Poisoned Pairings

by Lesley Diehl

  Jake hugged me as we made our way through the yard, now wet with slush.

  “Boy or girl?” I asked, referring to his K-9 assignment.

  “I don’t know. They’ll pair us up when I get there.”

  “Jake.” I stopped before we got to the door. “I’m real sorry about the soup.”

  “Apologize to Megan. It was her soup.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m pushing you about the marriage thing. I’ll back off. For now.”

  As if he had a choice, with the hundreds of miles that would separate us for several months.

  The phone rang as we finished our breakfast. It was Kathleen Genovese, my friend from social services.

  “The judge called me a few minutes ago to say he has an opening in his calendar tomorrow. We’ve scheduled Sara’s hearing for one o’clock. Can you be there?”

  “Oh, of course I can.”

  “Megan still with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “She needs to attend and give testimony also.”

  “What do you think the chances are the judge will believe Sara’s story about Father?”

  “Good, especially if Megan corroborates it.”

  “So she’ll live with Deni and Ronald then?”

  There was silence on the line.

  “Kathleen? What’s wrong?”

  “Judge Reynolds is a great judge when it comes to the child’s welfare, but he’s a little conservative concerning family placement.”

  “What’s that mean exactly?”

  “Deni and Ronald aren’t married.”

  “Does he realize Sara will run off if she isn’t placed with Deni and Ronald?”

  I heard a sigh from Kathleen. “I’ll make that as clear as I can. Look, let’s focus our energies on establishing how unfit Father has been as a guardian, okay?”

  ~

  I didn’t see Jake that night. He was busy packing and clearing his desk of paperwork. We planned a Friday night dinner at Tony’s restaurant, a going-away feast before Jake left Saturday morning. I had mixed feelings about his absence. I’d miss him, sure, but I also felt relief niggling in the back of my skull, time out for me to make up my mind about where this relationship was going, about where I wanted it to go.

  The next day Megan and I appeared in the judge’s chambers, both of us trying to ignore the presence of Father, who came without his usual assortment of followers or his bodyguard companions. That seemed odd. I thought he’d want witnesses from his side to attest to his fine parenting of Sara—a lie, of course.

  Sara entered the room wedged between Deni and Ronald. When Kathleen called her over, Sara refused to leave their side but finally agreed to join Kathleen as long as they sat behind her. Deni leaned forward to place her hand on Sara’s shoulder. The hearing was informal. The judge questioned the parties, firmly with the adults but gently with Sara, whom he seemed to win over with his open face and friendly manner.

  When asked if he wished to call individuals to support his account of how Sara was treated, Father shook his head.

  “No. I’m a man of God, and what I say here is the truth whether or not you believe me. I am judged by a higher authority, and He knows I speak the truth.”

  Megan whispered in my ear. “He’s not taking any chances one of his flock will refuse to lie for him and reveal how he demeaned Sara. If no one is here to speak for him, no one can blow his story.”

  “You can, and Sara, too.”

  “You bet I will.” Her usually soft lips formed a tight line across her teeth. Go get ‘em, Megan, I said to myself when the judge called on her.

  Megan told her side of the story, supporting what Sara had said and what social services had discovered in their investigation of Sara’s treatment by Father.

  “I do not take Sara’s parents’ wills naming Father her guardian lightly. I believe we need a full hearing on what’s best for her future, but for the time being there is enough concern for her well-being to warrant her not living with Father’s flock until that hearing occurs,” Judge Reynolds said.

  Megan and I hugged each other. Sara turned in her chair and smiled at Deni and Ronald.

  It was over. Sara was safe. I was certain a full hearing would support the judge’s removal of Father as her guardian.

  The judge banged his gavel for attention. “However, there is the matter of where she should now reside. She’s been placed by social services with Ronald Ramford and his, er, friend. While she seems to be thriving there, I question Social Services’ judgment in this matter. The couple is, I understand, not married. My notes also indicate that Mr. Ramford was a fugitive from the law for years. It’s my recommendation Social Services find her a home with a married couple, a more appropriate environment for a young woman on the verge of puberty.”

  Ronald leaped from his chair. “But we love her, and she loves us.” He looked at Deni before he added, “We want to adopt her, and we’d be willing to marry to have her remain with us.”

  “You should have thought of that earlier,” said Judge Reynolds, “and not merely to get custody of this child but to express your commitment to one another under the law.” He banged the gavel again and turned his gaze on Kathleen. “Meantime, I direct you, Ms. Genovese, to remove the minor child from Ronald Ramford’s residence and find an appropriate placement for her.”

  “With all due respect, your honor, Sara has indicated she wishes to stay with Ronald and Deni. In my opinion, should we remove her and place her elsewhere, she will run away. I do not want the welfare of this child alone and on the streets on my conscience, and neither do you.” Kathleen’s tone was respectful but firm.

  “Perhaps, then, you need to seek the security of a group home where the children are more closely watched than with foster parents. Do your job, Ms. Genovese. That’s all.” He grabbed his notebook and left the room.

  Everyone who supported Sara was in shock at the judge’s ruling, everyone except for Father, who didn’t try to hide a smirk of satisfaction. I turned on him and gave him the “I’ll be watching you” signal, pointing my fingers at my eyes and then out toward him. His smile turned into a smirk, then laughter erupted from his throat.

  “She’ll run away, you know she will,” I said to Megan.

  “I’ll talk to her.” As Megan made her way across the chambers to Sara, Jeremiah stopped her and whispered in her ear. She nodded, continued across the room and enveloped Sara in a hug. Megan gave her several tissues and drew her to one side, where the two of them talked. Sara’s face lit up for a brief moment, and she kissed Megan, then waved at Jeremiah.

  “Where are you going to put her now?” I asked. Ronald, Deni and I surrounded Kathleen.

  “I need a promise from Sara not to run. If she gives it to me, I’ll place her with a couple in town who have two children of their own around her age. But all she has to do is flee, and the judge will make good on his threat to put her in a group home.”

  “She’ll stay wherever you decide, as long as she can see Ronald and Deni on a regular basis and me, too.” Megan was holding Sara’s hand. Sara nodded, tears still spilling down her cheeks.

  “I can work with that,” said Kathleen.

  I hugged Sara goodbye. “We’ll see you soon. You can come out to the brewery and see the work Megan does there.”

  Deni and Ronald crushed her in their arms and finally let her go with Kathleen.

  “I’ve got some errands to run,” I said to Jeremiah and Megan after the hearing. It was time to tie up some loose ends in my life, like buying a new truck and seeing to a security system for my business. Jeremiah and Megan came to the hearing in his sister’s car, which he’d borrowed until I could replace my old truck. All the errands at the brewery which I couldn’t run were left to Jeremiah. In good weather he used his bike as transportation, but bad roads meant he needed my truck.

  Sally had loaned me her car until I had my jalopy fixed, not a likely outcome. I was certain the insurance company would total it, b
ut the money they’d settle on me wouldn’t be enough to pay for a new one. It was either a used vehicle, or I’d have to get a loan, and I was certain the bank wasn’t going to extend me any more credit. I couldn’t use Sally’s vehicle forever. When Jeremiah had dropped me by her place earlier, I felt uncomfortable taking the keys from her, although she’d offered the car and insisted I use it. The discomfort was less about borrowing her car, although that was some of it. What if she needed the car for an emergency with the baby? Unlikely, but that thought left little room for what was really bothering me: I had to tell her what I knew about Marshall, and that wasn’t going to be a pleasant discussion.

  At the dealership the salesman assured me there was a financing program I qualified for that would allow me to buy new, but when I looked at the rates, I knew I didn’t want to finance for that long and pay an interest rate so high. I was right. I had to buy used.

  The unpredictable weather changed yet again. A cold wind blowing from the north chased away the day’s earlier warmth. I buttoned up my coat and pulled my scarf around my head to leave the showroom for the far lot where they hid the junkers I could afford. There in the back row was my truck, looking as she did before the accident, not good, mind you, but drivable. On closer inspection I realized it wasn’t mine but one like it, probably the one once owned by Martin Davis before he got his raise as head of the college’s culinary program.

  The salesman walked up behind me. “Got that in on trade just the other day. A guy from the college. He bought one of our new crew cabs, like the truck you should consider.”

  I ignored his sales pitch. “How much for this one?”

  “You don’t want her. She’s got high mileage and needs new tires. Plus the drive train is acting up.”

  “How much?”

  “Fifteen hundred.”

  “I’ll give you twelve hundred cash. Now.”

  For an extra fifty bucks, I had one of the gofers at the dealership deliver Sally’s car to her after I explained on the phone what I was doing.

  “You’re buying a truck as old as the one you wrecked?” Sally said.

  “The one someone tampered with and caused me to wreck.”

  “Oh, don’t remind me, Hera. Are you okay? You sound frazzled.”

  “I’m fine. How’s the baby?”

  “Great. Stop by after you close the deal, and I’ll make us some tea. I just pulled apricot scones out of the oven. Marshall’s showing up any minute.”

  “Uhm, thanks, but I have something I need to do. I’ve been putting off getting a security system installed.”

  “About time. Jake will be so proud of you. He’s been bugging you about that system.”

  I hesitated, not wanting to tell her, but she was my best friend. “Jake’s leaving.”

  After explaining Jake’s appointment to the K-9 school and assuring Sally I was fine with his departure, I said goodbye, promising her I would stop by as soon as I got free of my obligations. From what she said it sounded as if Marshall was becoming as common around her place as bread flour in a bakery. I’d have to arrange to meet her someplace without him tagging along. I couldn’t put off telling her about Marshall’s power of attorney for Claudia much longer. Would she believe me?

  Although it was cold, I rolled down the windows to get the smell of cigarette smoke and other stale air out of the truck. Clearly the dealership hadn’t bothered to spruce up the thing for sale. Crumbs of food littered the seats. Gravel and dirt matted the floor.

  Getting it up the hill out of town felt familiar to me. It was just like my old truck, perhaps a little less responsive to having the accelerator jammed down hard to the floor for a tough climb, but familiar. The good thing was there was no learning curve driving it. I could predict it’s every move or lack of it. Was I stupid for buying the old heap? It could quit on me, and then I’d be out my money, and the salesman said there was no dealership warrantee on this buggy.

  I drove past Ronald and Deni’s place and on down the road to Teddy’s. I’d put off talking to him about the idea for a brewery and winery resort complex because of all that had happened recently, but it was time to tempt him with this project and take his mind off leasing his land to the gas company.

  I couldn’t have picked a worse time to visit. A vehicle with the Atlantic Shale Company logo on its door sat in front of the brewery. I cranked my steering wheel to the left, prepared to make a U-turn out of the driveway, when Teddy and Mr. Clement stepped out of the barn door. Teddy spied my truck and waved. What the hell, I would have to confront Clement someday. In court or here. Did it matter?

  Clement’s scowl at me was as big as Teddy’s smile. Something was up. Teddy was a friendly guy, but today he looked like a bubble machine on New Year’s Eve.

  I stopped my truck and got out. “Perhaps now is not a good time to visit. I had some business to discuss with you, Teddy.” I gave Mr. Clement a terse nod of hello.

  “I was wrapping up with Mr. Clement,” said Teddy.

  “Perhaps we should tell her. What do you think?” Clement had a smug look on his face.

  Teddy nodded his head with as much fervor as a cocker spaniel wagging his tail for a doggie treat.

  Okay, I’ll bite. “Tell me what?”

  “I’ve become one of the partners in Teddy’s brewery.” Smug got smugger.

  I hid my shock.

  “Well, then, I guess congratulations are in order. I assume this move is in honor of Bruce’s studies in culinary arts.”

  Clement looked surprised as if he’d forgotten about his son’s interests.

  “Oh, right. Certainly. And because it’s good business.” He gave me his best full-tooth grin.

  “I assume that’s only part of the deal,” I said.

  The two men looked at one another. Teddy winked at Clement. “See how smart she is. You should put her on your board of directors.”

  “Sometimes I wonder just how smart you are, Teddy. I’m suing her, remember.”

  Teddy’s face flushed.

  “On the Board of Directors at Atlantic Shale. My what an exchange. Or did you have to sign a gas lease to get a board position?” There was enough sarcasm in my voice to make lemons pucker.

  “Of course not,” said Clement, “but we’d like to get you aboard, Teddy. Get it? Aboard?”

  Teddy didn’t smile at Clement’s joke. Teddy may come across as a jolly, chubby troll with limited brains, but that was just an act, one he sometimes got into too deeply, but Teddy didn’t operate the largest brewery in these parts on money alone. He was a creative brewer and a clever businessman. Insulting his intelligence by assuming Teddy wouldn’t get the pun showed Clement’s lack of insight into his new partner as well as disrespect for him.

  “We can talk later.” Teddy’s tone was dismissive. He turned to me. “Business? What business?”

  “It sounds like you’re already pretty busy.”

  “Never too busy for my brewing colleague and friend. Tell me.”

  I briefly described the brewing and winery resort complex Ronald and I were contemplating. Teddy listened without a word. Clement continued standing to one side, ignored by both Teddy and me.

  When I paused to get Teddy’s reaction, Clement spoke before Teddy could. “An obvious ploy to get your money for a venture that sounds very risky.”

  Teddy’s face flushed again, this time with anger. “I like risky ploys. They’re fun, and this one has promise. Let’s get all the brewers together and have a sit down over it.”

  “I don’t like it, Teddy,” said Clement.

  And I didn’t like Clement. I couldn’t keep my tongue under control any longer. “You do realize, don’t you, Mr. Clement, that those proprietary chemicals you’re putting in the water you pump into the earth are toxins? You know, benzene, toluene, gluteraldehyde, a host of other carcinogens and neurotoxins.”

  “All handled in the safest manner possible. There’s no scientific evidence to support the allegation that any of these chemicals end up in an
yone’s drinking water or in the streams.” Clement stepped forward, a small man in height, but his muscular body seemed to give off a pugilistic aura. Would he strike me if I pushed him too far? “You brew beer, Ms. Knightsbridge, an alcoholic substance. It’s dangerous. People get drunk and die from it. People get drunk and get into automobile accidents, kill themselves and others. What about your dangerous chemicals?”

  Teddy stepped between the two of us.

  “You’re the fool here, Clement. You’ve become a partner in a brewery, so I guess you’ll be just as responsible for making deadly drafts as you’ve accused Hera of doing. But don’t forget, buddy,” he tapped Clement on the chest, “you’re a minor partner. I make the decisions here. I can put my brewery’s money where I like, with or without your contribution. If you don’t like it, you can always back out, and I’d appreciate your not badmouthing the brewing enterprise, about which you know little.”

  Clement leveled a look of newfound regard at Teddy, turned and got into his car. He rolled down the window before he pulled out of the parking area. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Ms. Knightsbridge. I’ll see you in court. Then your brewery will belong to me.”

  “Geez, Teddy, you sure you want to do business with him?”

  Teddy smiled at me. “Minimal business, Hera. His title carries fiscal responsibility on his end but little say over operating the business. His money is good, though. Funny how fascinated a gas man can become in brewing beer.”

  I did not find that funny at all. Neither Marshall nor Clement were brewers, so why their sudden interest in the business? I’d find out, regardless of what Jake might think of my snooping.

  Fifteen

  I stayed too long at Teddy’s, inspecting his new fermenting tanks, twice the size of my old seven hundred gallon ones. By the time I left the sun was going down, and I didn’t have the time to stop by Loveland’s Security. Ah, well, I could do it tomorrow. The truck coughed and bucked, but a punch of the accelerator made it surge forward. If I could make it home, I’d have Jeremiah take a look at it. He could fix anything.