Shot Through the Hearth

by Kate Carlisle

  I walked over and joined Eric as he directed his officers to handle crowd control. I recognized Mindy and Dan, both uniformed officers and friends of mine, jumping into action.

  When Eric broke free for a moment, I got his attention. “I can have my guys move these frames, unless you’d rather have your people do it.”

  He gazed down at me and shook his head. “Shannon Hammer, what a surprise to see you at a crime scene.”

  “Not my fault.”

  “Never is,” he mused.

  Despite the serious look on his face, I knew this was his way of teasing me. The joke fell a little flat, though, I thought, given the number of dead bodies I’d stumbled upon over the past few years. Sure, I happened to show up at crime scenes more often than most people, but trust me, it wasn’t something I enjoyed. It just seemed to be my lot in life. Or my karma. Go figure.

  “Do you know who he is?” Eric asked quietly.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I met him last night. He’s Dillon Charles, Rafe’s ex-business partner. He was at the party, and frankly, I don’t think he made any new friends.”

  “Apparently he managed to make at least one enemy.”

  “I was just thinking that same thing.”

  Eric continued to stare at the body. “I didn’t meet him.”

  “You’re one of the lucky ones,” I muttered.

  “You’ll explain that comment to me in a moment.” He was frowning, but I was onto him now. That frown wasn’t meant for me, but for the situation.

  “Sure will. But anyway, what about the frames? Do you want us to move them out of the way?”

  “Wait on that. I don’t want to disturb anything until we can get a closer look.”

  “Okay.” I was a little relieved. I just wasn’t ready to get any closer to the dead body yet. “Just let me know and I’ll have my guys help with anything you need.”

  “Thanks.” He turned and shouted for Tommy, who came running.

  “Hey there, Shannon,” Tommy said jovially, and gave me a friendly peck on the cheek. The man had the uncanny ability to remain pleasant and happy in the worst situations. I imagined his cheery attitude was how he managed to get through life, given that his wife was the supreme queen of the mean girls’ brigade.

  “Hi, Tommy,” I said.

  “Man, this must be such a bummer for you,” Tommy said. “I was watching the barn raising from the air dome. Looked like you and your guys were having a blast.”

  “We were.” We’d done so much prep work for that job, it was hard to admit that finding the dead guy had ruined a good time. “Not sure we’ll be able to continue working today.”

  Hearing my words, Eric turned and flashed me a sympathetic smile. “Not likely.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Life was funny, I thought. The police chief had recently fallen in love with my sister Chloe, so our normally friendly relationship had grown into a more familial bond. This meant that Chloe was visiting us more often, which made me happy. She lived in Los Angeles, where she hosted a top-rated home renovation show on the Home Builders Network.

  For a long time, she had avoided coming home, but now she was becoming a familiar face around town. It was good to have her back, and I wasn’t the only one in town who thought so.

  Too bad she couldn’t be here for the conference, I thought. If nothing else, she might’ve been able to help with the barn raising. Unfortunately, not even her presence would help cajole the police chief into letting my team finish the barn today. The site was going to be a crime scene for the foreseeable future.

  I looked up as Rafe and Marigold hurried across the field.

  “Good God,” Rafe said. “I just heard. What in the world happened? Was it an accident? How . . . ?” He rubbed his face with both hands, showing his stress and grief. “I was just talking to him last night. How can he be dead this morning?”

  After seeing the way Rafe had yelled at Dillon last night, I was surprised to see him so upset. But that wasn’t fair. Rafe and Dillon had known each other for years and they had once been friends.

  “I don’t know what happened yet. Eric probably knows. I can try to find out if you want me to.” But after seeing how many people Dillon had run afoul of last night, I seriously doubted that his death was an accident.

  Rafe wrapped his arms around Marigold and she pressed her head against his shoulder.

  “Oh, Rafe,” Marigold said. “I’m so sorry.”

  At that moment, Hallie the secretary walked up to Rafe. “What happened?”

  When Rafe didn’t respond, she glanced around at the crowd with a puzzled expression. She finally followed Rafe’s gaze and noticed the body, then had to do a double take. And she began to scream like a wild banshee. “No! No! Dillon! No!”

  Rafe immediately turned away from Marigold and pulled Hallie close, stroking her hair and crooning, “Shh. It’s okay, honey. Shh.”

  “Dillon,” she screamed, inconsolable. “Why?”

  It seemed like a way over-the-top reaction from someone who’d been berated and humiliated by the man less than twelve hours ago. And I had to admit that Rafe’s instant coddling was a little confusing as well. I glanced at Marigold, whose eyes were dry. She met my gaze and walked over to stand next to me.

  I squeezed her hand. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, leaning closer. “I feel so badly for Rafe, but I’m not sorry Dillon’s dead. I didn’t like him.”

  I blinked in surprise. Not that I blamed her, but I was pretty sure that this was the first time I’d ever heard Marigold say something so negative about anyone. She was usually such a kind, friendly, cheerful person. Ordinarily, she liked everyone.

  “What a coincidence,” I whispered. “I hated his guts.”

  “Apparently we weren’t the only ones.” Marigold began to wring her hands together. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. Isn’t the old saying, Don’t speak ill of the dead?”

  “Yes,” I said, “but if you didn’t like him alive, I don’t think you’ll get punished for saying it after he’s dead.”

  Marigold smiled. “Still, that was unkind of me. I’m sure there were plenty of people who liked him very much.”

  I doubted it. But that was Marigold for you. My lips twisted in a frown at her repentant tone. “Look at it this way. It could’ve been an accident.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I hope so, for Rafe’s sake. I would hate to think there’s a murderer loose at the conference. He worked so hard to pull this together, and he really wanted it to go well. What if everyone leaves?”

  I let that thought sink in for a long moment. You could never predict how people would react to something like murder. There were times when everyone in town would hide in their houses. But more often than not, you couldn’t keep them away from the scene.

  “I don’t think Eric’s going to let anyone leave, even if they wanted to. At least, not until he’s talked to them all.”

  “Good point,” Marigold said, and shot another quick look at Rafe, still soothing Hallie.

  “So what’s with the drama queen?” I whispered.

  She sighed. “Hallie is very attached to Dillon and Rafe.”

  I watched the way the woman was still clinging to Rafe, and said, “Well she certainly is at the moment.”

  “I understand why she would like Rafe,” Marigold said, “but I don’t get that she’s wailing and weeping over Dillon. He was not a nice man.”

  “He certainly wasn’t nice to Hallie,” I murmured, and gave Marigold a shortened version of last night’s scene.

  And he hadn’t been nice about Marigold, either. Remembering what he’d said about her last night made me want to kick him, dead or not.

  We talked quietly for another minute and then stopped to watch Eric and Tommy carefully make their way, stepping over each two-by-
four of the framing, to get to the body. Once there, they knelt down to examine Dillon and the crime scene close up.

  Marigold turned to me. “Let’s get together with the girls later on. I might need to vent.”

  “I’ll set something up,” I said, then watched her walk back to comfort Rafe, whose secretary still had her arms wrapped around him and continued to wail against his chest.

  Attached was right. Marigold might need a crowbar to pry the woman off Rafe.

  Marigold took hold of Rafe’s free arm and leaned against him. He gazed down at her, giving her an awkward smile. Yeah, it was awkward, for sure. But it seemed he was used to Hallie’s theatrics.

  And maybe I was a horrible person for criticizing the girl. But come on. Dillon had been unforgivably rude to Hallie last night. So what was with the melodrama now?

  As Marigold’s friend, I didn’t like what I was seeing. But then, Hallie had known Rafe and Dillon a lot longer than any of us had. And Rafe was simply a great guy. Maybe Hallie had learned how to take advantage of his kindness. Of course, maybe she was looking for more than kindness. I was going to keep my eye on her.

  Whatever was going on, I would be texting my girlfriends as soon as possible to set up a late night chitchat session for Marigold.

  Tommy passed by and I grabbed him. “Do we know how he died? Was it an accident?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You know I can’t discuss that with you, Shannon.”

  I gave him one of my patented ex-girlfriend looks. Very intense, very focused. It worked every time.

  He rolled his eyes, then muttered, “Okay, fine. But don’t say anything to anyone.”

  “You know I won’t.”

  He moved close enough to whisper in my ear. “Knife in the stomach. Multiple times.”

  It took me a few long seconds to absorb that information. “Wow. Harsh.”

  “I’ve got to go,” Tommy said. “Keep it to yourself.”

  “Of course I will.” I patted his arm. “Thanks, Tommy.”

  I walked away, rubbing my stomach. Wow. Someone had stabbed Dillon Charles in the stomach. Multiple times. So, not an accident, obviously. It was a deliberate, violent, up-close-and-personal act. Dillon’s killer had wanted him to suffer. It wasn’t like a knife in the heart or a bullet to the head, which would’ve killed him instantly. No, with multiple stab wounds in his stomach, Dillon would have been left bleeding and writhing in pain for a long time out there in the cold night air.

  His killer must’ve had a lot of pent-up anger to do something so vicious. Of course, I had seen firsthand the kind of intensely negative emotions Dillon Charles could stoke in people.

  People like Rafe, for instance. And me, I had to admit. Still, I wouldn’t have stabbed him in the stomach. Ouch.

  Without another thought, I pulled out my cell phone and called Mac. He answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Red. I’m working on the new book. How’re you doing? How’s the barn raising coming along?”

  “Not so well,” I said. “Dillon Charles was murdered. His body was found by the new barn this morning. He was stabbed in the stomach multiple times.”

  “What?” he shouted.

  So much for keeping it to myself. I gave Tommy a silent apology and took a deep breath. “Dillon. Murdered. Stabbed.”

  “Got it. Oh, man. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It was a shock, of course. And Eric has canceled the barn raising for the next day or two.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine. I just wanted you to know.”

  “It touches my heart that when murders occur, you think of me.”

  I laughed a little. “Who else would I call?”

  “Are you all right, babe?” Mac asked, serious now. “Do you want me to come down there and hang out with you?”

  I wanted to say yes, but I knew he wanted to work on the book. “I’ll be fine, but thanks.”

  “Okay. Love you, Red. I’ll see you later tonight.”

  “Good luck with the book.”

  We ended the call and I turned to find out what the police chief was doing. Eric stood staring at the lumber pile where the body was still lying. Then he began to wave and I gazed across the field to see Leo Stringer stride toward us, carrying his stainless steel briefcase of crime scene tools. As Lighthouse Cove’s one and only CSI guy, Leo was a vital member of the team. He also happened to be a nice, talkative guy who was always willing to give me a little inside information. I was almost as happy to see him as Eric was.

  * * *

  * * *

  An hour later, I finished an impromptu meeting with Sean, Wade, and Carla. We had a new schedule for the continuation of the barn raising and Sean had the names of forty-six workers who had agreed to return anytime this week to complete the job. Not a bad number, I thought.

  Once Eric and Tommy had gone over the crime scene and checked out Dillon’s body, and Leo had performed his CSI magic, Eric gave me the heads-up to move the frames.

  I grabbed my megaphone and called my workers to action. “May I have your attention, please?”

  I waited until my people settled down to listen, then said, “Police Chief Jensen has given the okay to move these frames now. Can I get thirty strong workers to help lift the frames and move them twenty feet to the west?”

  I counted forty-two workers who hustled over to help out. With Chief Jensen’s direction, they lifted the frames and moved them away from the body.

  “Thanks, everybody,” I said when the job was done. “Really appreciate your help and cooperation. Please see Sean Brogan for an updated schedule of when we’ll be able to finish the barn raising. Thanks again.”

  I was pleasantly surprised to hear the cheering that occurred when I finished my little speech. Even with a dead body, people seemed happy to be here. It made a strange kind of sense, I thought, that being faced with someone else’s sudden death would give some people a new lease on life.

  Once Dillon’s body was bagged and carried off the property, I finally had a chance to talk to Rafe. “I’m so sorry about Dillon. I know his death must be a huge loss for you.”

  “Thanks, Shannon.” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly distressed. “We had our differences. Everyone does. But we had been friends and partners for almost twenty years. It’s a real loss for me and my company.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said again. I hesitated, then added, “I hate to bring this up, but are you thinking of canceling the conference?”

  “Are you kidding?” He chuckled ruefully. “I’ve had over five hundred new requests for registrations just today. We’ve been adding names to the waiting list and we’ll send them all a brochure for next year. But the attendees who are here today are ecstatic. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

  I’d seen this kind of reaction before, so I wasn’t really surprised. “Yeah, it’s weird.”

  Rafe blew out a breath. “But it’s also heartening that they’re willing to stay and take part in what we’ve got planned this week.”

  I gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. “It’s important to them. I’m glad.”

  And it was just as I’d always thought. Murder brought out the crowds.

  * * *

  * * *

  At sunset, the wine tasting was in full gear. The police had given permission for the conference to continue but had closed off the area around the new barn. I was grateful to Rafe for keeping to the conference schedule, too, because it was so nice to see my uncle Pete holding court, lifting a glass of rich, red wine as he spoke of his Anderson Valley vineyard and winery and his gradual acceptance of the French method of watering grapevines.

  Thirty-five years ago, Pete had fulfilled a dream when he bought an acre of land near the town of Navarro twenty-five miles inland from Lighthouse Cove. He and my dad and a bunch of their buddies planted th
e first grapevines back then. And, as they say, the rest is history. Now Uncle Pete had three hundred acres of healthy grapevines, a thriving winery and tasting room in Anderson Valley, and a popular wine bar and restaurant on Lighthouse Cove’s town square.

  After Pete’s presentation, twenty of his winery employees strolled through the crowd, pouring wine and chatting with the enthusiastic conference attendees. I snagged a glass of pinot and sidled up to the main table, where Pete had a line of people waiting to ask him questions.

  “Shannon!” Pete bellowed, and grabbed me in a bear hug.

  “Uncle Pete,” I mumbled into his barrel chest. “It’s so good to see you.”

  He held me at arm’s length and grinned. “You get prettier every day.”

  I laughed. “You’ve been saying that since I was three years old.”

  “And it’s still true.”

  “I’ve missed you. It’s been a few months since you’ve been around.”

  “Things are hopping at the vineyard, kiddo.”

  “That’s what Dad says. I’ve hardly seen him around lately, either.”

  “He’s keeping busy,” Uncle Pete said, his gaze darting around the crowd to see who needed help. He turned back to me. “Heard about the trouble out here today.”

  “Yeah. Rafe’s business partner was found dead.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Did you find him?”

  “No, thank goodness.” My father and Uncle Pete didn’t like my proclivity for finding dead bodies, either. “But I saw him. It was pretty bad.” I shook my head, not wanting to think about Dillon Charles. “Now what about Dad? What’s he keeping busy with?”

  “Oh, this and that.” His smile was vague as he grabbed the wine bottle and poured a small serving for the next person in line. “Hey, how about if we all get together for dinner next week at Bella Rosso? My treat.”