Читать книгу A Christmas to Die For - Marta Perry - Страница 8

Rachel’s reaction to his statement was obvious. Shock battled anger for control.

That was what he’d felt, too, since the attorney told him about old Mr. Unger’s attempt to buy the place. He’d hoped the lawyer would say his mother had been imagining things. Instead, his words seemed to confirm her suspicions.

Rachel took a breath, obviously trying to control her anger. She held both hands out, palms pushing away, her expression that of one who tries to calm a maniac. “I think you should leave now.”

“And give you time to come up with a reasonable explanation? I’d rather have the truth.”

Her green eyes sparked fire. “I don’t need to come up with anything. You’re the one making ridiculous accusations.”

“Is it ridiculous? My grandfather claimed someone was trying to cheat him. Your grandfather tried repeatedly to buy his property. How else do you add those things up?”

“Not the way you do, obviously. There’s a difference between buying and cheating someone. If your grandfather thought the offer low, he didn’t have to sell.” She flung out a hand toward the portrait that hung over the fireplace mantel. “Look at my grandfather. Does he look like someone who’d try to cheat a neighbor?”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Still, he had to admit that the face staring out from the frame had a quality of judicious fairness that made the idea seem remote.

She gave a quick shake of her head, as if giving up on him. “This is getting us nowhere. I’m sorry for your problems, but I can’t help you. I’ll be glad to refund your money if you want to check out.” She stood very stiffly, her face pale and set.

He’d blown it. He’d acted on impulse, blurting out his suspicions, and now he wouldn’t get a thing from her. Time to regroup.

“Look, I’m sorry for coming out with it that way. Can we sit down and talk this over rationally?”

Anger flashed in those green eyes. “Now you want to be rational? You’re the one who started this with your ridiculous accusations.”

He took a breath. He needed cooperation from Rachel if he were going to get anywhere. “Believe it or not, I felt as if I’d been hit by a two-by-four when I heard what Grassley, the attorney, had to say. Just hear me out. Then I’ll leave if you want.”

Rachel looked as if she were counting to ten. Finally she nodded. She waved him to the sofa and pulled the desk chair over for herself. She sat, planting her hands on its arms and looking ready to launch herself out of the chair at the slightest wrong word.

He sat on the edge of the sofa, trying to pull his thoughts into some sort of order. He was a logical person, so why couldn’t he approach this situation logically?

Maybe he knew the answer to that one. Grief and guilt could be a powerful combination. He’d never realized how strong until the past few weeks.

“You have to understand—I had no idea all this was festering in my mother’s mind. She didn’t talk about her childhood, and I barely knew her father. I’d been here once, before I came for my grandfather’s funeral.”

She nodded. “You told me that. I thought then that there must have been some breach between your mother and your grandfather.”

So she’d seen immediately what he’d have recognized if he weren’t so used to the situation. “I never knew anything about it. My father may have known, but he died when I was in high school.”

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes darkened with sympathy, in spite of the fact that she must still be angry with him.

“My mother had always been—” He struggled to find the right word. “Secretive, I guess you’d say. After my father died, she started turning to me more. Change the lightbulbs, have the car serviced, talk to the neighbors about their barking dog. But she never shared anything about her finances or business matters. I knew my father had left her well off, so I didn’t pry. That’s why I didn’t have any idea she still owned the property here.”

“I suppose she let the attorney take care of anything that had to be done. I’m surprised he didn’t urge her to sell—to my grandfather or anyone else.” Her voice was tart.

“He did, apparently, but he said she’d never even discuss it. She didn’t with me until her illness.” It had been hard to see her go downhill so quickly, hard to believe that none of the treatments were doing any good.

“What was it?”

“Cancer. When she realized she wasn’t recovering, that’s when she started to talk.” He paused. “She’d left it late. She was on pain medication, not making much sense. But she said what I told you—that her father had insisted he was being cheated, that everyone was out to take advantage of him.”

“That sounds as if he felt—well, that he thought he was being persecuted. How can you know that any of what he told her was true?”

“I can’t. But she thought there were things about his death that had never been explained. She regretted that she’d never attempted to find out. She demanded my promise that I’d try to learn the truth.”

His hands clenched. He’d told Rachel more than he’d intended. If she knew about what had happened then—but that was ridiculous. She’d been a child twenty-two years ago. At most, she’d oppose him now out of a need to protect her grandfather’s reputation.

“I can understand why you feel you have to honor her wishes,” she said, looking as if she chose her words carefully. “But after all this time, how can you possibly hope to learn anything?”

“I thought I might talk to your grandmother—”

“No!” She flared up instantly at that. “I won’t have my grandmother upset by this.”

A step sounded from the hallway, and they both turned. “That is not your decision to make, Rachel.” Rachel’s grandmother stood in the doorway, her bearing regal, her face set and stern.

Rachel’s throat tightened. Grams, standing there, hearing the suspicions Tyler was voicing. She’d like to throw something at him for causing all this trouble, but that wouldn’t help.

“Now, Grams…” She had to think of something that would repair this situation. Protecting Grams was her responsibility.

She stood and went to her, the desk chair rolling backward from the pressure of her hands. She put her arm around her grandmother’s waist.

Grams didn’t seem to need her support. She had pride and dignity to keep her upright.

“Don’t ‘now, Grams,’ me, Rachel Elizabeth. I know what I heard, and I don’t require any soothing platitudes.”

Rachel shot a fulminating glance at Tyler. At least he had the grace to look unhappy at this turn of events. He’d look worse when she finished telling him what she thought.

“Grams, I’m sure you misunderstood.” She tried for a light tone. “You always told us that eavesdroppers never hear anything good, remember?”

Grams ignored her, staring steadily at Tyler. “I must apologize. I’m not in the habit of listening in on other people’s conversations, but you were both too busy arguing to realize I was there.”

“I just want to protect you—” Rachel began.

Her grandmother cut her short with a look. “I don’t require protection. I knew my husband well enough to be quite confident that he’d never have been involved in anything underhanded. I have nothing to fear from Mr. Dunn’s inquiry.”

“Of course not, but it’s still upsetting. Please, Grams, let me handle this.”

Her only response was to move to her armchair and be seated, folding her hands in her lap. “I’ll answer any question you wish to ask.” She glanced up at the portrait. “The truth can’t harm my husband.”

Grams might want to believe that, but Rachel wasn’t so sure. Of course she knew Grandfather had been perfectly honest, but rumors, once started, could be difficult to stop.

She glanced at Tyler. He looked as if getting what he wanted had taken him by surprise.

“It’s very good of you to agree to talk with me about this.” He’d apparently decided on a formal approach. Good. If she caught the slightest whiff of disrespect, he’d be out of here before he knew what hit him.

Grams inclined her head graciously. “I don’t know that I have much to offer. My husband only discussed business with me in very general terms.”

Tyler’s mouth tightened fractionally. “Start by telling me what you remember about John Hostetler. You must have known him, since you were such close neighbors.”

“I knew him. Knew of him, certainly. He was a rather difficult person, from everything I recall. After his wife died, he became bitter, cutting himself off from the community.”

“Do you know if your husband had any business dealings with him? Did he talk to you about wanting to buy the place?”

She frowned. “I don’t remember, but if he did, it would be in his ledgers. Rachel will make them available to you.”

She swallowed the protest that sprang to her lips. Tyler could strain his eyes looking through decades of her grandfather’s fine black script, and he wouldn’t find anything wrong.

“That’s kind of you.” Tyler seemed taken aback by that kindness, but that was her grandmother. “Do you know of anyone he was on bad terms with?”

A faint smile rippled on Grams’s expression. “It might be easier to ask with whom he didn’t quarrel. I don’t mean to speak ill of him, but it’s fairly well known that he argued with just about everyone.”

“I remember a visit we made when I was about six. Certainly he and my mother seemed to battle most of the time.”

“I’m afraid that was his nature.” Grams spread her hands. “I don’t know what else I can say. After his death, the neighbors were concerned about the condition of the farm. Several of them came to Fredrick about it, I remember that.” She glanced up at the portrait again. “If he did try to buy it, I’m sure that’s why.”

He nodded, not offering any comment. It was what Rachel had told him, too, but she didn’t think he was convinced. He wouldn’t understand her grandfather’s almost-feudal-lord position in the community. Everyone, Amish and English alike, had come to him with their concerns.

“Do you remember anything about the robbery and his death?”

Grams moved slightly, and Rachel was instantly on the alert. This questioning bothered her grandmother more than she’d want to admit.

“I know we were shocked. Everyone was.”

She put her arm around her grandmother. “Of course they were.” She darted him a look. “I think my grandmother has told you everything she can.”

Grams gave Tyler a level look. “I have, but if there’s anything else…”

“Not right now.” Tyler seemed to know he’d pushed enough.

Grams rose. “We’ll cooperate in any way we can. It’s what my husband would wish.” She turned toward the kitchen and walked away steadily.

Rachel hesitated. She wanted his promise that this wasn’t going to be all over the township by sunset, but she didn’t want to say that where Grams could hear. She’d better make sure Grams was safely in the kitchen with Emma.

“Would you mind sticking around for a minute or two while I speak to Emma? I could use some help moving that ladder.”

He nodded, his expression telling her he understood what she wasn’t saying. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

By the time she went out the front door a few minutes later, Rachel knew exactly how she should behave. She’d talk with Tyler very calmly, explaining the harm that could be done to her grandmother by careless talk. She’d make it clear that they’d already done everything he’d asked of them and that there really was nothing else they could contribute.

She would not express the anger she felt. She’d extended friendship to the man, and all the time he’d been using her to pry into her family.

He waited by the ladder she’d left propped against the house, his leather jacket hanging open in the warmth of the afternoon sunshine. He straightened when he saw her. “Is your grandmother all right?”

“She didn’t like being cross-examined,” she said sharply, and then snapped her mouth shut on the words. If she wanted discretion from Tyler, she’d better try a little tact of her own. “She was telling you the truth.” Katherine Unger was not someone who’d lie to cover up her own or anyone else’s misdeeds.

He gave her a slight smile. “I know. Do you think I don’t recognize integrity when I see it?”

“I was afraid your judgment might be skewed by your need to find out about your grandfather.”

“Look, I said I was sorry for jumping on you with it. I want to be fair about it.”

Did he mean that? She hoped so. “There’s one thing you said to me that you didn’t mention to my grandmother.”

He frowned. “What’s that?”

He knew. He had to. “You said your mother didn’t think her father’s death had been adequately explained. You called it murder.”

The word seemed to stand there between them, stark and ugly.

He was silent for a long moment, and then he shook his head. “I don’t know, Rachel. That’s the truth. I can tell you what my mother said. What she seemed to believe. As to whether it had any basis in fact—” he shrugged “—I guess that’s what I have to find out.”

“I hope—” She stopped. Would he think she was trying to control his actions? Well, in a way, she was.

“What do you hope?” He focused on her, eyes intent.

“I hope you’ll be discreet with the questions you ask people around here, especially anything to do with my grandparents. It doesn’t take much to set rumors flying in a small community like this.”

“Your grandmother didn’t seem to be worried about that.”

No, she wouldn’t worry about people talking when she felt she was doing what was right.

“Grams can be naive about some things. If the rumor mill starts churning, the situation will be difficult for her. So be tactful, will you please?”

“I’ll try.” He took a step back from the wooden stepladder as she approached it. “I’m not here to stir up trouble for innocent people.”

“Sometimes innocent people get hurt by the backlash.” She bent to plug the end of the string of lights into the outlet.

“I can’t let that stop me from looking for the truth.” His jaw set like a stone.

“And I won’t let anything stop me from protecting my family,” she said. “Just so we’re clear.”

“We’re clear. Does that mean you want me to move out?”

It was tempting to say yes, but it was safer to have Tyler where she could keep track of him. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” She started up the ladder, the loop of lights in her hand.

“Thank you. And since I’m staying, I’d be glad to climb up and do that for you. I wouldn’t have to stretch as far.”

“I can reach.” If she stood on the top step on her tiptoes, she could.

She looped the string of lights over the small metal hook that was left in the window frame from year to year. Pulling the string taut, she grasped it and leaned toward the other side.

She stretched, aware of him watching her, and pushed the wire toward the hook—

“Wait!” Tyler barked.

The wire touched the hook—a sharp snap, a scent of burning, a jolt that knocked her backward off the ladder and sent her flying toward the ground, stunned.