Past Due for Murder

by Victoria Gilbert

  Mom sighed. “Grandma Rose didn’t approve.”

  This didn’t surprise me, given the stories I’d heard about my great-grandmother. “But your parents were still alive then, weren’t they? Wouldn’t they have made that decision?”

  “Grandma Rose always had the final word,” Aunt Lydia said, sharing a look with my mom.

  “If what my friend Mary tells me is right, Ada Frye and Violet Greyson disappeared immediately after the 1879 May Day celebration,” Kurt said. “I tend to believe her, as Mary’s an expert on the folktales associated with Taylorsford. Storytelling is her avocation, and she’s collected quite a bit of local folklore over the years.”

  I finished off my ice cream before replying. “I think that’s why Ada and Violet’s story got tangled up with the tale of the mountain lights, along with fables about fairies and that sort of thing. The festival, with its pagan and folklore roots, bled into the story of their disappearance.”

  My dad tapped his chin with one finger. “And it would’ve been convenient for the family to encourage that idea if they wanted to hide the truth.”

  Bingo, I thought. Score one for Dad.

  “You know, Richard,” Kurt said, setting aside his empty ice cream bowl. “The fae luring people into their underground kingdom sounds like a great concept for a piece of choreography. You could use folk music from the region for the score.”

  Richard smiled. “That is a good idea. I may have to explore that.”

  Jim Muir muttered something under his breath that sounded like “a whole lot of nonsense.”

  “We should discuss it. I might be interested in underwriting such a work.” Kurt turned his laser-sharp gaze on Jim Muir. “That’s how these things get done in the arts, Jim. A little different from your work, but it’s still business.”

  “Don’t waste your breath. You’ll never convince my dad that dancing is anything but a ridiculous waste of time.” Richard crumpled his napkin in his fist before tossing it onto the white linen tablecloth. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

  Fiona clutched her necklace again. “Now, dear, don’t go getting all dramatic on us.”

  “I’d consider investing in such a production a risk, Kurt, but perhaps you have enough money to take the chance.” Jim’s spoon clanged as he dropped it into his empty bowl.

  Kurt shrugged. “It would simply be good business. As I mentioned before, Richard is a master in his field. I’m sure any money I invested would be repaid and then some.”

  “If you say so.” Jim Muir shot Richard a sharp look before focusing on Kurt. “But I have to wonder how such sporadic opportunities will keep my son in his old age. Don’t get me wrong—I know some people can make big money in the arts, but I don’t see that happening with a dance career.” He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. “You know, I would’ve been happy to give Richard every advantage, if only he’d decided to pursue a field that made use of his intelligence. He could’ve been a scholar, or a financial expert, or any number of things. But he decided that he’d rather play pretend for the rest of his life. Flitting around with a bunch of … well, irresponsible types like himself.”

  “A bunch of what?” Richard shoved back his chair and leapt to his feet. “Go ahead and say it, Dad. A bunch of gay boys, is what you mean. So say it. You might as well own your bigotry if you’re going to think it.”

  Richard’s chest heaved as he faced off with his father. I cast a desperate glance at our host, who’d also risen to his feet.

  “Perhaps we need more ice cream to cool off.” Kurt said.

  As my gaze flitted around the table, I noticed that my aunt’s face was scrunched up like she’d just smelled something spoiled, while my parents’ faces were frozen in expressions of dismay.

  And disapproval. My brother Scott was openly gay and had been since high school. I was sure my mom and dad, already taken aback by Richard’s father’s rude dismissal of his own son, were appalled by his display of open bigotry.

  “Don’t worry, Kurt, I’m not going to cause a scene.” Jim dropped his arms as he fixed Richard with a cold glare. “As my wife said, my son tends to be a bit overdramatic at times. I’m sure he’ll apologize to both of us presently.”

  “I’ll apologize to Kurt, but as for you …” Richard rubbed at his jaw with the back of one fist before lowering his hands to his sides. “That will be a cold day in hell.”

  Aunt Lydia rose gracefully to her feel. “Kurt, I expect Debbie and Nick would love a tour of your home. And Jim and Fiona as well.” She turned to Richard’s parents. “Kurt has the most amazing art collection. You simply must see it.”

  Fiona cast my aunt a grateful smile. “Oh yes, that sounds delightful. Would you do us that honor, Mr. Kendrick?”

  “Of course,” he said, inclining his head. “Just follow me.” He strode toward the hall, followed in quick succession by my aunt, Mom, Dad, and Fiona.

  Jim Muir didn’t move from his chair. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Dad doesn’t have much use for art,” Richard said in a tone sharp enough to etch diamonds.

  Fiona lingered in the doorway until Kurt took her arm and led her away.

  “You should probably join the others, Amy,” Jim said. “It seems my son and I have once again revived a tired old argument.”

  I stood and moved next to Richard. “No, I don’t think I will.”

  Jim Muir rose to his feet with great deliberation. “No offense, young lady, but this really isn’t any of your business.”

  As I pressed closer to Richard, his barely contained rage vibrated through his arm and into mine.

  “Now let’s get one thing straight,” he told his father. “You can talk to me however you want, but never speak to Amy that way again.”

  “I mean no offense to your girlfriend, son. I just think this is something that needs to be ironed out between us. It doesn’t involve her.”

  Jim Muir rolled his broad shoulders and flexed his large hands. I stared at him, struck by the knowledge that his polished appearance couldn’t hide his true nature. He was obviously someone who always had to be right, who’d always demand blind obedience from his family and friends. In short, he was a bully, and no amount of tailoring and expensive haircuts or handcrafted shoes could hide that truth. Not for long, anyway.

  You couldn’t bend to the will of a bully. Richard obviously understood that. And so did I.

  “I do have every right to be here, Mr. Muir, and I will tell you why,” I said, reaching for Richard’s hand.

  “Really?” Jim looked me up and down. “We’ve just met, and so far, I’m not impressed. The best I can say is that at least you’re female.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Dad …” Richard tightened his grip on my fingers.

  I was not about to be silenced by some man in a suit, no matter how much older he was or how much more money he had, or even how much he might end up disliking me.

  “Mr. Muir, just so I’m clear on this”—I gave Richard’s hand a final squeeze before pulling away and stepping up to the table—“you’ve truly never seen Richard dance?”

  Jim shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and rocked back on his heels. “No, I haven’t. Well, other than watching him swoop around the living room when he was a kid.”

  “Or watched any piece he’s choreographed?”

  Richard’s father shook his head. “I’m just not interested …”

  “In what? Your own child? You’ve never been interested in his accomplishments, in what matters to him, in the very essence of who he is?”

  “Amy, don’t bother.” Richard moved up behind me and laid a hand on my right hip. “It’s a lost cause. Let’s just go join the others.”

  “No.” I crossed my left arm over my body and covered Richard’s hand with my trembling fingers. “I want to tell your father how I really feel.”

  Jim Muir snorted. “I know—you think my son is fantastically talented and oh-so-charming and I should be happy with that, despite the fa
ct that he’s squandered his life on senseless pursuits.”

  “No, that isn’t it.” I leaned back against Richard, drawing strength from the warmth of his body. “I don’t care what you think about Richard’s career in dance or how little you appreciate his many accomplishments. That’s all on you, no matter how wrongheaded it is. No, here’s what I really feel for you, Mr. Muir—sad. That’s right, I feel sorry for you. Because you’ve been blessed with one of the best men in the world as your son and you can’t see past your own prejudices to enjoy that gift.” I met Jim Muir’s openmouthed stare without flinching. “So go ahead—wallow in your own anger and disappointment. The rest of us will happily enjoy your son’s company and talent for as long as he chooses to share it with us.”

  “Quite a speech,” Jim Muir said with a bravado that I didn’t see reflected in his eyes. “I suppose I should admire your loyalty to Richard. Although I doubt I’ll have to put up with such talk from you for much longer. My son’s relationships never seem to make it past the two-year mark.”

  Richard’s arms wrapped around me. “You’re wrong there, Dad. You’d better get used to her talk, and the rest of her too. She isn’t going anywhere, and if she ever does—I’m going with her.”

  * * *

  Shortly after the others returned from their tour, Fiona claimed exhaustion and asked Richard to drive her and Jim back to his house.

  “Wish I could see you later,” I told Richard when he leaned in to kiss me goodbye.

  He stroked the side of my face. “Hang out in the sunroom around eleven. My parents will be in bed by then.”

  I nodded and kissed him again, right as Jim Muir strode past us on his way to the front door.

  “Already gave my thanks to the host, so let’s go if we’re going,” Jim said, cutting his eyes at me.

  “As you wish,” Richard called out, but tapped my nose before stepping away. “Eleven.”

  Aunt Lydia and my parents and I stayed and chatted with Kurt a little longer, but I kept close tabs on my watch and made sure that we left in time to get home around ten thirty.

  True to my prediction, Mom, Dad, and Aunt Lydia headed into the sitting room to discuss and dissect the evening’s events. I joined them for a few minutes but slipped away as soon as I could to wait in the sunroom.

  At eleven, a pebble hit the back porch door.

  I peeked out and motioned for Richard to sneak inside.

  “Hey, you,” he said, after wrapping me in his arms.

  I tipped my head to look up into his face. “How do you stand it?”

  “By keeping my distance. I plan infrequent visits which include numerous excursions for various, unspecified reasons.” He gave me a grim smile. “I find that limited interaction works best.”

  I caressed the side of his face with my fingers. “It must be tough, though.”

  Tough enough to explain why he latched on to a friend like Karla so tightly when he was young. And why it’s so hard for him to let go of her.

  “It is, but I can manage. Especially since I have a new family now.” He lifted my hand and kissed my fingers, one by one, as he recited names. “You and Lydia and Sunny, and even Kurt. And your parents, I hope.” He smiled, genuinely this time, as he lowered our clasped hands. “I like them.”

  “And they like you. I can tell.”

  “Good. Now I just have to win over your brother.”

  “Well, despite being a bit younger than me, he is very protective.” I grinned at the touch of concern that creased Richard’s brow. “But he will love you, I’m sure.”

  Richard took a step back and looked me over. “By the way, I forgot to tell you how much I like that dress.”

  I quirked my eyebrows at him. “Thanks, but your mother seemed very dismayed by my bare legs. I don’t think she approved.”

  “I wouldn’t let that worry you. She doesn’t approve of much.” Richard rested one hand on my waist. “I, on the other hand, think your legs are stunning. Just like the rest of you.” He pulled me close. “Thanks for standing up for me back there.”

  “Of course,” I said, resting my head against his chest. “But I suspect that your dad now despises me.”

  “More like a mild dislike. He never allows his feelings to rise above a tepid disinterest, except where I’m concerned. Sadly, despite his reaction tonight, he’s not likely to spare you much thought.”

  “Which is fine by me, only”—I gazed up at him—“I wonder what will happen in the future. I mean, if we’re still together …”

  “We will be.”

  “Okay, but how will we deal with your parents? They may never like me very much.”

  “Then you’re in good company, because they don’t like me much either. They love me in their own way, I guess. But they definitely don’t like me.” Richard slid his hands down to rest at my waist. “Again, very infrequent visits will help. Also, I’d advise you to continue to stand up for yourself. My dad may admire that, eventually.”

  “I hope so.” I tipped my head back and studied his stoic expression for a moment. “I’ve been thinking …”

  “As you always do,” Richard said with a grin.

  “As I always will. Anyway, I think you should follow Adele’s advice and contact Karla again.”

  “I just might. If only to please you and Adele. Now, the important stuff—my parents are leaving tomorrow morning, so if you want to come over sometime later in the day, after your parents take off …”

  “That sounds like a good idea.” I flashed him a wicked grin. “I do miss Loie.”

  “Oh, is that what you miss?” Richard pulled me closer and whispered in my ear. “Nothing else?”

  “Can’t think of anything,” I said, then gasped when he spun me around and plopped me down onto the glider.

  “Let’s see if I can refresh your memory,” he said, before kissing me again.

  I didn’t bother to come up with a snappy reply.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At the library on Monday, Sunny listened patiently while I repeated my litany of complaints about Richard’s parents.

  “You know you’re going to have to come to terms with them, sooner or later,” she said. “Like it or not, they’ll always be a part of Richard’s life, if only peripherally.”

  I glumly removed sticky notes from a returned book. “I know.”

  “I bet they’ll end up thinking you’re great. Especially”—Sunny winked at me—“if you give them a grandchild.”

  “Whoa, cart miles before the horse.” I dumped the bits of colored paper into the recycling bin.

  “I’m just saying it could happen.”

  “So could a comet striking the earth, but I’m not anticipating either one of those things at the moment.”

  “Now, tell me more about this May Day dance event. Is the mayor really having someone construct a maypole?”

  “Yep, and some of Richard’s students are going to do the ribbon-winding thing. He researched the traditional dance and got some additional help from another folklorist at Clarion. Should be interesting.”

  “I did hear they’re setting up everything in that empty field near the town hall,” Sunny said. “With craft vendors and food, and a small stage for some musical acts. Bethany told me she’s planning to have a booth selling stuff from the Heapin’ Plate.”

  “It’s just the one day, though. Not quite as big an event as the Heritage Festival in the fall.”

  “Not yet, but it could be in the future, I suppose. I mean, if someone really put some effort into it.” Sunny jangled the enameled bracelets encircling her slender wrist. “You know I’m still planning on running for mayor, right?”

  “Sure, because Zelda never stops talking about it. When’s the election, again?”

  “Not until November, but we’re planning to start campaigning by August.”

  “Well, I’m glad to help. Not just because it’s you, but also to get that weasel Bob Blackstone out of office.”

  “I can’t believe the
council let him stay on after he confessed to his part in that mess last summer. But it seems like some people get a pass on everything.”

  I shrugged. “His family has held power in Taylorsford for decades. It’s difficult to shake loose that sort of grip, I guess.”

  “But I will. Watch me.” Sunny whipped her glasses off the top of her head, popped them on, and struck a “thinking” pose. “Do I look appropriately official?”

  I poked her with the edge of a book. “No, you look darling, as usual. Now you’d better stop goofing around. Here comes Brad, and he definitely has his serious face on.”

  By the time Brad reached the circulation desk, Sunny had removed her glasses and run her fingers through her long hair to smooth out any tangles. “Hi there, here on official business or what?”

  “Partially.” Brad took off his hat.

  Sunny toyed with one strand of her golden hair, twirling it around her finger. “Before you get into all that, how’s Lacey? Any updates on her condition?”

  “She’s still in the induced coma, so—no. The doctors did tell me that she’s improving, though.” Brad twisted the brim of his hat between his hands.

  “That’s good, but I guess it means you have to wait a while longer to question her.”

  “Yes, and that’s a problem. The trail is growing cold pretty fast. Speaking of which, I need to ask you a few follow-up questions, Amy.”

  “Let’s head to the back, then,” I said, turning away.

  Brad circled around the desk and followed me into the workroom. Without, I noticed, actually making eye contact with Sunny.

  “What do you need to know?” I asked as I perched on the large table in the center of the room.

  “For one thing, I just want to confirm that you didn’t arrive at Charles Bartos’s house until around noon on Thursday.”

  “That’s right. Why? Did he tell you something different?”

  “No, but Delbert Frye swears someone was stomping around in the woods near his property earlier than that. He was out walking and heard something but says he didn’t see anything.”

  “Hunters? I know it’s out of season, but still …”