Kill Me If You Can apam-2

by Nicole Young

  I stared in speechless horror. “Is that what happened to you?”

  She nodded. “Thank God Paul died in that fire before he could hurt me one last time.”

  I swallowed. “Then maybe my grandfather did you a big favor and you should thank him too.”

  She turned and walked ahead. “Let it lie, Tish. It’s a place you don’t want to go.”

  I reached for her arm and yanked her to a halt. “I’m sick of people telling me that. I’m sick of everyone trying to protect me from the past. I just want the truth. I want to know what really happened to my mother. How can a woman who was fearless on horseback just give up on life? And I want the truth about my grandfather. Did he have anything to do with my mother’s death and your fire or didn’t he?” My teeth ground together in exasperation. I jabbed a finger toward her. “I know you’re the one who wrote ‘Don’t ask why’ on my mother’s picture and left it ripped in half on my pillow. I don’t care what you say. I’m going to ask and ask and ask until I get my answers.”

  Her eyes were giant circles as she listened to me rant.

  She pawed at me as if pleading for me to stop. “Tish, I didn’t rip your mother’s picture. I would never do that.” She looked away. “I did write on her photo. But it was in grease pencil, easily wiped off. I wanted to warn you not to be so curious. So you wouldn’t get hurt like she did.”

  “What do you mean, get hurt like she did? My mom killed herself.”

  Candice shook her head. “Perhaps. But I suspect someone helped her into that quarry.”

  My knees felt weak. I tried to breathe. “Why do you say that? What makes you think so?”

  “There were rumors. Stories, going around at the time of her death. She’d been at the bar but had no alcohol in her system, so the crash couldn’t be blamed on drunk driving. But witnesses said she drove straight through the guardrail as if she’d done it on purpose. The police took pictures and asked the usual questions. Then they tagged it a suicide and wrapped up the investigation.”

  “But you think there’s more to it?”

  “There’s always more to everything.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You think my grandfather had something to do with it.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I have no doubt.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. He loved my mother. Why would he do anything to hurt her?”

  “She was meeting up with your father.”

  “My dad?”

  “To warn him.”

  “Warn him about what?”

  “There’s so much to the story.” She took a deep breath and fanned herself. “I’m feeling worn out after our sprint in the field. How about if I give you all the details another day?”

  My jaw dropped. How could she even suggest putting the rest of the story on hold? But her face did look pale. Her breath did seem short. I sure didn’t want her dropping dead of heart failure before I could get the whole picture.

  “Yeah, of course. I’ll help you in.”

  I settled her in the parlor with a glass of water, cleaned up the tea things in the kitchen, then left for my own cottage . . . somewhat reluctant to face my new tenant.

  22

  On the drive home, I mulled over Candice’s denial. She admitted to writing on my mom’s photo but swore she hadn’t ripped it in half. I believed her, mostly. But that meant someone else had been at the lodge after she’d gussied up my bedroom. The whole idea gave me a crick in the neck.

  I pulled down my driveway slow as a turtle with a bum leg, praying I wouldn’t find some Woodstock revival on my front lawn. I turned the final corner and breathed a sigh of relief. The only vehicle in the yard was Sam’s VW. Blankets, bags, and boxes appeared to have exploded out the back of the van. Sam’s long black hair hung across her shoulders as she sifted through her months of supplies.

  At my approach, she lifted her head and fluttered her hand. I parked and waded to the epicenter of my most recent disaster.

  “Anything I can help with?” I asked.

  She picked a box off the ground and stuffed it into my unsuspecting arms. “This can go in the closet for now,” she said.

  I started toward the house.

  “Hurry back. There’s more where that came from!”

  It may have been my imagination, but it sounded like Sam’s voice held a hint of evil satisfaction. I dumped the box in the bedroom closet and went outside for more.

  Three hours and at least thirty boxes later, we stood at the entrance to my mother’s old bedroom and surveyed our work.

  “It’s definitely bright,” I said. An orange bedspread that looked more like a shag carpet gave the sagging mattress a much-needed boost. Neon blue and green flowers sprinkled the surface. The overall effect was of a garden experiment gone awry. At the bedside, a lava lamp bubbled, fighting with the sunshine-yellow braided rug for the room’s focal point.

  “Thanks.” Sam leaned against the doorframe in apparent satisfaction. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you letting me stay. You’re a great friend.” She reached one long arm in my direction and squeezed my shoulder.

  “No problem. We’re going to have fun.” I repeated Brad’s words, hoping if I said them enough they might come true.

  “I’ll look for a job tomorrow.” Her voice sounded tired.

  “I forgot about that. I guess you’ll need one of those.” We stood silent, letting our joint circumstances sink in.

  I clapped my hands to break the suddenly glum atmosphere. “Let’s get some food. I’m starving.”

  A look through the fridge revealed a stick of butter, three eggs, and about a quarter cup of expired milk. The cupboards offered a can of corned beef hash and some baked beans.

  “We could do scrambled eggs with hash and beans,” I offered.

  Sam scrunched her nose. “Let’s go out. Is there a good restaurant in town?”

  I looked at her, realizing I had no clue as to the quality of the local eateries, since I’d never tried any of them. “I have a better idea.” Though I was reluctant to leave my house alone for even a short time, a lightbulb flashed across my brain. “We’ll drop by my grandfather’s house. My cousin Joel is the best cook in the world. You won’t believe his stir-fry.”

  Sam seemed hesitant. “Are they expecting us?”

  I gave a shrug. “No. But it’s family. They won’t mind. Besides, I haven’t been down there in a while. I owe them a visit.”

  We drove down the peninsula in my Explorer. I gave Sam what limited knowledge I had of the homes we passed. She oohed and aahed over groves of lilacs bursting into bloom along the edges of farmers’ fields.

  “Look at that place. It’s gorgeous.” She spotted my grandfather’s white fences, stark and straight against the vivid green grass. The white trim of the lake house stood out from the brilliant blue of Silvan Bay. I turned down the drive.

  “This is it? Your family lives in the coolest houses.” She perched like a cocker spaniel on the passenger seat, hands pressed against the dash.

  “Thanks.” I wondered what Sam would think when she learned the sordid details of my family history. Cool houses couldn’t stamp out generations of poor decisions.

  I pulled onto the circle drive. Over by the detached garage, the tan car Joel drove was parked alongside my cousin Gerard’s black truck.

  “Looks like everyone is here. Hopefully they’ll have extra food.” I walked up the steps and rang the bell. Sam followed.

  Joel opened the door. He looked at me, then shifted his gaze to Sam. His eyes blinked and his head jerked back as if he’d just looked upon a dazzling pile of gold.

  “Hi,” he said, one arm on the doorframe, blocking our way.

  “Hey.” I shifted my feet, waiting for him to look back in my direction. I cleared my throat. “We’re wondering if it’s too late to invite ourselves to supper.”

  Joel shrugged. I wondered if he’d even heard me.

  I spoke again. “This is Sam, my friend from downstate. Sam, this is Joel.” />
  Their hands met in a slow shake. Sam’s eyes gleamed on top of her big smile.

  I took a step closer to the door. “So anyway, Sam just arrived today and we were working so hard to get her moved in that we didn’t have time to cook supper. Would you have enough for two more?”

  Without taking his eyes off Samantha, Joel motioned for us to come in. We followed him to the dining table. Steam rose from a platter of roast beef and vegetables in the center. The scent of basil and pepper filled the air. My grandfather grinned from his place at the head of the table as we entered. Next to him, Olivia’s hunched frame turned in our direction. I could sense her perusal of my new roommate.

  On Puppa’s other side, Gerard rose from his chair like a sergeant coming to attention. “To what do we owe the honor?”

  “To Joel’s great cooking,” I said. “Grandma Olivia, you look well tonight.” I gave her a peck on the cheek. I moved toward my grandfather and squeezed his arm. “Puppa, this is my good friend Samantha Walters. She’s staying with me for the summer. Sam, this is my grandfather Bernard Russo, my great-grandmother Olivia Russo, and my second-cousins Joel and Gerard Russo.”

  “Nice to meet all of you,” Sam said, no doubt charming them with her pleasant smile and personality, not to mention her Daisy Duke body.

  “Welcome, Samantha.” Puppa gestured toward two empty chairs at the table. “Have a seat, girls. There’s plenty for everyone.”

  I thanked him and took a place next to Gerard. Sam took the slot adjacent to Joel’s empty seat. In moments, my cousin the chef set plates in front of us. Scoops of beef, potatoes, and carrots spilled onto them.

  I put up my hand. “That’s plenty for me.”

  I ate the hearty fare as if it were my last meal. Sam did the same, even asking for seconds.

  “So what brings you to our neck of the woods, Samantha?” my grandfather asked.

  I kept my eyes on my potatoes while I listened for her answer.

  She giggled and waved a hand. “Just looking for a change this summer. I’ve been cooped up in Rawlings my whole life. Thanks to Tish and her awesome hospitality, I finally escaped.”

  I peeked at Puppa. He set his fork down. The thumb and finger of one hand rubbed together. “Exactly what is it you’re escaping from?”

  I dove into my carrots, enthralled by the ridges in each slice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam dab at her lips with her napkin. She took a sip of water. She crossed her arms on the table.

  “I own a Coney Island restaurant in the strip mall there,” she said. “Used to be my dad’s, but I took it over a few years back when he died. I really love it. I guess I’ll do anything to avoid burnout.”

  My grandfather gave a nod of his head. “Let me know if you run into any trouble. Maybe I can help.”

  “Thank you,” Sam said. “In fact, maybe you know of a job opening around here. I wish I could afford to loaf all summer, but Tish probably wouldn’t tolerate vagrancy.”

  I smiled but kept my eyes on the last sliver of beef on my oversized pottery plate.

  “I heard the Silvan Bay Grille is looking for a waitress,” Gerard piped up.

  “That’s right up my alley,” Sam said. “I’ll stop in the morning. Would you mind if I used you folks as references?”

  “Dropping the Russo name won’t get you very far around here,” Gerard said with his half-quirk smile.

  “It will if you drop my name.” Olivia’s voice came deep and strong from her place beside Puppa.

  He patted her arm. “You’re right, Mother. I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve still got this town shaking in its boots.”

  “Somebody’s got to keep the young people in line,” Olivia said. She mashed a potato on her plate. She looked at Sam. “You have Nancy call me in the morning. You seem like a nice enough girl. Having a face like yours around, instead of that moose Loreen’s, will do business good.”

  Sam blushed. Joel shifted in his seat. I checked out the etched leaf pattern on my empty plate.

  “Very good, Mother,” my grandfather said. “I’m sure Samantha will be a fine addition to the Grille.”

  We cleared our plates and moved to the living area for coffee and tiny squares of Joel’s delectable English toffee bars.

  Grandma Olivia settled into a straight back chair. “I heard Melissa Belmont is trying to put her house up for sale,” she said with a touch of derision.

  Puppa gave a nod. “Yes, she contacted Ethyl Merton about listing it. It’s better if she leaves the area.”

  My ears perked up. “Sounds like everything is working out for her, then?” I asked, hoping to assuage my guilt.

  “We’ll see. It’s too early to tell,” Grandfather said.

  “Nonsense. The girl will be fine,” Olivia said. “Don’t know why she wants to move at all. Those children were born here. They belong on the peninsula. Drake has plenty of family to help raise them until he gets back on his feet. And her family is just over in Escanaba.”

  Puppa leaned one elbow on the arm of his recliner. “Mother, Drake’s been in and out of trouble most of his life. Melissa’s had enough. She and those kids deserve a fresh start.”

  “You weren’t talking that way when that Beth Amble turned up pregnant. Besides, when I was young, people got married and stayed that way. Nowadays if you don’t like the way they hang the toilet paper, you get a divorce,” Olivia said.

  “Toilet paper isn’t an issue for Melissa,” my grandfather said.

  “So Drake gets a little rough once in a while,” Olivia said. “Your father had his moments and I never held it against him.”

  He humphed. “I remember his moments. You were certainly entitled to your choice to stay. And Melissa is entitled to her choice to leave.”

  Olivia gripped her hands together. “All I’m saying is Drake isn’t that bad. I put up with a lot more than Melissa ever did. She doesn’t know the meaning of hardship.”

  “And after what she’s already been through, I’m sure she doesn’t want to find out.” Puppa stood and smacked his palms together. “Take a walk with me, Patricia. I want to show you the new horse.”

  Joel stood after him. “And I’ll show Samantha the barn. We just put in more stalls.”

  Sam and I jumped up and followed the men out the back door. Gerard in his wisdom stayed to entertain Olivia.

  23

  Puppa, Joel, Samantha, and I walked past the detached garage. From behind a clump of cedars emerged a red barn with white trim and black roof. A cupola complete with a rooster weathervane topped the structure. The bronzed iron squeaked, lazy in the breeze. Next to the barn, white fencing circled the corral, then led off to green pastures. Evidence of horses greeted us on the warm spring air.

  Puppa pointed me toward an enclosure past the barn. Joel and Sam wandered off in their own direction.

  “There’s that fine filly,” he said, looking at a pretty palomino. As we approached, the horse joined us at the fence. She nuzzled my hand.

  “She likes you,” Puppa said, smiling.

  “Her nose is so soft.” I leaned my face against hers, drinking in the comforting smell of her warm coat. “How old is she?”

  “Ten,” Puppa said. “She’s a Kentucky Mountain Horse.”

  “I like her size.” Her back came just below my shoulders.

  “She’s a little over fourteen hands high,” he explained.

  “What’s her name?”

  “I call her Goldie, but her papers say Heaven Hill Gold.”

  “That’s a pretty name.”

  Puppa chuckled. “It’s a type of liquor. Goldie comes from a dry county down in Kentucky. The old-timers like to name these smooth-riding gaited horses after the thing they love most but can’t have: whiskey.”

  I laughed. “Grandpa Amble would have related to that.”

  “She’s yours, Patricia.”

  My smile faltered. I looked at Puppa. “What do you mean?” My hands ran through Goldie’s mane, instinctively working out the k
nots and snarls.

  “I got her for you.” He patted the horse’s neck. “She’s the right age and height for a new rider. And her temperament is as heavenly as her name.”

  My eyes stung as his words sank in. “You got me a horse?”

  He nodded. “I used to love riding with your mother. She was a very special lady. I hope we can enjoy the same friendship.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Puppa.”

  His hands held me in a tight embrace. “You’re welcome.”

  When he released me, I wiped at my eyes. “I’m so happy to have family around. I was so alone before. I feel like I finally made it home.”

  “You are home. And I hope you’ll never leave us again.”

  My heart twisted with emotion as I recognized the tragedy of my profession. I had doomed myself to a perpetual fresh start. I could never settle down with family or form roots that lasted through generations. I was destined to move away time and time again from the very people who could bring stability, love, and meaning to my life. I’d left Brad, hadn’t I? Was I really going to leave my grandfather, great-grandmother, and cousins too?

  I choked on the ball in my throat. “I hope I never leave you again too, Puppa.” I’d have to be creative, but I could figure out a way to stay in Port Silvan, and a way to stay in my family’s log cabin where Mom and I spent those beautiful summers together with Puppa and Jellybean. Now if I could only get Candice back in the picture, it would be almost as good as the old days.

  “Tell me about your friend,” Puppa said, done with all the mushy stuff.

  We started walking the fence line. I was charmed by the way Goldie stayed alongside us. “Samantha? Hmmm. She’s younger than me, beautiful, gutsy, already has Joel by a nose ring . . .”

  Puppa laughed. “I noticed all that. I meant tell me about her past. Sounds to me like she’s on the run.”