Within a half hour, the kids had found an empty can and made a label for it. Donations for Maddie Farabee.
They set the can on a table in the tack room where everyone who came and went could see it. And they emptied their pockets, starting the collection with almost twenty-five dollars.
Zoe scrawled out a notice on the dry-erase board, which usually bore notes about horses needing special care or a change of feed. Today, it carried a plea for donations to be left on the back porch.
The group finally mounted and rode off, chattering about setting up a benefit trail ride. Zoe smiled after them. She loved horse kids.
She returned to the house in time to see a red Ford crew cab pickup with tool boxes attached to the rim of the bed climbing the farm lane. Holt and Maddie Farabee.
Zoe strolled up the path to meet them. Holt parked next to Zoe’s Chevy and stepped out of his truck, attired in faded, ill-fitting jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a black ball cap with a blue UK emblem. Maddie clambered over the center console, and her dad helped her down.
“Welcome.” Zoe spread her arms to indicate the house and surrounding property. “I’m glad you agreed to come.”
A matched set of dark circles framed Holt’s eyes, but he managed a weak smile. “Thanks for the offer.” He reached into the rear seat and came up with a plastic grocery bag. “Our luggage. I managed to scrape up enough cash for a stop at the Goodwill store and a change of clothes for each of us.”
Maddie wore a summery yellow floral tank top and pink leggings, but her young face looked haunted enough for Halloween. Zoe bent down in front of her. “I’m working on getting you some games and things to play with. But for now I’m afraid all I can offer you is a barn full of horses.”
The girl slipped her tiny hand into her father’s large but gentle-looking one. “I’ll be okay. I don’t need anything.”
Zoe stood up and shot a helpless look at Holt. A brave, stoic ten-year-old with her grieving father. A farmhouse with a broken water heater, even boasting a barn and horses, seemed woefully inadequate. “Come on. I’ll take you inside and introduce you to my landlady.”
Mrs. Kroll opened her door before Zoe had a chance to knock.
After introductions, Mrs. Kroll ushered everyone into the dining room. “I’m so glad you’re going to help us out, Mr. Farabee. I’ve been at a loss since my husband was hurt. Zoe’s been wonderful, of course, but—”
“But I’m useless at anything more involved than hammering a nail or drilling a hole,” Zoe said.
“You’re the one helping me out.” Holt gazed around the room and up at the thirteen-foot ceilings. “This is a beautiful old house. They don’t make them like this anymore. I’ll bet it’s post and beam construction.”
Mrs. Kroll shot a questioning look at Zoe, who could only shrug.
“I’ll have to take your word for that, young man,” Mrs. Kroll said. “Let me show you to your room and then Zoe can show you where the water heater is. That’s the only priority right now. For yours and little Miss Maddie’s sake as well as ours. Everything else can wait until you have a chance to…well…to get your feet under you.”
“To be honest, ma’am, the work will be a welcome distraction. But I do have to make arrangements.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Kroll led the way into the center hall and up the grand staircase.
Zoe tagged along behind. She’d lived here for years, but had only climbed these steps a handful of times. Unlike the dark, steep, narrow enclosed back staircase on her side of the house, these were wide and open with a landing two-thirds of the way up.
The second floor was split in half same as the first. The two rooms behind closed doors on the right side were Zoe’s bedroom and bath. On the left, the first door stood wide open.
Mrs. Kroll stopped outside it. “This will be your room, Mr. Farabee.”
“Please. Call me Holt.” With Maddie still clinging to his hand, he paused in the doorway and looked around. “It’s—” His voice wavered. “It’s nice. Really nice.”
Mrs. Kroll motioned as if to shoo him in. “Go on.”
“Where will I sleep?” Maddie asked.
Mrs. Kroll crooked a finger at the little girl, beckoning her to the other side of the bed and pointing to a box on the floor. In response to Maddie’s perplexed scowl, Mrs. Kroll said, “It’s an air mattress.” She looked at Zoe. “Maddie and I can set this up. Why don’t you and Mr. Farabee—”
“Holt,” he corrected.
Mrs. Kroll nodded. “Why don’t you take Holt downstairs and show him the water heater? Maddie can decide where she wants her bed and help me with the sheets and such.” She turned toward the little girl. “Then I have cookies in the kitchen. Do you like cookies?”
Maddie seemed to give the question serious consideration. “What kind are they?”
“Chocolate chip.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, her face softened. Not quite a smile, but close. “I like chocolate chip.”
Zoe relaxed. This might work out after all.
Leaving Mrs. Kroll and Maddie with the air mattress project, Zoe led Holt down the staircase and the basement steps.
“This is a great old house,” he said, touching the fieldstone foundation walls. “It’s amazing what men could do before the advent of bulldozers and power tools.”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but I guess you’re right.”
“When was this built?”
“Around 1850, from what I’ve been told.”
He nodded in approval.
Zoe stopped at the doorway to the room she’d been frequenting as of late. “The water heater’s in there.”
Holt ducked the low-clearance header and surveyed the electrical panel, the oil tanks for the furnace, and the hot water heater. “Looks like the electrical service has been updated at least. Lots of these old houses still have fuse boxes. But this—” He placed a hand on the water tank and whistled. “This is truly an antique.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Fix? Well, yeah. I could replace the heating element. Clean out the tank. But this thing is on borrowed time. A patch job might last a year, or it might last a week before something else goes bad.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You need a new one.”
“But that’s a lot more work, isn’t it?” Not to mention money. “Mrs. Kroll and I know you have a lot to deal with for the next few days.”
Holt breathed a loud sigh. “Like burying my wife, you mean.”
Zoe leaned against the dusty door frame, but didn’t answer. What could she possibly say? The man looked like a raw nerve, held together with muscle and sinew, but ready to implode at any moment.
He kept his gaze on the broken heater. “I almost turned you down when you offered Maddie and me a place to stay.”
“Why? Anything would have to be better than the Sleep EZ. Even a dilapidated old farmhouse.”
He huffed a laugh, but didn’t smile. “True. But to come back to Vance Township, so close to our home. Our life. Mine and Lillian’s.” He gazed toward the small window, but Zoe suspected he was seeing something other than dust motes. “She was beautiful. And smart. The best mom a kid could have. Lill had a beautiful voice. She sang Maddie to sleep every night of her life. Until…”
Until two days ago.
“That house was supposed to be our dream home. The place we grew old together. Maybe have another child.” His voice grew frayed. “After the explosion I never wanted to come near this area again.”
Another thing Zoe hadn’t thought about. “I’m sorry.”
Holt lifted a hand to stop her. “No. Don’t apologize. You’re right. That dump of a motel was no place for Maddie.” He lifted his gaze, as if he could see through the beams above his head to his daughter. “And your landlady and chocolate
chip cookies? Sure beats being alone with junk from a vending machine. Especially right now.”
“Mrs. Kroll doesn’t have any grandkids, so I think she has a lot of grandma skills she’s just dying to use.”
This time, Holt’s short laugh was accompanied by a hint of a smile. He moved around the water tank and fingered the pipes and the shut-off valve. “Our family, what’s left of it, is all in Kentucky. Lill’s folks died when she was young, and I don’t have much contact with mine. So Maddie’s never had grandparents around.” He tapped the pipe. “I’ll eventually replace all of this, too. Bring it up to code.”
Zoe started doing the math. Her live-in handyman idea might cost more money than she’d counted on. “I hate to tell you to cut corners, but Mrs. Kroll is having a tough time of it financially.”
A strange look crossed his face. Zoe wondered if he’d cut his finger on a sharp edge. But he didn’t draw back. Instead, he gazed into the distance, his jaw clenched.
“I just mean don’t feel you have to do the entire job at one time.”
Holt gave his head a quick shake. “Don’t worry about it. Some of the local stores give me discounts on materials. I’ll bring the job in under budget.” He grinned at her, whatever had darkened his mood forgotten. Or at least buried. “I can run back into Brunswick this afternoon and pick up what I need. Would it be okay to leave Maddie here with you and Mrs. Kroll?”
“Uh. Sure. I guess.” Zoe wasn’t comfortable volunteering her landlady without asking first. “Mrs. Kroll will be leaving to visit her husband at rehab in a little while. And I’m on duty at the ambulance garage starting at four this afternoon. But I’ll be here until then.”
Holt continued to study the pipes. “That’ll be fine. I’ll be back before you leave.” He brushed his hands together, knocking off the dirt, and turned to face her. “I’d take Maddie with me except I also need to stop at the Marshall Funeral Home and sign some papers. I’d rather not drag her along for that.”
“Marshall.” As in Franklin Marshall, the county coroner. “He’ll take good care of you.” Zoe winced at her word choice. “I’m sorry. I just mean…” What did she mean? “I know the mortician. He’s a good man.”
Holt’s mood had darkened again. “I’m sure. But I’m not giving him much work to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m having Lill cremated, and I’m not having a viewing or whatever you call it. I figure it’ll be easier for Maddie to just move on.”
“Not necessarily. Trying to shelter her from the reality of losing her mother won’t make it easier. On either of you.”
He studied her for several long moments. “You sound like you have personal experience in the matter.”
“Yeah, I do.” She wanted to tell him about losing her dad when she was only eight, but she had a hard enough time sharing that pain with her oldest and dearest friends. “Suffice it to say you can’t protect her by avoiding the grieving process.”
Holt’s jaw tightened. “She’s grieving right now. I don’t see the point in prolonging it with a public display.” He patted the old water tank one more time. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time I head to the hardware store.”
He brushed past Zoe. As she watched him disappear up the basement stairs, a nagging sense of unease tiptoed across the back of her mind.
The state fire investigator and the township fire chief continued to discuss percentages and weights of propane versus natural gas. Since their discussion was hypothetical, Pete tuned them out and strolled back to his Explorer.
Wayne Baronick caught up to him. “Something’s on your mind. Care to share?”
“No.”
The county detective caught Pete’s arm and stepped in front, blocking his path. “If it’s about this case, I’m afraid I have to insist.”
Pete glared at him. “Are you taking over my case again, Wayne? It’s been a while.”
Baronick crossed his arms and fixed Pete with an annoyed stare. “I’m not taking over the case. But this isn’t an accidental explosion anymore. It’s a homicide investigation. You don’t have the manpower or lab facilities to properly handle the case solo.”
Pete released a growling breath. He knew that. It was the one big downfall of running a small department. And the one time he missed working on the Pittsburgh Bureau of Police. There was no use getting possessive or territorial with a case.
But he had no intention of sharing his concerns about Zoe with Baronick. There was, however, another person of interest. Pete nodded at the house with the stout fence. “Remember I told you Stephen Tierney worked for MNB?”
“Yeah?”
“He also claimed he didn’t know the Farabees had moved back in.”
“From the way you say ‘claimed,’ I assume you’ve found out otherwise.”
Pete recounted his talk with the collections agent at the bank.
Baronick whistled. “Why did Tierney lie?”
“Good question.”
Baronick checked his watch. “I’m going back to Brunswick. I’ll stop at the Sleep EZ and talk to Holt Farabee—try to get some information on their marriage and their families. You take Tierney. Personally, I like the husband for this, but I’d sure be interested in what the neighbor’s game is.”
Pete thought about Tierney’s odd reaction to hearing Lillian might have been in the house. “He may not be home yet, but I’ll stop over there now and check. Either way, I’ll dig into his background.” Like why someone who clearly despised the country would move to rural Vance Township.
“Sounds like a plan. How about we meet at your station later this afternoon to compare notes. Say around six?”
Pete moved past the detective, heading for Fort Tierney. “Make it five,” he said over his shoulder.
Ten
Pete had been right about Tierney not being home and wondered how long this business trip would last. Or was he even on a business trip? He’d already lied about one thing. Pete jotted a note to himself to call Mary Lawson at the bank.
In the meantime, he took a stroll through Scenic Hilltop Estates, knocking on the doors of the other four houses. There was no answer at one. He learned damned little at the remaining three.
Stephen Tierney kept to himself. He didn’t even wave to his neighbors, much less engage them in conversation. If he had a dog, he never walked it. If he had a cat or a parakeet or a fish, he never asked anyone to feed it while he was away. He never accepted invitations to parties or picnics. And no one had ever been invited to his home.
Pete asked about any possible connection between Tierney and the Farabees, Lillian in particular, and received the same non-information. No one knew anything.
Stephen Tierney was a ghost who lived in a fort.
With a farewell shout to Bruce Yancy and the state fire marshal, Pete climbed into his SUV and headed back to Dillard.
“Messages?” he asked Nancy as he breezed past the front office.
“My dad called,” she said after him. “He wants you to know Ryan still hasn’t touched those hedges. The rest are on your desk.”
Pete swore under his breath. He might just have to grab a pair of loppers and do the job himself.
With a cup of coffee in front of him, he thumbed through the handful of pink notes. The standard minor complaints. And one from Chuck Delano.
Nancy had scrawled, “He said to tell you he was going snorkeling. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
Pete laughed to himself. He crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash. Then he picked up the phone and punched in the number for Mary Lawson at MNB. Lawson’s sultry voice carried a note of impatience after Pete had identified himself. Yes, she knew Stephen Tierney. No, she didn’t know anything about him. They ran in different social circles. No, she didn’t know about his travel itinerary
. However, she happily transferred Pete to Tierney’s office.
At the same time Tierney’s phone was ringing in Pete’s ear, the station’s other line also rang. Pete let Nancy get it.
Instead of a secretary or another—what was he?—Investment Group Manager picking up, Pete’s call went to Tierney’s voicemail, which stated he would be back in the office Monday morning. That was more information than he’d gotten from anyone else.
Nancy appeared in his doorway as he hung up the phone. “Detective Baronick is on line two.”
“What’s wrong with the intercom?” Pete asked.
“It’s broken.” She turned on her heel and clomped away.
Pete sighed. He punched the button for the other line and picked up. “You’re fast. What have you got?”
“Nothing.”
Apparently Baronick was having as much luck as he was. “No one home?” Pete couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to spend all day lounging around a room at that dump.
“He’s checked out.”
Pete sat up. “What do you mean? He claimed he didn’t have anyplace else to go.”
“He does now. The kid at the front desk didn’t know squat, but I managed to persuade him to fork over the phone number Farabee had given him.”
“Give it to me. I’ll call him.”
“You don’t have to. I already did.”
“And?”
“He answered.”
Pete pressed his fingers into the center of his forehead. “Damn it, Wayne, quit playing games.”
Baronick chuckled. “You’re gonna love this. He’s moved in with your girlfriend.”
Zoe stood in the feed room doorway watching as Maddie brushed George, the schooling pony.
Annette Dashofy - Zoe Chambers 03 - Bridges Burned Page 9
