She moved with purpose but didn’t hurry as she reached under the counter and pulled out a trash bag. She started at the refreshment table, tossing the disposable dishes into the bag.
Nora felt she should say something. “Can I give you a hand cleaning up?”
The woman didn’t look up. She wound the plastic table covering, careful to keep the crumbs from spilling out. “I can do it.”
“You must be Marlene,” Nora said.
The woman stopped moving. She raised her eyes to Nora. They were dark and full of suspicion. “That’s right.”
Nora tried to look harmless. She didn’t know why Marlene should be worried. “I’m Nora Abbott. A friend of Lisa’s.”
Marlene studied her. “The one who gave her the funding for the film.”
Nora nodded. “She loved this bookstore. She told me she spent a lot of time here.”
Marlene turned pale. A moment passed, and she started to breathe again. “I’m going to miss her.”
She moved on to the next table. Nora met her there and picked up empty plates and cups. She stuffed them in Marlene’s trash bag. “She told me this place was her office away from home. She liked to come here when she felt stymied.”
Marlene’s mask of control slipped. Her smile looked heavy, like sand after the tide. “She was so smart. So quick-witted. She had that sort of energy people envied.” Marlene stuffed the table covering into the bag. “You knew her a long time, didn’t you?”
Nora nodded. “Since freshman year. Sometimes we wouldn’t see each other for a while, but every time we talked, it was like picking up the conversation mid-sentence.”
Marlene nodded and tied the bag. “She was special.”
Nora followed Marlene to the sales counter. “It was really great that we could work together on this film.”
Marlene stared out the front window. “She was committed to it. Maybe more than she should have been.”
“What do you mean?”
Marlene turned her focus to Nora. It felt as though her dark gaze seeped inside of Nora, exploring her worthiness. After a moment she spoke slowly. “It caused problems between her and Rachel.”
That landed heavy on Nora. “She didn’t say anything to me about it, but I had suspicions.”
Marlene raised one eyebrow. “It’s hard to overcome your up-
bringing.”
Lisa had said the same thing.
Marlene moved out from behind the counter and flipped one of the tables over. Nora worked at folding up the table legs. “Because she’s from here?”
Marlene hefted the table and set it against the wall. “Rachel loved Lisa. The Mormons aren’t so big on lesbians. Until Lisa showed up, no one knew Rachel was gay. But suddenly, here is Lisa with all these liberal notions of protecting land that’s been in their hands for generations, and she scoops up one of the local girls.”
“People around here didn’t like Lisa, is that what you’re saying?”
“No, what I’m saying is that people around here hated Lisa.”
“But so many people came to the funeral.”
Marlene smiled. “The people who loved Lisa aren’t locals. They’re the transplants, the newbies, the outsiders. They aren’t Mormon. They love this land just as an art aficionado loves Rembrandt. The old-time Mormons love it as a member of the family.”
Nora gave Marlene a questioning look.
“It’s this way: The environmentalists want to preserve it. Tread gently on the trails, gaze at the arches and hoodoos. Sit quietly and contemplate its beauty. The Mormons want to live on it, work it. Fight with it to give them sustenance, care for it so it stays healthy and productive. Do you see the difference?”
Nora summed it up. “Conservationists want to put it in the parlor and cover it in plastic, and locals want to sit on it and watch TV?”
Marlene laughed. It changed her whole appearance. She went from stern and formidable to friendly and accessible, and Nora could see why Lisa had found refuge in this place and with this woman. “Not exactly how I would put it, but you get the idea.”
They moved to the next folding table, the one that held Lisa’s ashes. Marlene clenched her fists, her face suddenly pasty.
Nora reached for the box and transferred it to the counter next to the cash register. “You weren’t out at the creek, and you didn’t come out of the back room while everyone was here.”
Marlene busied herself with clearing the table. “I’ll say goodbye to Lisa in my own way.”
Fair enough. Marlene seemed a curious mixture between stern and loving, restrained and straightforward. “Did you and Lisa talk about the film?”
Marlene brought her eyes slowly to Nora’s. “She talked about it to everyone. You know Lisa—whatever churned in her head frothed out her mouth.”
“She said she only had one more shooting session and she would wrap it up.”
Marlene dumped the table over and Nora hurried over to help fold up its legs.
Marlene straightened and stared out the window again. Maybe she waited out waves of pain to keep from breaking down. “Everything she did was the most important thing. The next moment, there would be a new most important thing. She leaped from peak to peak.” Marlene hefted the table across the room.
Maybe Nora wouldn’t have to bother Rachel. “She didn’t happen to leave a backup here, or do you know where she stored them?”
Marlene slammed the table on the floor and spun around. “How should I know? If I felt like chatting about Lisa and her life and her work, I’d have joined the gathering at the creek or at least come out of the back room. I lost my friend, and I don’t feel like being social.”
Nora’s face burned. Her whole body felt on fire from Marlene’s anger. She hurried across the room to retrieve the box. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
Marlene geared up. “You all come in here with your tears and sorrow. You tote around her ashes as if they were a gym bag or yoga mat. You’ll go home to your lives, doing what you were doing before this incident disrupted you. But I’ll be here. Missing her every day.”
Nora didn’t want to spook the majestic Marlene during her meltdown.
“She’s not going to fly through those doors, nearly sending the bell sailing across the room. She won’t open new shipments of books and oooh and aahhh with me, falling in love with every title. No more sharing tea in the mornings or a bottle of wine on a winter evening.” The hot tears Marlene refused to shed coursed down Nora’s face.
Marlene’s shoulders never sagged; her backbone remained straight, chin raised. “You didn’t see her eyes light up and hear her words tumble out faster than she could keep up when she came in after a day of shooting or scouting locations. You don’t know what I’m going to miss. Every. Single. Day. For the rest of my life.”
Nora’s voice filled the silence. “She loved you, too.”
Marlene broke. Like an avalanche on a rocky mountain, first one boulder broke loose, followed by a few more, gaining momentum and power. Marlene folded over and gasped, massive sobs shaking her.
Nora placed a hand on Marlene’s heaving back, keeping watch while the big woman mourned. After several minutes, the sobs tapered off and Marlene straightened, only slightly less regal.
Nora strode to the sales desk and found a box of tissues. She pulled out several and hurried back. Marlene accepted them and wiped her eyes.
If it were anyone else, Nora might lead her to the oak library table and sit her down, pat her hand, or rub her shoulders. Instead, she stood silently and waited.
Marlene focused out the window again. Tourists meandered outside the door. She inhaled deeply. “Lisa was right. You’re a good person.”
Nora allowed a smile. “You know, she was my best friend.”
Marlene nodded.
“And at least a dozen other people who showed up today ca
lled her their best friend, too,” Nora said.
Marlene dabbed the last of her tears. “She was that way, wasn’t she?”
“I need to go out to Rachel’s. Are you going to be okay?”
Marlene tilted her head and gave Nora an are-you-kidding-me look. “Leave that door open on your way out. I’ve got books to sell.”
Nora understood drawing all that pain and anxiety deep inside to form an impenetrable ball of strength. “Sure. I hope you don’t mind if I call you.”
Marlene frowned at her. “Why?”
Nora traced the bright blue band on the box. “You might have some insight into what Lisa had planned. I’ve got to finish the film.”
Marlene came around the sales counter to face Nora. “That’s a bad idea.”
“Sort of like someone taking Hemingway’s unfinished novel and publishing it. I know I won’t get it the way Lisa would have wanted, and heaven knows it won’t be as good. But I need to finish it.”
Marlene’s weak moment had definitely passed. “Are you some kind of idiot?”
Nora was lots of kinds of idiot but didn’t know which kind Marlene meant.
“Do you honestly think Lisa slipped and fell? Use your brain. Someone didn’t want her to finish that film, and they found the most effective way to silence her.”
Nine
The spotless Bentley eased to the curb and Warren braced to step out, knowing his neuropathy would shoot pain into his feet. “I won’t be long, so circle around.”
Ben nodded. “Sure thing, Mr. Evans.”
Ben’s easy manner and friendliness saddened Warren. He’d always liked Ben, ever since he’d brought him here from Salt Lake City thirteen years ago. Back then, Ben had been a homeless runaway, just one of the countless others Warren had given a hand up.
Warren pulled himself out and patted the top of the car to send it off. He pushed aside the stinging in his feet and strode through the bustling crowd to the glass doors and into the plush office building. He rode the elevator twenty-one stories up and exited to one of his shell corporation’s headquarters. The attractive receptionist, who had no idea what business was transacted there, greeted him. “They are in the conference room waiting.”
Warren liked to personally greet the new immigrants whenever possible. A good leader took the time to know his followers, and even though Warren wouldn’t go forward with them, giving them individual attention would create a more cohesive group.
He entered the window-lined conference room with a grin. “Welcome to America. How was your flight?”
The straight-backed man looked exhausted. From the carefully vetted application and extensive Skype interviews, Warren knew Hans had made a respectable fortune in construction in Germany. At forty-five, he’d never had any serious health issues, left behind no siblings, and his parents were deceased. His wife, Katrina, likewise had no extended family. They had brought their four children with them.
Katrina and the children looked equally worn out by the overnight flight from Germany. Two boys, ages six and eight, sat together in one leather chair. The oldest, a girl of thirteen, blinked bleary eyes at Warren. Katrina leaned back in another chair with their youngest, a cherub with pink cheeks and dark ringlets who stretched across her lap, sleeping.
Hans jumped to his feet and shook Warren’s hand with enthusiasm. “Mr. Evans. I’m honored. I had no idea you would meet us personally.” His English, though precise, was heavily accented and halting. Warren insisted all the immigrants speak English.
At the sound of voices, the little girl opened her eyes. She flashed an immediate smile and sat up, rubbing a hand across her nose. With that minor transition between sleep and play, she slid off her mother’s lap and hopped to the two boys. Her little tennis shoes twinkled with lights in the heels.
Hans glanced at her but didn’t give her his complete attention. He seemed oblivious to the precious gift of his daughter. Abundance bred thoughtlessness. If he could, Warren would have scooped her up just to hear her giggle. He’d tousle those soft curls, tell her a story, grant her every wish.
Hans’s eager eyes sought Warren. “You are a man of true vision. I can see that God speaks through you.” His voice sounded sincere even if his words felt prepared.
Warren tried to deflect adoration. “God speaks to us all if we listen. As scripture tells us, we all have the capability to become brothers to Jesus Christ.”
Hans nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes. I believe and that’s why we’ve come to join you.”
Katrina’s worried smile showed a little less enthusiasm, but joining her husband demonstrated obedience, a trait lacking in most modern women.
Warren’s feet throbbed and he needed to return to the penthouse to rest. “You’ll be met at the airport in Denver and given keys to a vehicle big enough for your family and luggage. Maps to Moab will be inside.”
“Thank you, Mr. Evans,” Hans said.
“It’s best if you go straight to the compound. But if you get lost, my nephew’s phone number is included with the maps.”
Katrina stood and thanked Warren with a more fluid English than Hans. “I have studied the scriptures, taking special interest in those you pointed out. I see how the timing is perfect, how this is what God asks of us. I appreciate you allowing us, our children, for inclusion.”
The praise the immigrants heaped on him made him uncomfortable. “There are still a couple of days until the solstice, so enjoy the beautiful scenery. The compound is isolated, but be vigilant and stay out of sight.”
They thanked him again and Warren turned to leave.
Before he pulled the door open, he gave in to his desire. Even though it cost him the pain of several extra steps, he went to the little girl and placed his hand on her head. To Hans and Katrina, it probably looked like Warren was blessing her. In reality, the feel of the soft curls and skin still warm from sleep blessed him.
Ten
Despite the blazing mid-day sun, Nora felt chilled. Clutching Lisa’s ashes, she trudged around the bookstore to the parking lot. Local antagonism over the feds snatching more land ran high. Lisa had been accosted in restaurants and lambasted in the local paper. But would the locals feel threatened enough to kill her?
Marlene’s ominous insinuation had to be the fallout from grief and anger.
Still, Lisa had sounded scared in that voicemail.
Nora shivered in the shade as she stood in the alley next to the bookstore. She glanced up to see if clouds had moved in for an afternoon monsoon rain. A flash of blue in her peripheral vision made her freeze.
Someone had scribbled graffiti on the side of the bookstore, too high to reach on foot. In blue spray paint they’d imitated countless rock art figures throughout the Southwest. This collection of drawings consisted of big-headed figures with antennae, the profile of a saucer-shaped boat with a person sitting in it, and some giant human-type figures holding goats or antelope in their hands. Toward the bottom the symbol from her dream jumped out at her. Three concentric circles, sort of like a target, with six sets of two parallel lines radiating outward. It looked like a weird sunburst. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Her imagination was up to its usual mischief. Shaking her head, she crossed the lot to the Jeep. She balanced the box on her hip, pulled the Jeep key from her pocket, and unlocked the door. Abbey uncurled himself from where he’d slept in the passenger seat and stood. He delicately stepped over the gear shift, wagging his tail in greeting. He stuck his nose toward Nora for a hello pat and jumped from the Jeep.
Darrell popped around the corner of the bookstore. His face lit up when he saw Nora. “Hi again.”
Nora couldn’t help but notice Darrell’s good looks. If he hadn’t gone into politics, he would have made a terrific movie star. Even his saunter spoke of assurance laced with an animal sensuality. A comparison to John F. Kennedy hit her. Wom
en voted for Kennedy in droves because of the same qualities she observed heading toward her across the broken blacktop of the parking lot.
Abbey lifted his head at Darrell and stepped up to greet him. Darrell bent down and offered Abbey the back of his hand to sniff, then rubbed him behind the ears. “This your dog? He’s a handsome old guy.”
Nora glowed with affection for him. “Abbey’s like any gentleman—the gray around the muzzle only adds to his distinction.”
Darrell laughed. “I’ll remember to resist the Grecian formula when my time comes. Abbey? But he’s a male?”
Unbidden, Nora’s mind flashed to an older Darrell with a smidgeon of salt to go with his pepper-dark hair.
Cole. She loved Cole. An immediate rush of warmth surged through her again. Strong, capable, kind, and funny Cole. She missed him even though it had only been a few days since they’d gone in different directions. No wonder he’d said he loved her on the phone. He was feeling that tug, too. “He’s named after Edward Abbey.”
Darrell considered that with a tilt of his head. “The conservationist. That makes sense. Are you staying in Moab tonight?”
Nora motioned for Abbey to climb into the Jeep. “I’ve got to go to Castle Valley. Abigail and Charlie took Rachel home, and I’m still on Lisa duty.” She indicated the box.
Sadness fell on Darrell’s face. “I can’t wrap my head around Lisa being gone.”
Nora placed the box on the floor in the back seat and wedged a backpack and fleece pullover around it. “I’ll get in touch when I find the film.”
He stepped to her door after she climbed in and said, leaning over her window, “I’m available for whatever you need.”
“Thanks.” She turned the key. A weak sound like the final movement of a wind-up toy rose from the engine and faded. She twisted the key again, and this time a click greeted her. One more twist resulted in the same click.
Tattered Legacy (A Nora Abbott Mystery) Page 6