Page 109 of Dead Man's List

Kit looked around the room. There were framed photos on nearly every surface—all of the same young man. He looked like Trisha Finnegan and, in the most recent photos, he looked at least eighteen. She played her hunch. “He knew your son wasn’t his biologically.”

Trisha froze, then slumped back into her chair. “I’ve read you two are good detectives. I guess the media was right.”

“It would have been a secret worth paying to keep,” Kit said. “That’s what you told Munro that night?”

“Yes. I don’t know why I did, but I must have. I didn’t want my husband to find out because I was afraid that he’d take it out on Tommy. Which he did. He cut Tommy out of his life, both emotionally and financially, and he’d been the only father Tommy had ever known.”

“Salt in the wound,” Kit said softly. “Munro drugged you,raped you physically, then stole that secret from you against your will.”

Trisha swallowed hard. “Yes. To all that. But I guess I got the last laugh when it came to Brooks Munro. Turns out, my husband had suspected for some time that my son wasn’t his. He had a paternity test done on the sly as he was preparing the divorce papers. He divorced me and my son.”

“How did your son feel about this?” Connor asked.

“He was devastated. Both with my ex-husband for disowning him and with me for lying to him all those years. I didn’t find out I was pregnant until after we got engaged. I didn’t want to believe Tommy wasn’t his son, but as Tommy began to grow, I could see his biological father in his face, his eyes. His mannerisms. Tommy’s biological father was a sweet man who died about five years ago, so Tommy will never know him. He’s angry about that, too. He still speaks to me, but our relationship isn’t the same. But that’s on me, not Munro.”

But the psychological damage from the rape and blackmail had to still be an issue for this woman. “Munro did enough, though.”

Trisha sighed. “Yes, he did.”

“Do you know who killed him?” Connor asked.

“No. If I did, I’d send them a thank-you card. Brooks Munro was a parasite.”

“That seems to be a common opinion,” Kit said. “Do you know if anyone else was being blackmailed?”

“I’ve always assumed so, only because he had the process down to a science. But that’s not the kind of thing one talks about with other people.”

“I suppose not,” Kit said. “What about Juanita Young and Estelle White?”

Trisha shook her head. “I truly don’t know. I did know thema few years ago, but never well. Certainly never well enough to disclose such personal things with them and vice versa. The rumor mill said that they also slept with Munro. I don’t know if he drugged them. You’ll have to ask them. I dropped out of the country club scene after that. I just…couldn’t go back.”

“What are you doing now?” Kit asked, hoping the woman had been able to move forward.

“I was a teacher when I was younger. I loved my job back then, so I volunteer now with the school where I taught, tutoring at-risk kids. I also putter in my garden. I keep to myself, mostly.”

“That’s so nice,” Kit said. “The at-risk kids, I mean. I do not have a green thumb so every garden begs me not to putter.”

Trisha’s smile was tentative. “Thank you. This was easier than I thought it would be. I’ve been expecting you since I read about Munro’s murder. I figured anyone he was blackmailing would be a suspect. Am I a suspect?”

“Did you kill him?” Kit asked seriously.

“No. But when I’m not at the school volunteering, I keep to myself here at home. I have no one to vouch for my whereabouts.”

Kit didn’t think this woman had anything to do with Munro’s death, but she did remember Alicia’s multiple-hands theory. They couldn’t rule Trisha out.

“You’re not a suspect at this time,” Connor said, saving Kit from answering. “But we’re still investigating. If you think of anything that could help us, we’d appreciate it. Like the exact dates and places you made your money drops. It was a while ago, so we probably can’t get security footage of those places anymore, but it’s always worth a try.”

Trisha got a notepad from a drawer in the lamp table beside her and scratched out a list. “It was more than two years ago, so I don’t think these locations will do you any good, but there they are. My day was the second of every month.”

“Your day?” Connor asked.

Trisha shrugged. “That’s what Munro told me. That’s when I figured he was doing this to enough people that he had to assign me my own day.” She filled up a few lines of the notepad, then tore off the page and gave it to Connor.

“You’re the first victim we’ve talked to so far,” Kit said.

Trisha put the notepad away and folded her hands again. “Once you identify a bunch of us, we should have a support group.”

Trisha said it lightly, like she was joking, but Kit thought that wasn’t a bad idea.