Shot Through the Hearth

by Kate Carlisle

  “Right,” Marigold said, nodding slowly. “He’s dead.”

  “Murdered,” I added.

  Lizzie flashed me a furious scowl and all I could do was smile weakly. “Well, it’s true.”

  “That’s right, he was murdered,” Marigold said, her tone suddenly harsh. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

  And I couldn’t blame her. But Marigold was so rarely fierce, it threw the rest of our friends off.

  “Whoa, sweetie,” Jane said, alarmed. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”

  Marigold’s eyes were dry now and focused on each of us. “Oh, yes, I mean every word.” She pushed herself out of the chair and pounded her fist into her palm. “I only wish I had killed the bastard myself.”

  Chapter Six

  The other girls began to speak at once, loudly and emphatically. Marigold sat quietly and watched them carry on, freaking out and pacing around the room for a good solid minute.

  Jane frowned as she stared down at Marigold. “I don’t believe you meant that. Not really.”

  “Of course she didn’t mean it.” Emily folded her arms across her chest. “She’s just upset.”

  “That’s right,” Lizzie insisted. “You just moved out here with Rafe and you’re going through a period of adjustment. It’s natural to feel overly emotional.”

  Overly emotional? Just because she wanted to kill the guy? I found her reaction perfectly reasonable, but then, I had actually met Dillon Charles. Watching Marigold, I could see that our friends’ best intentions were only making her feel worse. Well, I could take care of that just by telling everyone the truth about the dead man.

  I hesitated, but then plowed ahead. “I don’t think you’re being emotional, Marigold. I think you’re right on target. The guy was a horrible person and I’m okay with him being dead. But that doesn’t mean I killed him. And neither did you.”

  They all stared at me in shock, for speaking ill of the dead, maybe? I just shrugged. “Did any of you meet this guy?”

  “No, but . . .” Lizzie fiddled with her hair nervously, not making eye contact.

  Jane frowned. “I saw him during the cocktail party, but I didn’t get a chance to meet him.”

  “Well,” I said, my tone overly cheery. “Let me tell you a little bit about him. He was one of the biggest jerks I’ve ever met. Mac and I overheard him saying awful things to Rafe about Marigold and about our nice little town.” I glanced over at Marigold. “I’m sorry, but he was just horrible. Rafe kicked him out of the conference.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah,” I continued. “Dillon even humiliated his own secretary in front of Mac and me. It was mortifying for her and for us. And apparently he stole ideas and patents from at least one person at the conference. Probably more. Who knows what else he did. He was a major son-of-a-you-know-what. I’m not saying he deserved to be killed, but I’m also not mourning his loss. And neither should any of you.”

  We all stared at each other for a long, silent moment.

  Lizzie aimed her gaze directly at me now, and nodded. “I didn’t know that. If it’s true, then Marigold’s got every right to be pissed off about this guy.”

  “Yeah, she does.”

  “Okay, then,” Emily began, “I understand why you didn’t like this fellow Dillon. But why do you think you can’t tell Rafe?”

  “Because.” Marigold took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and whispered, “Dillon Charles, his best friend and business partner, tried to . . . well, maybe I’d better just tell you what happened.”

  There was a long moment of silence.

  I had a terrible feeling and had to force myself to breathe. “Yes, maybe you’d better.”

  “Don’t say a word,” Emily insisted. “I’m going to make another pot of tea.”

  Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You’re killing us, Emily.”

  Emily lifted her chin. “Everything’s better with tea.”

  I wouldn’t have thought so, but Emily’s words caused Marigold to giggle. So maybe a pot of tea was the answer to all the world’s problems.

  We waited patiently until Emily carried the newly filled teapot and set it down on the coffee table. She poured the tea into cups and handed them to each of us.

  And finally Marigold told her story.

  “It was the night before the conference started,” she began. “Raphael had to drive into town for a meeting with some of the conference sponsors. I was home alone and I was so happy. So comfortable. I was drinking a glass of wine and unpacking the last few boxes. The doorbell rang and I jumped. I was startled. I’d never heard the sound before. I laughed at myself, but then I began to wonder, who would drive all the way out here at night? I decided it had to be one of you guys, or another one of our friends. I ran to the door, checked the peephole, and saw Dillon. I didn’t know him very well, but I knew that he and Raphael were close, so I couldn’t let him stand out there in the cold.

  “I felt okay about inviting him in because I’d met him a few times in the past. He came out here for the first time when the old farmhouse was here. Way before you started the rehab, Shannon.”

  “That was just over eight months ago,” I explained to the others. “So let’s see, Rafe had been living in Lighthouse Cove for a few months and even back then, he was well into planning this conference.”

  “That’s right,” Marigold said. She took a sip of tea, then continued. “My first impression of Dillon back then wasn’t too great. He was angry with Raphael for moving so far away from the Bay Area and he was letting Rafe know it. But Rafe just teased him and Dillon lightened up a little. Or so I thought.

  “I had no idea that Dillon was still so angry with Rafe for leaving the company. I thought they were still close friends. When he showed up the other night, he was flirtatious and funny and sort of charming. I figured he had worked out his feelings about Raphael not going back to work with him. After all, Dillon had the company all to himself now. Wouldn’t most people like being the one in charge?”

  “You’d think so,” Jane said.

  “Right?” Marigold raised both hands up in confusion. “But whatever. I let him into the house and told him that Rafe wouldn’t be home for a while. Dillon said that was okay, that this was a good chance for the two of us to get to know each other better. He asked for a glass of wine and I poured one for him. Then he asked if I would show him around the house. He was very complimentary about everything. The house, I mean. And me. And Rafe’s farm. And the town. Everything. He was very positive, very pleasant.”

  That did not sound like the Dillon I knew. And I was getting a really bad feeling about the whole scenario.

  “He said that Rafe must really love it out here,” Marigold went on, “if he was willing to give up the great life he’d had in the Bay Area. It was a nice thing to say, I thought. But then he began to list the names of all the beautiful women Rafe had dated in San Francisco. One was more gorgeous than the next, he said. Not much chance of meeting those kinds of women up here, is there?”

  “He honestly said that to you?” I asked. I knew the guy was a jackass, but he kept raising the bar.

  “Yeah.” She pressed her lips together. “It got weird.”

  “You mean, weirder,” I muttered.

  She nodded. “At some point, his words and his tone turned really bitter. He accused me of trapping Raphael, of lying to get him to marry me.”

  “That’s hateful,” Lizzie said.

  “I don’t have much experience with men,” Marigold admitted. “But I’ve never heard that kind of talk from Raphael or any of the guys around here.”

  “Most men aren’t like that,” I assured her.

  She shrugged. “I guess my negative reaction must’ve shown on my face because his expression instantly smoothed and he smiled. Warmly.”

  “What a psycho,” Jane muttered.


  This really was nuts. Dillon was an even bigger jerk than I had thought. If that was possible.

  “Yes.” Marigold nodded. “Definitely psycho. Now I wonder if he was happier because he’d gotten a rise out of me. Did it cheer him up to upset me? Is that what he wanted?”

  “Of course that’s what he wanted,” I said. “He wanted to give Rafe a hard time, but he was too much the coward, so he figured by hurting you, he’d get back at Rafe the long way around.”

  “Probably,” Marigold murmured.

  Jane gave a brisk nod. “He wanted to hurt you.”

  “He succeeded,” Marigold said flatly. “Anyway, I tried to switch gears, tried to keep it light. I smiled and told him how well Raphael had taken to life here in Lighthouse Cove. How he had so many good friends in town and how we had such a wonderful life. I talked about the farm and the cows and how we were starting to make ice cream from all the milk. How he’d bought a little sailboat and we were having so much fun with it. I was rambling, just trying to keep things upbeat.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I sounded like some kind of Pollyanna. Or maybe I just sounded like myself.”

  I chuckled. “You do tend to see the glass half full.”

  “And that’s a good thing, right?” Marigold said.

  “Absolutely,” Emily said, patting her knee.

  Marigold sighed. “Unfortunately the more I gushed about Rafe’s new lifestyle, the more Dillon’s expression turned ugly and sour.”

  “I’ll bet.” Lizzie was pacing again, flexing her knuckles in frustration. “That’s exactly what he didn’t want to hear.”

  “True,” Marigold said. “Finally he said, ‘So now you’ve got yourself a sugar daddy. How’d you do it? You’re nothing to brag about, you know. You’re not sophisticated. You’re not beautiful. You’re nothing but a hick. A bumpkin. What does he see in you?’”

  “He’s wrong,” Emily said. “You are beautiful.”

  “I’m so glad he’s dead,” Jane whispered, her jaw clenched so tightly that I reached over and rubbed her shoulder in sympathy.

  Marigold had to take some more deep breaths. “It was so hurtful of him. And what did I do? Lifted my chin like a brave little soldier and said, ‘All I know is that Rafe loves me.’”

  “What did he say to that?” I asked.

  “He just about fell on the floor laughing.”

  I scowled. It sounded like the same reaction that Midge Andersen had received from Dillon, according to what Niall said he’d overheard the other night.

  “And that’s when he got really disgusting,” Marigold said. “He grabbed hold of both my arms and yanked me up close to him.”

  “Oh, jeez, Marigold,” Lizzie moaned. “What did you do?”

  “I was so shocked, at first I couldn’t think what to do.” Shaking her head, she seemed to be looking back on the moment in complete disbelief. “I tried to pull my arms free and back away from him, but he squeezed my arms so tightly, I knew I would have bruises.”

  “Bastard,” Lizzie muttered, not for the first time.

  “After a few seconds I managed to escape his grip, but then he yanked me back so hard, I thought my arm would break.” She took a shaky breath. “You guys, I was petrified. He was taunting me the whole time and I won’t even repeat the vile stuff he said, but I finally got so angry that I kicked him. I only hit his knee, but I guess I caught him off guard because his leg crumpled. He let go of me and I ran down the hall and out the front door.” Marigold was breathless, as though she’d just run a marathon. “I hid in the old barn until I heard him drive away.”

  “Thank God for the old barn,” I said.

  “When Rafe got home,” she continued, “I had already showered. I’d scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was one big patch of red. I had to get the hideous feel of him off me. I had my pajamas on and I was sitting up in bed, pretending to read.”

  Emily asked, “Did you tell him?”

  “No. I couldn’t. Not right then. He was so happy to see me and I was pitifully happy to see him. He told me how much he loved me. He lay down next to me and just held me. I started crying and he sort of laughed and teased me, thinking I was crying because I missed him after only four hours. And I had missed him, but he had no idea why.

  “And I still can’t get the nerve up to tell him. I just can’t.”

  “You’ll tell him when you’re ready, Marigold,” I said. “But I’ll bet he would want to know.”

  “Of course he would,” Lizzie said. “But you’ll tell him in your own time.”

  “The thing is,” Marigold continued, “I think you’re right. Dillon was just an awful person. He attacked me because he wanted to hurt Rafe. He wanted to ruin my relationship with him and humiliate me in the process.”

  “He was a coward,” I said flatly. “Thank God you were able to push him away. He was a truly evil guy.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “That’s for sure.” She grabbed a croissant and absently munched on it. “I’ll have to think about how I’ll tell Rafe.” She blinked away the tears and gazed at each of us. “I just need some time.”

  “You might want to talk to a counselor,” Jane said. “You know, a therapist. Someone besides us who can actually give you some good guidance.”

  “Yeah,” Lizzie said. “Because we just basically want to kill him all over again. So maybe that’s not much help.”

  Marigold laughed out loud and it was such a lovely sound that we all joined her.

  “The counselor idea is a good one,” Lizzie said. “I would recommend Sally Collins.”

  I nodded. “I like her, too.”

  Jane turned to Lizzie. “How do you know Sally?”

  Lizzie averted her eyes. “Um, we’ve met a few times.”

  “She’s wonderful,” Emily said, looking back and forth at the rest of us. “I was seeing her for several months last year.”

  Jane’s mouth opened and closed. Finally she said, “You were?”

  Lizzie blinked. “You, too, Jane?”

  Jane swallowed. “After Uncle Jesse died, I needed to work some things out.”

  “I . . . I went to see her a few months ago when Taz was about to turn twelve,” Lizzie said, referring to her adorable young son. “He was bent on fraying my last nerve and I just needed a little perspective, you know? I’m pretty sure she kept me sane.”

  I stared at Lizzie. “Wow. I never knew.” Turning, I grinned at Marigold. “I guess you can count on Sally to be discreet.”

  Marigold pressed her lips together, then tried to smile. “Maybe I’ll call her.”

  “Do what feels right for you,” Emily said, reaching out to clutch Marigold’s hand. “You were attacked. Thankfully you weren’t hurt. You saved yourself. But you need time to process all that.”

  “Emily’s right,” I said. “You’ll tell Rafe when you’re ready, but your mental health and wellness comes first.”

  Marigold closed her eyes and breathed slowly. Then her eyes opened and she met each of our gazes. “I don’t know who killed Dillon Charles. But if I ever find out, I plan to bake them a cake, shake their hand, and say ‘thank you.’”

  * * *

  * * *

  I headed for the new barn, but wasn’t sure I could face my guys just now. I had lost my appetite, but I was light-headed enough to know that I needed to eat something. Maybe it was all the adrenaline that had been coursing through my system during Marigold’s harrowing tale, but now it had dissipated and I felt like I was crashing. I needed protein and I needed to get away from the conference center for a while. Without another thought, I jogged to my truck, jumped in, and took off for town.

  Seventeen minutes later, I was ensconced in a booth at the Cozy Cove. The welcome aroma of burgers and fried food wafting from the kitchen made my appetite spring back to life. Glancing around, I took in the familiar walls covered
in old black-and-white photographs of Lighthouse Cove from its earliest days. I had been coming here with my family since I was a little girl and we lived just a block away. I still lived a block away in the same house I’d grown up in, and I still loved coming to the Cozy Cove.

  More recently, I would often meet my dad and Uncle Pete here on Saturday mornings, but it had been a while since the three of us had gotten together. I suddenly had to sniff back tears that were springing up unbidden. It had been an emotional morning. And I was smelling French fries.

  “Hey, Shannon, it’s been a while.”

  “Hi, Cindy.” I closed the menu and smiled up at the waitress who had been working here for as long as I could remember. “I haven’t been around much. Just finishing the rehab on Rafe Nash’s farmhouse.”

  “I heard it looks fantastic.”

  “It’s pretty awesome,” I said with a grin.

  “I’ll drive out there sometime and take a look.” She grabbed my menu. “What’ll you have, sweetie?”

  “Cheeseburger, medium rare, French fries, lots of pickles. The usual.”

  “Cola?”

  I thought for a minute. I had gone from having zero appetite to wanting to eat my feelings. Well, if I was going to do this right, I couldn’t waste my time with soft drinks. “I’ll have a chocolate milkshake.”

  “Going hard.” She grinned. “I like it.” She slid her notepad into her pocket. “That’ll be up in just a minute.”

  “Thanks, Cindy.”

  She started to head for the counter, then stopped. “Hey, your daddy was in here the other day with his new girlfriend.”

  “Is that right?” So Cindy had seen my father’s new girlfriend but I hadn’t. I really was out of touch. But now that Rafe’s house was finished and the conference was in full swing, I would be able to call Dad and set up a date to meet his new lady.

  “Yeah. She seems like a sweetheart. Really down to earth. And your father is clearly smitten.”

  “Isn’t that nice?” I said. But was it? I had no idea since I hadn’t even met her yet. I was the worst daughter ever.