The Heirloom Murders - Kathleen Ernst [82]
“Well, I know this will sound stupid, but is there any reason why Simon might have an ulterior motive for being so generous? I mean, you were concerned that someone might be torqued up about the Eagle Diamond. Valerie’s article was in a popular magazine—maybe Simon—”
Dellyn shook her head. “Something weird is going on with the diamond. I still haven’t been able to find my dad’s files about it, which bugs the hell out of me. But I have a hard time with the notion that Simon is setting his sights on some crazy get-rich-quick scheme that involves running me out of my house. For one thing, he’s already rich. And he’s smart. If he wants to get richer, he’ll do it with AgriFutures.”
“Yeah.”
“Chloe, I had no idea my parents were struggling financially. It’s not like farmers have great pension plans, but I guess I figured that by selling off some land they’d gotten what they needed. After they died, and I started dealing with the bank, I found out how little they actually had in savings. The whole property tax thing never crossed my mind.”
“You don’t pay those until December, right?”
“Yeah.” Dellyn shoved her plate away untouched. “But maybe Simon’s offer is a blessing. Maybe I should just pack up and head back to Seattle. Or maybe someplace new.”
Chloe felt another wrench of worry. She wanted Dellyn to stay in Eagle. And not just because Dellyn was her friend, either. “Please give yourself some time.”
Dellyn shrugged.
Chloe cocked her head, wishing she knew how to help her friend. “Want to tackle some more of the artifact inventory?” The stuffy attic seemed inviting, now. No one could watch them there, or creep up from behind.
“Thanks, Chloe.” Dellyn managed a small smile. “That would be good. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
They tossed the melon remains on the compost pile and took the sticky plates into the kitchen. “Maybe we’ll find some treasure today,” Chloe said, striving for a light tone. “Something you can sell in good conscience, and make enough to pay your own property taxes. You never know.”
“I won’t hold my breath.” Dellyn rinsed the plates and left them in the sink. “Listen, before we go up … here.” She picked up a key from the counter and held it out. “I got my locks changed. Would you be willing to take a spare key?”
“Well … sure.” Chloe accepted it.
“Thanks.” Dellyn laughed a little, but it sounded forced. “I’m getting so scattered I’m likely to lose my own.” She turned and headed down the hall.
At least she didn’t give the spare to Simon, Chloe thought as she slid the key into her pocket. Somehow, though, that was only scant comfort.
_____
That evening Roelke sat at his tiny kitchen table. Index cards were arrayed precisely in front of him, each bearing a name or an incident. He’d been playing with ideas for an hour, trying to fit pieces of the various puzzles confounding him lately into an ordered pattern.
He didn’t have squat.
Finally he collected the cards into a neat stack. The top card said Alex Padopolous. Says left Waukesha 8/2, day after Ch. attacked in Burke barn. Could have left the night before? Padopolous swore up and down that he had nothing to do with Chloe’s attack. But his own mother didn’t even know whether to believe him or not.
Roelke put the Time Out album by the Dave Brubeck Quartet on the stereo, and sat down in the living room with his pocketknife and the block of wood he was whittling into a turtle. His father had taught him to whittle. Him and Patrick both. The boys had shaved away at bars of soap before their father permitted them to graduate to soft pine. Now, two decades later, Roelke sometimes found that having something in his hands helped him think.
Before he’d taken three strokes, the phone rang. “It’s me,” Chloe said in his ear. “I hope you don’t mind me calling. I—”
“I don’t mind.”
“Good. Dellyn told me what happened with Alex Padopolous last night. She doesn’t think Alex is the person who tried to brain me in her barn.”
“Yeah, I know,” Roelke said. “His fingerprints are on file, though. I’m going to check his prints against whatever the crime lab