Something Borrowed, Something Blue and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  Vivian cleared her throat. “You think he might have been part of it?” She nodded then, not waiting for me to answer. “He teased Victor constantly. Especially about his allergies.”

  Wait, allergies? “Dr. Aberstock said Victor was stung by a bee.”

  She sighed softly. “He was anaphylactic,” she said, “but not just to bee stings. To a lot of things.” Vivian looked out the window, one hand covering her lips, her throat working before she spoke again. “Robert loved to torment him about it.”

  And then, in a flash of further memory, the entire story returned, framed in sharp focus—

  Robert, taunting Victor. That he had a secret to share, to show him. Victor and his secrets. I could see Victor’s smiling face as he led me toward the lake. We were trespassing, not supposed to be there. It was Robert’s idea and Vivian, like always, led the way as if it were her plan all along. The four of us, friends since childhood, misfits the other kids didn’t like. Me because my dad was a cop, my mother a teacher. Victor, his wealth and his allergies. Vivian her attitude and that same old money. And Robert…

  Robert his nasty streak.

  How had he known to take us there that day? Why did we go? I don’t remember, except that Victor loved secrets. More than anything. And Vivian was so easily led, while I just wanted to be with my friends.

  He had to have known, when he sent Victor under the edge of the pier. He must have been aware how dangerous, putting the boy with all the sensitivities so close to the wasps nest. Not bees, after all.

  I remembered. That it was dormant, that Victor was scared and then fascinated, Vivian terrified, ordering him to leave it alone, while I watched, not sure what to do, while Robert…

  Poked the nest with a stick.

  It only took one angry, early risen wasp, responding to the threat to its nest, to do the deed. A quick sting, Victor’s face, him stumbling back, off the edge of the pier, into the water, Vivian beside him, taking his sister with him.

  The lake current was strong, dragged them out so fast and I leaped, didn’t think, just acted. Victor was already in trouble, face red, but he pushed her into my arms and, in doing so, shoved himself out of my reach.

  Instinct, the rest of it. We barely made the pier, the ladder to the planks, while Vivian screamed. I looked up at Robert, no longer a shadow in this memory, saw the sick pleasure mixed with guilt and remorse and just the barest bit of sociopathy that colored his expression. Just before he spun and ran away while Vivian screamed at her brother and he sank under the water—

  When had Vivian stood and come to me, hugging me so tight, weeping again while I cried on her shoulder? Did I say all of what I remembered out loud? Weird, felt like I’d only lived it. But when she pulled back, nodding and wiping at her nose in the most unladylike way that made her all the more human to me, I realized I must have given the memories voice.

  “He did it on purpose,” Vivian said, steel in her eyes, in her tone. “Whether guided or because there is just something wrong with him, I’m not sure. But he killed Victor that day, Fee. And destroyed my family.”

  The “and he’s going to pay for it” she implied at the end? Unspoken and unnecessary.

  “There’s more you need to know.” I looked around at the others, caught their surprise but approval, and met Vivian’s eyes. “This might be tied to the Reading hoard.”

  She blinked, a faint frown pulling her back from her vendetta. “What?”

  That dictated the next fifteen or so minutes as I walked her through the evidence we’d collected, showing her everything from Grandmother Iris’s music box to the doubloon and the map, Crew’s tattoo, the book his grandfather wrote. Everything, all of it, while Vivian sat in silence with her mouth hanging open.

  When I fell quiet, it took her a moment to snap out of her shock. And then she started to laugh. Soft, at first, a giggle that turned into near hysterics where she struggled to breathe and slapped her thighs with both hands while tumbling sideways into Mom who supported her until she devolved back into snickers.

  “Of all the things I expected to hear today,” she said around a big grin that barely hid the grief she still fought, “evidence of Captain Reading’s treasure was nowhere near the list.”

  “Tell me about it.” I sighed then, knowing this was serious but glad she was able to vent her feelings in a way that didn’t have me pretending to investigate Robert’s murder.

  Oh, I had her back, yo. Forevs.

  She patted Mom’s hand, her own composure returning. “You’re wondering now if the treasure could be tied to the reason Victor was killed. And my father.”

  It crossed my mind. “All I know is, something like the Reading treasure?” That was the sort of secret Victor would have loved. “Money is an excellent motive for murder. The kind of money we’re talking about…?” Well, no one knew, did they? Reading’s hoard could have been the single doubloon I had in my possession already and the remainder a wild goose chase.

  Or.

  Or. More gold and gems and priceless artifacts than any of us could possibly imagine.

  Shiver.

  “Vivian,” Dad spoke up, “could Victor have uncovered something about the treasure, something the Pattersons knew and silenced him for?”

  She hesitated, shook her head. “He had a secret he didn’t get to share,” she said. “Told me it was big big.” Vivian wrinkled her nose. “That was his code for the best kind of secrets. So I knew it was important. But then he died and I never found out what he wanted to tell me.”

  “Dad,” I said, “where did the Patterson’s wealth come from in the first place?” Joseph Patterson had been Captain Reading’s cabin boy, not exactly known for their status and riches. But he’d been trusted by the captain, the only one of his crew, according to the legend, he’d brought with him to the Green Mountains.

  Dad didn’t answer right away, though when he did it was with quiet curiosity. “Not sure,” he said. “They’ve been firmly entrenched in Reading since its founding. I assumed they’d built up their fortune over time. Are you thinking they had—and continue to have—access to the treasure?”

  “Or they had access,” I said, “and somehow lost it.”

  The whole room fell silent at that prospect.

  Vivian blew out an angry breath. “If my brother and father died over a lost pirate treasure, I’m going to…” she shook her head then, and laughed one more time. “Victor would have loved that, actually.”

  My phone buzzed at the least opportune time but when I saw who was calling I left the group to talk and instantly took it, stepping into the kitchen for a bit of privacy.

  “Mr. Dunning,” I said as way of greeting for the private investigator. “Thank you for calling me back.”

  “Sheriff Fleming,” the man’s voice sounded older, a bit rough around the edges like someone who’d seen a number of years past middle age and maybe even a few too many packs of cigarettes for his own good. “Happy to help. You were asking about Thea Isaac?”

  I nodded though he couldn’t see me do it. “Did you uncover anything after Andrew asked you to stop?”

  I could hear pages flipping, figured he was old school, though the sound of one-finger pecking on a keyboard followed. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “I did. One of my contacts got back to me after I’d closed the case at Mr. Isaac’s request.”

  What he had to tell me? Made my entire day.

  “Thank you, Mr. Dunning,” I said. “The town of Reading will be paying the bill. Please contact Mayor Vivian French with your invoice.” I was already back in the living room, beaming at Jill, gesturing at Vivian who perked, nodded without question.

  “My pleasure, Sheriff Fleming,” he said and hung up while I did a little dance in the middle of the room before leaning in and jerking Jill to her feet.

  She didn’t resist, eyes huge, and I realized then she, like Vivian, had no idea about the treasure, was now a part of our little mystery brigade. Which made her the perfect choice for what I
was about to do.

  “If you’ll all excuse us,” I said, dragging the deputy to the door, “soon to be Sheriff Wagner and I have a murderer to arrest.”

  Vivian was on her feet and on our heels. “Wait for me. Your mayor would like to personally witness the criminal being brought to justice.” Her blue eyes didn’t seem so icy to me anymore.

  I could tell Crew and Dad, Liz and Mom, even Daisy wanted to ask, but I shrugged on my way out, grinning. “Can someone please let Dr. Aberstock he’s going to be getting his job back shortly.” Okay, I didn’t know that for sure, but with Jill firmly in the sheriff’s chair? You can bet we’d have the leverage we needed to make sure everyone benefited from our success.

  The Pattersons might have thought they were making the rules, but we were winning.

  Finally.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Four

  We found him sitting at the organ, exactly where I expected to find him. He never seemed to be far from it, and when he saw the three of us coming toward him, any remaining fight went out of him.

  “I did it,” Ian Rudge said. “I killed her.” Took me a second to register the fact he’d dropped his stutter.

  Affectations. I hated them.

  Jill nodded, tipping her hat while stepped back and let her do the job she was born to do, the sheriff’s badge already changed hands, Vivian agreeing when I filled them both in while Jill drove that this was for the best.

  “She wasn’t Thea Isaac, was she, Ian?” Jill’s tone was soft, kind, but firm, too. Misery crossed his face but he didn’t crumble, just sat there while she held out her phone, the recording capturing his confession.

  “No. She was Tamara Leek, once upon a time,” he said. “My aunt. My father’s sister.”

  I held my ground next to Vivian while Jill prompted him again.

  “Your mother was from Reading,” she said, “but your father was from out of state?”

  Ian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Aunt Tamara was a mess,” he said. “Her whole life, she was in and out of trouble. Alcohol, drugs.” He shrugged. “My father did his best to keep her away from me, but I liked her.” Faint disgust there, regret. “She gave me my first drink, when I was fourteen. I’ve been an addict ever since.”

  Dear god. I almost spoke up, forcing myself to bite the inside of my cheek, Vivian’s hand on my wrist keeping me silent.

  “I was in rehab—again—when Aunt Tamara and Mom were in the accident.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, rubbing it against the thigh of his pants. “Mom died on impact. Aunt Tamara almost did, but she made it.” I watched him lose his temper at last, leaping to his feet, fists shaking at the ceiling of the church. “My mother never did anything to anyone. And you let Aunt Tamara live.”

  Jill let him have a moment before her level voice cut through, that perfect mix of kindness and understanding more than I could have managed and proving to me I’d made the right decision.

  “You came back to Reading, Ian,” she said. “Why?”

  His trembling sent him back down to the bench, as though his knees could no longer hold him. “I heard she was here. That she’d ‘recreated herself.’” Hello, bitter resentment. “Some garbage about making amends as a new woman. I confronted her, told her I knew what she’d done, that she’d changed her name, got remarried. I was going to expose her. You know what she did?” He glared at us, accusing, furious. “She begged me to forgive her and then helped me get clean.”

  So that much was true.

  “You’ve had this information for some time then,” Jill said. “Why not turn her in?”

  “I didn’t know how.” He slumped, leaning against the organ like only it could give him strength. “I wanted to hate her but she saved me despite myself. She was still my Aunt Tamara. But I couldn’t live with it. Not anymore. She told me…” he choked. “She told me she loved me and always had and that she was sorry.” He put so much weight on that word it hurt to hear it. “She had the nerve to bring me my one year pin and tell me she was sorry. Imagine.”

  “When was this, Ian?” Jill was a rock, and I was a mess inside.

  “Three days ago,” he said. “The night before I decided I couldn’t live with it any longer.”

  “You could have turned her in.” Jill didn’t use an accusatory tone. “Why kill her?”

  “Because she was sorry,” he said at last after a long, painful silence. “And I couldn’t forgive her for that.”

  So many layers of screwed up I could barely stand it. Good thing Jill remembered handcuffs.

  Vivian watched her lead Ian out, still holding my wrist. “You were right,” she whispered. “She’s perfect. Thank you, Fee.” And then she followed her new sheriff, leaving me to wonder if I was off the hook or not.

  At least now I could get back to my life, to Petunia’s (oh my god, Petunia!) and my wedding.

  Right?

  ***

  I’m not sure what was more awesome in the moment that Vivian made Jill’s new job official after the deputy—now sheriff—presented her case conclusions with confession to the entire council. It was honestly a tossup between my friend’s beaming smile and the furious frustration on Robert’s.

  You know what? I went for Jill’s happy because that’s who mattered to me.

  Robert still had what was coming to him pending. I’d celebrate over him soon enough.

  If Geoffrey was going to protest he made no sign of it nor showed a scrap of disquiet attached to the outcome of our particular little competition. Though he did stare at me the majority of the time, those cold eyes locked on me and that dangerous smile firmly in place, so if he was plotting behind it I couldn’t tell.

  Good bet.

  “Thank you, Mayor French,” Jill said as Vivian handed over the sheriff’s badge. My friend’s voice practically vibrated with do-gooder attitude and heroic intentions. “I promise to uphold the laws of our town, to serve and protect all Reading residents and to do so with professionalism and dedication to the badge.” Had she been practicing that speech? Sounded like it. Good for her.

  That meant she’d either been dreaming a long time about being sheriff herself one day or trusted me when I told her I had her back. I chose to believe the latter.

  “If I could make a request?” I nodded to Jill, to Vivian. “I’d like to be officially stricken from the deputy roster.”

  Jill looked faintly disappointed. What, she was finally hoping for the chance to boss me around? No, of course not, that wasn’t Jill. If anything, she was probably feeling a little alone right now. Because as soon as I spoke, Dad raised his hand and nodded.

  “Me too, please,” he said.

  Vivian didn’t protest, though I was sure she wanted to. But after the conversation we’d had not so long ago, she was finally trusting me, I think, as much as she wanted me to trust her. The old friendship we’d lost, destroyed through acts not under our control, that had rekindled at last and I hoped we’d get a chance to make up for lost time.

  As for Jill, I hoped she’d find a way to clean house ASAP and not be stuck for too long with Rosebert as her only backup.

  A firm round of applause followed, the council members seemingly pleased with Jill in her role and I almost left her to her small talk and political maneuverings, knowing she could handle it, when she left Terri Jacob to come to my side and shake my hand in full view of everyone.

  “I’d hug you and thank you,” she whispered, “but I don’t want to show weakness.”

  I winked. “I’ll take the hug later,” I said. “Good luck, Jill. You know I have your back whenever you need me. For what that’s worth.”

  She blinked, nodded, smiled. Then hugged me anyway.

  Sheriff Jillian Wagner was too good hearted for the cutest town in America.

  There was only one other confrontation I wanted to have, and I considered leaving it alone until I could corner them in private. Glared at the pair of deputies who stood to one side, fuming and pathetic while all
I could think about was Victor French sinking under the water, my totaled bed and breakfast and the twitching, seizing form of my fat pug on the walkway in my backyard.

  Was there steam coming out of my ears? Could I kill with thoughts alone? I don’t know where I found the internal strength to turn my back at last and walk out instead of losing my crap all over them.

  Vengeance would be had. But on my terms and in a way that would seal their doom.

  I did leave then, heading back to Petunia’s at last, to finish the cleanup. I’d extended the closure by another week, shuffling some visitors, cancelling or postponing others, still not excited about the work it was going to take to restore the house but knowing it was time I tackled it. Thing was, I knew as soon as I dug in it wouldn’t take long at all and I’d be back up and running in no time. But the prospect of cleaning up after Robert and Rose?

  That turned my stomach.

  Dad slipped one arm around my shoulders as we left the council chamber together, sighing happily.

  “Got over your temper, did you?” I didn’t mean it cruelly, more to tease him, and he took it that way because he grunted but through a lingering grin that surely meant he was up to something.

  “Fiona Doyle is the past, kid,” he said. “I’m more interested in the future.”

  “Meaning?” He’d been offering some of my favorite people jobs and now had two of them signed on as temporary owners of Fleming Investigations. Dad didn’t like letting people go once he had a hold on them, so I could only assume, as long as they were willing, our company had grown by two permanently.

  “Just happy to know possibilities have opened up for all of us.” He hugged me before guiding me toward his truck. “Let me give you a lift home.”