Page 45 of The Lost Heiress
“On and off, yes,” Teddy said.
“And why was that—the on-and-off nature of it?” Church asked.
“I suppose because we were young,” Teddy said. “We were long distance sometimes, and that was hard. I’d forget to call one evening because lacrosse practice ran late, or she’d think I was flirting with another girl—things like that. We’d get into an argument on the phone, and one of us would hang up, and we wouldn’t speak for weeks.”
“So you fought often?”
“Not any more than I would say is usual for a young couple.”
“And was it just arguments, these fights? Or did they ever turn physical?”
Teddy thought for a moment and smiled wryly. “Saoirse threw a plate at my head once,” he said, “but I ducked.”
“But you were never physical with her?” Church asked.
“Never,” Teddy said.
Church was silent for a moment. “Mr. Mountbatten,” Church said, “the family reported that Saoirse came home once from a trip she took with you to Catalina with a black eye. They claimed you were the one who gave it to her.”
Teddy had a very unusual reaction to this. He smiled, and then he started to laugh. “Of course they did,” Teddy said, rubbing his chin. “Not exactly clever—rather uninspired, actually—but sometimes that’sbetter. People like tropes, familiar stories, recognizable characters. It’s an easier sell.”
“I apologize,” Church said. “I’m not following.”
“Isn’t it obvious what they’re doing?” Teddy asked. “They’re trying to cast me in this role of the violent ex-boyfriend. Maybe I liked to knock her around a bit. Maybe the night of the party, I saw Saoirse with another guy, I got a little jealous, and I took things a little too far. It’s an easily digestible narrative. A jury would understand it, eat it up.”
“Are you saying the family is propagating a fake narrative to implicate you?” Church asked.
“I’m saying they’re trying to cast doubt on my character, to undermine me, to give me a plausible motive,” Teddy said. “I should know. It’s what I do for a living.”
“And why would the family want to point a finger in your direction?” Church asked.
“Because this is whatthey do,” Teddy said. “They’re good at making people see what they want them to see and keeping hidden things hidden.”
“How do you mean?”
Teddy paused for a moment, as if he were unsure if he should say. “They’re very good at stories, Detective. I’m sure you know that they had Saoirse removed from school her junior year?”
“Yes,” Church said. “Saoirse had a health condition, and her brother was worried about her safety.”
“Yes, and isn’t that a pretty story?” Teddy asked. “Poor, frail Saoirse, and her big brother looking out for her, protecting her.”
“You’re saying it isn’t true?”
“Saoirse didn’t have an arrhythmia,” Teddy said. “They made that up so they could take Saoirse out of school without anyone batting an eye, without anyone becoming wise to the truth.”
“And what was that?” Church asked. “What was this truth you think they were so intent on hiding?”
“Saoirse wasn’t sick,” Teddy said. “She was pregnant.”
At first, Church was sure he had misheard him. “Pregnant?” he echoed.
“Yes,” Teddy said. “Saoirse told me so herself. She used to call me sometimes, without them knowing. She was furious with her brother for hiding her away and keeping her under lock and key the way he did. Always with a caretaker—someone to keep an eye on her every move. And before you ask,” Teddy said, returning his attention to his Cobb salad, “it wasn’t mine—it happened when we were broken up.”
Church was still trying to process this sudden turn of events. “Did you ever see her pregnant?” he asked.
Teddy shook his head. “The next time I saw her was at her birthday party,” he said. “And she obviously wasn’t pregnant then.”
Church shifted in his chair, his mind racing. “If the baby wasn’t yours, do you know who it belonged to?” he asked. “Who Saoirse was involved with?”
