October's Fire (Fairy Glen Suspense Book 1)

by Valerie Power

  Brian Jr. greeted them at the door. His smile beamed sunshine, in contrast to his father, whose memory made Deirdre shudder, as if a dark cloud had passed overhead. With his sandy hair, hazel eyes, slightly cocky attitude, and dash of freckles across his nose, she could see why Emily had a crush on him. Dating policy aside, she might’ve just averted Justin’s first broken heart.

  Brian was in surfer shorts, hair all wet. “Come on, let’s swim before lunch!” he said to Justin.

  “Hang on Justin.” She grabbed his shoulder. “Brian, is your dad here?”

  He looked at her, cocked his head. “No, why?”

  Relief washed over her. “Just wondering. Go ahead.” They both ran through the house and out the back door.

  “No running!” a voice called from the kitchen, and Teresa appeared, radiant in a silver velour tracksuit, her long black hair in a complicated up-do, and a satisfied smile across her subtly made-up face. Nothing could be sinister with this woman around. “Thank you so much for coming,” Teresa said, guiding her into the great room beyond the foyer.

  Stephanie lay on one of the antique tufted leather sofas, bathed in light from the French doors along the back of the house. The floor was Saltillo tile, with some very expensive-looking rugs making it more welcoming. At one end of the room, a massive stone fireplace was flanked by double doors. The high ceiling was striped with dark beams contrasting against cool white plaster. She had to admit, in the reassuring light of day, it was beautiful.

  “Sit down!” Teresa said, gesturing to the couch opposite Stephanie.

  “Mom’s been cooking all morning,” Stephanie said. “In fact, she started last night. Soaking beans takes time, and she does everything from scratch.”

  Deirdre sniffed, the spicy scents setting her mouth watering. “It smells heavenly.” Her stomach growled.

  “It’ll be another few minutes,” Teresa said, bustling back into the kitchen through the dining room, which had a huge wooden table that looked like it belonged in a monastery, with a rustic iron chandelier hanging over it.

  Deirdre looked Stephanie in the eyes. “I’m so sorry about Biscuit,” she said.

  Stephanie’s eyes twitched, and she shook her head like she was trying to dislodge something. “Thank you.”

  “Look Steph, when we picked up the trailer yesterday—”

  “Hold that thought,” Stephanie said, as Teresa brought out a succession of dishes and lined them up on the table. Stephanie used a walker to hobble over to her. “Well Mom, are we going to do this?” They exchanged glances, then looked at Deirdre. Steph’s face was deadly serious, and Deirdre was suddenly confused. “You were keeping a big secret from me,” Stephanie said, her eyes glinting.

  Deirdre’s mind flashed to Brian Bartley and his mistress. Her face flushed. “Oh? I’m…I’m sorry…I didn’t think it was my place…”

  “You didn’t think it was your place?” Stephanie threw her head back and laughed. “All this time you’ve been visiting me and doing me favors, and you didn’t think it was your place to tell me that you saved my life?” Stephanie exclaimed, her face full of admiration.

  Deirdre put her heart back in her chest. “Oh, that!”

  Teresa said, “This lunch is in your honor.” She came around the table and hugged Deirdre.

  “Oh my gosh, I don’t—I just did what anyone else would’ve done.” Deirdre stammered.

  “That’s what all the heroes say,” Teresa said. “Brian Jr. told me the other day, otherwise we never would’ve known!” She slapped Deirdre’s shoulder. “Too humble! Sit!” She pulled out a chair for Deirdre.

  “Oh, jeez. You guys scared me!”

  Teresa and Stephanie shared a conspiratorial laugh. Teresa went to an intercom on the wall, punched a button, and released a rapid stream of Spanish. The line cracked with a reply. Then she yelled out the door for the boys to come in. Luis tapped on the French door a few minutes later. His eyes looked puffy, as though he’d run across a patch of poison oak.

  Deirdre decided her revelation should wait until she and Stephanie were alone. They all sat down and dug in to the best chicken mole Deirdre had ever tasted. “This is so delicious Teresa!”

  Stephanie said, “Brian’s gonna be spoiled after a week of grandma’s home cooking.”

  Brian said, “Mmhmm. I had so much fun staying with you at the ranch, Grandma.” She reached out and touched his hair, and they smiled at each other. Then, he stopped chewing. “But wait—it’s not over yet, right? Isn’t she staying with us for another week?” he asked Stephanie.

  “Yep, maybe even longer, until I’m on my feet,” Steph answered. He smiled and went back to chewing.

  “Where is your ranch Teresa?” Deirdre asked.

  “North, up on the other side of 15. It was part of the rancho, Rincon del Diablo, back when California was run by Mexico. After the U.S. took it, my husband’s grandfather scraped together and bought it. Then the next generation bought more. It took generations to build up, and less than one generation to sell off. My husband was the only one of his cousins that didn’t sell out.

  “All of their land is houses now.” She looked down, pushing the rice around her plate. “Sure, times change, people need places to live. I get that. But, you can’t ever get land back.”

  That’s for sure, Deirdre thought. “Well, hang on to what you’ve got,” she said. This topic seemed to have saddened Teresa, so she shifted her focus, studying Luis across the table, but he also seemed sad. “Luis, you were a jockey? That must’ve been exciting.”

  He looked up, blushing.

  Stephanie said, “That’s how we met. Luis was a jockey at Del Rio when I bought Swift Justice. She had started losing races. Her owner, a guy from Texas, was looking to offload her so he wouldn’t have to pay to ship her home. I was down at the track with my husband, who was considering investing in a racehorse.” She rolled her eyes. Teresa made a derogatory sound. “I said I’d take her home right then and there, and give him $200 on top of that. He didn’t even blink, just grabbed my hand and shook it. You know how expensive horses are Deirdre, so once they stop winning they’re just a money pit—a liability. He was happy to get rid of her. Anyway, he’s the one that gave her the nickname. Said that her yellowish bay coloring made her look like ‘a biscuit that got burnt around the edges,’” Stephanie said in a Texas drawl. “I guess we both felt like we’d gotten an awesome deal. I got a two-for-one, because it turned out Luis needed to retire too. He asked me for a job and I hired him.”

  Wow. That meant that Luis had known Biscuit even longer than Stephanie had. No wonder his eyes were puffy, he’d probably been crying. Stephanie on the other hand, was remarkably cheerful. Maybe reliving good memories was how she was coping.

  “Sometimes Mom takes Luis to church on Sundays. She wants to find him a wife.” Stephanie giggled.

  Teresa shrugged and turned her palms upwards. “Hey, what? He needs one. Do you know anyone Deirdre?” All three burst out laughing harder, while Luis blushed deeper, but then started to laugh too. He was pretty cute. He’d been a jockey so he was short, but built. Farm work will do that to you. Normally Deirdre would’ve cast around in her mind for any suitable mates for him, but she was too distracted by her near miss. Thank god she hadn’t blurted out something about Brian’s affair.

  Teresa bustled into the kitchen and brought out dessert and coffee.

  “Ooooh, Cafe de Olla, my favorite Mom. But I don’t think my stomach can handle it. These pain meds.” She’d hardly eaten any lunch, just little bites. “Try it Deirdre.”

  The earthy sweet spiced coffee was unlike anything she’d tasted. She was so full she could only eat a few bites of flan. The boys finished theirs in record time and took off to another room to play video games. Luis finished his dessert and excused himself. Teresa patted him on the back and they exchanged some pleasantries in Spanish as he went out the door.

  “Last thing he wants to do is sit around talking with some old biddies,” Teresa said as she s
at back down.

  “Mom! I’m not old!” Steph said. “And neither is Deirdre,” she added after a second’s hesitation.

  “You may not be old, my daughter, but you act old. Like an old lady.”

  “What does that mean!” Stephanie darted an embarrassed glance at Deirdre.

  Teresa settled back in her chair, and instead of addressing her daughter, talked straight across the table at Deirdre with a hand next to her mouth, as if Stephanie couldn’t hear. “You know who really should marry Luis?” She pointed sideways at Stephanie.

  “Mom! That’s out of line."

  Teresa turned to Stephanie. “Oh yeah? Where is your husband then? Why isn’t he taking care of you?”

  “You know he has business.”

  Teresa rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Business.”

  “Uh, so, Mr. Bartley’s still not back from his trip?” Deirdre said feebly, hoping to avert a mother-daughter catfight.

  Teresa ignored her. “You need a real man Stephanie. Who cares if he’s rich or not?”

  “You know that’s not why I stay,” Stephanie sighed wearily.

  Deirdre sat there, not quite sure what to do except change the subject. “So, Teresa, where’d you learn to cook like this?”

  Teresa took a second to answer, seemingly trying to get her emotions under control. “From my mother. I was born in Mexico, down in Oaxaca. Came here about six. My mom always cooked from scratch. I cooked for my kids, from scratch. Real, good, Mexican food. And for my husband, because he worked so hard. He used to say he didn’t know if keeping that land was a blessing or a curse. We never had free time, or chances to get away. It’s hard work. But, we did it all for our kids.”

  “Oh, ma,” Stephanie had tears in her eyes.

  Teresa seemed to repent. She got up and went to Stephanie and kissed her on the forehead several times. “My poor little girl. You are so mature. Much more than your old mama. I’m sorry mija.”

  “It’s ok.” They hugged, and Teresa went into the kitchen.

  Stephanie smiled, but looked on the brink of crying. “I’m sorry. This was supposed to be a thank you lunch, not a family drama.”

  Deirdre put her hand on Stephanie’s. “Hey, nobody’s family’s perfect, right?” She shook Steph’s hand a little and then let go. “I really do need to tell you what happened yesterday though. I was so scared when I went to the hospital and you weren’t there. I thought something had happened to you.”

  Stephanie looked quizzical, then grabbed her walker and got to her feet. “Let’s go to the study,” she said, making her shuffling way across the living room to the double doors. Deirdre opened the heavy wooden doors wide, revealing a large den lined with bookshelves. A huge desk dominated the room. Two red leather wingback chairs sat off to the side.

  Stale cigar smoke climbed Deirdre’s nostrils, tickling the back of her throat. She tensed up.

  Stephanie’s nose wrinkled. “Pew!”

  “Your husband likes cigars?”

  “No, never. He doesn’t smoke. Always says his body is his temple.” This had a sarcastic tone. “I don’t know—maybe he had a meeting here? He still uses this office. Could you open some windows?”

  Deirdre opened the two windows behind the desk. She was glad Stephanie couldn’t see her face. “I thought he was supposed to be out of town.”

  Stephanie said, “Oh, yeah,” then shook her head, and made her way to the desk and sat gingerly in the chair. Deirdre paced nervously, then took a seat in one of the wingbacks. On the wall behind Stephanie was a large framed photo of both Brians, taken when the younger was about eight, both of them smiling, blond, and toothy, confident in that born-to-the-manor way. Brian Sr.’s hand rested on his son’s shoulder, claiming him as heir.

  Stephanie rustled through papers while the desktop computer started up. “I’m trying to find my insurance paperwork, I can’t seem to—”

  Deirdre couldn’t wait any longer. “There was something in the water,” she blurted out.

  Steph looked up.

  “In the water jump. There was a metal stake, and a piece of rope, and it felt all dug up underneath. It was on the approach side of the jump, where—where it all went wrong.”

  Stephanie’s face drained. She gripped the edge of the desk to steady herself in the chair. Deirdre leaped out of her own chair, worried that she’d pass out and fall, but Stephanie transformed again, her body turning from gelatin to steel.

  “So, I was right. She did trip on something.” There was no emotion in Stephanie’s voice, but tears formed in her eyes.

  Deirdre felt like a heel. She sat back down. “I’m sorry, I just thought you should know. Now with Biscuit dying, and the wheel loose on your car—that’s why I freaked out when your hospital room was empty yesterday.”

  “Wait…” There was a long silence. Stephanie’s face underwent a series of expressions before she said, “What are you suggesting?”

  “Is there anyone that might want to hurt you?” Stephanie’s eyes grew wide. “A competitor, or an enemy of some sort?” A mistress? “The metal stake was a construction stake.” Were there more people that Brian Bartley had pissed off, that might go to these lengths to get back at him? Or had Stephanie herself rubbed someone the wrong way in her role as VP? “You said the business was having financial problems. That you’d been looking into it.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, at the hospital.” Was she playing dumb or had she forgotten?

  “Wow.” She pushed away from the desk. “Look, I don’t know what I said at the hospital.” She hid it well, but there was a flitter of annoyance in her voice. She went on, more softly, “Sure, the housing market is tough right now, but I don’t see how this has anything to do with—” Her face pinched again.

  Deirdre felt like a total jerk now.

  She was afraid—no, she knew—she’d gone too far, stuck her foot way down her throat. After all, she had no real proof of any of this, not to mention her suspicion of Bartley which she hadn’t even brought up.

  Stephanie got up, took her walker and scooted to the door. Then, seeming to have a change of heart, turned back, “Thanks for being concerned though.”

  Deirdre said, “Well, you know what they say. When you save someone’s life you’re responsible for it.” It was meant to be a joke, even if a lame one, but an alarmed look crossed Stephanie’s face, then just as quickly it became unreadable.

  When she and Justin left a little while later, Stephanie was friendly and gave her a hug, but there was something remote about her.

  A doorway had closed.

  Back home, after dinner, Deirdre’s lack of sleep was catching up to her, and felt like a narcotic. But she needed to ride, to distract herself from her suspicions about Biscuit’s accident. What could she really do about it anyway?

  But, if she could get back to the mortero field and take the road leading uphill from it, maybe she could get a sense of where the road to Paraiso would be built. And that, maybe she could do something about.

  She took the streets instead of the streambed, heading for the trail entrance near Sally’s house at the dead-end of Fairy Lane, just past Alonso’s, the high-end landscaping nursery. Scarlet tried to spook at the greenhouses covered in plastic sheeting flapping in the breeze. But Deirdre knew she was faking it. She’d ridden spooky horses before, horses that you could feel trembling underneath you, that lost all powers of reasoning—which horses didn’t have that much of to begin with. Horses who’d lost trust in their riders, or were just genetically predisposed to have a fearful disposition. Scarlet wasn’t like any of those horses. Deirdre sensed that the mare was testing her. Not in the mood for nonsense, she kept steady leg on her and forward momentum.

  It was coming up on a quarter to six, and she only had an hour and a half of twilight. The sun still hadn’t set, technically, but in hill-covered Fairy Glen it was already below the horizon.

  At the slight downhill past Sally’s, from her high point on the trail, she could see over th
e chaparral that covered the hillside. Two horses were in the meadow, so she waited so they wouldn’t have to squeeze by in the narrower trail through the brush.

  The first of the two horses reappeared from the bushy tunnel. It was Sally on Darkling. The second horse followed close behind. She thought it was one of Sally’s boarders, or maybe Emily, until they got closer. It was Sally’s older horse Giselle, a chestnut Tennessee Walker, with a man riding.

  Sally didn’t look like her normal self. “Fine evening, isn’t it?” she said, a dreamy look in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and a vague, unfocused smile spread over her face.

  “Yes, beautiful,” Deirdre said, trying to sound sincere, still haunted by her dreams and the uncomfortable feeling at Stephanie’s house.

  As the man and horse approached, she realized this was the sheriff Sally had skipped yoga for. Good trade-off, she thought.

  “Deirdre, this is Tom.” He smiled a greeting from under his cowboy hat.

  Tom. He was the very same detective she’d seen on TV. “Hi Tom. Have a nice ride?”

  “Definitely. I haven’t been on a horse in a good decade, but Sally’s a great trail guide.” He grinned at Sally, who blushed with an elfish smirk.

  “Tom and I went up the creek to the old vacation park,” Sally turned to him. “You’d never know that you hadn’t been on a horse in so long. You’re a natural.”

  “I guess it’s like riding a bike.”

  “A couple of deer jumped out—” Sally started, at the same time Deirdre said, “Whatever happened with the car at the quarry Tom?”

  He pulled his gaze away from Sally and said, “Well, the investigation is still underway. But on the QT, looks like it might’ve been a drug deal gone bad. They found blunt force trauma to the back of the head, not consistent with injuries from the car going off the cliff.”

  Sally started to look miffed. Scarlet shuffled her feet.

  “Deputy Harvey said they couldn’t locate any next of kin.” Deirdre pressed. Darkling arched his neck half-heartedly for Scarlet, but he was too tired to put on much of a show. Giselle stood very still, conserving her energy.