RIPE FOR VENGEANCE

by Wendy Tyson

  “Don’t you think if the police thought he was guilty, they would have kept him locked up?”

  “I don’t know what is bloody wrong with King, but I would have thought they’d have arrested someone by now.”

  “Have you talked to Chase’s family, Denver?”

  Denver was silent.

  “Denver?”

  “Yes. I spoke to his mother and his sister after Barbara called them. They were bereft. His ex-wife, Diana, too.”

  “Your friends say you haven’t been by at all.”

  “I’ve been busy.” Another glance at Megan. “He was my friend. I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it, but I did nothing to stop it.”

  “Pull over.”

  “No—”

  “Please, pull over.”

  Denver drove until he reached Merry’s nursery. He pulled into a spot at the back of the lot and killed the engine. “What?”

  “You’re getting everything jumbled in your head. Emotions like grief and fear are scary, Denver. They make us feel out of control. None of this is your fault, and Bobby King is an excellent detective and chief. If he felt Eloise was in danger, he wouldn’t have allowed Dillon to go back to her house.”

  Denver stared straight ahead.

  “Are you listening?”

  “Yes, of course. Eloise and my sister are all I have, Megan. Aside from you, they are my family. Chase was one of my oldest friends. What am I to do with all of this? I can’t protect Chase, but I can protect Eloise. Can you trust me on that?”

  “Of course, Denver, but Eloise feels like she needs to protect that boy in her care. Maybe you need to trust her on that.”

  Denver put his head back against the headrest and sighed. “Life is so bloody complicated.” He glanced into the rearview mirror and what he saw made his eyes widen. “Bloody hell.”

  Megan turned around in time to see Merry Chance running across the lot toward Denver’s SUV.

  “Merry,” Denver said much too enthusiastically when Merry approached Megan’s window. “What has you running across the lot like a gazelle in heat?”

  Merry didn’t laugh at the comparison. “I heard the boy has been released to your aunt’s care. Is that true, Denver?”

  “Now is that what the rumor mill is saying?” Denver squinted at Merry and bit down on his lip. “What happens with the boy is not my business.”

  “It’s your aunt’s safety I’m thinking about,” Merry said. Megan could tell by the confused expression on her face that she wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended. “He could be dangerous.”

  “Aye, so I have heard.” Denver smiled at Megan. “My aunt is a grown-up. If she is keeping up with her responsibilities as a foster mum, I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”

  “I sure hope so.” Merry looked around the lot. A new car had pulled in—a BMW—and Merry eyed it eagerly. “Well, I had best get back to business.”

  “You’d best,” Denver said. “Before that customer leaves.”

  He and Megan watched her return to the store.

  “You’re awful,” Megan said.

  “She’s awful.” Denver leaned over and kissed her. “But ta, Megs. For talking sense to me.”

  Megan returned the kiss. “Anytime.”

  “If I can’t protect my aunt, what can I do?”

  “Help her with Dillon. He could use a reliable male in his life right now. Be open-minded about what happened with Chase. Maybe figure out what’s going on with your friends at BOLD.”

  Denver arched his eyebrows in surprise. “BOLD? What do ye mean, Megs.”

  “The argument between Jatin and Chase. The argument between Xavier and Jatin. Martine’s concerns about Jatin. There seems to be one consistent thread here.”

  Denver’s frown deepened. “Jatin.”

  Megan nodded. “And now the head honcho is in town, which only makes things more interesting.”

  Fourteen

  The visit from King that Megan had been half-expecting came later that day. She had stopped by the café to check on things there before keeping her promise to Bibi and heading over to her Aunt Sarah’s home. She’d found the café busy but under control and decided to stock shelves in the store. The canned foods were running low as was the pasta and rice. Normally she saved stocking for after-hours, but with the café so busy and the farm in full swing, it was a job that had been ignored. And it offered some blessed relief from all the worry.

  Megan was placing organic black beans on a shelf next to pinto and kidney beans when she heard someone behind her. She’d been thinking about Chase and was jumpier than usual. She spun around to come face to chest with Bobby King.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.” King grabbed two cans from the package at Megan’s feet and placed them on the shelf. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure. I’m almost done here.”

  She and King worked together for a minute to finish emptying the case of black beans. When the last can was stocked and the cardboard had been placed in recycling, Megan turned to the police chief who, she noticed, was conspicuously dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt.

  “Taking the day off?” she asked.

  “Can we talk outside?”

  “You don’t want to just use my office?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  Megan glanced back toward the café. She didn’t recognize half the people. It was a weekday, so it was unlikely to be tourists. Press, she figured—at least some of them. King’s reason for avoiding the office. They’d have to walk through the café.

  Outside, the day was hot and muggy. Megan’s linen top clung to her within minutes, and the air felt soupy and smelled faintly of ozone and car fumes. Clouds had gathered overhead, and the angry state of the sky harkened rain. Good for crops, not so good for business.

  “Where’d you want to go.”

  “Let’s walk down by the canal.”

  Megan tried to match the Chief’s long strides. Within a few minutes, they reached the paved canal path. The recreation trail had been one of the positive outcomes of the Historical Society’s attempts to revitalize the town’s center. The canal trail. Historically accurate lampposts. Wooden benches. New cobblestones. Sign restrictions. Winsome’s small town center was attractive—even if the price tag had been daunting. Today she followed King west on the trail, toward the more wooded section of town. She struggled to keep up.

  When they were out of site of the main street, King slowed down.

  “How are things going with the investigation?” Megan asked.

  “The State Police are taking over,” King said. “Even the damn Bureau of State Parks is involved.”

  “The murder happened on state park land. I guess that makes sense.”

  King kicked at a stone on the pathway. “I figured we’d have some jurisdiction issues, but with all this press, the state guys are being pretty possessive.” He looked up toward the hills in the distance. “The park is still closed while they comb for evidence.”

  “All probably normal procedure, Bobby.” Megan knew King was well aware of procedure, but he looked so down, she wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Then what’s bothering you?”

  “The boy, I guess. These state folks, they’re all about closing this case—and fast. We’re working together still, but at some point, they may push us out altogether. I need to be fast and decisive.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

  King smiled. “Thanks, Megan, but reassurance isn’t what I’m after.”

  “Then what are you after?”

  “Just the truth.”

  Megan laughed out loud. “Good luck with that.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Sweat had beaded along Megan’s forehead and the back of her neck. Spyin
g an empty bench under a maple tree, Megan pointed. “Let’s get out of the sun.”

  When they were both seated, King said, “What I can’t get straight in my head is the series of connections we have going here. Chase and some of the other BOLD crew are Denver’s long-time friends. He went to college with Chase, Xavier, and Jatin, right?”

  “They were fraternity brothers. Barbara was friends with them too.”

  “Not Martine?”

  “She came later.”

  “This group of people from the same company came here not because of a former close friend, but because of a school. And the connection to that school is the boss’s daughter, who was a student several years ago.”

  “That’s right. Dr. Harriet Mantra, Barbara’s boss. Her daughter was a student, and she wanted to give back.”

  “So she sets up this mentoring program with the aim of helping other Pioneer Village kids go to college.”

  “Right.”

  “And Eloise’s foster son just happens to be a student at the same school.”

  “Right again.”

  King watched a hawk circling overhead. “And you don’t think these are weird coincidences?”

  Megan considered the question. “If no one had gotten hurt, we wouldn’t have thought twice about any of this. According to Denver, Chase called him to let him know he was coming to town and why. It was only after Denver found out about Chase that Eloise told him Dillon would be on that camping trip too.” Megan paused. “What I didn’t understand is why Harriet’s daughter was in school in Pennsylvania rather than California and how Dillon, a ward of the Commonwealth, was able to attend as well.”

  “That’s an easy one to answer. The school is private. It’s a program for children with high IQs and emotional problems. Eloise knew about it because of her medical practice. Presumably this Harriet Mantra found out and chose to send her daughter there in lieu of some state-run school.”

  “Yes, that’s what I think.”

  King still looked concerned. “I asked Denver why his friends were here, and he seemed oddly anxious. Not like him.”

  Megan fanned herself with a paper from her purse. “When we had dinner the night before the camping trip started, Denver was pretty shaken up. Chase was obnoxious. Denver hadn’t seen him in a while. I think he was expecting him to be less…Chase-like. He felt like the trip was a bad idea, that Chase and the others didn’t seem very altruistic. That maybe the kids weren’t going to have a good experience. You know how much Denver likes the outdoors. He was worried they’d ruin it for the teens.” Megan shrugged. “I think he feels responsible. Not because he did something, but because of his connection with the parties. I suspect this would have happened with or without him, though. BOLD wanted its photo ops.”

  King was quiet for a moment. “That was why Martine was there,” King said. “To capture this on film.”

  Megan sat back against the bench, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Yeah, it was to be a big PR opportunity.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Megan glanced at King. “I assumed because they could. New pharma company does good in the world, blah, blah, blah. Earn some good will.”

  “BOLD isn’t a public company.”

  “Maybe they intend to take the company public at some point.”

  King didn’t respond right away. His gaze remained on the horizon. Megan could feel the tension coming off him in waves. “BOLD has been around for a few years. Hardly a newcomer.”

  “So?”

  “Something doesn’t fit, Megan. You and I have worked through enough of these puzzles to know there are no real coincidences. I’m trying to figure out who benefitted from Chase’s death. Who, besides Dillon Brown, would have wanted him dead?”

  Same question Megan had posed earlier. She nodded for him to go on.

  “The State guys are looking at the kid as suspect number one. His family’s legacy lives on. But that park was full of other people that day, including several of Chase’s coworkers. The murder instrument was Chase’s own knife. Any one of them had access to it.”

  “You looked at Jatin?”

  “Martine told me about the argument between him and Chase, if that’s what you mean.” King extended his arm, flexed his hand. “Jatin claims he was scolding Chase for getting drunk the night before the event. I have no reason to disbelieve him.”

  Megan told King about Clover’s description of an argument between Xavier and Jatin at the café. “Jatin again. What do you make of that?”

  “That my girlfriend is holding out on me.”

  Megan smiled. “She’s worried about you, Bobby. Says you’re not sleeping.”

  “Because I’m not.”

  “Wearing yourself out isn’t the solution for solving this case.”

  “Tell that to my brain.” He slapped his hands down on his legs. “Jatin, huh? The way I see it, one of three things happened. One, the kid killed Chase. He had access to Chase and the weapon. What we don’t know is what his motive would have been—or if he needed one.”

  “He was found with Chase?”

  “He was screaming. His screams brought the others running. They found him in the water, doubled over, still screaming. He wasn’t with the body, but he was close enough.”

  Megan said, “You couldn’t determine if the splatter on him was consistent with what you’d see if he’d wielded the knife.”

  “He was soaking wet. Most of the blood had been washed off. He denies anything other than finding Chase, and right now we have no strong evidence to the contrary. His prints were on the knife handle, but so were a half dozen other people’s. And part of the knife was submerged. Not the best crime scene for forensics. No witnesses. No cameras. And most of the prints gone.”

  “No surveillance going in and out of the park?”

  King’s eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking of the kiosk where you leave day trip payments.”

  Megan nodded. The park had a cheap day use fee and visitors were supposed to place their money and envelopes in a slot in a locked kiosk. “Visitors are supposed to write their license plate numbers on the envelopes. That could provide a clue.”

  King smiled. “If only it were that simple. No security—completely an honor system. Shh. Don’t tell anyone. And almost no one includes their license number. We went through them; nothing helpful.”

  “Right. And we’re assuming the killer would follow the rules. What’re the other possibilities? You said you had three.”

  King said, “Two, it was someone from BOLD. Like Dillon, they each had opportunity. Motive is again an unknown.”

  “And three?”

  “A stranger. Someone who happened to be in the park and acted because they could.”

  Megan frowned. “That was a lot of rage for a stranger.”

  “Who knows what goes through people’s minds. Could have been someone with whom Chase had an altercation, could have been a road incident and the person stalked him to the park.” King frowned. “Road rage gone wild.”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Megan sighed. “There’s a fourth possibility. That whoever killed Chase followed him to Pennsylvania for the purpose of murdering him.”

  “Someone not affiliated with BOLD?”

  A child on a tricycle and a woman running beside him were coming toward them down the path. Megan waited until they’d passed before responding.

  “They could be affiliated with BOLD—or not. Chase wasn’t an easy guy to be around. Imagining that he had enemies isn’t that hard.”

  King nodded. “So I’ve heard.”

  Megan watched the Chief as he watched the boy on the tricycle. She and King had been through other murders together, sat vigil through many sleepless nights. She wasn’t surprised he was confiding in her. Besides her connection to Denver, she’d become and unofficial sounding
board, a friend. She wouldn’t let him down now.

  She said, “Your theories all ring true. If it were me, I’d start with Chase’s life. What was he into? Who did he hang around with? What did he do for fun?”

  King looked briefly amused. “Besides work?”

  Megan watched the receding backs of the boy and his mom. “There are twenty-four hours in a day, Bobby. No one can work all of the time.”

  Fifteen

  Sarah lived in a fairytale cottage on the outskirts of Winsome. Tucked into the woods, her home was a small Tudor dream. Megan parked and climbed out of her truck. She figured Sarah would be inside, writing at her dining room table, one or more cats sleeping by her computer. She decided to take a moment to wander around the yard, admiring the perennial gardens and tiny fairy villages, while collecting her thoughts.

  Despite years of legal training, despite hours spent cross-examining witnesses and answering to surly judges and caustic plaintiffs’ counsel, Megan was intimidated by her aunt. Sarah Birch was no people pleaser, and her ideas about the world were often…different.

  Aunt Sarah, a sworn bachelorette, lived a charmed life these days. She came and went as she pleased. With few human demands aside from her career, her perspective on life was, to Megan, often overly black and white, and conversations between the two of them could get heated. Megan steeled herself for whatever topic Sarah wanted to discuss today—no doubt, it would be incendiary.

  After a few minutes, Megan knocked on the kitchen door. Sarah answered immediately. Her tall, solid form was dressed in an ankle-length maroon cotton skirt and matching lace-trimmed top. A gray sweater had been tied neatly around her neck, and chunky silver earrings hung from her lobes. Her long, thick gray hair had been wrestled into one chunky braid. Striped maroon and navy-blue readers hung from a navy lanyard around her neck.