Murder Comes Calling

by Raven Snow

  “I feel like we should talk,” said Rowen, looking from Coreen to Desmond.

  Coreen put her hands on her hips and looked up at Desmond with a frown. “I told you.”

  Desmond glared over at Coreen. By the time he looked back to Rowen, he was wearing an entirely different expression. “Yes, we should definitely talk. I was about to say the same.” That couldn’t be anything but a blatant lie. Even so, it sounded like the truth coming from Desmond’s mouth. “Why don’t we step outside?”

  Rowen didn’t want to let this man get away, but she knew this wasn’t the best place to have their very first father/daughter conversation. She nodded and led the way out front. “There’s a restaurant not far from here,” Eric suggested as they walked. “We could all head there.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Coreen said before Desmond could even comment. “I’m starving.” She reached into her purse and dug out some car keys to hold aloft. By doing so, she seemed to be stating that they would definitely follow them there.

  “We’ll lead the way.” Rowen turned away from her father and headed for the car. She got in on the passenger’s side.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Eric as soon as the driver’s side door closed.

  “Better than I thought I would.” Rowen looked out the window at her father and Coreen as they climbed into their own car. Looking at the man now, she couldn’t imagine why she had been so nervous to begin with. He wasn’t anything special. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Chapter Six

  The restaurant was a sit-down place that charged too much for lackluster hamburgers. It wasn’t the food Rowen was there for, though. The dark booths made a good environment to finally confront her father.

  Menus were placed on the table and drink orders were made. Desmond was the first to actually address Rowen. He put that fake smile of his back on. “You look just like your mother.”

  Rowen studied her father. She didn’t see much of herself in the lines of his face. Maybe she had gotten her short stature largely from him. Either way, she had no strong feelings about looking like her mother. “I guess.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen her lately.”

  “Nope.” Rowen didn’t much appreciate that he was asking such a self-serving question already. “She doesn’t come around here often.”

  “She never was one to be tied down,” Desmond said with a smile. “She was always a bit flighty.”

  “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge her for that. I definitely saw more of her growing up than I saw of you.”

  Desmond looked down at the table, sufficiently cowed by the question. “Look… Rowen.” It might have been the first time he ever said the name. He paused after saying it, like he was tasting it in his mouth. It rolled awkwardly off his tongue when he tried again. “Rowen, it’s really for the best that I wasn’t around when you were growing up. I’m sorry, and I know that might sound like an excuse, but it’s the truth. I’m not father material. I never have been.”

  “You’re right. That does sound like a bad excuse. If you were never father material, you probably should have kept it in your pants.” Rowen stopped talking just in time for the server to return with their drinks. She went ahead and placed her order, forcing everyone else to quickly do the same.

  “I thought about you a lot,” said Desmond, once the server had gone.

  “Okay,” said Rowen, staring at him. “And what did that accomplish? You never visited. As far as I know, you never sent any money my family’s way.”

  Desmond snorted at the mention of money. “Like they needed it. Your family was plenty well off. They were happy raising you themselves. They never wanted me around from the start.”

  “So my aunts just stole me from you, did they?”

  “They might as well have.” Desmond took the lemon from the rim of his glass and squeezed it into his water. “They always hated me.”

  “And why did they always hate you?”

  “Well, it wasn’t just your aunts.” Desmond scanned all the faces in the booth, like he was trying to get a read of his audience. “It was your grandmother too—Speaking of which…”

  “She passed away.”

  “Ah. Sorry to hear that.”

  Rowen seriously doubted that. “Go on,” she prompted.

  “Your grandmother didn’t like me either,” Desmond continued. “She thought I was a bad influence.”

  “Were you?”

  That got a smile from Desmond. It was more genuine than the other smiles Rowen had seen. It was a softer smile, like he was remembering good times rather than trying to sell her something. “I was best friends with your uncle.” He waited for a response from Rowen. When none was forthcoming, he continued. “We got into all sorts of trouble together back in the day. We’d play pranks and such. You know, normal kid stuff. I wasn’t as afraid of your family as the rest of the world seemed to be.”

  Was Desmond hoping that not hating the Greensmiths was going to impress Rowen? “Uncle Norm hasn’t been the best father to his daughter either. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a much better father than you. That just doesn’t mean a whole lot.”

  Desmond’s expression darkened. “You could at least be a little polite. Make an effort and work with me here. I’m trying to be polite.”

  Rowen bristled at Desmond’s threat. She did her best to tone her anger down a bit regardless. “So, I take it that my mother fell for you while you were busy hanging out with my uncle?” she asked instead, getting things back on topic.

  Desmond nodded. “He hated it at first, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. It was just one of those things, you know? It was magnetic.” He motioned to Eric. “Like you and this fellow here. I assume he’s your husband.”

  “Eric.” Eric gave Desmond a curt nod. “We’ve been together for a while now.”

  “See?” said Desmond, like that proved some sort of point. “That. That pull between the two of you. That’s what your mom and I had. It was wonderful.”

  “So what happened?” asked Rowen.

  The smile on Desmond’s face fell once more. “Well, it faded. These things happen. Sometimes relationships just… run their course.”

  Rowen couldn’t imagine ever parting ways with Eric. What she had with him wasn’t just a magnetic sort of pull. It was more than that. It was like he was another part of her, an extension of her. Without Eric, Rowen was sure that she would feel like a piece of herself was missing. That said, she knew it wasn’t that way for everyone. Love did fade between people. That led her to an obvious question that she wasn’t entirely certain she even wanted the answer for. “Did you ever love me?” It was such a pathetic question; Rowen heard her voice break a little when she asked it. Her eyes felt moist. She cringed.

  “Oh, Sweetheart,” said Desmond, reaching forward to take Rowen’s hand into his own. “Of course I love you.”

  Rowen snatched her hand away before he could touch her. He had answered that question much too quickly. “Were you there when I was born?”

  “Of course.”

  Rowen wished that Desmond would stop saying things like they should be obvious. Rowen knew so little about this man, and there he was acting like her questions were silly, like the answers should be known to her already. “When did you leave?”

  Desmond’s eyes darted away again. “I didn’t… I didn’t just leave all at once. It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then what was it like?”

  “Well, your mother and I decided to get away for a while. That was… hmm. That was a long time ago. It’s hard to remember.” At least Desmond didn’t look to be stalling this time around. Rowen could feel that he was trying to give her a straight answer. He didn’t think he was in the wrong, at least not about this. Whether or not that said anything positive about him remained to be seen. “You weren’t very old. I think you had just turned one. That year was… Wow. What a year. We never got a day’s rest. You have no idea. The both of us needed a vacation
. That’s when we heard about this music festival happening a couple states away. I forget who was playing. Can’t even remember if I enjoyed the music or not. I just remember how much we needed to get away.”

  “And did you ever come back?”

  “Well…” Desmond held up a finger, like he could explain himself and needed Rowen to not say anything for a moment while he got his words together. “That’s the thing. I really intended to come back and be a great father again. It’s just… See, we needed a little more time after the festival. We decided to camp out in the forest for some peace and quiet. You don’t get a whole lot of peace and quiet at music festivals, you know. Anyway, yeah, we spent a bit of time like that.”

  “How long?”

  “Not too long.”

  “How long is not too long?”

  “Not all that long.” Desmond continued quickly before Rowen could ask him the same question again. “The thing is, that’s when your mother lost interest in me.”

  “So she was the one who lost interest in you.”

  “Right. I probably should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. I noticed she was getting on really well with this young dude camping nearby. I knew she was interested, but honestly, I thought she was going to ask for an open relationship or something. I might have been cool with that, but no.” Desmond’s hand tightened around his glass of water. He looked down at it. The memory clearly still caused him some pain, not that Rowen minded. “Instead, I come back from fishing one day and there they are. I walked in on them having sex. Of course, she brought up the idea of an open relationship after we fought about it. It was a little late by then, though.”

  “So… what? You just never came back home because my mom cheated on you? What does that have to do with me? It’s not like I ever did anything to you.”

  “No… no, you didn’t.” Desmond took a sip of his water and looked back up at Rowen again. “Like I said before, I’m just not good father material. I would have been a horrible parent. It looks like you turned out fine without me.” The look on Rowen’s face must have indicated that she still wasn’t willing to cut Desmond any slack. “Not that any of that is an excuse, of course,” he added.

  “So, you picked a convenient time to come back to town.” Rowen doubted she was going to get any sort of closure on her father’s complete failure as a guardian to her. She might as well get a few other things out of the way while she had him in front of her. Who knew how hard it would be to corner him again?

  “I guess I did.” Desmond gave his daughter a measured sort of look, like he was trying to determine whether or not she was implying something. “It’s a shame. I didn’t even get to see Bertha again before she passed. She was a good woman.”

  “I could always try to get in contact with her for you,” Rowen offered. “Just in case she hasn’t moved on.”

  “That’s all right.” Desmond responded a little too quickly. “I wouldn’t want to disturb her. Besides, I’m sure she has moved on. She never struck me as the sort of woman who would… linger.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know.” Rowen had her own ulterior motives for trying to get in touch with Bertha. Desmond likely expected as much.

  “So, I gather you take after your mother on the… witch front.”

  “Of course.” At least Rowen didn’t sense any skepticism coming from Desmond. Coreen didn’t look nearly as convinced. It didn’t take any supernatural empathy to sense her doubts either. The way her dark eyebrows rose spoke volumes.

  “You don’t believe in witches, huh?” Rowen prompted, finally addressing Coreen.

  Coreen sat up a little straighter all of a sudden, like she had been caught off her guard. It had only been a tense back and forth between Rowen and Desmond until now. Coreen didn’t look terribly comfortable to find herself being pulled into the conversation. “I… well…” She hesitated. “I believe there are plenty of people out there who think they’re witches. I don’t believe in folks who ride around on broomsticks and do magic and stuff, if that’s what you mean.”

  “No broomsticks,” said Eric. “At least not for flying. I think I would have noticed that by now.”

  Coreen gave Eric an uncertain smile. “I can’t say witches are an area I’m all that knowledgeable about.

  Eric nodded. “I used to have my doubts. Spending any length of time around Rowen’s family kind of… puts a rest to that.”

  “Okay,” Coreen said slowly, a nervous smile still on her face. She wasn’t convinced, but she obviously didn’t want to argue.

  “So, are you moving back to Lainswich?” asked Rowen. She wasn’t sure what answer she was hoping to hear. “Now that you’ve inherited a house and all, I can’t help but wonder what you plan on doing with it.”

  “The house came as a surprise to me too.” Desmond fell silent as the waitress arrived with their food. “Ah, thank you.”

  The food was passed around. Rowen found she wasn’t terribly hungry. No one at the table seemed to be either. The situation might have been a little too awkward for that. She thanked the waitress before turning back to Desmond. “You did inherit the house, though. Right?”

  “Certainly looks that way,” said Desmond before popping a fry into his mouth. “Awfully lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Rowen repeated.

  “Lucky is probably the wrong word. What is it you said? Convenient.”

  “It’s convenient your adoptive mother died?”

  “You keep twisting what I say.”

  “Not really. You have a tendency to say pretty deplorable things.” Rowen was pushing her luck. Desmond’s frustration with her was growing. He couldn’t be fake with her and he couldn’t comfortably be himself. He seemed to be having a lot of trouble finding a middle ground.

  “I wasn’t that close to my aunt,” Desmond said with a shrug. “Maybe that’s why I don’t have any parenting skills to speak of—Not that that’s an excuse.” He added that last part before Rowen could say anything. “My mother passed away, and Bertha adopted me. It was just a legal thing. I wasn’t really her son, and she didn’t treat me like it. It wasn’t like you and your aunts. I shared a house with the woman. I cooked, cleaned, and chipped in money when I could. In return, I didn’t have to go to a home before I turned eighteen. She was more like a roommate than a parent. That’s not to say she wasn’t a good woman. She was a fine woman. She just wasn’t parent material either, which is why she never had kids of her own, I suppose. Not like me.”

  Desmond took a bite of his burger. Rowen opened her mouth to say something, but her father held up a finger like he was only now remembering he had more to say. “Actually,” he began, once he was mostly done chewing. “Actually, now that I think about—This burger is overcooked. I asked for medium rare, didn’t I? Is yours medium rare?”

  Rowen hadn’t touched her burger yet. “Probably not. You were saying?”

  “Right. Actually, Bertha did parent me some. I imagine that’s what she thought she was doing anyway. She was a real, old-school, God-fearing woman. She didn’t like it one bit when she found out I was seeing your mother.” Desmond chuckled like, somehow, the memory was a fond one. “So, we weren’t getting a whole lot of love from either side. Both of your grandmothers hated the idea of us together. Your grandmother found out first, of course. I imagine she had her ways. Bertha found out not too long after. Lainswich is small and loves its gossip, after all. It was a mess. I’m surprised Bertha didn’t cut me out of her will after that, honestly.”

  “She didn’t have a will,” Rowen reminded him. “You were just the next of kin.”

  “Ah. That’s right.” Desmond nodded. “Well, either way, I’m surprised she didn’t make a will just to cut me out of it. We didn’t part on the best of terms. I didn’t talk to her in… God. I don’t even know how many years it’s been. About as long as you’ve been alive, I guess. What a shame.”

  “And you don’t feel a little guilty about that?”

  “Which part?”
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br />   It spoke volumes that Desmond didn’t know which part he was supposed to feel guilty about. Rowen didn’t point that out. “The fact that you appear out of nowhere just in time to inherit everything when the rest of her family has been looking out for her all these years.”

  “What?” Desmond raised an eyebrow as he put a fry into his mouth. “Shane’s family? Give me a break. No. I don’t feel guilty. Obviously, they didn’t take very good care of her given how she died. I mean no offense to them, but… It is what it is.”

  “It wasn’t their fault.”

  “It wasn’t mine either.” Desmond didn’t have any immediate tells that that wasn’t true. He did however make an effort to change the subject again. “So… Eric, right?”

  “Right.” Eric spared Desmond a smile. He wasn’t as openly hostile as Rowen, though she had no doubt he would choose her side if it came down to it.

  “How did you and my Rowen here meet?”

  That got a slightly warmer smile from Eric. “Over a death in my family, believe it or not. I came here looking for answers, found Rowen, and the rest is history. I went back and forth for a while, but eventually I moved here.”

  “You moved to Lainswich. That’s unusual. What is it you do for a living?”

  “I’m a private investigator, actually.” Eric inclined his head in Rowen’s direction, indicating her as well. “She helps out quite a bit when she’s not working with her cousins at the Lainswich Inquirer.”

  “A private investigator.” Desmond looked from Eric to Rowen, forcing a laugh. “I hope you’re not investigating me.” When neither of them said anything, he cleared his throat. “Well, those both sound like perfectly respectable careers. I’m happy for you.”

  “What do you do for a living?” asked Rowen.

  “Oh, this and that.” Desmond waved a hand like the specifics didn’t matter all that much. “I guess you could call me something of an investor. I travel a lot, look for investment opportunities.”