RIPE FOR VENGEANCE

by Wendy Tyson

  “Was that what happened between you and Barbara as well? She suspected a dalliance with her husband?”

  “Oh, you say it so nicely, Megan.” Martine’s smile lacked warmth. “I’m glad to have someone to talk to during all of this. Someone nonjudgmental. Someone not at BOLD.”

  The unexpected compliment made Megan flush. She nodded. “It must be hard to deal with everything—and work on top of it.”

  “It is.” Martine looked down at her laptop. “But you asked about Barbara, and I digress. In that instance, I wasn’t at fault. Barbara’s husband hit on me during our holiday party. He’s a drunk and a gambler and I hate him. That night, he was drunk or stoned as usual, and I was by myself near the pool, in the shadows. He’d been leering at me for months, but the drugs made him bold enough to make a move. I told Barbara about it—a mistake—and certain assumptions about my role in the incident were made.” Martine waved a hand, clearly uncomfortable. “We’ve all moved past it.”

  Megan frowned. Or had they?

  Megan thanked Martine for her time. Before she left, she pointed to the laptop. “At the risk of sounding nosy, I saw the photos on your computer. They didn’t look like corporate photos. They seemed…artistic.”

  Like that, Martine’s face was transformed. She smiled broadly, a twinkle in her eyes. “Did you think so?” She flipped open the computer and rebooted it. Immediately Megan got a better view of the array of photos she’d glimpsed before. Children. Elderly. Abandoned buildings. Empty streets. Street cats. Street children. Flowers. Happy faces, sad faces, loneliness so absolute it twisted Megan’s heart.

  “You have a gift,” Megan whispered, awed. “So much…truth.”

  Martine sat back in her chair. “This is my passion. Photography. I discovered it late in life.”

  “It clearly gives you happiness.”

  “Happiness.” Martine sat back. “I don’t know if that’s the right word, but it may be the closest thing I have to describe it. When I’m shooting, I feel complete. Like I’m doing what I was meant to do.”

  The man next to them got up with a huff and left the Starbucks. A woman in a burqa carrying a tall cup of something steaming took his place.

  Megan glanced again at the photographs. Each so poignantly captured an emotion. “Have you considered turning this into a full-time career?”

  Martine’s glow faded. “Sometimes all a girl has are dreams.”

  Eighteen

  Megan stared at her cell phone. It was after ten and dark outside, but Denver had texted her six times. In the last text he said he was handling an emergency. Could she meet him at the farm afterwards?

  Despite some misgivings, Megan agreed. After speaking with Martine, she was still upset that he hadn’t told her the whole truth from the beginning, but clearly his feelings about Chase and Martine were wrapped up in his personal life from long ago, including his failed marriage. Sorting through that kind of emotional baggage could be hard for anyone. Denver, as gregarious as he was, was also a man of science who considered himself rational and above drama. He’d run from anything emotionally messy, and this was messiness personified.

  Back at the farm, Megan was greeted outside by an ecstatic Sadie and Gunther. She petted the dogs and spoke to them as they followed her inside the house. She was surprised to find Bibi sitting in the kitchen with Denver.

  “I didn’t see the 4Runner,” Megan said.

  “Bobby dropped me off. The emergency was handled pretty quickly. He stopped by to ask me some questions, and then he drove me here.”

  “Which means he asked you questions at the station. Official-like.”

  Denver nodded. He looked tired, but his eyes shown with a fiery fervor.

  “Denver was telling me about his friends,” Bibi said. Her voice was carefully metered, which meant he’d also told her Megan was angry at him.

  “They’re quite a bunch.” Megan pulled a seat and sat down at the kitchen table.

  Bibi had poured lemonade for her and Denver, and she handed Megan a glass as well. “Life is complicated, Megan. You of all people should know that.” She added a scone to the lemonade. “Eat something. If I know you, you haven’t eaten all day.”

  Gratefully, Megan broke apart the orange scone. Her stomach growled. “You sound like Aunt Sarah, Bibi.”

  “It must be the end of days, then.” Bibi smiled. “Seriously, we need to sit and talk through all of this. Like it or not, a person is dead and some people we care deeply about—Denver, Eloise, even Bobby—are involved. This isn’t the first time we’ve been faced with something like this. We should be pros by now.”

  Megan laughed. She couldn’t help it. Her grandmother was eighty-five now, and that tiny, stooped frame packed more punch than most people a quarter of her age. Megan felt a surge of love for Bibi. She was right, of course. King was in over his head, and people they loved had something at stake.

  “I spoke with Martine again,” Megan said. “She shared some interesting tidbits about Jatin.” Megan repeated what Martine had said about Jatin’s liberal use of force, and the issues between Martine, Barbara, and Barbara’s husband. She left out the information about Chase’s actions and the impact on Denver’s marriage. Later.

  Denver scowled. “When you have a chance, Megs, look up Barbara’s husband. Self-made multi-millionaire and ass extraordinaire.” Denver gave her his name.

  “It doesn’t sound like he recognizes boundaries.”

  “He has a strong personality. Believes himself above just about everything. Barbara met him after she and Jatin broke up. I think he was her rebound guy. He’s older, handsome, and rich. I guess for Barbara he was what she needed at the time. Someone who took charge so she didn’t need to.”

  “Do they have kids?” Bibi asked.

  “No kids. Barbara miscarried a year into the marriage. She never spoke of babies again.”

  Megan took a few bites of scone, thinking about Barbara. Barbara seemed level-headed and good natured. She had trouble picturing her with someone like the man Denver was describing, and she said as much.

  “He’s a high-powered attorney and land developer in California. They had a bicoastal marriage for a while. Barbara seems happy enough, but I can totally see him hitting on other women.”

  “Can you see Jatin reacting to Martine with violence?”

  “No.” Denver turned his cup around in his large hand. Megan saw Band-Aids on his thumb and forefinger and the rippled scarring of a recent wound on his palm. “I’ve told ye before, Megs, that Martine lies.”

  “Lies?” Bibi said.

  “She’s a compulsive liar.” Denver took a deep breath. “I told you, Megan, that I met Martine in New York City years ago, when my marriage was in trouble. Bonnie, do you remember Lilian?”

  Bibi nodded. By the pinched look on her face, Megan didn’t think she had particularly cared for the former Winsome resident.

  “We were having some problems,” Denver said, “and I needed to get away, so I went into the city to clear my mind and decide what to do. I knew things were bad, but I thought marriage counseling might help. I hadn’t given up on our relationship. It’s not in my nature.”

  Megan nodded. She placed a hand on his, careful of the wounds. He squeezed her hand gently.

  “Anyway, Chase texted me and we realized we were both in the city. We met for drinks. Martine was with him. She was friendly and seemed down to earth. A good listener. The next day, Chase had business to attend to, so I said I’d show Martine around the city. We had coffee, went to the Strand bookstore, walked around. Nothing happened. I didn’t even particularly care for her. My mind—my heart—were with Lilian.”

  He swallowed. Megan heard the ticking of the clock in the other room, the rattle of the loose boards on the porch. She glanced at Bibi, who was studying Denver. Her grandmother was wearing pink plaid pajama bottoms and a white “Winso
me is for lovers” t-shirt. Her white hair was pushed back from her face, and there was sadness in her eyes. Right now, Bibi looked like she’d taken on the weight of the world.

  “How hard this must have been for you,” Bibi said to Denver. “To be in New York while your marriage was collapsing.”

  “As fate would have it, the trip was the tipping point. Martine took some photos of me. Laughing. Smiling. Chase took a few of the two of us. He put them on social media, and Lilian saw them. She used them to justify sleeping with our contractor. And our accountant.”

  Megan closed her eyes. “Oh, Denver.”

  “Ta. It’s okay. I understand now that our marriage was already over. Lilian had probably cheated before. This just made it easier for her to justify her actions. The worst part was that Martine called my house. Repeatedly. When Lilian asked who was calling, she said it was my girlfriend.” He shook his head. “You can’t believe anything she says. So when Martine accuses Jatin, I take it with a pound of salt.”

  “She remained friends with Chase?”

  “She works with all of them, but if you notice, she’s more of an outsider.”

  Bibi poured more lemonade from a glass pitcher into Denver’s cup. “People like that can be the most dangerous. Sometimes they make up in fantasy what they lack in reality.”

  “What do you mean, Bibi?” Megan asked.

  “Maybe she was in love with Chase. Maybe she thought Chase was in love with her.”

  “Martine as the murderer?” Denver shook his head. “Liar, yes. Killer? I just don’t see it.”

  Megan’s mind flitted to other murders—and other murderers. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Be right back.” Bibi left the room, and Megan and Denver exchanged a glance.

  “What about a year ago?” Megan asked. “You said you’d seen Chase and Martine then.”

  “Aye. Chase and I hadn’t really spoken. I blamed him for contributing to my marriage issues. He wanted to make things better between us. They were here for BOLD. I agreed to see them.”

  “And you patched things up.”

  Denver shrugged. “We had drinks. Danced around the topic. Did the typical guy thing of sweeping it all under the rug. I guess part of me was still angry. Is still angry.” Denver swallowed, looked away. “It wasn’t so much what he did, it was the way he did it. No thought about me or my life. And afterwards? A big joke. But that was Chase.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” Denver said. “For not telling you all the sordid bits before. I guess I was still angry at Chase. I was afraid ye would think that meant I missed my ex-wife or the life we had together.” He squeezed Megan’s hand. “I don’t. I never would have met you if we’d stayed together.”

  Megan smiled. “I’m sorry for everything you went through.”

  “Lilian was a confused woman. We met young. She wanted me—until she didn’t. The life of a vet means late hours and unpredictable schedules.” He smiled, and two dimples popped up on either side of his mouth. “And dog hair and a smelly car and a house that sounds like a zoo. Not her cup of coffee, I’m afraid.”

  Megan had only seen one photograph of Lilian. She was an attractive, slim Asian woman with long black hair and high cheekbones. In the photo, Lilian wore a white dress and high red heels. Her perfect skin had been shaded by a broad-brimmed black hat. More New York debutante than wife of a country vet.

  “I had nothing to do with Chase’s death. My anger was more hurt. We should have talked about it, maybe, but you met Chase. Talking about feelings wasn’t really his thing.”

  “It’s okay,” Megan said. “I understand.”

  Denver was about to say something else when Bibi returned with a giant wipe board. She propped it up on the counter, facing the table, and pulled five colored Erase markers from her pocket.

  “I took this from the Bridge club. Who needs to be somewhere tonight?” Bibi asked.

  Fighting a smile, Megan said, “Not me.”

  Denver shook his head. “Nor I—assuming no more emergencies.”

  Bibi gave a definitive nod. “Good. Megan, coffee. Denver, can you do a quick check on the animals?” Bibi pulled the black pen from the pile. “Then we can get started.”

  “It’s late, Bibi.”

  Bibi smiled. “You two are too young to need that much rest. And the comfort of sleep is denied to me most nights, anyway. Might as well make some use of the witching hours.”

  Megan sat cross-legged on her kitchen chair. She’d changed into flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top, and her shoulder-length dark hair was pushed back from her face with a barrette. The two cups of coffee she’d drunk had worked their magic, and she was feeling borderline manic. She watched as Bibi made notations on the board in her teacher-like script.

  They’d created two categories of would-be connections: school student/associate and BOLD employee. Under each category, they listed possible suspects. They’d had “stranger” included, too, but realized there wasn’t much they could do to track down a random murderer. They listed “stranger” in the corner, off by itself.

  Under school student/associate they’d listed Dillon’s name.

  Under BOLD, they had Martine, Xavier, Jatin, and Barbara.

  “Add Harriet Mantra too,” Megan said.

  Denver looked at her sharply. “Why? She wasn’t even in town when Chase was killed.”

  “True, but this whole thing was her idea. As we very well know, you don’t need to be present to be the mastermind behind murder.”

  Bibi added Harriet’s name to the board in purple. “We’ll omit you,” she said to Denver. Megan couldn’t tell if she was being cheeky.

  “Is there anyone else you can think of who should be on this list?” Megan asked.

  “I mean, Chase has an ex-wife. Diana. It’s possible she came into town and killed him. Possible, but doubtful.”

  “I remember you telling me about her,” Megan said.

  Bibi added Diana’s name to the board.

  Megan recalled the rest of that conversation with Denver. “Don’t forget about the photos I found of Chase and Martine during his Rolling Stones days. They knew each other before BOLD. We should add a second line—maybe a dotted line—between Martine and Chase to indicate that connection.”

  “But all of them, other than Harriet, had a preexisting relationship with Chase.”

  “One that was obvious. The connection between Chase and Martine wasn’t known. At least by us.”

  Denver nodded. “True.”

  Bibi added the dotted line to the board. “This is a good start. We have two avenues: the school and the company. Who wants to do what?”

  Megan studied her grandmother. While Bibi was no stranger to action when she thought someone from Winsome needed her, she generally didn’t seem so enthusiastic about getting involved.

  “What’s your angle here, Bibi?” Megan asked. “Why are you going all Nancy Drew on us?”

  Denver laughed. He rubbed his chin with a calloused hand. “I rather think it suits you, Bonnie.”

  “You’re both very funny.” Bibi sat down on the chair she’d placed in front of the board. She rubbed her neck. “This one is a puzzle. Someone killed that man in an act of passion. Or at least that’s what we’re meant to believe. I hear the townspeople at Bridge. They all think the boy did it.” She shook her head. “He is the obvious choice. But what’s his motive?”

  “Sometimes people don’t need a motive,” Denver said. “He could have snapped.”

  Bibi said, “He could have. But I don’t think he did.”

  Megan walked over to the board. Bibi was right: Dillon was the obvious choice. She grabbed a pen and started a new graph at the bottom of the surface.

  “We have connections at BOLD Pharmaceuticals, the school, and then personal connections like Diana an
d Denver.” Megan drew a circle and put Chase’s name in the center. She drew a box to the left and labeled it “BOLD” and a box to the right and labeled it “School.” Under the school, she wrote Dillon’s name, Harriet’s daughter’s name, and Dr. Star. She drew a line between Dillon and Chase. She repeated the exercise with BOLD, including Martine, Harriet, Xavier, and Jatin’s name. She drew a line from each of them to Chase—denoting a direct connection. She also drew a line from Harriet to the school, Harriet to her daughter, and Harriet to Dr. Star. Beneath Chase’s name, she wrote his wife’s name and Denver’s name and drew lines to each.

  “Not because you’re a suspect,” she explained. “But because we’re looking for connections.”

  With that in mind, Megan added her Aunt Sarah to the board and drew a line between her and Dr. Star. She explained the connection to Bibi and Denver.

  “I think we have a place to start,” Bibi said.

  Megan nodded.

  “Someone going to clue me in?” Denver said. “I’m not sure how this diagram helps us.”

  “Somewhere in here is the connection that got Chase killed,” Megan explained. “If Dillon did it, then the connection will be simple. He snapped, or Chase did something to anger him. But if Dillon didn’t do it—”

  “In there somewhere is the real motive for murder. The company. The school.”

  “Or a personal vendetta,” Megan said.

  Denver stared at the board for a moment. “Or both.”

  “I’ll look into Dillon,” Bibi said. “I’m not as adept at the computer as you two are, but I can cook, and I can talk, and I can listen, so I’ll have him and Eloise over for dinner. I’d rather like to meet him.”

  Megan nodded. “I can look into the company. Do some research, maybe contact my accountant to see what he can dig up. I’ll also talk to Sarah again and see if I can’t get in front of Dr. Star.” Megan thought about her last discussion with the psychologist. She snapped her fingers. “Even better. When I was at the school last time, there was a reporter there. Donna something or other. I’ll connect with her.”