting fired.”

  Megan snatched a napkin off the tray and blotted her eyes. “You’re right. It wasn’t. Not totally, anyway. I did get fired, but it was my own fault. The thing is, I just wanted to see Gideon again. Is that so awful?” She sniffled hard. “He was always so sweet to me, so kind and courteous. He’s one of the few gentlemen left in the world, you know?”

  Lara smiled. “That he is,” she agreed, though she knew a lot of men who were “gentlemen.”

  “It was wrong of me to make up that story about being fired for incompetence,” Megan went on. “I just…when I got there, I was afraid to tell him the truth, that I was fired for harassing Wayne while I was working for him.” Megan sagged on her chair. “All I’d really wanted to do was reconnect with Gideon, I guess. I was hoping he might want to do the same. Instead, he looked super annoyed to see me. He was polite, like always, but he was different, too. I realized afterward why that was.” She pointed a finger at Lara. “He’s head over heels in love with you.”

  Megan’s words made Lara’s heart float up in her chest. “Is that why you made up the story about being fired for incompetence?”

  “Exactly.” She wiped her eyes again with the napkin. “Frankly, it was the first thing that came to mind. I needed an excuse for why I’d gone there without calling him first.”

  In that moment, Lara realized that she would never be able to trust Megan. Anything Megan told her would have to be taken with a grain of salt and a healthy dose of suspicion.

  “Megan,” Lara asked softly, “were you in love with Wayne Chancer? Did you have a crush on him?”

  Megan nodded and sniffled. “I fell for him, Lara. Stupid me, getting the hots for my boss. So cliché, right? I’ve never had much of a love life, and Wayne had a powerful personality. He flirted with me, paid me all sorts of compliments. I took it the wrong way. I realized later he does that to every woman he finds attractive, but at the time I thought it was only me. I–I started calling him after hours, suggesting that I might be available to have a drink with him.”

  A drink that might lead to other things, Lara thought.

  In truth, Lara pitied Megan. She’d been lonely and looking for love. It’d been easy for her to mistake Chancer’s flirtations for sincere interest.

  “I know now that he was a creep and a phony,” Megan said in a shaky voice, “but at first I was really flattered.”

  “Megan, when did things escalate to the point where he fired you?”

  “I overheard him talking to someone on the phone one night when I was working late at the office. I’d stayed to catch up on a few things, and he didn’t know I was still at my desk. I’d hoped, maybe, when he noticed me working late, that he’d want to reward me and take me out to dinner. Instead, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone about me, calling me names like ‘wacky pants’ and ‘crazy chick.’ I knew then what he really thought of me. I was crushed.” She cried softly into a napkin.

  Lara waited until she’d composed herself. “So, what did you do?”

  “I stormed into his office and confronted him. I told him I was going to have a nice little chat with his wife about all the women he was always carousing with. That’s when he blew up and fired me. He grabbed my arm, pulled me over to my desk, and threw an empty box on the floor. He watched while I cleaned out my desk, then ordered me never to come back.”

  “How long ago was that?” Lara asked.

  “It was right after Thanksgiving, so like, a few months ago? Thank God my aunt and uncle have been so good to me. They said I can stay with them as long as I want.”

  “Megan, what did you say when you crashed Wayne’s birthday party? I mean, what did you really say that night?”

  Megan inhaled sharply. “I told him he was a womanizer, a skirt chaser, and a low-down piece of…crap. I said a few other things, but I don’t really want to repeat them.” Her cheeks flushed a deep pink.

  “Did a lot of people hear you?” Lara asked. “I mean, other than Wayne?”

  “I don’t know. I guess so. People were standing ar
ound in groups, talking and munching on goodies. Karen Chancer had hired Bakewell Custom Catering to do the food, and they kept coming out of the kitchen with trays of appetizers. There was also a huge tray of shrimp, which everyone was attacking.” She shuddered. “I don’t know how people eat that stuff, but to each his own, I guess.”

  “Back to the real issue. How did Wayne react when you started yelling at him in front of his guests?”

  Megan covered her eyes with her hands. “He laughed at me, Lara. The pig stood there and laughed at me and said I was delusional. He threatened to call the police if I didn’t leave.” She took a fortifying sip of her cocoa.

  “What about his wife? Was she close by?”

  Megan nodded. “I think she was in the kitchen, but she heard me screaming and came in to see what all the commotion was. She stood there, staring at me like I had three heads. But she didn’t say anything. She just turned and hurried away into another room. I felt bad because I’d always liked Karen. Anyway, I was standing near the shrimp tray, so I grabbed a handful and tossed them in Wayne’s face.”

  A thought struck Lara. “Megan, could Wayne have been allergic to the shrimp? I know of a woman who died from a severe allergy to shellfish.”

  “No, he loved shrimp. Far as I know, he wasn’t allergic to anything. Except honesty and human decency,” she spat out.

  “What happened next?” Lara asked quietly.

  “There was a man there, a cousin of Wayne’s. I’d met him once. He took my arm and kind of, you know, propelled me out the door. By that time, I realized I’d made a horrible spectacle of myself. I was so mortified. I got in my car and raced back to my aunt and uncle’s house. I was crying so hard I almost couldn’t see the road.”

  Oh, Megan. You really are your own worst enemy, Lara wanted to say.

  “Megan, tell me honestly, why did you crash the party that night? What did you think you’d gain from it?”

  Once again, tears filled Megan’s eyes. “I don’t know. After I found out Gideon had met his one and only, I suddenly felt so alone, so unwanted. Anyway, I thought crashing Wayne’s party would make me feel better. I was wrong, wasn’t I?”