Jill Elizabeth Nelson (9 page)

Goody squinted up at him. “You this young lady's beau, big fella?”

Heat licked Rich's cheeks, and Nicole's face crimsoned.

“Like she said, I'm a friend,” he answered.

The old woman looked him up and down. “You're wear
ing some sort of uniform. Can't quite make it out. Are you a soldier?”

“Police officer.”

Goody's eyes widened then she grinned. “You know my grandson, Derek? He's a policeman, too.”

“This is Derek's boss,” Nicole inserted. “Rich is the chief here in Ellington.”

The old woman narrowed her eyes. “What happened to Chief Wilson?”

“He retired, ma'am,” Rich said.

Goody's wrinkles folded in on themselves. “Can't count on nothin' staying the same.”

Nicole covered the octogenarian's hand with her own. “You've been through a lot of changes, haven't you, Goody?”

“Sure have.” The woman bobbed her head. “More'n I care to say. More than I remember even. The old noggin' ain't what it used to be.” She tapped her head with a forefinger.

The opening wasn't going to get any better. Rich stepped closer.

“Your grandson's a good cop. He mentioned that you used to work for the Ellings.”

Goody went stiff. “Long time ago. Not my best memories. Doesn't matter now.”

“Unfortunately, the past must be discussed.”

Nicole fidgeted with her purse strap while Rich told Goody about finding a baby's bones in the Kellers' yard and the attack on Jan Keller. He left out the explosion at the shop. That was more information than Goody needed and could possibly end up attributed to natural causes.
Sure. Just like Jan Keller's attacker was a common burglar.

As he talked, all animation faded from Goody's face.
Soon tears formed ragged trails down her furrowed cheeks.

“Wicked doings,” she muttered. “They broke the sixth one.”

The sixth one of what?
Nicole's head jerked up. “Who did wicked things? My grandparents?”

The woman shook her head. “Not them. It was them!”

“Them who?” Nicole leaned forward and gripped the arm of Goody's chair.

“What can you tell me about Samuel Elling's kidnapping?” Rich jumped in. This conversation needed solid direction.

Goody's head swayed back and forth, and she wrung age-spotted hands.

“You worked in the Elling home at the time,” Rich pressed. “The help always knows more than the family thinks they do.”

“Please, Goody!” Nicole burst out. “We need to catch whoever is hurting people now in order to hide what they did.”

The old woman covered her ears with her hands. “Accursed seed! Legacy of lies!” Her voice grew shrill.

Nicole sent Rich a helpless glance and half rose from her seat. Goody's hand shot out like a bird's talons and gripped Nicole's wrist. “Secretsssss. Those poor women!”

“Who do you mean, Goody?” Nicole leaned close, but the older woman stared around, eyes wild.

“Nobody kno-o-ows!” She wailed, fit to wake the dead.

A nurse rushed into the room. “It's all right, Goody.” The woman motioned to Rich and Nicole. “You'd better leave. She goes along great for quite a while then something sets her off, and she has one of her spells. Best thing is dark and quiet.” The nurse pulled the curtains.

Pale and wide-eyed, Nicole headed for the door, and Rich followed on reluctant feet. There was more to Goody's outburst than just “a spell.” Somewhere in the wild nonsense lurked a thread of sense. But how could he pick it out through the knotted mess?

A
s she hurried out of the nursing home beside Rich, Nicole's skin crawled as if tiny bugs scampered across her flesh. What a frightening reaction from an otherwise sane-seeming woman. Sure, Goody had been a little vague at times, but she'd been sharp as a tack about bygone days. Then again, if she'd worked for any length of time in the Elling household, particularly at the time of the kidnapping, that would be enough to give anyone the willies.

They reached the fresh air and sunshine of the outdoors, and Nicole took a cleansing breath. “Goody knows something about the Ellings, but it may not have anything to do with the kidnapping.”

Rich shot her a hard look. “Why do you say that?”

They reached his SUV, and Nicole met his gaze across the hood. “She mentioned ‘those poor women.' I think she meant the Elling women. I've researched the family, and the Elling wives have had it tough.”

Rich shrugged. “I'm sure Fern, Margaret and Hannah were pretty broken up about Samuel's disappearance. Goody probably witnessed a lot of weeping and wailing.”

Nicole pursed her lips and shook her head as she climbed into the vehicle. She didn't have enough information to argue
with him, and she could be wrong, but she had the sense that Goody referred to a pervasive horror in that household.

Rich pulled out of the parking lot, gnawing on one side of his lower lip, gaze distant. The man was thinking anyway.

Nicole rubbed her palms against her jeans, quashing the jitters. “It feels a little like déjà vu to ask, but could we stop downtown? I'd like to get a look at what's left of the shop by daylight.”

Rich headed the SUV toward the heart of Ellington. “I was on my way there anyway after I dropped you off back home. The investigator from the State Fire Marshall's office should be sifting through the debris this morning. Maybe he can give us some idea how the blaze started.”

The charred and blackened stone front of the shop still stood, but the wood structure behind it was pretty much gone. Heart leaden, Nicole inhaled a lungful of acrid air. A lifetime of work put into this business, now reduced to wet ashes. How would she break this news to her grandmother? Provided she had that opportunity. Her call to the hospital this morning had yielded no encouragement—no particular discouragement, either. Jan Keller remained unconscious in serious but stable condition.

A gray-haired man in jeans, a sports shirt and a feed cap wandered around the shop's remains, studying the gutted structure. He was dressed pretty casually for a state official. A reporter? She wasn't ready to talk to one of those.

“Stan!” Rich called to the guy.

He waved and meandered over to them, craggy face unsmiling. “Hey, Rich. Too much excitement around here.”

“I'll say.” Rich grunted. “Stan, this is Nicole Mattson, the owner's granddaughter. Nicole, this is Stan Bolton of the fire marshall's office.”

Nicole shook Stan's meaty hand. “Any idea how this happened?”

Stan darted a glance toward Rich and then returned his gaze to Nicole. Was there some kind of cop/fire official secret communication going on?

“I have a right to know,” Nicole pressed. “My grandmother is incapacitated, and I'm handling her affairs.”

“It's okay.” Rich nodded toward Stan.

Nicole suppressed a spike of resentment at the need for a third-party go-between in order to gain a little cooperation.

“Honestly?” Stan glanced at the charred remains. “It's too soon to be sure about the cause of the blaze. I'd rule out a gas leak. The explosion would have been much more powerful, and there is no telltale odor.”

Rich nodded. “From what I observed when we stood at the door, the blaze started in the back room. That's where I saw the flicker of flames.”

“Good to know.” Stan took his cap off and wiped his brow with the back of his arm. “Assuming that's our point of origin, I'll start sifting through the debris at the back of the store.” He sent a sympathetic smile toward Nicole. “Chances are we'll discover a wiring malfunction. In these old properties it's the most common cause of fire.”

“Thank you,” Nicole said. “I'd appreciate being informed as soon as you know anything.”

“I'll give a full report to Rich when I have it. He'll pass the info along to you and the insurance company.” Stan touched the bill of his cap and walked away.

Nicole's stomach roiled. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. But she didn't want them filtered through the police. Sure, she trusted Rich, but if something criminal was uncovered, his professional duty might constrain him from telling her the whole story.

“Do you want to go to the courthouse with me?”

“What?” The meaning of Rich's words didn't register. “The courthouse? I— Oh, you mean to check and see when the Elling land sales occurred?”

He awarded her a half smile. “You did want to look into that angle, didn't you? It's public record, so we might as well do it together, rather than putting the office staff to the trouble twice.”

Nicole spurted a laugh. “By all means. I like a public servant who's concerned about saving taxpayer time and money. Then I do actually need to get back home and hunt up that insurance information.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He led the way toward his vehicle. “You'll have to buy me a chauffeur's chapeau one of these days.”

She chuckled. “I've about forgotten what it's like to drive my own car. I'd intended to return to my grandmother's bedside today, but as long as she's stable, I'd better stick around here and handle matters.”

They climbed into the SUV, and Rich sent her a grave look. “I'm so sorry you're having to deal with all of this unpleasantness.”

“It's hardly your fault.”

“But it's on my watch, and I'll follow the evidence and turn over every rock until the truth comes out.”

Nicole's heart squeezed. “I would expect no less. That baby deserves justice. So does my grandmother. Neither you nor I had anything to do with what happened back then. All we can do is make sure the right things are done in the here and now.” Her throat thickened, but she forced out the words. “Whatever the cost.”

“You're a brave woman.”

Rich's admiring look warmed Nicole's insides. He was wrong though. She wasn't brave. She was petrified and feeling very alone.

“Glen was a lucky man,” he added.

Tears pulsed behind Nicole's eyes. “Thanks.” She blinked rapidly and pressed her fingertips against her cheekbones. Rich seemed not to notice her near breakdown, and she mentally thanked him for that kindness also.

A half hour later, they trod down the courthouse steps with copies of all the land transactions done by the Ellings in the past sixty years. Sure enough, a spate of sales took place at the time of the kidnapping.

“Unfortunately,” Rich said as they got on the road, “the sales were to a variety of local people, not one person or entity.”

“Which reduces the probability that the kidnapper's true motive was to get the Elling land and collect the ransom to reimburse themselves at the same time.”

Rich grinned at her. “You don't like it when I say so, but you think like a cop.”

When he smiled at her that way, Nicole couldn't muster a spark of resentment for the comparison. The guy was seriously too cute for his own good—er, her own good. She stared out her passenger-side window. They had entered her neighborhood. The Keller home lay ahead, outwardly the same as the one she'd known all her life, but changed forever inside of Nicole because of all that had happened in the last few days.

Rich pulled up outside the house.

Nicole put her hand on the door latch, but didn't get out. “There's one other theory that gets shot in the foot.”

Rich made a humming noise. He knew, but she had to say it—get it out in the open, rather than leaving the knowledge hang like a guillotine blade over their heads.

“If the Ellings paid the ransom, there goes the notion that they staged the kidnapping to cover for someone among them who shook that poor infant. That puts us right back
looking for a person or persons with greed as a motive.” She clamped her lips shut.

Grandma was well fixed. All their property was paid for. Nicole had always assumed their financial well-being was because Grandpa Frank had such a good job as a bank president. What if she looked back in their financial records and discovered that the payoffs occurred around the time of the kidnapping?

Her heart bumped to a halt then leaped into overdrive. Rich had taken the financial records from the shop. What would they reveal?

 

Now what lit a fire under Nicole? Rich frowned as she hustled, stiff-legged, up her front walk, digging in her purse for her keys. At the door she turned and waved, her smile a bitter grimace, not a fond farewell. He shouldn't have made that remark about her thinking like a cop.

Sighing, Rich pulled away from the Keller residence and headed back downtown toward the restaurant. As his grandfather used to say, his stomach was beginning to think his throat had been cut. He walked into the café, and conversation dimmed then died, but not before he caught the Keller name on people's lips. Several patrons called greetings, and he responded in kind. Everyone knew better than to ask him about the case, but that didn't keep the hungry speculation from their eyes.

Conversation resumed as he took a seat at the counter. Sure enough, the hot topics were last night's fire and the discovery of the baby's remains in the Kellers' backyard. Public sentiment seemed split between support for the Kellers on the basis of character versus suspicion based on circumstances. Personally, he had to go with the character folks on this one. For now. Mainly because he was coming to know firsthand what an awesome granddaughter the
Kellers had participated in raising. Like that was objective criteria? Rich shook his head at himself. Well, in a sense it was, if he subtracted the romantic interest.

“What can I getcha today?” The waitress stopped in front of him, pad ready.

“Hey, Marty,” Rich greeted her. The plump, gray-haired woman, part owner of the place, had been a fixture for as long as Rich had lived in Ellington. He ordered a Reuben sandwich with a side of potato salad and a cup of coffee.

Marty didn't bother to write on her pad. “The chief wants the usual,” she hollered to the cook who stood peering over a high window shelf.

“Yo!” the guy responded with a thumbs-up.

Marty turned toward Rich. “One of these days you're gonna surprise me, but not today.” She grinned and headed for the coffee station.

Terry plopped down on the swivel seat next to Rich just as Marty set his cup of coffee in front of him.

Rich took a sip without looking at his deputy. “What do we know about our most likely sports-car driver?” He kept his voice low.

“Tough break there. For us. Our favorite D.U.I. was M.I.A. yesterday. Didn't get home until late last night. He took Mommy Dearest shopping out of town.”

“Shopping.” Rich snorted. “What else is new?”

Of course, tracking down the unknown driver of an unseen sports car might be a waste of time if Stan concluded the fire started from natural causes. Rich's cell began to play, and he answered.

“You might want to get over here, pronto,” Stan said. “I've got something to show you.”

Rich's pulse leaped. “I'll be right there.” He flipped his cell phone shut.

Terry eyed him with raised brows. “Need me for something?”

“Enjoy your lunch.” He rose as his meal arrived. “Throw this in a to-go box for me, will you, Marty?”

The waitress rolled her eyes. “Like I said. One of these days you're going to surprise me.”

A minute later, Rich tossed his lunch box into the passenger seat and drove up to the next block. He pulled into the alley behind the burned-out shop, where Stan stood waiting for him. Rich climbed out of his vehicle. As he approached, Stan held up a large baggie with some curved and soot-stained glass shards inside.

“And this means what?” Rich planted his hands on his hips.

“Molotov cocktail. Crude business with some gasoline and a lit rag stuffed inside a glass bottle. Whoever did this didn't care about making it look like an accident. They chucked it through a back window. Wouldn't have taken too long in this tinderbox to get a nice blaze going.” He jerked his chin at the remains of the shop. “Then when you opened the door and gave the beast more oxygen—whoom!”

Rich accepted the evidence bag. “I'll have Derek process this for prints. He can scan any results and e-mail them to the forensics tech for evaluation.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The fire investigator rubbed the back of his neck. “I hate to see things like this.”

“You and me both.”

Someone had deliberately blown up Jan Keller's shop and nearly killed him and Nicole in the process. The timing of the incident—after business hours—indicated that property damage, not homicide, was the intention, but that didn't douse the burning anger in Rich's gut.

On the drive to the office, Rich replayed snippets of conversations he'd overheard at the restaurant. Had he caught
echoes of fury in any particular voice? Nothing jumped out at him. Then again, too much jumped out at him. Judgmental words had been spoken by lots of different voices. Just as he'd feared. The location of the baby's bones invited confident, though unsupported, conclusions.

Surprising how high feeling still ran about that long-ago kidnapping. Had mob mentality spread enough to spur malicious action out of some misguided soul? He'd think less of this town if it had. Disturbing enough that some were siding against the Kellers so quickly when Jan lay hovering between death and life, and her store had been destroyed. But then, the younger generation didn't know Jan well, or Frank at all. And the older generation suffered from the lingering effects of Elling dominance. He'd hate it if the evidence proved the gossips right.