Scar Tissue Read online

  “The wife works nights,” Gary said following my gaze.

  I assumed that was his way of explaining why there was also a pile of dishes in the sink. I wondered how Gary could fix a car but wasn’t able to wash a dish. Must have a problem with soap and a sponge.

  “Mitzi?” Gary yelled up the stairway.

  “Yeah?”

  “Someone to see you.”

  “Have a seat. She’ll be right down.” He picked up the plate and mug from the table and balanced them on top of the already overflowing sink. “I gotta get back to work.” He stepped outside letting the screen door slam behind him.

  “I knew I’d see you again.” Mitzi came into the kitchen, slid a wooden captain’s chair across the linoleum and sat.

  “We have a few more questions,” Griff said.

  “Shoot.” She picked up a spoon from the table and tapped it against the palm of her other hand.

  “Was there any reason for you to think Ashley might have been using drugs?”

  She shrugged and shook her head. “No. I mean, not really. I saw some Adderall in her bag once. I was a little surprised that perfect Ashley would stoop the way the rest of us did at exam time, but I was kinda glad too, it made her seem more normal.”

  “Ever see anything else out of the ordinary?”

  “You mean in the way of drugs?”

  I nodded.

  “She wasn’t the type.”

  “You think it was normal for her to be as good as she was?” I asked. “I mean she never lost, right? What are the odds of that?”

  “Some people are good at what they do.”

  “How are your races going?” Griff asked.

  She looked at him like she wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “Coach Massett said you were his number two finisher. Said you couldn’t get past Ashley. Must be nice not to be second anymore.”

  “What are you saying?” she asked.

  “I’m not saying anything. I’m asking you how your running is going.”

  “It’s going fine.”

  “First place finishes?”

  She nodded without taking her eyes off Griff.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Did Ashley have a lot of money?” I asked changing the subject hoping to drop her intensity down a notch.

  She broke her stare with Griff, tossed the spoon onto the table and shifted to me, but the muscles in her face didn’t relax. “Why?”

  “I’m just trying to get a sense of her lifestyle away from her parents. Did they give her an allowance? Did she work part time?”

  “She had a bank account and a checkbook and credit cards. She didn’t work. Somebody kept her in money and paid her bills.”

  “So, she had plenty?”

  “I looked at her checkbook once when she was in the shower. She left it lying on the bed. There was a five-figure balance and the first number was 5. That should give you an idea.”

  “Not bad for a college student,” I said.

  Mitzi scoffed. “No shit.”

  “But no drugs as far as you know?”

  “You’re talking to me like I knew her well. I didn’t know crap about her except that she was a spoiled rich girl with an overbearing mother and a father who wouldn’t stay on the sideline.”

  Griff stood. “Thanks for your help Mitzi.” He pushed his chair back beneath the wooden table. “There is something I’ve been wondering. I hope I’m not out of line by asking, but Fensworth is a very expensive school. I was wondering…”

  “How a lowlife like me got in?” Mitzi finished his sentence.

  “That wasn’t quite how I’d put it.”

  “Yeah, but it’s what you’re wondering.”

  Griff waited.

  “I got a full scholarship. Athletic and academic.”

  “That must have made it even harder for you to witness Ashley’s success.”

  “I’m getting my education. That’s what I’m there for. And this year I’ll own the track. I’m doin’ just fine, thank you.”

  “I hope so,” Griff said.

  I followed Griff outside. Behind me Mitzi’s chair scraped across the floor and the door closed.

  Griff leaned his head into the garage. “Nice to meet you Gary,” he said.

  “Likewise.” Mr. Gannon stood up from under the hood of the pick-up and wiped his hand on the rag he took from his pocket.

  Griff stuffed his hands into his jeans. “It must have been tough for you to watch your daughter work so hard just to come up second every time.”

  Gary Gannon took a deep breath stretching his torso an inch or two taller. “The Proverbs say, Pride goes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. But with the humble is wisdom. We have the Lord on our side. Obviously, Ashley Lambert didn’t. She took the fall. Those are God’s words.”

  For the second time since we’d arrived at the Gannon’s house we had no response. Griff nodded to Gary, put a hand on my shoulder and turned me toward the Land Rover.

  “Jesus,” I said as we backed out of the driveway.

  “You invoking or swearing?” Griff asked.

  “A little of both.”

  “Quite the family. I don’t really know how to describe them.”

  “Sort of like Evangelical Bundys.”

  Griff laughed. “I think you hit the nail on the head.”

  “Or the thorns.”

  “Don’t start, Britt. You could get struck down.”

  “Nah, I think He likes me.”

  “He’d be a fool not to.”

  Sixteen

  “You up for a visit with Greg Lambert?” Griff asked as we started across the Casco Bay Bridge.

  “You’re ready to disclose Ashley’s drug use?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What if Gina called him?”

  “I asked her to give me a couple of days.”

  “What are we seeing him for?”

  “Greg must know about her finances. He’s probably controlling them. If we can access her money flow we can see where she was spending it.”

  “Leading us to who she was buying from.” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “You still think it was suicide?”

  “Yeah, but the drugs are a curve ball. Before we lay it out for Gwen and Greg I want to make sure we can back up what we tell them with solid proof.”

  Greg Lambert never looked happy to see us and his greeting today was no different.

  “What?” he asked swinging wide the front door.

  “Nice to see you too, Greg,” Griff panned. “We need a little insight regarding Ashley’s financial situation.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m assuming you supported her. She wasn’t working, correct?”

  Greg gestured for us to come inside. We followed him into his study. He stopped and turned to us mid-way across the plush carpet. No offer to sit down.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m developing a bit of a theory and need to know how Ashley spent her money.”

  “What’s your theory?’

  “I’d rather not get into it yet, not until I know if I’m right.”

  “I hired you, Mr. Cole, at a hefty price I might add. I have a right to know your theories.”

  Griff nodded. “That’s true, but you might not like where I’m going.”

  “I’ll decide what I like and don’t like.”

  “All right. Ashley was good, almost too good. I mean most kids have it one way or another. They’re off the charts academically or athletically, but both is less common.”

  “So? My daughter was gifted.”

  “Gifted or assisted.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Is it possible Ashley was using performance enhancers to win her races?”

  “Perform…what the hell? Are you telling me she was taking drugs?”

  “The toxicity screen came back. Ashley had amphetamines in her system.”

  Greg stood t
here staring at Griff, processing the information. He was in fight or flight mode and I was pretty sure which way Greg would go.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  I was right.

  “I asked Dr. Wellington to give me a couple of days to look into it, but you can call her to confirm.” Griff nodded toward the phone on the desk.

  “You’re damn right I’ll call her to confirm.”

  Greg picked up his cell phone and punched in a few numbers. After a brief conversation with Gina he put the phone carefully on the desk, stared at it for a moment like he thought it might change its mind and then slowly turned to face us.

  “What is it that you want to know?”

  His tone had softened, become almost repentant. (Almost.).

  “I’d like to know how she spent her money.”

  Greg Lambert didn’t move other than to clench and unclench his fists while he stared at the floor in his study.

  “I’m hoping that might tell us how and where she was getting the drugs.”

  “They tested her once in a while at a meet,” Greg said. “She always tested clean.”

  “Professional athletes get around drug testing all the time.”

  Greg’s head shot up and he leveled his eyes at Griff. “Professional…” He stopped.

  “Something you want to say?” Griff asked. “If you know something that will help….”

  “I don’t know anything,”

  Griff shrugged, “It’s your dime.”

  “Ashley had a bank account and a checkbook. I paid her credit card bills. She was very careful. I never saw anything out of the ordinary on the statements.”

  “What about her checking account?” I asked. “Was she the only name on the account?”

  He nodded. “She used that for personal things. I deposited five thousand a month. She seemed content with that amount.”

  Who wouldn’t be, I thought. A brilliant kid and stellar athlete heading for Johns Hopkins with money in the bank takes drugs and jumps to her death. WTF?

  “Can we take a look at her bank statements?” Griff asked.

  “I don’t have them. They went directly to her. I have no idea what she did with them.”

  “But the bank would have copies. Or we could access them from her computer.”

  Greg waved his hand in the air. “I’m her executor, but I don’t have any of her passwords. You’re better off going to the bank directly.”

  Will you give us permission to request her statements?”

  “I’ll call the manager. He knows me. When do you want them?”

  Griff raised his eyebrows. “How about now?”

  Greg Lambert picked up the phone and made the arrangements and Griff and I headed to Citizens Bank in downtown Portland.

  Bank Manager Steven Connelly stood and shook Griff’s hand after we introduced ourselves.

  “I have them right here. I printed everything immediately after Mr. Lambert made the request.”

  Money talks, I thought and right now we were hoping it would talk in more ways than one.

  Griff took the envelope from Mr. Connelly and after a quick stop at Silly’s for fish tacos, we were on our way back to the office to study Ashley’s spending habits.

  We were two blocks from downtown when we stopped for a red light. On the corner to my left was a Mobil station, to my right, The Blue Kangaroo Day Care. Kids of working parents ranging in age from two to eight were playing inside the fenced yard. The light changed and we started to pull away. It was then that I noticed a short, pregnant woman standing at the far corner of the fenced play yard. Her unruly hair whipped about her face in the summer breeze, but there was no mistaking her features. It was Rhea standing in the shade of the Maple tree, almost unseen in its shadow, watching the children play. My first thought was how sad she looked, her shoulders stooped, her hands folded together as if in prayer. I wondered if she was imagining Jonathan on that playground. Then I wondered if she was watching the children in anticipation of her own child and the hopes and fantasies that must accompany an approaching birth. I wanted to believe it was the latter, but my gut knew better. I turned my head as we pulled forward so I could keep watching her.

  “What are you looking at?” Griff asked.

  “It’s Rhea. She’s standing at the day care watching the kids.”

  “So?”

  “This far from home? At a day care? What’s she doing?”

  “Maybe scoping it out for the baby.”

  “She’s a stay at home Mom. She told me that’s the way she and Mike want it. He works outside the home. She works in.”

  “Maybe she wants a day off once in a while.”

  “Yeah,” I said and settled back in the seat. “Maybe.”

  “Any calls?” Griff asked over his shoulder as we crossed the threshold into his office, anxious to get to Ashley’s bank statements.

  “Greg Lambert,” Katie said following us in.

  “We were just there.”

  “He wanted to know if you’d found anything.”

  Griff shook his head and grimaced. “He’ll know when I do.”

  “Should I tell him that?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled and pulled the door closed.

  Griff handed me a stack of statements that started with the opening of the account and ended two years ago. He took the more recent ones. It didn’t take long to see a glaring change in Ashley’s spending pattern. The statements I had were boring, run of the mill purchases, doctor appointment co-pays, Varkin was listed almost monthly, CVS, Amazon orders. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary, but Griff’s stack revealed something different. As of last year, on the first of every month, eight thousand dollars had been withdrawn in cash. The five-figure balance that Mitzi had mentioned was long gone. From the looks of it Ashley was just scraping by. Greg hadn’t made any mention regarding changing the amount he deposited monthly. And in fact, it was clear to see a five-thousand-dollar deposit was made on the first of each month. But with an eight-thousand-dollar withdrawal the day after, Ashley’s funds were close to depleted.

  “What do you think?” Griff asked.

  “No idea. Even if she was buying performance drugs they wouldn’t have run her $8000 a month, would they?”

  “Seems doubtful, but I guess that’s our next direction.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Performance enhancers.”

  “How do you find people who will talk about that? Isn’t that whole faction pretty secretive?”

  “I don’t know. It’s all new to me. But someone might be willing to offer advice to a newbie online. It’ll be anonymous. No risk.”

  “Everyone likes to give advice.”

  “Play to the ego.”

  Seventeen

  I’d collapsed onto a lounge out on the deck after completing a half hour on the elliptical. My skin was sticky with half dried sweat. I was imagining the pool that would someday grace the stretch of lawn before me and wishing it were there now. Griff had left for the office after his last swallow of caffeine to further research PE use. I’d begged off an early start in favor of a workout and told him I’d join him later, leaving out my plan to drop in on Rhea next door. Hey, who could fault me for checking in on a pregnant woman with a sprained ankle? Who, other than Griff that is. Seeing Rhea standing by the day care fence yesterday was still bugging me.

  Maybe she was arranging day care for a child yet to be born, but I wasn’t convinced. Her demeanor told me there was something else. It wasn’t like she’d been interacting, talking to the child care workers and getting a feel for the place. She’d been hiding in the shadows, observing. I thought of Jonathan. He’d be about five years old now. The same age as many of the kids at the day care.

  After a bottle of water and a shower I started on the path from my driveway to Rhea’s. It was heady with the scent of lilacs, huge purple clusters dripping from overgrown bushes on either side. I stopped to break off a few of the largest blossoms so I wouldn’t ar
rive empty handed. The flowers would be a preemptive peace offering for the way I planned to steer the conversation.

  “Wow,” Rhea said swinging back the kitchen door. “They’re beautiful. Every once in a while, I catch the scent of them through the kitchen window. There’s nothing better.”

  She took the bunch from my hand and walked to the sink. Extracting a large glass pitcher from an overhead cabinet, she filled it half full with water, slipped the stalks in and set it on the counter. “Picture perfect,” she said. “Thanks. What brings you over? No work today?”

  “Griff’s doing some research so I opted for a workout and a late start.”

  “I miss working out.” She lay her palm against her bulging stomach.

  “Not much longer now.”

  “No, not much longer.” Looking a little wistful, she slipped onto the stool beside me.

  We sat at the kitchen counter in silence.

  “Can I get you something?” she asked as though suddenly remembering I was there.

  “No, I’m fine. How’s your ankle?”

  “Much better, thanks.”

  “That’s what Griff said.”

  “What?”

  “We saw you yesterday at the day care. We were driving by and you were watching the kids. Griff said your ankle must be better. That’s kind of a long way to venture alone, isn’t it? I mean being pregnant and having a bad ankle. You’ve got to be careful these days. You’re so close.”

  “I’m not an invalid. I’m pregnant. I was out doing errands. I’ll go mad if I just sit home and wait.”

  “You stopped to look at the kids?”

  “I do that sometimes. I like to watch them play.”

  “Anticipation?” I asked nodding to her baby bulge.

  She was quiet for a few moments, folded and unfolded her hands. Then she looked up at me. I knew what she was about to tell me, but I kept my mouth shut. I wanted to hear it from her.