“Rocco was very open about his appreciation of your mother. She rejected his advances, but he still came onto her. Over-the-top compliments, little touches, that kind of thing. He refused to take a hint.” He pauses, disconcertion twisting his face, lending wrinkles to his brow. “Explain to me what happened with the girl, please.”
“We aren’t—we’re not completely certain,” I admit. “I can tell you what I think might have happened.”
Lionel nods slowly but doesn’t speak, which I take as my cue to go on.
“I think your brother was sleeping with Sandra. I think he killed her when she threatened to tell me that he was my—my—father.”
The only change in Lionel’s expression is a slight narrowing of his eyes. “What evidence do you have for all of this?”
So I tell him. I start at the beginning, with the couple at Grind and Brew, and work through everything that hashappened since then—Sandy’s note, her dead body, the texts Tonya is still receiving. The manuscript my mother left behind, Thomas Freese’s suspicious death, Gus’s claim that Sandy was seeing a teacher, the fuchsia sweatshirts, the dead chicken—I take all my rambling thoughts and dump them out on Lionel Astor’s desk in a pile of word vomit and half-formed conclusions.
“So my question,” I say when I’ve finished, “is whether you think your brother is capable of those things.”
“My brother,” Lionel says through gritted teeth, his hands white-knuckled around the now-empty glass of water, “is capable of a great many things. He can be genuinely kind and charming. But he can also be genuinely cruel and manipulative. He’s volatile like that. He’s not malicious—except toward me,” he adds with a bitter laugh. “But I have no doubt that he will easily dispose of anyone who threatens him. I imagine—” He breaks off, swallowing hard. “I imagine if my brother ever killed anyone, he would cry afterward. But he would do it again without hesitation if he thought he needed to.”
I just look at him for a second, trying to gauge his sincerity, trying to think through everything I know and everything I suspect. I jump, though, when Aiden speaks for the first time.
“You know this, and yet you’re letting him work at a school?”
Lionel bristles. “I keep an eye on him?—”
“Not closely enough, it seems,” Aiden snaps.
“All right,” I say, reaching up quickly to pat Aiden’s hand on my shoulder. “All right. Let’s calm down.”
Aiden sighs. “Are you willing to take a paternity test?” he says, and I’m not surprised to hear him still sounding abrasive, bordering on combative.
Lionel bristles again as his eyes jump back and forth between Aiden and me, but then he sighs. “If you’ll sign anNDA…then yes. I’m not your father, Miss Bean, but I do need to know if my brother is.” He pauses, then adds, “You’re absolutely sure that Sandra von Meller is dead?”
“Technically, no,” Aiden says. “We didn’t see a coroner pronouncing her dead. And the sheriff didn’t find a body. But she hasn’t been seen since, and I don’t see how it’s possible that she survived. There was…” He clears his throat. “There was a head wound, and she was motionless.”
“And not breathing,” I add quietly. “I held my fingers under her nose.” I pause. “Andyou’reabsolutely sure that you’re not my father?”
“Your mother and I never slept together,” he says with finality. “But more than that…” He trails off delicately before saying, “I am unable to have children.”
I swallow. I wondered about that. “All right.”
Lionel nods briskly. “Let me see what I can do.” Then he looks at me. “Don’t move. I’ll call for my lawyer.”
* I know it’s lame to laugh at my made-up character’s made-up car, but Sunshine makes me giggle every time she’s on the page.
26
IN WHICH AIDEN LOSES SHAKESPEARE
Lionel Astor and Juniper don’t end up submitting a paternity test. Instead they submit samples for an avuncular DNA test—a test that will tell them if Lionel is Juniper’s uncle. I didn’t realize that was a thing, but apparently it is. If he’s her father, the test will reveal that as well, based on a number of genetic markers. It must be sweet being rich and well-connected, because Lionel has an NDA drawn up and ready for us to sign within two hours of our meeting, stating that with the exception of law enforcement, we’re not allowed to disclose to anyone the potential relationship between Lionel and Juniper, or the fact that he and his wife apparently can’t have kids.
Personally, I think he’s telling the truth, at least about not being her father. Granted, I’m not an expert on body language or anything like that, and I don’t trust the honesty of a politician, but in this matter, he seems sincere—especially since he was so ready and willing to take the DNA test. He seems just as disturbed as Juniper does about what might have happened to her mother; it’s that, more thananything, that convinces me. It’s clear that he cared for Nora Bean.
News spreads fast about the disappearance of Sandra von Meller. Lionel’s clearly been successful in convincing Tonya to report her daughter missing; it’s all over the local news and in the local gazette. Sheriff Garrity calls Juniper and me in to give our statements, looking both sheepish and defiant, and I don’t hold myself back from giving him a swift dressing-down. Once I’m done with that, though, I tell him everything I know. Juniper takes even longer than I do when she talks to him, and by the time the two of us head home for the day, the sun is setting.
“I’m so tired,” Juniper says when we get inside. She throws herself face-first onto the couch, groaning on impact. “But my brain won’t shut up.” Her stocking-clad feet dangle off the edge of the sofa, wiggling to the beat of some unheard song. She’s got on a skirt made of corduroy, a dark red color, with a white turtleneck underneath. It doesn’t look comfortable, but I can admit it’s veryher.
“I know,” I say, my voice grim. “Mine won’t either. We should try to get some sleep, though. Maybe take some Benadryl or something.”
“Meh,” she says, turning her head so that she’s looking at me. “I’ve got some insomnia medication somewhere. It makes me kind of loopy, but it works well.”
“Take that,” I say, nodding.
