Sweet Poison (17 page)

“Out running. I’m glad you’re happy to see Mouse, but we haven’t had a real conversation in, what, two months? Don’t I rate at least a hug?”

“Sure.” He put his arms around her and gave her a rather diffident squeeze. “I wasn’t sure you’d want one.”

She held him tight an extra few seconds, then backed up. “I thought we called a truce.”

“If you say so.”

She led the way back to the kitchen, where the coffee was still on. “Want something to drink?”

Peter made himself comfortable at the table, unzipping his leather bomber jacket. “No thanks.”

“By the way, here’s a new key for my front door. I had the locks changed.” She removed one from a drawer and tossed it to him.

“Any particular reason?”

“Long story.”

Jane was still getting used to her brother’s new style—beardless, with the constant two-day-growth, testosterone-poisoned thug look. He’d always worn his hair on the long side, but now it was cut short, not quite shaved but not far from it. The fact that he didn’t look like himself anymore only underscored the very real disconnect that existed between the man he used to be and the one sitting before her now. A fundamental change had taken place in her brother, not all of it good.

Peter dropped his hat on the table. “I’m worried about Dad. Have you seen him lately?”

She explained what had happened last night when she’d been in his office, asked if he’d ever seen anything like that.

“Actually, yeah, I have. This morning. At breakfast he turned the color of spackling paste. I think you and me and Elizabeth should all sit down with him and try to get him to pull back for a few days. Even one day of absolute rest would help.”

Elizabeth Piper was the woman her father was currently dating. She was also a lawyer who had joined his firm a few years back.

“We won’t get anywhere with that,” said Jane. “There are only twelve days left until the election.”

Peter shook his head. “Okay then, at the very least, let’s insist he have a physical. I’d like a doctor’s opinion about what’s going on. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Or maybe it’s something worse.”

“That sounds a little more doable. I think getting Elizabeth on board is a good idea.”

“Let me check his schedule and I’ll get back to you.”

“How’s the documentary coming?”

“I think it’s Oscar material. But I’m biased.”

She laughed. “How are Sigrid and Mia doing?” It was a normal enough question, but the absolute worst one she could have asked. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.

A slow burn returned to her brother’s eyes. “Fine.”

Since the topic had been broached, she asked what she really wanted to know. “Are you and Siggy any closer on the custody arrangements for after the divorce?”

“What do you want me to say?” he asked.

Since they were back to arguing, her own stubbornness wouldn’t let it drop. “You moved to a double bungalow in Elk River so you wouldn’t have to live together, but you’d still be able to share care of Mia. I’m concerned about how things are going.”

“We’re still working on it.”

“I’m sorry, Peter. Truly I am. I know this has been hell for all of you. I just wish you hadn’t—”

“Just stop, okay? Can’t you ever let anything drop?” He folded his arms defiantly over his chest, looked around the room as if he was trying to decide on something. “You know, you really piss me off.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“Are you ever going to forgive me?”

“None of this has anything to do with my forgiving you.”

“It has everything to do with it. In
your
mind. Me, I don’t think I need forgiveness because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“How can you say that?”

He met her gaze. “You know, Jane. You’re tedious. You think you’re perfect.”

“Oh, right. Well, I guess it’s fair to say you don’t suffer from a perfection complex.”

“I don’t. Not anymore. It’s a disease. And you know what else? I feel sorry for Kenzie.”

Now he’d crossed the line. “You and me, we’ve got some things to work out, but leave Kenzie out if it.”

“You love the fact that she lives in Nebraska, don’t you? Oh, you bitch about it, sure, but deep down, it’s a perfect situation for you.”

“You’re making this all about me, when in reality it has nothing to do with me. Why won’t you talk to me about what happened last spring, Peter? Help me understand.”

“What could your little brother know, right? He’s incapable of insight. He’s bad, you’re good. The world is in its proper orbit.”

They were like two soldiers staring at each other across opposite sides of a battlefield. The arguments never went anywhere. Nothing they said to each other these days ever settled anything.

“I think you better go before Kenzie gets back.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want her to see the pity in my eyes.” He stormed out of the kitchen, slammed out the front door.

Sinking into a chair, Jane dropped her head in her hands. She felt shredded. She’d always been so close to her brother. “Not anymore,” she whispered.

Not anymore.

Luke was sitting at his desk at the campaign office, staring blankly at his computer, when his cell phone rang.

“It’s me,” said Christopher as soon as Luke answered.

“What’s up?” His first thought was about the car, but he felt it was a conversation they needed to have face-to-face.

“I called Charity’s mom and dad a little while ago to see how they were. I thought … well … I thought maybe I could offer some comfort.”

Luke was proud of him for making the call, for coming out of his shell long enough to help two grieving parents.

“They asked me if I’d officiate at her funereal.”

“They did? What did you say?”

“That I’d be honored to do it.”

“Are you positive you’re ready for something like that? You haven’t been back to the church since the night Keen attacked you.”

“I’m ready. I want to do it. It feels right.”

“Okay. Then … that’s wonderful. Except, will the bishop allow it?”

“I’m still a church elder, still employed on paper. In fact, I don’t even need to be ordained to officiate at a funeral service. I think they pretty much have to let me do it.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, thinking about Charity. He’d been so angry at her. Now, with her funeral only a few days away, he just felt empty.
“Requiescat in pace.”

“Amen,” whispered Christopher.

That afternoon, while Kenzie and Jane were lying on the couch together, talking and generally reconnecting, the doorbell rang.

“Only Cordelia has such perfect timing,” said Jane, sitting up. She ran her hands through her long, chestnut hair, then stood. “She and Melanie may want to come with us tonight.”

“Not happening,” said Kenzie, flopping sideways.

Instead of Cordelia, she found Mary Glynn standing outside. “Mary, hi. Come in.” The older woman looked like she was on the verge of tears. Jane was pretty sure she knew why.

“It’s Corey,” said Mary. She was wearing a raincoat, which she pulled tightly around her plump body. “The police stopped over this morning to question him.”

Jane led her into the living room, where Mary eased down on the rocking chair by the fireplace.

“You remember Kenzie,” said Jane, sitting back down on the couch.

“Sure I do.” She forced a smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt you two—”

“It’s fine,” said Kenzie. “We were just talking about our dinner date tonight.”

Taking a tissue out of her pocket, Mary continued. “Two homicide investigators came to my house in the middle of the night. One of them took Corey downtown to talk to him, while the other stayed to search his bedroom and his bike.”

“Did they take anything?”

“A black plastic sack. I don’t know what was in it. I thought for a second they were going to impound his motorcycle, but after doing all this fancy testing on it, they left it behind. I haven’t slept a wink since three
A.M
. I just feel … so jumbled.”

“It’s all right,” said Jane. “Take your time.”

She took a breath. “Do you know what happened?”

“Afraid so.”

“They’re accusing my nephew.”

“Did they arrest him?”

“Thank God, no. He called me a little while ago. He was at work. They kept him in a small room at City Hall for hours, asking him the same questions over and over, but they let him leave. For now. I don’t think it looks good, Jane. He said to me, ‘Mary, I’m not that stupid. If I was going to hurt someone, I sure wouldn’t do it the same way I supposedly hurt someone else.’ I believe him. But just like last time, it’s going to be another railroad job. The police have him in their sights and they’re not going to look for anybody else.”

“I’m not saying that doesn’t happen,” said Jane, “but I think you need to give this some time.”

“There
is
no time,” she cried. “If the real murderer isn’t caught—and I mean right away—Corey is headed for prison again for sure. I’m ashamed of myself for coming over here, Jane, but I didn’t know who else to turn to. Please, if there’s any way you could help—”

“You want me to talk to my father again? He wouldn’t be able to represent Corey.”

Mary covered her face with her hands. “I feel like such a wretch. I know I’m asking way too much, but … maybe—” She wiped her eyes with the tissue. “Maybe he’d know someone who could.”

Jane wasn’t sure what her father would think about finding a pro bono lawyer for Corey. There could be political fallout if people found out. “I’ll see what I can do.” She glanced at Kenzie and saw an odd tightness in her face.

“There’s more,” continued Mary, her hands opening and closing nervously. “You’ve got that PI friend, Mr. Nolan? I met him once. He seemed very professional. Do you think you could look into it yourself—maybe with Mr. Nolan? You may trust the police, but I don’t. If all they do is look for evidence to prove my Corey’s guilty, then they’ll never find the real murderer. Someone
else
has to look. Will you do it, Jane? I’m desperate. I’d do anything you ask. I’ll clean
your house and your father’s house for the rest of my life for free. I’ll clean your friends’ houses. Just say you’ll help Corey and me.”

Mary was so worked up that Jane was afraid she was going to have a stroke right there in the chair. “Of course I’ll help.” She’d already come to the conclusion that she would do a little digging on her own.

Instantly, Mary was up, pulling Jane to her feet. “Thank you, thank you. You’re an angel. I’ve been lighting candles for you and your father for years. I want to give something back, in my own way. All I really have are my prayers.”

Jane took Mary’s hands, held them in hers.

“I’m so relieved.” This time her smile didn’t look quite so artificial.

Putting her arm around Mary, Jane walked her to the door. “Just don’t expect miracles.”

“Oh, I never expect them,” said Mary. “But that doesn’t stop me from praying for one.”

For dinner that night, Jane had picked a restaurant on the northern edge of downtown Stillwater, reserving a table that faced the St. Croix River. The fog had lifted midafternoon, revealing a chilly, sparklingly sunny day, which turned into a crisp, clear evening.

While they were enjoying their wine and appetizers, Jane had the distinct sense that someone was watching her. Call it survival instinct, but she figured all women had the same kind of sense. She looked around, but nobody stood out. And then, about half an hour into the evening, the feeling disappeared.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” said Kenzie, taking a bite of her main course, a slow-roasted pork with a root vegetable ragout. “There’s a sixteen-day tour of the major sites in China being offered in December. The college shuts down for four weeks, so I’m free. I was thinking … it might be something we could do together. It would be over Christmas. I know that’s always a big event for you and your family, but this would be incredible. We’d see the Great Wall. The Forbidden City. The classical gardens in Suzhou and Hangzhou. We’d even spend some time in Shanghi.”

She sounded so excited that Jane found herself getting excited, too. “Can I think about it?”

“If we’re going to do it, we’d need to book it soon.”

“Just give me a couple of days. I need to check a few things at work, talk to my dad.”

“But you’re interested?”

Jane smiled. “Yes, I’m definitely interested.”

Running a finger along the edge of her wineglass, Kenzie continued. “When are you coming down to Chadwick again?”

“After the election. But now, with this new twist—”

“You mean Mary Glynn dumping all her problems in your lap.” Her words were suffused with frustration. She almost sounded angry.

“Well, yes, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“You’re too easy, Jane. People use you.”

“I guess I don’t see it that way. But back to your question. I know you’ve been incredibly patient. And you know how much I appreciate all the time you’ve given to my dad’s campaign. It will be much easier for us to get together once the election is over and I can use the Cessna again.”

Kenzie reached across the table and took hold of Jane’s hand. “It’s just that I miss you when I don’t see you for weeks. We have so little time together that I’m jealous of anything that might wreck our plans.”

“Do you know how much I love you?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Just cut me a little slack, okay.”

The touch of Kenzie’s fingers seemed to linger on her skin long after she’d withdrawn her hand.

When they were finished eating, Jane caught the waiter’s eye. A server materialized and collected all the plates and glasses.

“Are you ready for the surprise?” asked Jane.

“Should we order some brandy?”

“Brandy? No, we need to go.”

“Go?” said Kenzie, clearly confused.

Back outside, they walked across the road, closer to the St. Croix
River. Jane stopped at the edge of the grass, drinking in the darkness. Pulling Kenzie into her arms, she kissed her, first on the eyelids, then on the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

“Where are we going?” asked Kenzie