Drizzled With Death (20 page)

“You’re a lawyer; you understand how little fair matters anytime there is a disagreement.”

“So what can I do to get back on your good side?”

“As a lawyer, what would you suggest?”

“Compensation for pain and suffering.”

“So I should ask for something I want in order to forgive you?”

“That’s right. Ask for something much more valuable than you expect to receive and bargain down from there.” He flicked an imaginary speck of something off a miniature picnic table.

“Ask Piper to marry you.”

“What?” His finger bore down on the table and snapped it in two.

“Since the family is running around airing out hidden depths of emotion, I thought it was time to mention you have been in love with Piper since the first time I brought her home after school and she liked what you did with this place.” I waved my hand around the pyramid.

“You can’t be serious.”

“You said aim high and work down from there. How about a tempestuous weekend fling?”

“Dani.”

“Then I want you to ask her out on one date.”

“Why now?”

“I don’t like her latest boyfriend. I’m worried she’s going to start thinking about settling down. If she is going to settle, I would rather it was for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Not that she would be. Settling, I mean. You are a great catch. I just hate seeing you shrivel up like a slug hit with table salt whenever you spot her zipping around town in another guy’s car.”

“Are you saying you want your friend to settle for a disintegrated slug?”

“You know I’m not. I think she keeps picking losers because in her heart of hearts she doesn’t want things to work out with them since she is secretly waiting for you to pursue her. You’ve got to be the only man in town under seventy not trying to get her to give them a private tour of what’s beneath her waitress uniform.” Loden blushed so deeply it was like a beautiful sunset was taking place right across his face.

“I can’t.”

“Okay, then you’ll have to tell me what you know about trusts instead,” I said, watching him put the finishing touches on a covered bridge.

“You mean like a legal thing?” He gently put down the paintbrush he was holding and gave me his full attention.

“Yes. What are they exactly and why would someone have one?”

“The reasons for creating a trust are about as varied as the people who create them. There are a number of different types. One of the most important details is whether the trust is revocable or irrevocable.”

“I assume one is permanent and the other is subject to change?”

“That’s right. Once a trust is irrevocable, it is no longer possible to get the entrusted property out of it. Why are you asking?”

“Lewis Bett left his property in trust.”

“I know. He consulted me on it.” Loden didn’t have an active legal practice, but he was a member of the New Hampshire Bar and he happily took pro bono cases that interested him from time to time.

“What did he say?”

“You know I can’t tell you that. I shouldn’t even have told you he consulted me about a trust.”

“Then I’m not forgiving you. Your choice.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“You know how I like to get my Christmas shopping done early, and I want to know whether or not to keep you on my list. Besides, Lewis is dead and so is Alanza. You don’t have a client in this situation at all, and my business is flapping all over the riverbank gasping for a bit of air.”

“Since you put it that way, I guess a bit of information won’t do any harm. Lewis Bett came to me several years ago to ask about setting up a trust for his property. He wanted to leave it to a family member, but he didn’t want them to be able to run through all the money in a hurry. He wanted them to be able to leave the bulk of the wealth to the next generation.”

“He was a well-known cheapskate.”

“He preferred to be called thrifty. He said he had seen too many people go through their money buying any bit of glitz that caught their eyes.”

“Didn’t he have a very expensive wife at one point? A much younger wife?”

“He did. Alanza’s mother was her sister.”

“So Alanza wasn’t really even a Bett?”

“Not by blood. But he wasn’t particularly keen on any of the blood relatives he knew around here. He said they weren’t willing to help out with the property so he didn’t feel obliged to leave any of it to them.”

“So Alanza was the one he thought of.”

“Yes. But he wanted the trust set up in case the spendthrift nature of her aunt was a genetic thing. So that’s what we set up, a spendthrift trust.”

“So it wasn’t a land trust?”

“Not at all. I tried to convince him a land trust would be the best thing for everyone since he valued community use of his property, but he wouldn’t hear of it. For him, tying up the money was his main priority.”

“So how did it work?”

“He appointed a trustee and all access to funds associated with the trust went through her.”

“So Alanza couldn’t get her hands directly on any of Lewis’s money?”

“No. We set up a small stipend for Alanza per month in addition to the use of the house. Everything else had to be approved and authorized by Connie.”

“Why Connie?”

“She was a relative of sorts and had been doing the books for Lewis for years. She was the one who informed him of how far Alanza’s aunt was driving him into the ground. And Hanley worked his property as the arborist so the two families were quite close.”

“So what was in it for Connie?”

“You mean financially?”

“Yes.”

“She earned a trustee fee for her services, but it was modest enough to have passed muster with Lewis so you can imagine it wasn’t very large.”

“So she was mostly doing it out of the goodness of her heart?”

“I believe so. But I wouldn’t have been surprised if Lewis would have fired both her and Hanley if she had refused so it was probably more valuable to her than it might have been to someone else.”

“He had a reputation as a person who didn’t like to be refused.”

“He did indeed. Lewis Bett was an odd duck to be sure. I wouldn’t have wanted to tell him no and then have to deal with him about anything going forward.”

“So Connie was in a hard spot.”

“I’d say so. He wasn’t too easy to work for either. As much as he was very generous to the town as far as access to his property was concerned, he was not anywhere near as pleasant behind closed doors.”

“So Connie and Hanley were pretty well stuck with what Lewis wanted?”

“He held a lot of sway in town, and if he decided to fire her, he would not have been above encouraging other people to do so as well.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“I can’t mention specifics, but I have had more than one person over the years come to me to ask if there was anything they could do about Lewis Bett targeting them.”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

“It was and there was never a way to really prove any of it. And look at the way he passed over so many other more closely related family members in town in favor of Alanza.”

“That was odd.”

“It was because he liked things his way and he knew enough about a bunch of his relatives nearby that he found reasons to exclude them. With Alanza, she wasn’t close enough to ever have offended him.”

“It’s a wonder Alanza got killed instead of Lewis.”

“Maybe people kept hoping he would change his will in their favor and that kept him safe.”

“Did he change it a lot?”

“More often than you change the oil in Dad’s MG.” Wow. I change the oil faithfully every two thousand miles, just to be on the safe side.

“So even if he was cheap with everything else, he was willing to splash it around on legal fees?”

“Did I say that? He filled out those do-it-yourself forms he bought in bulk at the office supply store then he would bring them around here for me to check.”

“For a fee?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you refuse?”

“Because it wasn’t worth the trouble and he was a sad and pathetic old man who was losing his grip on life. It took me almost no time at all to look them over.”

“So did he switch to paying you when he decided to go with a trust instead of a will?”

“I did charge him a bit for that. As a matter of fact, that section of track over there is compliments of that particular job.” I looked at where he was pointing and was pleased to see an elongated section of track that must have amounted to a nice chunk of change. “It took me longer to decide how to spend it than it had to earn it so the job wasn’t exactly onerous.”

“So now that Alanza is dead, do you know who benefits?”

“I wasn’t Alanza’s attorney so I have no idea about the disposition of her own will, but I do know the trust named the town as the beneficiary if Alanza died.”

“Looks like you’re back on my Christmas list.”

I knocked as loudly as I could on Connie’s back door, considering my
hands were full of pickle jars. I hollered her name and got nothing but Profiterole scratching at the door from the other side like he was desperate to get out. I tried the knob, and like the doors to most houses in Sugar Grove, it turned easily in my hand. Profiterole shot past me and was gone into the side field toward the barn before I could stop him.

I let myself in and sat the jars on the table. I looked around the kitchen for a piece of paper and a pen to compose a quick note thanking her for the pickles and letting her know how much of a hit they were, especially with the kids at the dinner. I looked around the heaped-up kitchen for a piece of scrap paper and a pen. The kitchen was in no better condition, clutterwise, than the rest of the house. It seemed, at first, like everything in the world was in that room besides something to leave a note with in a hurry. Then I noticed a notebook, a roll of stamps, and some envelopes shoved between a cookie jar shaped like a goat and a pot containing a dead houseplant on the hutch. I reached for the notebook but managed to knock into the cookie jar. Letting go of the notebook, I made a grab for the cookie jar before it hit the floor. I didn’t think Connie would appreciate me returning pickle jars in order to break her collectables.

I carefully placed the frolicking goat back on the hutch, pushed it a little farther back from the edge than I had found it, and bent to retrieve the notebook. Loose papers of all sorts had fallen out and it took a bit of doing to gather them back up. I had no idea what order they had been in or even if there was an order. I decided to turn them all faceup and heading in the same direction and then slip them behind the front cover.

I picked up the notebook and got a look at the cover. Marked across its front in heavy marker were the words
Lewis Bett Trust Fund
. I gave the papers a bit more attention than was strictly necessary for getting everything tidied away. Among the property tax, fuel oil, and electric bills, there were several invoices from Hanley’s forestry business. I ran my finger along the column of numbers and the accompanying text detailing the services and supplies Lewis’s trust was being billed for.

According to the invoices, Hanley had spent considerable time on Bett’s property. He had removed damaged limbs, cleared away underbrush, and even taken out entire trees deemed detrimental to the health of the overall forest. The property was large, almost as large as Greener Pastures, but to my knowledge, our tree farm had never been presented with a bill by Hanley, or any other forester, for even a third as much. I looked even more closely and noticed he also had fertilized on six separate occasions using a product called Best Bett All in One. I stuffed the papers into the notebook and shoved the whole mess back onto the hutch. I wasn’t sure what any of this meant, but I felt certain I didn’t want to get caught in the house with Hanley.

Profiterole was nowhere to be seen. As a farm dog he was used to being outside but I didn’t feel right about leaving him to run loose. If anything happened to him, I would feel guilty and Connie didn’t need any more animal trouble after what had happened to her goat Susannah. I called and called but he didn’t come. I closed the kitchen door behind me and began wandering the yard looking for him.

The barn door was partly opened and I slipped inside, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the low light. Once again I noticed the goats huddled together in the corner of the barn, quaking all over. I had never thought of goats as stupid but I hadn’t given them credit for such long memories either. It was hard to believe they were still so spooked by what had happened more than a week earlier. Although, I had to admit, if only to myself, that I was uneasy being out in the dark and I had only seen the mountain lion through a window. I couldn’t imagine how afraid I would still be if I had seen my sister dragged off to her demise, even if it had been Celadon.

I advanced toward the goats, making a clucking noise like Grampa always did when coaxing a horse or a cow. I hoped it would comfort them but they remained steadfastly terrified. Clementine’s eyes were darting wildly. I stretched out my hand for her to sniff, hoping to get to the point of patting her. She seemed to have liked that when Connie did it the last time I visited.

Just as I was reaching for her, I heard Profiterole barking behind me. The frightened goats pressed farther toward the splintery barn wall behind them. If anything, they seemed even more terrorized than before. They somehow managed to get most of the flock squeezed behind the wooden-runged ladder that connected to the hayloft above. One of them poked its snout through the rungs and let out a desperate-sounding bleat. Between the barking and the bleating, my soothing clucking sounds were never going to be heard. But at least I had found Profiterole. Or rather, he had found me. I turned toward him to grab his collar in order to get him back into the house safely before I headed out. There didn’t seem to be much I could do for the goats, and while it might sound cold, watching them feel miserable was not how I wanted to spend my day.

Profiterole was stiff and his barking was interspersed with deep-throated growls. I felt intimidated by the idea of grabbing him by the collar but made a lunge for him anyway.

“What’s gotten into all of you?” I asked him, locking fingers around his thick leather collar. He twisted his head up toward me then snapped it forward again like he was trying to point something out to me. I followed his lead and wished I hadn’t.

Rearing up from the scattered straw bedding in the corner of the barn was a snake. A very large and very exotic-looking snake. It swayed and bobbed in my direction and its tongue wiggled out at me like a sentient kite tail. I dropped my grip on Profiterole’s collar and reached for the ladder instead. I shot up the rungs like a child born into a circus family. Camels, cassowaries, and kangaroos were one thing. Snakes were another. My ability to display courage did not extend to snakes. I perched at the top of the ladder, keeping my feet as high up as possible, and looked down on the snake. It was still moving, and while it didn’t seem to be interested in me any longer, it was paying a lot of attention to the trembling goats. Profiterole was doing his best to be distracting but he looked small and insignificant next to the snake.

I dug into my pocket and grabbed my cell phone. I hit the contacts number for the police station and was surprised to hear Lowell’s voice on the other end.

“Dani, I’m so glad you called.” As angry as I still was with him, I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather speak to in a crisis. Not even my dad. Lowell just had a way of keeping a steady hand on the tiller that helped everyone around him. Being angry with both him and my mother was taking so much energy as well as robbing me of the pleasure of his company. And right now, I needed him.

“No time to go into things right now, Uncle Lowell. I’m in trouble.” I reached out with my free hand and felt for something, anything to hurl down at the snake to distract it from gobbling the goats. My hand made contact with an old coffee can full of screws. I lobbed it with all my strength but the snake zigged as the can zagged. Screws bounced all over the floor like a game of jacks. The snake seemed momentarily jarred then returned its attention to Clementine and the rest of the flock.

“It’s not Mitch again, is it? I told that boy if he bothered you any more, I was not only going to fire him, I was going to personally make sure he couldn’t get a job as a security guard at a strip mall.”

“It’s not Mitch. I need you to call Graham.” I scootched a little farther from the top of the ladder and closer to the pile of junk stowed in the loft. I could only imagine what would have become of the house if the overflow storage had not been available.

“Graham? What did he do to you? I’ll grab my gun and be right over.”

“It’s nothing like that.” Lowell must have taken my silent treatment hard. He never was much of a talker, and now I couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise.

“Well, I’m sure glad to hear that. I thought the two of you might really have a shot at getting along. I don’t want you to end up like me, Dani, waiting around forever for the person of your dreams. I never want you to know how hard it is to be alone.” Despite my attention being taken up with the swaying of the snake, I still registered the pain and the caring in his voice. I felt crummy to have contributed to it in any way.

“We can talk about this later if you’ll just call Graham. I’m trapped up in the loft of Connie’s barn with a snake longer than your driveway coiled up below me threatening to come up and give me a cuddle.”

“I’ll call him and I’ll get out there, too.” Lowell disconnected and I stuffed the phone back into my pocket. I used both hands to grab and hurl things down from the loft. The goats made a pitiful sound and Profiterole began darting at the snake. I tossed a hammer, a rusty barbell so light it could have doubled as a baby rattle, a greasy bicycle chain, and several cans of spray paint. The cover popped off a can of turquoise gloss as it connected with Profiterole’s back. I would have apologized but my voice was frozen in place by the sight of the snake raising itself up even higher. It lifted itself enough to look down on the goats and they sounded even more desperate.

Even over Profiterole’s constant barking and the pathetic noises of the goats, I heard a vehicle door slam. I felt torn between wanting to hide from Hanley and a desperate desire for help with the snake. After what I had found in the kitchen, I was not at all sure everything about him was on the up-and-up. I was certain something was wrong with his fertilizing program, and I wondered a great deal about why the fertilizer he was supposedly using wasn’t registered with the state. But I also didn’t want him to walk in on the snake and not give him some sort of fair warning. Still undecided, I lay down in the loft and peered down at the scene below. I heard footsteps, then Connie’s voice.

“Calm down, dog, you’ve scared the goats so stiff I’m going to need a hairdresser to put the curl back in their beards.” Connie advanced on the shivering goats completely oblivious to the snake within feet of her.

“Connie, stop!” I yelled, finally finding my voice. Her neck twisted and she glanced up at me, an even more terrified look than the one the goats were exhibiting on her face.

“What are you doing up there?” She looked angry in addition to frightened. No one likes trespassers and she was clearly no exception.

“Snake!” I yelled, pointing at the reptile bobbing and weaving like a boxer in the middle of the seventh round of a heavyweight fight. She shook her head at me like I was crazy and ignored my warning.

“Dani, come down from there this instant. It’s really not safe.”

“It isn’t safe down there either. Turn around.” I pointed again. This time, she paid attention. It was like watching a movie where as a viewer you are seeing the face of a character that suddenly realizes everyone else is seeing something dangerous that they never noticed. She looked at the goats, then at the dog, and finally, like she didn’t want to do so, turned to where my finger was pointing. I thought she would jump back, but she lunged forward, between the snake and her flock of goats. It darted at her and I did what came naturally. I started throwing more things at the snake. Connie looked up, even more shocked than before.

“Dani, stop it.” She looked frantic and her voice pitched well above all the other sounds. How could she not want help?

“This is the only way I’ve been able to distract it from eating anyone. I’ll try not to hit you.” I lobbed a brick someone had covered in a crocheted granny square, probably to turn it into a doorstop. It nearly hit Clementine and I had to ask myself if Connie had a point.

“Don’t throw another thing from up there.” She sounded even bossier than Celadon and I felt myself getting huffy. The snake arched itself even higher and I disregarded her concerns. I stuck my hand back into the pile and wrapped my fingers around something made of glass with a bit of heft to it. I raised it to shoulder height and prepared to lob it like an Olympic shot-putter.

“Stop. You’ll kill us all!” Connie screamed as if the situation could actually have gotten any worse. I looked at my hand. In it was a syrup bottle shaped like the state of New Hampshire. A paper tag cut in the shape of a maple leaf with Alanza’s name on it was tied around the neck. I recognized Celadon’s prim but elaborate script. The bottle appeared to contain grade B amber syrup. I’d been eating it all my life, but had never seen anyone react like it was life threatening. Fattening perhaps, if used to excess, but never life threatening. Unless this was connected to Alanza.

I lowered my arm and looked at the pile. I knelt in front of it and noticed another couple of items I recognized in among the detritus. Two more bottles of maple syrup from Greener Pastures and a few more maple leaf cutouts were there along with a jar of small pellets that looked like the ones I had seen in Piper’s attic and a zipped-top plastic bag with a pair of heavy-duty rubberized gloves tucked inside.

“What is all this?” I asked, holding up the bottle of syrup in one hand and the zip bag in the other.