Whispers of Murder

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  He reached out and wrapped her hand inside his own. “Better than anyone.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Isabelle stared down at the masculine arm that was draped around her torso. It took several moments for her to realize who it belonged to without turning around to have a look-see. The last thing she remembered was Emmett telling her she was the only woman he’d ever wanted to be with, and she rewarded his comment by falling asleep beside him.

  She turned, careful not to rouse him, and took in every aspect of his chiseled face. It was the first time she’d been able to do it without him being aware. Wisps of blond hair fell over his eyelids and she could see the boy she knew at age ten and the silly teenager who had now turned into a man. No matter how much she tried to avoid it, she’d missed him. If only she’d stayed and communicated instead of running, maybe things would have been different.

  Isabelle thought the move would solve all her problems, and if she stayed away long enough her feelings for Emmett would go away. She’d carve out her own life instead of following in the shadow of her father, and she’d get out of the town she was so desperate to break away from, and find a new path to happiness. She’d convinced herself she was content in her new life until she returned home and Emmett dashed through the door on her wedding day. Denial had been like a fickle friend, and the time had come to break free.

  Isabelle slithered out of bed, unlocked the door and crept down the hallway. It was early, but through the window she saw a faint glow push past the mountains and make its daily debut. She went into the kitchen, secured a cup in place and slipped a caramel vanilla cream coffee packet into the Keurig. Once her cup was brewed, she made one for Emmett and another two for her parents. It was a fresh start to a new day, and she was determined to start it off right for a change.

  Emmett lifted an eyelid when she entered and smiled. “I wasn’t sure where you’d gone.”

  She removed a coffee cup from the tray and offered it to him. “I wanted to thank you for staying here last night—with me, I mean.”

  He sat up and took the cup from her. “I’d stay here every night if you’d let me.”

  Isabelle tapped the tray with her finger.

  “I’m not trying to push,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re here—that you came back—no matter what the circumstances. What we’ve got going on between us can be whatever you need it to be right now.”

  She set the tray down, scooted next to him on the bed and rubbed his arm. “It’s only been a week since everything happened, and I—”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me, it’s okay.”

  “I want to though. I need us to be friends—well, maybe a little more than friends, but I want to get past what’s happened in my life before I move forward.”

  “I’m here, Izzy, like I’ve always been.”

  She stood back up and smacked him on the shoulder. “This all could have been avoided if you would have told me how you felt a long time ago.”

  He smacked her right back. “You expect me to believe you never knew after all those times I sat around and listened to you spout off about all your girl problems from the time we were five years old?”

  “I thought I’d created it in my mind—that you had feelings.”

  He shook his head. “We were both at fault.”

  She picked the tray back up and hoisted it in the air like she was delivering food in a diner. When she reached the doorway, she turned and winked. “Be right back.”

  Isabelle crossed to the other side of the house. Once she neared the door to the master bedroom she heard someone cry out like they were being scalped one skin fragment at a time. She hurled the tray toward the counter and thrust the door open to her parent’s room. In the center of the bed sitting straight up was a bare backside of a woman, only she was about a hundred pounds lighter than her mother. The woman’s fingers were spread apart and pressed down on the bare chest of Isabelle’s father. She watched, horrified, as their hips moved together in synchronized motion.

  “Dad!”

  His head shot up. “Isabelle—oh…no—you’re up—uh— earlier than I thought you’d be.”

  She shielded her eyes with her hand. “Get off my dad!”

  The woman swayed her hair in front of her face to conceal her identity, but she didn’t turn around. Instead she slipped to the side and yanked a blanket up from the bed to cover herself.

  “It’s a little late for that,” Isabelle said. “The image of you suspended over my dad au naturel will forever be cemented in my brain.”

  Neither the woman nor Roland spoke so Isabelle broke the sound barrier. “Is someone at least going to tell me who she is and how this happened?”

  There was no answer, and after a few seconds, one wasn’t needed. On the edge of the dresser Isabelle glimpsed the chopstick hairpiece. She snatched it and threw it at the woman. “Here’s your stuff, Renee. Take it and get out.”

  “Isabelle,” Roland said, now flattened beneath a thick afghan, “we need to talk about this—wait in the living room, I’ll be right there.”

  Renee, with her body still encased in the blanket, escaped to the bathroom. Isabelle followed. Her first impulse was to grab her from behind and shove her so hard her body would shoot through the air, breaking a variety of bones when she landed. But Renee got there first and locked herself inside.

  Isabelle barreled out the bedroom door to the safety of her own room and for the comfort she knew she’d find inside, but Emmett wasn’t there. She yelled his name from the ledge at the top of the stairs, and he emerged from the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Before she could utter the words, a red-faced, barefoot Renee sprinted across the living room and out the front door. Her blanket caught on the door jamb when it shut giving the officer outside a sneak peek of her naughty bits. Renee squeezed her knees together and used her hands to protect her upper body while she wrestled the blanket free.

  Isabelle swirled her hand in the air like someone trying to signal a rescue boat from a deserted island. “It’s my dad, and that Renee woman. They were…I saw—”

  She stopped mid-sentence and noticed Emmett didn’t look a bit surprised.

  “Wait a minute. You…knew about this too?”

  He held his hand out in front of him like he was trying to push a heavy object away from his body. “You need to talk to your dad about this.”

  Roland entered the room and Emmett glared at him. “What’s wrong with you? She shouldn’t have had to find out like this—what were you thinking?”

  “Find out like what?” Isabelle said. “Where’s mom?”

  “Not here,” Roland said.

  “Why?”

  “She doesn’t…” he turned to Emmett for help, but Emmett shook his head and backed into the kitchen until he was out of sight.

  Roland drew a deep breath and sighed. “I knew I should have talked to you about this sooner.”

  “What is going on?”

  He stared up at her. “Come down so we can work this out.”

  “I can’t talk to you right now.”

  The front door opened and Melanie strolled in. “Then talk to me.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “Things change when you’re not around,” her sister said.

  Isabelle brought her knees up to her chest and buried her head between them. “Obviously. You all act like I’ve been gone for a decade.”

  “When you came back they wanted to tell you, but then you blew through the door and announced you were getting married.” He sister leaned forward. “Are you listening to me?”

  Isabelle nodded but didn’t remove her head from its resting place.

  Melanie continued. “They haven’t been living together for months.”

  Isabelle looked up. “What—why? Because of Renee?”

  Her sister shook her head.

  “Why would they split up then?” Isabelle said.

  “Mom said she didn’t love him like that anymore an
d she was tired of pretending. She was only here this past week for you. She kept trying to find the right time to say something, but then all this craziness started, and she couldn’t.”

  “I don’t believe it. Mom wouldn’t leave. She doesn’t have it in her.”

  “She did.”

  “And Renee? When’d that happen?”

  Melanie thought about it. “About a month ago. You know dad, he doesn’t like living alone. No matter how tough he appears to be, he can’t handle it. Renee came along, and she was single and didn’t hide the fact that she was interested.”

  “I’ll bet. She’s young enough to qualify for American Idol.”

  “Oh come on, she’s not that young. She’s older than you.”

  “Not by much.” Isabelle sighed. “No wonder he’s been trying so hard to get me back here.”

  “Look, I know you’re upset right now, but Renee’s not that bad. Sit down with her, talk things out. You’ll see.”

  A few hours later Isabelle’s derriere was firmly planted on top of a cushioned wedge in spin class.

  She turned to the side and looked at Tara who pedaled like a pit bull was behind her, ready to charge. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  Tara looked over. “What?”

  “Keep going like that. Five hour energy or something?”

  She smiled and handed Isabelle a container of water. “It would help if you came prepared. Do you need to stop?”

  Isabelle nodded and removed her feet from the pedals. They circled on their own and then whirred to a stop. She planted both feet on the ground and tried to stand and then wobbled and crashed back down into her seat.

  Tara wiped her neck with a towel and then angled it in Isabelle’s direction. “You don’t work out much, do you?”

  “Does the fact that my legs feel like cooked macaroni mean anything?”

  Tara laughed. “Let’s hit the hot tub for a minute and you can relax.”

  They walked over. Tara hopped in and immediately bit down on her lip. “Sweet mother of mmm-mmmh that’s hot!”

  “Which is why I only put my legs in first,” Isabelle said.

  “So the whole story with your dad and everything…that had to throw you off since you thought you parent’s relationship was solid.”

  “The last week of my life has been like one giant bean toss. I don’t even know which hole I belong in anymore.”

  Tara frowned. “What else has been going on?”

  “You remember that day at the hospital when you started to walk off and you called me by name?”

  Tara wiggled her arms up and down. “Yeah, so?”

  “How did you know it?”

  “What?”

  “I never gave it to you—so how’d you know it?”

  “One of the nurses said your name, remember?”

  Tara swished some water around with her hands and acted like she’d just been asked for the time. Isabelle thought back. Maybe that had happened—it was hard to say for sure—she’d been so frazzled that day, everything was a blur.

  “What are your plans?” Tara said.

  “After this? I have to stop by the sheriff’s office. I found a necklace in the field next to the vineyard I wanted to show him.”

  Tara raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “I’m sure it would help me to talk to someone about what’s going on and get it all out, but I’m not very good at it.”

  “What?”

  “Communicating.”

  Tara smiled. “Go ahead, unload on me—I’ve got time.”

  Over the next several minutes Isabelle explained what had occurred over the last week, only omitting what had transpired between herself and Emmett. Things were messy enough without adding him to the mix.

  When she finished, Tara said, “I can’t believe it. Do you have any idea who’s after your family?”

  “Maybe. There was an initial on the necklace I found. And even though it wasn’t at the exact spot where the police think the shooting took place—my guess is the necklace snagged on something when the person was trying to get away.”

  “What was the initial?”

  “M.”

  “Didn’t you say the other woman your husband was married to was named Marsha?”

  Isabelle nodded.

  “That is a big coincidence,” Tara said.

  “Have you ever thought you had your life all figured out and then something happened that changed it?”

  Tara stepped out of the hot tub, grabbed a towel from the rack and mopped her hair dry. “Every day is like that, I believe it’s called being a woman.”

  Isabelle laughed. “When I was sixteen I thought I would have it all figured out by the time I was eighteen, and then at eighteen I was sure I’d be settled into my life by the time I was twenty-one. Now I feel like I keep adjusting the years hoping one day I’ll feel settled.”

  “Maybe that’s where you’ve gone wrong. Have you ever embraced life for what it offered you right here, right now? No plan, just an appreciation every moment. I see what I want and I get it. I don’t let anything get in the way of my own personal dreams. That’s what life is to me. ”

  Isabelle wanted to say yes, she had lived like that, but the truth was, she never had.

  CHAPTER 20

  Isabelle wheeled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s office just in time to see him headed out. He drove up beside her, retracted his window, looked at the sling on her arm and then at her. “You okay to drive with that thing?”

  “I came to give you something.”

  She arched her body over and popped open her glove box but didn’t see the necklace.

  “Just a second,” she said. “I know it’s in here. Maybe it got jostled around while I was driving.” A minute later she’d removed everything the box contained. The necklace was gone.

  “It was here an hour ago,” she said.

  “What was it?”

  “A necklace.”

  He looked confused. “I don’t mean to sound ignorant, but why’d you want to give it to me?”

  “I think it fell off the person who shot my father.”

  He squinted. “How’d you come up with that?”

  “I was on a walk the other day, and I saw it on a rock. The chain around it was broken like it got caught on something.”

  “We checked the area and never found a necklace. Couldn’t it have belonged to the staff?”

  She shook her head. “The pickers are men, the sorters are women—and they’re inside and not out in the part of the field that’s beyond the vineyard. Plus, it had an initial engraved on it…an M.”

  “What about Melanie? You sure it’s not hers?”

  “I doubt it.”

  Isabelle had to admit she hadn’t thought of that, but she’d never seen her sister with a necklace like the one she’d found.

  The sheriff ruminated on her words for a moment and then parked his truck and got out. After he exited, he motioned for her to do the same. “Let’s talk in my office for a minute.”

  When they were both inside with the door secured behind them, he turned to her and extended his hand. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  She did.

  “I know about the other woman,” she said. “Marsha. Don’t you think it’s a coincidence that the necklace had the same initial?”

  He sat down across from her, grabbed a pencil from a rubber cup and tapped it along the edge of the desk. “Did you tell anyone that you had it?”

  “Only one person.”

  “Who?”

  “A girl I met.”

  “What girl?”

  “Tara. We met at the coffee shop this past week.”

  “And have you seen her since?”

  She shrugged. “A couple times.”

  “Does she live here?”

  “She said her parents do.”

  He bounced back in his chair. “Huh—well, I know everyone in this town—what’s the last name?”

  “Sidwell.”

>   He affirmed the name Sidwell out loud to the open air a few times and then drummed some words into the keyboard of his computer. When he was done, he lifted his pointer finger and punched down on the enter key.

  “Strange, no Sidwell,” he said.

  Isabelle leaned forward. “When I was at the hospital a couple days ago, she was there. She said her mom had a heart attack and she was in surgery.”

  “Interesting.” He pushed a black button on the corner of his phone and lowered his head until it was right over it. “Sally, get St. Helena on the line.”

  Seconds later his phone buzzed to life. He picked it up. “Who’s this?” Then silence. “Rhonda, this is Sheriff Terrington. I need to know if you admitted anyone in the past week with the last name of Sidwell? Another pause. “What’s that?” Isabelle heard some words come through the phone that were too muffled for her to make out. The sheriff wiped his brow with his hand and said, “I don’t care about that, just do it, okay? Call me back.”

  He set the phone on the receiver and glanced at Isabelle. “I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you since you were arrested.”

  “You know I didn’t do it, right?”

  “Never thought you did. You’re not the type.”

  “To murder someone?”

  He nodded. “Now, your sister on the other hand—let’s just say if I was alone in the wilderness with her and she got mad, I’d be worried.”

  They both laughed.

  “If you believed I was innocent, why’d you arrest me?”

  He leaned forward over his hands and rested his elbows on the edge of the desk. “Did you ever consider I was trying to protect you?”

  “By locking me in a jail cell?”

  “I’m sure Roland thinks he’s still tough enough to protect you, and maybe he is, but my plan was to keep a close eye on you while we learned more about the guy you married. I was just going to get you here and then give you the run of the place, but Roland saw to it that you were released right away. That’s why I put my deputy at your house. I’m still waiting on the back-up I requested.”

  The phone rang. He answered it, said uh-huh a few times and hung it up again.