Pecked to Death (4 page)

“I’m sorry,” she said in that toneless voice he was starting to hate. “I tried to explain, to make you understand. I thought you did.”

“You thought I would understand how you’re cutting me loose just like that for the richies?”

“It’s not like that,” Sadie said. Some misery was beginning to leak into her expression. Good.

“It’s exactly like that,” Luke accused.

“We can still be friends,” Sadie pled.

“No, we can’t. I can’t be friends with someone who’s too weak and shallow to say we’re friends when other people are around.”

She took a tentative step forward. “Luke…”

“Go away, Sadie. I don’t want you here anymore. I hate you.”

Luke had the satisfaction of watching her face crumple before she turned and ran, but it didn’t make him feel any better. For a few minutes, he stood staring at the spot she had just been, trying to figure out what had just happened. Then Aunt Abby stepped out her back door and hailed him.

“Luke, come here, please,” she said. He shuffled forward and she put her arm around his shoulders, herding him inside. He was shaking and he didn’t know why; it wasn’t cold outside.

“I know it’s hard, but try to understand, Luke,” Abby urged. ”Sadie is going through things you can’t fathom, difficult things that most grownups don’t have to deal with.”
 

Luke couldn’t understand, and he didn’t want to try. “I would never do that to her,” he said. “Never in a million years.” Then he burst into tears.

It would be the last time he ever cried in front of another person. Abby hadn’t mentioned a word about either his tears or the dustup between Sadie and himself again. Instead she had retrieved a container of her ever-present mint Milano cookies and shoved it into his fingers, watching with approval while he ate the whole bag.

The reading of the will took place immediately after the funeral dinner. Luke and Sadie were the only ones invited. The mood of the town shifted from sadness to curiosity as soon as the announcement was made. All eyes were on the duo as they followed the lawyer into the study. They sat close together on the two chairs across from the desk. Sadie smelled good. Different, yet familiar somehow. Luke shifted away and tried to breathe through his mouth as the lawyer took his seat.

He spouted the usual legal jargon that neither of them paid much attention to. They perked up when they came to the part Aunt Abby had actually written.

My dear Luke and Sadie, How I have loved watching you grow up these last three decades. I don’t know why everyone in town calls me Aunt Abby when I’m related to none of them, but in your case it has actually felt true. You’ve both brought me delight and good cheer, proving your loyalty by never letting our friendships falter. I couldn’t think of two better people to leave my earthly possessions to, especially because I’m confident in the fact that you would rather have me than the things I’m leaving you. Yes, Sadie, too. Don’t look at her like that, Luke. She’s not as shallow as you want to believe.

Luke shifted his eyes away from Sadie with an embarrassed flush. The lawyer cleared his throat before continuing.

Luke, to you I leave my house and an account with enough money to pay taxes and upkeep for the next five years. It’s your decision, but now seems like a good time to finally get your doctorate. Hint, hint. I love that house, my beloved family estate, and I know I’m leaving it in good hands.

Sadie, to you I leave two things. The first is less tangible—to you I bequeath the right to be who you are. I gave up trying to live for others a long time ago. I hope you will learn from my example and do the same. Be who you want to be, child, and do what you want to do.

The second thing I leave is a request. Find the person who killed me, and you’ll find my money. What’s left of it after his conviction is all yours.

With all my love, Aunt Abby.

PS. Life is short, too short for anger and grudges. Take this last nugget of wisdom for what you will.

Sadie and Luke looked at each other, stunned. Tears streamed down Sadie’s face unchecked.

“What does that mean?” she asked. She tore her attention from Luke and looked at the lawyer instead. “What does she mean about finding her killer?”

The lawyer sighed. “We all know Aunt Abby was a bit eccentric with a flair for drama. Personally, I think this was her last hurrah. She went out on her own terms, with one final dramatic announcement.”

“If that’s so, then where is her money?” Abby was wealthy from a family inheritance. Her family founded the town, passing down their grand Victorian mansion through the generations. Abby had never worked a day in her life beyond sitting on the boards of several charities and foundations. Her wealth was rumored to be in the millions.

The lawyer shifted. “There’s no trace of any money beyond what’s in Luke’s account for the upkeep of the house. And that amounts to somewhere around ten thousand dollars.”

“The money is missing?” Sadie asked.

“We think there was no money,” the lawyer replied. “Our theory is that she burned through it long ago and has been living on appearances for quite some time.”

Sadie shook her head. “Abby wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. Someone took her money. Someone killed her.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. Her hands shook and she drew them into her lap for stability. The lawyer regarded her with a combination of condescension and pity. She turned to Luke and saw the same look on his face with a whole lot more irritation thrown in for good measure.

“He’s right, Sadie,” Luke said. “We both know Abby liked gossip and drama and she was proud. Instead of saying that she had no money, it makes for a much better story to say that someone took it and killed her. She died of natural causes.”

“How do you know?” Sadie asked. “Did you see her? Did you see the body? Because I didn’t.” She had been cremated. In lieu of a casket, they had stared at an urn sitting on a pedestal.

“Don’t be crazy,” Luke said. She had the same calculating look she used to get when they were kids and she was hatching a scheme.

The lawyer cleared his throat and closed his briefcase. “I’ll leave you to discuss the matter in private. If you have any questions, please feel free to give my office a call.” He picked up his briefcase and hurried from the room.
Smart man,
Luke thought. He and Sadie were about to have a good, old-fashioned brawl. The lawyer was smart to run away before the bloodshed started.

“I am not being crazy,” Sadie said. Her hair bounced around her head as if a strong wind were whipping behind her. Her cornflower-blue eyes blazed with righteous indignation, and her finger was jutted in his direction, her perfectly manicured nails brandished like weapons.

“Clearly,” Luke said. His palm jutted out and shoved her index finger away from the direction of his heart.

“How could you think Aunt Abby made that up to get attention?” she yelled. “She wouldn’t do something like that.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are we talking about the same woman who, when a few people forgot her birthday, showed up at the supermarket in her bathrobe and curlers to make people think she had dementia? Half the town ushered her to the doctor for tests that day and she was delighted.”

“Yes, but this is death. This is permanent. She wouldn’t trifle with something so serious, not when she knows how…” her voice broke and she took a shuddering breath. “Not when she knows how much it hurts.”

Her azure eyes filled up again. She dashed impatiently at her tears and turned away to sniffle. Luke wasn’t sure what to make of her. Her emotion appeared to be real, but Sadie was a convincing liar. During their junior year of high school, she had faked a sprained ankle for three weeks to get out of running the mile in gym class. Everyone had fallen for it but him, and even he had felt some measure of pity for her until he saw her doing yoga in her back yard when she thought no one was watching. He had told on her, but of course no one believed angelic Sadie would do such a thing. For the remainder of the three weeks, she had given him an evil, triumphant little smile and found ways to make him do her bidding.
Luke, my leg is killing me. Can you carry my backpack?
She just happened to say it in front of his mother who gave him the death glare and threatened to ground him when he refused. He hated her, all perfectly beautiful 5’4” of her.

“You must want that money really bad,” he said.

Her eyes snapped from weepy to icy as they narrowed on him. “You’re a jerk,
Lucas,
” she said. She stood and eased by him, keeping her head high as she left the room.

Luke sat still, feeling like the jerk she had accused him of being. With anyone else, he would never have made such an insensitive accusation at such a difficult time. Why did Sadie bring out the worst in him? He was a nice guy. No one else made him want to say mean things or do mean things. She was the human equivalent of nails on a chalkboard; she made him crazy. He was going to have to find her and apologize. After a few minutes of silent battle with his pride, he left the study and went to make amends. Too late, though. Sadie was nowhere in sight.

Sadie wove her way through the crowd of curious friends and neighbors. Though she hadn’t seen him, Gideon must still be at the party because he wasn’t there when she let herself inside the house. She paused in the bathroom to wash off her makeup before heading to her bedroom to change. After she took off her black dress and slipped into cropped sweat pants, she curled up on the bed, clutching her oldest and most-loved stuffed animal. Everything was wrong. She had no job, no money, no friends, no family. Worst of all, Aunt Abby was gone. Not only that, but she said someone had killed her. Who would kill Aunt Abby and why?

The why was easy—for the money. But what if there was no money? Sadie refused to think Luke might be right about anything, so she concentrated on the lawyer instead. What if he was right and there was no money? What if Abby’s letter was one last-ditch effort at garnering attention? Sadie didn’t think Abby would do that, but neither could she fathom anyone killing her. She shuddered. The funeral was over. She had no reason to stay here. Right now she wanted nothing more than to pack her suitcase, load up her car, and drive. Maybe instead of being humiliated by the butt-flap incident, she would embrace it. Aunt Abby had taught her that if you laugh at yourself, then you stop others from doing it. She would laugh it off and move on. People would forget and she would get another job, maybe something in a bigger market.

For a few moments, Sadie let herself pretend that she was going away. She imagined herself driving as far as her car would take her, finding a spectacular job, making friends, starting a new life. The dream was perfect except for the nagging voice that sounded a whole lot like Aunt Abby.
You owe it to me to at least look into my death,
the voice said.

I don’t want to stay here. I can’t,
Sadie argued.
 
I have nothing here. Everyone hates me. This town is my worst nightmare.

This town is your home. You are loved more than you know.

She smiled ruefully at the ceiling. The power of wishful thinking was astounding.
 
Maddie and Tom Sawyer loved her like she was their daughter, but she wasn’t their daughter. Their love and support couldn’t make up for how much her father disliked her. And then there was Luke.
Lucas
,
she amended, rolling her eyes. In the intervening years since their friendship dwindled, Luke had become stuffier and more serious. Back in the day he at least had the potential to be fun. Now he was a stick in the mud. Sadie felt a sudden sympathy for his students. He must bore them to tears. He bored her to tears and simultaneously made her want to repeatedly kick his shins. She hadn’t punched anyone since she was a kid and used her fists instead of words whenever she was angry. Luke was apparently making her regress because she didn’t want to be a grownup with him—she wanted to pound him good. Who cared that he was a foot taller now? She could take him. Her fists balled and itched with the urge to try.

“I hate you, Luke Sawyer,” she whispered. The ugly words floated up to the ceiling and stuck, but the ceiling didn’t reply—it had heard it all before.

Someone else was staring at his ceiling, but instead of being angry, he was nervous and a little bit perplexed. After Sadie and Luke emerged from the room with the lawyer, the contents of Abby’s will had flown through the room like wildfire.
 
How had the old bag known what was coming for her? He suspected she knew about the money. But how had she known about the murder? That was the part he couldn’t understand. Sweat emerged from his hairline and trickled down his face. Too late he dabbed at it, making an ineffectual swipe as it glided into his ears.

What if Sadie found something? What if she learned the truth? For a moment, he let that scenario play out—discovery, humiliation, prison. He smiled. Sadie was a pretty bit of fluff with nothing but cotton between her ears. She would have an easier time discovering perpetual motion than figuring out his scheme. As long as Sadie was the one doing the investigating, he had nothing to worry about, nothing at all.

There had been a moment when she stepped into the neighborhood gathering that he thought she might know what had happened. She and Abby had always been close. How much had Abby blabbed? But then she had given him her usual vacant smile and he was reassured. No one knew his secret; Abby had taken it to her grave.

Comforted and secure once again, he rolled over and fell asleep.