"A little, but it's not bad. I decided I'd take it easy today so that I can do my best in the morning."
"I can call someone to handle the service tomorrow if you need me to."
"No, but thank you."
"Are you going to be able to do the Schuster funeral on Sunday?"
"Yes."
"You need me to bring anything by?"
"I can manage. I've got plenty of food in the refrigerator and I'm planning on sleeping most of the day."
"Okay, but you call me if there's anything I can do."
"I will," he promised, relieved when he hung up. He checked his voicemail and realized he had missed a call from Cindy the night before. He decided to call later and see what, if anything, she had found out from the detective.
At the church things were relatively quiet. A few members showed up around ten to pray together for Mel's family.Among them was Joseph. When they were finished he walked into the office.
"Looking for Geanie?" Cindy guessed.
"I was going to take her to lunch."
"She's at the print shop. She'll be back soon."
"Mind if I sit here and wait?"
"Be my guest," Cindy said. "I'm so sorry about Dr. Tanner."
"Thanks. It's going to be strange holding a meeting this week without him," Joseph admitted. "He's been the iron fist keeping the rest of us in check for years."
Cindy smiled at that. "And just how far amok could the rest of you actually run without it?"
"Farther than you'd think," he said seriously.
"I'll take your word for it."
"How are things going with you?"
She shrugged. "Nothing to complain about."
"Anything ever happen with that computer programmer you were going to go out with a few months ago?"
"We went on exactly three dates and decided we should just be friends."
"Hey, that beats our record. We only went on half a date."
"I guess I'm just too picky. Either that or I fear change."
"Speaking of change, I noticed a For Sale sign up in front of the house Marge left you. Who are you using for an agent?"
"Gary O'Connell."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, why? Have you heard something bad about him?"
"No, no. It's just that he usually does commercial transactions."
"Apparently times are tough for Realtors," Cindy said with a shrug.
"Well, I'm sure he'll do a great job for you. I've been dealing with him on and offfor the last couple of weeks. He is persistent."
"You're not moving, are you?" she asked in alarm.
"No, no. He's representing a land developer, Max Diamond, Diamond Industries. He's made a bid to buy the church camp."
"I didn't think it was for sale."
"It wasn't, but he made an offer anyway. Stirred up a bit of a hornet's nest, too."
"Why would that be?"
"Until Max Diamond came sniffing around the biggest point of controversy this year was whether or not to rename Green Pastures to something that sounded a little more exciting," Joseph said.
"How could the board even consider selling?" Cindy asked."They're set up to protect and govern the use of that land for all the churches, scout troops, and clubs in the area. What would happen to it if Diamond Industries purchased it?
"That's where it gets a little tricky. There's a lot of improvements that should be made to the actual campsite itself. The buildings are twenty years old, most of them erected as temporary ones until more permanent structures could be built and the infrastructure is practically non-existent. The truth is that renovations have been sorely needed for years but there's just no money anywhere to accomplish that. The camp itself only occupies one small section of a huge parcel of land. Max Diamond has come in and offered to buy the entire parcel, give us a fifty- year lease on the camp and the surrounding acreage, and pump enough money into it to really bring it into the twenty-first century. Some people think it's the answer to prayer and others of us think we're being offered a devil's deal."
"The one time I went to a retreat there you couldn't turn on the hot water in the sinks without turning the shower water to freezing," Cindy said.
"Exactly. And at least once a week the entire plumbing system backs up. So, you can see where this is shaping up to be a fight."
She nodded. "But if the board accepts the offer suddenly the land is leased and not owned."
"Exactly. And of those who believe that somehow the camp will still maintain its character, its tranquility and its isolation, half believe that fifty years are long enough. After all, they'll be dead before the lease is up."
"And others of you are trying to plan for future generations."
"And that's the fight in a nutshell. Mel was the chairman of the board and he was one of the strongest opponents of the proposed purchase. But then, he's always been a visionary."
The door opened and Dave entered, a sheet of paper in his hand. His face lit up when he saw Joseph. "Any chance you're here to sponsor a couple more kids for camp? I've got two who would love to go if someone would pay for them. Imagine the fun they'll have, the things they'll learn, the excitement on their faces."
"Not what I was here for, but how can I say no after that?"
"Awesome." Dave dropped the paper on Cindy's desk and she could see it was a list of the kids signed up for camp. "Cindy, add Brenda and Zac to the list. Joseph, can you give Cindy a check today? I'm going to go leave messages for the kids."
With a triumphant grin, Dave left.
"I don't have my checkbook. Can I pay in cash?" Joseph asked her.
"That would be fine. I'm sorry that he ambushed you that way."
Joseph fished his wallet out of his pocket. "It could be a lot worse. He could have asked me to go as a chaperone. I'd much rather pay. A weekend with Wildman and dozens of hyper, screaming teenagers is not my idea of fun."
"I hear you. Still, thank you so much for doing this. I don't know Zac, but I know Brenda will really appreciate it."
The door opened and Geanie announced herself with a squeal of excitement. She ran to Joseph and gave him a quick kiss.
"Lunch?" he asked.
"Yes, please. Cindy, do you mind?"
"Go for it. I'll take my lunch break when you get back."
Geanie and Joseph left hand in hand and Cindy smiled at the sight. The two of them were good together and she was beginning to wonder if it might not be the real thing.
Not that she would know the real thing if it bit her. After the failed attempt at dating after Thanksgiving she was beginning to wonder if she just had too much of a problem opening up and trusting. She could never be herself on a date without worrying about how she could get hurt.
Because there was always a way you could get hurt.
Her cell rang and she fished it out of her purse in the drawer just before it went to voicemail.
"Hello?"
"Hi, it's Jeremiah."
"How are you feeling today?" she asked.
"Glad to be alive and in one piece. A little sore and stiff, but otherwise fine. I am taking the day off."
"I'm glad to hear it. Do you need me to bring anything over?"
He laughed.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. I'm fine, really. What did the detective have to say last night?"
"They're pretty sure Dr. Tanner was dead when he hit you; there were no skid marks on the road."
"I could have told them that. Come to think of it, I believe I did."
"Apparently yours wasn't the only accident they were investigating yesterday."
"Oh, what was the other?"
"An environmentalist burned to death after handcuffing himself to a tree in a planned burn zone."
"Strange."
"I thought so, too." She paused, hoping he would say something more on the topic.
She was disappointed when he finally said, "I need to go and get some sleep."
"Oh, okay."
"Have a good day."
"You, too," she said, hanging up. She felt disappointed and she asked herself why. Was it because she wanted to talk to him more about the accidents or because she just wanted to talk to him more? She blushed at the thought.
Leave it to me to find yet another way I could get hurt.
3
CINDY WAS TIRED WHEN SHE GOT HOME. NO SOONER HAD SHE THROWN her purse and keys on the table than the phone rang. She briefly debated letting it go to voicemail, then finally picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Cindy, it's Gerald Wilson. I made it into town and I wanted to confirm our interview for tomorrow afternoon."
"Yes, absolutely."
"Does two still work?"
"Yes."
"Wonderful. I'm staying at the Courtyard."
"I'll meet you in the lobby at two."
"Excellent. I'm looking forward to it."
She hung up and felt a flutter of nerves and excitement. She'd almost forgotten that tomorrow was the day she was being interviewed for a book about her role in stopping the Passion Week Killer the previous Easter. Gerald Wilson was writing a book about crime, myths, and legends in the area. He had contacted her a couple of months before to set up the interview.
Feeling a bit better she grabbed some orange juice and contemplated her options for the evening while drinking it. Before she could make a decision the phone rang again. It was her mom.
"Hi, Mom."
"Hi, honey. How are you?"
"Good, I'm being interviewed by that writer tomorrow for the crime book."
"How nice. Remind me to send you the latest stack of articles on your brother. There was a fabulous one in Travel and Leisure and another one in National Geographic."
"Great," Cindy said, beginning to feel the frustration settle in. Would it kill her mom to acknowledge her accomplishments? "So, why did you call?" she asked.
"I just wanted to make sure you were going to be watching your brother's television special tonight. He's bungee jumping offthe Golden Gate Bridge live."
Cindy cringed and felt a cold knot settle in the pit of her stomach. "Why, why would he do something like that?" she whispered to herself.
"It's all a promotion for that new show of his."
"Isn't that illegal?"
"Honey, he's a star. Besides, his network takes care of all that kind of thing."
"But he's jumping . . . over water . . ."
"Yes, isn't it exciting?"
Cindy closed her eyes. Her mother was crazy. That was the only explanation for why she could condone Kyle's reckless behavior.
Her mother continued talking but Cindy stopped listening.She walked into the bedroom with the phone still pressed to her ear and pulled the darts out of Kyle's face. She took careful aim and then realized that throwing the dart at his picture wasn't going to make the terrible feeling inside her go away.
"Mom, I have to go," she interrupted.
"Oh, okay, dear. Just make sure you watch."
"Uh-huh."
As soon as she had hung up she grabbed her purse and keys and left. Twenty minutes later she was sitting in the pub ordering a corned beef sandwich and eyeing the dartboard.
Two large guys were playing a game of darts and she watched while waiting for her opportunity. The older guy was winning, nailing the center of the bull's-eye almost every time.
The pub was more crowded than it ever was at lunch when she usually went. On the walls and on the tables were little shamrock signs reminding patrons that St. Patrick's Day was coming. The corned beef and green beer would both be ever present on that day. Cindy knew from experience, though, that they dyed 7-Up green as well for those who weren't imbibing.
"I'll do everything I can," she heard a familiar voice say from the booth behind her.
She turned and saw Gary sitting with a man about ten years his senior with salt and pepper hair and a strong jaw.
"Frank Butler has been sniffing around that property. He'd love to beat me out of it, but I won't let that happen. I won't let anything get in my way. I will have that property."
"I understand, Mr. Diamond," Gary said.
"I'm not sure you do, Gary, but that's okay. I just need you to keep talking to that board, remind them how good my offer is. I'll take care of the rest."
It sounded ominous to her and she couldn't help but stare at the land developer in fascination.
He drained his drink, stood up and buttoned his jacket, and then exited the bar. Cindy turned back around, feeling guilty for spying. After what Joseph had told her, though, she was curious.
A minute later the dart players wrapped up their game.Now would be the time to take her chance to play. She started to stand up and a hand descended on her shoulder.
"Needed another corned beef sandwich, huh?"
She looked up to see Gary. He was smiling, but his face and eyes looked strained.
"What can I say? They're just that good."
"Chris! Come here, you've got to meet one of your biggest fans," Gary said, gesturing to the taller of the dart players.
Chris walked over and extended his hand. Cindy shook it as Gary did the introductions. "Chris, this is one of my clients, Cindy Preston. She's a fan of your corned beef sandwiches.Cindy, this is my brother, Chris, who owns the pub."
"It's nice to meet you," Cindy said, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"An' it be a pleasure to meet anyone who loves me corned beef, particularly a pretty lass," Chris said in a thick Irish brogue. He winked and leaned in close. "The customers appreciate it if ye have a bit o' the Irish about ya."
"Oh, I see," she said, not sure what else to say.
Both men laughed and Cindy had the uneasy feeling that the joke was on her. "Can I interest ya in a friendly game o' darts?"
"No, thank you," she said. It was bad enough to make a spectacle out of herself in front of strangers, but with Gary there and now having met his brother she wasn't sure she wanted to embarrass herself that way.
"Not much for darts?"
She shrugged, not really wanting to explain herself.
Both men laughed again. "I'll check on your sandwich," Chris said.
Gary sat across from her. "I can't believe you two haven't met. Most nights he's out here talking with all the customers, playing darts."
"I've never come for dinner before, only lunch," she explained.
"That makes sense then."
"Anything new about the house?" she asked after a minute of silence stretched between them.
"Since yesterday? No."
Chris returned with her sandwich and set it down with a wink and a flourish.
"He's quite a character," Cindy said after he had gone.
"Always has been. Even when we were kids he was larger than life. And I was the baby brother he took care of. I wouldn't have made it as far as I have without him," Gary admitted.
"It's nice to have someone you can rely on," Cindy said, wishing that she felt that way about someone.
What about Jeremiah? a voice whispered in her head.
"It's more than nice. But then I guess we do anything for family, you know?"
Cindy didn't say anything. Instead she just picked up her sandwich and bit into it. I would have done anything for my sister, she thought before she could stop herself.
"So, you planning on getting your Irish on next week?"
"Absolutely," she said, still chewing.
"One day a year the whole world is Irish. It's fun for most, but it's important for those of us who are Irish to remember our roots, our culture."
"Your family?"
"Exactly," he said with a broad grin.
Cindy was a quarter Irish on her father's side, but she had no desire to share that with Gary. She wished he would get the hint and go away. She wanted to be alone.
You don't want a family? the insidious voice pressed.
She sighed and wondered if she ignored the voice and Gary long enough whether they would both go away.
Mark hated b
reaking bad news to relatives. Randall Kelly's sister, Maureen, was sitting in a chair in her living room, her luggage forgotten by the front door. She had just arrived home from a business trip and he and Paul had finally been able to get hold of her to tell her about her brother's death.
"I don't understand how this could have happened," she said once her sobbing had eased.
"Did you know that your brother was going to protest the planned burn yesterday?" Paul asked.
She shook her head violently. "No, he would never have done that. Not after what happened a few years ago. He managed to keep the fire department from doing the burn on time and a real fire started and several people lost their houses and everything they owned. A lot of people blamed Randall for that, but not any more than he blamed himself. He locked himself in his house for three weeks. He wouldn't even see me.There's no way he would have done that."
"Are you sure?" Mark asked.
"Positive. He wasn't even supposed to be here Thursday morning. He was supposed to be going up to that church camp that the land developer is trying to buy. He wanted to see it for himself before trying to rally the community in opposition to the proposed purchase."
Mark and Paul exchanged quick glances. "You wouldn't happen to know the name of the camp, would you?" Mark asked.
She squeezed her eyes closed. "It sounded like that old TV show Green Acres . . . Green . . . Green Pastures."
"Green Pastures?" Paul repeated.
"Yes. He was planning on protesting the sale."
Two victims and both of them having something to do with the church camp. Mark didn't like it.
"Is there any reason you can think of that he would have done that down in the burn area?"
"No."
Mark flipped through his notes, not really looking for anything, but just thinking about the implications of what she had said. "Do you know if your brother had approached anyone involved with the sale yet?"
"I'm not sure. I left Wednesday morning. I don't think he had talked to anyone at that point."
"So you think he chained himself to a tree to protest the purchase?" Paul asked.
She half laughed. "I know it's cliché. He liked the image.He thought it was powerful."
"Could you describe for us the method your brother used when he tied himself to a tree?"