“I’ve been reluctant to tell you this, but if you insist on knowing everything…”
“I do. What is it?”
“I’m thinking that perhaps your father didn’t die of a heart attack. That he could have been poisoned, like your mother.”
She gasped. “Why would you think that?
“You told me earlier that he was healthy. Didn’t have any heart problems.”
“That’s true, but everyone knows that a heart attack can take anyone. Even young people.”
Ace lowered himself into the chair.
Brenna leaned across the table to within a few inches of his face. “Everything, Ace. I need to know.” He held something back from her. She saw it his expression. The quickness with which he turned away, confirmed her suspicions. “Why would you think my father was murdered?”
“A hunch.”
Brenna rose. “Why would someone want to kill him?”
“How the hell should I know? Perhaps the intended target was you—even back then.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
“I don’t know what to believe. The key is to find out why your family would be a threat to anybody. Any ideas?”
Brenna shook her head. “My brain’s a blank slate. Sorry.”
“Your father’s body could be exhumed.”
She pounded the table. “No! Absolutely not.”
“If—”
“I don’t care. I won’t stand for it. What difference does it make if he were poisoned? You’ll not find any clues to his murderer in his casket.”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
There it was again. Did he think she wouldn’t notice? She knew all the signs. The tell-tale tic in his cheek. Every now and then she caught him cracking a knuckle. He’d done that at eighteen when he was stressed.
Brenna moved to the window and watched the moonlit shadows. One of the snowy owls swooped from the sky, legs first and rose with a mouse dangling from its talons. She’d always found joy in all four seasons. This year the mere thought of Christmas caused her heart to ache.
Ace’s arms slid around her from behind. “You’re exhausted. Let’s get some sleep. I said sleep,” he said when she turned in his arms, seeking his mouth. “As much as the thought of making love the rest of the night makes me hard as a rock, it’s time to think of what’s good for you.”
Chapter Seventeen
The morning sun melted the remaining snow like it was springtime, the thaw creating mud on the roads in November. “I’d forgotten about how fickle the weather could be,” Ace commented from behind the wheel. “I remember road conditions like this in April.”
Brenna laughed. “Want me to drive? Driving on mud can be worse than snow.”
“Tell me about it.” Ace clenched his jaw and struggled to keep the SUV on the slippery surface. He took his eyes off the road to glance in her direction, the corners of his lips turned up slightly. “And I’m still capable of driving in mud.”
Brenna smiled. “Suit yourself. If we end up in the ditch…” She trailed off as the word “ditch” triggered the horrors of last night. That memory brought her mother’s death rushing back. Determined to be strong, she pushed the thoughts aside, folded her hands in her lap and concentrated on making plans for the long days ahead.
Right now, the horses needed tending and Sheba would be hungry. The farm was the last place she wanted to be. Once again the entire town would show up to convey their condolences and bring food that no one would dare eat.
She shivered. The very thought of food made her stomach roll. Ace and the local authorities had decided to keep their suspicions of the cause of her mother’s death from the public. They wanted to wait for the autopsy results, as well as test any food that showed up at the door in the coming days.
At the cabin last night, she and Ace had brainstormed until almost dawn, despite his insistence she needed to sleep. To her way of thinking, not one person Ace mentioned, except perhaps Anson, was capable of committing such heinous crimes. To Ace, everyone was suspect.
Brenna laughed.
Ace glanced at her. “What’s so funny?”
“John and Grace Gar dealing drugs. I’m sorry, but it seems so…so ridiculous. Do you know the townsfolk refer to their mansion as the big house on the cliff?”
“What about Ethel Pinkham?”
Brenna had laughed until the tears ran down her face last night Ace had put his old teacher on the list. This morning she bit her lip and tried to be serious. “Well…besides being in her seventies, the woman seems mighty straight-laced to me. Before you ask, Myrtle Peasley’s only crime is being the town’s biggest busybody.
“How about lover boy?”
She didn’t even pretend not to know who Ace referred to. “Absolutely impossible. No man who loves animals the way Trent does could harm a human being.”
“So you’ve ruled out all my suspects.”
“I’ve no opinion on the new families in town. Other than they live in squalid trailers guarded by mean-looking Rottweilers. I suppose they could drug dealers.” Didn’t drugs and ferocious dogs go hand in hand? Or so the media would have a person believe.
Her amusement had vanished when Ace told her his thoughts about her own family. He’d actually suggested that her mother could have been part of the drug ring, along with Colin. If that wasn’t bad enough, Ace had been adamant about exhuming her father’s body. She’d set him straight on that. No way would she agree.
She jerked to attention when Ace spoke. “Cold?”
“What?”
“You’re shivering. I can turn up the heat.”
Brenna tucked her hair behind her ear. “About my father.”
Ace tensed. “What about him?”
“I meant what I said last night. I don’t want his body disturbed.” At his silence, she asked, “It is my decision…isn’t it?”
Her stomach tied itself into a knot when Ace took a long time to answer. “Not necessarily.”
“Meaning?”
“If the District Attorney is given reason to doubt the original cause of death, and no autopsy was performed, he can petition the court for an exhumation order.”
Brenna bit her bottom lip to stop the trembling. “Please, Ace. I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m barely holding together as it is.”
He glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze back to the road. The tic started in his cheek. “I’ll talk to the D.A. and tell him to hold off for a week or so. Maybe it won’t be necessary.”
Hope blossomed in spite of her concern that Ace still hid something from her. “You think you’re going to crack the case?”
“Crack the case?” Ace laughed. “You watch too much T.V. Fact is, all criminals screw up. It’s just a question of when. That, and having the patience to wait for it to happen. Chris is my eyes on the reservation. So far, all’s been quiet there. I’ve got a feeling the ringleader is laying low.”
“We’re talking about more than drugs here, Ace. My mother was more than likely murdered. And for what?”
“We don’t know for a fact if everything that’s happened is related. Just because my gut says it is, doesn’t make it so.”
Brenna slumped in the seat. “I suppose,” she said as they rounded the curve. Trent’s van was parked in the driveway. She wasn’t up to seeing anyone, least of all, Trent. He and Ace would play their pissing game while she was supposed to sit quietly by and watch. Well, not today. The first one who said something out of line would get a piece of her mind.
“I see lover boy didn’t waste any time.”
Brenna groaned. Of course, Ace would throw her the first curve ball. “If you say one more derogatory word to, or about, Trent, I swear, Ace Bear, I’ll slug you.”
“Calm down. Just making a comment. Didn’t mean anything.”
Like hell. She buttoned her lip. As soon as Ace braked in the driveway, she was out the door.
Trent walked out of the barn, coming t
oward her with a worried frown. “Brenna, I’m so sorry. I had the scanner on last night and heard that an ambulance had been dispatched to the farm. I called, but no one answered. I assume it’s your mother. How is she?”
So the media hadn’t broken the news. Deaths from natural causes didn’t make the news. And the poison theory wasn’t official. She supposed the answering machine was full of messages from the concerned and curious alike, asking what had happened. “Good morning. How nice of you to come by.”
Trent lifted a hand and reached forward to touch her. He glanced at Ace and changed his mind.
Ace nodded. “Peirce.”
Trent ignored him and focused his attention on Brenna. “Is there anything I can do for you? Just say the word.”
She straightened her shoulders. “Thanks, but there’s nothing anyone can do. My mother passed away last night.”
“God, I’m so sorry. How awful for you. And right after Colin.”
“Peirce, do you like chocolate cream pie?”
Brenna choked. “Ace! What the hell are you doing?”
His brows rose. “Just asking the man a question.”
Trent looked puzzled. “Chocolate cream pie? No. I’m allergic to chocolate.”
Brenna threw Ace a triumphant look and hooked her arm through Trent’s. “Come inside and have a cup of coffee. I imagine the phone’s been ringing off the hook.”
Ace followed Trent and Brenna into the kitchen and attempted to put his jealousy where it belonged. In the trash. Christ. Hadn’t last night proved that she loved him? Right, lover boy. Wait until she learns the truth. Tonight. He’d tell her tonight if it killed him. And he’d make her listen. He wouldn’t let her run away even if he had to tie her to a chair.
Brenna pressed the button on the answering machine on her way to make coffee. She appeared mesmerized by the messages pouring out of the little black box and jumped when Ace barked, “Stop it right there.”
“What?”
“Rewind the machine to the beginning of that last message.”
Ethel Pinkham’s voice replayed. “Oh, Brenna. I just heard the news. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about your mother. If there’s something I can do…anything…please don’t hesitate to call me. No one should have to endure the losses you’ve experienced in the past few days. Please let me know what arrangements have been made.”
“How did she know your mother died?” Trent asked.
“Good question,” Ace said. “I’d like the answer to that one myself.”
Brenna laughed, a near hysterical laugh. “It’s obvious you don’t know the ins and outs of a small town, Trent. Have you forgotten the grapevine here, Ace? All it takes is for one person to call the local hospitals. They discover my mother’s not there. Bingo. She must be dead. Or, someone knows someone who knows a nurse. Or someone’s boyfriend’s brother is a paramedic. Get my drift? I can guarantee, if you listen to all the messages, Ethel won’t be the only one who knows my mother is dead.”
Unfortunately, Brenna was right. Even the reverend left a message offering his condolences on the passing of Doris McKenzie, saying he’d be in touch about the arrangements.
“I’m going to feed the horses and Sheba,” Brenna announced to the silent room.
“Already done,” Trent told her.
“Thank you. Thoughtful as usual.”
“Where’s your truck?”
“I…er…I had a slight accident.”
The vet frowned. “But you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, but I can’t say the same for Old Blue. Know anyone selling a truck?”
“As a matter of fact—”
“Don’t worry about it, Brenna. We’ll find another truck.” No way was Ace going to let Trent worm his way any further into Brenna’s heart.
He itched to get out of here and start talking to the locals. Brenna had to go with him. Not only did he want her opinion, truth be told, he didn’t want to leave her with Peirce.
The vet might as well write “I love you, Brenna” on his forehead with a magic marker.
Trent pulled back his sleeve to look at his watch. “I’ve got to be at the Folger Farm in thirty minutes. Couple of sick cows. Should I stop back when I’m through? I don’t have appointments until three this afternoon.”
The man looked like a lovesick cow himself. “Nice of you to offer,” Ace said. “We’re just leaving and won’t be around most of the day.”
“Oh. Well, keep in touch, Brenna, and please, don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”
Brenna walked Trent to the door. “I will. And thanks for caring.”
She swung the door shut with more force than necessary and turned a murderous gaze on Ace.
He held his hands in the air. “What? I was nice.”
“Bullshit,” she muttered. “But never mind. Let’s go. I’m anxious to see how you operate.”
He came up behind her and pinched her butt. “Thought you saw that last night.”
She punched him in the arm.
The sun beating on the windshield warmed the inside of the SUV to an almost uncomfortable level. Ace pulled into the parking area by the small white building that served as Spruce Harbor’s town hall and post office. The American flag flapped in the breeze and right below it waved a black and white POW-MIA flag. He’d noticed that many of the small towns he’d passed through now flew both flags. He switched off the ignition. “Ready?”
Brenna glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Sure you want to do this?”
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She shrugged. “I just feel a little weird about you interrogating an old woman like Myrtle Peasley. And,” she took a deep breath and met his gaze head on, “I’m a little bit afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” he asked with a chuckle. “That she’ll jump over the counter and give you a good shaking?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that I have to live in this town. And I don’t think you understand. People in Spruce Harbor can say anything about anyone, but they’ll defend their own from an outsider like a mama bear defending her cub.”
He trailed the back of his hand down her cheek. “Stop worrying. It’ll be fine.” Or at least he hoped so.
Ace breathed a sigh of relief that they were the only ones in the parking lot. He couldn’t very well ask questions with people coming and going. “Let’s get this over with before people start arriving.”
“This isn’t a city, you know. Unless it’s the time of year to pay taxes or register vehicles, hardly anyone stops here.”
Myrtle slipped her glasses down her nose as they entered the small room. She reached out over the partition to clasp Brenna’s hands. “I’m so sorry about your mother, deah. What happened? Did she fall? Have a heart attack? No one seems ta know the particulars.”
“All we know is that she collapsed and died.”
“Oh? That makes it more difficult for ya to accept. Have ya made arrangements?”
“No. Not yet.”
“What can I do ta help?”
Brenna pulled her hands away and stepped back. “Nothing at the moment. Thanks, Myrtle. I’ll let you know.”
“You poor thing.” She stepped forward and ran her bony fingers across Brenna’s cheeks. “So pale.” Myrtle turned to Ace. “You best take good care of this young lady.”
“I will. We’d like to ask some questions.”
She adjusted her glasses. “Questions? What kind of questions? I’m not pleased with you, young man.” She jabbed Ace in the chest with her pen. “Ya lied ta me, and I don’t take kindly ta people lying.”
Ace backed away. “Ma’am?”
“Told me ya come back heah ta buy land. Now why’d ya go and say that?”
Brenna stepped forward. “Ace was trying to keep a low profile when he first got to town.”
The old woman’s eyes narrowed. “What questions ya want ta ask? Not ta say I’ll answer any.”
“I’m wondering if you can fill m
e in on Ethel Pinkham.”
Myrtle Peasley laughed at Ace’s question. A bright gleam entered her eyes. “Ethel? Yesah. Guess I could do that. You’re both too young ta know all the dirt on that lady. She was hot ta trot back in her prime. Every man’s tongue dragged on the ground when she strutted down the street dressed like she were headed ta hang out on a city street conah. And she could strut with the best of ‘em.”
Ace broke into Myrtle’s monologue. He’d noticed the more wound up she became, the thicker her Maine accent got. “Did she have any friends back then?”
“Friends? Plenty of men friends. Rest of us girls didn’t stand a chance. Weren’t a man in Spruce Harbor who escaped her clutches. Not even the high and mighty Jaspah Gar. Thought Jaspah’s father would pop an artery when he found his son carrying on with Ethel. Right after that, Jaspah up and got married.
“Matter a fact, don’t think Ethel evah got ovah Jaspah’s marriage to that battleaxe his father had shipped in from New York. If ya ask me, Ethel’s damn lucky anyone would marry her after that scandal. Took years before people stopped yapping about her shenanigans. ‘Course her being a schoolteachah helped. Started dressing all prim and propah.”
“I don’t understand,” Brenna interceded. “You and my mother and all the other ladies in the social group seemed to like Ethel.”
Myrtle tapped her pen on the counter. “Ya live long enough and memories dim. They don’t disappeah, mind ya, just fade a bit.”
“I heard that her daughter left town suddenly,” Ace prodded. “Rumor has it she was pregnant.”
“Weren’t no surprise when Florrie got herself knocked up. Apple nevah falls far from the tree. Ethel hustled Florrie outta town fastah than a spring melt. Never did heah what happened to the baby. Rumors flew around town about the child’s fathah.
“Heard Florrie got killed in a car accident a few years latah. Riding in a cah with a bunch of drunk fools. Probably for the best. That girl never would nevah amounted ta more than a piss hole in the snow. Ethel nevah mentioned her name again. Acted like she’d nevah had a daughtah.
“For the past year or so, Ethel’s been keepin’ to herself. ‘Cept for tha weekly ladies’ social. If ya ask me, I’d say she shows up ta those just so she can make sure no one talks about her. Often wondah how she lives so well. Husband musta left her a load of money. No way she could buy a new cah every year and dress so fancy on a teachah’s pension. Yesah. She’s a strange one. Listenin’ to her talk today, person’d nevah guess she was the town pump all those years ago.”
Bed of Lies Page 16