Belinda Blake and the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by Heather Day Gilbert

  I climbed into the driver’s seat. “No, but I drive four-wheelers and snowmobiles back at home. This thing’s electric, and it looks a lot easier.”

  “Where’s your home?” she asked.

  I didn’t know where this newfound spirit of rapport was coming from, but I was slowly warming to it. “I’m from upstate New York—a little town called Larches Corner.”

  “Cute,” she said. “So, why do you drive four-wheelers and stuff—do you live on a farm?”

  “Well, my parents sort of have a hobby farm, and I like to drive around on their property.” I thought back over all the animals my mom had raised over the years, including the turkey we butchered this past Thanksgiving. “Hobby farm” didn’t quite capture the scope of Mom’s endeavors, but we also didn’t have a working farm like Jonas.

  “How quaint,” Veronica said, and I bristled at her tone, which made it sound like I was some kind of hillbilly. “I grew up in the city, but I’ve learned so much from working at White Pine,” she continued. “I really hope I don’t get sacked. I’ve hit the jackpot with this job, as far as finding examples for my thesis.”

  I brushed my hurt feelings aside and turned off the cart so I didn’t waste electricity. “Why would you think you’d get sacked? Dahlia seems to like you.”

  “She does, but Sergeant Hardy would rather I didn’t stick around, since I’m basically unnecessary personnel.”

  “He told you that?” I asked.

  Veronica grinned. “He did. I haven’t shared this with anyone yet, but Jacob—Sergeant Hardy—and I are dating.” She bumped my shoulder with her own. “To tell you the truth, we were actually dating before all these wolf attacks started up.”

  That explained so much about Veronica’s come-hither glances and the sergeant’s subdued responses to her open flirtation.

  “You don’t say,” I said. “Does Carson know this?”

  “Carson Schmarson,” she said spitefully. “Carson is a boy. Jacob is a man.” She gave me a long look. “Do you want Carson? You can certainly have him.”

  I laughed. “Uh, no. Nothing could be further from the truth. Anyway, how did you and, uh…Jacob…meet?”

  “At a restaurant where I work part-time. He was sincerely interested when I told him about my life, and he left me a huge tip…and his phone number. We’ve been seeing each other ever since.”

  “Doesn’t that compromise his investigation now that it’s a homicide, though?”

  Veronica’s eyes widened. “Homicide? This is a murder investigation? But why? The wolves killed Rich and Shaun, right?”

  Apparently, Sergeant Hardy hadn’t kept Veronica abreast of the facts, which made me wonder how tight the two of them really were.

  “It was a new development as of this morning—he said they’re checking into other methods of death. There was no evidence the wolves had harmed Rich, and even though they’d obviously chewed on Shaun, it’s possible they didn’t kill him.”

  Veronica slumped back in the golf cart seat, her ponytail swaying. “You don’t say. I’m sure Jacob was disappointed.”

  I was confused. “But why? Surely he’d want to get to the truth?”

  “Well, yeah, he definitely wants to catch the killer, but he would have liked to shut this place down, too. We were hanging out with his officer friends one night, and I overheard one of them mention that Jacob lost his only sister several years ago—to a dog attack. That’s why he’s so hypervigilant about what’s been going on at the White Pine Wolf Preserve.”

  That would explain why Sergeant Hardy and Dahlia had clashed so publicly a couple of years ago, when one of her wolves was on the lam in the back yards of suburbia.

  Veronica swept her damp bangs from her forehead. “It’s getting hot. Now that I know the wolves probably didn’t kill people, I can get a little closer for my research.”

  “You’ve gone in by yourself before?” I asked, suspicion racing through me. I hadn’t considered that Veronica might be comfortable enough to let herself into the wolf enclosures…which meant she could fit the profile of the killer.

  “I have. I wanted to check in on them today, and now that I know it’s safe to go into the enclosures, I’ll just grab the keys from the kitchen. Were you heading back that way?”

  I nodded, trying to overcome my sudden uncertainty toward the grad student. “How about if I drive us around a couple of times so you can get a feel for this golf cart?”

  “Sure, I’d appreciate that,” she said.

  As I turned the golf cart on and hit the gas, I mentally listed reasons why Veronica probably wasn’t the killer. Unlike most people here, she had been very up-front with me, and she’d given me quite a bit of information to chew on. I couldn’t imagine any possible motive for her to kill Shaun and Rich, and she didn’t seem the type to take people’s lives.

  After driving around the loop through the woods, I let Veronica take over. She slammed the brakes a couple of times, but eventually she got the hang of it. I warned her that Carson was lurking in the woods somewhere, but she shrugged it off, saying he was too scared to follow her into Thor’s enclosure anyway.

  “I’m glad you’re getting closer to the wolves,” I said. “I remember Rich told me you were good with them.”

  She pulled up next to the visitors’ center. “I actually find it relaxing to hang around them—well, at least I did, before these attacks started. The wolves are playful, and they aren’t stingy with their love. I’m sure that’s the way Rich felt about them, too. And Shaun was one of those live-for-the-moment kind of guys who just loved everyone and everything. I think he even had a little crush on you.” She winked.

  “Shaun was sweet, and he certainly didn’t deserve that kind of death.” I had a sudden brainstorm. “Listen, since you won’t be taking tours out for a while, would you like to train to help with feedings? Marco does the majority of the heavy lifting and he handles the wolves’ meats, but I could show you how to fill the watering troughs and maybe how to feed the smaller animals.” It wouldn’t hurt to have backup for when my term on the preserve ended. If Veronica could handle my chores, Dahlia would be less likely to ask me to extend my contract.

  Veronica didn’t hesitate. “Of course. I could explain to Jacob that you need my help, so I’d need to stick around—which is what I want, anyway. How about tomorrow?”

  “You’ve got it,” I said, hopping out of the cart by the front door.

  Veronica waved and pulled around to the side door to grab the wolf enclosure keys.

  As I walked into the gift shop, my spirits were buoyant. Evie strode over from behind her desk. “Are you ready to eat?” she asked.

  My stomach rumbled. “Definitely.”

  * * * *

  The taco restaurant promised to become one of my new favorite places to eat. As the waiter sprinkled salt on the freshly made chunky guacamole, Evie and I made small talk about the weather. But when he finally strode off, Evie shot me a serious look.

  “I’ve looked into things, and I think I know who the man was in the parking lot,” she said.

  I munched on a nacho. “Who is he?”

  “My ex,” she said, sighing. “The last I’d heard, he was in prison. Yet the past couple of weeks, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I told myself I was just imagining things. I actually called the prison—that day you first came—but I had to leave a message, and no one got back to me, so I tried to brush off my misgivings.”

  She paused as the waiter refilled her iced tea, and when he left, she resumed her story. “When I heard what you said to Sergeant Hardy, I realized maybe my gut instinct was right—maybe someone has been stalking me. I made a call to the prison, and they had misplaced my message. It turns out my ex was released three weeks ago.”

  “He’s tracked you down?” I asked.

  “So it would appear. I don’t k
now how he scrounged the funds to come here. I thought I’d be safe in the States.”

  “Wait—you mean you came all the way to the U.S. to get away from him?”

  “Yes. I didn’t adopt a pseudonym or anything like that, although I did go back to my maiden name. In retrospect, it seems I should have legally changed my name and done a better job hiding. I just assumed he wouldn’t get out for years and that he’d never have the money to fly over and find me.” She took a long drink and frowned. “My divorce lawyer wasn’t the best—he should have been the one to let me know about the prison release.”

  “What did your ex-husband do to you?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “He beat me. But that wasn’t why he went to prison. He was embezzling from his firm, and once they discovered it, they made sure he was prosecuted to the fullest extent.”

  I finished my bite of steak taco. “And the blue wristband gave it away? I noticed how you flinched when you saw it.”

  She gave a brief nod. “It was from our wedding. He wore it, even when he was on trial. His way of saying that he owned me.” She rubbed her thin upper arms. “And now it’s clear he knows where I’m working.”

  “You have to tell Sergeant Hardy,” I said. “Do you think your ex could have…well, could he have killed Shaun or Rich, maybe to get to you somehow?”

  She nibbled at her adobo chicken enchilada. The lemon cream sauce had congealed a bit, but she didn’t seem to care. “I don’t think Brian would be capable of it, but then again, I’m an expert at underestimating him.” Her matter-of-fact manner evaporated, and I saw desperation in her eyes. “How am I supposed to continue working at the preserve, now that he knows where I am?”

  “I’m sure if you told Sergeant Hardy, he’d come up with some way to protect you,” I offered.

  Evie rubbed at her forehead, as if staving off a gargantuan headache—which was essentially what her ex was. “But what if Brian follows me home tonight? I don’t have any kind of weapon. Even my kitchen knives are dull.”

  I had a crazy brainstorm. “You can come home with me,” I said. “I have a couch that pulls into a bed.”

  She smiled, but shook her head. “What about the next night, and the next? I can’t move in with you, Belinda, although I appreciate the sentiment. It would be best if I packed up and moved altogether.”

  “You’d need to land another job first,” I said. My wheels were turning, and as usual, I improvised. “Listen, I have some friends and they have plenty of extra rooms in their home. They also have top-of-the-line security. Why don’t I ask them if you could settle in there for a short time? If they agreed, I could drop you off at their place after work.”

  “And my things?” she asked.

  I placed my hand on her arm. “I know someone, and if I haven’t missed my guess, he could retrieve your things for you and deal with any kind of hassle Brian dishes out.”

  She gave me a pained gaze. “That is very kind of you. I’m so sorry to put you in this position. It seems I’m always leaning on others, especially after I finally got away from Brian.”

  “Sometimes leaning is the only way to stay upright,” I said. “We’ll get you taken care of.”

  17

  I had never been more thankful I’d followed up on my urge to have lunch with Evie; otherwise, she might have never opened up about her abusive ex. I dropped her off at the visitors’ center, then sat on a rocking chair outside and made couple of calls.

  First, I asked Ava if she would mind if Evie stayed over. After hearing Evie’s story, Ava agreed that she could stay indefinitely while she figured out her next steps. I had correctly guessed that my generous friend would open her home to someone in need.

  I called Red next. He said he was grabbing lunch at The Apricot Macaron before heading into Manhattan to pick up Stone the fourth from work.

  I laid my cards on the table. “Red, I know you were in the army. I also know you carry weapons—don’t worry, they’re not obvious. I just notice things like that. Anyway, I work with this woman who just found out her crazy British ex has tracked her all the way to America, and now he’s stalking her. She’s going to stay with some of my friends tonight—the Fentons, if you remember them—but I wondered if you would be able to pick up her things and get them over to her at some point? There’s a chance you might run into her ex, though.”

  I figured that voicing my hesitancy might make Red step up to the plate, and he did. His voice roughened. “The ex will not be a problem. Just give me the address and a list of things she needs, and I’ll get over there tonight.”

  “I’ll get her key to you first,” I said.

  “Not necessary, but okay.”

  Once again, I wanted to ask Red just exactly what he had done in the army, but I held back. I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to know.

  After thanking him, I hung up and headed into the visitors’ center. Evie was on the phone. She held up her finger, and I waited until she finished her conversation.

  “Sergeant Hardy doesn’t have anyone to spare, but he will have someone drive by the preserve daily. That was all he could promise,” she said, looking defeated.

  I was grateful I had good news to share. After telling Evie that the Fentons were happy to take her in, I mentioned that Red was also willing to gather whatever things she needed from her place and drop them by later.

  “You’re a miracle worker, Belinda! I’ll never be able to thank you enough,” Evie said, pulling me into a hug. She retrieved her key chain and pulled off a key, writing down her apartment address for Red.

  Happy to have put Evie’s mind temporarily at ease, I headed into the kitchen and grabbed my vest. But as I walked out, my steps grew heavier as I thought of each question that was still unanswered. Did Shaun have pepper spray in his vest when he died? Did Rich? Were the men poisoned, or had they died from some other cause? What had spurred the wolves to gnaw on Shaun and attack Carson?

  I hoped Sergeant Hardy would fill us in soon.

  * * * *

  I’d only been in the chicken coop for two minutes when it became clear that some days, the chickens could be an even bigger handful than a pack of wolves. Two chickens were having a fierce stare down over an egg, one was determined to get out of the fence by relentlessly running straight at it, and an undersized white chicken followed me around, pecking at my legs.

  It seemed to me the drawbacks of having chickens far outweighed the benefits, but maybe I just wasn’t a chicken person.

  By the time I’d fed the frisky goats and braved the endless peacock shrieks, I was ready to hit the Dunkin’ D drive-through for a large iced coffee. It would be great when Veronica learned to do these chores, because she could take some of the load off me.

  The wooden peacock fence adjoined Dahlia’s manicured back lawn, and when the birds miraculously fell silent, voices drifted my way. Two people were deep in conversation in Dahlia’s backyard. I listened closely, silently trying to shoo the rustling peacocks toward their food so I could hear better.

  I recognized Dahlia’s voice. “I’m afraid we’ll have to move,” she said. “Dennis will be thrilled to get his claws back on his property—he hated that Quinn included it in the divorce settlement.”

  The deep, soothing voice that responded was not at all who I’d expected: Marco Goretti. Apparently, he hadn’t gone home as early as he’d planned.

  “Quinn can’t renege on what he gave you in the settlement,” Marco said. “Besides, you know if you are forced to sell and move out, you can always move in with me. You like my brownstone, right?”

  Dahlia sniffled. “But it’s not big enough for all three of us.”

  Marco’s voice took on a hard edge. “Carson’s old enough to be on his own. You should be charging him rent as it is; maybe that would force him to get out and get a job.”

  Dahlia muttered incoherently.

  I snuck
closer to the fence, willing the peacocks to stay quiet.

  “That geology degree hasn’t really paid off yet,” she said. “It just puts him at a disadvantage when he’s job hunting, you know.”

  “He’s lazy,” Marco said firmly. “He never even did the work-study program at Yale like he promised. He let you foot the bill for everything.”

  “Well, but…” Dahlia sputtered. “It was all his father’s fault. Quinn was never there for Carson, never went to any of his concerts or chess tournaments. That’s why Carson finds it so hard to trust you, Marco. He saw how his father treated me. Quinn has more than enough money, but he expected me to pay for Yale. I’ll be in debt for the rest of my life.”

  “We’ll work through this together,” Marco murmured. They both fell silent. It was possible he’d pulled her into a comforting hug.

  I quietly exited the peacock gate, astounded by this unexpected alliance. I would never have guessed it, based on the story Carson had shared about Marco’s illegal connections. Now I saw that Carson could have been exaggerating, even shifting blame due to issues with his own father.

  What if the murderer’s end goal was to make the White Pine Wolf Preserve fail? Marco wanted Dahlia to move in with him, but she had resisted since Carson was still home. Would that be a strong enough motivation to kill, so Dahlia would have to close up shop and find a new place to live?

  It seemed unlikely, but I remembered that Katrina had once mentioned that killers rarely had logic that made sense, no matter how much sense it made to them.

  My list of possible suspects was growing by the minute.

  * * * *

  After getting Evie settled at the Fentons’, where she was welcomed with open arms, I headed out to Bluebell and gave Jonas a call to figure out when he was coming over. When he picked up, I heard the familiar bustle of New York City in the background.

  “How’s your Saturday?” I asked.

  “It’s been great. I’ve sold nearly all my stock,” he said. “What time do you want me to head your way?”

  “I’ll be home in about five minutes, then I’ll need to shower and cook, so how about six or thereabouts?”