Dangerous Inheritance

by Barbara Warren

  Macy felt excitement building inside her. God, help me find that diary. Show me where my grandmother kept it. She was sure it held a clue to her mother’s death, or at least she prayed it did.

  Hilda glanced at her watch. “I need to go. Lila Vester is in a nursing home and I promised I’d stop by and see if she needs anything. But if this place gets to be too much for you, I’ve got an extra bedroom and you’d be welcome anytime.”

  Macy got to her feet, smiling. “I know that and I appreciate it. I believe meeting you was one of the nicest things that has happened to me since coming here.”

  And meeting Nick was another, but not something she felt like talking about, even to Hilda. She wasn’t sure about what she felt for him. For the time being she was calling it friendship although she knew it went beyond that. But friendship was all she could handle right now.

  After Hilda left, Neva stepped out onto the porch. “Was that Hilda Yates? What was she doing here?”

  “We’ve become friends. She drops by occasionally.”

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “At church. Do you go to church, Neva?”

  Neva’s face creased in a smile. “Yes, I go to the same church Hilda does. The church Megan and Opal went to. I saw you there the first day you came.”

  Macy tried to remember seeing her, but there had been too many people that Sunday, and after all, Neva had been practically a stranger then. “I’m sorry I don’t remember. It was my first time there and I was a little overwhelmed.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. I’m easy to overlook.” Neva changed the subject. “I heard Hilda talking about Megan’s diary. I knew she kept one but I’ve never seen it.”

  “Neither have I,” Macy said. “But I’m going to start looking for it. If my grandmother found the diary and was troubled by it, then maybe she really was coming around to believing someone other than my father had killed my mom. You know this house better than I do. Would you have any idea where Grandmother Opal might have kept it?”

  “No, but I’ll be on the lookout for it. If you find it before I do, I’d like to see what she wrote. It would bring Megan back to me, just by reading her thoughts and what was important to her. It would be a blessing.”

  Macy nodded, but she had reservations about showing her mother’s diary to anyone except maybe Nick. It would seem like a betrayal of her mom’s private thoughts and feelings. If she found the diary, she’d read it and then decide if it had any bearing on their mystery. If not, she would keep it to herself.

  Neva left and Macy made a run to the grocery store to pick up a few items. After she got back home, she sat down at the table to look at the photo album from her grandmother’s room, hoping she would see something familiar. The pictures of her with her parents were heartbreaking, but from what she could see there had been love, laughter, life. Nothing that pointed to problems.

  * * *

  Nick tapped on the door frame of Sam’s office. “You got a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  He stepped inside and sat down. “I want to run something by you. It’s this Megan Douglas thing. There’s no evidence that she got involved in politics like Steve did. She ran her own business, raised her daughter, went to church. I can’t find anyone who had a problem with her, except maybe Anita Miles, and I don’t have anything that points to her as a killer.”

  Sam shook his head. “Anita’s a hard one to handle when she’s upset about something. But we need more than the fact she didn’t like Megan. Megan was a good woman, but she had a reputation for being kind of outspoken and she ran a tight business, didn’t put up with much. I remember she fired an employee for stealing. Can’t think of the name right now, but it’s a little far-fetched to think someone killed her over something Steve did.”

  Nick shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable. “Yeah, I thought of that. A killer’s mind doesn’t usually work that way.”

  “You had any luck turning up anything about Steve and that so-called affair Anita is always ranting about?”

  “No. In fact, from what I’ve learned Steve Douglas was a family man. He worked late at the paper sometimes, but not very often. Mostly he was home in the evening.”

  Sam looked at him, nodding as if that was no more than he had expected. “We need to check into that alibi of his. He was supposed to have gotten a phone call about a wreck outside of town. When he got there nothing had happened. Maybe someone set him up. Let me get his file and see what they learned back then, or if they bothered to follow through.”

  He walked over to the file cabinet, opened a drawer and thumbed through it. While Nick watched, he went through it again and then turned to face him with an incredulous expression.

  The file was gone.

  Nick was bewildered. He’d read through that file, taking notes, but not finding anything that pointed to evidence being mishandled by the police. He’d put it back exactly where he’d found it. And now Sam was looking at him, frowning.

  “You can drop what you’re thinking, right now. Yes, I’ve been reading the file, but I put it back. If it’s missing, it’s not my fault. Someone else has it.”

  Sam didn’t look convinced. “Who else would be using it? You’re the one obsessed with this case and digging around on your own.”

  “I have no idea, but I’d like to find it, too. I’ve still got a few questions about how the case was handled.”

  Sam eyed him, skeptically. “I’d hate to think one of our guys took it, and I can’t see why they would. After all, none of them were involved in police work back then. They were too young.”

  Nick shrugged. Sam didn’t seem to have any problem believing he took it. “Well, I hope you find it. I’m going to check on Quent. He’s the one who told Macy her dad was having an affair with Anita.”

  “Yeah. I guess Anita testified to that at the trial, but I never put much stock in it. Any man who had Megan wouldn’t waste time looking at Anita. Even back then, she was trouble.”

  “That’s what I heard. But it won’t hurt to check it out.” He got to his feet. “I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

  Nick drove to Quent’s and pulled into the driveway of the white frame bungalow where he lived. Soon he was settled in a brown leather armchair that looked almost as old as the house.

  “Good to see you, Nick,” Quent said after they were both seated. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, not much. Macy told me what you said about Steve and Anita. You really think something was going on there?”

  “Well, I don’t have any proof one way or the other, but my gut feeling says no. He already had a good woman. Megan Douglas was a fine person, hardworking, everybody liked her. Never could figure out why anyone would kill her.”

  And that was the problem, Nick thought. No one, except Anita, seemed to have anything against Megan. Maybe he needed to take another look at Anita. He’d always felt she was more talk than action, but he’d been wrong before.

  “What’s Anita’s problem, anyway?”

  Quent was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Well, mostly, I guess, she thinks she’s so important that no one should cross her and she should have exactly what she wants. No one is supposed to get in her way.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s right. I’ve pretty well tried to stay away from her. She’s usually on the warpath about something.”

  “Yeah, someone isn’t doing things the way she wants and she has to straighten them out.”

  “But what does that have to do with Steve and Megan Douglas?”

  “Steve was a good-looking man. Lots of women had their eye on him, but when he met Megan, the search was over as far as he was concerned. I never heard of him looking at another woman once they started keeping company.”

  “And Anita didn’t like that, I guess.”

  “That’s right. From what I heard she did everything she could to break them up, but she just couldn’t do it. That testifying against him was probably her idea of gettin
g even.”

  “I think you just gave Anita a reason to commit murder.”

  Quent nodded. “I wouldn’t take her off your list.”

  After he left Quent, Nick decided to drop by and see Macy. He knew he was probably overreacting, but he couldn’t stop worrying about her. Something just didn’t feel right.

  TWELVE

  The doorbell rang and Macy answered to find Nick standing there. It gave her a warm feeling, knowing he cared enough to be so protective. Not that she needed it, of course; she could take care of herself...but still, it was nice.

  He grinned at her. “Thought I’d drop by and see if I could get a glass of tea or something.”

  She laughed. “There’s a pitcher of tea in the refrigerator and Hilda brought over a plate of fresh-baked brownies. Will that do?”

  “Sounds great. Lead me to it.”

  Impulsively, she caught his hand and strolled with him toward the kitchen, strongly aware of the way he walked so close to her. Macy knew she needed to think less about Nick and more about the quest she had embarked upon, but her heart wasn’t listening.

  He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, as casually as if he belonged there, and for a fleeting moment she wished he did. Macy acknowledged to herself that she was being foolish. Nick Baldwin was a policeman working to unravel this case. If he was friendly and protective, it was merely because he was that kind of man. A man a woman could trust and depend on. She hadn’t met many like that. But he hadn’t given any indication of wanting to be more.

  Nick moved the photo album over where he could see, and Macy drew up a chair beside him, enjoying the intimacy of sitting so close together while they looked at the pictures. He pointed at one of her and her parents. “That must have been taken at the park.”

  Macy shook her head. “No, we’d been fishing.”

  She glanced at him, wide-eyed, not sure where that had come from. How could she know where they had been? Yet she did. Knew it as surely as she knew her own name.

  Nick stared at her. “You remember it?”

  Macy looked at the picture, then back at him, unable to hide her confusion. “No. It just slipped out. I don’t really remember anything about it.”

  “Maybe that’s the way it’s going to be. Not one big flash of memory, just little things.”

  She hoped it wouldn’t be that way, although recent events seemed to bear it out. “I’m too impatient for that. I need to know. I have a feeling we’re running out of time, like something is about to happen. Something bad.”

  Nick had a serious expression, and she could see the concern in his warm brown eyes. “Has anything new happened since I last saw you?”

  Macy hesitated, not sure how he would take this. Finally she took a deep breath and nodded. “I don’t know how this will sound, but the other day I was in the living room, and something happened. In my mind I saw one of those gold brocade chairs turned over on its side, and then I saw my mother’s body lying in front of the fireplace.”

  She couldn’t tell from Nick’s expression what he was thinking, but she wouldn’t blame him if he thought she was losing it. Why should she expect anyone to believe something so strange? It was time to step back and stop trying so hard, put it in God’s hands and trust Him to work it out for her benefit. A difficult task for someone who always had to be in control.

  After a long, drawn-out moment, Nick asked, “What did she look like?”

  Macy stopped to think. “She had on a blue robe. One shoe was lying over at the side. She was facedown on the carpet, and her head was all...bloody. That’s all I remembered before it faded, like everything else has done.”

  Nick sighed. “I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before, so I’m not sure what to think about it.”

  “I’m not, either,” Macy confessed. “But it was so vivid that I have to believe I’m remembering it exactly the way it was.”

  “So, you believe it was a memory. Something you’d seen before and it just came to you.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I think. In fact, I’m sure of it. What else could it be?” Macy didn’t know if Nick believed her, but at least he appeared to be seriously considering what she had said.

  Now he looked thoughtful, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “Why don’t you write down what you remember every time it happens? Write it all, every detail. You never know when some simple thing might turn out to be a good clue. And we need all the help we can get.”

  Macy nodded. “All right. I’ll make a record of what I’ve remembered in the few days I’ve been here.”

  She wondered how he would take what she planned to ask next. “Who was the chief of police back then?”

  Was it just her imagination, or did his expression change? Some subtle shift that seemed to signify tension. She waited for his answer, which seemed slow in coming.

  “Clyde Jackson. He’s Garth Nixon’s cousin.”

  “His cousin? The chief of police was the cousin of the man who hated my father? Maybe my grandmother Douglas was right. The police might not have looked too hard for a killer when my father made such a convenient scapegoat.”

  Nick just looked at her for a minute, and she felt a strangeness come between them, like an invisible barrier. As if he was hiding something. Was Nick holding something back—something she needed to know? Had she been too quick to trust him?

  “Maybe so, but I’m not finding any evidence that points to anything like that.”

  “I think it’s there. We just haven’t found it yet.” And yes, she was being stubborn, with nothing to back it up. Call it a hunch, or call it just plain bullheadedness, but she couldn’t believe her father had received a fair trial. The more she learned about it, the more she believed that someone had worked hard to see that her father went to prison for a crime he never committed.

  * * *

  Nick watched her, knowing exactly what she was thinking. He didn’t tell her his father had been a policeman back then because he wasn’t sure how she would react. He didn’t want anything to come between them, but he couldn’t betray his father’s memory, either. The man he knew and loved would never have taken part in a conspiracy to send an innocent man to prison. He’d try to consider both sides, but he hadn’t come up with any information pointing to his father and until he did, he’d keep on believing Angus Baldwin was innocent of all charges of corruption.

  How did he get into a situation like this? He was just beginning to understand what a storm this woman could stir up. Enough to turn Walnut Grove on its ear, just as she had threatened to do when they first met.

  “Look, Macy. It’s too early to jump to conclusions. We need to go slowly, examine every piece of evidence. Not be too quick to zero in on anyone.” In an investigation like this where there wasn’t any clear indication of what happened or who did what, it would be easy to take off in the wrong direction. They needed to be careful.

  From her expression, he had a hunch careful wasn’t on her agenda right now. She shot him a look that plainly said she wasn’t in a mood to slow down the investigation. She wanted action and she wanted it this instant. He could understand that, but he also knew if she was too impatient she could destroy what little evidence was out there, and not even know it.

  She firmed her lips, then said, “I’m not trying to railroad anyone. I just want the right person caught and made to pay for his crime. But if the police or anyone else took part in a cover-up and my father went to prison because of it, I want them brought to justice, too.”

  Nick could understand how she felt, and he was going to do everything in his power to help her, but he was praying his father had nothing to do with whatever had happened with Steve Douglas. If Macy knew his father had been a policeman, she’d probably stop trusting him altogether, and he wanted to avoid that.

  So right now he needed to change the subject before she started wondering why he wasn’t jumping in to agree with her about the police. He needed to keep her as far away from that subject as he coul
d while he dug a little deeper. He wanted to talk to someone who might have a fair, unbiased attitude. Hard to find someone like that in this town.

  Another thing he wanted to do was take a look at the old crime photos of Megan’s death and see if they matched what Macy claimed to have to seen. He wanted to believe her, but stuff like this was way out of his league.

  They talked a little longer, then Nick left, planning to drop by the police station and see what new information he could learn. Sam was out, so Nick sat down at his own desk and pulled up the crime scene photos. The photos were old, but good. He clicked through them, then jerked to a stop. Wait a minute. What was that last one? He backed up, staring in disbelief at the body of a woman lying in front of a fireplace, the same fireplace where Macy claimed to have seen her mother’s body. The woman wore a blue robe, one shoe was off, and a chair was overturned, exactly the way Macy had described.

  The hair on his arms furred. This was scary. He had assumed Macy might be getting her memory back, but he hadn’t expected this exact copy of the scene. Nick stared at the picture, feeling helpless. He just might be in over his head on this one.

  * * *

  Macy wandered back to the table, deep in thought. Nick seemed reluctant to discuss any questions about the police and how they had conducted their investigation back then, which bothered her. Not that she was fully convinced they had done something wrong, but she wanted to know for sure.

  She closed the photo album and started to gather up the pictures she’d left on the table when something struck her. She shuffled through them again. One was missing. Macy spread them out on the table, looking closely at each one. The picture with the arrogant blonde woman was gone.

  She paused, thinking back to when she’d last seen it. Had it been here when Neva left? She couldn’t remember if Neva came to the kitchen before leaving. Had Nick taken it? Why would he do that? Surely she would have seen him carry it out with him. Or had someone come in while she was at the grocery store?