Tangle of Lies, page 15
“Can you be more precise? What time did you start work?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“And before that?”
“I was at home.”
“Anyone can verify that?”
George shook his head.
“Okay. Well, thanks for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch if we have more questions.”
As George watched him leave, he thought, there will be more questions. For guys like him there always were.
Chapter Twenty-Five
No question the LaPierre’s backyard made a beautiful setting for a small summer solstice party, Bobbie thought. Cocktail in hand and feeling rather turned out in her white shift dress and wedge sandals, she took a moment to enjoy the view. The curved, stone patio, partially covered by a pergola with climbing clematis, was decorated with lanterns and large concrete urns of gorgeous annuals. The cushioned outdoor rattan furniture was arranged around a granite-topped table, with a gas fire burning at the center. To the side was another table, full of libations and finger food. To complete the summer mood, Brazilian bossa nova played quietly over strategically placed outdoor speakers.
The evening should have been perfect, but as Bobbie sipped her orange fizz cocktail, she felt herself growing tense, rather than relaxed.
Something was wrong between Monique and Henri. The discord was subtle. It was in the way the married couple avoided one another’s eyes, the tightening of Monique’s mouth whenever Henri spoke, the nervous way Henri kept twirling his can of cola, as if to draw attention to the fact he wasn’t drinking alcohol.
Bobbie wasn’t sure if her mother, brother or Angie had picked up on the weird vibe. They were sitting on the other side of the firepit table from her and the LaPierres and were discussing the hay crop and whether the yield would top last year’s.
It was almost eight when Fern arrived in the same floral skirt she’d worn to the street party. She was carrying a tray of chocolate cupcakes, and her smile was tentative as she passed them to Monique.
It was easy to see how she could feel intimidated by Monique. Their hostess, always elegant and sophisticated, was especially so tonight in a silky turquoise dress and volumes of gold jewelry.
Monique kissed both of Fern’s cheeks. “Ah! Your délicieux petits gateaux. I’ll put these in the kitchen for later. Come join the others. Henri will make you a cocktail.”
Fern seemed hesitant to approach the group. Riko patted the vacant seat next to her and gave her an encouraging smile. Bobbie thought her mother looked especially lovely and Japanese tonight with her enamel hair combs and flowing silk dress. When you looked closely you could see the pattern on the dress was comprised of tiny origami birds.
Fern shook hands with Mac and Angie and then seemed to accept, with reluctance, Henri’s pecks on her cheeks.
“We hope you like your new house,” Angie said, smoothing back a strand of her short, silver hair. “We’ve noticed you’re making good progress on the gardens.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind. I have been working hard. The priority now is to get a fence built around the vegetables. Otherwise, the deer will enjoy the vegetables more than me.”
“Those deer are a challenge for the country gardener,” Riko agreed. “Good idea to build a fence. I want to hear about your other gardening plans too.”
“First let’s toast the solstice, now that we’re all here.” Bobbie raised her glass. “Here’s to the longest day of the year.”
Everyone sipped their drinks and then her brother added, “It’s all downhill from here.”
“How can you say that?” Angie protested. “When it’s only the first day of summer?”
“Yes, but starting tomorrow, the days will be getting shorter. Am I not right, sis?”
“That’s correct. But the earth is still heating up from the long winter and this trend will continue for several more months. Therefore, even though the days will slowly become shorter, the weather will become hotter.”
“A science lesson. Just what every party needs.” Henri sighed dramatically. He meant to be humorous, Bobbie was sure, but once again Monique’s mouth tightened.
“What’s your favorite season, Fern?” Monique asked, passing around a plate of appetizers. “West Coast crab cakes,” she explained as Fern hesitated.
Fern took one, plus a napkin. “I don’t enjoy hot, humid weather or snow and cold. My favorite seasons are spring and fall.”
“The seasons of planting and harvesting. Good times for a gardener,” Mac said. “They’re busy seasons on the ranch though. Give me the quiet, peaceful months of winter…except when the water pipes freeze, of course.”
The crab cakes were delicious. Crunchy on the outside with a moist and flavorful interior. Bobbie helped herself to another.
“It’s summer all the way for me,” Henri said.
“Me too.” Bobbie straightened in her chair. “I just remembered something I wanted to ask you, Henri. I was helping George Linderman plant a rosebush by his family’s graves this week and he mentioned something about you trying to shut down their turkey farm back in the day. Is that true?”
Henri’s shoulders stiffened. “The smell was horrible. But that was so long ago. What does it matter now?”
“My sister has a bee in her bonnet about Grub,” Mac offered.
“I believe our town has a lot to answer for in the way we treated the Lindermans. And it’s not fair that some people still think George set the fire that killed his family. You were mayor back then, Henri. Didn’t the investigation conclude the fire was accidental?”
Henri gave an expressive shrug. “We all thought it was strange Grub just happened to be out walking in the woods at midnight when his family home burned down to the ground. But did we find any evidence to convict him? No, we did not. So, we have an accidental verdict.” Henri shrugged again.
Bobbie frowned, not happy with his answer. He made it sound like George was guilty, they just hadn’t been able to prove it.
Henri took a long swallow of his cola then squeezed his fingers around the empty can. “Why are we even talking about this? It’s ancient history. I thought we were here to celebrate the solstice.”
“It’s not ancient history to George,” Bobbie replied. “Imagine losing your family and then having people believe you were responsible. I wish we could set the record straight. It seems to me George deserves that.”
“I’ve met George,” Fern said quietly. “In fact, he’s building my fence. And I agree with Bobbie. I think he’s had a hard time moving past the fire because he’d been unfairly made to feel responsible.”
“Just because there wasn’t sufficient evidence that Grub was guilty, doesn’t mean it’s possible to prove his innocence,” Mac pointed out. “Arson is obvious when flammable substances like gasoline, or large quantities of combustible materials like wood chips, are detected at the scene. But in this case the ingredients for the fire—candles, dry straw bales—had already been gathered by the family when they constructed their Halloween display.”
“So no justice for George,” Bobbie stated baldly. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“What about justice for Dean?” Henri interjected. “Have you heard he lent George—”
“Please,” Monique interrupted, her voice harsh. “No talk about murder. Can’t we focus on happier topics?”
Bobbie itched to challenge Henri. She was certain he’d been about to blame George for Dean’s murder and she wanted to point out how unfair this was. But good manners required she respect Monique’s wishes.
Henri stood, brushing his hands in a ritualistic cleansing. “Of course, you’re right. I’ll bring out some more food.”
Moments later he returned with a tray of smoked salmon served on cream-cheese-smeared rounds of rye bread and sprinkled with dill and capers.
Henri and Mac started a conversation about cattle prices, which morphed into a more general discussion about whether the global demand for beef was going to decline in response to climate change activism.
“It took me ten years to learn how to cook a roast beef dinner,” Angie said. “God help me if I need to learn to cook vegetarian.”
Everyone laughed at that. The mood relaxed. More libations were poured.
At five minutes after nine, the sun finally set. The longest day of the year was officially over.
Monique rose from her chair. “Before anyone gets the idea to leave, we still have dessert. Fern brought her délicieux petits gateaux.”
“I’ll get them,” Fern said, scrambling out of her chair, gesturing for Monique to relax.
“Let me help.” Bobbie followed Fern to the kitchen. “I tried one of your cupcakes at the street party and it was delicious.”
“Thank you. I was happy to contribute. So nice of the LaPierres to invite me.”
The words were polite, but from Fern’s stiff expression, Bobbie guessed she wasn’t enjoying herself. “Sorry our conversation got a little intense. You say you’ve met George?”
“Yes. At the cemetery. He seems like such a nice man. But sad.”
“Yes. I’m afraid that’s true. What brought you to the cemetery?” Bobbie knew she was being overly nosey, but she couldn’t help feeling curious about Fern. She had a nervous energy about her that Bobbie recognized from her years of teaching. In a student, it was a “tell,” a sign that a student had done something wrong. What the cause was in Fern’s case, though, Bobbie couldn’t imagine.
“I went to visit Odette’s grave.”
Bobbie raised her eyebrows.
Fern flapped her hands in a self-deprecating gesture. “I know it’s silly. But living in Odette’s house, and working in her gardens, I’ve become a little obsessed with her. Especially since I found out she died from suicide. It just seems too sad.”
“I agree. I wish I’d known her better. Mom said she was a homebody. Wouldn’t even join the horticultural society.”
“Are you talking about Odette?”
Riko had come in so quietly, both Bobbie and Fern started at the sound of her voice.
“The problem was her husband,” Riko said. “Neil was very possessive. He didn’t let her leave home unless he was with her. Given that their farm was a long way from town it was easy for him to control her. All he had to do was keep the truck keys on him. They only had the one vehicle. Even when someone came out to admire her gardens, like me, there was no chance to really talk to Odette. Neil was always hovering in the background.”
“I wonder why she married him,” Fern said.
“According to Odette’s brother, Neil wasn’t like that in the beginning,” Bobbie said. “He was very charming and fun, but after the wedding it was like a switch went off. He became an entirely different person.”
“This is awful to ask, but living in the house I feel like I should know. How did Odette end her life?” Fern asked quietly.
Bobbie glanced at her mom, who gave her a slight nod. “In the middle of the night she got her husband’s keys to the truck, went into the garage with the door closed, started the engine, and let it run.”
Fern shook her head, sadly. “She must have felt utterly desperate to do that. Did she leave a note?”
“Not that we’ve heard of. Leif thinks if there had been a note, Neil probably destroyed it,” Bobbie said.
“How tragic,” Fern said.
“Please forgive us.” Riko put a hand on Fern’s back. “We can’t seem to avoid upsetting topics tonight. Next time we get together, we must make a pact to talk about cheerful subjects, like gardening. No more dwelling in the past.”
“That’s okay,” Fern said. “I learned from working in the care home that events from the past can feel more real than what’s happening in the present. And that doesn’t apply only to old people.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next day, over morning tea in the gazebo, Bobbie’s mother suggested she take some cuttings from her perennials over to Fern.
“Many of these flowers came from Odette’s garden,” Riko said. “It’s only fitting that they should return now that another gardener is in residence.”
“Thanks Mom. I’ve been meaning to do that, I just keep putting it off.”
Riko placed an affectionate hand on the side of Bobbie’s face. “You can also check on her. Make sure the conversation last night wasn’t too upsetting.”
Bobbie was hit with a powerful bolt of gratitude for her mother. For her quiet wisdom and innate kindness. Riko wouldn’t live forever, and Bobbie dreaded the day she left them. Riko was, and always had been, the centrifugal force of their family. She got up from her chair to give her mom a hug.
“What’s this?” her mother laughed.
“A ‘just because’ hug.”
“The best kind. The world would be a better place if everyone started their day with a hug like that.”
Bobbie was bringing her perennial spade around the side of the house when she noticed Hadley sitting outside with her morning coffee. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing plaid shorts and a frayed tank top. Bobbie waved and when Hadley waved back, she decided this might be her opportunity to talk to the young woman alone. Bobbie sunk the spade into the earth next to the bee balm and crossed the street.
“Morning Hadley. Where’s Madison?”
Hadley gestured to the open front door. “Inside getting her daily dose of screen time. What’s up?”
“Can I talk to you about Dean?”
Hadley waved for her to take the spare seat. “Have you heard anything new about the investigation, Mrs. G?”
Bobbie still wasn’t sure how much of what Jesse had told her was public information. So she didn’t mention Dean’s tire iron or the fact that the police thought it had been the murder weapon. “I think the investigation is progressing. The RCMP have been talking to Jesse and Rene and also George.”
“George?” Hadley sounded surprised.
“I believe they want to talk to anyone who spoke to Dean in the days before he died. And it turns out Dean helped George change a flat tire one day earlier.”
“Bad luck for George. Maybe I’m lucky Dean didn’t answer any of my text messages then, or they’d be wanting to interview me as well.”
“You two were in touch?” Bobbie had been given the impression by Denise that all of Hadley’s Tangle Falls friends had cut ties with her.
“We texted occasionally, just casual stuff. Still, I was glad at least one of my old friends didn’t hate me. But that changed when I told him I was going to move back to Tangle Falls. For some reason Dean was strongly against the idea.” Hadley shrugged, as if she didn’t care, but Bobbie could see the hurt in her eyes.
“Did he say why?”
“Nope. Just said it was a bad idea. When I told him I was packed and hitting the road, he started ghosting me.” Hadley sipped her coffee. “Guess I’ll never find out now.”
*
An hour later, as Bobbie drove toward the old Singleton farm, she was still thinking about her conversation with Hadley, and wondering if it could have any bearing on Dean’s murder. Ever since she’d had her morning chat with Rene it seemed the tide of the homicide investigation had been turning against George. She wished she could find a new angle. Something or someone the RCMP hadn’t yet considered. It was just so unfortunate, that Dean would be killed with a tool that George had borrowed just one day earlier.
But it had to be a coincidence.
Unless it had been a setup?
Could Rene have deliberately flattened George’s tire, stolen his tire iron, and then arranged for Dean and him to drive by at just the time George would normally be heading home after work?
Bobbie groaned. Here she was building a case against her best friend’s son, when Rene had an alibi for the murder and absolutely no motive for wanting Dean dead.
She had better rein in her imagination and stick to the facts.
*
Fern was out in the vegetable plot when Bobbie pulled into her driveway. She was wearing a tattered and faded green bucket hat, worn jeans, and a large white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She paused, resting her hands on the handle of her spade as she watched Bobbie get out of her vehicle. The moment Fern recognized her, she set down the spade and came to greet her.
“Bobbie, this is a surprise.” Dark circles under her eyes spoke of a restless night.
“I divided some plants this morning so I could bring some for your garden.” Bobbie opened the hatchback and pulled out four plastic tubs. “Delphinium, bee balm, echinacea, and rudbeckia. Mom said these were all originally from Odette.”
“Oh, that’s awfully good of you.” Fern’s eyes brightened when she saw the plants.
“Where would you like them?”
“Let’s put them in the shade on the porch. I’ll transplant them later in the day when the sun is lower.”
“No rush. They’ve been well watered. They should be fine for a few days.”
The tubs were large enough that they could only carry one at a time. After they’d made two trips, Bobbie asked, “What are you planting in the vegetable patch today?”
Fern looked uncomfortable. “Oh, just preparing the soil. I might put in some more peas and beans later in the week.”
Bobbie glanced at the stakes George had put in for the new fence. The area where Fern had been digging was going to be beyond the fenced-in area. “There’s almost nothing you can plant that the deer won’t eat.”
“I guess I have a lot to learn about gardening in the country.”
There followed an awkward silence.
If someone came to her house with a gift, Bobbie would have invited them inside for a cup of tea or coffee. But it seemed Fern was not going to do that. Was it social awkwardness? Or did Fern just want her to leave?
“I hope you had a good time last night? We got into some pretty heavy topics.”
