That seemed difficult to believe. I guess there was no accounting for taste. “I don’t know Jacqueline well, but I’ve spent time around Wyatt. I find him unlikable.”
“Oh, he’s clueless about everything, including women. And incredibly immature. But Porter had a soft spot for Wyatt. He felt sorry for him. We both did. Do you know Wyatt has ADHD? It led to problems with school and drugs. And everyone can see he’s lazy and not the brightest bulb on the porch. Wyatt’s father is disappointed with how his only son has turned out. Cara tries to make up for that by treating Wyatt like a toddler. It has the effect of making him act like one. Despite all that, he’s not a bad guy. Only I wish—”
“What?” I asked when she didn’t continue.
“I wish he would back off and give me some space. These past few days have been awful. I spent the first part of this week sedated.”
“I heard. I’m sorry. This must be a nightmare for you.”
“You have no idea. But Wyatt believes he has a chance with me now that Porter is gone. He had the nerve to ask me to marry him on the way over here in the car today.”
My mouth fell open. “You’re kidding?”
“Thank God, his family came in another car. If Cara knew he’d proposed, I’m afraid she’d kill both of us. Wyatt may be defensive and lazy, but Cara is dangerous. Her own brother thought she was unbalanced. According to Porter, she made his life hell from the time he was little. All because she was jealous that their dad preferred Porter to her. Like it was Porter’s fault.” She sighed. “The Gale family drama never stops, but I do not have the energy to deal with either Wyatt or Cara right now. Especially since I found out I was pregnant.”
“Did you really learn about the pregnancy this morning?”
“I found out last week. Porter and I had been trying for months. That’s why I kept home pregnancy kits on hand. Every time my period was late, I gave myself the test. That’s what I did a week ago Tuesday. And this one showed I was pregnant. Porter and I were so excited. He wanted to announce it right away, but I thought we should wait until I saw a doctor and it was official.” She bit back a sob. “Now Porter will never see his child, and he desperately wanted an heir. Someone to carry on the Gale family name.”
“You can take some comfort in knowing his child will inherit Blueberry Hill.”
“Except Cara will do everything she can to prevent that.” Sloane crossed her arms and legs, arranging herself in a defensive position. “You think she’d be decent enough to honor her brother’s wishes. If I wasn’t pregnant, I would never have contested Porter’s will and tried to keep her from inheriting half of the estate.”
I thought that might be easier to say when you were the one benefiting from the will. “Did you know about the terms of his will beforehand?”
“Of course. Porter had a new will drawn up this year. If we had no children, Cara and I were to split the estate evenly. I had no objections. After all, Porter was only thirty-four and likely to live a long time, even if he was diabetic. And the odds favored me getting pregnant sooner rather than later. Who knew things would turn out so tragically?” She sniffed.
The murderer certainly knew, I thought.
“And I resent being labeled a gold digger,” she continued. “Porter was not the only rich man who ever hit on me. If all I cared about was money, I could have married a man much older and richer than Porter. But Porter and I loved each other. We were two of a kind: passionate, self-confident, determined. A little reckless, too. That’s why we got married only eight weeks after we met. We were soul mates.”
As I made the turn onto Blue Star Highway, a Janssen Blueberries truck drove past. It reminded me of what Cara had told me of Porter and Sloane’s first meeting. “I heard that you and Porter met at a fruit growers’ conference in Baltimore. Is that where you’re from?”
“No. I was in Baltimore that summer staying with a friend. Because I liked being close to the D.C. area, I thought about moving there. I took a few temp jobs. Helping out at the conference was one of them.” Sloane busied herself re-pinning a few strands of hair that had come undone. She had the kind of silky hair that didn’t lend itself to being confined in an updo.
“Where did you live before that?”
“Connecticut, Rhode Island, New Hampshire. I went to three different colleges, but never graduated. I always got bored and wanted to move on.”
“Where’s your family from?” I sounded nosy, but Sloane seemed a little too evasive.
“New Hampshire, but my mom left when I was ten. She ran off with another man.”
“That must have been hard for you to deal with.”
“Not as hard as you think. She wasn’t much of a mother.”
“How about your father?”
“He was better. At least he tried to be better. But he never got over my mom leaving. He died of a heart attack five years later.”
I felt a wave of sympathy for this young woman, who seemed plagued with tragedy. First, the loss of her parents, and now her husband. “How sad. I hope you have other family members.”
“I do.” Her voice grew soft. “I have a big sister. She’s the best.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t come to Oriole Point to be with you.”
“She wanted to be here, but she and her ex are in the middle of a nasty custody battle over their daughter, and she doesn’t dare miss a court date. As soon as I can, I’ll fly to see her. I’ve had enough of the Gales and Blueberry Hill. To be honest, I’d like to sell the company and the orchards. I want to raise my child far away from here.”
I didn’t think it was my place to say that such a move was the last thing Porter would have wanted for his child. “According to the police, someone murdered your husband, which makes this even worse. Who would kill him? A jealous associate? Someone he fired in the past?”
“I have no idea. It’s confusing enough trying to understand the family dynamics. When I moved to Blueberry Hill, Eric Gale was on the decline. It was clear he didn’t have a lot of time left. That didn’t stop Porter and Cara from arguing whenever they saw each other. Usually, Cara started it. Jacqueline was run ragged looking after Porter’s dad, who treated her like a hotel maid. And Wyatt trailed after me. It was exhausting sometimes.”
“Sloane, did you know that Ryan borrowed money from Porter?”
“It wasn’t a secret. Porter loved to brag about how he had Ryan on the ropes, at least financially. However, Porter was a savvy businessman. I’m sure Ryan isn’t the only person who owed money to him.”
My spirits sank. Ryan’s fight with Porter at the fairground and his access to insulin already made him a suspect. If the police got hold of his financial dealings with the victim, it would make him the prime suspect. “Anyone who owed money to your husband may have had a reason to kill him.”
“A bigger motive is Blueberry Hill.” Her tone grew sharp. “As she proved today, Cara won’t allow anyone but her family to inherit. Given her reaction to my news, I’m afraid she may have killed her own brother to ensure that she would. Only how can I ever prove it?”
“But Cara would naturally assume Porter left everything to you. Until yesterday, she had no knowledge about the clause in his will that said you inherited everything if you and Porter had a child.”
“Are you joking? Cara was with us at the lawyer’s office in June when the new will was drawn up. So was Brody. She’s been aware all summer that Blueberry Hill would be hers if Porter died without an heir.” Sloane shook her head. “Apparently, Brody and Cara kept their kids in the dark. Wyatt didn’t know anything about the will until I mentioned it to him last month.”
I caught my breath. “Both Cara and Wyatt knew about the will before Porter died?”
“Yes. The only one who didn’t know was Courtney. Now the whole town will hear about the will. I have to prepare myself for all the suspicion and gossip. It’s not fair. It’s been less than a week since Porter died. I’ve spent half of it sedated. The rest of the time I’ve bee
n in shock. The horror of what has happened—the murder of my husband!—is only now sinking in. And now that I’m pregnant, it’s even worse.”
“Why? Don’t you want the child?”
“Of course I do. But the entire Blueberry Hill fortune is mine. If Porter was killed because of Blueberry Hill, how do I stop the murderer from coming after me?”
Chapter Nineteen
A two-legged blueberry greeted me when I walked into the shop. With arms akimbo, the figure spun around. “How do I look, Marlee? Pat dropped off our costumes about an hour ago.”
The sight of Dean outfitted as a blueberry wasn’t unexpected. The Blueberry Blow Out’s week of festivities ended with a downtown parade on Sunday. Many local business owners would be part of it, including The Berry Basket; the Cabot boys, Gillian, and I planned to march as giant blueberries. Because so much had happened this week, I’d forgotten about the parade. When murder and a broken engagement occur in the same week, everything else becomes a footnote. Thank heaven I’d ordered the costumes three weeks ago from Pat Wilkes, who also supplied costumes for the students of Miss Lana’s Dance School.
“I love how the blue tights match the costume,” I replied. “But there’s so much padding, you resemble a big blue apple more than a blueberry. Maybe lose the headpiece.”
“Marlee’s right,” Theo announced from the doorway that led to the kitchen and office. I was surprised to see my baker here. His shift ended hours ago. “It looks like an apple stem.”
With a sigh, Dean removed the dark blue beanie from his head. “I thought it seemed a nice finishing touch.”
“Told you the beanie was too much,” Andrew said from behind the counter. “And I’m glad you’re here, Marlee. I need to leave early to help out Oscar at Beguiling Blooms. He has to put together ten bouquets for the Nyhof wedding tomorrow. The bride asked for sweet peas, and they’re tricky to work with.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be here for a few hours, and Dean is scheduled to work until seven. So Mr. Blueberry and I can handle things. Only I need to leave in time to meet someone and then relieve Gillian at the fair by six.”
A couple with two young girls walked through our open door. The children squealed with delight at the sight of Dean in his blueberry costume.
Dean held out his arms and chortled, “Ho, ho, ho, children. Welcome to The Berry Basket. And Merry Blueberry Blow Out.”
While I admired Dean’s enthusiasm, he needed to keep his holidays straight. Still, the family seemed pleased. The girls ran into Dean’s embrace, which prompted the father to pull out his cell phone for a photo.
As Dean posed with the girls, I went in the back to put away my purse. Theo followed me. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I told him.
Because Theo came to the shop before dawn to do the baking, he often left by the time we opened the shop at ten. The past two weeks, I’d noticed Theo often hung around the store afterward. Albeit encouraging, it seemed uncharacteristic behavior for such a shy person. Theo had suffered a head injury as a child, which resulted in developmental problems that included social awkwardness. Last month I’d gotten to know Theo better as a result of the Blackberry Art School murder. We had even gone on a brief trip to visit each other’s families, and he now viewed me as a sister. He’d also grown comfortable around Andrew, Dean, and Gillian. While it pleased me to see Theo emerge from his self-imposed shell, I didn’t want him to spend all his free time at The Berry Basket, especially since I could only pay him for his baking hours.
“Andrew and Dean arrived before I finished the muffins, so I talked with them.”
“I hope they kept you entertained.”
“They’re funny. They make me laugh.”
“The boys are a hoot.” I rifled through the pile of mail left on the desk in my back office. “But you’ve been up for hours. Why don’t you go home and relax? I know you love to sit in your yard and watch the birds at the feeders.”
“I stayed because I wanted to talk to you. Only I knew you were going to the church service for the man who died at the fair. That’s why I waited until you came to the store.”
This made me look up. He wore his usual grave expression. Even when the Cabots amused him, he showed little evidence of that, aside from a brief smile. “Is something wrong?”
“I heard you talk to Dean yesterday morning before I left. You talked about Ryan.”
“Okay.” I had a vague memory of the conversation regarding Ryan. Most likely, I’d mentioned that Ryan never turned his phone on while he was on his so-called fishing trips.
“You seemed upset because he didn’t call. I thought you were worried something had happened to him. But it didn’t. He’s safe. I needed to tell you that.”
Had Ryan stopped by the bakery early this morning? Having ended the engagement, I was in no mood for another scene with Ryan so soon after last night. “How do you know he’s back? Did you see him in town today?”
He shook his head. “I saw him on the way to work. Ryan was in the truck with the Zellar name on it. The one he always drives.”
This seemed odd. Theo came to work between three thirty and four in the morning. “Where was this?”
“On Huron Lane. Right at the corner where the Clay Café is. He came from the other direction, so he passed right by me. First, he stopped at the stop sign. Ryan had his arm out the window when he drove past. I don’t think he saw me.”
“Was anyone with him?”
“No. He must have been coming back from fishing. I just wanted to let you know he was home now. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
“Do you remember exactly what time this was?”
“Yes. I looked at the clock in my car after he drove by.”
When he simply stared back at me, I prodded, “And what did the clock say?”
“Three forty-six.”
Why would Ryan drive around alone in the wee hours of the morning? He left my house around ten thirty. Yes, he seemed upset at our conversation. And tooling around deserted country roads in the middle of the night would have allowed him to vent, let off stream, cry. But would he have done that for five hours? Unlikely. Maybe he went home to the Zellar farm, talked to his family, then realized he couldn’t sleep and went for a drive. Or he visited a friend in the area for a sympathetic ear. If so, who? Theo said Ryan drove past the Clay Café, coming from the other direction. That road led farther out into the country. Who did Ryan know out there?
Let it go, I told myself. Ryan’s whereabouts weren’t my concern any longer. I had to stop trying to figure out what Ryan was doing and why. He held so many secrets, I couldn’t even guess where he might have been that early in the morning. And did I really want to know?
“Thanks for telling me, but I saw Ryan last night when he came by my house.”
“Are you okay?” Theo’s gray eyes examined me even more closely than usual.
“I’m a little tired.”
He appeared skeptical. “You look sad. Did something make you sad?”
If the Cabots had not been in the shop, I would have told Theo that I’d ended my relationship with Ryan. Theo possessed a number of admirable traits, including discretion and loyalty. He likely would be relieved; like Max, Theo was not a Ryan admirer. A shame I hadn’t followed suit. But I didn’t have the energy at the moment to also face any questions that would follow from Dean and Andrew.
Andrew breezed past my office, tossing his folded-up apron on a bench along the wall. “I’m taking off, Marlee. But we need to order more medium shopping bags. We’re almost out.”
“Thanks.” I donned my own BERRY BASKET apron as Theo followed me out of the office. “Remember that everyone’s pulling long shifts tomorrow, both here and at the fairground. Because of the fireworks Saturday night, there should be bigger crowds than usual.”
“Got it.” Andrew grabbed a blueberry tart from a rack near the oven. “Since you’re wearing a dress, I assume you came straight from the memorial service.” He took a big bite of t
he tart, smearing blueberry filling on his chin.
“Yep. I didn’t want to waste time going home to change.” I handed Andrew a napkin.
“Wait a minute.” His attention shifted to my hand. “You’re not wearing your ring. Did you lose it?”
Leave it to eagle-eye Andrew. “No. I gave it back to Ryan last night.” I took a deep breath. “We broke up.”
“What! You’re kidding?” he mumbled through a mouthful of tart. “No way!”
Theo touched my shoulder. “Is that why you look sad?”
“Sad?” Andrew answered for me. “She should be relieved. Dean and I never thought he was the right guy. He was too jealous of any man who looked at you. And too close to the other Zellars. The whole pack of them live in a weird compound at their orchards. They’re like Scientologists.”
“You and Dean never said you didn’t care for Ryan.” Good grief, was I the only person who liked Ryan, aside from his family? Just how blind was love?
“There would have been no point in us saying we weren’t crazy about him. You wouldn’t have listened to us anyway.” He swiped at his mouth with the napkin I gave him. “Okay, who ended it? Tell me it was you, not him.”
“Yes. I was the one to break up with him. When he stopped by my house last night, I gave him back his ring. Ryan was upset, of course. He’d bought plane tickets to Vegas because he wanted us to fly off to get married in some wedding chapel his buddy told him about.”
“This is incredible.” Andrew looked toward the door that led into the shop. “Dean, get in here now!”
“What is it?” his brother shouted back. “I’ve got customers.”
“Forget the customers. Marlee and Ryan broke up!”
Dean burst into the kitchen, his puffy costume scraping against the sides of the door. I never knew blueberries could move that fast.
* * *
When I arrived at Jacqueline’s house at Blueberry Hill later that afternoon, a catering crew was packing everything up, while men took down the white tents on the lawn. No doubt Deirdre’s Caterers had supplied a lovely luncheon for the memorial guests, but I was happy to have missed it. This whole week had been filled with far too many Gales and O’Neills—along with a boatload of speculation and gossip about my former fiancé. Now it seemed I was about to be privy to yet another Ryan revelation. But I doubted anything could surprise me now.
Killed on Blueberry Hill Page 21