Dangerous Inheritance (10 page)

“Weren’t you curious? It seems as if you would have been.”

Macy thought about how to answer this without making her grandmother look bad. “You have to remember I was badly injured at the time of my mother’s death. Her killer slammed me with the poker, I assume, since Nick says the police found it beside me and thought I’d been hit with the same weapon that killed my mother.”

Hilda looked a little abashed, which encouraged Macy. “And then again, my grandmother was sure my mother’s family and the police here in Walnut Grove had conspired against her son. I never saw a picture of my mother until I came here, and I don’t see many pictures of my father posted in this house.”

Hilda seemed to be thinking about this. Finally she said, “It looks like two bitter women refused to see anything except their own loss.”

Macy nodded her agreement. “And apparently they used me as the pawn. I denied what you said in church, but now that I’ve seen the box I’ve had time to think about it, there’s some truth in your comment.”

“Well, I know she did try to write to you because I saw the box where she kept the returned letters. She showed me some of them and they were addressed to you, but had never been opened. I didn’t read any of them.”

Hilda glanced around the room, then looked back at Macy. “Like I told Nick, at the last Opal was behaving rather odd, and from some of the things she said, I have a feeling she was coming around to Mattie’s way of thinking.”

“You mean she believed someone else killed my mother?” And Nick had talked to Hilda? He hadn’t mentioned that.

“I think she might have been reaching that conclusion, or at least thinking about it. Look, Macy, I was Opal’s friend. I’d like to be your friend, too, if you’ll have me as one.”

Macy saw the sincere warmth in her eyes, her concerned expression, and found herself starting to trust this woman. “I need a friend, and I’d be happy to count you as one of mine.”

Macy hesitated, not sure if she should go further, but then decided to take the plunge. “I met Garth Nixon in the grocery store. He was very hateful.”

Hilda looked at her for a minute before speaking, as if trying to decide what to say. “Some people sided with Garth, believing that Steve cost him the election. I’m not sure myself. Some of us believed that Steve was right. Garth was involved in some rather shady deals I couldn’t approve of. I wouldn’t have been able to vote for him, and it had nothing to do with your dad’s editorial page in the
Tribune
. I just never could trust the man.”

Macy considered this. She’d never heard this side of the argument before, and she’d assumed that most of the town supported Garth. “Did others feel that way? I’ve just been told how my father’s editorials stirred up trouble and cost Mr. Nixon the election.”

“Well, that’s the original story, but about half of the town had a different opinion. Garth lost, that’s true, but I don’t know how big a part those editorials played in it, and how much it was caused by the distrust of the people who actually knew him.”

Hilda glanced around the room again. “Look, Macy. This is a big old house and I realize you might not be all that comfortable staying here by yourself. Would you like for me to spend a few nights with you until you feel more at home?”

Macy smiled, appreciating the offer, but knowing she had to refuse. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m hoping I’ll start to remember something about my life here, and I have recalled a few small bits, but nothing that really helps. I have a feeling the memories may come back easier if I’m alone.”

“I understand, but if you need me, I’m just a phone call way. I would do all I could to help you for Opal’s sake, but now that I’ve met you, I’ll do it for you, too.”

Macy’s heart warmed. She had made two good friends in this town, Nick and Hilda. God was blessing her. She remembered how Nick had been protecting her since she got here. She found herself thinking about him when she should be concentrating on what she was here for. She needed to put everything else aside and focus on the goal she’d set for herself.

No man, even one as good-looking as Nick Baldwin, could be allowed to get in her way.

EIGHT

M
acy glanced around the living room and decided she needed to get out and meet people. She wasn’t going to get to the bottom of things if she just stayed cooped up here in the house. The people of Walnut Grove had known her parents, and someone out there had information she needed. It was time she started hunting for it.

She changed into fresh jeans and a light green T-shirt, thinking it was almost the same shade as her mother’s dress. Another thing they had in common? Ten minutes later she walked into the Iron Kettle, a restaurant on the town square, and sat down. A couple of women sat in a booth by the window, one of them the blonde from church. The one who had snubbed her. She’d never seen the other one before.

Four men sat at a table, talking and laughing. An older man seated in a booth alone was reading a newspaper. So far, no one had seemed to notice her. Macy ordered a cup of coffee and sat back to wait, feeling like a piece of bait on a hook. Would anyone be interested?

After a few moments she became aware of furtive glances being sent her way from the older man, peering at her over the top of his paper. So far, no one else had seemed to notice her. The waitress brought her coffee and when she left, he got up and sauntered her way.

“You Steve’s girl?”

She nodded, and he slid into the booth across from her. “You mind if I join you?”

Since he was already there, it would have been pointless to refuse. “Please do. I’m Macy Douglas.”

He held out his hand. “Quent Harper. I knew Steve.”

“And did you like him, or hate him?” She might as well get his feelings out in the open. So far the people she’d met fell into one category or the other. There didn’t seem to be a middle ground.

Quent squinted at her for a second and then grinned. “Seems like you’ve run into some of the town’s hardheads. Steve was all right. But a lot of people just don’t have any sense when it comes to politics. He told it like it was, and it riled some of them.”

Macy sipped her coffee. “So which side were you on?”

“Well, me and Steve saw things pretty much alike. Garth Nixon would have been a disaster. Crooked as a dog’s hind leg, but he had a following. Still does, I guess, although he’s pretty much washed up where politics are concerned.”

Macy considered this, thinking of what to ask next. “I guess you know why I’m in Walnut Grove.”

He folded the paper and placed it on the table. “Heard you were looking for a killer. You ever think you might get in serious trouble stirring things up like that?”

Think it? She’d had it drilled into her from practically everyone she’d met. Yes, she had a feeling that was exactly what she was in the process of doing, and she didn’t have any idea which direction it would come from.

“I’ve thought of it, and you’re probably right, but I have to do this. Do you have any idea who might have killed my mother?” Because everyone seemed to be overlooking that important question. It was as if her father’s politics overshadowed everything else. As if the death of Megan Douglas wasn’t all that important.

Quent seemed to know what she was thinking. “Makes us seem kind of self-centered, doesn’t it? I’ll bet most of what you’ve heard since you came here is about Steve. Not much about Megan. That right?”

Macy nodded. That was exactly the way it had been, and she needed to know why. Her mother had been murdered, and it was as if no one cared very much, except for her grandmother Lassiter. She was surprised at how much that hurt. Megan Douglas had been a victim. And she believed her father had been, too, and both of her grandmothers—and herself, for that matter. Someone had deliberately destroyed her family.

Quent tapped the tabletop with one forefinger. “Well, in a way, I guess it was like that. Sometimes it seemed like people were more interested in making Steve pay than they were in finding out what really happened.”

Macy stared at him, wondering what his reaction would be to her next words. “My grandmother Douglas thought the police might be involved in making sure my father was convicted. Like they had a reason to want him to be guilty.”

Quent shifted in his seat, as if uneasy. “I wouldn’t be talking out loud about that if I was you. Feelings ran high back then, and there are some things you’d be better off not getting into. That just might be one of them.”

Macy’s eyes widened at the seriousness of his voice. The man wasn’t kidding; he really believed what he was saying, so had her grandmother been right? And if so, what did it have to do with the present police? Or did Quent mean something else entirely, something she was missing?

A presence made itself felt. Someone hovered over them, someone who wasn’t giving off friendly vibes. Macy glanced up to see the blonde standing there staring down at her.

Quent glanced up too, looking startled. “Anita—I didn’t see you.”

“No, apparently not.” She shifted her attention to Macy. “I’m Anita Miles. I saw you at church.”

And didn’t seem all that happy about it. In fact, she didn’t appear to be very enthused now, either. “Yes, I saw you, too.”

“You’re wasting your time trying to dig up dirt on anyone around here. Justice was served years ago when Steve Douglas went to prison. He got just what he deserved.”

How dare this woman talk like that in a public place? It was almost like a personal attack. In fact, now that she thought about it, that was exactly what it was. “I don’t think so, and I’m going to find out the truth.”

Anita flushed. “You just might find out more than you want to know. Steve Douglas wasn’t the shining knight on a white horse that you might be thinking he was. He was only human, and nothing special, if you want the truth.”

Macy fought for control. “We all have our faults, things we want to hide. I wonder, what’s hidden in your past?”

Anita leaned over the table, looking almost threatening. “Keep on the way you’re going and you just might find out. And you could be biting off more than you can handle.”

She whirled and strode toward the door where the other woman waited. Macy glanced at the group of men, noticing the self-conscious way they were glancing at one another, as if they were trying to pretend they hadn’t noticed anything.

She looked back at Quent. “What was that all about?”

He shrugged, and she gave him a stern look. “No, you don’t. I don’t know that woman, never heard of her before, but she knew my parents. I need to know who she is and what her connection was with them. If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out somewhere else.”

Quent sighed. “I knew I never should have sat down here. All right. That was Anita Miles. She used to be Anita Simms when she was younger. Talk was that she had her eye on Steve, but he married Megan. I guess she wasn’t willing to leave it alone. Kept trying to get him interested in her. I never heard that he paid any attention to her, and maybe that’s the reason she hated him so. She was one of the witnesses at the trial. Claimed he was having an affair with her.”

Macy stared at him, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of her. “Was he?”

Quent shook his head. “I don’t think so. But Anita is a hater. You don’t want to get on her bad side. Thinks she’s something special. She also said he wanted a divorce but Megan wouldn’t give him one. That he was talking about finding a way to get rid of her.”

“Do you think she was telling the truth?”

She couldn’t bear to think it. Nothing she had heard or believed had prepared her for this. Her father loved her. Her grandmother had said so. Hadn’t he also loved the mother of his daughter?

Quent sat silent for a minute. “Well, she was a good-looking woman back then, and she kept throwing herself at him. I don’t know what the truth is. My gut feeling says no, but I don’t have one lick of proof one way or the other.”

He got out of the booth. “I’m glad to have met you, Macy. But I think you may be taking on more than you can handle. You might ought to leave Walnut Grove. Nothing you can do now can help either Steve or Megan. But it
can
get you killed.”

* * *

Nick was driving by and saw Macy leaving the Iron Kettle and get in her car. He followed her on a whim, pulling in behind her when she parked in the driveway back at her house.

She stepped out of her car and turned to face him. He felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. She looked wiped out, stunned, like she’d walked headfirst into a brick wall. Oh, not in appearance—she looked great, the way she always did—but something must have happened to upset her like this.

He hurried to meet her. “Hey, you doing all right?”

She stared up at him, and he could see the confusion and hurt in her expression. Probably she’d collided with someone who had trash-talked her dad. From the way she looked, it must have been rough. “Macy? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He took her by the arm and led her toward the house. “You’re not very good at hiding your feelings, you know that? Now something is definitely wrong, and I’m not leaving here until I find out what. So let’s go inside and sit down and talk about it.”

She pulled away. “What makes you think it’s any of your business?”

“Well, there’s the little matter of me trying to keep you alive, and the fact that I’m a cop trying to find out what happened with your family. Is that enough, or do you need more?”

There was also the problem of her getting under his skin, although he didn’t want to talk about that. Every time he got close to her it was like there was something pulling them together. Something he didn’t understand, but couldn’t ignore. And that desperate expression on her face didn’t help any.

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded and started walking toward the house. He followed, even though she hadn’t exactly invited him. No way could he leave her now. He needed to find what was wrong and see if he could do anything about it. Nick refused to examine why he felt it was his responsibility. He just knew it was.

They walked in silence, with him striding along beside her, waiting until she unlocked the door and then following her inside. At least she didn’t tell him to leave, which he felt was encouraging. Maybe she didn’t really didn’t mind his being here. “Where do you want to sit, here or in the kitchen?”