Whispers of Murder (7 page)

Isabelle stepped forward.  “You were at the meeting today.”

The woman stuck out her hand.  “I’m Renee Ashby.  You father hasn’t mentioned me?”

Isabelle shook her head.  “What is it you do for us?”   

“I’m the new CFO.”

“What happened to Darby?”

“Retired, over six months ago.  Living on some island now from what I heard.”

Isabelle had known Jeff Darby all her life.  He was a childhood friend of her father’s and had been by his side since the day Roland took over the place.  It was hard to believe she was expected to run it now without him.

 Renee shifted her gaze to Tara.  “Did you know Isabelle was made President of her father’s estate this morning?”

Tara responded with a raise of her eyebrow in Isabelle’s direction. 

“I didn’t say I’d do it,” Isabelle said.

Both women’s eyes shot up. 

“You’ve considered telling your father no?” Renee said.  “Was it really that unexpected?”

“Did you think I knew about it before the announcement?”

“Didn’t you?”

“How long have you known?” Isabelle said.

Renee thought about it.  “He told me not long after I was hired. I always assumed you knew.  But the look on your face this morning…oh, wow.  I guess you didn’t know.  It’s been hard for him these past few months.  He’s been in a lot of pain, but he didn’t want to say anything.”

 “Sounds like my dad,” Isabelle said.  “Why didn’t he give the estate to my sister?  He knew she wanted it.  She’s never hesitated to let everyone know she had an agenda for this place.”

Renee folded her arms.  “Have you ever thought that’s why he didn’t give it to her?  He said you and him think alike.  He knew he could leave it to you and not have to worry about what became of it.  You’re a responsible, logical girl.  That’s what this place needs.”

“It’s a lot to think about right now.”

“He knew that, which is why he decided to stay on until the end of the year.  He wanted to give you time to adjust,” Renee said.

Tara looked at Isabelle.  “What will you do?”

Isabelle canvassed the vast rows of grapes that protracted in every direction and sighed.  “I have no idea.”

CHAPTER 16

“
Y
ou knew, and you didn’t tell me.”

Emmett stretched out his hand and tried to caress Isabelle’s arm, but she took her finger and swept it off. 

“Your father thought if he mentioned it to you first, you’d say no,” he said, “and that you wouldn’t come to the meeting at all.”

“I can’t believe the lengths he’s gone to in order to keep me here.”

 “Can you blame him?”

“It’s not his life, Emmett, it’s mine.  What if I don’t want this?  I already left once before.  Didn’t that tell him anything?”  

“Yeah—that you’re a stubborn woman.”

She whipped around and thumped her foot on the wood planks that wrapped around the length of the porch.  

His voice lowered, almost to a whisper.  “Let’s go for a drive.”

Emmett pulled a rusted 1956 Ford Pickup around and was pleased to find Isabelle hadn’t bolted in the interim.  She pried the door open and plopped down on the seat next to him and two decades of dust sprayed out into the air around her.  She swatted it away with both hands.  “You ever consider washing this thing?”

He tossed his head back and patted the dashboard with his left hand.  “It would take away from its natural essence.”

“Its what?”

“This truck has over fifty years of charm all balled up into one sweet machine.”

Isabelle made a fist with her hand and coughed into it.  “I’m experiencing some of those charms now.” 

When the dust settled enough that she couldn’t see it anymore, she leaned back.  “I don’t know what to do, Emmett.”

“Open the glove box.  There’s a thing of wipes in there somewhere.  They might be all dried up though.”

“I mean about taking over the business.  My dad’s timing is terrible.  He should be more concerned about the crazy person who has it out for our family.”

“Let the sheriff deal with it.”

“You’re not worried?”

Emmett cranked the window down and poked his elbow out of it.  “Why do you think I’ve been around so much?”

“You’re always around, you work there.”

“Yeah, but not all day and night.”

“But you haven’t been there—”

“How would you know?  Why do you think I look like I haven’t showered for days?”

“Where’ve you been staying?”

He rapped on the outside of his door with his fist.

She gasped.  “In this thing—are you serious?”

He nodded.  “I wanted to make sure you were—that you and your dad were, you know, safe.”

She threw her hand in the air.  “That’s it, we’re going to your house.”

“What?”

“You need a shave and a shower.  Besides, I want to see your place.”

They drove down the dirt-paved road in silence.  Emmett parted his lips several times like he wanted to say something but no words came out.

“You remind me a lot of my dad sometimes,” she said.

He smiled.  “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s not when you don’t speak your mind.” 

He shifted in his seat and gazed out the window.  “You never told me why you left.”

She slanted her eyes in his direction and reminded herself that it wasn’t always best to rock the boat, or the truck, as it were in that situation.  “Seems like forever ago now.”

Emmett passed a grove of trees and turned into a gated entrance lined with round wood posts on both sides.  

“Get those from my dad?” she said pointing at the posts.

He nodded.  “He helped me restore this place last year.”

The truck idled in front of a brown Spanish-style home made of some sort of smooth stucco. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said.  “Those rounded archways in front remind me of the Mission San Antonio de Padua.  My class went there on a field trip when I was a kid.”

“It does kinda look like a mission, doesn’t it?”

Isabelle took in the panoramic view, and when her eyes settled back on Emmett, his face looked grim.  “You never told me you were leaving back then, you just took off.  No phone call, nothin’.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.  I wanted to call, but I—.”

“You should have.”

She scooted closer to him and placed her hand on his thigh.  “Can’t we just start again and forget about what happened in the past?”

 He turned the key in the ignition.  The truck sputtered for a few seconds and then shut off.  Emmett faced the steering wheel with a look that said he wanted to ram his head into it.  “No.  I can’t.”

Isabelle lengthened her fingers over her face and spoke through them.  “It was Sheila.” 

Emmett craned his head around and faced her.  “What?”

“You’d been dating her for months, and she said you two were going to get married.”

“And you couldn’t come to me and see what I had to say about that—why?  We were best friends, Izzy.” 

“I wanted to get out—do something with my life.  I didn’t want to be stuck here forever sucked into a life that had already been mapped out for me by someone else.”

“That’s a good excuse, now what’s the real reason?”

 She inhaled all the air her lungs could hold and wished she never had to release it, but she’d kept it in far too long not to let it out now.  “I couldn’t stay here and watch you marry her.  She wasn’t right for you!”

Emmett tightened his hand into a fist and punched the steering wheel—twice.  Isabelle froze in her seat.  He jabbed the door handle with his hand, extricated himself from the truck and slammed the door behind him.  Isabelle didn’t look up.  Emmett walked a few steps in the opposite direction and then halted and returned to the vehicle.  He propelled his head through the open window and glared at her.  “Just so we’re clear—I never said I would marry her.”    

CHAPTER 17

T
he necklace dangled between two of Isabelle’s outstretched fingers.  She admired the trinket attached to the chain.  It was a circular shape with an initialed letter in the center—an M.  M for Marsha, Isabelle thought to herself.  She wondered if the story of Leo or whatever his name was could really be true.  Was he married to someone else?  And if so, was that person after her?  She shuddered to think that she was responsible for all that had happened, but she couldn’t help it.   

Isabelle rotated her hand around and allowed the necklace to trickle down into the top drawer of her dresser.  She collapsed on her bed and tried not to think about the conversation she’d had with Emmett earlier that day or the fact that he hadn’t spoken to her since.  He’d driven her back home without a glance in her direction.  What had he meant by his comment about not marrying Sheila?  Could she have been wrong about it all his time?  Her stomach writhed in pain at the thought of it. 

Somewhere between her thoughts of Emmett and her fear of the unknown, Isabelle drifted off to sleep, only to be jostled awake moments later by a sound that came from the stairway.  They creaked.  She was sure of it.  She got out of bed, locked the door, grasped her cell phone from the nightstand and dialed. 

“What is it?” Emmett said.   

“Are you still upset?”

He sighed.  “Izzy, it’s late, and I’m tired.”

“If you could just—”

“I can’t do this with you right now, okay?”

She listened for a moment.  The hallway was silent.  “I know I already said it before, but I’m sorry.  I really am.  I’ll see you in the morning?” 

Several seconds went by in silence and she wondered if he was still there.  It didn’t take long for her to decide he wasn’t.  Why would he be after all she’d done?  She’d acted like a fool.  She removed the phone from her ear and went to press the end button.

“Wait,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Is that why you called me?”

“Sort of,” she said.  “It’s stupid, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.  I’m hearing things—probably just had another nightmare or something.” 

“About what?”

“I thought I heard something, a noise, on the stairs.”

Less than a minute later there was a knock at her door.  “It’s me,” Emmett said in a whisper.

Isabelle tiptoed over and opened it.  “Did you see anyone?”

He shook his head.  “Nothing.  And Davis is still manning his post out front.  He said he hadn’t seen or heard anything either.  I walked through the house, and it’s quiet.”

“False alarm, I guess.”  

He turned the knob on the door and went to close it.  “Try and get some sleep.  I’ll keep an eye on things.”

She placed her hand over his.  “Do you think you could ah…well, I wondered if you wouldn’t mind…oh good grief, I’m a grown woman—why can’t I just spit it out?”

“Do you need me to stay in here with you for a while?”

A look of relief crossed her face.  “Would you?”

Emmett nodded and sat in a chair. 

“You can ah, sit on the bed with me if you want.”

He shook his head.  “The chair is fine.”

Isabelle crossed the room and sat on the bed.  “I feel bad about what happened earlier between us.”

“You were right; we should move on and not worry about it.”

His mood conveyed a desire to squash the conversation, but nothing that day had sat well with Isabelle, and she was determined to make things right.  “I’ve always regretted not talking to you after I left.  I thought about you all the time.”

He frowned.  “I should have known she’d pull something like that after what I did.”

Isabelle shoved a pillow behind her back and leaned into the headboard.  “What did you do?”

“Sheila confronted me and said she wanted to get married.  Up until that point, I thought my relationship with her could have led to something, but when she gave me an ultimatum, I knew it wasn’t right.”

“And she got angry,” Isabelle said.  “Maybe that’s why she told me what she did.”

He shook his head.  “That’s not why.”

“I can’t think of any other reason.”

Emmett rose from the chair, walked over and sat next to Isabelle on the bed.  It was dark in her room, but the moon filtered in enough light that she could see the outline of his face.  His eyes bored into hers, and she wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. 

“I did break up with her that day,” he said, “and she was enraged.   She thought she’d throw my options out there and the wedding she’d imagined in her mind would become real.  And when she didn’t get her way, she wanted to know why.”

Isabelle swallowed—hard.  Her throat felt like it had an expandable golf ball lodged inside it that grew larger by the second.  “What did you say?”

He leaned in and ran his hand through her hair.  “Why didn’t you think she was right for me?”

“I don’t know—she just wasn’t.”

“Give me more than that.”

“I didn’t like the way she talked to you, for a start.  And I hated those silly names she called you like you were a pet and not a person.  And those shirts she wore…”

“Shirts?”

“Oh, come on—you don’t remember the shirts she had that were made of that thin, sheer material?  Every day she wore a different color bra underneath.  Didn’t you ever wonder why my friends called her Rainbow Brite?  I always thought she’d grow out of that phase, but a few years after high school, there she was with you strutting her double rainbows.”

“That’s superficial.  It’s not a reason to hate someone.  Every time I brought her around you looked at her like you wanted to drive an axe through her head.”

Isabelle laughed.  “She never seemed the get the message.”

“Believe me, she got it.” 

“I didn’t want you to be with her.  I never wanted you to—but I guess I couldn’t bring myself to be honest about it.  I thought if I expressed my feelings, I’d hurt you, and now I see that leaving made things worse.”

“You’re not the only one who wasn’t honest,” he said.  “She came to you that day because I told her there was someone else.”

Isabelle shook like her body was trapped inside the spin cycle at warp speed.  “Is this someone else a person I know?”

He reached out and wrapped her hand inside his own.  “Better than anyone.”