“She has some items for me. I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“If talking to you would make her feel better, I’d invite you in. Hank called me because our mom was experiencing chest pains. The doctor said it was anxiety related and she needed to rest and avoid any stressful situations.” Matthew flicked his gaze to Hank. “You and my brother are currently causing one.”
“The reason I came over is because your mom called and asked me to. She sounded fine just a little anxious for me to take some items to the historical society for the town’s scrapbook.” I hoped repeating my mission to Matthew would have him see I wasn’t there to harm anyone...and he’d just hand me the items so I could skedaddle on my way. I leaned to the side, trying to spot Georgia through the half-drawn curtain. She wasn’t visible.
A car pulled into the driveway. As I turned, red lights flickered on and off. Officer Mitchell stepped out of the cruiser.
Matthew smiled apologetically. “It appeared things were getting out of hand between you and Hank so I called the police.”
“That wasn’t necessary.” Hank glowered at his older brother.
“Not from my vantage point,” Matthew said.
Of all the officers to show up, not that Eden had a slew of them, it had to be Officer Mitchell, my law enforcement nemesis, and the man I had recently told I was heading off to work. This wouldn’t look like work to him, or at least not a scrapbook related job.
“Is there a problem?” Mitchell pulled the military-style belt up higher. Every single one of the sections was filled with something. Baton. Pepper spray. Handcuffs. Handgun.
“It’s resolved,” I said. “I’m leaving. I stopped by to see Georgia. She asked me.”
“I told her my mom didn’t want to see her, and Faith refused to leave.” Hank, on the other hand, didn’t want to drop the matter. I wasn’t sure why as he came out the worst in our squabble.
“She does seem to have trouble understanding the words ‘no’ and ‘leave.’” Mitchell placed a hand on my elbow. “Let’s go.”
I stepped away from him, a rush of anxiety roared through me. “You can’t arrest me. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Ever since he met me, Mitchell had been trying to shove me handcuffed into a back of a cruiser.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Mitchell said, once again taking hold of my elbow and guiding me away from Georgia’s house. “It could change if you insist on staying here. Matthew Brodart doesn’t want you here.”
“His mother does. It’s her house.”
“Leave the investigating to the police. Just because you’re marrying a homicide detective doesn’t mean you become one. Go do your job and we’ll do ours. Without your assistance.” Mitchell went to his cruiser, stopping at the driver’s side. “If you don’t care enough about yourself, prove you care about Ted. It’ll be a shame if he gets fired because of you.”
“Fired?”
“If you interfere in his case any more, the town just might think he’s letting you muck around in the investigation. That wouldn’t look very good for him.” Mitchell slid into his cruiser, blipped on the siren and drove off.
The front door flung open. Georgia stepped outside, clutching the ends of her bathrobe together. She was wild-eyed, pale-faced, and tear-stained. “Are you all right?”
Why hadn’t Mitchell knocked on the door and talked with Georgia? “I’m fine. Just a war of words.”
“This is all my fault. I told my boys someone finally believed me, and Hank figured out it was you.”
“Everything will be all right,” I tried soothing her. “You had reasons for your concerns, and you needed someone to really listen.”
“Can you please just leave my mom alone?” There was a deep pain in Matthew’s voice. Matthew wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his concern for her clear on his face. “Mom, let’s go look at the samples Hank bought over and pick out a color for the fence. You’ve been wanting to do that for the last year. I’m here and can take care of it for you.”
As a child, I had loved the light beige with the white trim the fence had. It reminded me of gingerbread pieces. Georgia gazed at the fence. I could almost see the happy memories floating in her mind. Children skipping by on their way to school, pretending to tear off a piece and eat them. Dressing up like a witch and cackling on Halloween as she handed out gingerbread cookies she acted like she tore off the tip of the fence post. Adding lights to them at Christmas time.
“This house was good to me. Now it’s time to move on.”
“You’re moving?” Were Matthew and Hank placing their mom into an assisted living facility?
She smiled, tilting her head to the side. “Hank and Matthew found proof that I am a descendent of Esther Everton and claimed the mansion for me. That’s why you can have all of Edward’s genealogy stuff. I don’t need it anymore. I know who we are. And soon so will everyone in Eden.” She slipped out from her son’s arm and went inside, humming a happy tune.
Matthew and Hank Brodart were Steve’s clients.
“Now that my mom told you a secret we’ve been wanting to keep, you can go. I’d like to get whatever was taken from the mansion as it belongs to my family.”
“If I had anything, it would now be in the police’s custody.”
“I’ll stop by the courthouse and talk with a judge and see what I can do about getting our property back. All of our property.” Matthew emphasized the last three words and shut the door. The deadbolt clicked into place.
I knew a threat when I heard one. The Brodarts planned on making my—and my grandmothers’—lives miserable because they believed I was doing that to their mom. And the only man who could advise me on how to stop them was on their side.
Fourteen
Bob. Bob. Bob. I repeated Ted’s brother’s name in my head as I drove away from Georgia’s house. He would know what to do, or at least know someone who could help me. I needed to save my grandmother’s store. I needed to fix the mess I created for Ted. If he got fired because of me then...a deep ache began in my chest. No, I couldn’t even think it. Didn’t want to go there.
I swung into the parking lot of a fast food place and took a spot furthest from the building, letting my engine idle as the temperature was dipping even lower and the snow became denser. I called Bob.
“I lost evidence for Ted. Ollie Harbaugh might be a murderer or a murder victim. Matthew Brodart is Steve’s client. And Scrap This might be taken from my grandmothers.”
“Slow down, Faith. Do me a favor and expand on each sentence.”
I explained the situation I caused by allowing Ollie Harbaugh’s jacket to remain in my car even though I knew it was likely Ollie was either the culprit or the victim. “A secret heir filed a court order to stop the renovations on the house as it’s theirs. I found out the heirs are the Brodarts, and Scrap This is built on former Everton land. I’m worried they’re going to take it from my grandmothers.”
“I’m sure there’s a law in place to protect the city as they operated in good faith.” In the background, I heard paper shuffling.
“The construction company handling the renovation of the Everton mansion had consulted with an assistant prosecuting attorney to make sure the adverse possession of the mansion was legit before they went to work.”
“And was it?”
“Yes—”
“Then you’re fretting for no reason.”
“I have a good reason. The attorney they consulted was Steve, and now Steve is the attorney for the recently discovered heirs.”
“That sounds like a huge conflict of interest.”
“Do you know an attorney who could help us sort all of this out?”
“I could give you some names, but if I were you I’d hold off on doing anything until Ted has his investigation complete.”
“By that time, the Brodarts will have found a way to clos
e our store.”
“That’s a huge assumption to make.”
“Hank, one of the sons, doesn’t like me.”
“That doesn’t mean he’ll try and close the store the down.”
“He doesn’t like me because one time I thought he was a murderer.”
“That does kind of up the irritation level.” Bob sighed. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Can I use the database to look up some names?”
“What names and what for?”
I told him about the diary and why Georgia Brodart and her sons believe she was an Everton. “I want to look up Clifford Montgomery and see what I can find out about him too. The town doesn’t talk much about him, but it was always said he moved back to Virginia where the rest of his family was. He only came to Eden because he was hired by Rudolph Everton.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Who else do you plan to run through the system? And before you ask, I know there’s an ‘and’ because I know you.”
“Ollie Harbaugh and Donald Lucas. They both left town around the same time. I Googled them and while there are a lot of hits for Ollie, there are so many Donalds, I don’t know which are for the guy I’m looking for.”
“Don’t you think Ted is tracking them?”
I squirmed in my seat. “Yes, but I think I should help him. I did create part of his problem. I don’t want Ted to get fired because of me.”
“How is your running names going to prevent that?”
Good question. How could I make Bob understand that the only way to ease some of my guilt was to assist? “If a person makes a mistake, they should do everything in their power to correct it. All I want to do is find out if either of these guys show up on the grid. Plus, wouldn’t this be good training for me to know when to press on in investigations and when it’s time to notify the police? You don’t go straight to the police with information.”
“True, but I’m usually looking for deadbeat parents, runaway children, and identity thieves, not murderers.”
“I don’t know if one of them is a murderer. It’s a guess at this point.”
“I will probably regret this, but I’ll grant you permission—”
“Thanks, I—”
“One condition, you tell me when you go anywhere related to the case. In my line of work, spur of the moment can get someone hurt, or tip off the person you’re tracking down. No spontaneity.”
“Gee, you must be fun to live with.”
“I’m a hoot at home. It’s at work where I’m a stickler, and I expect you to be so also.”
“I will be.” A name flittered into my head. Walter. One of the original members of the gang until it became a threesome. “There was one guy who used to hang around with Donald Lucas and Ollie Harbaugh that’s still alive. I’m going to give him a call and see if he knows where they might have gone or will give any background on them.”
“Good plan,” Bob said. “Remember, I want updates before you head off to track down any leads. I should know where you are at all times.”
“I know.”
“I mean it, Faith.”
I rolled my eyes. Bob was worse than Ted and my grandmothers combined. “Right now, I’m in the parking lot of a fast food place, next I’m driving to Scrap This. I’ll walk into the storage area—”
“Sarcasm is not becoming on you.” His annoyance came through loud and clear.
“I think it’s kind of cute.”
“Faith, it’s my job to worry. Not just because I adore you, and you’re my brother’s fiancée, and the future mother of my mother’s grandchildren, but you’re my employee. I’m responsible for you, and I’m allowing you to go out into the field without the training or resources I have.”
Did he have to remind me about his mom? Odessa Roget was a little scary, and a lot bossy. We were now at the dancing-around-each-other stage instead of going for a full head-on collision. She was stubborn, opinionated, and not afraid to speak her mind. I admired her. Some would say we were kind of the same, the only difference was for Ted’s sanity, I kept my snark in my head. Odessa unleashed it. She was thawing a bit for two reasons: one, the reason Bob mentioned and two, her granddaughter Claire and I became friends. Claire wasn’t open to another mom, she had one, and I was okay with that. I’d be her friend and a parental figure. I didn’t need a formal title.
“As I’ve been telling everyone, I’ll be careful. I won’t do stupid. No wandering into dark cellars or attics if I hear a noise. No getting into a stranger’s vehicle. No chasing after a bad guy with nothing more than my biting wit to get me out of danger.”
“Good, because that last one you’re terrible at. Keep me informed. This a test to see if Faith can do more than computer research for Bob’s firm.”
“Really?” I didn’t want to squash this small hope Bob voiced, so I skipped mentioning how grating it was for a person to talk about themselves in the third person.
“Yes. Just don’t tell my brother that. He’ll bury me in the hole behind the Everton house.”
I tapped Walter’s number into my phone. It rang. And rang some more. Great. He wasn’t home.
Disappointed, I left a message with my name and cell phone number. Before I tapped the button to turn off the screen, the cell rang and vibrated in my hand.
Walter’s number. The man must screen his calls. At least I rated a call back.
“Whatcha want?” was his greeting.
“Hi, Walter, this is Faith. Cheryl’s—”
“I know who you are. You left me a dang message saying it. What do you want?”
Gee, Walter must be a night owl. “I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about your life. The historical society, Ruthann Pancake, hired me to make a scrapbook of the town’s history. I wanted to include you.”
“You want to or Ruthann does? She isn’t real fond of me or my family.”
“Ruthann is a little hard on people sometimes. She means well.”
Walter snorted. “Hard on people I agree with. Means well, I don’t.”
“I want some stories about your teenage years. It’s a time period underrepresented in the book,” I said.
“We rode around on bicycles. Drove cars. Hated school. Pretty much what teens do now except none of the computer stuff.”
“What about your friends? I heard you hung out with Edward Brodart, a Donald Lucas, and Wayne and Wyatt’s father...” I paused for a bit, “Ollie.”
“Don’t say his name. This isn’t some innocent call so you can write something down in a photo album, you’re digging up dirt for the cops. I done told them I had nothing to say about the man.”
“No,” I corrected him quickly, “I’m not doing anything for the police. If they even thought I believed I had authority to do something for them I’d be in huge trouble. This is all my curiosity.” There was a little optimism in my heart I could possibly fix my error a bit by getting information that Walter had refused to give to the police.
“Save it for something else. My life isn’t up for discussion.”
“I’d like your side. I heard you were quite the cad during high school.”
“What happened then should stay back there. It’s nothing to document for anyone. I acted a fool and was called on it. I left that behavior behind and don’t plan on picking it, or those memories, back up and carrying it into the now.”
“Do you know where Oll—”
He cut me off. “Don’t say his name.”
“It’s not like he’ll suddenly appear if I do.”
“I wouldn’t risk it if I was you. Used to be if one of us talked about him, he’d show up wherever we were. The day he left town for good was a happy day. He was a con man. Manipulated everyone. Best thing that ever happened for Gussie and her boys was the man getting tired of the family life a
nd leaving town.”
“What about your other friends? Edward and Donald?”
“We stopped being friends a long time ago. Donald left soon after the one I won’t name. Haven’t heard from him and never expected to. The day I left their group, Edward acted like he didn’t know me, and I was okay with that, so we continued that way. I didn’t even show up for his funeral. If we didn’t have time to spare for each other when we were living, no need to pretend otherwise when he was dead.”
“Georgia might’ve liked to have you there.”
Walter barked out a bitter laugh. “Georgia wouldn’t have wanted a reminder of my friendship with Edward. She still had a grudge against me. Always will.”
“For what?”
“Telling Edward she snuck off with Ollie,” he said, reluctantly, his hatred of being “forced” to say the name clear. “Georgia acted uppity, too good for the bad boys, when adults were around. When they weren’t, she was a different gal. Ollie was her first choice for a long time.”
“What changed?” This was a much different tale than Georgia told. Edward was the love of her life.
“Ollie had a wandering eye and a mean spirit, and he made it clear he’d change for no one, including a woman. Georgia didn’t want to be looked down on. She wanted respect and prestige, so she needed a man who would behave accordingly. Ollie didn’t fit into that picture because he didn’t care about any of that. Edward loved her and was willing to do whatever to win her. Ollie wouldn’t. So Georgia picked Edward. Any more questions, ask Georgia. Since I did you a favor, do one for me and leave me out of the town’s scrapbook.”
Closing my eyes, I dropped my phone into my lap and leaned my head against the seat. How had Gussie gotten involved with such a self-centered man? Gussie was a giver. A fixer. Always willing to extend a helping hand and see the best in a person. That was why her and my grandmothers were such good friends.
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