“They’re running the story on the man who drowned.”
“So?” I asked, ripping off a piece of dental floss. “Are we on camera or something?”
“No, but the police released his name.”
I didn’t understand why she was so interested in this story. “Is it someone you know?” I asked, winding the dental floss around my index fingers.
“No, but I think it’s someone you know.”
“Who?”
“His name’s Brian Sullivan.”
By the time I’d switched on the television the anchors had moved on to the weather, but I was able to find the story on the TV station’s website. They showed a photo so I knew it was Jonah’s former boss and not just another local man who happened to have the same name.
According to the article, Brian’s body had been discovered early this morning by local surfers. The Coast Guard had found his abandoned boat offshore. The police think alcohol may have played a part. The article noted he was survived by a wife, three children, and one grandchild. The family requested charitable donations be made in Brian’s name in lieu of flowers.
I called Aunt Maddy back as soon as I finished reading. “Did they say anything on the news about suspecting foul play?”
“No. They just mentioned he wasn’t wearing a life jacket.”
“Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“That he wasn’t wearing a life jacket? No, most people don’t.”
“No, that he accidentally fell off his boat and drowned.”
Whatever happened to Brian Sullivan was no accident.
Chapter 38
The last time I’d worn this dress was the day of Jonah and Amelia’s funeral. Today I was wearing it to Brian Sullivan’s wake. Aunt Maddy thought I should skip the wake and go directly to the police with my suspicions. I didn’t think the police would believe me. It turned out we were both right.
The Sullivan’s home was one of those stately old houses on the top of the bluff not far from where Daniel lived. The Sullivans didn’t have an ocean view, but their home was situated on an oversized lot, which made it valuable.
It was a warm night so in addition to the mourners gathered on the first floor of the house, groups of people mingled on the front lawn too. It took me a while to find Kathy Sullivan standing under a giant oak tree. We’d only met once before at the firm’s movie-themed holiday party. She and Brian had dressed up as Cleopatra and Marc Antony. I recognized her without her gold lamé dress and headband, but I didn’t know if she would know me without the blonde wig and the hot pink suit.
“Of course, I remember you,” Brian’s wife, now widow, said when I introduced myself. She reached out and squeezed my hand and I instantly thought of my mother. Kathy was taller and had darker hair than my mom, but their scent was the same—Chanel No. 5. “We were all devastated by what happened to Jonah and your poor baby.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I could see the tears in her eyes in the light from the lanterns strung through the tree branches, but she forced a smile and thanked me.
“Could we speak for a moment in private?” I asked. The closest mourner was a few feet away, but this was not a conversation I wanted to take a chance someone would overhear.
The forced smile disappeared. “I don’t think this is the right time, Grace.”
“I wish it wasn’t, but I’m afraid it is.” The burial was scheduled for the next day. I lowered my voice and asked, “Can you tell me if Brian had an autopsy?”
Kathy took a step back. “I really don’t think that’s any of your concern.”
A woman in her early twenties whose features were similar to Kathy’s but whose age was much closer to mine appeared at Kathy’s side. “Mom, are you okay?”
“Yes,” she replied, but her eyes never left my face.
I turned to the younger woman. “I’m Grace Hughes. I knew your dad. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “How did you and my father know each other?”
The way she was looking at me had me wondering if she thought I was his mistress. Then I wondered if Kathy thought so too. It would explain why she was so hostile. “My husband used to work for your father. But that’s not why I’m here. I have some information about your father’s death I think you’ll want to hear.”
Rose Sullivan led me into the house and her mother reluctantly followed. She flicked on the lights in a room, which I guessed from the diplomas hanging on the wall behind the large wooden desk had been her father’s office. Rose sat in Brian’s desk chair, and I perched on the edge of the brown leather sofa. Rose suggested her mother sit down too, but Kathy said she preferred to stand. She stood next to the window looking out onto the front yard.
“What is this about?” Rose asked.
I wasn’t sure where to start. I felt compelled to share my suspicions, but I hadn’t planned out the conversation in my head. “Your father came to see me last Saturday. He just showed up at my house.”
“Do you know why?” Rose asked.
“He was looking for a flash drive he thought belonged to my husband.”
“Then he came to see your husband?” Rose asked, seemingly confused.
“Her husband’s dead,” Kathy said, still staring out the window. “And now mine is too.”
Rose’s eyes widened. Kathy’s accusatory tone seemed to surprise Rose as much as it did me. Did Kathy think I was somehow responsible for Brian’s death? I chalked it up to grief.
“My husband died almost two years ago. My daughter too.”
