Montana Connection

by B. J Daniels

  Mitch could only imagine how Nina had worn him down until he promised to give her a million dollars. “Did you hire a private investigator to follow Charity?”

  Wade frowned. “Why would I do that?”

  “Just a day ago you threatened to kill her.”

  “I was angry and upset. But I certainly didn’t hire anyone to follow her.” He was still frowning, and Mitch wondered if he was worrying that Daisy might have hired the P.I.

  “Did you ever employ a private investigator named Kyle L. Rogers out of Portland?” He could see that Wade had.

  “If you’re thinking that Daisy…”

  “I’m just asking questions, Wade. That’s what I do. I follow any lead I get and see where it goes.” Mitch raked a hand through his hair. His head hurt. “Nina make any enemies that you know of?”

  “She didn’t get along with people all that well.” No kidding. “She had trouble with the other painters, but I can’t believe any of them—”

  “Anyone else?”

  Wade sighed. “I saw her arguing with Bud once, but everyone argues with Bud.”

  Mitch couldn’t disagree with that. “Know what they argued about?”

  Wade shrugged. “You’d have to ask Bud.”

  Bud had said they’d never spoken two words. “Where was this and when?”

  “Outside the plant Monday afternoon.”

  So that’s who Nina had been arguing with when Charity had seen her and taken her photo.

  “Look, Wade, I know you were spying on Nina. Charity saw you in the trees. Why?”

  “I was afraid she’d get in some sort of trouble before she left town.”

  “Or were you afraid she’d renege on your deal and tell everyone the truth?” What if there really was a letter from Nina to Charity? Maybe Wade just feared there was.

  Wade got to his feet, his face turning bright red. “Maybe Nina would have been different if she’d had a father growing up.”

  Or maybe not. “I’m sorry about your daughter, but my job now is to find her killer. Did either Daisy or Desiree know about this financial arrangement you had with Nina?”

  “Leave my family out of this.”

  “This is a murder investigation, Wade. Tell your family before I have to.”

  * * *

  CHARITY WENT RIGHT to work on her stories, first writing about the Bigfoot sighting, which was starting to feel like old news, then the story about Nina Bromdale’s murder.

  She wished she had more information. But unfortunately Wade thwarted her attempts to talk to anyone who worked at Dennison Ducks. It seemed he’d told his staff that anyone who talked to the press would be fired.

  She also couldn’t print anything about the possibility of Nina being Angela Dennison. Not without proof. But how was she going to get proof?

  As she sat down at her computer, she felt anxious—even with the Derringer, pepper spray and handcuffs in her purse and a deputy sitting in the corner. Nina had been murdered and the killer was still out there.

  Worse, she knew Mitch wouldn’t have put a deputy on her unless he thought she was in danger. That had to mean he bought her theory about the letter. He hardly ever bought her theories—and he’d kissed her three times in the past two days. That had to mean something, too, right?

  She’d gone to her house, showered and changed before coming to the newspaper office, all the time knowing a deputy was not far away, but she still kept looking over her shoulder. As she went back over the past few days, she tried to imagine how all the pieces fit together. That was the problem. They didn’t.

  Worse, she didn’t really have enough facts to do a story on the murder for this week. If only Nina really had written down her life story for Charity and—mailed it—and there really was a letter.

  She looked up as the door opened. The deputy was already on his feet, hand on his revolver. “It’s all right,” she said, waving him back into his seat. “It’s my assistant, Blaine.”

  Blaine didn’t look any the worse for wear since being bound and left in an alley. In fact, he looked downright cheerful as he came in. She noticed he had a sketchbook in his hand. “I drew you something.”

  She made room on her desk for the book.

  “I heard you lost your photo of Nina Monroe. I saw her a few times when I took papers up to Dennison Ducks. So…” He flipped open the sketchbook.

  Charity gasped as she stared down at a perfect likeness of Nina Bromdale, aka Monroe.

  * * *

  AFTER WADE LEFT, and with Charity gone, Mitch noticed how empty his house seemed. He stood in the middle of the room, his senses assaulted by her. He could still smell the light scent of her perfume. Still taste her on his lips.

  He should have known that having Charity here even for one night was going to change the way he felt about a lot of things—including this house.

  He couldn’t imagine opening the door without feeling as if something was missing once her scent had faded and the cool quiet had settled back in.

  As if he didn’t have enough trouble, he noticed jack-o’-lanterns on porches and cardboard goblins taped in windows as he drove through town. Halloween. He’d almost forgotten. All he needed now was a full moon. Every weirdo in town would be going crazy tonight—and there was already a killer on the loose.

  His first stop was the post office to check Charity’s mailbox. More than ever he wondered if Charity wasn’t right about Nina writing a letter to the paper. But had the woman just been planning to expose her father? He couldn’t forget the baby spoon he’d carried around in his jacket pocket.

  Also from what he’d been told about Nina, he couldn’t imagine that she’d just take the money and run. She’d wanted revenge. And a letter to the local paper gave credibility to Charity’s attack at the post office.

  But there was no letter from Nina in the newspaper post-office box. Charity would be disappointed that her theory wasn’t panning out. No more disappointed than he was.

  He wanted this case over and done with as quickly as possible. Letter or no letter Charity was in danger. He felt it, just a nagging feeling he couldn’t shake.

  He stopped by her office and gave her the mail from her post-office box, relieved to see she was busy at her computer with the deputy watching over her.

  “No letter,” Charity said seeing his face.

  He shook his head. “If she’d mailed it before she was killed, it would have been here by now.”

  She nodded, then said, “Look what Blaine drew,” she said excitedly.

  He looked at the eerie likeness of Nina Bromdale on the computer screen next to the headline Quest to Find Father Ends in Murder. Under the sketch of Nina was the cutline “Who is this woman really?”

  “Can we talk in the darkroom?” Mitch asked.

  Charity smiled at him as if she thought it was just a ploy so he could kiss her again. She got to her feet and led the way to the darkroom. He closed the door behind them.

  “I need to tell you something,” he said.

  “Let me guess. Off the record? See, I’m getting where I can read your mind.”

  He hoped not. “Wade was Nina’s father.”

  “So she was Angela!”

  “No. It seems he had an affair with Alma.”

  “Get out of here.”

  “All we have is Alma’s word that the baby was even his. Until we run the DNA, I’m still skeptical,” Mitch said. “But Wade believed it. He was planning to give Nina money the night she disappeared.”

  “How much?”

  “A cool million.”

  Charity let out a whistle. “If Wade really is Nina’s father, then he paid Alma to keep quiet about it and now Nina. Or at least claims he was going to pay her off before she was killed.”

  Mitch did love Charity’s mind sometimes. She could have been a cop.

  “You don’t think Wade…”

  “Killed her?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Nina sounds like she was pretty coldhearted. Wade had to know that wh
en she went through that million she’d be back demanding more.”

  “You think there’s more to the story, don’t you,” Charity said. “Angela’s baby spoon.”

  He nodded. “I think maybe there was more blackmail involved than just her paternity. I think she might have known who kidnapped Angela.”

  Charity nodded. “That’s exactly what I think.”

  Yeah. Mitch thought. Maybe the two of them were getting where they could read each other’s mind. Now, that was a scary idea.

  He stepped to the darkroom door. It was too tight in here, too intimate. “I have to go. If you need me, call.”

  She laughed softly. “I might take you up on that.”

  Outside again, he started the patrol car, her words echoing in his head. She’d always held out for marriage, and that had kept him safe. He didn’t want to think of what would happen if Charity changed her mind.

  He headed out of town, dreading what he had to do. He wasn’t looking forward to confronting his brother Jesse. And the last thing he wanted to do was see his father. Maybe he’d luck out and the old man would be at the bar. Huh, he thought. First time I’ve ever wished that.

  He hadn’t seen his father in months and only then in passing. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d spoken. When he’d left home at eighteen, it had been for good. He’d never been back.

  Lee Tanner opened the door at Mitch’s knock almost as if he’d been expecting him. Lee was a big man, handsome to a fault, and from old family money. The latter had proved to be a curse since it afforded his father too much time to drink. He wasn’t a mean drunk. Mitch couldn’t remember his father ever raising his voice. He was just a drunk.

  “I need to see Jesse,” Mitch said, looking past his father. The house was neat as a pin. That surprised him. Nor did he pick up the smell of alcohol when his father said, “Jesse will be back shortly. Come on in, son.”

  The “son” grated, but Mitch didn’t say anything. He hadn’t come here to fight, just to try to get the truth out of Jesse. Who was he kidding? That would take a fight for sure, and even then Mitch couldn’t trust that his brother would be truthful.

  “It’s good to see you,” Lee said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  “I don’t drink.”

  Lee smiled. “I was thinking maybe a soda or a glass of iced tea. I have both.”

  Iced tea in this house? He’d believe it when he saw it. “Iced tea, then.”

  Lee walked into the kitchen, which was open to the living room, and took down two glasses before opening the fridge and pulling out a pitcher of iced tea. How about that? His father had definitely been expecting him. This had to be some kind of show.

  Mitch glanced around the place, rather than watch his father fill the glasses. Lee had designed the house himself. At one time, he’d been an architect in Seattle. Then he’d married Ruth Marks, built this house and had two sons.

  His father handed him a glass and took the other.

  “Thanks.” Mitch couldn’t remember his father ever drinking iced tea.

  “Have a seat. Jesse should be back soon.”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  His father took a sip of the tea and didn’t even grimace at the taste. Maybe he’d put a little something in his.

  “How long has Jesse been staying with you?” Mitch asked.

  “Are you asking as a brother or a cop?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Lee smiled again. “Since late Saturday night. He’d called to say he was coming home and asked if he could stay here for a while.” Lee looked up, meeting Mitch’s gaze. “It sure is nice to have the company. I’m trying to talk him into staying longer.”

  “Is he thinking about leaving?” If Jesse left now, he’d only look all the more guilty.

  “He wants a place of his own. He’s considering buying the old Kramer land outside of town. I’m surprised, too. But I think he missed his home. I know he missed you. He’s hoping to mend a few fences. He’s changed, Mitch.”

  Mitch stared at his father, not believing a word of it. “Yeah, he says you’ve changed, too.” He hadn’t meant to sound so cynical.

  Lee chuckled. “Hard to believe, huh.”

  “Next to impossible.”

  His father’s smile never wavered. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “What would Jesse do in Timber Falls?”

  “Didn’t he tell you about his paintings? Your brother’s quite the artist.”

  The back door slammed and Mitch heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Jesse used to draw some when they were kids, but since when had he become an artist? And since when had their father become so naive?

  Lee Tanner turned toward Jesse as he came through the kitchen. “Mitch is here. Why don’t the two of you go out on the deck for some privacy?” He downed the rest of his iced tea, then took the glass into the kitchen to rinse it out.

  “Yeah, let’s talk outside,” Mitch said, putting his unfinished iced tea on the kitchen counter.

  Jesse shrugged and opened the front door. They stepped out onto the covered deck that ran the length of the front of the house.

  “So, little bro,” Jesse said. “Glad to see you took my advice and came out.”

  “Tell me about Nina Bromdale.”

  Jesse walked to the railing and leaned against it. “I wondered how long it would take you.”

  “She was your girlfriend.”

  “Was is the key word here.”

  “She’s why you came back to Timber Falls.”

  Jesse shook his head. “It’s a lot more complicated than that. You ever meet her?”

  Mitch shook his head.

  “Lucky you.”

  “She’s dead,” Mitch said. “Murdered, but I think you already know that. I saw your bike tracks on the road where Nina’s car was found.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything. “You going to arrest me for her murder?”

  Mitch hoped he’d never have to. “Did you kill her?”

  “No, but what are the chances of you believing that?”

  “Why don’t you try telling me the truth?”

  “I wasn’t lying about missing you and Dad.”

  “And Charity?” Mitch had gotten a print off the stone heart.

  Jesse’s.

  He smiled. “I admit I gave her the presents. Maybe I thought if she had a secret admirer, you might wake up and admit how you feel about her. Maybe I’d hoped she was available.” He shrugged and grinned.

  The latter sounded more like it. “It was you in her house the other night, wasn’t it.”

  Jesse nodded. “I saw someone go around the back of her house. I scared him off, but the back window had been pried open.”

  Mitch had found that when he’d investigated the break-in, but that didn’t mean Jesse hadn’t been the one to do it. “So you just climbed in?”

  “I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anyone else in the house.”

  Mitch shook his head. “You always have an answer, don’t you.”

  “Maybe it’s just the truth,” Jesse said.

  “When was the last time you saw Nina?”

  “Monday.”

  The day before she disappeared.

  “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I thought I could stop her.”

  “Stop her from what?”

  Jesse rubbed his jaw. “Getting herself killed.”

  “You knew what she was doing here?”

  “I knew Nina had this thing about finding her father and making him pay.”

  Making him pay. Just as Harriet had said. Just as Charity had theorized. “She tell you who her father was?”

  Jesse shook his head. “She didn’t know. Then she got this message from her mother. Next thing I heard she was in Timber Falls.”

  “You said you saw her Monday. Where?”

  Jesse sighed. “At her bungalow. She told me to get lost.”

  “Come on, Jesse. You didn’t just come up here to try to save Ni
na.”

  His brother smiled. “Okay, she ripped me off when she left. She took some things of mine.” He saw Mitch’s expression. “Some canvases, if must know. I’d been painting down in Mexico. Sold a few. She ripped me off when she left to go see her mother. I wanted the canvases back.”

  “Did you get them?”

  “She’d already sold them. I was pissed. We argued. That was the last time I saw her.” He paused. “You don’t believe me.”

  “How did you know where her car was?”

  Jesse sighed. “You told me that a black pickup had been following Charity. I followed one out of town. It led me to the car.”

  “You were the one who called it in?” Mitch asked in surprise.

  Jesse nodded.

  “Why didn’t you give Sissy your name?”

  He shrugged. “Never did like talking to cops.”

  “What about the truck?”

  “I lost it. Or it lost me.”

  Mitch took off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “Any chance forensics is going to find your prints in that car?”

  “I’d be surprised if they didn’t. Nina and I spent the past four months together down south.”

  “How did you hear that Nina was in Timber Falls?”

  “Dad saw her and recognized her from a photo of the two of us in Mexico I’d sent him.”

  Mitch stared at his brother for a moment, then turned to go. “Don’t leave town.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell Dad goodbye?” Jesse asked. “He’s been on the wagon.”

  “Right.”

  “Cut him some slack, little bro. He’s trying damned hard and all because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “That’s right. He feels bad about the years he drowned himself in a bottle after our mother left.”

  “He should. His running around is why she left us.”

  “Like hell it is.”

  Mitch started to leave again. “I don’t want to hear this.”

  “Well, you’re going to,” Jesse said, grabbing his sleeve and jerking him around to face him. “All these years you’ve blamed Dad because she left us. It’s time you heard the truth. She left because she never loved him or us. She married him because he had money and because the man she really loved had married someone else.”

  “That’s a lie!” Mitch snapped, jerking free. “He was drinking and having an affair with Daisy Dennison.”