Lion & Lamb, page 6
On-screen, a white male hurried up the street, using his T-shirt as a mask to cover his nose and mouth; a gray hood covered most of his head.
“This was captured just minutes after a couple of patrol officers discovered Archie’s body. Definitely looks like he’s running for his life, doesn’t it?”
“There was a reference to him in the police report,” Veena said.
“Yes, but this is the first time he’s popped up on surveillance. We now have a better physical description.”
Could be an athlete, Veena thought. Maybe even a football player.
Transcript of encrypted message exchange between Veena Lion and Janie Hall
VEENA LION: Stellar work, Janie. Enjoy the rest of your Godfather.
JANIE HALL: Sorry about that, V., but a girl’s gotta eat. You headed to the Linc to figure out which member of the team had it in for Archie? Need me to prep some background files on the team?
LION: That would be fine, but no, I’m not headed to the stadium. I was just sitting here realizing that I need a window into the Hughes household.
HALL: Please don’t tell me you’re going to break into their mansion.
LION: Who am I, Cooper Lamb? I’m just going to follow your lead.
HALL: ???
LION: Can you send me the home address of their personal chef? The one the file said they’d just fired?
Chapter 21
1:07 p.m.
VEENA LION was horrified the moment she stepped into Chef Roy Nguyen’s cramped kitchen.
Not by the kitchen itself, which was compact, clean, and tidy. So tidy, in fact, it looked as if Chef Nguyen rarely cooked a meal at home. No, Veena was horrified by the lunch Chef Nguyen was currently preparing: leftover spaghetti. At some point, the sauce-heavy pasta had been a take-out meal, and now the chef was frying it up in a high-end skillet over a medium flame. Sauce smoked and splattered as the chef pushed a wooden spoon around the edge now and again.
“Hungry?” Chef asked.
“I had a late breakfast,” Veena lied. “So, I understand Ms. Hughes let you go fairly recently?”
“Let me go?” Chef asked. He made an annoyed huffing sound. “Let’s get it straight. That snooty bitch fired me. Over, like, nothing.”
“Have you found employment somewhere else?”
Chef Nguyen stared at the tangled strands of spaghetti as if they could tell his fortune. “It’s not exactly easy to line up another gig like that one. You have no idea how hard I busted my balls trying to get her attention in the first…hey, you’re not even listening to me!”
Chef had looked up in time to catch Veena furiously thumbing her phone.
“I am listening to every word. But I’m also texting a headhunter friend of mine, who will be contacting you within the hour. She specializes in matching executive-level chefs with discerning families.”
Chef’s grimace disappeared. “Are you…are you serious?”
“Just pay attention to your phone over the next hour. Her name is April White.”
“Why would you do this? You don’t even know me.”
“You’re actually doing me a favor. April’s clients will be falling all over themselves to retain your services. But help me understand something.”
Chef turned his attention back to his sizzling pasta, which was on the verge of burning. “Sure. Yeah. Anything.”
“Tell me about your time in the Hughes residence. Sounds like they were a very tight-knit family.”
“Ha. Only three members of that family were truly tight.”
“Mom and the kids?”
“Please. Parents are supposed to be tight with their kids. I’m talking about the threesome.”
“You’re going to have to tell me more.”
“First I want you to try some of this.”
“No, really, I’m fine. If my assistant, Janie, were here, she’d be all over your, uh, leftovers.”
“I really just insist. I can see you give me those Ew, gross stares. You think I’m just heating up leftovers, but don’t judge it until you put a forkful in your mouth.”
With a flourish that finally revealed the man’s skill, Nguyen spooned a small sample of the fried pasta into a glass bowl. He stabbed the pile with a tasting fork, then slid the bowl across the counter toward Veena.
“Go on,” Chef said.
Veena knew the point wasn’t negotiable. She twisted the fork around until she had a few thick strands of pasta in a tight little ball and put it in her mouth. She had to admit, the fried spaghetti was insanely flavorful, with a perfect blend of crispy bits and soft noodle bits. It was an entirely different approach to the household staple.
“You seriously need to make this for April,” Veena said. “She’ll lose her mind.”
“Oh, this? This is nothing. Just lunch, you know?”
Veena made a series of mental notes (which she would commit to a yellow legal pad during the train ride home): Chef Nguyen more than what he shows on the surface. He hides his massive ego behind a faux everyman exterior. He is the savory bite behind the fried pasta. What is he hiding?
“So tell me about Archie, Francine, and Maya.”
Chef Nguyen smiled and swirled himself a bite of spaghetti. “See, you figured it out for yourself. The threesome.”
“But only you saw how they behaved.”
“Oh, believe me, everybody saw. They were shameless. Everybody on the Main Line talked about them. And I should have known better. The moment I crossed that Maya Rain chick, my days were numbered.”
“What did you do, ask her out?”
“Of course I asked her out. Have you seen her?”
Veena said nothing as she twirled more pasta around her fork. She hated herself for wishing there were more in her bowl.
“It’s the whole nanny thing too. Sweet and shy on the outside, but once the kids are tucked away in bed…”
“You can stop painting the picture, Chef.”
“What if I don’t want to, Ms. Lion?” he said, chuckling.
Chapter 22
Transcript of phone call placed by Cooper Lamb to a private number
COOPER LAMB: Hey, it’s your old man. Guess who I’m going to be meeting in two minutes.
ARIEL LAMB: Francine Pearl Hughes.
LAMB: Whoa! Nailed it on the first try.
ARIEL: C’mon on, Dad. You’re working for her law firm, so one can only assume you’ll be meeting with Francine at some point.
LAMB: You’re good, kid. Unlike your dopey brother.
COOPER LAMB JR.: Hey! I’m standing right here.
LAMB: Relax, sparky. I knew you both were on speaker this whole time. I could hear your snuffles. By the way, are you taking your allergy medicine? And shouldn’t you be getting back to basket-weaving class or whatever they teach at that expensive Quaker school?
ARIEL: Ignoring you. Say hello to Ms. Hughes for us! Tell her we’re huge fans.
LAMB: I’ll bet I’m a bigger fan than you guys.
ARIEL: Oh, really. Name one Francine Pearl song.
COOPER JR.: I hate that allergy medicine. It tastes like puke.
LAMB: If you could learn how to swallow a pill, you wouldn’t have to drink the puke. As for your question, my dear doubting daughter: “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
ARIEL: That’s not a Francine Pearl song.
LAMB: I heard her sing it once. At a Super Bowl, in fact!
Cooper Lamb had been in more impressive homes than this. But those homes were Monticello, the Hearst Castle, and 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And none of those homes had had Francine Pearl Hughes living in them.
“Sit anywhere you like, Cooper,” Francine said. “I’ll be right with you after I get the kids their snacks. Care for something to drink?”
“Just some tap water for me and my dog, Lupe, if you don’t mind.”
“I think we can do a little better than that,” she said, smiling.
Most people would be pondering the correct drink request. Not Cooper. He was too busy strategizing the proper place to sit. Sure, this was a friendly interview at his client’s home. But make no mistake, Francine’s kitchen was also her battlefield. Especially now that she had fired her general (Chef Roy Nguyen) and assumed command of all the family meals. She might be dressed in the casual manner of a Main Line mom, but she was still a superstar.
“I have some updates for you,” Cooper said, opting for a spot directly across the kitchen island from Francine as she sliced vegetables to accompany kid-size trays of pita and hummus.
“Really?”
Not really. This was one of Cooper’s favorite techniques, especially with an interview subject who was theoretically on your side. You didn’t show up with a tape recorder and a list of questions. No, you acted like a proper houseguest and came bearing a gift—information. This made you collaborators, not detective and witness.
“The team is a mess,” Cooper said. “The Sables are up to their ears in corrupt schemes, and the players are more or less kindergartners with millions in disposable income.”
“That’s not really an update, Cooper,” Francine said. “That’s been my reality for the past five seasons.”
“Why didn’t you encourage your husband to take his considerable talents elsewhere?”
“I presume you never had the chance to meet Archie in person. Nobody could ever encourage him to do anything he didn’t want to. I’d better get these snacks to the kids—”
“One second, Francine. I really think there’s something rotten with the team, and it may have something to do with your husband’s death. I’m hoping you can point me in the right direction.”
Francine’s smile—her armor—faded a little. Only now did she look like a woman trying desperately to keep the oceans of grief at bay.
“Archie liked to say that he was in this world, but he was not of this world.”
Cooper stared at her across the kitchen island. “You just tied a knot in my brain.”
“What he meant was, he knew what he was getting into with the Sables. But he kept his nose clean and his head above the filth. The team had nothing to do with Archie’s death. At some point, when the media calms down and cooler heads prevail, the police will find the truth.”
“And what is that?”
“That Philadelphia is a violent city, and sometimes it takes even the best of us. Can I feed my kids now?”
“I’m sorry…just one more thing. Please.”
Francine stared at him.
“Look, I have to ask this question,” Cooper continued, “because it’s going to come up sooner rather than later.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why were your prints on the gun found in the garden? The gun you said you didn’t recognize?”
Francine nodded and smiled, as if she had been expecting this question. “I’ve just told you that Philly can be a violent place. If you grow up here, you’re taught to protect yourself. All of this”—she waved a hand around her designer kitchen—“doesn’t mean a thing if you can’t take care of yourself.”
“So you and your husband kept guns in the house, and you’ve handled them all at some point?”
“When I told the police I didn’t recognize the gun, it was like saying I didn’t recognize a particular hammer in a toolbox. Why would I? I never gave it much thought.”
The explanation was delivered casually. But Francine locked eyes with Cooper with such intensity, she was clearly issuing an unspoken challenge: Go ahead. Tell me I’m lying.
Cooper stared right back. Hey, it’s not me you have to convince.
Finally, Francine broke the tension. “I’d better get the kids fed, Mr. Lamb.”
“I have a feeling they may have already feasted on my dog.”
“Lupe? Are you kidding? They love him!”
“Everybody does,” Cooper said. “He’s the worst private-eye sidekick ever.”
Chapter 23
2:21 p.m.
“OH, AND this is Maya,” Francine told Cooper.
Maya Rain—the “hillbilly from West Virginia,” as Glenn Sable had called her—was sitting cross-legged on the floor with the Hughes children as they played with Lupe, who was relishing all of the attention.
“Traitor,” Cooper told his pup.
“Quiet, kids. Mr. Lamb is a private eye,” Maya said in mock fear. “His job is to listen to everything we say.”
“I think Mr. Lamb is a sheep!” announced five-year-old Maddie Hughes, who was utterly adorable. “Baaaaa,” she said. This was followed by a giggle fit.
“I’ve been called worse,” Cooper said. “And don’t worry, Ms. Rain, I’m just here to retrieve my partner, Lupe, who is clearly falling down on the job. Unless he’s managed to take statements from all of you between treats?”
Three people in the room—Francine, Maya Rain, and Maddie—smiled at the joke, but not twelve-year-old Archie Hughes Jr.
The boy sat on the floor too, legs crossed, but his attention was miles away. Cooper had seen that look before. Back when he was in the army, Cooper had spent countless days in Fallujah and Baghdad staring into the eyes of children who’d lost a parent and couldn’t understand why everyone was acting like nothing was wrong. Cooper felt his heart implode.
Maya Rain caught Cooper looking at Archie Jr. and quickly stood up. “Let me show Mr. Lamb out while you kids have your snack.”
“Thank you so much, Maya,” said Francine.
“Children, I’ll be right baaaaaack,” Maya said, which made Maddie giggle all over again. Maya looped her arm through Cooper’s and gently guided him toward the servants’ entrance.
The touch wasn’t flirtatious—it was as if she knew he needed to touch another human being in that moment, which was even more startling.
Transcript of recorded conversation between Cooper Lamb and Maya Rain
COOPER LAMB: I’d love to speak with you too, if you have a minute.
MAYA RAIN: Not here. Not right now.
LAMB: Where and when?
RAIN: Hmm. That eager to see me again?
LAMB: I’m just doing my job, and your name has come up a lot.
RAIN: I’m sure it has. I’ll be in touch.
LAMB: Where and when?
RAIN: I don’t know. The kids keep me pretty busy most days. Cleaning up messes, that’s what I do.
LAMB: Funny—looks like we’re in the same business. But name the time and place. Seriously.
RAIN: I’ll let Lupe know. And be careful on your way out, Cooper. Mr. Lopez is picky about the grounds.
Transcript of recorded conversation between Cooper Lamb and Mauricio Lopez
COOPER LAMB: Hey, you’re Mr. Lopez, right? My name is Cooper, and I’m working for Ms. Hughes’s lawyers. Do you have a moment?
MAURICIO LOPEZ: That stupid dog is going to dig up my garden!
LAMB: That dog’s name is Lupe and he will do no such thing. I wanted to ask you about the g—
LOPEZ: I can’t speak right now. I’m sorry.
LAMB: It’s just a simple question and nothing you haven’t already told the police.
LOPEZ: What is that in your hand? No tape-recording!
LAMB: I promise I’m not recording. I have a nervous habit of holding my phone.
LOPEZ: Please, I’m very busy today.
LAMB: I promise this will just take a second. It’s a matter of life and death.
LOPEZ: Fine. What is it?
LAMB: I can’t seem to keep my hydrangeas alive from season to season. What am I doing wrong? You can be honest with me.
LOPEZ: (Confused) What?
LAMB: The winter months in Philly, they’re brutal. Obviously you do a ton of work maintaining these grounds. I mean, that’s how you saw the gun, right?
LOPEZ: I have to go now—
LAMB: But Ms. Hughes said it would be okay if we spoke.
LOPEZ: I believe she would be very angry if we spoke.
LAMB: No, she said it would be okay. Well, she implied it would be okay. I mean, we’re all on the same team here! What have you got to lose?
LOPEZ: (Sighs) Everything, Mr. Lamb. I have everything to lose. My job. My status in this country. My freedom.
LAMB: Has someone threatened you, Mr. Lopez? Because if that’s the case, we can protect you.
LOPEZ: Nobody has threatened me, Mr. Lamb. I live always under this threat. Now, please, take your dog and leave the grounds. I have much to do to repair the mess he’s made.
(After a gap in the dialogue of approximately one minute, a car door slams.)
LAMB: You heard that, right, Victor? Mr. Lopez has a problem with Lupe, which clearly means he’s evil. Kidding. But seriously, he may know something. I need to find out what. And Maya Rain…okay, I need to know everything about her.
Chapter 24
REPORT TO C. LAMB BY V. SUAREZ
Tuesday, January 25
Finished my latest analysis of audio surveillance at the Hughes home and there is nothing unusual to note after you left.
You asked me to keep an ear out for the nanny, but she spends most of her time with the kids. She’s good at keeping them distracted. Very inventive, lots of creative brain games. Stuff like having them look outside and tell her the makes, models, years, and colors of all the cars they see. (I found myself distracted by this too, to be honest.) The Hughes kids are quick. Who knows how they’ll eventually turn out, but they might make great private investigators someday. Maya Rain is quite the teacher.
Francine Pearl Hughes spends a lot of time shopping online. I’m tracking all internet activity and I have a list of the high-end clothing and jewelry stores she’s been visiting. The clothing appears to be purchased for herself, though I do not know the nanny’s measurements. (Yes, I’m working on it. Ms. Rain’s digital trail is either thin or carefully obscured.) The jewelry appears to be for a woman, presumably Ms. Hughes.
