You Don't Own Me Read online

  “Because if I was lying, I’d make up some answers to all these questions you’re asking me. Look, I can’t even swear it was a woman in the cab. I just saw a kiss. To be honest, it made me mad he had someone who’d let him do that.” He looked away sadly. “And I know how pathetic this makes me sound, and that’s another reason everyone should believe me. I swear to you . . . I’m telling the truth.”

  Ryan glanced in Laurie’s direction, and she nodded her confirmation. It was a good place to end the interview.

  47

  As the crew reloaded the production equipment into the truck, Ryan pulled Laurie aside. “Do you mind if we sit in the car for a minute?” he asked, glancing toward George’s house to indicate that he wanted to talk discreetly.

  “I actually believe the guy,” Ryan said as he settled into the passenger’s seat.

  Laurie thought for a moment. “There’s no way he could have known Kendra was accusing Martin of cheating. It was never in the papers. He was going on what he saw in the back of a cab.”

  “Could it have been Kendra who he was kissing?” Ryan asked.

  “I doubt it,” Laurie said. “By all accounts, they were both miserable with each other. Maybe Kendra’s hunch about an affair was right after all, but she just suspected the wrong woman.”

  “So now we’re looking for some other woman, potentially with a jealous husband? How are we going to follow up on this?”

  Ryan was right. It would be a fishing expedition. In addition to having a mystery man from the Beehive bar, they now had a mystery woman from a taxi on their hands.

  Laurie analyzed the consequences of the new information. On the one hand, if Martin had been involved with another woman, it added to Kendra’s motive to kill her husband. Not only had he been planning to leave her, but he already had a replacement waiting in the wings. On the other hand, an affair also created the possibility of alternative suspects—the unidentified mistress, and potentially a jealous husband as well.

  Laurie had to remind herself that they wouldn’t always be able to solve a case. They moved the needle even if they unearthed new information, which they had now done.

  At least she had yet another piece of the puzzle to lock in. “I was thinking about George’s description of his mother before she passed,” she said. “I’m pretty sure I know why Kendra was so out of it the night of the murder.”

  After she spelled out her theory, Ryan said he would supplement the cross-examination he had prepared for when Kendra finally went before the cameras.

  Laurie shook her head. “I don’t feel right about ambushing her on television with something like that.”

  “Isn’t that kind of what we do?” Ryan said, wrinkling his nose. “No kid gloves, plus she’s still our number one suspect.”

  “This is a private health issue,” she said. “It’s different. I’ll talk to her one-on-one.”

  She expected him to argue, but he held up his hands, acquiescing.

  There was the rap of knuckles against the glass of the car window, and she looked up to see her father. She cracked open the door. “Dad, thanks so much for being here. If you keep helping out at my job, I’m going to have to add a line item to the budget to put you on payroll.”

  “And have you as my boss? Or Brett Young?” He feigned a shudder. “Consider me free labor.”

  She looked at her watch. It was four o’clock. “Can I hit you up for more work?” She explained that Timmy had trumpet practice until five, and that she might be running late tonight.

  “Consider it done,” he said.

  If she was lucky, she could catch Kendra at home.

  48

  Ryan’s comment about Laurie using “kid gloves” with Kendra must have struck a chord, because she decided to go to Kendra’s house unannounced.

  She was about to confront a woman about a highly personal health-related issue. On the other hand, that woman was the most likely suspect in Martin Bell’s murder. A pop-in without cameras seemed like a fair compromise.

  From the sidewalk outside of Kendra’s carriage house, through the living room window, Laurie saw Kendra playing with her children. To someone else, their awkward, staccato movements might resemble a bizarre avant-garde dance routine, but Laurie recognized the familiar arm waves and pirouettes of a Wii video-bowling tournament. She had lost more than her fair share of virtual lanes to Timmy.

  She suddenly questioned her decision to interrupt what was obviously a family night. Her conversation with Kendra could wait until tomorrow. After five years, it wasn’t as if Kendra was going to flee the jurisdiction.

  She turned to head toward Sixth Avenue to hail a cab, but then heard voices behind her. Kendra was now on her front porch, saying good-bye to her children. “I’ll be back to kiss you good night,” she called out. Laurie saw Caroline lingering in the doorway behind a young boy and girl.

  Even in the dark, as Kendra took her front steps down to the driveway, Laurie could make out the silhouette of some kind of bag cross-slung against Kendra’s hip. She wondered for a moment if it might be the leather duffel that had been stolen from her on Monday night.

  Laurie put her head down, pretending to check her phone like so many other pedestrians. She slowly tilted her gaze toward Kendra, who was walking quickly in the opposite direction, heading toward Fifth Avenue.

  Laurie decided to follow.

  49

  On either side of the book bag cross-slung over her shoulders, Kendra Bell sank her hands deep into the pockets of her charcoal-gray cardigan sweater. It was cashmere, from Escada, with a shawl collar and a sash belt. Oversized, almost to her knees. It was the first Christmas present Martin had ever bought for her, back when she was still in medical school. To this day, it was her favorite piece of clothing, like home in a sweater. It felt cozy and safe, but she knew that nothing—let alone an article of clothing—could protect her from the man she was supposed to meet tonight.

  It had been more than a week since she first told him about the television show. She had promised him—under threat against her children—that she would not breathe a word about him to the producers. But of course that hadn’t been enough for him. Of course he had demanded more, because he knew that he could.

  She’d had the cash set aside for days, ready for delivery. She’d been so anxious over the weekend that she’d broken the rules to call him and arrange for a drop-off, but the number he had last given her had been disconnected. She wondered how many burner phones the man went through in a year.

  Then today, while she was on lunch break, her cell phone rang. The call was from a blocked number. She immediately felt a rock in her stomach, knowing it was him. “Meet me at Greene and Houston,” he ordered. “Northeast corner, under the scaffolding. Bring the usual.”

  In other words, bring the cash.

  As she approached the intersection, she understood why he’d chosen this location. Developers had torn down an entire city block to make room for a new building that had not yet broken ground. The site was surrounded by chain-link fence, and scaffolding covered what had once been the sidewalk. No ordinary pedestrian would choose to walk into such dark, abandoned territory. But she had no choice.

  He was waiting there for her, with a hoodie pulled up over what she assumed was still a shaved head. She couldn’t believe this was the same man who had briefly been her drinking buddy at the Beehive—back when he was “Mike” with the sympathetic ear.

  “The show,” he said. “What’s happening with it?”

  “They don’t know anything more than the police did five years ago,” she said. “Less, in fact, from what I can tell.”

  “Remember what I said to you. About what’s at stake. I’m not afraid to hurt Bobby and Mindy if that’s what it takes.”

  She felt herself trembling inside her warm, cozy sweater. “Please,” she gasped. “I promise, you don’t need to do that.” Her shoulders started to heave.

  “Get yourself together,” he hissed, grabbing the bag violently f
rom her as she struggled to extract herself from the cross-slung strap.

  Once she was free, he handed her a torn edge of notebook paper with a ten-digit number scrawled on it. “The new burner number. Call me when that show’s done . . . and if they throw you any surprises along the way. Don’t hold anything back from me.”

  “I won’t, I swear.”

  She felt completely helpless as he walked away. She would never be free of him. He owned her.

  50

  Laurie was waiting in Kendra’s driveway when she returned to the carriage house. She had watched the bag handoff from the west side of Greene Street, so she’d had a block-long head start on Kendra.

  Kendra flinched when she saw her, clearly startled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Something came up today during an interview with one of our other witnesses. I wanted to ask you about it in person.”

  “You couldn’t call first?” Kendra asked.

  “Honestly, I didn’t want to give you time to come up with a lie. There was some talk of showing up with cameras, but that seemed unnecessary.”

  Kendra raised a hand to her mouth. “What is it?”

  “Your state of mind after your children were born—it wasn’t just postpartum, was it? You were taking drugs. Drugs that Martin gave to you.” Laurie had put the pieces together when George Naughten had described his mother’s condition prior to her overdose. “You said he had moved on without you. He was drugging you, wasn’t he?”

  Kendra nodded her head, pressing her lips together for composure.

  “But then he stopped giving you the pills,” Laurie said. “The lawsuits were filed, and he knew he’d have lawyers scrutinizing his drug-dispensing habits. He couldn’t just hand the stuff out like candy anymore.”

  Kendra’s gaze drifted to her front door, but the house was silent. They were alone. “I did have postpartum depression, just as I told you. But Martin had no sympathy. He just kept telling me to get my act together. He said it wasn’t natural for me to be so helpless when I had children to care for. Instead of helping me get proper treatment, he told me he could take care of me himself—and that meant pills. I didn’t know what they were. I just trusted him. After all, he was the Miracle Doctor. Days would go by, and I wouldn’t even know what happened until Caroline helped me fill in the blanks. Then, all of a sudden, it was cold turkey. When I found out about the lawsuits after he died, I made the connection. But at the time, he wouldn’t even tell me why he couldn’t keep giving me the pills. He just yelled at me and called me an addict and a junkie.”

  “Because that’s what you were,” Laurie said. “That’s what he turned you into.”

  She nodded again, wincing at the memory. “Please, you can’t tell anyone. I’m clean now. If the Bells find out—” Her face went ashen.

  I came here thinking I had it all figured out, Laurie thought. “You weren’t spending that cash on shoes and spending sprees, but you also weren’t hiring a hit man. You were buying drugs on the street to feed your addiction.”

  “Don’t you see why I couldn’t tell the police that? I had no way of proving it, and I knew Martin’s parents would fight me for my children. I did everything right since Martin died. I got myself clean and sober. I work hard, and I’m a good mother.”

  “The only thing I couldn’t figure out, Kendra, is why you still hoard large amounts of cash.”

  As Laurie suspected, Caroline must have told Kendra that she had shared that particular piece of information, because the question did not seem to catch Kendra by surprise. “Most of my money comes from a family trust. I keep cash on the side so the executors—including my in-laws—don’t monitor every dime I spend.”

  “So who was the man you just gave a bag to on the corner of Greene and Houston?”

  Kendra’s entire body lurched as if she had been punched in the stomach. She placed both of her hands on top of her head and began saying, “No, no, no, no, no.” For a second, Laurie wondered if she was in a trance.

  “Kendra, I believe you’re a changed woman, but I also think it’s possible you made a horrible mistake in your impaired condition. I can try to help you as much as possible, but I can’t keep this to myself.” Kendra looked up at her with pleading eyes, but Laurie continued to confront her with the reality of the situation. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to go on air and tell a national television audience what I saw tonight. I’ll inform the police as well. They’ll fill in the blanks. You hired a hit man to kill your husband. That will be the entire story.”

  “Please,” she whispered, “please don’t make me do this. I can’t. You’ll get them killed. They’re still innocent babies.”

  Laurie reached out tentatively and placed her hands gently on Kendra’s shoulders, trying to calm her down. “Who? Who are you talking about?”

  “Bobby and Mindy,” she said, tears beginning to stream down her face. “That man. That awful man. He said he’d . . . hurt my children if I told anyone.”

  Laurie immediately looked around for someone who might be watching them, but saw no one. “Kendra, I’m not going to let that happen. We have resources. I can try to help you, but we should get out of the street.”

  Kendra’s eyes darted around wildly. She pushed past Laurie and headed for the garage door on the ground floor of the carriage house. She entered six digits into a security keypad, and the door began to rise. There was no car inside, just a few stacks of cardboard boxes. “Follow me.”

  Once they were inside, she looked Laurie directly in the eye: “You have to believe me. I have no idea who killed Martin.”

  51

  Kendra pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to keep herself from crying again. She could not believe this was happening. She never should have agreed to do this television show. The Bells were going to continue to hate her and fight with her, no matter what she did, so why had she bothered trying to please them?

  Now the floodgates had opened to her worst nightmare. She had promised that man she would make no mention of him, but Laurie Moran had now seen them together with her own two eyes. Kendra had no choice now but to appeal to this woman as a fellow single mother. She had to trust her with a truth Kendra had never spoken to anyone.

  “You asked me before about whether I had ever made any friends in bars back then,” Kendra said. “I knew what you were getting at.”

  “The Beehive,” Laurie said. “I met Deb the bartender. She remembered you fondly.”

  Kendra smiled wistfully. “She’s a tough broad, that one. I started going there as a little escape from the house, and for a while, it became kind of a habit. Not as if they’d yell ‘Norm!’ when I walked in like on Cheers or anything, but—”

  Laurie nodded that she understood the point.

  “Anyway, I was mixing alcohol and pills, and I’m sure that I was the messy drunk at the end of the bar, and that’s saying something at that place. I remember feeling embarrassed when customers would move to a table to get away from me.” Kendra rubbed her eyes. Over the years, during meetings with her AA group, she had referred elusively to some of her darker moments, but talking about her former self to a total stranger was harder than she’d expected. “Then one guy seemed to have sympathy for me. Or maybe I just thought he was a fellow drunk willing to tolerate my stories for a night.”

  “So who is he?” Laurie asked.

  Kendra shook her head, hoping Laurie would believe her. She had only a vague recollection of so many of her days from back then. How could she possibly convince anyone of a truth that she herself did not quite understand? “I have no idea. I think he began talking to me one night when I was alone at the bar. Once I started complaining about Martin, I couldn’t stop. He’d let me drone on about Martin and how miserable he made me. He’d even egg me on with ‘what a jerk’ and that kind of thing. In retrospect, he was pretending to act as volunteer counselor. He’s a grifter, and I was his mark. Still am, as you saw tonight.”

  She could tell from th
e confusion on Laurie’s face that she’d lost her.

  “You didn’t hire him?” Laurie asked.

  “No!” Her voice was louder than she’d expected, echoing against the concrete and metal of the empty garage. She had donated Martin’s car to charity after he was shot inside of it and never bought another one. “Sorry, it took me a while to understand his plan, too. About a week after Martin died—when the tabloid headlines were really doing a number on me—he was waiting for me outside Bobby’s school at pickup time. He pulled a little digital recorder from his pocket and began playing it. I didn’t even recognize my own voice at first, but it was definitely me. He had spooled together excerpts of our conversations.”

  “Which he recorded at the Beehive,” Laurie said. “Your complaints about Martin.”

  Kendra nodded. “They were nothing to be proud of anyway, but given Martin’s death? They were . . . horrific. He told me it would be ‘such a shame’ if the police or my in-laws heard the recordings. He demanded cash for his silence.”

  She could hear her slurred, slow voice in her head: I just want out! My father died of a heart attack not much older than he is. Maybe that will happen to him. And, echoing what she had said to Caroline the night of Martin’s murder: What I wouldn’t do to be free of him.

  “He’s been blackmailing you all this time?” Laurie asked.

  “Not on a schedule. That would make it too easy to set up some kind of trap for him. He disappeared for nearly eleven months once, but he always comes back. He knows I’ll keep paying. In fact, he threatened to expose me—or even harm me or my kids—if I agreed to do your show. I managed to convince him that it was in his interest for me to cooperate. I think he’s smart enough to realize that if I lose my kids, I lose access to the trust, and then what good would I be to him?” She could hear the bitterness and anger in her own voice. “I swore to him that I would never reveal his existence—not to the police, and not to you. And now here we are.”