Scott didn’t stay for more than thirty minutes Friday afternoon. He lingered long enough to speak briefly with Aunt Lydia before she headed back to her house and to hear what I’d learned about others who could’ve had a reason to harm Wendy. But when my first attempt to call Kurt resulted in reaching his voice mail, Scott said he had to go.
“I’ll keep trying,” I reassured Scott as he left to continue his search for Ethan.
The remainder of the evening I focused on Ella and Nicky, who were both a little upset that Scott had departed so quickly.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be back. And he said he’d be here for Christmas,” I told them as they sulked at dinner. “Now, come on and eat. Remember what Daddy always says about needing good fuel for dancing. You have a lot of rehearsals starting tomorrow, so you want to have plenty of energy.”
Not that they’d ever lack energy, I thought with a wry smile. But my encouragement did seem to have the right effect. The twins cleaned their plates, making a game of it to see who could finish first.
After dinner, I supervised their baths before we settled down on the couch to read more of The Hobbit, which Richard and I had been reading to them—in short sections—every evening over the last few months. The readings were interrupted by many questions, which was fine with me. It was a way for us to bond as well as for them to learn new words and concepts.
Once the twins were safely tucked up in bed, I returned to the sofa with my laptop to do more research. I hadn’t really investigated Tim Thompson since our run-in yesterday and wanted to see what I could find out about Wendy Blackstone’s business partner.
At first, all I discovered were the usual puff pieces discussing Blackstone Properties and its development projects, but a little more digging turned up Thompson’s recent, contentious divorce from his wife of twenty years and an older lawsuit that had been filed against him for “misleading business practices.” I noted that this was before he’d partnered with Wendy. He also appeared to be one of those people who liked to join service organizations like the Rotary Club, but when I searched for any evidence that he was actually active in his club’s projects, I came up short. It seemed to me that he had only joined these organizations so he could list them on his résumé.
But it was in perusing the photos from a charity gala held by one of the clubs that I discovered an extremely interesting photograph. It featured Tim Thompson standing in front of an elaborate floral display. He had his arm around the waist of a younger, dark-haired woman I thought I recognized but couldn’t name. Reading through the accompanying article, I realized the woman was Wendy’s daughter, Nadia Blackstone.
Don’t jump to conclusions, I told myself, although of course I was wondering how they might be connected. Doing a little mental calculation, I realized that Nadia would be around twenty-nine now, while Tim had to be at least forty-five. Perhaps she had simply accompanied Tim to the gala because they worked together at Blackstone Properties.
Or perhaps there’s more to it than that, I thought as my cell phone buzzed.
I picked it up off the coffee table and checked the number before answering. “Hello, Kurt.”
“Hi, Amy. Sorry I didn’t ring you back earlier, but I was haggling with someone over a painting for what seemed like hours,” he replied.
“Did you win?”
“Naturally.” Kurt’s voice brimmed with humor. “But enough of my successes. I actually called to see what I could do to help Ethan, and by extension, Scott.”
“Convince the new sheriff that Ethan isn’t the number-one suspect?” I sighed. “The truth is, I called earlier at Scott’s request. He thought you might be able to help, what with all your spies and connections in the area.”
“I wouldn’t say spies, but go on—what do you need?”
I took a deep breath before replying. “Ethan has disappeared. You wouldn’t have heard anything about that, would you?”
“Other than the all-points bulletin put out on him that was announced on the news tonight? No, I’m afraid not.”
I let loose a swear word that probably, coming from me, shocked Kurt. Or then again, maybe not. “I was busy with the twins and didn’t watch the news tonight. The sheriff’s department has really put out an APB on Ethan?”
“I’m afraid so. The news report made it sound like he was the sheriff’s number-one suspect and was now on the run. They asked anyone who had seen him to call the department.”
“Just because he’s missing? What if he’s the one in trouble? Maybe he saw the killer or something. They don’t seem to be considering that.”
“Well, he did have history with the victim and was seen arguing with her and even laying hands on her the night she was killed. So I suppose I can understand Brad Tucker’s line of reasoning. However”—Kurt cleared his throat—“I agree with you that there could be many other suspects.”
“You, for example,” I said, throwing caution to the winds. If Kurt had anything to do with Wendy’s death, I knew I’d just thrown down the gauntlet.
“I definitely should be on their list. Although, for your information, I didn’t kill the woman, much as I disliked her. Honestly, if I murdered everyone I disliked, I’d be a serial killer,” Kurt said with a bark of laughter.
“Okay, but there’s also people from her past, like the Jensen family. Despite the family’s desire to sell to an organic cooperative, Blackstone Properties manipulated things and turned their farm into a cookie-cutter subdivision.”
“Very true. I know that the development company has made many enemies,” Kurt said. “Then there’s Wendy’s business partner.”
I traced the edges of the photo still up on my laptop screen with my finger. “Tim Thompson. I had an encounter with him recently and then was doing a little online digging, and … well, let’s just say I wouldn’t put it past him. Murder, I mean. Not if it benefited him, I mean.”
“He does have a rather questionable reputation.” Kurt paused for a moment. “There are also the children.”
“Wendy’s kids? How would her death benefit them?” I asked.
“Nadia would inherit her mother’s portion of the business, I expect.”
“Yes, but she was already a part of the company. It’s the younger brother, Dylan, who seems to be left out.”
“Part of a company and running it are two very different things,” Kurt said. “Perhaps Nadia wanted more control?”
I thought of the photo resting under my fingers. “There’s this picture floating around online of Nadia and Tim Thompson at a gala. They looked rather chummy. Could they have been in a plot to get rid of Wendy and take over?”
“Always a possibility, I suppose. Perhaps we should ask Nadia’s brother that question.”
I slumped back against the sofa cushions. “What do you mean?”
“That was the other reason for my call. I recently received a message from Dylan Blackstone. He wants to meet with me to talk about what I remember about his grandfather, Steven Barclay. Apparently, his mother refused to discuss any details about her father, although she was quite happy to tarnish my name by suggesting all sorts of outlandish things. Dylan wants to know the truth, which I said I was more than happy to share.”
“He’s agreed to meet with you?”
“And you, once I suggested that it might be best to have an impartial observer at our little tête-à-tête. So—can you come to Highview tomorrow around two? I wasn’t sure, knowing your busy schedule …”
“I can come,” I swiftly replied, mentally adjusting the housecleaning schedule I’d set up for Saturday. “Richard and the twins will be busy with Nutcracker rehearsals all afternoon, so I can slip away easily enough.”
“Good. I didn’t really want to meet with the young man alone. One never knows what to expect when people are dredging up the past.”
“I’m sure you could handle it, whatever happened,” I said dryly. “But I would like to hear what he has to say. I doubt the authorities have done more than a cursory interview with him.”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you a little before two, then. And Amy, please don’t worry too much about Ethan. I’m sure he just took off somewhere to clear his head. A foolish choice, but understandable.”
“Yes, I hope so,” I said, before wishing Kurt a good evening and ending the call.
Tapping the phone against my palm, I briefly considered my options. I could wait until tomorrow to do any more digging into the case. Perhaps I should enjoy a glass of wine and watch something light on the television and simply relax.
Of course I didn’t do that. I returned to my laptop and began searching for more information on Blackstone Properties and the family that had founded it. I didn’t find anything particularly useful, except for one interview with Nadia where she spoke of her interest in branching out into coastal developments.
Ambitious, I thought as I scrolled through the article. Perhaps she felt her position in the company was holding her back? Or maybe her mother refused to support Nadia’s efforts to expand Blackstone Properties, resulting in a feud that led to Wendy’s death?
These were certainly the sorts of questions I intended to ask her brother the following day.