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Authors: Janis Harrison

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It would narrow the scope of the investigation if Sid could dismiss the guests as suspects, but that had its downside. Dan and Natalie looked on and treated their employees as though they were part of one big, happy family.
Would Bailey have a reasonable explanation as to why he'd slighted me?
Why did my father have to interfere in my life?
Sid hadn't mentioned Jacob. How was the young Amish man coping with Marnie's death?
Was the November election going to be close? What would Sid do if he didn't win? At one time he'd done investigative work for an insurance company, but he loved being sheriff.
How was Dan's mother?
Why was Bailey coming to the house to see me?
Bailey. Sid. Dad. Natalie. Jacob. Marnie. Murder.
I wanted to stomp my feet in anger and frustration, but I was driving a high-powered vehicle. Not the time to do any stomping. On a straightaway piece of highway, I pushed harder on the accelerator and watched the speedometer needle climb. When it hit seventy-five, I lowered the windows and jacked up the volume on the radio. With the hot wind in my face and Bob Seger blaring from the speakers, I pretended I was a rebel, a renegade, who didn't have to worry about anything or anyone.
That flash of defiance lasted for about a mile before I eased off the gas pedal so I could take a switchback curve safely. By the time I saw the Parker sign, I was a law-abiding citizen
again, tooling along at a modest fifty-five miles an hour, worrying about my family and friends.
I turned into the private lane and drove up the bluff. Jacob sat on the loading-dock steps with an open book. I slowed down but when he saw me, he shook his head and waved me past.
He'd probably had enough conversation, which was fine—for now. But at some point, he and I would have a talk. I took the drive to the lodge, passing three parked patrol cars. I didn't see any deputies, but I was sure they were close by. I stopped my SUV where I had yesterday and got out.
I didn't go immediately to the door, but stared at my surroundings. The Parker estate covered approximately a thousand acres of limestone quarries, scrub brush, trees, hills, and valleys with the Osage River cutting a broad path across one corner. Dan's grandfather had bought the acreage so he would have a private place to hunt small game. Canada geese and mallard ducks were attracted to the water pits that were home to large-mouth bass, catfish, and crappie. Squirrel, rabbit, deer, and quail were prevalent in the woodlands.
Dan's father, the second generation, had found hunting distasteful. He loved the birds and the squirrels and the rabbits. From what I understand, Dan's father, Calvin Parker, was a master gardener. According to Dan, Calvin had proceeded with caution when he planned his garden. He'd sat for hours watching the sunlight. He noted that when it rained, the runoff made rivulets along a natural drainage channel. He'd designed the garden by preserving the essence of the land, by keeping the spirit alive.
Dan, the third generation, wanted to make money off the land. He'd used his knowledge of plants to establish the present business. Like his father, Dan was cautious. He'd begun with a
single glass structure and had built more greenhouses as the profits allowed. Dan used that original glass house for his orchid hybridizing program.
I turned toward the lodge. Dan's grandfather had built a four-room cabin so he could have a place to sleep while on his hunting expedition. During his tenure, Calvin Parker had moved his family to the weekend retreat. He'd added the upper story and covered the exterior with limestone quarried from the property. Dan had put his mark on the house by adding a study with floor-to-ceiling glass windows that looked out on a fenced swimming pool.
I walked up the sidewalk and reached for the doorbell, but Natalie opened the door before I could press the button. I grinned. “That's service. Surely you weren't watching for me.”
Natalie took my arm and ushered me into the hallway. “I was at the living room window and saw you turn off the highway. God, but I'm glad to see you.” She burst into tears. “Dan just called. His mother died about an hour ago. He was already in shock over Marnie's murder. Now he's totally brokenhearted.”
I put my arm around Natalie and let her sob.
After a few minutes, she stepped back and wiped her face. “I can't fall apart, but I'm worried about Dan. He has to make the funeral arrangements by himself. He sounded guilty for even asking, but he's worried about his orchids. He'd planned on Marnie taking care of them.”
“He'll be fine, Natalie. He's used to making decisions. As for his orchids, surely there's someone here to look after them.”
“I promised him I'd do it.”
“And did that ease his mind?”
She gave me a watery smile. “Sort of. Dan knows I'm not enthused by his project. I don't even like going into his lab.”
I stared at her. “Good heavens, why not?”
Natalie shrugged. “It's silly in view of all that's happened. I don't want to talk about it. I'll be right back. I'm going to get a Kleenex.”
While she was gone, I looked around. Carl and I had spent many an evening here with Dan and Natalie. I was happy to see that nothing had changed. The floor plan was unique. An eight-foot corridor ran the entire length of the front of the house. Directly in front of me was the staircase that led to the upper floor. To my left and off the hallway were the kitchen, dining room, and a side door that led to the garage. To my right was the sunken living room and further on Dan's study. From the foyer I walked down the corridor to the living room. I could have stayed on the platform that surrounded the conversation pit, but I went down the three steps.
As with her clothing, Natalie fancied bold, vibrant colors in decorating. The room was painted cobalt blue with accents of persimmon, peach, and mandarin orange. Spacious windows flooded the room with sunlight. The ceiling was vaulted with wooden beams, hewed from trees taken from the property. A massive limestone fireplace was the centerpiece of the room.
I cruised across the floor, stopping to touch the chair Carl had usually occupied. I sidestepped a coffee table, another chair, and sofa before I went up three steps to the outer landing. My goal was the windows that overlooked the bluff. Normally, heights scare me senseless, but I never had that phobia here. I felt like a bird perched in a finely feathered nest. The ground was far below, but I couldn't see it for the treetops.
Hearing footsteps, I said, “You know I hate heights, but this doesn't bother me. I guess I feel safe when I'm here.” I turned to face Natalie. “It must be all this rock. It's like a fortress.”
“Well, it's not,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. They were redrimmed and bloodshot. “I don't feel safe even with those
deputies patrolling the estate. Early this morning, an intruder came into the house.”
I gasped. “You're kidding.”
She clutched my arm with an icy hand. “I'm scared, Bretta. If someone could get in with police everywhere, what will happen when they leave?” She bit her lip and shook her head. “I'm sure there will be a guard, but what good will that do?” Natalie took a deep breath. “I know this is asking a lot of our friendship, but would you please come stay with me?”
Natalie wouldn't discuss the intruder until I'd agreed to stay with her. She told me she felt safe enough during the day. It was the evenings and nights when she wanted company. I had the rest of the day off, but tomorrow I'd have to go back to the flower shop. We decided to make a run to my house for some clothing.
We stepped outside and an officer appeared. I recognized him and said, “Hi, Jon. We're going to my house so I can pack a bag. I'm staying with Natalie for a few nights.”
Deputy Jon Whaler nodded. “I'll pass that information on to dispatch.” He turned to Natalie. “Is the house locked?”
“Everything except this door. I was going to leave it open, in case you guys get hungry. There are sandwiches in the refrigerator and a plastic container of chocolate-chip cookies on the kitchen table.”
Jon tried not to smile. “Ma'am, we aren't guests.”
“But you have to eat.”
Jon's voice was firm. “Please lock the door.”
Natalie sighed and did as the deputy had directed. I grinned at Jon, then Natalie and I got into my SUV. As we drove down the drive, Natalie said, “They're working so hard, I just wanted them to know I appreciate everything they're doing.”
“They know. Now will you tell me about this intruder?”
Natalie stared out the side window. “Everyone had given their statements and gone home. From my room I could see the fierce glow from halogen lights in the garden. More officers were at the greenhouses.”
Natalie rotated her head and massaged her neck muscles. “I was exhausted. It had been a horrendous day from start to finish. I locked up and went to bed, but I couldn't sleep. It was about four in the morning. I came downstairs and sat in the study, but I didn't bother turning on a light. I guess I dozed off. I woke up when I heard a footstep in the hall.”
I glanced at her. “What did you do?”
“I was still groggy from sleep, and my reaction was pure reflex. I called out, ‘Is that you, Dan?'” Natalie made a face. “Wasn't that silly? Of course it wasn't Dan. But by the time I had
that
rational thought, whoever it was had gotten away.”
“How did he get in? Better yet, how did he get
off
the estate?”
“There are several ways off the bluff by old roads used when the quarry was operable. As for entry into the house, it wasn't forced. He used a key to come in the side door and through the garage.”
I raised an eyebrow. “The obvious question is, who had a key?”
“Not any one person. We keep a set of lodge keys at the greenhouse. If Dan and I are gone, we need someone to check on the house. The keys are labeled, and Uncle Donovan keeps them in his desk. The keys were right where they should be when the sheriff checked. He was pretty disgusted at our negligence. He pointed out that anyone could take them at any time, make a copy, and have easy access to our home.”
“But what did the prowler want in the house?”
Natalie shook her head. “I don't know. We don't have fancy
jewelry, valuable antiques, or works of art. I can't think of a reason unless he was trying to get to me.”
I jerked upright. “Is that the real reason you want me to stay? Do you think you're in danger?”
She lifted a shoulder in a casual gesture, but her hand shook when she ran her fingers through her hair. “I don't know what to think, Bretta. Maybe whoever it was only wanted to talk to me. I've always felt that my employees liked and trusted me. The guilty party might come to me, hoping I'd help him out.”
“We're talking murder, Natalie. What could you do?”
“Listen. Be compassionate. I don't know.” Turning, she stared at me. “I used to envy your ability to solve crimes. I thought what you did was an adventure—a departure from the doldrums of everyday living. Here I am with a front-row seat, and I hate it. There's nothing entertaining or adventurous about murder. The sheriff has narrowed the list of suspects to greenhouse management. I don't know how or why he's made this leap of judgment, but I don't like being suspicious of these people.”
I spoke quietly, trying to offer comfort. “Look at it this way. The person who committed the murder isn't the same individual you know and care about. He or she has a dark side that you've never been exposed to, and pray you never are.”
“I know, but just because you learn something terrible about someone doesn't necessarily mean you stop caring about him. I've almost decided I don't want to know who killed Marnie because the truth will only bring more pain.”
I was amazed. In a sharp tone, I said, “But her killer can't simply walk off into the sunset. The sooner he or she is apprehended, the sooner you can get on with your life.”
“That sounds wonderful, but what about Marnie? What about her parents? How will they put their life back in order?
Their daughter has been murdered. Their life will never be the same.
I nodded. “I know. But there has to be closure. It helps to know that the criminal will suffer for his crime.”
Natalie's tone was edged with grief. “Suffer, how? By being put in prison? We have the death penalty here in Missouri. What if he's sentenced to die? Then two people will be gone.” Her voice rose. “And for what? Why was Marnie killed? Why did she have to die?”
I didn't have the answers to Natalie's questions, so I kept still. She took a deep breath and tried to smile. “Sorry for that outburst, but I'm way beyond being stressed. I can't believe this is happening. It's like some terrible nightmare that I can't shake.”
“If you had to make a guess as to motive, why do you think Marnie was killed?”
“I haven't any idea.”
“Did Marnie have a boyfriend? Did she date someone regularly?”
“She dated Eugene a few times, but I don't think it was serious.”
Eugene? That was interesting. They would make a handsome couple. I glanced at Natalie. “You said ‘dated.' Does that mean they'd stopped seeing each other?”
Natalie thought a moment. “I think so. There was a bit of tension between them.” Seeing where my thoughts were headed, she quickly said, “But it wasn't anything serious. Eugene likes to play the field. He's a flirt. You've seen him in action. Marnie was smart. She would have figured him out.”
“When I last spoke with Dan, he mentioned that Marnie was an asset to his work. Exactly what did she do?”
“My husband demands meticulous records.” She shrugged. “Given his work, I can understand that, but I couldn't have
done what Marnie did.” Natalie twisted on the seat so she could look at me. “Do you understand hybridizing?”
“Generally. Crossing one plant with another.”
Natalie made a face. “Later today when I check on Dan's orchids, remind me to give you a botany lesson.” Soberly, she continued, “Marnie was a unique young woman. She came to us without any plant experience, but Dan was impressed with her willingness to learn. The Latin or scientific plant names didn't intimidate her. The tedious chore of recording data was a challenge. She was kind and generous.” Natalie's voice broke. “She'd do anything for anyone.”
It was time to change the subject. For the last half of the drive, I chattered about my garden, about work, about my father and DeeDee. When I pulled up my lane, there was a shiny green Dodge truck parked by the house. The vehicle was just like Bailey's old truck only a different color.
My heart raced as I led the way into the house. Sure enough, Bailey was in the library with my father, talking in low tones. When Natalie and I walked in, I caught the words “identify the body” and knew my father was telling Bailey about Marnie's murder.
“Hi, stranger,” I said to Bailey.
“Hi yourself,” he said giving me a slow smile. “Your father has been telling me—”
I quickly interrupted. “This is Natalie Parker. She was our hostess yesterday. Natalie, this is Bailey Monroe.”
Bailey attempted to stand, but Natalie waved him back to his chair. “Stay put,” she said as she crossed the floor. “It's good to meet you. Bretta has told me about you. How's the leg?”
While they chitchatted, I soaked up the sight of Bailey. It was wonderful to see him smile. To watch his eyes sparkle
when he turned to me. His dark hair had been cut, and the silver threads were more prominent. His face was thinner, his body leaner. I longed to touch him, but couldn't bear the thought of him rebuffing me again.
I moved toward the door. “While you guys visit, I'll go pack a bag. I'm spending a night or two with Natalie.”
Bailey said, “I'd like to speak with you, Bretta.”
Natalie glanced at my father. “Why don't you give me a tour of the garden?”
Dad struggled to his feet. “I could use some fresh air if you don't mind the company of an old man.”
Natalie took his arm, and they walked from the room. For a moment neither Bailey nor I spoke. I cleared my throat. “Are you doing okay?”
“I'm fine.” He stuck out his leg. “The cast came off last week. The muscles are weak, but I can navigate fine.” He patted the cushion at his side. “Come sit with me.”
I hesitated for a second, and then took the place next to him. Bailey said, “I owe you an explanation for my action the other night.”
My cheeks burned. It had been humiliating to be caught spying, but it had hurt when Bailey had ignored my presence at the window. “I did a foolish thing,” I said. “I'd rather not talk about it.”
“We have to talk about it,” said Bailey firmly. “My daughter, Jillian, and I have never had a very good relationship. Her mother's death ended what little tolerance she had for me.”
I wanted to disagree. From what I'd witnessed, Jillian had guarded her father the way a bear would her cub, but I curbed my sarcasm. “What was the problem?”
“Jillian was conceived before Cheri, my wife, and I got married.
I was on an undercover operation that had started to unravel. I couldn't leave my post, or four months of hard work would have gone down the drain.
“There was never any doubt in my mind that Cheri and I would get married. But I didn't finish the case until Cheri was nearly five months along. We quickly got married, but good intentions didn't change the date of our wedding or the date of Jillian's birth. She was a sharp kid and put two and two together.
“That discovery was made when she turned fifteen. But even before that, I was her least favorite person. I was gone most of the time she was growing up. When I was home, she looked upon me as an interloper who took too much of her mother's attention. As Jillian grew older, she resented how unhappy her mother was after I'd leave on assignment. When Cheri died, I barely made it home in time for the funeral.”
“From what I saw, Jillian cares for you very much.”
“My almost dying scared her. She says she doesn't want to be an orphan.” Bailey grinned. “She's a very self-sufficient young woman, but it frightened her when she was faced with the fact that I might not always be around. Our time together these last few weeks was a special gift. I guarded it carefully, even excluding you. I'm sorry for that, but in order for me to get closer to my daughter, I had to keep you at arm's length.”
“So you've worked through your problems with her?”
Bailey sighed. “Let's just say we've reached an understanding that somewhat eases my mind. But I want my relationship with Jillian to be stronger.” He turned to face me. “I've made a decision, Bretta. I'm going away for a while.”
My stomach constricted into a tight ball. “To be with Jillian?”
“Yes. She's getting married in a couple of months. Before she starts her new life, I want to know her better.” He shook his
head. “It's hard to imagine me as a grandpa, but there'll be grandchildren in the future. I want to be assured that I'll have a place in their lives.”

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