Fatal Invasion Read online

  “Did she ever mention her husband or their marriage or anything like that?”

  “No, never. I never heard her speak of him at all. Their neighbor, Lauren, she knew him a little because her husband played golf with him a couple of times. She said he seemed like a nice guy, but like his wife, he kept his cards close to the vest. He never talked about his work or anything overly personal except when it came to the kids. They both obviously adored their kids and were extremely devoted to them. I just can’t help but wonder what they had to hide that made them private to the point of being secretive, you know?”

  “Yes, I do, and I know what they were hiding from. You will too before much longer. Suffice it to say they had good reason to keep a low profile.”

  “Hmm. Interesting. I like that explanation better than what some people have said about them.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “That they were standoffish and arrogant. I never picked up that vibe from her, and that’s not how Lauren’s husband described Cleo’s husband. He said he was a friendly guy who was an extremely good golfer.”

  “So, they were the subject of a lot of speculation at the school?”

  “How can I say this without sounding like part of the problem?” After a pause, she said, “Usually when people move into our part of town or enroll their kids at Northwest Academy, they come with a bit of a pedigree, if you will. They’re CEOs, ambassadors, former senators, prominent lobbyists, grandchildren of presidents, even. We know who they are. The Beauclairs were the exception to that rule. No one knew anything about them, which made people rabidly curious.”

  To Sam, it sounded like they needed to get lives of their own, but then again, she never had understood the frantic need to know every detail of other people’s lives. “Was anyone particularly hateful toward Cleo or her family?”

  “Enough to murder them? No, but there was one woman, Emma Knoff, the president of the PTO at the school, who was annoyed by Cleo.”

  “In what way?”

  “She felt Cleo was stepping on toes with all her volunteering and helping out. She was particularly vocal about the fact that Cleo never left the building when the kids were at school. Weird was the word she used to describe it, but Emma is the kind of person who wants to be in charge of everything. Cleo made her feel threatened in her little fiefdom.”

  Sam shook her head in disbelief. Who were these people? “Can you tell me where I might find Emma?”

  “You won’t tell her I sent you, will you?”

  “No, I won’t mention your name. I’ll just say some of the parents we spoke to recalled her being upset about Cleo’s presence at the school. Something like that.”

  “Well, that’s the truth. She was upset about it.” Marlene gave her Emma’s address and phone number.

  “I really appreciate your help,” Sam said. “If you think of anything else that might be relevant, feel free to call me back. Just don’t give my number to your friends.”

  Marlene laughed. “I’ll do my best to refrain from handing it out.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “Before you go, if I could just say that my husband and I... We admire and respect you and your husband so much. Thank you both for your service.”

  Touched, Sam said, “Thank you. That means a lot. And thanks again for your time.”

  “Happy to help. I hope you’re able to get justice for those poor children.”

  “Oh, we will. You can bet on that.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SAM THOUGHT ABOUT the insight Marlene had provided. For someone who’d always wanted to be a mother, she didn’t understand the mob mentality that often came with motherhood or the parents who pushed their kids almost to their breaking point in search of elusive athletic or academic scholarships.

  Thankfully, her mother had never been that way. She’d had other faults that had come out when her marriage imploded, but at least she hadn’t been overly pushy. Sam desperately wanted to get out there and interview Emma Knoff herself, but since she couldn’t, she called Freddie and passed it along to him and Jeannie to investigate further.

  “Got it,” Freddie said. “Will do.”

  “Anything popping?”

  “Not yet,” he said, sounding tired and frustrated.

  “We need a thread to pull, and we need it soon.”

  “We’re on it, LT. Lot of ground to cover.”

  “I’ll let you get back to it.”

  Sam decided to take the chance to reach out to Cleo’s parents and Margaret Armstrong while she could. Using online white pages, she found the phone numbers she needed, and called Cleo’s parents.

  The phone rang several times before it was answered by a woman.

  “This is Lieutenant Sam Holland, Metro PD in Washington, DC, calling to speak with the parents of Cleo Beauclair.”

  “You mean Cleo Armstrong, right?” the woman asked with thinly veiled hostility. “That’s who she really was, and that’s why she’s dead.”

  “And you are?”

  “Her sister Keely. We’re living our worst nightmare, Lieutenant. We told her this was going to happen if she stayed with Jameson. He had an X on his back, and he took her down with him.”

  “It’s possible their deaths had nothing to do with their problems with Duke Piedmont.”

  “Right,” she said with a harsh laugh. “Now let me sell you some valuable swampland in Florida. He said he was going to kill my brother-in-law for turning him in to the Feds, and he finally made good on it, taking my beautiful sister too. If you’re looking at anyone other than Duke Piedmont, you’re wasting taxpayer dollars.”

  “May I speak with your parents, please?” Sam asked, finding it interesting that Keely hadn’t asked about the children. That would’ve been her first question if Cleo had been her sister.

  “They’re not doing well, as you can imagine.”

  “I won’t take but a few minutes of their time.”

  “Hold on a minute.”

  Sam heard low murmurs and rustling in the background before another woman came on the line.

  “This is Leslie Dennis. You wanted to talk to me about my Cleo?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sam said. “This is Lieutenant Sam Holland with the Metro PD in Washington, and I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” she said, sounding tearful. “For years now, I’ve feared that this day would come, but I always hoped it wouldn’t.”

  “Was your daughter fearful too?”

  “Very much so. She never let her babies out of her sight, except for an occasional outing with her husband. But they never went far. Cleo couldn’t relax if she wasn’t with her kids. That’s what Duke Piedmont did to her and to Jameson. They were always afraid.”

  “In the course of our investigation, we learned that your family urged her to leave Jameson after what happened with Piedmont and the company. Is that true?”

  “Yes, we urged her to leave him! We wanted her and the children to be safe. Piedmont wanted him dead—and we had no doubt he’d make him suffer first, perhaps by killing Cleo and the children in front of him. Her father and I have had nightmares for years about what might happen to them. Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with that kind of fear? I’ll be honest with you, Lieutenant. Dreading this outcome was almost worse than the reality.”

  “You’re going to hear from social services about the children.”

  “Tell them not to call us. We can’t live like this anymore.”

  “Your daughter’s children—”

  “She made her choices when she decided to stay with him. We can’t subject anyone else in our family to that kind of danger. Whoever has those children will be in danger for as long as Duke Piedmont is still alive and on the run. He has enormous resources, thanks to my son-in-law. Those children will be in danger no m
atter where they are, and that’s not going to be here. I have to go tend to my family.”

  “Thank you for your time,” Sam said, sickened by the fact neither their aunt nor their grandmother had asked about the children.

  Though shaken by the disturbing conversation with Cleo’s mother, Sam placed the call to Margaret Armstrong, taking advantage of the current quiet to get as much done as she could. Sam had begun to prepare her voice mail message when a woman took the call.

  “Is this Margaret Armstrong, formerly Mrs. Jameson Armstrong?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “Lieutenant Sam Holland, Metro PD in Washington, DC.”

  “You’re married to the vice president.”

  “Yes. Are you Jameson’s ex-wife?”

  “I am. Is my son all right?”

  “He is, but your ex-husband and his wife have been murdered.”

  She gasped. “Oh God. Does Elijah know?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sam made a note of the fact that he had known since last night and hadn’t told his mother himself. She found that interesting. “When was the last time you saw your ex-husband or had contact with him?”

  “At my son’s high school graduation, several years ago. Why?”

  “When someone is murdered, it’s common practice to thoroughly examine their past as we search for motive.”

  “And of course, that search led you directly to the ex-wife he cheated on and then sued for custody of their child while making sure the whole world knew about her medical challenges. Am I right?”

  Sam felt oddly ashamed of herself. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Let me assure you that I had nothing to do with his death, but I can’t help but note the karma. What goes around comes around.”

  “Where were you the day before yesterday?”

  “Right here at home.”

  “Can anyone attest to that?”

  “My partner, Richard. Let me put him on the phone.”

  “This is Richard French. How can I help you?”

  Sam introduced herself and asked if he could confirm that Margaret was at home in California the day before yesterday.

  “I can indeed. In fact, after five years together, this lovely lady agreed to marry me last weekend. We’ve been together without interruption ever since.”

  “Thank you for the confirmation.”

  “I’ll put Margaret back on the phone.”

  “Satisfied?” she said.

  “Yes, thank you and congratulations.”

  “I didn’t kill Jameson,” Margaret said, “and it breaks my heart to know what my son will have to go through because he loved his father. But people who ask for too much out of life often get what’s coming to them. Jameson treated me badly. That’s all I’ve got to say. Now, I need to go so I can call my son.”

  “Thank you for your time.”

  The line went dead, and as she closed her phone, the front door opened to admit her father and Dr. Harry Flynn, a close friend of hers and Nick’s.

  “Hey, boys,” Sam said. “What’re you two doing running around together?”

  “We met up on the sidewalk,” Harry said. “I’m here for a meeting with the esteemed vice president.”

  “I came for an update on the case,” Skip said.

  To Harry, Sam pointed to the dining room and tipped her face to accept a kiss on the cheek from the charming doctor. “How’s my Lilia doing?” Her chief of staff at the White House had been seeing Harry for some time now.

  “She’s delightful and spectacular and sexy.”

  Sam put her hands over her ears. “That’s way too much information.”

  “What can I say? I’m thoroughly besotted.”

  “Are you really?”

  “Yes,” he said, laughing. “I finally get why my buddy Nick is such a doofus since he met you. Now I’m just like him.”

  “Who you calling a doofus?” Nick asked from the dining room doorway.

  “You, Mr. Vice President,” Harry said, winking at Sam.

  “My gorgeous wife is entirely worth being labeled a doofus,” Nick said, smiling. “Now get in here. I don’t have all day.”

  “Apparently, I have official business with the vice president,” Harry said in a conspiratorial whisper. “What’d you make of that?”

  “I haven’t a clue. No one tells me anything.”

  “I’ll tell you about it after,” he shot over his shoulder as he went to shake hands with Nick, who closed the door behind them.

  “What’d you suppose that’s all about?” Sam asked her dad.

  “If I had to guess, it would be that the president and vice president are required to travel with personal physicians, and Nick may be asking Harry to accompany him on his upcoming trip to Europe.”

  “Huh,” Sam said. “I didn’t know they were required to travel with doctors. Isn’t that kinda paranoid?”

  “Say he was poisoned. Wouldn’t you want someone there who knew what to do and cared enough to do it as quickly as possible?”

  “Gee, thanks. Like I didn’t have enough things to worry about where he’s concerned. Thanks for adding that to my list.”

  Skip laughed. “It’s never happened, so you don’t need to worry about it. I was tossing out a hypothetical.”

  “Keep your hypotheticals to yourself. I’m already terrified someone is going to take a shot at him or something.” Sam shuddered. “I can’t bear to think about it.”

  “It’s far more likely to happen to you than him,” he said, all hints of amusement gone.

  “I know, but I wouldn’t be around to have to deal with me after something happens to him.”

  His eyes boggled. “I’m almost afraid to admit that I actually followed that logic.”

  “You speak me.”

  “Yes, I do, baby girl. How’s the case?”

  “Painstaking and slow,” Sam said, glancing at the kitchen door. “The kids are having lunch with Shelby. Their older brother is on his way here from Princeton, where he goes to school. We’re going to tell them about the parents when he gets here.” Sam glanced at her dad. “I’m worried about Alden, in particular. He hasn’t said a word to any of us since he’s been here. He follows Aubrey’s lead.”

  “The little guy is traumatized. Do you think maybe he saw something?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly. I have to call Trulo and get his advice on how best to handle telling them.”

  “That’s a good idea. Don’t let me hold you up. I just came to see how you’re doing and if I could help at all.”

  “Stick around. I want to bounce a few things off you if you have time.”

  “I got nothing but time, and I’m happy to bounce with you.”

  Sam smiled at his predictable reply as she put through the call to Trulo.

  “Lieutenant,” Trulo said. “What can I do for you?”

  Eyeing the kitchen door and keeping her voice down, she said, “I have to tell two five-year-olds the worst possible news about their parents. I’m looking for a little guidance if you have a minute.”

  “Ah, that’s a tough one.”

  “For sure. Their older brother is coming, and he’ll be here when we tell them, but I have to admit, I’m a little out of my league here, Doc.”

  “Totally understand, and I’m glad you asked. One of the most important pieces of advice I can give you is to make sure they are told their parents are dead. Use that word, because they will understand it. Often, we’re tempted to use gentler-sounding terms such as passed away, but that doesn’t help the child to understand the finality of what they’re being told. You also want them to know they’re allowed to ask questions at any time. They may not react the way you or I expect them to. Sometimes they can seem almost nonchalant about life-changing news, but it could be that they’re still processing what you’v
e told them and don’t fully understand yet.”

  Sam sat on the sofa and took notes.

  “If they have comfort toys like stuffed animals or blankets, it’s good to have them close by when you tell them and do it in a place where you’re not likely to be disturbed in any way. They need a safe, peaceful, quiet place. I think that’s the important stuff. If you’d like me to be there when you tell them, I’m more than willing to come by.”

  “I think we’ll be okay, but I really appreciate the offer.” Sam feared too many additional strangers underfoot when they were already surrounded by strangers.

  “No problem. If there’s anything else I can do, please feel free to reach out. While I have you, I saw Sergeant Gonzales earlier. Without giving anything away, I want you to know I encouraged him to take some time off. I think it would do him good.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “I can’t really answer that.”

  “I understand. Thanks again, Doc.”

  “Anytime.”

  Sam closed the phone and said to her dad, “One more call and I’m all yours.”

  “Take your time.”

  Sam called Ms. Finklestein—and yes, the word Picklestein ran through her mind. Damn Nick for putting that in her head! When she picked up, Sam said, “This is Sam Holland. I’m wondering if you were able to get into the Beauclairs’ home to get the items the children requested. We’re going to share the difficult news with them when their older brother arrives this afternoon, and it would be good to have their comfort items here by then.”

  “I just heard from the fire marshal, and someone from their office is going to take me in shortly. I’ll come straight to your home from there.”

  “Very good, thank you.”

  “I would like to be present when they’re told.”

  “As long as you allow us and their brother to be the ones to tell them.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “We’ll see you soon, then.” Sam ended the call before the woman could comment further. She never had gotten along well with authority and having a social worker up in her grill made her nuts. While she knew it was entirely necessary, it still rankled and reminded her of the days when they’d had regular visits from social workers while they were in the process of adopting Scotty. Thank God that was all in the past now. “Social workers are right up there with receptionists,” she said to her father, who grunted out a chuckle.