Читать книгу Meg Harris Mysteries 7-Book Bundle - R.J. Harlick - Страница 35

You’re way offside with this, Meg.” Eric’s half-closed eyes bored into mine from a face which had become granite. His breakfast of fried eggs sat ignored on the table while its heat escaped into the cold damp air of the Council Hall’s small kitchen. “For the sake of our friendship, I don’t want you to say another word.”

“But I think you have to consider—”

“Please, not another word.”

I’d made the mistake of diving straight in with my suspicions about Tommy without any preamble and hit the feared roadblock. While I considered another tactic, I took a sip of the steaming liquid Eric had offered on my arrival. Although he called it coffee, it tasted more like the rain splatters smearing the dirty window.

I tried again. “Why are you so convinced Marie did it? You heard the attributions yesterday at the healing ceremony. You yourself even alluded to Marie’s resolve to keep going no matter how tough it was. So tell me, after putting up with Louis’s abuse all these years, why would Marie suddenly snap? Surely if it was in the cards for her to kill him, she would’ve done it years ago, when he broke her arm.”

“Maybe, but we had a similar case just last year, when a wife of twenty years shot her husband after an all-night drinking binge.”

“Sounds like alcohol caused that. Don’t forget, Marie didn’t drink.”

He nodded in acknowledgment and leaned back into his chair, but his face still wore a look of stubborn refusal.

I persisted, “How do you explain the fact there were two sets of footprints, one large, one small, on the beach the morning she died? Innocent passers-by? I doubt it, particularly when one of them knelt in front of the crosses. You and I both know there’s only one person with reason to pay homage to Two Face Sky and Summer Wind.”

I looked for a reaction from Eric, and seeing none asked, “Why didn’t you tell me they were Marie’s grandparents?”

“I’m sorry, but figured since you didn’t know, then Marie and your aunt had their reasons for not telling. But you’re right about it probably being Marie. Dorothy told me she was in the habit of going there a couple of times a year.”

“So, Eric, if the smaller set of tracks was made by Marie, then she wasn’t alone when she arrived on the beach. And since only the larger set left the beach, don’t you think we can assume she was dead when that guy left?”

“Yeah, and the next thing you’ll say is Marie wouldn’t kill herself in front of an audience, therefore she was killed by this other person.”

“Exactly.”

“Now, what were you saying about the tread? Run it by me again,” he said, finally digging his fork into what now looked to be a very cold and greasy fried egg.

At last I was getting through to him. It just needed the right approach. I took him patiently through the description of the elongated “y” footprint and the sighting of this same track at Tommy’s place. But this time, rather than freezing me out, Eric listened.

“And this makes you think Tommy is involved?”

“Yes, this plus other anomalies.”

So I told him about John-Joe seeing Tommy on the lake the morning she died, about Tommy’s lying to me over the timing of his return from his trip, his chanting as we entered the cave, almost as if he knew his mother’s body lay inside, and a possible CanacGold link between Gareth and Tommy.

When I finally laid all the pieces out into the open, they unfortunately pointed in only one direction. Tommy had killed his mother and probably his father.

“I hate what you’re telling me, Meg.” Eric ran his hands through his thick hair. “It’ll tear the band apart. Everyone sees Tommy and a few others like him as the key to our future. He’s one of our first lawyers. A big hero to many of the kids. He gives them hope and courage that maybe they too can make it out there in that big and scary world beyond the trees.

“I still say there’s no motive,” he continued. “You haven’t given me one.”

“But Eric, when you think about it, what motive would anyone really have for killing Marie? Enemies? She had none. She was just a simple, kind-hearted soul who didn’t get in anyone’s way. Killed for her money? Hardly. That only leaves what the police call “crime of passion” and isn’t that usually done by someone close to the victim such as a family member?”

“Yeah, but I’d be prepared to swear on the bones of my ancestors that Tommy wouldn’t harm a hair on his mother’s head. I could see him killing his father in a fit of rage, but his mother?”

“Say Tommy did shoot Louis and Marie somehow got in the way, whatever . . .” I suggested. “Maybe it was an accident . . .? I don’t know . . .”

“Yes, I suppose anything is possible . . .” Eric stopped talking and turned his glance to the rain streaked window. I contemplated another slurp of the thin coffee, but decided it wasn’t worth it. He might be a good cook, but he sure couldn’t make coffee. I waited for Eric. Only the rain tapping against the pane broke the silence.

Finally, he turned back to me. “There might be a motive.” He paused.

Knowing this was difficult for Eric, I said nothing.

“I don’t think it’s enough to kill someone for, but who knows. Tommy’s been away at school for the last ten years . . . Maybe he’s not the same person who grew up here.”

He shook his head sadly and continued, “Marie came to me a little over a month ago, upset over Tommy. She was worried he’d gotten involved in some shady dealings. He was coming and going at odd hours. Refused to tell her what he was up to. And he had money. Gave her a thousand dollars, which she refused to accept because he wouldn’t tell her its source. I gather they had quite a fight over that.”

Remembering Marie’s words of concern a few days before she died, I nodded. “Yeah, she told me something about it too.”

“Christ, if he’s working for CanacGold, I’ll kill the bastard.”

“Maybe Marie found out?” I suggested. “And challenged him. Maybe she threatened to tell you, and he tried to stop her?”

“He does have a temper, just like his father. But this doesn’t explain Louis’s death.”

“Maybe Louis discovered the killing?”

“Christ. This will tear my people apart.”

I sat for a few minutes more, waiting for Eric to continue, and when he didn’t, I asked, “So where do we go from here?”

“I’ll talk to Tommy.”

“Not the police?”

“Not yet, I want to give him a chance to explain. Could be we’ve read this all wrong.”

“You may be too late. He may have already fled.” And I explained about Tommy’s empty house.

“Possibly, but leave this to me,” he said, getting out of his chair.

After rinsing off his dirty plate, he grabbed his motorcycle helmet and moved towards the kitchen door. I followed, debating if I shouldn’t go to the police myself.

As if reading my thoughts, Eric said, “Look Meg, I know you’re right in wanting to go to the police, but I guess I’m still clinging to the hope Tommy didn’t do it. And I suppose what’s swaying me is his mother’s amulet.”

“How so?”

“It’s missing, wasn’t on her body. And it was Tommy who told me about it. He was quite upset. Wanted to bury it with his mother.”

“How does this help Tommy?”

“She always wore it.”

“Like her red dream scarf?”

He nodded. “The fact the amulet wasn’t on her body means it was probably taken at the time of her death.”

“I can confirm she had it shortly before she died,” I added and told him about Marie’s visit with Dorothy the day she disappeared, when she almost revealed its contents to Dorothy.

“Then her killer took it,” he said. “Now supposing you’re the killer. Would you make a big fuss about it being missing, especially when no one else had noticed?”

“Maybe not, unless you’re devious enough to use this as a means of diverting attention away from yourself,” I countered.

“Yeah, maybe. To tell you the truth, I’ve been puzzling over why someone would steal it. Sure it has sacred value, but only for Marie.”

Outside, the rain had stopped. A few rays of sun were trying to break through the dense cloud. Securing the helmet on his head, Eric walked over to his motorcycle.

“I’ll call you as soon as I talk to Tommy,” he said. “It might take a while to catch up to him, so please, don’t get impatient and go to the police before I call, okay?”

I reluctantly agreed but gave him until lunchtime. If he didn’t contact me by then, I would notify Decontie. No telling how desperate Marie’s son might become when finally cornered.

“Be careful,” I said.

Eric nodded grimly and kicked his Harley into life.