by Libby Howard
Something odd flashed across Judge Beck’s face, but it might have been my imagination. It had been a long and traumatic evening, and the light was very dim here in Mr. Peter’s yard.
“Oh. Of course, you’ve known him a long time. Was Pierson a friend of yours and Eli’s? Like Carson?”
The shadow on my porch left the rocking chair and vanished through the exterior wall of the house. I kept staring at where he’d been, thinking of Judge Beck’s words and wondering what in the world was happening with my life.
“Carson and his wife are very good friends. Before Eli’s accident, we used to go out a lot together. And after the accident, Carson gave me odd freelance jobs to do and both he and Maggie brought casseroles over to the house regularly. I didn’t know J.T. until a few years ago. I’d met him through Carson. He needed someone to do research on the occasional risky bail client and Carson recommended me. After Eli had died, J.T. offered me a full-time job as a skip tracer, and I took it.”
I saw Judge Beck nod, a lock of his dark blond hair sweeping down across his forehead. “How are you doing, Kay? I mean, I know you really loved Eli. These last three months must have been so hard for you. I can’t believe the grief you must be dealing with, and then to add the fiasco with the mayor and this.” He waved his hand at Mr. Peter’s house.
I glanced once more over toward my porch, and saw nothing. Where was he? Where was Eli? I felt on the edge of a panic attack just thinking about the fact that he was gone.
“There are good days and bad days,” I told Judge Beck. “Sometimes people fit together like puzzle pieces. Ever since that first date with Eli, I was smitten. And although we had our fights, the love never faded. I feel like half of me has been violently ripped away, that I’ll never be whole again. And when the accident happened, I just buried it all and plunged myself into the care of my husband. The man I married has been gone for ten years, and I feel like this is the first time I’ve been able to surface for a breath, to actually acknowledge his loss and mourn the man I lost that night.”
There was a moment of silence when I heard the faint sound of cars from Main Street three blocks away, heard the Simmons’s chihuahua yipping from the end of the block, heard the rustle of leaves as a late spring breeze blew through the maples that lined our street.
And I could have sworn I heard Judge Beck’s ragged inhalation.
His arm came around my shoulders and pulled me close. I felt his breath against the top of my head. “I’m mourning too, Kay, although it’s different for me. Still, I feel like we’re walking adjacent paths, heading in the same direction. In three months, you’ve become a part of my family. Madison and Henry adore you. And you’re like an anchor keeping me from drifting out to sea in all the madness of my life. I can’t begin to imagine how lost you must feel right now, but know that there are people who care about you. Know that Madison and Henry would be lost without you. That…. that I’d be lost without you.”
Family. I recalled Reverend Lincoln’s words about how God sends us who we need, and sometimes those people came and went from our lives, that we needed to have faith in our Lord to always provide us who we needed.
I wrapped my arms around Judge Beck, turning my attention from my porch to bury my face in his shirt. “I love Madison and Henry with all my heart. And welcome to the family.”
Chapter 20
Officer Adams stopped by our office the next day to tell me that Dillon Buckle had been the one who’d been selling the antiques to Swanson’s. And no, he hadn’t inherited an estate from his grandmother. Under a plea bargain, Dillon had confessed to theft and second-degree murder, saying that he’d been surprised by Mr. Peter in the kitchen, coming up from the basement to take additional boxes in a robbery. There had been an argument. Mr. Peter had attacked him. He’d grabbed the sword that had been on the counter to be washed after the cantaloupe practice, and stabbed the man in self-defense.
I didn’t believe that and neither did Officer Adams, the detective, or J.T. Self-defense, my butt. I could see Mr. Peter surprising him when he came up from the basement to steal stuff, but the fact that he’d shoved the sword through a box after stabbing the homeowner didn’t seem like the act of a man concerned with defending himself to me. And he hadn’t run away or hidden when I’d entered the house, but instead had attacked me, and had attempted to strangle me. The police were charging Dillon separately with that crime, no doubt hoping to tack additional jail time on the second-degree murder plea.
I’d been slowly going through the stuff in my attic, but sadly I didn’t feel comfortable taking it in to Swanson’s after I’d identified Dillon Buckle as a thief. The antiques dealer had needed to reimburse Bert the cost of the sale of the soup tureen, plus return all the other items. I winced to think of the money the owners had lost and only hoped that they would be able to recoup some of their money from Dillon. Maybe they could sell his car and recover the money that way.
J.T.’s YouTube videos had gained a respectable following that I was sure wasn’t just the local P.D., and he was already talking about optimizing Google ads from his website and other stuff.
Henry’s hot tub party had been a big hit. He was doing well in track this year, and Sean and the other boys had really enjoyed pizza and banana chocolate chip cake after their pizza and sodas. Henry was helping Bert go through the contents of Mr. Peter’s house, and he was excited for summer vacation.
Madison had helped me make the banana chocolate chip cake, and was already proposing several recipes from my books for her father’s birthday the following month. She’d completely abandoned her medical career plans, but was torn between her desire to please her father by going into law and a surprising interest in diplomatic relations.
Taco still wasn’t thrilled with his status as a house cat and attempted to sneak out the door every chance he got. He often succeeded.
I worked. I loved my job, and when I came home at night, I was always thrilled to see the shadow lurking around the corners of my house. I was also thrilled when Judge Beck came home with the kids, or he came home alone, dragging a huge briefcase. As much as I adored Madison and Henry, there was something comforting about having the judge there by himself. He might be silent, files spread across the dining room while I knitted, or he might join me for dinner, but either way, his presence was a comfort.
And those nights when I knitted by the lamp light, the shadow that I thought was Eli’s ghost by my side and Judge Beck in the dining room, muttering softly as he read through his briefs…those were the best nights of all.
I was truly blessed. And up until this moment, I’d never really felt the comfort of what I’d come to know as family.
Continue the series with Antique Secrets - coming September 28, 2017!
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Lyndsey Lewellen for cover design and typography, and to both Erin Zarro and Jennifer Cosham for copyediting.
About the Author
Libby Howard lives in a little house in the woods with her sons and two exuberant bloodhounds. She occasionally knits, occasionally bakes, and occasionally manages to do a load of laundry. Most of her writing is done in a bar where she can combine work with people-watching, a decent micro-brew, and a plate of Old Bay wings.
For more information:
[email protected]
Also by Libby Howard
Locust Point Mystery Series:
The Tell All
Junkyard Man
Antique Secrets (September 2017)
Hometown Hero (October 2017)
A Literary Scandal (November 2017)
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