Ropes and Trees and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  Nor had I. “Who’s in line for mayor if she goes down?” Not that I had to ask.

  Terri’s lips twisted. “Geoffrey,” she said like there was any doubt. “That means the Patterson family. He’s married to one of the cousins, in case you didn’t know.” I didn’t. Not just their accountant, then, but family. Even worse. “And I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that, either.”

  Frankly, neither was I.

  “I can’t stand him, Fee,” she hissed in my ear, leaning closer as Oliver Watters and Sophia Bell walked by us, chatting with their heads down. “But I have to admit, he has impressive ideas. And without a more viable option, I think he’s going to end up leading Reading.”

  Geoffrey Jenkins, owned by the Pattersons, pied piping us on a new path. But to where? And to whose benefit?

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Six

  “How much of Reading is now owned by outsiders?” I had never thought to ask, never considered the question before. I was so wrapped up in my own problems, in Petunia’s and the annex and murders I’d failed to consider the place where I grew up and now did business might be at some kind of crossroads of its own.

  Terri seemed uncomfortable with the question. “Technically, I’m an outsider,” she said.

  I grasped her hand, shook my head. “You live here,” I said as way of an apology. “I mean corporations, business holdings.”

  Terri seemed to accept the correction. “A bit,” she said, “but less than you’d think. The Patterson family lobbies endlessly against it. I think they’ve been working against Olivia since she took power.”

  So they saw Olivia—and the encroachment of control of “their” town—as a threat? Well, I kind of did, too, truth be told. Except my bottom line kind of relied on it. Did that make me a hypocrite? I guess so. “How much do you know about them, anyway?”

  She shrugged. “Not much. Except, if you want to add irony to the story, most of them don’t even live here anymore.” That elicited a smirk from both of us. “The old matriarch rules from that manor house over the lake but no one ever sees her except the family, from what I hear. And they control all the property on that side of the mountain, so anyone building nearby has been completely cut off.” I was aware of that, the emptiness of the land around the manor, only visible from Cutter Lake.

  Maybe I needed to take a drive, get lost, pay them a friendly visit…? Now I was just getting sidetracked. Still, this was my town, too.

  “Despite their efforts? Fee, I’m nervous.” She sighed as she locked eyes with me. “The only reason I’m talking out of turn.” Okay, fair enough. Though what she thought I’d do with the information I had no idea. “While the town proper and the immediate area remain under control of locals, most of the surrounds, anything that’s been for sale recently, has been snapped up by outsiders. Mostly holdings, conglomerates with names I’ve never heard of and that have no digital presence.” So she’d been doing research on her own, good for her. “It’s sad, but it’s the way things go. At least, that’s what I’ve been told when I’ve brought it up during meetings.” She didn’t seem to buy that argument. “I love Reading, Fee. I’ve lived here for ten years now and despite its flaws, it’s home. That goes for Olivia. She might not always have great ideas, but I honestly think she has the best intentions for this town.”

  My mind went to the Valentine’s Day party at the White Valley Ski Lodge, the foreign investors Olivia invited, the drive she’d had to increase our visibility and tourism. “Even with the Blackstone deal?” I waited for her to change her mind but Terri didn’t.

  “There’s more going on here than we know,” she said at last, hands tucking in her pockets, shoulders bowed in the beginnings of misery. “I don’t think it’s going to end well if Geoffrey and the Pattersons are allowed to take over.”

  One thing was certain. Olivia’s plans for Reading weren’t going to unfold further if her reputation’s degradation and Geoffrey’s growing influence continued as they were. Trouble was, which side should I be on? Sure, he gave me the creeps, but was the family protecting Reading from being consumed by the outside world? Or did Olivia have a plan for us that I couldn’t see yet?

  “I’m pretty sure the Patterson family is taking a stand against outsiders,” Terri said, echoing what I was thinking. “Which means it’s likely Geoffrey’s pitch to further Reading is a ploy.”

  “To what end?” I already had my own guess but I wanted to hear her say it.

  She glanced at him, back to me, though I noted his faint scowl as he left Dad at last and headed our way as if only now realizing Terri and I were talking for longer than was polite and social. “To revert Reading back to the way it was,” she whispered before hugging me quickly with a fake smile. She left me then, following her fellow councilors while I scowled to myself and stared at the toes of my shoes, worried she was right.

  Reading reduced to the old way of things? That would suck. I had an annex to pay for. And the people of this town had invested a lot of time and effort into growth and prosperity. I glared at Geoffrey on the way by, heading for my father, ignoring the accountant with mayoral aspirations as he tried to stop me to talk.

  Not tonight, Geoff. If ever. Mind whirling, I grasped Dad’s arm and scowled up at him.

  “Time to have a conversation,” I grumbled and led him out.

  Dad wasn’t in the mood to chat, though. As soon as we hit the street he unhooked his arm from mine and kissed the top of my head. “Go home, Fee,” he said. “I have some things to look into.” He abandoned me then, striding toward his truck and I made no effort to go after him. He knew a lot more than he was saying, that much was evident. But the lights shining through the windows at the Reading Reader Gazette distracted me enough I decided to pin Dad down another time in favor of a chat with my favorite newspaperwoman.

  If Pamela didn’t know what was going on I’d live on frozen banana slices and give Petunia all the crap she wanted for the rest of her snorting, farting existence.

  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to find my friend huddled at her desk with the tall, slim form of Fleur King at her side, the pair whispering over something they instantly shut up about as I let myself into the office and through reception, coming to a halt with a grim nod for both.

  “Interesting town meeting you missed just now,” I said. “Want me to fill you in?”

  Pamela looked startled, Fleur glancing back and forth between us in faint amusement.

  “Spill,” my friend commanded.

  I sat and told her everything, including about Carmen and Philip, though honestly that part slipped out of me before I could censor myself. From the lack of shock on Pamela’s face nothing I told her came as a surprise, while Fleur whistled softly under her breath as I wrapped up.

  “You weren’t kidding about her,” she prodded Pamela in the ribs with a grin. “She’s got instincts.”

  Pamela flashed her a huge smile, far too familiar and conspiratorial I suddenly had suspicions about their history together that had nothing to do with work and everything to do with the kind of relationship that might get my friend into trouble with her fiancé. What was it with my friends this week, the people I encountered? It was like one big conspiracy to betray each other or at least confront temptation in the face of loyalty. Maybe I was just sensitive to it?

  There was an awkward moment of silence between them and then Pamela seemed to notice I was there. She twitched like she realized she’d given too much away before speaking.

  “I know about Blackstone,” she said, “and the property grab attempts. That the Pattersons are making their presence known for the first time in a long time.” She glanced at Fleur who didn’t comment. “I’ve been working on a story, but Jared’s purchase silenced the buy so I kind of stopped investigating.” Not to mention her engagement to his mother, maybe, influencing her choice? “Until Fleur showed up, that is.”

  The lean photojournalist shifted in her seat as if physical motion could shake off he
r reticence. She finally eye rolled and grinned at me like she’d made a decision that didn’t sit well with her but was out of her hands.

  “Fine,” she said. “Pam trusts you, I trust you. But this is my scoop and if you toss me to the wolves, I’ll make sure you regret it.” Um, not scared. I’d almost died a couple of times and the dead bodies I’d found? Piling up at an alarming rate. Besides, I didn’t owe her anything, but as long as she wasn’t doing anything to hurt the people I cared about I had no problem keeping quiet. “I’ve seen stories like this one unfolding all around the eastern seaboard and beyond. And it worries me.”

  “What kind of stories?” I sat back, waited.

  “Small towns building themselves up,” Fleur said, “finding tourism opportunities, or industry that attracts attention.” She spread her long fingers wide, resting them on the thighs of her jeans. “Then, out of nowhere, someone reports an endangered species appearance, an animal or a plant, and the activists appear to shut things down.” She glanced at Pamela who didn’t comment. “In almost all cases, the disturbance has closed off local efforts to develop and left the surrounding properties open to purchase at highly reduced rates.”

  “Big corporations—like Blackstone—come in with specialists who debunk the sightings,” Pamela went on, taking over the story while Fleur exhaled and stared at her splayed fingers as if they offended her. “The land is so cheap at that point, the industry and tourism efforts crushed, they buy up everything, promising development.”

  “Which the locals get,” Fleur said, “in the form of clearcutting or fracking or factory farming, that slowly devour the town and become the major employer. They can then drive down wages on the premise of creating jobs. They strip the area of useful resources before they move on to the next location. Meanwhile the towns that are at the core of the process die because the locals move away thanks to the reduction in their quality of life.”

  How freaking horrible. “That’s what they planned for Reading?” So Olivia did try to sell us out. My estimation of her plummeted to zero while Pamela spoke.

  “The fact Philip is connected to Blackstone means he’s at the top of the suspect list.” I shook my head then, standing and pacing because I couldn’t help myself.

  “He’s the liaison between the activists and Blackstone,” Fleur said. “I’ve encountered him a time or two before. In fact,” she leaned toward the desk, resting both elbows on it, “he’s been at every single rally Lewis and that partner of his have organized in the last two years.”

  So, was Lewis connected to Philip and Blackstone? Was that the reason he was killed? And did Philip kill him despite what he said on the phone?

  Pamela exhaled softly, enough to catch my attention while Fleur sat back again, crossing her arms over her narrow chest.

  “I shouldn’t have stopped investigating,” my friend said, sounding sad and frustrated.

  “No, you shouldn’t,” Fleur said, not quite an accusation. “The Pam I knew wouldn’t have.”

  I almost jumped to her defense but I needn’t have bothered.

  “Piss off,” she snapped at Fleur before grinning.

  “You first,” Fleur winked back. “Now can you please get your head out of your butt and do your job already? I could use the backup.” She met my eyes, hers clear and open. “And yours, if you’re in for some further snooping?” I didn’t respond right away, but she wasn’t done. “See, I’m pretty sure Lewis Brown wasn’t a real activist and that he’s been working for Blackstone all along. I just need to prove it.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  I absorbed that for a moment before asking my next question. “And Grace?” Was she working for the corporation too?

  “I don’t know,” Fleur said. “She was his right hand, though. Surely she knew everything, at the very least.”

  Not necessarily, but I didn’t say that out loud. After all, Ryan had cheated on me for years and I had no idea. Or did I? No, I refused to accept that I’d known and just didn’t want to admit it to myself at the time. His infidelity had come as a total shock. So it was possible Grace had zero clue about Lewis. But, if she found out, would that be motive for murder?

  “I have a money trail,” Fleur said, clearly lost in her own thoughts and unaware of where my mind was going. “I’ve been tracking the cash flow and it’s pretty clear Lewis was handsomely compensated for making noise before conveniently disappearing in time for the specialists to clean up the mess he made.” Which led me to wonder if anyone in the community of protestors knew Lewis was dirty. Could that be why they were less likely to leap on his bandwagon? Was he suspected by other leaders and motivators and could some of them have wanted him dead for his betrayal?

  “We need to tell Crew about this.” Fleur’s instant groan and scowl told me I was about to have a fight on my hands.

  “This is my story,” she growled. “It’s huge and I’m not going to risk losing it thanks to some bumbling small-town sheriff.”

  Excuse me very much. “He’s far from bumbling,” Pamela interjected with that same amused tone and expression she’d had all along. “As a matter of fact, he’s former FBI.” He was what? I gaped at the newswoman while she winked at me. “Thought you knew? He left the Bureau when his wife died, took this job for goodness knows what reason.”

  Huh. I had no clue. And my estimation of him jacked up several notches while I wondered how much else there was he hadn’t told me about himself.

  “Your point being?” Fleur didn’t seem mollified. If anything, her back was up further than before. “Once a Fed, always a Fed. He’ll turn everything I have over to his friends in suits and my story will be crushed.”

  “Or,” I said, “you could work with him and scoop the entire thing while he solves it.”

  She glared at me a moment before sighing. “You’re new to this,” she said. “So I’ll let you have your innocent illusions for the time being. And I can’t stop you from telling him, obviously. But don’t ask me to sabotage my own story for the sake of your little town or some dead activist who sold out.”

  “You might not trust Fee and Crew,” Pamela said, one hand on Fleur’s arm keeping her from standing and striding away, though the touch looked so light and Fleur’s gathered energy so visible in her lean body I wasn’t sure how long the other woman could hold her back. “But you know me. You trusted me once. I’m asking you to trust me now.”

  Fleur’s face twisted into denial. “You’re not the journalist I knew.” But that attack sounded weak, like a shot in the dark while Pamela shrugged and dropped her hand.

  “Maybe,” she said. “Or I’m less about us versus them and more about getting the job done than I ever was. Up to you, Flower.” Fleur eye rolled at the obvious nickname before flashing a grin at Pamela then me, tight and frustrated.

  “Fine,” she said, blowing out a gust of air between thin lips. “I’ll talk to your Federali sheriff and give him what I have. Happy?”

  I was, though Pamela laughed. “Never entirely,” she said. “The curse of being a journalist.”

  Fleur sagged back into her seat, long legs stretching out in front of her. “Just give me tonight to confirm my information.” She wasn’t looking at my friend, but instead staring right at me. “Can I have that much?”

  It was impossible not to feel uneasy about agreeing to her request. I needed to talk to Crew myself. Still, if she could uncover the truth and hand it to him on a silver platter, it would go a long way to solving this case and maybe shifting the fate of our town. So could I in good conscience argue with her?

  Well, I was a Fleming. So I could argue about anything.

  “Fee’s one of us,” Pamela nodded to me, sealing my fate with friendship and a steady stare that made me groan inwardly. “She’ll keep her peace until tomorrow. Right, Fee?”

  Damn her. “I’ll be at the sheriff’s station first thing,” I said. “You’d both better be there.” I didn’t wait for confirmation, instead turning and heading
for the exit, heart constricting. I needed to see Crew, and not just about this. I wanted to talk to him about what Robert saw, or thought he saw, the intense drive to do so almost too much. But if I went to his house to see him I’d be spilling everything, I just knew it. While my loyalty to him came first, could I really let Pamela down?

  One night. Surely a single sleep wasn’t going to make that big a difference.

  So, instead of doing the right thing, the smart thing? I went home. To find my father there yet again, waiting for me.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  This time Mom had gone, Dad pacing the foyer as I entered. Petunia huffed herself to her feet and came to me in a rush, bumping my shins with her heavy head, whining for attention. Okay, food, not attention. She must have missed her nighttime snack.

  Seeing Dad made my traitor heart constrict further. Did he count on the no contact list? I had told Fleur I wouldn’t tell Crew, but did my father qualify, too? I agonized over it as I hurriedly led Petunia into the kitchen, Dad trailing after me.

  “Where were you?” He acted like he hadn’t abandoned me earlier, driving off in his truck as if I didn’t exist. “I needed to talk to you.”

  “Um, then maybe you should have thought of that before you skipped out.” I crouched and handed Petunia her frozen strawberry allotment before scowling at him like he’d cracked his nut. “Right?”

  Dad sighed. “Sorry, right. It’s been a bit busy.” He began pacing again. “I forgot I needed to ask you some questions.” He stopped abruptly, frowned like he’d given something away. Which he had.

  “You’re working for someone and it’s connected to the murder.” That much was pretty obvious.

  Dad shrugged then, sighing as he sank to a stool and rested his forearms on the counter, leaning in with a faint smile. “I’m getting too old for this, Fee.” But the sparkle in his eyes, the growing grin on his face? Totally squashed that line of his. Yeah, sure he was.