Dangerous Inheritance (22 page)

Macy shook her head, looking stubborn again. “I’m not ready for that yet. I want to take my time going through them and see if there’s anything I want to keep.”

Nick guessed she’d have to go through her parents’ things, too. Probably she’d been putting it off. Not wanting to do that just yet. Who could blame her? She had a lot to deal with. Going through her parents’ clothes and deciding what to do with them would be traumatic for her. Better to leave that for later. Much later.

Neva frowned. “Why did you come to Walnut Grove, anyway?”

“I told you why. I’m here to find out what happened to my parents. I will never believe my father killed my mother.”

“And like I told you, he had a fair trial with a good lawyer and a jury that found him guilty.”

Macy paused, looking like that had brought up an angle she hadn’t thought about. “Who was on the jury?”

Nick listened with interest. He hadn’t thought to ask about that. It was something he should check into.

Neva shoved a chair a little closer to the table. “I don’t remember, but the evidence pointed to Steve.”

Nick realized they were just going over the same ground and not really accomplishing anything. Which was pretty much the way things had been going since he’d gotten involved in this case.

Macy looked frustrated. “Look, Neva, I understand where you’re coming from, but I truly do believe someone falsified the evidence. My father was set up to divert attention from the real murderer.”

Neva shook her head. “You need to back off, Macy. If what you’re saying is accurate, it just might get you killed.”

Nick figured she might be right about that, but the way Neva said it sounded sort of threatening. He wondered if she meant it that way.

Neva returned to her cleaning. Macy glanced at him, her lower lip trembling. “It’s like no one cares about the truth. They just want to leave things the way they are, even if a killer walks free.”

Nick shook his head. “Not everyone feels that way. In fact, I believe we might be getting closer than we think.”

EIGHTEEN

T
he next afternoon Nick stopped by Clyde’s house. This time he was sitting on his front porch, a shaggy black dog sleeping at his feet. The dog raised his head to watch Nick, growling low in his throat.

“Calm down, Smoky,” Clyde leaned over and touched the dog’s head. “This one’s all right.”

Nick climbed the two steps to the porch floor. “Is he mean?”

“Well, he’s never bit anyone yet, but I reckon he might given the right circumstances. He’s not too fond of strangers. Anything I can do for you?”

Nick sat down in an old wooden straight-backed chair. “Just wasting time, probably. I’m trying to find out something about Megan Douglas. Who might have hated her enough to kill her.”

“Well, that’s a tough one. Actually Megan was all right. She kept busy with her house and her family, and she had that dress shop. Didn’t leave her much time to get involved in anything.”

“Was she as political as Steve?”

Clyde spit over the porch railing. “Not so I could tell. Actually, not many people were as political as Steve. He carried it to extremes sometimes. I guess he was mostly right about Garth, but I couldn’t see it at the time. Been better if we had both kind of held back a little and not got so wound up as we did.”

“So that leaves us with the personal angle. Can you think of anything that would help us there?”

Clyde looked thoughtful. “Well, of course, there’s Anita. She’s a good hater. I’m not suggesting she killed anyone, but she’s got a temper. And someone beat Megan up pretty bad.”

“She’s on my list. Anyone else?”

“Not right offhand. I’ll let you know if something occurs to me. I always figured someone saw Steve’s car was gone and broke in looking for money. We had some drug problems back then, too, particularly Raleigh Benson’s boy. He kept us hopping.”

The Benson boy again. Could he have broken in and found Megan at home? Raleigh would have covered for him, you could bet on that. Nick stood up. “Well, I guess that’s all. Thanks for your help.”

Clyde leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t do all that much, but if there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know. One more thing. I hear Neva Miller is cleaning house for Macy. She cleaned for Opal, too. Always wondered why. Megan fired Neva’s daughter, Lindy, for stealing. She went to prison and when she got out no one would give her a job. Neva blamed Megan and quit working for her. And then Lindy was killed in that car wreck. Neva pretty much fell apart over that. Went kind of crazy. I guess she’s all right now, though.”

“She cleans the police station and I’ve never seen anything out of the way.” And he hadn’t thought about that. She cleaned at night. Could she have taken the Douglas file? They were used to her, and no one paid much attention. She could have taken it easily enough.

“I might be worrying over nothing, then. Just ignore it,” Clyde said.

Nick got in his car and sat for a minute, thinking. Neva’s name kept cropping up. She had motive, and she had the opportunity. Neva worked for Macy. Maybe he should drop by Macy’s. For some reason he felt a sense of urgency, as if he needed to get over there right now. Maybe it was this feeling he had that someone was closing in on them—that he was running out of time.

* * *

Macy had spent a restless night. Still awake at five, she ate an early breakfast and decided to check out her grandmother’s room one more time. She went through the closet first, searching pockets in jackets, looking at the top shelf again, to make sure she hadn’t missed something important. Not finding anything helpful she sat down in front of the dresser, pulling out the drawers and going through them. Each one held undergarments, gowns, odds and ends, the sort of thing she would expect to find, but the drawers looked tumbled, as if someone had already dug through them. She’d taken a look earlier when she first started searching, but no way had she left it like this.

Someone else had been going through her grandmother’s things.

Had Neva been digging through the drawers looking for the diary and left them in this mess? Had she found it and not bothered to mention it? Surely she would have said something if she had. Or would she? You couldn’t tell with Neva.

Macy got down on her knees, looking under the bed, and discovered a few dust bunnies, but nothing else. Odd that Neva hadn’t cleaned in here the way she did the other rooms. Macy had noticed it before but dismissed it, believing it was hard for her to spend much time in here since Opal had been her friend. Now she wasn’t so sure. There was something almost contemptuous in the way she was letting this room go. As if she did it intentionally. Like maybe she had a reason for not taking care of it.

She turned back the bedspread and discovered sheets and pillowcases still in place looking rumpled, as if they had been slept on. Apparently it hadn’t been changed since her grandmother had died. Something she had overlooked earlier, just noticing the bedspread was in place, and not bothering to look underneath it. She needed to have a talk with Neva. If she was going to clean this house, she had to do a better job than this.

Macy pulled off the spread, folded it neatly and placed it in a chair. The sheets came next, and the pillow cases. The mattress was crooked, and she grabbed one corner and shoved it back toward the wall. There was a soft thump, as if something had fallen.

She walked around the end of the bed to stare down at the floor. A tan vinyl-covered book lay there. Curious, she picked it up and thumbed through the pages. A diary.

Her mother’s diary. She had found it.

She clutched the book to her chest, and rushed from the room. Downstairs, she fixed a glass of ice water and sat down at the table. Macy slid her hand over the cover, caressing it, and then opened it to the first page. Megan Douglas. Her mother’s name.

Reverently she turned the pages, reading slowly, thrilling to the chronicle of her mother’s life. One entry caught her eye.
Today Macy took her first steps.
And her mother had thought it was important enough to enter it in her diary. Tears burned her eyes. This book would help her recover her mother. From reading this she would gain knowledge of their life together.

She read slowly, savoring every word. Megan Douglas came alive on the pages of her journal. Macy learned about things the two of them had done together, and about her father. Most of it, though, was about Megan and her thoughts, the way she felt, things she had done. There was quite a bit about the business she had started, and the difficulties of getting good help.

One entry close to the back caught her eye.
I had to fire Lindy today. She’s been stealing merchandise. I suspected her but there was no proof, then today she messed up. She took money out of the register and I saw her. She’s never been a good worker, more trouble than she’s worth. Today was the last straw.

So her mother had to fire someone. Lindy? The name sounded so familiar, but the sudden sound of the front door opening interrupted her thoughts.

She heard footsteps crossing the foyer. That door had been locked. She always kept it that way. Macy rose to her feet as Neva entered the kitchen.

They stood facing each other, but Neva didn’t speak, just stood there, wearing a wooden expression. Macy stared at her, bewildered. “How did you get in?”

Neva shrugged. “Did you really think I was fool enough not to make a copy of the key when I had the chance?”

Macy stared at her, caught by the harsh note in her voice. She’d made a key, knowing she wasn’t supposed to have one. And what was she doing here? It wasn’t her day to clean, so what was going on?

Neva nodded toward the diary. “What’s that you’ve got?

Macy glanced down at the book and answered, trying not to show any concern, but her mind was racing. “It’s my mother’s diary. I found it in Grandma Lassiter’s room.”

“I looked there. Where did you find it?”

“It was between the mattress and the box springs. I was stripping the bed and it fell out.”

Neva’s lips puckered. “It’s been there all this time. Who would have suspected it?”

Macy had about had it with this woman—with her temper, her insistence on having a key, the way she kept popping in without warning, the way she was acting now, as if she was angry about something. It was time she learned who was in charge here. “I guess you should have cleaned the room a little better.”

Neva flushed. “If you have any complaint about my cleaning, spit it out.”

“You cleaned every room except that one, but the drawers looked like someone had pawed through them. Was it you?”

“Why should I clean the room of a woman who treated me like dirt? I didn’t have any use for Opal Lassiter, and I don’t care who knows it.”

“You said you loved her.”

“That was for your benefit. It wouldn’t have fit my purpose to tell you the truth.”

Macy squinted at her, wondering where this was going. “And what was your purpose?”

“Finding that diary, of course. I couldn’t let anyone else find it. And now
you’ve
got it.”

Oh. “You were the one trying to break in?”

Anger glinted in Neva’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have had to ‘break in,’ as you put it. I had a right to come in. I cleaned this place, while those two acted like they were too good to do any work. And then Megan destroyed my daughter’s life—destroyed me. Megan asked for everything that happened to her. It was her own fault.”

Macy’s eyes were drawn back to the book. What was there in the diary implicating Neva? She glanced at the next entry.

Neva came into the store today. She jerked things off the hangers, threw them on the floor and stomped on them. I’m halfway afraid of her. She doesn’t act like she’s sane. She blames me because Lindy went to prison, and now that her daughter’s out and back in town, no one will hire her. That’s not my fault. Who would want to hire someone who did time for stealing from her employer?

Macy stared at the entry, playing for time. Of course. Lindy was Neva’s daughter. And Lindy had worked for Macy’s mother.

A new memory kicked in. That blonde in the group picture—that was Lindy. And Lindy hadn’t liked her, had teased her. More important, her mother was afraid of Neva. Macy stared at Neva, seeing her differently—seeing her the way she’d seen her that night. As a heartless killer.

She remembered now. Remembered Neva standing over her mother’s body, the poker in her hand. Remembered running from this woman. She’d reached the foot of the stairs before the poker must have caused her to black out.

Her expression must have given her away because Neva’s eyes sharpened. She strode from the room, returning with the fireplace poker—the very same poker she had used that night.

Now she bounced it against her hand, eyes narrowed, her lips tight. “You won’t let it alone, will you? I gave you chance after chance to leave, but no, you wouldn’t go, you were on a
mission
.”

The word
mission
held a wealth of sarcasm.

Macy licked her lips, trying to think of what to do. “I owed it to them to find out what really happened.”

“You owed them nothing. It was just you, full of yourself, trying to succeed where the police had failed. You always were a
brat
. Spoiled rotten. You had to come downstairs that night, didn’t you? Couldn’t stay up in your room where you belonged. Then you tried to get away from me. I should have hit you harder back then. I’ll do a better job this time.”

Macy’s heart was pounding so hard it made her dizzy. She wanted to do something—anything, but her legs felt like rubber, unable to hold her. Just like all those years ago.

She tried to sound as though she was in control, but her voice shook. “You killed her. Why? What did she ever do to you?”

“What did she do? She fired my daughter. Claimed she was stealing. Had her arrested, even got her sent to prison. How do you think that made me feel? My only child in prison—and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.”

“Lindy was a thief.”

Neva shook the poker at her. “Don’t you dare call her that. Lindy never took anything she didn’t need. Megan had it all. She could have shared, but she thought she was better than my daughter—better than me. Just like Opal.
She
thought she was something special, too.”