The Trouble with Turkeys (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 2) (13 page)

As I passed the stairway, I observed Oliver schleping armloads of bags down the stairs and into his car. I knew I shouldn’t feel sorry for him. I’d pretty much decided he was the most likely suspect and probably the one I should accuse. Still, he’d had a tough life. Based on the information we’d uncovered, his mother had been sickly before her death. Afterward, six-year-old Oliver had been left alone with a father who, by all appearances, was a cold, heartless man. I could understand how Oliver could grow up bitter and resentful of the man who apparently had killed his mother. I watched him head up the stairs for another load of luggage. The look of resignation on his face was almost enough to make me decide to pick on one of the others.

“I told you the case with the shoes needed to go in next,” Olivia said, appearing at the top of the stairs.

“I have it.” Oliver raised a blue bag into the air.

“Not that bag, you idiot; the dark blue bag.”

Oliver took a deep breath but went back up the stairs to make the exchange.

“Honestly, once I get my money I’m hiring someone with half a brain to take care of these things,” Olivia added as Oliver followed her down the hall. “I can’t remember the last time you didn’t screw things up.”

I paused at the bottom of the stairs as Oliver returned to a bedroom to fetch the proper bag. I hoped the sheriff would arrive before Oliver finished his chore.

“Are you looking for someone?” Holly asked when she and Brent walked into the room where I was standing.

“My friend Jeremy,” I answered.

“I guess you’ll be going now that the birds are being taken away.”

“Yes, we’ve been given our final check. By the way, I was sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Thank you. It’s been a shock.”

“Holly and I are heading into the parlor for a drink if you’d like to join us,” Brent offered. I noticed the interest in his eyes. Some guys are always on the prowl in spite of the situation. The fact that Brent wasn’t hurrying away most likely indicated that he wasn’t the killer, but I would love for a way to slip his possession of the journal into casual conversation.

“Thanks, but I’ll be leaving as soon as my friend arrives,” I answered.

During our conversation Oliver had made several more trips down the stairs with baggage in various shades of blue. I was about to go to see what was keeping Jeremy and the sheriff when Oliver returned one final time with Olivia on his heels. It appeared that the couple was about to leave. I hadn’t seen Jeremy or Zak since we’d parted, and the sheriff hadn’t yet arrived. Should I stop them?

“I think I know who killed your father,” I blurted out as Oliver opened the door of his car.

“You do?”

“Who may or may not have killed Charles is none of your concern.” Olivia spoke up. “You were hired to do a job and were generously compensated. I suggest you leave before you bite off more than you can chew.”

“I know your father planned to cut you out of his will,” I told Oliver, fishing.

“My dad threatened to cut me out of his will every time I displeased him,” Oliver said. “He wouldn’t have done it. I know my father was
irritated when I lost my investment, but I wasn’t worried.”

What?

I glanced at Olivia, who was making her way around to the driver’s side of the car.

Suddenly that little nagging voice in my head began to scream to be heard. By all accounts Oliver was a weak and timid man who bowed down to the demands of his overbearing wife. Did it really make sense that he could have killed two people in cold blood? Olivia, on the other hand, was a real piece of work. She had been the one to try to blackmail Charles. Could she have been Bill’s accomplice as well?

The idea that it was Olivia who had killed Charles began to take root in my mind. What if Olivia was actually the one behind the turkey swap? She wanted money from Charles and he wouldn’t give it to her. Bill Parker couldn’t even keep straight the number of birds he swapped. He didn’t strike me as an evil mastermind.

If Olivia planned the swap and then killed Charles, why would she kill Dolly?  I remembered Holly saying that her mother was only in a relationship with Charles for the money. What if tightwad Charles wasn’t coming through to the degree Dolly expected? He was an old man. In my estimation, Dolly wouldn’t waste a lot of time on a man from whom she wasn’t getting a financial reward. What if Dolly and Olivia were in on the theft together?

Olivia slid into the driver’s seat and started the car as Oliver and I spoke. She shoved it into gear and hit the gas before Oliver or I could respond. I pushed Oliver out of the way a second before I felt the impact of cold steel on my side.

The light in the room was bright. Too bright. I didn’t know where I was, but I was fairly certain it wasn’t somewhere pleasant. I could hear people talking in the background, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I struggled toward consciousness, but something was pulling me back.

“We’d like to keep her overnight for observation, but she should be fine in a day or two.”

Day or two? Was someone hurt?
I tried to move my leg and realized that the
someone
being referred to was probably me.

“Has she suffered any long-term damage?”

Dad?

“She’s got a nasty cut on her leg, as well as quite a few minor abrasions, but nothing was broken, and there doesn’t appear to be any internal bleeding. I’d say your daughter was very lucky.”

Lucky? Are you kidding me?
I felt like I’d been run over by a truck.

“We’ve given her a strong sedative. She’ll most likely sleep through the night. Perhaps you should get some rest and come back in the morning.”

“I’ll stay with her.”

Zak?

“Why don’t you go back to the boathouse and stay with the dogs? You know if she was awake, she’d be worried about someone being with Maggie.”

Damn right.

“Okay.” The voice seemed a million miles away. “Call me if there’s any change.”

“I will. I promise.”

I tried to figure out who was going to the boathouse and who was staying. I didn’t suppose it mattered. The animals would be in good hands with either Zak or my dad. The doctor said I was going to be okay, but honestly, I was pretty sure I was dying. I wanted to open my eyes, but no matter how hard I tried, my body refused to obey. It made me sad that my days might come to an end before I could tell Zak that I’ve never
really
hated him and in fact have always loved him. On the other hand, I suspected he’d always known.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Zak, sitting in the chair next to my bed.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. How do you feel?”

“Feel?”

I looked around the room and tried to figure out where I was.

“You’re in the hospital,” Zak answered my unspoken question. “Olivia Tisdale tried to run you down with her car.”

“Based on the pain in pretty much every part of my body, I’d say she succeeded.”

Zak smiled. “Almost. You managed to leap up onto the hood of her car, avoiding a much more serious injury.”

“Oliver?” I was beginning to remember.

“You most likely saved his life.”

“Is she . . .”

“In jail, thanks to you and some quick thinking. Looks like you figured out the mystery after all.”

“I did?” I couldn’t remember anything about that final day at that moment.

“You were the one who realized that Dolly and Olivia were in on the turkey swap.”

“I was?” 
I struggled to focus my mind.

“Dolly was the mastermind behind the turkey swap
,” Zak reminded me. “Olivia contacted Dolly about using her influence to get Charles to fork over some of the money he was hording. Dolly knew Charles had money, but she had no idea how much until she talked to Olivia. That made her angry, since Charles had turned out to be a bit of a tightwad. Dolly didn’t have as much influence over Charles as one might assume, but she realized there might be another way to get the money she felt she deserved.”

  “
That’s right.” My brain was beginning to clear. “I suspected that Dolly approached the farm manager, Bill, about making the switch. Olivia found out and wanted in,” I continued. “Dolly realized that Olivia could ruin a good thing for everyone involved, so she agreed to give her a cut of the profits. Everything was fine until Bill got greedy and Charles got suspicious. He did his own investigation and figured everything out. He fired his farm workers and threatened to disinherit Oliver for Olivia’s part in the scheme. When Olivia thought Charles was really going to cut Oliver out of the will this time, she killed him. I have no idea why she killed Dolly.”

“I spoke with the sheriff,” Zak informed me. “You’re actually pretty spot- on with your theory. It seemed that after Olivia killed Charles, Dolly got cold feet and
was going to confess her part in the scheme, so Olivia killed her as well.”

“Olivia confessed?”

“After a lengthy interrogation.”

I smiled. It hurt to smile. Hell, it hurt to breath.

“I don’t suppose you ever found out about the argument Brent had with Charles?”

“Sorry, no.”

“I hate unanswered questions and loose ends.”

“I guess there are just some things we’ll never know,” Zak offered.

“I guess. Can I go home?”

“Not until tomorrow, or possibly Sunday,” Zak informed me. “The doctor thinks you have a concussion. After the trauma to your body, they want to keep an eye on you.”

“The animals?”

“Your dad is staying at the boathouse. Maggie is fine, and Charlie is on his way here.”

“Charlie is coming?” Suddenly I felt a whole lot better.

“Sure, why not? Charlie is a therapy dog, after all, and I convinced the good doctor that you were in need of therapy.”

Charlie burst into the room and jumped up onto my bed. As a therapy dog, he’d been trained to wait until he was ordered to jump up onto a bed. I guess I should have corrected his behavior, but I was so happy to see my little bundle of fur that the searing pain where he stepped on my sore arm was barely noticeable.

“Can he stay?” I asked hopefully.

“He can only be in the room when I’m here to oversee the visit, but I’m not going anywhere,” Zak promised.

“How can I ever thank you?”

“Get better. I have a surprise for you that I’ve been dying to give you.”

“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

“You’ll see.”

“Zak, I’m an injured woman at death’s door. You shouldn’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing you. Now, where do you stand on gin rummy?”

“I kill at
rummy.”

I relaxed into the pillows piled behind me as Zak dealt the cards he’d brought. They say that in the moments before you die your life flashes before you. I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know that in the few seconds between being hit by Olivia’s car and blacking out, it was Zak’s smile that flashed through my mind. I’m not sure what, if anything, that might mean for our future, but for the first time in my life I’m open to setting aside my ridiculous grudge and finding out.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, I was truly thankful for everything and everyone in my life. It had started to snow as Charlie and I made our way down the beach to Zak’s house that morning. The forecast called for up to three feet over the next few days. I only hoped my leg would have healed enough to hit the slopes by the time the resorts opened in a week or so. Luckily, none of my injuries were serious and, except for some ugly bruising, I was almost back to new.

“What smells so wonderful?” I asked as Charlie and I walked in from the beach.

“Sticky buns. They’re my mom’s recipe. She made them every Thanksgiving when I was growing up.”

“They smell fantastic.”

“They are fantastic. Coffee?”

“Please.”

“It seems like you’re getting around better today.”

“I still have a few aches and pains, but overall I’m feeling much better.” I accepted the coffee Zak gave me, then slid onto one of the tall stools lining the kitchen counter. I took a sip of the rich brew as Zak stuffed the bird. Soft jazz played in the background, giving the room a cozy feel. “I’m really looking forward to getting together with the whole family this afternoon, but I have to admit having the morning to ourselves is nice.”

“I’m glad you suggested it,” Zak agreed. “It’s nice to spend time with just the two of us.”

“Better make that four,” I teased, nodding to Charlie and Lambda, who were keeping warm in front of the brick fireplace that separated the kitchen from the informal dining area.

“Okay, four.” Zak grinned. “I wasn’t going to mention this unless I had news to share, but I drove down the mountain yesterday and took Jeremy and his new buddy Pike to lunch.”

“Jeremy and Pike are buddies?”

“I guess they struck up a friendship while Jeremy was working at the farm. He didn’t like hanging out with the heirs in the evenings, so he’d head over to Pike’s for whiskey and poker after he finished for the day.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t mention it.”

“He said you would have given him a bad time about the poker.”

Jeremy was right. I probably would have given him a bad time for gambling when he had bills to pay and a baby on the way. Did I mention I tend to be a buttinsky?

“So why did you take them to lunch?”

“I thought maybe Pike could shed some light on the final piece of the Charles Tisdale murder.”

“Brent’s argument with Charles,” I guessed.

“Pike confirmed that Charles didn’t tell him the details of the argument he had with Brent, but when I explained about the journal, he remembered something Charles had said.”

“Go on.”

“Pike mentioned that Charles was upset with Brent because he found something he shouldn’t have. After I told him about the journal and what it said about his abuse as a young man and his contribution to Amelia’s death, Pike shared that Charles was very secretive about his life prior to meeting Amelia. He was ashamed of the abuse he suffered at his father’s hand and didn’t want anyone to know. Pike revealed that the only reason he knew anything at all about his life as a child and young man is because Charles said some things during a late night of heavy drinking.”

“Why would he be ashamed of being abused?” I asked. “It actually explains a lot about his personality.”

“Charles lived his life from a position of strength and authority. He believed in hard work and making your own way. He was ashamed of the fact that he’d once let himself be a victim.”

“So when Brent found the journal, Charles must have been afraid he’d spill the beans about his deepest, darkest secret,” I theorized.

Zak shrugged. “It’s a guess. I suppose we’ll never know for certain, but the explanation makes as much sense as any.”

It warmed my heart that Zak had gone to so much trouble to try to unravel the final piece of the puzzle. The murder had been solved and the guilty party brought to justice, but I had to admit that having this huge gaping question mark left me feeling less than satisfied.

“The oven is binging,” I informed him.

“Sticky buns are done. Refill on your coffee?”

“I’d love one.”

Spending the morning alone with Zak as we prepared the holiday feast felt oddly domestic in a couple sort of way. I’m still not sure how I feel about my growing attraction to the man I realize I probably already love, but my heart tells me that he’s a good and caring man who will lovingly deal with my at times irrational emotions and often times impulsive and erratic behavior. I’m not sure why I’ve always assumed Zak’s kindness toward me was some sort of twisted ploy to irritate me. During the past few weeks I’ve come to realize that Zak’s kindness is simply kindness.

“The turkey is stuffed and in the oven, the potatoes are peeled and ready to boil, the pie
s are cooling in the pantry. What else do we need to do?” I asked Zak several hours later.

“I think we’re good for now
. The others won’t be here for a couple of hours, so I think this is a good time to give you the surprise I promised you.”

“Surprise?
”  I tried to act like I’d forgotten all about Zak’s comment in the hospital, but the truth of the matter was that I’d thought of little else since being released.

“We’ll need to go for a drive,” Zak informed me
.

“But the food
. . .”

“Will be fine
. I just need to make one quick phone call. Grab your coat. We won’t be gone long.”

Zak made his call and then helped me into his truck
. My leg was better but still far from completely healed, and climbing into the cab presented a bit of a problem. He turned the heater on high and the radio to a station playing soft jazz. It was snowing lightly, and the warmth and coziness of the truck as Zak slowly made his way into town made me feel happy and content. Zak hummed along to the music until we reached the outskirts of the downtown section of our little village. He pulled the truck over to the side of the road and handed me a scarf.

“What’s this for?” I wondered.

“It’s a blindfold.”

I was skeptical, but I let Zak tie the scarf around my eyes before he put the truck into gear and continued on.

“Don’t you think this is a bit over the top?” I asked.