The Mysteries of Max: Books 25-27

Chapter 19

Quintin Gardner heard a car door slam and peered out through the curtains of his sitting room—his favorite room in the house. When he saw that his sister had arrived in her beefed-up BMW the corners of his mouth sagged.

For a brief moment he considered not opening the door but then decided against it. Marcia wasn’t the kind of woman who took kindly to a brother who refused to let her in. It was, after all, as much her house as his, as it had been the ancestral home for the past century, and the house where all the Gardners had lived ever since Grandpa Gardner had made his fortune with his first gummy bear.

So he shuffled out of his sitting room, dropping his newspaper on his favorite easy chair as he did, shuffled into the hallway, and went to open the door for his sibling.

“What do you want?” were his first words, not exactly dripping with brotherly love.

Marcia, if she was offended, didn’t show it. Instead she stuck her nose in the air and pranced in.

“I heard about that girl that was found,” she announced. “Is it true the police were here to interrogate you?”

“They were here to interview me,” he said, experiencing his usual pang of regret that his father hadn’t stopped conceiving after he’d had a son, and had insisted on bringing his sister into this world. How much sweeter life would have been if he’d been an only child.

“So?” said Marcia, who was a rail-thin, bony woman with coarse features about fifteen years Quintin’s junior. She hadn’t always been this unattractive. Once upon a time she’d had the entire male population of Hampton Cove clamoring to court her—though the extreme wealth of her family may have had something to do with that of course.

“So what?” he asked as he led her into the sitting room where he liked to entertain his guests, few though they usually were in number, and fewer every year.

“So who is this girl? Is it true she’s the spitting image of Vicky?”

He winced, as he usually did at the mention of the name of his beloved wife. “I saw the pictures,” he said as he sank into a fauteuil. “I think it’s her. Though of course that’s quite impossible.” He gave himself up to the same worried thought processes that had held him in their grip since the police contingent’s visit: could it be that Vicky had somehow managed to stay young forever? She’d always been obsessed with her good looks, and had hated every wrinkle or blemish that marred her perfect alabaster skin.

“What did the police say?” asked Marcia. “Do they know who she is, this girl?”

He shook his head. “That’s what they were here to find out. They don’t have a name, and they have no idea what happened to her, and were hoping I could enlighten them.” He scoffed, “They actually seem to think I had something to do with her murder. Can you imagine? Me! I hardly ever leave the house these days, let alone wander around murdering innocent young women and dumping them in ditches.”

“So she was found in a ditch? Where?”

He waved a hand. “Somewhere outside Hampton Cove. Farmer Giles or something.”

“Giles Turner,” said Marcia, nodding. “He always was smitten with Vicky, wasn’t he?”

Quintin narrowed his eyes. “You’re not saying that this Giles person kept Vicky all these years and suddenly decided to kill her?”

Marcia shrugged. “I’m saying anything is possible.” She gave her brother a searching look. “So you really think it’s Vicky, Quintin? Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure the police will be able to tell us in a couple of days.”

Marcia threw up her hands. “How you can remain so calm about all this is absolutely beyond me! If it really is Vicky, where has she been all this time? And why did she disappear so suddenly twenty years ago? Don’t you want answers, Quintin?”

“Of course I want answers,” he said a little irately. “But I’m not going to get them by stomping around like Godzilla and needling the police until they give me those answers, am I? Besides, I’m sure that if it really is Vicky, that I’ll be suspect number one. Again.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous. Everyone knows how crazy you always were about that girl.”

Her lips pressed together in an expression of disapproval, as they usually did when mention of Vicky was made. Marcia had never been fond of her brother’s young wife, and had never made a secret of her sentiments toward her. Not that Vicky cared. She was too self-absorbed to care what anyone thought of her, not even Quintin. It was an aspect of her that had fascinated Quintin: the way Vicky’s life revolved around herself to a great degree, and to hell with everyone who didn’t give her what she felt she deserved.

“How are things at the factory?” he asked.

“Fine, fine,” said Marcia dismissively. “Bobby is on top of everything as usual.” She gave her brother a penetrating look, and he knew exactly what was coming next. “When are you finally going to make it official? You know how hard that boy works, and how much he’s invested in the business. Don’t you think he deserves a little assurance?”

“I’m not dead yet, Marcia,” he snapped.

“You’re not going to live forever, you know,” she said, in that direct way of hers. She got up. “Anyway, I expect the police will show up on my doorstep next. What do you want me to tell them?”

“Tell them whatever you want,” he growled. “I don’t care.”

“Fine,” she said. “Be that way. But make up your mind about Garibo, will you? Bobby isn’t going to wait forever. He’s had a very tempting offer from Unilever, and he’s seriously considering taking them up on it.”

Quintin looked up at this. “Bobby is thinking about leaving Garibo?”

“What do you expect! You’re practically pushing him out the door! Your own flesh and blood!” And with these words, she stalked off, and moments later slammed the door.

He heard the engine of her lime-green BMW gun and her tires spray gravel as she took off.

A grim set had come about Quintin’s mouth. Marcia was being pushy, as usual. Pushy and obnoxious. But maybe she had a point. He wasn’t going to live forever, and this whole business with Vicky being found dead had rattled him to a great degree.

And as he got up and picked up a portrait of his beloved wife, he sighed deeply.

Maybe it was finally time to let go…