The Best Man to Trust

CHAPTER Ten



They found Greg in his room, though it took him several minutes to respond to their knocking. Tom was about to suggest they check for him downstairs when the door finally opened.

Greg scowled at them, bleary-eyed and disheveled, his hair sticking up on one side. Obviously they’d woken him from a nap. Or a drunken stupor, Tom thought.

“What is it?” Greg demanded.

“We just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Tom said.

“I was fine until somebody started pounding on my door,” he grumbled. “Is that all?”

“That’s all,” Tom murmured. “Glad you’re okay.”

Muttering under his breath, Greg slammed the door in their faces.

“How much do you think he’s had to drink today?” Meredith asked, her voice heavy with concern.

“Too much,” Tom replied.

“It might make it hard for him to defend himself if the killer comes after him,” Meredith noted.

“You’re right.” Tom sighed. “But it’s never been easy to tell him he’s had enough and, under the circumstances, he probably has the best excuse he’s ever had. I’ll have to try to keep an eye on him.” It wasn’t going to be easy. He was already trying to keep an eye on Meredith. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. Hell, he didn’t want anything to happen to anyone. The fact was, he needed to be thinking about watching out for his own back, as well.

They moved on to Alex’s door. This time there was no answer even after several minutes. Trying not to get concerned without reason, Tom followed Meredith downstairs to see if he was somewhere else in the house.

The living room was empty when they checked it. As they approached the kitchen, Tom heard voices coming from inside the room. Ellen and Rick, he assumed.

Following Meredith through the swinging door, he immediately saw he’d been partly right. Ellen and Rick were both in the room, Ellen standing at the kitchen island, Rick leaning against the wall nearby. But they weren’t alone. Alex stood on the other side of the island facing them. The tension in the air was so thick it almost seemed harder to breathe in here. Tom came to a stop an instant before Meredith did, his senses instantly going on alert.

“Everything okay in here?” Meredith asked.

“Fine,” Alex said with a smile. “We were just having a nice talk.”

Neither Ellen nor Rick commented on that, the silence confirmation enough of just how nice they thought it was. Tom had no trouble understanding what had been happening here. Alex had been asking questions—more like interrogating them, Tom suspected—or at least trying to. It made sense. Not only was his life in danger as much as everyone else’s, Alex was predisposed to ask questions and demand the truth. Tom hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Meredith about how intense Alex could get. It wasn’t surprising the cook and the handyman would be uncomfortable with him pestering them, even if their jobs required them to try to be polite.

Of course, if they were innocent, they would be uncomfortable around someone they thought could be a killer, Tom conceded.

“How’s lunch coming along?” Meredith asked Ellen.

“Should be ready soon.”

“Great.” Meredith turned to Alex. “Maybe you’d like to go wash up?”

“That’s not necessary,” Alex said. “I’m not really hungry. But I will get out of your way. Good talking you,” he told Rick and Ellen.

They both managed faint, polite, utterly insincere smiles.

With a nod to Tom and Meredith, he moved toward the exit, the slight limp a little more noticeable as he walked.

The sight was a painful reminder of exactly what Alex had been through, exactly why he was so dogged about seeking out answers, even beyond their current circumstances. Although Meredith hadn’t let him participate in searching Haley’s room, it wasn’t surprising that he’d do whatever he could to get to the truth—

Suddenly Tom remembered what had happened upstairs, the person who’d been listening. Alex?

He had almost reached the door, raising his hand to push it open. Tom called out, “Hey, Alex?”

Alex stopped and glanced back.

“You weren’t by any chance upstairs a few hours ago when Meredith and I were going through Haley’s room, were you?”

Tom watched his face closely for any sign of guilt or avoidance. He didn’t find any. Alex was adept at hiding his thoughts—probably a good quality to have in his line of work, but one Tom couldn’t help but wish he didn’t have at the moment.

Alex raised his eyebrows slightly. “I don’t know when that was, so I couldn’t say. Why?”

Because someone was eavesdropping on our conversation. Was it you? Tom smiled thinly. “No reason.”

Alex studied him for a long moment—wondering what he was talking about, or wondering if Tom truly suspected anything? He finally nodded shortly and pushed through the doorway.

As soon as he was gone, the tension in the room seemed to palpably ease.

“Are you both okay?” Meredith asked her staff.

Tom didn’t miss the way Ellen glanced uneasily at him before answering. “Sure. He just wanted to ask some questions.”

“What kind of questions?” Meredith asked.

Ellen shrugged. “Did we see anything last night? Have we seen anyone else around here—”

“Did we kill that woman?” Rick added tersely.

Tom surveyed the other man, who stared back, unblinking. As much as he knew Meredith didn’t want to believe it, he had to agree with Rachel. Ellen and Rick were the two unknowns here. It made more sense that one of them was the killer.

“I’m sure you can understand where he’s coming from,” Meredith said. “A friend of his was murdered. It only makes sense he’d want to try to find out who’s responsible. Not to mention, Mr. Corbett is a reporter. I’m sure asking questions is second nature to him.”

“Yes, he mentioned that,” Rick noted wryly.

“Any reason why you wouldn’t want to answer his questions?” Tom couldn’t help asking.

The man’s expression didn’t change in the least. “Does anyone like being accused of murder?”

“I wouldn’t know. It’s never happened to me. I take it it’s happened to you before?”

“Yep,” Rick said. “About five minutes ago.”

“Rick, I was thinking about the plow,” Meredith said quickly, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “I never asked how much experience you’ve had with them, or how long it might take you to hook one up to the truck.”

“I’ve never driven one or had to hook one up to a truck before,” Rick admitted. “But I have experience with a lot of different kind of vehicles. I can’t say for sure until I get out there and look it over, but I’m betting I can figure it out.”

“Actually, I’ve driven a plow before,” Tom said. “My dad did it for the town where I grew up and showed me how. It’s been a while, and I’ve never tried to attach one to a truck before, but I can help if you need it.”

The handyman eyed him carefully. “I’ll let you know.”

“You say you have experience with vehicles? What is it you used to do before you came here?” Tom asked.

“U.S. Army. Eight years.”

So he’d been right when he’d thought the man’s bearing reminded him of a soldier’s, Tom thought. “It’s a big change from the army to handyman at a mansion in the mountains.”

Rick grew quiet for a moment. “I needed a change in scenery, someplace different from what I’ve been doing the past eight years. Thought I’d seen enough death and suffering for one lifetime. A peaceful place in the mountains sounded pretty good.”

“Considering what happened here before, I’d think Sutton Hall wouldn’t be a place anyone would think of as peaceful.”

A shadow passed over the man’s face. Rick nodded in acknowledgment. “Guess I was counting on nothing like that happening here again. Wish I hadn’t been wrong about that.” He stared hard at Tom. “Any other questions?”

Tom was tempted, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Meredith clenching her fists. He’d gotten more than he expected from the man, certainly enough to think about for now. “No.”

“Not going to ask me if I killed her?”

Meredith jumped in. “No one thinks—”

“Did you?” Tom asked without missing a beat.

Rick’s stare never wavered. “Nope.”

Tom believed him. He wasn’t sure he could have said exactly why he did, and he knew he probably shouldn’t just take the man at his word. And yet, he believed him. Everything in his demeanor was entirely forthright. He was either a damn good liar, or he was telling the truth. In spite of everything, Tom’s gut said it was the latter. “Okay then.”

“What about you?” Rick shot back.

Tom raised a brow. “What about me?”

“How do we know it wasn’t you?”

“It wasn’t Tom,” Meredith interjected. “He was with me when the murder happened. We were here in the kitchen.”

“That’s right,” Ellen said. “You told us that.”

Tom glanced at her. There was a certain innuendo in her tone he couldn’t entirely read. She looked at him, then Meredith, her lips curving slightly, before returning to her work.

“Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have been working with the person who really did it,” Rick pointed out.

“That’s ridiculous,” Meredith said.

Tom couldn’t help but appreciate her faith in him, but he had to give her a reality check. It might force her to remain skeptical of everyone around her.

“Is it?” he asked. He saw both Meredith and Ellen look at him in surprise, but never took his eyes from Rick. “You’re right. I could be. But I’m not. I had nothing to do with Haley’s death.”

“You didn’t have to answer that,” Meredith said.

“The man answered my question. Only fair that I answered his.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have answered yours, either, and you shouldn’t have asked it,” she said stubbornly. “No one in this room is a killer.”

No one acknowledged the comment. Tom never took his eyes off of the handyman. Meredith seemed to believe Rick needed to be defended against the perceived insult, but the man didn’t seem insulted at all. If anything, Tom thought he saw a hint of respect in the man’s eyes. He was surprised to realize the feeling was mutual.

“Lunch is almost ready,” Ellen announced. “Why don’t you go round everyone up?”

“That’s a great idea.” Meredith sighed. “Tom, do you want to come with me?” The way she said it, it was clearly an order more than a request.

He didn’t argue. As much as he’d like to stay and talk to Ellen, it looked like she was much less inclined to talk. And he doubted Meredith would let him get another question out as it was. With a nod to the others, he followed her from the room.

Meredith waited until they were across the dining room—and most likely out of earshot of the kitchen—before demanding, “Are you satisfied now that he didn’t do it?”

“You know I had to ask.”

“Well, maybe now you’ll admit you need to ask about your friends. If anything we should probably be looking at Alex.”

Tom frowned. “What about him?”

“He goes on his own to interrogate two people he appears to suspect of murder? You don’t find that suspicious?”

“You said it yourself. You can’t blame him for wanting to ask questions.”

“Alone? If he really thinks one—or both—of them is the killer, would he really try talking to them alone and unarmed? It seems more likely he’s trying to divert suspicion from himself, maybe get the rest of your group to turn on Rick and Ellen.”

“Alex is pretty fearless. After the car accident in college, he always said if that couldn’t kill him, nothing would. I’m sure that’s what makes him so good at his job. He’s not afraid of anything or anybody anymore.”

“Well, he should be. It’s only logical given the circumstances.”

The comment reminded Tom of what had happened in the kitchen just a short time ago. They’d reached the entry hall. Tom stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face her. “That’s something we should probably talk about.”

“What’s that?”

“We don’t know when exactly Haley was killed. Just because I was with you when the body was found doesn’t mean I couldn’t have done it.”

Meredith blew off the comment with a wave of her hand. “If you had done it, you would have gone back to your room, not wandered around the house. You had no way of knowing I was downstairs. It would have looked much more suspicious for you to be the only one not in your room and wandering around the house when the body was found, instead of just waiting for someone to find it and coming out and acting surprised. I just didn’t feel like explaining all of that to everyone.”

Her words blindsided him. She had a good point, one she’d clearly thought through—and he hadn’t.

Amusement crept into her eyes. “Did you think I was just trusting you blindly? I did think about it.”

Tom realized that was what he’d thought, in a way. He’d underestimated her—unfairly, as it was. He should have known she was smarter than that. She’d given him no reason to doubt her in the past twenty-four hours. He owed her an apology.

Before he could offer one, Meredith looked past him and frowned. “The living room—”

Tom glanced behind him at the doors to the room, one of which was slightly ajar. “What is it?”

“I closed the doors when we came by earlier. Is someone—”

The door suddenly burst open. Tom automatically moved in front of Meredith, just as Greg stepped into the foyer.

His head slightly lowered, it apparently look him a moment to spot them. As soon as he did, he pulled up short, peering at them in surprise. “Hello.”

“What were you doing in there?” Tom asked.

Greg held up his flask, giving it a shake. “Came down for a little refill. I was in the mood for some vodka.”

Of course. Tom slowly let out a breath. He sensed Meredith do the same.

“We were just coming up to tell you lunch is almost ready,” Meredith said.

“Great. Guess I’ll head right in then.” With a nod, he strolled past them on his way to the dining room, disappearing down the side hall.

Frowning, Meredith watched him go. “You know, for a group of people who know there’s a killer in the house, your friends don’t seem to have any reservations about wandering around on their own.”

Tom was tempted to argue that Greg couldn’t be counted on to make the smartest decisions when he’d been drinking, but it really wasn’t much of an argument. It didn’t matter that he was inebriated or that Alex was fearless. They were putting their lives in danger, and Tom couldn’t keep an eye on all of them. He was going to have to say something and hope they’d listen.

And pray their recklessness didn’t cost them their lives.