by Jessica Beck
“We know what really happened. When exactly was he locked up?” I asked as delicately as I could.
Harry’s expression hardened, and I saw his hands go white as he clenched them. “Forrest is going to pay for that someday. He thinks it’s over, but he’s wrong.”
From the sound of his words, the threat wasn’t idle, and I was happy not to be Forrest. “He had it done himself?”
“He surely did. Mrs. Pinerush was too sick to fight him on it, and Forrest waited until she didn’t have the strength to oppose him. You saw it for yourselves a little bit ago. She’s a different woman when he’s around, like he’s got some kind of hold over her. The woman’s afraid of her own son. Imagine that, would you? I don’t remember much of my own mother—she died when I was just a kid—but I never would have treated her like that.” He shook himself, as if trying to wipe all of the bad memories away, and then took another bite of his lunch.
“What set it off?” Grace asked.
“James came back to the manor with a piece of paper renouncing his fortune once and for all, but all he got for his trouble was two nights in the loony bin. Pardon me, the state mental facility, that’s the proper name for it these days. They couldn’t keep him, but it was enough to make Jim realize that he wasn’t ever going to be able to give away his fortune, so he just left it with them. He told them that he didn’t want to have anything to do with any of them or their money. Jim even signed over his interest payments to a charity, the Poor Children Among Us. If he couldn’t do any good with the bulk of his money, he was determined to do something with the interest to try to redeem his family’s name and honor.”
“I don’t understand that part of it,” I said. “What business is it of anyone else’s what he did with his inheritance?”
Harry finished his meal and pushed the plate away as he explained, “I don’t get it, either, not completely, but supposedly there’s some kind of iron-clad clause that keeps it in the family forever. If Jim ever did manage to get rid of his share, everyone else would lose theirs, too. The old man who had it drawn up was a big believer in family, even though you couldn’t tell it by the way his people act now.”
A sudden and chilling thought struck me. “Do you have any idea what happens to his share now that he’s gone? Is there any way you can find out?”
“I already know,” Harry said. “When Mr. Pinerush’s sister passed away a few years ago, they were all whispering about it. It all goes back into the family trust, and with Jim gone, that means that a third of it is now Mrs. Pinerush’s money, a third belongs to Forrest, and the last third goes to another one of Jim’s cousins.”
“Do you know who that cousin might be?” I asked. “Was it a man or a woman?”
“It’s a man, but that’s about all I know about him. He was Mr. Pinerush’s sister’s son, and they had a falling-out a long time ago when the kid was just a baby. I guess they’ll have to track him down and tell him that he’s even richer now than he was before.”
“So, he wouldn’t be a Pinerush by name, would he?” Grace asked.
“No. I’m sorry, but I don’t know his name, first or last.” He leaned in for a moment and added softly, “If there’s anything I can do to help you find Jim’s killer, you both should know that you can count on me.”
“What makes you think we’re searching for the murderer?” I asked. Were Grace and I that obvious?
Harry laughed. “I’ve read enough books to realize that you don’t ask the kind of questions you’ve been asking unless you’re hunting down bad guys. Don’t worry; you can trust me.”
I looked at Grace, who nodded slightly, and then I said, “It’s true. We’re going to find his killer if we can.”
“Thanks for coming clean with me. You won’t regret it.” Harry gave us his cell number, and I gave him mine in return.
“Even if you don’t need my help, do me a favor, would you?” Harry asked as he stood.
“If we can,” I said.
“No matter what happens, call me and tell me if you ever find out what really happened to Jim, would you? It might not help me sleep at night, but it’s worth a shot. We might not have been close at the end, but he was my brother in all the ways that ever mattered, and I won’t be able to let this go until I know his killer is caught.”
“We will,” I promised.
As he walked out of the diner, I saw him say something to Lynette, and then leave.
“What do you make of all of that?” Grace asked me.
“It’s almost too much to take in all at once, isn’t it? Why don’t we head back to April Springs? We can discuss it along the way, and maybe even figure out what we should do next.”
“That’s a deal,” Grace said as she grabbed the check.
“I’ll split it with you,” I said.
“Thanks, but I just got a nice bonus, so I’ll pick this one up and you can get the next one.”
I knew better than to try to argue with her. “Thanks.”
It turned out that neither one of us had to pay, though. When Grace approached Lynette with the bill, she shook her head. “Thanks for trying, but your bill is taken care of. Harry already got it.”
“That’s not fair. He promised us that we could pay,” I said.
She just laughed. “You are beating your head against the wall if you think that will ever happen. It’s best just to accept his kindness and move on.”
“At least thank him for us,” Grace said as she put her money away.
“That I can do. You ladies have a nice day.”
“You, too,” I said.
As we got into Grace’s car and headed back to familiar territory, I couldn’t help thinking that Harry knew more about James’s recent past than he was letting on. Even with that cautionary feeling, I still believed that we could trust him.
I just hoped that I was right.
CHEESY FRITTER BALLS
When I first saw a variant of this recipe for fried rounds I wasn’t at all sure about it, but after I added and subtracted some of the listed ingredients and converted the recipe into one for dropped fritters, these tasty treats have found a good home with me and my family.
INGREDIENTS
Mixed
• 1 egg, lightly beaten
• 1 cup cottage cheese, drained
• 2 tablespoons sugar, white granulated
• ¼ cup half-and-half
Sifted
• ¾ cup flour, unbleached all-purpose
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon nutmeg
• Dash of salt
• Canola oil for frying (the amount depends on your pot or fryer)
INSTRUCTIONS
In one bowl, beat the cottage cheese, half-and-half, and the egg together. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, nutmeg, and salt.
Add the dry ingredients to the wet, mixing well until you have a smooth consistency.
Drop bits of dough using a small-sized cookie scoop (the size of your thumb, approximately). Fry in hot canola oil (360 to 370 degrees F) 1½ to 2 minutes, turning halfway through.
Yield: 10–12 fritters
CHAPTER 5
“Suzanne, maybe we should move our investigation to Pinerush,” Grace said as she started to head home.
“Do you think there’s a chance we’ll get anything out of them that we didn’t learn today?” I asked her. “James was killed in the park across from my shop, but I’m still not convinced that the murderer could be somebody from our town.”
She quickly glanced at me and then asked, “You don’t have any idea how much we’re talking about here, do you?”
“A couple of million, I guess.”
“More like a hundred million plus,” she replied.
I couldn’t help whistling softly at the news. “Maybe you’re right. That’s a lot of money, and that means a pretty strong motive, but I still think we’ll have more luck digging into James’s life in April Springs. After all, he wasn’t a th
reat to anybody in Pinerush. I’ve got the feeling that the stay in the mental ward was enough to make him want to do his best to forget about ever trying to give away his fortune again.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Think about it. Instead of getting a new attorney to keep fighting them after he was released, James ran away to April Springs and most likely did his best to put all of that behind him. I never had any idea that he came from money, and I knew him just about better than anyone else in town. Those three folks who inherited already had more money than they could ever know what to do with. There was no reason to kill him and risk going to jail.”
“That’s not how it works sometimes. With some folks, the more they have, the more they want. I still think that we should keep them all in mind as suspects,” Grace said.
“Don’t get me wrong; I agree, but I think it would be a mistake to put all of our focus on the three of them. Shoot, we don’t even know the name of one of them, unless you can track it down on the Internet. Just for now, let’s forget about focusing on the money. Who do we know in April Springs who might have wanted to see James dead?”
Grace nodded slightly. “I believe that his new apprentice might have had a grudge. James was riding him pretty hard, from what I’ve heard.”
“Where’d you hear that?” I asked.
“Suzanne, I hear things,” she said with a slight grin.
“Well, I don’t care what you heard. Murphy Armstrong is no killer,” I said. “And he wasn’t exactly an apprentice, either. James told me that the man worked for him two Saturdays a month learning some blacksmithing basics. That was it.”
“Maybe so, but he wasn’t exactly easy on him.”
“I don’t have the least bit of trouble believing that. James always demanded perfection from himself and everybody around him,” I replied. “If that was all it took, it would make Rebecca Link more of a suspect than Murphy.”
“Were they even still dating?” Grace asked. “I knew that James had seen her a while back—and pretty seriously, too—but I thought they’d ended it.”
“They did, but she wanted to get back together,” I told her.
“What did James think about it?”
“He ran hot and cold about the idea until recently.”
“What changed?”
“He wouldn’t say, but from the grin he sported lately, it wouldn’t surprise me to hear that he met someone else.”
“You don’t know who it might have been, though, right?”
“Right. All I’m sure of is that it wasn’t Rebecca.”
“Then she goes on our list,” Grace said. “Agreed?”
“Yes, it makes sense.” I reached over and grabbed a small embossed notebook Grace always kept beside her. “Do you mind if I use this for a minute?”
“Go right ahead. I have a dozen more just like it at home.”
“You hoarder, you,” I said with a smile as I opened it and took out the pencil inside.
“Hey, I find something I like and I stick with it.”
“That’s why we’re still friends, right?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” she said.
I opened the notebook to a blank page and wrote down the names: Mrs. Pinerush, Forrest Pinerush, Mystery Cousin, Murphy Armstrong, and Rebecca Link. “We already have five names on our list. Who knew that many people might want to see harm come to James?”
“I imagine that we both could come up with a list like that for each one of us if we put our minds to it.”
“Me maybe, but everybody knows that you’re an angel,” I said with a smile.
“You’d be surprised. Then again, you know me better than anyone else, so you probably realize that was a load of hooey the second you said it. I wonder if there’s anyone else we need to add to this?”
“The only way we can find out is to keep digging,” I said. “I can miss a little sleep.”
“I’m game if you are. Where should we go now?”
I thought about it, and then suggested, “How about paying a visit to James’s cabin?”
“Don’t you think Chief Martin has already been there?” Grace asked.
“I’m counting on it. He can catch all of the obvious clues, but I can’t imagine that he got everything there is to learn out of it.”
“Then let’s do it,” Grace said.
By the time we got to James Settle’s place in the woods, darkness was just beginning to touch the sky. It was a rustic cabin, barely bigger than twelve feet by sixteen. The siding was weathered board and batten, overlapping sections that had all weathered into a uniform pleasing gray. I loved it, but it was a far cry from the place Grace and I had visited earlier. How could James have possibly gone from living in a place as elegant as the manor to a place as rustic as this? Then again, I was certain that this cabin had suited him better than the mansion ever had.
“There’s just one problem. We don’t have a key, Suzanne,” Grace said as we walked up onto the porch. I was relieved to see that there was no police tape over the door. Though I knew the murder had happened in town, there was still no assurance that Chief Martin would release James’s place so quickly.
“When I brought James donuts once when he was sick, he told me where to find the key, so unless someone’s taken it, it shouldn’t be a problem.” I looked for the loose board just off the door James had told me about, and after a few false starts, I found it. As it swung aside, I saw the key hanging there. The lock was massive, and clearly hand-forged, as were the door’s large hinges. No doubt James had made them himself.
I slid the key in, and the door opened easily.
“Well, at least it won’t be hard to search,” Grace said as soon as we walked inside the tight quarters. “It’s kind of small, isn’t it?”
“You could think of it as cozy,” I countered.
“We’re not selling it as real estate. Let’s call it what it is,” Grace said with a smile. As she searched the wall for a switch, I said, “Don’t bother. James used kerosene lamps for his lighting at night.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Grace answered. She loved her luxuries, and her idea of roughing it was not having room service at a fine hotel.
I lit the kerosene lamp so we wouldn’t be caught by the pending darkness, and it was enough to throw a soft yellow glow into the room. A massive fireplace anchored one end, and the other had a simple bed and dresser. Between them, there was a kitchen on one side and a small table and two chairs on the other. There was a sofa and a small desk near the fireplace, and bookcases were present in just about every other open spot.
“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked.
I pointed outside to the outhouse, and her dismay blossomed.
“Suzanne, this is like some kind of twisted time machine.”
“I never said that James wasn’t a bit of an odd bird,” I answered. “He believed this cabin matched his attitude, and who are we to dispute it? I’ll take the desk and you search the rest of the place.”
“That shouldn’t take either one of us very long,” she said.
I opened the desk drawers and started examining the papers inside. There was a small bound notebook inside one, and I opened it and scanned it quickly. It was part “to do” list, part reminder, and part journal. I wondered if it might lead to any insights into James’s life—and more importantly, who might want to kill him. I couldn’t easily decipher his chicken-scratch handwriting in the flickering yellow light, so without conscious thought, I tucked it into my purse. There would be time to examine it later, but for right now, I needed to finish searching his desk. On top of the stack of papers in the second drawer, I found a greeting card with a large red heart on the front, broken once, but now secured again with tape. Inside, it said,
James, You NEED to FORGIVE me. I CAN’T go on like this. I MEAN IT.
Rebecca’s name was scrawled at the bottom.
“Grace, you’ve got to see this.”
I handed her the card and watched her
expression as she read it. “Wow, did she just threaten him at the same time that she was asking for a reconciliation? The girl’s a little volatile, wouldn’t you say?” Grace put it down and took a quick photo of it with her phone.
“She might think she’s just being passionate, but if you ask me, I believe she’s just a little bit crazy. Wow, James picked a real winner there, didn’t he?”
“I can see why he wanted to get away from her,” she said as she looked past the card into the open drawer.
Grace plucked something out of it, and I protested, “Hey, that’s my job.”
“You can read it when I’m finished,” she said with a smile.
“At least let me read it over your shoulder.”
“Fine,” she said, and we both moved closer to the light. This was written in thick pencil on a plain sheet of notebook paper, and the force of some of the writing had been so intense that the paper was actually torn in a few places.
James, enough is enough. I’m not your whipping boy. Back off, or you’ll regret it.
“Wow, James seemed to bring out the emotions in people, didn’t he?” she said as she got a snapshot of that as well.
“I’ll say,” Suzanne answered. “I wonder why the police chief didn’t take these when they searched the place?”
The door must have opened while we’d been reading, because I hadn’t heard a thing. It was a testament to James’s skill in making hinges that moved so effortlessly as well as the engrossing reading.
“He didn’t take them because he hasn’t seen them yet,” Chief Martin said with a heavy tone in his voice. “What are you two doing in here? You’re both directly interfering with an active police investigation. You realize that, don’t you?”
“We thought you’d already come and gone,” I admitted.