Easy Innocence

Chapter 46

"Opportunity? How can you call it an opportunity when you strongarm your way onto my property?"

"You'll understand after we talk."

Andrea gazed at Georgia, seemingly trying to gauge her seriousness. She ran her tongue around her lips. Then she took a quick look around, as if checking to see whether anyone was watching them. Finally, she capitulated. "You'd better come in."

She went to the kitchen door and opened it. Georgia followed her in. Andrea motioned to one of the stools at the granite-topped island and went to the coffee pot. She poured herself a mug, then held the pot up.

Georgia nodded and sat down at the island. Andrea filled another mug and brought it to the counter. "What is it you want to know?"

"Let's start with your brother's gas station. Did you know the land underneath it was contaminated?"

She took a sip of coffee. "Yes," she said quietly.

"And did you know it got a clean bill of health in record time?"

"I was the one who told Fred. After Tom told me."

"And?"

"And what?"

"How did your brother react?"

"He—Fred—was angry."

"Why?"

"Because—because he knew it couldn't happen that fast."

"He told you that?"

Andrea looked at the floor and nodded.

"Suppose you start from the beginning."

She hesitated. Then, "After the stroke Fred was very weak. It was clear he couldn't go back to work. We all thought—Fred included—that selling the place would be the best idea. He'd have some money to take care of himself; he wouldn't have to worry. So Tom helped Fred sell it."

Georgia took off her jacket and draped it over the back of the stool. "To Harry Perl."

Andrea looked up. "Perl wanted the land and was willing to pay top dollar. It seemed like the perfect solution. Tom brokered the deal."

"What about the fact that it was contaminated?"

"My understanding is that Tom promised Fred that Harry would take care of it. It was part of the negotiations."

"Didn't you wonder how the land came to be cleaned up so quickly?"

"I didn't think anything about it." She shrugged. "Not my business. But when Tom mentioned it was done, I told Fred. He knew right away something was fishy. He said you can't have toxic ground on Monday and then find it's gone by Tuesday. He said he was going to look into it. And that he might have to go to the authorities." Her lips tightened. "He always wanted to do the right thing."

"Did Tom know Fred was upset?"

She nodded. "They had a fierce argument about it."

"When?"

"It was—must have been a couple of days before he died." Andrea stopped herself. "Oh, God." She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Georgia didn't say anything.

Andrea's face crumpled. "I—I don't want to know any more."

"You don't have that luxury, Mrs. Walcher."

Andrea squeezed her eyes shut. Then she slowly opened them. Her voice was tight. "I'm sure you're wrong. There's probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for the speed of the clean-up. And the attempt on your life. It could have been a random shooting. Evanston isn't nearly as safe as people think."

"Right." Georgia shifted. "Tell me about your brother."

"Fred was the only one in my family I talk—talked to."

"Why is that?"

"The rest of them—well, they were just looking for a hand-out." Andrea looked around her kitchen. Georgia followed her gaze, taking in the granite counters, the hand-painted tiles, all the latest appliances and gadgets. She looked like it might be the last time she ever did. "We didn't come from money. It was always a struggle. We were what you call 'lace curtain Irish.'"

Georgia winced, then tried to cover it up.

But Andrea caught it. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? An abusive father, a mother who hid the bottle under her bed, siblings always in trouble. The only one who looked out for me was Fred. I got out of there as soon as I could. Became a legal secretary. Met Tom. Put that part of my life behind me. Except for Fred. When Tom found the gas station, we arranged the down payment, and Fred moved up here." She bit her lip. "It was the least I could do."

"Until now," Georgia said.

Andrea gazed around the room one more time. Then her eyes landed on Georgia. "What do you want me to do?" She whispered.

Was she ready to trade off her husband for her brother's memory? Or was she just trying to protect her life-style? Either way, Georgia knew she had her.

"I need to know how that property came to be cleaned up so quickly," she said. "I have my suspicions. But I need proof. I want to know whether anything related to the environmental situation precipitated Fred's—well, I need to find what lengths they went to get that clean bill of health. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open, and call me with any information you find. Does your husband keep records at home?"

"He has an office upstairs."

"That's a start. I need information. Documents. Records of meetings or conversations between Perl and your husband. Or any other people. Jimmy Broadbent, for example. Anything else you come across about 2500 Chestnut. You need to report back on anything. Even if you don't know if it's important."

A calculating look came over Andrea. "I thought you were investigating Sara Long's death."

"That's right."

"How is that girl's death tied into this?"

Georgia didn't like Andrea Walcher. She considered telling her about her husband and Sara Long. Maybe the woman's shock and revulsion—and fear of reprisals—would persuade her to be even more helpful. But she couldn't tell Andrea about "Charlie" without revealing Lauren's part in it, and she wasn't prepared to do that yet. "There might be a connection."

"How? What?"

Georgia shook her head. It took an effort to muzzle herself. "Not now. Not yet."

Andrea's nostrils flared. "How am I supposed to tell what's important? I don't know the ins and outs of real estate."

"You're smart," Georgia said. "You know more than you think."

"And in return? What do I get out of this?"

"In return, I'll try to protect you. And your daughter."

Andrea wrapped both hands around her coffee cup, took a sip, and gazed at Georgia over the rim. "You're going to destroy my life, aren't you?"

"Your husband started down that road a long time ago, Mrs. Walcher." She stood and shrugged into her jacket. "Just keep me informed."