The first fiancee, p.2
The First Fiancée, page 2
As if reading her thoughts, Matt said, “We’re making do up here for now.” He nodded toward a door. “Our bedroom is over there. Eventually, we’ll build ourselves a decent-sized cabin behind the lodge, along with several guest cabins. We don’t actually have many of our things here yet. They’re still at the condo we’re renting in Santa Fe.”
Joni waited for them in a chilly room where a space heater going full blast supplemented a faint stream of warmth seeping from a floor vent. She smoothed a patchwork quilt as Bethany admired the light pine furniture and pictures of old-time scenes like the ones in the lobby.
“I love this room,” Bethany said. “It’s so homey.”
“You’d enjoy the best feature in the summer,” Joni said as Matt pulled open floor-length drapes to expose french doors to a private deck fitted with a rusting wrought-iron table and matching chairs.
The deck faced the forest behind the lodge and a range of craggy mountain peaks in the distance. Gorgeous view. Bethany didn’t say it, realizing Krystal’s bones had been found somewhere out there.
“I helped my uncle, my dad’s brother, build the deck when I was a kid.” Matt’s voice softened. “He taught me how to do things right. Brought me here a few times a year to give my mom a break.”
“You’re the son he never had,” Joni said. “That’s why he willed you the lodge.”
“I’d best get back to whipping it into shape.” He flashed a smile and left them.
“Matt was barely ten when his dad died of a heart attack,” Joni said. “But I think he took it harder when his uncle passed away eight years ago. He doesn’t like to talk about it.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll let you settle in. I’m painting a guest room on the second floor. Come down in a while.”
Chapter 2
It took all of five minutes to unpack. Bethany tossed her pillow onto the bed and stowed her bags under it, and set her briefcase on the desk, all the while thinking about her sister. The family’s free spirit, Joni had married at nineteen, been divorced by twenty-one, and been in several relationships before she met Matt less than a year ago. She’d gotten engaged so fast! To a guy now suspected of murder!
Bethany took her toothbrush next door to an obviously shared bathroom. A crowded assortment of towels hung on racks, and a variety of shampoo bottles balanced on the wall side of a claw-footed tub.
The bathroom felt ice cold. As Bethany brushed her teeth, she noticed an ancient electric heater built into the wall. She hoped it would work when she needed it and that there would be enough hot water for everyone living here plus guests on the two floors below. In an email, Joni had admitted worrying that the second and third floors only had one bathroom each. Matt’s inheritance and savings wouldn’t begin to cover a complete remodel of the lodge, she’d confided.
If it weren’t a conflict of interest, the Jarviss Foundation might award a development grant for this project. The lodge would be a boon to the Sorrel economy. But as grants manager, Bethany knew full well the Foundation couldn’t support the projects of family members. And Matt might soon become one.
Finished in the bathroom, she noticed a nearby door standing open. She stepped into a narrow space and saw a man stretched out on a massage table. Before she could back away, he yawned and sat up. “Whoa, didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
Bethany apologized for intruding and told him her name. “I’m Joni’s sister.”
“I heard you were coming down from Las Cuevas. I’m David Sudesky. Matt’s friend. And Joni’s. How do you like my massage room? It’s an old linen closet. We had to take out the shelves, and it’s kind of a tight squeeze, but it’ll do.”
The walls were a soft butter color. A lighted candle in an ornate sconce gave off a vanilla scent that almost disguised the smell of fresh paint. On the far wall of the windowless room, a print of two hands, the index fingers nearly touching, depicted Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel image of God creating Adam.
“First massage with my compliments,” David said. “I’ve been testing my new table. I think it will do.”
The man had kind eyes and well-tended hands. He looked to be about forty, but he hopped off the high table with the grace of a gymnast. “Where are Matt and Joni?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Joni said she was going to do some painting. She and Matt met me when I arrived a while ago. They showed me to my room, the one with the deck.”
“Right,” David said. “Matt’s favorite but too small for him and Joni. Matt’s uncle had emphysema—breathed easier in the mountain air—and wouldn’t let anybody smoke in the building. As a kid, Matt sneaked many a cigarette on that deck.”
He blew out the vanilla candle. “I’d better go see what he needs done. Like I said, if you want a massage, let me know.”
****
Bethany found Joni in a second-floor room rolling pale cream semi-gloss on a wall with fast, steady strokes. She had changed into old clothes and was humming along to a tune on her audio device. Bethany tapped her sister’s shoulder to get her attention. Joni set the roller in a pan on the floor and took out her earbuds.
“I met David,” Bethany said. “He seems like a good guy. I found him testing his massage table, but then he went to help Matt.”
“Testing his table! Well, he deserves a break now and then.”
“If you’ve got another roller, I can help paint,” Bethany offered.
Joni gave her a serious look. “Sure, but there’s something I’d rather have you do.” She hesitated, then went on. “Matt and I have been avoiding Sorrel. People started giving us funny looks right after the gruesome discovery three weeks ago. But nobody knows you. You could go into town and find out all the gossip.”
The idea of being a snoop did not appeal to her. “Joni, I don’t think—”
“Listen, okay? You’re good at talking to people and finding out things. Dad’s always bragging about how well you investigate all those organizations in line for grants. I bet you could hear some interesting things about Krystal that Matt never knew. After all, you—not the cops—found out that girl in Albuquerque didn’t trip on the stairs.”
Suddenly Bethany got it. “You want me to get involved in this murder? That’s why you begged me to come?” Her jaw clenched at the thought of her one brush with crime a few months before. What started out as a favor to the dead student’s mother—to clean out the college girl’s room in the house where she had boarded—ended with discovering the girl had been pushed to her death.
Joni planted her hands on her narrow hips. “You helped that mother. She didn’t have to go on thinking her daughter accidentally caused her own death. That woman isn’t even your friend. She’s Mom’s. Can’t you talk to a few people in town for me, your sister? I’m dying to find out what they’re saying about Krystal. And about Matt.”
Matt had said people called him a monster. Had he been exaggerating, or could people really believe that? And assuming Matt hadn’t killed his first fiancée, who had? Someone long gone or who still lived in Sorrel?
Gnawing on a cuticle, Joni watched with hope in those huge blue eyes.
“Tell you what,” Bethany said. “Tomorrow, I’ll go into town. I drove straight through it on the way here and barely got a look at it. Today, let me help you paint this room. But first, I’d better call the folks so they know I made it here safely. I’ll use my cell phone.”
“Cell phones don’t work in the lodge and most places in Sorrel,” Joni said. “Use the landline out there in the lounge. Tell the folks hi. I’ve been meaning to talk to Mom and Dad, but we’ve been so busy…”
Bethany dialed, dismayed at Joni’s relationship with their parents. Busyness hadn’t kept Joni from phoning; she could make the time. When Krystal’s bones were discovered, Joni had called Bethany, imploring her, as usual, to be the bearer of bad news. Bethany had complied, stopping by the university where education students lined up outside her mother’s door for help during office hours.
After hearing Bethany out, Eleanor said, “Joni’s standing by her man, but is he worthy of her loyalty? You’d better do what she wants and drive down to Sorrel, set our minds at ease if at all possible about this Matt MacGregor.”
Now, Bethany left her mother a brief message, then stood wondering why Joni could not discuss her problems with Eleanor the way students did, the way Bethany had done all her life. She often wondered the same thing about her sister and their father. She valued his advice; Joni avoided it.
The previous day, after listening to an update on a grant recipient’s project, their father had asked, “What has Joni told you about the murder?” She hadn’t phoned him, he said. No, he wouldn’t contact her; she could call if she needed him. “At least she spoke to you and Don. She told your brother not to worry, to stay focused on his golf tournament. As if any of us could not worry about Joni.”
****
In the morning, Bethany had dressed when Joni, in a fleece bathrobe and fluffy slippers, knocked on her door.
“If you don’t need the bathroom, I’ll grab a shower and get to work, Joni said. “Matt’s already doing stuff in the office. And FYI, it’s fend for yourself around here for breakfast.” Joni yawned.
“No problem,” Bethany said. The night before, at dinner, she’d checked out the kitchen. “I know where the coffee pot is. I’ll be fine.”
Back in her room with toast in a napkin and fresh brew in her travel mug, Bethany turned on her laptop and got to work. A few days here didn’t mean a break from reading grant proposals. But first, she’d email Don to say she’d arrived and find out how he’d fared in his practice rounds for an end-of-year match.
The time flew by. At noon, ready for a break, she went out to her room’s private deck. The room below hers didn’t have a deck, so she could see two floors down to the patio behind the kitchen. Matt and David sat there talking as smoke wafted up from Matt’s cigarette. David wasn’t smoking, but the massage therapist probably wasn’t a smoker. Matt’s bad habit worried Bethany, not only for his sake but for the effect of secondhand smoke on Joni’s delicate health. But tobacco use had to be the least of Matt’s troubling baggage.
David said something Bethany didn’t catch, then, “You need a good lawyer.”
Matt replied in a voice too low to hear.
“You’d make bail and be out right away, but it won’t come to that,” David said.
“Keep it down. Somebody’ll hear.”
By somebody, Matt probably meant her. He knew she had the room above them. But why would it matter if she overheard? Matt had confided to her about Krystal at the first opportunity. But maybe he didn’t want her telling Joni he feared being arrested.
Bethany went back inside and resumed work, but she couldn’t concentrate for long. She grabbed her parka and daypack. She would make good on her promise to Joni to go into Sorrel.
She found her sister, Matt, and David in the kitchen between a worn chopping block that dominated the room and new cabinets stacked two-high along a wall. The dishwasher sat with its hoses not yet hooked up to the water pipes.
“One of the top cabinets is missing,” Matt said.
Joni ran her fingers through her spiky hair. “Oh goddess, we can’t just run out to a big box store and solve this pronto. Either we drive down to La Plata or wait another week for a delivery.” She looked at Bethany. “Sure, it’s only an hour to La Plata, but you know what this end of the road’s like.”
“Brutal,” Bethany agreed.
“The store messed up for the second time,” Matt said, pounding a fist on the chopping block, sending a knife off the edge. “First, one of the bottom cabinets is the wrong oak color. Now this. What’s the matter with those people?”
David picked up the knife and set it gently back into place.
Bethany listened as the others talked anxiously about pulling off the lodge’s opening events. Would the Friday buffet dinner for the locals prove too ambitious for Gloria? Should they have hired a catering company from La Plata?
“Gloria insists she can handle the bulk of it, with a few things on order from the mercantile and pies from the café. Everyone knows I’m a hopeless cook,” Joni said.
Matt put his arm around her shoulders. “That’s well documented. Leave the cooking to Gloria.”
Joni elbowed Matt lightly in the side, then relaxed against him. “Okay, but you guys better get the dishwasher installed. Since I’m not cooking, I’ll have to help Gloria clean up.”
“Where is she anyway?” Matt asked.
“At the merc. She’ll be back soon.”
“Looks like she’s got dinner in the crockpot,” David said. He took a deep breath. “Oh, does that smell good!”
Minutes later Gloria, a slim, pretty girl introduced the night before, came into the kitchen through the back door, lugging four cloth tote bags filled with groceries. Cold air whooshed in with her. She kicked the door shut, thumped the bags on the floor, and unwound a long, mauve scarf from around her neck. Her denim jacket over a thin sweater didn’t look heavy enough to keep out the cold. As she shrugged out of the jacket, her dark, messy ponytail swung and bobbed.
Deep into their project, Matt and David barely said hello. Gloria put away the groceries with help from Joni and Bethany, then lifted the crockpot lid and gave the contents a stir.
“What’s that dish?” Bethany asked. “Something out of the ordinary by the aroma.”
“Beef bourguignon with a handful of spices and the cheapest cut of meat I could find in La Plata,” Gloria said. “I don’t think it’s horse meat.” She giggled, a sound pegging her as more girl than grownup.
“You can’t get everything at the mercantile in Sorrel,” Joni said. “Gloria goes to La Plata every couple of weeks. It’s a major shopping trip. Sometimes we go together.”
“And hit the thrift shops,” Gloria said. “And garage sales.”
“We’ve found a lot of things for the lodge that way,” Joni said. “Saved hundreds, maybe thousands.”
“She’s an amazing shopper and decorator,” Gloria added.
“She is,” Bethany agreed. It wasn’t surprising, given Joni’s degree in theater set design.
“Dad would say shopping is my only talent,” Joni said. She fiddled with her hair, messing up the gelled spikes.
“No, he wouldn’t.” Bethany knew it was best to say nothing more. Let’s not go down that road, their brother would have cautioned. Like Joni, Don was adopted, but he didn’t share her sense of failing to measure up to some never-specified standard of success.
“Damn appliance,” Matt said from the floor, giving no sign he’d heard Joni and Bethany. “Why is everything so fracking hard?”
Installing the dishwasher wasn’t going well, it seemed.
“We can figure it out,” David said. “But maybe we should take a break.”
“Maybe you guys should read the instructions,” Gloria suggested in a mock-serious tone. She looked at the two men sitting on the floor. “My dad always does that as a last resort.”
“Where are the instructions?” David asked, playing along. “Tossed out with the packing materials?”
Matt forced a grin. “Probably. Let’s keep at it.”
Bethany pulled Joni aside. “Tell you what. I need some fresh air. I’ll take a walk into town and get some lunch, okay?”
“And talk to people, right? Find out all the gossip.”
Joni’s face expressed such relief and hope, Bethany felt a pang of anxiety. “I can try.”
“That’s all I ask,” Joni said. She trailed Bethany to the lobby entrance. “What’s your story going to be?” She came across like a kid planning some scheme to fool the folks.
Bethany put on her parka. “My story? The truth—that I’m your sister.”
“You saw how edgy Matt got in the kitchen. He normally doesn’t fly off the handle like that. I think he confides more in David, which hurts, you know? Shouldn’t Matt talk to me? I’m his fiancée.” Joni compressed her lips into a thin line.
“How long has he known David?”
“Quite a while. Since before David’s divorce.”
“Matt wants to be strong for you, but he probably doesn’t have to act that way in front of David.”
“I guess, but this is our first crisis as a couple. We should face it together.” Joni raised her chin. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I believe in Matt completely. I’m going to go tell him again.”
“Maybe you should let him be,” Bethany suggested gently. “Let Matt and David finish with the dishwasher.”
“I do have stuff to get on with,” Joni admitted. “The last of the painting.”
“Good idea. Keep busy. Joni, what are the locals like around here?”
“They’re friendly, but most of them are really conservative, like Dad. They probably think I’m weird, but that’s nothing new, is it? Matt’s more like them, but he’s still an outsider.”
“Where should I get lunch?”
“Besides the bar, where you can only get pizza, there’s the mercantile’s deli and the Ponderosa Café. Try the Ponderosa. It’s at this end of town.”
“Okay. I saw it when I drove in.”
As Bethany pulled on her gloves, Joni said, “When I first met Matt, he told me that after Krystal Decker left him, he realized she didn’t live in the real world. Like a lot of actors, I told him. Maybe you can find out more about that.” Her mood much improved, she smiled like a conspirator. “Have a nice lunch while I get high on paint fumes.” She screwed in her earbuds.
Chapter 3
The solitary ten-minute walk into town gave Bethany time to wonder what chance the lodge had of making it, given its remote location. Southern New Mexico wasn’t a tourist mecca like the northern part of the state. No pueblos down here, no legendary Southwestern cities, no resorts to attract tourists except one owned by the Mescalero Apaches near Ruidoso. But travelers seeking an off-the-beaten-path experience, having braved the road up to Sorrel, would appreciate the absence of stoplights. A rustic lodge would keep people in town overnight or longer. It would be a boon to the shops and other businesses.
