Anonymous2, Why would you send me this horrible picture? Is this your idea of a joke? I don’t have any money, and if you contact me again, I’m reporting you to the police.
“I think we just got stiffed,” Vero said. Her eyes lifted to the window as the man got out of his truck.
Mrs. Westover rose from her chair, peeking around the curtains as he strode slowly toward the house. Her face paled as she turned to her daughter. “What on earth is Ted Fuller doing here?”
CHAPTER 39
“What do you think he wants?” Theresa asked her mother as Bree’s father climbed the front porch steps.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Westover said in a low voice. “I haven’t spoken to Ted since their last meeting back in June. He and Carl had a falling-out about the sod farm.”
“What did they argue about?” I asked hurriedly.
“Ted didn’t like the way the profits were being divided. He wanted more of the shares since he’d taken a more active role in running the farm—he’d been working closely with Steven. But Carl and I told him we wouldn’t amend the deal. A contract is a contract, and Carl couldn’t help the fact that he was ill. He wasn’t in any position to walk away from his share, but Ted didn’t see it that way. I don’t think they ever reconciled. Ted and Steven ran the business, and the direct deposits appeared in Carl’s account every month, just like the original contract said they would.”
“Then why’s he here?” Theresa asked.
Ted’s footsteps thumped slowly toward the door. A sickening feeling of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. I had a pretty good idea why Ted was here. And I was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was invited to some mystery meeting. “Someone posing as Carl’s assistant sent an e-vite to Steven and Ted, inviting them both here for a meeting.” Every head turned to me. “That’s why Vero and I came. We thought it was Aimee, trying to lure Steven here to kill him.” Aimee frowned. “It’s a long story,” I said apologetically. “No offense.”
“None taken.” She looked a little queasy.
“But if Aimee didn’t set up a meeting with Steven and Ted, who did?” Mrs. Westover asked.
The doorbell rang. Nobody moved to answer it.
Mrs. Westover reached for her shotgun. “There are five of us and only one of him. We’ll get him inside and get to the bottom of this.” Mrs. Westover unlocked the dead bolt and cracked the door, holding her shotgun out of sight behind it. We all crept closer to listen.
“Barbara!” Ted sounded breathless, as if the sight of her had knocked the wind out of him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I could say the same about you. Haven’t seen you here in quite a while. Awfully late for a visit, isn’t it?” she asked bitterly.
“I apologize. I know I should have called. Steven’s running late, too. He just sent me a message. Said he got tied up with some car trouble, but he’s on his way.”
Vero grabbed my arm. “Tied up? Car trouble?” she whispered.
That couldn’t have been a coincidence. We’d left his cell phone in the van and the keys for Ramón. Leave it to Steven to know exactly how to get my van running. “Steven must have gotten himself out of the motel room.”
Ted’s voice turned suspicious. “Is someone else in there with you?”
Mrs. Westover swung the shotgun into her arms, nudging the door open with her foot.
Ted raised his hands slowly, taking a cautious step back from the door, his brow furrowing with confusion. “Barbara, I know Carl was real upset after our last meeting, but I’m sure we can work something out just as soon as Steven gets here.”
“Carl passed away this past summer, Ted. But I’m guessing you already figured that out.” Barbara stepped out onto the porch, the gun leveled at his chest. “Is that what this mysterious meeting is all about? You planning to get rid of your last business partner and take the farm for yourself? Maybe you want to talk to Steven’s ex-wife about that idea first.” Barbara jerked her head in my direction. Ted’s eyes widened when they spotted me behind her. “Come on inside, Ted. Seems we have a few things to clear up.”
Barbara stepped aside, letting Ted enter the house first. She kept the shotgun pointed at his back as she directed him to the kitchen table. The rest of us circled around it as he sat, like a jury awaiting a confession.
“I’m sorry, Barbara,” he began, his throat tight with emotion. “I had no idea Carl had passed. I should have called or come by sooner. I should never have left things the way I did. I didn’t realize his illness was so advanced.”