A Truth for a Truth (17 page)

A young woman delivered frosty glasses of lemonade while we stood chatting in what passed for a food line. Ed excused himself to talk to somebody, and I held his place. I noted that Hildy was backed into a corner with the Booths flanking her. I wondered if Fern was insisting that Hildy convince me my real role in life is washing dishes after potlucks. Since Fern kept glancing in my direction, I wasn’t being paranoid. Okay, not very.

“You and Ed are vegetarians, aren’t you?”

I hadn’t noticed Geoff Adler approaching, but now I saw he was standing right beside me.

“Looks like plenty for us to eat anyway,” I said.

“I play at it, but I fall off the wagon a lot, hence the fried chicken.”

In addition to all the other desirable traits Geoff possessed, he was clearly a good host. The room was large, paneled in dark wood, with a dining area to the left, and a living area to the right. The dining table was huge and pulled far enough from the wall that guests could easily move around both sides. Another table was set under a large pass-through window to the kitchen, and that surface was divided between drinks and dessert. Geoff might be a bachelor, but he understood how to make a room comfortable and his guests comfortable with it. From the old linens covering the tables, to the opalescent serving platters and pitchers, to a coffee urn that looked like an antique Russian samovar, the room radiated quiet, old-fashioned comfort, without a hint of shabbiness.

“I like the house,” I told him. “I feel instantly at home.”

“I haven’t changed it much in the years I’ve lived alone here. My mother and grandmother didn’t have much to work with, but they had good taste. They would buy a piece here and a piece there whenever they found a bargain. I can’t imagine what they could have accomplished with more money.”

“Then Emerald Eagle hasn’t always been the going concern it is now?”

He gave a soft laugh. “Long on service and short on cash.”

“All heart and no business sense?”

“My great-grandfather, the first Geoffrey Adler, was a terrific businessman. If I looked closely at family history, I’m pretty sure I’d find snake oil and hootchie cootchie dancers. But he landed in Ohio, saw the need for a hometown drugstore in Emerald Springs, with a smiling, family-friendly druggist, and that’s the image he projected while he raked in the dough.”

I was trying to wing myself that far back into Emerald Springs history. It was easy to see where Geoff’s Jet Ski side had originated. “And he built this house?”

“The core of it, yes. It was just a summer place at first, too far from town to manage a business and live here year-round. He moved full-time to the lake when he and my great-grandmother were in their seventies, after he turned the business over to their son. My grandfather and my father were exactly the kind of pharmacists the original Geoffrey claimed to be. Kindly, homebodies, generous to a fault, hardworking.”

The quiet, electric-motor side of Geoff’s personality. I had to smile. “But not great businessmen?”

“Short on common sense and long on compassion.”

“So, who do you take after?”

He laughed, and I liked the sound. “Some of all, I hope. The store was a shambles by the time it came down to me. Even a sterling reputation can’t compete against cheaper prices and the assortment of products from the big chains. Dad was ready to sell and move Mom to Florida, but I convinced them to let me see what I could do. In the end, it turned out well. They’re happy in Ft. Lauderdale, and I’m happy growing the family business. Not that it’s been easy.”

I edged us back to the reason for this gathering. “That must have been just about the time Win was the minister of Tri-C.”

“Those were lean years for Emerald Eagle. Win and I used to have long conversations about old-fashioned values and modern business methods. I learned a lot from watching him run the church. He kept me on the right track.”

Geoff lowered his voice. “Win was almost a second father to me. I know he wasn’t perfect. But don’t let everything that’s come out about Marie convince you his years here had no value. I saw him up close, and I know how much good he did for the church and the community.”

“Do you think she’s exaggerated her role in Win’s life?”

He didn’t seem to mind the question. “We’ve talked since the whole story came out. Win was the big love of Marie’s life. She told me as much. But was she his? I can’t answer for certain, of course, but I think Marie may have been an occasional respite from the demands of living with Hildy. Hildy’s expectations were so high for everybody in that family. That’s why her daughters seem so aloof. They’re still afraid of being swallowed alive. But there was also a lot of love. It was easier for Win to escape the occasional problems than to confront them. Marie was a weakness, but I guess I understand.”

Since I was standing in his house about to partake of his hospitality, I managed not to say so, but I was beginning to think it was easier for men to “understand” than it ought to be. Let the little woman step out of line, and all the guy’s buddies winked when the husband went looking for solace. Okay, that wasn’t exactly what Geoff had said, nor my own husband either, but for men, forgiveness of infidelity seemed at the ready. Maybe it was attached to the Y chromosome.

“Marie was one of the last people to leave the party,” I pointed out.

Geoff didn’t try to misunderstand. “She wouldn’t have hurt a hair on Win’s head.”

“Not even if he’d just told her that he had no intention of picking up where they left off? Not even to get even with him and Hildy in one fell swoop?”

“You really look for the worst in people, don’t you?”

“Luckily it’s
Ed’s
job to look for the best. What a team.”

“I know Marie well. We’ve been friends for years. She even house-sits for me when I’m away, if she’s in town and needs some peace and quiet. So you can see how much I trust her. After a disappointment she’d be more likely to buy herself a really fabulous piece of jewelry than to poison somebody. I just wish I hadn’t brought her with me to the party that night. But I was clueless about their past history. In all the years I’ve known her, she never mentioned it. Not until he died.”

“Why
did
you bring her?”

He lifted a brow, as if he wondered what gave me the right to ask. But after a pause, he answered. “We’ve discovered if we appear in each other’s company often enough, there are fewer attempts to match us up with the recently divorced and widowed. So it’s convenient and pleasant when she’s in town, and nothing more.”

“I’m sorry, Geoff, but I’m worried about Hildy, and if I can find out anything that will help . . .”

He put a hand on my arm in reassurance. “I know. But not everybody’s going to be as forthcoming as I’ve been, so be careful.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Anything else I can help with?”

“Do you know about the church history project?” I waited until he nodded. “I was planning to interview Win about his years here, but now, of course, I can’t. So I’ll be talking to people who knew him best. Will you have time at some point?”

“Of course.”

“Great. And would you happen to have any old sermons that he gave during that time? We’ve confirmed the church printed them, but there aren’t any copies in the archives.”

“I’ll be happy to look. If I do, they’re filed in my office in the next building. Catch me later and we’ll go and see.”

I thanked him. He squeezed my arm, then he wandered off to talk to other guests.

By the time I had a plate of baked beans, potato and pasta salads, and a square of cornbread, several other church members had agreed to an interview about Win. I knew I was overdoing this, but it was such a perfect way to dig deeper into the man’s life and death, I couldn’t contain myself. I really would try to use something each of them told me when I wrote up the history, just so I wouldn’t feel so guilty about the ruse.

Ed was still chatting, and hadn’t gotten back into line for food, so I wandered outside and around the side porch to see what was there. Picnic tables were set up under hardwoods beginning to leaf out in earnest. Half-blooming fountains of forsythia lined the path, and I found a spot at the end of one table.

I wasn’t alone long. Hildy arrived carrying a small plate of food, more for show, I guessed, than for nourishment. She looked pale and tired, and black was not her color. I had spent the morning trying to figure out who had killed her husband, and she had spent it saying her final good-bye.

“Come sit with me,” I said, patting the place beside me. For once she didn’t point out she might be needed elsewhere, that somebody might need a helping hand or a listening ear or any other of the many “ing” imperatives that motivate women. She just sat and sighed.

“It was a beautiful service,” I said, “and Win is finally at rest.”

“No, not until this matter is settled. Not until we know who killed my husband.”

Unfortunately, she was right. I patted her hand, which was not reaching for her fork, as it should have been. “We’re going to figure this out. The police are still working on it.”

“My daughters will come back if they have to.”

She had stressed “have.” I was sure her girls were not excited about coming back to the scene of the crime, and fairly sure they weren’t excited about trying to help their mother through this crisis. I imagine Hildy had rarely if ever allowed her daughters to assist her. The role would be unfamiliar to them and possibly even distasteful.

“Right now let’s just see what happens,” I said, reaching for my own fork in hopes she would do the same.

“Fern wants you to stay out of the investigation,” Hildy said. “She’s adamant.”

So I hadn’t been paranoid. Fern really had been discussing me when she and Samuel had penned poor Hildy in that corner.

When I didn’t say more, Hildy went on. “She can be difficult, I know. But you really must try to get along with her.”

“Must I?”

Hildy sighed. “It’s not an easy life, is it?”

I couldn’t help myself. “I think it’s easier if you control it yourself and don’t let every member of the congregation have a say in who you are and what you do.”

“Such a difference a generation makes.”

She hadn’t said this critically. I wondered if Hildy wished now that she hadn’t worked so hard to please everyone and uphold a certain image, perhaps alienating her husband and children as she did. But what did I know? I hadn’t been there, and I would never know how any members of the Dorchester family viewed their years together.

“I’m not staying out of the investigation, just because Fern decrees it,” I said. “I’ll stay out if it looks like I’m making things worse, not better. Right now I’m just putting facts together.” I didn’t add that the few I had were darned lonely, too.

Others joined us, and just as I thought my luck would hold and the Booths would stay inside to eat, Fern and Samuel came around the side of the house with filled plates. There were two places at the end of our table, and they took them.

Conversation had flowed smoothly enough until they arrived. Now it grew stilted and uncomfortable. I finished eating and got to my feet, thrilled to be able to escape.

“I’m going to look for dessert. Does anybody need something from inside?”

People murmured polite no’s, but Samuel Booth stood. “I’ll come with you. I need . . .” He paused as if inventing something. “Cornbread.”

I repeated that I’d be happy to bring some back with me, but Samuel shook his head. In a moment he was at my side.

Charming. I know an excuse when I see one. I was the mistress of transparent excuses, the queen. We started off and sure enough, the moment we were out of easy ear-shot, he stopped.

“I want to tell you something.”

Reasons and ways to stop him jumbled together in my mind, but none were good enough, and besides, I was too slow.

“You’re going to be poking your nose into Win’s life, aren’t you?” he asked.

I’d been prepared for a lecture, not a question. Since I’m no good at lies, I answered truthfully. “Somebody killed Win Dorchester, and the police are pointing fingers at Hildy. I’d like to see them point their fingers in the right direction, wouldn’t you?”

“You won’t just leave this alone?”

“I seem incapable.” I tried to smile. “Call it a personality flaw.”

He didn’t reply for so long that I wondered if we were finished. Then he grimaced. “You’ll be digging into our lives, too. Everybody who was at that party. You’ve already started. That’s what the other night was about.”

I really didn’t know what to say to that. I waited, but I didn’t have to wait long.

“Win knew something about me that nobody else did,” Samuel said. “And he used it against me.”

This was the last thing I’d expected to hear. Again, I’d been primed for a lecture. “Used it?” I squeaked.

“If you dig hard enough, you’ll discover this yourself. So now you can hear it right from me. In my early twenties, late one night I hit a man with my car and killed him. I’d had too much to drink, and he stepped off a curb and into my lane, and I couldn’t avoid him. To this day I still think I’d have hit him, even if I was stone sober. But, I wasn’t, so I’ll never be sure. Of course the cops thought otherwise. I was arrested and charged with vehicular manslaughter, and I served a little time in jail for it.”

Samuel was turning a bright, unhealthy scarlet. I wondered if he would survive his own revelation. He went on without giving me time to stop him. “I wasn’t an alcoholic. I was just young and stupid. No day goes by that I don’t think about that man and his family. It was terrible.”

“It must have been,” I said. “But what does it have to do with Win, Samuel? How was he involved?”

“He did some counseling with me. All those years later, and I was still having nightmares. I hadn’t told anybody about the conviction, except Fern. It happened in Massachusetts, and I got out of New England as soon as I was released. After I married Fern, we moved here, and nobody ever knew. But the nightmares were horrible. I thought . . . I thought I could trust Win. And talking to him helped. Until . . .”