“Not a problem, Sheriff. I’ll be sure to keep my ears open for any new information.”
“You keep this up, and I may have to deputize you,” Tucker teases.
The woman’s laughter flows, and she quips, “You can’t afford me, Sheriff.”
Chapter 7
Artley Benson sits in his mother’s drawing room, sipping on a cup of hot tea and going through the final papers for a case he’s working on.
“Son, Sheriff Manning is here to talk to you.” Mrs. Benson smiles and shows the Sheriff into the room.
“Tucker,” he rises and meets his friend halfway, and shakes his hand. “It’s been too long. How have you been?”
“Good, Artley. It has been a while.” Since his divorce, both think but neither say it. Artley is a good man and an excellent lawyer. He handled everything quickly and efficiently for him and he won’t forget it.
“Come sit down and talk to me. I can’t believe the Mill burned down. When I received Mother’s telegram, I must admit that I was shocked.”
“It’s been a week, and I think the town is still in shock. I’m not here as a friend Artley, but as the Sheriff. The Mayor has appointed me lead investigator, and I have some questions for you.”
“I see.” Artley pushes back his black-framed glasses and stares hard at Tucker. “Ordinarily, I would be bound by attorney-client privilege, but in this case, that no longer applies.”
“Why?” Tucker asks and removes his hat to run a hand through his blonde hair.
“Burton Gilbert fired me over two months ago and hired a separate firm in San Francisco. I had to transfer the paperwork to them.”
“Why would he do that? Was he unhappy with your firms handling of his policy?”
“No, only that it was very personal. I can tell you that the policy we were working on held a significant amount of money. Especially for his wife and cousin.”
“I see.” Tucker’s heart sinks at this news. “Do you have the name of the other firm?”
“Yes.” He goes to his briefcase and digs through looking for the file and finds it. Pulling out a piece of paper, he writes down the name of the firm and address before handing it to Tucker.
“I hope to see Abbilene after the funeral. I intend to offer to represent her if she needs it.”
“That’s kind of you. I’m sure that she could use the help.”
Tucker shows himself out and glances around the town. He must wonder what the world is coming to when everyone looks like a suspect.
Chapter 8
Abbilene drapes her home in the colors of death. She wears the proper mourning attire and cries until there are no tears left. Guilt haunts her day and night. All visitors are turned away.
At her insistence, she paid for all the funerals, despite Sterling’s objections. The morning of the funeral, Abbie refused to hide in her home. Church is strained, and she feels the tension in the air. Her church family feels so far away.
Stephanie and Ozwald, along with her parents and Sterling, surround her and provide a barrier from the hostility.
Abbie wears a long black dress with the matching veil over her face. It feels like the world can see the weight of her sin, and this allows her a much-needed boundary.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit,” Pastor Jacob starts the service with a quote from Psalms.
Abbie latches onto his words.
“Nowhere is that more needed than today. We must gather together, grieve together, and heal together. Our community has lost nine beautiful souls.
Husbands, sons, fathers and friends.” He steps around the pulpit and down the pine steps to stop in front of them.
“Yet, if we are to believe the promises of our Father, we know that we will be together again.”
Sobs sound out in the church along with a few Amens, and Abbie leans forward.
“Today, I offer you hope! God has more in store for you than the pain you are feeling. Grieve for your loss but rejoice in the knowledge that they are held in his loving embrace.”
The tears that fall are healing tears, and Abbie feels a thread of hope being sewn into her soul. She bows her head and prays, clutching onto Stephanie’s hand.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Abbie goes through the motions, and she hears her mother whisper, “Poor dear is in shock.”
It may be true, Abbie thinks, sitting in the sunroom on the side of the house. Part of her waits for Burton to come through the door, shouting that it was a mistake. He was on his way home and was delayed, but she knows better.
What would her mother think if she knew the truth? The truth is that she’s used to being in the house alone, with only the housekeeper for company. Her Mother had worked hard to prepare for visitors after the funeral.
Two hours later, it becomes clear that no one is coming. Abbie laughs. “It isn’t that surprising, is it? I mean, it was the Gilbert Mill that exploded, killing them. Why would anyone come to pay their respects?”
“Why?” Sterling slams his drink down. “Burton believed in this town and the Mill. He provided jobs and support for these families when they needed it. This is disgusting!”
The doorbell rings and the housekeeper rushes to answer it. “Right this way,” she tries to say, but he knows the way.
Abbilene looks into Tucker’s eyes when he walks in and starts in surprise. He’s dressed in a suit, looking nothing like the Sheriff and more like a friend.
“I’ve come to pay my respects
