A Broth of Betrayal (25 page)

Chapter 37

N
ATE KNOCKED FIRMLY
on the door. It was opened immediately by Cordelia Rank. Lucky had seen a curtain
in the front window move slightly. She was sure Cordelia had watched their progress
up the path. Lucky squeezed Horace’s hand to give him courage. She knew he was dreading
this moment, but it was something he had to see through. Horace leaned over and secured
Cicero’s leash to the column on the front porch. “Stay, Cicero.” Cicero sat obediently,
his tail wagging. Lucky scratched the dog’s head, happy that Horace had agreed to
adopt Edward’s orphaned pet.

Cordelia opened the door and turned a frosty gaze on Nate. Her look swept over Lucky
and Horace. “Nate,” she stated flatly. She was well aware why they were all on her
doorstep.

“May we come in?” Nate asked.

Cordelia said nothing, but stepped back and opened the front door of her home. Without
a word, she turned and walked into the large front parlor taking a seat in a straight-backed
armchair. The three of them, Nate, Lucky and Horace, trailed in after Cordelia and
sat on the sofa facing her.

“Mrs. Rank, I have reason to believe that you lured Horace Winthorpe into the woods
outside his home and that you or you and your husband entered that home without permission
to steal one of the artifacts found with the remains.”

Cordelia stared at Nate stonily. “How dare you . . .”

“I’m here to ask you nicely to hand it over. It does not belong to you, and should
be kept at the University until the final disposition of the remains and other artifacts
is decided.”

Cordelia sniffed. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Nate sighed. “I’m really hoping that I don’t have to get a warrant, Cordelia. I’d
like to handle this in a civilized manner.”

Cordelia’s breathing became shallower. Her face was pinched and white lines appeared
around her nose. “You are wrong, Nate Edgerton. Those remains do belong to me. They
are the remains of my ancestor and I can prove it. I have all the research and paperwork
that I’ve submitted to the Daughters of the American Revolution, and you and this
town have no right to interfere with the proper burial of
my
ancestor and his personal possessions. I’ll have you know I have sought legal counsel
and my attorney will be bringing an action against the University to release those
remains.”

Lucky heard a step in the hallway and looked up to see Norman Rank standing in the
archway to the parlor.

“Well, Cordelia, I can’t argue legal technicalities with you. I guess that will be
for a judge to decide. But in the meantime, I can and will apply for a warrant, and
if that lead ball is on the premises, I would be forced to bring charges against you.
Fortunately for your sake, Professor Winthorpe has no desire to cause you trouble,
but the University entrusted those artifacts to him and he’s compelled to return them.
Completely apart from the injury he suffered that night and the emotional upset, he’s
personally embarrassed by the loss.”

Norman glared across the room at his wife. He turned and disappeared from the threshold,
while Cordelia and Nate faced each other in silence, neither one willing to relinquish
a position of power. Norman returned and walked toward Nate. He handed him a small
box.

Surprised, Nate looked up and took the box. He opened it carefully while Lucky peeked
over his shoulder. On a pad of cotton lay the small lead ball once fashioned from
family pewter that had killed a man more than two centuries ago. Horace breathed an
audible sigh of relief.

“I apologize and I am very sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused you.” Norman addressed
his comment to Horace. “We never meant you any harm.”

Horace stood and shook Norman’s hand vigorously. “It’s all forgotten. Thank you.”

Cordelia’s complexion had turned bright red. She opened her mouth to object, but Norman
silenced her with a look. “My wife has a very good point. If the remains are those
of her ancestor, she is entitled to claim those remains and artifacts. I was . . .
it was very foolish to do what we did. I hope you’ll forgive us. We’ll handle this
through legal means and let the court decide what to do.”

Cordelia mustered her dignity. “The fact remains that I am still a Daughter of the
American Revolution. And I’ll have you know that my ancestor
was
a patriot. He was not a traitor, no matter whose bullet killed him. Anyone who says
otherwise is guilty of slander. We possess a very fine record proving that Nathanael
Cooper was a militiaman in the Continental Army and that’s all that really counts.”
Cordelia choked on her words and rushed from the room. She looked as if she were about
to burst into tears.

Lucky had a moment of pity for Cordelia. That is, until she remembered the night she
discovered Horace injured in the woods. Maybe Cordelia Cooper Rank deserved a little
humiliation.

Chapter 38

C
HARLIE LEAPED FROM
the grass and landed on Lucky’s lap, purring and nuzzling her face.

“You’ve got a fan,” Elizabeth remarked. She moved around the large picnic table, lighting
candles.

The sun was just starting to set. The evening promised to stay warm, the last of the
days of summer before the first chill of autumn arrived. Elizabeth had decided to
organize an “End of Summer” party as she called it, to celebrate her rescue and release.
She had invited Lucky and Elias, Jack, Sophie and Sage, Horace, and Nate and Susanna
Edgerton.

Susanna poured a glass of wine and carried it over to Lucky. “I know you don’t want
to disturb Charlie. He looks so happy on your lap.”

“We bonded while Elizabeth was away.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “You mean he’s attached to you because you fed him.”

“That about sums it up,” Lucky agreed.

Jack and Nate sat together at the picnic table with beers in their hands, while Sage
grilled steaks and hamburgers on Elizabeth’s backyard barbeque. Corn on the cob lay
on the rack, cooked and charred. Sophie was next to Sage at a utility table slicing
vegetables and brushing them with olive oil.

“That smells so good. I’m starving,” Susanna called out.

“Be ready in just a minute.” Sage brushed the steaks with a ladle of marinade and
let them sizzle a few more seconds. Sophie scooped the vegetables into a large platter
with the corn and delivered it to the table. No one needed an invitation. They all
headed to the picnic table immediately and grabbed seats. Lucky rose from her chair
and Charlie leaped off her lap, protesting. Sage moved around the table, depositing
a steak on every plate. He returned to the grill and brought a platter of burgers
to the table. When everyone was settled, Elizabeth raised her wineglass.

“To good friends. Without all of you . . .” Her eyes filled with tears. “Well, I don’t
know where I’d be.”

Candles flickered around the picnic table, lighting the faces of Elizabeth’s friends
and loved ones. Lucky spoke first. “To Elizabeth.” She raised her glass and everyone
followed suit.

“To Elizabeth,” echoed in the night.

Later, as the evening became cooler, and the cleanup was finished, the guests moved
into the living room for more drinks and dessert. Lucky had carried the lighted candles
into the house, placing them on the coffee table and around the room. Charlie had
now taken his rightful place on Elizabeth’s lap.

“You see, Edward and I, years ago, maybe twenty-five years ago now, I guess, we became
close. It might have become . . . an important relationship. I don’t know for certain,
but at the time, I felt it could have. Edward had been truly devastated and grief
stricken years before. To lose his son like that and then his wife. If she had been
stronger, better able to cope with the loss of Johnny, then perhaps they could have
had another child. Things might have turned out very differently.”

“You never said how she died,” Sophie said.

Elizabeth glanced at Nate. He met her gaze as though encouraging her to tell the story.
“She hanged herself. She committed suicide after . . . after Johnny’s death. We all
did our best to support Edward through several difficult years. That’s when he and
I started seeing each other. He seemed to be doing well, but then, in an unguarded
moment, I saw what was still inside him. Understandable, surely, but I knew then he
might never move on. His need to take revenge consumed him. He could not forgive what
had been done to his family.”

She looked around the room at the faces of her guests. “I cannot judge him, in spite
of what he did—not just to Danny Harkins and Rowland. And to me and Maggie. I cannot
even begin to conceive of the crushing weight of his life. I only wish . . . he could
have found a way to forgive and recover.”

“None of us saw it,” Nate spoke. “He was quiet and kept to himself. Perhaps if Richard
Rowland had never returned, he wouldn’t have acted on those impulses.”

“Rowland’s return was a catalyst,” Elizabeth said. “But don’t forget what he did to
Danny Harkins years before when he had the chance. That day in the woods when he held
a gun pointed at me and Lucky, he didn’t appear to have any remorse. He had given
up the struggle, I think. When Rowland—that slick, amoral man—returned, it overwhelmed
him.”

“I had heard of the old history, but I never put it together,” Nate said. “Rowland
had an alibi for the night Harry was killed. He claimed to be in Lincoln Falls at
a business meeting. But it was shaky at best. He could have come back to town at any
time and knocked on Harry’s door. And if I were just looking for a motive, I’d have
to have a good look at Guy Bessette.”

“Guy?” Sage furrowed his brow. “Why Guy?”

“Oh.” Nate cleared his throat. “I guess everyone will know soon enough. Harry knew
he was dying. He drew up a will with a lawyer in Lincoln Falls and left everything
he had to Guy Bessette, including the business.”

“Why that’s wonderful!” Sophie exclaimed. “Not to mention that we’ll still have an
auto shop in town.” Lucky didn’t tell them that Guy had already confided in her. She
was glad she had given Guy the advice she had that day at the Spoonful—to keep his
mouth shut until Harry’s murder was cleared up.

“Now we just have to keep Rowena away from him,” Sophie said.

Jack laughed. “Maybe I’ll have a word with Guy next time I see him—man-to-man.”

Elizabeth stroked Charlie’s fur, lost in thought. “I do think if Maggie hadn’t been
so terrorized, she would have let me go. I never felt she intended to harm me. At
least I couldn’t think of any earthly reason why she would. Edward must have played
on her fear and her guilt. She must have felt like a social pariah. The loneliness
and isolation . . .” Elizabeth shook her head. “All those emotions must have festered
inside her for years. She wanted to believe that Edward wouldn’t kill her. And she
must have believed there was no one who would come to her aid.”

“Perhaps Edward would have killed her sooner, but you turned up,” Lucky said. “He
needed her alive to hold you hostage.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I’d like to think he didn’t intend for me to die in that fire,
but in his mind, he must have seen no other alternative.”

“Are we sure it was Rowland who killed Harry?” Susanna asked, looking around the room
at their faces.

Nate cleared his throat. “We can’t be absolutely sure. There’s no hard proof that
we could go into court with—that is, if the man were still alive—but I’d bet my last
dollar on it.”

“I think Nate’s right,” Lucky said. “After overhearing that conversation outside Pastor
Wilson’s office, I did feel Harry had held a terrible secret for a long time. I’m
convinced it was Rowland he needed to give fair warning to. Rowland must have panicked.
If he were charged with . . . what would it be? Manslaughter? Second-degree murder?
He saw his reputation and his life going down the tubes. He struck out at Harry before
Harry could talk about what happened when they were young boys. He wasn’t going to
let that happen. Not after all this time.”

“That makes sense,” Nate volunteered. “A couple of people saw Harry talking to Rowland
on the Green the day before Harry was murdered. They noticed it because they thought
Harry might be in cahoots with Rowland about the car wash.”

Sophie spoke up. “We kept trying to imagine what Harry Hodges and Richard Rowland
could have had in common. You couldn’t find such different men, and yet their murders,
coming so close together, just couldn’t be a coincidence.” Sophie looked across the
room. “Elizabeth, what do you think? Do you think they deliberately locked Embry’s
son in that house? Did they mean to kill him?”

“Maybe it was just a prank that got out of hand,” Sage said. “Maybe they were just
trying to scare Johnny for following them around.”

“I remember them so well,” Elizabeth said. “As if it were yesterday. Teachers and
parents aren’t supposed to have favorites, but there are just some kids you like and
some you don’t, as if you can see the kind of person they’ll grow into. Richard Rowland
was like that. I never could take to that boy. You could tell he had a mean streak
a mile wide. And for whatever reason, he was able to compel other kids to follow in
his wake. He was a nasty little boy, and definitely the ringleader of their small
group. Harry and Danny were his followers. They’d do whatever Rowland told them to
do. I do not believe that Harry Hodges or Danny Harkins could have deliberately hurt
anyone else, especially a younger boy, without Richard Rowland egging them on. But
I also don’t think any of them were innocent, even though they claimed to be nowhere
near that house that day. It’s possible it was a game that got out of hand. And maybe
they tried to put out the fire, but couldn’t. It was too late. Too late to save Johnny
Embry.”

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, her eyes taking on a far-off look. “Whatever really
happened, all their lives were irrevocably damaged. Harry was a lonely man who never
got close to anyone. Even if Danny had lived longer, he might have drunk himself to
death. And Richard Rowland—what a hardened, unhappy man he turned out to be. Or perhaps
he was simply born that way. I can’t even begin to comprehend the emotions that ate
at Edward all these years, losing his son and then his wife. All those lives ruined
by one reckless event—if recklessness it was, and not premeditation. Did they lock
Johnny in that house and play at setting it on fire? Or did Johnny just become trapped
and they were unable to do anything about it and, terrified, decided to live a lie
for the rest of their lives?”

The candles sputtered as everyone fell silent. The night had grown cool, but inside
Elizabeth’s home, it was warm and comforting, a universe away from the horror they
contemplated. Lucky leaned against Elias’s shoulder. Life could be snuffed out at
any moment, any age, she thought. It was a shame to waste time in fear. What difference
did it make if their relationship caused gossip? What was important was that she and
Elias move forward with their lives, that every day be lived to the fullest.

Jack broke the silence. “Guess we’ll never know for sure what happened that day in
the woods. And maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Amen,” Elizabeth said. “There’s no one who cares anymore except the people in this
room.” Charlie purred contentedly as Elizabeth stroked his fur.