Promise You Won't Tell?

Chapter 37

“Excuse me?” Gavin says. “She said no? She’s turning down a million dollars? What the hell did she say, exactly?” 

“She said a million dollars seemed light.”

“Light? What the fuck does that mean?”

“She wants five million.”

He laughs a full minute. Laughs so hard his body shakes. Laughs so hard he has to dab the tears from his eyes. When he finally stops laughing, he says, “There’s got to be more, and I can’t wait to hear it. What else did she say?”

This time I’m in Gavin’s office. We’re alone. 

I say, “She told me a story.”

“What story?”

“I can’t do it justice, but I took notes.”

I remove the notepad from my handbag and say, “She’s been doing odd jobs for years. Mostly caring for the elderly, in their homes. Running errands, cleaning attics, and such. One summer she worked for a lady named Mona Elkins, who…”

Up till now, Gavin was semi-reclining in his chair, showing me an indulgent smile as he waited patiently for me to get to the point. Now his chair’s upright. His smile a memory.

“I know that name,” he says. “Mona Elkins.” He furrows his brow. “How do I know that name?”

“Before retiring, she was your ex-wife’s personal assistant.”

Gavin’s face moves from curious to concerned.

“And how does this happy coincidence affect Riley’s case?”

 “I honestly don’t know. But she gave me a message for you, and said you’d understand.”

He frowns deeply and says, “You’re working for her now?”

“No.”

He gives me a hard stare. “You’re sure about that?”

“Quite sure.”

“Do you never accept payment?”

“Not for these types of cases.”

He says, “In that case I definitely want you on my payroll.”

“That wouldn’t feel right. I’d rather limit my role to go-between. Consider me the messenger.”

“Suit yourself.” He waves his hand through the air, indicating nothing in particular. “You don’t want to get paid? Fine. Don’t get paid. You’re the messenger. Whatever.” He takes a deep breath and says, “So…what’s the message?”

“Riley was cleaning out Mona’s attic. Said she went through each box meticulously, one piece of paper at a time. Said she found two copies of Ethan’s birth certificates.”

I pause to see what impact my words have on him, but his face remains unchanged. He’s looking at me, waiting for me to continue.

“That’s it,” I say.

“Excuse me?”

“I asked if she meant to use the plural and she said yes, absolutely.”

“Plural of what?”

“Birth certificates.”

Like a long fuse on a bomb, it takes a moment before my words have the impact Riley anticipated.

Gavin jumps to his feet. Ten expletives jump with him and escape his mouth in such a hurry it sounds like he’s speaking in tongues. He shakes his head and mutters and kicks his coffee table like an angry child. He walks to the floor-to-ceiling window and curses the skyline. Crosses the room and punches the wall.