Trial by Fire (14 page)

Madison.

Madison had a thing for Mike. Taylor had said so. Madison was there when Mike and
his buddies overturned Aram’s table at the market. She was at the beach party, mostly
hanging around with Mike. She’d definitely been interested in what had happened in
the park. Maybe she also knew what Mike was doing the night of the fire.

But would she talk to me?

“Okay,” Ashleigh said when I told her what I wanted. “She has a summer job at the
park. We can go there on my lunch break.”

I hung around outside the supermarket until Ashleigh came out, and then we walked
to the park together.

“You have to do the talking,” I said. “She doesn’t like me.”

“Sure,” Ashleigh said, as if it were no big deal.

“She might think you’re siding with me against her,” I pointed out.

“But I’m not. I’m helping a friend.” She waved at a tall and extremely good-looking
guy who had a whistle on a lanyard around his neck and a clipboard tucked under one
arm. “Hey, Billy, have you seen Madison?”

“She just went on break. She’s probably in the locker room—the door marked
Staff
Only
in the clubhouse.” He pointed to a small cabin.

The clubhouse’s largest room had a wall of lockers; sports equipment was neatly arranged
in cubbies lining another wall. Three smaller rooms led off the main room: men’s
and women’s washrooms and the staff locker room. Ashleigh pushed open the locker-room
door before I could suggest that she knock first.

Madison was reaching into one of the lockers. She whirled around when Ashleigh burst
into the room.

“Jeez, Ash! You startled me.” Then she saw me. She slammed her locker shut. “What’s
she
doing here?”

Ashleigh ignored the question. “We need to ask you something, Maddy.”

“What?” Madison didn’t take her eyes off me.

“It’s about Mike.”

“What about him? His father’s in the hospital, you know. That guy attacked him and
tried to kill him.”

“It’s terrible what happened to Mike’s dad.”Ashleigh sounded sincere—and why shouldn’t
she? “Just like it’s terrible what happened to Mr. Goran. Imagine getting trapped
in a burning barn.”

Madison’s eyes shifted to Ashleigh. Her expression softened for a moment. But her
words didn’t. “He got what he deserved. He burned down his own barn. That’s what
the cops are saying.”

Ashleigh didn’t argue with her. “How’s Mike?” she asked instead. “He must be upset
about his dad.”

“He is. But he’s glad they arrested the guy so fast.”

“Maddy, I know Mike tried to break into Mr. Goran’s barn a few times. He told everyone
at school about it. Do you think he might have tried again the night of the fire?”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes hardened to diamond points. “You think
Mike
started
the fire?”

“I didn’t say that. I was just—”

“Well, he didn’t. For your information, Mike was with me that night.” That caught
my attention, but I didn’t say anything. Not then. “He didn’t go anywhere
near that
barn. Now if you don’t mind, I only have a half hour for lunch, and I’m starving.”
She glared at both of us but made no move to open her locker again. It was clear
she wanted us gone.

Ashleigh touched Madison’s arm.

“I’ve known you since kindergarten, Maddy. I care about you. You’re my friend. And
if anyone is pressuring you to do anything—”

She shook off Ashleigh’s hand. “No one is pressuring me.”

I nudged Ashleigh. She stared at Madison for a few more seconds before following
me out of the locker room. Madison slammed the door behind us. Ashleigh stopped as
soon as we were back in the main room. She held a finger to her lips and pressed
her ear against the door. She stood there for a moment, frozen, before grabbing me
by the arm and hustling me outside. She waited until we were far from the clubhouse
before she said, “I knew it. I knew she’d call someone as soon as we left. When she’s
upset, she always calls someone. Except I thought it would be Taylor.”

“And it wasn’t?”

She shook her head. “She called Mike.”

Now
that
was interesting. “Did you hear what she said?”

“It wasn’t much. Just that she needs to talk to him and is going to meet him when
he gets off work tonight.”

“Mike has a job?”

“At the food concession at the go-kart park. It closes at eleven.” She glanced at
her watch. “I have to get back to work.”

Eleven o’clock was a long way off. I wasn’t sure I could wait. Part of me wanted
to go back and shake the truth out of Madison. Was she really with Mike that night?
Could she prove it? That would let him off the hook and point the finger back at
his father. If I put what I had found out with what Rick had told me, I might be
able to get Aunt Ginny to agree that Ted Winters had a solid reason to burn down
Mr. Goran’s barn.

But something nagged at me too. Mike had told me he was with friends the night of
the fire. Friends, plural. Not friend, singular. And what about the two
friends of
his who’d looked surprised when Mike told me his alibi? What did that mean? Had they
seen Mike and Madison together? Were they going to back Mike up? Or had they been
surprised for another reason? I would have to wait at least until eleven o’clock
to try to get an answer.

Before going home, I decided to stop by the hospital to see how Mr. Goran was doing.

The nurse on his unit was friendly.

“You’re the young lady who brought flowers,” she said. I still wasn’t allowed to
go into Mr. Goran’s room, but she said I could look in on him.

There was a large window in his room that looked out onto the hospital corridor.
Mr. Goran’s head, chest and arms were bandaged. Maybe more of him was too, but I
couldn’t tell. His eyes were closed.

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked.

“He’s stable, and that’s good,” the nurse said. “He’s been awake a few times. He’s
not talking yet. We’re not sure how much he understands or remembers.”

Beneath the window were two flowering plants. One was a hibiscus with velvety red
blossoms.

“His son brought that one,” the nurse said. “He said his father loves flowers.”

I’d never seen the second plant before. It looked like some type of bamboo, with
a thatch of leaves fanning out over the tops of the stalks like a bouquet of deep
green. But the thing that got me to take a second, closer look was the base of the
plant. The plant was set in a shallow pot, and the stalks had been twisted somehow
as they grew so that they formed an intricate pattern. I wondered how long it had
taken to grow the plant.

“I’m not sure who it’s from. I didn’t see a card. It’s called lucky bamboo. One of
the orderlies recognized it. It’s certainly unusual. It was delivered shortly after
Mr. Goran was admitted. The last time he was awake, he saw it. He couldn’t smile,
but I think he was pleased.”

A small sticker on the pot indicated that the plant had been bought at Carol’s, where
I’d bought my flowers.

By the time I left the hospital it was midafternoon, and I was starving. I locked
my bike in front of the Sip ’n’ Bite. The tables were all taken, so I sat on a stool
at the counter and ordered a sandwich and a soda.

“Coming right up,” Sharon said. “Nice to see you again, Riley.”

“You remembered my name.” I was flattered.

“A local celebrity like you? How could I forget?”

While I waited for my lunch, someone dashed up to the counter beside me. “I need
a coffee to go, Sharon.” It was Carol, from the flower shop. “And I need it fast.
I have the
Back in Five Minutes
sign up.”

Sharon grabbed a coffeepot and a takeaway cup.

“I was going to drop by your store after I ate,” I said to Carol. “I don’t know if
you remember me, but—”

“Of course I do. I never forget a customer. A bright selection of fresh-cut flowers
for your friend in the hospital.”

“She’s good,” Sharon said, pouring a generous amount of cream into Carol’s coffee.

“I just came from the hospital,” I said. “I saw some plants of yours that were sent
to Mr. Goran. A hibiscus—”

“His son sent that,” Carol said. “He was very polite.”

“And the other plant—the lucky bamboo—is really beautiful,” I said.

“And expensive,” Carol said. “The stems aren’t twisted after they’re grown, like
some people think. The growers turn them regularly, which means they have to be constantly
monitoring them. The stalks naturally lean toward the sun. It can take up to two
years, depending on how complex the shape is. That’s the only one I’ve ever sold.
I had to special order it.”

“It was for Deirdre, wasn’t it?” Sharon handed Carol her coffee. “I saw her with
it. It was so unusual that I asked her what it was called.”

“That’s the one. When she said it was what she wanted, I assumed it was for a client
and that the bank was paying for it. But she pulled out her own credit card and said
it was personal. And when I say it was expensive, Shar, I mean it cost more than
a week’s groceries, and you know how much those boys of hers eat.”

Deduction:
If
Carol had sold only one lucky bamboo recently,
and
if Mr. Goran’s plant
had come from her shop,
then
this Deirdre, who presumably worked at the bank, had
to be the person who had bought the plant I’d seen at the hospital.

Carol put some money on the counter. “Thanks for rushing this, Sharon. Gotta run.”

“Order up” came the call from the kitchen.

Sharon fetched my sandwich and slid a soda in front of me.

“Who’s Deirdre?” I asked.

“She’s a loan officer at the bank. You’d think a bank would pay its employees well,
since we’re always
hearing about the record profits they make. But James Kincaid
is like every other banker—cheap with the bank’s money. Poor Deirdre can barely make
ends meet—she’s a single mom with three growing boys.”

“Order up!” The voice from the kitchen was louder this time. Grumpy too.

Sharon dashed to the window, picked up three plates heaped with food, scurried to
a table with them and was back a moment later to fill glasses with soda. I bet she
loved sitting down and taking her shoes off at the end of the day.

I munched on my sandwich and thought about Deirdre at the bank. The general consensus
around town was that Mr. Goran had burned down his barn for the insurance money.
Only one person besides Aram and me had sent Mr. Goran flowers. That person was a
loan officer at the bank. I couldn’t help wondering why.

The tellers’ counter was up front. In the back was a warren of cubicles where I immediately
spotted a familiar face—Donald Curtis, the realtor. He came out
of a cubicle, shook
a man’s hand and walked past me. Either he didn’t notice me or he didn’t recognize
me. I headed for the cubicles. That had to be where the loan officers worked. But
I was stopped by a woman with a bank-security pass hanging from a chain around her
neck.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Deirdre,” I said.