RIPE FOR VENGEANCE

by Wendy Tyson

  “No one he told me about. I know he was interested in seeing someone while he was in Pennsylvania. I told the police that.”

  Denver looked uncomfortable when he said, “Was her name Martine?”

  “His coworker?” Diana paused. “He didn’t mention her. Why?”

  “She claims they were seeing one another.”

  “They knew each other back in the day when Chase had stars in his eyes and empty pockets. I guess it’s possible something kindled between them, but I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  “He never really liked her in that way. Even back then he said she was a bit mental, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, I think I do.” Denver moved the phone to his other hand. “Too well.”

  There was a pause. “You know, Chase was a leader in his own way. He attracted followers. I know he could be insensitive and obnoxious, but he had a good side. Martine was one of those people who was attracted to his spark. I really don’t think he reciprocated.”

  “Do ye remember who he was going to see while he was here, Diana?”

  “I only remember a first name, and only because he mentioned it in passing before he left. I don’t think he meant to, and he caught himself right off. Said he could kill two birds with one stone and visit Moira while he was there.”

  “Moira?” Denver’s eyes asked Megan if the name seemed familiar. She shook her head no. “I don’t know a Moira.”

  “Nor do I, which is why I figure it’s a new fling. Maybe someone he met online?” Diana laughed. “The beauty of being exes and friends was that I didn’t have to be bothered by his extracurriculars anymore.”

  “Extracurricular” seemed such a sterilized word for something as hurtful as cheating. Denver seemed to think the same thing because he said, “Chase hurt you, Diana.”

  Diana sighed into the phone. “I know, Daniel. I wanted him to be faithful to the vision of who we were. Diana and Charles, artist and scientist, together forever. He wasn’t wired that way. Wanted the next young, attractive adventure.” Diana’s voice became softer. “And how are you, Denver? Chase told me you have a new love in your life.”

  Denver glanced at Megan. “Aye, I do. She’s pretty remarkable.”

  “A lawyer-turned-farmer. Well, with everything you went through with that bloody wench Lilian, I hope you find happiness. You deserve it.”

  “Thanks, Diana. If ye think of anything else, call me. Like Moira’s last name. That would be a help.”

  “Right after I call the police, I’ll ring you. But he never mentioned a last name, so unless I trip over it somehow, I’m afraid that won’t happen.”

  Denver hung up, and Megan started the truck. “What did you make of that?” she asked him.

  “We have a name, at least. Moira.”

  Megan said, “And it seems unlikely Martine was sleeping with Chase.”

  Denver didn’t respond right away. When he did, she heard the bitterness back in his voice. “Why say it if it wasn’t true? Because you want to mislead the police?”

  Megan had another idea. “Maybe she was in love with Chase. Maybe she’d been in love with him for a while.”

  “So she just made things up?”

  Megan turned onto Fledgling Avenue. She remembered what Martine had said about a girl living on dreams. “She built a fantasy world, like she did back when she called herself your girlfriend to Lilian. She wished it to be true.” Megan glanced at Denver. “We all create fantasies in our head, Denver. Most of us know what’s real and what’s not. Perhaps Martine prefers her fantasies to the pain of real life.”

  Twenty-Seven

  It was between the lunch and dinner, so the crowd at the café was thin. Clover was handling a few orders at the register in the store portion of the business, and Alvaro and Emily were in the kitchen. Clay and Emily had postponed their trip over worries about Bibi, and Megan was thankful for the extra help. Sunday afternoons were often Bibi’s favorite time to cook. She liked to see the townspeople after church services, and though she’d never admit it, she enjoyed hearing the local gossip. Her absence was felt, and Alvaro immediately gave Megan an uncharacteristic arm squeeze.

  “Sit. I have something for you to try.”

  Megan and Denver took a seat at the counter. The only other patron in the café was a thirty-ish woman on her laptop. She was sipping a coffee, a half-eaten slice of strawberry rhubarb pie in front of her.

  “Don’t try to take that pie,” Emily said. “She griped at me twice.”

  Megan smiled. “How’s Grace?” Grace was Emily’s toddler, and another of Bibi’s favorite people.

  “She’s great. I was going to bring her to see your grandmother. Think that’s okay?”

  “I think Bonnie will love seeing Grace but will scold you for bringing a child to a hospital,” Denver said. “Germs and all. I’d wait until she’s home.”

  Megan agreed. “And then I’d plan to stay the whole day, because she will not want that child to leave.”

  Alvaro returned with two steaming plates of food and a small bowl of honey. Megan saw tamales and rice and pinto beans and a small salad, plus a warm sopapilla. The food looked and smelled heavenly.

  “Mexican comfort food. I know this is a hard time. I know you’re upset…well, you eat. There’s a surprise in there.”

  Alvaro returned to the kitchen and Megan raised her eyebrows at Emily. “I think that was almost a proclamation of love.”

  “Best you’re going to get. He’s been snapping at me all day because I don’t chop like Bonnie or grate like Bonnie or roll dough like Bonnie. Clearly he misses your grandmother.” Her eyes darkened. “How is she?”

  “She’s better, thank you.” Megan willed herself to convey something other than the dread she was feeling. “I have a feeling she’ll be home by Tuesday. Maybe earlier if she continues to drive the staff crazy.”

  Emily smiled. “Enjoy your meal.”

  “When you’re done with that customer,” Megan nodded her head toward the pie lady, “Can we talk to you? We have a few questions about the day Bibi got sick.”

  “Of course, but I thought she’d had a mini-stroke. At least that’s what the folks around here are saying. Was it something else?”

  Megan and Denver exchanged a glance. “You’ll have to trust us on this one,” Megan said. “Just a few questions.”

  With a knife and fork, Megan moved the corn husks surrounding the tamale and cut into the dish’s soft center. She took a bite. Immediately, she tasted the creamy sweetness of corn, the bite of poblano peppers, and the earthiness of zucchini.

  Megan smiled, her first real smile of the day. “Alvaro made vegan tamales. I challenged him to do it, and he did it. And they are phenomenal.”

  Denver was dipping his sopapilla into the honey. “These are amazing too.”

  When Alvaro returned, Megan complimented the chef. “I have a plate of food for Bonnie,” he said, ignoring the praise. “Tell her Emily is even worse in the kitchen than she is. I would welcome her so-so skills back here anytime.”

  Denver laughed. “We’ll tell her.”

  “Alvaro, the day Bibi got sick, she was here twice, in the morning to meet Eloise Kent and in the afternoon when they stayed for a late lunch. Do you remember?”

  Alvaro nodded. “It was a crowded day. All those people from that company. Tourists. And the Winsome people who never cook for themselves.”

  “Do you recall seeing anything out of the ordinary? Anyone who made you suspicious?”

  “Besides Merry Chance and her constant need for eggs? She must have the highest cholesterol in all of the world.” He shook his head. “Just crowded that day, that’s all I remember.”

  When Emily returned, they asked her the same question. “I waited on Bonnie and Dr. Kent. Bonnie ordered soup, and Dr. Kent had the salad special. The boy, he asked
for a plain sandwich, and Alvaro made him grilled cheese. I remember that. It was a normal day, nothing weird or out of the ordinary. My tips were good that day, better than usual.”

  “Who was here from BOLD?” Denver asked. “Do you remember?”

  Emily gave an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know them by name, so I couldn’t say.”

  “What if I showed you their pictures? Would that help?”

  “Maybe.”

  Denver pulled out his phone and started sorting through photographs. He showed Emily a photo from dinner the night before the hike began, when Megan first met his college friends. Clover had joined them by now, and she looked over Denver’s shoulder at the photo.

  “That person was here for lunch.” Emily pointed to Xavier. “He was sitting with her,” she pointed to Barbara, “and her.” She pointed to Martine. “I remember because the skinny one left before lunch was finished.”

  Denver glanced up at her. “You mean Martine?”

  “Yes. They seemed to be in deep discussion much of the lunch. She had spreadsheets and files out on the table. The man was pointing and doing most of the talking. Every once in a while, I’d hear his voice above the fray.”

  “Did they interact with Bibi or her table at all?”

  “I saw them throw a few nasty glances toward Dillon. But to be honest, they all were.”

  “When you say ‘they,’ who do you mean?”

  “All of them, I guess. Especially the woman.”

  “Her?” he pointed to Martine.

  “The other one.”

  “Barbara.” Denver glanced at Megan. “Makes sense. She was not only Chase’s friend but his boss.” To Emily, he said, “What about the man, Xavier? Did he seem bothered by Dillon?”

  “Not that I witnessed.”

  It was Clover who spoke up: “I heard him say some pretty harsh things. He asked why the kid was still free and suggested that he be in a mental hospital for life.”

  “But again,” Emily said, “it seemed liked everyone was reacting to Dillon’s presence. Most were just less overt about it.”

  “How about the morning shift? Bibi got there before ten to meet Eloise and Dillon. Did you see her with anyone then?”

  “I wasn’t here,” Emily said.

  “I was, but I don’t remember seeing Bibi with anyone.” Clover leaned closer to the photo.

  “Did you see this man there earlier in the day?” Denver pointed to Jatin.

  Jatin’s face was obscured by the table center piece. “I can’t really see his features,” Clover said. “I remember seeing her.” She pointed to Martine. “And her.” She pointed to Barbara.

  “Let me see if I can find a better picture.” Denver flipped through photos on his phone. He paused at one point, flipped forward and backward. “Hmm,” he said. “Look at this, Megs.”

  Megan took the phone from him. On the screen was a shot of Chase. He was standing by the pond at Lyle State Park. He wore khaki cargo shorts and a red “STAFF” t-shirt. A red hat sat on his head, shielding his eyes. He was grinning and making a peace sign to the camera. It was a selfie, but Chase must have extended his arm to capture his whole upper torso.

  “That was sent to you the day Chase was killed, right?” Megan leaned closer. “He sent this to you while you were kayaking.”

  “He did, and I must have downloaded it to my phone. Look closer, Megs.”

  She studied the photo. It only took her a second to see what he meant. A shadow was visible behind Chase. Megan could make out an arm and something else.

  Something like a knife?

  “Have you shown that to Bobby?”

  “No. I forgot I even had it.”

  “Look.” Megan pointed to the arm. “Chase seems oblivious to their presence.”

  “Oblivious,” Clover said. “Or relaxed about it.”

  “He doesn’t seem stressed, that’s for sure.” Denver looked up. “Are you saying this is or isn’t the killer, Megs? Because frankly you can’t see much about the person from this slice of shadow.”

  “I’m saying that either the killer snuck up on him with the knife in hand, which implies forethought and malice—not impulsive anger—or the killer was standing with him beforehand. Someone Chase knew. Someone he wasn’t the least bit worried would use that knife.”

  “Not like a troubled teen,” Emily said. “Even a fool would know better than to give a group of troubled teens knives.”

  Denver wasn’t so quick to concede. “I see a happy Chase standing by the water. I see what looks like a shadow of a person standing behind him. I see what could be a knife in that person’s hand. But that’s a lot of ‘coulds,’ Megs. It could just as easily be a trick of the light. Or a teenage boy standing behind him, ready to swing.”

  Megan said, “That would suggest premeditated murder.”

  Their eyes met. “And poisoning a woman with lithium would suggest the same.”

  “I just got a chill,” Clover said. “And not the good kind.”

  “One thing’s for sure,” Megan said. “We need to get this photo to Bobby. The police have more puzzle pieces than we do. Maybe it will mean something to them.”

  King took the photo and Denver’s statement about how it came into his possession. They were at the Winsome police station, in a small, dank room at the end of a small, dank hallway. Night was quickly closing in, and the police chief looked tired and sounded cross. He seemed less excited about the photo’s importance than Megan had, but he conceded that it could mean that an angry outburst in the course of an argument with Dillon was less likely.

  “How did the search go?” Megan asked.

  “Nada. Nothing. Zilch. The kid is still there.” King glanced at Denver, who was staring once again at Chase’s picture. “You heading over to your aunt’s?”

  “I’ll stop by and check on them, but she doesn’t want me sleeping there. Says it will be disruptive to the boy.”

  King huffed out a sigh. “I can’t talk people into having common sense. Sorry, I know she’s your aunt.”

  “No offense taken.”

  Megan and Denver were getting ready to leave when King stopped them in the hallway. “Megan, I forgot to mention that we got a lead on Camilla. It looks like someone may have been living in the storage unit next door. We found a desk and a sleeping cot and blankets. A whole set-up.”

  “How did you figure that out?” Denver asked.

  “One of the customers reported seeing the same car there every day. An older model BMW four series. She followed the person to the unit and reported the number to management. When they saw it was the unit next to Camilla’s, they grew suspicious. The units were rented under two different names, but we suspect the pig may belong to whoever was in that unit.”

  “Do the plates match a Saul Bones?”

  King shook his head. “Plates are stolen. Both units are rented out to men, so we’re still investigating, but I thought you’d want to know. Camilla may have been someone’s pet—nothing more nefarious than that.”

  “She still lived in a five-by-five, hot space.”

  King nodded. “As did the person who had her.”

  Megan thanked him. As they made their way to the truck, Megan thought about what Bobby had told her. What would drive someone to live in a warehouse? At least this one was climate controlled, but the person would still have to deal with mice and heat and cold. Desperation, she decided. Mental illness. The vagaries of life. She was grateful Camilla was with them.

  “Stop by the boarding house?” Denver said.

  Megan looked at her phone. It was almost nine already. “It’s late. I need to swing by the hospital and then get home and feed the animals.”

  “Want me to join you?”

  Megan shook her head. “I’ll drop you off at your car. Check on Eloise, I’ll check on Bibi.
Between the two of us, we have this covered.”

  Denver’s kiss was long and hard and full of need. “I’ll come to your house afterwards,” he said. “With my dogs.”

  Megan smiled. “That’s fine. We’ll be like the Brady Bunch of the canine world.”

  “Someday, Megs,” Denver said. “Someday.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Bibi was asleep when Megan arrived, and she was still asleep when she was ready to leave, an hour and a half later.

  “She’s had a lot of visitors,” the night nurse said. “She’s fine, just tuckered out.”

  “I brought her some food.”

  The nurse looked at the bag in Megan’s hand, which was stocked with three covered dishes, bread, and even Bibi’s favorite fruit-flavored soda water.

  “That might be pushing it,” the nurse said. “It’s a lot of food.”

  And it was all from Alvaro. “Could you just give it to her? She won’t eat it, but it will mean a lot to her.”

  “Okay,” the nurse said eventually. “She is doing well. I think we can accommodate it.”

  Indeed, Bibi looked fine. Her coloring was back to normal, and she slept without the horrible twitches and ticks Megan had seen Friday night. Megan said a prayer of thanks, kissed Bibi on the head, said goodbye to the officer stationed outside her room, and went home.

  Clay was still at the farm. He said he was tending to evening chores, but Megan knew full well he didn’t want her to come home to an empty house. She offered to heat him up some soup, but he declined. Within fifteen minutes, Megan was in the kitchen with Gunther and Sadie, her laptop open.

  Again, she focused on BOLD Pharmaceuticals. Again, she came up empty handed. Lots of good PR—much of it from Martine, she imagined. Nothing that gave Megan a clue about the company’s financials.

  Next she turned her attention to Harriet Mantra. Harriet’s presumed presence at the school made her curious. Was she there to talk about Dillon? About the failed charity event? About donations to the school?

  Presumably she’d given money to found that school so her daughter had somewhere to go. But why continue her involvement after her daughter graduated?