Seeds of Vengeance

by Sylvia Nobel

  5

  It was too late to withdraw. Ruth looked up at us with a startled gasp, shoved the photo and a folded piece of white paper into the album on her lap and slammed it shut. “Why didn’t you knock?” she groused, dabbing the end of her nose with a tissue, her dark eyes misted with misery. She presented a rather pathetic picture sitting there alone with only the memories of her deceased husband as company. Even though I knew she detested me, the sight of another human being suffering from such acute grief tugged at my sensibilities and my heart softened towards her.

  Knowing Tally, I half expected him to back down, but before I could utter one word of the carefully rehearsed speech I’d gone over in my mind a thousand times, he announced without fanfare, “Ma, Kendall and I are getting married.” Instead of the heated response I expected, Ruth remained silent, appearing slightly shell-shocked as he continued with, “We’d like to have your blessing, but if you can’t give us that, you may as well know that we’re getting married with or without it.” He met my eyes squarely and when he reached for my hand, I thought my heart would burst with pride. It was time. I inhaled a deep breath and turned to face his mother.

  “Ruth, I know you and I got off to a rocky start last spring, but considering the fact that I’m going to be living here soon it will be a lot easier for all of us if you and I could be friends. For starters, you’re going to have to let go of the fact that I bear a resemblance to Stephanie. Yes, I have red hair, but that’s where the similarities end. I’m nothing at all like her. I’m very sorry about your husband’s death but since I played no part in it, I’d appreciate it if you’d quit blaming me for something I didn’t do.” Even though my pulse was beating like an out of control metronome, it was a relief to finally verbalize what had been on my mind.

  Her frosty expression moderated to some degree, but she said nothing for another long minute before stating in a neutral tone, “I’m not really that surprised to hear your news.” While I wouldn’t describe her response as a rousing endorsement, she did not seem as irate as I’d expected. But when she focused on me, her usual expression of disapproval had an added element—intense and calculated speculation. A current of unease flowed through me when she said to Tally in an ultra-calm voice, “Tally, would you please leave us alone for a few minutes?”

  He slid me an uncertain glance, his eyes seeking my permission before answering her. I nodded abruptly, then he asked, “You sure you’re okay, Ma?”

  “Yes. Close the door so we can have some privacy.”

  After he left the room, Ruth motioned for me to take a seat opposite her. I perched stiffly on the brown leather recliner, feeling more and more puzzled by her curious behavior. As the silence stretched on, I fidgeted under her critical scrutiny, finally blurting out, “I know if you were choosing a wife for Tally it probably wouldn’t be me, but what you see is what you get.” I managed to smile but it faded quickly when she remained stone-faced. I was at a loss as to how to approach her. Nothing seemed to work. I cleared my throat. “Tell you what. I’m willing to come to the center if you are. If you’ll make just the teensiest effort to get to know me you’ll find I’m not the terrible person you imagine me to be.” I thought it was a pretty good speech but again she did not respond, just continued staring at me. I shifted restlessly, my stomach hollow with hunger, my short temper warming up on the launch pad. What was wrong with her? Did she want to talk or not? How did Tally and Ronda stand living with this creepy old woman? And how the hell was I going to?

  “All right,” I ventured, trying another tack. “I’m guessing that you’re still pissed at me because of last weekend. I apologize if I upset you. I was anxious to tell you about our plans and…well, I just…look, I had no knowledge of Judge Gibbons’s death at that moment. It was an honest mistake and…and if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you…well, ask away.”

  Still she said nothing; just sat there rubbing her forefinger back and forth across her lips, her eyes cool and shrewd. I sprang to my feet. “Okay, that’s it. I’m not going to play this silly game with you. You said you wanted to talk but apparently you don’t.”

  I made it as far as the door when she cried out, “Please come back!” I hesitated, debating as to whether to keep walking or give this cantankerous, neurotic nutcase another chance. Tight-jawed, I turned back to her.

  “Yes?”

  “Sit down. I do want to talk,” she said motioning toward the recliner. Ahhhhh! She was making me crazy. With a pang of foreboding locked in my stomach, I retraced my steps and sat down again.

  “Did you mean that about making it up to me?”

  Uh-oh. I hadn’t expected her to latch onto my offer so soon. “Yes,” I answered cautiously.

  “Perhaps there is something you can do for me.” The spark of cunning in her dark eyes eclipsed her usual look of blank preoccupation. “You’re an investigative reporter, right?”

  Her unexpected question made me hesitate. “Yes.”

  “And Tally says you’re very, very good at it.”

  “Well…ah…I’m glad to hear that.” Where was she going with this?

  “Tell me something. How is what you do different from being a regular reporter?”

  Bemused by the sudden change of subject I had to hide my surprise. “Well, I…um…kind of go beyond just fulfilling assignments. If I find a story that really interests me I dig a little deeper than a staff reporter might otherwise do and that’s been known to get me into trouble on occasion.” I grinned at her. “I always tell people that investigative reporters are pretty much like private detectives without the big payoff.”

  She didn’t blink. She didn’t return my smile. “I see.” Appearing thoughtful, her gaze roamed the oak paneled room, skimmed past the mounted elk head, the floor to ceiling bookshelves, the colorful Navajo rug hanging above an enormous roll-top desk, and finally came to rest on a black and white photograph of two young cowboys on horseback.

  “Why do you ask?”

  Her eyes still fixed on the photograph, she said, “I have something I want you to do for me. If you’ll agree to it, I promise that I will set aside my objections and give you and Tally my blessing.”

  Unreal. Tally would no doubt be thrilled to hear this news, but my instinctive reaction to her offer was guarded. “What is it that you want?” Her way-out-there demeanor disturbed me greatly but perhaps this would present the opportunity to get in her good graces.

  She leaned forward, her eyes burning with a strange light. “I want you to find out who killed Riley Gibbons.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  My mind swam with confusion. “Why me?”

  She lifted one thin brow. “Why not you? You didn’t seem to have any trouble getting in the middle of all those other stories I’ve read about in your newspaper. I thought you said investigative reporting is what you do?”

  “It is what I do.” Her unexpected request spiked my curiosity, but at the same instant Tally’s plea that I steer clear of the Gibbons case echoed in my head. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better than to follow up on this story…but I can’t.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Why not?”

  I could have easily told her, but I wasn’t anxious to share details of my private conversation with Tally. “I just…can’t, that’s all. Look, the sheriff’s office is working on it and I’m sure in due time—”

  With a sharp grunt of agitation, she rose to her feet and began to pace the room. “In time,” she muttered, twisting her hands. “In time, my ass.” She swung around to face me again. “I know that Duane Potts is heading up the investigation and in my opinion, the man is a moron. A week has gone by and what do they have to show for it? Nothing! Absolutely nothing.” More pacing. “I’ve watched those TV crime shows where they talk about cold case files. If they don’t find something soon that’s where this one is going to end up.” Her usually colorless complexion was growing flushed.

  In a soothing tone, I suggested, “Ok
ay, Ruth, calm down—”

  “Don’t you see? At this rate, it’s unlikely they’ll ever find out what happened!” Her blood pressure must have been skyrocketing because her cheeks were now ruddy and her breathing erratic. “Finding out who did this is very important to me. Riley and my Joe were closer than most brothers. He was a much loved member of our family for many years, a dear friend as well as my brother-in-law.” Her voice rose to a wail. “I haven’t been able to think straight since this…nightmare began. My doctor tells me I need to sleep, but I can’t get it out of my mind. I can’t eat, I can’t concentrate on anything.”

  Not only did her obvious distress intrigue me, so did the fact that she seemed completely lucid for a change. She’d always given me the impression that she wasn’t quite with it, that she existed in her own personal fog of misery, unaware of events that went on beyond the boundaries of the Starfire. Apparently, I was wrong.

  Her eyes were pinpoints of accusation. “I don’t understand why you won’t help me. Apparently you didn’t mean what you said about making things right.”

  Feeling trapped, I hedged, “I…I did mean it, but, well…unfortunately, this is the one thing I can’t do for you.”

  “Well, so much for your word.” Like a petulant child, she turned her back on me. “You can go now,” she said with a dismissive wave of one hand.

  I didn’t miss the quaver in her voice. An overwhelming sense of frustration gripped me. Rats! For Tally’s sake, for the sake of our future together, it was imperative that Ruth and I somehow transcend our animosity for one another and at least attempt to establish a semi-cordial relationship. Talk about dumb luck! She was handing me the opportunity to pursue the Gibbons story but how could I tackle her request without pissing off Tally? “Ruth, try to understand, it’s not a matter of my not wanting to do it, far from it.” I sighed with exasperation. “If you must know, Tally asked me to stay out of it.”

  Her head whipped around and she looked like I’d slapped her. “Listen to me,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s because of Tally that it’s imperative you find Riley’s killer.”

  Was she serious or was this more nonsensical rambling? Whatever, the uneasy chill pooling in my belly increased markedly. “What are you talking about?”

  She pulled at the loose skin on her neck. “I know this will probably sound a little crazy but what the hell? Everyone in town knows old Ruth Talverson is nuttier than a Christmas fruit cake.” She hesitated another couple of seconds before adding, “I believe Riley is dead because of me.”

  Nuttier than a Christmas fruitcake was probably right on the money. “Why would you think that?” I asked warily, wishing I could escape from this sticky situation.

  “Because God has put a curse on me.”

  I wanted to bolt from the room. She’d sounded perfectly rational a few minutes ago. Not now.

  “Did Tally ever tell you that my mother died giving birth to me?”

  “No.”

  A look of intense anguish shone in her eyes. “She was beautiful. And only twenty-nine years old.” Her features hardened. “My father blamed me for her death. He thought I was bad luck. He wouldn’t touch me, wouldn’t even look at me most of the time.” She swallowed hard. “When I was four years old he hung himself from the barn rafters.”

  I stared at her in horrified disbelief. “That’s…awful. I’m sorry.”

  Her lips were pressed together so hard the skin around her mouth looked white. When she spoke again her voice was soft, wistful. “Maybe he was right. My grandparents took us in and within a year, my grandfather had died of pneumonia and then my brother Dan was thrown from a horse and broke his neck. Ten years ago I lost my precious sister Ginny to cancer…” She stared at the photograph again. “Lord knows I’ve done some things in my life I’m not proud of but I’ve tried my best to make things right with God.” Her lips twisted with contempt. “For all my efforts God still sent that devil-bitch Stephanie to take my Joe away from me.” She turned back to me and when our eyes met I felt a zing of shock run through me at the expression of panic reflected in her impassioned gaze. “And now Riley is gone. Don’t you see the pattern? Everyone close to me dies.” She approached me and stood so close I could smell the stench of stale cigarette smoke on her breath, in her hair. “We don’t have time for the authorities to muddle through this,” she cried, grabbing my wrist hard. “I’m not worried about myself but you must find out what happened to Riley before something terrible happens to Tally or Ronda.”

  “Ruth, you can’t be serious.”

  “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. I’ll drop all of my objections to this wedding if you’ll do this one thing for me.”

  Convinced the woman was not operating on all cylinders, I maintained my cool with difficulty. It would be easy enough to verify the family history with Tally, but I found her quicksilver mood swings disconcerting. Aware that she was accustomed to manipulating people, I chose my words with care as I disengaged my arm from her talon-like grip. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll check around, make a few inquiries and see what I come up with. Will that make you happy?” The moment the words left my lips I wished I could have retrieved them.

  Her eyes brightened perceptibly. “It will make me very happy.”

  “Okay then.” I crossed to the door and pulled it open. “I’m going to dinner now. Are you coming?”

  “No.” She reached for her cigarettes, fired one up and blew out a column of acrid smoke. “I’m going to bed.”

  How odd. It was only a hair after six o’clock. She brushed past me to the doorway and I watched her shuffle away from me along the hallway, blue smoke trailing behind her. She opened her bedroom door and paused to glance over her shoulder. “I’ll be expecting to hear from you soon.” Having gotten her way, a look of supreme satisfaction replaced her look of despair. But there was something else behind her eyes that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. As she closed the door to her room, I could not suppress the innate feeling that she wasn’t being entirely truthful with me.

  6

  Standing there in the hallway, it took another couple of seconds to fully realize what I’d done. Would I never learn? What was I thinking? It had been less than two weeks since my grandiose pledge to Tally that I would hunker down at the office and steer clear of another dicey assignment. And I’d meant it…at the time. I marveled at the rapid-fire turn of events. No matter how many promises I made to myself, no matter how I tried to avoid it, trouble always seemed to find me. Even though I was stunned by the unexpected outcome, I couldn’t deny the tingle of excitement I felt at the idea of jumping into this investigation. Ruth had handed me an incredible prize. If I handled things right, I rationalized, I could help restore peace and harmony to this sorrowful household. His mother’s acceptance of me would no doubt come as a huge relief to Tally, but my heart shrank when I pictured his reaction to the news that there were strings attached to her sudden turnabout. Undoubtedly there would be major fireworks. I hated to have it spoil the evening, but what would be the harm in asking a few of the people involved in this case a couple of questions? After all, it was my job. Because of my propensity for landing myself in hot water, I feared his knee-jerk reaction might be volcanic, but hey, the circumstances were different this time, weren’t they? I would be doing his mother a favor. Simple as that. It wasn’t my idea. I agonized whether to tell him straight out or wait until later when we were alone at my house. Maybe later would be better. And to set the mood, perhaps tonight was the night to model the sexy black lace teddy I’d purchased online a couple of weeks ago. Throw in the fishnet stockings and my new pair of high heels and that just might mollify him. I started in surprise when Tally suddenly stuck his head around the doorway.

  “I was wondering how long you were going to be in there.” He pinned me with an expectant look. “Well…what happened?”

  I beamed him a megawatt smile. “The short version is I apologized to her and she’s given us her blessi
ng.”

  The expression of admiration spreading across his face made me want to cry. Frap! Who was I kidding? Black teddy or not, he was going to be royally ticked off.

  “I’m impressed,” he said with a slow nod of approval. “You were in there so long I was beginning to wonder if you’d done each other in.”

  I walked towards him, deadpanning, “I had to promise her our firstborn child.”

  He chuckled. “What did you say that made her change her mind?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I won her over with my charming personality.”

  He cocked a skeptical brow. “Really?” He glanced behind me. “Where is she?”

  “Gone to bed.” In an effort to deter further questions, I hooked my arm through his elbow and led him into the den. “Hey, before we eat I want to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  I pointed to the photo on the wall. “I know the man on the left is your father. Who’s the other guy?”

  He frowned at me as if I should know. “Riley. I think they were both in their mid-twenties when that particular picture was taken.”

  I pulled away and stood under the photograph, studying the shadowed faces of the two dark-haired young men squinting into bright sunlight. Joe Talverson had been a nice-looking man but Riley Gibbons could have passed for a movie star. “Tell me about Riley.”

  “Why do you want to know?” he asked from behind, a note of caution entering his voice.

  I swung around. “Just curious. Your mother is pretty depressed about his death.”

  There was no mistaking the gleam of suspicion forming in his brown eyes. “You going to tell me what she said to you?”

  I sweetened my tone and slipped my elbow through his. “Can we talk about it after dinner? I’m starving.”