Deathtoll (Broslin Creek Book 8)

by Dana Marton

  If worse came to worst, he was going to have to find the strength to walk away from her, dammit. Even if it killed him.

  * * *

  Kate

  Holy mocha truffles.

  Kate looked after Murph, not sure if she should cry or curse, a mix of emotions pulling her down like quicksand. She wanted to move past this stage, had been trying to come out on the other side with some clarity, but clarity kept eluding her.

  All right. Was she going to be a wallowing-in-stupidity person or a solutions person? She was going to be a solutions person, dammit.

  She jumped up and strode down the hallway. Maybe Maria had a minute.

  Her phone rang as she turned the corner. Her mother.

  “It’s unfortunate that men reach the age when they start snoring like banshees at the same time as their wives reach menopause,” Ellie Bridges said without preamble.

  “Everything okay with you and Dad?”

  “It’d be fine, if I could sleep. Murder for snoring should be a legitimate legal defense. Like crime of passion, and not guilty by reason of insanity.”

  “You scare me sometimes.” Kate stopped walking. “Why don’t you and Dad come up for the Mushroom Festival? I miss you. Emma misses you.”

  “Say the daughters who abandoned me.”

  “We didn’t abandon you. We flew the nest. You raised us to be capable, independent women.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Your wedding anniversary is in two weeks. You could make it an anniversary trip. The bed-and-breakfast just opened a brand-new honeymoon suite. Let me reserve it for you as a gift. The house used to belong to a guy who made glass eyes for World War Two veterans. There are eyes in jars still on the shelves.” Historical military curiosities were her father’s weakness.

  “What’s in it for me?” her mother grumbled.

  “Days of uninterrupted adoration from your daughters. Also, the B and B was the scene of a kidnapping this spring.” Her mother was a mystery novel buff.

  “Ghosts?”

  “Possibly. I swear the last time I was in there, one of the glass eyes winked at me.” And then Kate thought of something that would seal the deal. “Shannon, the owner, serves shoofly pie with Sunday tea.”

  “Maybe we could pop up for the weekend.” Then, apropos of nothing, she added, “I’m growing a mustache.”

  Okay? “Is that another…”

  “Menopause bullshit. Yes.”

  There was no correct response to that.

  After they hung up, Kate resumed walking while calling Shannon. “Has anyone booked the honeymoon suite for next weekend yet?”

  “Can’t be booked until the website is updated. Murph finally swept you off your feet?”

  “It’s for my parents. Can I book the room? Saturday and Sunday.”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you need my credit card information right now?” Kate had her purse at her desk, but she could turn back.

  “Nonsense. Since it’s not up on the website yet, I’m not making money on it anyway. How about we barter? You do that website update, and I let you have the room for the weekend?”

  “Done deal.”

  Maria’s door stood open. Kate slipped her phone into her pocket and knocked on the frame. “Do you have a minute?”

  Maria shoved her designer metal-frame glasses up the graceful slope of her nose, then pushed aside the notes she was reading on her lacquered black desk. She wore a sleek black dress with a single string of pearls. She was always perfectly put together, looking more like the editor of a fashion magazine at their Paris offices than a therapist. Her office matched her, of course, and could have been on the cover of Elle Design. “For you? Always.”

  Instead of her problems, Kate started with “Why is it that you’re always effortless elegance personified, a graceful swan, while I’m like a neurotic chipmunk?”

  Maria laughed. “Hardly. Take a seat. Should we have the door closed?”

  “This is fine.” The hallway was deserted. “Thank you.” Kate sat. “Okay, first, how was the date?”

  Maria smiled. “Sumptuous. He’s…” She shook her head. “I’m not even going to talk about him. I’m scared I’ll jinx it.” She dropped her hands onto her lap. “Are you all right?”

  “I might have some mild depression.” Admitting the problem is the first step. “I just… I don’t know. I feel on the edge of crying a lot of the time lately.”

  “It’s understandable. A friend of yours just died.” Maria leaned back in her saddlebag-brown leather chair. Two black frames balanced out the wall space behind her, one her diploma from Harvard, the other a picture of her immigrant parents beaming at their citizenship ceremony. “Betty Gardner, right?”

  “Even before Betty died.”

  “Everything okay with Murph? You moved out. I didn’t want to pry, but I assume that means you’re taking a break. Change in a relationship is a major stressor. You and Murph have been together a long time.”

  “Five years.” Kate sighed. “Sometimes, I get so mad at him. But then sometimes, I feel like I’m being irrational.”

  “Could be from a change in hormone levels—”

  “I’m not pregnant.” Kate cut off that whole line of thought.

  “Oh, wow.” Maria’s eyebrows jumped. She smiled. “I think that’s what they call a vehement denial.”

  “I think it’s menopause. My mother is going through it. She’s all wigged out. And I feel the same. My period has been irregular…”

  Maria gave her a thoughtful look. “Perimenopause is not impossible. Some women start as early as their midthirties.”

  “That is such bullshit— Oh God.” Kate pressed her fingers to her top lip. “I’ll be growing a mustache?”

  Maria’s shoulders shook, but to her credit, she did not laugh out loud. “No mustache. I promise. It’s probably not even perimenopause, but there’d be no harm in ordering up some lab work. And we could rule out pregnancy too, for sure. It’s always better knowing than not knowing,” the psychologist said in a mild tone, not pushing, but gently encouraging. “I’ll add some thyroid labs as well. That could cause mood swings too, and it’s more likely. In the meantime, how about we schedule a session for you? I know you’ve processed your past, but childhood trauma is a tricky issue. It can bubble right back up through time and space.”

  “I don’t—” Kate stopped herself. No shame in asking for help. It’s the smart thing, the right thing. Wasn’t that what she always said to her patients?

  “Thank you. That would be great.” She needed to get her head on right. “Let’s do that.”

  “I could stay an extra hour tonight?”

  “I appreciate it. But I promised to help with packing up my neighbor’s belongings. I need to start organizing things. At least make some preliminary piles.”

  She wasn’t scared of going over there alone after dark, regardless of what Emma had thought she’d seen. Kate didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits.

  Chapter Nine

  Kate

  “How long do you think this is going to take?” Linda Gonzales asked from Betty’s recliner Thursday morning. To spare her bad back, she was only directing the work. At ninety, the woman had earned her rest.

  Kate stopped packing to stretch her own spine. “I should have started yesterday, but I ended up with a killer headache after dinner. I swear I saw stars every time I bent over.”

  “It’s this weather front. And you can’t bend over with a headache,” Linda agreed. “We’ll get it done. Betty kept a clean house. The place shouldn’t need that much scrubbing, just packing up her belongings.”

  Kate taped up the box at her feet. She was working in the living room, while Emma tackled the laundry room in the back, Murph carrying the boxes to his pickup, then delivering them to wherever Linda said they should be delivered.

  Mr. Mauro was walking around the kitchen island with his cane. Dear, merciful God, please don’t let him bring up funeral arrangements.

 
; He’d also come to help, but he couldn’t bend and he couldn’t reach, so mostly he just aggravated Linda. The two couldn’t stand each other, possibly a residue of their rivalry for Betty’s affections.

  “What are you doing?” Linda snapped at him. “Can’t you see that you’re in the way?”

  He rubbed his sternum with a look at her like she was a witch, and he was trying to think where he’d left his matches. “My chest’s been hurting the last couple of days. I could be having a heart attack. I’m trying to walk it off.”

  “You should walk in the basement,” Linda suggested in a sweet tone that was new to their exchanges.

  He raised his bushy gray eyebrows. “How does that help?”

  “Gets you used to being underground,” Linda said with a straight face, then lost it and cackled.

  Kate stared at them horrified, but also on the verge of bursting out laughing, which she was going to hold back if it choked her and she fell headfirst into the new box she was packing.

  She cleared her throat. “Do you need me to drive you over to urgent care?”

  Mr. Mauro waved off the offer. “I’m not going to die.” He gestured toward Linda with his cane. “Wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He sighed. “Maybe I’ll go home and take a nap.”

  Kate nodded, her worries not entirely dispelled. “I’ll check in on you later.”

  He shuffled out of the kitchen, passing Murph in the foyer.

  Kate tossed the empty tape roll onto the counter and grabbed a new one. “I think we’ll get a good chunk done by the time we have to leave for work.” Both she and Murph worked the afternoon shift. “We can come back tomorrow and tackle the rest. Emma won’t start work at the flower shop until Monday. We should be done by then.”

  Murph strode into the kitchen, bringing the scent of fall air with him. Along with a boatload of fall memories, all the things the two of them usually did this time of year. He carved good pumpkin. He was a wizard with a knife. He was a wizard with peeling her out of various skimpy Halloween outfits too. She used to pick them just for him, just to see his eyes grow heavy lidded with desire.

  Elvira in the corn maze…

  Heat flashed across her cheeks. Kate clenched her teeth. No Elvira in the corn maze! She swallowed back a half-escaped groan. What was wrong with her?

  Murph flashed her a puzzled look. “Goodwill run is signed, sealed, and delivered.”

  Emma came from the back with a box and handed it to him. “Towels. Gently used. Clean. For your next Goodwill trip?”

  They’d had their big reunion already, when Murph had first shown up earlier. And Kate had felt like a jerk for not inviting him over sooner.

  He carried the box to the foyer, put it aside, then came back to ask Linda, “What’s next?”

  “Church bazaar.” Linda patted the pile of boxes stacked next to her, while Emma returned to the laundry room, and Kate focused on her own work.

  “You can drive it straight to the back parking lot,” Linda told Murph. “Louis will be waiting for you with the Tuesday Night Men’s Group. I’ll give him a call to let him know you’re on your way. They’ll carry everything down to the basement.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kate glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Murph pick up the nearest box and carry it out as if it were his first instead of his fiftieth. She missed his muscles. Missed seeing them, touching them, kissing them. Murph naked was a sight to behold.

  She was a shallow, shallow woman.

  “You have a good man there,” Linda commented with a wistful smile. “Reminds me of my second husband.”

  “Not my man.” The words tumbled out and made Kate halt with the tape for a second. Was she being petty? Weird? Mean? “But he is a good man.”

  Linda tilted her head. “I see the way he looks at you.”

  “We used to be…” What? A couple? Fake engaged?

  “I see.” A sage look came into Linda’s eyes. “Well, isn’t that a shame.”

  Unsure how to respond to that, Kate finished sealing the box in front of her. “So what’s the secret to a long and happy marriage?”

  Linda thought about it for a second. Hummed. Then she said, “Every time you see your husband naked, like when he’s coming out of the shower or getting dressed, just look real shocked and say How does that thing keep growing?”

  Kate had expected Don’t go to bed angry. She choked on laughter. “Okay. I’ll try to remember that.” She shook her head, pushing the finished box against the wall with her foot. “What happened to the first husband?”

  “Got rid of him. Always a day late and an inch short.” Linda winked.

  Kate might have laughed a little too hard at that. She was starting to see why Betty had been friends with Linda. Not a dull moment.

  “Do you think you’ll get married for the third time?” Kate asked.

  Linda gestured at the door through which Tony Mauro had left. “Have you seen what’s out there?”

  “He’s a character. I like him. He’s funny.”

  Linda shrugged, then changed the subject. “What went wrong with you and Murph?”

  That was the last thing Kate wanted to talk about. So after saying, “What didn’t?” she added, “I’ll do Betty’s craft room next.”

  Except, as she stepped into the room, she stopped and just stood there. Instead of cataloging the shelves of supplies, her brain was replaying a three-month-old conversation with Murph, the one right before he’d proposed.

  “I wanted you from the first time I saw you sleeping in my bed like Cinderella.”

  “Sleeping Beauty.”

  “I’ll brush up on my fairy-tale princesses when we have kids.”

  The thought stole her breath. The image he painted…a little girl on his knee, holding up a storybook…

  “I could be a terrible mother.”

  It was her deepest fear—that she had some defective gene, and she’d end up being the kind of parent like the monster who had given birth to her.

  “You mothered your sister,” Murph said. “And you did that just fine.”

  “That’s not necessarily healthy psychologically either.”

  “Okay,” he said. “If you don’t want kids, we won’t have kids.”

  “As easy as that?”

  “You’re the one making everything complicated.” He didn’t quite succeed at keeping the frustration from his voice. “I fell in love with you years ago. I was clear about wanting you then, and I’m clear about wanting you now.”

  “I’m not the same person I was five years ago.”

  “I know. I’m in love with this version too.”

  “A stupid woman who’s scared to have kids?”

  “You’re far from stupid. And you’re allowed to have fears.”

  “You don’t have any fears.”

  “Plenty.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m scared to death of this conversation. That you’re telling me you changed your mind about us.” He stood there with his heart in his eyes. “Look, Kate. This is it for me. I don’t play games.”

  Nobody could be that sure of themselves, could they?

  “I’m figuring it out,” Kate told the universe under her breath, then faced the shelves of yarn and fabric in front of her.

  An entire see-through storage box was filled with nothing but knitting and crochet needles. She spotted two sewing machines. If Betty had ever gone overboard, it was in her craft room.

  The towering shelves, packed with a jumble of supplies, overwhelmed Kate. She knew little about fabric arts. She was going to need help in there.

  “Maybe we should save this room for tomorrow,” she told Linda as she walked back out. “Let’s do the kitchen next.”

  She marched straight to the nearest cabinet and peeked inside. “Open food boxes to the garbage, anything unopened to the Broslin Food Pantry?”

  “Or to the church. We collect cans every Sun
day and deliver them together the following week. We have a whole system set up for sorting, double-checking expiration dates, boxing by allergen information, and so forth. Might as well take advantage of it.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll start with the nonperishables.”

  Kate set everything with old expiration dates aside on the kitchen island, then, when she was finished, she reached for the garbage can under the sink.

  Since it was almost full, she decided to take it out before filling it up again. She was halfway to the front door when Murph strode in, back from his church run.

  He looked at the garbage and pulled up short. “Did you eat that?”

  “What?”

  “Burger.”

  A crumpled yellow wrapper sat on top, Main Street Diner Takeout printed on it in red. “No.”

  “Emma?”

  “Not hers either. We didn’t bring any food. I figured we can just pop back home when we get hungry.”

  Murph looked at Linda.

  “I had breakfast at home,” Linda said. “Have to eat first thing so I can take my morning pills. Betty probably had the burger for her last lunch. Guess she slipped up with her diet. She told me she was cutting out fast food. She was trying to be careful with her diabetes.” Linda nodded toward the three carrot muffins in a grocery-store plastic bag on the counter. “I’m even surprised she had those. She told me she started baking all sugar-free.”

  “I haven’t eaten yet.” Murph walked over to snatch the bag. “Mind if I grab these? Should be still good, right?”

  Linda shrugged. “I’m sure Betty wouldn’t mind.”

  “Thanks.” Murph turned his attention to Kate and reached for the garbage can with his free hand. “Let me take that. I need to go back to my truck for a second anyway.”

  He was smiling at her.

  Why did that make her want to cry? What was wrong with her?

  Kate thrust the bin at him and turned on her heel. “I’ll tackle the fridge.”