Murder Checks Out, page 2
“Whatever do you mean?” Wendy waved her hand, which was clad in an expensive beige leather glove, through the air. “The truth is, I hadn’t given you any thought, Kurt, until I moved to Taylorsford and saw that you owned that lovely estate in the mountains.”
Kurt crossed his arms over his broad chest. “It’s not for sale.”
“I assumed as much.” Wendy pursed her crimson-tinted lips. “Anyway, since my new development isn’t close to your property, I’ve no interest in acquiring your land.”
“But perhaps you’d like to buy some acreage off of Ethan Payne?” Kurt’s lips curled back, exposing his large teeth. “Only he isn’t enthused about selling either.”
I glanced from Wendy to Kurt and back again. There was something unspoken electrifying the air between them. Something as obvious as our breath coiling in the frigid air.
Wendy shot me a sharp look. “Your brother-in-law, I believe? Not one of my favorite people. He’s been stirring up trouble, opposing my new development.”
I gripped my gloved hands together. “I’ve heard something about that.”
“It’s such a self-centered opinion,” Wendy said, with a little sniff of disapproval. “Yes, the development will back up on Mr. Payne’s land, but it’s not like it will be on top of him. There’s a good acre or so between his house and the property lines.”
“Which I’m sure you’re eyeing with ill intent.” Kurt’s tone was as icy as his eyes.
Wendy pressed her forefinger to her chin as she looked him up and down. “One thing I will say—at least Ethan isn’t mixed up with Jaden Perez and his mob of protesters. Environmental activists, they call themselves.” She shot a sharp glance at the group gathered near the parking lot. “They have no business messing in Taylorsford’s affairs. Out-of-towners, the lot.”
“Not all of them.” Following Wendy’s gaze, I noticed Sunny waving a handful of bright-green flyers over her head. “My friend Sunshine Fields and her family have lived in this area for generations. Ask them how they feel about your proposed development.”
Wendy tightened her lips. “I don’t have to. I know that bunch supports any form of environmental nonsense.”
“It isn’t nonsense,” I said, meeting her disdainful look with a lift of my chin. “Sunny’s convinced that clear-cutting the side of the mountain is a disaster waiting to happen. One strong storm and you’ll have a landslide.”
“We’ve designed protections against such things.” Wendy stared down her nose at me. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
Kurt’s nostrils flared. “That’s right. You’ve already mucked up land over near Smithsburg. Leveled a stand of old-growth trees to build that subdivision filled with the ghastly monstrosities you call luxury homes.”
“I don’t think you should be judging me about anything, considering your past.” Wendy huffed and turned on her heel, stalking away without a good-bye.
“Uh-oh, what did you do to tick her off?” I asked, when Wendy disappeared from view.
Kurt shrugged. “Ancient history. And not really my fault. For once.” Laying a hand on my shoulder, he looked down at me with a smile.
In the past I might’ve rolled my shoulders, dislodging his hand, but we’d reached an understanding that made me accept this as a friendly gesture. “I won’t ask any questions, then. At least for now.”
“Oh dear, I know what that means. I’ll get the third degree eventually.” Kurt squeezed my shoulder before lifting his hand.
I decided to change the subject. “I need to drop off this bag with Aunt Lydia and Zelda,” I said. “Care to tag along?”
“Absolutely. I haven’t spoken to Lydia in a few weeks. I should catch up with her.” Kurt easily kept pace with me as I headed toward the garden club’s booth. “By the way, how are my godchildren these days?”
“You’d know if you ever stopped by.” I shifted the bag to my other shoulder.
Kurt made a tutting sound. “Sorry, I’ve been out of town. And I thought you might be too busy for visitors these days, what with the holidays and Richard’s schedule. I know he has rehearsals almost every night.”
“It is hectic,” I admitted, glancing over at him. “But Nicky and Ella always like to see you.” It was true. Defying my expectations, Kurt had turned out to be a splendid grandfather figure for my five-year-old twins. Which almost made up for the fact that Richard’s father definitely did not fulfill that role. Of course, my dad, Nick, was a wonderful granddad too, but Jim Muir always seemed to be looking for an exit when confronted with Ella and Nicky.
Kurt pressed his palm to his chest. “I promise to do better. Now, why don’t you hand over that tote? It looks heavy.”
“It’s fine,” I said, hoisting the straps of the bag higher up on my shoulder. “Besides, we’re already here.”
The portion of the facade fronting the garden club’s booth was painted to resemble a stone florist shop covered with ivy.
“Reinforcements!” I said, holding up the tote bag. “Hot soup and coffee.”
“Bless you, lamb.” Zelda Adams straightened the red velvet reindeer-antler headband hugging her crisp blonde curls. Always flamboyant, she’d gone over the top today, wearing a glittering sequin-studded holiday sweater under an emerald-green coat. An extravagant Christmas tree brooch was pinned to one of her lapels. With her round face and rosy cheeks and lips, Zelda looked younger than her seventy-three years. Her full head of hair, dyed blonde, added to the illusion. A short, full-figured woman, she never seemed concerned about anyone’s opinions of her fashion choices. Or anything else, I thought, offering her a warm smile.
Standing beside her childhood friend, my aunt provided the perfect foil to Zelda’s zaftig appearance. Elegant and slender, Aunt Lydia’s perfectly coiffed white hair was only a few shades paler than the skin pulled tautly but smoothly over her high cheekbones. Tonight, she wore a tailored black wool coat over a simple burgundy sweater and white turtleneck. Unlike Zelda, her only concession to the holidays was the brightly enameled wreath earrings dangling from her ears.
Well, one earring, I realized. The other appeared to be missing. That was so unlike my fastidious aunt that I remarked on it as I handed over the canvas tote.
“Yes, I know.” Aunt Lydia tugged her bare earlobe. “I had both on when I arrived, but apparently one slipped out while I was pulling the wreaths and things out of storage.” She cast her commanding gaze to Kurt. “Surprised to see you here. I thought Taylorsford’s little festival would be too déclassé for your elevated tastes.”
Kurt flashed a wolfish grin. “Not at all. I like to support the town whenever I can. In fact, I think I’ll pick up a wreath or two for Highview.”
Aunt Lydia’s disparaging sniff was clearly audible. “I would’ve expected you to have hired a decorator to take care of all that.”
“I did, but he forgot the front door this year. I need something for that as well as a wreath for the garage.” Kurt picked up one of the fresh wreaths, which had been threaded with crimson berries and dried baby’s breath and topped off with a large ruby bow. “This will do quite nicely.”
As Zelda showed Kurt a couple more wreaths, I turned to my aunt. “I can help look for your other earring if you’ll explain how to get back there with you.”
“You have to head to the far end and walk along the back aisle to our booth,” Aunt Lydia said. “But be careful—remember the steep hill at the edge of the town hall lawn? It’s right behind our tables and chairs.”
Leaving Kurt examining more of the greenery for sale, I circled around the far end of the facade and made my way along the narrow path formed behind the row of booths. Aunt Lydia was right—the hill behind them fell away sharply, and there wasn’t any barrier except a short section of railing near a flight of sturdy wooden steps. The stairs led down to a grassy area bordered by pine trees. In other seasons it was a popular picnic spot, but for the festival the tables had been replaced by a temporary ice-skating rink.
Nicky and Ella will want to try that out if they see it, I thought with a frown. That probably wasn’t a great idea. Although they could undoubtedly master the basics of skating fairly quickly, there was always the chance of falling and breaking or spraining something. Not a good choice, especially prior to their debut as part of the Nutcracker cast.
Joining Aunt Lydia and Zelda at their table, I gave my aunt’s arm a pat. “Where do you think you dropped the earring?”
“Hard to say. I took off my hat when I got here, so perhaps I pulled it out then. Unfortunately, that means it might have flown anywhere.” Aunt Lydia motioned toward the stacks of wreaths and swags on the ground. “It could’ve fallen into any of those piles, which will make it almost impossible to find.”
“Is it something you really care about?” I asked, staring dubiously at the greenery.
“Well, they aren’t valuable, but Hugh gave them to me last Christmas. Just as a stocking stuffer, but still …” Aunt Lydia bent down to brush her fingers through the first stack of wreaths.
I knelt down to check a pile of swags. Hugh Chen was my aunt’s partner of many years. While they still maintained separate households, they were devoted to each other and spent as much time together as possible. I knew Aunt Lydia would hate to lose one of Hugh’s gifts.
As I helped Aunt Lydia search for the lost earring, Zelda chatted with Kurt about his recent travels. “Buying more artwork for your galleries, I suppose?”
“Gallery,” Kurt said. “I sold the place in New York. Now I only have the Georgetown one.”
“Really?” Zelda widened her eyes. “Downsizing?”
Kurt shrugged. “I’m not getting any younger. Besides, other than buying trips, I prefer to stay in Taylorsford these days.”
“Closer to family,” Zelda said, with a swift glance my way. I rolled my eyes at her. “Anyway, I saw you talking to Wendy Blackstone just now. Didn’t look to me like a friendly conversation.”
I shared a quick glance with Kurt. We both knew that Zelda, a lovely woman in all other ways, was a notorious gossip. “She was simply upset with the protesters gathered over by the parking lot. I guess we didn’t offer her the moral support she was looking for, so she stomped off.”
Zelda shook her head. “That woman can be so difficult. It’s her way or the highway.”
“And she’d probably build an interstate right through Taylorsford if it would make her money.” Aunt Lydia straightened. “Don’t worry about that earring, Amy. I’ll look another time.”
I stood up, brushing my hands together to dust pine needles from my gloves. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t fear Blackstone Properties might renege on their promise to preserve the environment during the building process. I suspect, despite their assurances to the contrary, they’ll end up clear-cutting.”
Aunt Lydia’s pink-tinted lips thinned. “Which is just what we need—more opportunities for runoff into the local streams.”
“Exactly.” Kurt narrowed his eyes. “Mary is opposed to the project, of course. Even though the development won’t impinge upon her property, she’s adamant about protecting mountain land from overdevelopment.”
Mary Gardener, a local folklore expert, had been a friend of Kurt’s ever since she’d worked at the orphanage where he’d spent much of his childhood. She was turning one hundred in a few weeks, an event that had led Kurt, who had grown quite wealthy from his dealings in art and antiques, to become a major sponsor of Winterfest. He’d promised significant funds if the town council dedicated the festival to Mary. Which, of course, they were more than happy to do.
“Well, on a more positive note, I was glad to hear that Mary feels well enough to attend the opening night of the Nutcracker,” I told Kurt.
“She’ll have to be in a wheelchair, but she’ll be there,” he replied, sliding two wreaths up his long, cashmere-clad arm as he stepped back from the booth. He bent his elbow to hold the wreaths in place. “Well, ladies, since I’ve bought what I need, I suppose I should get out of the way. I’m sure there are others who’d like to check out your group’s wares.”
As he turned away, I noticed Wendy Blackstone standing at a booth across the way. It looked like she was staring directly at Kurt, her expression frigid as the winter air.
I shifted my focus to Kurt’s craggy face, which had gone still as stone. “Okay now, fess up—is there some sort of bad blood between you and Wendy Blackstone?” I asked, keeping my voice low so Zelda and Aunt Lydia, busy straightening bows on a few pine swags, couldn’t hear. “A failed relationship in the past or something?”
He looked down at me, his bushy brows drawn together over his hawklike nose. “Not exactly. It’s true that she hates me, but that is her problem, not mine. And, quite frankly, Amy Webber Muir, no business of yours.” He turned on his heel and strode away before I could think of a retort.
“Ooo, touched a nerve.” Zelda’s tea-brown eyes sparkled.
Of course she’d noticed that interaction. “I guess so. I have no idea why, though.”
“Do you know, Lydia?” Zelda elbowed my aunt, who gave a final tweak to a bow before looking up.
“No. But then I didn’t see Kurt for years and years. We only reconnected around nine years ago. There’s a large span of time when I didn’t even know that he was still alive, much less what he was up to.” A shadow flitted across my aunt’s fine-boned face.
“He and Andrew remained good friends, though, even after you got married,” Zelda said. Her expression was innocent enough, but I knew she was fishing for information.
“Yes, but I didn’t know that, remember?” Aunt Lydia’s tone had sharpened to that razor edge she used to warn off anyone probing too deeply into her personal life.
“Right, right.” Zelda turned away, busying herself with hanging some of the swags on a display rack.
I laid my hand over my aunt’s tensed arm. Andrew Talbot, her late husband, had died young, but I knew time hadn’t dimmed her love for him—or her distrust of Kurt, who’d been Andrew’s best friend when they were teenagers. And beyond, I reminded myself, even though Aunt Lydia hadn’t known they’d stayed in touch until much later. Still, she’d always blamed Kurt, who’d been a dealer in the past, for getting Andrew into drugs, an addiction he’d struggled with all of his short life. And, although the blame couldn’t be laid entirely at his door, it was true that Kurt hadn’t necessarily been the best influence on Andrew. It was something he readily admitted these days, but that didn’t totally mollify my aunt.
“I think I’m going to head to the house, if that’s okay,” I told her. “Richard and the twins will be finished with their rehearsal in a half hour or so, and I’d like to be there when they get home.”
“Of course, dear.” Aunt Lydia patted my hand. “Thanks for bringing us the soup and coffee. It will help make the next few hours more comfortable, I’m sure.”
“No problem.” I stepped back, careful to avoid the edge of the hill. “You brought the car, I hope?”
Zelda pulled the coffee thermos out of the tote along with two plastic mugs. “I have mine. Don’t worry, lamb, I’ll make sure Lydia gets home safely.”
“Okay, great. Tell Walt hello for me,” I added, before wishing them both a good day. Walter Adams, another one of Aunt Lydia’s childhood friends, was now Zelda’s husband. They’d loved each other when they were young, but because he was Black and she was white, they hadn’t pursued a relationship then, knowing that it wouldn’t be accepted by the community at the time. They’d both married others and enjoyed successful relationships before losing their respective spouses. But they’d remained friends, and they’d finally married each other about six years ago.
Walking back across the town hall lawn, I saw someone else I recognized and waved a greeting. “Hi, Ethan. I was just heading home. Sorry I can’t stay and chat.”
“Neither can I.” Ethan, a tall, well-built young man, was thirty-three, six years younger than my brother, Scott. They had married three years ago in an intimate ceremony held at Kurt’s estate. “I’m actually on duty.”
“Should have realized, since you’re in uniform,” I said. “Night shift?”
“No, just this afternoon. Although I could’ve done the overnight shift, because being home doesn’t matter so much when Scott is out of town.” Ethan pulled down the flaps of his fleece-lined hat. “I got assigned to keep an eye on things here, but I can leave when everything shuts down at eight.”
“I’d have thought the sheriff’s department would handle security,” I said.
Ethan shrugged. “With the lights and propane cooking stoves and grills, we need to make sure no one accidentally starts a fire. Especially with all the wood decorations, cut trees, and other greenery. Could go up pretty quick.”
“I can see that.” I offered him a sympathetic smile. “Wish I’d known. I just brought Aunt Lydia and Zelda some soup and coffee. I could’ve brought you something as well.”
“Thanks, but our EMT supervisor promised to bring me coffee. The station is close enough to walk.”
“That’s Hannah Fowler, right?” I asked, remembering Aunt Lydia mentioning something about the young woman, who was part of a family that had lived in Taylorsford for decades.
Ethan shifted from foot to foot. “Yeah. It’s nice to have her finally working full-time. She was three-quarter time for a couple of years. We’re the only paid members of the squad, you know. Everyone else is a volunteer.”
“I remember you mentioning that. It must put a lot of pressure on you.” I gazed over Ethan’s shoulder. “Uh-oh, speaking of lighting fires, it looks like Wendy Blackstone is marching over to confront those protesters.”
Ethan spun around to face the parking lot. “That’s not good. I’d better alert the deputy on duty.” He raised his walkie-talkie to his lips.
“I think they’ve already noticed,” I said, as a young woman in uniform dashed toward the cluster of protesters.
“Okay, good. It’s really their jurisdiction.” Ethan lowered his walkie-talkie, tapping it against his thigh. “That woman is nothing but trouble,” he added. “I wish someone could just … well, run her out of Taylorsford, I guess.”
