Berry The Dead

by Nancy McGovern

  “I know you didn’t mean it that way. It was just the shock of it all.” Hazel waved it away. “Anyway, I want to apologize, too. I thought I’d make dinner tonight — and clean up — to give you some rest. I guess I’ve been grumpy and on edge lately, and more than a little snappy. I felt like a huge stone rolled off my chest once I told you about college. I’ve been keeping it in for too long.” She still looked wary, though, and it broke Nora’s heart a little that Hazel was more than a little scared of her mother’s reaction. In that way, she was still her little girl — Nora could tell a big part of Hazel wanted hugs and validation from mom.

  “I talked it over with your dad, and we both think you’re old enough to make your own decisions,” Nora said. “If it’s not college, then I’m sure you’ll find some other path. Just as long as you’re working hard and are happy, it doesn’t matter what that path is.”

  Hazel’s eyes brightened with tears, and her smile widened. “Thanks, Mom. I’m actually—” Something crackled on the stove and she jumped, turning to stir the pot.

  “What are you making anyway?” Nora asked.

  “Spag bol,” Hazel said. “I’m just browning the meat now. Then I’ll throw in the tomatoes and it can simmer away for an hour or two, just in time for dinner.”

  “You’ve always loved cooking, haven’t you?” Nora smiled. Harvey really was brilliant. Hiring Hazel would be the best decision the diner ever made. A win-win situation all around.

  “Not really,” Hazel said, surprising Nora. “It’s Grace you’re thinking of. I’ll be lucky if I don’t burn this sauce.”

  “Oh, nonsense. Of course you’re a good cook. Any child of mine is!” Nora went to the counter and leaned on it. “Look, your dad and I were talking and we thought, since you aren’t going to college anymore, and your…other option didn’t work out, maybe you could join the diner instead.”

  “What?” Hazel looked at Nora blankly, blinking.

  “You heard me. I can’t cook professionally anymore, but I could teach you some of my skills — all of my skills, for that matter — and I’m sure you’d be a great chef in no time. Or maybe you’d prefer to help your Aunt Tina manage the place. Either way, there’s a lot of opportunity for you there.”

  “You have a chef already,” Hazel pointed out. “Angela handles it just fine. Everyone loves her food. And Aunt Tina doesn’t need help, either.”

  “Yeah, but...”

  “But Angela isn’t your daughter so I get an automatic spot, is that it?” Hazel’s lips were pressed together, and her eyes narrowed. “Man, oh man. You and Dad really have the lowest possible opinion of me, don’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?” Nora was baffled. “Hazel, we’re trying to help.”

  “No. You’re trying to interfere!” Hazel exclaimed. “For your information, I already have a job. I talked to a friend of mine today and he and I are going to start a landscaping company together. This town sure could use a decent one.”

  “What friend?” Nora felt her blood run cold.

  “Nobody you’d know, I’m sure,” Hazel said. “His name is Matt and—”

  “And over my dead body will you go near him!” Nora’s temper snapped. “How could you be so foolish? You don’t know anything about the man and you’re ready to start a company with him!”

  “Me? You don’t know anything about Matt. He’s—”

  “Hazel. I absolutely forbid it. You aren’t going anywhere near Matt. In fact, I’d like you to delete his number from your phone. I don’t like that man.”

  “Mom. Do you even hear yourself?”

  “I know what I’m talking about. You are too young to do this!” More than the immediate anger coursing through her veins, Nora could sense an underlying panic. This would be the biggest mistake of Hazel’s life. She just knew it.

  “This is happening. Whether you like it or not,” Hazel said. She slammed the spoon on the counter. “What is your problem anyway?”

  “My problem? Matt Whitman is my problem. Don’t go near him. Don’t you get it? He might have been the one to poison Zoey!”

  Hazel stared at her and her jaw dropped open. She blinked, shook her head, then asked slowly, “Poison Zoey?”

  “It’ll come out tomorrow,” Nora said. “She was murdered. Her smoothie had some kind of poison in it.”

  “Zoey?” Hazel’s breath was shallow. She reached out and clutched the counter for support. “Poisoned?”

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Nora said. “I know you were close. But...”

  “But who could want to poison Zoey?” Hazel asked. “She was the sweetest woman alive. She was kind to everybody!”

  “That’s what we have to find out,” Nora said. “I mean, what the police have to find out.”

  “The police...” Hazel blinked again as though she were dreaming. “I can’t believe it.”

  Nora thought her daughter might be on the verge of fainting, her entire face having drained of color.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” Nora asked, taking her hand. Hazel shook it away. “No,” she said. “I need to talk about this, Mom. “You think Matt did it? But why?”

  “I don’t like the man,” Nora said. “He’s hiding something. I can feel it.”

  “Or maybe you’re judging him,” Hazel said. “Matt’s harmless. He would never. Besides, he really loved Zoey.”

  “Love’s been the cause of many a murder,” Nora said. “Just stay away from him, Hazel.”

  “Mom.” Hazel pulled Nora into a hug, holding her there for a few seconds. Nora took a breath, feeling some of her panic abate. When Hazel pulled back, her face was expressionless, but Nora already had a sinking feeling about what she’d say next.

  “Look, I know Matt. I’ve worked with him. Remember that landscaping job I had last summer? He’s a creative genius when it comes to landscapes and maintenance. Honestly. But he’s growing old, and his back’s giving out. It’s a perfect combination — he can be the brains and business head, plus he’s got contacts. I’ll do most of the hands-on work. It’s perfect. Right now, he’s working as a janitor in a job he hates, and I have no job myself. He said he has enough savings to cover the cost of equipment. All I need to do is show up. If things go right, I’ll be rolling in profits soon.”

  “It’s not just about money, Hazel. Kim Morris said that he caused a scene when her husband fired him. If he’s got an unstable temper, I don’t want you near him.”

  Hazel snorted. “Oh, please,” she said. “Perry Morris has been shaving off Matt’s wages for years. He’d promised Matt a hefty bonus this time and, once again, made up some flimsy excuse for not giving it. Yeah, Matt lost his cool and ended up losing his job, but it’s hardly like he’s unstable.”

  “He said you set him up with Zoey.”

  “You met him?” Hazel looked amazed. “When?”

  “I went to his house yesterday,” Nora said. “I was asking around about Zoey. His house was a mess. Plus...” Nora bit off her next words. She didn’t know how Hazel would react to hearing her mother had snooped around. Probably not very positively.

  Hazel put a hand to her eyes. “Mom, honestly, I get it. He looks raggedy and his house is a mess. I admit he’s even a bit hard to like initially. But that doesn’t mean he’s a murderer. I’m telling you. He really loved Zoey and he’s had a hard life...”

  “Of course he’d have a hard luck story,” Nora said. “Hazel, you’re young, you’re naive, you don’t know men and you have no idea—”

  “Mom,” Hazel’s voice was firm, “I’m not giving up my business idea just because you suspect Matt’s a murderer based on the mess in his house. Okay? It’s not happening. So just forget about it and relax. I can handle things.”

  “No,” Nora said. “I’m putting my foot down about this, Hazel. I’m serious. You live in my house, under my roof and, if you want to continue doing so, you’ll give up this idea. There are thousands of other things you can do, your dad and I are supporting you so—”

/>   Hazel got a stubborn expression that Nora had seen on Harvey’s face many a times. She knew she wasn’t going to get through.

  “Fine,” Hazel said, her voice cold. “I’ll figure out a way to move out earlier than I planned. I’ll be gone by the end of the week.”

  “There’s no need to—”

  “Clearly, there is,” Hazel said. “You and Dad really thought I’d just say yes to some silly idea of becoming a chef and taking over the diner? It’s really just so…you guys think I’m a loser, don’t you? That I’d take my parent’s money and just roll over and be lazy.”

  “Now, sweetheart, we never said that!”

  “Yeah, but it’s true, isn’t it? Grace is always the good child. Grace is the one with the scholarships, Grace is the one you’re not worried about because she’s mature. As for me, you think I’m a screw-up.”

  “Hazel! Language!”

  “Whatever. I’m getting out of here. I’m tired of being treated like I’m ten.”

  “Then stop acting like it!” Nora exclaimed. “You’re making terrible decisions all over the place, Hazel!”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Hazel said. She started to walk away, then paused. She fished a can of tomatoes out of the fridge. Silently, she poured it into the pan, along with some beef broth. “Put that on to simmer when it boils and enjoy your dinner,” she snapped. “I’m not going to be home.”

  “Listen, wait.” Nora put a hand on her head, wondering how the conversation had spiraled away from her once again.

  “The brownies were delicious, by the way,” Hazel said, turning to look at Nora over her shoulder. “Bye, Mom.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to Amber’s,” Hazel said. “There’s a lot for me to—”

  There was a firm knock on the door and Hazel stopped. She looked at Nora for a second, then went to answer the door.

  “Yes?” Nora heard her say.

  “This Nora Nathaniel’s house?” a gruff voice asked.

  “Yeah. What’s this about?”

  “I wanted to talk to her. My name’s Brock Williams. I’m Zoey’s husband. Or rather, I used to be.”

  *****

  Chapter 10

  The Jacket

  Nora felt frozen for a second. Her instincts had gone haywire. On the one hand, she knew this man was a murderer and an ex-convict. On the other hand, he seemed so pleasant, so genuine. Not at all what you’d expect an ex-bank robber to be.

  In the photos she’d found on the internet, Brock Williams had looked half-mad, with hair sticking out in all direction and intense, wild eyes. But those photos were from years ago. The Brock in front of her now had a neat haircut, wore a suit three sizes too large for him but clean & pressed, and looked nervously at the ground instead of meeting her eyes. He looked up suddenly, and Nora knew that her caution was futile — her curiosity wouldn’t rest until she found out what he wanted.

  “What do you want here?” Nora asked. “How do you even know about me?”

  Brock bit his lip and looked over his shoulder. “Do you think we could talk inside?”

  Nora hesitated, not wanting to invite him in, and she saw shame in Brock’s eyes.

  “I know I don’t have the best track record,” Brock confessed. “But I promise I’m not insane. And I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk about Zoey. About something she said.”

  Nora looked over her shoulder at Hazel and made a decision. “Hazel, you’re headed out, right?”

  Hazel nodded.

  “Could you call your father and tell him who’s visiting?” Nora looked at Brock and shrugged. “I’m sorry but I need to take precautions.”

  “I understand.” Brock sighed. “Can’t really trust a murderer who shows up on your doorstep, right?” He gave a sardonic laugh, but his jaw was set and his eyes shining with some emotion.

  Hazel hesitated a little, looking from her mother to Brock. “Mom, I don’t want to just leave you—”

  “Go,” Nora said firmly but gently. “Just tell your dad, okay? I’ll be fine. Brock, why don’t you come in? Let’s talk.”

  Inside, Brock looked even more nervous. He kept glancing around the house, his eyes flitting from the vases on the mantelpiece to the family photos displayed on the wall to the intricate Turkish carpet on the floor.

  Nora got out a bottle of orange soda and poured him some. “What did you want to say to me?”

  Brock held the glass gingerly and, even when Nora sat down on the sofa, he remained standing.

  “You can sit, you know,” Nora said. “The furniture doesn’t bite.”

  “It’s just…I don’t want to...” Brock sighed. “I know what you must think of me.”

  Nora remained silent. She didn’t think much of him, that was true. But she wanted to know more. “You can still sit,” she said. She knew what would happen next. She was expecting it. He’d come up with some sob story about why he’d robbed a bank and killed a man. Something that painted him as a victim, absolving him of any real evil. She despised men like that, who could not see beyond themselves to the harm they caused the world. Every criminal in his heart was a martyr, innocent of anything but self-defense.

  But she was to be surprised. That was not how Brock saw things nor how he painted them for her. Without further hesitation, he said, “Zoey probably told you about me. How I killed a man. It’s true. I did. I was young and stupid, and things just got out of hand. I wanted money. Needed it, a lot of it, and I took the easy way out. Only it turned out horribly wrong. I didn’t mean to kill anyone, but that doesn’t matter. Because I did. I deserved every one of those twenty years I spent in jail. Maybe more. I deserved to have Zoey leave me. But now…now that I’m out and finally trying to lead a straight life…well, I don’t think I deserve this. I don’t deserve to be arrested over something I didn’t do. Because I didn’t kill Zoey. I would never hurt her.” He sank down into an armchair and took a sip from the glass. His breathing was shallow and rapid. He looked as though he were about to have a panic attack.

  “Hey, take it easy,” Nora said, “Take a breath. Nobody’s arresting you.”

  “Not yet, but I know how it looks. I know what the sheriff wants,” Brock said. “I’ve just come from the station. They interrogated me for hours. They want to pin this on me, lock me up and lose the key. But I’m telling you, I didn’t do it.”

  “Where were you when Zoey was...”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t have an alibi. I was fast asleep in my own house. It’s fifty miles from Milburn but Sheriff Ellerton kept implying that, since I have no witnesses, I can’t prove that I didn’t secretly sneak into Zoey’s house and poison her.” Brock rubbed his face. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t afford a lawyer, and I know firsthand how terribly overworked and uninterested public defenders are. Ellerton wants my head. Then I remembered you...” He hesitated.

  “How do you know me?” Nora asked.

  “Zoey told me about you,” Brock said. “She told me she was working for the Sherlock Holmes of Wyoming. She even sent me an article in the paper about you.”

  Nora bit her lip. “Don’t believe everything you hear…or read.”

  “What?” Brock looked confused.

  “Not of what was ever in the newspaper about me was true. I’m not Holmes. Not even close. I’m not even Watson.”

  “But you helped solve murders, though,” Brock said hopefully. “I remembered that. Then, it was easy enough to look you up online. The Milburn Star had everything I needed. I found an archived article about you from a past Halloween — your house at the end of Willow street won a decorating competition. So it was easy to find you after that.”

  Nora gulped. Once again, she marveled at how easy it was to lose your privacy in the new age of online data. “But why do you think I can help you now?”

  “Based on what Zoey said. She said you were amazing.”

  Nora frowned. “Why would Zoey even speak to you? She divorced you after the b
ank robbery, and tried to get as far away from you as possible, isn’t that right? That’s why she moved to Milburn?”

  Brock sighed. “She divorced me, yes. Look…you have to understand. Both Zoey and I come from extreme poverty. We met in high school and fell in love. We married right after. But Zoey…she wanted to work her way out of poverty. As for me, I admit it, I was messed up and angry and wanted the world to give me what I thought I was owed. I got fired from a few jobs because I always had a temper. I loved Zoey, and she loved me, but those were some terrible times. We were barely scraping by. Each month we had to choose between paying the utilities or the rent. You don’t know what it’s like to live like that for your whole life. It grinds you down. Makes you angry. And, back then, I just needed any little excuse to be angry.”

  Nora didn’t know what to say. She did know what it was like to be poor. She’d struggled a lot in her twenties, worked for years in unrewarding, rough jobs, but she couldn’t say she’d ever lived in poverty. And, it had only gotten better from there to where now, as she sat in the comfort of her beautiful home — a home that surely seemed impossibly rich to a man like Brock — she knew that the gap between the two of them could not be bridged by words. She nodded instead, encouraging him to go on.

  “Well…we tried having kids, but that didn’t work for Zoey. She always wanted them but, for one thing, we couldn’t afford ‘em. And, two, there was something…wrong…with her…you know?” Brock waved a hand over his belly. “So, that was our life. Frustration and misery.”

  “That’s when you decided to rob a bank?”

  Brock nodded. “It didn’t happen all at once. I fell into some bad company. I told Zoey I was picking up shifts here and there when, really, I was picking pockets. Eventually, I decided to do something bold. I thought maybe I’d end up on the road with Zoey. I was picturing me and her in a red convertible, a bag of cash in the back. Maybe we’d end up in Mexico. By the beach somewhere...” Brock looked wistful for a second, then shook his head and gave a bitter laugh. “I was an idiot. No doubt about it. Anyway, it all went wrong, and Zoey ended up hating me. But prison set me straight, funnily enough. I had time — plenty of it — and I thought over everything I’d done wrong, and how I’d ruined some man and his family all because I got greedy.”