by S F Bose
“Well…” I replied with a smile and waggled my eyebrows.
“Liz, we’re just dating. I don’t want to jinx it. Now what can I get you for breakfast?”
“Okay, sorry. The two of you are perfect together, but I’ll shut up. I’ll have a bacon butty sandwich, orange juice, and coffee for me. And two plain bagels with cream cheese and grape jam on the side and a cup of herbal tea for Sam.”
“This is to go, right?”
“Right.”
“So how’s Sam doing?” Abbie asked and smiled. This time she waggled her eyebrows.
“Stop it, now. He’s my boss. We have a great working relationship. He’s doing fine,” I replied and she laughed.
“Okay, if you say so. Is he still a finicky eater?”
I nodded. “He is, although he’s been more willing to try new foods.”
Sam called himself a selective eater. He’d often eat the same food for all three meals. He might eat French fries for breakfast, baked potatoes for lunch, and mashed potatoes for dinner. His latest obsession was bagels with cream cheese. He said reducing food choices simplified his life and gave him more time for other things. However, Sam was flexible for special occasions. At a celebration party, I’d seen him enjoy a mixed meal of pizza, fried chicken, rib tips, fried mushrooms, and French fries.
“Well, grab a seat and I’ll bring your order out in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Abbie.”
I followed her through the gift shop, past the larger dining room to the left, and into the smaller dining room at the back of the restaurant. I was happy I’d missed the breakfast rush. A few people sat in the large dining room, but the smaller dining room was empty. I sat at one of the tables.
Now that Abbie was in a relationship, she occasionally suggested that Sam and I would make a nice couple. I had to admit I sometimes felt that Sam and I shared a certain chemistry. He was attractive, funny, quirky in an interesting way, and good-hearted. However, I never sensed that Sam had any romantic interest in me. I did think he liked me in a platonic way and enjoyed working with me, though.
His lack of interest was good because it had been less than a year since I lost Nate Lee, my boyfriend and the love of my life. I didn’t tell my family about Nate until months after I’d returned home to Mystic Grove from Virginia. In a reply to a rare question by Sam about relationships, I only shared that I had lost someone last year. He thought I had broken up with someone and I didn’t correct him.
Nate and I had both worked in the Covert Services Group at Worldhead Global Security in Virginia. I served as the lead interpreter and translator on various missions in the Middle East and Europe. Nate, a former Green Beret, worked as a team leader.
At first, we were just friends. Then we started dating and slowly fell in love. Eventually, we moved in together. Nate and I decided to surprise both our families with a visit and an announcement about our relationship at Christmas. Until then, we kept it a secret from them.
Since we were in a relationship, Worldhead rules stated we couldn’t work on the same team. As a result, Nate moved to another team.
One evening, Raven, our boss, called and asked Nate to fill in for another team member who was ill. Although Nate was still recovering from the flu, he agreed. My spidey sense immediately kicked in. I had bad feelings about the mission and tried to persuade Nate to stay home until he was a hundred percent healthy. Despite all of my arguments, he left with the team.
During the mission, a roadside bomb exploded and killed Nate and two other team members. Shortly after Nate’s death, I’d submitted my resignation to Raven. After trying to talk me out of leaving, he put me on an unpaid leave of absence. I returned to Mystic Grove with my two cats, Snap and Sammy, and everything I could fit into my car. I also took Nate‘s Kahr CM9 handgun with me. All I wanted was peace, quiet, and a new beginning in Mystic Grove. Working as a PI for Sam Nolan was a part of that new beginning for me.
“Liz?”
I startled and found Abbie standing next to me, a worried look on her face. She held a shopping bag with my breakfast order.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I blinked to clear my head and jumped up. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.
Abbie looked relieved. “You need some caffeine and food.”
“Amen to that,” I replied and we laughed.
My bad memories of Nate’s death exploded into tiny confetti and blew away. However, I knew they’d be back.
***
Sam’s parking space was still empty when I reached the Bowman Building. I ran up the stairs and unlocked our office door. The chime sounded and reminded me to turn off the security alarm.
I went into Sam’s office and fished his cup of tea and the smaller bag with his bagels out of the shopping bag. I put his bag on an empty file folder and the tea on a coaster because God forbid I stained his desk. Sam was a bit of a clean freak.
I hurried to my office and put my breakfast on the desk. I shrugged out of my jacket and threw it on my visitor chair, along with my messenger bag. Then I slid into my desk chair and pulled everything out of the bag.
After sipping some orange juice, I put cream and sugar into the coffee. The caffeine from just one gulp of Abbie’s high-octane java woke me up.
The Farmhouse Café made a perfect bacon butty sandwich. They stacked a generous portion of crispy, grilled back bacon on a piece of thick, buttered farmhouse bread. After drizzling the bacon with a fruity, spicy brown sauce, they topped it off with a second piece of buttered farmhouse bread. I bit into the sandwich and smiled.
Then I realized I hadn’t asked Abbie about Steven Meagher. In her position at the Farmhouse Café, Abbie was privy to a lot of gossip and information. She might know something useful about Meagher. I’d have to talk to her later. My gut told me that learning all I could about Meagher would help me with the Goodman case.
So after breakfast, I brewed a fresh mug of coffee and got to work. I read all the articles in the online newspaper archive about the disappearance of Steve Meagher’s first wife and children. It confirmed the stories I’d heard so far. I noted that there wasn’t any mention of alcohol on the boat.
I moved on to the next step and used our subscription databases to research Sue Hill Barlow, Leon Barlow, Harley Hill, and Edith Hill.
Harley and Edith Hill were hardworking, law-abiding people. They had been born and raised in the area and farmed for decades. Neither of them had a police record. Like Grandma said, they sold their farm five years ago and moved to a three-bedroom house in Cross Plains.
After he married Sue Hill, Leon Barlow did farm with Harley. However, he also had a side business working as a carpenter and electrician. After the Hills sold their farm, Harley, Sue and their three children moved to a separate house in Cross Plains.
The surprise in the group was Sue Hill Barlow. After the birth of her first child, she decided to blog online about raising children and the challenges of being a mother. Over the years, her blog grew in popularity. Eventually, she incorporated and branded herself as “Mommy Power Plus.”
Curious, I went to her blog and looked at the various photos of Sue Barlow. She was a full-figured woman and wore her blonde hair in a bob with full bangs. She had a nice smile and friendly face. I felt that I might have seen her in Mystic Grove.
I turned to the website content. Sue wrote about childcare, health-related topics, food recipes, budgeting, and financial planning. Besides daily posts, she offered a paid membership forum where moms could chat with her and other moms about different topics. She also ran online workshops for mommy bloggers. She advised them on writing topics, building an audience, finding their voice, and legal issues.
Sue was also a featured speaker at numerous blogging conferences. Thanks to her blogging, paid membership forum, speaker’s fees, and online workshops, Sue Hill Barlow was a multimillionaire.
I retrieved Sue’s phone number and called her. After introducing myself, I explained that I had some questions ab
out Steven Meagher and the events in 1995. Sue was suspicious and reluctant. However, when I mentioned the B&B, Grandma Addie, and Nana Anna, she relaxed. Sue said that they were old friends of her mother. She agreed to speak with me about Steven Meagher that afternoon and gave me her address.
After hanging up, I looked up her address in another database. There I discovered that the Barlow Family Trust owned the Barlow home and additional property in northern Wisconsin. Sue and Leon Barlow served as the trustees.
I was thinking about how I wanted to approach Sue Barlow when I heard the front door chime quickly followed by Sam’s voice.
“It’s me.”
“Okay,” I replied. Grabbing my coffee and notebook, I went down the hallway to Sam’s office. He had shed his coat and was opening the bag with the bagels.
“The tea is cold but you can put it in a mug and microwave it,” I said. I sat in my usual chair, snagged a coaster, and put it under my coffee mug.
Sam grinned. “I like cold tea too. This is great. I’m starving.” He sat down and spread cream cheese and grape jam on both halves of the first bagel. After eating half a bagel, he said, “Perfect!”
I laughed and drank some of my coffee while he ate. He finished the first bagel and drank half of the cold herbal tea. Then he sighed and took a deep breath. “Much better. I was running late and had to get some errands done, so I skipped breakfast.”
I shook my head. “Most important meal of the day.”
“It is!” he agreed sitting back in his big chair. His dark eyes locked on mine. “So how’s the new case going?”
I filled Sam in on what I’d learned from Grandma Addie and Nana Anna about the loss of Meagher’s first wife and children in 1995. I also told him about Sue Hill Barlow and my planned interview.
Sam frowned. “Why are you focusing on the boating accident? That was twenty years ago.”
I shrugged. “Just a gut feeling it’s something I should look into. It will help me understand Meagher better. After the Sue Barlow interview, I’ll be done with that aspect. By then we should have some of the profiles I requested from Mitch.”
Sam twirled his pen and stared at me. “Okay. Sue Barlow’s really a multimillionaire from blogging?”
“Yeah it’s a whole new world out there, Sam. Mommy blogger millionaires. Teenaged Youtube millionaires.”
Sam stretched and then sighed. “Sometimes I feel ancient.”
“I know what you mean. We’re in our twenties and missed the boat,” I agreed. Sam looked at me and we both burst into laughter.
Chapter 5
At 1:00 p.m., I parked on Brewster Street near the Barlow home in Cross Plains. Mature trees surrounded the beautiful beige tri-level. The well-maintained lawn included small beds of multi-colored tulips and daffodils.
I got out of the car and scanned the street. Aside from a woman working on a flower bed in front of the house across the street, nobody was out. Slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder, I hurried up the sidewalk to the path that led to the front door. After I rang the bell, Sue Barlow answered the door. She still had the blonde bob I’d seen in the profile photo on her website.
“Liz Bean? Did you have any trouble finding the house?” she asked as we shook hands.
I returned her smile. “None at all, Mrs. Barlow. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“None of that Mrs. Barlow stuff. Call me Sue and I’ll call you Liz. Please, come in,” she said and I followed her into the foyer.
She wore a turquoise turtleneck sweater, gray pants, and black pumps. Her only jewelry was a gold butterfly pendant on a chain, a plain gold wedding band, and a watch.
She turned and smiled at me expectantly. Her eyes were bright blue.
“Would you like to see my license?” I asked uncertainly.
Sue laughed but her face colored. “No, I already verified you’re a licensed investigator at Nolan Private Investigations. I have a very efficient attorney. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all” I replied and meant it. I was warming up to Sue Barlow. She was cautious and direct, which I appreciated. She took my jacket and hung it in the front closet.
“You have a beautiful home,” I said.
Sue Barlow beamed. “It’s our dream house. Let’s talk in the living room. To be honest, with a husband, two teens, and a pre-teen, it’s the only neat room in the house.” We both laughed.
I followed her down a hall and into the living room. It was a spacious room with high ceilings, white walls, and honey gold floors and trim. A beautiful painting of apple blossoms hung over the fireplace. Perpendicular to the fireplace, an ivory couch faced two floral-print armchairs across a long wooden coffee table. An ivory loveseat sat at the head of the table and faced the fireplace. The furniture all rested on a beige area rug. Along the fireplace wall to the right, family photos were displayed on built-in shelves and side tables.
“What a warm room!” I said and Sue Barlow smiled.
“Thank you! Would you like some herbal tea? I have it steeping,” Sue offered.
I smiled. “That would be great. Can I help?”
“No, please sit where you’d like. I’ll be right back.” I watched Sue Barlow hurry off to the kitchen. For a millionaire, she seemed…normal.
I walked over to far end of the loveseat and put my cell phone and notebook on the coffee table. After dropping my messenger bag on the floor, I wandered over to the family pictures. There were framed photos of Sue with a tall, lean man who had a warm smile. Leon Barlow, her husband, I thought. I looked at more photos of Sue and Leon with their three auburn-haired children. They all smiled happily at the camera. Some group shots included an older couple. Her parents, Harley and Edith Hill?
Sue Barlow returned with a tray that held two mugs of tea, small ceramic containers of cream and sugar, honey in a squeezable honey bear container, and a plate of cookies.
“Sue, you went to too much trouble,” I said, watching her place the tray on the coffee table near my cell phone and notebook.
“Not at all. Mama baked the butter cookies and I’m a tea drinker. I use loose chamomile tea and I warn you, I make it strong,” Sue replied and smiled.
I returned the smile. “Sounds perfect. I was admiring your photos.”
Sue joined me by the side tables. “That’s Leon and me,” she said, pointing to a picture of the smiling couple. “Married eighteen years and still going strong.”
She pointed to another photo. “That’s the latest photo of the kids. Sharon is sixteen, Mike is thirteen, and Carrie is the baby at ten. Although if she heard me say that, Carrie would loudly object to being called the baby,” Sue said and laughed.
“You named your oldest after your sister?”
“Of course,” Sue replied.
I pointed to a photo with the older couple. “And these are your parents?”
Sue looked at the photo and nodded. Then she reached for a photo from the other table. “Mama and Daddy. This is a better photo of them.” She handed it to me.
Dressed casually, Harley and Edith stood in a yard. When I looked closely, I noticed that they were holding hands. Edith wore her hair in a gray-white bob that curled on the sides. She had blue eyes and a warm smile. Harley had the weathered face of a farmer with crinkly eyes and a shy grin.
“You are certainly your mother’s daughter,” I said and smiled. When I handed the photo back to Sue, she looked at the photo more closely and nodded.
“Best parents ever. When they finally sold the farm, we all moved to Cross Plains. They live next door. I couldn’t bear the thought of not being close to them.”
“How long have they been married?” I asked.
“Forty-nine years. We’re planning a big celebration and trip for their fiftieth anniversary,” Sue replied and returned the photo to the other table.
“Do you have any photos of your sister, Sharon?” I asked gently.
“I do,” she replied and picked up a framed photo at the front of another tab
le. “This is one of my favorites,” she said handing it to me. “Sharon was twenty-one and I was seventeen. I have since adjusted the color of my hair,” she added with a smile.
The photo showed two dark-haired young women standing in a flower garden. They both wore jeans and pastel blouses. Sharon and Sue looked very much alike. The only difference was that Sue inherited her mother’s big smile and Sharon shared her father’s shy smile. They both looked friendly and familiar. Sharon’s arm draped around Sue’s shoulders and Sue had her arm around Sharon’s waist. I stared at Sharon for a few seconds and wished she could tell me what happened on the boat that day. I handed the photo back to Sue.
“It’s a beautiful photo of both of you,” I said. “Had Sharon married yet?”
“Thank you. It seems like yesterday. No, she married later that year.”
I pointed to a framed photo hanging on the wall. A large home sat in a forest. In the foreground, colorful butterflies swarmed a large field of wildflowers.
“That’s an amazing photo.”
“Thank you. My son took the picture and we had it enlarged. He was so excited to get that shot. That’s our home up north. We like to get away every three months or so to relax. Someday we’ll retire there.”
I nodded. “I can understand why. It looks beautiful.” Then I noticed a framed close-up of two butterflies sitting on one of the tables.
“You must like butterflies.”
Sue gestured toward the seating area. She picked up her mug of tea and sat on the end of the couch. I sat on the loveseat kitty corner from her and picked up my mug of tea. I turned slightly to my left to face her.
Sue looked wistful. “Sharon loved butterflies. After we lost her, the entire family got butterfly pendants or medals. We had ‘Sharon Hill’ engraved on the back of each pendant and medal along with a small heart.”
“Not her married name?” I asked without thinking.
Sue looked shocked. “Of course not!” She paused to compose herself. “We all carry Sharon with us every day.”
