Threads of Deceit (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 1) (24 page)

When Julie finished, a handful of people hurried to the podium to speak to her, and Julie struggled to keep her suspects in view. The lawyer stood, said something to his mother, and stormed out of the room. He slammed the door to the breakfast room hard enough to make the glass panes rattle.

Julie spoke to each person who crowded around her, answering questions and thanking those who offered compliments. Finally the crowd slipped away, and Mrs. Parson stood and walked to the podium.

“You’re a gifted speaker,” she said. “But the story is so sad.”

“Sad?”

“To think of the poor woman’s little son. He couldn’t have known what happened to his mama.” Mrs. Parson shook her head. “I suppose it’s silly to feel for people so long dead.” She laughed softly. “Walter says I’m too softhearted.”

“I hadn’t thought about Mrs. Meyhew’s son,” Julie admitted. “It must have been horrible for him.” Then she smiled at the senator’s wife. “And it seems to me that being softhearted is a virtue.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Mrs. Parson said, then she
dropped her voice to a whisper. “I should be going. Walter will probably sleep the whole way in the car—not on account of your talk. That was fascinating. Capitol life can just be so exhausting. It’s a good thing we have a driver. Good night, dear. Thank you for the wonderful entertainment.”

Julie watched the woman walk back to the table and give Inga a hug before leaving with the senator. If the senator was secretly obsessed with the treasure hunt, he certainly did a good job of covering it up, and his wife wasn’t exactly the murdering type.

That only left the lawyer. He’d certainly looked ready to kill someone. As Julie gathered up her papers, she decided they needed to kick up their investigation of the angry man, even if it required another bit of breaking and entering.

B
efore heading up to bed, Julie decided to talk with Hannah about the lawyer. She found her friend at the kitchen table with a carton of mint chocolate-chip ice cream, a spoon, and a pile of recipe magazines. “All hail the conquering storyteller!”

“I noticed you didn’t sit in,” Julie said as she grabbed a spoon out of a drawer.

“I’ve heard the tale, and I was on cleanup duty after the snacks they served before you started. Millie decided we’d sell more goodies
before
you talked about unearthing skulls.”

“Did you see Cantor? He had an interesting reaction to my talk. I thought his head would explode.”

“He’s definitely not a fan of yours.”

Julie dug into the ice-cream carton and popped a bite into her mouth, then talked around the mouthful. “We need to know more about him.”

Hannah nodded. “Have you read all the stuff I printed out oh so long ago? I had a lot of general stuff on him in that stack, including women he’s dated and the various civic functions he’s attended. From what I could tell, those were all attempts to troll for new clients.”

Julie shuffled her feet. “I haven’t quite read all that stuff.”

Hannah pinned her with a level stare.

“OK, I haven’t quite read
any
of that stuff. I’ve skimmed a lot of it though. You know I’ve been busy.”

Hannah pointed her spoon at her friend. “You need to learn to do the boring reading bits as well as the exciting illegal-entry bits.”

Julie grabbed one more spoonful. “Fine. I’ll go read it right now. But in exchange, you need to read through this.” She put the old book of Southern scandals on the table next to Hannah. “See what you can get out of it while I go do my homework.”

Upstairs, Julie settled down in her cozy chair and pulled the pile of papers into her lap. After the long day, the printed words slowly turned into “blah, blah, blah.” Finally she just leafed through, looking for anything interesting in the many printed photos.

She stopped at one of Senator Parson and his wife. They were both younger. The senator had more pepper than salt in his hair then. Mrs. Parson wore the same sweet smile Julie had seen that evening, and the senator looked dashing and proud.

Julie rubbed her eyes and held the paper closer to read the lengthy caption. The text was a little blurry since the photo was a scan taken from the
Straussberg Gazette
and put online. It named one of the local wineries where Parson and his wife were enjoying a wine tasting. It was a puff piece on the popularity of the local vineyards as a honeymoon destination.

Julie grunted softly. The photo simply proved Mrs. Parson had been telling the truth. The Parsons
did
honeymoon in Missouri Wine Country. Julie held the photo close to the light to try to read the rest of the fuzzy print where it gave the newlyweds’ names:
Walter Parson and Alicia Meyhew Parson.

Shocked, Julie dropped the paper on the floor.

She’d finally found the connection! Mrs. Parson was related to the Meyhews. Even so, why would such an old scandal get the Parsons involved now? She thought of the gold coins and jewelry they’d already found. Did Parson need the treasure for his campaign?
Maybe he tried to buy the farm so he could start his own excavation.

Julie chewed on her lower lip. Something about that felt
like a reach, but she was sure everything that had happened was connected with Mrs. Parson being a Meyhew.

She practically ran downstairs to Hannah’s room and pounded on the door. Her friend opened it with the old book in her hand.

“It’s Senator Parson!”

“What?”

Julie slipped into Hannah’s room and showed her the photo and caption. “Oh wow,” Hannah said. “I remember printing that. When I saw how blurry the text was, I didn’t bother to read it. You know, that still doesn’t prove anything. You don’t want to jump ahead too far, or you’ll come across like this nut.” She held up the book. “Did you read the ‘afterword’ in this?”

Julie shook her head. “I only read the section on the Meyhew scandal.”

“The author’s son added an afterword,” Hannah explained. “He insists his father was never depressed. The text in this book doesn’t sound like a depressed writer’s work.”

Julie nodded. “He writes like Shirley talks.”

“Right, and could you imagine Shirley killing herself in a fit of despondence?” Hannah shook her head. “Anyway, the son said his father planned a whole series of scandal books about different parts of the country. The son says he found his father’s body directly after a visit from Meyhew’s great-grandson, who was a
doctor
. He hints pretty hard that he thought the good doctor killed his dad.”

Julie thought about that and slowly nodded. “Having a murderer for a father-in-law could rock Senator Parson’s political boat.”

“Especially since we don’t know if Jackson Meyhew is alive or dead,” Hannah said.

“Louisa said he disappeared.”

Hannah flipped a hand dismissively. “It’s hard to truly disappear these days. I’ll put some time into looking for him if you want.”

Julie crossed her arms and leaned on the corner of Hannah’s fireplace mantel. “So maybe Alicia Parson comes from generations of murderers. And maybe Parson hired Cantor to keep this all covered up, a job he’s clearly not doing well. Having his failure to keep this under wraps displayed right in front of his boss made him angry.”

“Perhaps,” Hannah said. “It’s all speculation.”

“But if I’m right and I got the murderer stirred up tonight, Daniel could be in real danger at the dig.” Julie pulled out her phone and called him. His phone rolled to voice mail.

“I’m going out there.”

“Maybe you should call the police first,” Hannah suggested.

“You said yourself that this is all speculation. I have nothing to call them for, but I need to go out there.”

“Fine, but as soon as you get there, call me. And put in your earphone so we can talk. If anything happens, I can call 911 and get you some help.”

Julie’s stomach fluttered during the entire drive to Winkler Farm. She hoped she was being overly imaginative, but too many bad things had happened for her to believe that. She stopped at the bunkhouse and pounded on the door.

No answer.

The inside was completely dark. Julie tapped her foot for a moment, deciding on her next move. She couldn’t leave without checking, so she pulled out her lock picks and was inside in moments.

Julie slipped through the small building quickly and found no sign of a struggle. She paused at the door and dialed
Hannah. “I’m inside the bunkhouse. Daniel isn’t here.”

“He
could
be doing something social, you know.”

“I hope so.” Julie locked the door behind her and started for her car, but she stopped when she saw a shadow sweep across the ground near her. She turned sharply but didn’t see anyone. She watched for the shadow again but saw nothing.

She looked up at the full moon and calculated where someone would have to be to have cast the shadow. Then she headed in that direction. She walked around the bunkhouse and saw a figure racing away, already too distant to make out any details.

“Someone is running toward the dig,” Julie said.

“I don’t suppose that means you’re running the other way.”

“Hardly.” Julie ran hard, her sneakers pounding the hard ground. She knew both she and the intruder would have to slow down once they reached the mud around the excavation, so she hoped to close the distance between them while she could.

The running figure stumbled when the hard ground softened, and Julie was able to close the distance.

“I know who you are!” Julie yelled.

The person froze and slowly turned to face her.

Despite the jeans and hooded sweatshirt, Julie had no trouble recognizing the face illuminated by the moonlight. She gasped.
How could I have been so wrong?

“I’ll assume by your face that you were bluffing,” Mrs. Parson said. Then she removed her hand from the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled out a small gun. “But then, you’re rather adept at telling lies, aren’t you, Miss Ellis?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“You’re not really an innkeeper,” Mrs. Parson said, her face twisted in a sneer. “You’re a thief.”

“As a murderer, I’m not certain that gives you the moral high ground.”

“What I did, I did for Walter. You act on your own selfishness.”

“And you act like a psychopath from a long line of psychopaths.”

The older woman’s voice rose to a shriek. “Be quiet! You know nothing about me!”

“I know Meyhew killed his wife.”

“My family is not ashamed of our history. My great-great-grandfather killed a harlot to protect his wealth for his son. And his grandson killed a nosy reporter to protect the family name after my father proved too weak for the job.” Mrs. Parson shook her head with obvious disappointment at her father’s distaste for murder. “He also took care of the son for publishing that filth about the family. How could I not live up to those brave men?”

“But why involve Cantor?”

“I didn’t.” Mrs. Parson’s voice dripped with disgust. “When I told my husband about the problem, he was too spineless to do anything, just like my father.
He
handed the problem off to that incompetent lawyer. Cantor had one job: buy the farm and keep scandal away from our door—and he couldn’t even manage
that
.”

“Is he the one who vandalized the site?”

The older woman shook her head. “I paid off some of the crew for that, but it didn’t help. I had to do something more direct. I decided to destroy the pumps myself. If my family history has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes you need to take care of things yourself. The geologist caught me in the act.”

“And you killed him.”

The woman shrugged. “I did what I needed to do. I always do what I need to do.”

“Like attack Daniel.”

The other woman simply smiled.

“And now what?” Julie asked. “You shoot me? Don’t you think the police are eventually going to track all these dead bodies back to you?”

“To
me
?” she laughed. “Hardly. Everyone loves sweet Mrs. Parson. No, the police will suspect the lawyer after an anonymous tip. Then they’ll find poor Randall Cantor dead in his home. The guilt from all these murders will have been too much for him—especially after he kills you and Daniel Franklin.”

“Ah. I see. You’re copying the family murder cover-ups.”

Mrs. Parson’s smile twisted. “Going with a classic. I’ll take care of that as soon as I finish here. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ll head back to the bunkhouse. It’ll be more convenient if it appears Cantor killed you both together.” She waved her gun, stepping closer to Julie.

Julie had been stalling, waiting for the police to arrive. Surely Hannah must have called them. But the look in Mrs. Parson’s eyes told Julie that she didn’t have much longer to wait. So when Mrs. Parson stumbled slightly on the uneven ground, Julie tackled the older woman, leaping at her and slamming into her waist.

Mrs. Parson went down hard, and the gun flew out of her hand. She clawed at Julie’s face with her nails. The older woman was strong. She brought her knees between them and threw Julie off. They both scrambled for the gun in the dark.