Authors: Marta Perry
“You'll be Kate Beaumont, ain't so?” The woman's smile brought beauty to a face that at first Kate had considered plain. “I'm Sarah Bitler. I have the quilt shop.” She gestured toward the store window, filled with a colorful display of fabrics and one orange cat which stared at Kate unblinkingly.
Apparently most of the town knew who she was by now. “It's nice to meet you, Ms. Bitler. Your shop looks very intriguing.”
“Sarah, please. You're working in the bookshop, so we're almost neighbors.” Her blue eyes darkened in concern. “But we've heard about your accident. Should you be working today? Allison or I could help Emily if needed.”
“We'd be glad to.” Another woman had come out of the store while they'd been talking. She was the opposite of Sarah in appearance, with dark red hair stylishly cut and a silky teal top worn over expensive-looking slacks. “I'm Allison Standish, Sarah's partner. I'm sure Emily doesn't expect you in today.”
Kate gave her a blank look. “But she told me to work this morning.”
“She'll have changed her mind after she heard.” Allison smiled. “Obviously you're not used to the small-town grapevine. Neither was I, when I first came to Laurel Ridge. Word spreads as if by magic, especially about something as dramatic as a newcomer being knocked down by a car.”
“I wasn't really knocked down,” she began, and then wondered why she was explaining to these strangers. “Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine.”
“You'll let us know if you need a break, now.” Sarah's worry seemed genuine. “We never mind looking after each other's businesses here in Blackburn House.”
“Thank you.” She beat a hasty retreat toward the bookshop, wondering how far the story of last night's adventure had spread. It had never occurred to her that anyone would think it worth repeating. Would it make her task more difficult? Nikki might well be regretting her cooperation if gossip linked them together.
The sympathy she'd received from two complete strangers prepared Kate somewhat for Emily's fluttering over her. First, she insisted Kate go home and rest, and when Kate declined, Emily insisted she'd put off the errands she'd planned to run this morning until another day.
Kate finally persuaded her to go ahead with her plans, and with her departure, the bookshop settled down to a somnolent late morning. Blackburn House in general seemed deserted, making her wonder how people stayed in business with so little foot traffic.
She was dusting shelves when she heard the door and turned to welcome a customer at last. But it was Mac Whiting, and she doubted that he'd come to buy a book.
“I thought you'd be at the cottage resting this morning,” he said, frowning as he approached her. “Surely Emily can get along without you for a few hours.”
All this concern was starting to grate. Did they think she was as feeble as all that? “I'm perfectly all right. A few scrapes won't keep me from doing my job.”
“Let's have a look.” Before she could stop him, Mac had her hand. “Seems all right. But you've probably got a few bruises elsewhere from hitting the gravel.”
She snatched her hand away. “My bruises aren't any of your business.”
Mac rested an elbow against the nearest shelf, his face relaxing in a smile. “Your injuries might be important if we catch up with the driver. Maybe I ought to have a few photos.”
“Dream on,” she scoffed, not appreciating the effect his smile had on her. “If you don't have anything more important to say, I'd like to get on with my work while Emily is out.”
“The dusting can wait.” He glanced around. “This seems as private as anyplace. So let's get a few things straight about Larry Foust. Does your brother mention him in the video diary?”
“I'm not sure.” She straightened a row of paperbacks. “You saw what it was like. There are a few mentions of someone who might be him, but nothing that indicated he was a source of drugs, if that's what you're after.”
“His name didn't come up at all in the initial investigation. Odd, if they were friends. Still, a talk with Larry is needed.”
“Not by you,” she said immediately.
Mac resumed his impassive cop's expression. “This is police business.”
She resisted the temptation to point out that he wouldn't even know about Foust if not for her. “If you talk to him, he'll be on his guard, right?”
He shrugged. “Past experience tells me he'll give me a few smart-ass answers. But if I lean on him...”
“Then he'll never say a word about Jason. Look, doesn't it make more sense for me to approach him? I can just say that I wanted to meet him because he was a friend of my brother's. Chances are he'll talk to me.”
“Aren't you forgetting your experience last night?” Mac raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were convinced it was an attempt to scare you away because you were looking for Larry.”
Mac was annoying with that way he had of using her own words against her. “I don't know that's what was behind it, at all. Maybe it really was an accident, like Jason's death. Look, if Larry was Jason's friend, he may have some insight into what made him turn back to drugs. And if he supplied them, then I want him to pay.”
“That phone call doesn't make much sense unless you assume the incident wasn't an accident.” He was frowning as he pieced it together.
“Or maybe someone else has reason to want me to leave.” She studied his face to see how he'd react to that. “Seems to me you're a member of that party, right?”
She'd succeeded in nettling him. She could tell by the look he gave her.
“I think you should leave because, on the very slim chance you're right about last night, you could be in danger. If you start poking around Larry Foust, you'd make things worse.”
“That's my responsibility, isn't it? Anyway, you have to admit that he's more likely to talk to me than to you, at least where Jason is concerned, which is all
I'm
concerned with.”
Mac obviously didn't want to admit any such thing, but finally he gave a reluctant nod. “Only if I have your word you'll let me know when and where you're meeting him. That way I'll know where to pick up the pieces.”
She smiled with relief at her success. “You're forgetting my self-defense skills.”
“They didn't help you much with that car last night,” he snapped.
“Wrong.” She couldn't help a little smugness in her reply. “Dive and roll. My stepfather had us practicing that in the backyard until it was second nature.” She grimaced, glancing at her hands. “The grass was considerably softer than gravel, though.”
“You're determined to have the last word, aren't you?”
She didn't bother answering what was obviously a rhetorical question. And just as obviously, Mac wasn't done yet.
“What else did you get from Nikki? Anything useful?”
She'd equivocate, but he looked ready to stand there propping up the bookshelf all day if necessary.
“Nikki said everything at the office seemed to be going fine until that last day. Did you know they'd fired Jason?”
He nodded. “Bart finally came out with that when I pressed him. He kept insisting everything was fine. Didn't want to be blamed, I'm sure.”
“You didn't tell me you spoke to Bart.” A thought occurred to her. Had her stepfather known about Jason being fired? Could Tom's reaction have pushed Jason back into drug use? No one in Laurel Ridge would have the answer to that.
And, she and Tom hadn't had much of anything to say to each other by then. Jason had been their only meeting point, and when he was gone, neither of them had tried.
Mac looked uncomfortable. “I'm sorry. I suppose, at the time, Bart thought it best. He was never very clear about why they'd let him go. He just kept insisting that Jason's work wasn't acceptable.”
“Then why did they keep him so long?” She shook her head. “It doesn't add up. From what Nikki said, there was a big blowup that last day. She said Russell Sheldon looked devastated. And that he never came back to the office after Jason's death. That has to mean something.”
“Not necessarily. Russ is a tenderhearted guy. It may have been the incident that pushed him over the top toward retiring.” But Mac didn't sound as confident as he might have, and she was quick to push the advantage.
“Nikki thought it was strange. And as far as I could tell, so did Emily. She said Sheldon sometimes talked about retiring, but never seriously. She implied that the business was his life.”
“I suppose it was.” Mac frowned, and she could see that her words had made an impression. “Still, the truth is that he's been going downhill ever since he retired, and probably before that. You can't tell what a person like Russ Sheldon might do if he felt his mental powers failing him.”
“Did you talk to him at the time of Jason's death?”
His frown deepened, his firm lips pressing together. “No.”
“Didn't you think it might be important to speak to him?” If that sounded critical, it was meant that way.
“He was extremely upset about your brother's death. Bart said it would be dangerous to question him.” He glared at her. “And, no, I didn't take his word for it. I spoke to Russ Sheldon's doctor, and he was clearly worried about the man. In his opinion, it could be harmful. Frankly, there didn't seem to be anything he could tell me that I hadn't already heard from Bart and Lina.”
“Like Jason being fired? I'd very much like to talk to Russell Sheldon.”
He studied her face, seeming to consider her determination. Finally he lifted an eyebrow questioningly. “I already gave in about Foust. You think you could let me have this one?”
Something that had been stretched to intensity in her began to relax. He wasn't going to prevent her.
“I promise to be tactful. I'd just like to hear for myself what he has to say about Jason. Surely after all this time, it wouldn't upset him to talk about it.”
“I'm not so sure that your idea of tactful is the same as mine, but I'll set it up.” He seemed to regret having conceded that. “But remember, if I think he's getting too upset, I'll call a halt and you don't argue.”
“If I went by myself...”
“No.” The firmness of the word said Mac wasn't to be moved. “We do this together or not at all.”
Once again, he'd left her without a choice. Still, she was getting what she wanted, wasn't she?
“Fine. We'll do it together.”
Mac should have looked relieved at her capitulation. Instead, he just looked stressed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
K
ATE
PULLED
A
box of records off the top shelf in the back room of the bookshop, stirring up a cloud of dust. She sneezed, nearly losing her perch on the rickety step stool. Emily said it had been a long time since this area had been cleaned, and she'd been right.
Despite the dust, it was somehow relaxing to work in silence, even at something as mundane as dusting. Emily must be with a customerâKate could hear the birdlike chirping of her voice. Odd, how quickly she and Emily had settled into a routine. There was nothing challenging about the work, but it allowed her imagination time to play with the article she was writing for an online magazine.
If Mac came through with his promise to set up a meeting with Russell Sheldon, she could be on her way to finding some answers. Come to think of it, she didn't doubt that Mac would do as he said. He wasn't a person to promise what he couldn't deliver.
The door closed sharply behind her. Kate swung around, losing her balance entirely this time, and hopped from the stool just as it toppled.
“Hey, sorry.” The intruder seemed abashed at the havoc he'd wrought with his entrance. He rushed to set the step stool upright, giving Kate a chance to have a look at him.
Early twenties, probably, with a round, youthful face that didn't seem to match the black pants, T-shirt and jacket he wore. His straw-colored hair was longish in the back, curling despite his likely efforts to subdue it.
“Were you looking for something?” she asked.
Or someone?
“You, if you're Kate Beaumont.” He tried to assume a menacing look that didn't work well with his blue eyes and the dimple in his cheek. “You've been asking around about me. Lay off.”
“Larry Foust, I suppose. I've been asking because I want to talk to you about my brother.”
“Yeah, well, I don't want to talk, so quit poking around asking questions, or...”
“Or what?” She took a step closer, resisting the impulse to grab him by the shirt and shake the attitude out of him. “If you want me to leave you alone, just answer my questions.”
“I don't know anything.” The words turned into a whine. He moved a step back, as if they were involved in an odd dance.
“You knew Jason. Pretty well, I understand. How can you say you don't know anything when you don't know what I want to ask?”
He shot a look toward the door, probably regretting the bravado that had prompted him to close it. “Look, I'm sorry about your brother. He seemed like a good guy. But you'll get me in trouble if you go linking us together.”
Kate was on that in an instant. “Why would you be in trouble? Unless you encouraged him to get back on drugs. Or maybe you know something about where he got the drugs he took.”
“I don't, honest, I don't. But nobody wants to be mixed up in trouble, maybe have the cops coming to the door asking questions. You can't say I had anything to do with Jason dying. Honest.” He tried for a boyish look that probably worked well on older women.
But she had no desire to mother him. She tried an appeal of her own. “You knew Jason. You're about the same age. I thought if anyone knew why he did what he did, it might be you. Won't you help me?”
“I don't know. Honest, I don't.” For an instant she seemed to see the confused kid behind the facade. “It seemed like Jase had everything going for him. Good job, enough money to get by on, a place of his own. I don't get it.”
“Do you think he took an overdose deliberately?” It was a struggle to say the words.
Larry shrugged helplessly. “I don't know. I mean, I know he wasn't using before that. I tried to give him a joint or two, and he wouldn't touch them. No harm in that,” he muttered. “Everybody does it.”
That was one of the things she'd learned in helping Jason through his crisis. People who used had to believe that it was normal, that everyone did it, so that meant it wasn't so bad.
“Did you see him that last day?”
He shook his head violently. “Not me. Last I saw of him was the night before. He just had a beer at the Lamplight and went home early. He seemed fine. Honest. It was strange that...”
“That what?”
Larry shrugged. “Well, that he had a beer, even. He didn't drink anything alcoholic. Said he couldn't, so I figured he had a problem. But something pushed him over the line.”
So if Larry was to be believed, and that was a big if, something happened that last day that had pushed Jason into an overdose, deliberate or accidental. What could it be other than his firing? Unless, of course, his father had found out. She could imagine the brand of sympathy Tom would offer.
Why hadn't he called her? She backed away from the answer to that question and turned on Larry instead.
“If he'd wanted something stronger than the marijuana you offered, where would he get it in Laurel Ridge?” She snapped the question at him.
“I don't know.” Panic flared in his face. “Honest, I don't.”
Her stepfather used to say that people used the word
honest
when they really meant the opposite. Of course, Tom had been a cynic about humanity.
“Listen, I have to go.” Larry scrabbled at the door, missing the knob in his haste. “I can't tell you anything else. Just leave me alone.”
“One more thing.” She planted her hand on the door. He probably could have yanked it open against her, but he didn't try. “Were you at the Lamplight last night?”
“No, no, I swear I wasn't.” His expression told her he'd heard what happened to her, and beads of perspiration appeared along his hairline. “Whoever did that, it wasn't me. I didn't have a thing to do with it.”
Kate wasn't sure she entirely believed him, but she doubted she'd get anything else from him. She stepped back from the door.
This time his hand landed on the knob. He yanked the door open and catapulted through it. A moment later she heard the outside door open and close.
Kate stood where she was for a moment. She didn't think she'd gotten the entire story from Larry, but it was clear there was someone or something he feared more than he did anything she could do. She'd give a lot to know who or what that was. Her thoughts ricocheted to the incident Mac had told her about with the high school kid. She'd been so focused on Jason that she hadn't even considered the bigger picture.
* * *
S
UPPER
AT
HIS
parents' place tended to be a noisy affair, Mac knew, and tonight it was louder than ever. But it was a break from the thrown-together suppers he usually ate in his quiet second-floor apartment in town. He'd wanted his privacy when he got back from the military, and his job had made a good reason to move into town. No one would hear him there when the nightmares got bad.
Nick and Allison had taken Jamie for a hike through the woods after school to collect autumn leaves, and he bubbled over with enthusiasm, as always.
“Grammy's going to show me how to make place mats with the leaves, Uncle Mac. I bet you don't know how to do that.”
Mac grinned, ruffling his nephew's silky hair. “You'd lose, then. Grammy did that with me when I was a little boy. And your daddy, too.”
Jamie ducked away from his hand and smoothed his hair back into place. “What happened to yours?”
Mac exchanged glances with his mother, who smiled and shrugged.
“They don't last forever,” she explained. “But we'll enjoy them this fall, won't we?”
Jamie nodded, apparently satisfied, and spooned the last bite of his apple dumpling between his lips. “Can I be excused?” he muttered, mouth still full.
“May I,” Nick corrected. “Okay. But don't run.”
The addition was too late, since Jamie took off as if jet-propelled in his eagerness to get back outside before dark. The door slammed, punctuating his flight.
His mother shook her head indulgently and turned back to her conversation with Allison about wedding plans.
Mac lifted his eyebrows at his brother. “Do those two ever talk about anything else?”
“Not that I've noticed,” Nick admitted.
“Weddings take a lot of planning,” his mother informed him. “Not that you'd know anything about that.”
Mac rolled his eyes at the inevitable jab at his unmarried state. “Seems like the Amish do it a lot simpler. I don't hear Aaron and Sarah talking about flower girls and bouquets.”
“If you think it's simpler to provide a wedding supper for upwards of two hundred family and friends in the Bitlers' farmhouse, you'd best think again,” she said.
“That reminds me, I promised Sarah's father I'd put together a few extra trestle tables for the wedding,” his father said. “I said you boys would help.”
Mac nodded. “Just let me know when. It'll be nice to see those two happy after all they've been through.” Sarah and Aaron had had a difficult time of it this summer, but at last they were free to look forward to a life together.
Nick nudged him. “All these weddings giving you any ideas, little brother?”
“Not yet, thanks,” he said firmly. “I don't plan...”
He lost the rest of that thought when his cell phone vibrated. Pushing back his chair, he answered as he moved away from the table. At least he'd gotten through the meal before being interrupted.
“Whiting,” he said briskly. “What's up?”
“Nothing important.”
At the sound of Kate's voice, he could almost sense her in the room with him. Keeping his back to the table, he moved into the living room. “You haven't been dodging any more speeding vehicles?”
“No.” She hesitated, making him think she was considering how to put whatever it was she'd called to say. “I wasn't going to bother calling you about this, but I don't care to listen to any more lectures about keeping secrets.”
“Glad to hear it.” He moved to the window and glanced out at the rolling fields, golden now in the last of the afternoon's sun. “What's happening, then?”
“I had a visitor at the bookshop today. Larry Foust came to see me.”
“That's a surprise. I thought he was avoiding you.”
“He said he'd heard I'd been asking around about him. He wanted me to knock it off.”
She said it lightly, but still his hand tightened on the phone.
“You mean he threatened you? Right out in public?”
“It wasn't exactly in public. I was working in the back room when he suddenly showed up. As for threatening...” A thread of amusement ran through her voice. “With that baby face of his, he can't really manage to look menacing.”
“That doesn't mean he's harmless, especially if he's the one who supplied your brother with drugs.” His jaw hardened. He'd known Kate's presence would stir things up. Still, if she hadn't found her brother's journal, the case would still be at an unsatisfying end. “Are you at home? I'm coming over.”
“That's not necessary. I just wanted to tell you, so you couldn't complain.”
“I'll be there in fifteen minutes.” He ended the call before she could answer and stalked back into the dining room, to find every member of his family looking at him with interest.
He tried to ignore them. “Thanks for supper, Mom. It was great. I'm afraid I have to leave now.”
“Was that Kate Beaumont on the phone?” his mother asked. “If you're seeing her, tell her I'd like for her to come to dinner this weekend.”
“Mom.” It was the harassed tone that made him feel like a teenager, trying to keep his parents from embarrassing him. “I don't think that's a good idea.” He didn't want a possibly dangerous situation touching his family.
She tilted her head slightly as she studied his face, reminding him of Jamie. “Maybe you're right. It should come from me. I'll call her.”
“That isn't what I meant.” He shook his head, giving it up as a lost cause. No one ever stopped his mother from exercising her gift for hospitality. “I have to go.”
* * *
I
T
TOOK
LESS
than fifteen minutes to reach the bed-and-breakfast, park and start back the walk toward the cottage, but in that time the sun had slid behind the ridge, and the shadows were thick under the trees and around the buildings. He strode to the stoop, noticed something white fluttering against the door and tugged it free as he knocked.
Kate yanked the door open immediately, looking ready for battle, her hair pulled ruthlessly back from her face to a knot at her nape. “I told you...” she began, but he walked past her.
“If you had an encounter with Larry Foust, I want to talk to you face-to-face.” He thrust the paper at her. “This was stuck in your door.”
She took it, still frowning at him. “Larry didn't scare me.”
“No, he wouldn't.” Unwilling, he felt a smile tug at his lips. “I'd guess it was the other way around.”
Taken by surprise, she blinked, and her face relaxed. “You mean I scared him. I meant to, I suppose. But really, isn't it stretching things to picture him as some kind of drug kingpin? I wouldn't think he'd have either the brains or the nerve.”
“Probably not, but that doesn't mean he's guiltless. If he introduced your brother to the person who provided the drugs he took, he's still morally responsible. And legally, as well.” He moved a little farther into the room, glancing at the computer screen. He wouldn't have been surprised to see Jason's face, but it was a page of text.
She caught the direction of his glance. “I was working on a magazine article. Anyway, there's no reason for you to get hot under the collar because I talked to Larry. I was fine.”
“You were alone with him.” His exasperation grew. Didn't the woman have any sense? “After what happened to you last night, you shouldn't have put yourself in another risky position.”