Chapter 16
Halfway through dinner, Julie looked around Susan’s kitchen and smiled. There was barely a break in the conversation as plates of food were handed from one person to the next.
Beth had brought her apple cake, and Laurel had made a loaf of cheesy bread smothered in bacon and garlic. Susan had made profiteroles exactly as promised, and Maria had contributed a pot of black bean soup. On top of all this deliciousness, the cornbread Rachel had baked was perfect.
Julie was glad she’d bought a rotisserie chicken and a bag of salad before she’d left the general store. Even though no one would have expected her to bring anything, it felt good to contribute, to be part of this friendly and welcoming group of women.
By the time everyone was onto their second cup of coffee, the fundraising discussion was well underway.
Beth had the mock-up of a poster propped against the sugar bowl.
Laurel had printed a summary of the county permit requirements and was going through the sections that applied to indoor food sales.
And Maria had worked out the ingredients they’d need, where they could get them, and the storage requirements.
It was, Julie thought, one of the more efficient planning meetings she’d ever attended.
“If we want the baking demonstration to run smoothly, we need to schedule everything in advance,” Susan said, refilling her mug from the coffeepot at her elbow.
“People won’t be there if they don’t know when to show up.
We need posters in all the store windows in town as well as in the church and the Welcome Center. ”
“I’ll ask Owen if we can advertise the bake sale in his gallery,” Laurel said. “He knows a lot of other artists, too. They might be happy to help us advertise the event.”
“That’s a great idea,” Rachel said. “What do you think, Julie?”
Julie pulled her notepad closer. “Everything you’ve all suggested makes sense.
I can write the press release and handle the community paper,” she said.
“And I know a freelancer at the Kalispell Gazette who owes me a favor. Our fundraising bake sale is the kind of thing they’d promote.
It will pull in visitors from outside the area, not just locals. ”
Susan looked pleased. “That would be wonderful.”
Laurel circled something on her permit summary. “We need to confirm the date before we can advertise anything.”
“Pastor John said the Welcome Center doesn’t have anything booked on Tuesday the fourteenth or Saturday the eighteenth,” Susan said. “I think Saturday is better. More people will be able to come.”
As everyone agreed, Julie reached for a profiterole. Beside her, Maria had grown quiet. She’d seemed happy all evening, but after reading a text, something changed.
Julie leaned toward her. “Are you okay, Maria?”
Maria sighed. “It’s probably nothing.”
Laurel frowned. “My mom used to say that probably nothing is usually something.”
Maria looked at Julie. “It’s not about the fundraiser. It’s about the fire. At the resort.”
Susan set down her spoon. “What have you heard?”
“It’s not so much what I’ve heard, but what I saw.” Maria bit her bottom lip. “I was sitting in the Starlight Café when two men sat behind me and started talking. What they said about the resort worried me.”
Beth sighed. “Why doesn’t interesting things happen to me?”
“You wouldn’t have wanted to hear what they said,” Maria told her.
“All it’s done is stress me out.” She glanced at her friends.
“I don’t know who they were. One of them had a voice I recognized.
I think he’s been in the diner a couple of times.
He was medium height, probably in his mid-forties, with a jacket that had a construction company logo on it. I haven’t seen the other man before.”
Julie reached for her pen.
Maria continued. “They were talking about the fire at Finley Point. I don’t think they knew anyone could hear them, or maybe they didn’t care.
The one with the jacket said the fire should have scared Cole off.
” Maria’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
“The other man said it didn’t matter, because the permit suspension would do more damage than anything else ever could. ”
The kitchen was very quiet.
“Before I could hear anything else, a friend stopped to say hello to me,” Maria said, “By the time we finished talking, the men had left.”
Julie exhaled slowly. “Did you catch either of their names?”
“The man with the jacket called the other one Tom.”
The hairs on the back of Julie’s neck rose. Cole had already told her about someone named Tom Abraham who worked for the Sargeson Group. But the police knew his company had missed out on purchasing the property. Surely, they would have looked to see if they were involved.
Julie hunted through her notebook. “The permit suspension they were talking about could be the county review that was filed last week. Or it could have something to do with the environmental complaints the county has received.” Her instinct was to begin mapping out what Maria’s information could mean.
But she wasn’t a reporter anymore, and these women were her friends, not sources.
Susan refilled Maria’s coffee cup. “Would you be willing to speak with Sheriff Thompson about what you heard, Maria?”
“If it helps.” Maria straightened. “I thought about talking to her, but I wasn’t sure if I had enough information. It’s not like I recognized either of the men.”
“Overheard conversations have broken bigger cases than this one,” Julie said.
Maria bit her bottom lip. “That’s what my husband just said on the text he sent me.”
Rachel looked at Julie. “You’re already connecting this to other things you’ve found, aren’t you.”
“It sounds like someone wants the resort to fail by discrediting it through official channels. The sabotage and fire just creates pressure from another direction. My guess is that whoever is behind what’s happening wants the property, regardless of what it takes.”
The words settled over the table.
“So the fire wasn’t just vandalism,” Laurel said.
“I don’t think so.” Julie picked up her pen. “From what’s happened, I’d say it was leverage.”
She wrote the word Tom and circled it. Outside, the wind moved through the pines that lined the edge of Susan’s yard, and Flathead Lake lay invisible in the darkness.
Laurel leaned forward. “I don’t know whether the police have spoken to Pete Sawyer, but he could be worth meeting.
He owns the property that overlooks the resort.
You never know, he might have seen something.
” Reaching across the table, she nudged the plate of profiteroles toward Julie.
“Now eat one of those before Beth claims the last two.”
“I heard that,” Beth said with a smile before reaching for the one closest to her.
The laughter that followed was real, warm, and uncomplicated. Julie joined in, and this time she didn’t feel like an observer watching the world through a glass window.
After the meeting, she’d let Cole know what Maria had said. But right now, Julie was exactly where she was supposed to be.