“Well, that does look delicious. Thanks.” Claire leaned against the doorway, glancing between the two of them. “I thought I’d come back earlier than usual so I can start packing. I’m planning on leaving early in the morning.”
Liz handed her the hot mug and plate. “Here you go.” She tried another smile, but her mind was too bogged down with the previous conversation. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Without a backward glance, Claire walked carefully toward the stairs. When the stair treads creaked, Liz sank into her chair, relieved. It seemed all of her nerves were on edge no matter how much effort she put into staying calm.
Brian sat watching her for a few minutes then said, “Hard to relax under these circumstances, but I think you’re pulling it off pretty good.”
She made a face that was more like a grimace and replied, “If only.”
“Looks like your cup is empty. I make a mean cup of coffee, even though I’m no cook.” He gave her a quirky sideways grin as he rose from his seat. “Let me make it this time.”
Liz pushed her cup toward him. “Sure. I’m game.” She leaned back in her chair and watched.
“You’ve got a real coffee pot here somewhere. I saw you use it once.” He poked around in a couple of the cabinets till he found it. Then he studied the markings on the side and added water from the faucet. The package of coffee was within reach on the counter and he carefully added a few scoops. After putting the lid on the pot, he plugged it in.
“You know your way around a percolator pretty good,” she said, grinning at him. “I’m guessing you’ve got one of those?”
He nodded and returned to his chair across from her. “Yep. I do. Just plain old-fashioned coffee, none of those flavored pods or cream and sugar either.”
“Well, maybe one day we’ll experiment with a really old-fashioned coffeepot on the wood cookstove. Hmm? I’m sure that could turn into a truly mean cup of java.” Their bantering lifted her spirits and she gave him an honest smile at last.
“Now that would be a real cup of coffee,” he said. “As my grandfather used to say, it’ll put hair on your chest.”
Her cheeks flushed and she laughed, saying, “No thanks.”
He shrugged and grinned back. “Grandpa didn’t have any hair on his chest, so it was just wishful thinking, I suppose.”
When the perking was done and enough time had passed for the grounds to sufficiently settle, Brian filled each of the cups.
“Cream?” he asked while holding up her fresh cream pitcher.
“Absolutely,” she replied.
When he finally sat down again, she studied him for a minute finding herself feeling thankful for his friendship. And she easily admitted they had become friends.
“It’s delicious,” she said after taking a sip. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, eating muffins and drinking coffee. She didn’t want to return to their previous conversation about talking to the detective, so it hung in the air like a damp fog.
He pushed aside his empty cup and stood up.
“Well, I’d better get going,” he said. “But I want you to give some serious thought to letting the detective know about the threats.” He pushed his chair forward. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening to walk with you and Myrtie.”
Liz nodded. “I will think about it. But I can’t promise anything.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then he left.
She watched as he backed out of the driveway then headed up the road as she turned the lock on the door. Then she went to the front door and locked it too.
Afterward, she cleaned up the dishes and considered ideas for breakfast the next morning. Her one and only guest was leaving and very likely would never come back for another visit. But who could blame her, she told herself. Claire might even prefer to skip breakfast and rush off in her little red sportscar.
Deep in thought, she jumped in surprise when her cell phone alerted her to an incoming call. The number was unfamiliar and she hesitated for a moment before answering.
“Maple Ridge Bed and Breakfast, may I help you?”
“Hello, this is Robert Hart. Shelly said you have some questions about my drone videos and asked me to get in touch with you. I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“Oh, hello! Yes, I do have questions. If it’s possible could we meet for lunch, maybe at the café outdoor seating area?”
“Sure. I’m kind of tied up tomorrow but I have time on Thursday. Does that work for you?”
“Absolutely.” If it didn’t, she’d just make it work.
“Okay, see you then.”
After they hung up, she dialed Shelly to thank her and see if she’d had time to find any information about Kevin in the online database. It would be great if she did because she might be able to connect more dots when she met with Robert Hart.
“Hi, Shelly, I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you had a chance to do some searching concerning Kevin Jones?”
“No problem at all. I just finished putting the closed sign in the library window and winding down for the day. And I did get some information for you. Let me pull up the file I saved just in case you’d like me to send it to your email. Here’s a quick overview of the highlights at least these were pretty striking to me. First, there are quite a few articles in the Boston papers that were… get this… written by Jenny! Not one or two, but a lot. She was hot on his trail about some kind of fraud scheme, I'd say. I didn’t read all of them but that’s the gist of it. I knew she’d been a reporter for some time in Boston before coming here. So, apparently there was a trial where Mr. Jones was the owner of a business. According to a few editorials, also written by Jenny, he managed to squeeze out of going to jail.”
Liz sank into the nearest chair at the table, shocked by this news. Jenny not only knew Kevin, but she’d kept close tabs on his schemes and published the articles on what she found. There was little doubt she’d kept this information from Liz intentionally, which could only mean she was worried about getting drawn into the investigation. Liz had no room to point fingers when it came to holding back information. And maybe she was overreacting by thinking Jenny knew him personally. Just because she was following a story or even several stories was not an indictment by itself. Reporters seldom if ever had personal relationships, good or bad, with the people they published news articles about. No, she had to calm down and be realistic. There were two sides to every story and she needed to rein in her imagination.
“Are you still there, Liz?”
“Yes. I’m just taking it all in and trying to understand what this might mean.”
“I know exactly what you’re saying. But I suppose it could just be a coincidence that Jenny knew this guy who ends up dead in our small town. So, he must have had a connection with someone besides yourself. That’s good news, right?”
“I don’t know, Shelly. I guess I’d better look over those files and give it some thought. Can you send those to me now?”
“Hang on….”
This was going to be a long night, Liz told herself as she headed to her room and sat in front of the computer.
“There it goes,” Shelly said.
“Got it. Thanks a bunch. I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. I hope it helps. Now, I’ve got to run. Talk to you soon.”
Liz quickly scanned the file of articles in her eagerness to find something that might jump out at her, but after several minutes she realized this was going to be some heavy reading. She needed a tall mug of Brian’s coffee to brace herself before digging in. It would definitely be a long night.
Chapter Ten
The alarm went off at the crack of dawn and she opened one eye groggily as she tried to make her way out of the pile of blankets. She’d slept terribly after finally falling asleep well past two a.m. One nightmare after another plagued her most of the night and judging by the mess of blankets surrounding her, sh
e’d done a good job of kicking her assailant. Or had she just been running from an unseen villain? She groaned as she put both feet on the floor and stood up trying to shake herself free of the dangers that hadn’t been real. She eyed the half cup of cold coffee that sat on her desk. Perhaps it would help to clear her head. She drank it down.
“Bleh.” Bad choice.
Fifteen minutes later she walked into the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day, almost. While debating what she should cook for Claire’s final breakfast, she brewed a fresh cup of coffee to get herself in gear. She wanted this morning to go well and hoped it would add up to a good apology for such a nightmarish visit. She squinted her eyes in distaste of the word. No more nightmares, please, she told herself.
“Think positive,” she said aloud then took a sip of the hot coffee. “Much better.” She inhaled deeply and turned to look out the kitchen window where the maples were turning color a little more each day. “Best time of the year,” she told herself aloud.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it,” Claire said from the kitchen doorway.
Liz turned in surprise. She hadn’t heard her approaching.
“Good morning, Claire. What you would like for breakfast?”
“Whatever suits you,” she replied. “But not as much of the carbs this time. I have to get back on track.”
“I completely understand. Me too,” Liz busied herself at the fridge then asked over her shoulder. “Are you already packed?”
“Yes, and it’s all in the car. I was up earlier and hauled it out. I hope I didn’t wake you while I was clumping up and down the stairs. Did I?” Claire pulled out a chair and sat down. She was wearing the red scarf she’d bought from Polly at Market Day. Liz couldn’t help noticing that it went well with her current designer choice of a black and gray blazer over a white camisole. The heather gray slacks were a perfect finishing touch along with the suede boots. The woman simply oozed money.
She set a cup of fresh coffee in front of Claire. “Believe me, I never heard a thing.”
“Thank you.” She sniffed the steam rising above the cup appreciatively. “Heavenly. You have a real touch for all of this.”
Liz returned the smile and said simply, “Thanks.” Then she whipped up the eggs while the skillet heated. A mushroom omelet with spinach and cheese would be the right choice, she decided, adding lemon juice and a touch of cayenne. In just a few minutes it was perfectly cooked. She rolled it out onto the plate then dished up a few blueberries, red raspberries and bite-sized cantaloupe pieces to go alongside the omelet and sprinkled a bit of grated mozzarella on top.
“This looks lovely,” Claire said, her eyes lighting up. “See? I told you that you have the touch.” She forked a bite and said, “Perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Liz turned back to finish clearing the counter. Already her mind had begun focusing on being alone in the house again.
“You know,” Claire said quietly, “I have had a very enjoyable time. In spite of… well, you know.” She sipped her coffee then went on. “It’s been so satisfying to have time to do what I want without being on call every minute and the scenery has been excellent. On top of that, I’ve accomplished something I’ve been wanting to do for quite some time. Bucket list, you know.” She waved her fork carefully in the air with a piece of melon stuck on the end of it.
“We all have a bucket list,” Liz replied.
“That’s true.” Claire nodded, thoughtfully. “But I think this vacation took care of the best part of mine.”
“Not many people can say that I’m sure,” Liz said, thinking of her parents with a feeling of regret that they were on their way back home already, and all because of this mess.
They chatted casually while Claire finished her breakfast, which surprised Liz since they’d had practically no conversations at all during her stay.
“Would you like more coffee,” Liz asked.
Claire looked at her watch. “Oh goodness. Um, no thanks. I’d better get going. Business is already calling me.” She gave Liz a weary smile as she scooted her chair away from the table and stood.
“Well, thank you for coming and spending time here. I wish it had been better.” Liz didn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t apologize. I’m looking forward to coming back again.”
Shocked at her response, Liz spoke without even thinking, “You are?”
“Of course.” Claire slipped the strap of her matching designer bag over her shoulder and backed away toward the kitchen door. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks again,” Liz replied, still astonished as Claire closed the door behind her. She watched through the window as Claire climbed into her red roadster and drove down the hill toward the covered bridge, and out of sight. She leaned against the door, thinking, well what do you make of that? She shook her head and let out a long sigh.
Her plan now was to bring the cows home to pasture then finish cleaning up the kitchen and Claire’s room too. Although, she could hardly make herself set aside the file of newspaper articles she’d begun to read the night before. With all that on her mind, she hurried down the road to Polly’s at a quick jog.
“Morning, Polly!” she called out as she slowed down at the barn.
“Morning to you,” came the reply. “Just finished up and Myrtie’s ready to go. You look like you’re in a hurry today.” The older woman stood with her hands on her hips. “Anything going on back home?”
“Well, sort of. Claire just left and I’ve got some research I’m anxious to get started on. And of course, all the other usual things.”
“I think Myrtie is a bit anxious too. I’m sure she misses home more than you think she does.” Polly laughed when the cow let out a friendly welcome to Liz. “See?”
“Since she’s in the mood I guess I’d better take advantage of it and get going.” Liz wasn’t in the frame of mind to bring up any discussion about her folks being due any day now. She fastened the lead rope on Myrtie while Polly opened the gate for Pearl to follow them.
“Okay. I’ll see you tonight!” Polly said as she waved them off.
The fast walk up the road demonstrated just how much both cows looked forward to getting into their pasture and Liz had to laugh. These two were as much fun as a couple of old friends. After turning them loose in the bright sunny grassland, she headed to the house and got right to work. She stripped the sheets and gathered up the towels and took it all to the laundry in the basement then returned to the room for dusting. Without Claire’s things lying around, the room no longer looked chaotic and once she had the entire upstairs vacuumed and everything looking all fresh again, her mind cleared. Being alone felt very good. Grabbing a fresh cup of coffee she hurried to the computer, ready to get down to the business of searching.
Once she’d settled in and opened the file her attention became glued to the screen. Scanning the list of articles, she chose the earliest date and started reading through one after the other, jotting notes on a tablet as she went. Apparently, Jenny discovered a lot of things about Kevin that had never surfaced in the embezzlement trial in New York. For one thing, he had started up his own small investment-wealth management firm in Boston about four years earlier. Liz couldn’t ever remember hearing a single word about that during the time she worked with him let alone during the trial. And why would he keep working for Mr. Charles’ firm if he owned and managed one of his own firms? This was one more thing that just didn’t make sense which made her think there was something much deeper going on and she’d stepped right into the middle of it somehow. Jenny’s editorials suggested that he had hired a manager to run the firm and to embezzle his wealthy clients while Kevin laid low and out of the picture, at least for a while. Her intensive reporting of the facts made it clear that Kevin simply denied any wrongdoing as well as any knowledge of the embezzling since his firm was a passive ownership when in fact he’d been very involved with his manager from the beginning. The obvious suggestion, which was nearly an accusation, was
that the manager was under the direction of Kevin to do as he was told, or else.
Liz leaned back into the chair, staring at the screen. How had Kevin escaped two embezzlement schemes unscathed? Starting up a new firm, even a small one, would not be financially possible without a large bank account to begin with, and where had that come from? He’d been well paid just as she had, but not that well paid. And to hire a manager with enough experience to run that business without the owner being involved, or at least nearby, was risky at best. But then if Jenny was right in her accusations, and Liz suspected she was, his clientele would make him richer if he lured them in and embezzled from them. Plus, the fewer employees he hired the safer he would be, at least that appeared to be his belief.
By the time noon came and went, Liz had acquired several pages of notes detailing the events of the Boston trial and the schemes that had been discovered by a smart client. Liz grinned as the thought that not everyone was easily scammed. Finally the rumbling in her stomach couldn’t be ignored so she pushed away from the desk as she considered lunch. Only a few more articles to go then she’d put her notes all together in a summary so she could quickly read through the facts. There had to be clues about Kevin’s murder in there somewhere, something that would link him to their small town, but at the moment lunch was calling her by name.
In the kitchen, she searched for the makings of a salad and topped it with cheese and leftover chunks of chicken breast. Her appetite was improving, she noted as she looked at the piled high dish then added a lite dressing. Later she might even indulge in some hot chocolate with fresh whipped cream on top to celebrate what she considered to be a strong lead in discovering important answers.
When her phone rang, she reached in her pocket to retrieve it. One glance told her that her mom was on the other end.
“Hi, Mom. Where are you guys now?” She pushed her plate aside and concentrated on the call.
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