14
The man glared at Helen and me as we stepped off the stairs. I saw a look of relief flash across Drew’s face as we joined them. “Helen,” she said. “I was telling Mr. Stevens that we’re still straightening out company business after Wendy’s unexpected death.”
“What’s to straighten out?” Mr. Stevens demanded. “Either you have my money or you don’t.”
I was already fixated on what he was saying, but my ears perked up even higher when he mentioned money.
“Perhaps you’d care to step up to my office, Marvin,” Helen soothed, gesturing toward the stairs.
“No. We can talk right here, in front of your cohorts.”
He must have thought I worked here. Far be it from me to correct him.
“I gave this company two million dollars,” he said. “And now I find out you’re a bunch of phonies.”
I gulped. Two million dollars?
He pulled a glossy picture from his inside jacket pocket and waved it at Helen. I recognized it as the brochure from Wendy’s booth, the one that had pigs standing in a field. “I drove by this place. And do you know what’s there? Nothing but dirt. Not even a farm.”
I glanced at Drew. I’d swear there was a smirk on her lips. She saw me looking, and the expression disappeared.
“Perhaps you went to the wrong address,” Helen suggested.
Marvin’s face reddened. “I’m not an idiot, although apparently Wendy thought I was when she fleeced me out of my money. I already have my lawyers working on this, so you can expect to hear from them.” He threw the brochure on the floor, turned on his shiny wingtip shoes, and strode out.
We all watched as he marched across the parking lot, yanked open the door to his BMW, keys already in hand, and peeled out of the lot.
Helen slowly bent and retrieved the brochure from the floor, smoothing it out and placing it on the nearby counter.
“Helen, is what he said true?” Drew asked. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was almost excited by the news. Why would Marvin’s accusation make her happy?
Helen waved her hand. “I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. Return to your work, and I’ll take care of everything.”
Drew drifted back behind the counter.
“I’m terribly sorry you had to witness that,” Helen said to me. “I certainly appreciate everything Marvin has done for us, but he’s been quite difficult to work with, and I’m afraid we haven’t heard the last from him.”
I smiled in what I hoped was a sympathetic manner. “You’ll get everything straightened out.”
“Of course we will. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.” She headed for the stairs, leaving me alone with Drew, which is exactly where I wanted to be.
I sidled over to where Drew was jotting something on a tablet, but waited to speak until Helen had disappeared into her office. As soon as she was out of sight, I placed my elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “Think there’s any truth to what Marvin said?” I asked.
Drew set her pen down and glanced upstairs at Helen’s open door. “I don’t know, but I’m definitely going to keep my ears open around here.”
I almost asked her if she’d let me know what she found out, but that might clue her in that I wasn’t here merely to admire Wendy’s business. Instead, I asked, “What were you going to tell me about the cubicles when Helen interrupted you?”
Drew lowered her voice. “I really shouldn’t say. Helen hates it when I bad-mouth the company. I can’t risk her overhearing me. I still need this job.”
I didn’t push her. I knew what it was like to need a job.
“I didn’t realize you were still here,” Helen said.
I looked up to find her coming down the stairs. As before, her expression was pleasant yet reserved, reminding me of
The Stepford Wives.
“I was just leaving.”
“Good-bye, then.”
“See ya,” Drew added. “Can’t guarantee we’ll have this much excitement on your next visit, but you’re always welcome to come back.”
Helen shot her an angry look. “Drew, someone from the festival called. Now that the police are done with the booth, you’ll need to go over there and pack up everything. I’m too busy to get over there today.”
Drew mumbled something I couldn’t hear as I walked out the door.
I left the building and climbed into my car. The clock on the dash said 11:15, and I was due at the festival by noon. Good thing I’d had a late breakfast, since I wouldn’t have time to stop for lunch.
I got back on the highway and zoomed down the coastline, at least for the first mile or so. After that, I caught up with a line of motor homes and semis on the two-lane highway, guaranteeing a slow drive back to Blossom Valley.
I willed myself to relax as I puttered along behind a Winnebago, going forty in the fifty-five-mile-an-hour zone. The driver refused to use a single turnout, and I flinched every time the numbers on the dashboard clock changed.
By the time I hit the wider stretch of freeway that led away from the redwoods and back to civilization, it was already noon. I still had to get to the center of town. I sped down the highway, took the off-ramp for downtown, and parked in the first slot I found. I hopped out, locked the car, and trotted to the farm’s booth. On this side of the hill, the sun was shining. A light, gentle breeze ruffled my hair, a noticeable difference from the coolness of the coast.
At the booth, Gordon paced behind the table, glancing at his watch and thrusting brochures at anyone who veered toward the table. One look at Gordon’s pinched face and most people gave him a wide berth.
“Gordon, sorry I’m late,” I said. I knew that even though it was only by five minutes, he’d treat it as though it were thirty.
He stopped pacing, but couldn’t resist checking his watch a final time. “I have a million things to do at the farm. I can’t be handing out brochures to people who don’t want them.”
“I wanted to offer my condolences to Wendy’s husband this morning, and I ran into traffic on my way back from the coast.”
“I keep forgetting you knew her,” Gordon said, the wrinkles in his forehead smoothing out. “That’s fine, then. You being a few minutes late didn’t hurt me.”
My mouth almost dropped open. The old Gordon would have spent the next ten minutes lecturing me on professionalism and then threatened to dock my pay. I couldn’t help but wonder what else I could get out of if I used Wendy’s death as an excuse. As soon as the thought went through my head, I felt the cold clutch of shame squeeze my gut as I realized I was trying to benefit from my friend’s passing.
“I don’t want to keep you any longer,” I said. “I can take over now.”
“Fine.” Gordon picked up his ever-present clipboard, counted the pens and brochures resting on the table, then jotted a note on the top sheet. He took one last look around the booth, then walked toward the parking lot.
Once he left, I poked through the boxes under the table. If the dwindling supply of travel mugs was any indication, Gordon had seen some brisk business this morning. Or he’d gotten frustrated when no one stopped and simply threw the cups at people as they walked by.
For the next hour, I handed out pamphlets and chatted with visitors as a small but steady stream of people trickled past. Combined with Saturday’s big turnout, most people would consider the festival to be a modest success. I’d wager that there’d even be talk of another festival next year. Score a win for the Blossom Valley Rejuvenation Committee.
As I handed out the last pig pen, Ashlee approached my booth in black leggings and a long pink sweater with Uggs. She brushed her blond hair out of her face as she stopped before me.
“Hey, sis,” she said, sipping a mocha frappe, which I recognized from the Get the Scoop ice cream parlor, “stumble over any more dead bodies lately?”
“Not unless I kill you right now.”
“You need a chill pill. And here I was going to share all the gossip I overheard around the festival this morning.”
I stopped pulling the remaining travel mugs out of the box. “Any of it related to Wendy’s death?”
“Gee, I don’t know if I should tell you now. You did just threaten to kill me and all.”
“Ashlee.”
My tone held a warning that I might still make good on that threat.
“Oh, relax, I’m screwing with you.” She poked at her drink with her straw. “I heard that Wendy’s husband wanted out of the marriage, but she wouldn’t let him.”
Here was a second person who thought Wendy’s marriage was in trouble. Maybe Kimmie was a more reliable source than I’d given her credit for.
“I don’t think you can keep people in a marriage against their will. If he wanted to leave, he could.”
“True, but then he’d have to give up his easy life.”
“Whom did you hear this from?”
“You know that cute guy who runs the green-cleaning booth? The one who didn’t ask me for my number the other day? His sister knows Wendy’s husband and she stopped by his booth a while ago. At least he said she was his sister, although he sure wasn’t kissing her like a sister.”
I skipped right over Ashlee’s romantic naiveté. “Did she say anything else?”
“Something about how dumb Wendy’s husband was for quitting his high-paying job at a social-networking company.”
She sucked on her straw. It emitted a loud rumbling sound as she hit a patch of air bubbles. She shook the cup, tried one more sip, then walked over to a nearby trash can and dropped the cup in.
“No idea why he quit?” I asked when she returned.
“Nope.”
A couple drifted past, studying the collage of photos on the easel. I handed them a brochure, then turned back to Ashlee. “Did his sister say anything else?”
“Not much. Some snotty comment about how no one in that family can stay married.”
“Was she talking about Wendy’s brother? Kurt mentioned that his wife had left him.”
Ashlee popped a stick of gum into her mouth, the citrus scent drifting across the table to where I stood. “Yep. Oh, and get this. His wife left him after he didn’t inherit anything from his mom. Pretty cold, huh?”
Pretty cold, indeed. And if this little rumor was true, that gave Kurt one more reason to despise Wendy. He already blamed her for his not inheriting any of his mom’s money. If his wife left him because of that, he’d hold Wendy responsible for his failed marriage as well. Would those two blows fuel his bitterness enough that he killed her?
Ashlee waved a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Dana. Your boyfriend’s here.” She leaned in close. “And I think he brought his parental units.”
My heart stopped for a beat. Then it started hammering as my eyes scanned the crowd down the street. Ashlee was right. Here came Jason in jeans and a green button-up shirt, which I knew would match his eyes. He was flanked by a well-dressed couple. The woman wore a cream linen pantsuit and a wide-brimmed hat, while the man wore tan slacks and a navy blue blazer.
At least I was wearing my black slacks and cream-colored blouse from my visit with Kimmie, rather than my usual khakis. I glanced down and noticed a series of creases from when I’d been wearing my seat belt earlier. I was still trying to smooth out the wrinkles, when Jason and his parents reached the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ashlee grinning at me as she stood to one side like a spectator at a pro-wrestling event. Glad to see she was being so supportive.
“Dana, I was hoping you’d be working the booth now,” Jason said. “I want you to meet my parents, William and Nadine Forrester.”
I stuck out my hand, shaking his mom’s hand first. “Mr. and Mrs. Forrester, what a pleasure.” And I meant it, even if my insides were shaking like one of those miniature poodles.
“Please call me Nadine. Jason has told me so many wonderful things about you. I couldn’t wait to meet you.” She offered me a smile, which immediately untied some of the knots in my muscles.
“I’m still planning to take you all out to dinner,” Jason told me. “I haven’t forgotten.”
His mom rubbed his back. “Oh, honey, you’re so busy writing about this murder that I don’t want to take your attention away from your work.” She turned to me, with her emerald teardrop earrings sparkling in the sun. “Jason tells me you have quite the knack for solving crimes in this town.”
I blushed at the unexpected compliment. Jason might harass me about investigating, because he didn’t want me in danger, but deep down, he thought I wasn’t half bad.
“I bet you’re as smart as that guy on
The Mentalist,
” Jason’s dad said.
Ashlee snapped her gum. “Oh, she’s mental, all right.”
I bit back a smart retort. I didn’t want Jason’s parents to see us bicker. Instead, I pointed at Ashlee. “This is my sister, Ashlee.”
Nods of greeting were exchanged all around.
Jason’s mom said, “Dana, maybe you should solve this murder, and then Jason would know how to finish his news article.”
I chuckled along with everyone else. Little did she know, I was already working on that very thing.
“Jason tells me you do marketing at an organic farm and spa,” she continued. “That must be interesting.”
“Yes, I’m really enjoying it right now, although I don’t see it as a long-term career.”
I don’t know what possessed me to say that. Aren’t I happy with my job?
“Oh? What’s your long-range plan?” she asked.
I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t have one, so I hedged my answer. “I’m not quite sure. I like my job, but I’d prefer to concentrate solely on marketing again. That’s what I did when I worked at a software company down in San Jose. Right now, the owner of the farm has me doing a variety of projects, not all of which are related to marketing.” Jason’s parents looked at me as if waiting for more, only I didn’t have anything else to say.
“It’s wonderful that you and your sister live in the same town,” Mrs. Forrester said. “I was so hoping that Jason and his brother would be that close. But then, Jason, well, he forged his own way in life. Of course we’re proud of him, but it’s unfortunate that he moved so far away.”