Page 82 of Deception

Clayton had wondered why the cousins weren’t here to help her with the funeral, but they’d never been as close to their grandfatheras Madison. He wished she could fast-forward through the next few days. Madison had reverted to the shell-shocked expression she’d worn right after learning the judge had died. “Do you still want to stop by Hargrove’s office?”

“Yes,” she said. “He’s expecting us.” He shot her a questioning look, and she added, “I called while I was at the funeral home.”

At the private investigator’s, they were quickly ushered into his office. Both the waiting area and his office advertised his success. Leather chairs—not the thin stuff like Clayton’s recliner at home, but real leather. And the mahogany desk probably cost at least five grand. He knew because he’d been looking for one and had quickly changed his mind.

After Madison introduced herself and Clayton, James Hargrove leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers. “I’m truly sorry about Judge Anderson.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“I understand there’s a question about how he died.”

Madison crossed her arms. “He did not kill himself.”

“I agree, and if there’s any way I can help, let me know ... or is that why you came today?”

“Not exactly.” Madison handed him the file folder. “I believe you did the work on this case.”

He scanned through the documents. “I did. Your grandfather wanted proof of what he’d suspected for a long time and hired me to find it.”

“Do you know how long the affair had been going on?”

“My guess is two years at least. That’s how long the rental agreement for the apartment where she lives has been in effect.”

“Is it in her name or his?” Madison picked at her cuticle.

“His.”

“You’re telling me this affair went on for twenty months before my mother died?”

Hargrove nodded somberly.

“How long did you observe him?” Clayton asked. Even withoutexplicit photos, the fact that he’d been paying her rent for two years spoke for itself.

“Every day for six weeks.”

That should be long enough to know the man. He glanced at Madison to see if she wanted to ask the question they’d discussed earlier, and she gave a slight nod. Clayton leaned forward. “Do you think he’s capable of murder?”

The question didn’t seem to surprise the investigator. “Are you asking if I think he murdered his wife or Judge Anderson?”

“Both,” Madison said.

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Hargrove tapped his fingers together. “I found no proof that your father killed your mother with an overdose—it appears she accidentally ingested too many Oxycontins. In his report, the medical examiner indicated he’d found an empty bottle of the prescribed medication on her bedside table. The prescription was for twenty and had been filled only the day before for a tooth extraction. I believe his ruling of an accidental overdose is correct and that she lost track of how many she’d taken.”

Madison chewed her bottom lip. Unfortunately, her mother’s mindset had often been if one pill was good, two were better.

“As for your father shooting the judge, Gregory Thorn didn’t strike me as the type to get his hands dirty.”

Madison didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. But the thought that kept running through her mind was that her father had out-and-out lied to her when she’d asked if he had an affair before her mother died. And he’d done it so easily. If he lied about that, what else had he lied about?

“Do you know if he owns any guns?” Clayton asked.

“I’m sure he doesn’t. Judge Anderson had already told me he hated guns. Now the woman he was seeing ... she was a different matter.”

Madison leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“Once the judge knew he was seeing someone, he wantedmore information on her, and I did a background check, interviewed former friends and the like. She is very skilled with both rifles and pistols—it’s a hobby with her.”

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