Bed of Lies

by Pam Champagne

  Brenna relaxed. “Nobody’s perfect, Ace. Not all heroes come dressed in a suit of armor.” She caressed his arm. “I don’t think I could go through this by myself.”

  He glanced at her, the coldness in his eyes melting into the kindness she’d come to expect. “You’ll never be alone again. That’s a promise.”

  “I know.” She strained against the seatbelt. “Damn things. Remember when we used to drive around the barrens in Old Blue, and I would snuggle next to you?”

  A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I drove with one hand, my arm around you, and you shifted the gears.”

  Brenna smiled. “Seems like lifetime ago.”

  “It was. In spite of the fond memories, it’s a time best not revisited.”

  She sighed. “I suppose you’re right, although I’ve spent a good portion of the past twelve years doing just that. The good memories kept me sane.”

  She sensed his immediate withdrawal. He abruptly changed the subject. “Did your mother have a bad heart?”

  Okay. He didn’t want to talk about the past. She could accept that. “She’s a chain smoker and drinks on a daily basis, so I’d say that makes her an excellent candidate.”

  “But she’s never been diagnosed with heart disease?”

  “No. Not that I’m aware of. Then again, my father went out of his way to live a healthy life and look what good it did him.”

  Ace took his gaze off the road for a moment. “Daniel didn’t have a history of heart problems?”

  Brenna shook her head. “No way. He constantly harped at my mother to start living a healthy life. We were all shocked when he died so suddenly.”

  Brenna squinted and saw the green sign ahead for Cutler Road. Ace maneuvered the SUV into the turn. “It won’t be long now. Good thing the plow’s been by. We’d have a problem getting up this hill.”

  They slowly crested the rise. Around the next bend she’d be able to see the farm. Brenna tightened her grip on the sides of the leather seat. What would they find there? Had her mother simply had too much to drink, then panicked and called for help? Or had she suffered a heart attack? Or fallen down the stairs? As far as Brenna knew, her mother never had regular check-ups. Like so many others in rural areas without health insurance, tragedy had to strike before they ever saw a doctor.

  “I’m here for you. No matter what.”

  “I know.”

  The SUV rounded the curve and swerved on the icy road. Brenna strained for a glimpse of the farm through the swirling snow. Blue and red lights flashed eerily in the driveway.

  Ace maneuvered around the fire engine and pulled in front of the barn to avoid blocking the ambulance. Brenna jumped out of the SUV before he shut off the ignition.

  The door opened the moment she reached the porch. Two paramedics came down the steps carrying a stretcher between them. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “We weren’t in time, ma’am.”

  Brenna’s knees buckled. Ace caught her before she fell. He held her upright while they watched the men slide the stretcher into the ambulance. When it drove away, the lights no longer flashed.

  She didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until Ace cupped the back of her neck. “Deep breaths.” At the sound of his voice she drew a ragged breath. “Come on,” he said softly somewhere near her ear. “Let’s get out of the storm.”

  The kitchen looked the same. The uneven tiled floor slanted down towards the kitchen sink the way it always had.

  Dirty cups and glasses cluttered the counter. Her mother had never been one to wash dishes. One mug sat precariously near the edge, ready to fall if someone brushed against it.

  The familiar rhythmic dripping of the water faucet assured Brenna that she was home. Yet, she wondered if she’d be able to live here now that her entire family was gone. Her mother, father and brother dead—all within a six-month period. How could this have happened?

  Two state troopers spoke to each other in low voices near the refrigerator. Another man stood at the table, writing on a pad of paper.

  A piece of half-eaten chocolate cream pie sat on the table.

  Numbness spread through her limbs, as if her entire body had been given a shot of Novocain. Ace slid out a chair and gently pushed on her shoulders until she sat down. The domino effect—one tragedy after another. The reverend always said God never gave a person more pain than they could bear. He must think she had strong shoulders because He sure was throwing a lot of it in her direction.

  “Want a cup of coffee?” Ace asked. “I think there’s some left from this morning.”

  “I’ve had enough coffee, thanks.”

  The middle-aged man taking notes pulled out a chair and sat beside her. “Ms. MacKenzie?”

  Brenna nodded and focused her attention on his round, somber face. The pity in his gaze brought tears to her eyes. He waved a hand at the plate on the table. “Do you know where this pie came from?”

  “What?” Her mother was dead and this guy was asking about a piece of pie? “Someone dropped it off after Colin’s funeral.”

  “Do you know who?” he persisted.

  “No. My mother dealt with all the food that arrived.” She frowned. “Why?”

  “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. Hyman Wuerch. I’m a medical examiner in Washington County. I happen to live less than ten miles from here. Sgt. Penny called me and requested my presence.”

  Brenna ignored his outstretched hand. “Did my mother have a heart attack?”

  The chair squeaked loudly in the silence when the man leaned forward. He folded his hands on top his notebook and cleared his throat. “I won’t know anything definite until an autopsy is performed, but there’s a possibility your mother was poisoned.”

  “Poisoned?” Brenna whispered, her gaze flying to the half-eaten piece of pie.

  Mr. Wuerch nodded. “My guess would be cyanide.”

  Ace gagged. Jesus. He’d considered having a piece of that pie yesterday and almost ate a piece for breakfast this morning.

  “Chocolate cream pie is my favorite,” Brenna said to no one in particular.

  She glanced at Ace. “Remember? You and I both love it. When we were in Machias, we always stopped at the Downeast Diner for a piece.”

  He nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. Was the pie intended for Brenna? For him? Whoever made the pie had no way of knowing who would eat a piece. He shuddered with the implication. Did someone want all three them out of the way? Or was it just Brenna and the murderer didn’t care about collateral damage?

  The medical examiner’s voice dragged him back to the conversation. “As I said, we won’t know for certain until the autopsy.”

  “Why do you suspect cyanide?” Ace asked.

  “When the paramedics arrived, Mrs. McKenzie’s skin had turned blue—a sure sign of lack of oxygen. The clincher for me is that she’d vomited, and the smell of bitter almonds was very strong. That’s what prompted Sgt. Penny to call me in. Of course, the pie, as well as all other food in the refrigerator, will be tested.”

  Ace moved behind Brenna and rested his hands on her shoulders.

  Pushing away from table, she rose. “I’ve got to go feed the horses and bed them down for the night. And Sheba?” She looked frantically around the kitchen. “Has anyone seen my dog?”

  Ace didn’t like the wildness in Brenna’s eyes. “Wait and I’ll go with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  One of the state troopers spoke. “Mr. Bear is right, ma’am.”

  Brenna’s gaze moved from one person to another like a cornered rabbit. Ace knew she needed to get outside. Needed to be around something solid and comforting. “Would you mind going out with her?” he asked the trooper who’d spoken. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Wuerch.”

  The man shrugged. “Sure. I like horses. Haven’t been around them for years.”

  Brenna turned and walked out the door without another word or even so much as an acknowledgement to anyone.

  Ace recogniz
ed the state trooper pulling food out of the refrigerator as Sgt. Bob Penny. A big, burly man, he’d been helpful the day Ace had paid a visit to the barracks to introduce himself and let the authorities know he was in the area. Sgt. Penny had been more than willing to keep him in the loop.

  The medical examiner, who’d gone outside, returned with an armful of boxes.

  Sgt. Penny spoke to Ace. “This case is turning ugly. Veterans on the force can’t remember anything coming near the likes of it. You’d best watch your ass, Bear, or you might be the next one carted off in a body bag.”

  Thank you, Sgt. Penny, for the reminder. “Anything happening on the street? Drug overdoses? Drug arrests?”

  Penny looked over his shoulder as he removed one of the turkeys haphazardly covered with Saran wrap. “All’s been quiet since the Shay deaths. Could be the word got around about the pure heroin. Of course the meth clinics are still overflowing with those supposedly trying to kick the habits. Ask me and I’d say one drug is just as good as another to an addict.”

  Ace grabbed a cup and started to pour a cup of coffee, changed his mind and settled for a glass of water from the faucet. No sense tempting fate. “Where would a person get hold of cyanide?”

  “You kidding me? You can buy just about anything on the Internet—if you know where to look. I’m not saying it’s easy, but certainly not impossible.”

  Finished with his task, the trooper peeled off his gloves and washed his hands, pulling a paper towel off the roll to his right.

  “Guess that about wraps it up.” He laughed at his own joke. “We’ll be in touch. You staying here with Ms. McKenzie?”

  “I plan on it.”

  “Good. Don’t think she should be alone until this matter’s put to rest.” He tossed the paper towel in the wastebasket. “How’s your investigation going?”

  Ace grimaced. “Horseshit, if you want the truth.”

  Penny laughed. “Too many suspects?”

  “Just near the whole damn town.”

  “That’s the way with these small coastal villages. Everyone’s got a secret. If one secret comes out, you can bet your ass a bunch more will follow. One thing to remember. These people may seem eager to cut each other’s throats, but when push comes to shove, they stick together. So be careful.”

  “Tell me about it. You from around here?”

  Penny picked up a box, and Wuerch took the other. “Me? Hell, no. I’m from a county further up north. Think it’s bad here? You oughta try investigating crime in that neck of the woods. When the truth comes out, you end up with at least three or four more crimes than you started with.”

  Ace walked out the door behind the men. The snow had stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Stars twinkled through the slightly overcast sky. “I’ll head out to the barn and tell your sidekick you’re ready to leave. Keep in touch, Penny. Make sure your unit knows I need to be kept informed. And thanks for calling me about Brenna’s mother.”

  “You’re number one on our call list, Bear.”

  “Appreciate it.” Ace nodded and headed towards the door, then pivoted. “Hey, Penny. I’m thinking of getting a court order to exhume Daniel McKenzie. I’m wondering if he might have been poisoned, as well.” With that parting shot, he continued on his way.

  He entered the barn and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light cast by the two low watt light bulbs hanging from electrical wires. They swayed in the slight breeze that followed him inside. What a freakin’ fire hazard.

  Living in Maryland all these years, he’d simply forgotten how poverty-stricken Spruce Harbor and all the other small towns on the coast were. Most people hung onto their existence with a shoestring. No wonder the fire departments were so damn busy during the winter months. All year, for that matter.

  Now that Brenna was alone, he’d make damn sure she sold the place and came with him. If she insisted on staying in Maine, he’d sell his farm and move north. But not to this farm and not to Spruce Harbor. They’d find a nice place farther down the coast that had a bit more tolerance.

  The cop who’d stayed with Brenna approached. He nodded at Ace and asked, “Sgt. Penny leaving?”

  “Yeah. He’s all packed up.”

  “I’m on my way.” The young trooper took a few steps and turned back. Speaking in a low tone, he said, “You might want to think about taking Ms. McKenzie to the hospital. Physically, she seems fine, but hasn’t spoken a word since we got out here. Mumbles to herself, though.”

  Ace looked over to where Brenna patted one of the horse’s necks. She appeared oblivious to the fact he’d arrived. Strands of hair had escaped her braid. She kept tucking them behind her ear. “Thanks. I’ll take care of her.”

  The trooper left, letting in more cold air. Ace made his way to the stall where Brenna crooned softly to her horse. Sheba dogged his heels, whining. He bent and patted the dog’s head.

  Wrapping his arms around Brenna, he drew her close. “You okay?”

  “Guess so.” She burrowed her nose into his shirt. “I’m not feeling much of anything, Ace.” She peered up at him. “Why can’t I cry? Why don’t I scream and shout about the injustice? I’m scared because I’m not doing those things.”

  “Don’t be. I’m here. Lean on me.”

  Her body trembled under his hands. He kissed her neck, rubbed her back. “Let go, Brenna. Don’t hold your emotions inside. Hey,” he said pulling back and looking into her eyes, “Want to throw something at the wall? I see a bucket of brushes and curry combs over in the corner. You can start with those.”

  A small laugh bubbled in her throat. Then she started to cry, softly at first. When the huge, gut-wrenching sobs came, Ace held her, whispered assurances in her ear—much like he would have done for Kayden.

  Several minutes later, the sobs turned to hiccoughs. “Feel better?”

  She sniffed and tightened her arms around his back.

  “Done in here?”

  She nodded.

  “Let’s go up to the house.”

  She stiffened and tried to pull out of his arms. “I can’t, Ace. I don’t want to go in there.”

  “Right. We’ll go to the cabin.”

  She leaned back and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

  Even with a red nose, tear drenched eyes and spiked eyelashes, she’d never looked more beautiful. Dropping a quick kiss on her lips, he tightened his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the barn.

  Halfway to the cabin, Brenna broke her long lapse of silence. “When did it stop snowing?” A shadow of a tree limb across the road had alerted her that the moon shone.

  “An hour or so ago. You had more important matters on your mind than to notice the weather.”

  As they turned onto the road leading into the barrens, Ace put the SUV into low four-wheel-drive gear. Only about six inches of the white stuff had fallen, so he had no trouble plowing through.

  He’d hesitated to involve Brenna in his investigation, despite her plea to be involved. Truth was, her input would be invaluable. She knew the people of this town a hell of a lot better than he did. Besides, having to keep her near twenty-four/seven left him no choice. “Let’s go over the facts as we know them.”

  She perked up in her seat. “Really? You want to talk to me about what’s happened?”

  He bit back a smile. He’d said the one thing to snap her out of her depression. “I do. Did you know that Ethel Pinkham’s daughter had a child by Woodrow Gar?”

  “You’re kidding, right? I didn’t even know she had a daughter.”

  “Well, she did. Daughter’s name was Florrie, who gave birth to a boy. Evidently he was adopted, but no one knows where he is today.”

  “And you’re thinking he might be in Spruce Harbor?”

  “I’m considering the possibility.”

  “Even if he were, why would you suspect he had anything to do with dealing heroin?”

  “I’m not saying he does. I’m looking at all angles, all leads. Someone with money is behind this ring
. The Gars are the only ones in town with money to burn. Luther’s the one who spilled the beans about Ethel’s daughter. Know anyone else who might have more information?”

  “Myrtle Peasley,” Brenna said without hesitation. “She knows everything about everyone in this town.” She laughed. “I bet she knows more about most people’s lives than they know themselves.”

  “Then she’ll be first on the list to visit tomorrow. What about John and Grace Gar? Know why they returned to Spruce Harbor?”

  “Not really. We don’t travel in the same circles. I don’t think John is ever home. He owns an Oriental rug business, and the word is he’s always overseas buying new inventory. Grace keeps to herself. They’ve got two kids who go to private school, so they’re never home. I’m not sure they even come to Spruce Harbor on their school vacations. Least I’ve never seen them.”

  Brenna tapped her fingers on her thigh. “I can’t see the Gars involved in this. They certainly don’t need the money. Why risk going to prison?”

  “I told you I’m looking at anyone I deem suspicious. Who belongs to the hen gossip group your mother called a bridge club?”

  “Every woman over sixty.”

  “Ethel and Myrtle?”

  “Oh yeah. They’re the club president and vice-president.”

  Ace chewed on what he knew about Ethel Pinkham. Something didn’t jive. Her weird talk about evil running its course given him a chill. And just what was she holding over the Gars? Did she know the identity of John’s half-brother a secret? Or something more sinister?

  “Ace?”

  Brenna’s voice cut through his musings. “Did you mean what you said about talking to the Department of Human Services about Julienne?”

  The quiver in her voice reminded him how much the child meant to her. He imagined even more so now with her most recent loss. “I’ll call first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you. I can love your daughter, you know,” she added. He flinched at the sincerity in her voice. “It’s just that Julienne needs someone who cares. Can you find it in your heart to be a part of her life?”