Below the Tree Line Page 24

  “You know those areas?” Loretta looked like she was trying not to tumble into his arms, so smitten was she. She might have been ready to condemn him as a charlatan, but with his first smile she’d given up her resistance, her cynicism evaporated, and her attraction to the stranger in their midst was palpable.

  “Not really,” he said, turning to her with a direct look. There was nothing smarmy in his demeanor, and Felicity began to feel she had misjudged him. “Just driving through.”

  “Have you looked at any other property in the area?” Felicity asked.

  He stepped back so he could look at her, and perhaps, she thought, take the time to compose his answer. They had reached the edge of the woods and would have to watch where they stepped from now on. “Nothing significant. There’s certainly a lot of property for sale around here, but not many large farms.”

  “They’re slow to come on the market,” Marilyn said.

  “If people are still working them, I don’t expect them to sell,” Frank said. He shifted a bit toward Felicity. “I understand you’re pretty busy with sheep now. Is this your day off?”

  Felicity shook her head. “I never get a day off. When I go home I have a lot of chores to get to, and today is the day we have artists out at the farm. I have to be there later to make sure everything’s okay.”

  “You get tomorrow off,” Loretta said. She shifted toward Frank. “Another family get-together tomorrow. My granddaughter’s coming home from college again. She’s nearby, so you’d think we’d get to see her more often, but she’s young and she loves college. But she’ll be here tomorrow and we’ll have a chance to be together. Felicity’s family.” She startled Felicity with a megawatt smile.

  Really, thought Felicity, I have never heard Loretta babble before.

  “Family is everything.” Frank pressed his lips together in a polite smile, and to Jeremy he said, “Shall we go?”

  Jeremy nodded and they headed into the woods.

  For once Marilyn had given up her high heels and wore flat shoes, sneakers, so she could keep up with the others. The group of five straggled along a path, emerging into a small clearing. Frank Gentile stepped into the center and looked around at the trees, the uneven ground, and walked across to an old cellar hole. Marilyn pointed out the natural beauty of the area, named a few trees until she realized she was in danger of sounding like a naturalist giving a tour, and began to talk about the town’s attractions.

  Loretta was little better. She loved West Woodbury and it showed. Every now and then Frank Gentile looked up from his spot on the edge of the clearing and nodded at something one of the women said before walking on.

  The troop entered the woods on the other side of the clearing, and Jeremy led them along the boundary, which was marked by a deteriorating stone wall and a bit of rusted barbed wire, and back to the pasture.

  The two men led the way up the hill toward the house. Every few feet Marilyn nudged Felicity and looked nearly manic with glee. The real estate agent didn’t dare say anything, perhaps for fear of breaking the spell or perhaps for fear of embarrassing herself. But she couldn’t contain her excitement. The entire interaction between Frank Gentile and Jeremy Colson spoke of an agreement on the property.

  Twenty-Eight

  Jeremy leaned against the lowered tailgate of his white pickup, watching his mother hurry back to her house to get ready for another session at the animal shelter offices. He crossed his heavily booted feet at the ankles and stared at her retreating figure, but he was barely seeing her. Felicity knew that by the way his eyes had glazed over.

  “She really took to him,” she said.

  “So has Marilyn.” Jeremy looked down at his feet, studying the tips of the reinforced toes on his boots.

  “She thinks she’s going to make such a big commission she won’t have to work for a couple of years at least.” Felicity hopped up on the truck bed and leaned against the sidewall. “Man, that sounds so cynical.”

  “And what about you? What’d you think of him?”

  Felicity was afraid she’d blush when she remembered the heat of attraction she’d felt. She turned to look at the farmhouse to give herself time. But in the end, she wanted to be honest with Jeremy.

  “I can see how he gets what he wants.” She looked back at him. “He sizes up women very well, and if I hadn’t had reason to suspect him, I’d be trotting along behind him just like Marilyn and Loretta.”

  Jeremy laughed.

  “That’s so embarrassing,” she said. “It’s like being a teenager again and a new kid enters the school and all the girls perk up and he’s someone your parents think is just so nice and you know he isn’t.”

  “And that’s the attraction?”

  “No, not for me. This guy is charming and he gives you the sense that he’s really noticing you.”

  Jeremy tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “He’s a good one for sure.” He looked again at the road as Loretta backed her car out of the driveway, waved her hand out the window, and drove away.

  “So I guess you’re not going to make a bundle, huh?”

  “He’s not interested in my land.” Jeremy hopped up on the tailgate, leaning on the flat of his hands, and nudged her with his shoulder. “And I don’t think he’s really interested in buying yours either, but he won’t tell you that because he’ll want to take a walk through it.”

  “Well, that’s what we expected, isn’t it?” She leaned on the palms of her hands, swinging her legs.

  “Yup. So far it’s all going according to plan.”

  “Guess so. He didn’t ask the usual questions about boundaries, rights of way, neighbors, relevant land action, back taxes, all that stuff. When I saw him in Town Hall I thought he was getting information on my property—liens and such. But he didn’t seem to care about any of that today.”

  “Interesting that he went in to look at the printout. He could have done the research online, or gotten Marilyn to do it for him.” Jeremy once again looked down the road, now empty. It was supremely quiet today, and Felicity savored this time with him. She worked in quiet all the time, but usually she had less sun and no company. Today she had full warm sun and Jeremy’s company before she had to head back to her place.

  “You’re thinking about something specific.” She turned to him and leaned against the wheel. “Tell me.”

  “First of all, Marilyn surprised me with how much she knew about the area.”

  “Why would that surprise you?”

  “She recognized tree species and other flora and scat and some other things that I didn’t think she’d know.” He paused. “She likes to come across as an urban sophisticate stuck among the rubes.”

  Felicity laughed. “That is so true, Jeremy!”

  “Now, don’t go telling her I said that.” Jeremy laughed. “She’ll be on my doorstep complaining.”

  “She’s already on Loretta’s doorstep complaining about all sorts of things.”

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  “Okay, so that was first. What’s second?”

  “Second, for a man that’s supposed to be interested in old growth forests,” he said, growing serious, “he didn’t look very closely at the trees. He either knew what they were, how old they were, and the last time they were timbered, or he was looking for something else.”

  “Something else?”

  “Something else.” He went quiet.

  “You don’t think he’s a scout for the government, looking for land to seize for some kind of highway or something, maybe coming down from Canada or across from Albany? Something the local politicians don’t know about?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I checked and you checked and Seton checked.”

  “That was the first thing I thought of when he came sniffing around asking about farmland,” Felicity said. “Marilyn
pretends to be oblivious to things like that, but she knows what’s going on. She wondered, too, but she insisted he was just a man looking for a home.”

  “I don’t think he’s looking for a home.” Jeremy frowned. “We don’t know who he is, and remember, we don’t know if Frank Gentile is his real name. Whatever he’s doing, he’s doing on the quiet.”

  “Did you think it odd that he didn’t own up to buying Zeke Bodrun’s cabin? I still think Sasha Glover must have been there.”

  “The police found no evidence of that, Lissie.”

  “Still … And I don’t understand why he would want to stay there.”

  “The cabin gave him a foothold where no one could get to him,” Jeremy said. “It gave him a base from which he could go out scouting. He was less likely to run into anyone if he was leaving from the cabin than if he was leaving from a hotel or a B&B. But once the police got interested in it, he couldn’t go back there.”

  “Do you think the timing is significant? Treeline Properties bought that cabin and the land it sits on before Zenia went into the nursing home and before she transferred all her property to her daughter.” Felicity paused. “I’ve been wondering if maybe it took Frank Gentile that long to find a local man who would work with him.”

  “You’re thinking Lance Gauthier is so in debt with gambling that he’d agree to clear out your land without you knowing or agreeing?” Jeremy asked.

  “I don’t want to believe he’d do something like that, but he’s been sneaking into that central plot every time he goes over my plan,” she said. “So, yes, I do think he’s trying to steal my timber.”

  “If you’re right about Lance working with Gentile, that means he’s been speculating on something around here for years,” Jeremy said.

  “It’s like he tracked the rumor of a guy named Zeke all the way back home and bought his cabin to get at what he had. Just like Loretta suggested.”

  “He’s looking for something all right. Maybe he’s been trying to get information out of Zenia before she’s too far gone to remember.”

  “Surely you don’t think he’s like Kyle, looking for some kind of buried treasure?”

  Jeremy turned to study her. “Lissie, I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me that, but our friend Frank spent more time looking down at his feet than looking up at the trees. And he did that even when we weren’t on rough terrain.”

  Felicity took the corner near her farm more slowly than usual when she saw the chief of police parked at the end of her driveway. She drove in and pulled onto the verge, facing in the opposite direction. She lowered her window and said hello to Kevin.

  “You had any work done on your truck lately?” Kevin studied the blue Toyota Tacoma, perhaps taking an inventory of the dings and tiny rust spots.

  “Is that a hint?” She never thought about the condition of her vehicle except if by some unlucky chance she parked next to Jeremy’s shiny white Ford or someone else’s shiny new anything.

  “No, ma’am, not a hint.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  Kevin looked through the windshield, apparently losing interest in the truck’s pinged and rusted body. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “We lifted a print from Kyle Morgan’s car.” Felicity thought he looked weary, tired of the world and its lines of little ants trucking along everywhere. “It matches a print we lifted from Zeke Bodrun’s old cabin.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, Felicity. We may not have found evidence of Sasha’s being there, but someone was.”

  “What about Kyle’s prints?”

  “He wasn’t in the cabin as far as I know. But his car was tampered with; we know that. He was in a bar drinking, and anyone who wanted to could have got at his car while he was in there. He died on the drive home. Brakes failing again. Like Clarissa’s.”

  “And Sasha was poisoned.”

  “Someone wants something real bad.”

  “What could we possibly have around here that’s worth three lives?” Felicity looked toward the woods and then to the right, to the boundary of another farm. Nobody here could have anything worth that, could they?

  “I dunno, but I’m thinking of posting a man out here.” Kevin shifted in his seat. “I want you to stay close to home while we track down those fingerprints. Is there any way you can lock up your truck?”

  Felicity looked through the windshield at the blue hood and shook her head. “If anyone came close to the house—” She stopped.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, it’s nothing. I just thought I heard something near the house last weekend, but when I went out to look there was nothing. It was just a coyote or a bobcat.”

  “Not a bobcat, Felicity. When was this? What time?”

  “Late, maybe one or two … It was nothing, Kevin. I had my shotgun with me.”

  Kevin shook his head. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “The last time I did that, you called Jeremy and I ended up with a dog that needs more protection than I do. Besides, it was nothing, just an animal prowling around the barn.” She looked at him, but they both knew she was wrong.

  “Felicity, I want you to put your pickup in the barn and lock it. Can you do that? I want to get someone over here to inspect it, make sure you haven’t been driving around on borrowed time.”

  “I’m supposed to spend tomorrow with Jeremy and Taylor. She’s coming home again, just for the day.”

  “Have Jeremy or Loretta give you a ride.” He eyed her truck. “You can’t watch it all the time, I know, but maybe you can leave it for a while till we get this business taken care of. Tampering with vehicles seems to be this person’s MO, and your place is much too easy to get onto. I’m giving you an order.” He glanced once more at the truck. “I’m heading over to Jeremy’s place now, so I’ll let him know.”

  He put the car in gear and headed off before Felicity could tell him Jeremy wouldn’t be there. He’d be at work, at the construction site. She closed her window against the dust Kevin’s tires churned up and drove down the driveway.

  He had left her feeling doubly frustrated. Just as she and Jeremy were beginning to feel they could figure out Frank Gentile, Kevin shattered her confidence.

  Felicity parked in her usual spot by the barn and stood at the back of the pickup. Could she actually get it into the barn without any damage to the truck? And then could she get the sheep in and out? It would be tricky. She put the idea aside and turned her attention to three women standing in front of their easels, brushes in hand. They had picked a scene of old fencing falling down, new growth along the posts, and a birch that had split and grown as though three trees shared a single taproot, as indeed they did. She liked that birch, and knew the beavers in the area would too. If it had grown any closer to a body of water, the tree would be gone by now, but she’d been fortunate and the tree lived on.

  The house was quiet, but that wasn’t the first thing Felicity noticed when she entered through the kitchen door. Ragged balls of fluff, kapok actually, littered the kitchen floor. She walked through the room and around the staircase to the large open front room. More balls of fluff.

  Every pillow had been torn to shreds, its innards thrown wherever they might land. The heavy patterned fabric of the sofa hung in shreds, with scraps scattered over the dining table and chairs, caught on a lamp on the desk, draping over the fire tongs and a stack of firewood. The white tufts of the pillows looked like a gaggle of little fledglings tumbling over the multicolored braided rug, her mother’s handiwork made in a craft class at the regional high school one winter. And now edges were frayed and little bits had been pulled up near the center.

  Felicity began to back out of the room, toward the kitchen and back door, and then she stopped. She took a closer look at the damage and swung around, peering into corners and behind furniture, before coming to stand in the middle
of the living room. The desk sat untouched in the far corner. The shelves by the fireplace remained cluttered and dusty. A few copies of Farm Journal lay shredded near the sofa. The answer was obvious.

  The rush of adrenaline subsided and she took a deep breath, rubbing her hand over her face. “Shadow? Shadow!” She walked into the kitchen. Miss Anthropy sat curled on her chair beneath the window; she opened one eye, stared at her, and closed it again, flicking her tail as if to say, this has nothing to do with me. He’s your dog.

  Felicity found Shadow on the second floor, cowering in a corner in the unfinished space at the front used for storage and occasionally for cots and sleeping bags for visiting relatives or friends. The dog hadn’t gone after anything upstairs, but he had found a hiding place deep in the eaves over the front porch. This was either the coldest or hottest part of the house, depending on the season. She could hear him whimpering as she came up the old wooden stairs.

  “Shadow!” She spoke with a tone of gentle admonition. The whining continued but at a lower level. She approached and knelt down in front of him. He stared at her with fearful, questioning eyes. She extended her hand and petted him along the neck and back, scratching behind the ears. He grew calmer.

  After several minutes she managed to draw him out of his corner and down the stairs. At the bottom he began to tremble until she soothed him, pressing her hands against his sides, feeling the heat of her palms move into him. When she withdrew her hands he fell flat on his stomach and stared up at her.

  “Well, at least he isn’t flat on his back,” she said to Miss Anthropy. She looked around the room, assessing the damage. “I suppose this is progress, of a sort. But if this is how you react to a police car coming to the house, I may have to post a sign out front.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Later on Saturday afternoon Shadow trotted along beside Felicity, just five feet away, close enough to feel secure but far enough to escape violence in case his owner decided to punish him for the kapok business. She wondered when he’d finally trust her. She hadn’t scolded him over the destruction in the living room, but he’d sensed her disappointment and sat patiently and perhaps even penitently while she cleaned up the mess. She continued to pet him every few minutes as she worked, and he relaxed. But he had months if not years of abuse to overcome. It wouldn’t happen overnight.