Plaid and Fore! and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  Well, trust was a two-way street that required talking eventually. No time like right now, thanks.

  Petra turned and walked away before I reached them, an irritated look on the woman’s face, and as she passed me she muttered something under her breath I barely caught. But the gist of “wasting my time in this town” wasn’t lost on me, not in the least.

  Vivian watched me approach with what looked like resignation for the briefest of moments until her flawless face again settled into that icy calm that really wasn’t doing much to endear her to me. Maybe that was the point. Or, what was she hiding from, tucked safely behind that mask of inapproachability? That understanding hit me hard as I rocked to a halt next to her, a bit breathless, noting the faint lines that marred her perfect beauty when direct sun picked out the signs of age I was positive she’d hate if she knew I’d noticed. We were only in our thirties, but time didn’t stop for anyone and for a woman like Vivian who’d spent her entire life cultivating her appearance…? I wondered how she’d cope, especially if I was right and the real her was locked away behind that rigid, empty expression.

  I was right. I knew it. And it all stemmed from Victor, didn’t it?

  “What is Blackstone doing here?” I threw that question at her instead of the one I wanted to field, the one that would end up with her storming away and refusing to talk to me. Not that this one was any better than showing empathy for the loss of her brother, sharing that I finally remembered what happened, but I figured aggressiveness would be much more up her alley at the moment, in public, than compassionate connection over her lost sibling.

  Vivian’s blue eyes flickered away from me for a moment, lips pursing, before she met my gaze again, unreadable. Or was she? I was learning a lot about her, had since I decided to stop seeing her as the enemy and more as just another piece in the Reading puzzle who might or might not have been an ally. If I was reading her correctly, she seemed angry. At me?

  “Sponsoring a golf tournament,” she said.

  “Don’t be a smart ass,” I shot back, keeping my voice low, closing the distance between us. “We both know there’s more going on here than we’ve said out loud to each other. You asked me to have your back, Vivian. I want to trust you. But I can’t if you keep me in the dark.”

  She didn’t speak again for a long moment, nostrils flaring just enough I knew I’d gotten to her. “Nice to see you, Fee.” Vivian turned and walked away, still in those ridiculous heels, still floating above the grass like she was weightless.

  I was about to go after her when my phone buzzed in my pocket. A quick glance at the text raised my interest enough to let Vivian off the hook for the moment and I read the message as I walked back toward Mom and the BBQ area.

  I found something. Liz’s admission left me a bit breathless. We need to talk in person.

  I texted her back instantly, almost colliding with a pair of golfers and muttering an apology, thumbs flying.

  Let me know when.

  I hit send just as I reached the table, to find my mother had been replaced by a bashfully smiling Alicia. She’d removed her jacket and draped herself in an apron to protect the rest of her suit, handing me the spatula as she dished out a hot dog to a hungry patron.

  “Your mother got a call to go back to the annex,” she said. “She took Petunia with her.” Good to know and whoops. I’d forgotten all about my pug in the rush of the day. She’d curled up under the table when no one would feed her and went to sleep hours ago. Thankfully Mom was more responsible than me when it came to my chubby canine roommate. “I’m your pinch hitter.”

  Part of me was happy to see her, but the way she instantly turned from me to talk to the next person in line gave me a stomach ache. And, despite our close proximity, we had zero opportunity to talk further thanks to the endless lineup of people looking for something to fill their stomachs while mine just got more and more upset.

  By the time the last of the lineup died off it was well after 8PM. I was used to being on my feet all day, but I typically had opportunities to sit for a bit, whether to do paperwork or fold napkins or just run downstairs to my apartment for a quick break to check emails. This was different, the non-stop flow of bodies and food making it impossible to take a minute.

  Alicia was a trooper, though as soon as the last of the hungry horde departed she shed her apron and fled, her jacket in one hand, a wave for me and a small smile all I got for giving her the better part of my day.

  Growl.

  If life was going to continue to make me this grumpy, I really needed a new one.

  I headed for my car, the sun long set behind the mountains, though the sky was still faintly blue above. It would be a while before full dark, and yet the looming presence such a constant in our town made it seem to me like we were being robbed of daylight not felt in lowland areas. Sometimes I missed being able to see the horizon instead of the massive rocky guardians that circled my home, though when I’d lived in New York skyscrapers accomplished the same thing but in closer proximity.

  Clearly in a state of mind not conducive to a happy evening, I abandoned the BBQ station without even trying to clean up—not like me at all but I’d had it—and stomped off toward my car.

  It wasn’t until I fished for my keys in my pocket, my car’s locked state clearly an issue, I realized I’d left my purse at the table. Groaning at my idiocy and with a faint patter of nervousness someone might have made off with it, I turned and went back, tired body pumped up with enough adrenaline the trip was quicker going than coming.

  As I turned the last corner around the hated Porta-Johns, I paused at the sound of angry male voices and caught my breath when Jack Nethersole’s clear and annoying voice dominated.

  “Stay out of my business, kid.” There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh, though not a punch, more like someone’s hand struck another’s out of the way. I peeked around the edge of the blue box and spotted Tyler Hendy’s angry response.

  “You cost me the tournament last time,” the younger golfer said. I’d only seen his happy-go-lucky side, without any experience as to what pissed off looked like in him and even with his face in a scowl and his body tense from unhappiness he still looked controlled. Kudos to him for keeping his temper.

  Nethersole, on the other hand, looked like he was about ready to froth at the mouth, the bill of his cap hitting Tyler’s as he stuck his index finger in the younger man’s face.

  “I won that tournament,” he sneered, a real, honest to goodness sneer the likes of which I’d only ever imagined, “fair and square.”

  “If you say so.” Tyler backed off, hands up in front of him. “Just stay out of my way, Jack. I’m here to play. Don’t stir up anything you’ll regret later.”

  “We’ll just see about that,” Nethersole said, grinning as if he had an edge the kid didn’t. “You come after me, I’ll ruin you. Just try it.” And, with that, he spun and walked off, leaving Tyler to glare after him. In that moment, I witnessed what anger really looked like on him as he turned with his teeth bared in a snarl of utter fury and punched the Porta-John beside him so hard he cracked the plastic.

  I whipped back around the corner and held my breath while he stalked off, hand on my chest. Wow, that was a lot of rage to keep bottled up. Then again, he hadn’t really bottled it, had he? Not that I was opposed to taking out a bit of steam on the hated portable bathrooms, but sheesh.

  I had to admit to myself as I carried on, though, he wasn’t the only one who had that kind of reaction to Jack Nethersole and cut the kid some slack by the time I made it back to the BBQ station and, with a breath of relief, pulled out my purse from under a box of plastic plates. I only had to deal with the arrogant ass of a golf pro a couple of times. Looked like Tyler had him in his sphere on a regular basis.

  Yeah, if I was him, I’d be doing more than punching Porta-Johns.

  Time to head home and forget this day ever happened.

  ***

  Chapter Fifteen

  Imagi
ne the day I had. Imagine how tired and snarky and out of sorts I was feeling. Then, imagine walking down the stairs into my apartment to the smell of dinner cooking, the sound of soft music playing, and to the sight of a broad-shouldered angel prepping a salad with a beaming smile on that handsomest of faces waiting for me.

  All was forgiven as I went right to Crew and wrapped my arms around his chest, feeling his engulf me, the scent of lasagna mingling with his own particular deliciousness, the heat of his body relaxing me utterly until the world went away and it was just me, him, this moment right now.

  Heaven was being in Crew Turner’s loving arms.

  Who could stay cranky after a hug like that? Not to mention the attention he then paid my lips when I sighed and pulled away. Dinner was going to get cold at this rate. When we finally did part, it was only mostly, one of his big hands holding mine as he handed me a beer, keeping our fingers locked while he fished the lasagna out of the cooling oven and set it on the stovetop, dishing out a large chunk for himself and a smaller, more reasonable one for me. He sat me down, my plate in front of me, sharing my beer, standing next to me where I sat on a stool at the island, still with a firm claim on my hand while we ate in silence.

  Honestly, could I have gotten luckier than to fall in love with this amazing man who knew me so well we didn’t even have to talk? Nope. Nope, I couldn’t.

  My phone buzzed, this time a call coming in, and I sighed over the last bite of the delicious dinner my fiancé made me before checking who was on the other end. And winced a bit at the sight of Liz’s number before wrinkling my nose at Crew and answering. No secrets, not from the love of my life. I’d fess up just as soon as she told me what she knew.

  Because priorities, you feel me?

  “Hey, Liz.” I put the phone on speaker as Crew’s eyebrows raised in inquiry. “The other half is with me.” I heard her laugh. “What did you find out?”

  “Hey, Crew.” Liz dove in without waiting for her former partner to respond, likely something he was used to because he didn’t even try, leaning forward on the counter with his forearms supporting him. “So, Fee, I looked into Fiona Doyle, as requested. Fiona Brigid Doyle, mother Siobhan Doyle, father Malcolm Murray, both Irish.” Knew this, all but her middle name. “Immigrated from Ireland with her father, mother remained in the UK.” There was a story there, apparently. “Moved from Chicago to Reading and disappeared less than a year later.” She cleared her throat while I tapped my fingers on the counter, impatient. Crew shook his head at me, frowning a little, and I accepted his request to wait it out. Obviously this was Liz’s way of doing business, getting the facts sorted before new material arose. Fine then, but I was a redhead after all. Not known for my reviewing skills. “The case remains open.”

  “Anything in her history suggest she might have run off, Liz?” I hadn’t expected Crew to speak up and sat there with my hand clutching my beer, wondering why I felt resentful he stepped in and squashing that feeling as fast as it came up. I’d told him about my search for Fiona. He was on my side. Let him ask questions of his ex-partner. He knew her better than I did.

  Right. Because I wasn’t perfectly capable of asking those questions myself.

  Fee. Patience was a virtue.

  “Only the father’s connection to the Irish mafia in Chicago,” Liz said. Knew that already. “If they wanted her dead… I haven’t uncovered anything like that, though. And if what Fee told me about the dad looking for her all this time is true,”—why would I lie about that? Figure of speech, Fee, get a grip—“it’s less likely the family was responsible for her disappearance than something that happened in Reading.”

  “Does that mean you found something about what happened here?” I waited with bated breath at last. Surely I’d get a clue leading me closer to her?

  “Not sure,” Liz said. “She worked for the Patterson family for six months before she disappeared. Prior to that, she worked for Iris Fleming at Petunia’s.”

  Grunt. “Wait, what?” She worked for Grandmother Iris?

  “The first few months of her time in Reading she was in her employ.” Liz paused. “Your father didn’t tell you?”

  “My father has been keeping this a secret from me for years,” I growled. “Keep going, Liz.”

  She sighed on the other end of the line. “I wasn’t sure how much help I was going to be, Fee, but if your dad’s been keeping this from you, I obviously have more at my disposal than you do.” Papers shuffled in the background. “Like the file he’s kept open and registered with the FBI’s missing person’s division. Because she came from out of state we agreed to it, looks like, but nothing came of it.”

  I actually salivated slightly at the thought of getting my hands on that file. “I’d love to see it,” I said, hoping I sounded casual but from the head shake and grin Crew gave me knew I failed to hide, at least from him, how excited the idea made me.

  So transparent.

  “Thanks, Liz,” Crew said. “Anything else?”

  “No,” she said, sounding frustrated. “I’m sorry, guys. I wish I had more.”

  We said our goodbyes after I reassured her she wasn’t the only one hitting a wall and stared at the rim of my beer, the bead of moisture running down the neck toward my thumb. I wiped it away, sighed and turned to my fiancé who was watching me with those beautiful blue eyes full of worry.

  “I’m done asking you to be careful,” he said. Paused, sighed himself in a giant exhale before taking the beer from me and finishing it off in two swallows. The glass hit the counter top in a thud. “But.”

  Seriously. “I love you,” I said, left it at that.

  Crew nodded. “I’ll talk to your dad,” he said. “This is one mystery that needs to come to light, Fee. If only to give all of you peace of mind. If the woman is dead, so be it. Whatever reason John has for keeping it a secret, it’s not doing anyone any good after thirty years.”

  I agreed completely. Now, if only we could convince my father of that.

  Stubborn didn’t run in the Fleming family or anything.

  Crew left shortly after, my yawning in his face giving him the hint I wasn’t up for much more than a quick snuggle. Despite how tired I was, I tossed and turned most of the night, Petunia’s concern making it harder to sleep as she constantly checked on me to make sure I was okay, cold, wet nose snuffling my ear or cheek.

  I wasn’t one to suffer regular nightmares, though I’d had my share in the last few years, mostly of dead bodies collapsing on me or swinging with them in trees, along with a few that had to do with sinking under water and not being able to swim to the surface while my lungs strained for air. You know, the usual.

  But for some reason my entire night was plagued with bad dreams, of the compass under the dock, of Victor’s hand sinking under the surface while Vivian sobbed against me, of the wavering form of the other person who’d been with us that day, the one who ran away. All overshadowed by the feeling of a giant spider and a web, tying me up tighter and tighter in mysteries to keep me from finding out the real truth, the most important understanding of all.

  If only I knew what that was I might have been able to get some sleep.

  I rose at 6AM, out of sorts and overtired, more than a little wobbly, almost as if I had jetlag or the tail end of a hangover. Not the most pleasant way to start the day. Made worse when I got a text from Alicia.

  I know it’s a lot to ask, she sent. But I really need your help again. And I’m asking, Fee. As the friend you’ve always been to me no matter what’s keeping us apart.

  Sigh. She had to use that against me, didn’t she? Was I really so loyal I’d walk away from my own business for hers because she called on our friendship? One she’d seemed to put aside in favor of whatever was going on in the Patterson camp?

  Yup. I was. Damn it.

  That’s how I found myself heading for my car at 7AM, leaving for the golf course, a list of instructions left with the staff and Mom scowling at me for abandoning my post for the second day
in a row. I just eye rolled at my mother and left, Petunia remaining behind this time, grumbling to myself as I thought about winding my way up the mountain.

  I almost ran into Leo and Tori, the former holding the weeping latter, and kept my head down, shrinking next to my car to keep from being seen. Not that I wanted to eavesdrop. Actually, to be honest, I didn’t want to get involved in whatever made the young woman cry. Likely that jerk she was dating. Nope, I just wanted to go get set up and maybe tell Alicia she had to put her own staff in place today because I was done, friendship or no friendship.

  “Why didn’t he come home last night?” Tori’s wail of despair made my teeth ache.

  “I’m sure he was just…” Leo trailed off, sounding a bit desperate for an excuse.

  “He’s seeing someone else, isn’t he?” Tori set off again in sobs, this time running away, Leo pursuing her. He caught my eye on the way by, spotting me as he passed the parking lot, and his face twitched with guilt.

  Ah. So he was into Jack’s girlfriend, was he? Well, it wasn’t like that story hadn’t been told before, and a little guilt might keep him from doing something he’d regret later.

  “Those two deserve each other.” I looked up in surprise to see Petra Stowers unlocking her own car door, an unhappy smirk on her face. “Happens regularly. But since that girl is a gold digger and Jack’s a jerk, I figure karma has a sense of humor.” She didn’t say another word, climbing in and driving off.

  No, please, Petra, tell me how you really feel.

  Partially amused and yet infinitely more annoyed, I drove off toward the course, weariness making me a bit punch drunk, and honestly don’t remember any of the drive I apparently did on autopilot because the next thing I knew I was parking in the staff lot behind the main building.

  Phew. Not a danger to myself and others, was I?