Tell Me No Lies (15 page)

But instead of a troika, an SUV drove up the lane and parked off to the side a few yards from the impromptu dining room. Hank nodded over in its direction.

"There's Ben now."

She watched with interest as a man and woman with two boys got out, bringing a load of lawn chairs with mem. Trey wandered over, grabbed a couple and set them up.

"We share the work as best we can," Hank added. "I do the mornings, Ben's wife Lori helps in the afternoon. Weekends are the busiest."

The newcomers got closer and Alex recognized them with a start of surprise. "The mayor is your brother?"

"Like I said," Hank muttered, "we all have our burdens."

Of course. Why she hadn't put two and two together? Everyone knew Ben Bonner's connection to Apple House. And then the new family was there, milling and greeting each other, and introductions had to he made.

"Of course I know the mayor." Alex smiled and shook the hand Ben Bonner offered.

"I didn't know you knew Hank socially." He eyed Hank suspiciously. "You haven't dragged her here to harass her about some case, have you?"

"Ben," Lori scolded gently. A pert blond in navy slacks and a white tennis shirt, she looked like a youthful coed.

Ben ignored his wife. "Has he been hassling you, A.J.?"

She looked to Hank, saw tension there, and wondered about it "Of course not. I stopped by the stand to buy apples you do know that Bonner apples are the best and your mother invited me to stay."

That didn't explain much, but before Ben could interrogate further, Mandy spoke. "She doesn't have any parents either."

A leaden hush greeted this.

"Shut up, Mandy." Trey gave his sister's shoulder a little, push.

"Well, she doesn't."

"So what?"

"Trey " Hank's voice held a warning note.

Trey flicked his uncle a look that surprised Alex with its contempt. Then the boy plucked an apple from the bowl, bit into it, and sauntered away.

Ben and Hank exchanged glances, and all at once Alex realized mat the family she had been idealizing was as real as her own. Complete with cracks and holes. And trouble.

"I'm going to help Trey at the stand." Ben's oldest, Josh, started after his cousin. His mother stopped him.

"Have some lunch first." Something about the way she said it made Alex think Lori didn't want her son anywhere near Trey.

"But Mora "

"I don't want you and Trey getting into trouble."

"We won't "

"Lunch first. Then you can come with me while I do my shift." And where I can keep an eye on you, was the unsaid rest of the thought.

Josh plopped down on a lawn chair, face marred by a resigned frown.

An embarrassed hush ensued. To cover it, Alex asked, "Have you always taken turns like this?" She was surprised by the way the Bonners worked. Sokanan was no Manhattan, but this kind of small-town support seemed unusual.

Lori paused, then spoke in a low voice. "Well, when Maureen and Tom were alive, we didn't need to help out as much."

Another pall. Maureen and Tom. Mandy's parents?

"Which is why," Ben said with exasperation, "we should sell the place and have done with it."

Sell Apple House? How could they sell the Bonner family legacy?

"Do we have to go over this every time?" Frustration pierced through Hank's low voice.

Apparently, Lori agreed. "Josh, Randy, come and eat lunch," she called, interrupting whatever Ben was going to say next.

But not for long. He turned to Alex. "With Renaissance Oil coming soon, this whole area will be booming. It's the perfect time to sell, don't you agree?"

She hesitated, not wanting to be dragged into a family row. "I "

"Ben, not now," Lori said.

"But I'd really like to know your opinion, A. J. You've done a lot for this community, and "

"Cut it out, Ben," Hank said, his voice rising.

Ben not only matched Hank's tone, he took it a notch louder. "You just don't want to hear the truth, do you, little brother?"

The tension was palpable, and it sent an ache of loss through Alex. She wanted her fantasy, wanted to know a warm, kind, and loving family existed even if it wasn't her own.

Lori thrust a plate in her husband's hand. "Not now." She gave a meaningful look in Mandy's direction.

The little girl was hunched on the picnic bench, face bent low over the table. Alex thought she would burn a hole in the spot she traced over and over in the cloth. The sight sent a rush of sympathy through her, and a helpless look across Hank's face. Everyone else glanced away.

Hank slid onto the bench next to his niece. "Why don't you see if Nana wants to take a break?"

Stubbornly, she shook her head.

"I'll come with you," Alex said softly.

That seemed to cheer Mandy up. She sighed, slunk off the bench, and slipped a hand into Alex's.

They walked slowly, Mandy plodding along. "Why does everyone always have to shout?"

"I don't know,
malishka."
And she didn't. She had no idea why there was such sorrow and grief in the world.

"What does that mean? Malish what you said."

"Malishka.
It means 'little one' in Russian."

"Are you Russian?"

A pang stabbed her. "No, but I speak it."

"Really?" Her face brightened with interest "What's my name in Russian?"

Alex thought a moment. "Well, there isn't a good translation of Amanda. But I could call you Masha. Or Manya."

She spied her grandmother and dashed up to her. "Guess what? My name is Manya."

"Manya?" Rose was packing jars of apple butter into a paper bag for a customer. "What happened to my Mandy?"

"Mandy is ordinary. Manya is Russian." Mandy gave the last word theatrical importance.

"Oh, I see," Rose said, with a wink that made Alex smile.

She would have thought Mandy had forgotten the unhap-piness of a moment ago; but when she peeked over her shoulder at the picnic table, the same haunted expression crossed her small face. "Uncle Hank says you're to take a break now."

"Does he?" Rose gazed over at the group milling around the distant table under the trees. From the heated gestures it looked as though Hank and Ben were still arguing. Mandy looked away, and a small frown pierced the good humor on Rose's face. But only for a moment. She handed the bag of jam to the customer waiting for it, then ruffled her niece's hair. "And who's going to help the shoppers while I'm sitting down?"

"I will." She lowered her voice. "But only if you call me Manya." She uttered the name in an exaggerated, throaty voice accompanied by a dramatic, sweeping curtsy.

Rose sniffed. "Well, I think I'd better send someone to assist you, Your Highness." She took off her apron and somehow, Alex ended up with it Rose shuffled off, and a few minutes later, Hank joined them.

He eyed the apron still clutched in her hand. "I see my mother has already put you to work."

Flustered, she looked around for a place to set it down. "Oh, I didn't mean to "

"Let's see how it looks."

"But "

He slipped the apron around her neck, turned her, and tied the strings behind her back. "What do you think?" he asked Mandy.

She eyed Alex critically, then, with a grin that reminded Alex of her uncle, said, "Perfect."

And so for a little while, Alex found herself completely absorbed by the tasks at the fruit stand. She had no time to think about Petrov or Luka. No time to worry about who knew what, or what she should do about it. Loss and death seemed to belong to another world. Another time. Another life. All she thought about were apples and pies, change and paper bags. It was the most mundane job in the world, and she enjoyed every minute of it

Eventually, Lori and Ben came across the field with the two boys in tow. Alex turned over her apron, Mandy disappeared with her cousins, and as she and Hank made their way to the picnic table, she saw Ben greeting customers, chatting and shaking hands, while Lori worked the register.

"Just one more stop on the campaign trail," Hank said, following her gaze.

"He certainly is good at it. I can see why he won so handily. But I'm surprised he wants to sell. This must be a great political base for him."

"The orchard isn't doing as well as it used to. Imported apples have taken over the market. We just can't compete."

"And you're shorthanded."

He shrugged. She could tell he didn't want to get into that

"Tom and Maureen were Mandy's parents?"

He nodded.

She slanted a look at him, debating whether to push. His face had closed up, and she decided not to pry. She knew about keeping secrets. Some were better left unsaid.

They'd reached the table. Rose was clearing the remains of the previous diners, tossing paper cups and plates into a garbage bag. He filled a plate with food and handed it to her.

She held up her hands. "No. Really. I should get home. Sonya will be worried."

"Try her again. I'm sure she'll understand."

She dug her phone out of her purse, punched in the number, and frowned when no one answered, her earlier uneasiness returning. She put the call through again. No answer. She looked around, suddenly confused, light-headed. Where was her car? "I... I think I'd better go."

"Is everything all right?" Rose asked,

"I don't know. It's not like her not to answer the phone."

"Maybe she took a walk," Hank suggested.

"She never takes walks. She never leaves the house." Uneasiness was building to dread.

"Want me to come back with you?" He had that earnest look about him, the one that said he not only took these things seriously but could handle them. Could be counted on. Leaned on.

But instinct kept her at arm's length. He was still a cop. He could still ask questions she didn't want answered. "No, that's ... that's not necessary. It's probably nothing."

"Are you sure?" Rose's face was concerned. "Henry can take a few minutes. It's no trouble."

"No, it's fine. I'll be fine."

"But "

"Ma, she said no."

Rose scowled at him. "I heard. I may be old, but I'm not deaf." She scraped leftovers into the trash. "At least take some apples back with you."

"I got it covered," Hank said, rolling his eyes with more affection than irritation.

He walked her back to her car, stopping to retrieve the apple pie Mainly had chosen and to fill a bag with apples.

She slipped in behind the steering wheel while he put the bags in the back. He closed the car door, then leaned in, strong arms braced against the car roof. "Next time, bring Sonya with you. I have a feeling my mother would like to hear about that apple drink she makes."

She smiled, trying not to let fear take over. "I'm sure Sonya would love telling her about it."

He backed away, and she turned on the engine and drove off, leaving him in the yard among the apple blossoms, the bustle and the tumult of his family.

Her heart beat in time to the rhythm of the tires.
Please let everything be all right. Please let everything be all right.

9

Thirty minutes after Alex left, Hank's phone vibrated against his hip. He'd been finishing lunch, trying not to dwell on the image of her under the fruit trees, the strangeness of it And the unexpected tightness, too. He had the queasy feeling that the universe was getting ready to play another trick on him.

He pushed his plate away and unhooked the phone. "Bonner."

Lieutenant Parnell was on the other end. "Hank, we got a DB on Highbridge. Where the Renaissance thing took place the other night."

A dead body. At Alex's. Cold washed through him, quickly followed by heat He bit down on the rush of panic. "Who is it?"

''Housekeeper. Death was unattended, so we're doing a rough crime scene. The homeowner, this Miss Baker, she's pretty upset. Said she'd been with you this morning. Is that true?"

Hank avoided the question. "Hold on. I'll be right there."

He domed up, slapping the light on the car roof, and, with the siren blasting, what should have taken twenty minutes took ten. He tore down her drive, brakes squealing to a stop. An ambulance stood at the front door along with a patrol car and Parnell's department issue.

Hank darted out of his car, up the steps. More commotion inside. A couple of uniforms, hefty and young, looking uncomfortably like they weren't sure what they were doing there. Two EMTs, waiting for word they could take the body.

"Where?" he said to one of them.

He nodded with his chin. "Kitchen."

"And Miss Baker?'

"In the living room with the lieutenant."

Hank headed for the kitchen, opting to find out what had happened before he confronted Alex. He traced his steps with deliberate care, but nothing appeared changed from the last time he'd been there.

Except for the apple in the hallway.

Carefully, he stepped around it, and it led to another and another. And then he came to the bag with the rest of the fruit he'd handpicked, lying open at the kitchen doorway where it must have fallen from Alex's hands along with the apple pie. The bag had split open and apples pooled around it, bright and red as fresh blood. He stared at them, imagining the shock and pain Alex must have suffered coming home.