“I’m sorry, Mr. Raymer,” Jason said. “I don’t follow.”
The man took a long swallow from his can, studying them over the rim. “Huh,” he said finally, lowering the can. “Guess you really don’t know.” He smacked his lips and smiled smugly. “Julie Ann changed her name. Calls herself Julia now. Fancy, huh? Julia Bridges. She’s good ol’ Rich Bridges’s wife.”
Stunned, Audrey could only stare at the man. “Your nephew’s girlfriend later married Richard Bridges?” Jason asked, and she could tell from his tone he was just as surprised as she was. “Did you know she was seeing him at the time?”
“Not then, no. I only figured it out like most people, when he came back the next year and married her.”
“Isn’t it possible they didn’t get together until that next summer?” she suggested.
“No. They got married too fast. Little Richie Bridges had barely come back to town when he and Julie Ann ran off and eloped. I heard old Dick was pissed. Hard to blame him. Can’t imagine trash like her was what he had in mind for his golden boy. Ain’t no way they knew each other long enough to want to get married. They must have been going out the summer before. I just should have put it together sooner. Rumor had it little Richie Bridges was seeing a local girl the summer Tim died. He was seen parking with some girl one time, but no one could see who she was. And Julie Ann used to go out to the farm—to ‘visit’ Tim, they said.” He snorted. “More like to get her hooks in the Bridges kid.”
“And then Tim died,” Audrey concluded.
“Nice and easylike for Julie Ann, huh? She didn’t even have to break up with him. Richie left town right after that. I figure Dick sent him packing to keep her away from him. Didn’t work out the way he wanted, now did it?”
Was this the reason for Rich Bridges’s sudden departure for Europe? Could it have been nothing more than Dick’s attempt to break up a teenage romance? If so, then Raymer was right. It hadn’t turned out as Dick had intended.
Clint shook his head slowly. “Don’t say much for Richie Bridges now, does it? Fooling around with another fella’s girl? Everybody thinks he’s so damn perfect, but he ain’t. Just another rich bastard taking what he wants. Not that Julie Ann made it all that hard for him, I bet.”
“Are you sure Rich even knew she and Tim were dating?” Jason asked.
“He had to. You think she could go out there to the farm, where both of them were, and get away with one of them not knowing she was seeing the other?”
Audrey considered the man’s words. If this was true, it did make the way Rich and Julia Bridges first met seem a little tawdry. It might be a little embarrassing for them, but she couldn’t imagine Hal thinking it was enough to base his book on.
An honorable man…
Hal’s title implied that Richard Bridges was anything but. Even so, a teenage love triangle was hardly the stuff of major scandals. Few people would hold something like that against Bridges, or even care. It might even make him seem more human, not the perfect person he often came across as. If anything, it might tarnish Julia Bridges’s reputation more than her husband’s.
Unless there was more to it, she thought, turning the facts over in her head.
Two young men, both involved with one young woman. One of the young men dies suddenly in a tragic accident, the other abruptly leaves the country, abandoning his established plans to attend college in the fall.
Unless, Audrey thought with a growing sense of foreboding, what seemed to be a tragic accident was something else altogether.
Chapter Seven
Howard Foley stared at the milk carton he’d just pulled out of the refrigerator and swallowed a sigh. He’d recognized something was wrong as soon as he’d picked up the carton. He didn’t even have to look to know it.
The carton was empty.
It was a bad habit of his, placing an empty milk carton back in the refrigerator without thinking about it, too preoccupied with whatever else was on his mind to register what he was doing. Carol had tried to break him of the habit—or at least had done enough complaining about it—for most of the forty years they’d been married. But Carol had passed over a year ago, and now the only person left to care about empty milk cartons in the fridge was Howard himself, the sole victim of his own transgression.
Grimacing, he closed the refrigerator door and set the carton on the countertop. The sound it made as it hit the surface, a kind of echoing emptiness, was familiar. The whole house seemed filled with it. There’d been a time when he and Carol had thought that this house might be too small for their family, the two of them and their three children. Now Carol was gone, the children were grown and off to their own lives far from here, and the house seemed huge, so much empty space, with only him to amble around in it.
The worst part was that he couldn’t even go into town to buy more milk. He wasn’t leaving the house for the next few days. Barrett’s Mill was full of Bridges supporters, all here for Rich Bridges’s announcement that he was going to run for president. The mere thought of it made Howard’s grimace deepen into an all-out scowl.
All those people, all those smiling faces. All for a man who didn’t deserve any of it.
But they’d know the truth soon enough.
He felt a twinge of regret at the knowledge that a lot of people were going to be upset, disillusioned, and he’d played a part in that. But they needed to know the truth about the man before it was too late.
Bracing his hands on the kitchen sink, Howard tried to strengthen the rest of him in much the same way. The day was a long time coming, and the closer it came, the more nervous he became. Not about Bridges’s actions being revealed, but his own complicity in them, even if no public reaction could compare to the guilt he’d carried all this time.
In the more than thirty-five years he’d served as the local medical examiner, he tried to do his best to serve the dead, to give them the dignity and respect they deserved. He had just one regret in his career, the sole deceased individual he’d failed to serve.
He’d been only thirty-two, new on the job, with a wife and—at the time—two young children to support. When he’d first seen the body, cause of death had seemed obvious. At least until he’d completed the autopsy and discovered otherwise.
He’d naturally taken his findings to the police chief, only to be informed that Dick Bridges wanted the case closed with a minimum of fuss, and that was exactly what was going to happen. It was going to be determined that the deceased died as a result of the fire caused when his car struck a tree. An unfortunate accident. Case closed.
Being fairly new to the area, Howard hadn’t understood how Bridges could influence an investigation like that. The police chief had quickly set him straight. If Howard wanted to keep his job, he’d figure out fast how things worked around here and keep his mouth shut.
He did want to keep the job. It was a much-needed supplement to his burgeoning medical practice. He’d already known that the deceased had next to no family, only a deadbeat uncle who’d barely cared about the deceased at all. There was no one who really needed or deserved to have the truth told. No one but the victim himself.
So Howard had kept his mouth shut as ordered—even if doing so had never sat right with him—and kept his job. But he hadn’t been able to completely bury the truth behind the lies he’d been ordered to tell. So he retained a copy of the true report, thinking that someday the time would come when he would be able to reveal the truth.
That day had arrived just less than a year ago, when a man had come to his door asking about an old case, wondering if he remembered.
As if he could forget.
Tim Raymer. A name that had never managed to fade into the past like so many others. A name he could have supplied before the stranger at his door said a single word, the sight of him alone giving Howard a premonition that told him exactly why the man had come. The time had finally arrived to tell the truth.
For almost a year, he’d waited for the day when the stranger would reveal the truth to the whole world. Now that Richard Bridges was about to officially announce his candidacy, that day was closer than ever. Everything that had been done would be revealed—including Howard’s own role in the cover-up. He was prepared to face his own disgrace for the sake of the larger truth. The only small comfort of Carol’s passing was that she wasn’t here to see it.
The doorbell rang, the sound jarring him out of his thoughts. Howard raised his head and looked back toward the front door. He couldn’t imagine who it might be. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Most of his days passed in solitude. Still, grateful for the distraction, he made his way to the front door.
He didn’t move as fast as he used to, and whoever it was rang the bell a second time before he reached the door. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered.
It never occurred to him to ask who it was. This was a small town. Innocent. So as he reached for the knob, he didn’t give a thought to opening the door.
At least until he did. And then it was too late.
Because just as he’d had a premonition when a man had appeared on his doorstep a year earlier, he knew as soon as he looked at this man that he shouldn’t have opened the door.
“S
O WHAT’D YOU THINK
of Clint’s story?” Audrey asked as they drove away from Raymer’s house. “Could there be something there?”
“If so, it has to be more than Rich stealing another kid’s girlfriend,” Jason said.
“Like maybe there was more to Tim Raymer’s death than just a tragic accident?”
He nodded. “Looks like we’re on the same page then. But if that is the case, we’re going to need a lot more to prove it. All we have so far is innuendo from the mouth of a drunk.”
“True. The basic facts should be easy enough to confirm. When Rich left for Europe, when he and Julia married and whether she used to be known as Julie Ann Foster. And I’m sure if she did date Tim Raymer, others will remember, maybe people they went to school with.”
“Marybeth appears to be roughly the same age as Rich and Julia Bridges,” Jason pointed out. “She may have known Julia back then.”
“We should ask her,” Audrey agreed, remembering how she’d sensed that Marybeth didn’t like Rich Bridges. Audrey wondered how she felt about his wife. “Well, if there is more to Tim Raymer’s death, and Rich was involved, it could explain some things. Assuming what Clint told us is true, then maybe Rich didn’t suddenly leave the country because his father was trying to put an end to his relationship with Julia. Maybe Dick was trying to keep him out of the reach of the law, in case anyone figured out what really happened to Tim. When they realized the crime had effectively been ruled an accident and Rich had escaped suspicion, he was free to return.”
“It certainly makes more sense than Dick simply letting Rich postpone college to bum around Europe, or sending him overseas to stop the relationship,” Jason noted.
“It could also explain why Rich suddenly fell in line with his father’s plans for him.”
“If Rich had something to do with Tim’s death and Dick helped him cover it up, then Rich would have owed him. I wouldn’t put it past Dick to hold it over his son’s head to force him to do what he wanted.”
“Well, if Clint is telling the truth, it sounds like Dick didn’t have complete control over Rich’s actions. He came back and married Julia anyway. Of course, that was only an act of rebellion, if Julia was as beneath his class as Clint made her out to be and Dick really disliked her.” She glanced at him. “How much do you know about Julia Bridges?”
Jason frowned, his brow furrowing. “Nothing really. I never knew all that much about the Bridgeses’ marriage. I don’t even know what, if anything, she does for a living. She pretty much always seemed like the typical politician’s spouse, supporting her husband while staying out of the limelight and not drawing too much attention to herself.”
“Well, Hal’s book was about Bridges’s entire life, especially the parts that hadn’t been explored much. It would make sense that the Bridgeses’ marriage would come up.”
“We definitely should learn more about Julia Bridges. It could give us an idea of just how much of Clint Raymer’s story we should believe.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“On the other hand,” he said after a moment, “it could be that none of this is important at all. Just because Hal spoke with him doesn’t mean he found what Clint Raymer had to say useful. It was just gossip. Not to mention our tail never did show up, which could indicate Clint wasn’t mentioned in the book, or if so, what he had to say wasn’t a major part of what Hal wrote about.”
He had a point, but her instincts told her they were on to something with the man’s story. They’d warned Clint to be careful whom he talked to and to watch his back, that Bridges might not like what he had to say. Audrey had had the distinct feeling he hadn’t taken their comments seriously. But then, Jason was right. What the man had to say really was unsubstantiated gossip. Even if it was relevant, Bridges might not consider an old drunk enough of a threat to need to be silenced. Audrey could only hope the latter was the case.
A few minutes later they arrived back at the inn. Walking inside, they found Marybeth at the front desk, speaking to a man standing on the other side of it. She noticed them as soon as they came through the door, looking up with a smile. “You’re back!”
Audrey felt another twinge of guilt at how they’d deceived the woman, but managed to match her smile. “I hope it’s not too soon.”
“Not at all,” Marybeth replied, coming around the desk. “I have the room ready for you. I think you’ll be pleased with how it turned out.”
“I’m sure we will be,” Jason said, the warmth in his voice nearly sending a shudder down Audrey’s spine. When he turned on the charm like that, he sounded so different from the way he usually did—so smooth, so undeniably sexy. Even knowing it was feigned, she couldn’t help but be affected by it.
As Audrey tried to shake off the feeling, the man Marybeth had been speaking to turned to face them. “You must be the folks who talked my mother into finally putting my old room to some use.”
“This is my son, Will,” Marybeth said, her pride obvious in both her voice and the way she looked up at him.
“Will Kent,” the man said, extending his hand. He was a tall, handsome man in his thirties, with deep brown eyes and a broad smile. Everything about him exuded an easy friendliness. He was clearly Marybeth’s son, the resemblance unmistakable even before she’d introduced him. “Good to meet you.”
“Ben Randall,” Jason said. “This is my wife, Lila. I hope you don’t mind us using your room.”
Amusement sparkled in the man’s brown eyes. “It hasn’t been my room for well over a decade now. It’s long past time my mother took down the shrine.”
“It was hardly that,” Marybeth said with an indulgent grin. “Will’s also our town mayor,” she told Jason and Audrey.
“I’m also running for the state senate in the fall, if you happen to be from the area,” he said smoothly.
“We’re not, I’m afraid,” Audrey said.
“Not a problem.” He grinned. “Never hurts to ask. It’s still good to meet you.”
Audrey couldn’t help but laugh. The man was a charmer, she had to give him that. A lot of politicians came off as smarmy and insincere, but he clearly had natural charisma to spare. Given her current circumstances, she should be feeling skeptical toward anyone remotely connected with politics. Instead, she couldn’t help but like him. Even without knowing anything about his positions, she had no trouble believing he could go far.
“I guess maybe someday Bridges won’t be the only famous name in politics from Barrett’s Mill,” she said. “Do you know Rich Bridges?”
“I’ve never met him,” Will said. “Though I’d like to. It’s certainly inspiring to see how far somebody from our little town can go. Is that what made you decide to spend your honeymoon here?”
“Actually, we didn’t even know about any of that,” Audrey replied without so much as blinking. “My great-aunt grew up in the area before moving away. She always said how beautiful it was, so I convinced Ben to come here for our honeymoon and maybe reconnect with some distant relatives.”
“Anybody we can help you find?” Marybeth asked.
“Actually, we spoke to someone this afternoon. Clint Raymer?”
Will and Marybeth both appeared as surprised as the librarian in town had. “I didn’t know Clint had any family,” Marybeth said carefully.
“Yes, well, I believe there was some kind of…difficulty between him and Aunt Martha’s side of the family,” Audrey said, as though she was being tactful. “They’d been out of touch for so long, and I thought I’d see if there was any way of broaching a reconciliation.”
“Any luck?” Will asked.
“I’m not sure yet. I guess we’ll see.” Audrey glanced at Marybeth. “By any chance did you know
Tim
Raymer?”
Marybeth’s eyebrows shot up. “Whew. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Sure I knew Tim. We were in the same grade all through school. He passed…must be thirty-five years ago now.”
“What can you tell us about him?” Audrey asked, trying not to appear too eager. “Aunt Martha was sorry she didn’t know him better.”
“Oh, Tim was a nice fellow,” Marybeth said genuinely enough that Audrey knew she wasn’t just being polite. “He didn’t have the easiest time of it, I’m afraid. You may know his mama passed when he was just a boy, and I don’t think he ever knew his father. And, well, if you’ve met Clint, you can probably guess he wasn’t all that interested in raising the boy. But Tim was smart, a hard worker. Everybody liked him. We all thought he’d go places. It’s such a shame he died so young.”