Her Deadly Inheritance

by Beth Ann Ziarnik

  That did it! The tears she had fought so hard to contain slipped silently down her cheeks. In some ways, Lenore’s housekeeper reminded Jill so much of Maggie. “You’re a good woman, Mrs. Fenton.”

  The housekeeper flushed in a pleased sort of way, then grumbled as she ambled away. “I still think you should stay home and rest.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of Jill’s mouth as she observed the woman retreat. At least Mrs. Fenton didn’t wag her finger at her as Maggie would have done.

  Bathing and dressing took quite an effort. Jill had even lain down for a while, but now she was almost ready, not nearly as wiped out as earlier. With slow strokes, she drew the silver-handled brush through her hair while Clay’s warning chilled her heart.

  He had to be wrong. For one thing, Lenore would never risk damaging Windtop and her antiques with a fire. She had a hard time passing through the rooms without a satisfied smile and reaching out to touch or adjust them. No, her aunt was not behind last night’s smoke damage.

  Yet if Clay was right, someone else was.

  Her heart beat heavy in her chest as she lowered her brush to the dressing table. Did that someone hate her enough to want to kill her?

  Maybe they only meant to scare her away.

  Clay had tried to talk her into leaving. He knew how the fireplace worked and had arrived just in time to rescue her. Would he arrange such a risky accident, hoping she’d take his advice and leave?

  Somehow such reasoning didn’t quite make sense. Her overwrought brain must be swimming through mud this morning.

  She fastened a delicate gold chain around her neck, then wrapped her fingers around the cross pendant. Please, God, I need to know. Am I in danger? Had someone murdered her mother and now felt she was a threat?

  Fire surging through her veins, Jill reached for her Bible. If such a someone existed, that one would find Susannah Bradwell Shepherd’s daughter didn’t frighten easily. As God gave her strength, she’d get to the bottom of this. She would know the truth before she left Windtop.

  The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the scent of crisp Applewood bacon greeted Jill warmly as she entered the dining room. Yet it was the sweet fragrance of Mrs. Fenton’s hot cinnamon rolls that made her mouth water. A little breakfast should fortify her for the trip from the island.

  She went straight to the buffet while Lenore and Tia seated themselves at the dining table, their breakfast plates filled with Mrs. Fenton’s delicacies. Her aunt draped a linen napkin over her lap. “Don’t dawdle, Tia, or we will be late.”

  Tia stirred sugar into her coffee. “I’m skipping this morning.”

  “You are not.”

  “I am.” Tia lifted her porcelain cup to sip the steaming liquid. “The weather is too beautiful today. Besides, I hate church. It’s boring.”

  Placing a cinnamon roll and a glass of orange juice on the table before her, Jill settled in and bowed her head in silent prayer. When she looked up, Tia was spreading strawberry preserves on buttered toast.

  “Good morning, Jill.” Following the abrupt greeting, the girl turned back to her mother. “Carver never goes. Dad only does when he’s not busy at the office.”

  “All the more reason you and I should make the effort. After all, you certainly don’t want people—”

  “—to say we Bradwells are heathens?” Tia said. “I’m sure I don’t care.”

  “A good reputation is everything in this small town,” Lenore snapped.

  “And, of course, we have such a good reputation to uphold.” Tia rolled her eyes before taking another bite of her toast as her father entered the room.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Listen to your mother, Tia.” He stopped and raised his eyebrows as he caught sight of Jill. “Good morning. I see you’re feeling better.”

  She sipped a bit of juice. “Yes, thank you.”

  Lenore tipped her head, studying her. “A rather quick recovery after last night’s experience, isn’t it?”

  Offering no answer seemed the best way to handle her disagreeable aunt at the moment.

  Lenore squirmed slightly and rearranged the napkin on her lap. “Well, you are your own boss.”

  Tia huffed. “Jill is her own boss, but I’m treated like a child?”

  Uncle Drew set his cup of coffee on the table and sat down. Jill couldn’t help but notice how he had ignored the rest of the buffet.

  “Dad, are you going?” Hope laced the girl’s voice.

  He gulped a swallow of the black liquid. “Not this morning, little girl. I’m needed at the mill, but I’ll be back in time for dinner.” He set his cup down. “Now be a good girl and go with your mother. If Jill feels well enough, maybe she’ll go too.”

  “Wonderful idea!” Lenore gushed. “You do go to church, don’t you, Jill?”

  “I do.” But Lenore wouldn’t like what her niece had in mind. Jill pulled the slip of paper from her Bible.

  Tia leaned in. “What’s that?”

  “The address of a church in town where my pastor’s friend ministers.”

  Lenore snatched the paper and wrinkled her nose. “No one who is anyone goes there.”

  Tia craned to read the note. “Some nice people do,” she offered quietly.

  Lenore thrust the paper back at Jill. “Not us.”

  Sliding her mother a sideways glance, Tia grinned, her brown eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, I would. You know, a change might be interesting.”

  Uncle Drew drained the rest of his coffee. “Tia, do as your mother says.”

  “All right, but I won’t like it.” The girl threw her napkin on the table and stomped from the room.

  Jill finished her first bite of cinnamon roll and pushed the plate away. Her appetite had vanished. She’d forgotten how contentious her uncle’s family could be. Even for a short time, living with them would be a challenge. Could she handle the constant bickering? She’d have to if she wanted to know what happened to her mother.

  Clay stood at the helm of Bradwell’s boat, stretching and fisting his fingers as the family threesome boarded ahead of Jill.

  Tia pouted. “You can make me go, but you can’t make me like it.” She sought a place on the deck as far from her mother as possible. As usual, her mother ignored her while Bradwell cast off the lines tethering the boat to the dock. He then settled himself and opened his briefcase to shuffle through some papers.

  Not looking well enough to make the trip, Jill seated herself and gazed across the bay toward town. A wistful expression graced her pale face and tugged at his heart. Strange how the feel of her in his arms had remained with him throughout the night. As if … no, God would never set Jill up for a hurt like that.

  Clay tore his gaze away. If God had any such plans, Clay would make sure they failed. He had a sacred promise to keep.

  “Everyone’s aboard, Merrick,” Bradwell called from the deck.

  Clay eased the boat forward to clear the dock, then pushed from idle to full throttle, thrilling to the throb of the inboard motor’s power beneath his feet. Two weeks left to nail a killer, and after last night’s close call, he’d make every hour count.

  Turning the boat into the bay’s choppy waters, Clay aimed for City Dock.

  Jill paused outside New Hope Church. The sturdy clapboard building needed paint, and its cement steps showed signs of wear, but the large sign above its double front door bravely announced “Jesus Saves” and drew her inside.

  Within the paneled vestibule, a cheery atmosphere enveloped her as strangers with kind faces smiled and suspended their conversations to greet her. Their sincere welcome strengthened her, but her short walk from City Dock had left her surprisingly weak.

  Taking advantage of her first opportunity, she slipped into the sanctuary and made her way down the thinly carpeted aisle to a pew near the front. Across from her, a short, silver-haired woman with a pleasant face and clear, blue eyes smiled at her before resuming her prayers.

  On a green-carpeted platform stretching a
cross the front of the sanctuary, a tall man in his late thirties arranged papers on a wooden pulpit. Near an organ at the left side of the platform, a young man with a shock of red hair sat on its round stool and softly strummed a guitar. The melody brought the hymn’s familiar words to Jill’s heart:

  “Abide with me, soft comes the eventide,

  The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide …”

  The darkness deepens at Windtop, Lord. A strange, frightening darkness. She would grab Clay’s advice and beat it back to her life in Chicago if she weren’t so sure the Lord had sent her to Windtop.

  Folding her hands in her lap, she closed her eyes and let the hymn’s words become her prayer while God’s love wrapped around her like a healing balm.

  “Good morning!”

  Jill opened her eyes to focus on the tall man behind the pulpit. A broad grin lit his face.

  “Welcome. For those of you who might not know, I’m Pastor Bill McGee, and the young man playing guitar for us today is my nephew, Leo. My wife, Helen, is still visiting her mother in Wisconsin, but should return tomorrow. Our prayer today is for God to meet you in a special way during this morning’s service. Shall we worship together in song?”

  About fifty people rose to their feet, their voices accompanied by the guitar’s now lively beat. The service progressed with songs, prayers, and Pastor McGee’s sermon giving strength to Jill’s weary soul.

  Looking up from her own desperate prayers near the end of the service, she noticed the elderly woman across the aisle praying fervently. Lord, please grant that woman her heart’s desire.

  With a final blessing, Pastor McGee dismissed the congregation. As the elderly woman struggled to her feet to leave, her Bible and the contents of her purse spilled on the floor. She bent down to retrieve them and winced. “Oh, dear!”

  Jill hurried to her side. “Let me help you.”

  The woman smiled and eased back onto the pew. “Thank you.”

  While Jill picked up the scattered contents of the woman’s purse, Pastor McGee arrived with a metal walker. “Here, you are, Mrs. Tanner. I’ll be back in a few minutes to walk you home.” At the back of the church, several people waited to speak to him.

  The woman nodded and smiled. “Take your time, Pastor.”

  “I could walk Mrs. Tanner home,” Jill offered.

  “Is it all right with you?” he asked the older woman.

  “Certainly! I would enjoy getting acquainted with this lovely young woman.”

  “All right, then, I’ll leave you with—”

  “Jill.” Who remembered last names on a busy Sunday morning? “I’m glad Pastor Tim recommended your church. He said you were roommates in Bible College.”

  “Tim Ketter?” In response to her nod, he grinned. “Well, I’m doubly glad you came.”

  Someone called from the back of the church. He excused himself and hurried away.

  “Are you ready, Mrs. Tanner?” Jill asked.

  “Please call me Amelia.” The woman rose to her feet with an effort and laughed. “This old body isn’t as young as it used to be. You’re sure I won’t be too much bother?”

  Jill glanced at her cell phone. “I have plenty of time. Where do you live?”

  As they emerged from the church, Amelia pointed to a white one-and-a-half-story bungalow across the street. A picket fence enclosed a yard filled with flowers of every height and color. A cement walk marched up the center of the lawn to a broad porch with an old-fashioned swing at one side.

  When they reached the front door, Amelia patted Jill’s hand. “Thank you so much.”

  Warmth stole into Jill’s heart. “My pleasure,” she said, opening the screen door. “Something sure smells delicious.”

  “A roasting chicken. I have plenty if you’d care to join me.”

  The dear woman’s eyes had filled with such hope that it saddened Jill to decline. “I’m so sorry, but my family is expecting me.”

  Amelia smiled through her disappointment. “Family comes first. Perhaps another time.”

  “I’d be honored.” The truth was, she’d prefer dinner with this dear woman, but her family—such as it was—waited.

  Sunday dinner with the Bradwells was not something Clay cared to do. Yet the promise he’d made himself regarding Jill’s safety compelled him—and he might pick up on something helpful. People often let slip useful information without realizing it.

  He entered the dining room to find the family already seated. “Sorry I’m late.” He took the only chair available, one between Bradwell and his son and across the table from Jill, glad to note her complexion had regained its color. She had recovered quickly from the ill effects of last night’s misadventure.

  Carver forked three pieces of fried chicken on his plate and passed the platter to Clay. “I hear you plan to check the fireplace in Jill’s room. Any ideas on what might have gone wrong?”

  Certain he was right about an attempt on Jill’s life, Clay chose to take care how he responded. “It’s a strange case.”

  “How’s that?” Bradwell asked.

  “It operated fine on its last inspection,” Clay said.

  Jill passed a bowl of mashed potatoes to her younger cousin who helped herself to a generous portion.

  “Lightly, Tia,” her mother chided. “Your party is only two weeks away. Eat lightly, or you will never fit into your lovely dress.”

  The girl stared at her mother, then ducked her head and ate a forkful of potatoes.

  Mrs. Bradwell let it go for the moment and addressed him. “Will you be able to manage the repairs on the third floor yourself, Mr. Merrick?”

  “I’ll know as soon as I inspect it more thoroughly.” It would give him a chance to work inside the house. His heart leapt at the prospect.

  “Might you finish before my luncheon here on Tuesday?”

  “I’ll do my best.” For Jill’s sake, he’d stretch the time as long as possible.

  Bradwell poured gravy over his potatoes. “It’s fortunate you arrived when you did last night.”

  “Yes,” Carver said, scooping peas and carrots onto his plate. “We wouldn’t want anything happening to our Jill. By the way, cousin, what kind of work do you do in Chicago?”

  “Mostly genealogy reports on both buildings and families.” She placed a small portion of mashed potatoes on her plate.

  Carver’s lop-sided grin held no warmth. “So this is a legitimate business, not just a hobby?”

  Jill’s face flushed at the man’s intended insult.

  Her cousin feigned interest. “So how does one get into your line of work?”

  Jill looked him in the eye with a sweetness the man didn’t deserve, and he squirmed. “By being in the right place at the right time, I imagine.”

  Clay restrained a satisfied grin. Good for her! She stood up to the worm.

  “While trying to find my father, I learned how to use the same research tools Nona Anderson uses in her business, and she offered me a job.”

  Lenore’s soft, derisive noise set Jill to blushing again and Clay’s temper on edge. It wouldn’t hurt the woman to treat her niece decently.

  Carver speared a mouthful of meat. “So how do you prepare those reports?”

  Jill returned her forkful of salad to her plate and shrugged. “I search public records, locate historical information, and interview people. I examine house features and come to conclusions. Then I write a detailed report on whatever the client requests.”

  How did she keep her sweet spirit? Clay couldn’t help but admire her for it.

  Carver sat back, grinning. “So, you’re a kind of detective.”

  Jill paused as if digesting the idea. “I never quite thought of it that way, but I suppose you’re right.”

  “Smaller bites, Tia,” the girl’s mother admonished, “and, for heaven’s sake, not so much butter.”

  Ignoring her mother, the girl focused on Jill. “I have a question because I don’t get it. Why are you so different? I mean, invitin
g us to live in this house when you know my mother doesn’t like you. She’d take this house from you in a minute if she could.”

  As Jill sucked an uneasy breath, Clay darted a wary look at Mrs. Bradwell. Yet the woman made no attempt to correct her daughter.

  “I’ll tell you,” Jill said. “But remember, you asked.” She looked from one to the other. “As I said before, a few months ago, I decided to become a Christian and give my life to Jesus.”

  Carver snorted while Lenore uttered a soft noise of contempt.

  “But why?”

  “Tia,” her father chided, “don’t be rude.”

  “It’s all right, Uncle Drew. It’s not an easy story to tell, but I don’t mind her honest question.” Jill looked down as if collecting her thoughts. “For weeks after Uncle Drew told me Mother and Maggie had died, I didn’t sleep well. I didn’t eat much. Most days, I couldn’t concentrate enough to do my work. One day, I went to my room, locked the door, and called Brian.”

  Tia’s brown eyes lit up. “Brian?”

  “We were engaged. I called to cancel our date.”

  The girl wrinkled her nose. “You’re kidding!”

  Jill paused and then forged ahead. “I sat up all night, believing my life was some terrible mistake, convinced I never should have been born.”

  “You’re right about that one,” Carver grumbled under his breath, but Jill obviously heard him.

  “By morning, I …” She hesitated before going on. “I decided to correct the mistake.”

  Carver looked up with riveted attention, a detail she didn’t seem to miss. It appeared to Clay that it actually encouraged her. “I took a knife from a kitchen drawer and returned to my room where I locked the door. A minute later, I heard my boss, Nona Anderson. She rapped on my door. ‘Jill,’ she said, ‘don’t do it.’”

  Tia’s eyes grew large. “How did she know?”

  “Just what I thought,” Jill said.