Tangle of Lies, page 10
“I’m making a picture,” Madison said proudly, looking up from a coloring book.
Carly glanced at the little child’s work. “It’s very beautiful,” she said diplomatically.
Madison beamed.
“The office is this way.” Carly led them up a second set of stairs, which were narrower and slightly steeper. The exterior walls on the third floor were mostly exposed red brick, the interior walls a contrasting clean white. Two workstations had been positioned near the dormer windows facing the mountain view. One had a stand-up desk, and the other an exercise ball to sit on instead of a chair. Centrally located from the workstations was a drafting table and a circle of comfy-looking lounge chairs.
“This looks…amazing.”
“The future of home businesses. A lot of our staff work from home too. This way they can live anywhere they want.”
“How many employees do you have?”
“We had to downsize to five.” Carly looked a little pensive about that. “But if things go well, we’ll hire more. We had a staff of fifteen when we were in Vancouver.” She moved on.
To the left of the stairs was a washroom, and next to that a snack room, well-appointed with a fridge, microwave and espresso machine. A hall ran beyond the snack room, one side dominated by a large whiteboard with neatly written tasks, target dates, and the names of the individuals responsible for doing the work. The projects had cool names like “Red Zone” and “White Plate.” Just like the rest of the home, this office was tidy and uber-clean.
“What, um, what kind of business is this?”
“App development, focusing on the wellness sector. We want to offer our clients a full rainbow spectrum of apps that help them maximize all aspects of their health: physical, mental, spiritual.”
Sounded impressive to Hadley. “Can I download the apps now?”
“We’re still in the development phase,” Carly said, her tone a little stiff. “But eventually, yes, of course.”
Hadley placed a hand on a soap stone carving of a bear on its back, paws reaching up to the sky.
“That was a housewarming gift from Jeff’s father.”
Hadley whistled. When she’d lived on Vancouver Island, she’d seen sculptures this size selling in the tens of thousands at the local galleries.
“What do your kids do when you’re working?”
“We have a live-in nanny. She moved with us. Her suite is above the garage at the back of the property.”
Five employees, a big house, a nanny and a family to support, all with a business that wasn’t yet earning income. Maybe cost cutting was the real reason they had sold out in Vancouver and moved to Tangle Falls.
If that was the case, Hadley could teach them a few things about cost cutting.
“Let’s head down,” Carly said. “Dinner should be ready.”
She called for the girls to come and eat as she passed the second floor, and to Hadley’s surprise, Amber immediately stopped working on her craft, took Madison’s hand, and led her downstairs. Hadley always had to cajole Madison to stop playing and come to the table.
Dinner was vegetarian lasagna—with layers of roasted butternut squash, spinach, and mushrooms and peppers—whole-grain, crusty bread and a spinach salad with strawberries and feta cheese. Hadley didn’t think Madison would eat any of it. But her little girl surprised her. She watched Amber carefully and ate everything that Amber did.
Which was to say, she ate everything.
As did Tristan.
Hadley was tempted to check the children for battery packs. They couldn’t be real. What kids came to the dinner table right after being called, and then ate healthy food like this? Didn’t complain at having access to their devices limited so severely? Left zero detritus in their wakes?
“What made you decide to move back to your hometown?” Carly asked her. “Though maybe I should ask why you ever left. This place is totally beautiful and unspoiled.”
“I was into music when I was younger. Joined a band and lived kind of day-to-day. That changed when I had Madison of course.” That didn’t explain why she’d waited until Madison was three, and her mother was dead, to move back. But fortunately, Carly didn’t delve any deeper.
“I’m kind of envious you got to grow up here,” Jeff said. “Right next to awesome ski hills and rivers and lakes.”
“Not sure I appreciated all that as much as I should have.” She’d longed for more culture, a bigger music scene, interesting people. Basically, she’d been a pretty bratty, unhappy kid for a good chunk of her childhood and all of her adolescence.
But for as much as she’d resented Tangle Falls—and her mother for keeping her here—she felt drawn to it now. She’d worked very hard to make a good home for her and her daughter on Vancouver Island. The community was progressive, the climate was milder, and there were no crazy mountain passes to contend with in the winter.
Yet there was something about Tangle Falls that spoke to her on a cellular level: home.
She’d felt it as soon as she saw the Welcome to Tangle Falls sign. There was something about the quality of the light and the colors. The smell of the air. The familiar homes and businesses where much had changed but more had stayed the same.
The feeling of homecoming rose up in her each time she encountered people from her past: Mrs. G, Stella, Jesse and Fallon, even George.
These people had known her since she was a kid. They’d known her parents. The older ones had even known her grandparents.
“Well, the main thing is we’re all here now,” Jeff said. “We’re cousins and it’s good to have family nearby.”
“I agree,” Hadley said. She’d grown up with just her mother—and old Uncle Frank for a while. She wanted more for Madison. An uncle and an aunt (though Jeff and Carly weren’t technically that) and cousins to play with.
Based on this dinner, it seemed all she’d hoped and planned for was actually possible. Jeff, Carly and their kids were so friendly and inclusive. She hadn’t expected any of this to go quite this easily.
Which meant she was missing something.
These people were too perfect.
What were they hiding?
Chapter Fifteen
Bobbie’s brother and his wife had renovated the old McArthur ranch house to the point that very little reminded Bobbie of her childhood. Except for one wall at the back of the mudroom off the kitchen where their mother had measured them with a ruler leveled at the top of their head every year before they started school. There were twelve marks each for Mac and her, with their names and heights printed in pencil.
Now there was a third set of marks. For Jesse. And a fourth and a fifth, for the twins.
Important genealogical information for the McArthur family, Bobbie thought, as she brushed her free hand softly over the wall. She stuck her head into the kitchen. Everyone was busy. Angie, silver hair cut boyishly, practically, short was at the stove, making the gravy. Mac, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, was carving the roast. The twins were running back and forth to the dining room setting the table, while Jesse mashed potatoes and Fallon tossed the salad.
“Good, the work is all done. We’ve timed this perfectly.” She let her mother walk in ahead of her. Riko was a little unsteady on her feet, it had been a long day. Visits to the cemetery were always emotional.
“You can open the wine,” Mac told her. He bent to kiss their mother’s cheek. “Sit down, Mom. Has my sister been wearing you out again?”
“Made me wash the floors. By hand.” Riko let out a sigh as she sank into the chair. “Actually, we’ve been at the cemetery. Visiting your grandparents and your father.”
“Any news?” Mac asked, expression innocent.
“Show some respect son,” Riko said. But she was smiling.
Bobbie handed her mother a glass of white wine, then filled everyone else’s glasses. “George Linderman was at the cemetery, too,” she noted.
“You mean Grub?” Mac said.
“Don’t call him that,” she said using her big sister voice. “It’s a nasty nickname.”
“I suppose. But you have to admit, there’s something strange about that guy. Just like there was with his family.”
“How were they strange, exactly?”
“Steve always seemed a little shifty.”
“He had a lazy eye, you idiot.” She slapped her brother lightly on the side of the head. “Yes, the family was a little different, maybe even odd, but don’t you feel guilty for how we treated them? How the entire town treated them?”
“Bobbie’s right,” Angie said, still whisking vigorously. “I used to avoid talking to Jean because her stuttering made me uncomfortable. When I think back on it, I’m ashamed of myself.”
“Do you remember seeing the Linderman’s at the town’s Halloween party the night of the fire?” Bobbie asked.
“I do,” her mother answered. “I was volunteering in the kitchen when Jean and Susie brought in their tray of cookies. Susie was quite proud. You could tell she’d put in a lot of work decorating them. I tried one and told her they were delicious, and that girl just beamed.”
“Did anyone else eat the cookies?” Bobbie asked.
“I’m afraid not.” The lines in Riko’s face seemed more pronounced as she frowned. “Once Jean and Susie left, the main organizer put the cookies at the back of the table. I think the problem was the turkey farm and how bad it could smell out there sometimes. People thought of the Lindermans as unhygienic. Which wasn’t fair.”
“It wasn’t just the farm that smelled,” Mac said. “The stink got into their clothes and their hair. You say Grub is a nasty nickname, but there was a reason the kids called him that, right Jesse?”
Jesse dropped the potato masher to the floor. “Whoops.” He picked it up and rinsed it off in the sink. “We could have been nicer,” he admitted.
“Should have been nicer,” Fallon corrected. “I do feel ashamed of myself. And sometimes hypocritical when I tell our boys to be more inclusive with the less popular kids at school.”
“Do as I say not as I do,” mocked Monty.
His father snapped a tea towel at him. Monty quickly armed himself to fight back.
Bobbie stepped between them to prevent a full-on battle. Looking from Jesse to Fallon she asked, “Have you ever thought of reaching out to George? Apologizing for the way you treated him back then? If ever there was a man who could use a friend…”
“Don’t get carried away,” Mac said. “Maybe the kids could have been nicer back in the day. But George is a strange one. There are still some around town who think he set that fire. Lots of people heard him arguing with his old man that night. And what kid goes out for a walk in the woods in the middle of the night?”
“What seventeen-year-old doesn’t argue with his parents? And then need some time to cool down?” Bobbie countered. “It’s quite a leap from arguing to arson and homicide. I don’t see how anyone could think for a minute that George started that fire. Losing his family was devastating. Two decades later and he still visits their graves every Sunday.”
“Could just as easily be guilt that motivates him,” Mac said with a shrug. “Sorry to play devil’s advocate. I know you feel sorry for Grub. But there’s no call to make the rest of us feel guilty.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Angie interjected. “I don’t want Sunday dinner turning into a debating session.” She grabbed the tea towels from her son and grandson. “Or a brawl.”
“Angie’s right.” Bobbie could tell her mother was getting agitated, so she went to the stove. “This gravy smells delicious.”
Angie smirked. “Ought to. I’ve only been making this identical meal going on thirty-five years now.”
“Then why don’t you ever pack on any pounds?” Riko asked, pinching the layer of insulation around her own middle.
“Mom never stands still long enough to gain weight,” Jesse said. “What bowl should I put the mashed potatoes in?”
Angie pointed with the dry end of her whisk. Since she was the closest, Bobbie picked up the bowl and handed it to her nephew. Then she took the salad from Fallon and carried it to the dining table where the twins had started arguing about whose turn it was to dry dishes that night.
“I’ll dry them,” Bobbie announced heroically.
Malcolm turned to her, puzzled. “But you’re the washer.”
“Oh right. I forgot.” The price she paid for being the last to show up.
As the family settled into their usual places around the table, Bobbie watched Angie glance around the table. Saw her look with pride at her son and grandsons, then turn an affectionate smile to her husband. She and Mac had been together since they were twenty. They had worked this ranch and raised their son as a team. And moments like these were their reward.
“Did everyone have fun at the street party last night?” Riko asked, once all the food had been passed around.
The twins raved about the hay bale maze and the hamburgers. Mac had nice things to say about the band.
“It was just good to see our friends and neighbors again,” Angie commented.
“It was,” Jesse agreed. “But I wasn’t in much of a party mood. Not after what happened to Dean.”
It would take some time to get over the shock of Dean’s death, Bobbie supposed. “A Constable Kowalski came by a few days ago to ask me some questions. Have any of you spoken to him?”
“He came by the ranch to talk to me the day after we recovered Dean’s body,” Jesse said.
“What did he ask you?” Bobbie said.
Jesse shrugged. “What you’d expect. Did Dean have any enemies in town? Any money or drug problems? It’s all craziness. Dean liked to party, but not to excess. As for enemies, everyone liked Dean.”
Bobbie noticed Fallon and Jessie exchange a look. “What is it?” she asked.
After a short silence, Jesse spoke. “Yesterday the RCMP found Dean’s tire iron in some mud near the river, not far from Canal Flats. Traces of blood and hair were on the portion of the tire iron that had been protected by the mud.”
“Do they think that’s how poor Dean was killed?” Riko asked. “With that tire iron?”
Bobbie put a hand to the side of her face. “They’ll know for sure once they run DNA tests on the blood and hair. If it matches Dean’s, then yes.”
Mac nodded. “Maybe the cops will get lucky and find fingerprints too.”
Jesse and his wife exchanged another look.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” Bobbie prodded.
This time Fallon answered. “Rene called us this morning. Told us that the day before Dean died, he and Rene stopped to help George fix a flat tire. They were in Dean’s truck and Dean loaned his tire iron to George.”
Bobbie felt she was missing something. “So?”
Jesse shot another look at his wife before replying with obvious reluctance. “When the RCMP inventoried the contents of Dean’s truck, they found his spare and the jack. But the tire iron was missing. So it seems like George forgot to return it. Or maybe he kept it on purpose.”
“Are you serious?” Bobbie tried to study her nephew’s expression, but he bent over his plate, avoiding her gaze. “It sounds like you boys are setting George up for this.”
“They aren’t boys and it isn’t a setup,” Mac replied angrily. “Jesse’s merely stating the facts.”
Silence fell over the table. Bobbie couldn’t say why she felt so strongly that George was being set up as a scapegoat. She hoped the RCMP wouldn’t focus on George too quickly, that they would consider other suspects.
“What about Dean’s girlfriend? What do you know about her?” Bobbie asked.
Fallon shrugged. “Amanda Grayling? Not much. She’s an old friend of Lisa Wilson’s—they went to beauty school together in Kelowna. Amanda lost her job in Kelowna during the first wave of the pandemic and Lisa put a word in for her at Jayne’s Salon. I think it was Lisa who introduced Amanda to Dean as well. They started dating shortly after his family won the lottery that summer.”
“Oh?” Was she implying Amanda was after the family money? “I’ve been going to Jayne’s forever. I must have seen Amanda without knowing who she was.”
Later, after dishes were finished, the adults gathered around the old wooden table for a cup of tea. Fallon seemed to deliberately choose the chair next to Bobbie’s.
While Jesse and Mac discussed moving the cattle to the summer pastures next week, Fallon leaned closer to Bobbie. “Speaking of the street party—last night, Jesse and I ran into Hadley Hooper and her little girl.”
“Did she ask if you had room for Madison in your day home?” Bobbie wondered.
“She did and I do. Thanks for recommending me. The little girl seems sweet, and we can use a bit of extra money.”
“And yet…” Bobbie studied the young woman’s face. Fallon was a heart-on-her-sleeve kind of person. And it was obvious something was troubling her.
“You should have seen the smoldering look she gave Jesse.”
Her husband swung his head in their direction. “Hey. Hadley did not give me a smoldering look.”
Fallon rolled her eyes and changed the subject. But later, as Bobbie and Riko were getting ready to leave, she walked with them out to the car.
“Seriously Bobbie, I’m worried about Hadley. Jesse never could think straight when she was around, and if anything, she’s more beautiful than ever.”
Bobbie knew what Fallon meant. With her huge, dewy eyes and pouty mouth, Hadley exuded both sex appeal and vulnerability, a potentially lethal combination.
“He married you, Fallon. And anyone can see that he’s happy.”
“You’re saying I should trust in that. But I grew up with Hadley and I know what she’s like. What Hadley wants, Hadley gets. I don’t think she intends to run over the people who get in her way. But she does.”
Bobbie patted Fallon’s shoulder. She’d seen examples of what Fallon was talking about in her classroom. Hadley talking her way into an extension for an assignment. Hadley manipulating herself into a different group for a class project. Hadley making herself the center of attention to get a certain boy’s attention.
