Lost Legacy (A Zoe Chambers Mystery Book 2) (24 page)

With no vehicles coming the other way, Nate swung the small car wide to the left and made the near U-turn to the right, bouncing up the hill before the drive snaked toward the house.

Zoe’s two-tone brown Chevy pickup sat in its usual spot. What was it doing there? She was supposed to be in Brunswick at Loomis’ autopsy. Next to Zoe’s truck, Patsy Greene’s black Dodge Ram. The Krolls’ white Ford would be in the antiquated garage across the farm lane, but Tom and Kimberly Jackson’s rental car was noticeably absent. Damn.

In that moment, something he should have caught before leapt to his mind. He yanked his notebook from his pocket. It was already open to his last interview with Carl Loomis in preparation for asking Mrs. Kroll about her husband’s visit there. Pete didn’t even have to flip a page to find what he was looking for.

Loomis had reported seeing two cars at James Engle’s house a week ago. Kroll’s pickup was the second. The first had been a nondescript beige sedan.

The Jackson’s rental car had been a nondescript beige sedan.

“Damn.” Pete said it out loud this time.

Nate parked next to Zoe’s Chevy. “What?”

Pete opened the door and hoisted himself out of the Saturn with a grunt. “Call Kevin. Tell him to check the rental car places at the airport. Find out if Tom Jackson rented a beige sedan. Ford. Loomis never said the sedan was a Ford, only the SUV.” Pete could kick himself for not making the connection earlier. “Check for rentals last Tuesday or Wednesday.” Rain pelted his back. He started to close the car door then jerked it back open. “If he doesn’t find a rental in Tom Jackson’s name, check under Kimberly Jackson. Or Chambers. And tell Kevin to check the airlines to find out exactly
when
they flew into Pittsburgh.”

Nate already had his phone out. “On it, Chief.”

Lightning sizzled overhead accompanied by a deafening roar that shook the ground. “And I want to hear the second he knows anything.”

Pete slammed the door and swung down the sloping path to the back porch. The rain chose that moment, with him midway between car and house, to let loose in all its soaking glory. The grass beneath his crutches and one good foot was slick and made the going even tougher. By the time he reached the porch, water dripped from the bill of his department-issued ball cap. He fumbled with the door and the one step onto the porch, nearly falling on his face. But he made it into the enclosure, wet and winded.

He looked at each of the three doors across the back of the house—thought about the TV game show where contestants are asked to pick the one they believe holds the best prize. Pete based his selection on curiosity. He thumped to Zoe’s door and knocked. No answer. She must have caught a ride to the coroner’s office.

He made his way to the far side of the porch and rapped on Mrs. Kroll’s door. Muffled thuds came from inside, and the door swung open to reveal the Krolls’ son, his face haggard.

Pete braced his crutches under his armpits and extended a hand. “Alexander, isn’t it? I’m Chief Pete Adams. We met Monday at the hospital.”

“Yes, of course.” They shook. “Please. Come in.”

Pete removed his soggy ball cap and maneuvered into a small, tidy kitchen. “Is your mother up?”

Before the young man could reply, Mrs. Kroll’s frail voice called out from the next room. “Chief? Is that you?”

Alexander directed him toward the dining room. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

On a good day Mrs. Kroll was slight. She may have once been a hearty farm wife, but a long battle with leukemia had ravaged her body, leaving her pale and fragile. This morning, as she huddled over a steaming cup at the oversized antique table, her skin looked like worn tissue paper, stained dark under her eyes. Pete feared if he looked close enough, he could make out every bone in her face.

Pete eased into a chair across the mammoth farm table from the old woman. “How’s your husband doing, Mrs. Kroll?”

“Holding his own, according to his doctors.” She smiled wistfully. “I just wish he’d open his eyes. I miss seeing his eyes.”

The old woman’s words were a sucker punch to Pete’s gut. She was clearly agonizing over her husband’s condition and here was this cop about to demand answers about what might have brought the tragedy to their lives.

Alexander joined them carrying two mugs of coffee. He set one in front of Pete and sat down next to his mother while sipping from the other. “I didn’t ask. How do you take it, Chief?”

“Black is fine.” Though a shot of bourbon might help. “I hate to bother you both at a time like this, but I need to ask some questions.”

“You said that much on the phone last night,” Mrs. Kroll said. “I can’t imagine what I could possibly tell you. I don’t know who would have any reason to hurt my husband.”

Her son placed a hand on her shoulder.

Pete cleared his throat. “Have you heard about Carl Loomis?”

“Yes. Terrible, terrible accident.” She shook her head. “But then, we’ve had a spate of those lately, haven’t we?”

“Yesterday, before his...accident...I spoke with Mr. Loomis. He mentioned seeing your husband over at James Engle’s house last Wednesday. I was hoping you might be able to tell me why he was there.”

The cup in Mrs. Kroll’s hands began to shake. She slowly lowered it to the table before spilling the contents. “Marv was over at Jim’s place?” Her voice trembled as much as the cup had. “That can’t be right. Surely you heard wrong. Or Carl was mistaken.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Marv never had much use for Jim Engle is all. His brother Wilford neither. Oh, they were all civil when they ran into each other at the Farm Bureau meetings or the fair and such. But I can’t imagine Marv simply dropping by to visit, you know what I mean?”

Pete’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Thinking it was Kevin, he yanked it out. “Yes, ma’am. I know what you mean. Excuse me a minute, please.” The number on the screen wasn’t Kevin’s. He pressed the green button. “Zoe?”

Her voice was frantic or excited. Pete couldn’t tell which. Her words tumbled over each other—something about toolbox and a letter. A house-rattling boom of thunder further distorted the connection.

“What?” he shouted into the phone.

The other end went quiet for a long moment, and Pete thought they’d been disconnected. But then Zoe’s voice came through clear and strong. “Mrs. Kroll is the woman Denver and Vernon Miller died fighting over.”

Twenty-Four

Pete glanced over his reading glasses at Zoe, who leaned in the doorway between the Krolls’ kitchen and dining room, still breathing hard from running through the rain from the barn to the house. Her hair hung in wet curls framing her face, and she hugged an oversized beach towel over her rain-soaked ambulance uniform.

Across the table, Mrs. Kroll and her son waited in silence while Pete tried to decide how to tackle the subject at hand. Namely another cryptic letter from the late James Engle. Judging by the perplexed looks on their faces, Pete felt certain that neither the old woman nor her son had ever seen the document before. And if Mr. Kroll had been keeping it from his wife, he might have feared she couldn’t handle the contents.

Mrs. Kroll must have sensed Pete’s indecision. “Read it to me, please.”

He shot a questioning look at the son. Alexander nodded. “Go ahead.”

Pete studied the crumpled sheet of paper before him and skimmed through it silently one more time before reading it out loud.

“
Dear Marvin,

As my remaining days on this earth dwindle, I am making every effort to set things right with those who have been harmed by lies and deception. I am aware your wife is not well and has not been well for some time. I fear the burden of guilt she carries may have something to do with her illness and for that I am truly sorry. I wish I’d had the courage to face the evil in my life sooner.

For many years, your wife has believed the deaths of Denver and Vernon Miller were her fault. She, and others, believed the brothers fought over her resulting in murder and suicide. I am ashamed that I let this lie go on. Please do your best to assure her that Vernon really did love her, but she played no part whatsoever in what transpired that dreadful night.

With deepest remorse,

James Engle.
”

Pete lifted his gaze from the page to Mrs. Kroll’s face. The room had fallen silent. She didn’t move, except for her eyes, which shifted slightly downward.

After several long moments, Pete set the letter down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Mrs. Kroll?”

Her eyelids fluttered, the trance broken. “I’m fine.” She took a long breath, as if it were the first she’d drawn in a very long time, and Pete thought he noticed a trace of a wistful smile on her lips.

“Are you up to answering some questions?”

She blew out a forceful sigh. “Yes.”

Alexander draped a protective arm across the back of his mother’s chair.

Pete looked over at Zoe and tipped his head toward the empty chair next to him. She took the hint, pushed away from the jamb, and slid into the seat.

“Mrs. Kroll, did you know about this letter?”

“Good heavens, no.” She fingered the now empty coffee cup in front of her. “I would have wanted to talk to Jim if I had. Find out what exactly happened.”

Pete would have liked that opportunity, too.

Before he could form his next question, Zoe piped in, “You were the mystery woman?”

“Yes, I suppose I was. Although I didn’t realize it was a mystery.” Mrs. Kroll may have been gazing toward the window, but Pete suspected she was seeing something else entirely, from a different time. “I was just a girl when I fell in love with Vernie. He was so dashing. So handsome. Like a movie star. He made me feel like a princess. I’d have given my life for that man. And I wanted nothing more than to marry him and grow old with him. But he wasn’t the type to settle down, I guess. When he wouldn’t propose, I decided to make him jealous by dating his brother. It was stupid, I know. But I was young and foolish. And in love.” She paused, as if gathering strength to continue. “Denver and I were just friends. He knew what I was up to. But instead of getting jealous, Vernie started seeing other girls. And then he got one of them pregnant.” Her voice broke. “I was devastated. I turned to Denver for comfort and things...well, things went further than either of us had intended.”

Pete noticed Alexander’s face had turned a deep shade of crimson. No son, even one in his fifties, wanted to hear about his mother’s love life. Especially with someone other than his father.

Mrs. Kroll’s voice dropped so low Pete had to strain to hear. “It was a few days later when I got the news about the fight. Vernie and Denver. Both dead. Murder/suicide, they said, although I never could quite believe Vernie would kill his brother. But I was told they’d fought over me. I carried the guilt and the shame with me all these years.”

“Who told you they’d fought over you?” Zoe asked.

Mrs. Kroll blinked, snapping out of the past, and looked at Zoe. “Why, Jim Engle I believe. But everyone around knew about it.”

Everyone. Except for anyone Pete had asked.

A soft tapping drew his attention to the window that looked out onto the back porch. Nate stood there waving, and from the look on his face, he’d heard from Kevin. Damn. Pete hadn’t had a chance to tell Zoe the latest revelations regarding her stepfather. Besides, Pete had one more question for Mrs. Kroll. He held up a finger to his officer. Nate nodded and struck an at-ease pose.

Pete patted the table to bring the old woman’s eyes back to him. “Mrs. Kroll, I know this is painful for you, but you mentioned Vernon had gotten another girl pregnant.”

Mrs. Kroll looked down. “Yes.”

“Do you happen to know who that was?”

“Yes, of course. It was Mae Engle.”

“Mae
Engle
?” both Pete and Zoe said at once.

Mrs. Kroll looked back and forth between them and nodded. “Jim and Wilford’s younger sister.”

“Sister?” Why was this the first Pete had heard of another Engle sibling? “Where is this sister now?”

A hard frown creased Mrs. Kroll’s forehead. “I’m not really sure. You know, things were different back then. An unmarried girl getting pregnant was a shameful thing. So I assumed she’d gone away to have the baby. But she never came back. I wonder what happened to her. And to Vernie’s baby.”

Pete turned to Zoe, who looked as shell-shocked as he knew he must. She shrugged and gave her head a quick shake. “Yeah,” he said. “I do, too.”

Pete had excused himself to talk with Nate. Zoe had wanted to join him, but he told her to stay with Mrs. Kroll. Rankled, Zoe kept glancing at the kitchen door, which Pete had closed behind him. What on earth was he keeping from her?

Mrs. Kroll dabbed her nose with a tissue. “I’m sorry for getting so emotional.”

Alexander put an arm around his mother, but the look on his face told Zoe he had no idea how to comfort her.

Zoe rose and moved around the table to sit next to her landlady. “It’s perfectly understandable given the circumstances.” She patted Mrs. Kroll’s arm.

Muffled voices filtered through the door, but Zoe couldn’t make out what the men were saying.

“Tell me something.” Zoe pondered how to pose a delicate question that nagged her. “Did Mr. Kroll know about your past?”

“Oh, yes. Marv and I were friends all through school.” Mrs. Kroll smiled at the memory. “Truth be told, he was a little sweet on me even then. And he was so kind after everything that happened with Vernie and Denver. You might say he picked up the pieces of my broken heart.”

“So he knew them?”

“Of course.”

Not the answer Zoe had hoped for. Especially when she distinctly remembered Mr. Kroll telling her he’d never met them.

A noise from the direction of the kitchen drew her attention. Nate passed the window on his way out.

At the same time, the door opened. Pete locked eyes with her and crooked a finger. First he’d ordered her to stay. Now he was beckoning her to come. If she wasn’t so darned curious, she’d have snapped at him for treating her like a dog. Instead, she excused herself from the Krolls and joined Pete in the kitchen. Once again, he shut the door behind them.

“What’s going on with all the cloak and dagger crap?”

He motioned for her to keep her voice low. She gave him her best angry glare.

“When did you say Tom and your mother arrived in town?”

The question took her by surprise. “Saturday morning. Why?”

“Are you sure?”

Zoe stared into the icy depths of Pete’s eyes and didn’t much like what she saw. Bad news lurked under the surface. Real bad. “That’s when they showed up here.”

“In a rental car.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yeah.”

“A beige Ford sedan.”

“Yeah. Pete, what’s going on?”

He heaved a sigh. Looked away for a moment. Came back to hold her gaze. “I had Kevin check the airlines. Tom Jackson arrived in Pittsburgh on Wednesday morning and rented a beige Ford. He stayed Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday nights at Tonidale.”

“Tonidale?” A landmark motel near the airport. “But why would they—” 

“
They
didn’t. Your mom arrived Saturday morning. Alone.”

Zoe sagged into the antique ladder-back chair next to the door. Tom and Kimberly had lied to her. Maybe not outright, but by omission. Letting her believe they’d both flown in Saturday morning on an earlier flight and rented a car so she didn’t have to pick them up as they’d originally planned.

“There’s more.”

“More?” Her voice squeaked in her ears.

Pete snagged a second chair and balanced on his crutches as he dragged it, legs screeching on the old linoleum, to face her. With a grunt, he sat. The crutches clattered to the floor beside him. Knees to knees, he took her hands in his. “Saturday, I came by to talk to your stepdad.”

For a moment the heat and strength of his hands—and the thought of how well hers fit in his grip—distracted her from the situation. But then his words sunk in. “I know. Tom told me.” She didn’t mention how unhappy he’d been about the visit.

Pete squeezed, and she lifted her gaze to the steel-blue of his eyes. “I had Sylvia pick up a Coke can he’d been drinking from.”

“You—what?” She did
not
like where this was going. At all.

Pete told her about the prints on the can matching those on the letter to Kimberly. The one that had been found in James Engle’s house. Crumpled. Under the couch.

The room fell still except for the faint grinding of the ancient refrigerator, matching the churning thoughts inside Zoe’s head. Tom had seen the letter. Had been in Engle’s house. Before Engle had died. How soon before?

“Are you—” Her voice caught. She took a breath and tried again. “Are you going to have the police in Florida arrest him when their plane lands?”

“I don’t have to. Their flight was delayed because of the storms. Airport Security picked him up at the departure gate.”

She closed her eyes and pictured Tom, dragged out of the airport in handcuffs. Her mother going into a total meltdown, probably getting arrested for assaulting an officer. How long before Kimberly phoned Zoe, screaming to come bail both of them out of jail? Then again, the way they’d left things, Zoe might well be the last person her mother would call.

Pete squeezed again, bringing her back from the dark hole she’d descended into. From the crease in his forehead, she gathered he had more, and it wasn’t good news to counterbalance the bad.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen a .38 caliber handgun around anywhere, have you?”

Zoe opened her mouth to ask why he wanted to know
that
. But she flashed to the afternoon in the courthouse basement with Baronick. “No.” She dragged the word out and left it hanging out there with a question mark on the end of it.

“The gun that killed your Great Uncle Denver is the same gun used to shoot Marvin Kroll.”

Maybe the news should have surprised her. But it didn’t.

“Tom couldn’t have carried a gun on the plane, so he must have had it stashed here somewhere. And he may have hidden it again before he left.”

Maybe this
shouldn’t
have surprised her, but it did. “Here?” She looked toward her side of the house as if she could see through the wall. “But I wasn’t living here the last time they came for a visit—”

Pete released one hand and cupped her cheek, keeping her from looking away. “Zoe. He arrived in town on Wednesday. He could have had the gun hidden somewhere else and picked it up before he came to the farm.”

Pressure built behind her eyes. “But this time he might have left it...hidden it...here.”