A Deadly Draught (21 page)

“Come on in.” I scurried up the stairs as Jake entered. “I’ll be down in a second.” I peered at my face in the bathroom mirror, pulled my hair back into a ponytail, and slathered a little moisturizer on my cheeks where the steam from the mash tun had dried them out.

“Ready.” There was no talking among the threesome in the kitchen, and Jake’s eyes wouldn’t meet mine. He mumbled a good night to Deni and Ronald and pulled me out the kitchen door.

“What’s with you tonight? Why so unfriendly?”

“Ronald’s appearance only makes one more suspect in this murder. I’m supposed to be pleased the list just got longer?”

We rode to Francine’s in silence.

Francine answered the door and invited us into the house. She led us to the central living area, sunken two steps below the rest of the rooms. Marsh sat in front of the fireplace. He stood to greet us, then walked over to Francine and stood close at her side like a rooster guarding his hen from the fox. From the papers scattered over the coffee table, it was obvious we had interrupted a business discussion and perhaps something more.

I took in the room as Francine gestured toward the butter yellow couch Marsh had abandoned. Mediterranean-style rugs warmed up the saltillo tile floor, and planters in shades of cobalt blue, azure, and sun-drenched orange gave the place a friendly feel. The room said welcome, but the people in it spoke another language.

Francine held her hands clasped tightly in front of her, the knuckles white. She appeared wary of the purpose of Jake’s visit. “Just a few quick questions,” reassured her not at all. If she was wondering why I was here, Jake handled that well, claiming that he and I were having dinner in town reminiscing about our years in law school.

“I was driving Hera home, saw your light, and thought I should drop in while I was in the neighborhood to save myself a trip here tomorrow.”
Right.
It was a pretty lame excuse, but Jake followed it up by taking the offensive. “Or you could stop by the office tomorrow, if this isn’t a good time.”

Francine nodded her agreement, seated herself on the couch, and gestured to several other chairs. I sat. Jake remained standing. He turned his attention to Marsh.

“I don’t mean to take up your time, Marsh.”

Marsh shook his head. “The work can wait.”

“I’m fine. Go ahead and check on our inventory for next week.” Was it my imagination, or was Francine trying to get him to leave?

“I’ll stay here. No problem.”

Jake opened the usual little notebook and flipped through several pages.

“Ah, here we go. I understand the night of the murder, you and Michael Ramford had a business meeting. I’m wondering why you never mentioned it when we talked before.”

Marsh’s face blanched then began to turn red. “That’s not correct. Who told you that?”

Jake ignored Marsh’s outburst and continued to look at Francine.

“Francine?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but Michael and I met several times, both before and after I hired you.” Her tone was reassuring, and Marsh dropped his shoulders and relaxed. She turned her attention to Jake. “We were discussing a merger of our enterprises. It didn’t work out. That’s all. I can’t see how that meeting is important.”

“The time it took place is important. We know the meeting began late, but when did it end?”

“Oh, I see. You think he was here when his father was being killed? But he was with Cory. She told you that, didn’t she?”

“That’s what she said at first, but now she’s having difficulty remembering the details of that evening.”

Francine looked at Marsh and made some kind of a decision. He didn’t notice her glance. His focus was on the floor and not on her any longer.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you.” She got up from her chair, signaling the end to our visit.

Back in Jake’s cruiser, he expressed his disgust at the conversation by slamming his fists on the steering column. “That was pretty useless. I thought maybe keeping it casual would take her off guard.”

“Let me give you a tip for future use. You don’t put anybody at ease when you remain standing and check in your little black notebook. It smacks of cop and interrogation. As for taking Francine off guard, that woman is too self-assured to be taken unawares. I also think she wanted to say more but couldn’t.”

“Because of Marsh.”

“Because of Marsh.”

“I need to separate the two of them without making it obvious that’s what I’m doing.”

I placed my hand on his as he reached out to start the engine. “I took care of that. Hold on a minute.”

The front door opened, and Francine appeared, holding an object in her hand.

“Hera, wait. You left your purse.” Francine handed the bag to me through the open car window.

“What really happened between you and Michael that night? Don’t spare my feelings,” I said.

She leaned in the window. “You see how protective Marsh is of me. I think he’s in love with me, and he’s jealous.”

“Jealous of a business meeting between you and Michael? I don’t …” Jake began.

“Oh, shut up, Jake. It wasn’t just business, was it?”

“No, it was, I mean, it is more than that. If Cory changed her story, it’s because Michael is giving her plenty of reason to think twice about her feelings for him.”
Or maybe Cory found other reasons to wriggle out of that tale.
I didn’t say that to Francine. I encouraged her to go on with her version of why Cory might be backtracking.

“So, when Cory found out Michael was with you the night of the murder, she …” I paused, but Francine wasn’t biting.

“Michael is a foolish young man. He’s trying to protect me, my reputation. Such gallantry. I don’t need it or expect it, but I must be truthful. Michael was with me that night, the entire night. I’ll be happy to come down to the station tomorrow and provide you with more information. Now I have to go.” She walked up the steps and back into the house. Marsh stood in the open doorway, waiting for her.

*

Jake and I rode back to my place in silence. I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“You think I horned in too much tonight? Are you mad I told you to shut up when Francine came out to the car, or didn’t you like the ploy I used to get her out there? What? Something’s wrong, and it’s not the weather.” My voice got louder, and the pitch was reaching the dog whistle range.

“You did fine, just fine. I’ve got a lot on my mind sorting through all these stories. Every time I track down the truth of one of them, something else pops up, and I have to run off and examine that.”

I took a good look at him. Maybe it was the dimness in the car, but I thought he looked bone tired.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to go all ballistic on you. I’m not used to your moods any more. In law school, silence from you usually meant you were working on some legal issue and didn’t want me to disturb you.”

“Now, it means the same thing. I’m working on some legal issue, like I told you, all these pieces and how they fit together.” His tone was sharp. It told me he’d like me to drop the subject, so I couldn’t.

“Maybe if you laid out all the pieces, the two of us could put them together. Another head might help.”

“Hera. I’m tired. I just don’t want to deal with this now. Not now.” He clamped his mouth shut, and his lips stretched across his teeth in a tight line that said he was about to explode. I’d made him mad.

“Okay.” A sniffle escaped.

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying. It’s my allergies.” Now we were even. We both were lying.

*

The next morning I found out Jake wasn’t lying. He was withholding information, information I would have found unsettling, information he knew I would resent him for unearthing.

His cruiser pulled into my drive around seven followed by two other sheriffs’ cars. I heard the vehicles as I finished making my coffee after a night sleeping in the barn to be certain no one broke in to do any more damage to my equipment. The night was uneventful with respect to prowlers, but I hadn’t slept well. I looked out my kitchen window to see Jake and four men dressed in county sheriff’s department uniforms heading toward my door. I beat them to it.

“I see you brought the posse this morning.” I was in a testy mood, and it came through in my voice. If Jake noticed, he ignored my lack of good humor and selected his official voice to address me.

“Is Ronald Ramford here? I don’t see his van.”

I stood in the doorway while Jake and his men gathered at the bottom of my steps, hands on their holsters.

“Ronald and Deni left early this morning. Since I’m not their babysitter, they didn’t tell me where they were going, but you might check at the Ramford place. Or Deni might have decided she wanted to go back to the city.”

“Can we come in?” Jake stepped onto the first riser, and I held out my hand to stop his progress.

“You might tell me what this is all about.”

“Official sheriff’s business.”

I thought about delivering the line about having to get a search warrant, but remembering the fatigue on Jake’s face last night, I reconsidered.

I held open the door, stepped to one side, and gestured the crew into the room. “Oh, crap, Jake. What’s going on?”

“We need to search the house.”

“Fine, go ahead, but could you please tell me what’s happening?”

“I’m bringing Ronald in for questioning. We have reason to believe he killed his father.”

Stunned, I lowered myself into a chair at the table, dropped my head into my hands, and worked my fingers through my hair. Jake signaled his men to search the other rooms. They returned in a matter of minutes.

“No one, Sir.”

The officers left, and Jake sat down beside me at the table. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you last night, but in canvassing the hardware stores in this area, we found one which recently sold a shovel similar to that used to kill Mr. Ramford. I took a picture of Ronald to the owner early this morning, and he identified him as the person making the purchase several days before Ramford’s murder.”

“So what? So Ronald bought a shovel like the one found in my shed.”

“Mr. Ramford’s blood was on that shovel, as were Ronald’s prints. I know he lied about being in this area before his father’s murder. Now I want to know why.”

Twenty-One

After Jake left, I called the Ramford residence, but there was no answer. Everybody must be out in the barn.
I climbed the stairs to Dad’s room. At least the officers hadn’t left it in a mess when they looked for Ronald. It was tidy, too tidy. None of Ronald’s or Deni’s clothes and other possessions were in the room. Well, maybe they decided to move to the Ramford house.
Why didn’t he leave me a note?

Ronald’s unscheduled departure plagued me throughout the morning as I checked the supplies of beer for the Saturday tasting and took a peek at the fermenting tun in which my newest ale was developing. I still had time during the summer to get it out to my customers, as well as the space to consider brewing other product to satisfy the Saturday crowds, and I was hoping for crowds, large crowds.

I checked my hoses while I waited for Jeremiah to arrive. I had learned my lesson. Don’t trust locks. Until Jake arrested the person who vandalized my equipment, I’d be sleeping in the barn. Then I remembered. Jake’s unfriendly and official visit this morning put the slit hose right out of my mind. I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to tell him about it.

The barn was stifling, so I headed out the door to wait under the maple on the lawn. Instead of Jeremiah, Brian rode up on his bicycle.

“Hey, Brian. I thought Jeremiah was going to work today, and your days were Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.” We walked to the barn together.

“That’s right.” He leaned his bicycle against the side of the building. “But Jeremiah got into an accident on his bike yesterday when he left here. The tire came off on the way down the hill into town, and he went over the bars and hit his head. The doctor said he should take it easy for a few days. A concussion, he thinks.”
Good heavens. What an awful accident.

“He could have been killed. Why didn’t he call me?”

“He said you already had too much on your mind and didn’t want to add to your worry. I heard he’s quitting. I could increase my hours, if you’d like.”

Brian had only been with me for a short time, and he didn’t know most of the operation, but he was an eager worker. So far he’d picked up on things fast. “Okay, you’re on. You’ll have a lot more to learn, long hours to put in, and not all of them are going to show up in a paycheck, you know.”

“I know, and that’s cool. I’d really like to learn to make beer.” He paused. “An uncle of mine is a home brewer of sorts, so I guess it runs in my family.”

“That’s settled. You understand this is probationary, to see how you work out.” He nodded and appeared happy with my proposition. With Jeremiah out now and his eventual departure, I’d be trapped in my own brewery, if I didn’t have Brian. Then I chastised myself for being selfish, thinking only of my needs when it was Jeremiah’s head that took the hit.

I left Brian in charge of the barn and decided to take the long way into town past the Ramford place. At the foot of the drive to the brewery, I hesitated. What excuse could I give for my impromptu visit other than poking my nose into what happened to Ronald?
Oh, the hell with it,
I thought as I cranked my wheel left and headed up the drive. Ronald was my friend, and that’s all the excuse I needed.

The only car in the driveway was Stanley’s. The trunk was open, and he stepped out of the front door of the house carrying a suitcase and some clothes on hangers. He glanced up, saw me, and returned his attention to throwing the items into the car. Glee bubbled up in my chest. Stanley was leaving? How perfect.
I tried to suppress a smile as I rolled down the window of my truck and greeted him.

“Taking a trip, Stan?”

“Mind your own business.” He slammed the lid closed and headed back into the house.

A car pulled up the drive and parked behind me. Michael’s.

“Come to gloat?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I just came by to see if Ronald was around. Jake was looking for him earlier this morning.”