Page 26 of Drowning in Lies
It was a relief to wake up when Chris knocked quietly to let me know that dinner had just been delivered.
Chapter 14: The Timeline
After letting Chris know that I would be right down, I got up and ran a brush through my hair, then splashed water on my face in an attempt to chase away the remnants of my unsettling dream.
Grabbing my phone from the charger, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Chris and Sherry were passing the white cartons back and forth, filling their plates with their favorites. As the delicious smell of the food hit me, I realized I was truly hungry for the first time in days. Once I filled my own plate and joined them at the bar, Chris told me that Melissa had called him after she'd been unable to reach me. She had received the request and authorization for release of information from the police, who had also informed her of David's death.
"I assured her that you were fine, but that David's death had triggered some questions about some of your investments. I also told her I couldn't say more at this time due to the investigatiuon. She wasn't happy, but she understands. She is really worried about you though, so I told her you would call as soon as you were able to," he said, then took a bite of his chow mein.
"Thanks. I have a few voice mail notifications, but I haven't listened to them yet." I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and pulled up the voice mails, listening to Melissa's message then deleting it. The next one was from the funeral director, then Randall, and finally, my dear sweet brother-in-law Scott.
"OK, so there's a message from Randall that was pretty much the same as Melissa's. He's concerned about me and freaking out over the police search at the firm and the questions they asked. The funeral director called.They got David's body picked up and things are a go for Friday. The last one was from Scott, asking if the coroner released his body today and if the funeral will still be on Friday. He didn't bother asking how I'm doing," I said, rolling my eyes. Sherry grunted around a mouthful of her teriyaki chicken, and I smiled at her feral response.
I took a quick sip of my iced tea. "I need to decide what to do about the visitation and funeral," I sighed. "The last thing I want to do is listen to a bunch of people telling me what a good man he was, and how much he'll be missed.But if I cancel it I would need to explain why, and I can't do that since the police don't want me to say anything about the investigation."
"There's no rule that you have to be at the visitation.Let Scott deal with it. We can just tell him that you are too distraught to be there," Chris said.
"Or go and turn it into a celebration that the bastard's dead," Sherry suggested with a snarky grin. "You can wear red, and we can get some of those noisemakers you blow on New Year's Eve, maybe a little confetti to toss on the casket."
I laughed and promptly choked on a bite of my fried rice, then spent the next several seconds trying to clear a few stray grains of rice from my airway. By the time I finished coughing, Chris was pounding on my back and Sherry was looking quite pleased with herself.
"I think maybe I'll go with Chris's suggestion, but your idea does sound more entertaining," I grinned at her and took another bite of rice. Chris offered to deal with "motherfucking Scott" for me, and I nodded, not wanting to inhale more rice if I tried to speak. He shot off a quick text to Scott and finished the last of his food.
By the time Sherry and I had finished and the kitchen was cleaned up Chris had a movie pulled up for us to watch.
"It's about the mafia, in honor of the Flanagan's," he said with a grin, and I laughed. I picked up one of the small decorative pillows from the couch and threw it at him. He grabbed it mid-air and tucked it behind his head as he leaned back in the recliner.
"Irish mob, Italian mafia. There's a difference," I lectured with mock sternness.
Sherry gave me a teasing look. "And what exactly are those differences?"
"I don't really know exactly, but I remember hearing a story when I was a kid about my Grandpa Flanagan shooting a guy in the foot for getting it wrong," I retorted, arching an eyebrow at her.
Sherry just stared at me slack-jawed, not even blinking, and I held her stare as long as I could before cracking."Oh my God, Sher, I'm kidding!" I said, laughing.
"Shit, did you see her face?" Chris asked, howling, and pointing at his wife.
Sherry rolled her eyes and huffed, trying to hold back a smile. "That wasn't funny, Lila."
A still-chuckling Chris said, "Oh, yes it was."
Sherry decided at that point that we needed a pitcher of margaritas, and I thought that sounded like a damned good idea. By the end of our second pitcher, we were barely able to stand upright and make it up the stairs. I fell into bed and slept until dawn. Waking up with a hangover was worth getting a full night's sleep without dreams of David.
The next morning, after a long shower followed by Tylenol and copious amounts of coffee and toast, I was feeling almost human again. Judging by Sherry's moans and the gray tint to Chris's skin when they walked into the kitchen an hour later, they weren't faring quite as well. I left them to their misery and went into the dining room.
I turned on my laptop and picked up the notepad I'd left lying there from the last time. I wanted to go over my accounts again to prepare myself for the meeting at the police station this afternoon. A few hours later, I had added several more pages worth of notes regarding dates and transactions that were suspect. Combined with the mortgages that were taken out against my properties, there was almost $5 million dollars unaccounted for since we'd gotten married - and that didn't include the lavish spending on cars, designer clothes, trips, or his damned watch collection.
After a quick lunch, we headed to the police station.Mike met us in the lobby and led us to a small conference room. There was a projection screen on one wall, and a large whiteboard on another. Large, framed photographs of the city, and portraits of the mayor, police chief and what appeared to be high-ranking officers were hung on the other two walls. James was there, along with three other people. He introduced us to Andy first, then Raj and Maggie, who were accountants working under Andy.
We all took a seat, and I noticed a tray of bottled waters and snacks had been placed in the middle of the conference table. It was much different that I had imagined, and I said as much to James as he settled in next to me in the padded chairs.
"What were you imagining?" he asked.
"I guess I watch too much TV.I was expecting a dingy room with metal folding chairs and two-way mirrors."
Mike barked out a laugh. "Nah, those are the special accomodations reserved for the bad guys."
"Alleged bad guys," James corrected with a rare display of humor.
