An Embarrassment of Itches Read online

  “Millions might be stretching it a bit.” Or not. I hadn’t paid all that much attention to the extent of Amanda’s holdings when I’d thought they were going to Brad.

  “Then you are.” Beth Ann’s squeal would have made dogs howl in the next county. “What are you going to do with all that lovely money? Are you going to build a clinic? I think you should take a nice vacation. Someone said she had a villa in Italy. I’d love to spend a couple of weeks in Tuscany.” She eyed her husband as if he would suddenly volunteer to take her.

  I’m pretty sure I would have remembered an Italian villa.

  Dave suddenly spoke up. “You should sell off that place of hers to Riverside. Too much for one person to keep up, and that land’s worth more as part of a parcel than you’d ever get for it at any other time.”

  His gaze bored into me, and I recalled the Carlsons had land out toward Amanda’s place. They’d bought it intending to build a house, but then the economy had been driven over a cliff, and their plans to build went on hold as everyone attempted to claw their way back out of the hole.

  “I can’t do anything at the moment until the will is probated—” I began, only to be interrupted when Jed Blankenship joined in the conversation uninvited.

  “Well, how long is that going to take?”

  In all the years I’d known him, Jed’s grizzled chin was never entirely clean-shaven, nor did he ever grow a beard. Wiry gray hair had receded into a ring around his head, and his red-veined nose suggested he was fond of booze. There’d been a mousy-gray wife in the past, but she’d left one night without warning and no one ever asked about her. I’d been reluctant to see any of Jed’s animals by myself when I first moved back to the area, but he’d contacted me early on about the best way to bottle raise a litter of kittens he’d found, and he’d been a good client ever since. Looks could be deceiving.

  “I wish I knew.” I held one hand palm up with a shrug. “You know how it is with lawyers.”

  They seemed to be the magic words because the others nodded and made noises of agreement. Beth Ann invited me to sit with them, but I saw Laney waving from a few rows up and she had an empty seat beside her. I thanked Beth Ann for the offer and made my way up the aisle to where Laney was sitting.

  “I am so sorry. I forgot to call you about grabbing a bite to eat.” Hastily, I explained about the break-in as she moved her coat to make room for me.

  “That’s horrible!” She leaned over my phone as I showed her some pictures. “There’s some real hate behind this. What do the police say?”

  Both our conversation and the photographs drew the unashamed attention of those sitting around us, so I put my phone away before our seatmates could join in the conversation and lowered my voice. “That I should go stay with my mom for a while. No thanks. What are you doing here, anyway?”

  She spread her hands as if to say she didn’t know and responded quietly as well. “Nothing better to do, I guess. I overheard someone talking about the meeting at the diner, and it occurred to me this land deal might have something to do with Amanda’s death.”

  “Would she have sold, do you think?”

  Laney leaned back in the hard plastic chair. “No, I don’t think so. She loved that place. Loved the view, the sense of peace she had there.”

  “What if Derek had found her? You said you thought she might pick up and run again.”

  “Running would entail more than selling her home.” Laney shook her head the more she thought about it. “She would have had to re-invent herself all over again, and her artistic style is—was—too distinctive to hide under another name. It would have forced her to give up painting altogether, and I can’t see her doing that.”

  “Maybe she was thinking about confronting Derek. Divorcing him once and for all. What if she was the one who invited Brad to see her? What if she needed his help to get rid of Derek?”

  “Given how shocked he was at the reading of the will, I can’t believe Brad knew about Derek. If Amanda had told him about Derek at all, Brad would know how much she feared him, and that certainly would have come up at the reading if he thought Derek might get a slice of the pie. Are you looking for someone?”

  Laney’s question caught me mid-crane as I scanned the audience, and I grimaced. “Looking for Brad. I thought he might have had the same idea as you.”

  No sign of him. Or my mother, for that matter. Thank God. Hopefully, she wouldn’t turn up waving printouts on the statistics of rabies cases in the county for the last fifty years. I did, however, spy the suits in the front row and pointed them out to Laney.

  “See that guy up front? The one in the middle. I’m pretty sure he met Brad at the restaurant the same night he was there with that Markham woman.”

  Laney might have said something else, only the meeting was called to order.

  If you’ve never been to a Town Council meeting, count yourself lucky. They tend to consist of interminable discussions of matters that hold little interest to the average person. Having sat through numerous meetings myself, I know in theory they deal with minor matters first so as to clear the decks for the main topic, but I suspect the real reason for the order of business is to bore the audience into leaving.

  After a bit, Laney pulled out her phone and began scrolling through her various social media accounts. Though I wasn’t big into social media—seriously, what would I post?—I checked my messaged and saw that my mother had emailed me hours ago.

  She wasn’t big into email. In her typical, terse manner, with no opening salutation or explanation, she listed the names of property owners in the area of the planned subdivision, which included the Carlsons, Blair Kendall, and Jed Blankenship, among others, including several Linkous families. I wasn’t aware Jed had land in that area, but lots of farmers had property that wasn’t connected to their primary farm. My mother had also, bless her heart, included several maps of the proposed subdivision. She’d ended her email with CALL ME in all caps. I fired off a brief email thanking her for the information and reminding her I was at the town meeting and that I would call her when I got home before I silenced my phone. It surprised me she hadn’t called already, and I didn’t want her to interrupt the meeting.

  “What’s that?” Laney peered over my phone as I opened the first of the attachments.

  “The planned Riverside subdivision. Look at this.” I scrolled through until I hit designs of the housing blueprints. “These homes can’t possibly go for less than three to four hundred K. Who exactly do they think is going to be living there? Four bedrooms and two baths on a postage-sized lot with your neighbors so close they can look in your kitchen window from their back deck.”

  “People tired of living in big cities, that’s who. I caught a plane from Atlanta to Charlotte and then rented a car to drive up from there. Took me almost three hours to get here. But I could have paid extra for a commuter flight into Birchwood and driven from there, only I don’t like prop engine planes. Still, what’s that, forty minutes? An hour? There are people who’d rather drive an hour to work to come home to someplace pretty at the end of the day than have a shorter commute to live in town. Besides, Amanda told me that there are a lot of New York and New Jersey transplants here now because their money goes farther.”

  She was right. Several newest middle-aged and senior clients had sold their homes up north and moved into the area because the winters were kinder and they could buy land with a view for with the money they’d made on selling their little houses and apartments.

  “They’ll cut down every tree in sight and then name the streets after the wildlife that no longer exists there.” I continued scrolling through the designs. The subdivision’s plans covered a much larger area than I’d realized. And Amanda’s land made up a prime portion of it. Without it, the subdivision would fall through, and Riverside would locate it somewhere else. Possibly not in Greenbrier at all.

  I have to say one thing for the mayor: she ran a tight ship. When she opened the floor to questions and Tom Fe
ldman stood to bring up the Riverside development, she quickly quashed him.

  “Now, Tom.” Her smile was polite, but firm. “You know we have other business to see to first.” She lifted a placating hand when a murmur rumbled through the crowd. “And yes, I realize most of you are here to weigh in on the proposed development and what it might mean for Greenbrier. But first let me remind you that a Council meeting is not the same as a public hearing—”

  The murmur rose in volume and developed an underlying tone of anger.

  Mayor Austin cracked her wooden gavel on the desk in front of her. “Order, please.”

  The room fell silent, save for the restless shifting and occasional cough that went with any crowd of this size.

  Mayor Austin passed her gaze over the room for a moment until she appeared to be satisfied with the audience’s cooperation.

  “That said, it is my intention to open the floor for public comment after the Council’s business is done. The sooner we all take our seats and let us get on with it, the sooner we can hear what you have to say.”

  Laney leaned in to whisper, “So I take it there was a public hearing on the development already?”

  “Late last year,” I whispered back. “But that was before the additional planned development of a shopping center.”

  I’d ignored the notice for the hearing when it had landed in my mailbox. Subdivisions went up all the time. But to tie in the development of a planned subdivision with a shopping center was new. It made sense, though. The new residents would demand more choices than they could get at Bucky’s grocery store, which closed at 9 p.m. every night except Saturday, when it stayed open until ten.

  The Council finished their business at long last. I snuck a glance at my watch. It was getting on toward 9 p.m. The meeting couldn’t last much longer. The lack of this being a formal public hearing meant the mayor could limit how long people voiced their opinions. I decided to stick it out a bit longer.

  She held the floor open for a half hour. Most of the speakers were in favor of the subdivision, repeating themselves in pointing out that the land was largely unused and not particularly valuable, and the construction work would be a boon to the local economy. Several people nudged their neighbors and looked at me during these speeches. The weight of their collective scrutiny was enough to make me wish the floor would open up and swallow me. One woman expressed concerns about the nature of the new residents, and though she didn’t come out and say it, you could tell she questioned whether they would be the “right sort of people.” Judging by the murmur that went round the room after she spoke, she wasn’t the only one.

  Finally, the mayor stood. “Most of you know there is a planned development in the Potter’s Ridge area outside town. That development has met with the Planning Commission’s approval, and providing the sale of various properties goes through, building will begin in that area as proposed.”

  She leveled a cool look at the audience, and I could have sworn that last shot was directed at me.

  “But there’s much more at stake than just a few houses in a new subdivision.” With a single flick of her hand, she waved away the thirty or so homes planned. “At long last, Greenbrier is growing again. I’m sure you all know with any change, there can be growing pains. But there are advantages to consider as well. The influx of new residents will attract a supercenter, which in turn will draw in other chain stores and restaurants. These same residents will demand entertainment, which means a movie theater, and more. A community center, complete with swimming pool, perhaps. Or a golf club.”

  She pointed to someone near the front of the room. “Becky. Just last week, you were telling me how hard it was to get anyone to work at your store. If there was more for our young people to do in the area, they’d be more likely to stay.”

  “Or these new stores could run me right out of business.” Becky stood to make her point. I recognized her from the dress store downtown—a shop I’m sad to say, I’d never actually been in. “I’m having a hard enough time making ends meet as it is. I can’t compete with a corporation.”

  Another ripple of agreement circled the room.

  Mayor Austin shook her head. “You’re looking at it all wrong. More residents mean more shoppers. More business means more money in the local economy. We could finally fund the new middle school we’ve needed for so long. Better school systems means a better chance of pulling industry back to the area. Believe me, I know things how tough things have been since the Baxter plant closed. But we stand a better chance of getting another textiles company to move in if we have something to offer them.” She shuffled some papers and brought one to the forefront of her stack. “Anyone else? If not, we’ll adjourn for the evening. A public hearing will be scheduled for the future planned shopping center as things proceed.”

  The pull to stand and say something was strong. Laney must have noticed because she said, “Are you thinking about speaking?”

  Instead, I gathered up my coat. Around us, others stood and prepared to disperse. “What can I say? As a business owner, I should be behind the expansion and developments one hundred percent. The mayor’s right. The kids need a reason to stay in the area after high school and right now, Greenbrier’s got little to offer. If I object to the projects Riverside has planned, then it makes me look like I’m against progress, or worse, diversity. And if I refuse to sell...”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I’ve seen some of the hostile glances tossed this way.”

  Even as she spoke, a couple of the people nearest to us looked as though they wanted to say something to me. “I also got a threatening letter in the mail this afternoon.”

  “What?” Laney was shocked. “On top of the break-in? What did it say?”

  “Shhh.” I warned as the person ahead of us in the row toward the exit looked back at us. “I’ll show you later. Ugh. I hate this. These are my clients. My neighbors. They’re all looking at me like I’m getting into a lifeboat while the Titanic is sinking.” I shouldered into my coat, taking care not to knock into anyone around me. “I wish Amanda had never made me her heir.”

  “I’m sure Brad would be more than happy to take her estate off your hands.” Laney’s voice was as dry as a Martini. “Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that. How about I buy you a drink?”

  A drink sounded good. It had been a long day and I could use a little sympathy right about now. “You’re on.”

  We made our way through the largely stalled out crowd, easing around clumps of people still talking to join the flow headed for the exit.

  “Yoo-hoo! Dr. Reese.”

  I stopped to see the mayor making her way toward me with the man in the suit in tow. “There’s someone here who’d like to meet you. Mr. Wainwright, this is the person I was telling you about. Dr. Ginny Reese. Ginny, Mr. Wainwright is with Riverside.”

  The suit thrust his hand toward me. “Please. Call me Steve.”

  I don’t like shaking hands as a rule. Most of the time, I have to make sure mine aren’t covered with some noxious substance. I also dislike the need to gauge the strength with which to respond. Many men offer a limp token shake, but there are others who are hand-crushers. Just Call Me Steve was of this variety, so when he gripped my hand as though he were Tiger Woods picking up a nine iron, I returned the favor with equal force. I had the pleasure of seeing Wainwright’s eyes widen before I released his hand. “In a manner of speaking, we’ve met. I’ve received your emails, Mr. Wainwright.”

  “Quite some grip you have there, Doctor.” He laughed as though he found this funny, but the amusement didn’t touch his eyes. “Must be working with all those animals.”

  “Yes.”

  He waited to see if I was going to add to that statement, and the pause became slightly uncomfortable before he laughed again. “Er, yes. Quite.” His expression sobered as if a switch flipped and he said, “I was so sorry to hear about Amanda Kelly’s death. I understand the two of you were close.”

  I decided I’d make
him work for it. “Yes.”

  This close, I upped the value of his suit to at least two thousand dollars. How could anyone spend what amounted to a house payment around here on an item of clothing? The narrowing of his eyes suggested he’d done his own assessment, and I’d come up wanting. His sharklike smile implied he’d eaten far tougher opponents for breakfast.

  After a beat, I added, “This is Laney Driver. Ms. Kelly’s agent.”

  Another round of handshaking. As Laney didn’t wince, I presume he didn’t treat her to the crush. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Wainwright cleared his throat. “I know this may be a bad time to bring this up, but as Ms. Kelly’s heir, I would very much like to talk with you about her property on Potter’s Ridge. As you know from my email, we were in negotiations for the land before her death.”

  I exchanged a look with Laney before replying. “Do you have that in writing?”

  I thought I managed a delicate balance between polite skepticism and outright disbelief.

  His nostrils flared at my insinuation that he was lying. If he’d been a bull, I’d have been carefully making my way out of the pen right now. “As with all the landowners along Potter’s Ridge, we’d had both informal discussions and made some formal offers.”

  “Making an offer is not the same as closing a deal, Mr. Wainwright.”

  “He knows that, Dr. Reese.”

  The mayor’s disappointing tone weighed as heavily on me as if it had been my mother’s, and I’m ashamed to say it took the wind out of my sails.

  Wainwright pressed the advantage the mayor had given him. “Nevertheless, we’d verbally agreed on a deal. I believe Ms. Kelly had pressing reasons for wanting to leave the area? Regardless, she intended to sell to us.” Wainwright cocked his head slightly and gave me the smile among friends. He took a card out of his wallet and extended it. “Come now, Ms. Reese. I’m sure you want to honor your friend’s last wishes.”