Page 51 of Murder Will Out
Finn sat calmly at the gate. He did not seem perturbed, but neither did he seem inclined to set foot into the graveyard.
Interesting, she thought, and turned back to Naomi. The other woman held a small gardening trowel in her perfectly manicured hand.
Naomi saw her staring and said, in the voice of one not expecting to be believed, “It’s… it’s Geralt. He’ll be buried with his parents down in Kennebunkport, once the postmortem is done and they release his body, but—a couple of days ago, he got all weird and maudlin, and he asked if I would make sure to bury something of his out here by his brother’s grave.” She looked down at the stone beside her; Willow arrived at her side and looked down too. It read:
Peter Talbot
1932–1956
Beloved brother and son
“Brother and son,” Willow commented, almost to herself. “Nothing about his wife.”
Naomi said distractedly, “He was married? I didn’t know.” She pulled from her pocket a small wooden box with a simple latch. She opened it and showed it to Willow; inside was a gold pocket watch and a small baggie with—
“Is that a lock of Geralt’s hair?” Willow asked dubiously.
Naomi nodded, looking almost embarrassed. “I know, it’s bizarre, but he insisted on it. It was the last thing he asked me to do for him, aside from getting off his back about all the empanadas he ended up eating behindmyback, anyway.” She blinked hard and looked away to hide the watery shine in her eyes. “Since I basically did nothing he told me to through his life, I might as well honor this one thing.”
Willow let a moment pass before holding out her hand for the trowel. “Can I help?”
Naomi sniffled, then smiled a little in spite of herself. “I guess it spoils the effect if I’m hesitating at fulfilling my husband’s last wish because I don’t want to spoil my manicure, but thank you.” She handed Willow the little shovel.
Less than ten minutes later, they stood, quietly looking down at the tiny mound of dirt beside Peter Talbot’s grave. The brothers, in this small way, were reunited at last. The two women departed the graveyard in silence, Finn joining them as they walked along the pine-needle-covered path back toward the house.
After a few moments, Naomi spoke. “So… do you think she did it?”
“Who?” Willow asked distractedly.
Naomi shot Willow a sharp sidewise look. “You know who. Rina. Do you think she poisoned my husband?”
Willow took a breath and let it out. “No. No, I don’t.”
Naomi said, just as calmly, “I don’t either.” Then she asked, “Do you thinkIdid it?”
The silence after this question was a little longer, a little less comfortable.
Do I?Willow asked herself, unsure of what her own answer would be. Finally, she said, “Honestly? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder… but I don’t think you did. You didn’t have much of a reason to.”
Naomi shrugged. “For the money, of course. It’s what they’re all saying; it’s what they’ve been saying for years. Even with Rina in custody, they’re still saying it. I can all but hear it whenever I walk by.”
Careful, Willow thought.Be very careful.“Well, are they right? What’s the benefit to you from his dying now, rather than, I don’t know, letting him live his life out?”
Naomi snorted. “Not a single thing.” She stopped walking and turned to Willow. “Here’s what none of them know, because my smoke-blower of a husband went to great lengths to keep it quiet: Thereisn’tany money. It’s all debt and bad investments and lawsuits needing to be settled.” A muscle twitched at the corner of her mouth. “If he’d had time, and if he’d been able to legally inherit Cameron House before he died, he could at least have sold it to pay most of the debts and keep our heads above water. But now? I’m left high and dry. I’m thelastperson who wanted him dead. And even after it all comes out, I doubt if anyone will care; it doesn’t fit the accepted North Islands narrative about the wealthy Cameron line, or me as a moneygrubbing trophy wife. Once they know I’m broke, it’ll be woman overboard in shark-infested waters.” She glared in the general direction of the village. “At least Nick believes me. But then, for such a pretty guy, he actually seems to have half a brain. Rare to find both in the same male specimen, you know.”
Something unfamiliar and decidedly uncomfortable roiled inthe pit of Willow’s stomach. “I didn’t realize you and Nick knew each other,” she said with deliberate casualness.
“Oh, of course,” the other woman said, not noticing Willow’s discomfort. “We’ve been here every summer and fall for years—we came early this year after Effie died—but Nick has usually been the one to come out and try to talk sense into my husband after he aimed his golf cart at a tourist, or scared a small child on the dock, or any of the various problematic things he used to do for fun.” She gave Willow a sly glance. “As embarrassing as it was to have to be on the receiving end of it all, it wasn’tthatmuch of a hardship. Nick’s definitely easy on the eyes. I didn’t marry Geralt for his looks.”
Naomi gave one last sad look back at the graveyard. “But I miss him. Everything is so quiet now. The house, the town—he was larger than life, you know?”
Willow nodded. “I think he might have been the most alive person I ever met. Even when he was dying.”
“Exactly.” Naomi nodded. “It’s almost impossible to believe even death could stop him.”
Willow thought of the little pile of dirt next to Peter’s grave. She had an idea about why it was there, why Geralt had asked for it.
But she only said, “It is, isn’t it?”
