Boiling Over

by Thea McAlistair

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better,” I said, “my father was an asshole too.”

  Maude sighed. “I think some men were not meant to have families.” She rubbed the back of her hand again. “I did mean it about the suit. It’s been quite a week. I’m not even through all the regular customers. Tomorrow? I’ll bring it over to your house, even.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think he’ll start missing it right away.”

  Maude watched me expectantly. Probably she wanted to know how someone with a bespoke silk suit had ended up with someone like me, and maybe she did deserve the story after telling me her own, but I wasn’t ready. Oh, I’d talk about Sev until the sun went down, but the whole story? The one where I lost Donnie and Martin and what shreds of innocence I’d had left? That would require a hundred years and several bottles of alcohol.

  “Tell Judith I said hello,” I said as I hurried out.

  If I was going to be frank, I felt a little humiliated it had taken me so long to figure out Maude was Trask’s daughter. Did it make much of a difference? Sure, she might have killed him on the expectation of inheritance money, but apparently, he hadn’t acknowledged her at all. It would have been very stupid of her to make such an assumption, and she didn’t seem stupid. Maybe she had felt some kind of jealousy over Judith using Trask as a beard. Such an arrangement…well, unorthodox would be putting it nicely, and it couldn’t have felt comfortable, no matter how in love they were. Empty-handed, I started the walk back to the house to think some more.

  “Mr. Carrow.”

  Oh God, what now? I spun, trying to make my expression into one that might be interpreted as compliance. “Yes, Sheriff Kelly? What is it this time?”

  He stood in front of me, his hands on his hips. “Richard Trask is missing.”

  “You mean you didn’t catch him.”

  “Because you let him walk right past you. So, if you don’t want to be arrested for obstruction of justice, you’ll start looking for him.”

  I considered protesting since it wasn’t my job to go chasing drunk lunatics, but Kelly had a look that said he would be all too happy to see me suffer. A word popped into my head, one that I’d heard Sev use: penance—one had to pay for one’s sins.

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll look, but no promises.”

  Kelly sneered. “They told me you were a smart man. Now I almost believe them.”

  I held my huff until he walked away. How could such a small town have such a high percentage of terrible people? They weren’t even mean for good reason!

  “The sooner you get Bella out,” I muttered to myself.

  Based on what I knew about Richard, I figured he hadn’t gone far. For one thing, he couldn’t be all that steady, and for another, he was probably aware of the dangers of the woods beyond town. He’d want to be somewhere safe and preferably quiet. And, well, Arthur was the only person I’d spoken to who seemed to hold any kind of pity for him.

  I pushed open the door of the library. The smell of books overtook the smell of sticky maple, and I found incredible relief in it. How did anyone manage to stay outside in such a cloying scent for more than a few minutes? Arthur Parrish sat behind his little desk stamping books, his glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. He pushed them up with one finger.

  “Devil take these,” he muttered.

  “Mr. Parrish?”

  His head snapped up. “Oh, Mr. Carrow, I didn’t know you were there. Apologies for the language. They’re my spares, and they don’t fit well. What can I do for you?”

  “Well I don’t know if you heard, but Richard Trask caused a bit of a commotion in the post office this morning. He broke away from Mr. Kelly when he went to arrest him.”

  “Oh dear.” Arthur glanced at the shelves behind him. “Well he may be here. The fire door is unlocked, but I haven’t seen him.”

  I pointed and mouthed, asking if I could look. Arthur nodded and shrank back. I crept between the shelves, ears tuned to any sounds of movement. Didn’t mean he wasn’t there. I edged closer to the back. Step, pause, listen. Step, pause, listen. The bench came into view. Nothing. I sighed my disappointment and went back to the front.

  Arthur craned his neck as he saw me approach. “He’s not there?”

  “Nope.”

  “I would say I’m sorry, but I would rather not have another tussle in my library.”

  “Any idea where he might have gone instead?”

  “I’m afraid not. I think I will go lock the door so he can’t come sneaking in during the night. I’d hate for Mr. Kelly to have to drag him out.”

  I drummed my fingers on the desk. If I were Richard Trask, where would I go?

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” asked Arthur.

  Was there? “Actually, yes. Do you happen to know who called the search party for Mr. Trask?”

  “Hmm, I don’t recall. Is that important?”

  “Maybe. I went up to see Ed—”

  Arthur flinched, and his glasses slid back down his nose. “Good Lord, you went up to see that beast of a man?” He shoved the glasses back up. They slipped again like they didn’t seem to want to stay. “You’re a far braver man than anyone here could boast.”

  “I mean he’s weird, true. He didn’t seem aggressive or anything though. Anyway, he said he saw someone’s tracks before he learned Trask had been killed, but the search party muddled them. So maybe someone knew they’d left tracks and decided to wipe the evidence with the help of people wanting to be neighborly.”

  Arthur gaped. “How horrid.” He stared into the middle distance for a moment, thinking. “Well, I’m sorry to say it, but Judith most likely suggested it. Walter was her fiancé.”

  True. Yet he’d left her nothing in his will, preferring to give his money to Crista. And his house to his brother. Technically, homeless Richard did have a real place to go now.

  “One more thing, can you give me directions to Walter Trask’s house?”

  “Oh, sure.” Arthur leaned over the desk and pointed out the leftmost window. “Down that street, west side. Beautiful brick building, built in the 1780s. In fact, if you’re interested in the historical architecture of town, I have numerous archives—”

  “No, that’s unnecessary, thank you.”

  I nodded my farewell and made a beeline for Trask’s home. Maybe I’d find a fight there, maybe I wouldn’t, but there was only one way to find out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I stared up at Trask’s house. Yep, brick and imposing. Probably historical, too, but since I’d declined the archives, I couldn’t be sure. I rattled the knob. Locked. After checking I was the only one on the street, I tried the nearest window. Also locked. Odd. These country folk tended to leave things open, didn’t they? Trask wasn’t one of them, though, not completely. At the very least, he’d been a bootlegger, and that was something worth hiding.

  Maybe I should have thought about searching the house sooner. However, I took meager pride in knowing my gut instinct wasn’t to do something illegal. I’d never picked a lock before—one of those things Donnie had never taught me in his effort to make me respectable. Sev might be able to. But I would have to drag him out of work, and possibly apologize and maybe even give an explanation of my behavior, and I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to do that yet.

  What if someone had a key? Judith? Or more likely Louise. Judith would hand it over if she had one, but Louise definitely would not, not after our little showdown. What if I got Fran to steal the key for me? A horrible thought, but I was desperate.

  Well, I’d try Judith first. That way, I’d be able to smooth my conscience. I walked the two blocks to Judith’s house within minutes. She opened the door with a confused expression.

  “Mr. Carrow,” she said, “you’ll give my father ideas.”

  A series of coughs burst from somewhere inside. “Who’s out there, Judy?”

  “It’s Joe,” she answered. “He’s got a package with bad handwriting and wanted to
make sure we weren’t expecting anything.”

  I was impressed with the plausibility and speed at which she’d lied. Then again, I’d spent a lot of my time lying about who I was seeing. It came with the territory. Maybe I did want to talk to her dad. He’d told me flat out he’d disliked Trask, which was more absolute than everyone else’s vague objections, and had told me exactly why: he suspected criminality and infidelity, both of which had been true. How had he known, and had he done anything about it besides voice his objections? Trask’s house could wait.

  “Actually, it’s your father I want to see,” I said.

  “Oh.” Judith took a step back. “Well, he just got in.” She glanced at the entrance to the living room. “But he does enjoy guests. He gets so few now. Please, come in.”

  She led the way to the living room with its draped mirror. George Howe sat in an armchair, a blanket draped around his shoulders even in the heat. He stood to shake my hand but lost his strength halfway through the action and flopped back into his seat.

  “Mr. Carrow, you’re here too?” he wheezed. “So sorry, I think I overdid it at the post office earlier.”

  Was I really going to interrogate a man who looked like he might keel over any second? He hadn’t hiked into the forest and cracked Trask across the head. Or, he could have been faking. That was always what happened in the pulps—the person in the wheelchair could always walk; the person on their deathbed was perfectly healthy. But those were books, and books were fiction, as I well knew. How would George have known to fake for me anyway? He hadn’t even known I was there until I walked in. And maybe catching him off guard would make him tell me more than he intended. If there was anything to tell, of course.

  “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” I said. “I wanted to ask you something about Walter Trask.”

  George shifted uncomfortably, but it was impossible to distinguish between emotional discomfort and physical pain. “I’ll try to answer.”

  I glanced at Judith, who had come from behind me to take a seat. “The last time I spoke to you, you said Trask wasn’t worth marrying, even though he was rich. Was it just the infidelity you were worried about?”

  George glanced at Judith before answering. “Well there was all that business with Mr. Manco. Suspicious. Oh, I know Bobby said it wasn’t his gun that killed the smuggler, but,” he hesitated, “I’m not sure I trust Bobby much either.”

  Judith sighed. “Papa.”

  “Don’t papa me. Bobby Kelly is as much of a weasel as Walter Trask ever was. Both of them selfish and bullying and—”

  A coughing fit interrupted the rest of his rant. I cringed. If he was faking, he was doing an excellent job. At the end of it, he pulled his hand away from his mouth. There were flecks of bloody spittle on his palm. Not faking then.

  “Anyway,” George continued, “I told Mr. Trask if he wanted to marry my daughter, he was going to have to prove his worth to me. He would have to start being a better man.”

  “And what did that entail?” I asked.

  “I didn’t tell him what to do, just that he needed to do something. A few people told me he tried to reconnect with his brother, but rumors are rumors. I haven’t seen them pleased to be near each other in years.”

  “When I spoke to Richard a few days ago, he said Walter tried to offer him money, but they ended up in a fight.”

  George shrugged. “Neither of them are very pleasant. Their parents tried, bless them, but those boys came out crooked and stayed crooked. Wouldn’t be surprised if Richard snapped.”

  I nodded. So much for this side trip. I hadn’t learned anything except George was too sick to do much, let alone chase a man into the woods and bludgeon him to death. There was nothing for it. Unless Mr. Howe knew something others didn’t. “Did you ever speak to James Smith? He was here around the time Mr. Manco was killed. I know it was a few years ago—”

  “No, I remember him. Kept to himself, mostly. I did have a conversation with him right when he came in though. Thought it odd at the time, so I remember. I saw him in the general store buying bullets, and I said, ‘What’re you planning to do with what you catch?’ You know, because one person can’t keep all that meat, so I was hoping to talk him into selling me some venison since it’s been a time since I could go out myself. He said he was there to take some trophies. So, I asked him if he was hiring local, because the only person around here doing that sort of thing is Ed, and I thought he might need to be warned. And he mentioned he had a guy in St. Albans. So, I said, ‘Oh I grew up in St. Albans, I probably know them. Who is it?’ Then he looked at me funny and said he had to go. Rushed right out of there. Didn’t even take the change for the ammunition.”

  Another burst of coughing ended the story, and this time he didn’t seem to get his breath back. Judith jumped up from her chair, but he waved her back down. She wrung her hands. I stood there awkwardly until it subsided.

  “Sorry,” he rasped.

  “No, it’s fine,” I said. “I should let you go. Thank you for speaking with me.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Judith mumbled.

  I followed her back to the front door. She paused there with tears in her eyes, taking a moment to dab at them.

  “My apologies,” she said. “It breaks my heart to see him like that.” She stuffed her handkerchief into a pocket. “I almost wish Walter had left me some money. If he had, I might have been able to arrange for somewhere more comfortable for him.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what—”

  “Don’t worry, it’s not catching,” she answered, almost bitterly. “Cancer, the doctor said. He was given a year about six months ago. I keep waiting for the day.” She took a steadying breath. “No point in worrying. We all have our hourglasses.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I decided to drive back to my original purpose for coming over here. “Um, Judith, I have a bit of a confession,” I said. “I didn’t come here to visit your father.” I lowered my voice. “Do you happen to have keys to Walter Trask’s house?”

  “Oh! No,” she replied. “What do you need them for?”

  Sev could read lies in my face, and I prayed Judith wouldn’t be able see the one I was about to say. “Mr. Kelly wants to get in there for his investigation. He’d have come himself to ask, but I think he’s trying to be respectful of your, uh, loss.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Considering what I’d seen of Kelly, he wasn’t the respectful type, and she would know that even better. But Judith’s good nature won out. “Perhaps try Mr. and Mrs. Gaines,” she said. “I’m sure they did business on the weekends.”

  Yeah, business. I thanked her and left. There, conscience, you happy?

  I hurried back toward Main and up toward the row of houses at the end, turning what George had said over in my mind. Whatever James Smith was, he wasn’t a hunter interested in taxidermy. My money was on hired killer engaged to take out Leo Manco, but who had bought his services and why? Sev had said nobody would be bothered with bootleggers this small-time, but that wasn’t necessarily true. While I loved Sev, he always seemed to have a too-rosy picture about the kinds of things happening in the underground. Maybe Bella had upset someone, and they decided to prune some of her traveling vines just because they could. I wouldn’t have put it past Bella to do something like that, so why would her rivals have any qualms about it?

  Fran’s bike was propped against the house, which meant she was in. I sighed. Well, I’d come this far.

  Fran opened the door, her smile beaming like the sun. “Mr. Carrow!” she exclaimed. “How can I help you?”

  Oh boy. “Hey, Fran. Are your parents home?”

  Disappointment passed across her face. “Oh, um, my mother isn’t, but my father is out around back with the truck. Should I get him?”

  “No. I wanted to see you. Can I come in for a second?”

  “Yes! I mean, yes, please come in.”

  She edged out of the doorway and brought me back into their flashy living room. Instinctively,
I started looking for places someone might stash a key. In the blue-patterned vase on the side table maybe. Or under the ottoman. Could one of the bricks in the fireplace be loose enough to pull in and out, one with a small pocket behind?

  “So, how can I help?”

  My attention snapped back to Fran. I willed my fake smile to look at least semi-genuine. Considering how smitten she was, she might not have cared, but it didn’t hurt to sweeten the pot.

  “I’m sure you saw Richard Trask causing a commotion at the post office earlier.”

  She nodded, her eyes wide. “He’s a brute, isn’t he? Nasty man.”

  “Yeah. So, anyway, Sheriff Kelly went to arrest him, but he made a break and—”

  “Oh how thrilling! No one’s ever escaped Sheriff Kelly’s custody, not ever. I bet they’ll put this on the front page of the town paper. Well, maybe the second page. The murder would go on the first. Do you think—”

  I interrupted her before she got completely off-topic. “Kelly chased him, and he got away. Since I was there, he asked me to help him look for Richard. I think he might be hiding out in his brother’s house since it’s his own now. Do either of your parents have a key? I’d like to have a look and help the police out a little.”

  Instead of jumping to my aid like I expected, Fran got very shy. “Why do you want to help Sheriff Kelly?” she asked. “Didn’t he arrest your sister-in-law or whoever?”

  “Bella? Oh, she’s Sev—Seb’s cousin. Long story. But I was hoping he might take pity on her if I was helpful. She only slapped him, after all.”

  Fran nodded. “She did, I saw him. He was being mean to her. I heard what he called her. Good men don’t use language like that to ladies.”

  “Right. So, keys?”