Allison Brennan - If I Should Die

“I honestly don’t know. Tim … he may be Joe’s son, but he’s not like Adam. He hasn’t been here in years. People don’t know him or trust him.” Henry looked at Adam. “You’re part of Spruce Lake. Tim isn’t. No one’s going to trust him.”

Lucy suspected it was more than that. She said, “The vandalism may be about distrust of Tim, but it’s also about stopping the resort. Who benefits if the resort doesn’t open?”

“I think the question you should be asking is, who is hurt if the resort opens?”

Henry excused himself and shuffled to the bathroom, stopping twice to talk to patrons.

“What does he mean?” Adam asked.

“The devil you know,” Sean muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I need more information about the Swains, and what happened to their drug operation. I think there may be a new player in town, far more dangerous than local boy Swain.”

“But what does that have to do with the resort?” Adam asked.

Lucy explained. “If there’s a criminal enterprise in town, anything that upsets the apple cart is a threat.”

Lucy again felt the chill of being watched. She glanced at the bar, and this time saw a man staring right at her. He had stringy brown hair to his shoulders, a red plaid shirt, and a partial beard. Seeing her look his way, he winked. She turned away.

Sean picked up on her discomfort and followed her gaze to the bar. “Who’s that guy?” he asked Adam.

“Gary Clarke,” he said. “Don’t know anything about him, just that his family has been in town forever.”

“And the guy he’s sitting with?”

“Andy Knolls. He owns the Gas-n-Go. One pump, small grocery store-we passed it driving in. He’s a nice enough guy, used to give out lollipops whenever kids came into the gas station.”

“We need to put together a Spruce Lake family tree, so to speak,” Lucy said. “Maybe if we can see the connections between the people in town, something will stand out.”

Sean said, “I’ll ask my partner in D.C. to run backgrounds on the Swains, Clarkes, and Knolls. What about other property owners? Who borders your land, other than the Callahans?”

“Everything on the eastern side of the highway is state land-part of the Adirondack State Park system. South of us-some is county and the rest is privately owned, I think.”

Henry returned and sat back down. “Adam,” he said, “I hope you take this advice in the spirit in which it is offered-your father was my closest friend. There’s a reason why he never tried to open a resort. Maybe you and Tim need to rethink your plans. Just for a year or two.”

“I thought Dad just wasn’t organized. He didn’t like the paperwork and permits. I remember when he built the house, he complained for years about county regulations.”

Henry sighed and shook his head. “That was part of it, for sure, but he understood that Spruce Lake isn’t Lake Placid. We like our quiet way of life. But, Tim is like your father. Stubborn. I’m sure he doesn’t want to postpone. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

His eyes were on a man approaching their table. He was about Henry’s age, but taller and with more hair-all of it silver. His pale blue eyes were magnified behind thick glasses, and he shook Henry’s hand warmly. “Henry Callahan, how are you? And Emma?”

“I’m well, thank you. Emma has her good days and bad days.”

Henry introduced the group to Reverend Carl Browne.

“Adam,” Browne said, “it’s been good seeing you in church. Maybe you can bring your brother once or twice.”

Adam smiled sheepishly. “I try.”

“I was sorry to hear about the fire. I hope there wasn’t too much damage.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“Did I see Jon come in a few minutes ago?” Browne asked.

“I didn’t see him,” Henry said, looking around. His eyes came to rest on a man coming out of the kitchen. Presumably Jon, he was speaking with a wiry man with skin darker than a moonless night. The black man wore a well-washed white smock and chef’s hat. After a brief conversation, he went back to the kitchen and Jon Callahan waved to their group.

Henry’s nephew, current owner of the Lock amp; Barrel, was in his midforties. He stood straight, though was no taller than Lucy’s five feet seven inches. Physically trim with conservatively cut dark, graying hair, he wore pressed jeans, a turtleneck, and a sweater. His watch looked expensive, but Lucy supposed it could have been a knockoff. She didn’t pay much attention to fashion.

Lucy didn’t know whether Henry was simply tired or wasn’t thrilled to see his nephew. But as Jon stepped up to the table, shaking hands like a politician, Henry smiled. “Hello, Jon.”

“Uncle Henry, you should have told me you were coming by! I would have had dinner with you.”

“I took your aunt on a drive today,” Henry said. “It was such a lovely spring day, but she’s a bit worn out and went to bed early. I thought I’d take advantage of the longer days to stop by for a drink, pick up some supplies.”

“I can bring you anything you need; all you have to do is ask.”

“You do more than enough, Jon. Have you met Adam’s friends?”

After introductions, Henry said, “I should go and check on my wife. She still gets around all right, but I don’t want her becoming disoriented in the dark.”

He said his good-byes and left. Lucy exchanged a glance with Sean. He silently agreed that the conversation was unusually brief, as if Henry didn’t want to stay around talking to either his nephew or Browne.

“Would you like to sit?” Adam asked them.

“Just for a minute,” Jon said. “It’s Thursday night and I came in to run payroll. Not a big staff, but it takes time.”

“I’m going to hit the road, too,” said Browne. “Nice to meet you folks. If you’re around this weekend, please stop by the church. Don’t matter what faith, just a short little sermon and a nice little choir. Ten a.m.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said. “That sounds lovely.”

The minister left and Jon pulled up a chair from a neighboring table. “I’m sorry about the trouble you’ve been having on your property,” he told Adam.

Adam nodded. “Do you have any idea who might be doing this?”

“You probably know everyone in town,” Sean added quickly. “Anyone unusually upset about the resort plans?”

“Everyone has an opinion. Mostly, we don’t want change, even if it might be a good thing. But I don’t know who’s behind the vandalism, Adam. I wish I did, sorry.”

Jon paused, then added, “Maybe if you just held off a year or so, let people in town get to know Tim, get reacquainted with you, you can start fresh.”

Lucy was instantly suspicious. That was almost the exact same thing Henry Callahan had said.

But maybe since Henry and Jon were related, they talked often, and since right now the resort was number one on everyone’s minds, if they had come to the conclusion that postponing the resort was a good idea, they both could have espoused the viewpoint as if it were their own. It was a plausible theory, though Lucy wasn’t certain their response wasn’t somehow orchestrated.

Sean said, “Jon has a point.”

Lucy and Adam both looked at him. His face was blank, or rather, Lucy thought, intentionally blank. He had a plan.

“I’m not waiting,” Adam said, stubborn. “The police will find out who did this.” He turned to Jon. “The Spruce Lake Resort will help revitalize the town. Bring it back to the way it was when my dad was a kid.”

“Have you thought that maybe people here like the quiet life?” Sean asked.

“Jobless and depressed?” Adam countered. “I don’t think so.”