Chapter 14
JUNE
June was born and raised in Meadowlark Creek, and in all that time, she'd learned that sometimes the most direct path was the most honest one. Which was why, the next morning, she found herself walking up the courthouse steps with Pippi trotting beside her on her leash.
Sara Lee had offered to come, but June gently refused.
Some conversations require the weight of years behind them, the shared history of having watched children grow into complicated adults.
Horace was about the age of her son, Sara Lee’s father.
She'd known his parents and had seen him and Raymond as boys before the bitterness set in.
This conversation needed to happen between people who remembered when the Melton brothers were just two kids playing in Meadowlark Creek Park.
Martha Greenway looked up from her computer, her face breaking into a warm smile. "Ms. June! What brings you to the courthouse today?"
"Hello, Martha. I was hoping to have a word with Judge Melton, if he's available."
Martha's expression shifted, sympathy replacing the smile. "Oh, of course. He's been in his chambers most of the morning. I'm sure he'd be glad for the company. You know the way?"
"I do, thank you."
June climbed the stairs to the second floor, Pippi's nails clicking on the worn marble steps. The judge's chambers were at the end of the hall, the door partially open. She knocked gently on the doorframe.
"Come in," Horace's voice called out, sounding tired.
He sat behind a massive oak desk that had probably been there since the courthouse was built.
The walls were lined with law books, framed diplomas, and photographs of his career highlights.
He looked older than he had at the festival just days ago.
He was dressed in his usual impeccable suit, but his face was drawn, the creases deepened.
When he saw June, he rose automatically, years of customary formality and good breeding taking over.
"Ms. June. What an unexpected pleasure." His tone was warm, and his smile seemed sincere.
"I hope you don't mind the intrusion, Horace. I wanted to offer my condolences in person. I am so very sorry for your loss. And I thought you might need someone to check on you… someone you can talk to."
He stiffened, and for a moment, it appeared he was going to refuse her offer. Then his shoulders slumped as though the weight he carried on his shoulders for years had increased.
"About Raymond’s death, I assume." He gestured to the leather chairs facing his desk. "Please, sit down. Though I should warn you, Sheriff Gordon has already questioned me extensively, and I’m worn out."
June settled into one of the chairs, letting Pippi curl up at her feet.
Seeing Horace like this, she decided just talking was the best way to help him process all that had happened as well as gain some insight into Raymond.
Looking up, she smiled gently. "I'm just here because I knew your family.
Because I remember when you and Raymond were boys. "
Relief flickered across his face. He sank back into his chair, some of the formal stiffness leaving his shoulders. "That was a very long time ago."
"It was. But some memories stay fresh." June folded her hands in her lap. "I remember your mother bringing you boys to the library. You were both so sweet and so polite.”
"Back then, we got along great. Played together. Had fun. Both loved coming to the library. You picked out the best books, Ms. June.”
She smiled indulgently. “I remember you always wanted the history books, even as a child.”
His lips curved slightly at the memory, and some of the tension seemed to ease. “I loved history. I loved learning about the world, our country, and our little town through the eyes of those who’d lived before us.”
“And pirates?”
Horace chuckled. “Yes, yes. I used to love checking out every pirate story I could.” He looked at her. “You have an exceptional memory, Ms. June. How, after years of children coming through the library, you can remember that…”
She nodded slowly, admitting, “Some things stick to my mind easier nowadays. Especially things from the past.”
They were silent for a moment, then she pressed, “Raymond preferred adventure stories.”
"He preferred anything that took him away from reality. I suppose that at one time, we both loved the pirate books. We would even play pirates at home.” He sighed heavily.
“But slowly, our differences began to show.
We were so opposite. I could never figure out why.
" His voice now carried decades of frustration.
"All children are unique. But if I may be so bold, do you think his anger grew from being compared to you?"
The judge's jaw tightened. "I never asked for that. I never wanted to be the golden child everyone measured him against. And honestly, I don’t remember our parents comparing us… at least not in front of me. But what was I supposed to do? Fail deliberately to make him feel better?"
"Of course not." June's voice stayed gentle. "I'm not here to assign blame, Horace. I'm here because I want to understand more about Raymond."
"Then you're assuming someone here is responsible for his death." It wasn't quite a question but neither was it a declaration.
She held his gaze steadily as she lifted her hands to the side. "I have no assumptions."
He studied her for a long moment, his judge's eyes assessing. Then, surprisingly, he laughed a short, bitter sound. "You know what's funny? Some people in town think I killed him for the inheritance money. But the truth is, June, I was already in the process of settling the final Trust our mother created. I wanted to give him his share earlier than required in the trust. He’d asked, and I didn’t want to fight him on it.”
"And did he know that?"
"Yes. He also knew there were complications. He’d asked our attorney for an earlier distribution, but George said no.
So, since I’m the executor, I ran it by Ted to see if he could figure out a way to break the Trust dissolution date earlier.
It was Mother's wishes, set up in her Trust. She thought.
.. she hoped that Raymond would finally grow up if there was money waiting for him.
That he'd turn his life around." His hand moved to a photograph on his desk.
It was an old family portrait, probably from the 1970s.
"She loved him. Despite everything, she loved him and wanted to believe he could change. "
"And you?" June asked quietly. "What did you believe?"
Silent for a moment, his gaze stayed on the photograph.
When he spoke, his voice was rough with emotion.
"I believe he was an alcoholic, and that colored most of his thoughts and many of his choices.” He sighed and shook his head.
“I wanted him gone from our lives. Whether I could give him the money early or make us both wait a little longer, I didn’t care.
I just wanted him gone. But I didn't kill him. "
The raw honesty of it hung in the air between them. June waited, knowing there was more.
"He called me," he continued, his voice steadier now. "Two weeks before the festival. Said that he needed the money now and couldn’t wait for the Trust time to be up. I told him that I wanted to give it to him, but the attorney said I couldn’t until the end date set up in the Trust. He lost his mind over that. Didn’t believe the attorney.
Claimed he’d come here and make my life miserable until I gave it to him. "
"What did you think about that?"
Horace rubbed his face tiredly. "The same as always… here’s Raymond.
Again. Going to make everyone’s life a hell.
I went to George, the attorney. I begged him.
I told him that I’d give Raymond the money equal to his share and then at the end of the time period, I’d just keep his half since I would have already given it to him. "
"That sounds like a good plan," June observed.
"Well, sounds like and making it happen are two different things. George said his hands were tied. The Trust would be divided between Raymond and me on the day set forth in the trust.” He sighed again.
"I'm sorry. I know we're not supposed to speak ill of the dead.
Raymond was my brother, and I loved him, despite all the animosity and turmoil.
He wasted his whole life preferring, as our daddy used to say, ‘to stir the manure, not caring how it stunk in the end’. And it finally got him killed."
June considered this carefully. "Did you speak to him again before the festival?"
"Once more. The night before he came to town." His expression darkened. "He was drunk. Or maybe he'd never been sober at all, and the call weeks before had just been during one of his brief moments of sobriety. He said... he said things about Petunia."
"What kind of things?"
"The kind of cruel, vindictive things Raymond always said when he wanted to hurt me." His hand clenched into a fist on his desk. "He threatened to tell everyone what Petunia did. Those were his exact words: 'I'll tell everyone what Petunia did, and then we'll see how high and mighty you feel.'"
June's attention sharpened, though she kept her expression neutral. "What did he mean?"
"I don't know." He met her eyes, and June saw genuine confusion there alongside the anger. "That's the truth, June. I have no idea what he was talking about. I asked Petunia, and she said Raymond was just being Raymond—saying cruel things to get under my skin. But..."
"But?"