The House Guests Page 39

  Once off the bus, she took a moment to get her bearings. Finding Ivy’s address wasn’t difficult. She had phoned Riverbend’s behavioral health unit and explained she’d discovered paperwork Mark had completed for Ivy before his death. She already assumed that Ivy’s home address was also the so-called business address of Rinkel Medical Supplies, and with no surprise, she learned that Ivy lived in an apartment building in North Bergen.

  She hadn’t guessed what a nice building it would be.

  The complex on the Hudson River had a priceless view of Manhattan. A stroll through the beautifully landscaped grounds turned up expensive amenities like a pool, a dog park, a patio with grills and firepits.

  After more investigation, including a visit to the sales office, she found a concierge in the main building, and with her warmest smile asked to be directed to Ivy’s apartment. On the fifth floor—and on the side of the building facing the river—she found the apartment and knocked. When nothing happened and after she tried again, she headed back to the lobby to watch.

  By dinnertime she knew she had to find a hotel room and try again tomorrow. She reserved a room in a so-called budget hotel, and once there changed her airline reservation. She spent what amounted to a sleepless night going over the final months of her marriage, hoping unsuccessfully to find some clue that Valerie had been lying.

  Tuesday morning she was back at Ivy’s apartment wearing the emergency change of shirt and underwear she’d packed in her oversize purse, along with toiletries.

  Now she took a deep breath to prepare for the next round of unwelcome revelations and knocked, the sound echoing through an empty hallway. She was lifting her fist for a second volley when the door swung open. Ivy, in garnet-colored satin pajamas, gaped at her from the doorway.

  “Cassie?” she said at last.

  “I thought I’d surprise you.”

  “You certainly managed that.”

  Cassie waited, and Ivy finally stepped back and left a path. “Come in. I’m sorry. I’m not awake yet.”

  Inside, the view of the river was as magnificent as she’d guessed. “What a place. And on a nurse’s salary, too. You must have a ton of roommates.” She managed a smile. “I hope I didn’t wake them up, too.”

  “There’s no one here but me.”

  Ivy had carefully sidestepped the question of whether she shared the apartment, but a quick glance at the antique mahogany furniture with its sleek surfaces and carefully arranged tableaux of books and sculptures was evidence Ivy lived alone.

  Yesterday Cassie had talked to the sales manager, pretending interest in renting and taking brochures and price lists back to her hotel. A one-bedroom apartment looking over the river would eat up every cent an RN could earn. But by now Cassie was sure that Ivy had other sources of income.

  “You were lucky to land this,” Cassie said. “And am I right? They actually have a shuttle here that takes you to the ferry into the city? I mean, how perfect is that. Back when you had a job, that must have been a help.”

  “It’s awfully early, Cassie. You never told me you were coming.”

  Cassie faced her, and without answering, did a full appraisal. Ivy was much as she remembered, but if anything, thinner and more haggard. The pajamas hung from her shoulders without hinting at a single feminine curve. Her overly bleached hair stuck out like straw.

  Ivy moved toward the kitchen, which was off the entry hallway. “Since I’m up, I’ll make us a pot of coffee.”

  Without waiting for an invitation, Cassie followed behind. The kitchen was small but gleaming, with stainless steel top-of-the-line appliances and dark granite counters.

  “I’m afraid I drink my coffee black,” Ivy said. “I don’t have milk or cream.”

  “I had coffee with breakfast. I’m good.” Cassie leaned against the counter by the doorway. She guessed Ivy was trying to decide whether to continue the pretense she was Cassie’s friend, her eyes and ears in New York.

  Cassie put an end to speculation. “I had a good chat with Valerie yesterday. Your name came up. Actually, I brought it up. I asked if she thought you and Mark were having an affair.”

  “What?” Ivy slammed down a bag of coffee she’d just removed from the refrigerator.

  Cassie held up her hands. “Don’t worry. She said of course not.”

  Ivy narrowed her eyes. “What do you want here, Cassie? Apparently not to strengthen our friendship.”

  “You see? Right off the bat you’ve started with a mistake. We’ve never been friends. It’s more like you were a spider, hoping to trap me in your web. I was just somebody else you were hoping to use and abuse.”

  “You need to leave.”

  “I don’t think you’ll call anybody to have me escorted out. Because they won’t like knowing the apartment belongs to a drug dealer.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  Cassie made a show of ticking off her most important points on the fingers of one hand as she spoke. “Crazy not to see that my husband was addicted to painkillers and couldn’t wean himself away from them. Then crazy to think that you really wanted to help figure out what was going on at the end. Last of all, crazy to feel sorry you were fired, when all along you were probably feeding my husband’s dependence on drugs.”

  Ivy reached for the coffee maker’s filter basket and dumped coffee into it without measuring. She didn’t say anything until she’d filled the reservoir and flipped the switch to begin brewing.

  “You can’t prove a thing,” she said. “Nobody’s going to believe you.”

  “And...?”

  “What do you mean and?”

  “And if I try, you’ll tell the world my husband was addicted to drugs, and you were just trying to help him kick his habit.”

  “Well? So what! Because it’s true. Yes, I knew. He trusted me to help him. I guess he didn’t trust you.”

  Cassie stepped a little closer. “I guess he didn’t. On the other hand he didn’t pay me thirty thousand dollars to help him, either.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Rinkel Medical Supply and a ten-thousand-dollar check I found. I can prove Rinkel Medical Supply is housed right here in this lovely apartment. You’re listed as Rinkel’s contact, and I doubt Mark was buying bargain stethoscopes. Then there were two similar cash withdrawals, exactly one and two months later. It all leads back to you. I bet we can check your bank account to see if you deposited the same amount on those dates or right after.”

  “I was helping him.”

  “Stealing money more likely.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Mark trusted me. I found help for him, an excellent doctor who agreed to work off the record. I helped get the medications he prescribed for Mark to ease withdrawal. Mark didn’t want anything on his record, so he couldn’t use insurance to buy them. Drugs are costly. So I had to open a few doors that weren’t absolutely legal.”

  Cassie didn’t buy a word of it. “Like the doors to the drug supply closet at Riverbend? Because that’s at least part of the reason you were fired. They suspected you of stealing.”

  “That was Fletcher Dorman’s fault! He knew I wasn’t stealing, but he used it as a—”

  Cassie took another step closer, anger bubbling over. “You got off so easy. They didn’t turn you in. They were so concerned about appearances that they let Mark resign without offering help, and then they sent you away with nothing but a mediocre reference. And look at this apartment! I know what you pay to live here. I can make a good guess about what you earned at the hospital. Anybody can tell you’re making money on the side, Ivy. And I don’t think you’re doing private nursing at night.”

  “You’re wrong.” She cocked her head as if to see Cassie in another light. “But let’s just say you aren’t. What would you do about it? Because you don’t have enough proof to have me arrested.”

 
“Riverbend probably does. I could go to Mark’s colleagues at Church Street and insist. And if they refuse to cooperate, I could explain that when I report you, I will also tell the authorities they knew the truth about you and Mark and didn’t do a thing.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  Ivy gave a small satisfied smile. “Sa—van—nah. Do you want Mark’s little princess to know her father was a junkie? That even with help, he couldn’t kick his addiction? That he put people in harm’s way because he wasn’t thinking clearly? That at one point, his addiction got so out of hand he was stealing meds prescribed for his patients, even injecting himself with drugs meant for them and leaving them confused and in pain?”

  Cassie schooled herself not to show her horror. “So that’s what you think you can hold over me?”

  “Did I say that? I just asked if you were ready for the hornet’s nest you’re threatening to stir up.”

  “I might be. Maybe it’s time to clean out and exterminate every single hornet and start fresh.”

  “You can’t exactly start fresh with your husband, can you? Because Mark’s dead, maybe by his own hand, but almost certainly because he didn’t want you to think less of him. He struggled and suffered because he didn’t want you to know he was human. He didn’t want you to look down on him, to think he was less than he was.”

  They were the same words Cassie had repeated in her head all night. In the future when she was feeling most shaky, she would probably repeat them again, no matter how hard she tried not to. But she knew better than to let Ivy think she had hit home.

  She shook her head slowly. “Nice try, but I never expected him to be perfect. Mark expected perfection of himself. He was willing to pay you that money and whatever else you stole from him because he couldn’t admit he wasn’t.”

  “I earned the pittance Mark paid me. And now I’m out of a job. I helped him live his lie, because sometimes lies are the only merciful solution.”

  “Lied and stole to be charitable, huh? Was that why you’ve been sending me anonymous letters, hoping either I would come crying to you and you could find out how much I knew about Mark’s problem—”

  Ivy looked away. “Ridiculous.”

  Cassie went on. “Or else you were prepping me for blackmail, using our daughter’s love for her father as bait. Of course the thing you got wrong there? You can blackmail me until Armageddon, but I have almost nothing left to give you.”

  Oddly, Ivy didn’t look doubtful or even surprised. One thin eyebrow shot up, and for a moment, she almost looked as if she wanted to smile. “I wondered about that. All your talk of looking for a job. He didn’t leave you much of anything. It figures. But if you’re still looking for more connections to me? You won’t find them. You can search all you want. I don’t care.”

  “Maybe I’ll have the authorities do it.”

  “You may find a few things about your husband worse than addiction. Do you really want to take that chance? Addiction is a medical problem, but there are things you don’t know that aren’t medical. And they will affect Savannah directly for the rest of her life.”

  The air in the apartment suddenly seemed foul and dangerous. “You’re bluffing.” Cassie slid her handbag farther up her shoulder in preparation to leave.

  “Think so? Do a little more sleuthing, but do it before you start trying to be a hero. Savannah’s one thing. But you’ll always be Mark’s widow. For the rest of your life, do you want people whispering behind your back? Wondering how you could have been so gullible, and how you could have known so little about your husband?” Ivy gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Anything I did to help Mark—”

  “You sold him drugs!”

  Ivy took a step closer, smirking. “I’d be so careful if I were you. For old time’s sake I’ll give you a little hint.” She leaned forward and whispered the next sentence. “There’s more to find.”

  Cassie couldn’t counter innuendoes, and it was clear that was all Ivy was going to offer. She walked through the apartment and let herself out, moving so fast that outside she nearly mowed down an elderly couple exercising a yapping poodle.

  She didn’t slow down until she was away from the grounds. She knew she could call a cab, but since her flight wasn’t until that evening, she took public transportation to the airport. Three buses and one subway ride later she stood in a line at LaGuardia to see if she could find an earlier flight, although the real truth was that she was standing there for something to do. She was afraid if she didn’t continue putting one foot in front of another, her anger and anguish would erupt and destroy her.

  During the trip, as she’d gotten off and on buses and descended to the subway, she’d thought about Mark’s deceptions and grown more furious. But if she didn’t turn Ivy in to the authorities, wasn’t she just as bad? Mark had lied to protect his career, his family and image of himself, in addition to his addiction. If Cassie pretended her silence was just for Savannah’s sake, that would be a lie, as well, because silence would also preserve the fable of her perfect husband and marriage. At least at the end, they had been anything but.

  There was no chance Ivy would blackmail her now, and the nurse was almost certainly not going public about Mark’s addiction. For Ivy, this story was finished. She would find another job, find more ways to sell drugs to addicts who desperately needed them, and then when they were under her control, find ways to extract more money. Ivy would continue to leave a trail of broken souls behind her.

  If Cassie didn’t speak up, she was allowing that to continue.

  Were there really more grim revelations in her future? Maybe Ivy’s threat was just one more manipulation, but the money Mark had paid her was still only a small percentage of what had disappeared.

  Mark had been an addict. It was entirely possible whatever was missing had been spent on drugs. Did she need to continue the search? The money was well and truly gone.

  Mark was gone, too. She and Savannah had the rest of their lives ahead of them.

  How were they going to live them?

  42

  ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON SAVANNAH expected to find Cassie waiting beyond security at the Tampa airport, but Will stepped out of the crowd to greet her instead.

  “Hey!” She threw her arms around his neck for a hug, then stepped back. “Where, Mom?”

  For a moment he looked confused, then he got it. “Cassie and my mom are at home cooking a welcome dinner. They sent me.”

  “What is this? Like a rite of passage or something? Will goes to the airport? Do you need a photo for your scrapbook?”

  “I forgot what a pain in the neck you are.”

  “Only you would say neck.”

  They chatted as they headed to baggage claim. Will told her how lucky she’d been to miss the past week at school, when the upcoming spring break was the only thing anyone could think about.

  “They’re all going somewhere,” he said as they waited for Savannah’s bags. “Beaches, family vacations, sneaking off with their boyfriends.”

  “They can have it. Flying is brutal. It’s like a mosh pit. I don’t want to go anywhere again.” She paused for effect. “Not until summer.” She told him about the trip she and Gen were planning to Kenya and how Gen was going to teach her to do some basic procedures to help. “And you know what?” She looked sideways to be sure Will was listening. “I can bring a friend.”

  He was listening. “To Africa?”

  “Do you know how great that would look on a college application?”

  “I can guess.”

  “Maybe you’d like to be my friend?”

  Will turned. “Me?”

  “Gen will pay our way. We have to work while we’re there to earn it back. She trains local doctors. That’s her main thing, and she said sometimes they work twelve-hour days so we would, too. But I told her you’d think tha
t was a vacation.”

  “I don’t know. My mom—”

  “Amber will know right away what a great opportunity this is.”

  His eyes were shining. “It’s something to think about.”

  Savannah knew she could convince Cassie to talk to Amber if there were any issues.

  They were out of the parking garage and on the highway before they talked about anything other than Africa.

  “You do have some good ideas,” Will said. He was driving Cassie’s car. She was sorry it wasn’t the Mustang, but he did seem more comfortable behind the wheel of a basic Toyota, as if he were no longer calculating the cost of repairs every time he switched lanes.

  “It’s nice of you to say so.” Savannah was about to pull out her phone to check for texts from Helia or Minh when he spoke again.

  “You had a good one about 23andMe.”

  She was surprised at the compliment, then she remembered that the last time they’d talked, he’d told her he had contacted his uncle. “Have you heard anything?”

  “He got back to me! We’ve been emailing. He wants to meet me. He’s so excited. He says I must be his brother Billy’s son.”

  “Wow.” Savannah didn’t know what else to say. She knew she was supposed to be excited, and she was. Kind of. She was also worried.

  “I know my father’s name! I must be named after him. That has to mean Mom loved him.”

  “Slow down, okay? You didn’t tell him where you live or anything revealing? I mean, all these years Amber’s kept your dad’s identity secret and—”

  He interrupted, clearly frustrated. “I know I can’t. And I lied about Mom in case, well, telling him could cause trouble for her or somebody. I told him she died and I’m a foster child, you know, like Helia. I’ve talked to Helia enough to know what it’s like, sort of. He believes me.”

  “Okay...” She was trying to think ahead. “So he thinks you’re a foster kid named Jake Green. And he doesn’t know from where? I mean, what did you tell him when he asked?”