by Lesley Diehl
Nineteen
I sat in front of my laptop and wondered where to begin. Did I have enough time before I went to Tony’s for dinner? Maybe I shouldn’t have dinner with him. Jake was out of town, and despite Tony’s attempts to befriend both of us, I worried the vibrations between Tony and me leaned more toward the romantic than the platonic. I was so confused about Jake and me. It would have been better to refuse the dinner invitation and get my head screwed on straight. Then I remembered the woman‘s laughter on the cell with Jake and decided I’d wear something girly tonight. That would show him. Show Jake or Tony? Or me?
My thoughts quickly turned to Marshall. What bothered me most about him was that no one had thought to ask him what he did for a living. Surely Jake had looked into his background despite his reluctance to believe Megan’s story about him. I knew how Jake’s mind worked. Marshall was a loose end he would have tied up if he had the time before he left. I could ask Jake. I reached for my cell, then stopped. I decided to use a source less fraught with problems—the Internet.
I took a shortcut and went directly to Facebook, where Marshall’s page revealed more than I expected. He was friends with a surprising number of people, some I thought I knew. If I was correct about my suspicions, Marshall was often in touch with Senator Loftus, who posted as “Lofty.” That didn’t make sense until I Googled Marshall’s name and found he had worked in the senator’s office until last month, just before he showed up here.
Another person who posted on his Facebook page was even more of a surprise: Rosemary Clement, Megan’s and Bruce’s mother. In response to Marshall’s post about finding his father (I assumed he meant claiming a section of the Ramford estate.), Mrs. Clement encouraged his search, saying “a person can’t have too much family.” Perhaps other members of the Clement family knew Marshall, too, like Megan. Was Jake right about her? Was she lying or keeping something from us, from me?
A quick glance at my watch told me I’d better get dressed for my whatever-it-was with Tony, but my fingers had a mind of their own as they typed in the yellow pages for Woodstock. So I would be a little late. Before the listings for nurseries appeared, my cell rang.
“Hi. It’s Sally. I thought I’d let you know we’re all supposed to appear for our DNA tests tomorrow at the sheriff’s department.”
“What time?”
“Nine in the morning.”
“That works for me. Jeremiah will be here by then. How’s Michaela?”
“Eating. Growing. “
I heard the baby’s cry in the background.
“Could you see what’s up with her? She’s been fussy all day.” Sally’s voice came over the phone, but it was muted as if she turned away to address someone there with her.
“Your mother helping you out?”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “Uh, no. Marshall’s here.”
“Well, I guess we’ll all get together tomorrow then.” I tried to keep the freeze out of my voice.
“I know you don’t like Marshall, but he really is a wonderful person.”
I said nothing. Neither did she. I was about to hang up when Sally spoke. “Have you heard anything about Megan and Sara?”
“Nothing.”
“I’ll bet you wish Jake was here right now, right?”
“Sure.” There was no conviction in my voice.
“Is something wrong between you and Jake?”
“Listen, I’ve got to run. I’m going out for dinner, and I’ve got to grab a shower.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you.” Sally sounded hurt.
“You aren’t. I’ll see you tomorrow. Give Michaela a kiss from me.”
~
“The chicken is wonderful. Thanks for not making me eat the other, you know, the rabbit.”
“My pleasure.” Tony lifted his beer glass in a toast. “Here’s to your teaching me more about pairing beer with food.”
“You should ask your chef about that. Risley’s the one with the expertise. I just drink what I think goes well. It’s not unlike food and wine. A light dish such as fish and chicken calls for a lager that’s not so hoppy it overwhelms the delicacy of the dish. Or this ale from Rafe’s is soft and sweet enough to blend well with your tomato-based sauce. The fun of pairing is that you get to explore. Well, that’s what I think. From what Risley said at the pairings event at my place, he wouldn’t necessarily agree. He thinks the guidelines for pairing food and beer are more like rules.” I grimaced at the thought of Risley and what I considered his obnoxious and overbearing personality. Mr. Know-It-All.
“Let’s get him out here and see what he says.” Tony grinned.
“Let’s not spoil the evening.” I sipped my ale and moved my tongue across my lips in pleasure.
Tony laughed. “I was only kidding. I know you can hardly tolerate the man, but he is a hell of a cook.”
“Really? Well, so are you. You don’t need him here. You could send him packing back to his former job in some nursery. You hired him. You must have read his résumé.”
Tony set down his glass and looked at me in surprise. “Why are you so curious about him?”
“If he worked in a nursery he probably knows all about plants, poisonous ones, too.”
“You think he killed Bruce? I told you, he was here being interviewed by me.”
“He could have sneaked back to the barn.”
Tony leaned back in his chair. “You are one nosey lady.”
“It’s not about me. It’s about murder.”
Tony pondered this for a moment, long enough for me to be more direct. “So what did he do at the nursery?”
“I have no idea. It wasn’t on his résumé. The only job listed was his position as chef at The Wood Bull Grill.”
I slumped in my chair. “Damn.”
“You didn’t accept my dinner invitation just to pick my brain about Risley, did you?” He sounded angry and a little hurt.
“No, of course not.” Well, maybe I did.
“And wear that slinky dress to make me open up?”
“I wore the dress because it makes me feel good.” I paused. “I thought you might like it.” That was the truth.
“I do like it. Where’s Jake in this picture?”
“He’s down south, getting paired up with a dog, you know that.” I hoped she was a dog.
He reached across the table and took my hand. “I’m crazy about you. I think you know that, but until you sort out your love life, I’m going to keep my distance.”
I looked down at my hand in his. “This is distant?”
He laughed and took his other hand and gave mine a pat. “I’d invite you for an after dinner brandy, but that would blow everything I just said. You couldn’t drive home, and I couldn’t drive you home. You’d have to stay here at my place.”
“Or,” said a voice, “both of you could have the brandy, and I could drive her home.”
Rafe stood over our table, smiling his suave smile.
“Rafe. Eavesdropping?” I hoped my playful jab would be met with a chuckle, but it was not.
“No, my dear. I was just passing by on my way from the bar after my quick nightcap and saw both of you.”
I felt as if my father had caught me petting with my high school boyfriend on the living room sofa. I quickly withdrew my hand. “I was just leaving.” I glanced over at Tony. He looked as if he was amused by something.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said.
“I’ll accompany you.” Rafe gestured toward the door.
Out in the parking lot, I got into my truck and rolled down the window. “Thanks for the dinner.”
Tony smiled, waved and headed back into the restaurant. Rafe didn’t move.
“I think you were spying on me, Rafe. I don’t need a father. I’m old enough to take care of myself.” I tried to make my tone light, but Rafe’s serious manner earlier and now irritated me. He was trying to play daddy while Jake was away.
“I’m not your father. Far from it. I know yo
u and Jake are having difficulties now. I don’t wish to intrude, but I worry when you seem to be taken in by someone who cooks for you. Not that he isn’t a fine cook, but I’ve known you for years. I can wait years longer if I have to. I can be a friend. Or more.” He took the hand I rested on the door and kissed it, then turned into the darkness, pulling his topcoat around him as the wind gusted down the valley and through the parking area. I looked up at the clouds racing each other in the night sky. Uh oh. We were in for a bad storm.
I had to put Rafe’s words behind me as I drove home. The winds rocked the truck from side to side as I gripped the wheel to keep the old buggy on the road. As I neared my drive, sleet hit the windshield. I was glad to be home and not out in the storm. My thoughts turned to Megan and Sara. I couldn’t imagine they’d holed up in the old hop barn in this weather, but I had Jeremiah check it in case. The girls weren’t there. I prayed they were safe and snug, safe from Father and with someone who cared about them. I couldn’t imagine who that could be. Rosemary Clement’s words to Marshall about family came back to me, and I wondered how independent of her husband she was.
I ran from the truck to the house, again ruing my vanity at dressing for a man, whether I liked him or not. I looked in the hall mirror. My dress clung to my legs and my hair fell over my face in wet clumps. Not so sexy now, are ya, girl?
I rushed upstairs to get out of my wet clothes and wrapped myself in my dad’s ratty old plaid robe, my comfort clothes. Lightning struck in the far pasture, and the thunder rattled the house. This weather was so strange, more like the storms we got in the spring, not late fall. I didn’t want to resume my Internet research because of the storm, but I thought I’d chance a phone call on my cell. I glanced at my watch. It was still early, barely nine. I wouldn’t be waking anybody.
Luck was with me. She answered on the third ring. I identified myself. “Please don’t hang up, Mrs. Clement. I’m worried about Megan and her friend Sara. You don’t have to say anything other than to reassure me you know where they are and that they’re safe.”
There was a pause at the other end of the line, and I thought for a minute I’d lost the connection.
“My husband and our lawyer told me not to talk to you.”
“I know, but everyone is concerned about them. We think Father and his group may have taken them. Doesn’t that worry you?”
She lowered her voice. “Of course I’m worried about that man and his band of fanatics.”
I heard someone in the background.
“I’ll stop by your brewery early tomorrow morning. Be there.”
The line went dead.
Twenty
I had just gotten out of bed and barely had time to check the barn when Mrs. Clement’s Mercedes came up the drive. I offered coffee, but she refused both it and a seat in my kitchen.
“I don’t like you much, Ms. Knightsbridge, but Megan does. She told me you can be trusted, but my husband and Marshall … well, I hope I’m not making a mistake ignoring their advice.”
“What does this have to do with Marshall?” By the look of surprise on her face, I shouldn’t have blurted out my concerns about him. It wasn’t the point of this conversation.
“I mean, I know you and he are friends, but the point is, I’m worried about Megan and Sara. I know you are, too. The authorities can’t find Father, and we’re all thinking he left the area and took them with him.”
The look of anxiety on her face was replaced by something close to distaste.
“Friend? Marshall, a friend? Now that’s a good one.”
“But you said on Facebook …”
She emitted a bitter, sharp laugh.
“Marshall’s mother is my husband’s sister. I only posted the thing about family hoping that if he found his father, he and his mother would stop bothering my husband and me. It’s always money, you know.”
“I thought her husband had money.”
“Oh, he did, but she managed to lose it at the casinos up north and in Connecticut. I’ll tell you the truth. I do feel a bit sorry for the boy, and I hope she’s been honest with him, at least. About Ramford being his father, I mean.”
I grabbed the chair behind me to steady myself. This was too much. Marshall was related to the Clements, and he worked for Senator Loftus. In what capacity? I didn’t want to believe Mr. Clement would have someone kill his son, but what about Loftus, whom Bruce had threatened with blackmail? Perhaps Marshall just got carried away and killed Bruce accidentally? Silly thought. How did one accidentally kill someone with a poisonous chicken skewer?
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Clement. I didn’t mean to get off track with a discussion about Marshall, but we don’t know much about him around here, and he has come forth claiming part of the Ramford estate. It’s been a shock, you know.”
“I’ll bet it has, although I understand Ramford Senior was quite the ladies’ man.”
“Do you think he was Marshall’s father?”
“That would be nice. For us, I mean. We’d be off the hook.” She dropped her purse on the floor and sank into a kitchen chair. She was like a balloon deflating. “Maybe I could use that cup of coffee.”
Her fingers curled around the cup so tightly, I worried she might crush it. “I apologize for my attitude, but it’s been difficult losing my son and before that, my daughter.” A tiny smile crossed her features for a moment, then disappeared. “I wish I could make it up to them, our lack of understanding, I mean. They must have needed something we never gave them, so they fled to that horrible group. Now I have a second chance.”
I knew. “Megan’s with you.”
“Yes, she is. With her friend Sara.”
“You’re breaking the law keeping Sara from social services.”
“I know, but where else would they be safe?”
I thought about her question for a moment. “If I figured out where to find them, others will also.”
“My husband was all for throwing them out, but I told him if he did, I would go, too.”
“Why did you come here this morning if you think I’m your enemy?”
“Megan trusts you, and she wanted to get a message to you and to this Jeremiah person. She wanted you to know she was safe, and she’d be in touch. At first she didn’t want me to come here, because she’s convinced it would jeopardize Sara’s life. Megan thinks Father has spies everywhere, watching for her.”
Megan was probably right. It was all too similar to being a battered wife whose husband relentlessly pursued her.
“I told her it was better that she sever all ties with this community, that we could find a way to hide her and her friend, keep her safe until Father and his group were prosecuted or the law dealt with them in some way.”
“They won’t be if Sara doesn’t testify when the hearing comes up. Please, Mrs. Clement. Sara’s only hope for a normal life is to get this man put away. Don’t deny her that, even though you might have the contacts and the money to make her disappear.”
She got up slowly from the table as if the past few minutes had aged her a decade. “Well, if it’s any consolation to you, Megan agrees. She also seems to be hung up on this young man Jeremiah, whom she insists she’s marrying. I hope he can offer her as much protection as we can.”
I laid my hand on her shoulder. She didn’t move away. She leaned into the touch as if looking for some comfort. “You’re her mother. Of course you want to protect her, but she’s now a grown woman, and you’ll have to abide by her decisions and support them.”
She looked into my eyes for a moment, then squared her shoulders, shaking off my hand. “I still don’t like you, but I love my daughter, despite her odd ways. If she trusted you enough to seek refuge here, then that’s good enough for me. Megan will be in touch. Until then, please keep Sara’s and her location your secret. My husband doesn’t know I’m here. I don’t want him to. That’s something else I’m asking you to keep to yourself.”
I nodded, then watched her from the kitchen doorway as she wa
lked to her car, her head bent, shoulders slumped as if the pain of going forward was too much for her to bear.
Shortly thereafter, I cranked the old truck up to its top speed in order not to be late for the DNA session. It was difficult to focus on my driving because of all I’d learned about Marshall and Megan. I gave myself a little lecture against going into the office like gangbusters and accusing Marshall of murder. I was almost certain Mr. Clement didn’t have his own son killed, yet it wasn’t such a stretch to assume Marshall found it advantageous to get a blackmailer out of the way and also remove one of the heirs to the Clement fortune. Did that mean Megan might also be in danger? I hadn’t thought of that until now. I pulled over and called the Clement residence.
“Megan?” It was Mrs. Clement.
“No, it’s Hera.”
“Oh, good. She’s with you?” Relief joined the anguish in her voice.
“No. What happened?”
I could hear her stifle a sob. “She and Sara left in a hurry, just ran out of the house about fifteen minutes ago, right after Marshall came by. Why is she so terrified of him? They had never met until this morning when Marshall stopped by for coffee.”
“She thinks he killed her brother, and she may be right.”
I heard a man’s voice in the background.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Wait! Find Megan. Marshall may be after her.” My words didn’t matter. The line had gone dead.
I pulled back onto the road and checked my watch. It was after nine. I pulled up in front of the sheriff’s department and ran into the building. The officer at the desk directed me to a room where everyone was waiting, everyone except Marshall.
I hugged Sally and baby Michaela asleep in her arms, then nodded to Cliff, Sally’s lawyer John, and a technician who sat prepared to take our samples. I wasn’t too out of breath to ask, “Where’s Marshall?”
“He won’t be coming.” Sally’s voice sounded odd, flat.