RIPE FOR VENGEANCE

by Wendy Tyson

  “They don’t,” Denver said.

  “Right. But what if you wanted to show the financial strength of your company?”

  “Then making a long-term promise could underscore your company’s confidence in its own future.” Denver’s eyes narrowed. “Where are ye going with this, Megs?”

  “Martine told me that the company relies on investors—current and future—to keep the lights on until the FDA approves its drugs. I’m saying this whole thing was a ploy to lull investors into thinking the company is in great financial shape.”

  “Meanwhile, it’s an empty promise because the kids who go there don’t need scholarships.” Bibi frowned. “Seems like a lot of trouble.”

  “Not if you’re also a founder of the school. Now you get to make your company look good and do something for the school you help to finance. A PR win-win.”

  Denver and Bibi were silent. The sun had come out, bathing the kitchen in a golden glow. From outside, Megan could hear the din of the tractor. Soon the construction crew would be back out, working on the Marshall place barn. I need to stop thinking of it as the old Marshall place, Megan thought. It’s ours now.

  “I’m following ye, Megs, but I still come back to so what? What does this all mean in the context of Chase’s death?”

  “Everyone is focused on Dillon, but what if someone had a motive to kill Chase? And what better motive than financial gain.”

  Denver shook his head. “Still too many unconnected dots. Sorry.”

  Megan took a deep breath. Both Denver and Bibi looked confused but intrigued. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. What if the company is doing poorly? What if investors are unhappy and Harriet is trying desperately to raise funds. What if Chase was part of that—and someone gains if the company goes under?”

  Denver sat back. “Like a competitor?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Bibi said, “Or what if the company is on the brink of something big?”

  Denver asked, “What do ye mean, Bonnie?”

  “What if Harriet is trying to raise funds not because the company is doing poorly, but because they have a great idea they’re trying to bring to fruition?”

  “Martine did say ‘products,’ not ‘product,’” Megan said.

  Bibi sat forward, excited. “Someone could have wanted Chase out of the way so they could either get credit or financial gain from whatever this new product is.”

  “One way or another, we need more information on BOLD,” Denver said. He still didn’t sound convinced.

  “I asked Lou, our accountant, to do some digging. It’s a private company, so there isn’t a lot online. I’ll poke around, see if this PR stunt is part of a pattern.”

  “What did you find out yesterday?” Bibi asked Denver. “When you stopped by the inn?”

  “I didn’t get over there.”

  “Why ever not?” Bibi scolded.

  “As I told Megan, the animals were crazed during the storm. I had appointments steadily from early afternoon on.”

  Megan knew he was busy. She also knew he felt awkward questioning his friends.

  “Do you want me to talk to them?” Megan asked. “We can even go together, and I can ask questions.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll go today.”

  “It might be easier this way. Lawyer background and all.”

  “True. You lawyers can be bulldogs.” Denver looked relieved. “Would you?”

  “Of course.”

  Denver pulled his cell from his pocket. “Let me text Jatin and tell him we’re coming. From what Barbara told me yesterday, he leaves most days. She thinks he’s having a hard time and is trying to avoid Harriet.” He punched in a message.

  Bibi began clearing the table. “It seems like we have two options: a personal vendetta against Chase. Or a business reason. And that could be any of them.”

  “Or Dillon,” Denver said. To Megan, “Jatin can meet us at the Bucks County Inn at two. Will that work?”

  “It will.”

  “What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  “I have farm chores. I need to get ready for the farmers market. Clay can’t go, so it will just be Porter and me. I may also make some calls to see what I can find out about BOLD.”

  “Focus there, Megan.” Bibi pursed her mouth in the stubborn set Megan knew so well. “We have two options. Personal vendetta by an adult, or pure business greed.”

  It was after eleven when the construction crew manager, a stocky blond in his thirties, found Megan in the barn, washing and sorting vegetables.

  “Have a few minutes? I’d like to show you something.”

  “Sure. Give me five.”

  Megan finished washing the rainbow Swiss chard. She’d set it aside to dry before packaging it into bundles. Reluctantly, she washed her hands and headed down to the adjoining property to meet with the construction foreman.

  “We got some of the preliminary reports back from the structural engineer,” the foreman said. “Doesn’t look good.”

  Megan followed the foreman into the old house and down to the basement. The layout was a simple center hall with a dining room and kitchen on one side and a living room on the other. Upstairs were four bedrooms and two baths. In its glory, the house boasted deep sills and high ceilings—it was younger than its neighbor, which housed the farm. Now it was a mess of water damaged walls and scarred wood floors.

  The foreman led Megan deeper into the basement. She ducked to get under the entryway without getting her hair caught in a series of cobwebs. The basement had been emptied of the years’ worth of detritus it had contained when she bought the property. The clutter had hidden plenty of flaws, including a nasty black mold in one corner and a series of cracks in the foundation.

  “Obviously you need mold remediation,” he said. “But it looks like the house may need to be raised and the foundation fixed.”

  Megan listened to his technical explanations of what that would entail. Suddenly the money they’d set aside for the new barn—the teaching kitchen and classrooms—was shrinking by the second.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Do you want us to continue with the barn?”

  The work on the house had to be completed before they could open the bed and breakfast, but the barn could operate independently. That said, she only had enough money to complete one of these projects this year.

  “Keep going for now,” she said finally. The smell in the basement was getting to her and her head was starting to throb. Next time, she’d wear a mask. “I’ll have to think this over.”

  “You could tackle the house next spring,” the foreman said. “That will give you time to save.” He patted a concrete wall. “This baby has been standing for more than a century. I don’t think a year will make a difference.”

  Megan was still thinking about the new property and the foreman’s news while she got ready to meet Denver. What had she been thinking? A new storefront and café had been hard enough to pull off. The farm and café were finally in the black and now she was going to create another money pit? But she’d gone this far…and she’d promised her father last year when he sent her that money. Plus, Mick would have told her to have faith.

  Although, if Mick were still alive, she’d probably be back in Chicago, working long hours at the law firm and living in a modern condo downtown. Life had a funny way of diverting you from your original path.

  Bibi still wasn’t back from her trip to the school with Eloise, so Megan scribbled her a note. She traded her overalls for a knee-length black pencil skirt, a patterned blouse she’d found at a thrift shop in SoHo, and strappy black sandals. A touch of lipstick and mascara and she was ready to go.

  She opened the porch door to leave and was greeted by Bobby King. He stood with his arm raised, ready to knock. A young female officer stood beside her. She carried a camera.<
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  “Bobby,” Megan said, closing the door. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I’m sorry to just swing by. Clover told me you were still here, and I figured I’d take a chance.”

  “What’s up? Did something happen?”

  “No, no, Megan. I just need to take a few photos of Camilla.”

  It took Megan a moment to realize he was talking about the pig. “Why?”

  “We’re still trying to find out who rented that storage unit. Camilla is evidence.”

  “You’re not taking her, are you?”

  “Just a few pictures, that’s all.”

  “Any leads on who Saul Bones might be?” Megan asked.

  King shook his head. “Afraid not.”

  Megan sent Denver a text to say she’d be a few minutes late, and she led King and the officer up to the barn. While the officer was shooting Camilla’s good side, Megan asked King why he’d come.

  “Seems overkill to send you out for a photo shoot,” Megan said.

  “I wanted an excuse to get out here. Anyway, the state folks are doing most of the murder investigation now. They’re pulling rank.”

  Megan didn’t like the sound of that. “Are they still focused on Dillon?”

  “They’re doing their jobs, but he’s the most prominent suspect.”

  When Megan didn’t say anything, Bobby whispered, “I found out the press lady—Martine— and Chase were having an affair.”

  Megan’s eyes widened. “Recently?”

  “As in, they slept together the night before he died.”

  Megan looked up at him in surprise. “Really? Who told you that?”

  “She did.”

  Megan’s frown deepened. During all of their conversations, Martine never mentioned an affair with Chase. “Denver says she lies.”

  “Well, I only have her word since her sparring partner has met his maker. She says Chase and Jatin fought, Chase came to her all upset, and they had sex.”

  “Funny she never told me that.”

  King gave her a quizzical look. “Why would she have?”

  “Because I’ve had four talks with her now and she failed to mention her relationship each time.” Megan filled King in on the photos she discovered—Chase and Martine as groupies twenty years ago. “She never mentioned that either.”

  “Hmm. I take it you think that means something?”

  King’s officer had returned. “Cute pig,” she said. “I think she was posing.”

  Megan smiled. “We’ve all become attached. Maybe too attached, given that she’s not ours yet.”

  King’s face said he was still thinking about Martine. “Lying to the police is serious business.”

  Megan held up her purse. “I have to leave, Bobby, but I will say this before I go. Martine should stay on the ‘maybe’ list. In fact, I’d move her up to the ‘highly possible’ category. She lied about Denver years ago, and that pattern hasn’t seemed to have changed. She doesn’t seem to do well with the other women in the group, and she seems to obsess about men. I may be drawing too many conclusions from too few data points, but that’s all I have. Martine and the truth are not friends.” Megan clutched her bag to her side. “She may very well be the key to the mystery of who killed Chase Mars.”

  “If not the killer?”

  “Don’t let a pretty face fool you.”

  Twenty-Three

  Megan found Denver and Jatin sitting outside in the courtyard under a teak umbrella table. Jatin was sitting in the shade, his legs stretched out before him, a glass of something amber-colored in his hand. He wore khaki shorts and a pink Polo shirt tucked in. His hair was neatly combed, but he’d grown a beard in the days since Megan had last seen him. The beard accentuated his eyes, and Megan noticed he had deep amber eyes and long, dark lashes. Those eyes were his best feature.

  Denver was still in his work clothes: jeans and a t-shirt. He smiled when he saw Megan and pointed to the other seat under the umbrella. He’d taken the sunny spot and sweat was running down his face.

  “Jatin thought we’d have more privacy out here.”

  “You’re going to give yourself heatstroke.” She kissed Denver, shook Jatin’s hand, and sat down. “Good to see you again, Jatin.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Jatin was just filling me in on the investigation.”

  Jatin placed his empty glass on the table. “I was saying that it should be wrapped up soon. Hopefully we can leave in the next day or so.”

  Megan glanced at Denver. “They’re ready to make an arrest?”

  “From what I understand.” Jatin pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pants’ pocket. “Want one?” he asked Megan. “Nasty habit. I thought I’d given it up, but it seems my mind had other ideas.”

  When no one wanted one, Jatin lit the cigarette and took a deep inhalation. He watched as the smoke left his mouth. “I will only have one. I promise.” He glanced around. “Harriet is out, or I wouldn’t have this one.” He waved the cigarette with slender fingers. The fingers of his left hand. “Between her and the innkeeper, I’m lucky I’m allowed to talk. It’s like a damn mausoleum in here.”

  Megan asked, “Have the police been questioning you?”

  “Again and again and again. I tell them the same story every time. Yes, I was in the camping area. No, I didn’t see Chase leave. No, I wasn’t with anyone. Yes, I arrived late, but that doesn’t make me a murderer.”

  “Where were you?” Denver asked.

  “Looking for a spot for our tent.”

  “Alone?” Megan asked.

  “Yes, alone. The kid was off doing something, and I was looking for a spot for the tent.”

  Denver said, “If you were late, who knew you’d arrived?”

  Jatin pushed himself away from the table. He walked to the garden and stubbed the cigarette out in the dirt. “Are you the police now too?”

  Denver’s voice was quiet. “I’m your friend. And we’re trying to help.”

  Jatin took a moment to respond. “Chase knew I was there.” He sat back down, hand now clenched by his side. “I was late. I ran the length of the hike until I caught up and saw Chase. I explained what had happened. We spent a few minutes talking and admiring the view. He told me I had to find a spot to camp.” Jatin looked toward the inn. “That was the last time I spoke to him.”

  “Were you fighting with one another?” Megan asked.

  “No. Why do you ask that?”

  “Someone said they heard you the night before, arguing,” Denver said.

  “Would that someone be Martine?” Jatin scowled. “You of all people should know she’s full of shit most of the time. Chase and I bickered, but only because he was drunk. You don’t get drunk the night before you’re dealing with kids.”

  Megan agreed. Despite his neat appearance, Jatin was clearly on edge. She decided to take a different tact. “You must be anxious to return to work. Have you been able to do much here?”

  “Spotty internet, nosy colleagues, and constant police attention seem to have disrupted my flow.”

  “You’re welcome at the farm anytime.” Megan smiled. “You can set up in one of the spare rooms if you need to get away.”

  The offer seemed to have disarmed Jatin. He unclenched his hand and nodded. “That’s extremely kind. Thank you.”

  “I told you before, Jatin. You can stay with me too. I have a spare room.”

  “Thank you. Thank you, both.” The innkeeper had opened the door to the courtyard and was walking toward them. He glanced at her and said. “She is attentive. That’s been nice.”

  “Would any of you like a drink?” The innkeeper glanced at Denver sweating in the sun. Alarmed, she said, “Oh, my, Dr. Finn. It’s hot out here. Why don’t you come inside where it’s air conditioned?”

  “I’m fine.” Denver thanke
d her for the offer.

  “He’s a vet,” Jatin said. “He’s used to being outside.”

  “Nevertheless! Let me get you a nice cold beverage. For you too, dear.” She looked at Megan. “Megan, right? From the café in Winsome.”

  The older woman went back inside, and Jatin took the opportunity to smoke another cigarette. “I need to stay here,” he said. “But I do need to work.”

  “How has business been?” Denver asked casually.

  “Despite all of this, fine. Lots of interest in our drug. It’s quite unique. Once the FDA approves it, we’ll be off and running.”

  “And until then?”

  “We keep scraping by.” He gave his first real grin. “But that’s the fun of this job. We know we have a great product. Every day is a challenge trying to get it to market.”

  Megan asked, “And what if the FDA doesn’t approve it?”

  Jatin nodded. “That’s a real risk. I see no reason why the FDA wouldn’t approve it. Then bam! No more issues getting investors.”

  “Do you have issues now?” Megan asked. “Based on the mentoring outing BOLD sponsored, I’d think the company was doing quite well.”

  Jatin met her gaze. “Let’s be clear. There is never enough money.”

  “Xavier brings in the new investors?” Megan asked.

  Jatin nodded. “We work together with a few other people. We have an in-house attorney, a bunch of external counsel, and a few MBA types. But Xavier leads the way with new money.”

  He turned toward Denver. “Had you not gone into animal medicine, you could have joined us. Used your science background to cure disease. Better hours, more perks.”

  Denver smirked. “Is that so? Seems like you’re all doing just fine, but I don’t think the Rockefellers have anything to worry about just yet.”

  Jatin pointed the cigarette at Denver with his left hand. “Just you wait until the FDA approvals come in. That’s when it will all change.”

  Denver said, “You’ll go public?”

  Jatin shrugged. “Go public. Get bought out by Merck or Johnson & Johnson or one of the other biggies. Doesn’t matter. I win either way.”