Rosato And Associates: Accused Part 25

Chapter Thirty.

Mary took her father's arm, and Tony-From-Down-The-Block took Jane's arm, and the four of them headed toward the house like the most awkward double date in history. Pigeon Tony scurried ahead of them with Alasdair, whose demeanor had turned newly official. Their group's pace was slow, by necessity, and this was the most exercise her father had gotten in ages. Mary worried it might be too much, and even if it wasn't, that they wouldn't get to the house until Friday.

"Pop, do you and the guys want to wait here or in the car?" she asked, looking over. "We can get Feet and bring him back."

"NO, MARE, I'M FINE."

"Me, too." Tony-From-Down-The-Block winked at Jane. "How often do I get to be in the company of such beautiful women?"

"Che bella giorno!" Pigeon Tony exclaimed, throwing up his arms with a grin, and he didn't require translating. The grounds were sunny and beautiful, with a gentle breeze rustling through magnolia trees, climbing roses, and other flora and fauna that Mary couldn't identify, but it wasn't what interested her. She wasn't a botanist, but an amateur sleuth, and she was dying to get inside the Gardners' house and snoop around, like Nancy Drew with a J.D.

Alasdair asked Jane, "Where was Feet the last time you saw him?"

"In the house." Jane scanned left and right for Feet, as they walked along. "He had to use the bathroom right away, because he said his prostate had been so bad lately. Poor man. He didn't think the Flomax was doing any good at all."

Tony-From-Down-The-Block clucked, and his dentures made a dry sound. "It's fake Flomax, that's why. He gets it from China. You know what they put in that stuff? Mouse hair. Rat feet."

"IT'S LIKE HOT DOGS."

Tony-From-Down-The-Block shook his head. "No, it's worse. At least with hot dogs, you got the FDA. The Chinese, they got no FDA. They do anything they want. They got no laws over there, only people. Tons of people, and only one law."

"You mean that they're allowed only one child per family?" Jane asked, her tone so polite that Mary couldn't tell if she was trying to make conversation or was actually interested, in which case she was making a major mistake.

Tony-From-Down-The-Block shook his head again. "No, the law that you have to wear the same clothes. Ever see that? They all got the same brown outfit on, with the hat."

Mary wanted to get things back on track. "Jane, you were explaining about what happened with Feet."

"Yes, well, I put him in the powder room, but then your father said that he couldn't wait, so I showed him to the bathroom in the family room. Then Tony here"-Jane gestured to Tony-From-Down-The-Block, clinging to her like a barnacle with a comb-over-"needed to use a bathroom as well because Feet was taking such a long time, so I showed him to the powder room near the mud room, just off the garage, and I waited for him, because sometimes the cat scratches at the door, since her litter box is in there..."

Mary's head exploded, but she didn't interrupt. They pa.s.sed the aviary on the right and the stables on the left, but n.o.body noticed the scenery except Pigeon Tony, who swiveled his birdlike head this way and that, his red bandanna and beaky nose making him look like a redheaded woodp.e.c.k.e.r.

"... then when he was finished, we collected your father and left the house, but I was yakking away with Tony, and somehow, we must have forgotten all about Feet. Our housekeeper has a dentist appointment this morning, and she would've helped me keep better track of everyone. I've made a hash of it on my own."

Mary got the gist, mortified. "Jane, I'm sorry this ended up being trouble for you."

"No worries, I understand completely." Jane smiled in a genuinely warm way. "I took care of my father for long time. He had Alzheimer's and he lived with us for a decade, almost to the very end of his life."

"My deepest condolences about your father," said Tony-From-Down-The-Block.

"MINE, TOO. YOU'RE A CLa.s.s ACT, MRS. G," her father said, and Mary thought that summed it up perfectly. She was really starting to like Jane, who seemed kind, gentle, and low-key, nothing like her husband. Alasdair had been right in his loyalty to her, and she seemed to embody the strength and practicality of a horsewoman as well as the fragility and sorrow of a mother who had buried a child. Mary was dying to tell her her suspicions about Tim Gage, but this wasn't the time or the place. She couldn't bring up Allegra either, though she sensed that mother and daughter needed each other, more than they knew.

"Yes, thank you, Jane," Tony-From-Down-The-Block said, then he scowled. "You know, this is all Feet's fault. He wanders off, all the time. He's too old to hang with us."

"DON'T SAY THAT, TONY. THAT'S WHAT GOT YOU IN TROUBLE WITH HIM."

"Why? It's the truth!"

"WE'RE ALL OLD."

"He acts it. I don't."

"Gentlemen." Mary thanked G.o.d that they were only steps away from the front of the house. "Let's not have this discussion now. Tony-From-Down-The-Block, I think you should say you're sorry to Feet, because you hurt his feelings. Now, let's all go inside and find him."

"FEET PROLLY LOCKED HIMSELF IN THE BATHROOM."

"You're probably right," said Tony-From-Down-The-Block, as Alasdair led them onto the flagstone porch under the portico, opened the front door, and held it to the side for everyone.

"LADIES FIRST." Mary's father stood aside and so did Pigeon Tony and Tony-From-Down-The-Block.

"Why, thank you." Jane entered the house, and Mary went in behind her, looking around secretively, like a neighbor at a Realtor's open house. It was new construction, and the layout of the home was clear from the entrance hall, which was generous enough to hold two cherrywood benches. To the left was a formal living room with chintz-covered chairs and couches in fresh green hues, and to the right was an open doorway that led to a formal dining room, with a glistening mahogany table the length of an airport runway. Oriental rugs carpeted the hardwood floors, and tasteful landscapes covered the walls, but what intrigued Mary was the array of silver-framed photographs blanketing a matching sideboard, though they were too far away to see.

"This is the powder room he used." Jane opened a door in the entrance hall, but it was empty. "He's not here, so he must be in the family room."

"I'll go with you and check the garage." Alasdair headed down the hall in that direction, with Jane at his heels.

"We'll be right back," she called over her shoulder. "Everyone, please make yourself comfortable."

"I'll lend a hand!" Tony-From-Down-The-Block chugged behind her like a lovesick caboose.

"I NEED TO TAKE A LOAD OFF." Mary's father plopped down on the cherrywood bench, and so did Pigeon Tony, who took off his red bandanna and used it to wipe his forehead.

Mary seized the moment to sneak into the dining room and peek at the photographs. There was a professional wedding photograph of Jane and John, but all of the others were snapshots of Fiona and Allegra, together through the years; the sisters as babies in ba.s.sinets, then Fiona wearing a big sister T-shirt holding Allegra, Allegra dressed as a pony for Halloween with a pig-tailed Fiona in jodhpurs, and Fiona holding a long red ribbon with Allegra in starter gla.s.ses, sitting on top of a horse. The photos went on and on, and in almost every one, Allegra was looking up at Fiona with adoration, so Mary could see, as if it were photographic exhibits in a trial, vivid evidence of the love Allegra had for her only sister. The photos stopped at Fiona's induction into National Honor Society, with a gap-toothed Allegra hugging her around the waist, and after that, there were no more photographs, even of Allegra alone. Mary left the dining room shaken.

"We can't find him anywhere." Alasdair came back into the entrance hall and placed his hands on his slim hips. "I'm wondering if he went back to the car. We came to the house without checking there."

"I CAN GO LOOK." Mary's father began to get up, leaning heavily on his knee, but Alasdair waved him back into his seat.

"Please, no. You stay here, and I'll go check at the car."

"Thanks so much." Mary held open the door for Alasdair, who left the house just as Jane returned to the entrance hall, her forehead knit with worry.

"He's not here at all, even in the garage. I'm concerned that he might have gone back outside and lost his way. My father used to all the time, even before his illness progressed."

"THAT SOUNDS LIKE FEET. HE WAS JUST SAYIN' HE HAS A BAD SENSE A DIRECTION."

Tony-From-Down-The-Block opened his palms in appeal. "See, that's what I'm saying. Old! Old old."

Mary got an idea. "Jane, I think we should check the cottage. That's right out back, isn't it? Maybe he found his way there, like you said, getting lost."

"You might be right." Jane turned to Mary's father, Pigeon Tony, and Tony-From-Down-The-Block. "Would you three mind staying here, so I know where you are?"

"TALKED ME INTO IT."

"Mille grazie." Pigeon Tony nodded, wide-eyed.

"Can't I go?" Tony-From-Down-The-Block looked heartbroken, but Mary shook her head.

"No, please, stay here. It's a search party, not a field trip. Jane, let's go." Mary headed for the door so Jane wouldn't think twice and leave her behind, too. She didn't want to miss a chance to get inside the cottage, which was the suburban headquarters of the Gardner Group. In fact, she was praying that if Feet had fallen, he fell inside the cottage.

"It's this way." Jane hustled out the front door, and Mary fell into step beside her, excited about the potential for information at the cottage. Maybe there would be an employee who could tell her more about Tim Gage, like the way he interacted with Fiona.

"How many employees do you have down at the cottage?" Mary asked, trying to keep her tone casual. They were walking down a gravel path toward a tan fieldstone house that looked like a smaller version of the main house, except that it had a large parking lot to the right, which was almost empty.

"Our main headquarters is in town, as you know, and we have a hundred there. There's only five here, including the lawyers you met the other day, Neil and his staff."

Mary was wondering if any of the employees had spotted Lonnie Stall at the house one of the times that Fiona was babysitting Allegra. She didn't think Allegra was wrong about the babysitting, especially since she hadn't been wrong about Tim's being at the party. "The cottage must be a great place to work, in such a lovely setting. A lot more relaxing than Center City."

"Yes, that's what John likes about it, and he never complains about the commute." Jane smiled, even though her eyes kept scanning the area. Rosebushes in a variety of pink hues lined the gravel walkway, and they pa.s.sed a row of evergreens that had been planted in front of the cottage and around the parking lot, presumably to screen the business traffic from view. To the far right, beyond the cottage, stood a smaller fieldstone house with a white picket fence mounded with climbing roses, overlooking a wooded countryside.

"That little house is so charming, and what a view of the woods!" Mary pointed as they walked along. "Is that where Alasdair lives? He mentioned that he and his wife live on the property."

"Yes, and the woods belong to us as well, and John's brothers own the neighboring farms, on the other side of the treeline." Jane c.o.c.ked her head. "So, Mary, you're from South Philly, born and bred?"

"Yes, can you tell by my accent?"

"It's not so bad."

"Just don't ask me to get my coat," Mary said, accenting the o in the flat, nasal way that Philadelphians did, which was music to her ears.

"I think you were right, asking Tony to apologize." Jane's blue-eye gaze shifted slyly. "Though I know how he feels. I used to think forty was old."

Mary laughed. "You can help me broker a peace between Tony and Feet, and after that we can end world war."

Jane smiled, striding along. "But first we have to find Feet. You don't seem to be too worried."

"I'm not. I've known these guys longer than you, and none of the trouble they get into is very serious. They mean well, despite the hand-kissing and all."

"I can see that, and your father is such a sweet man."

"He really is." Mary hadn't realized the conversation would take such a personal turn, but she wasn't all that surprised, being a woman. She generally knew everyone's life history in the first five minutes after she stepped into a ladies room. "I feel very lucky in both of my parents. I owe them everything."

"I felt the same way. I'm an only child and I was very close with both of my parents. My mother pa.s.sed only two years before my father, and I counted my blessings in having them for as long as I did." Jane's tone turned tender, and Mary couldn't help but mention the subject they'd both been avoiding.

"Jane, I appreciate your kindness to me today, with what's happening to Allegra, and even though we may disagree on some points, I know you love her and have her interests completely at heart."

"I do." Jane kept her face forward and swallowed visibly. "I love her so much, and I miss her every minute she's not under my roof. Even when she was at boarding school, I missed her, and certainly now, well, it's far worse. I'm just trying to do the best thing for her. I always have."

Mary felt her throat catch. "I know that, and you can see how much family means to me. The day Allegra came into our offices, my heart broke for all of you, including her."

"Thank you for saying that." Jane stopped, turning to Mary, as they reached the door to the cottage. "You know, you've asked me a lot about the property, but you haven't asked me where Allegra is. I just realized that it must mean you already know."

Mary felt nonplussed. She should've thought of that, but hadn't, and she didn't want to confirm or deny for fear of getting Alasdair in trouble.

"You needn't say anything, I know you have client confidentiality and such. But if you happen to see her, please tell her that her mother loves her very much."

"Jane, I know it's not my business, but you have to find your way back to each other."

"I doubt that's possible, any longer. I haven't been the best mother to her, she may have told you." Jane's fair skin flushed pink, and Mary knew she had to be talking about her drinking.

"None of us is perfect, Jane, and any tragedy causes people to act out of character, until they get their bearings back. That's what happened to me, after my husband was killed. I was crazy for years, inside."

Jane's mouth turned down at the corners, and Mary sensed her words had hit home. If she was ever going to make a pitch for Allegra, this was the time.

"Jane, you can still turn it around. I've never been a mother, but I'm speaking as a daughter. A girl always needs her mother. That, I know from my heart."

Jane's eyebrows lifted, just the slightest. "She has to want it, too."

"She does, she just won't admit it to herself or to you. Call her at the hospital. Tell her you want to see her. Ask her to put you on her visitors' list. You go first. That's why you're the mom."

Jane's eyes shone with sudden tears, and she opened the door to the cottage. "Now. Let's not speak of this again."

Mary followed her into a large reception room with more Shaker furniture, and eggsh.e.l.l-ivory walls covered with business plaques, charitable awards, and corporate portraits of the three Gardner brothers. The family resemblance was remarkable, the same wide-set blue eyes, the small nose and a strong chin, and each was good-looking in his own way. John sat in a thronelike chair wearing a boxy Brooks Brothers suit, and behind him stood his two brothers: one who looked remarkably like him, but was dressed in a hipper, more GQ-style suit, and the other looked the youngest, with fewer crow's-feet, longer hair, a relaxed smile, and a work shirt under a corduroy jacket. The caption read JOHN, RICHARD, AND EDWARD GARDNER, which Mary sensed established the pecking order, because so many of the other photographs were only of John, framed with an array of newspaper and magazine articles that featured him.

"Susan's not at her desk." Jane crossed the room to a matching cherrywood desk, which was unoccupied. The nameplate on the desk read SUSAN WEATHERLY, next to a computer monitor, a Phillies cup full of pens, and a plastic cube that held photos of a chubby gray tabby.

"Isn't it lunch time?" Mary checked a fancy wall clock, which read 12:15. The office seemed quiet, almost as if it were empty, so she guessed everyone had gone to lunch.

"Susan?" Jane pa.s.sed the desk, heading for an open doorway that led down a hallway, and Mary followed her past architectural renderings of apartment buildings, under placards she read on the fly: Jamieson Mews, Canterbury Village, The Presidential Hotel & Condominiums, and Meyers Towers, which she flashed on as the project Fiona was working on.

"h.e.l.lo? Susan, anybody?" Jane ducked her head in a series of offices off the right side of the hallway. Mary lagged behind, reading the nameplates outside each office and trying to commit them to memory, in case she wanted to investigate the employees later. She would've used her BlackBerry to take photos of the nameplates, but didn't want to get caught.

"Where is everyone? In the backyard?" Jane continued down the hallway, past a file room and a coat closet, then opened the back door of the cottage, when she gasped. "Oh my G.o.d!'

"Feet?" Mary said, stricken. She should have realized that something could have actually gone wrong. She raced after Jane and flew out the back door.

Chapter Thirty-one.

"Feet!" Mary cried out at the sight. Feet was moaning, his head hanging to the side and his lined face a mask of pain. He lay on the gra.s.s next to a picnic table, in the arms of an older woman, with Richard Gardner, Neil Patel, and other Gardner employees cl.u.s.tered around him. Mary rushed to his side on the gra.s.s beside him.

"Mary, Mary!" Feet wailed. His Mr. Potatohead gla.s.ses lay broken beside him. "Help me, oh, it hurts!"

"Tell me, what happened!" Mary scanned his body frantically, but there was no visible injury. "What is it? Are you having a heart attack?"

"Please, Mary, I'm in so much pain!" Feet wailed louder. "I'm in agony, such agony!"

"Where? Is it your chest, your left arm?"