Ruin

by C. J. Scott

  I went up to him. I didn't care that Dad was watching anymore. It was like he wasn't even there. It was just Ben and me. I placed my hands on either side of his face. The muscles in his jaw throbbed against my palm. I stroked his cheeks with my thumbs and held his gaze with my own.

  "Because I know you, Ben Parker." I kissed him before he could respond. It was a light, feathery kiss, but it was full of all the emotion welling inside me that needed to get out. His lips shuddered against mine, and his fingers wrapped around my arms and held me tight. Like he would never let me go. Couldn't let me go.

  Dad cleared his throat behind me, and Ben pulled away. His face was flushed, his eyes smoldering. "Sorry," he muttered.

  "That wasn't your fault," Dad said, raising his eyebrows at me.

  I rubbed my thumb over my lip where Ben's kiss lingered. I blew out a breath and tried to think. "So what happens now?"

  "Unless Mrs. Merriweather withdraws her accusation, I have to investigate," Dad said.

  "Have you searched his things?"

  "Yes."

  "And?"

  "And that's why he's here. I found five hundred dollars in his bag. He couldn't account for it."

  "It wasn't mine," Ben said with a shrug.

  "Why didn't you just tell him it was? Jesus, didn't you learn how to lie from the real criminals while you were in prison?" I winced at my flippant joke. "Sorry."

  "Don't be," he said, smiling.

  "Okay, let's think about this," I said, pacing the cell. "Did you dust for prints?"

  "Yes," Dad said, "and his weren't anywhere near her hiding place."

  "Hmmm. He could have wiped them off, so it's not enough to release him. Did Jane see anything? Can she vouch for Ben being with her, maybe?"

  "No, she can't."

  "You'd make a great criminologist," Ben said.

  Dad grunted. "She'd make a better cop."

  I glared at him. "Concentrate, please. Let's come at this from the angle that he's innocent. Why would she frame him? Do you think Mrs. M changed her mind about him? Maybe she thought she was okay with his history when he first told her, but she decided later that it wouldn't work out, and she thought this was a way of getting him to leave."

  "I already told her I was leaving," Ben said. "After you went home yesterday, I spoke to her. She didn't accuse me of the theft until this morning. Besides, I think she liked me."

  "You were fixing her house for nothing," Dad said. "That's a good reason to like someone."

  "It's not that," Ben said.

  "What do you mean?"

  He sighed. "I can't really tell you, but she and I...we had an understanding. That's why none of this makes sense."

  "What kind of understanding?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "It's not for me to tell you. She wouldn't want you to know."

  "Ben!" Why was he being so stubborn? I looked to Dad, hoping he'd do his cop thing and order Ben to tell him, but he didn't.

  "Kate," Ben said, "don't worry about me. I'm sure Mrs. M will come to her senses. She's just a bit confused right now. Her world has been rocked lately, and I'm sorry to say that's my fault."

  "How could your conviction for your dad's murder rock her world? How can your presence in Winter for that matter?"

  "I can't tell you her business, although believe me I really want to. I can't even tell Jane. Mrs. M swore me to secrecy."

  Goddamn it. He was so infuriating, and she was worse!

  "Her secret has nothing to do with this," he said. "Trust me, Kate."

  "I do trust you," I said softly. But he didn't know Mrs. M like I did. She was wily and weird. I had to go speak to her. Not that I'd tell him or Dad that. Neither would want me to go.

  Both would prefer Dad to do it.

  The phone rang in the front office. With Dad the only one on duty, he had to answer it. He ushered me out before I got to say goodbye to Ben and locked the door. I followed him back up the corridor and waved as he picked up the phone.

  "Wait," he said to me. He answered the phone and asked the caller to hold. He pressed a button and put the receiver down. "Kate, I think you should know how serious this is. Ben sounded upbeat just now, but I think he was doing that for you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He doesn't want you to worry."

  "Is it really bad?"

  He nodded. "Ben already has a serious conviction to his name. If this charge isn't dropped, it won't look good for him."

  My lip started wobbling so I bit it. "Dad, why are you telling me this? I thought you wouldn't want me to worry either."

  He sighed and scratched his chin. "If I didn't think you could cope with it, I wouldn't have told you."

  I kissed his cheek. "Thanks."

  His finger hovered over the Hold button. "What are you going to do now?"

  "I'm going to see if my friend Jane needs me. She's not very good in a crisis."

  He gave me one of his wry smiles. He knew what I was up to, but he let me go. I loved him for it.

  Outside, I passed Officer Lowe juggling three takeout coffee cups as he walked back to the station. We nodded greetings as I jumped in the car, then I drove out of town toward the Merriweather place. I hadn't been totally fibbing. I did want to see Jane, but I mostly wanted to speak to her crazy old Gran and find out what the hell she was doing accusing Ben of a crime he didn't commit.

  Chapter 9

  The house looked almost pretty, like a half unearthed gemstone. The vines choking the front porch had been removed and the freshly laid tiles looked good. Even the steps had been scrubbed clean.

  I knocked and Jane answered. She gasped when she saw me and threw her arms around me. "I'm so glad you're here," she sobbed. "It's been awful."

  "I know," I said, rubbing her back. "I just came from the station. Ben told me what happened. What is your Gran thinking?"

  "I don't know. She's not speaking to me. I tried talking to her, but she shut the door in my face and locked it."

  "She locked herself in her room?"

  She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Your Dad came and arrested Ben this morning. I didn't even know why he was here until he told me. Gran had said nothing to Ben or me. She just called your Dad. What the hell is she doing, Kate?"

  "I don't know. Would it help if I spoke to her?"

  "You're kidding, right?"

  I sighed. "Maybe it's a dumb idea, but it's worth a try. Dad said this'll be really bad for Ben on top of his other conviction. If I explain that to her..."

  "You could try. Come and have a coffee first. We'll talk tactics." She seemed a little brighter, as if having a plan was better than having nothing at all except hope.

  We made our way down to the kitchen where some pieces of paper were laid out on the table. They'd been torn up and put back together like a puzzle. It wasn't until I rounded the table and studied the complete picture that I realized it was a photo. I recognized it as the one of the two boys that had stood on Mrs. M's sideboard in the drawing room, nestled among all the other family pictures. It had gone missing a few days ago.

  "What happened to this?" I asked.

  "I found it like that in the waste basket yesterday," Jane said, filling the kettle. "I thought I could tape it back up, but it's too damaged."

  "Who tore it up?"

  "Gran I guess," she said with a shrug.

  I don't know what made me look harder at the photo. Maybe it was the happy smiles on the boys with their similar toothless grins. Very similar. They had the same cheekbones too, high and proud. It was a black and white photo¸ but their hair was the same dark shade, and their eyes. The similarities were uncanny.

  "Jane, this is your Dad here?" I said pointing to the boy on the left.

  She looked over my shoulder. "Yes. The other boy is his friend."

  "What was his name?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. I never asked." She tilted her head to the side then picked up the pieces with the faces. "My God. Look at that, Kate."

  "I know," I s
aid. "They could be brothers."

  She stared at me. "Ben saw it. He asked Gran who the boys were."

  I nodded. "Then the photo went missing. I noticed the gap the other day."

  "You don't think he tore it up, do you?"

  I took the pieces off her and studied them. The eyes were so striking, so familiar, even without color. My stomach did a somersault. "Can I borrow these?"

  "Sure, but why? Are you going to ask Gran about it? I don't think she'll talk to anyone right now."

  "I've got someone else in mind." I scooped up the pieces of the photo and pocketed them.

  "Thanks for the coffee," I called out when I was halfway down the corridor.

  "But I didn't make it!"

  I climbed back in the car and drove too fast back into town. I pulled into our driveway and raced inside, hoping Mom was there. She was in the kitchen, shelling peas. She gave me a relieved smile.

  "Kate, sweetheart! Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine. Mom, can you take a look at this?" I pulled the photo pieces out of my pocket and spilled them onto the table. I put the puzzle together then turned it around to show her. "Do you recognize these boys?"

  "That's Peter Merriweather," she said, pointing to the boy on the left. "And that..." She tapped the face of the other boy and stared into the distance. "I know him. We were in the same class together at school. Oh, what was his name?"

  "He wasn't another Merriweather, was he?"

  "No. Peter was the last Merriweather male."

  "What about Parker?"

  "That's it! Stephen Parker, Heather Parker's son." She smiled. "How did you know?" Her smile faded as the name sank in. I could see the connection being made in her head, the same one I'd made up at the Merriweather house. "Oh my. Do you think he's Ben Parker's father?"

  I nodded. "But look at them, Mom." I picked up the pieces with the faces and showed them to her. "Don't you think they're similar?"

  She gasped, just as Jane had done. "There is a striking resemblance."

  "Tell me everything you know about Stephen Parker." I sat on a stool at the bench and leaned my chin on my hands.

  Mom toyed with the pieces of the photo, rearranging them. "Stephen is easy to remember, even after all this time. For one thing, he was clever and boisterous. A real boy, if you know what I mean. He loved to fish and play down by the river. He got himself into trouble sometimes. Nothing serious, mind you. But it wasn't only that. I remember him because of the rumors. His mother was Heather Parker. She used to clean houses for some of the big families back when Winter was an important mill town. I didn't really know her. I was young and my parents probably shielded me from the worst of the gossip, so I can only tell you what I heard from the other children. None of it was nice. Looking back, I suppose she was what you'd call a loose woman. I do remember that men liked her company. Most of those men were her employers."

  "Including Ebenezer Merriweather?"

  "Especially him. I found out later, when I grew up, that everyone knew he was a womanizer. Everyone. Including his wife. But back then I didn't understand what adults did. I just thought they were friends. Stephen Parker was the same age as me, as was Peter Merriweather. Stephen didn't have a father, but I never questioned why not. It's just the way it was. We three were in the same class together. Peter and Stephen were friends, until one day Heather Parker just left town with her son. I heard several years later that she'd been forced to leave Winter."

  "Who forced her?"

  "The Merriweathers, I suppose. By then I knew that Ebenezer had been having an affair with her as well as several other girls in his employ. It never occurred to me that Stephen was his son though. Until now."

  I brushed the pieces of the photo into my hand and was about to stuff them back in my pocket when Mom produced a Ziplock bag from a drawer. "Put them in here. You're crushing them."

  I thanked her. "You've been a huge help."

  "Why? What does it all mean?"

  "It means that Ben is a Merriweather."

  "I realized that part."

  "'Children often turn out like their parents'," I said, quoting Mrs. M.

  Mom shook her head and shrugged one shoulder. "So?"

  "Mrs. M knew that Ben was a Merriweather just by looking at him. She probably guessed from his name too. She knew all along why he was in Winter—to find his family. Maybe she's afraid that he'll try to take the house from Jane."

  "But he can't. Jane is legitimate. He's not."

  "It doesn't work like that, Mom. He has a claim on the house too and everything on that estate. Mrs. M would hate the idea of it not going to Jane." I waved the ziplock bag. "This proves it. She tore this photo up after he recognized it, angry that it had given him confirmation of what he'd half suspected—that he was Ebenezer Merriweather's grandson and entitled to a portion of the estate. Not that he'd take it from Jane, but Mrs. M doesn't know that."

  Mom frowned. "I suppose."

  I thanked her and ran out the door, ziplock bag clutched in my hand. I drove back to the Merriweather house and went straight in without knocking.

  "Jane!" I called. "Jane, you've got to hear this!"

  She came racing down the stairs. "Kate, you're back. What's going on? Who did you go and see?"

  "Mom. She shed some light on the matter. I think I know why your Gran is accusing Ben of stealing that money. You're not going to believe it, but it's your fault."

  "Mine? Why?"

  "It's all to do with your inheritance. Come on, we have to speak to your grandmother," I said charging up the stairs. "And this time, I won't take no for an answer. Ben's future depends on her being honest with us." I stopped at Mrs. M's door just as it opened.

  She leaned heavily on her cane and squinted back at me. "Kathryn Bell. I should have known all that noise came from you."

  "Mrs. Merriweather, I need to talk to you. It's about Ben."

  Her nostrils flared. "I'm tired. I don't want to talk about him."

  "You have to. I'm not going to let you ruin his life over something that isn't his fault."

  "Me either," Jane said.

  "Not his fault?" Mrs. M said. "Of course it's his fault."

  "He can't help who his parents are. Or his grandparents, for that matter."

  She frowned, and her eyes squinted harder. "You've got the wrong end of the stick as usual, Kathryn Bell. Come into the drawing room."

  I sighed and followed her back down the stairs. It was the longest, most frustrating journey of my life. It seemed to take forever with her slow, careful gait. The tap tap of her cane on the stairs echoed through the vast, empty house like the tick of a clock.

  We finally made it into the drawing room. I hoped she wouldn't ask for tea. I didn't have the patience to wait for Jane to make it. Fortunately, Mrs. M didn't order any.

  "Ben is your late husband's grandson," I blurted out.

  I could feel Jane tense beside me, but I didn't care. We'd gone past niceties. It was time for answers. I wasn't going to let Ben sit in that cell for a moment longer than necessary.

  For a long time, I didn't think the old lady would answer, but she finally spoke. "He is. His father is the son of that Parker woman. She used to clean my house."

  I showed her the pieces of the photo and pointed to Ben's father. "Is that him?"

  She hardly looked at it before nodding. "Of course it is. Anyone who saw that photo would see how alike those boys were. It was obvious they were brothers."

  "You knew?"

  "Of course. The entire town knew."

  "Yet you still kept the photo on your sideboard with all the others?" I nodded at the sideboard with its array of silver, gold and wooden frames. The gap had been closed, and it looked as if nothing were missing.

  "He was a Merriweather. Besides, it was a nice photo of Peter."

  "It didn't bother you?" Jane asked.

  "Of course it bothered me." Mrs. M held her head high, her palm rubbing on the head of her cane. "No woman likes to know that her husband
strays. And with that Parker woman too."

  She clicked her tongue. "I turned a blind eye most of the time, but as Stephen grew up, it became obvious he was Ebenezer's son. Everybody in Winter was talking about it. I could endure that. I'd put up with worse. But then that Parker woman came up here and demanded her son be treated the same as ours. Peter would attend a private school in Helena, so she wanted Stephen to go too. She even demanded he be given the Merriweather name." She grunted. "Can you imagine? Ebenezer refused and I stood by him."

  "Then what happened?" Jane asked when Mrs. M didn't go on.

  "Ebenezer paid her to leave, and she vacated immediately. She didn't care enough about her child to insist upon her demands. Weakness," she spat. "She should not have given in so easily."

  "Did you stay in contact?" I asked.

  "Of course not."

  "Your husband didn't want to find out what happened to his son?"

  "It was Ebenezer's wish that there be no communication. He thought of Stephen as a mistake, you see."

  "That's harsh."

  "Those were the times, Kathryn Bell, and Ebenezer Merriweather was a hard man. Sentimentality didn't sit well with him. And I...I thought it best if the boy didn't know that. I suggested to the Parker woman that she not tell him anything about his father or this town." She folded her hands in her lap. Her massive rings clinked as she knotted her fingers. "I thought it best for both Stephen and Peter at the time. In hindsight, that may have been a mistake."

  I admired how she could acknowledge it and was about to say so when Jane spoke.

  "Stephen must have remembered anyway and told Ben," she said.

  "Heather Parker told him. Apparently she died only a few years ago, while he was in prison. He came here as soon as he was able."

  "Actually he's been out twelve months," Jane said.

  "I don't think the decision to come here after what had happened was an easy one."

  "So why did you tear this photo up if you already knew who Stephen Parker was when you put it there?" I asked. "Or did Ben do that?"

  "I did it," Mrs. M said. "Ben told me who he was the day after he arrived. I already knew of course, from the look of him and his name. What I didn't know was what had happened to his father. When Ben told me...I felt...sickened." The hand rubbing the cane head stilled. Her grip tightened. "Stephen Parker became a monster. I didn't want his face anywhere near my family. I tore up that picture. I wish you'd throw it away, Kathryn Bell," she said with a bitter sneer directed at the Ziplock bag.