“Let’s see how much Bonnie will admit.” Morgayne locked her door and headed to the Torbinsons’ front porch. There on a table was a giant bottle of hand sanitizer, a stack of medical masks, a box of disposable nitrile gloves and a sign over the bell that said, “Sanitize. Mask Up. Put on Gloves. Don’t Ring. Walk in.” She’d hoped maturity and changes in her hair, makeup and confidence, and the addition of dark rimmed glasses, would save her from recognition. Now, as she followed the orders, she knew she might stand a chance to be anonymous. That could be a huge advantage. No messy hostility and hopefully more information.
Then she stood in the entry and looked for changes. She found none, except for an increasing shabbiness caused not by wear, but age. With only Bonnie in the house and no updates done, the place looked dated and tired.
A woman stuck her head out of the dining room. “Yes?”
Morgayne stared. Patrice Harris, one of Jack’s degenerate buddies, here wearing beige slacks, a blue medical coat and an exasperated expression. “You’re the...nurse?”
“Home care,” Patrice said crisply. “Who are you?”
Either Patrice’s early drug and alcohol days had killed enough brain cells, or Morgayne truly was unrecognizable.
The lie came easily. “I’m Adele from the church where Mrs. Torbinson worships. I’m here to console her about her loss.”
“Right. She’ll like that. She loves attention. It’s not like she needs home care now. She’s healthy as a horse. She just wants someone to wait on her. Go up. Tell her I’m fixing her lunch.” From above, a bell rang. “Maybe you can keep her from ringing that damned—”
“I’ll try.” Morgayne climbed the stairs. Getting in was easier than she expected. Now to see if her mother-in-law bought into it.
As soon as she stepped across the threshold, Mrs. Torbinson placed the bell on her night table, crossed her arms over her chest and demanded, “Where’s my lunch?”
Morgayne almost laughed. No recognition there. And why would there be? Bonnie was one of those people who scanned all the faces in a room, dismissed most as unimportant and spoke only to the people who could do something for her.
“Lunch is on its way.” Morgayne kept her voice low and soothing. “Mrs. Torbinson, I’m Adele, the youth pastor at the Citation Lutheran Church. Pastor Burns sent me.”
“Where is Pastor Burns?” Bonnie’s frown had created well-used lines between her brows, and everything about her tone was accusatory.
“Lately he has asked the same question about you.” Morgayne ladled on the guilt.
Thankfully, Bonnie’s eyes shifted away.
So she hadn’t been to church in a long time. Good guess, Morgayne. “Pastor’s dealing with building the youth center to which you donated so generously.” Morgayne knew Bonnie’s idea of charity work was writing a check, not getting involved. “I’m here to ask if we can offer counseling after receiving the sad news about your son.”
Tears leaked from Mrs. Torbinson’s eyes. “My Jackie.”
Morgayne wanted to vomit. Her Jackie had been a beast, and shooting and drowning was the least he deserved. “I understand it’s been years, yet at the same time, his death is news to you.”
“They found his body. My little Jackie was at the bottom of the lake. He was shot in the back of the head. I’d always hoped he was out there somewhere in the world. But when he didn’t come home...”
Morgayne handed her a tissue.
Bonnie sniffled and wiped her eyes. “When Jack tied up that awful man, I was afraid—”
“Jack tied up Vadim Somova?” Was Bonnie finally admitting the truth? “The opposite was reported.”
“No, I didn’t... I’m confused. Of course Vadim tied up my poor boy.”
Interesting. Bonnie had gained a lot of weight, but otherwise looked about the same. Yet that was a telling slip, one that implicated her beloved Jackie. Had time eroded that sharp and unpleasant steel-trap mind? “Vadim kidnapped your son and grandchild and stole a priceless antique.”
“Not priceless.”
“And it was insured.” Whoops. Not so sure of yourself, Morgayne. “Wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Bonnie reached for the controls of her hospital bed and raised the back a few degrees. “When is that Patrice going to bring my lunch? I’m hungry. She’s lazy. I don’t know why the doctor recommended her for the job.”
Morgayne didn’t give a damn about Patrice or Bonnie’s lunch. “Surely you turned in the theft and took the settlement. Which means now that the Dragon’s Heart is recovered, it’s the property of the insurance company.” She had just now realized that. All her focus was on discovering her daughter’s fate.
“I never made a claim,” Bonnie said.
“What? Why not?” Morgayne’s mind clicked through the possibilities and came up with the only likely possibility; because if Bonnie had turned in a claim for such a large amount, someone from the insurance company might have investigated events and all Jack’s transgressions and Bonnie’s deceptions would have been revealed.
“It was only two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” Bonnie dismissed it with a wave of her pudgy hand. “That’s not so much. We could afford to lose it.”
Morgayne was a successful woman, and she worked with a lot of successful people, but nobody ever waved off a quarter of a million dollars. Bonnie’s attitude was a confession in itself, and Morgayne began to think how she could convince the police to investigate more closely. A few words in the right ears... “It sounds like a lot of money to me. But I’m merely a youth minister.”
“Right. So you don’t know much about money.”
Morgayne could have told Bonnie that the poor understood more about money than the rich. And after Morgayne had taken Zoey to the city, they had been poor for a very long time.
Querulously, Bonnie said, “The way Mark acts, you’d think that statue was priceless.”
“Who’s Mark, and what does he have to do with it?” Morgayne knew, of course, but she wanted to hear Bonnie’s version.
“Mark Torbinson. Darrell’s nephew. Forty years old, not married, no children, no responsibilities, all he does is exercise. He’s worthless—and he’s my heir. He just left.”
“I saw him.” With massive insincerity, Morgayne said, “Nice car. Perhaps you have fresh thoughts about the loss of your grandchildren?”
“Why would I have fresh thoughts about my grandchildren?” Bonnie asked sharply.