Green Living Can Be Deadly (A Blossom Valley Mystery) (13 page)

 

I waited for one of those California earthquakes to rattle the ground and distract Preston from our conversation, but those tremblers never happened when you wanted.

Preston still held my arm. The pressure increased slightly as more tears leaked out.

I patted his hand, but his grip didn’t ease. “Well, I shouldn’t mention names.” I jerked a thumb at Detective Palmer. “I mean, the police might need to keep the list of suspects quiet so they don’t tip anyone off.”

“That’s correct,” Detective Palmer said.

Preston released his hold on my arm, but then he took my hand, only increasing how flustered I felt. “If you know anything that can help the police, you’ve got to tell them.”

I snuck a peek at Jason to see if he would step in, but he was busy writing in his notebook and didn’t seem to be paying any attention. I nodded at Preston. “Absolutely. In fact, I was about to speak with the detective, but first I want to tell you again how sorry I am about Wendy’s passing.” An awkward silence settled between us.

Preston looked past me and let go of my hand. “Please excuse me. I need to speak with the other guests.”

As he moved away, I smacked Jason on the arm.

“What?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you help me there? You could have said something.”

Jason spread his hands. “What did you want me to say? The poor guy clearly wants to know who murdered his wife.”

“And so do I.” I tapped Jason’s notebook. “Which reminds me, who is it that we can talk to?”

“How about you leave the talking to me?” Detective Palmer said.

Oops, I’d forgotten he was standing there. “Right, I meant who can
you
talk to?” Trying to act casual, I glanced around and saw that Drew was the only one left anyway. Even now, she was moving toward her car. I felt Detective Palmer’s gaze on me and said, “I wasn’t kidding when I told Preston I’d pass information on to you. I mean, I’m not investigating or anything, but I’ve heard a few things that I want to tell you.”

Detective Palmer crossed his arms. “Let’s start with those motives you were talking about a few minutes ago.”

Beside me, Jason raised his notebook, at the ready.

“Well, her brother, who missed today’s memorial service, I might add, is upset that Wendy inherited their mom’s money.” Considering Jason had told me the information, I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t write anything down. Detective Palmer looked similarly unimpressed. I quickly went on. “Her brother seems to think Wendy was scamming people with her company. That fits in with the man I saw yelling at Wendy at the festival, the one I already told you about. He invested two million dollars in Invisible Prints and now believes the money wasn’t used for any green-living projects.”

“No kidding,” Jason said as he started writing. I couldn’t help but feel a little smug that I’d found out information before him.

“You’re sure it was the same man?” Detective Palmer asked.

“Yep, saw him at the festival, then a couple of days later at Invisible Prints. His name is Marvin Stevens.” I hoped he was making a note of how helpful I was being.

The corners of Detective Palmer’s mouth almost moved upward. So close to a smile, yet not quite there. “This is confirmation he was at the festival around the time of the murder.”

A woman standing nearby began coughing rather forcefully. After listening to her hack for a few seconds, I rooted around in my purse, shoving aside my lip gloss and phone. Detective Palmer and Jason started chatting while I searched for the elusive cough drop I knew was in the bottom somewhere. Just as I was about to give up, my fingers brushed the wrapper and I held it up as though it were the magic ring everyone longed for in
The Lord of the Rings.

I handed it to the woman, who nodded her thanks, and tuned back in as Detective Palmer told Jason, “Marvin’s suspicions might be correct that Wendy embezzled the money.”

My breath caught. Even though Marvin was absolutely convinced Wendy had stolen the two million, I hadn’t really believed it. Well, really, I didn’t want to believe it. The Wendy I had known was honest and good, other than that little class president scandal. Still, there was a huge difference between tampering with a school election and stealing an enormous sum of money from your own company.

I noticed a silence and looked up. Detective Palmer was studying me.

“Forget you heard that.”

“But Marvin had both opportunity and motive. He was at the festival at the time of the murder, and Wendy really did steal the money. Does this mean you’ll arrest him now?”

“We need a little thing called evidence first.” I must have looked a little too excited because Detective Palmer practically growled, “Don’t get any ideas. I’m in charge of
that part.
”

I batted my eyelashes, a technique I’d picked up from Ashlee. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering.” I could swear that Detective Palmer and Jason snorted at the same time.

“I need to get back to work,” Detective Palmer said. “Don’t forget what I said about keeping out of my investigation.”

I gave him a two-fingered salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He shook his head and walked away, leaving me alone with Jason.

“Have time for a cup of coffee?” Jason asked.

The service hadn’t lasted long, but I had one more stop—a stop I didn’t want Jason to know about. “Not this time, I’m afraid. I need to get back to work.” I watched Preston climb into his Lexus and pull out of the lot. “What do you think Preston’s going to do now?”

Jason watched the car merge onto the highway. “What do you mean?”

“I wonder if he’ll take over as president of Invisible Prints, or if he even has any interest in it.”

“Hard to say. I’m not sure how the company is set up. But if he stands to inherit, he could probably sell it and make a tidy profit, although this possible embezzlement could mess up everything. Even so, he doesn’t need to worry about money right now.”

His tone made the little hairs on my arms stand up. “Why’s that? I thought he was out of work.”

“Palmer let it slip that Preston is the beneficiary of a hefty life insurance policy.”

“How much?” I held my breath, visions of dollar signs floating through my mind.

“Eight hundred thousand.”

Eek!
That was definitely enough for Preston to kill for, especially if he was already considering leaving the marriage. But if that was really true, where did the adoption fit in?

I gave Jason a quick kiss. “I’d better get back to the farm.”

 

 

I climbed into my car, feeling a tad guilty that I’d misled him about my plans, but I didn’t want another lecture about how I shouldn’t be poking around in Wendy’s murder. I wasn’t sure why he hadn’t said anything when I’d told the detective everything I’d found out, but I didn’t want to press my luck. Besides, it was a teensy-weensy lie, so small I shouldn’t even worry about it. I squashed my remaining guilt down into a ball and rolled it into the corner of my mind for later.

I drove the few miles down the highway and turned in the driveway for Invisible Prints. Even from a distance, I could see the jagged edges of the broken windows. A man in coveralls stood near a truck loaded with glass panes in slots, talking on his cell phone. Drew and Helen were nowhere in sight, and only one car was parked in the small lot.

Since I knew the window guy would be here awhile, I parked behind his truck and got out. I pulled my black blazer closed as a gust of wind blew in off the coast, sending my blond hair swirling around my head. I tried to brush it down as I made my way to the front door.

Inside, the temperature didn’t increase much, thanks to the gaping holes in the windows. Drew stood behind the counter, typing on a keyboard. She’d placed coffee mugs and packages of multipurpose paper on top of any loose sheets of paper, but the edges still fluttered in the constant breeze.

She glanced at me and hit a few keys on the keyboard. “Did you have an appointment with Helen? I don’t remember making one.”

“No appointment. I was on my way home, but I had to stop and see the damage for myself. I can’t believe someone would break all these beautiful windows.”

Drew threw up her hands. “Tell me about it. I was sweeping up glass all morning. I don’t know what’s wrong with kids these days.”

“You don’t think someone was trying to rob the place?”

“Why not break the window by the front door and leave the rest alone?”

I looked around the room, but nothing had changed since my last visit. “To cover up the fact that it was a robbery. What’s more distracting than breaking half-a-dozen plate-glass windows? Did you at least look to see if anything was missing?”

Drew sneered. “There’s nothing worth stealing. Have you seen how cheap our office equipment is? This computer is at least five years old. Wendy bought it refurbished.”

“What about the computers in those cubes? They must be worth a few bucks.”

“There are no computers.”

I squinted at the cubes, although I knew my eyes were working fine. “I can see the tops of the monitors from here.”

Drew spoke so low, I had to wonder if Helen was upstairs after all, even though I hadn’t seen her car. “Sure, we put monitors in there, used ones we picked up on the cheap, but they’re not attached to anything.”

“Then why are they there?” I whispered back.

“Like I told you last time, we want to give possible investors the idea that we’re a thriving company that will earn them money.”

Maybe this company was a complete and total con job after all. “So you deceived potential investors with phony employees.”

Drew held up a finger. “Not me. Wendy.”

I didn’t belabor the point that Drew was basically an accomplice. That accusation wouldn’t get me anywhere. “What can you tell me about the day Wendy was killed?”

Drew took a step back. “Nothing. What do you mean? I had nothing to do with her death.” She started twitching. For a second, I worried that she was having some sort of seizure.

I moved back too so she wouldn’t think I was crowding her. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I remember you and Helen were at Wendy’s booth in the early morning, and I was wondering if you saw anything strange.”

Drew smoothed down her hair several times, as if calming herself, but the tips just sprang back up. “Oh, right. I was there that morning for a little while. I had to get back here to handle the phones, and Helen had to see a customer.”

I wondered if anyone could verify she’d returned to the office when she claimed. Who’s to say she didn’t stay in Blossom Valley and hide until she went back to the festival to kill Wendy? Had she gotten some inkling that Wendy had embezzled all the investor money? But why would she kill her over that? It might put her out of a job, but not much else.

The man in the coveralls stepped inside. “I’ll need some insurance information before I get started,” he said.

“Sure,” Drew said. She looked at me. “Is there anything else?”

“No, I guess not.” As I walked out the door, I took another look at the gaping holes. Maybe the broken windows were a random act of vandalism after all. But so close to Wendy’s murder?

I got back into my car and drove over the hill, taking the turns too fast as I rushed to get back to work. As I rounded a blind curve, I came up behind a slow-moving truck and slammed on my brakes. My purse slid off the passenger seat and hit the floor. I could hear the contents fall out and roll around.

Shaking at the close encounter, I kept a more reasonable speed as I entered the valley and reached the edge of town. The truck lumbered down the freeway, but I took the first exit and eased to a stop at a stoplight. While I waited for the light to change, I reached down to grab my purse and placed it on the passenger seat. Then I retrieved everything that had fallen out and crammed it all back in. I picked up the program from Wendy’s memorial service last, and my thoughts turned to the attendees. Had Preston even notified Kurt about the service?

When the light turned green, I pushed down on the gas pedal, one hand still on the program. I hadn’t known how long the memorial service would run, so I hadn’t told anyone at the farm when to expect me. I was all caught up at work, and Zennia could easily handle the current guest load for lunch service.

Mind made up, I headed across town and reached Kurt’s place in minutes. I pulled in front of the main house and got out, holding the memorial service program to my chest as though it were a talisman.

As I approached the garage at the end of the long driveway, I noticed the main door was lifted up a few inches. Loud voices reached me, and I slowed my steps to listen to what they were saying. Maybe the argument was related to Wendy’s murder.

Clutching the program tighter, I crept toward the garage door.

 

The closer I got to the gap in Kurt’s roll-up garage door and the angry voices, the more I doubted my “find.” If I wasn’t mistaken, Kurt had his television turned up too loud. I heard the distinctive accent of Robert De Niro blasting through the open door. Here I was prepared to hear incriminating words about Kurt’s involvement in Wendy’s death. Instead, I was faced with
Taxi Driver.

Still, I listened a few more seconds and heard, “You talkin’ to me?” Yep, definitely De Niro.

As I took a step toward the side of the garage, Kurt flew around the corner, dressed in a wife-beater shirt and torn jeans. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I felt the urge to duck behind the nearby trash can to put distance between us, but I stood my ground. “I came to see you.”

His face got redder and the veins in his forehead bulged. “You were spying on me.”

I crossed my arms. “I was not. How dare you make such an accusation.” Even if it was true.

Kurt pointed at the gap in the garage door. “I could see your feet.”

Oops . . . this was embarrassing. I thrust the memorial service program at him. “I wanted to bring you this, but I thought I heard you arguing with someone and didn’t want to interrupt.”

Kurt grabbed the program, glanced at the cover, and shoved it into his back pocket. “Looks like a ten-year-old made that. Good to see that husband of hers pulled out all the stops.”

“Well, uh, I think he planned everything on rather short notice. I saw you weren’t at the service this morning and thought you might want a copy.”

Kurt rubbed his balding head. “Sure, I could use a souvenir of my sister’s death.” I cringed at his comment, and Kurt chuckled. “Sorry, I’ll try to pretend I care when you’re around. Not that I expect to see you here again.”

I sighed, not hiding my dismay. “I remember when you and Wendy used to play together all the time as kids. We’d follow you around when you were hanging out with your friends. I know a lot’s happened since then, but maybe one day you can remember the fun times with her.”

“After what she did? Don’t bet on it.”

I was no therapist, but Kurt really needed to let go of his bitterness. It wasn’t helping him any. “Maybe your mom gave Wendy all her money to say thank you. I heard Wendy really did a great job taking care of her at the end.”

“Oh, she took care of her, all right. Ran Mom’s life like she was running a board meeting. Told her when to eat, when to sleep, who it was that she could talk to. I tried to visit a couple of times, but Wendy made sure Mom was always conveniently napping. I got shut out of Mom’s life, and then Wendy probably told her that I’d abandoned her.” The words poured out of him as though he’d wanted to tell someone for a long time about all the injustices he’d suffered. I found myself feeling sorry for him.

“That’s terrible,” I said, sensing my words were completely inadequate.

Kurt cleared his throat and spit off to the side. “Whatever.”

“Maybe Wendy left you some of the money in her own will,” I said.

“Fat chance. If she even has a will, she probably left everything to her little hubby. Besides, I needed the money back when Mom died, not now.”

The hurt in his voice was so clear that I almost reached out to touch his arm, but I thought better of it. “What would you have used the money for?”

He let out a sigh so filled with exhaustion that it made
me
tired. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I wanted to save my house. And my marriage, as it turns out.” He gripped his jaw and moved it back and forth as though trying to loosen it up. Must be sore from all that tension. “Our mortgage was upside down, and when our adjustable rate reset, I couldn’t swing the payments. The bank was threatening to foreclose, and I was counting on Mom’s money to pull me out. Then Wendy went and stole it. I even asked her for a loan, but she said she needed all the money for that phony company of hers. What a witch.”

I flinched. “Look, I didn’t know any of this. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s Wendy’s. And that wife of mine. When I lost the house, she moved out. She said she didn’t want to live with a loser anymore. You think you know somebody. . . .” His words trailed off.

“Now I understand why you weren’t at the memorial service today.” This time, I did lay a hand on his arm. “Maybe, after enough time passes, you’ll forgive Wendy.”

“And maybe a money tree will grow out of my ass.”

“Won’t the branches hurt?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Kurt gave me a disgusted look. Guess he wasn’t ready for jokes. He jerked his arm away and disappeared inside the garage, shutting the door without another word.

 

 

I walked back down the driveway, thinking about how Kurt had suffered one blow after another, all stemming from Wendy inheriting their mom’s money. Kimmie had described Kurt as too weak-willed to actually commit murder, but maybe she didn’t know how far Wendy had pushed him.

As I reached the curb, I heard someone behind me say, “Hey, you there.”

I turned, half expecting Kurt to be trotting down the driveway after me.

Instead, the old man I’d seen on my earlier visit stood on the porch of the main house, a three-pronged cane in one hand. I climbed the porch steps and joined him, noticing as I got closer that he had to be close to ninety. His skin was papery thin. His hair was wispy and sparse. With these heavy winds we’d been having lately, he’d do better to stay indoors before a solid gust blew him away.

“I’ve seen you here before,” the man said, giving me the once-over. The middle of one eye was obscured by the start of a cataract.

“Right, I was visiting Kurt.”

“No, I mean I saw you looking in my windows. Were you casing the joint?”

Geez, first Detective Palmer found me peering in the windows, and now it turns out this guy had, too. Not to mention Kurt had spotted my feet while I’d been eavesdropping. The Peeping Tom profession required a lot more skill than I’d realized.

“No, of course not. When I was here before, I thought Kurt lived in the house, and I didn’t want to bother him if he was too upset about—”

“What happened to his sister.” The old man leaned on his cane. “Terrible stuff. I lost my own sister a few years back. She wasn’t murdered, mind you, but I still miss her like the dickens.”

Somehow, I suspected this guy missed his sister a whole lot more than Kurt missed Wendy.

“I’m close to my sister, too. I can’t imagine what I’d do if anything happened to her. I’m Dana, by the way.”

“Buck.” He held out his hand and we shook. “Kurt mentioned he and his sister had a falling-out, something to do with their mom, but still, it’s a sad thing. Made me ashamed when I yelled at him about his car.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t see the connection between Kurt’s car and his sister’s murder. “His car?”

“I have a rule with my tenants. They’re welcome to park in front of the house, but not in the driveway. I save that space for my guests.”

I tried to hide my impatience at the sudden shift in conversation. “And Kurt parked in the driveway?” I guessed.

“All day. He’d never done it before, so I almost let it go, but I got fed up by suppertime and went over to tell him about it. That’s when he told me his sister had been murdered that very morning. Made my whining about his parking job seem downright petty.”

“Murder does have a way of putting things in perspective,” I said, the first answer that came to mind as I tried to hide my excitement. I doubted the old guy realized it, but he might have just provided Kurt with an alibi for the time of Wendy’s murder. If his car had been parked in the driveway, then he must have been here, and not off killing Wendy. What else could Buck tell me? “How well do you know Kurt?”

He poked at a beetle with his cane, guiding it toward the edge of the porch and away from his front door. “I don’t. I respect my tenant’s privacy. He pays his rent on time, and that’s all I care about.”

“Does he have a lot of visitors?” Maybe I could find some of Kurt’s friends to talk to.

“I don’t keep track. I have my own life.”

A mailman walked up the path and handed a bundle of envelopes to Buck, while I debated whether I should ask anything more. Buck didn’t seem the type to gossip, and I didn’t think I’d learn much more about Kurt.

After the mailman departed, I stepped off the porch. “Sorry about looking in your windows.”

“That’s okay.” He patted his stomach. “With this hot body, I can understand.” He laughed and shambled into the house.

 

 

I walked to my car and noted the time. Ugh, it was already after one. Definitely later than I was planning to get back to work. Good thing we didn’t have set schedules at the farm.

With a glance in my side mirror, I started the car and pulled away from the curb. I zipped home, changed from my funeral attire to my work uniform, and got back into the car. Once on the highway, I drove the short distance to the farm and parked in my usual spot in the corner. I made my way past the vegetable garden, pool area, and herb garden, and entered the kitchen. Zennia was placing a mound of something pale into a bowl.

I went to the sink and squirted soap on my hands. “Sorry I wasn’t here to help with lunch service, Zennia.”

“That’s fine. Not many people showed up to try my chicken salad with cod-liver oil dressing. Must have gone over to the coast or eaten in town.”

Or else they’d gotten wind of the cod-liver oil and hidden in their rooms.

Zennia held the bowl aloft. “I’ve got plenty of leftovers, if you’re hungry. It makes the most wonderful sandwich with my chia seed bread.”

I rinsed my hands and grabbed the hand towel on the counter, wondering if I should rinse out my ears. “Did you say ‘chia seed’?”

“The seeds are full of omega-three fatty acids.”

I bit back a smile. “If I eat chia seeds, will grass sprout out of my head? Will guests think I’m a Chia Pet?”

Zennia wagged a finger at me. “You can’t hide behind your white bread and commercial-bought mayonnaise forever. You’ll come around sooner or later.”

I raised my hand. “I vote for later.”

I left the kitchen before Zennia could convince me to try the cod-liver oil dressing and went into the office. After I replied to a handful of new blog comments, I pulled up the document I’d drafted about the spa facial for a final read-through. As I made a small change in the last paragraph, Esther appeared in the doorway.

“Dana, honey bear, the UPS man delivered a bunch of boxes for the spa. Would you mind taking them back and unpacking? Gretchen has a full schedule today, and I want to make sure she has everything she needs. They’re on the porch.”

“I’ll take care of it.” I saved my document and stood. “The spa certainly seems to be attracting a lot of customers lately.”

Esther beamed. “Mercy me, yes. Even people who live in town are showing up for this new spa stuff. I never dreamed when I turned this itty-bitty farm into a bed-and-breakfast last year that it would be such a success, knock on wood.” She reached over and rapped her knuckles on the desk. “Especially after all those troubles a few months back.”

“People love this place with all the animals and nature trails. I’m not surprised in the least that it’s becoming more popular.” That was a bit of a stretch. More than once, the farm had been on the verge of collapse, and none of us knew if we could stay open. I could only hope this latest stretch of guests was the start of stability.

“Since things have steadied out, I’m going to help my friend with her organic chocolate business. She’ll give me a big discount if I’ll put a bar in every room. It’ll help get her name out there.”

“I’m sure the guests will love that. Sounds like a win-win for both of you.” I moved past Esther. “I’ll get those boxes now.”

I went out to the front porch, where the stack waited. I picked up the first box and wondered if Gretchen was teaching classes in weight lifting on the side. Either that, or she’d ordered a box of rocks for some sort of hot-stone massage. I staggered off the porch and down the path, while the ducks watched from the pond. One even quacked in encouragement.

Once I reached the spa tent, I dropped the box inside the door with a thud. I could hear Gretchen talking to someone, so I went to retrieve the other boxes, rather than disturb them with my unpacking. Three trips later, I was out of breath and out of upper-body strength. I sat down in one of the rattan chairs in the waiting area, but I popped right back up when Gretchen appeared. I glimpsed brown hair over her shoulder as her client followed behind her.

Gretchen stepped to the stand, which held the appointment book, and I saw that the client was Lily, Invisible Prints’ loyal, earth-loving customer. My eyes lit up at this unexpected opportunity.

She smiled shyly. “The spa looked so gorgeous in the brochures you were handing out at the festival that I had to stop in and try a massage for myself.”

Wow, someone had actually come here because of my brochure. I stood a little taller right then. “And how was it?”

“Spectacular. Gretchen has magic hands.”

Gretchen waved away her compliment. “Oh, stop. I see here we have an opening a week from today. Will that work?”

“Perfect. How much do I owe you?”

Gretchen gave her the total, and Lily handed over a credit card. While Gretchen ran it through the machine, Lily turned back to me. “I had to get these knots out of my neck. After everything that’s happened this week, I was too tense to concentrate at work.”

I rubbed my neck, as though the mere mention of tension had caused my own muscles to tighten. “Wendy’s death was definitely a shock.”

She accepted the slip from Gretchen, along with a pen. “Not even her death. The lies that Wendy told. The evil, evil lies. She wasn’t doing a thing with all that money I gave her.” She pressed so hard when she signed her name that she tore through the paper. “Here I thought I was helping the world.” She jerked the paper toward Gretchen.