“Yeah, in the back quarter.”
“Where?”
“In the back quarter of the property. He lives in one of those tiny houses people are always going on about.”
My brain wasn’t registering what he was talking about. “He lives in a small house. Mama Hendrix let him build a small house on her property.”
“No, no. It’s not a small house. It’s a tiny house. Get it? Tiny.”
No, I didn’t get it. I shrugged, still clueless. So the house was on the small side of small. What did it matter?
“It’s portable,” Tim said.
“Oh! A trailer. Why didn’t you just say so?”
He rolled his eyes and then shook his head. “Just go see it. It’s in the back quarter.”
I still didn’t know where that was. “Can you show me?”
“Why? So you can get my DNA all over his place? Not happening.” He turned and pointed a finger at one of the kitchen’s inner walls. “Go that way. Keep going that way until you come to the V of the two largest hills out there. That’s where his house is.”
Trailer, I thought to myself, but didn’t say it.
Mama Hendrix burst through the kitchen’s outer door like a freight train, scooped up five more platters of food, and headed back out. “Tim, we got some talking to do. Don’t you take off after dinner until after I’ve had a chance to bend your ear.”
“Yes, ma’am,” was Tim’s dutiful yet sullen answer.
Outside, everyone had managed to gather at the long dinner table. Mama Hendrix had worked her magic in the blink of an eye. The table was stunning. Tealight candles in jewel-colored holders dotted the center of the table all the way down its length, setting the whole thing aglow. Twigs, pinecones, loose bark, and pebbles—things that would have been mere ground clutter in the forest—lent the table a fairytale quality that had my inner little girl swooning and giddy. All that was missing was a hapless giant and a loyal unicorn to complete the image, with a prince and princess in attendance, of course.
Brad and Sheriff Palke rounded the corner of the B&B, as if on cue. The prince and princess had arrived after all—and I hated them both.
Well, maybe not hated. Loathed. Despised. Those were good words. Excellent words. But they didn’t fit either.
Hopelessly loved and achingly envied.
Yes, those were the right words. Terrible and horrible but right.
Zoey sidled up to me. “Stare much harder and your eyes will fall out.”
I blinked. My eyes had gone dry from my infatuated, overly long stare. “Get a grip, Kylie,” I said, turning my gaze away from Brad and his new plus one. I purposefully avoided taking notice of where and when they reached the table and where they sat, that is until a familiar scent tickled my nose. My head jerked to the side to find Brad sitting right next to me.
That didn’t last long though. To both my and Brad’s amazement, he was lifted out of his seat almost as fast as he’d sat down. Joel was behind him. He’d hooked his hands under Brad’s arms and ousted him from the spot he wanted to claim for himself.
I let a sudden, startled smile overtake my mouth as tall, handsome Joel plunked down in the seat he’d forcefully made to be vacated. As for Brad, he moved to the spot opposite the sheriff. It at least warmed my heart that he looked grumpy about having been so unceremoniously displaced.
I leaned into Joel’s quick kiss and mandated my thoughts to stick with the one who had brought me to the dance, so to speak. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.” It was a fact I felt guilty about. I’d been running around trying to solve Dougie Dan’s murder for all of my own reasons, none of which were about Joel. I mean, how selfish could I be?
Joel flinched then slid an arm low across my back. “I know. I’m sorry. A life—or death—event like this happens, and I kick into newspaper guy mode.” He kissed my temple. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
My heart did somersaults inside my chest. Joel thought he’d been the errant one! We were the same side of the same coin.
I hummed a chuckle at the two of us and squeezed his hand, feeling happy and content to have him by my side again. Brad was going to do what Brad was going to do. He had his own life to live. He was either going to do what he could to make me a part of it or he wasn’t, but none of that did a thing to change the fact that Joel was with me in the here and now.
Now was a pretty good place to live my life.
“I think we’ve both been distracted,” I told him, “but I’m glad you’re here.”
“Everyone, can I have your attention?” Mama Hendrix said. She looked solemn and aged standing in her spot at the head of the table.
All the guests plus Tim settled around the table.
Mama Hendrix held up her glass of lemonade in salute. “I want to thank Sheriff Palke for the work she’s done today.”
I leaned forward and craned my neck in time to see Sheriff Palke give a silent nod of thanks.
“Been a tough day, hasn’t it folks?” Mama Hendrix continued. She raised her glass higher. “To Doug.”
Everyone at the table reached for their glasses and lifted as well. “To Doug,” we chorused.
“He was a passionate soul,” Mama Hendrix said, her glass still raised. “He never flinched from a challenge. He cared about the land that sustains us. And, he was a savvy businessman.” Her voice choked up at the end. “We’ll miss you.”
“Hear, hear,” people said as they drank.
I kept a close eye on Tim through the whole speech. Not an ounce of guilt had flickered across his face. Rita, however, was literally rocking in her seat. Her head was bowed, and I spotted a tear falling from behind the cascade of hair that shielded her face from view.
Red-faced, Michael leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was, it made her startle. Then, when he put his hand on her forearm, she jerked it away. He reached for her again, but this time she shot to her feet.
Thankfully for her, the table’s occupants had turned the bulk of their attention to the glorious array of expertly prepared home-cooked food. There were murmurs of “ohhh” and “can you pass the carrots,” a dish I knew to be drizzled with a mixture of honey and lemon.
Rita’s back was ramrod stiff as she headed for the house. I glanced longingly at my plate of sliced bacon-wrapped pork tenderloin paired with the creamiest garlic mashed potatoes I’d ever seen and sighed.
I stretched to reach Joel’s ear. “I’ll be back.”
He had a big scoop of caramelized butternut squash ready to make the trip to his plate. He hesitated. “What did you make?” he asked with a too-eager toothy grin on his face.
I knew he wasn’t asking because he wanted to be sure to get second and third helpings of those dishes. Noooo, he was wanting to minimize the risk of loading his precious plate and stomach real estate with something I’d made.
I gave him a hard-eyed look that let him know I knew exactly what he was up to.
His grin grew even bigger. “Just wanna be sure to enjoy the fruits of my sweetheart’s hard work,” he said.
“Mmhmm.” I was not convinced. “Enjoy your Russian roulette.” He’d have to take his chances with everybody else.
Truth was, I hadn’t actually made any of the dishes. I’d been an extra set of thumbs and fingers that Mama Hendrix had needed, but she’d been the master creator of the evening's meal.
Joel and I gave each other a peck of a smooch, and then I was off.
Chapter 19
Rita had already disappeared inside the house. I had to do a fast step after her if I had any chance of catching her before she disappeared into her bedroom. I was moving so quickly that I was sure people would think I was doing a desperation run for the bathroom, but some things were more important than image.
I needn’t have worried though. A soft sob reached my ears as soon as I crossed the threshold into the house. It took seconds to locate the owner of that heartbroken cry.
“Rita,” I said once I’d
found her.
She spun to put her back to me and wiped at her tear riddled face.
“You okay?”
Her shoulders squared, and she sniffed a final snuffle before turning to face me. Her eyes were red, and her long lashes were wet. “I was hoping for a little alone time.” Her eyes glanced in the direction of the way out, a polite hint that she wanted me to go. When I didn’t follow her cue, she said, “I’ve been through a lot, nothing you’d understand. So if you don’t mind…”
This time her look toward the way out was blatant.
I ignored it.
“You’re right. Being jilted at the altar isn’t an experience I’ve ever had.”
Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide.
I hurriedly continued, cutting off her opportunity to talk before she started. “I know what Doug did to you. I know that he told you he’d marry you and then left. I know he stole the money that had been put aside for your honeymoon. Did he destroy your family’s orchard, too?”
She was wild-eyed and speechless, yet she managed to nod her head yes.
“What did he do?”
“Salt,” she croaked, then cleared her voice. “Salt. He salted the ground. Two tons of it.”
My mind reeled. That was why the ground had looked like it had crusted snow on it in the geek squad pictures of her family’s dead and dying orchard.
I asked my next question with as much gentleness as I could. “Is that why you killed him—because he’d hurt you so much, so many times over?”
Her head jerked back, and her brow knitted in a heavy scowl. “We didn’t even know he was here! You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t even know his real name!”
“Dan. His name is Dan.”
She side-eye looked me over from head to toe. “You still don’t know anything,” she declared, though her voice had softened.
“I know that you managed to track Dan down from another state and that rather than call the law on him, you came after him yourself.”
“The man was a psycho. What do you even care? He’s dead now. Just leave it alone. Just turn around and go on with your life. His death does this world and everybody in it a favor.”
“Does it do your dad a favor?” I asked.
Confusion overtook the anger in her expression. “What?”
“If you killed Dan, your dad most likely confessed to save you from the whole thing ruining your life. But if you didn’t kill Dan, that means he did.” It was extremely presumptive logic, but I hoped she wouldn’t call me on it.
“No, no… That’s not what happened at all.” Panic had crept its way into her voice. Rather than make her wilt, she took an aggressive step forward. “He had nothing to do with any of it. Nothing!”
She seemed to grow an inch for every inch she got closer. Her eyes flashed with a crazed rage I’d only ever seen once before—in someone a little insane. I suddenly didn’t feel so safe, even with a small horde of people a mere scream away.
“Rita—”
Her hand shot forward and wrapped itself like a steel band around my arm. “You don’t know anything about love,” she hissed. “You don’t know how it will turn you into someone you don’t recognize. So, you need to shut up. If necessary, you need to die. I won’t let you hurt us. I won’t.”
Her face was only an inch away from my own. Her entire body shook as if with pent up energy fighting for release. If she gave in to its demands, I suspected my mangled body would be all they’d find of me.
“Rita,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could. “You did a good thing.”
She blinked and the crazed look in her eye cleared. “What?”
“You did a good thing,” I repeated. “Dan was a bad guy. He hurt you. He hurt your father. You saved who knows how many others from being ruined by him.” I was saying what I was saying to save myself from being strangled on the floor by someone in need of professional assistance. Despite that, I meant what I said. Dan had been a cretin, and his life would have left a long trail of used and abused people. “No one will blame you.”
Her face twisted as her inner torment ripped its way to the surface of her being. “I hated him… but I still love him!” A horrible sob tore from her.
“No one will blame you. Turning yourself in is the best thing to do.”
She blinked again, and it was again as if a part of her had cleared away. “Huh?”
“People are going to figure out what you did,” I whispered. “Turning yourself in will help you. The courts will go easier on you.”
Her mouth drew back in a snarl. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“No, no, of course not.” I was trying to reason with a full-on crazy person, and I guess that was my problem. I was trying to use reason, but her logic center was all jumbled and twisted. There was no way I could know how she would process anything I said. I could say “wax” and she could interpret that as “please eat my eyeballs.”
I needed to end the conversation while I could physically still walk away.
“Mind if I go get my friend? We could all sit together, and you could just, you know, tell your story.”
“Tell my side of things,” she repeated. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused.
“Right,” I encouraged. I led her to a chair and guided her to sit. She sat, and I backed away, though I did it trying to look as natural as possible. I didn’t want to risk turning my back on her while I stood so close. But once I got several feet away, I did just that. “I’ll be right back,” I soothed before rushing on soft trodden steps to the door nearest the dinner outside.
My mind raced as to who I should usher to me. The sheriff might make Rita feel incriminated. She might clam up or even act like I was some nut job who had made her semi-confession completely up.
Brad might not have been a cop up here in Vermont, but at his core, that’s who he was. He walked it, breathed it, and thought it. It didn’t matter where he was or what official credentials he had, he was still a cop. So, Brad was out.
I cracked the door open and peeked outside at my options.
I could wave Zoey in, but she had her head pressed close to elbow-eye geek. They were laughing, and she was smiling. No way was I going to interrupt that. The girl needed her happy moments.
I needed Joel. He was big and strong. There was no way Rita would be able to take him in a fight, although I’m sure I would have said the same thing about Rita and Dougie Dan yesterday.
Joel had his focus on his food. He’d look side to side now and then, smile, nod, then go back to eating. He never looked up.
I yelled inside my head for him to look at me, but the effort only gave me a headache. He didn’t look up.
I bounced on my toes and wiggled my fingers through the door. Still no luck. Well, maybe some bad luck. Gaunt-Face Paul had spotted me. He sneered with arrogant, malicious humor in his eyes.
I finger pointed to Joel.
Paul's finger pointed back at me—his middle finger, straight up in the air.
I was going to sneak into his room tonight and break that finger.
I jabbed my finger at Joel and mouthed some words that had Paul’s pale complexion going paler. The words included “Zoey” and “ruin you.” The guy might not be afraid of me, but they were all nervous about Zoey. Her morality meter was a little fuzzy, and her abilities were extreme. Knowing her could be a delicate tightrope walk between having the coolest, most awesome buddy ever and waking up to find yourself transcribed into the Congolese army.
Paul stretched an arm behind the person sitting next to him to give Joel’s side a nudge. With his attention acquired, Paul gave him a forehead nod toward me.
Joel’s eyes locked with mine. I didn’t have to motion or do anything. He was on his feet and heading to me.
I stepped aside from the door to let him in. No one else had taken of what had transpired.
“You okay?” he asked, concerned, as soon as he got inside.
“Rita’s confessing!”
I whispered.
His brows shot up to practically meet his hairline.
Grabbing his hands, I hurried us through the house to where I’d left Rita.
She was gone.
“No, no, no…” I began a frantic search, hoping she was still in the house.
“Honey, you sure this is a good idea? We should get Brad in here.”
I wanted to yell at Joel for his inane suggestion, but nothing that’d happened was any little bit his fault.
I’d left Rita alone. Me. Me. Me.
I should be standing in front of a mirror and yelling at myself.
I’d let an unhinged girl slip through my fingers—a girl I’d genuinely been concerned might try to attack me. If I’d been afraid for myself, that meant there was reason to be afraid for others.
If Rita hurt someone else—anyone else—that was on me.
“We should tell someone,” Joel said, “start a hunt.”
An image of angry villagers carrying pitchforks and torches filled my brain. Nothing good could come of it. Where ever Rita was, whatever she was doing, she needed the chance to calm down. The desire for normalcy was there within her. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were. She wanted the chance for her fantasy-woven self-denial to stitch itself back together.
My stomach cramped with the stress and anxiety of what I said next.
“We have to let her go.”
Chapter 20
Despondent didn’t even begin to describe how I was feeling for the rest of the evening. Absent of all joy. That was a closer description. Zoey and even a distracted Brad shot me worried looks.
I sat and finished my dinner along with everyone else. Helped Mama Hendrix clean the kitchen. Tried to read a book. Went on a long and winding walk with Joel. Enjoyed the fairy light-lit paths, and the good company of his hand in mine.
“You don’t think she’ll try to hurt someone else?” Joel asked.
“I don’t. Well… I do, if she feels trapped and desperate. Otherwise, no.” What I said wasn’t entirely true. I worried about Rita hurting herself. She had a history of it. She’d hurt herself when she’d stopped eating after Dougie Dan had run off, leaving her life in tatters and ruins. Or had that been more about giving herself a sense of self-control rather than self-harm?
A Berry Horrible Holiday Page 12
