Мэри Эндрюс - The Newcomer

“Treasure Island? You mean, like the Robert Louis Stevenson story?”

“Not quite,” Letty said with a laugh. “It’s a beach town near St. Petersburg. There’s a long story about how and why we ended up at the Murmuring Surf, but it was actually all Tanya’s doing.”

“The Murmuring Surf? It sounds charming.”

Letty sat up and looked around. The tiny patio garden was alive with blooming jasmine and hibiscus and the herbs and flowers Harry Bronson had nurtured. She could see the pale turquoise waters of the Gulf of Mexico from here, and hear the rustle of palm fronds against her window.

“Actually, I guess it is pretty charming,” Letty said. “The thing is, now that I know Evan is no longer a danger to Maya, I guess I need to figure out what happens next. For both of us.”

“Yes,” Sammi said. “Well, there’s a lot for us to talk about, especially concerning Maya’s future. As we expected, Mr. Wingfield filed notice that he intends to challenge your sister’s will, and your guardianship. One quick question: has he been charged in connection with your sister’s death?”

“Not yet,” Letty said. She took a sip of tea. “But I think that will happen. Maya told us this morning that she actually saw Evan kill Tanya.”

“Oh my. That poor child,” Sammi said. “Will the police believe her?”

“I hope so,” Letty said. “But it’s the word of a four-year-old against an adult, who has every resource in the world to keep lying about his innocence.”

“Well … you actually have resources too, you know,” Sammi pointed out. “Now that you’re no longer in hiding, I’m going to file an emergency petition with the court to release funds from Tanya’s estate to help pay your legal fees and living expenses.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course. As I mentioned the last time we talked, there’s also a substantial life insurance policy. Maya is the primary beneficiary, and you are secondary. I was waiting to hear from you before I filed a claim, but if you agree, I’ll file that claim immediately. In the meantime, as Maya’s guardian, it’s your responsibility to provide for her health and well-being. All reasonable expenditures on her behalf will be approved by the estate’s executor and can be paid out of Tanya’s estate.”

“I forgot to ask. Who is the executor?”

“Do you know Tanya’s friend Demetria?”

“The nutritionist?”

“Yes. She’s a lovely woman. We’ve been in touch. She was devastated about the loss of your sister. I hope you don’t mind, but I did tell her that I’d been in contact with you, and that although I didn’t know your whereabouts, I felt that Maya was safe with you.”

“I appreciate that.” Letty stood up and walked inside to check on her niece, who was still asleep.

“Do you have Demetria’s contact information?” Sammi asked. “I’ll call her as soon as we hang up, and then I’ll forward her information to you.”

“Okay.” A tiny green lizard was poised on the edge of the garden gate, its tail flicking backward and forward.

“I know it’s a lot for you to process,” Sammi said. “And I’ll try not to overwhelm you with all the details. But do you have any idea when you’ll be returning to the city?”

“To New York?” The question took Letty by surprise.

“Yes. We’ll need to decide what to do with Tanya’s town house. After the police finished collecting, um, evidence, I took it upon myself to have it cleaned. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought, when you do return, it would be too upsetting for you to see things as they were.”

Unbidden, Letty’s mind returned to the foyer of the town house, to Tanya, lying on the cold marble floor as a pool of deep red blood seeped from her head, and to Maya, standing at the top of the second-floor staircase, wailing for her mother.

She shook her head to dislodge the brutal image.

“Doesn’t Evan get to decide what to do with the town house? I mean, it belonged to him.”

“Actually, the town house was one of the properties he conveyed to Tanya as part of his tax dodge,” Sammi said. “I thought I’d explained that.”

“Maybe you did. As you said, it’s a lot to process.”

“You don’t have to decide right away,” Sammi said. “But it would be good if we could begin the process of settling the estate.”

“You’re right, of course,” Letty said, her voice trailing off. “And actually, now that Evan is locked up, I don’t suppose there’s anything keeping me down here in Florida. Maya turns five this fall, and I need to start thinking about kindergarten for her.”

“I can recommend the school my son attends,” Sammi volunteered.

“You’ve got kids?” Letty didn’t know why she was surprised.

“Yes. Noah is six. His father and I divorced right before I got sober. Or rather, I got sober because I got divorced. At any rate, it’s a small school, the teachers are very loving, and the curriculum is progressive, but not what Tanya would call ‘too woo-woo.’”

“That sounds exactly like something my sister would say,” Letty said, chuckling.

“Letty?” Maya called from the other room, her voice groggy.

“Oops. I’d better go, Sammi. Maya just woke up from her nap. I’ll be in touch soon. Okay? And thanks again. For everything you did. For Tanya. And for me.”

58

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON BY the time they reached the hospital.

They found Shauna Arthur sitting outside a cubicle in the recovery room, leafing through a magazine. “Hey,” she said, greeting them. “Your boy’s awake.”

Vikki and Joe peered through the glass window into Declan Rooney’s room. The head of the bed was raised, and Rooney’s head lolled back against a pillow.

The patient’s head was swathed in bandages, and his jaw had a gruesome-looking metal appliance affixed to it. One eye was blackened, the other was only visible through a tiny slit cut in a thick gauze pad. “Looks like he got run over by a train,” Vikki said cheerfully.

“Or sideswiped by a walker,” Joe agreed. He turned to his partner. “Thanks again, Shauna. We’ll take it from here.”

Rooney’s head moved slightly, and when they opened the door his groan was audible through the layers of bandages.

“Hey, Rooney,” Joe said. He held out a box of chocolate-covered caramels he’d picked up in the hospital gift shop. “Brought you a little get-well present.”

The patient’s lips moved and his response was vehement. “Fuck you.”

“Oh good,” Vikki said, pulling up a vinyl-covered chair and seating herself. “He’s conscious and talking.” She opened the box of candy and popped one into her mouth. “Since he won’t be able to chew for a while, I’m sure he won’t mind sharing.”

Joe set the caramels on the nightstand, and then he took his phone from his pocket, swiped it over to record, and set it beside the candy. “Since you’re awake, we thought you might like to answer some questions.”

Rooney turned his head to face a wall with a bland framed pastel print of flowers in a pink vase. “Go away.”

“Now, don’t be like that,” Joe said. “You know, if you cooperate, I can talk to the district attorney about maybe getting your sentence reduced. You’re facing kidnapping and assault charges here, as well as breaking and entering, and theft by taking. Not to mention possession of a firearm by a convicted felon. And then there are the old fraud charges dating back to five years ago.”

Vikki leaned closer to the bed. “Joe! Don’t forget that little incident down in Immokalee.”

DeCurtis smacked his forehead. “Oh yeah. I should catch you up on that. The cops down there found a body way out in the swamp. Somebody shot a guy and then set the car on fire. The corpse was in pretty bad shape by the time they found it, but fortunately they were able to lift your late buddy Chuck’s fingerprint and identify him that way.”