Seeds of Deception (27 page)

“Your attack, for one thing,” Phillip began. It took the combined efforts of both Meg and Phillip to bring Arthur up to speed on what they had come to suspect, and what Miriam had just confirmed. Miriam remained silent throughout the explanation, until the end.

“I'm really sorry, Arthur,” she told him. “You didn't deserve what happened. And like Mr. C says, I can't blame it all on Ricky.”

“Your husband Ricky?” Arthur asked.

“That's him.” Miriam struggled to find words. “Look, I know this sounds dumb, and maybe I was too stupid to see it. When I married him right after high school, I thought he was exciting. You know, kind of a bad boy? And I wanted something more than working for my dad in the sports store, but he couldn't afford to send me to college. Ricky's dad was kind of cool, and I thought maybe Ricky was going places. But he didn't.” She seemed to stall again.

“Do you have children?” Meg asked, hoping to break the logjam.

Miriam shook her head. “We were waiting 'til we were more settled, and then . . . well, I decided that Ricky wasn't exactly father material.”

“Did that bother him?” Meg asked.

“Maybe. I think he would have been happy if I'd stayed home with a couple squalling kids while he went out and did important guy things. But I made sure that didn't happen.”

“What does he do, professionally?” Phillip asked.

“I know it sounds stupid, but I really don't know. He gets paychecks—or direct deposit these days—from a high-end auto repair and detailing place. He spends his days out of the house, but anytime I ask him about work he changes the subject. His dad wanted him to go to college, even junior college, but Ricky just plain wasn't interested. Maybe if he'd tried he would have done all right, but back then he really wanted to stick it to his dad.”

“But he and his father are on good terms now?” Meg asked.

“As long as nobody brings up certain subjects, like race, and privileged rich people.”

“What about the Mafia? And politics?”

“We don't talk about the Mafia. If you want my opinion, I'd guess Ricky has been, well, what you might call ‘muscle' for them, but only small-time. He liked to beat on people, but he's not smart enough to be a hit man, and there aren't a lot of job openings for that these days anyway. You've got to be connected, and he isn't, or not in the right way, and that really ticks him off. That's why Tony is trying to keep him close these days, gave him a campaign job to keep him out of trouble. Like that worked,” Miriam said bitterly. “I think Ricky likes the idea that his dad could be a big man in the state, bigger than he is now, and some of that would trickle down to him, so for a while he tried to clean up his act. But Ricky doesn't have a lot of skills that would be useful in a campaign, unless somebody needs a driver. And he's lousy at sucking up to people, being charming. Forget about him asking them for money or any
other kind of support. Tony keeps him on a short leash, in case he goes off on someone and screws things up. I feel kind of bad for Tony—he doesn't deserve a kid like Ricky.”

“Does he ever talk to you about Ricky?” Meg asked.

“Sometimes. I don't tell him everything, but I think he guesses a lot. He's smart.”

Arthur had been following the discussion carefully, and now he spoke for the first time. “Miriam, from what you've said, it sounds like your Ricky is responsible for one death, plus the attack on me.” Meg noted that Arthur didn't mention that Miriam was an accomplice.

“Look,” Miriam began, “I think what happened is this. Sometimes Ricky can be pretty shrewd, especially if he sees an advantage for himself. I think he decided he could do his father a good turn and clear up that old mess, only that meant he had to find the evidence and get rid of it. Thing is, he doesn't think well in the moment—he just lashes out. Which is what happened with Enrique, and with you, Arthur.”

“Let me get this straight,” Phillip interrupted. “You were willing to participate in an illegal break-in?”

Miriam wouldn't meet his eyes. “Well, yeah, at your house. But I figured you'd never find out. And I've got a key for here, so that's not breaking in, right?”

“Miriam, your husband killed an innocent man,” Phillip said coldly. “You knew it, and yet you did nothing.”

“And of course you didn't think to call the police at the time?” Arthur asked. “Perhaps Enrique could have been saved.”

“How was I supposed to explain what we were doing there? Ricky told me to shut up and let him think. Then he calmed down and decided that we could get rid of the
body, but maybe we should find the guy's car or truck or whatever and use that, and nobody would know he was ever there. So we kind of covered him up out back and figured nobody would notice him, and we'd come back later when we found the truck. Ricky got the guy's keys out of his pocket, and we went off looking for the truck, only we never did find it and Ricky worried someone would see us wandering around the neighborhood. But by the time we got back, you were there, you and your wife, in some rented car, so we split. When we drove by the next day there were cops there. We figured somebody had found the body, so we just kept going.”

Phillip's face looked like it was carved in stone. “Just to be clear: You and your husband decided to break into my house to look for a file you weren't even sure was there? And when you were interrupted by an innocent man, who was authorized to be there, you killed him?”

“Ricky did. Accidentally!”

Phillip waved his hand dismissively. “And you told no one, not even anonymously. And rather than end things there, you decided to come to the office, where you assaulted Arthur?”

“He wasn't supposed to be here! Arthur, I'm really sorry.” Miriam turned to him, pleading.

Arthur was not about to let her off easily. “Miriam, you could have explained your way out of it when you ran into me. You could have given me an excuse that you wanted to work on something at home, or even something dumb like you needed to water the plants. You could have introduced your husband. Instead, you hit me?”

“Ricky did it,” Miriam replied, her tone desperate. “I was in the office going through the files, and Ricky was
hanging out in the front room waiting for me, behind the door, I guess. When you walked it, he just grabbed something and
bam
, you went down.”

“That seems to be Ricky's response to a lot of things,” Phillip said. “Hit first, think later. Is the man on drugs?”

“Maybe. I don't know. I don't ask. Mostly I try to keep out of his way.”

“Did you check to see if I was still alive?” Arthur asked.

“Yes! I was scared. And then Ricky said we had to get out of there, fast. So I threw some random files around, to make it look like you'd walked into a break-in, and we left.”

“Leaving me on the floor, unconscious, with a possible skull fracture that could have killed me, not knowing how long it might be before anyone found me?”

“Well, yes. But Ricky—”

“Do not blame your husband, young lady!” Arthur thundered. “You bear a portion of the responsibility for Enrique's death and my injuries.”

Miriam stared at him openmouthed. Meg guessed that she'd never seen him angry before.

“Quite right, Arthur,” Phillip said in a calmer tone. “The question is, what do we do now?”

“We take Miriam to the police and she will tell them what she has just told us,” Arthur said, not giving an inch.

Miriam sprang out of her chair. “No! Ricky'll kill me!”

Phillip stood up as well. “I agree with Arthur on this. Your husband has committed serious crimes that we all are now aware of, and who knows how many others—I doubt that these were the first violent incidents he's been involved in. You are an accomplice—and please don't insult my intelligence by saying you didn't know what he
was going to do. You knew what he was capable of. Arthur and I will accompany you to the police station, and you can hope that a full explanation and assisting the police in finding your husband may earn you a lighter penalty.”

Miriam looked like a caged animal, her eyes darting around the room. Seth stood up quietly and blocked her path toward the door. It didn't take her long to realize she had no options beyond going with Phillip and Arthur and confessing to the police. Finally she said, in a dull voice, “All right. I'm sorry, Mr. C, Arthur—all of you. I never thought things would go this far. And, yeah, I should have known that Ricky had gone over the edge. I just didn't want to see it. You can keep him away from me, keep me safe, can't you?”

“The police can help you with that. Get your purse and coat, and we'll go directly there.”

Miriam complied wordlessly, and the older men led her to the outer door. Before they left, Phillip said, “Meg? Why don't you and Seth go back to the house now? I'll meet you there later. You don't need to come to the police station—I think you've given us all the information we need.”

Meg felt exhausted. “Okay. See you later.”

Seth waited until the door closed behind the small group, then took the chairs back to the outer office. Meg didn't move from her original seat, so he came back and sat in the adjoining chair. “You were right,” he said.

“Looks that way,” she answered. “Do you think Miriam was telling the truth?”

Seth sat back and stared at the ceiling. “How should I answer that? Is she trying to throw her husband under the bus to save herself? Maybe. But I think even if she pins the blame on him for starting this, no one's going to believe
she hit not one but two men, both of whom were larger than she was, and disabled them. I think any jury would buy that her husband did the dirty work. He can protest all he likes. But I'm pretty sure she'll face charges for something.”

“Can Anthony Del Monte step in and fix this, do you think?”

“Meg, I'm not sure how New Jersey law works, but there's a murder and an assault. How's he going to make those go away?”

“An insanity plea for Ricky?”

“Not having met the delightful Ricky, I'm not going to guess how he'll come across. I'd be willing to bet he's known to the police, one way or another. He can't slide out of all his crimes, no matter who his father is.”

“What happens to Miriam?”

“You're asking me? I'm a plumber-slash-carpenter. I don't have a law degree. She's a personable youngish woman who tells a good story. If I had to guess, I'd say she'll get off but not completely. She went willingly with her husband. For all I know, she'll plead battered wife syndrome—she was under Ricky's thumb. Ask your father, when the dust settles.”

“And Tony Del Monte? Will this destroy him, too?”

“Maybe. Miriam says he didn't know what was going on, but his name is going to be linked to this anyway, and that can't be good for his political campaign.”

Meg was silent for a few moments, trying to find a coherent thought in her head, and failing. “Seth, how can any woman follow her husband blindly into doing something wrong? How could she be that desperate?”

“You mean, you wouldn't kill for me?” he replied.

Was he joking?
“I don't think so. Does that mean I love you less than Miriam loves her Ricky?”

“I wouldn't say that. Only that you have a clearer sense of right and wrong than she does.”

“Her father runs a small-town sporting goods store. Mine was a high-powered corporate attorney. I went to college, and she didn't.”

“And that gives you a stronger moral compass? Did you miss the Great Recession altogether? A lot of smart, educated, employed bankers did their best to fleece a lot of the American public and thought nothing of it. Why do you want to blame yourself for any of this?”

She was about to make a glib comment, but she stopped herself. Seth was right—she was deflecting to cover up what she really felt. “I guess I feel guilty for starting this whole thing. We didn't have to stop here. We could have gone straight home. It's almost insulting of me to imply that my father couldn't have sorted out his own legal problems here.”

Meg swallowed. “I guess the real question is, why did I think I had to be involved?”

“Because you believed, probably rightly, that the police would have written off the two events as two interrupted burglaries, and Ricky would have gone on hurting or killing people. You were right—you saw the situation more clearly than the police did. And because they're your family, Meg. That's a one-two punch, and you didn't have a choice.”

“I'm sorry you had to get dragged into this,” Meg said.

“If you're in it, I'm in it. Come here.” He stood up and extended his hand.

Meg took it, and he pulled her up and into his arms.

Eventually Meg looked at her watch, and was surprised to find it wasn't even noon.

Seth noticed. “You hungry?”

“I don't know. I can't remember breakfast. I guess I'd just rather go back to the house and wait to see what the police have to say.”

“It may take a while, so we might as well eat now. We can fill your mother in on what Miriam told us when we get back. Unless you don't want to?”

“It's okay. It'll save time in the long run. And maybe we can think about going back to Granford?”

Seth smiled. “I thought you'd never ask.”

Since they were already downtown in Montclair, they decided to walk until they found someplace to eat. To her own surprise, Meg found that she had missed the physical
activity of managing the orchard—she was used to working long, hard hours, then falling into bed, tired. Sitting in a car traveling hundreds of miles wasn't at all the same. She felt restless; it was time to get on with her life, now that her father's problems had been sorted out. She hoped.

They found a self-consciously retro diner, ate, walked back to the car, then drove slowly to the house. As they drove along, Meg realized how little the town meant to her. She had no attachment to it, apart from her parents. She wouldn't be sorry to leave, and she doubted she'd be coming back. Maybe she and her parents could meet in neutral territory somewhere.

When they walked into the house, it was quiet. “Mother?” Meg called out.

“Up here,” Elizabeth's voice came from somewhere upstairs.

They went up the staircase; at the top, Seth peeled off to the room they were staying in. Meg found her mother standing in the middle of the front bedroom, the nominal first guest room, surrounded by boxes and suitcases. “After you went looking through the attic,” Elizabeth said, “I realized how long it had been since I'd gone up there. It could really use some sorting—and dumping. This is just the start.” She waved her hand at the jumble of things she'd brought down.

“Daddy's not back?” Meg asked.

“No, I haven't heard from him or seen him. I expected you all back by lunchtime, but when you never showed up, I just kept working up here. What's going on?”

Meg sighed, trying to remember how much of the story Elizabeth knew, and how much she hadn't heard. “Let's go downstairs and sit down, and I'll fill you in.”

Elizabeth gave her a quizzical look, then followed her down the stairs. When they were settled, Meg began telling the story yet again. How many times had she done this now?

Elizabeth let her talk, without interrupting. When Meg finally ran out of steam, her mother said, “I didn't know. I guess I didn't want to know. You'll find out, over time, that you and your husband fall into routines, patterns that you're both comfortable with. And the longer that goes on, the harder it is to break out of them. Your father and I have been married a long time, and I guess at some point, I stopped asking questions. I knew there were things about his work that he couldn't tell me about, and it got too confusing to figure where the boundaries were, so I gave up. I had hoped that when he opened his own office, there'd be more time for us, together. And I think he's trying—that's why we were taking some extra time around your wedding, just the two of us. Which was lovely, until that problem with the car . . . What happens now?”

“As I told you, Daddy and Arthur took Miriam straight to the police station. She said she'd tell the whole story to the police, although she might have changed her mind after she'd had time to think about it. Or changed her story. If she's still admitting that she had some hand in the break-in here that led to Enrique's death, I would think they'd have to arrest her, but given her father-in-law's prominence, I doubt she'd spend much if any time in jail right now.”

“And of course they'll be looking for her husband.”

“Yes. Again, having a powerful father may come into play there, too. I hate to say it, but if he's out on bail, you might want to check your security at the house here.”

“You really think he's dangerous?”

“From all I've heard, yes. He's got quite a temper.”

Finally they heard the sound of a car in the driveway. Meg and Elizabeth stood quickly and made for the kitchen, and Seth came down the stairs and followed them. They stood in a cluster, waiting for Phillip to appear.

Phillip came through the back door and stopped at the sight of them gathered together in the kitchen. “I should have texted or something to let you know I'd be a while—isn't that what the younger folk do these days? It certainly took longer than I expected. Did you fill in your mother, Meg?”

Meg nodded silently.

“Phillip, is everything all right?” Elizabeth asked, anxiously.

“Let's sit down and I'll bring you up to date. But I'd really like a Scotch first. Any other takers?”

The rest of them shook their heads. “I'll make a pot of tea,” Elizabeth said brightly, and set about boiling water. Meg began collecting the other utensils, while Seth followed her father down the hall to the dining room and the liquor cabinet.

It was more than ten minutes later that they finally assembled in the living room, Scotch and tea in hand. Meg glanced briefly at Seth—had he gotten any advance word from Phillip?—but he gave a small shake of his head.

“All right, Daddy, you've gotten our attention,” Meg said. “Is this how you manage trials? By keeping people waiting?”

“Do you know, sweetheart, I've taken part in very few trials. My goal has always been to settle before things reached that stage, and overall I've been quite successful. But you're right—I know you're eager to hear the results of our visit to the police station.”

“Did Miriam stick to her story?” Meg demanded.

Phillip nodded. “She did.”

“Wait—did you sit in on her ‘confession'?” Meg made air quotes. “Isn't that unusual? You didn't say you'd represent her, did you?”

“No, dear, I don't do criminal law, and I would recuse myself in any event, since I'm personally involved in this case. But the chief kindly let me observe. She made her one phone call, in this case to her father-in-law. I'm sure he'll find her a competent attorney.”

“But she didn't wait until she had one present?”

“No. She waived that right. To tell the truth, I think she was afraid. If she waffled or refused to speak now, she may believe that her husband would find a way to silence her. I think she wanted to be sure her story was on the record, with witnesses. As it was, she barely had time to give the outlines when someone arrived to post bail for her. Which was amusing, in a way, because the police hadn't even decided what to charge her with, much less think about bail.”

“So what happened?”

“The man turned out to be from the state attorney general's office, and he persuaded the police that she should be released on her own recognizance, because she wasn't a flight risk and had no prior record, and, implicitly, because of her political connections. Her husband, Richard Del Monte, was not mentioned in this discussion. They let her leave, but not before they had printed her statement and had her sign it.”

“Do the police know where Ricky is?” Meg asked anxiously.

“They are looking for him as we speak. He was not at his home, but Miriam went to his father's house.”

“What happens now?” Seth asked.

“I can't say, but I think our part in this is done. They already have our statements about what little we know about Enrique's death, and I had nothing to add.” Phillip turned to his wife. “Elizabeth, do you have a home number for Enrique's family? I'd like to volunteer to cover the costs of his funeral. The police will probably release his body shortly, now that they know what happened.”

“Of course. I'll find it for you. I'll also follow up on the insurance claim for the car, now that we know what happened there as well.”

“Be sure to get copies of the accident report,” Phillip said, back in business mode.

“Of course, dear,” Elizabeth said. “How is Arthur?”

“I'd say he's about eighty percent, physically. He's angry, no surprise, mainly because Miriam abused his trust. We both liked her.”

That was all well and good
, Meg thought,
but both of her employers had been clueless about the personal demons she was wrestling with.
“Can she go home? I mean, will that be safe? Or maybe she still has family in Madison that she can stay with?”

“We didn't discuss that, dear. It's up to the police now to protect her. Obviously she won't be coming back to the office.”

Yes, burgling the home of one of your bosses and bashing the other one over the head would make that difficult
, Meg said to herself, but refrained from saying out loud. “So we're done, right? Maybe there's someplace we could go for dinner, to get away from all this?”

“An excellent idea, Meg. Elizabeth? Is there any place you'd prefer?”

“Your club should be quiet tonight,” she said, and
Phillip volunteered to call for a reservation, and headed for his office. Elizabeth followed a few moments later, claiming she wanted to shower before going out.

That left Seth and Meg alone in the living room. “Home tomorrow?” Meg said.

“That sounds good to me,” Seth replied.

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the hallway. “I'll get it,” Meg called out, not sure either of her parents had even heard it. She went to the front door and was surprised to find Chief Bennett standing on the other side.

“Is your father here?” he asked, without preamble.

“Yes, he's upstairs. Please, come in—it's cold out there.” After the chief had walked in, she shut the door behind him. “Let me go get him.”

She hurried up the stairs and found her father in his office. “Daddy? Chief Bennett is here.”

Phillip stood up abruptly. “What can he want now? We just left him.” He brushed impatiently past Meg and went down the stairs.

The chief was still standing in the hallway, looking uncomfortable. Seth had come as far as the living room door to greet the chief but still hung back, and Meg joined him.

“Chief Bennett, what's this all about?” Phillip demanded. “Is Miriam all right?”

“Luckily, yes. I wanted to let you know that Richard Del Monte has been taken into custody. He did not go easily.”

Phillip responded quickly. “I didn't expect otherwise. Where did you find him?”

“As you know, Miriam Del Monte was released from our custody, and she was taken to her father-in-law's house.
Anthony Del Monte was there when she arrived. He was informed that the police were looking for his son, although no arrest warrant had been issued yet. Then the police left. Anthony Del Monte apparently thought the best solution would be to talk with his son and his daughter-in-law together, and convince Ricky to turn himself in, so he called Ricky on his cell and asked him to come over. Ricky did. It should be no surprise to you that when he heard what Miriam had done, he lost his temper and physically assaulted his wife. His father tried to separate them, and when he was unsuccessful, he called the police, who arrived quickly and took him into custody. Miriam escaped with only a few bruises.”

“Thank goodness,” Phillip said quietly.

“As you might guess,” the chief went on, “Anthony Del Monte will not be able to smooth this incident over, and no doubt it will appear on the news shortly.” Chief Bennett hesitated a moment. “There's one more thing, Phillip,” he said. “You know I've held you accountable for what happened to my son?”

“Yes, you made that clear at the time. I understood how you felt.”

The chief nodded, once. “What you may not have known is that Ricky Del Monte was the person who attacked Tommy in the holding cell. But even then Ricky was outside the reach of the law, because of his father and . . . other connections. No one would testify against him, so no charges were ever brought.” He took a deep breath. “So I have to say that I'm glad he's finally been arrested, on a far more serious charge, although I wouldn't have wished such an ending on his father. But it was wrong
of me to put the responsibility for what happened to Tommy on you, and Richard Del Monte will finally pay the price. I apologize if I took out my anger on you.”

“Bill, I'm a father, too. I can certainly understand what you felt then.”

“Ironic, isn't it, that your daughter was the one who started this ball rolling?” Chief Bennett turned to Meg. “I did listen to what you told me, Meg, even though I thought your conjectures were improbable. But you were right—clearly you're your father's daughter.” He regarded the group again. “That's all I came to say.”

“Thank you for telling us, Bill,” Phillip said. “Let me see you out.” The two men walked out the front door together.