by Patti Larsen
“I’m well aware he was your dad,” I said. “I’m not talking about a casual conversation, Luke. I’m talking about the two of you conspiring in the dark with him just before he died. And sneaking onto his boat, too. Within easy reach of his convenient time of death.”
Luke and David exchanged a quick look, the young man looking sick.
“I didn’t kill my father,” he said while David spluttered.
“Neither of us did,” the big man said. At least he didn’t sound like he was going to burst into tears anytime soon. “We were working for him.”
Huh. “Stealing for Lester?” I let enough skepticism sneak into my voice the pair blanched, the bullies leaning in while Malcolm’s smile widened. Right, if I didn’t like what I heard, the threat was implicit. I backed off my tone and prodded again while the pair seemed to take me seriously. “Not from him?”
Luke’s face darkened. “I would have loved to steal from the old bastard,” he said. “Judge me if you want, but I hated my father.” He flinched. “But I didn’t kill him, I swear. I just wanted to get out from under him.” He shrugged, sighed like he had nothing to lose. “He was blackmailing me, his own son. I was stealing from the family. But only because he cut me off from my inheritance.”
Good reason to kill him, wasn’t it? “What about you?” I looked at David who didn’t comment right away despite his proximity to pain and who knew what else Malcolm had in store. “What happened between you and Lester that ended your friendship?”
He hesitated before grunting when a big hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed. I did my best not to flinch in empathetic response as David finally spoke up.
“My past isn’t as clean cut as I’ve led everyone to believe.” David glanced at Malcolm whose eyes narrowed in response. “I have a history of working outside the law. Something I put behind me. For Keira.” His daughter made him go clean? Right. So this wasn’t his first kick at the thievery can? “But when I ran into Heather…” he swallowed hard, face twisting into something like longing before he met Malcolm’s eyes again. “You know the pull of the con,” he said, as if the Irishman would understand completely. “It had been years, but I just couldn’t resist.”
Malcolm did seem to commiserate, though without any kind of empathy behind it. “Go on, mate.”
“I knew I could take advantage of certain information I had on her,” he said. “Her old dad and me, we had enough of a past I could use it against her.” He didn’t sound contrite, not at all, and I wished I could change that, feeling for Heather all over again. The sins of the father taken out on the daughter? Despicable. Which made me think about Siobhan and Malcolm and Dad while David went on. “I wasn’t greedy, just took a cut of the boats she was selling, keeping it quiet, you know? Easy to hide. Then Lester found out.” He grunted, fury flashing awake. “Idiot.” Luke seemed to agree with David’s assessment. “I don’t know how, but he came to me and told me what he knew. Showed me evidence, paperwork that Heather kept, proving I was the one who was embezzling alongside her. Then he cut me out and amped up the fraud. To the point Heather told me he was going to get her caught.” He sagged in apparent defeat. “Like Lester cared. He was clean, made sure of that. Heather might have been able to accuse him, but the trail led back to her and me.” I didn’t feel sorry for him, right? “But he wasn’t done.” David seemed shocked, at last, like he couldn’t believe things had fallen so far, so fast. “He said he knew about my past and threatened both me and Luke with the cops if we didn’t steal for him. We didn’t have a choice.”
Still not convincing me they didn’t kill Lester. Considering they were still stealing after the Patterson was dead… “I don’t see him holding a gun to your head now, David.” He looked guilty enough, at least.
“One last score,” he muttered, sounding like an addict. “To make up for everything we handed over to him.”
I guess that made a criminally minded kind of sense. But all of this mess? Hard not to see it as a huge motive for murder. Though mention of the boat company rep had my mind turning. Heather’s innocence wasn’t looking good. “You two were on his boat the night he died,” I said. “I have footage proving it.”
They both nodded. “We were,” David said. “But we left after Heather got there. She was furious, something about her bosses finding out about the skimming. We cut and run so she wouldn’t see us.”
Luke nodded, swallowed. “But when we were leaving I heard her threatening my father. That if he didn’t give her back what he took from her, she’d make sure he regretted it.”
***
Chapter Twenty Eight
I was pretty sure Jill’s discomfort with my appearance at the sheriff’s office had more to do with the fact I’d brought in the two suspects and less that I was backed by a pair of bullies and the smirking Malcolm Murray, though perhaps those facts were interchangeable. It was pretty obvious Robert had a lot to say and would get around to saying it when he got over his spluttering and incoherent ranting that turned his face dark red and made him shake like an alcoholic recently coming down from a three-day binge.
Fortunately, Toby had her head on her shoulders. The front desk receptionist surprised me being at the office so late, but she took my appearance and my companions in stride, smiling and gesturing for me to proceed into the bullpen with the two criminals—neglecting to remind me the other three were just as bad, bless her.
“After you, Fee,” she said, winking when Robert wouldn’t see. “Nice work. You looking for a new job?”
I flashed her a big grin, realizing this was the first time my father’s old employee actually mentioned my affinity for police work. “I’m good,” I said. “Dad has me working cases for him, after all. I think I like private life better.”
She flinched a little, sideways glance at Robert enough to raise my suspicions. “Your dad makes a great boss,” she said, and dropped it, good humor gone. Wait, was she implying maybe my father was trying to poach her out from under the sheriff’s department? That old devil. And Toby loved him enough if Crew wasn’t coming back—stop that, Fee—she’d likely take his offer and run with it.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Robert finally pulled himself together long enough to speak coherently. Good for him, though I preferred him silent, thanks.
“Your job,” I snarled in return, shoving Luke and David firmly into the cell, slamming the barred door shut behind them before turning to Jill, purposely ignoring the present chain of command. It was only then I noticed Geoffrey lingering in the doorway to the sheriff’s office, Crew’s office. Two thoughts occurred to me, then. One, that Geoffrey had his own reasons for wanting Lester dead, didn’t he? Though I hadn’t really considered him a suspect, should I? And second, hitting closer to home with more force and anger than it should was the fact Robert hadn’t wasted any time moving in. Was that a bad sign or just my cousin’s arrogance?
Did they know something I didn’t?
Jill’s strained expression and hands on hips weren’t the resounding thanks I was hoping for, though a perfect match for the shocked silence at the other end of the phone when I’d called her to warn her I was bringing in prisoners. I’d hoped she’d have my back, though it was pretty clear she was between a jerk and a slimy councilman at this point so I could hardly blame her for her unhappy attitude.
“We’ll take things from here,” she said, with a pointed look at Malcolm. The bar owner shrugged, hands in his pockets, that twisted grin on his lean, handsome face not helping matters.
“Just being a helpful citizen, is all, deputy,” he said before bobbing a nod at Robert. “Deputy.” Oh, he’d called my cousin that on purpose, sure did.
Setting off the acting sheriff exactly as he intended. “I should have you both arrested,” Robert snapped, his hands skittering from trying to settle on his waist, his belt, finally stopping with restless twitches over his shirt sleeves as he crossed his arms like he had no idea how to stand he was so wound up.
; “Try it.” Malcolm flashed white teeth before turning to me and bowing with a finger touch to his forehead as a salute. “A pleasure catching criminals with you, Miss Fleming,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you again, soon. Say a big hello to Siobhan for me when she gets back to you, won’t you, lass?” With that, Malcolm spun and sauntered out, winking at Toby while his two hulking bodyguards marched behind him, silent and scary as always.
I should have been worried that it bothered me less I’d befriended someone who was likely a career criminal than I was by the fact he’d liked working with me. Or maybe both truths should have been equally disturbing? Whatever, I had other issues to deal with, namely a tall, nasty piece of work who glared like he could murder me where I stood just by thinking about it.
As soon as the door closed behind Malcolm, Robert started in on me for real. “Meddling in police business will get you tossed in jail,” he began.
Cut short in mid rant by the soft throat clearing of the watching councilman. Robert’s whole demeanor flinched as he turned, staring with what could only be described as mute impotence while Geoffrey crossed in front of Robert—purposely? Likely—in a visible show of who was the real boss here and held out his hand to me.
I stared at it like it might bite me while Robert muttered something I didn’t catch and stomped to Crew’s office, slamming the door shut behind him.
“You’ll forgive our acting sheriff for not offering his thanks and congratulations on your capture of the thieves that have been evading this office.” So smooth and yet so smarmy. I was shocked when Geoffrey’s hand settled on my shoulder, his body weight guiding me around and out into reception then to the exit, stopping me on the top step, the door slipping shut behind us. His voice lowered, tone soft as he spoke again, lips near enough to my ear I felt the heat of his breath and almost shuddered in distaste at his proximity. Too much aftershave, dude. Seriously. “It’s come to my attention we might be in need of a new sheriff in short order,” he said. “Something to do with the FBI and Sheriff Turner’s absence?” Was he fishing for answers or did he know more than I did? Regardless, he fired up my worry all over again, leaving me out of balance and unable to tell him to take his hand off me. Because it was still touching me, now sitting on my shoulder, fingers squeezing with the kind of not so subtle pressure that implied intimacy. Gross. “If that were the case, I’d be delighted to forward your name as a possible candidate for the role.” Um, what? I wasn’t even a police officer. “From what I understand, local laws allow for civilians to take the sheriff’s office if the council deems them sufficiently… motivated and naturally talented. As you obviously are. And have proven over and over again.” Oh my god, was he leaning closer? It was like watching a slow motion train wreck coming right toward me down a set of tracks I was tied to and there seemed to be nothing I could do to avoid his nearness. Frozen, stunned and speechless, I gaped up at him while his fingers rose from my shoulder and tucked back a piece of my hair from my cheek, behind one ear, while my skin crawled involuntarily into a mass body rise of goosebumps. “I’m sure you know I’m well on my way to attaining the office of mayor. Having someone of your talents as sheriff would be, shall we say, the sort of partnership that could make me want to come to work every day.”
He was lucky I was so surprised and unable to move a muscle because if I had even a heartbeat more to recover? Yeah, he’d be feeling in a personal and physical way that would take him to his knees just what I thought of his idea.
Instead, he spun and left, returning through the door, leaving me on the step with bile burning the back of my throat and the need to scream my horror at his suggestion rising from the depths of my stomach and pushing its way up past my lungs and into my shoulders until, hunched and with the beginning of a tension headache, I stumbled down the steps to the street and practically ran home.
Once there, I immediately got in the shower and scrubbed myself red raw, before tucking into a pair of flannel pajamas—the ugliest I owned—and hugging my pug to me while Petunia whined I was squeezing her too hard. I hadn’t even had the wherewithal to question Geoffrey about his possible suspect status, I’d been so creeped out. Sleep didn’t come for quite some time and my dreams, when I finally did pass out, were haunted by endlessly chasing Crew in a motorboat while Malcolm laughed at me and Geoffrey breathed down my neck.
That’s why I woke up in such foul humor, why I grumped at my staff, my mother, Daisy—who was avoiding me again—though it was a good thing (or not?) that Rose wasn’t around. I was sure if she’d shown her face I’d have done something she’d regret later and that would likely lose me my best friend until she got over Rose’s death and all. I’d help her. She’d be fine.
Oh, Fee.
Instead, without Rose as a target, I was left to gather up cleaning supplies and schlump my way through the rooms in the carriage house, scrubbing and fluffing and dusting my way to physical weariness while my mind skirted questions I didn’t want to consider and my heart ached to talk to the one person I couldn’t seem to get out of my head.
Why hadn’t Crew called me back?
I was on my way back inside when I spotted Heather slipping out. She didn’t see me, though from the tight and tear-stained appearance of her she wouldn’t have noticed me if I’d walked across her path. Huh, so much for her threat of leaving Petunia’s. With the tourist season the way it was, she wouldn’t have been able to find a room anywhere close by, no doubt. That meant she was stuck with my snooping. Head down, she headed for the parking lot and the expensive looking sedan she was driving, peeling out into the street a moment later and almost causing an accident.
Curiosity won, as always, cutting through the angst and concern and anxiety to the point I could think of nothing else. With the pretense of needing to clean her room my excuse, I marched upstairs and through her door, firmly closing it behind me.
I cleaned, I swear. While looking around for something, anything, that might give me a clue as to who she’d been talking to and what her part in this whole thing was. Except, all I came across was her business card, perched on the edge of her briefcase, with the number for her main office typed in heavy text at the bottom.
Yeah, I took it. Maybe I could get information from the donkey’s mouth if the horse wasn’t talking?
A bit of guilt clouded my actions as I snuck downstairs to my apartment five minutes later and dialed the number, Petunia staring up at me as she always did, though depending on my mood I imagined she knew exactly what I was up to and was judging me for it.
“What?” I nabbed some fresh strawberries from the fridge and tossed them to her to keep her from accusing me of doing exactly what Geoffrey apparently wanted of me. Ew.
“Buckley’s Marine Supplies.” The gruff man’s voice wasn’t what I was expecting.
“Good morning,” I said, awkward now that I’d taken an action without any idea how to go about getting what I wanted. “I’m looking for Heather Parborough.” Okay, Fee, nice save. “Can you get me in touch with her, please?”
The man exhaled heavily and when he spoke again he sounded furious enough to come through the line at me. “Miss Parborough no longer works for us,” he said. “And if you’re a client of hers, you’d best know the police will be in touch.”
***
Chapter Twenty Nine
“I’m actually calling on behalf of Fleming Investigations in Reading, Vermont.” Where did that come from? The man grunted faintly in response. “We’re looking into Miss Parborough for the town of Reading, Mr…? Buckley, I presume?”
“Yes.” He sounded a bit mollified and even slightly eager. Awesome. Eager meant forthcoming, right? “Gordon Buckley, owner.”
“Can you tell me how recently Miss Parborough was fired, Mr. Buckley, and the reason for her release?” If I was going to dive head first into this opportunity, I might as well see how far he’d let me take it without proof of who I was. But apparently he’d had it with Heather and was more than willing to spill details. Ble
ss him.
“I told the state troopers everything,” he said, “but, in a nutshell, Miss…?”
“Fleming,” I said. “Fiona Fleming. Investigative partner.” Dad said so, right?
That seemed to give him the confidence to go on. “Miss Fleming,” he said. “Say, is your father John Fleming?”
Whoops. Was this an unnecessary repeat conversation? “Have you spoken to him yet?”
Something creaked in the background, a chair spring maybe? “Not recently,” Gordon said, though he sounded completely at ease talking to me now. Papers shuffled. “I was going to call him, so thanks for following up.”
“My pleasure,” I said. “What changed since Dad spoke to you, sir?”
“Heather’s whole web of lies unraveled.” He exhaled again, though the anger was gone from his voice, settling into what sounded like real regret. “I don’t get it. She’s worked for us for years. And her father’s been one of our best mechanics since I took over from my father. It’s been a huge blow to the whole family.” He cleared his throat. “We think of ourselves as family here, Miss Fleming.”
“What happened?” If he didn’t get to the point already I was going to sigh myself.
“She’s been stealing from me, is what happened.” There was his anger again. “Hiding it. I didn’t notice because we fully trusted her and why wouldn’t we? She’s been our best salesperson for the last five years.” Again the regret. “Turns out she’s been processing fraudulent sales.”
“As in claiming to sell boats and not?” How would that work? Making money but no product going out? That didn’t make sense.
“She’s been switching serial numbers from smaller vessels to larger ones.” Now he seemed tired, worn out. Compassion simmered as I realized what he was talking about, the small business owner in me wanting to shake my head and commiserate. “Goes back a couple of years, mostly vessels we’ve taken in as resales, so they didn’t get noticed until recently. But her latest switch I caught because I had a buyer who wanted to see the one she switched out and I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
