They Sought Vengeance, page 6
“You said he’d been jumpy that night,” Amy reminded Logan.
He looked at her, frowning, then back at Zachary.
“Was he jumpy?” Zachary prompted.
“I don’t know about jumpy. He was… it was like he was thinking about something else, and then he’d lose track of the conversation and be snapping at people for nothing. Not that different from normal, but he did seem a little… anxious, maybe. His head was somewhere else, and he was pacing and looking out the window and jumping on our backs about stuff.”
“You too?”
“All of us. He got like that. Acted like he was disgusted with everything we did. No one could live up to his standards, not even Alex.”
“You saw Alex as his favorite?”
“He was the favorite,” Logan told him firmly. He reached over for Amy’s hand and squeezed it. Maybe reassuring himself that someone cared about him. His mother was gone and his father had preferred the firstborn to everyone else, but at least Logan had Amy. She looked back at him with a warm smile. Zachary watched her eyes, looking for any sign of masking or deception. He wasn’t sure of her.
“What was he getting on your case about? Do you remember? And did you have any sense about what he might be worried or agitated about?”
“Agitated. That’s a good word for it,” Logan approved. “I have trouble coming up with the right word sometimes.” He blew out his breath, considering. “I remember… he didn’t like the way I was dressed. Tie wasn’t done up to his liking, and he hated the color—which I knew when I put it on. Mostly he harps about me quitting college. It just wasn’t the thing for me though, you know?” Logan appealed to Zachary. “It isn’t for everyone. I need… something more hands-on. I’d love to be a carpenter or a welder or something like that. But… that’s not what men of our family’s social standing do.”
“He expected you to go to college and… do what?”
Logan snorted. “Something worthwhile. Something he could brag about to his friends. Or colleagues or whatever, because he didn’t have any close personal friends. He had the high-powered lawyer, and inventor-scientist, or whatever Eddie sees himself as. He didn’t think Karen could make it as a doctor, but he let her be a nurse. Karen was supposed to marry some muckety-muck. He didn’t think she needed any education.”
“He had a… traditional view of women’s positions in society?”
“He was a total chauvinist pig, yes. Like he was still stuck in the fifties. I don’t think everyone in our social stratum feels that way. It’s like—how can anyone still think that way about women? But those old farts are still out there, trying to push outdated ideas.”
Zachary nodded. Despite all of Bridget’s intelligence, strength of character, and refinement, there had still been men who had disregarded her and refused to consider that a woman could come up with a worthwhile thought.
Amy patted Logan’s knee. “It’s a good thing you don’t see things that way.”
“I learned from my mom rather than my dad. She was a progressive woman. Don’t ask me how she and my dad ever hooked up.”
“They were probably married before he had any idea about her views on women’s place in society,” Amy advised. “It doesn’t sound like it was something he would have asked her.”
Logan chuckled. “No. Definitely not. Shot himself in the foot by not thinking it was worth asking her.”
11
Zachary steered the conversation back to the evening before John’s death. “So tell me more about that night. Before dinner, in the study, he was acting agitated, lashing out at people, criticizing them. Looking out the window, which might indicate that he thought there was an outside threat. Or he was expecting someone else to come by that night. You wouldn’t know if he was expecting anyone else, would you?”
“Not that I know of. He didn’t say there was anyone and wouldn’t normally see anyone else on a family dinner night. He usually just went from the dinner to his room for a smoke and a nightcap. Maybe read until he went to sleep. And not a lot of people came to the house other than family. A few close friends. But it was his sanctuary. He conducted his affairs at the office and didn’t even like taking business calls after he got home.”
Zachary nodded and made a couple of notes.
“Did anything happen between meeting in the study for drinks and the dinner? Anything that was said, anything at all out of place?”
“I don’t think so. It was all pretty much like every other family dinner. You know how people fall into the same arguments over and over again and never move on?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen that.”
“I’ve been to family dinner once or twice,” Amy said with some importance. “And I’ll tell you, it’s not exactly the civilized affair they would have you think. There’s a lot of… knives in the back.”
Zachary looked at Logan. “Just from your father? Or your siblings as well?”
“It’s sort of a free-for-all. Mom always tried to get us on the same side. Mediate between us, help us see each other’s viewpoints or why we didn’t believe the same thing. Dad doesn’t exactly egg us on, but he tries to force his own opinion or agenda on everyone. And then we all act like cowards, throwing each other under the bus.”
“Do you get along with each other when you’re away from him?”
“A lot better, yeah. I mean, I’m still not best friends with any of my siblings. There’s so much of an age gap. We didn’t really grow up together and I don’t spend time with any of them one on one. Taking holidays together, or even just exchanging calls or texts.”
“Were there any new arguments or topics of discussion during the dinner?” Zachary inquired.
“I don’t know. To be honest, I kind of shut them all off. Focused on the food—Mrs. Kennedy is a really good cook—and zoned out unless someone was talking to me in particular. I’m not interested in their jobs or politics, or even in their kids.”
“You didn’t notice whether your dad seemed to be attacking one person more than another or more than usual?”
“Seemed like Alex was in a bad mood. Maybe poking at him more than usual. But… I don’t know. Dad was just in a state. Growling at anything anyone said.”
“Maybe he was coming down with a bug. Didn’t feel very well.”
“Maybe. Maybe that’s what killed him. Like the Spanish flu. Only no one knew it.”
Zachary hadn’t considered a virus before but, after what had happened with a rogue virus Kenzie had discovered, maybe he should have.
“What did you eat for dinner?”
“Grilled trout,” Logan gazed heavenward and licked his lips. “Heirloom tomatoes, asparagus. Locally sourced. And peach pie with our own peaches.” He kissed his fingertips. “Delicious.”
“I wish I’d been there,” Amy told him.
“You know Mrs. Kennedy’s cooking. She outdoes herself every time.”
“Mmm,” Amy agreed.
“Was she the only one involved in the preparation of the food? Did she have help?”
Logan shrugged. “I have no idea. She usually worked alone, but there were other staff around if she needed help with something.”
“And any of the other staff would have had access to the kitchen?”
“Only if she wanted them in there. If she didn’t want someone underfoot in the kitchen, that was her domain. And that included Dad or the grandkids. Nobody else would have dared to be there.”
“Same with the siblings? No one would have gone in there for ice or a snack or to give her a wine to pair with the trout?”
“No. I can’t see anyone doing that. I’m the youngest one and, as far as the others are concerned, I am a spoiled brat, but she wouldn’t even let me in there.”
“And once the food came out, was it dished up at the table? Were there communal bowls, things being passed around?”
“No, no,” Logan shook his head. “Everything was already plated when it was brought out. Just like at a restaurant.”
“Bread bowl, anything like that?”
“No, nothing.”
“Did anyone have a special order? Someone who didn’t like fish? Did your dad have anything special? Unique to him?”
“Nothing.” Logan shrugged and sipped his drink, ice cubes tinkling. “You see? I don’t believe anyone could have poisoned him. It’s a great theory, but I don’t think it has legs. How would he have been poisoned?”
“Were you all drinking the same thing in the study?”
“No. But Alex and Dad were both drinking scotch. From the same bottle.”
“And Karen was the only one who poured him a drink.”
“Right.” Logan grinned. “So, does that make her the poisoner? They say it’s a woman’s weapon, don’t they?” He looked sideways at Amy, and she cuffed him lightly on the shoulder in reproof.
“I don’t know if that’s actually true,” Zachary said. He’d never bothered to look up any statistics on the matter. “But that’s what they say.”
Of course, a woman could use another weapon, or a man could use poison, so calling it a woman’s weapon would just give him an investigative bias, which might blind him to other possibilities.
“Must have been Karen,” Logan said, grinning. “Case closed.”
“Someone could have poisoned his nightcap. Did someone pour it for him, or did he get it himself? You said that he usually retired to his own room after dinner.”
“He could only put up with us for so long. By after-dinner coffee, he’d had enough. He was looking tired. Maybe he was coming down with something.”
“So did he pour himself another drink in the study, or…?”
“One of the staff would have made sure that there was a full decanter in his bedroom. They knew his habits and that if the decanter wasn’t full enough, someone would lose their job, if not their head.”
“Who would have done that?”
Logan shrugged. “I don’t know. One of the staff. You’d have to ask them about it.”
“And the decanter was filled from…”
“A fresh bottle, presumably. There would not have been enough left in the study.”
“And his glass and decanter were used every night for his nightcap?”
“Yes.”
Anyone with access to the glass or decanter might have placed a deadly poison in the bottom, hoping it would go unnoticed. A poison that was clear and would not react with the scotch, and just a few drops would be enough to kill.
“Where were those kept?”
“In his room. Taken to the kitchen and washed each morning, I assume, and then returned before bed.”
Zachary wrote down a few questions to investigate.
“Does anything stand out for you about the evening?” He was careful not to give particular suggestions or directions for Logan to think about, hoping not to influence his answer. He wanted Logan to think of whatever might be tucked away in his subconscious, without any external influence.
“Does anything stand out? No. I guess just what we’ve already discussed. That Dad was in kind of an agitated or grouchy mood. Usually, he tried to at least put on a mask of civility. But that night…” Logan swore and called his father a couple of names that made Amy press her lips together reprovingly and shake her head.
12
Shopping and meal preparation had always been Kenzie’s domain, but she had expressed lately that she wanted Zachary to be more involved in both activities rather than putting it all on her. She had a busy, stressful job, and Zachary should have known better than to saddle her with all of the domestic responsibilities. He was as bad as John Godfrey, expecting Kenzie to play the part of the dutiful wife even when she worked just as hard or harder than he did during the day.
He had offered to do the shopping by himself, but Kenzie had insisted that they do it together, at least a few times, so that he knew her preferences and didn’t pick up the wrong thing.
Zachary knew she didn’t really trust him to do the shopping and was loath to let it go, even though she had been the one to say it was a burden. And she was right that he was often distracted from less important or less interesting tasks due to his ADHD. There had been too many times when he had only put plates on the table and forgotten about cups, knives, forks, and whatever else was needed. He couldn’t deny that. But if he had a checklist, he was pretty good at staying on task. He would get everything on the list and not go home with it only half-completed. And she didn’t need to show him what to get; all she had to do was to write down the brand or the size, and he would get what she wanted. He wasn’t completely inept.
So they were shopping together the first few times so he could learn, and it was not the equivalent of date night. They might be together and there for a singular purpose, but it was not a fun, intimate activity.
“Do you see this?” Kenzie asked, holding up a couple of bunches of bananas for Zachary. “I don’t want you to get the ones that are completely yellow. They’ll go bad too fast. Neither of us likes overripe bananas and, if you get the ones that are all yellow, we’ll have to eat them within a couple of days.”
Zachary nodded. “Green bananas. Check.”
“No, not all green, either. If you get these in-between ones,” she thrust the bunch toward him, “then we only have to wait a day or so for them to ripen enough to eat. We don’t want to wait all week for them to ripen, either.”
“Okay.”
“I usually get a few that are yellow with just a bit of green, and a few that are more green than yellow so they can ripen through the week.”
Zachary nodded. Kenzie pulled three bananas off of two different bunches and put them in the cart. Zachary could remember one of his foster mothers shouting at him for pulling bananas off of the bunch in the store. He had thought that he was being helpful separating them so that when the kids wanted to eat, they just had to pick up one banana instead of pulling it off of the bunch, especially if it was ripe and more likely to tear than come off cleanly.
But his foster mother had had other opinions. From then on, Zachary had known better than to pull bunches of bananas apart at the store. The bunches were inviolate. He watched Kenzie blithely ignore this life rule and set the two partial bunches of bananas into the cart.
“Do you need to put them in a bag?” he asked, looking at them.
“No. A bag makes them ripen too fast, or even to get sweaty and go bad without ripening properly.”
“Oh.”
Kenzie pushed the cart on, talking rapidly about mushrooms in their varieties and packaging options. If she was expecting him to be able to remember everything, she told him…
They were less than halfway through the shopping trip, and he knew he should have been taking notes. There was no way he was going to remember everything. And then she would be upset with him when he brought home the wrong thing.
It was a good thing she had said they would go together a few times. He would take notes the next time. It would mean she would have to tell him some things twice, but he didn’t want to act like he was incompetent and she had to do the shopping. He could handle it. He’d been shopping for himself since he had left foster care, hadn’t he? He just had to adjust the process to suit someone else’s preferences.
Zachary’s elbow knocked against a display as they left the produce section and turned into the next aisle. Kenzie whirled around, her face white and eyes wild, hands coming up to protect herself. Zachary froze. She stayed in that defensive position for only an instant, then dropped her hands and tried to look casual. “You startled me.”
“Sorry.”
She took a deep breath and looked like she was going to lecture him about being more careful and not startling her. But then she closed her mouth and kept walking, acting as if nothing had happened. Zachary kept a little farther behind her and paid attention to his elbows.
Though Dr. B had recommended that Kenzie start therapy on her own to deal with the trauma of her kidnapping, she was still undecided on a doctor or therapist. Zachary understood not wanting to be in therapy. He had fought it most of his life. Not wanting to appear broken. He didn’t want anyone to see his weaknesses, much less to talk about them. He had many failings and, despite what Dr. B and the others said, he still felt guilty for his ADHD, PTSD, and other issues. If he had been stronger and more resilient, he wouldn’t be dealing with them. Or he would deal with them in a better way. He didn’t like taking medication that changed how he felt and acted and fit into the world around him.
The world was supposed to be getting better for people like him, with more openness about learning disabilities, mental illness, and trauma. But there was still stigma attached to such things, and no one was more aware of that than he was. Of course Kenzie didn’t want to admit how much the trauma was affecting her and wanted to deal with it on her own rather than seeking therapy. She might be a medical doctor, but she still had those prejudices built into her too.
“Zachary!”
He hurried to catch up to Kenzie, spurred on by her tone of irritation. “Sorry, I was just…” he trailed off, not sure of an acceptable explanation for lagging behind. He could say that he had been looking at something, but why would he be looking at something that was not on her list? He was supposed to be going by her list.
“Your chicken and stars,” Kenzie pointed to the can with the red and white label. “I usually pick up a couple of those. Unless you haven’t eaten any lately. And these are the ones that I like…” One of the more gourmet brands, of course, a thick white chicken stew that looked like it had cooked zucchini and tomatoes in it. Who wanted zucchini and tomatoes in chicken soup?
“Great. Those look good,” Zachary lied, and put a couple of cans of chicken and stars and a large jar of the gourmet soup into the cart.
“If you want some, we should probably get two.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll stick with the chicken and stars.”
She laughed. As they went by the dried noodle soups, she reached out and touched one of the packages as she looked at them. Probably smoothing it out to see how much sodium it contained. The wrapper crinkled, making him grit his teeth. Even in the busy store, the noise was loud enough to make his skin crawl.
