First Family

CHAPTER 34

SEAN WAS ABLE to grab a flight to Nashville that night. Michelle picked him up from the airport. On the drive to her father's house he filled Michelle in on what he'd discovered about Tuck and Cassandra Mallory.

"She sounds like someone whose ass I would really love to kick," she snapped.

"Well, you sure wouldn't have any trouble finding it. The lady tends to put it right out there."

"So who was the man who was meeting with Pam? The one Tuck thought was having an affair with her?"

"I haven't had a chance to follow that up."

After they rode in silence for a few seconds he said, "You really think your father killed your mother?"

"I don't know what to think. I only know that someone killed her and he's acting like the prime suspect."

"Do the cops share your suspicions?"

"He's a former police chief and my brother Bobby is on the force here. They tend to cover their own."

"But if the evidence points in one direction, they'll have to act."

"I know that," she said tensely.

"Have you talked to this Donna person? The one your mom was supposed to be meeting for dinner?"

"Not yet. I was hoping you and I could do it together."

He gripped her shoulder. "I know this is hard, Michelle. But we'll get through it."

"I know you've got your hands full with the Dutton case. I mean the First Lady and all. I feel sort of guilty pulling you into this."

He smiled reassuringly. "I'm a great multitasker. You should know that by now."

"I still appreciate it."

"Have they canvassed the neighborhood? Anyone see anything?"

"There was a pool party going on next door. A sweet sixteen for the homeowner's granddaughter. Cars parked all the way up the street. Lot of noise. Music. But no eyewitnesses to anything."

"Maybe something will pop on that end," he said encouragingly.

The Maxwell house was full, so Michelle had gotten Sean a room at a local hotel. He dropped his bag in his room and they drove over to the house. Sean expressed his condolences to everyone and then Michelle led him out into the backyard, where they could talk.

"The funeral's tomorrow," she said.

"Your brothers seem to be wondering what I'm doing here."

"Let them wonder."

"Do they suspect their father?"

"Even if they did, they would never acknowledge it."

"And yet you have no trouble doing so."

"Whose side are you on?"

"Yours, always. How do you want to start digging?"

"I snitched my mother's address book. A Donna Rothwell is listed in there. She's the only Donna, so she must be the one. I know it's very late but I thought we could call her and meet with her."

"On what pretext?"

"My wanting to know who my mother's friends were? Stories she could tell me. Quaint memories that might just lead me to a murderer."

"And if that person turns out to be your father?"

"I don't make exceptions to that rule. If he's the one, so be it."

Donna Rothwell agreed to meet with them despite the late hour. She was in her early sixties, about five-five, with a compact, athletic build. She had meticulously styled hair and carefully applied makeup. She exuded considerable warmth and even vivaciousness. Her home was about four miles from the Maxwells'. It was large, richly furnished, and immaculate; a woman in full maid's uniform had answered the door. The lady definitely had money, and from the many photos and mementos arrayed on shelves and tables, it was clear that she had traveled the world in high style.

She explained, "My late husband, Marty, was CEO of a large computer company and cashed out early. We lived a good life together."

"Your husband passed on?" Sean asked.

"Years ago. His heart."

"Never remarried?"

"Marty and I were college sweethearts. Doubt I'd get anything that good again, so why take a chance? But I date. Going steady right now, in fact. Sounds like high school, I know, but things come full circle if you live long enough."

"So you and my mom were close?"

"We did lots of things together. She was fun, your mom. I know this is all so horribly sad and depressing, but I want you to know that your mother knew how to have a good time."

"And my dad?"

Donna picked up her cocktail and sipped from it before answering. "He didn't get out as much. He liked to read, or so Sally told me. More reserved. He was a policeman, right? Seen the bad side of life for so many years. It probably does something to you, or at least that was my conclusion. Maybe causes you to be unable to have fun. I don't know. I'm just speculating here," she added quickly, probably noting the souring look on Michelle's face. "Your dad is a nice man. Very handsome. Lot of women around here thought your mom was very lucky."

"I'm sure. So Mom was coming to see you the night she died?"

Donna put down her cocktail. "Who told you that?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not."

"So was she?"

"We had talked about it, sure." She paused, seeming to gather her thoughts. "I actually think we were going to do something. Dinner, maybe a movie. We did that about once a week."

"It wasn't all that long ago. Can't you remember for sure?" Sean said politely. "I mean, the police will want to know for certain."

Donna picked her drink back up. "Police!"

"My mother's death is a homicide, Donna. The police are investigating."

"I thought she had a heart attack or hit her head or something."

"That's not how it happened."

"So what did happen?" When neither of them said anything, Donna exclaimed, "Are you telling me she was murdered?"

"Why would you think that?" asked Michelle.

"Because if her heart didn't stop and she didn't hit her head and the police are investigating, what else is there?"

"What can you tell me about my mom's life here? Other people she knew? Things she did?"

Donna was staring off, her mouth moving but nothing coming out. Finally she said, "If there's a killer loose…"

"Nobody said that was the case. Now, getting back to my mom."

Donna gulped down the rest of her drink and said hurriedly, "She had a lot of friends. All female as far as I knew. We did things together. Had fun. That was it."

"Can I have their names?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to talk to them like I'm talking to you."

"Are you investigating this?" She eyed Michelle nervously. "Sally told me you used to be with the Secret Service. And that you're a private investigator now."

"That's true. But all I am right now is a daughter who's lost her mother. Can I have those names?"

Donna gave them to her along with addresses and contact information.

As they drove off, Michelle's phone rang. She answered, listened, and then clicked off. "Shit!"

"What is it?"

"That was my brother Bill. The cops just picked up my dad for questioning."