by Lesley Diehl
Marshall looked shocked at my contention that his might not be the only petition for settlement.
“I’d not thought about that, aside from Ms. Granger’s child, of course,” he said.
“My client may have the more persuasive claim on the estate, as he may be biologically related to Mr. Ramford Senior and the sons may not,” said Esperanza.
“They were named in his will. Where did you get that idea?” asked Farraday.
“Yes. I’d like to know that, too,” said John.
“We talked to Michael Ramford Senior’s wife yesterday. She contends that her husband never fathered either of her children.”
I sighed. “Claudia says one thing one day and another the next. Aside from her confusing stories, there’s nothing to support her claims. Michael and Ronald were named in the will. You weren’t, Mr. Harrington. You talked with a very disturbed woman.”
“I didn’t know you were an expert on mental illness,” said Esperanza.
“I’m not, but the people who run the hospital she’s in are.”
I wasn’t certain what I thought of Marshall, but his choice in lawyers made me wonder how cutthroat he was going to be in his claim.
The meeting broke up before noon. Esperanza exited the room without saying goodbye to anyone, but Marshall shook hands with Costa and Farraday before he left, then turned to me.
“You will tell Sally I want the best for her and her child, that I know she has a legitimate claim,” Marshall said.
“Perhaps you should tell her yourself.”
“And risk bringing on early labor?”
“She can handle your looks,” I said.
“Of course, you’d get word to her first. Am I correct?”
“Certainly,” I said. “Now I have to go. I’ve got work ahead of me this afternoon.”
“Ah, yes, the brewing business. Busy woman.”
I nodded, eager to be gone so that I wouldn’t have to look into eyes I felt belonged to another man, a dead man.
“But you do have to eat. How about lunch?”
Before I could refuse, he reached out and took my hand. His touch was warm, friendly, but it felt like electricity running up my arm, across my chest and into my heart. I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I guess that blow to my head earlier did more damage than I realized.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“No. I haven’t had the time. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Let’s get you to the walk-in clinic. There is one around here right?”
I nodded. My legs didn’t want to move, and my hands felt numb. I stood there as if glued to the floor. Marshall swept me into his arms and motioned to Esperanza, who hovered in the hallway.
“You go ahead. I need to get Hera some medical attention. How do I get to the clinic?” he asked of John.
John gave quick directions as Marshall carried me down the stairs and out to his car.
“You don’t have to do this. Really, I think I’ll be fine.” Once in the passenger’s seat, I felt more myself. The feeling came back to my hands, and my legs moved to my commands.
~
“A slight concussion,” said the doctor at the clinic. “It would help if you could rest and not be running around to meetings or working too strenuously in your brewery. Take it easy for a couple of days, Hera, and if you aren’t better in a week, we’ll do further tests.”
My stomach let out a loud growl.
“When was the last time you ate?” asked the doc.
“I’m taking her out to lunch as soon as you let her go.” Marshall had positioned himself on the other side of the curtained-off examination table and listened to my conversation with the doctor.
“Good,” said the doc, “and then go home and relax.”
How could I relax? My mind kept seeing Marshall’s face, or was it Michael’s? Either way, the image was disturbing, as if the dead had come back to taunt me.
We chose Ginny’s Diner for lunch. The hostess showed us to a booth overlooking the parking lot. If I paid attention to my burger and fries and didn’t look Marshall in the eye, I could maintain control of my thoughts and not allow them to wander back to the days when Michael was alive. Marshall was more observant than I imagined.
“You don’t like looking at me, do you? I remind you too much of my half-brother, the one you loved.”
I sighed and put my burger down on the plate.
“It’s upsetting, like seeing a ghost, but I’m getting used to it.”
“Are you? Good, because I’d like us to be friends.”
“Tell me, then, what you hoped to accomplish by going to see Claudia Ramford?”
He seemed taken aback for a moment. “Oh, that. My lawyer’s idea. He wanted me to meet all the family involved. I thought I’d be seeing Sally today, but you came in her place. I still want to talk with her and with my other half-brother, Ronald.”
“Your lawyer thinks you are Ramford’s only biological son.” I pushed my food around on my plate.
“Claudia was pretty convincing.”
“She often is, even when she changes stories.”
“Well, let’s talk about something else, shall we?” He smiled his Michael smile and reached across the table to take my hand. “I understand now that I’ve met you why Michael was in love with you.”
“Michael was never in love with me.”
“No? Well, then he was a complete fool.”
I blushed at his words, and as I looked up into his face, the flush of emotion coloring my cheeks, my hand in his, Jake walked into the diner.
I withdrew my hand and called to Jake. He acted as if he hadn’t seen the two of us when he came in, but I was certain he got more than a passing glance because his SUV was pulled in just below the diner window where we were seated.
I made the introductions and asked Jake to join us. To my surprise, he did, sitting on the seat next to me, his arm resting on the booth back but touching my shoulder.
“This gal had a rough morning. She hit her head, then was surprised out of her wits when she saw me at the lawyer’s meeting, and she was poked and prodded by the doc.”
I shot Marshall a warning look. I wasn’t eager to explain my injury to Jake, but he ignored the comment about my visit to the doctor.
“How’d your meeting with social services go?” asked Jake.
“You know about that?”
“Yep. See, I’m a cop, and I pretty much know everything that goes on in this county.” He looked at Marshall, not me, when he said this.
“Sara is with Ronald and Deni.” I quickly filled Marshall in on the murder, Tony’s restaurant break-in and Father Charles and his group.
“And Megan?” asked Jake.
“She’s at the house with Jeremiah. She’s helping him clean some vats.”
“She’ll be staying with you then?” There was implied criticism in Jake’s voice. Marshall’s eyes narrowed, even though he appeared not to be attending fully to the conversation but perusing the bill.
“I offered her a job. It’s her choice. She’s an adult, you know.”
I reached up and tried to massage away my headache.
“Time to get you home.” Marshall arose from the bench and held out his hand to me.
Jake ignored him and continued to look at me. “I need to talk with Megan again about the night of the murder. I can give you a ride.”
My head felt as if it might burst like an overinflated balloon.
“All I need is someone to drop me off at my truck. I can drive myself home.” Whether this was true or not, I was damned if I’d spend another moment squeezed in the middle of two men competing for my favors, Marshall the knight errant, Jake acting as if he were dealing with a child. I wanted to scream at them to stop it, but I knew that would make my head hurt more.
Jake stood up, and the two men encountered each other eye to eye, close enough to inhale each other’s breath.
<
br /> “Do I have to walk to my truck?”
Neither of them said anything. The silence was deafening.
I grabbed my purse and shoved my way past Jake. Rafe Oxley pushed open the door to the diner.
I walked up to him. “Are you going to eat here?”
“I was. Do you have another place in mind?”
“I’ll make you the best bologna sandwich in the county if you give me a ride back to my truck.”
Rafe looked at the two men still standing by the booth I’d vacated. No explanation was required. One glance at Marshall, and Rafe put the pieces together.
“Let’s go.” Rafe’s hand in the small of my back propelled me out the door and into his car.
“That has to be Marshall Harrington or Michael’s clone,” he said.
“It’s a long story.”
He dropped me at my truck and followed me to my brewery.
“Now about that sandwich.”
“I hate bologna.”
“Good, because I don’t have any. How do you feel about tuna fish?”
When we entered the kitchen, I could smell garlic and onions sautéing. Megan stood at the stove, her hair tied back in a scarf, an apron covering her dress.
“Hi,” she said. “I just made some tuna fish for sandwiches, if you’re hungry.”
I introduced Rafe to Megan. “This is Megan Clement. She reads my mind sometimes. I wish I knew how.”
Rafe reached out to take her hand. Megan wiped it on her apron first, allowed Rafe a brief shake, then snatched her fingers back. “Oh, boy. You’re going to regret that handshake. I just finished mincing garlic. Here, I’ll move over so you can wash the smell off your hand.”
While Rafe scrubbed his hands, Megan opened cans of tomatoes and poured them into the pot.
“What are you making?” I asked.
“Sauce for pasta. I’ll let it cook down while I get busy back in the barn. Jeremiah has a ton of work for me.” She giggled. “He’s such a slave driver.”
“I hope he gave you a short course in safety before he allowed you to do anything.”
“You know Jeremiah better than I do. We spent the morning going over safety issues. Then he gave me an oral quiz and some hands-on testing,” she giggled again, “testing to see if I knew what to do in emergencies, I mean.”
She turned her attention back to her cooking, stirred the pot and put on the lid.
“I’ll keep an eye on that,” I said.
Megan nodded and took off her apron. “I’ll be in the barn if you need me.” She ran for the door.
Rafe wiped his hands on the towel I handed him. “Garlic doesn’t come off easily. It’s a good thing I don’t mind the smell.” He sniffed his fingers.
I looked through the kitchen window toward the barn. “Something’s going on between Jeremiah and Megan.”
“Her giggles give her away. I wonder how Jeremiah is taking this attention?” said Rafe.
“Well, I know there is not a ton of work to do in the barn, so I suspect he’s making up tasks to keep her around him.”
“She’s that dead boy’s sister, and I’ll bet one of Jake’s favorite suspects. Do you trust her?”
I reached up to my head and felt the bump there still tender from Megan’s blow. “I think so. She’s different now that she’s left Father’s group.” I wanted to keep Megan’s attack on me private, between the two of us. I hoped I was doing the right thing in giving her the break I thought she deserved.
Rafe and I continued to talk while he ate his tuna sandwich, the usual conversation about the rising cost of hops and the types of malt we were contemplating using for our fall and winter ales. Now that I had more money to decide what ales I wanted to brew, I liked to talk beer and let my imagination lead me into dreams of frothy dark porters and double IPAs. Finally the conversation turned to water and the issue of fracking.
“Teddy says he’s going to sign with a gas company but not right away. He’s holding out for the best price,” said Rafe.
“Teddy doesn’t need the money. What’s he thinking? He knows the risks.”
“That’s part of the problem. Teddy thinks he can buy his way out of any difficulty, and he can. That leaves the rest of us wondering if our wells will be affected,” Rafe said. “Hera, you’ve been here as long as Teddy has. He respects you. Maybe you could talk to him.”
“The only thing that could persuade Teddy would be money. What could I offer him to top the gas company’s contract?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew. I did have something Teddy might be interested in.
“Something occur to you?” asked Rafe, watching my face.
“Maybe.”
Rafe pushed back his chair. “Here, I’ll take that plate and wash the dishes.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re my guest.”
“Your guest has hands that still smell like garlic. Washing the dishes might help get rid of it.” He walked to the window over the sink. “Uh, oh. Here comes the sheriff.”
“Jake said he wanted to talk to Megan.”
“I think I’ll just head for the safety of my own brew barn and let the two of you fight this one out alone.”
“He’s here for Megan, not me.”
“If what I saw today in the diner is any indication, I’d say he was after you as well. You kids play nice now.” He chuckled.
Jake was getting out of his county SUV as Rafe and I exited my kitchen.
“Thanks for the sandwich.” Rafe nodded to Jake and drove off.
Jake didn’t smile, didn’t even make eye contact. “Megan here?”
“She’s in the barn with Jeremiah.”
We stepped through the door and could hear voices in the tasting room.
“I thought the two of you were working,” I said. Megan and Jeremiah were sitting on the tall stools in front of the tasting counter.
“It’s time for Megan to learn about our brews, a private tasting of sorts. She should have some appreciation of what we’re making.”
“You’re right. Good idea. So what do you think of my brews?”
“It takes a bit of getting used to.”
“I’ll bet. Not poison, as you thought?” I was ribbing her and hoped she didn’t mind.
She gave a chirpy little laugh of embarrassment. “I never really thought they were poison, but I thought I should put on a good show in case someone reported back to Father.” She took a small sip from her glass and met my eye. “I don’t like the really bitter ones. I guess I like my brews,” she turned to Jeremiah, “less hoppy. Is that right?”
He beamed his pleasure at her choice of words. “Absolutely right. You’re a quick learner.”
“I need a word with Megan,” said Jake.
“And I need to confer with our bottling line,” said Jeremiah.
“A problem I don’t know about?” I asked.
“Not really. I just want to check her to make certain that when she hung up the other day, I fixed it. Don’t worry.” Jeremiah touched Megan’s shoulder as he left.
“Don’t you just love how smart he is about these things?” Megan gave a coquettish smile.
“Yes, I do. I depend on him.”
Megan turned her gaze away from Jeremiah’s departing figure. The smile faded from her face when Jake spoke.
“We need to talk about the night of your brother’s death.”
“I was with Father that night.”
“Not the entire night, not according to what Father said. And then there’s this.”
Jake extracted an object from his pocket. It was a hair barrette of silver and bronze. He held it out to Megan.
“It matches the one in your hair.”
She touched the hair ornament almost hidden beneath her scarf. “Where did you find it?” She reached out her hand for it, but Jake placed it back in his pocket.
“It’s evidence. It was found near Bruce’s body the night of the murder. You were there, weren’t you, Megan?”
Nine
&n
bsp; “I don’t have to talk to you unless you arrest me. Are you going to arrest me?” Megan made eye contact with Jake, the old defiant look back on her face.
She was acting more like the person I met when she was with Father, suspicious and withdrawn, but an encounter with the law can do that to even the most sanguine individual.
“I’m not here to take you into custody, but if you were at the barn the night your brother was killed, you might have seen something that would help me solve this murder.”
I had a feeling his usual diplomacy wouldn’t work with Megan.
“I’ve got dinner on the stove, and I think I smell it burning.” She whirled away and ran into the house.
“Nice touch, deputy sheriff. Now you’ve scared her. She’ll never talk to you.”
Jake threw his hands over his head, then let them drop onto his legs with a slap. “I tried to be reasonable with her.”
“She’s been through a lot. Her parents have disowned her, and so has Father, and her brother has been killed. She’s pretty fragile right now.”
“Yeah, well, she could be, as you put it, a fragile killer. Ever think about that?”
“You’re in a foul mood today.”
“I have about a dozen college students to interview again, this time to see if I can get the truth out of just one of them. Someone knows something and isn’t talking.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. If you forgive Marshall Harrington for looking like Michael, I’ll help you with the interviews.”
Jake shook his head and rolled his eyes back and forth. “I thought you wanted left out of this.”
“I did, I mean I do, but I’m better with those students than you are. They know me. Some interned here for a few weeks, and we planned the pairings night together. I might get something out of them.”
“My very own Miss Marple.”
“Fine, then.” I turned to follow Megan into the kitchen.
“I’ve got to testify in court now. I’ll pick you up here in two hours,” Jake said.
I kept on walking, my back to Jake, a smile forming on my face. “Okay.” Meantime, I wanted to talk with Megan. How had that barrette gotten at the crime scene?