by Wendy Tyson
Dr. Eloise Kent lived on a sprawling horse farm not far from Denver’s bungalow. Megan drove down the long paved driveway and saw Eloise’s horses were outside wandering around the partially cleared pasture. The house, a stately white Colonial, wore its best holiday finery. Wreaths decorated the barn and the fence posts. A manger scene had been arranged by the front of the house, its baby Jesus missing from the straw bed. The day was sunny, and despite the cold air and the snow on the ground, the warmth added to a sense of hopefulness. Megan pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. Eloise was expecting her. Denver had made the arrangements.
Megan found Denver’s aunt in the barn. Like her nephew, she was fond of animals, and in addition to three horses, the barn housed a number of barn cats, two of whom scattered when Megan walked inside.
“Megan.” Eloise nodded. The sixty-something-year-old was cleaning a stall. Petite and neat in appearance, she somehow managed to make jeans, a thick parka, and a pair of tall plaid rubber boots look fashionable. “Denver said you would stop by. How is my nephew? I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
“He’s well, although I haven’t seen him for a while either. I’m heading there next to surprise him with dinner.”
“How nice.” Her tone said the jury was still out on whether that was, indeed, nice. “How can I help you?”
Megan picked up a shovel. “Would you like a hand? I have some experience with farming.”
Eloise cracked her first smile. “No, that’s okay. I’m almost finished. Our trainer couldn’t make it today, and I wanted some fresh air.”
Megan nodded. She watched tidy Eloise do this distinctly untidy chore and used the time to collect her thoughts. “I’d like to discuss Paul Fox.”
“Paul?” She glanced at Megan under arched eyebrows. “What about him?”
“He worked for you years ago.”
“He worked with me years ago. I contracted with his office for him to provide services to my patients.”
“And you subsequently let him go.”
Eloise stopped what she was doing and leaned on her pitchfork. “He’s dead, Megan. Why dredge this stuff up now?”
“It might help lead to the killer.”
“That’s a job for Bobby King and his people.”
Megan didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Eloise—the whole town—knew about Megan and Denver’s role in the last incident that occurred in Winsome. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Megan was asking questions.
Nevertheless, Eloise said, “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead. What happened with Paul was years ago. I doubt it has any bearing on this case.” She returned to cleaning, her stabs at the soiled hay strong and sure.
“Did you know his daughter is being held? The police suspect her of his murder.”
No response. Eloise turned her back and attended to something at the other end of the stall. Megan waited.
“Becca has some emotional problems. Perhaps as a result of Paul.”
Eloise propped the pitchfork against the barn wall. She bent to pick up a bucket that lay to the side of the enclosed space, then grabbed the bucket and the pitchfork. She moved past Megan hurriedly, her face a twist of conflicting emotions.
“Dr. Kent—”
Eloise stopped and turned around. Megan couldn’t tell if the high color in her cheeks was from exertion, the cold, or anger.
“Paul’s departure sparked a lot of questions. There were concerns…about his behavior, about what he may or may not have done while in the company of my patients. I am a doctor. I took an oath. I will not…cannot…reopen those wounds.”
“Not even if his daughter’s freedom hangs in the balance?”
“If I thought I could change things for Rebecca Fox, I would. But nothing I say will help her now.”
“Aye, she’s a stubborn lassie when she wants to be.” Denver placed another log in the tipi wood stove. He’d become fond of the contraption, putting off its donation, and insisted they come out for a nightcap after dinner. He settled in next to Megan. “I’m not a bit surprised she won’t tell ye what happened back then. She never talks about it.”
“She seemed angry that I was asking.”
“She’s afraid she did something wrong in hiring him—or not firing him soon enough. If he hurt one of her patients, it would be on her shoulders. Not something ye want to relive if ye don’t have to.”
“You’re right, of course.” Megan put her head against Denver’s shoulder. They were lounging against a few large pillows atop a thick blanket. As usual, the dogs had joined them, and all but the Golden were asleep by the stove. The Golden Retriever had placed a tennis ball in front of them and was looking at them and the ball with a tilted head and a baleful expression.
“Go, ye daft creature,” Denver said. But he tossed the ball in the small space and watched with affection as the dog brought it back. “All she wants to do is play ball. A stranger showed up the other day, and this beast brought him a bloody ball.” He gave Megan a hard look. “You’re going to chase this one down, aren’t you, Megs?”
“I don’t really want to be involved. But Bibi and Merry and Becca…if I can help, I feel like I should.”
Denver nodded. He took her hand in his own and caressed her fingers with his work-calloused skin. “Some people are toxic. They spread anxiety and unhappiness wherever they go. Have ye met someone like that, Megs?”
She nodded. Of course she had. She could think of a few off the top of her head. Often these people worked through passive aggression, undermining self-confidence or creating an atmosphere that demanded constant sensitivity to their feelings.
“My sense is that this Paul Fox, he was that type of person. Spreading misery wherever he went. With people like that, the suspect pool may be bottomless.”
“Perhaps, but those with opportunity would not be endless. Bobby King knows that, and he’s doing what he can. But he needs to look more broadly. Slow down and observe. He’s in a rush to solve this, and he’s perhaps jumping too quickly to conclusions.”
“Maybe. But I don’t want to see you or Bonnie get hurt.”
“We’ll be smart about it.” Megan teased him with a smile. “I have you to remind me.”
Denver’s eyes darkened. He leaned in to kiss her, his lips warm and soft against her own. “I think I’m falling for you, Megan,” he whispered. “This may very well be love.”
“Are you just realizing it now, Dr. Finn?” Megan teased. “I’ve known how I feel about you for quite some time.” She kissed him back. Her cell phone rang. She ignored it. A moment later, it rang again.
Reluctantly disengaging from Denver’s embrace, Megan glanced at the caller name. Roger Becker. “Hold that thought,” she said to Denver.
But the spell was broken.
“Yes, Roger?”
“Have you seen Merry yet?”
“No, not yet. I’ll head there next.”
“Promise? She’s still not taking my calls. It’s very unlike her, Megan. Very unlike her.”
“I promise.”
With an apologetic smile, Megan got to her feet. “I’m afraid I need to go. I have to stop by Merry’s, and then I have some stuff to do at the store after it closes.”
Denver looked at his watch. “Want me to come with you?”
“You’re on call tonight. I’ll be fine. Get some rest.”
Denver nodded, his face a study in concern. “Text me when you get home.”
“I will.”
“Better yet, call me.”
Megan laughed. “Seriously? I’m a big girl.”
“You said yourself, Megs—neighbors look out for one another. I’m just being neighborly.”
He stood and took her hand to walk her back through the snow-covered yard and out to her car.
“Well, if that’s all it is, fine,” Megan said
. But the words he’d spoken just a few minutes before, his first mention of love, had already wrapped their strong fingers around her heart. Surprisingly, what she felt wasn’t apprehension. Or even guilt. Rather, Megan felt light enough to soar.
Nineteen
The downstairs lights were on when Megan arrived at Merry’s home, but unlike her last visits, the Christmas lights were not shining, and even the electric candles in the windows had been turned off. That was strange—perhaps as strange as Merry not showing up for the Historical Society dinner.
Megan rang the doorbell. When no one answered, she banged on the front door. It was only 8:12, too early for the night owl to be asleep. She pulled out her phone and called Merry’s number. No answer. Now she was getting worried too. Megan was mulling over whether to contact King when the front door opened. Luke Fox was standing in the doorway, his expression friendly but noncommittal.
“Hi, Megan. What can I do for you?” Luke tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Are you looking for my aunt?”
“I am, Luke. Is she here?”
Luke nodded. “She’s asleep.”
“It’s kind of early for her to be in bed. Is she feeling okay?” Megan strained to see beyond Luke, feeling just like a nosy neighbor. Oh, how the tables had turned.
“Not great. She’s been like this since last night. She doesn’t want to be disturbed. Some guy has called multiple times. She just turns him away.”
Roger Becker. That didn’t sound like Merry. Not one bit. “Would you mind if I come in? I’d really like to check on her. You know, woman to woman.”
Luke moved back into the center hall. “Of course, where are my manners? Do you want some tea? Maybe a glass of wine?”
“Ice water,” she said gratefully. “If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Why don’t you go see Aunt Merry and I’ll get some water.”
Megan left him and found her way up the steps and into Merry’s second floor. It wasn’t hard to figure out which room belonged to Merry. It was the only one with a closed door.
Megan knocked. After a moment, a sleepy voice said, “Luke, tell them I’m asleep.”
“It’s me, Merry. Megan.”
“Oh.”
“Can I come in?”
“The door is unlocked.” Merry’s voice sounded weak.
Merry’s room was suffocatingly hot, perfumed by a cloyingly sweet smell. It was not altogether unpleasant—like dried roses or a shriveled orange. She immediately saw the culprit: a basket of dried up flowers and fruit on a table by the window.
“Merry, are you okay? Everyone is concerned. You haven’t been responding to phone calls, you didn’t show up at the Historical Society dinner.” Megan moved closer to the bed. The lights in the room were dimmed. Megan saw a dog-eared romance novel by the pillow. The television was on, tuned to a game show, its sound muted. Clothes sat on a chair by the closet, unfolded. A glass of water and a vial of pills were propped next to a notebook, and a stack of Hollywood rags on the bedside table.
“I’m fine. I just needed time to myself.”
Megan took a hard, long look at the woman on the bed. Her hair was unwashed and the strands, left to their own devices, stuck up at odd angles from Merry’s head. She seemed to be wearing an old-fashioned dressing gown, its high neck tied near her collarbone. Her covers were pulled up mid-chest despite the overwhelming warmth in the room.
Megan sat on the edge of the bed, uninvited. “You need to get out of bed. You’re not helping anyone, least of all Becca.”
“This whole thing started because I tried to help Becca. Look where that got her.”
“Merry, none of this is your fault. None of this is likely Becca’s fault. But unless you get up and help the police, things will get worse.”
Merry yawned. Her face was registering understanding, but her eyes drooped as Megan spoke.
“Have you been sleeping?”
“It’s all I do.”
“I don’t mean lying in bed. I mean sleep. Have you had real sleep?”
“I don’t know. I guess.” She struggled to sit up in the bed, clutching the bed covers to her amply-covered chest. “What else am I supposed to do? The police don’t want to hear that Becca is innocent, and even Becca won’t see me at this point.” She sat back with a huff.
“Is Becca all right?”
“Luke was there today. He said she seemed better. More coherent.”
“Does she have an attorney? A psychologist?”
“Luke arranged for a lawyer. The lawyer will get her the right services. I gave Luke some names.”
Megan was relieved that Becca had a lawyer at least. “Have you told Bobby about the night Paul died? About the stranger you saw with Becca?”
Merry’s face flushed. “Not yet. I was hoping Bonnie would talk you into doing it.
Megan considered whether Merry’s sudden issues could be guilt related. Maybe it would help her if Megan was the messenger. “Do you still want me to be the one to tell him?”
Merry didn’t hesitate. “Would you?”
“Yes. But he will likely come to ask you more questions. Are you up for that?”
Merry looked around the room. She seemed to really see the environment she’d created for herself—the sickroom atmosphere, the sense of hopelessness. Her eyes widened. “Yes, yes. I’ll get up, get showered.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. If you’ll talk to Bobby.”
“I will.” Megan considered the conversation she’d have to have with Winsome’s police chief. “Merry, do you have any idea who the man is? The man Becca was talking to that night?”
“At first I thought it was a…a man friend. But the conversation seemed to be about Paul and only Paul. Whatever was said—and the man was doing much of the talking—it made Becca very upset.”
“How do you know it was a man?”
The scarlet tone on Merry’s face darkened. “Didn’t Bonnie tell you? I may have listened. But only for a moment.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I heard Becca crying and wanted to make sure she was okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. Tell me there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“It’s fine.” Megan pressed Merry gently back down onto the mattress. “Does Luke know this guy?”
“He says he has no idea who Becca’s been talking to.”
Megan remembered the holiday First Friday in Winsome, the tall man she saw with Luke. Same guy? Worth the question. Megan stood.
“When I call tomorrow, I expect you to answer. And to be up and showered.” Megan smiled to offset the stern tone of her words. “Or else I will send Bonnie over here.”
“No, not that.”
They both laughed. The action seemed to take the remainder of Merry’s steam. She closed her eyes.
“Get some sleep, Merry,” Megan said.
Merry was already breathing heavily.
When Megan reached the landing, she saw Luke walk out of a bedroom down the hall.
“She okay?” Luke asked. He’d exchanged his slippers for a pair of hiking boots and his hair was neatly combed.
“I think you were right. She’s feeling a little overwhelmed and depressed.”
“I told her to get some sleep. Maybe that would help. She’s definitely been acting oddly.” Luke bounded down the steps. At the bottom, he paused to wait for Megan. “Still want that water?”
“Sure.”
Luke seemed surprised. “Okay,” he said. “Just give me a second.”
“Are you heading out?” Megan pointed to his boots. “I don’t want to hold you up.”
“Just meeting a buddy for a drink. But that’s okay. I have some time.”
Megan followed Luke into the kitchen. It looked slightly worse for the wear than it had when Merry threw the perfume party to int
roduce Becca’s line. Dishes on the counter. Appliances not put away. A stack of unread mail on the island. A pair of muddy snow boots by the back door.
Luke smiled sheepishly, highlighting bright baby blues. “Consider it my own personal trap. If she doesn’t get out of bed soon, her entire house will look like this.” He handed Megan ice water garnished with a slice of lemon. “You’ve known Aunt Merry for a long time?”
“Yes and no.” Megan took a sip of water, enjoying the tart bitterness of the lemon. “I grew up in Winsome, and I knew your aunt then. I left for college and law school, lived in Chicago for a while, and now I’m back.” Megan shrugged. “Merry has been a staple in my life, like so many people in Winsome. But it’s not as though we spent tons of time together.”
Luke’s face hardened into a frown. “We lived here too for a while. My dad had a practice, my mom got to spend time with her sister. It was nice. I remember those as being some of our better days as a family.”
Megan tried to reconcile that with what Aunt Sarah had told her the day before. “I don’t remember your family from when I was young.”
“You wouldn’t. It was probably during the period you were away. Dad was never good at staying in one place for too long. Restless.”
“You were close to your father.”
Luke nodded. “In our way.”
Megan wanted to ask about Becca but something held her back. Instead she asked about the stranger she’d seen Luke with the week before.
“Tall? Dark haired?”
Megan nodded.
“I’ve been meeting with lots of people, looking for investment opportunities near Winsome so I can be closer to my aunt. But that sounds like my buddy Kyle. The guy I’m meeting tonight.” Luke made a show of looking at his watch, a not-so-subtle reminder that he had to go soon. “He lives in New Hope.”
“So it wasn’t the man Becca was arguing with the night your father was killed?”
A cloud of emotion passed over Luke’s eyes at the mention of his sister and a man. “What do you mean?”
