He sat down and Macy poured them each a cup of coffee, and then slid the metal container closer where he could reach it. She settled into a chair across from him, waiting. Nick looked from her to the box and back again. “Did your grandmother give you this? Or did you find it after she died?”
Macy glanced away from him, fighting for control. “She was in the hospital...dying. I was with her. I’d been with her day and night since she’d been admitted. She kept looking at me, acting almost frantic, as if there was something she had to say.”
She paused, reliving that night. Nick waited, and she swallowed hard and continued. “Finally she managed to say ‘box,’ then after a pause she sort of gasped, ‘the box.’ Then she slumped down with her eyes closed and I ran for the door to get help.”
Nick reached across the table, grasping her hands. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, gulping on a sob before struggling to go on. “The nurses came running...and in a few minutes it was all over. My grandmother was gone.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.” Nick murmured. “Wasn’t there anyone with you?”
Macy shook her head. “No. She had cancer once before, and we fought our way through that, then after a few years it came back, and this time we lost the battle. It took two years of treatment, two years of her gradually failing. During that time people just sort of dropped away, as if they had forgotten about us.”
“All of them? No one tried to help you?”
“Oh, at first they rallied around, but then I guess the newness wore off. Anyway, they stopped coming.”
She glanced up at him, not wanting to go on, but feeling compelled to. “I was engaged to a man I’d known since we attended high school together. I thought he would be there no matter what happened.”
“And he wasn’t?”
Macy heaved a sigh. “Two months after we learned my grandmother’s cancer had returned, he started dating a woman I had considered my best friend.”
“After that, he didn’t come around anymore.”
Nick watched her, seeing the glitter of tears, the way she gripped her coffee mug. She’d pulled her hands away from his when she started talking about this man. Did she still have feelings for him? He didn’t want to think so. The words fell from him, before he thought about it. “I wish I’d been there. I wouldn’t have left you like that.”
Macy gave him a crooked smile. “No, I don’t believe you would have.” She pulled her gaze away from his and gestured toward the box. “I guess we’d better get started.”
“Oh...yeah. I guess so.” He opened the box, glad to have a change in subject. It was getting too emotional in here.
The box was full of papers. He saw newspaper clippings, folded sheets of paper. Hopefully there would be something here that would give them some information. Information that would lead to a killer.
The doorbell rang and Macy got up to answer it. He heard voices and then she entered the kitchen alone. He looked at her, eyebrows raised.
She gave a quick jerk of her shoulders. “Just Neva. It’s cleaning day. She’ll start upstairs.”
One hour and two cups of coffee later Nick was still reading through the papers in the box, taking time to make notes of anything he thought might help. Macy sat at the other side of the table, doing the same thing. Neva walked into the kitchen and nodded at him before opening the doors under the sink and taking out a bottle of glass cleaner.
She glanced toward the table. “What are you doing now?”
Macy explained the box and its contents. “Have you found out anything new?” Neva asked.
Macy shook her head. “Not yet, but it’s extremely clear no one worked very hard to find out who was really guilty. I wonder who made that phone call that sent my father out of town so he wouldn’t be here to protect my mother?”
Neva leaned on the table, her voice extremely patient. “He lied about getting that phone call. No one called him. He was here, killing Megan. You have to accept that, Macy. Don’t let your guilt over not being able to remember them lead you to make a fool of yourself. Your father was convicted by a jury trial. He was found guilty.”
“He was convicted by a so-called jury, most of whom hated him for his politics. My father didn’t get a fair trial, and I’m going to find the person who committed the crime and framed him, no matter what it takes.”
Nick stopped reading to listen. He’d heard this story all over town, but how could anyone be so sure about that phone call or anything else for that matter?
Was Neva one of the citizens who had condemned Macy’s father for his political views? If so, why had she continued working for the family? Maybe he needed to do a little snooping around.
Neva shook her head. “Be careful what you stir up, Macy. If you’re right, and I’m not saying you are, you could be bringing a pile of trouble down on yourself. You don’t want to do that. I might not have agreed with your father, but I thought a lot of your mother, although she could be irritating sometimes, and I loved your grandmother. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”
“I’d hate that, too. Hey, Neva, was there anything suspicious about my grandmother’s death?”
Neva paused. “What are you talking about? The whole town knows Opal died in her sleep. What are you trying to stir up now?”
“I’m not trying to stir up anything, I just want to know what happened.”
“Well, no one ever hinted that there was something odd about Opal’s death. She died peacefully of natural causes. Don’t let your imagination run wild, Macy. And don’t cause any more trouble than you have to.”
“This is something I have to do. Can’t you understand? I need to know.”
“No, I don’t understand why you can’t accept what happened. And what about your memory?” Neva demanded. “Is it coming back to you? It doesn’t seem realistic that you can’t remember anything about that night. I know you were young, but after all, you were here in the house when she was killed.”
Macy sat silent, as if trying to decide what to say. Apparently this wasn’t anything she really wanted to talk about. Finally she said, “I’ve had a few flashes of things. I think it’s coming back. Maybe not all at once, but a little bit at a time. I’m confident I will eventually remember that night and what happened.”
“Well, like I’ve told you, it’ll probably be best for you if you don’t,” Neva said. “Sometimes we’re better off not knowing the past. It can get in the way. Life might be easier if none of us could remember what we’ve had to live through.”
Nick sat quietly listening. Sometimes you could learn more by keeping your mouth shut and letting someone else do the talking. He’d learned earlier how Neva’s daughter died, in a fiery crash involving another car. There were no survivors. He had to feel sorry for the woman. She’d had a lot to deal with, and losing a daughter that way had to be rough, but he was finding her comments a little abrasive.
Neva abruptly changed the subject, which seemed to surprise Macy. “What are you going to do with Opal’s clothes? The Second Time Around Shop accepts donations. The money supports a good cause.”
Macy shook her head, looking stubborn again. “I’m not ready for that yet. I want to take my time going through them and see if there’s anything I want to keep.”
Nick guessed she’d have to go through her parents’ things, too. Probably she’d been putting it off. Not wanting to do that just yet. Who could blame her? She had a lot to deal with. Going through her parents’ clothes and deciding what to do with them would be traumatic for her. Better to leave that for later. Much later.
Neva frowned. “Why did you come to Walnut Grove, anyway?”
“I told you why. I’m here to find out what happened to my parents. I will never believe my father killed my mother.”
“And like I told you, he had a fair trial with a good lawyer and a jury that found him guilty.”
Macy paused, looking like that had brought up an angle she hadn’t thought abou
t. “Who was on the jury?”
Nick listened with interest. He hadn’t thought to ask about that. It was something he should check into.
Neva shoved a chair a little closer to the table. “I don’t remember, but the evidence pointed to Steve.”
Nick realized they were just going over the same ground and not really accomplishing anything. Which was pretty much the way things had been going since he’d gotten involved in this case.
Macy looked frustrated. “Look, Neva, I understand where you’re coming from, but I truly do believe someone falsified the evidence. My father was set up to divert attention from the real murderer.”
Neva shook her head. “You need to back off, Macy. If what you’re saying is accurate, it just might get you killed.”
Nick figured she might be right about that, but the way Neva said it sounded sort of threatening. He wondered if she meant it that way.
Neva returned to her cleaning. Macy glanced at him, her lower lip trembling. “It’s like no one cares about the truth. They just want to leave things the way they are, even if a killer walks free.”
Nick shook his head. “Not everyone feels that way. In fact, I believe we might be getting closer than we think.”
EIGHTEEN
The next afternoon Nick stopped by Clyde’s house. This time he was sitting on his front porch, a shaggy black dog sleeping at his feet. The dog raised his head to watch Nick, growling low in his throat.
“Calm down, Smoky,” Clyde leaned over and touched the dog’s head. “This one’s all right.”
Nick climbed the two steps to the porch floor. “Is he mean?”
“Well, he’s never bit anyone yet, but I reckon he might given the right circumstances. He’s not too fond of strangers. Anything I can do for you?”
Nick sat down in an old wooden straight-backed chair. “Just wasting time, probably. I’m trying to find out something about Megan Douglas. Who might have hated her enough to kill her.”
“Well, that’s a tough one. Actually Megan was all right. She kept busy with her house and her family, and she had that dress shop. Didn’t leave her much time to get involved in anything.”
“Was she as political as Steve?”
Clyde spit over the porch railing. “Not so I could tell. Actually, not many people were as political as Steve. He carried it to extremes sometimes. I guess he was mostly right about Garth, but I couldn’t see it at the time. Been better if we had both kind of held back a little and not got so wound up as we did.”
“So that leaves us with the personal angle. Can you think of anything that would help us there?”
Clyde looked thoughtful. “Well, of course, there’s Anita. She’s a good hater. I’m not suggesting she killed anyone, but she’s got a temper. And someone beat Megan up pretty bad.”
“She’s on my list. Anyone else?”
“Not right offhand. I’ll let you know if something occurs to me. I always figured someone saw Steve’s car was gone and broke in looking for money. We had some drug problems back then, too, particularly Raleigh Benson’s boy. He kept us hopping.”
The Benson boy again. Could he have broken in and found Megan at home? Raleigh would have covered for him, you could bet on that. Nick stood up. “Well, I guess that’s all. Thanks for your help.”
Clyde leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t do all that much, but if there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know. One more thing. I hear Neva Miller is cleaning house for Macy. She cleaned for Opal, too. Always wondered why. Megan fired Neva’s daughter, Lindy, for stealing. She went to prison and when she got out no one would give her a job. Neva blamed Megan and quit working for her. And then Lindy was killed in that car wreck. Neva pretty much fell apart over that. Went kind of crazy. I guess she’s all right now, though.”
“She cleans the police station and I’ve never seen anything out of the way.” And he hadn’t thought about that. She cleaned at night. Could she have taken the Douglas file? They were used to her, and no one paid much attention. She could have taken it easily enough.
“I might be worrying over nothing, then. Just ignore it,” Clyde said.
Nick got in his car and sat for a minute, thinking. Neva’s name kept cropping up. She had motive, and she had the opportunity. Neva worked for Macy. Maybe he should drop by Macy’s. For some reason he felt a sense of urgency, as if he needed to get over there right now. Maybe it was this feeling he had that someone was closing in on them—that he was running out of time.
* * *
Macy had spent a restless night. Still awake at five, she ate an early breakfast and decided to check out her grandmother’s room one more time. She went through the closet first, searching pockets in jackets, looking at the top shelf again, to make sure she hadn’t missed something important. Not finding anything helpful she sat down in front of the dresser, pulling out the drawers and going through them. Each one held undergarments, gowns, odds and ends, the sort of thing she would expect to find, but the drawers looked tumbled, as if someone had already dug through them. She’d taken a look earlier when she first started searching, but no way had she left it like this.
Someone else had been going through her grandmother’s things.
Had Neva been digging through the drawers looking for the diary and left them in this mess? Had she found it and not bothered to mention it? Surely she would have said something if she had. Or would she? You couldn’t tell with Neva.
Macy got down on her knees, looking under the bed, and discovered a few dust bunnies, but nothing else. Odd that Neva hadn’t cleaned in here the way she did the other rooms. Macy had noticed it before but dismissed it, believing it was hard for her to spend much time in here since Opal had been her friend. Now she wasn’t so sure. There was something almost contemptuous in the way she was letting this room go. As if she did it intentionally. Like maybe she had a reason for not taking care of it.
She turned back the bedspread and discovered sheets and pillowcases still in place looking rumpled, as if they had been slept on. Apparently it hadn’t been changed since her grandmother had died. Something she had overlooked earlier, just noticing the bedspread was in place, and not bothering to look underneath it. She needed to have a talk with Neva. If she was going to clean this house, she had to do a better job than this.
Macy pulled off the spread, folded it neatly and placed it in a chair. The sheets came next, and the pillow cases. The mattress was crooked, and she grabbed one corner and shoved it back toward the wall. There was a soft thump, as if something had fallen.
She walked around the end of the bed to stare down at the floor. A tan vinyl-covered book lay there. Curious, she picked it up and thumbed through the pages. A diary.
Her mother’s diary. She had found it.
She clutched the book to her chest, and rushed from the room. Downstairs, she fixed a glass of ice water and sat down at the table. Macy slid her hand over the cover, caressing it, and then opened it to the first page. Megan Douglas. Her mother’s name.
Reverently she turned the pages, reading slowly, thrilling to the chronicle of her mother’s life. One entry caught her eye. Today Macy took her first steps. And her mother had thought it was important enough to enter it in her diary. Tears burned her eyes. This book would help her recover her mother. From reading this she would gain knowledge of their life together.
She read slowly, savoring every word. Megan Douglas came alive on the pages of her journal. Macy learned about things the two of them had done together, and about her father. Most of it, though, was about Megan and her thoughts, the way she felt, things she had done. There was quite a bit about the business she had started, and the difficulties of getting good help.
One entry close to the back caught her eye. I had to fire Lindy today. She’s been stealing merchandise. I suspected her but there was no proof, then today she messed up. She took money out of the register and I saw her. She’s never been a good worker, more trouble than she’s worth. Today was the last straw.
So her mother had to fire someone. Lindy? The name sounded so familiar, but the sudden sound of the front door opening interrupted her thoughts.
She heard footsteps crossing the foyer. That door had been locked. She always kept it that way. Macy rose to her feet as Neva entered the kitchen.
They stood facing each other, but Neva didn’t speak, just stood there, wearing a wooden expression. Macy stared at her, bewildered. “How did you get in?”
Neva shrugged. “Did you really think I was fool enough not to make a copy of the key when I had the chance?”
Macy stared at her, caught by the harsh note in her voice. She’d made a key, knowing she wasn’t supposed to have one. And what was she doing here? It wasn’t her day to clean, so what was going on?
Neva nodded toward the diary. “What’s that you’ve got?
Macy glanced down at the book and answered, trying not to show any concern, but her mind was racing. “It’s my mother’s diary. I found it in Grandma Lassiter’s room.”
“I looked there. Where did you find it?”
“It was between the mattress and the box springs. I was stripping the bed and it fell out.”
Neva’s lips puckered. “It’s been there all this time. Who would have suspected it?”
Macy had about had it with this woman—with her temper, her insistence on having a key, the way she kept popping in without warning, the way she was acting now, as if she was angry about something. It was time she learned who was in charge here. “I guess you should have cleaned the room a little better.”
Neva flushed. “If you have any complaint about my cleaning, spit it out.”
“You cleaned every room except that one, but the drawers looked like someone had pawed through them. Was it you?”
“Why should I clean the room of a woman who treated me like dirt? I didn’t have any use for Opal Lassiter, and I don’t care who knows it.”
“You said you loved her.”
“That was for your benefit. It wouldn’t have fit my purpose to tell you the truth.”
Dangerous Inheritance Page 17
