Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
“I’ve never sat back and let someone else in my kitchen,” Eric told Matthias as he perched at his island. “Then again, I’ve never been a suspect in a murder investigation before either.”
Matthias had insisted that Eric let him fix something to eat. “Did you do it?”
Eric gasped. “Of course not. Do you honestly think I did?”
“No.” Matthias whisked half a dozen eggs in a bowl with some milk and added shredded gouda. “But I had to ask.”
Eric slumped. “You are a cop, after all, but if you have enough doubt to have to ask, what chance do I have against the local police?”
Matthias glanced at him before pouring the egg mixture into a sizzling hot pan. “You need an alibi.”
“I was in Cleveland. With Nell.”
Nell wouldn’t be a reliable witness.
As if reading Matthias’s mind, Eric said, “No one would take that girl’s word for anything. Not in the condition she’s in.”
“Where did you stay? You have credit card receipts, right?”
Eric buried his head in his hands. “I don’t. The bank called me on Thursday about some fraudulent charges. They froze my account and are sending me a new card, but until then, I’m paying cash.”
“You only have one card?”
“No, but my other one is for my business. My accountant loses his mind when I use it for personal expenses.”
In this case, it would be worth an upset CPA, Matthias thought.
“Someone at the registration desk must have seen you. I bet they’ll remember, if for no other reason than that you did pay in cash.
That rarely happens these days.” Matthias added half the mushrooms he’d sliced and sauteed to the eggs, saving the rest for another batch once Emma and Nell came downstairs.
“Maybe.”
“Did you stop for gas along the way?” Stations had security cameras that could verify Eric’s story.
“No.”
“No?”
“I drive a Prius Prime. A hybrid plug-in. And the hotel had a charging station. I didn’t need gas.”
“What about the Turnpike? They’d have a record.”
Eric shook his head. “I took the scenic route. It’s not much longer, and it’s a lot more relaxing.”
But much less helpful when trying to prove you were somewhere—anywhere—other than with Sonny Jones. “That leaves the hotel registration desk as your best bet. What’s the name of the place?”
“Pine Gables Inn.”
Matthias eyed him.
“I know what you’re thinking. Yes, it was a crappy little place, but there was a Cleveland Browns pre-season home game. Everyplace else was either booked or charging ungodly rates.”
Matthias made a mental note to call the Pine Gables Inn and decided to change the subject. For now. He fixed Eric with a scowl. “I have to ask. Why the hell did you lead Jones to believe Emma was on board with selling her farm?”
Eric shrank even more. “It wasn’t my intention.
When Nell first showed up, she was talking about her and Zeke building a house on the property, but he didn’t want to.
Then she started asking me about how much she could get for it.
When Sonny threw out those big numbers, Nell couldn’t talk about anything else. ”
“You didn’t question her about wanting the money to feed her habit?”
“No. I never got the impression that was her plan.”
“She and Zeke were both using again, right?”
“I realize now that they had me conned. They were going through a rough patch, she told me. They were going to get back into rehab as soon as they got settled.”
“And you believed them.”
“I did. Stupid, I know.”
Matthias wasn’t going to argue that one. He divided the omelet between two plates and slid one across the island to Eric. “You’re supposed to be looking out for Emma’s and Nell’s interests, but you let Nell sign those papers. Let Jones believe Emma would sign them as well.”
“When I took Nell to Sonny’s office, we were only supposed to listen to his pitch.
Find out exactly what he was offering. Then Sonny raised his offer to three quarters of a million, and Nell all but climbed over the conference table to grab the sales agreement out of his hand.
I told her we needed to wait for Emma, but it was like I wasn’t even in the room.
” Eric picked up a fork but held it hovering over his plate.
“I intended to talk to Emma before she met with Sonny, but Nell…”
Matthias was getting a clearer picture. Nell pulled Eric’s strings.
He’d seen it dozens of times. Families turned themselves inside out to accommodate an addict when in fact they weren’t doing anyone—especially the addict—any favors.
“Nell decided she had to attend Zeke’s funeral despite his family insisting she not.
She demanded that you not contact Emma, and that you leave your phone behind so we couldn’t track you. ”
In a small voice, Eric said, “That about sums it up.”
For a few minutes, the only sound was the clinking of flatware on the plates. Whatever was going on upstairs, no raised voices carried down to them.
Eric lowered his fork. “To be perfectly honest, I sincerely believed Emma would agree to sell. She’s seemed so happy with you in Erie.” He met Matthias’s gaze, and from his expression, clearly realized he may have overstepped.
Which raised a question in Matthias’s mind. How happy was Emma with him in Erie? Could he compete with her memories—her heritage here in Washington County?
* * *
Emma sat on the floor beside Nell, their backs against the tub, Emma’s arm around her sister, who had finally stopped sobbing.
“We need to talk about the farm,” Emma said, keeping her voice soft.
“I know I should’ve waited for you to sign the paperwork.”
For a moment, Emma thought Nell had changed her mind about selling.
Instead, she added, “It would’ve been better if we’d signed at the same time. Less complicated.”
“Complicated? You mean you really do want to sell our family home?”
“It’s not our ‘family home’ anymore, Em. It was. In the past.”
“But when we last talked, you wanted us to move back here. Rebuild.”
“I was pregnant then.” Nell’s voice faltered.
Emma thought of several possible responses, but she kept them to herself, not wanting to drive Nell to tears again. After a few minutes of silence, Emma said, “I saw the cots in the barn. I assume that was you?”
“And Zeke.” Nell stared at the tissue she clenched in one hand.
“I loved him. I mean really loved him. I had these dreams of the two of us building a little house. Maybe on the footprint of the one Dad built for Mom and us. But Zeke wasn’t very enthusiastic.
Then he died.” Her voice caught, and she again fell quiet.
Emma waited, letting her sister regroup.
“Without Zeke,” Nell finally continued, “I have no reason to stay here.”
“What about me? You have me.”
Nell shifted to look at Emma. “You live in Erie now.”
“You could come back with me. I’ll help you get a place.” After rehab, but Emma didn’t speak that part out loud.
Nell shook her head vehemently. “I can’t go back there. Not after all that happened.”
“Where, then? I’ll go with you.”
Nell squirmed away from Emma and faced her. “I don’t know where. And I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Not a babysitter,” Emma said. “A sister. You haven’t let me be a sister to you for a long time.”
Before Nell had a chance to reply, the doorbell chimed, and she scrambled toward the back wall of the bathroom as if intending to climb out the small window.
“Stay here,” Emma told her, rising to her feet, stepping out of the room, and pulling the door closed.
As she stood by the railing looking down at the foyer, Eric crossed from the kitchen to the front door. He peered through the peep hole and flinched. Emma could guess who was on the stoop.
Eric opened the door. Emma was right.
“Eric Baker? I’m Trooper Joseph Fergusson with the Pennsylvania State Police Criminal Investigation Division. I need to have a word with you.”
* * *
Matthias stepped into the short hallway leading to the foyer and folded his arms across his chest.
Fergusson looked at him, his expression souring. Matthias watched as the trooper took in the rest of his surroundings. His gaze paused on the second floor. Matthias couldn’t see from where he stood, but he suspected Emma was up there, looking down over the railing. Nell? Probably not.
Fergusson came back to Matthias. “I saw your Jeep in the driveway. What’d you do? Rush right over here to get your stories straight?”
“I’d forgotten what an ass you can be.”
Fergusson chuckled. “Funny. I thought for sure I was more memorable than that.” To Eric, he said, “I would like to speak with you alone.”
Eric spun toward Matthias, his expression a mixture of terror and pleading.
For the second time that day, Matthias couldn’t believe the advice he was giving. “You should have an attorney present.”
Fergusson’s eyes turned fierce. “You’re saying Mr. Baker needs an attorney, too? I only want to have a friendly conversation. There’s been a homicide, and he might be able to offer some insight.”
“Then I want Matthias here while we talk,” Eric said.
“Fine.” Fergusson lifted his gaze. “Ms. Anderson, where’s your sister? I need to speak with her when I’m done with Mr. Baker.”
“I have no idea,” Emma replied from the second floor.
Matthias concealed a grin. He’d been right about Emma watching from the walkway above. And she was lying. Not that he planned to contradict her.
Fergusson didn’t appear to believe her but chose to let it slide for now. His focus returned to Eric. “Do you want to talk right here?”
Eric looked to Matthias. He shrugged.
“We can sit in the living room,” Eric told Fergusson.
They moved silently down the short hallway to the book-filled room. Fergusson took a seat on an overstuffed white chair and set his notebook on the matching ottoman. Eric sank into one end of a sectional. Matthias claimed the other end.
“What was your relationship with Greyson Jones?” Fergusson asked.
“We occasionally worked on the same projects. Beyond that, we had no relationship.”
“Same projects? I know Mr. Jones was a land developer. What exactly do you do?”
“I run a real estate consulting firm.”
“Which means what?”