 
### HELL IN TEXAS

by

Meredith Rae Morgan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Meredith Morgan

All Rights Reserved

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## Chapter 1

The magnificent ranch house that had often been featured in architectural and home design magazines was reduced to a pile of rubble and ash, with its enormous marble fireplace, charred but still standing, in one corner. The local fire chief handed Bev Deller and her fire expert a folder containing photos of the exterior and interior of the house before the fire. It had been a showplace that had cost $8.5 million to build. Furnished, it was insured for in excess of $17 million. Based on the photos Bev worried that it might be under-insured.

The chief launched into a monologue, reviewing the time line of events that led up to the fire. He explained that at the time the fire started the owner, Walker Trent, was at his fishing camp in Tennessee. His ex-wife was in Nashville attending a charity function. Their daughter was away at college and their son was at home in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Bev looked up from the photos, "Wait a minute. Do you mean the house was vacant?"

The fire chief shook his head. "It wasn't exactly vacant. There's a caretaker who stays on the property and housekeepers come in daily to keep it clean and ready just in case Walker decides to visit, but nobody lives in the house any more. The family lived here full time for several years after they build the place, but when the Trents' marriage started to fall apart, Walker moved out and spent most of his time either working in Nashville or hiding out in his cabin near Gatlinburg. Tamra continued to live here with the kids. It went on like that for several years, but, when they finally got around to getting a divorce, Walker refused to let her keep this house. He gave her the house in Charlotte and a vacation home in Aspen, but he insisted on keeping this place. As far as anybody knows he hasn't set foot in it since."

"How long ago was the divorce?"

"A year or so."

Bev checked her copy of the policy and verified that it did, indeed, indicate that the house was vacant. It was equipped with a central station fire alarm and the file noted that someone on the staff checked the house daily. She studied the pictures of a beautiful home nestled among trees near a small stream in the rolling hills of East Texas. It was huge and expensive, but there was something about the house that seemed both inviting and homey. "Who are these people who are so rich and have so many houses they can just walk away from a place like this and not use it?"

"Walker Trent is the owner."

Bev gave the chief a blank look. "I'm supposed to recognize that name, right?"

He laughed, "You obviously don't follow country music."

"No. I'm the kind of a snobby jazz/blues purist who's favorite singer died decades ago. I don't mind certain bluegrass music, but I'm not much for contemporary country."

Ben Tucker, the fire expert, said, "Oh, for God's sake, Bev. Even I've heard of Walker Trent. He's like some kind of icon in the country music world."

"Okay, so I'm culturally ignorant. I'll look him up on Google. I get the picture that he's rich. Does he have enemies?"

The chief shrugged, "Most rich people have some enemies, sometimes enemies they don't even know about. Almost all famous people are subject to attack or stalking from kooks. Trent is a kind of good-old-boy country star. He had a spell with the bottle a few years ago, but straightened up. He's not a womanizer or hell-raiser. As far as I know he's very well thought of in the country music world. This is his home town and the people here love him, mainly for all the money he brought into the area by building this big house and living here. He put Everly on the map. His biggest known enemy is Tamra Sterman Trent, his ex-wife. But, there could be others."

"Was the divorce bitter?"

"Very. It was interesting – mostly I know this from the papers and from local gossip – their marriage always appeared perfect from the outside. They made a lot of public appearances together, sometimes with the kids. They were a beautiful couple who had been married more than 20 years. Suddenly right after their 20th anniversary, Walker moved out. No one outside of the family knows why. There have been all kinds of rumors, but both Walker and Tamra have played it close to the chest. His official residence is a house in Nashville that is almost as nice as this one was, but they say he spends as much time as he can in a cabin in the Smokies. Their separation shocked the country music world. I shouldn't have to tell you how much it freaked out the locals around here.

"They were separated for a few months and then Tamra filed for divorce alleging abandonment and emotional cruelty. It took a long time to finalize the settlement. The rumors flew around that it was a very bitter fight."

Bev raised one eyebrow. "Don't tell me. The issue was money."

"The divorce settlement is confidential, but that has been the general opinion."

While Bev and the fire chief were talking, Ben Tucker walked around the ruin in gradually tightening circles taking pictures. From time to time, he took a plastic baggie out of his pack, picked up something from the ground and put it in the baggie. He numbered each one, and labeled it as to where it came from. He put the baggie down where he had picked up the sample and photographed it. The fire chief jerked his chin in Tucker's direction, "Appears his reputation is accurate."

She grinned. "He's the best in the business. But don't tell him I said so."

"I'm surprised you can afford him. Insurance companies don't usually like to hire high-priced experts."

"He's originally from Dayton, Ohio. He did a lot of work for Midwestern Casualty when he was young and new to the business. We've worked together for twenty years. He gives my company special rates, which are still higher than we pay anybody else, but he'd be worth it at twice the price." She chuckled and winked, "But don't tell him I said that, either."

Tucker walked over to Bev, flipping through the fire department's report, and said, "I might as well go home. This was clearly arson. There wasn't even any attempted to cover it up. The outside of the house, including the shrubbery, was soaked in gasoline. Four first floor windows were broken. Traces of melted milk jugs that had contained gasoline were found inside each of the windows. My guess is that the perpetrator doused the outside of the house, tossed in a few very large unlit Molotov cocktails – based on the speed that the fire spread, I'm guessing analysis will show that there were other chemical accelerants mixed in – and then set fire to the outside. The flames entered through the broken windows. The bottles of accelerant inside exploded, causing the fire to spread fast and hot. The whole building burned to the ground in only a couple of hours. Since there was nobody here, it was almost completely destroyed before the first fire truck arrived."

Bev looked at the fire chief, "You said there was a central station alarm. Why did it take so long for the pumpers to get here."

The chief nodded, "The alarm went off, but this is a big county. The fire department is in Poston. I live almost in the outskirts of San Antonio. I got here about an hour after I received the call. The fire truck beat me by ten minutes. By the time I got here the fire had almost burned itself out."

Bev asked, "If there was gasoline all over the outside of the house and shrubbery, why wasn't there a grass fire?"

Tucker said, "I think the fire inside the house was so hot it created a vacuum that didn't let the fire outside spread."

The fire chief said, "That, combined with the fact that it had rained for several days in a row earlier in the week, and the ground was soaked."

The three of them walked around the ruin one more time. Bev said to Tucker, "Okay, so it's arson. Who set it? Mr. Trent? Or someone else?"

He shrugged, and said, "I'll take these samples back to the lab and see what I come up with." He looked at the fire chief, "Any chance your guys would be willing to share some of their samples and photos with me?"

The chief laughed and said, "You can have anything you want. If Ms. Deller's company doesn't pay off on this fire, everybody and their brother is going to get sued. I want this to be a totally clean investigation."

Tucker handed the chief his card, and said, "Have them send samples and photos to me at this address. The sooner the better."

Bev asked, "Where's the nearest motel where I can set up shop?"

"There's a Hampton Inn about 10 miles east, at Poston." He added, "I don't know that you'll be here long. Nobody here knows anything."

Bev pursed her lips and said, "This is a very rural area, dotted with small towns. I'm from a similar area in Ohio. In the rural farming communities near Stanforth, no strange cars or people come or go without somebody noticing. Usually several somebodies, in fact. I'm guessing the same is true here."

The chief nodded, "You're absolutely right about that. Everybody around here knows everybody else's business, sometimes before they know it their selves. But, it's strange. My guys have asked around all the gas stations and coffee shops in the county. Nobody saw any strangers. We think the fire started around 11:00 PM. The pumper arrived around midnight. I got here a few minutes after that. Sunset had been at 6:00 PM. There was time for someone to drive from San Antonio or maybe even Galveston, in the dark. They could have driven straight to the ranch, without stopping for gas or coffee, set the fire at 11:00, and then drove back to where they came from without anybody noticing."

Bev nodded, "That's certainly possible. But they had to get the accelerant gasoline from somewhere."

"We think they brought it with them from outside."

Bev asked, "Where does the caretaker live? Did he see anything unusual?"

"He has a bungalow about a mile and a half from the main house, but as it happens he was out of town the weekend of the fire attending a family wedding in Houston. He didn't even know about the fire until he saw it on the news the next morning."

Tucker said, "Whoever set this fire made no effort to hide the fact that this house was intentionally torched."

Bev continued the thought, "Could the fire have been a message to somebody? I'm wondering if the person who set the fire could be a hired third party."

The chief nodded and said, "That's been my initial working theory."

Bev chewed on the inside of her cheek and muttered, "But that doesn't tell us the content of the message or who the intended recipient may have been?"

She flipped through her notes and bounced the eraser end of her pencil against her note pad, "The obvious first hypothesis is that the ex-wife burned the house in revenge for her husband refusing to give it to her in the divorce." She looked up at the chief. "Have you interviewed her?"

"No. She's back in North Carolina now. I spoke to her on the phone. She said her lawyer told her to tell me she knew nothing about the fire. She has no interest in the ranch and nothing to be gained from the fire. Therefore, she has nothing to say."

"What about Mr. Trent?"

"At the time of the fire, he was in Gatlinburg at his retreat, rehearsing for an upcoming record tour. His assistant told us that his attorney says he's willing to talk to us, but we have to come to Tennessee. He doesn't have time to come here to tell us that he doesn't know anything about the fire. His story is that the fire is a tragedy because he loved this home for many years before it started to build up bad memories. He says there is no reason for him to interrupt his work and come down here to see it. I don't have travel money in my budget to allow me to go half way across the country to get a statement that tells me nothing."

Bev looked at Ben Tucker with a puzzled expression. "Don't you think that's odd? Most home owners want to see the fire site, if only to confirm the reality of the loss."

The fire chief interrupted, "Yeah, it seemed strange to us, too, but remember, Walker hadn't set foot on this ranch in a couple of years. Rich people like that often simply lose interest in a piece of property and move on."

Bev asked, "You got a lot of really rich people in this area?"

"Yeah. This county is a weird mixture of poor Mexicans, middle class folks who commute to San Antonio but like living in the country and really rich people, including several country singers and a couple of movie actors, who have ranches here. I've seen people like that spend millions on a home, and then simply abandon it until somebody buys it, often for much less than it is worth."

Bev twirled her pencil like a majorette. There was something about what he said that made some logical sense, but her gut was telling her that things were not adding up.

Bev thanked the chief and asked Tucker where he was staying. He chuckled, saying, "I guess I'm staying at the same Hampton Inn as you. It's too late to get a flight back to San Francisco tonight. Besides, I have the feeling you're yearning for my company tonight at dinner."

"I wouldn't use the word 'yearning', but since we're both stuck out here, I figure we'd might as well make the most of it." She turned to the chief, "Where do you recommend we have dinner."

"If you want barbecue, the brisket at _Walter's Bar-B-Q_ is as good as it gets in these parts. We also have a couple of good Mexican places, _Tia Carmelita_ is the best. You might be surprised to learn that we have a very good Vietnamese restaurant here as well. A local guy married a Vietnamese girl back in the Seventies. She opened a restaurant and it's been in business ever since. It's the weirdest combination of Texas redneck food and Vietnamese ethnic food you could possibly imagine, but it's all good."

Ben said, "Vietnamese cuisine is my all-time favorite."

Bev said, "I'm not familiar with it. So maybe you can educate me. Seems a shame not to eat barbecue in Texas, but I'm up for something different."

The chief gave them directions, and they parted ways.

They checked into their rooms and agreed to meet in half an hour for dinner. They were both in the lobby in closer to twenty minutes. They headed for the Vietnamese place, and ordered Vietnamese beer. Tucker was a Vietnam veteran, and he ordered a beer he remembered from his days in Saigon. Bev asked for the same. The waitress asked her what she wanted for dinner. She smiled, "I know nothing about Vietnamese cuisine. I like spicy food. I don't eat much meat. Chicken or shrimp is okay, but I prefer vegetarian dishes. Why don't you have the cook make me some kind of vegetable dish that he or she likes."

The waitress looked positively thrilled. She jotted something on her pad and then glanced at Ben. He said, "I'll have Pho with chicken. As hot as your cook will make it."

The waitress laughed, "Mom's gonna love taking care of you two. You might as well plan on being here for a while. You're probably gonna get a few courses."

Bev said, "We're on an expense account, but it's not unlimited."

The waitress said, "Don't worry. This place is super cheap. You'll eat well and not break the bank."

When she had gone to the kitchen, Bev asked Ben, "What do you think?"

"I think that somebody burned your insured's house down."

She laughed. "Okay, that much we know. Now, we have to figure out who did it, so I know whether or not I can pay my insured. How do you propose we proceed?"

"I plan to go home and start generating computer models. I think you'd better start interviewing potential witnesses."

Bev pulled a note pad out of her brief case, and reviewed her notes. "The local fire investigators have done a poor job. Well, actually, they've done no job at all. They have not talked to neighbors to see what they know. They have not interviewed the insured. They've simply taken his word over the phone that he doesn't know anything. Looks like the only thing they did do was visit a few gas stations and convenience stores to see if anybody saw any strangers."

Tucker interrupted, "You're probably not going to get an interview with the insured either. The chief already told us Trent has a lawyer."

"If the insured wants his $18 million, he'll cooperate with me. When are you leaving?"

"I'm flying out of San Antonio tomorrow morning early. Are you going to Nashville?"

"I'm going to stick around here for a few days. I want to hang out in coffee shops and chat up the locals. Sometimes people know things they don't know is significant. It may be difficult to get them to talk to me, what with me being an insurance adjuster and a damned Yankee – I'm not sure which one is worse – but I have to try. After that, I'll head for Nashville, or wherever the insured is at that point. I also plan to visit with an attorney in San Antonio who my boss thinks walks on water."

About then, the waitress brought the first course of what was to be a memorable evening for both of them. Bev fell in love with Vietnamese food when the delicate spices started dancing in her mouth.

The next morning, Bev stopped by a local coffee shop for breakfast and bought both the San Antonio paper and a local weekly. She scanned the papers and then sipped her coffee while jotting notes on her 'to do' list.

The waitress, who Bev instantly thought of as "Flo", asked, "You the insurance adjuster?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

The lady shrugged, "It's a small town. Word went out yesterday that a the adjuster arrived to investigate the fire. A Yankee woman stranger shows up here this morning. I make a wild guess."

Bev laughed, "You're a crack investigator. You can have my job!" She looked at the woman for a long time and asked, "Who do you think I should talk to?"

"For what?"

"I have to figure out who set the fire."

"Why? Ain't that the cops' job?"

"The fire investigator and I will work together."

"What's it matter to you who set it?"

"Because if the owner of the property set the fire, our policy won't pay anything."

"You think Walker Trent burned his own house down? I think you're wrong."

"I don't know who burned it, but it's my job to find out. If Mr. Trent burned it, I won't pay for the damage. If somebody else burned it, I will write Mr. Trent a check with a whole lot of zeros."

Bev leaned forward and cocked her head to the side, "Why don't you think Mr. Trent did it?"

The waitress exhaled, making a disgusted sound, and looked at Bev as though she was an idiot. "Walker loved that place. Granted, he ain't been around for a while. Locals figure that he kind of got turned off on the house after he and Tamra got divorced. This was kind of their dream home and love nest. After the divorce, he didn't come around much. I expected him to sell it."

"You know the Trents?"

"I knew Walker when he was young, before he went off to Nashville and got rich and famous. He grew up a few miles from here. He was a little younger than me, but we went to school together. My best friend dated him in high school. When he came back years later and built that big house, he used to come in here sometimes for coffee. We'd talk about old times. I always thought he was okay. Even when he was young, he was kinda strange, though."

"In what way?"

"Well, he ain't what I'd call bashful, but he don't like to be around people much. He's kind of a loner. They say that these days he spends most of his time at a cabin on a crick in the mountains. When he lived here, he didn't socialize much. My friend broke up with him because he didn't want to go to the Homecoming dance her senior year. His idea of a great date was to go to a movie or, better, sit around the house and listen to records. My friend liked to go out to parties and dances."

"What do you know about his wife?"

"She wasn't from around here. By the time she came to live here, she and Walker had been married several years. He was at the top of his career, making millions. She waltzed around like the Queen of Egypt, with the attitude that she was better than everybody. The people who worked at the ranch said she was positively a raging bitch. I only met her a coupla times. She was pleasant enough, but she seemed to be very full of herself, and she acted very superior."

"Do you know why they got divorced? I hear they had a kind of storybook marriage that kind of suddenly crashed and burned."

"Nobody really knows what happened. He always seemed to almost worship the ground she walked on. She didn't seem quite so wrapped up in him, but she liked her role as the wife of a superstar, so from what I heard, she did everything she could to keep him happy. It just all kind of fell apart suddenly, but I never heard a reason. It wasn't like one of them was cheating or boozing or whatever. If it was, people would of known."

"Have you heard any talk about anybody seeing a strange car or weird activity the night of the fire?"

"No, but then we're little farther down the road. You should go over to Everly. There's a little diner there. Food sucks, so you should eat here before you go. The people who live around the ranch go there because it's closer and it's right next to the feed store. You may have some luck there. You think somebody from the outside came in and burned down the house?"

"That's one theory. Right now it's kind of the only one I have until I've had a chance to check out some of the local crackpots. In my experience remote rural communities often have a few people who are eccentric and strange. Sometimes something snaps and weirdos become criminals."

The waitress laughed, "Ma'am, this is Texas. 'Bout everybody falls into the category of potential criminal. But, you're right, we got our share of crackpots."

"How do I find out who they might be and if any of them had reason to want to burn that house?"

The waitress laughed, "I'd reckon that most places you'd want to ask the fire chief about that. But, our chief is a lazy assed sumbitch and he ain't gonna tell you about any of those folks because then he'd have to go out and interview them. He'd rather sit on his ass in his office and drink coffee than get out and do his job."

"You are not a fan of the chief?"

"Bob Rosen is a nice enough guy. Seems to be a good husband and a great father. Coaches little league football and he's a Cub Scout leader. He's lazy, though, when it comes to his job. He also kind of worships Walker Trent. He's not going to do anything that would turn up any evidence against Walker. He'll let you do that so you can be the bad guy."

"Okay, then who should I talk to in order to find out about any locals who might be suspects?"

"How 'bout the guy who runs the local weekly paper? He's a nosy bastard, but I reckon that's his job. He might be able to give you the skinny on the local weirdos. His name is Joe Wertzel."

Bev flipped over the local paper and saw that the editor's name was Wertzel. She looked at the masthead for the address of the paper's office, and then she glanced at her watch. "You think he'd be in his office now?"

"Probably. He keeps kind of regulars hours."

Bev paid for the food, added a generous tip and waved on her way out the door.

## Chapter 2

She walked across the wide main street with diagonal parking on both sides and small shops on one side and the town hall on a square in the middle. She chuckled to herself when she entered the newspaper office: it looked exactly like a newspaper office in the movies. It appeared to have been last upgraded sometime in the fifties or early sixties, and hadn't been changed since. She could see an old printing press in the back room.

The publisher followed her eyes and said, "No, we don't still run the paper on the printing press. I actually upload the galley to an online printer which runs the job and delivers it to me by Federal Express." He stood up and held out his hand, "Joe Wertzel. I'm guessing you're the insurance adjuster."

Bev shook his hand, "Bev Deller."

He offered her coffee and pointed to a chair in front of his desk. She sat down. He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "What brings you here?"

"Well, as you know, I'm in the area to investigate the Trent fire. I need to find out who did it. In order to do that, I need to know a little bit about the relationship that Walker Trent had with the local community. Is there anyone in this community who would want to burn down his house?"

He shook his head, laid his hands on his desk for emphasis and leaned forward, "Absolutely not! The folks around here loved Walker Trent. Maybe not so much personally because he didn't mix too much with the locals. Even though he was from around here originally, he'd kind of elevated his game if you know what I mean. He was always pleasant, but he didn't go out of his way to socialize locally, but he was a good person to have in the community.

"There's a few rich folks who live in this general area but Everly was a pocket of poverty until Trent came along and built that big house. While it was being built, the project was a huge boon to the economy. Contractors bought stuff in our stores. Workers spent money, too, in restaurants and bars, mostly. Lots of locals worked on the building of the house. After the Trents moved in, they continued to support the local economy. Ladies cleaned the house and did the laundry. Bunch of people worked on maintaining the grounds and tending the livestock. He was a good citizen. For example, even after he moved out of the house, Trent could be counted on to support whatever local charity drive was going around. Just last month he gave money to help the family of a combat wounded veteran go to Germany to visit the soldier in the hospital. I can't imagine that any of the locals would want to do anything to jeopardize that kind of relationship."

"That makes sense, but it's my understanding that nobody had lived there for a few years."

"That's right. He moved out and then divorced her. He wouldn't let her have the house, so she had to move when the divorce was final. She was not a happy camper at that point.

"Walker has continued to employ the household help. In fact, after Tamra moved out, he turned the ranch into a real working ranch and hired more people than they employed when they lived there. She didn't like the idea of having cows and horses where she could smell them. Walker's an East Texas boy who thinks that land that's not being used to raise crops or cattle is a sinful waste."

"That's interesting. Sort of like he's keeping his options open to come back at any time, I guess. Why do you suppose he didn't want his ex to have the house if he didn't plan to live here?"

"He never consulted with me, but there are two schools of thought on that. One is that he just didn't want her to have the house because he had loved it so much when they first built it. That group thinks that he may come back someday when the pain of the divorce lessens. The other school of thought holds that he didn't want her to have it because _she_ loved it so much, and he was mad at her and wanted to hurt her."

"Why?"

"Nobody knows what _really_ happened between them. For a public couple, they managed to maintain and amazing degree of privacy."

"Living in a remote are like this would help."

"Yes and no. It might help keep the national papers from finding out their business, but in a rural community like this, the locals know everything about everybody. The Trents managed somehow to maintain their privacy even from the cleaning people and gardeners. That must have taken some doing. There were rumors that Tamra emptied her own garbage before the household staff arrived in the mornings. They were kind of pathologically private."

Bev made a face, "Maybe celebrities have more reason than anybody to be cautious about privacy, what with people digging through their garbage and paparazzi hanging from trees to watch them bring in the morning papers."

"You probably have a point. The other celebrities who live in the area seem to feed the publicity monster at least enough to keep the public interested in them. The Trents didn't do that. The bottom line here is I can't think of any of the local residents who would wish Walker Trent harm."

"What about the ex-Mrs. Trent?"

"She certainly was mad at him when she left town. On the one hand, it would make logical sense for her to want to burn the house they both loved because he wouldn't let her have it. But, the word from the employees was that Tamra loved the house as much or more than Walker did. The people who were around her the most say she might try to get revenge on Walker, but burning down the house she loved would probably not be the way she'd go about it."

Bev made a note on her pad and said, "I've seen scorned women do some amazingly illogical things!"

She looked sheepish for a minute and said, "I have to confess to being utterly ignorant of country western music. I had, frankly, never heard of Walker Trent until the last couple of days. So, forgive me if this sounds totally stupid. Do you know if there was something going on in his career that would have caused him to have enemies? I don't know, did he beat somebody out for Entertainer of the Year who might hold a grudge? Is he dating the wife or ex-girlfriend of a record producer? I don't know the gossip. Do you?"

He laughed. "First of all, I'll pretend I didn't hear that confession, but I don't recommend that you spread it around beyond these four walls that you've never heard of the iconic Walker Trent. And, I'll add here if you're a Yankee vegetarian who doesn't eat barbecue or chili, I'd keep that to myself as well."

Bev laughed, "In point of fact, I love barbecue and you can't get chili hot enough to suit me. Before I leave, I'd like your recommendations for where I can go for brisket and chili before I leave."

"Well, I guess you have a few redeeming qualities." He laughed, then he leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and said, "According to the gossip magazines, Walker Trent's career trajectory has been on a downward slide in recent years. He burst onto the country scene back in the 1980's and was one of the top country acts well into the 1990's and even after the turn of the century. But, country music is cyclic. Walker tapped the sort of post-Urban Cowboy backlash in the 1980's. Let me explain, since your an ignoramus.

"In the mid to late 1970's country music moved toward the mainstream. The movie _Urban Cowboy_ made country music popular with a whole new audience. New artists came on the scene who crossed over into pop music. Country traditionalists were aghast. In the 1980's there remained a strain of country that occasionally crossed over, but there was a wide scale return to country's hillbilly roots. Bluegrass was huge. A few singers harked back to the days of Hank Williams and Patsy Cline. Walker Trent was one of those. Among country music fans Walker's known as a traditional country singer. Some of his stuff, especially his more recent songs, slide over into bluegrass and even all the way into folk music. Some people, and I happen to be one of them, think he's a sort of male version of Emmylou Harris. Have you heard of her?"

"Actually, I like her very much. She appeals to the blues fan in me. I think there's a meeting point between folk music and blues. She approaches that point."

"Go buy some of Walker's more recent albums. You'll find that he straddles the line between folk and bluegrass and blues as well. You might like what you hear. Although, I have to warn you, he's a great songwriter, but he doesn't have Emmylou's pipes.

"In any case, the word is that his brand of country is kind of out of favor with the fans these days. Country has gone mainstream again, thanks to Carrie Underwood winning freaking _American Idol_ for Chrissakes. Sorry.

"Walker's career has been on the decline lately. To make matters worse, since his divorce, he's all but stopped performing live, which is a requirement for a country singer. Worse still, he's been giving or selling his songs to other artists and not putting out any new albums. There's a rumor going around that he's actually been writing music under another name and selling it to other artists. I think that might be true. Ricky Skaggs just released a fabulous song by a composer nobody's ever heard of that sounds an awful lot like some of Walker's recent songs."

"Does he have money problems?"

"He shouldn't. Lord knows the man has made millions over his career. I've never heard any hints of any accountants absconding with his money. He did, however, have a wife whose religion was worshiping at the altar of Conspicuous Consumption. I'm sure she set him back some. And, God knows what he had to pay to get rid of her. So, I suppose it's possible he could be strapped financially."

"Was there ever any scandal? Drugs? Alcohol? Women? Illegitimate children?"

Joe shook his head, "The guy's a choir boy. He did have a brief period a few years ago when it was rumored he was hitting the bottle. He never missed a performance and nobody ever saw him drunk in public. Word was among the staff that he went someplace very private for detox, and never touched another drink. Tamra was rumored to occasionally flirt with the help, but I never heard of her actually carrying through with any hankie-pankie. Never a breath of scandal where Walker was concerned."

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a skeptical look, "Do you know what a seasoned investigator thinks when someone paints a picture like you just did?"

"Yep. I worked for the _Los Angeles Times_ for a few years a couple of decades ago. Whenever I heard a somebody painted as such a saint, I immediately started digging for the dirt that was almost always there. In this case, I'm not saying there isn't any dirt. I'm telling you that, if there's dirt, Walker Trent has very successfully hidden it."

Bev stood up, shook his hand and said, "I thank you for your time and your candor. Now, changing the subject, tell me where I should eat for the next couple of days."

He made a couple of suggestions and she started to leave. Then, sort of Lieutenant-Colombo-like, she turned back to him and said in a rather off-hand kind of way, "What about local crackpots? Every small community I have ever visited has them. You got any locals who kind of live on the fringe that might have some twisted reason to want to burn down Mr. Trent's house?"

Wertzel thought about that for a few minutes. "We certainly do have our share of oddballs. This is Texas, after all. I can't imagine any of them who would want to harm Walker, though."

She handed him her card, and said, "If you think of anything or hear of anything that I should know, please call me."

He grinned, "Lady, if I find out anything juicy, I'll publish it in the paper and you can read about it with everybody else."

She laughed, "I suppose I deserved that."

It was only mid-afternoon by the time she left the newspaper office. She decided to drive back out to the ranch and wander around some more.

Spring arrived much earlier in East Texas than it did in Ohio. The landscape was very similar to the rolling hills of southwestern Ohio, but there was something about the color of the sky and the foliage that spoke of a wildness that still lay on the land despite the cities and towns and other signs of civilization. There was something about the West that had always frightened Bev a little. She knew violence and mayhem could break out at any minute anywhere. She always felt that it was closer to the surface in the West than elsewhere. Even as that thought broke the surface of her consciousness she knew it was absurd. That didn't change how she felt.

While the Wild West was a little scary, Bev found the East Texas countryside beautiful. She pulled into the driveway of the ranch and drove the three-quarters of a mile to the ruin of the house. If she turned away from the house, the fields shimmered in the sun as the wind blew across the grasses and bushes. With no fences in sight and no overhead electric wires, it looked like wild range land, which is what it essentially was. Since Trent no longer lived at the ranch, he raised horses and cattle, giving them the run of the entire ranch, which was 10 miles wide from corner to corner along the road and 15 miles deep. Bev had an aerial photograph of the entire spread, and it was impressive even in the photo.

Turning toward the house, she saw nothing but a blackened silhouette of hell. The neighbors said that the flames shot hundreds of feet in the air and could be seen for miles. It was truly a mercy that no one was in the house when the fire started. The investigators believed it had consumed the entire house in a matter of minutes, and no one who might have been in the upstairs bedrooms would have gotten out alive. Ben Tucker had emailed her that he had found trace evidence of chemical accelerant that he believed had either been added to the gasoline or spread around the house separately. The fire flared immediately and burned much hotter than Tucker would have ordinarily expected in a house that size, with so much stone work and tile.

She walked around the perimeter of the entire house. The footprint of the house was enormous. She took out the pictures the fire chief had given her and mentally rebuilt the house to its original grandeur.

The firefighters had trampled down most of the grass and the fire investigators had finished off what was left. Bev didn't find anything of interest. She moved out a little further and made another circuit of the house, still without finding anything interesting.

She knew that there was little likelihood she would find any evidence but she didn't really feel like going back to her hotel. She decided to go for a real walk instead. She looked at the map and realized there was a stream that meandered across the property. It came within a couple of miles of the house. There was a visible path on the aerial photo that led from the rear of the back lawn through a wooded area to the stream. She decided to follow it. The afternoon was warm but not hot. Invisible birds sang from the tree canopy overhead, and the wind rustled the leaves. Bev walked quietly, periodically spooking a rabbit or a squirrel, as she came around bends in the path.

The path was well worn and appeared to have been used a lot in the past but not so much lately. She reckoned that Trent and/or his kids might have visited the creek frequently. Soon the trail came to an end at the bank of the creek, where it made a sharp hairpin bend to the north, creating an outcrop on the south side that jutted up a few feet from the water. A bench was positioned at the northernmost point of what amounted to a tiny promontory. Bev could see for miles: endless miles of rolling grassland with only a few scrubby trees. The entire vista was dotted with purple and yellow wildflowers. Cattle grazed in the distance. She squinted a bit to make the scene blurry and pretended she had been transported to the nineteenth century and she was looking at a herd of buffalo. She half expected to see a party of Indians riding in from the horizon. That made her laugh out loud. _Girl, you've watched too many John Ford movies._

The house was not visible from this vantage point, nor were there any roads or other signs of civilization besides the bench. Bev sat down and felt herself relaxing to a degree that was rare for her. She was typically strung very tight, and she stayed that way almost all the time when she was working. It was rare for her to relax anyplace outside her home. This spot, however, was so serene and lovely, she found herself responding to the land in a way that she found both strange and wonderful. She could understand how much Mr. and Mrs. Trent must have loved this place. She wondered whatever it was in their marriage that was bad enough to make him walk away from such a beautiful home. Bev sensed that the land knew the secret. No answer was forthcoming from the trees or the bubbling stream, however.

Bev sat on the bench for more than an hour and then walked back to her car at a much slower pace than was typical for her. She was reluctant to leave, but she was starting to feel hungry.

As she stepped out of the woods into the back yard, a man approached her, leading a huge chestnut horse by the lead. He said, "I wondered where you were. I was just about to come looking for you." He put out his hand and said, "Johnny Tobias. I'm the ranch foreman. Since Walker and Tamra moved out, I basically oversee the entire operation."

Bev said, "I'm Bev Deller, Midwestern Indemnity."

"Pleased to meet you. Walker's attorney says that you're probably going to give us a hard time about the fire claim."

Bev made a face, "I'm not going to give you a hard time, but I am not going to pay the claim until we find out who set the fire."

"And then you'll only pay it if you determine that Walker didn't set the fire."

"That's correct."

"What if you determine that he did it?"

"Do you think he did?"

He shook his head emphatically and said, "Hell, no, ma'am. Walker loved every square inch of that house. He even helped the builders put in some of the tile work and cabinetry. There is no way on God's green earth he set the fire. He hasn't even been able to bring himself to come out here and see it. He won't even look at the pictures on the internet."

"Then why do you ask about me making a determination that he set the fire?"

"Because I think somebody is trying to make it look like he did it, or hired somebody to do it."

"Who would want to do that, and what kinds of things would they do to try to make me think he did it."

"You want my opinion? I think Tamra did it, or hired somebody to do it. Why? In revenge for him not letting her have the house in the divorce. She has been breathing fire since the day Walker's attorney told her that keeping this house was not an option. How would she make him look guilty? By making it look like he's hurting for money. I don't think he is hurting for money, but his career has been in decline for a few years, mainly because he's been neglecting it while he was living out here, tending his cows and horses instead of writing songs and touring."

"Is it possible he has money problems?"

Johnny shrugged. "I suppose it's possible. God knows Tamra spent money like there was no tomorrow -- and I don't even want to know what it cost him to get shut of her! --, but he's a savvy guy. I've gotta believe he's got plenty of money even after the divorce."

"It sounds as though you're not a fan of the ex-Mrs. Trent."

"Tamra was okay. Walker told me once that she was wonderful in the early days. By the time they moved here and hired me, she had been married to a rich superstar for a long time and she was pretty full of herself. I got along with her okay, but she wasn't my favorite person on this spread."

"You like Mr. Trent, though?"

"Like? I'm not sure that's the word I'd use. I respect him. Because I can tell that when he looks at this beautiful land, he feels the same combination of peace and passion to keep it this way that I do. I admire his musical talents. But, Walker Trent's not exactly the kind of guy people can warm up to very easily. His lawyer says that Walker's some kind of genius and that's why he's weird. Some people think he's shy. Others think he's arrogant and condescending. I've never tried to figure out what the reason is, but he's just odd."

"Odd in what way?"

"You'll have to decide for yourself when you meet him. I can't explain it. There's just something different about him."

They walked side-by-side towards her car, the horse clopping along behind, close enough behind them that Bev could feel hot breath on the back of her neck. Bev asked softly, "Other than Mrs. Trent, is there anyone else you can think of who might want to destroy Mr. Trent's home?"

He pursed his lips and stopped by the car, turning slightly to scratch the horse's neck absently. "I suppose that a guy like Walker has a few enemies. Maybe somebody he beat out for Entertainer of the Year a few too many times. Maybe somebody he got the best of in a business deal. Maybe a woman who felt rejected by him or a husband who felt like Walker flirted with his wife. Either one is possible. Walker flirts with women out of habit. He says all stars do. Women expect it. The problem is, husbands don't like rich, handsome guys flirting with their wives and women get pissed because he never follows through. Could be other things I don't know about. Walker's got a lot of business interests in a lot of places."

Bev opened the trunk of her car and took out her purse. She slipped a business card from a side pocket and handed it to Tobias, saying, "If you think of anything or if somebody tells you something you think I need to know about, please call me. Frankly, from what people have told me about Mr. Trent I hope that I find that somebody else set this fire so I can pay him and go home.

"Do you know if he plans to rebuild?"

He shook his head. "He absolutely has no plans to rebuild. He told me he wants to use part of the money to finish tearing down the house and then turn part of the property into a park for the locals to use and the rest of the property can stay range land."

Bev smiled, "I hope I can write a check to allow that to happen."

"I hope so, too, ma'am. I purely do."

Bev drove back to Poston and decided to stop at the local barbecue spot for an early dinner. The place was already pretty crowded. The hostess greeted her and asked how many in her party. Bev said, "It's just me."

The hostess looked awkward and said, "Ma'am, I'm sorry but we get real busy in the evenings here. The owner won't let me seat a single party at a table. You can sit at the bar, or I could fix you up with a carry out. We got picnic tables out back."

Typically, Bev didn't like to sit at a bar, but in a town like this, it was perhaps one of the best places to find out what people were gossiping about. She said, "I can sit at the bar. No problem."

She sat at the seat closest to the waitress station. Several people were nursing beers and talking when she walked into the bar. They stopped talking when she sat down. She looked around and grinned, "Yes, I'm a Yankee. Yes, I work for the insurance company that insures Mr. Trent's home. But, please, don't let me disturb your happy hour."

Almost everybody at the bar laughed, and one of the guys sitting nearest to Bev said, "Bartender, give the lady a Lone Star, on me." He turned to Bev and asked, "What kind of weasely ass Yankee beer do they serve where you come from?"

She laughed, "Well, I understand that this is a big German area. I come from Cincinnati, which is also a German area. I was raised on Hudepohl and Wiedemann." She took a sip of the Lone Star and tried – not altogether successfully – not to make a face. The assembly at the bar laughed.

One of the few women in the group (who was drinking wine) said, "It's definitely an acquired taste."

Bev said, "I think it has to do with the water. A lot of people don't like Cincinnati beers. I, personally, absolutely can't stand beer from Pennsylvania. Have you ever tasted Rolling Rock?" She made a nasty face and stuck out her tongue, "Nasty, vile shit!"

She took another sip of the Lone Star and nodded, "I guess I could learn to drink this. I hope I don't have to be here long enough to get too used to it."

An older man at the bar asked her, "How long will you be in town?"

She said, "I'm not sure. Probably not very long. I will need to visit with Mr. Trent. I understand he doesn't want to come to see the ruin of his house. I can't say that I blame him. I think that I've satisfied myself that there's no evidence the fire investigators have overlooked. I'll probably go to visit Mr. Trent and then go home while the investigators finish their reports."

"You gonna pay for the damage to Mr. Trent's house?" asked the young woman behind the bar.

"I will once I determine that the fire was set by somebody other than Mr. Trent."

A biker-looking guy said, "Well, hell, we know he didn't set the fire. He ain't been here in a coupla years."

The man next to him bumped his arm and said, "Don't be an idiot, Walker could afford to pay somebody to burn his house."

Bev asked, "Do you think he would do that?"

Her question was answered with a chorus of, "Hell, no!"

She asked who might have done it if it wasn't Mr. Trent. Most of them said they didn't have any idea. The two women patrons said they thought Tamra Trent was the culprit. One man sat studying his glass of draft beer in silence. Bev prompted, "What do you think?"

"I agree with everybody that Walker would not have burned down the house he built. But, I've kind of wondered if maybe somebody who is close to him or who works for him did it. What I heard was that Walker's career is in the crapper. Since his marriage fell apart, his social life is non-existent, which is hard to believe considering how good looking he is and how much women love him. I wonder if maybe somebody wasn't trying to do him a 'favor' by getting rid of the house that kind of stood for everything that his life used to be about."

The barroom fell as silent as a bar can be. Someone said, "You worked at the ranch, didn't you?"

"Me and my wife both worked there."

The bartender slid a frosty glass of beer toward the man and asked, "You got any idea who it mighta been?"

He shrugged, "Walker has a lot of people working for him. For the most part they are very loyal because Walker is a wonderful employer. He's really good to his employees and treats them fairly. My cousin works for Corky Christopher, the actor. He has a place over by Galveston. He's rich with a big, fancy spread like Walker's. He treats his employees like dirt and pays them slave wages. Walker paid a fair wage and was respectful of his employees."

"How'd you come to leave him?"

"Right before Walker and Tamra split up I got a job as foreman at the Bar-W ranch. It was more money and I got to work with thoroughbred horses instead of mostly cattle. I'm a horse guy. Walker runs mostly cattle with only enough horses for his cowboys. My wife stayed on in the house until Tamra moved out."

Bev asked, "What did your wife do?"

"She was a housekeeper. Basically she amounted to Tamra's chambermaid."

Bev prompted him to continue. "Did she have any insights into what went wrong in their marriage?"

Everybody at the bar leaned forward. He shook his head. "It was kind of amazing that that family was able to be so private about their relationships despite the fact that they had a household staff of something like six people who were in the house most of the day, every day. They kept their personal stuff behind closed doors. The only thing the staff noticed was that, in the months before the divorce, Walker spent more time in Nashville than he had done for a while. That didn't seem unusual, though. We thought he was working on an album or something."

Bev ordered a brisket sandwich and fought the urge to take out her pad and start writing notes. Instead, she slid one of her cards down the bar and laid it in front of the man's beer glass, "I'd like to talk to your wife. Would you ask her to call me on my cell, please?"

He picked up the card and put it in his breast pocket, "I'll give her the message. I'm not sure she'll call you, though. She does not talk about the things that she hears in the houses where she works."

Bev asked, "She's working for someone else now?"

"Yeah. Right now she's working for some guy who's CEO of a company that manufactures components for missile guidance systems. They're even richer than Walker and Tamra, but no where near as classy, based on the little that my wife says."

"Tell her I'm on Mr. Trent's side."

Another patron leaned forward and asked, "Are you, really?"

She smiled, "I am, provided he didn't burn down his house." She handed her card to the bartender and said to the crowd, "If any of you knows anything that you think would be helpful to our investigation, or if you know someone who has information, please have them get in touch with me."

Her food arrived and the conversation swung back to more volatile topics such as where to get the best barbecue in town and whether or not "that shit they serve in Kansas" should even be called barbecue. (The consensus among the Texans was that it did not.) Bev munched on the best beef she'd eaten in a long time and listened to the banter, knowing that the animation of the conversation may have been a bit of showing off in front of a stranger, but the subject matters they discussed were the stuff of every day conversations in similar watering holes all over the country.

## Chapter 3

The sun was just about to set when Bev left the bar. She sat in her car to watch the sunset show, and called her daughter. They chatted for a few minutes about school and local news from home. After a few minutes, Emily said, "Some of my friends are all worked up about your current job. You know I don't follow country music any more than you do, but Walker Trent is evidently a big deal star."

"So I've learned. I actually committed a huge gaff earlier today when I admitted to someone in his hometown that I'd never heard of him before I came out here on this job."

"Geez, Mom, you're kind of culturally clueless. Comes from being the only person in America who doesn't watch television or listen to the radio. I downloaded Trent's last album. It won like every award in country music and a couple of Grammys, too. I saved it to the shared music folder on our VPN."

"Thanks. I'll be sure to listen to it before I go to visit Mr. Trent."

"You're going to meet him?"

"Of course. I'll need to get his statement."

"You think you could get his autograph?"

Bev shook her head at the phone, "The only signature I'm going to get from him will be on a proof of loss form. I am working here, in case you forgot. I can't be so unprofessional as to ask for my insured's autograph."

"Sorry. I don't know what I must have been thinking. God forbid that you should be unprofessional for a nanosecond or anything."

Bev changed the subject. "Anything else going on?"

"I ran into Chief Casey at the grocery today. He told me he was going to call you tonight. I think he misses you."

"Well, he's going to have to get over that. You know how much I travel. If he's going to get all mopey every time I go away, we may have to rethink the direction our friendship is headed."

Emily laughed, "God, Mom, you're impossible. He's nice man. He likes you. I'd think you'd kind of feel special to know that he misses you when you're not around."

"You're right. I'm just uncomfortable about the direction he seems to want to go with our relationship. I liked being friends and colleagues. I travel too much to have a boyfriend."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. I just hope you don't screw up a potentially nice deal because of your job. Which, speaking of your job, have you talked to Mr. Andrews about his job offer?"

"I sent him an email explaining where I am. Instead of meeting in Stanforth when he's finished in Chicago, we're going to meet in either Nashville or someplace else convenient."

"What have you decided?"

"I haven't had time to think about it? What do you think?"

"I think that I'm going to be in college after another year. Then I'll be on my own. Since you have built your whole life around your career, seems to me you should have a job you love. It is entirely your decision. I will say that I think that as hard as you work, you should make more money, but I'm not the one who has to live in your skin. You have to decide if you want to stay at Midwestern or try something new."

"You are no help." Bev chuckled, "But you're right."

They were quiet for a minute. Bev didn't want to talk about the prospective new job and she had told Emily all she could about her current investigation. Emily said, "I've got a ton of homework. I'm going to let you go. I have a student government meeting after school tomorrow, so if you call me, call me later in the evening."

They blew kisses through the phones and hung up. Bev watched the sky darken with the vague angst she felt at the close of every day that left so many tasks undone and so many questions unanswered.

She drove back to her hotel, where she spent an hour or so responding to emails from her assistant and other business associates. There were several joke emails from her mother which she deleted unopened. She checked her Facebook page and enjoyed some photos from her best friend in Arizona who'd just come back from a cruise in the South Pacific. A couple of college professors who were Facebook friends posted some interesting articles, which Bev resisted taking the time to read.

Her assistant had sent her Walker Trent's insurance file. She read through it, and studied the photos of the house, inside and out. It was huge, but it wasn't ostentatious. The inside was positively gorgeous. She could understand how people could love a house like that. She looked up the insured's phone number in the file and dialed his home number in Nashville. She got a voice message saying that he was away on an extended trip and referring the caller to his assistant at a business number. She called the number and got a recording. She left a message to the effect that she needed to make arrangements to meet with Mr. Trent as soon as possible regarding the fire loss.

It was still too early to go to bed, but she changed into her pajamas, and stretched out on the bed, reading academic articles about water pollution in the Ohio Valley on her phone.

The phone rang, and startled her. She loved reading on her phone, but it always startled her when it rang while she was holding it. She glanced at the screen and grinned when she saw Ed Casey's smiling face. She had taken a picture of him at a concert they had attended. He was dancing like a maniac and laughing. She snapped a close-up of his face, and used it for his profile picture on her phone. It never failed to make her happy to see him smiling at her. Occasionally she pulled up his profile and enjoyed his smile, just because.

Was she falling in love with him? She hoped not. She liked him too much as a friend to risk screwing it up by getting romantically involved. She didn't view either of them as the romantic types, although she was beginning to fear that he saw it differently.

She clicked the answer button and said, "Hey, there."

Ed said, "Hey, yourself. Am I catching you at a bad time?"

"On the contrary. I'm at that 'it's too early to go to bed but I don't have anything else to do' stage. I was reduced to reading academic articles online. I am so freaking pathetic."

He laughed out loud. "I guess that makes two of us. I've spent the last hour reading a book profiling people who set fires."

She chuckled, "You might want to put that one aside for me when you're finished. It's kind of right up my alley."

He said, "Will do. If nothing else, it will let you save money on sleeping pills." He cleared his throat, "How are you and what are you up to?"

"Well, I'm in a cheap hotel in East Texas investigating a suspicious fire at the home of a famous country music singer...."

He interrupted her. "Do NOT tell me you're investigating the Walker Trent fire!"

"Do NOT tell me you know who he is. I thought you were a blues/jazz aficionado."

"I am, but I also like good old-fashioned country, and -- outside of 'Waylon and Willie and the boys' --, it don't get any better than Walker Trent."

"Now I feel like a total and complete idiot because I'd never heard of him, or those other people you mentioned either."

"Tell me you didn't admit that to anybody in Texas."

"I admitted it to the fire chief."

"You _are_ a total idiot."

"Okay, tell me something I don't know. Like: who set fire to Mr. Trent's incredible house."

"The general consensus among Walker Trent's fans is that Tamra set it, or – more likely – hired someone to set it."

"Does everybody in America know everything about the Trents' marriage but me?"

"Probably."

"Do you think she did it or caused it to be done?"

"She's certainly capable. She had motive and opportunity. There's only one thing that makes me think she didn't do it. The word always was that she loved that place every bit as much as Walker did. I can't see either one of them burning it down."

"That seems to be the consensus among the locals, who generally revere Walker Trent while holding the opinion that he's odd. They don't seem quite as enamored of Mrs. Trent, but nobody has been able to articulate quite why."

"I'll tell you why. Walker's a Texas boy. He's got the land and the people of Texas in his blood. He may be strange. Generally opinions about him are divided between 'shy and awkward' and 'arrogant genius'. Frankly, based on what I've read about him, I think it may be a little of both. Texans will cut a hometown boy a lot of slack if he can sing. If he brings big money into the community he can be as weird as he pleases and they'll love him to pieces. Tamra's from North Carolina, which basically makes her an alien, I suppose.

"Have you met Trent yet?"

"Not yet, but I left a message for his assistant this afternoon indicating that the time has come for that."

"I can't wait to hear what you think of him."

She chuckled, "Do you want me to get his autograph?"

"No. I'm not an autograph collector and even if I were, I wouldn't ask you to do anything so unprofessional."

"I appreciate that. My daughter is not so understanding. She got pissed off when I refused to get his autograph for her.

"Anything exciting happening on the home front?"

"Nah. It's warming up and looks like we might have a beautiful spring, which is a mixed bag for me. I love the warm weather and the beautiful flowers. Problem is I have really bad allergies, so about the time things get all bloomy and gorgeous, I start sneezing and I don't stop until high summer."

"That's too bad. Kinda takes the fun out of springtime. Spring has already fully sprung here. The land reminds me of home, rolling hills and all. I like that. The plant life is a little different. There are wildflowers everywhere. Scrub trees as opposed to big tall trees, except along the rivers. It's pretty warm already. I'm guessing it's downright miserable here in the summertime."

"You know what General Sheridan said about Texas?"

"No. What?"

"He said if he owned Hell and Texas he's rent out Texas and live in Hell."

"And I bet Texans repeat that at every opportunity because they love being 'different'. They cherish their weirdness as much as those damned Floridians."

"Are you going to get to spend any time in San Antonio?"

"I hope to. I have hung around here and chatted up the locals for a couple of days, passed my phone number around in case anyone wants to provide me some information, and generally got a feel for the area. Once I touch base with Mr. Trent and find out when he can see me, I plan to decamp to San Antonio and hopefully have the opportunity to at least make a brief pilgrimage to the Alamo."

"Why would you call it pilgrimage?"

Bev was quiet for a minute, pondering how to answer that. Given her budding relationship with Casey, she opted for the whole truth. He deserved to know what a full-fledged lunatic he was involved with. "You know my dad was raised a Mennonite and left his family when he was young. He joined the Army and served in Korea in the early 1950's. When he came home, he went to college on the GI bill. Between the indoctrination of the military and the influence of a professor who taught American history at the University of Dayton, my dad turned into an American history nut. He read -- a lot --, and almost all of it was history.

"We went on an annual vacation. Every year he took me to visit sites that he considered to be of national importance. One year we went to Boston and spent four days reliving the beginnings of the Revolution. One year we went to Philadelphia and he about drove me mad recounting in minute detail the events of the Continental Congress. We visited virtually every significant battlefield of the Civil War. Have you ever been to Vicksburg? It is a shattering experience even more than a hundred years after the battle, at least it was for me in view of the fact that I visited it with a man who seemed to be able to see the full horror of battle playing out before us, and described it in detail to me.

"Anyway, I spent my youth being dragged around the country going to museums and battlefields. In the early 1960's, when the movie _The Alamo_ came out, Dad and I went to see it. Something about the movie caught my imagination and I told my dad I wanted to see the real Alamo. So the next year on our vacation, we drove to San Antonio. I remember how unimpressive the shrine was. It was small and there wasn't much to it. I made the mistake of saying something to that effect. My dad pulled me into a corner of the room where most of the defenders died, and made me rest my palms and lean my forehead against the wall. I stood there while he talked to me about the people who built the building as a church, and the people who came there to worship and be fed spiritually and how their spirits were still there.

"Then he told me about the men who traveled from all over the United States to stand up to the Mexican army in what amounted to a suicide mission that would buy a little time for Sam Houston to rally enough troops to actually fight Santa Ana. He went on and on, introducing me to men who died there: Travis; Crockett; Bowie; and a slew of others whose names are less familiar. He talked as though he knew them. Because he did. He had studied them until he knew them. What was more, for the first time, I understood that my dad knew something even more important about them than their biographies. He knew what it was like to love freedom and be committed enough to the American ideal to be willing to lay your life on the line for it. Because he had done that, too, and I never doubted that if it became necessary for him to do it again, he would have.

"Knowing what I know now, it seems almost incredible that someone with his upbringing in a home which more or less rejected the notion of being a loyal citizen of any earthly nation (Mennonites and Amish prefer to be subjects only of the Kingdom of God), that he would turn into such a patriot.

"Anyway, that trip to the Alamo was a big ah-ha experience for me. It gave me an important insight into my dad, which helped me maintain my patience in later years as he hauled me around the country reliving history instead of going to the beach or amusement parks like my friends did on their vacations. Something else happened that day that I wasn't aware of until much later."

She paused, and Casey prompted softly, "What was that?"

She cleared her throat, and said, "That experience in the Alamo turned out to be something akin to a religious conversion for me. Dad's passion for the subject kicked off a tiny spark of patriotism that I didn't notice at the time, but it's lived in my heart ever since." She chuckled, "It kind of made me an odd kind of Baby Boomer. I was the youngest member of the local VFW auxiliary and the only one who was a student. While students on the Shawnee campus were demonstrating against the war, I stood out in front of the post office selling Buddy Poppies to raise money for the orphans of killed soldiers."

Bev sighed loudly and said, "There, I've told you about my secret life as a nut. I haven't been back to the Alamo since that visit with my dad. I can't be this close to San Antonio and not go back. Frankly, I'm glad I'll be going alone because I'm pretty sure I'll cry. Potentially a lot. It so happens that the anniversary of my dad's death was yesterday. I miss him a lot." She hit the mute button quickly before an audible sob escaped her throat.

Casey said, barely above a whisper, "Thank you for sharing that story." For a minute they were both quiet. Bev regained her composure. Casey went on, "For some reason while you were talking I was reminded of something that happened when I came home from Vietnam. I was in-country from the summer of 1970, when I graduated from high school, until the summer of 1972 when I was wounded. The Corps sent me to a hospital in Honolulu to try to patch me up in order to get me back into action, but the doctors said I'd never be combat ready again, so they gave me a Purple Heart and a medical discharge, and then they sent me home. For some stupid, idiotic reason, I wore my uniform on the trip. I figured it would be the last time I could wear it, and I was proud of being a Marine. You know: "The Few. The Proud."

"Anyway, I was greeted by protesters at every airport, screaming obscenities at military personnel. They called us 'Baby Killers' and 'Nazis'. It was awful. I'd spent two years in combat and three months in a hospital recuperating from wounds, and my fellow citizens greeted me with nothing but scorn.

"I was depressed at being discharged from the Corps, because I had really hoped to make it a career. I was even more depressed when I started watching TV after I got home. The news about the My Lai massacre was horrifying to me on so many levels I don't think I could sort it all out even after all this time. I could not believe the political bullshit that was going on in Washington. There were anti-war demonstrations even on the campus at Shawnee. I now agree that the America involvement in Vietnam was stupid and ill-planned and poorly conducted. At the time, however, all I saw was a bunch of kids who'd never even been to boot camp blaming the soldiers for atrocities that appalled most of us as much as they did the rest of America, and blaming us for a war we didn't start and couldn't win, through no fault of out own.

"I felt that I had put my life on the line for a country full of crazy people. I found myself feeling resentful and bitter about everything. I sat around the house, watching TV day after day with my old man, drinking beer. My dad was a bitter, resentful old drunk and he was kind of glad of the company. My mom was beside herself with worry.

"At one point, one of my dad's buddies invited me to the VFW. I hesitated to go because some of my Vietnam veteran friends had told me that some of the WWII vets were not too keen on us joining their clubs because they believed the rumors that we were all drug crazed maniacs. Of course Lt. Calley and the boys didn't help with that!

"The local VFW was small, and the older men were fairly accommodating, perhaps because they knew most of us. Anyway, I stopped at the bar for a beer one day. I chatted with the guys and had a nice time. When I got ready to leave, the bartender handed me a cookie tin, and said it was a welcome gift provided for newly returning vets by the family of one of the VFW members. When I got home, I opened it. It contained individually wrapped home-made chocolate chip cookies and a note, written in a young girl's flowery handwriting, that said simply, 'Welcome home! Thank you.'"

He paused and cleared his throat. Bev was holding her breath. After clearing his throat a second time Casey added, "I put the note in my wallet. A few years later it had got so tattered, I had it laminated. It's yellow and dilapidated, but it's still in my wallet. No one would ever tell me who the gift was from. I know that every returning soldier who joined the local VFW in Stanforth during the Vietnam war got one of those tins of cookies with a note. I also know that most of us still have the note or the can. Some of the guys still have both. One of the tins is sitting beside the cash register in the bar of the VFW as a reminder. Only a few of us know what it is.

"That small gift helped me kick the depression that threatened to torpedo my future. I joined the VFW and have been a regular member ever since. I signed up for college at Shawnee and I got a job washing the fire truck and the police cars in town and started on my way to being a productive member of society. In a way, that small gift was the boost I needed to step off the slippery slope I was on."

He hesitated for a long time and then said, "Thank you."

Bev whispered through her tears, "You're more than welcome."

They were quiet for a while. Bev pulled herself together and said in what she hoped was a light tone, "Well, I guess it's not too early to go to bed anymore. We do talk up a storm like a couple of real old farts, don't we?"

"Sure do. Let me know when you're coming home. I found a really cool jazz club in Cincinnati. I thought we might check it out some weekend."

"Great. I'll shoot you an email once I've firmed up my travel plans. Good night. I'll talk to you soon."

"'night. Sweet dreams."

Bev closed her phone and put it on the nightstand. She stretched out on the bed with her hands behind her dad, letting waves of pain wash over her. She missed her dad. She mourned lost innocence whenever and however it was taken. She felt suddenly consumed with anxiety about her future. She rolled over, covered her head with the sheet and cried herself to sleep.

## Chapter 4

The next morning, Walker Trent's assistant called her to say that Walker could meet with her anytime at her convenience, but, if she wouldn't mind, he would prefer to meet at his place near Gatlinburg rather than in Nashville. Bev was fine with that. She asked for a recommendation for a hotel. The secretary told him that Trent had several cottages on his place and he would like her to be his guest. She accepted the invitation. The woman gave her Walker Trent's personal cell number and said, "Let him know when you'll be arriving. He'll send a car for you. You'd never find the place on your own."

Bev booked a flight for mid morning the next day. She sent an email to her assistant and the head of the special investigations unit providing a report on her travel plans and schedule. Then she stopped for breakfast at the coffee shop across the street from the grocery store and the post office. She hoped it was a good place to spread the word that she was leaving to visit with Trent. She left a stack of business cards with the waitress and asked her to pass them out freely to anyone who might have information about the fire.

She stopped into the newspaper office to thank Joe Wertzel for his candor and to let him know she was leaving. He asked if she had come to any conclusions. She said, "No. My official response is: 'The Company does not comment about ongoing investigations.' My unofficial background response is: I have no idea who set the fire, but I intend to find out."

While she was making her travel plans, she had reserved a room at a hotel near the airport. She drove directly there. It was too early to check, in but she left her bag at the desk and asked if there was a shuttle to the Riverwalk area downtown. The clerk looked at his watch and said, "Shuttle should be here in about five minutes. It's free. You can wait on the bench right outside the door."

"Thanks."

He asked, "Do you need a map?"

"No, sir. I know where I'm going."

"Meeting?"

"Yes." She muttered under her breath, "A meeting with a whole lotta ghosts."

In her child's memory, the Alamo was small, arid and kind of in the middle of nowhere. In reality, the Alamo is very small, but it is located nearly in the heart of downtown San Antonio, and the grounds are green and lovely. Once she entered the compound itself, she found that it was amazingly quiet, despite the bustling city right outside the thick walls. Visitors spoke softly and seemed respectful of the hallowed ground on which they stood. Bev wandered around for a while before she got up the nerve to go into shrine itself. Finally, when she felt that she had steeled herself sufficiently, she went into the Long Hall and found the corner where she and her dad had shared that special moment so long ago.

She leaned her forehead against the wall and placed her hands on either side of her face. Her mind and heart were a total blank. She neither relived the conversation with her dad nor thought about the battle for the Alamo. Instead she simply emptied herself of all thought or emotions and allowed the spirit of the place to seep into her soul. There were no thoughts involved, but in some ironic way this site of mayhem and death reassured her and imparted a serenity to her soul that she had not felt in a long time. Bev had no idea how long she stood there, but eventually she felt that the building was finished with her, and she turned to go. As she walked away, she noticed that the dark knot of anxiety and fear that she had been growing in her soul for years was all but gone, at least momentarily. It occurred to her that, while the building may have become famous for its violent end, it had started out as a church. She experienced it as still a holy place.

Soon she left the Alamo behind and wandered around the Riverwalk area. It was lovely, but too commercial for her tastes. She went into a small shop and asked for a referral to a restaurant where the locals eat. The clerk gave her a recommendation and handed her a tourist map.

She noticed that O. Henry's newspaper office was nearby. She made a detour to visit. She had always been a huge fan of O. Henry, but didn't recall knowing that he lived and worked in San Antonio. She tried to strike up a conversation with the attendant about his stories, and was disappointed to discover that the lady had never read any of O. Henry's stories. She was instead, reading a _Cosmopolitan_ magazine. There was a volume of O. Henry short stories lying on a desk in the office. Bev couldn't resist pointing to it on her way out and calling over her shoulder, "You might want to read that book instead of the junk in that magazine."

She laughed at herself as she headed for the restaurant. _I'm such a crank now, I shudder to think what a bitch I'll be when I get old._ She found she actually rather liked that idea.

She found the restaurant the clerk had recommended and asked the waiter to bring her an order of whatever the cook loved to make most. The waiter laughed and said, "I'll be right back."

A few minutes later he returned with a little round Mexican woman who gave Bev a hug. She said something in Spanish to the waiter who translated. "Mama says it isn't often we get tourists here who understand how home cooking works."

Bev grinned, "Thank you." She smiled at the lady and asked, in English, "What do you plan to feed me?"

The waiter translated, and Mama laughed, saying something in rapid Spanish as she bustled toward the kitchen. He turned to Bev and said, "You are in for a treat, ma'am. You made her day."

"She's not going to feed me anything funky, is she?"

"No dog or anything. You are about to taste the best tamales you've ever had or will ever have again."

"Excellent!"

When she had finished her meal, she asked the waiter to tell his mother that the tamales were so spectacular she would never find a better tamale anywhere. What she did not mention was that she'd never eaten a tamale before.

She decided not to try to find a bus stop. Instead she asked the waiter to call her a cab. She checked into her hotel and worked for a few hours. She skipped dinner and decided to go to bed early. Before she turned in, she sent a 'sweet dreams' text message to Emily. Then she sent an email to Casey:

I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk about it, but I paid my visit to the Alamo today. It was, if possible, even more moving than the last time. The place is truly a holy spot. Maybe America's version of the Wailing Wall or something. Anyway, I'm turning in early. Tomorrow I'm headed for East Tennessee, where I will be a guest at Walker Trent's fish camp.

Maybe I'll pour a libation to the spirit of Davy Crockett while I'm there.

I'll call you in a couple of days to let you know when I'll be home.

On a dangerous impulse, she signed it: _Fondly, B_

She hit _Send_ quickly before she chickened out.

Her flight from San Antonio to Knoxville was mercifully uneventful. It was cloudy, so she couldn't see much on the ground. Instead she read a thriller novel that was not too taxing on the brain but held her attention sufficiently to allow her to ignore the flight attendants inane chatter and the whining complaints of the bitch seated behind her.

She was met at the airport by a car service. The driver asked if she'd had lunch. She said she had not. He reached into a bag on the front seat and handed her a box lunch. "It's about a two hour drive from her to Mr. Trent's place. He suggested you might want to eat something on the way because he figured they wouldn't feed you on the plane."

Bev was overwhelmed that a person of Walker Trent's status in life would be so solicitous of the comfort of an insurance adjuster – who was coming to see him as a part of her investigation into whether or not he had attempted to commit insurance fraud. On second thought, Bev figured maybe Trent thought it would behoove him to keep her happy and comfortable. She ate her snack as they drove up into the Smokies. Bev found herself gasping aloud at the beauty of springtime in the mountains. She had been to eastern Tennessee several times in the fall to enjoy the colors of the leaves. It never occurred to her that springtime would be so beautiful, with every possible shade of green dappled with splashes of the pink, red and white mimosas and azaleas everywhere she looked. She was transported.

The driver didn't say a word to her the entire trip, which was fine with her. Eventually, he pulled into a driveway that was all but invisible if you didn't know it was there. About a half mile later, they drove into a clearing with a circle driveway. The driver stopped in front of a nice sized (but not huge) stone and wood cottage. Bev could see several smaller stone cottages dotted around what appeared to be truly a fishing camp compound. When she alighted from the car, she could hear running water. The stream wasn't far off.

The driver got out and opened the trunk. Walker Trent came out of the main cottage and walked up to them as the driver shook her hand, "Ma'am, it was pure pleasure to drive you today. I was born and have lived my whole life in these mountains. I've been driving tourists around for a long time. I don't think I ever drove anybody who appreciated my home turf like you did today. I thank you for the opportunity to see it fresh through your eyes."

Bev found herself almost moved to tears, but got a grip quickly. She shook the man's hand and said, "I hope you'll be available to take me back to the airport tomorrow."

"I already have you on my schedule."

He turned to Trent and shook his hand, "Afternoon, Mr. Trent. This here's a real nice lady."

Trent shook the driver's hand and turned to Bev as the car drove off, "Pleased to meet you, nice lady. It's always a pleasure to meet someone who can appreciate the beauty of these mountains."

"Bev Deller. I'm pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Trent. I truly wish it were under better circumstances."

"Me, too. Tell me what's on your agenda."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to you for a while. We'll just chat first, get acquainted and we can discuss the situation in general. I will want to get a recorded statement soon, but I'm assuming that you will want your attorney to be present for that."

"Actually, my attorney wanted to be present for the entire meeting, and he's not too keen on a statement at all, but I told him to stay away. I have nothing to hide."

"It would probably be better if your attorney were present during your statement. I am grateful that you are willing to meet with me informally without your attorney being present. I mean it when I tell you that I do not intend for this to be adversarial. This is totally about information gathering."

"I appreciate that. Let me show you to your cabin. You can stow your gear and use the bathroom." He took her across the lawn to a small cottage which consisted of a kitchen/living area with one small bedroom. He showed her the thermostat and how to operate the gas fireplace, warning that it would get cold at night. He invited her to make herself comfortable and to join him in the house when she was ready. He pointed to a veranda on the side of his house that faced the creek, "You can just come in that way. No need to knock."

Bev decided to change into jeans. Ten minutes later she walked into the living room of his cabin. It was rustic but very comfortable. The two primary focal points were the huge stone fireplace on one end of the room and the Steinway baby grand piano at the other end. Trent was seated at the piano when she entered and did not appear to hear her come in. He played a couple of bars of music, singing softly. Then he played them again, singing different words. He made a note on his sheet music, and then turned to face her. "Welcome! Come in and have a seat."

Bev said, "Mr. Trent, if you're working we can do this later."

"No. Let's do it now and get it over with. I was just killing time, without really accomplishing anything."

He got up from the piano bench and sat in a stuffed rocking chair that reminded Bev of the nursing chair she'd had when Emily was a baby. She took a seat at the end of a love seat. She said, "First of all, let me tell you a little about how this works. I've checked. You've never reported any kind of an insurance claim on any of your policies that I have been able to find out about. So, I'm going to assume your only information about what insurance adjusters do would have come from your attorney, and attorneys are not generally big fans of adjusters, so I shudder to think what he's told you.

"I am a fire investigator for the company that writes your homeowner's insurance policy. It's clear that someone intentionally destroyed your beautiful home. My company will be prepared to pay you the replacement cost of the home, provided you were not the person responsible for setting the fire. I will tell you up front, I've spoken to some of your neighbors, your employees and your fans. Not one person I've spoken to believes you set or hired anyone else to set the fire. We have uncovered no evidence linking you to the fire. That's the good news.

"The bad news is that we have uncovered no clear evidence pointing to anyone else, either.

"In order to pay the claim, I need to be able to find out who set the fire, or at least rule you out as a potential suspect."

He nodded and asked, "What if you can't do either of those things?"

"If the evidence is so inconclusive that I can't make a determination, I will probably have to file a declaratory judgment lawsuit and ask a court to make a determination as to whether or not my company needs to pay the claim."

"What if the evidence incriminates me."

"Then I will send you a letter advising that the company will not pay your claim because the policy does not cover damages resulting from intentional acts on the part of the insured. Then I will turn my investigative file over to the prosecuting attorney in your home county and file a complaint alleging insurance fraud."

"I could go to jail for that. Right?"

She nodded, "Potentially, but I have to be honest and tell you that unless some bombshell evidence turns up, I seriously doubt that the state's attorney in your back yard would push too hard to prosecute you. I think the worst case scenario for you is that you won't get the insurance money and you'll have to pay an attorney to negotiate a deal with the prosecutor. At the very worst, you might be offered a plea bargain providing for a fine and probation. I can't imagine a scenario where they would put you in jail."

He seemed to relax a little. "So what do I have to give you to rule me out as a suspect?"

"Well, let's start with where you were when the fire happened."

"I was here."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Does your assistant keep a calendar for you so we can see when you arrived and when you came and went from here?"

"I keep my own calendar, to which my assistant has access. It's an electronic calendar online. If you like, I'll give you access to it."

"That would be perfect."

"When you are here, do you stay in the compound usually or do you go into town?"

"I stay here for the most part. Rusty, the driver who brought you here, picks me up at the airport and takes me back. His wife keeps his records. She'd have billing records of when I come and go. I have a jeep here, but I rarely use it off the property."

"Do you have frequent flyer plans?"

He laughed, "No, Ma'am. I have my own plane."

"Oh. I'm assuming your pilots have flight records."

"Yes."

"So, if I get your flight records, and Rusty's billing records, along with your credit card records, we'd be able to show that you did not leave this place for, say, a few days before the fire and a few days after the fire?"

"Ma'am, I arrived here four days before the fire and, other than to got to the grocery story up the road yesterday, I haven't left this compound."

"Have you had any company?"

"Other than the mailman, no."

"Has the mailman stopped by every day?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's a fan and makes it a point to stop by and visit every day when I'm here."

She asked, "Would you mind if I take notes? I know it makes some people uncomfortable, but I need to jot things down or I forget."

"I keep a note pad in my pocket, myself. Go right ahead. I might have to make some notes as well for things you ask me to get together."

"Actually, I'll make it easy on you. After we're finished here, I will send you a letter – probably an email – confirming our conversation and spelling out the documents I would like you to give me. You can forward that to your attorney and he and I can hash out what information he will or will not provide to me. I have to tell you that the deck is stacked a little in my favor on that score. The insurance policy requires you to cooperate with my investigation and to provide the Company with documentation as requested. I'm more than willing to work with your attorney, but I'm not planning to request anything unreasonable so I'll probably insist on him agreeing to turn over everything I ask for."

"I understand."

"Okay, so we're going to be able to show that you were -- what? -- 1000 miles or so from the site of the fire. That will demonstrate to my satisfaction that you weren't the guy with the gas cans who lit the fire. You are, however, a person of means. People like you don't put gas cans in the back of your pickup truck and light a match. You would have the resources to hire others do that for you."

He shook his head, "How in the hell can I prove to you that I didn't do that?"

She sighed, "That could be hard. The best way would be for us to figure out who did it. You can help there by talking to me about any enemies you may have who might have done this. Do you know of anybody who'd want to hurt you? Anybody who'd want to make you look guilty and damage your reputation? I'm willing to grasp at any straws you'll hand me."

He cocked his head and squinted his eyes, asking, "Just out of curiosity, what do my neighbors and employees say about that?"

She thought about it before she answered. Ordinarily, she would not have replied to that question until she had been all the way through his story. But, that was the opening she needed to bring up the subject of his marriage. She sighed and pursed her lips. "Many of them think your ex-wife hired someone to burn the house in revenge for you not letting her have it in the divorce settlement."

"Not all of them think that?"

"No. As a matter of fact about half of them said that, while they know that Mrs. Trent was angry that you kept the house, they thought she loved it as much as you did and couldn't imagine either of you doing anything to damage it."

He nodded and drummed his fingers on the wooden ends of the chair arms, as though he were playing the piano. "That brings us back to enemies."

"Yes."

He rubbed his face with both hands, and ran his fingers through his hair, "I suppose there are people who would like to see me come down a few pegs. I s'pose, just about every really successful person attracts a certain amount of antagonism simply because of their success. I've had my share of stalkers and a few disgruntled former employees who thought I was an ass to work for. Shit, I _am_ a son of a bitch to work for. I'm a perfectionist and I don't put up with half-assed work from the band, the roadies or anybody else I'm paying to work for me. Ask anybody who's ever worked for me.

"I must not be too horrible, however, because I have a few employees who've been with me since the earliest days of my career. My lead guitarist played on the very first record I made, and he's been with me ever since. My assistant has been with me for more than 20 years.

"Most of my employees are loyal but I won't tell you there aren't some ex-employees who hate me. As for professional rivals, I'm and old dog. I've been in the business for going on 30 years. The youngsters are all gunning for me, but they generally do it on stage or in the recording studio, not setting fires in the middle of the night. I can't give you the name of any one person I think hates me enough to do this, except for Tamra."

"I don't mean to be disrespectful or to pry into your personal life, but I have to ask if you think your ex-wife could have hired someone to set the fire."

He thought about it for a long time before he answered, "There is no doubt in my mind that Tamra was angry enough with me to want to hurt me after our divorce. I'll tell you frankly that she's mean enough to do just that, and she's rich enough to be able to afford to hire a real pro -- thanks to the $15 million I paid her in the divorce settlement on top of the tens of millions of dollars worth of stuff she accumulated during our marriage."

He paused and asked, "Are you married?"

"I've been divorced for thirteen years."

"What kind of divorce was it?"

"I was lucky. Our divorce was as boring and dull as our marriage had been. There were no fireworks or recriminations. We both moved on."

"Why did you get a divorce?"

"My husband wanted me to stay home with our daughter and be a housewife. I liked my job and didn't see any reason for why I should stop doing it just because I had a baby. My husband wanted a traditional family. We got a divorce and he married a woman who was willing to be a stay-at-home mother to his kids."

"And you did what?"

"I moved in with my dad. He watched Emily when I traveled. He died four years ago. Now when I travel a neighbor lady stays in the house with Emily and ferries her around to school and whatnot.'

He sighed, "I wish my divorce could have been so dull. It was very bitter."

"Would you mind sharing with me a little of the circumstances surrounding it. I will tell you that nothing you tell me will be used for any purpose other than my investigation and I will not share anything you say with anyone other than my boss, and I'll only tell him stuff I think is relevant."

"In other words, I'm not going to read what I tell you in the gossip columns?"

"Garan-damn-teed!"

He smiled, "I didn't expect to like you."

"Quite frankly, I think that's why I'm so good at my job. People trust me. And they trust me because they know they can. I won't screw you over."

He leaned forward and put his face in his hands, and was quiet for a long time. When he finally started to speak, he almost whispered. "I hate talking about myself, and I particularly hate talking about the breakup of my marriage."

He leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. "When I met her, Tamra was a backup singer from North Carolina. She's several years younger than me. She sang in my band on my first big national tour. She was a nice, fresh-faced kid. I liked her. She seemed to like me. I didn't learn until later that she mainly liked the idea of what her life would be like married to a rich country star. We dated for a while and then she got pregnant, so we got married. It was a happy time for both of us. We had a few really great years when my career was taking off and the kids were little.

"At some point, Tamra evidently decided to turn us into the king and queen of country music. It was kind of subtle at first, but as the years progressed, she became more and more obsessed with spending money, sometimes I think just for the sake of spending it. Over the years, she's had probably hundreds of dresses and shoes that still had the tags on them when she gave them away because they'd gone out of style. It was just disgusting. When I said anything about her spending, she'd go nuts and accuse me of being cheap and wanting her to live like some kind of trailer trash bimbo instead of the wife of a big star. It became a huge issue for me. It wasn't the money. I had plenty and she had free rein to spend it. What bothered me was that she spent so much money on things she didn't need or even want. I was almost like a sickness.

"Then as the kids got older, she spoiled them and made them just rotten. She wouldn't discipline them and she undermined me when I'd try. Today, both of them are spoiled brats. I can't stand to be around them. They don't like me either, because I don't tell them that they are the most wonderful children ever, who can do no wrong. They go crazy when I refuse to give in to their every wish.

"Eventually, I started keeping my distance. I bought this place and used it for my retreat. I found out that I liked being up here, alone, listening to the music of the birds and the creek. I started writing songs again. I'm writing some of the best stuff I've ever written. Actually, I've been selling songs under a name other than my own, because I've been experimenting with writing bluegrass and folk music and that's not my usual style. In the country world, it's usually not a good idea to step out of your assigned box.

"I was surprised to discover that I didn't miss Tamra or the kids. I started spending most of my time here or in Nashville. Tamra and the kids lived in Texas. Frankly, in my opinion, it could have gone on like that indefinitely. Unfortunately, Tamra pushed me too far. One year she and my publicist cooked up a crazy idea about doing one of those reality shows. They wanted to let a camera crew follow us around as we prepared for a big Christmas Party. I put my foot down and said hell no. Tamra signed a contract to do the show anyway. My publicist tried to convince me to cooperate. I refused. I fired that publicist and I had my attorney file a lawsuit to prevent the production company from setting foot on any of my properties. Tamra went crazy. I told her I was done with her and our marriage.

"My attorney filed for a dissolution the next day. Tamra counter-sued alleging abandonment, mental cruelty and a bunch of other bullshit. It was messy. It cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees and a $15 million cash settlement, plus I have to pay $100,000 a year support per kid until they graduate from college – assuming either of them has the gumption to go to school."

"Wow. That's a bitter pill."

"That was what I thought. And, quite honestly, that's why I wouldn't let Tamra have the house in Texas. That house was my idea. It was in my home town. Hell, I literally got out there and worked with the construction crew that built it. Tamra didn't want to live so far out in the country at first, but after the house was finished she fell in love with it. After the way she tried to screw me in the divorce, I decided to keep the house. I sort of thought I might want to live there again if she and the kids weren't there. I moved in and stayed there for a few weeks. Problem was, there was too much of 'us' in that house for it to ever be 'mine' alone, if you know what I mean."

"Tamra and the kids moved into her family home in Charlotte, which is her home town. She also keeps a condo in Nashville. She's turned herself into a kind of socialite of the country music world. She couldn't get invited to breakfast at home of any of Nashville's real 'society' but she buys her way into certain circles by doing charity work where she can rub shoulders with the society types. It's kind of pathetic, but I will say one thing for her: the woman can raise money for charity like nobody's business.

"I have a house in Nashville, but mostly I live here."

"Even in the winter?"

"Sometimes I stay here in the winter. When I get cold, I go on vacation to someplace warm."

"Do you think that Mrs. Trent burned the house?"

"No. I don't. Lord knows, she hates me enough, but I think if she really wanted to hurt me, she'd have burned this place, which is my refuge. I love this place more than anyplace I've ever lived. Granted, I have tried not to let her know that.

"That's not why I don't think she burned the house, though. I don't think she's behind the arson because she'd been trying to get me to sell it to her. Allegedly Melinda has been homesick for the place. As mean as Tamra is, I can't see her burning the house down if Melinda really was so fond of it. What I don't know is if that is even true. I've never seen Melinda get really attached to much of anything for any length of time. But, I have to confess that I'm not in touch with my children."

"You kind of divorced them when you divorced their mother?"

"Yeah. They were turning into insufferable brats. One or the other of them calls me from time to time when they want something. I had lunch with Matthew a few months ago on his birthday. He tried to hit me up for a Corvette. I haven't seen Melinda in over a year."

Bev jotted some notes and then chewed on the end of her pen while scanning what she'd written. Without looking at him she cleared her throat a couple of times, and said softly, "Okay, while we're talking about sensitive subjects that I don't want to ask about and you don't want to talk about, we need to discuss your finances. Most people who burn down their houses are usually having money problems. You just told me your divorce cost you millions. I will want to see a financial disclosure. In the meantime, simply tell me: are you experiencing any financial difficulties?"

"In this economy anybody with more than a dollar in the bank has probably experienced losses. I've lost a lot of money, on paper. It is also true that I'm not selling as many records as I used to." He did a double take and make a face. "Do they still call them records?

"Anyway, my income is down, considerably, compared to what it was a few years ago. But, I still made several million dollars last year on record sales. Even after all my hangers-on take their, cut, I banked a few million. As I said, I've also been selling songs under another name. That income comes to me and I don't have to share it with my agent or anyone else except Uncle Sam. It's a considerable sum. For years, I've written scores for movies under another name as well. The income from that is pretty good, too.

"The biggest change in my finances is that Tamra's not spending my money any more. Despite my reduced income, I'm banking more money than I ever did. You see this place. I live very simply. Even after paying $200,000 a year in child support, financially I'm better off than I ever was when I was married to her.

"You should know that the house in Texas was totally paid for. I have never had a mortgage on any of my homes. I've paid cash for all of them. The taxes on that place are high, but I can certainly afford it.

"In short, my investments and income are down, but I think my finances are solid enough to show that didn't need to burn down the house for the insurance money."

"I'll want to see your tax returns for the last couple of years."

He nodded and the stood up. "Can we take a break. Would you like some coffee or iced tea?"

"I'd love a cup of coffee."

They went into the kitchen, which was cozy and homey. Bev chuckled, "Mind if I move right in here? This is so amazingly perfect!"

He nodded and winked at her, "And you haven't even seen the best part!" He put on a pot of coffee and said, "While that's brewing, come on. I'll show you around."

Behind the kitchen there was a nice sized – but not huge – bedroom with a bathroom and a walk in closet. That was obviously Walker's bedroom. The bed was unmade and there was a stack of books on the night stand. He mumbled, "'scuse the mess. I've never understood the purpose for making your bed when you're just going to mess it up again at night."

He showed her to a flight of stairs that was partially hidden by the fireplace. He led her up the staircase, which opened into a dormer room that ran the length of the house. The entire rear wall was glass, providing an incredible view of the stream in the back yard and, beyond, looking over seemingly endless mountains. That day, the cloudless sky was almost royal blue. The Smokies wore their purplish cloak. The mountains stretched as far as she could see. She murmured, "'Purple mountains' majesty'!"

Trent chuckled and said in a stage-whisper, "Sometimes I sing that song when I'm up here."

She looked around. There was a treadmill and a weight bench at the far end of the room. A large table scattered with puzzle pieces occupied the middle. The other half, where they were standing, contained comfortable 'family room' style couches and club chairs. A bookcase overflowed on the wall near the stairs. Next to it was a box from IKEA containing a matching bookcase that was yet to be put together. Everything in the room was oriented towards the windows. Bev said, "I'm guessing you spend a lot of time up here."

He nodded, "If I could get the damned piano up the stairs, I'd put in a fridge and hotplate and just live up here. The windows face east and the sunrises are spectacular. I typically get up before daybreak and come up here to watch the show. Sometimes if I'm reading late at night, I just curl up on the couch and save myself the trip to and from the bedroom."

He added, "After we finish our coffee, if we can knock off for a while, I'll take you for a walk around the grounds."

"I'd like that. I've been sitting all day. I'd love to stretch my legs."

Bev somehow managed to tear herself away from the incredible view and follow Trent down the stairs. He poured them coffee and they returned to the living room.

Bev said, "I'm almost finished for today. This may have sounded disorganized and random, but I wanted our first conversation to be kind of informal. I will confess to you that I'm not a country fan and, unlike everybody else I've talked to in the last few days, I came into this knowing nothing about you. I've been playing catch up. Tomorrow, morning I'd like to take your statement, if you are willing to do that. You may have your attorney present if you wish. I recommend that you do. After that I'll leave you alone so you can get back to work.

"You want to take my statement before you see my documents?"

"Yes. I want to take your statement to get your story. You can back it up with documentation later. If your documentation fully supports your statement, we're probably finished. If I have further questions, we'll probably want a statement under oath, which is kind of like a deposition. If it comes to that, we'll introduce your documentation as exhibits."

"That's the step that will happen right before you go to a judge."

"Yep."

"Do you think it will come to that?"

"Mr. Trent, I'd bet the farm that you didn't burn down your house. The question is: can I prove that someone else did it?"

"Do me a favor. If you get to the point where you are stuck, and you think you have to ask the court to decide whether or not you owe the claim, call me. I really don't want to go through the hassle of a court case over this. My attorney will kill me for telling you this, but I'd be willing to waive my right to the insurance money to avoid litigation. Obviously, I know that if you turn up evidence against me, you'll turn it over to the prosecutor. But, if you think I didn't do it, but you can't figure out who did, let's just walk away."

She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees, and said barely above a whisper, "Mr. Trent, I'm going to forget you said that and I strongly recommend that you don't even hint at any such deal. I understand why you would say it. It is, however, the only self-incriminating thing you've said all day."

She drained her cup and stood up. "I think it's time for that walk now." She looked down at her shoes. "Give me a minute to change into my boots."

They walked over to her cabin. Trent waited on the porch while she changed into hiking boots. She came out and said, "Now I'm ready for a walk in the woods."

"You carry those around in case you might go for a hike?"

"I carry them around when I'm working because part of my job involves climbing around in ruins of buildings. Actually, they came to good use at your place. One afternoon I took a nice long walk to the river. Your ranch is fabulous."

"Yeah, it is. I'm not going to rebuild the house. I think I'm going to turn the whole thing into a wildlife preserve and let the locals use it for a park."

"That would be wonderful use of the land."

They walked for a couple of hours. Trent pointed out interesting plants and animal habitats as well as narrating a history of the area.

Bev smiled and said, "For a Texan, you seem to have a peculiar fondness for the mountains."

"Yeah, it's funny. The first time I visited the Smokies, shortly after I moved to Nashville back in the Seventies, I fell in love. The first home I bought was a shack, and I do mean a ramshackle old Tennessee hills _shack,_ on a creek about 10 miles from here. I bought a quarter acre of land. The building wasn't habitable, so when I'd come up for a weekend, I'd bring a tent. I tore down the house board by board and used it for firewood. After I started making real money, I bought a slightly bigger piece of property with a view and I built a cabin there. That was my refuge for a long time. After I married Tamra, she talked me into building a big house in the mountains over in North Carolina. That house is spectacular. It kind of hangs on the side of the mountain and the entire side of the house facing out is glass. The views are amazing, in every season. Autumn is the most dramatic, but I always kind of liked to get snowed in there and look out on a world that was totally white and pristine. I let Tamra have that house. You can't get in or out reliably in the winter. I bought this place because it's not so high up as to be inaccessible too much of the time."

"This place is fabulous. I love everything about it. Especially the views."

"Where do you live?"

"I live in Stanforth, Ohio. It's a college town in south central Ohio."

"That's funny. I pictured you for a big city gal."

"Nope. Strictly small town. I lived in Dayton for a few years when I was married, but I moved back home to live with my dad after my divorce."

"Maybe your self-sufficiency is what I picked up on and interpreted as big-city veneer."

"Could be. Could also be the job I do. I deal with all kinds of people, and a lot of them are up to no good. Sometimes I fear that my job is making me cynical about people."

"Perhaps people are the thing that make you cynical about people. There are a lot of bastards out there."

"Good point. And, I guess that's a good lesson for a girl like me to learn. I may be the luckiest person on the planet when it comes to friends and relatives. My mother's a fruitcake but she's basically harmless. My dad was a wonderful human being in every respect. Even my ex-husband is a nice guy – boring as hell, but nice. I've never had a close friend who has betrayed me in any way. I don't know anyone else who can say that. That makes me a naturally trusting person. That's a liability in my line of work." She shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile.

He looked at her for a long time, with his squinted like a photographer lining up a shot, and said, "The flip side of that is that you are honest and trustworthy. Other people pick up on that and they level with you."

"That's true. Over the years, I've developed pretty good radar for when people are lying to me. I may not always know what the real truth is, but I can usually tell when somebody is lying. That helps me in my job more than anything."

"Do people lie to you a lot?"

"All the time! People believe the ads on TV about the evil insurance adjusters who are out to screw you out of money to which you are entitled, and think it's okay to lie to me."

"Do you try to screw people out of their money."

"To be honest, Mr. Trent, I spend more time trying to figure out ways to pay claims I am investigating than I do trying to avoid making payment. My employer assigns me the difficult claims. The easy ones – where the insured's on the brink of bankruptcy and the bank's about to foreclose on the house and the insured burns it down in frustration and desperation – go straight to the fraud unit. I get the ambiguous ones where the insured probably didn't do it, but it's not obvious who did. I also get the really bad fires in hotels and restaurants where there are a lot of injuries, so there's really serious money at stake."

"Wow. I never thought about that. You handle claims like that hotel in Las Vegas that burned down with all those people in it."

"You mean the Silver Slipper hotel fire?"

"Yeah."

"Actually I handled that very claim. It almost made me quit my job."

"Why?"

"Do you remember how it turned out?"

"No. I was appearing in Vegas when the fire happened, so I remember watching it on TV when the firefighters were trying to rescue those people who were on the roof. It was a short gig, and I was not there for the aftermath."

"Twenty-three people died. Dozens were injured, some with serious burns that required multiple surgeries. The hotel was a fire trap and the owners knew it. They had received many warnings from the Las Vegas fire department and they made no changes. The city even threatened to close down the hotel. The owners still did nothing. The general manager instructed a maintenance man to start the fire on the theory that he was just an employee, not an officer of the company so it wouldn't void the insurance coverage. We sued the insured alleging both that the general manager was high enough in the company and had a sufficient level of authority to bind the company, therefore the coverage should be voided. As a backup we argued that the pattern and practice of the actual officers and directors was grossly negligent, increasing the risk of loss to an unacceptable level. To top it off, we found some inaccuracies in the insurance application. We argued that, if the underwriter had known about the un-addressed warnings from the fire department and the generally poor maintenance of the building, we would never have issued the policy. The judge agreed and issued a ruling voiding the policy.

"Midwestern walked away without paying a dime. We didn't have to pay the insured for the damage to the building. We also didn't have to pay the victims. That left a really bad taste in my mouth."

"Did the victims ever get any money from the owners?"

"Eventually. They had to sue the individual officers and directors and navigate some really complex corporate laws to get at them, however. I guess they got some money, but they spent a ton on attorneys in order to get it. They got most of their money from the professional liability insurer for their insurance agent after the lawyers sued the agent for failure to procure the insurance the hotel needed."

"You have an interesting job, but I imagine that it's very stressful and often frustrating."

"You have no idea!" Then she laughed, "But I don't have to sing in public, so I suppose that's something."

He said, "You know most people think that singing in public is a terrifying thing. Some singers, even some really big stars, are paralyzed with stage fright. I've never had that problem. I go out on stage and block out the audience completely. I just sing with my band as if we were jamming in a basement somewhere. No big deal."

They had followed a trail that ran along the property line in a wide arc. They came out into the clearing by the house. Trent said, "I'm hungry. Let's see what's in the fridge."

"Sounds good. By the way, thanks for the snack in the car."

"I always have Rusty bring me a box lunch to eat in the car. Fortunately, I don't suffer from car sickness."

She laughed, "Yeah. It wouldn't be smart to eat in the car going through the mountains if you get carsick."

They rummaged around in the kitchen and came up with what Bev held out to be the makings of bean soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Bev volunteered to make the soup if he did the sandwiches. He said, "I want to see how you turn that bunch of odds and ends into soup!"

"Watch and be amazed!"

Less than an hour later, they sat down to dinner. Bev had combined several cans of beans, tomatoes, and some dried pasta, along with some leftover ham she found in the freezer, making a hearty and tasty soup which Trent claimed was as good as his mother's bean soup. Bev said, "It'll be even better tomorrow."

Trent toasted her with his iced tea, "Compliments to the chef. If you crap out as an adjuster, you should audition for a show on the Food Network."

She laughed, but she was flattered.

The next morning, Bev got up before daybreak and made coffee while waiting for the sun to come up. When it was just light enough to see where she was going, she headed out the door for the trail. Trent walked out of his back door at exactly the same moment. They both laughed. Trent asked, "How long were you waiting for daybreak?"

"'Bout fifteen minutes. Sunrises and sunsets in the mountains are a little hard to judge for someone used to flatter terrain."

"Yeah. Let's go."

This time they were walking for exercise, so they didn't stroll along talking. They walked fast with very little conversation other than Trent occasionally pointing out a particular bird or animal. They covered the same distance that had taken two hours the day before in a little over an hour, and they were both sweating when they arrived back at the clearing. He said, "I'm impressed. Not too many people can keep up with me."

"I'm not used to such big hills. My butt is going to be really sore tomorrow!"

They stopped in the middle of the clearing. Trent said, "I called my attorney last night. He raised seven kinds of hell about it, but agreed to let me give you my statement this morning. He will be here by 10:00 AM. Will that give you time to take the statement and still make your plane?"

"Probably. But if I run late, I can cancel my reservation and drive home. I actually like the drive from Gatlinburg and across Kentucky. By the way, how is your attorney going to get here so fast?"

"He's coming in on my plane."

"Oh."

"Actually, why don't you cancel your commercial reservation. My pilot can take you home. Is your car at the airport in Cincinnati?"

"Someone is picking me up. I wasn't sure how long I'd be gone, and my company is fussy about unnecessary travel expenses. Actually, even though they'd like to save the money, I probably shouldn't accept your offer because it could be a conflict of interest."

"Or a bribe?"

"That's a more accurate word for a conflict of interest."

She looked down a her sweaty shirt and muddy boots, and said, "I'm going to shower, change and I have some preparations to do for the statement. I'll see you about 9:30 or so."

"Where do you want to do it? Are you going to do video?"

"No. This is strictly an old fashioned recorded statement. I'd like to do it at a table. Maybe in your kitchen. Not upstairs. That would be too distracting."

"Okay. See you in a bit."

Bev showered and changed into slacks and a sweater. Then she sat down and banged out her outline of questions on her computer. About 9:30, she knocked on Trent's kitchen door. Trent called for her to come in. He was pouring coffee. Bev stopped at the door. The entire time she had been with Trent, he had been wearing baggy jeans and plaid flannel shirts. She hadn't noticed it before but he had not shaved in a few days so he had been sporting greying whiskers. He seemed like a very ordinary guy.

After their walk, he had showered, shaved and put on custom made cowboy boots, jeans that probably cost more than Bev's entire wardrobe and a hospital-clean white shirt. She noticed for the first time how handsome he was. She didn't know whether to feel embarrassed for her lapse of professionalism or for being such a ninny not to have noticed before. Either way, she stood there feeling like a dork in the presence of a superstar. She had the sense he knew what was going on with her and found it amusing.

She managed to get a grip on her emotions, and put on her game face. "Mind if I have a cup?"

He raised his eyebrows and motioned toward the pot. "Help yourself."

She put her computer on the table and poured coffee. Trent put out a plate of muffins. They decided to take their coffee out on the veranda to wait for the attorney. Rusty's town car pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later and disgorged Trent's lawyer.

Bev thought that Ronald Thompson looked like Hollywood's idea of a corporate lawyer, and not at all what she would have expected for a Nashville attorney representing a country star. She learned that he wasn't Trent's personal attorney. He was hired especially for the purpose of representing Trent in connection with the fire. Bev considered that a strike against Trent, although she acknowledged that it was a good idea for him to be represented by a specialist.

Bev and Thompson hashed out the ground rules for the statement very quickly. At first the attorney refused to promise to refrain from instructing his client not to answer objectionable questions. Bev handed him a copy of the insurance policy and pointed out the section that required the insured's full cooperation in investigating claims. She told Thompson that refusing to answer questions in the statement could be construed as failure to cooperate, which would allow her to deny coverage without ever having to determine who set the fire. Thompson fussed and fumed about that but ultimately agreed that she had him over a barrel. He promised not to pepper her with objections, but did indicate that he would note on the record those questions she asked that he found objectionable. They could take that up if and when the case ever got in front of a judge. Bev agreed.

She told Trent and his attorney that she would send Thompson a letter with specific requests for documents she would want to examine and she stressed that the sooner they sent her the documents, the faster she could make her final determination as to coverage. They said they understood. Thompson told her that he already had started gathering some of the obvious things he knew she'd need. He'd keep a list as she went through the statement. She nodded and suggested they get started.

She laid her phone on the table between them and turned on the recorder. "Do you understand this conversation is being recorded?"

"Yes."

"Do I have your permission to record it?"

"Yes."

"State your name and spell your last name."

Bev led Trent through the story of how he came to learn of the fire, then she backed up to his financial situation and his divorce. The entire statement took about an hour. Thompson didn't object once. When Bev turned off the recorder, Thompson whistled long and low. "Lady, if you ever decide you want to make some real money, call me. I will hire you as an investigator and expert witness in a half of heartbeat. That was some kind of impressive."

"Thank you. I have taken a lot of statements. Experience helps. I have also sat in on a lot of depositions. It drives me crazy when attorneys fiddle fart around trying to be cute or confuse people. I just ask the questions and wait for the answer. It's not rocket science."

He laughed, "I thought you were an attorney."

"Hell, no. Although, I guess coming from you I'm supposed to consider that a compliment."

Thompson laughed. "It was intended as a compliment, but I suppose that non-lawyers might not consider it so."

Trent poured more coffee and said, "I'm glad that's over."

Thompson said, "You did well."

Bev nodded, "Very well, indeed. Now the best possible scenario would be for me to arrive home and find a message from my fire investigator indicating that he has evidence pointing to somebody else."

Thompson asked, "What have you got now?"

"Big fat nothing. We know that Mr. Trent was not in the area the night of the fire, but, obviously, Mr. Trent has the wherewithal to hire someone else to set the fire. Then again, so does his ex-wife along with three quarters of the people in the music business who might want to give him a black eye. At this point, I don't know of any evidence pointing to any particular person, although I have to tell you that the local fire chief is being much less forthcoming than I'm used to. Typically the local fire chiefs will let me take a significant role in the investigation, because then the insurance company pay for the experts and whatnot. Since Mr. Trent is a local and the fire chief knows him personally, he's not sharing information with me to the degree that I would prefer. I hope that is only because the chief is protecting his turf and not because he has any evidence incriminating Mr. Trent."

Trent asked, "You want me to put a bug in his ear to work with you?"

"No. I think you should stay completely out of this, and I hope your attorney will agree with me."

Thompson nodded and said in Trent's direction, "I absolutely do. Now that you've given your statement. Please do not discuss this matter with anyone but me. In the future, I will do all of the talking for you." He looked at Bev and said, "Understood?

Bev nodded and stood up, saying, "I think we're done here. I'll go pack and get ready for my trip to the airport. What time is Rusty coming back?"

Trent said, "He's here. We had him to wait. Ron is going straight back to the airport. Are you sure you don't want my pilot to take you home?"

"As tempting as it would be to avoid a commercial flight, crammed in with all of the other livestock-like humans they pack into planes these days, I'm pretty sure my company would not want me to accept such a valuable favor from you under the current circumstances."

Thompson chuckled, "And she's got ethics, too."

"Those three hours of ethics classes I have to take every year to maintain my license must be doing some good, I guess."

She turned to go. "I can pack in a flash."

Thompson shook his head, "Take your time."

She was back in less than ten minutes. She shook hands with Trent and thanked him for his hospitality. He said he hoped she'd visit again sometime in the future under better circumstances at which point he'd take her hiking up into the mountains. She said she'd like that.

When they got in the car, Thompson spent a few minutes checking his email on his phone. Bev leaned back and watched the scenery go by. After a few minutes, Thompson said, "You handled him amazingly well."

"How so?"

"I wish I had been here yesterday to see how you did it. He was more relaxed with you than he is with most people he's known for years. The strange thing is that he had all kinds of motivation to be very nervous around you, but he wasn't. It's weird."

"It's funny that you should say that. Everybody I talked to in Texas who knows Mr. Trent told me he was kind of, well, 'odd' was the word a couple of people used. Nobody could tell me what it was but they all told me he was a little strange. I didn't find him strange at all. At least not unless you think that someone who wants to live alone is strange."

"He is kind of a weird duck. I don't know him well, but in most of our meetings he's been very awkward. According to his personal attorney, he does better with women than with men most of the time, although very professional women who don't flirt with him evidently throw him for a loop. I have a female partner who was going to handle this case, but she kicked it to me because she said that Walker couldn't relax with her. You clearly didn't flirt with him. What did you do?"

"I'm not sure. I did what I always do. I leveled with him about what I am doing and what I hope to accomplish. I told him that I'm not a country fan and I knew next to nothing about him or his life. I promised him that everything he told me would be kept strictly confidential. I don't know that I did anything special."

"The next time you meet with him, I'm going to try to have his regular attorney or his agent present. I would like to know what it is that's different." He shrugged, "What the hell, maybe he's attracted to you."

Bev laughed out loud and said, "Oh, yeah, right. I'm right up the alley of every multi-millionaire singer I meet."

"How many have you met?"

"Actually, he's my first country singer, but I've met a number of other entertainers. I've worked a couple of claims in Vegas and one in Phoenix that involved a movie star."

"If my information is correct, you had the movie star by the short hairs. He managed to get off without being prosecuted."

She raised her eyebrows and said, "I had the son of a bitch cold. We didn't even bother to file a dec action on that one. We just denied coverage and turned the matter over to the prosecutor. The district attorney said there wasn't enough evidence to indict him. I was so furious I couldn't see straight for a week."

"I've always wondered why that D. A. resigned abruptly about three days before the next election."

Bev was looking out the window. She never turned her head or acknowledged she heard him. After a few minutes she murmured, "Maybe it had something to do with a phone call he received from somebody who told him they had evidence that he had taken illegal campaign contributions from said movie star and several of his relatives right around the time that he made the decision not to prosecute. It's always been my guess that he resigned from office to avoid the scandal."

Thompson laughed. "Those rumors are true, then."

"What rumors?"

"That you go after people who commit insurance fraud with a vengeance."

"That's not a rumor, sir. That's a fact."

"You don't think Walker had anything to do with this fire, do you?"

"I am trying to maintain my objectivity. I will tell you, I like him. I hope he didn't have anything to do with it. That's as far as I can go right now."

"What do the folks in the neighborhood say. I haven't made it down there yet. I'm headed there today."

"Most of the people who talked to me think his ex did it. Significantly, the ones who know her the best don't think she did it. They are generally of the opinion that it was a third party."

"Like who?"

"You tell me. Does he have any enemies? Professional rivals? Scorned girlfriends? Jealous husbands?"

"I'm new on the scene, too, but I've talked to his personal attorney and his agent as well as his favorite record producer. They've all told me that they are almost 100% sure that Tamra hired someone to set the fire in revenge for Walker not letting her have the house."

"That is certainly one theory. Could also be that she was pushing too hard to buy it and he burned it so there was no way she could get it, at least not in the condition she left it."

"That's a good theory, too."

"People do crazy things when they get divorced."

"I know. I'm still paying my lawyers for my divorce, and I'll be paying my ex support forever because the bitch has no motivation to marry the new boyfriend. She's enjoying the fact that I have to continue to support the both of them."

Bev said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to open a wound."

"Don't tell me you're happily married forever."

"Actually, I'm happily divorced forever. Fortunately, I had a civilized divorce."

"Lucky you."

She sighed, "Don't I know it. My parents fought over me for years and neither of them ever had a good word to say about the other. My dad never mentioned my mother to me after she moved out. They battled in the courts for years. He never spoke her name at home. Forty years later, my mother still can't speak my father's name without appending an obscenity. It's pathetic to let your anger destroy you to that extent."

He said softly, "I worry about the effect my wife's bitterness will have on my kids."

"All you can do is show them an alternative."

"Meaning?"

"My dad never let me see his anger or his hurt. He fought in the courts with my mother but refused to talk about it to me. He never talked about her because he said he did not want to speak ill of my mother in front of me. What is more, he would never let me say anything critical of her in front of him. All he would say was that she was my mother and he would not allow me to disrespect her. He was all about handling life's crises without letting them get the better of you."

"Which one did you live with?"

"I lived with my mother until I was fourteen. The day I turned fourteen, I called the judge who had issued the custody order and made an appointment. I went to his office after school one day, and asked him if it was true that I was old enough to decide who I wanted to live with. He said yes, but that one or the other of my parents would have to reopen the case. I knew my dad had given up the fight. He didn't want to incur any more legal bills or have me testify in any more hearings. I asked if I could petition the court for a review of the order. He asked me a lot of questions which I answered truthfully. Then he told me that he would assign a social worker to visit my home. He would reconsider the order after he got her report. After a couple of weeks of high drama at my mother's house, the judge issued an order giving my father full custody and ordering my mother to pay for me to travel from Chicago to Ohio. Mom and I had no further contact for years. I reached out to her when I found out I was pregnant with Emily. I figured even my crazy mother deserved to know her grandchild."

"I'd love to get my kids away from their mother, but they're little and she's actually a pretty good mother. She's just a pitiful excuse for a human being."

"Don't let her drive you away from them. I think the saddest thing I heard from Mr. Trent is that he has not maintained any relationship with his kids."

"You haven't met his kids!"

"You have?"

"I started by meeting the former Mrs. Trent and her insufferable son. Will you interview her?"

"I kind of doubt it. She's not my insured, for one thing. For another, I'm pretty sure her attorney has ordered her not to talk about this case, and especially not to me. All I need to do is to come up with significant evidence demonstrating that Mr. Trent didn't set the fire or evidence strongly suggesting somebody other than Mr. Trent did. At that point, I can probably pay the claim and then turn the file over to our subrogation unit. They'll follow the police investigation and try to get restitution ordered in the criminal case against whoever they prosecute."

"Lucky you. She's hell on wheels."

"You think she did it?"

"Actually, I don't. She's certainly a regular Cruella deVille and she hates Walker's guts. But, it is very clear when you talk to her that she really, really loved that house and she is beside herself that it's gone. I'm not sure even a real actress could have put on a performance like the one she gave me."

"What about the kids? How old are they?"

"The daughter is 20. She's away at school. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her, but I talked to her on the phone. She sounds like something of a princess. The son is seventeen. He's the kind of teenager that makes you wonder how the mother's not in jail for child abuse. I was in his presence for fifteen minutes, and I wanted to take the little twerp _out._ Interestingly, his mother didn't seem to be bothered by his foul mouth and nasty attitude."

Bev shook her head, and tried to focus on the scenery. She wished Thompson would just shut the hell up. She didn't say anything. After a few minutes of silence, Thompson evidently figured out that Bev planned to enjoy the scenery and quit the gossip. He made a phone call and proceeded to spend twenty minutes talking to his secretary about his travel plans. It was all Bev could do not to rip the phone out of his hand and throw it out the window.

When he was finished on the phone, he asked Bev, "Who should I talk to in Everly?"

"Employees. Neighbors. I talked to the local newspaper guy since I couldn't get much out of the fire chief. Outsiders who happen to be Yankees aren't going to get much from the locals. I passed my cards out liberally at bars and restaurants in the hope that somebody will give me an anonymous tip. I honestly think that if the fire investigators aren't able to come up with anything, a tip from a neighbor could be the only way we're going to find out what happened."

"I hope it doesn't come down to that."

"If you dig up anything I can use to make a determination in favor of coverage, call me." She handed him her card and then turned to look out the window in the hope that he'd understand she didn't want to talk any more. He took the opportunity to make another phone call. This one to his girlfriend. Bev wanted to kill him.

When they arrived at the airport, Thompson got out of the car and headed for the terminal without saying a word to Rusty and with only the most cursory farewell directed over his shoulder to Bev. Rusty got out and took Bev's suitcase out of the trunk, saying, "What a rude son of a bitch. I don't think he even noticed the scenery. Ma'am, I don't know how you managed not to knock that bastards' block off. "

She laughed, slipped the driver a tip, and said, "Let me tell you: it was an effort."

She could hear him laughing as she walked into the terminal.

## Chapter 5

Casey was waiting for in a gas station near the airport when Bev's plane landed. She called him when she had her luggage and a few minutes later he pulled up to the arrivals pick-up area. It was approximately 7:30 PM. She hopped in his truck and patted him on the knee. "Hey, there. Thanks for playing chauffeur. I hope you kept track of your mileage."

He reached over and squeezed her hand, "I did. Message from your kid: please eat on the way home. She is studying at a friend's house for a big test tomorrow. She will be home by 10:00 at which point she will go straight to bed and she doesn't want you banging around doing dishes. That means that you'll have to eat dinner with me. How about we get a burger on the road."

"You can have a burger. I'll stick with fish or a salad."

They chatted for a few minutes. He had a CD playing softly in the background. She asked, "Who's that? He's got a really nice voice."

"It's Walker Trent. That's his latest CD. This one is gonna make him millions. It is back to basics, straight-up, old-fashioned hillbilly music. Little bit of bluegrass. Little bit of traditional old folk music. Gospel rhythms. There's something almost bluesy about it. I think this is Trent's best album in a decade. It's flying off the shelves."

"So much for the argument that his career was on the downhill slide and he needed to burn down his house to get some attention."

"That might have been a viable theory a few weeks ago because his career has been in the doldrums. Not anymore. I think this album is going to boost him back into the stratosphere. Trent had to know this album was going to be successful. If somebody in his employ thought his career needed a boost and set the fire, I would be willing to bet Trent didn't know about it. He's going to be riding a huge wave of popularity for a long while. I don't see him setting this fire right at the time this album was released."

"Someone who doesn't want him to take advantage of that wave of popularity would have motive to set the fire."

"Yep."

"Jealous rival?"

"Could be."

Bev waved her hands in front of her face as though erasing a chalk board, "Let's not talk about business. Let's talk about something else."

Casey drove in silence for a few minutes. Bev started laughing and then they both collapsed into a mutual giggle fit. He said, "We are both so God-damned pathetic, it's not funny."

"Okay, since we have nothing to talk about except business, tell me what's shaking in the fire department these days."

"I did three fire inspections this week and all three of them passed. I did a talk on fire prevention at the elementary school and I had a meeting with the local Red Cross. They want to do a fire prevention demonstration and open house at the fire department next month. So, there. Now tell me about Walker Trent's retreat and what you talked about."

Bev shook her head, "I don't think I should discuss it."

"He's not the God-damned queen of England, for Chrissakes! If you visited somebody's house in Stanforth you'd tell me what it was like and generally what you talked about. You don't have to tell me the confidential stuff, just tell me about where he lives and what he is like."

She described Trent's compound in minute detail, and told him about the incredible views from the second floor of the house. She ended by telling him that she thought Trent was very nice.

"Did you find him attractive?" His voice sounded pinched and raspy.

She thought about that. "You know me. I hardly ever check guys out. And this time I was _working,_ which made it all that much more inappropriate _._ It was funny. At first, I kind of didn't even notice what he looked like. He struck me as just a nice guy who lives in the most beautiful setting I can imagine. Honestly, at first I barely noticed him. When I was interviewing him, I concentrated on what he was saying not on him personally. When we went for a walk, I couldn't take my eyes off the scenery long enough to pay any attention to him.

"This morning, he kind of showed me a little of his star power. I think he did it on purpose. I noticed how good looking he was then. But, I can't say I found him attractive to me. I guess I figure he's so far out of my league there'd be no point in that.

"It was kind of weird. Several people warned me that he was kind of an odd duck. I didn't find him strange at all. I actually thought he was very nice and quite ordinary, except for the multi-million dollar location of his 'fish camp', the baby grand piano and the collection of Grammys in his living room, of course."

"That would be kind of not 'ordinary'."

He pulled into a restaurant and parked. "Does this look okay?"

"Yeah. Considering that you'll order a burger and I'll order a salad or a grilled chicken wrap, we could stop about anyplace and it would be okay."

They ordered and chatted. Their initial awkwardness wore off quickly and they talked about music, ate and laughed a lot. Before the check came, Bev found herself caught up in the magical glow that seemed to envelope her when she and Casey relaxed together. She wondered how it was that she spent two days in the company of a super star and never even had a prurient thought, but sitting across the table from Ed Casey – with his slight paunch, thin hair and jowls – all she wanted to do was climb on his lap, throw her arms around him and kiss him. As soon as that thought formed in her brain, she clamped down on it and said, "Geez. I'm pooped. Would you mind if we skipped dessert and headed for home?"

He chuckled, "We never eat dessert."

They drove home in silence, listening to Walker Trent's new album. Bev thought it was fabulous. She flipped open her phone and downloaded the album while they were still on the road.

When Casey pulled in her driveway, Bev hopped out of the cab and reached behind her seat to get her suitcase. Casey got out and walked around the truck. He gently pushed her to the side and pulled her suitcase out from behind the seat. He said, "You know I'm kind of old fashioned about some things, and opening car doors for ladies is one of them. Drives me nuts that you just hop out as though I'm the freaking school bus driver."

She looked up into his eyes and gave him a lopsided grin. "Sorry. But you have to understand thirteen years of being a single parent have meant I'm the one who gets out first and opens the child-proof doors, fishes the groceries out of the trunk and otherwise fends for myself. Sitting in the car and waiting for somebody to open the door for me is going to take some getting used to."

He leaned close and whispered, "Humor me."

She turned her head slightly and kissed him softly on the cheek, "I wouldn't hurt you for the world."

He touched her chin with his crooked index finger and rested his cheek against hers and said barely audibly, "I hope not."

He walked her to the door and waited while she unlocked it. She turned toward him and said, "You have no idea how much I appreciate your picking me up at the airport. The worst thing about traveling on business is not having someone waiting to welcome you home. It's nice to have someone there to greet me."

She put her arms around him to give him a hug. He bent his head and found her lips. It was only he briefest of kisses, but Bev felt a little like she'd been struck by lightning.

She squeezed his hand and turned to go inside before she embarrassed herself.

Emily was getting ready for bed. They hugged and kissed good-night, promising to catch up the next evening after Emily's big test.

Bev lay in bed for a long time, her mind racing. Her phone buzzed to announce that an email had arrived. He half expected it to be from Casey, telling her good-night. It was from Cameron Andrews, saying that his business in Chicago had been concluded and inquiring where she wanted him to meet her.

She responded by saying that she was home. She suggested that they meet at the airport in Cincinnati. He replied that he'd get back to her as to the time once he'd booked his flight.

Before trying once more to go to sleep, Bev sent an email to her boss, copying her assistant, indicating that she planned to catch up on her paperwork from home the next morning and then take the rest of the day off for some personal errands.

After a restless night, Bev woke at 4:30 AM. She decided to work for a while until it got light enough to go for a bike ride. She finished drafting an email to Walker Trent's attorney confirming the documents she wanted to examine.

Next she checked her work emails. Most of them were messages from management announcing new policies that had been adopted. The company had recently hired a new director of HR and he was making a lot of changes, bringing the company into the 20th Century – while the rest of the world had progressed into the 21st. She deleted them all, unread. Bev never cared very much about company policy. She did what she thought was the right thing and figured the corporation would have to find a way to deal with it.

There was one interesting message requesting her to call a Regina Thrasher at Triton Insurance in Bermuda. She put a reminder on her calendar to return that call when it was mid-morning in Bermuda.

She had received a message in her personal email from Cameron Andrews. His flight would arrive from Chicago at noon. He planned to stay overnight at the Omni in Cincinnati. He asked if she would be free to meet him about 3:00 PM. They could talk for a while and then have dinner. She replied, accepting the invitation. Then she went for a long, hard bike ride to try to clear the cobwebs from her mind and to relieve the stress she was feeling due to so many changes, professional and personal.

As she rode through town on her way home, Casey was arriving at the fire house. Bev stopped in front of the station and smiled at him. In a startling moment of clarity she knew that she had to tell Casey about her potential new job before she talked to Andrews. She said, "I know I'm sweaty and gross, but could you spare me a few minutes, and maybe a bottle of water?"

He said, "Sure. Come on it. I'll take a rain check on a hug until you dry off."

He led her into his office and fished a bottle of water from a small fridge. He put on a pot of coffee. Then he sat down and looked at her across the desk. He looked a little alarmed. "You look like a lady with something on your mind that I'm not going to like."

She said, "I don't know what it may mean. I hope that it will change nothing, but I need to tell you about something before it goes any further. You're my best friend. Whatever other road we may be heading down is something we'll have to deal with as it progresses. In both cases, I owe it to you to tell you about something that has come up in my life that will affect everything, including, I fear, whatever may be up with us."

She took a long slug of water and wiped her mouth, fidgeting. "I'm just going to say this. There's no way to ease into it. I've been tentatively offered a job with a private investigations company in the Cayman Islands. I won't have to move there. I made it clear that I want to continue to live in Stanforth. I'll be doing the same kind of investigative work I'm doing now. The difference is that I'll be doing assignments for several different offshore carriers who write business all over the US and the world. I will be making a whole lot more money than I do now. That's the upside. The downside is that I'll be traveling even more than I do now, and for convenience sake, I'm considering setting up a secondary home base in Florida to be closer to my employer and the carriers I'll be working for."

"Have you accepted the job?"

"No. I haven't even received a firm offer. Up to now we've just been talking hypothetically. The PI, Cameron Andrews, is coming to Cincinnati today. We're meeting at 3:00 PM."

Casey started tearing off pieces of a paper napkin and wadding them into little balls that he lined up on his blotter. He didn't look at her. "You gonna take the job if he makes an offer?"

"I honestly don't know. On the one hand, I've topped out at Midwestern. There is nowhere for me to move and my raises are unlikely to exceed two or three percent in the foreseeable future. This guy's offering almost double my salary now, with perks and bonuses. My time will be my own. I'll get to pick and choose from among assignments. I'm sure the carriers will try to tie me down with corporate bullshit, but that could be a negotiating point in our contracts with our customers.

"On the other hand, I've got a nice, safe job at Midwestern. It's a stable company that has been around for over a hundred years and will probably be around for another hundred, substantially unchanged. It provides me with a good living. The people like me. I like them. I feel a little disloyal for even considering this offer, but Emily's headed for college soon. I've got some savings, but it wouldn't hurt to be able to increase my income for the next few years and boost my savings rate to get me over the hump of her college years."

She looked at him and reached across the desk, putting her hand over his, "I don't want to make the decision without discussing it with you."

He looked both hurt and puzzled, and said, "I appreciate that, but I honestly don't know what to say. You tell me it won't make any difference, but I can't imagine any scenario where it would not make a difference. You travel a lot now, but you have an office in Dayton and, when you're not traveling, you go to work there like regular people. If you take this new job, you'll be traveling constantly, with no office to go to in between. Your legal address may still be here in Stanforth, but how much time will you actually spend here?"

"I can't answer that. It's one of the unknowns, and I won't be able to know unless I take the job and try it."

He sighed. "Look. I think you should make your decision without taking me into consideration. You and I will still be friends no matter where you are. That much, we can count on as long as we have cell phones and email. Whether there will be or can be something more between us is something we don't know and we can't know until we take a few more steps. Whether or not we are able to do that will depend on how much traveling you will be doing."

She laced her fingers through his and looked at him with moist eyes, "You're not going to make it easy by either asking me not to do it, or telling me to go for it."

"I can't. This is a decision for you to make on your own. We'll have to deal with the impact that decision may have on our relationship after you make it."

He stood up, walked around the desk and put his hand on her back, lifting her by the elbow. "You're dry enough now for that hug." Then he took her into his arms and kissed her.

She rested her head on his shoulder, surprised at how relaxed and safe she felt in his arms, then she inhaled the musky and slightly salty scent of him. They stood there for a long minute, at the edge of an emotional precipice, Bev looked up into his eyes and whispered, "I'll call you later tonight to let you know how my meeting goes."

"You free for dinner?"

"No. Cameron and I are having dinner in Cincinnati. I'll call you on my way home."

He kissed her on the cheek and winked, "OK. We'll talk later, now get the hell out of here, I'm a busy man."

She laughed, "Yeah. You and the Maytag Repairman."

When she arrived home, she showered and put on a conservative pantsuit. She left Emily a note telling her that she was meeting Andrews in Cincinnati and she might not be home until late.

Then she looked at her watch and decided that it was late enough to call Regina Thrasher. She had to go through several layers of automated voice messaging before Ms. Thrasher came on the line. Bev identified herself and said she was returning a call.

The underwriter responded in a deep British-accented Island voice, "Thank you so much for returning my call. I understand you are handling the Walker Trent fire. Triton underwrites an umbrella liability policy for Mr. Trent. I am curious to know what your investigation has uncovered about the fire. Obviously, from an exposure standpoint, we are interested in the outcome of your investigation."

Bev said, "I understand. The answer is that I'm still investigating. I have not drawn any conclusions, so I'm not in a position to make a coverage determination."

Thrasher said, "Here's my challenge. The umbrella policy renews in 70 days. I have to give 60 days notice if I intend to non-renew. Obviously, I will want to non-renew the policy if the insured is in any way implicated in insurance fraud. I'm wondering if you can give me an indication of which way you are leaning."

Bev paused for a long time before answering. Eventually she said, "My opinion could change in a heartbeat if I come up with any strong evidence that Mr. Trent had anything to do with the fire, but my gut tells me that he did not set the fire or hire the person who did. I'm not sure who did it, or why, but my preliminary belief is that Mr. Trent did not attempt to commit insurance fraud."

Bev could hear Regina let out her breath. She said, "I'm so glad to hear you say that. I understand this is your preliminary opinion and you are still investigating. I very much appreciate your sharing your opinion with me. I will confess to being a huge fan of Walker Trent's music. I will be devastated to learn that he was involved in burning down his house, if that is how it turns out. I would appreciate being kept apprised of any changes in your position."

"Not a problem. If I turn up any information that might be material to your exposure, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Thank you. I would be most grateful."

"You're welcome."

Bev was ready to say good-bye when Regina said, "On a different subject, I am given to understand that you are negotiating with Cameron Andrews regarding a possible position with his firm."

Bev felt a jolt of panic. _How many people know about that?_ She said with a chill in her voice, "You are quite clued in."

"Our claims people were the ones who recommended you for the position."

"Why?"

"You have a stellar reputation for competence and ethics. Our claims people would hire you in a heartbeat, but our company requires employees to live in either Bermuda or Dublin. Our people who know you have given us to understand that you would not move out of the U. S. They recommended you to Mr. Andrews as a compromise. You could live wherever you choose, and still do work for us."

"Yes. I am having conversations with Mr. Andrews about a possible job."

"You should know that my company has offered a $50,000 signing bonus if he can entice you to take the offer. I would hope that he gives the lion's share of that to you."

"He's mentioned the potential for a signing bonus."

"If I can provide you with any information that might make your decision easier, let me know."

Bev was still annoyed that her business had been discussed by strangers without her knowledge, but she decided to take the opportunity to find out some information about Andrews. "My biggest question has to do with Cameron Andrews himself. What is his background and why did he leave Alabama to become a self-employed PI in the Cayman Islands? What was he running from? I would be a bit reluctant to hitch my wagon to a star that could fizzle at any time."

"I appreciate your directness. You should ask Cameron about his personal reasons for leaving Alabama. I can tell you that I have worked with Cameron for almost twenty years. He is anything but a shady character running away from a secret past. It is my understanding that he moved to the Cayman Islands to open his business in order to escape from restrictive covenants in his employment agreement with the company he worked for. One of the Lloyds Syndicates put up the money for him to move. Several of the Syndicates as well as Triton and a couple of other Bermuda-based companies signed on to do business with him at the time. All of those same carriers still do business with him, plus he's added relationships with a several new companies in recent years."

Bev believed the woman, and was impressed that Andrews had such a stable customer base. That allayed some of her concerns about his ability to weather bad economic times. She didn't buy the restrictive covenants as the whole reason. People typically don't just quit their jobs and move to a foreign country to start a business without having some reason pushing them. She wanted to know what that reason might be, in order to assure herself that it was not some kind mischief.

Bev asked, "Do you think there's enough work to keep me busy?"

"Are you kidding? In this economy, all insurance carriers I know of have cut back on staff, while at the same time claims – and potentially fraudulent claims in particular – are at an all time high. You are going to be busier than you have ever been!"

They were quiet for a few minutes. The woman added, "In the interests of full disclosure, I have to tell you that Cameron and I are good friends. We dated for a while years ago, and ultimately decided that we made better friends than lovers, so we went back to being buddies and colleagues. He's a really nice man. He's honest and trustworthy. As an employer he will treat you right, in every respect. He'll pay you fairly, and he'll back you up on those occasions when you have to stand up to the customer."

"Bev laughed. You think there will be times when I'll get cross-wise with the carriers?"

"You get cross-wise with your current employer, don't you?"

Bev laughed out loud, "I pretty much stay in Midwestern's doghouse."

"The Bermuda and London carriers are as uptight as Midwestern, or more. We all know that you will clash big time with a couple of the claims people. I have to tell you there are already bets on which one of the London claims jerks are going to start in on you first. Some of those guys are more persnickety than a bunch of actuaries. They will make you crazy, and you will make them crazy. We all know that going in. But, the reason they want you is for your skills at finding the truth in the evidence that is in front of you. You'll probably have the same kind of prickly relationship with the claims people you have with your management now. The difference will be that you'll be much better compensated, on the one hand, and, the carriers will have to be careful not to push you too hard because you will be in a position to refuse to take assignments from carriers you don't like working with."

"That's interesting."

"I hope you will consider Cameron's offer carefully."

"I intend to. Your timing is interesting. Did you know that Cameron and I are meeting today?"

"He told me he was trying to schedule something soon. After you talk to him, if you want to have a conversation or two with some of the claims people you'll be working with, I can make that happen."

"Thanks. I may take you up on that offer. It means a lot that you called me. I had no idea that I was so well known, working for such a small company."

"If you choose not to go to work for Cameron because you prefer the security of a corporation with a little stability, please let me know. I know of at least one Lloyds syndicate that insures a lot of hotels and shopping-and-entertainment venues that would hire you full-time to work for an American subsidiary or, possibly, to work for the law firm that handles their U. S. litigation. There is a lot of work for someone with your level of experience. There is no reason for you to continue to be so grossly underpaid in exchange for security."

Bev chuckled, "I guess in this business it doesn't get any more stable than Lloyds. That raises a question as to why I'd be better off with Cameron. He's a one man operation, if he decides to quit or something happens to him, I'm out of a job. Wouldn't I be better off working for a carrier directly?"

"If security were the only consideration, that might be true. Do you think Midwestern has a lot of suffocating rules and regulations? You think they drive you nuts with their stupid policies and procedures? The offshore companies, and in particular the English syndicates may not have invented bureaucratic bullshit, but they have perfected it over the several hundred years Lloyds has been in business. I think a person like you would be much better off working as a contractor for several of the companies than you would trying to squeeze yourself into a full-time position with one company, working for claims managers who often are nothing more than bean-counters."

"Good point. But, I have to say that coming from an underwriter, I have to take that with a grain of salt."

"Understood. Given that I'm an underwriter, I'm a little surprised you returned my call."

"An underwriter voluntarily calling me is such a rare experience, my curiosity was piqued."

The woman laughed, a deep throaty sound that Bev thought sounded like rum and coconut, and said, "Feel free to call me again after you've talked to Cameron. Give him my best regards."

"Will do."

Bev hung up and shook her head.

She checked her email and discovered that she had several messages from Walker Trent's attorney. He had sent her all of the documents she requested attached to a series of emails. Bev looked at the clock. She had a couple of hours before time to leave for her meeting. She set her alarm on her phone because she knew there was a good chance she'd lose track of time when she started poring through the files. Then she started reviewing the documents, taking notes, in various colors of ink and using several colors of highlighters. She worked her way through the documents fairly quickly the first time to get a feel for the contents. Later, she would go back through them and take them line-by-line, in some cases.

She wanted to spend a lot of quality time with the voluminous phone records from Trent's cell phone, his house in Nashville, and the house in Texas. He did not have a land line at the compound near Gatlinburg. The fact that they turned over all the phone records voluntarily was a signal that they didn't think the phone records held any incriminating information. Bev's had learned from experience that phone records often tell a much more revealing story than people would ever guess.

Trent's financial statements were voluminous and much more complex than Bev was capable of analyzing. She called Peter Dietz and asked for authority to send them to an accounting expert. He told her he already had lined up his favorite forensic accountant. "He's a guy in Nashville. Spent his career teaching economics and accountancy at Vanderbilt. He quit teaching a few years ago and started his own consulting business. I'll send you his email address. I've already primed him about this claim, so you can just send him the documents.

"Have you come up with anything that may help move this towards a resolution?"

"Not yet, but I just got these documents a little while ago. Thanks for lining up the economic expert. I'll send these financials to Dr. Hartman right now."

Before she could sign off, Dietz interjected, "Wait a minute. I have something to say to you. Let me shut my door."

Bev could hear footsteps, the door creaked and then he was back on the line. "Listen. I'm going to say this, and I don't want you to go ballistic and get all pissed off and interrupt me before I finish. Just listen, for a change.

"You know that the world of insurance claims is very small. It's kind of a weird sub-culture all to itself. You have always held yourself aloof and have not participated in the 'claims network' socially or professionally. You're the only highly experienced investigator I know who has not advanced their career by hopping around from company to company. Quite frankly, it's widely held in the business that's the only way to advance your career. Some of the old fogies at Midwestern don't like people who have hopped around, but I don't hold it against people when they do the necessary to maximize their earning potential. Hell, I worked for three different carriers before I came to Midwestern.

"Insurance executives talk to each other. I authorized you to hire Cameron Andrews when you were working on the hotel fire in Marathon. I have to confess I gave you that authorization with some trepidation because I was afraid of what might happen if you and Andrews got together. You two are a lot alike and I thought you would get along well. Maybe too well.

"I know that after you put the Marathon fire claim to bed, you went back to Georgetown to visit Andrews and you were a guest at his house.

"I also know that several of large carriers have wanted to hire you for a long time, and some have even floated trial balloons past you from time to time. Over the years, you have rejected every one of those offers.

"That's what I know. Here's where I start speculating.

"I've heard a rumor that several of the claims executives at a couple of offshore companies went to Cameron Andrews and asked him to hire one or more claims investigators to work on complex casualty claims. Due to the economic downturn, the carriers have cut their claims staff, and their remaining staff can't keep up with the increasing workload. They want to establish relationships with freelancers like Andrews for the purpose of outsourcing complex and difficult claims investigations that their staff doesn't have the time or, in some cases, the expertise, to handle. Those same rumors say that a couple of the carriers specifically asked for you and/or one or two other adjusters with similar levels of experience and that Andrews is considering making you a job offer, if he hasn't done so already.

"Interestingly, it appears that Mr. Andrews was speaking at a meeting of surety companies in Chicago this week. My wife happens to work for a surety company, and she attended the meeting. She was not surprised that Mr. Andrews was on the plane with her from Chicago to Cincinnati. She figured he had connecting flights. She was surprised to see him get off the plane and head for the baggage claim. She asked what business he had in Cincinnati, and he told her he had a meeting this afternoon.

"I am guessing that meeting is with you."

Bev held her breath, while glancing at her watch to see how much time she could spare before she had to leave for her meeting with Andrews.

Dietz continued, "I'm pretty sure that when David Jamison finds out you're talking to Andrews, he'll go ballistic and accuse you of every manner of disloyalty. I don't quite see it that way. You make about half as much money as any other adjuster in the business with your level of experience and skill. You're a pain in the ass and you don't follow procedures, but you're a great investigator, you're honest and you never fail to handle claims in good faith. The reason you're such a pain in everybody's ass is because you tend to bend over backwards trying to find a way to pay claims that others would simply deny and walk away from. That drives David nuts because he likes to try denying claims first paying only if the insured presses the issue. You don't play that game.

"I looked it up. You've been with Midwestern for almost 30 years, 25 of them in claims. You've handled more than 100,000 claims. We've never been sued for bad faith on any of your claims. For your claims that have ended up in litigation and that we didn't settle, you have a 93% win rate. The company average is 65%. You settle claims that David often thinks should be denied, but you get great deals in your settlements, and your average claims expense is the lowest in the company, and way below the industry average. All in all, you're an absolute treasure and one-woman gold-mine for Midwestern. And I'll deny saying that if anybody were to ask.

"For its part, Midwestern has taken advantage of your personal aversion to risk to what I consider to be an almost immoral degree. I know you don't know this, but your salary is seriously out of whack. You started at a trainee salary in 1980. You've received stellar performance evaluations and shitty raises every year. You are the company's third longest tenured person. You are our most senior claims adjuster by more than ten years, and 75% of the adjusters you work with make more money than you do because they started later in time and at a higher rate of pay to begin with. You have always been so damnably loyal, you never even looked for another job. I doubt you had any idea how much more money you could make elsewhere. I'm pretty sure that Andrews has clarified that for you. With a kid soon to be headed for college, I'm guessing he got your attention. Correction: I hope he got your attention.

"I will level with you and tell you that if you choose to leave Midwestern, it will be a blow to the company. I'm guessing it will be a very difficult decision for you, personally. I rather hope it will be an impossible decision, because I like being able to borrow you from Jamison when I get in a jam with a complex loss. I will tell you, not as an employee of Midwestern but as a claims person who knows Midwestern internally and the industry generally, you're as good an adjuster as there is anywhere. You deserve better than what you have received from Midwestern. If Andrews makes you an offer you can live with, take it and have no regrets. If you choose to stay at Midwestern (which is what I selfishly hope you'll do), you should use this as an opportunity to renegotiate your compensation arrangements."

Bev laughed, "Are you suggesting that I tell David I have a job offer elsewhere and invite him to make a counter offer. Rather than offer me a raise, I'd expect him to tell me not to let the door hit me in the ass on the way out."

"Actually, I think you'd be better off talking to Russ McGavin. David thinks you're a wimp and he can push you around, which is why he's never given you the kinds of raises you deserved. And, you accepted every piddly raise he gave you and never demanded more money. Russ thinks you walk on water and Russ has the authority to throw some real money at you."

"That's funny, the last time I talked to Russ, he chewed me out for fifteen minutes about my expense account."

"That was for show. You hired two foreign PI's and went out of the country yourself, twice. He had to fuss and blow to discourage others from getting any grand ideas about taking foreign boondoggles. And, yes, I know those trips were not boondoggles. Those expenses were absolutely legitimate under the circumstances. Russ had to blow off some steam, but he's really your biggest fan in the company, behind me."

"So you think I should take the job with Andrews? What do you know about him?"

"I think you should do what makes you comfortable, but I'm saying this is an opportunity you can use to get an adjustment in your salary if you choose not to leave Midwestern. From what I hear, Andrews has a superb reputation with all the big surety companies. As you know, he works mostly on employee theft and embezzlement cases. His success rate is so phenomenal, the claims people at the surety companies talk about him with almost hushed voices. My wife went to the conference in Chicago primarily for the purpose of meeting him. She went on for twenty minutes the other night about how amazing he is."

"Why did he leave Alabama and move out of the U. S.?"

"You think he was running from something?"

"It's a red flag for me."

"My understanding is that he was a claims adjuster with one of the national carriers, working out of Birmingham, Alabama. He had already started specializing in embezzlement and employee theft claims, and he kind of did what you've been doing. He was based out of Alabama but he traveled to where the losses were. All that traveling supposedly caused his marriage to fall apart. The following year his performance evaluation rated him an outstanding employee but his company didn't give him a raise, using the bad economy of the late Seventies as an excuse. He called several clams managers at off shore companies and asked if they'd consider using him as an independent contractor. He got commitments from all of them. He let his wife have the house, he cleaned out his bank accounts and moved to Georgetown, set up shop and has lived like a laird ever since."

There was silence on the line. Peter appeared to have said what he intended to say, and Bev didn't know how to respond. Finally she said, "Thank you for your honesty and candor. I will consider very carefully everything you said. I have to go now. I have a personal appointment." She paused and then added, "By the way, I'm assuming that this conversation never happened, is that correct?"

"I would be very grateful if this conversation never happened."

"What conversation?"

He said, "Good luck with your meeting. Would you do me a favor and let me know how it comes out."

"You'll be the first person at Midwestern to learn the outcome."

She drove to Cincinnati with crazy thoughts whirling around in her head, the one she couldn't shake was the idea that most of the other claims people she worked with – all of whom had substantially less experience than she did and a couple of whom were just knuckleheads – made more money than she did. She always knew that she could make more money if she moved to a different company. It never occurred to her that Midwestern was not paying her top dollar according to its own pay scale. She felt like a dork who had been taken advantage of. That made her angry.

Her annoyance helped calm her nerves about the interview. Her first, last and only job interview had been almost thirty years before, when she interviewed for a job as a receptionist in Midwestern's home office in Dayton. The information Dietz provided to her gave her motivation to be more receptive to whatever proposition Andrews might have in mind.

She called his cell phone from the lobby of the hotel. He told her he was waiting for her in the bar. He had staked out a booth in the far corner of the bar and ordered iced tea and a bowl of bar nuts. He stood when she approached and invited her to join him, saying, "I hate to have business meetings in hotel rooms. It always seems somewhat unseemly if you know what I mean. I ordered us tea, but if you'd prefer something else please feel free."

"Tea is fine." She winked at him, "Provided there's no sugar in it."

"This is Yankee country. Tea comes naked, and nasty. Thank God for sweetener."

They chatted for a few minutes and then got down to business. It didn't take long. He made an offer almost exactly as he had initially proposed: $100,000 salary; $50,000 signing bonus; he'd pay her health insurance, she'd pay premiums for her daughter; she'd be eligible for a bonus of 25% of his profits derived from her work during the course of the year. She could live anywhere she wanted, but he'd want her to come to Georgetown at least quarterly to review her performance and expenses for the prior quarter. She would also be expected to make periodic visits to the carriers in Bermuda, Dublin and London who would be her most frequent clients. Client relations would be an important part of her job. She would be encouraged to establish relationships with new carriers as well if her workload permitted expansion.

She liked what she heard. She wished that she could put the job hold until Emily graduated from high school, but she knew this was an opportunity that would knock only once and, after that, there would be no changing her mind. Fortunately, Emily would be sixteen in a few weeks, and she could at least get back and forth to cheer-leading practice on her own, in the used car Bev intended to buy for her birthday with some of that signing bonus money.

After Andrews laid it all on the table they sat quietly for a few minutes. He told her she should feel free to think about it as long as necessary. She asked, "You talked to a lady at the airport earlier today who was at your meeting in Chicago. Do you know her name?"

"Yes. Her name is Helen Walker Deutch or something like that. She works for Nations Surety. Nice lady. Why?"

"She is the wife of the head of the special investigations unit at Midwestern. I'm actually on loan to his department at the moment working on a high-profile arson..."

He interrupted, "You're handling the Walker Trent fire?"

"Yep. You got any information that might be helpful to me?"

"No. What I hear is that it appears to be an impenetrable morass. Appears that everybody even close to the situation has both motive and opportunity. Good luck. What's me sharing a cab with this guy's wife have to do with you?"

"Well claims people are worse gossips than hair dressers, which is one reason I stay away from them. Evidently there's been a rumor going around that you are looking to hire someone and my name is on the short list. Mrs. Dietz is a fan of yours, so she attended the conference in Chicago to hear you speak. She checked in with her husband when she arrived home. She casually mentioned to him that she thought it was odd that you had a meeting today in Cincinnati today. He put two and two together. We spoke this morning about the Trent claim, and he took the opportunity to fill me in on some things about my career that I didn't know. Things like my unbelievable track record for winning litigation. I knew I had a good record but had never calculated my win ratio, and I had no idea how it compared to others in my company or to the industry average. It's beyond phenomenal. He told me that my expenses per claim are the lowest in the company, and I've always understood that Midwestern's claim department brags about having some of the lowest expense ratios in the industry. I've been with the company almost 30 years. He told me that most of the people in the claims department make more than I do. Pete encouraged me to take this opportunity to renegotiate my compensation package with Midwestern.

"I see it differently. Frankly, I feel like a patsy. They've take advantage of my loyalty and treated me unfairly. Granted, I never asked for more, mainly because I thought that because I was fair with them, they were fair with me. I'm not much of a second-chances kind of gal. I trust people until they give me reason not to, and then I'm done with them. I have no intention of settling for a small raise at Midwestern. You're offering to start me out at a salary that is much higher than I would ever get out of Midwestern. I've heard from people who know that you're a straight shooter and a stand-up guy. I'll take my chances with you. When do you want me to start?"

"When can you be available?"

She put her hands on her head and stared at the ceiling. "I think I can wrap up the Trent case in a month. If not, it will be because I'm bogged down and we'll be headed down the litigation road which could take years. Somebody else can handle that. I hate litigating claims. It takes too long. I have a few other loose ends to tie up. How about May 1st?"

"Works for me. We'll plan a swing through Bermuda, Dublin and London first thing. We can to go ahead and line up some contacts, maybe even pick up some assignments for you right off the bat. I've asked my attorney to draw up an employment agreement. I'll have him send it to you. I'll pay you the signing bonus upon receiving the contract, even before you report to work. Of course, if you change your mind and don't come on board, I'll want the money back."

"We have a deal."

They shook hands. He looked at his watch. "Our reservations aren't for another 45 minutes. What do you say to a drink?"

She grinned, "I think a drink is in order."

"You want to order a bottle of champagne?"

She shook her head, "No, thanks. I'm not much for drinks with bubbles, alcoholic or not. Frankly, I'd like to splurge and have a martini."

They ordered cocktails and then walked across the street to a restaurant that was much too expensive and pretentious for Bev's tastes. The food was good, however, and the conversation, which consisted primarily of sharing war stories and gossiping about insurance executives, was fun. Andrews walked Bev back to her car. Before she started the engine, she said, "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell anybody other than your attorney that we've finalized this deal. I am only going to give two weeks notice. They get very strange at Midwestern when people quit. It's considered a sign of disloyalty. It's not unusual for them to have the person leave immediately upon giving notice. I want at least two more weeks on the Walker Trent case before they cut me loose."

"I understand completely. I won't say anything to my customers just yet other than that I'm in negotiations with a couple of people and I'm close to a deal. That will let them know that I'm working on it. By spreading the word that I'm talking to someone other than you – which I have already done and I ruled out the three other people who were under consideration; this deal was for you or for no one – it may keep anyone at your company from going squirrelly before you're ready to give notice."

"Thanks. I knew you'd understand."

"My dear, I understand much better than you do. I've been dealing with multiple companies for decades. You only know the drama and gossip in one company. Wait until you see what goes on in the wider world of the insurance subculture."

"I'm not sure I want to do that."

"Unfortunately, customer relations will be part of your job, so you will have to periodically enjoy dinners with insurance claims executives, often in dreadful restaurants in London where the cost is outrageous and the food is all but inedible. Their petty gossip will be appalling to you, but you'll have to sit there, act like you care, and refrain from telling them to quit acting like a bunch of teen-aged girls at a slumber party."

"I can hardly wait! Not. Fortunately you'll be paying me enough money to make me willing to tolerate that BS. One of the deals I have with David Jamison is that he never makes me go to any of those dinners, industry conventions or have any involvement with massaging the egos of any large national accounts. I've always said he paid me to handle claims; I handle claims. I told him it would cost him a lot more to have me schmooze with the customers."

He smiled and patted the car door, "I think we're going to be great together."

She laughed, "Don't forget that you were warned by everybody you talked to about this, including me, that I am a pain in the ass who will drive you insane."

"I consider myself warned."

She drove off, feeling giddy. Tomorrow she would probably curl up in her bed all day with the covers over her head and endure wave after wave of panic. But that would be tomorrow. She looked at the clock on the dash. I was 9:00 PM. She called Emily, who picked up on the first ring, "Well? How did it go?"

Bev sighed aloud, and said, "I took the job. I start May 1. Let's make a party. I'll be home in an hour. I know that's late for a weeknight party, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Do I have any wine in the fridge?" She heard Emily walking and she heard the fridge open.

"You have an open bottle of cheap ass chardonnay. You have an unopened bottle of cheaper ass Rhine wine."

"Look in the pantry. What about red?"

"You have an open bottle of cheap ass merlot." There was a pause, "Ew. It's old and smells bad. There's a bottle of whiskey."

"That's Ed's. Cheap ass chardonnay will have to do for tonight. Are you still dressed?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to call Ed and ask him if he will come over to celebrate, very briefly, with us."

"No. I'll call him. You concentrate on driving as fast as you can. I can't wait to give you a hug."

Forty-five minutes later Bev pulled into the driveway. Ed Casey's truck was parked on the street in front of the house and virtually all the lights appeared to be on in every room – a major bone of contention between Bev and Emily. She closed her eyes and told herself to ignore the lights for once and focus on the celebration. She walked into a party that was already in full swing. Ed had stopped at the store and bought a nice (but not extravagant) bottle of chardonnay for Bev. He had already poured himself a bourbon. Emily was drinking apple juice from a wine glass. Ed handed Bev a glass of wine and said, "You need to catch up, girl."

The three of them hugged and toasted Bev's new job. They chattered for a few minutes and Bev repeated the terms of the job several times because it was so fun to say aloud. By ten-thirty, Bev said, "Well, folks, it's been a long and stressful day for me. Emily has school tomorrow. Ed you have to work. And I have to get busy and resolve the Trent claim. I hate to be a party pooper, but I think we should call it a night."

The other two agreed. Emily kissed Bev and shook Casey's hand, and then headed for her bedroom. Bev walked Casey to the door. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, "You okay?"

She said, "I think the reality hasn't set in yet. I'm hoping to be able to keep the panic at bay until after Emily leaves for school in the morning. I'm a total security junkie and I handle change very poorly. I'll be okay once I give my notice, but for the next couple of weeks, I'll probably be a basket case."

"I understand that. You know you can call me. Anytime. 24/7."

She looked up into his grizzled but kind and wonderful face. She laid both hands on his chest and whispered, "I know that, and I thank you. For everything, but most of all for being so supportive when I've thrown you such a huge curve."

He put his arms around her and said, "It's the right thing to do for you and Emily. As for us, we'll deal with whatever happens."

They stood in the hall holding each other for a few minutes. Then Ed kissed the top of her head and then left quickly. Bev stuck her head in Emily's room and said, "You should turn in. It's late. By the way, keep this news totally and completely under wraps for a couple more weeks."

"Why?"

"I'll explain tomorrow. I don't want the news to get back to Midwestern until I'm ready to tell them."

Emily's puzzled expression told Bev she obviously didn't understand, but she said, "Okay."

Bev went to bed, and fell asleep instantly, unconsciousness being one way she dealt with stress.

The next morning Bev slept late. When she woke she lay in bed and stretched for a minute. Then the memory of the events the previous day emerged from the mists of sleepiness, and Bev was suddenly reminded of the other way she dealt with stress. She raced to the bathroom and managed to get the lid up on the toilet just before she vomited. She sat on the floor of the bathroom because she knew she would throw up again (probably several times) and because she didn't have the energy to get up. That was when she started to sob. _Why would I vomit and cry and be a basket case when I just did the best thing in the world for my career and my whole financial future? Answer: Because I'm a total idiot._

She sat on the floor sobbing, feeling inadequate to handle the changes that were about to take place in her life and stupid for feeling inadequate when she knew perfectly well (in her head) she'd was competent to meet the challenges both personally and professionally. The knowledge that she could and would be fine in the long run did not mitigate in any way the total emotional paralysis she felt at that moment, sitting on the floor of the bathroom sobbing and feeling another wave of nausea beginning in the pit of her stomach. She heard her phone ringing, but made no move to answer it.

A few minutes later the doorbell rang. She ignored that as well. Her phone rang again. Seconds later, she heard it bleet, announcing a text message. The doorbell rang again. She managed to get up and check the text message. It was from Ed Casey. _I'm at your front door, and if you don't answer me within 2 minutes, I'm breaking in._

Bev pulled on a robe, rinsed her mouth with mouthwash and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked as though she had been on a month long bender. She walked shakily to the front door and opened it a crack so Casey couldn't see her, but she could talk to him. She said, "I appreciate your stopping by, but I'm not feeling well and I'm not up to company."

He said, "I'm not company," as he jerked the storm door and popped the latch, pushing the wooden door open. Bev stepped back, but stayed behind the door. He closed it behind himself and looked at her. She looked worse in the expression on his face than she had in the mirror. "How the hell much did you drink after I left?"

"Nothing. I didn't finish that second glass of wine you poured."

"Do you have food poisoning?"

"No."

"What's wrong with you?"

She turned and faced the wall, collapsing once more into tears and said, "I'm scared."

He turned her around and took her in his arms. "Jesus, Bev. You put up such a front of being assertive to the point of combativeness at times, and super-competent in every aspect of your life, but deep down inside you're that scared little girl whose household was a battlefield."

She put her arms around him and sobbed. "You are the only person who has ever figured that out. I must be slipping."

He patted her hair and led her to the couch where pulled her down on his lap and let her cry until she was finished. She hid her face in his soaking shirt and half sobbed, half laughed, "God, I'm so pathetic. What am I going to do?"

Ed laughed and kissed the top of her hair. He said, "What you should do is go back to bed and let me fix you some toast and tea. We could spend the day in bed together, in fact." He paused and chuckled, "But, I'm pretty sure that isn't what you are actually going to do."

She sighed and lifted her head. "You're right. If I go to bed now and let you take care of me, to me it will be a sign that the panic won. I can't ever let that happen! It terrifies me to think what my life would be like if my fear thinks it can get the better of me more than very briefly once in a great while."

"You talk about your panic like it's alive."

"It is alive. It's a monster that lives inside of me. Most of the time I can keep it locked up and harmless, but sometimes it gets loose and, ... well, you just witnessed what happens then."

She sat up, took a deep breath and squared her shoulder. "What I _am_ going to do is take a shower, get dressed and go to work. I have a mystery to solve in less than a month. That ought to keep me busy."

She stood up. He looked at her with a combination of amazement, amusement and pride in his eyes. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, "I will take you up on the toast and tea, if you don't mind."

He smiled and kissed her back, "Comin' right up, ma'am."

After they ate breakfast, Casey offered to hang around the house if Bev needed him. She thanked him but said she had a lot of work to do. She promised to call him if she needed him, and she also promised to let him come over for supper, if only so she could prove to him that she was okay. He crooked his finger under her chin and raised her face to him. "No more throwing up! You got that?"

She laughed, "I'd be happy to oblige, but that's kind of a totally involuntary reflex. I don't have a lot of control over it."

"You can call me before things get that bad."

That thought took her aback. It had never occurred to her to seek help before the panic leveled her, mainly because she never had anyone in her life whom she trusted enough to tell about the panic attacks. She never told her mother because she knew her mother would take her to a shrink. She never told her father because she knew that he would be helpless before her panic; his response to fear or anxiety was to tell her to suck it up. She never told her ex-husband because their life was so regimented and dull she never had any panic attacks while they were married. Emily knew that she periodically got sick when she was under stress, but she never allowed Emily to know how bad it was. Her best girlfriend knew about the attacks, but had never been around when Bev had one. Ed was the first person she'd ever known who was strong enough to cope with her panic. Something told her that she should take Casey up on that offer.

She nodded and took his hand between both of hers, "Thank you. I promise not to let it get to that point without calling you first."

He patted her cheek and left.

## Chapter 6

Having pulled herself together, Bev, made the bed and cleaned up the bathroom. Then she laid her computer, her notebook and her phone on the bed and sat cross-legged reviewing her notes until it was late enough to call Ben Tucker in San Francisco. She knew he was an early bird, but she wanted to wait until at least seven his time. She made an outline of the people she knew were potential suspects, and made a list of questions about each one.

Eventually she decided it was late enough to call Tucker. It was 7:00 AM his time. She hoped he'd be up.

He answered on the second ring, "Hey, there. I thought you were mad at me. You unusually drive me insane with calls every five minutes while I'm analyzing data. I haven't heard from you in a week. What's up?"

"Would you believe I decided to let you do your job without peppering you with questions and driving you nuts?"

"No."

"Well, actually, I've had a lot going on. I spent a few days in Texas after you left and then I went to visit Mr. Trent."

"How did that go?"

"It went pretty well, I think. He seems like a nice man. I hope he didn't do it. He didn't give me any good leads on who might have done it, however."

"What about his ex-wife? Word is that she hates him."

"That's what everybody, including Mr. Trent, tells me. Most of the people who know her also say that she loved the house too much to destroy it. That is Mr. Trent's opinion, too, by the way.

"Tell me what you have."

Bev could hear papers rustling. Ben cleared his throat and said, "Well the physical evidence from the scene bears out what we thought from our visual inspection. There was accelerant around the outside of the house, mostly gasoline, but it was spiked with extra chemicals to make the fire burn hotter. Three ground floor windows were broken and what appear to have been kind of souped-up Molotov cocktails were thrown inside the house. They contained a mixture of gasoline and other highly flammable chemicals as well as explosives that would help ensure the fire would spread to the upper floors of the home, hot and fast."

Bev typed her notes while he talked. She interrupted him. "You think it's a professional job?"

"Could be. Could also be an amateur with access to chemicals. They were fancy ingredients but the delivery systems appeared to have been soft drink bottles. Some of the chemicals were a bit unusual, but every one of them would probably have been available on a commercial farm or a working ranch."

"Would they would have been locally available in the community?"

"Most definitely. I checked the local stores. There was no one store that sold all of the chemicals that were in the accelerant, but all of the chemicals were available locally. None of them is particularly expensive. Could be a local. Your crackpot theory may still be alive."

Bev typed madly for a few minutes and then said, "Okay. According to my list, the main suspects are Mr. Trent, the ex-Mrs. Trent, one of Trent's employees or former employees, or a crackpot. Do we agree on that?"

"Add some unknown person we haven't though of."

"I thought that came under 'crackpot'?"

"Not in my book. For me a crackpot is someone who sets the fire for reasons of his own. Walker Trent may or may not even have anything to do with it other than own the house. The "other" person I'm referring to is someone who set this fire purposely to hurt Trent but for a reason we haven't considered."

"Okay. So we're back to square one."

"Right. We start from the place where everybody's got motive and opportunity. Let's look at the evidence.

"First, Trent. We know that he was nowhere close to the ranch for, actually, a couple of years before the fire. I looked at the telephone records you sent me. He had stayed in touch with a number of people in and around San Antonio as well as a few locals in Everly. He talked regularly with a guy named John W. Tobias. You know who he is?"

"Ranch caretaker."

"He have any beefs about his job?"

"I didn't interview him in detail, but I met him. Seemed nice enough. He thinks the wife did it and tried to make it look like Mr. Trent did it."

"That is possible. The fact that Trent was in regular contact with a number of people in the community makes it possible or even likely that he might have hired one of them to set the fire."

Bev interrupted, adding, "Tobias told me that Trent was not going to rebuild. He planned to tear down the rest of the ruin and turn the entire ranch into a nature preserve and park for public use. I'm thinking that is another point that could be used to argue that Walker Trent was, for whatever reason, ready to get rid of the ranch, but by burning the house, he'd get the money to tear it down and build facilities to turn it into a park, and a huge tax deduction when he donates the land."

"Who's looking at the financial picture? Those financial statements you sent were too complex for me, but then I'm just an ignorant chemist."

"Pete hired an economist in Nashville. We should have a report from him soon. Everybody agrees that Trent's income has been down in recent years, but he's still made millions. Trent told me that he was in fine shape partly because his wife is no longer spending his money as fast as he can make it and partly because he had opened up some new streams of income by writing songs in other genres under pseudonyms. He added that he lives pretty simply for a rich guy. From looking at his place, I'd say that is probably true. Oh, and he told me that he's never had a mortgage on any of his houses. He's strictly a pay-as-you-go kind of guy."

Tucker said, "I'm not prepared to rule out money as a motive. He could have gambling debts or somebody could be blackmailing him. Beyond money, though is publicity. Could he, or somebody on his staff, have done it to get publicity."

"That's possible, but it seems to me that he's kind of publicity shy about his personal life. In fact, he told me that the thing that finally put him over the edge and made him divorce his wife was when she signed them on to do one of those reality shows. If Trent did it, I don't think it was for personal publicity. But, there is another publicity angle.

"Trent just released a new album. It's a very traditional country album. Traditional in that it harks back to the old time hillbilly singers, but it also bleeds over into blue grass and even a little folk music. It's a really interesting blend of music. I don't like country music much, but I like this album a whole lot. My friend, Ed Casey, says he thinks it's going to be a blockbuster and put Trent back on top in the country world. I've been trolling some websites and blogs that follow country music, and discovered that the reaction in the business is mixed. Evidently country fans don't like their faves to go out of their zone too much. This one is a departure for Trent, and, therefore a big risk. It could well cross over into other genres which would sell albums to people like me, but that could lose him some cred in with his base in the country world."

"I understand that. I'm not a country fan, but my wife is a total nut about country music. She said the same thing. She doesn't like Trent's new album because it's different from what she's used to from him. She likes the way he sounds on his other albums."

Bev said, "I'm going to try to talk to his agent or publicist or somebody who might know how the sales are doing."

"Sales are great. I already checked that. The issue isn't sales. It's critical acclaim and demographics. Publicity could be the issue. Trent hasn't won Entertainer of the Year in more than a decade. He won it four times in the Eighties and four times in the Nineties. Maybe somebody wants to beef up some sympathy on top of a big selling album (whether or not it gets good reviews) in a move to bolster his chances at the CMA?"

"Ask your wife. I don't follow that stuff. I will ask his agent. What about Tamra?"

He said, "Interestingly, she, too, keeps in touch with a lot of folks in and around the ranch. She evidently has friends in San Antonio whom she talks to a lot. She hadn't made any calls to any locals in Everly in a long time but within three weeks of the fire she called three people in Everly. Tobias was one of them, and she called two ladies who evidently used to work for her."

"That is very interesting. Does the local fire investigator know that?"

"He didn't, but he does now, because I called him up and told him."

"How come he didn't have the phone records before? And how the hell did you get Mrs. Trent's phone records?"

"First question, the local cops and fire investigators never requested any phone records from Mrs. Trent. Answer two: don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to. All I'll say about that is I have a lot of friends."

"OK. So, we know that both the Trents made calls to locals shortly before the fire. Do we know anything about Mrs. Trent's finances?"

"Nothing concrete. Word is she's blowing through the settlement Walker paid her and trolling for another rich husband. Evidently potential rich husbands are steering kind of clear of her. My wife says the country gossips are all over her desperate attempts to find a new sugar daddy."

"She wouldn't benefit financially from burning the ranch, though."

"Probably not, but she might be getting desperate enough to make another run at Trent's money. If she could make it look like he burned his house, maybe she could paint him to be violent and try to either blackmail him or sue him for more money, or accuse him of abusing the kids."

"That's kind of a stretch, don't you think?"

"The woman is used to a certain lifestyle and if she doesn't find another source of income pretty soon, she's going to have to curtail that lifestyle. Desperate people do crazy things."

"Yeah, we've seen plenty of that."

"OK, we can't rule out either of the Trents, but we can't rule out a total stranger, either."

"Right. I, personally, think that it's either an employee or former employee or a local nut, but I have absolutely no reason beyond my gut for believing that."

"You've got a good gut."

"Unfortunately, in order to allow you to pay or deny this claim, we need some actual evidence, of which we got zilch."

Bev sighed. "I'm going to talk to Trent's people. I think I'll go to Nashville. I may go back to Texas. Keep sifting."

"Are you going to hire a PI?"

"No. A PI's not going to help in such a small town. I'd do as well as even a guy from San Antonio. I made some friends when I was there. I may pay 'em a visit."

"You going to be able to fit that in before you start your new job?"

Bev dropped the phone, picked it up and almost shouted, "What did you say?"

"Word is that you're being wooed by Cameron Andrews. You've got a kid about to go to college and I'd bet Andrews made you a sweet offer. You'd be a damned fool to turn it down, is what I think. Of course, I know you well enough to know that you have been known to be a damned fool on occasions. I hope this isn't one of them."

Bev didn't say anything for a while. Then she said barely above a whisper, "I need to wrap this up within a month."

She could hear Tucker clap his hands. "Good girl! We'll pull out the stops and get this done."

She said, "You keep your mouth shut."

"I know nobody at Midwestern but you."

"You know a lot of other people."

"A lot of those people are doing a lot of talking, but I'm not one of them."

"Thanks. I appreciate your loyalty."

"I expect two things in exchange for my loyalty. I want you to put in the good word with Pete Dietz so Midwestern will continue to hire me. And, I want you to consider hiring me or recommending me to the carriers if you need a fire investigator in the future. You can pay me a lot more than Midwestern's rates, too."

"Understood and agreed. I gotta go."

"I'll be in touch."

She fought back a wave of panic at the idea that someone from Midwestern might find out her plans before she had the chance to give notice. First, she called Trent's office in Nashville and asked his assistant for an appointment with both her and Trent's agent. The woman told Bev that Trent's attorney had told her to cooperate, so she would make herself available at Bev's convenience. She said she'd put in a call to the agent and have him come to Trent's office. "How about tomorrow?"

Bev said, "That'll work."

She made plane reservations to Nashville and sent emails to her assistant and Dietz advising them of her plans. She made reservations to go to Texas after Nashville, but didn't mention that to her employer, just yet.

Ginny Phelps greeted Bev the next morning, ushering her into a beautifully appointed conference room, with walls covered in photos of Walker Trent: in concert, at awards ceremonies, in posed publicity shots and in candid shots riding horses, fishing and playing with his kids when they were small. In between the photos were platinum and gold albums interspersed with Grammys and CMA awards, just in case the visitor hadn't figured out from all the photos that Trent was a Big Star.

The secretary laughed. "Most people are impressed by this. You look kind of horrified."

"It's a little overwhelming."

"That's intentional. Walker's agent likes to make really big deals in this room. It sort of sets the tone for those negotiations. Would you like coffee or something cold to drink?"

"Coffee, please."

Ginny came back a few minutes later with a pot of coffee and a bowl of power bars, packets of trail mix and raisins. She told Bev that Trent's agent, Ryan Brainard, would join them in about an hour. She offered to talk to Bev until he arrived.

Bev took a power bar and unwrapped it slowly. "Everybody I've talked to from the lady in the diner in Everly to the wife of my fire investigator in San Francisco has an opinion about who started this fire and why. You're closer to it than any of them. What's your opinion?"

The woman laughed and leaned back in her chair, visibly relaxing. She obviously expected Bev to be more antagonistic. She looked at the ceiling and then looked at Bev with her hands open in a surrendering gesture. "I don't know, but I'd bet everything I have that it wasn't Walker or Tamra."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"They both loved that house, for very different reasons. They fought over it bitterly at the time of their divorce. We all fully expected Tamra to try to make another run at him to try to get it back. I absolutely cannot believe that either of them would do anything to damage that house."

"Do you have any idea who would want to damage the house? Or hurt Mr. Trent? Or get bad publicity for him?"

"I suppose there are people who had grudges against him. He's made some enemies. There are a number of former employees who really hate him because he fired them from the best possible job in country music: playing in the band of a superstar."

"Why did he fire them?"

"Walker only ever fired people for three reasons. He fired a roadie one time when he caught her stealing from him. He fired another roadie for sexually harassing one of his backup singers. And over the years he's fired a number of band members for not working hard at their music and/or for not playing their music the way he wanted them to play it. Sometimes musicians get big headed and think they know better than the boss how the music should be played. For Walker, that's totally unacceptable. The musicians get lazy, especially after a tour when they've been catered to and waited on by the local event planners. They start thinking they are as important as the real Star. Walker's a very humble guy for such a huge star and he works as hard on his music today as he did twenty five years ago when I first came to work for him. He doesn't tolerate laziness on his team and the only ego allowed on this team is his own."

Bev leaned forward and asked if Ginny thought it was any of the terminated band members and, if so, if she could suggest some names. Ginny thought about it for a while and then said, "I could give you the names of every employee we've ever had, but I honestly can't think of any in particular who would do this."

"What about people who quit as opposed to being fired?"

Ginny laughed. "I think in the twenty five years I've worked for Walker, nobody has ever quit the band. As I said, a bunch of musicians have been fired, but the band members who clicked with Walker have stuck with him for years. And he with them. Backup singers quit for one of two reasons, either they got a record deal of their own – often with Walker's help – or they got married or got pregnant and wanted to get off the road. Roadies come and go because they're basically gypsies who drift from gig to gig. Only one person that I know of ever quit over a dispute with Walker."

"Who was that and what were the circumstances."

"It was Walker's musical director. He quit six months ago because he didn't agree with the direction Walker wants to take his music."

Bev raised her eyebrows. "Did they argue?"

Ginny laughed, "Argue? Lord, Ms. Deller, those two were at each others' throats daily for thirty five years. Dennis Mueller produced Walker's very first hit record and he'd been with Walker ever since. Until 1981, he produced records for other people too. After that, he worked exclusively for Walker as his music director. I don't think a day went by in all those years that they didn't have at least one fight, usually the yelling, screaming, cursing kind of fights. I swear I think they both invented new cuss words to scream at each other.

"The disagreement about the changes Walker wants to make in his career were different. They started out noisy like all the rest, but then the conversations got very quiet. I think both of them knew that what Walker wants to do is not something Denny would ever tolerate. It wasn't accurate to say that Denny quit in anger. He quit in sorrowful disappointment. The day he left, everybody ended up sobbing, including both Walker and Denny who hugged each other for a long time while they cried and said good-bye."

"Why was the dispute so huge?"

"Walker's bored with his music. He wants to change it up. He's grown musically over the years. He can write and sing all kinds of genres. I don't think he was ever happy being exclusively a country star. His tastes and his talent are bigger than that. He wanted to incorporate some other sounds into his music. In the world of country music, that's kind of the equivalent of blasphemy in church. Dennis is convinced that Walker's new album will torpedo Walker's career."

Bev wadded up the power bar wrapper and put it in the trash. She leaned forward and asked, "I admit to not being a country fan and I know little about the music business. I have heard Mr. Trent's latest album, and I like it. In fact, I bought it. It seems to me a lot of country singers have sounds that blend pop, rock, country and bluegrass. Why can't Mr. Trent?"

"Country music's a funny world. Singers who started out as cross-overs are okay to mix it up. Some traditionalist fans won't listen to that kind of music at all. Traditional country fans may listen to a number of kinds of music, but they want the artist to always sound the same. A fan may listen to, say, Carrie Underwood and Ricky Skaggs. But, that fan will not listen to Carrie sing bluegrass or Ricky play a pop-country song. Do you understand?"

"I think so. It's the same as me going ballistic when Rod Stewart put out that album of standards."

"Exactly. You want Rod Stewart to sound like Rod Stewart not Frank Sinatra."

Bev laughed and looked sheepish, saying, "No. Actually, I'd prefer Rod Stewart to confine his caterwauling to genres of music I don't listen to and leave the standards to people who can actually sing."

Ginny laughed so hard she had to get up and get a tissue to wipe her eyes. "Anyway, you get the idea. According to traditional country music wisdom, Walker is about to commit career suicide, which, of course, equates to professional murder of all of us who work for him. Dennis wouldn't be a party to that."

"There's something skeptical in your voice."

Ginny smiled, "That's because there is. I happen to agree with Walker that even country music is changing. He may lose some of his die-hard old time hillbilly fans, but they'll all die soon anyway. The younger, hipper and more musically sophisticated fans don't mind mixing it up a little. I think that this new album will be a runaway success. I will tell you that Walker, the bank and I are the only people in his entourage who feel that way. Dennis quit. You're going to hear the most god-awful pitiful pissing and moaning from Ryan in a few minutes. The business people have been raking in the money for decades and they want to keep on keeping on. The musicians and I think we can do as well or better by growing a little."

"Mr. Trent's income has been down."

"Yes. It has. He thinks, and I agree, that he can make more money by making some changes that would broaden his appeal. I think he's right."

"Do you think that had anything to do with somebody burning his house?"

"I've thought about that. I can't imagine Dennis doing it. Dennis loves Walker. They fought like brothers but they loved each other. I suppose Dennis could be hurting enough to want to make Walker hurt, too." She paused for a long time and then said, "I have another theory. It's kind of half baked, but it's as good as a lot of the other crazy rumors that are going around."

"What is it?"

"I think this new album that Walker has put out is the best album he's done in years, and I think it's the best music he's ever put out. I believe it's going to go platinum and keep on going. What is more, two of the songs Walker wrote under a different name have been nominated for Grammy's and also for CMA awards. Walker's planning a limited tour to promote the album, and he plans to reveal that he writes under other names, and incorporate some of that music in his show. Between the great music he's putting out and a tour – Walker hates to tour and hasn't been on the road in a couple of years, but he's fabulous on stage – he's going into the CMA awards in the strongest position he's had in over a decade to win Entertainer of the Year. I think it could be a rival trying to derail his train."

"You might be surprised to know that a friend of mine, who is just a fan, suggested that very thing to me recently."

"I'm not the only one who believes that."

"You got any particular rivals in mind?"

"I don't want to name any names. You have to understand, I've been in this business my whole life. Twenty-five years with Walker. Before that I worked for a record label. My dad was a record producer. I know the business. I know the people, professionally and personally. There are a number of potential rivals for Entertainer of the Year whom I can't stand. I don't want my personal animosity to enter into it."

"Are there any you dislike because you think they'd be capable of violence?"

"Yes. A couple of them can be violent when they're drunk. Mostly I dislike them because a few of them are just not nice people and, what is even worse in my mind, a couple of them are not good musicians."

Bev smiled. "The record producer in your background shows."

Ginny smiled and started to say something. Just then the door opened and she stood up to greet Ryan Brainard. She brought him coffee and said to Bev, "Now you're going to hear an opinion that is opposite in almost every way to what you just heard. I will leave now, because I've heard it all before and think it's total bullshit. If you'll excuse me."

Brainard said, "Next time, Gin, why don't you tell us what you really think."

"I would, hon, but I'm very retiring and shy about speaking my mind."

"I've noticed that." They both laughed.

Ryan sprawled out in a chair and leaned back. He turned to Bev and said, "Forgive us. Walker's team has been together for a long time. We're family, and we squabble. It's harmless."

Bev raised her eyebrows, "Really? There's a $17 million dollar pile of cinders in Texas that tells me somebody was seriously upset with Mr. Trent about something."

"You think one of us did it?"

"I don't know who did it. I don't think it was Mr. Trent, but I can't pay him his money until I can prove to my employer that it wasn't him. In view of the fact that I can't prove for certain that it wasn't him, I need to be able to find who actually did it, or at least turn up some evidence that would tend to incriminate a third party, even if we don't know exactly who it is.

"You want to do something great for your client's career? Tell me who set the fire."

He said, "Ma'am, everybody in Nashville has a theory on that, but nobody knows for sure. I'm sure you heard Ginny's cockamamie theory about how a professional rival is so afraid Walker's new album will be a success they burned his house to keep him from touring."

"You don't agree with that?"

"No, I don't. Because I don't think his album will be a success."

"It's a good album. I bought it and I've never bought a country album before except for a couple of Emmylou Harris albums."

"I'll bet you're not a regular country fan and you don't own any of Walker's other albums. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. He'll pick up some new fans, but they won't buy his old albums. In my opinion, he'll lose more fans than he picks up. That's why I was so dead set against him putting out this album and going on a tour doing a variety of music."

"Okay, if it wasn't a professional rival, who was it?"

He thought about that for a minute. "I think it was political."

"Political? I didn't know Mr. Trent was politically involved."

"Generally he isn't, but he got seriously sideways of some locals in Everly who I think would be totally capable of trying to run him out of Dodge, as it were." He got up and went to the door, "Gin, come in here a second, I will need your help with this."

She came in and sat down, "Ms. Deller, prepare to be amazed at the story you are about to hear. The Kennedy assassination conspiracy theorists have nothing on my husband."

"He's your husband?"

"Yes. Walker's professional family is not only somewhat dysfunctional. It's also inbred. There's lots of intermarriage."

"Fortunately, the children seem to be mostly okay."

Ginny slugged him in the arm, "Be serious and tell your story. I've got work to do."

"Ginny has to help me with some names. Here's my theory. Several years ago, before Walker and Tamra got divorced there was an initiative on the ballot in Everly having to do with fluoridating the water. The kids were still little and living at home, and Walker and Tamra were both in favor of the initiative. They publicly supported it, in fact. I don't know how much time you've ever spent in Texas, but it's a place that kind of breeds wackos. Hell, they've even got a town by that name." He grinned at Bev, "I happen to be from Waco, Texas, by the way, so I know whereof I speak.

"Anyway, most of the quasi-normal people who live in Everly supported fluoridation. Two groups opposed it. There was a fringe church of some type that believed that fluoridating the water was some kind of Communist plot to take over the minds of our children one cavity at time, or something. There were only a few of those folks, but they were very vocal. There is another larger group of more traditional nut-cases who opposed fluoridating the water – along with virtually every other government action that affected the citizens as a whole – as a violation of people's civil rights. You get the picture?"

Bev raised her eyebrows, "The quasi-militia libertarian types?"

"Exactly, only some of them are not quasi-militia. Some of them actually are the full-out anti-government, cammo-wearing nut-jobs who even carry guns to church. Most of the libertarian-bordering-on-anarchist folks were fairly quiet and did not take a high profile in the community, largely because they included a bunch of conspiracy-minded folks who thought that the FBI was going to come after them like it came after the folks in Waco. So, they sort of goaded the preacher from the Church of Saints Bigotry and Hatred to be the spokes-model for the lunatic fringe in opposing the initiative."

Bev chuckled and Ginny interrupted, "He's full of shit, but he is entertaining as hell."

He said, "You shut up. You got to tell your story uninterrupted. Don't interrupt mine.

"So. The preacher goes around town spewing hate and telling people that if they vote to fluoridate the water, their children would become Satanists and everybody's teeth would fall out anyway. It got really ugly. Nobody spoke out in favor of the initiative, mainly because nobody wanted to draw the fire of this nasty little man. Besides, the majority of the voters were in favor of it and it was generally expected to pass."

"One day, Walker was dropping Melinda off at school and the church members were picketing outside on a variety of subjects, including the fluoridation issue and how all the people who don't go to their church will go to hell."

"The preacher said something to Walker, and Walker replied telling him to shut the fuck up or some such. At that point, the guy just lit into Walker and, at some point during his tirade, he said something about Melinda looking like a whore, I guess because she had on make-up or her skirt was too short or something. Whatever it was, the guy called Melinda a whore and Walker went insane. That was before Melinda turned into the Junior version of the Wicked Witch of the West. She was spoiled and Walker agreed that she wore too much makeup and he was always on her about her short skirts and tight sweaters. Knowing Walker, he probably told her she looked like a streetwalker from time to time himself. He could say anything he wanted, but, nobody else could say that about his kids."

Brainard took a sip of water. "After that, it was all out war between the church and Walker. Some of the church people incited some of their more secular political wackos to get worked up about having a rich, liberal living in our midst."

Both Ginny and Ryan laughed. Ginny said, "We're laughing because Walker's politics are a little to the right of Charlton Heston. We thought it was a hysterical joke that anyone would call him a liberal. We're so bad, we used to tease Walker about being a liberal just to watch him turn purple and explode into spitting rages."

Ryan made a lip-zipping gesture at Ginny and went on, "The two groups were at war from then on. I think one of those wackos burned the house down."

Bev nodded, "I could see it if they had burned the house down at the time, but why wait until now, after the family moved away."

Ryan said, "You tell her because you have first hand knowledge of it."

Ginny sighed, "Walker's a great guy and all, but he has a long memory and he holds grudges forever." She paused for effect and Bev was on the edge of her chair, "One of the leading members of the lunatic fringe – not one of the church members, but one of the cammo-wearing militia dudes – is running for county commissioner. About ten days before the fire, Walker made the largest legal donation he could make to the guy's opponent. And (God, he must have gritted his teeth when he did it), he made a $20,000 donation to the local Democratic Party in support of their slate of candidates."

Bev gave a low whistle, "Was that common knowledge so quickly?"

Ryan said, "It became common knowledge very quickly just because everybody was so shocked. Walker is a gun-toting, NRA-sticker-displaying, Texas-style Republican. He always gave his political contributions to Republicans, preferably the really arch-conservative ones. Even this year, he supported Republicans in Tennessee. He had never supported a Democrat before. He admitted that did it for spite. Word got out. I think somebody was trying to get back at him."

Ginny clapped her hands together and stood up, "Even if it turns out not to be true, you have to admit, it's the most entertaining theory you may have heard yet."

Bev nodded, "It's very entertaining. It's also a very interesting and intriguing argument. I'll definitely look into it. As a theory, it has one serious flaw."

Ryan cocked his head, "What's that?"

Bev shook her head, "It's too perfect. Everything adds up. It makes sense. It's a good story. I'd be surprised if it turns out to be the reason the house was burned, but it does break open one area of investigation for me. I've been trying to smoke out the crackpots in the area. One of our pet theories is that this was not personally about Walker Trent, it was a nut who was trying to make a statement of some kind.

"You seem to know the area well. Aside from these right wing wackos, are there any other crazoids in the area."

Ginny said, "Well, there's the environmentalists that pissed Walker off almost as much as the preacher."

Bev raised her eyebrows. She'd handled two fire losses that turned out to have been set by radical environmentalists. "Tell me."

"Evidently, Walker's house is built right smack in the middle of what used to be a path animals took to the stream. Long time ago, the buffalo used the path. Indians used it to sneak up on the white settlers. More recently it was used by deer and elk. After the area was largely fenced and the interstate crossed the path about eight miles away and then the county road that runs in front of the estate was paved, animals quit using the path, probably because there aren't that many large animals left in the area, anyhow, and because a lot of them were killed trying to cross the interstate.

"Nevertheless, some fringe environmental group opposed Walker getting the permits to build his house. There was sort of a cold war between Walker and environmentalists of all stripes from then on."

Bev asked, "Why would it break out as a hot war now?"

"There's another ballot initiative in Texas this time around having to do with hunting. It would make it easier for people to buy hunting rifles. And it would make it legal to carry them with you to more places."

Bev grinned, "Don't tell me, let me guess. Mr. Trent supported that."

"Oh, yes, ma'am, he did. Walker loves his guns and he will not rest until he can carry a gun with him every place he goes. I'm serious. He bought his own plane after the new security rules went into effect after 9/11 so he could take his gun when he flies. He never goes anywhere unarmed."

"Is he paranoid?"

They both laughed. Ryan said, "Not any more paranoid than any other multi-millionaire who's kids and spouse were frequently threatened with kidnapping and whose own person has often threatened by stalkers. The difference is, most rich folks hire body guards and former cops as drivers. Walker is too much of a private person for that. He wouldn't tolerate nannies for his kids, much less body guards. He decided to protect his family his way: by arming them. The whole family carries guns. Even the kids."

"That sounds foolish."

"Most everybody who knew him thought so, too. Especially when he armed the kids."

Ginny said, "Mind you, I disagreed with Walker's choice to carry a gun at all times and to arm his family, but I will say, he did it the right way. They all took weapons classes. They still do. I'm told that Tamra is such a crack shot, she could qualify as a military sniper."

Bev leaned back and tapped her pad, "Okay, so we got a rich guy whose income is decreasing who might have burned the house for money. His ex wife might have burned it for spite because he kept it in the divorce. Right wing political wackos could have burned it. Or, it might be left-wing environmentalists."

Ryan put gave her the thumbs up. "That's about the size of it."

Bev made a big X across her paper and said, "It isn't any of these people. It's somebody else."

Ryan and Ginny leaned forward, "Who?"

Bev pursed her lips and said, "I'm damned if I know." She wadded up her paper and made a three point shot into the trash can across the room. "Who else should I talk to?"

They shook their heads. Ryan said, "Walker doesn't have a lot of close friends. Unless you want to talk to the band, we're kind of it."

"What about family?"

Ginny shook her head, "Walker's parents are both dead. He had a sister who died of polio when she was really young. He has no other family."

"Has he dated anyone since his divorce." She paused, "Or before?"

More head shaking. Ryan said, "If Walker is or has dated anybody, he's been very discreet. And he would be. As we mentioned earlier, he's kind of passionate about privacy."

Bev looked puzzled, "Then why did he invite me to stay in his private sanctuary and treat me so wonderfully?"

Ginny scratched her head. "We were all surprised he invited you to stay there, but maybe he wanted you to see him at his very best. I've never been to his home in Gatlinburg when he was there. By the way, we call it 'The Mountain'. He's let us use it when he was traveling elsewhere, but he almost never entertains guests there. He says he's more comfortable and at peace there than he is anywhere else and he likes to be alone there."

"Interesting. His attorney said that he had never seen Mr. Trent so relaxed. He thought it was something about me. He said Mr. Trent was different when we met at his compound for his statement. Maybe it wasn't me. (Sure as hell!) Maybe it was the place."

"That's what Walker says. Anyway, he was really nervous about talking to you and maybe he wanted to do it in the place he felt the safest, even it meant letting you take a peek under the covers."

Bev nodded and said, "That makes a lot of sense." She sighed. "I don't feel as though we're any closer to solving this."

Ginny asked, "Have you handled claims for rich people before?"

Bev smiled, "Most of the claims I handle involve very valuable property. A lot of it is corporately owned, but rich, powerful and occasionally famous people are often involved. That complicates the investigation because people who live public lives often have people gunning for them. Sometimes my insureds don't even know the people who try to destroy their property."

"What are you going to do next?"

Bev stood up. "I'm going back to Texas and try to find a witness or smoke out a kook."

They shook hands all around. Ryan put his arm around Ginny and said, "Ms. Deller, we sure wish you luck."

"I'm going to need it to solve this one."

## Chapter 7

Bev was sitting in the airport in Nashville when Emily called her to drop a bombshell. She said, "I've been re-thinking my plan to go to Shawnee. If you're going to be traveling even more than you are now, I don't want to stay here. We talked about maybe you getting a condo or apartment in Florida someplace within an easy flight to Mr. Andrews and the companies you'll be working for. I was looking at a catalog from the University of Florida. They have a good performing arts program, and the in-state tuition is not that bad. There's plenty of time for you to get residency in Florida before graduate from high school."

"And how in the hell do you propose for me to get Florida residency with me traveling all the time and you in Ohio?"

"I looked it up. You can have a household in each place, you just have to decide which place is your legal residence. It's cool for you because you won't be working for an Ohio company any more. You can keep the house here. I'll go to school here, and maybe try to work it out that I can go remotely sometimes. Or, heck, I'll switch to a Florida school for that matter."

"No. I am not moving you to Florida while you're still in high school! End of discussion. It's one thing for you to go out of state for college. It's another thing for you to be left alone so much while you're still in high school. Our support network, consisting of Aunt Betty and Uncle Hank, along with Mrs. Donahue and Ed Casey, is in Ohio and I'm not moving you until you go away to college."

"Mom!"

"Hear what I said. I'm not saying you can't go to the University of Florida or some other out of state school. Your Ohio pre-pay will transfer to an out of state school, but it will only pay the tuition that would be instate. How much is the out-of-state premium at Florida?"

"A lot."

"Well, if we only have one year, we can probably do it. Suppose we pay out of state for your freshman year, and I move my residency to Florida then. After that year you will be legally a resident."

"That could work."

"We'll figure out the money. Don't worry about that. Why all of a sudden the big change and why the University of Florida?"

"You know I want to move to Florida. UF looks like a beautiful campus. From the pictures it reminds me a little of Shawnee State, only a lot bigger. They've got just the performing arts program I want, which they don't have at Shawnee. If nothing else, can we make a visit?"

"Of course. It's almost the end of your junior year, shouldn't you have your applications in already?"

"Yeah, I'm way late on that. Seems silly to have to do all this stuff when you're only a junior. What if I crap out my senior year and don't do well?"

"I think everything is 'subject to' doing well your senior year. I'm on my way to Texas now. I'll be there a couple of days. Isn't a college visit an excused absence at your school?"

"We're allowed four days in our Junior year to visit schools."

"Okay. Call the admissions office at Florida and find out if you can get an appointment for a tour on Monday or Tuesday of next week. If that's acceptable to your high school, book a flight Orlando. I'll fly into Orlando from Texas. We'll visit the UF campus and then fly home together."

"Gee, thanks, Mom. I was afraid you'd be mad."

Bev sighed, "It doesn't come as a huge surprise, given your sudden aversion to Ohio. UF has a very good academic reputation now. It used to be mainly known as a party school. It won't hurt to look anyway. Honestly, if I'm going to be on the road and my employer is in the Islands, it may make sense for us to relocate for a while. I am not going to sell my house in Stanforth, however!"

"Nobody said that you have to move to Florida permanently. When you decide to retire, you can come back home to Stanforth and be a boring old fart to your heart's content."

Bev laughed, "By then, I'll have lived in Florida for ten years. I won't be able to take the cold."

"As you always say, 'We'll figure something out.'"

Bev rang off because they were calling her flight. Emily had calls to make. Bev was pretty sure that by the time her plane landed in San Antonio, Emily would have made her flight reservations."

Bev spent the next three days revisiting virtually all of the diners, bars and stores in and around Everly, Texas. Everyone had a theory, and some of them were plausible. Some were outrageous. The locals were playing a county-wide game of _Clue_ with a real mystery. It didn't appear to Bev the fire chief had made any effort whatsoever to solve the crime. He was leaving it totally up to her.

By Saturday morning, she was further from the truth than ever what with all the crazy scenarios people were cooking up. She went back to the ranch and hung around long enough to run into Johnny Tobias. She told him that she'd learned that Tamra had called him only a few days before the fire. She asked what that conversation was about.

He didn't hesitate, "You know you're the first person that has asked about Tamra's calls that week. She called me and a couple of the ladies that work in the house. It seems she had only just noticed that she was missing a ruby earring. She though maybe it was stuck in the drawer where she kept her jewelry or maybe it was in the wall safe. First she called the housekeepers to have them check the dresser in her bedroom. They didn't find it. A couple of days later she called me to ask me to look in the safe. I didn't have the combination, but she gave it to me."

"Did you find the earring?"

"No."

"Just out of curiosity, what was in the safe."

"Nothing. The safe was only used for Tamra's jewelry. She took it with her when she moved out. The safe was empty."

She sighed, "Oh, well. Thanks for your time."

"You any closer to making a payment?"

She shook her head and asked quietly, "Who wants to know?"

"The entire population of the town is eager to have what's left of the house torn down so we don't have to look at it any more. Then we plan to make plans for the park. Walker has promised to put up the money for that project whether or not you pay off on the house, by the way."

"Thanks for letting me know."

Bev headed to the airport in San Antonio. While she was on her way, her mother called. The conversation started with the typical accusations about how neither Bev nor Emily ever called her. Next came the litany of all the charity events and parties her mother had been to since their last call. That list was very long because it had been several weeks since Bev had spoken to her mom. After Peggy wound down, she asked, with little real interest in her voice, "What's new with you and Emily?"

Bev hesitated and then decided to go ahead and get it out of the way. She said, "Actually I have a lot of news that will surprise you. You will be impressed to know that I am working on the Walker Trent fire loss."

"Have you met him?"

"Yes."

"He's a dish, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Did you flirt with him?"

"Of course not, Mother. The man's house burned down and I'm the adjuster. That would be unprofessional."

"God forbid that you should be unprofessional and stoop to flirt with a gorgeous multi-millionaire. When was the last time you went on a date with a man?"

"Actually, Mother, that was one of the several important things I want to tell you about. I have, in fact, recently been on several dates. With the same man. He is a kind and wonderful man who started out as a colleague and became a friend. Our relationship seems to be taking a strange an unexpected turn. We're not forcing it or trying to steer it. We're just riding along to see what happens. It's nice to have someone to go out with occasionally. You will be impressed to know that I have purchased two new outfits specifically to wear on dates."

"What does he do and where does he live?"

"No, he's not rich. He's the fire chief in Stanforth."

"Oh, for God's sake, Bev! A fireman from Stanforth? He'll be as boring as Emily's father."

"I didn't divorce my Emily's dad because he was boring. I divorced him because he was a traditionalist who wanted me to quit my job after Emily was born. Ed is kind of boring, but he's not a sexist. I'm not sure if anything will or even can work out for us because of the other thing I have to tell you." Bev laughed, "Hell, Mom, I think I've got more news for you in this conversation than I've had for you in my whole life. What's more is I think you're really going to actually like my next piece of news.

"I have accepted a new job with a private investigation firm out of the Cayman Islands. As we speak I am on my way to Florida. I am meeting Emily in Orlando and we're going to visit the University of Florida. I plan to live in Stanforth until Emily graduates from high school, but after that, I may relocate to Florida, at least until I retire. My employer lives and works in Georgetown in the Cayman Islands. The primary insurance company I'll be working for is in Bermuda. I told them both I will not live outside the US, but Florida's only a short flight from either of them."

Her mother was quiet. Speechless. Bev silently cheered. She had never known her mother to be at a loss for words before. Peggy asked, "What will you be doing?"

"Essentially the same thing I'm doing now: investigating complex claims. But, I'll be doing it as an independent contractor for a bunch of different insurance companies instead of as an employee for just one. You should be delighted to know that I will be doing it for a whole lot more money."

Peggy stammered, "Well, glory hallelujah. I thought I would never live to see the day you came to your senses and realized that you are worth more than whatever pittance a company like Midwestern pays you. Those cheap bastards have taken advantage of you – with your own cooperation – for years. I hope you just walked out on them."

"Geez, Mom. I never knew you cared so much. Actually, I haven't told my employer I'm leaving yet. I guess I'll have to do it Tuesday when I get home. Or over the phone."

"Dump them over the phone. They deserve it."

"I'll figure it out."

"When are you starting your new job."

"May 1st. I signed the contract today and e-mailed it back. I'm getting a $50,000 signing bonus for that alone."

"My. My." Peggy positively cooed, "My little girl is finally coming into her own. I have a proposition for you. If you are going to look for a place in Florida, you can use my condo on Longboat Key as your base of operation. Hell, you can stay there for a while until you find a place. Paula and I know the southwestern part of Florida very well. Please – and don't get all pissy with me about this – let us show you around. You don't have to meet any of our friends, because you'd hate them and then Paula and I would be offended and we'd fight. Just let us show you the area."

"Actually, Mom, that might be nice. We'll have to work out the timing. I have to give my two weeks' notice. Then the first week in May, Cameron – Cameron Andrews is my new boss – and I are going to Bermuda, Dublin and London to schmooze customers and get assignments. It may be June or thereabouts before I can work that in."

"What does Mr. Cameron Andrews look like?"

"He's actually very handsome. He's (only slightly) too young for you, but I think he's kind of your type. He's smooth and rich and very classy. I like him despite all of that."

Peggy laughed. "Very funny."

"I'm serious. He's a nice guy."

"Is he a claims adjuster, too?"

"He's more of a private investigator. He handles embezzlement and white collar crime type stuff. Very _Thomas Crown Affair_ kind of stuff."

"How exciting!" Bev almost dropped the phone. She had never heard her mother sound so pleased about anything Bev had ever said or done. Bev was dumbfounded and a little pissed off that she even cared. Peggy went on, "Well, we'll just have to get together and celebrate in June when you get back from your trip."

"I'll get the dates from Cameron and let you know."

"Do." Peggy paused for a long time, "Honestly, Bev. I really am happy for you."

"You've wanted me to move away from Stanforth since I was fourteen."

"What I wanted for you was something better than life in a small town."

"Mom, I agree with you that Midwestern's pay scale sucks, and now that an attractive offer has come along, I'm taking it. However, I am not selling my house in Ohio. I may temporarily relocate to Florida for a few years while I'm gallivanting around the globe investigating insurance claims, but when I retire, my plans are to move back to my house in Stanforth and perhaps never leave the town again. I love it there. I love the people. I have friends and relatives there. Stanforth is my home. It is where my heart is."

"What relatives?"

"I've reconnected with the Weigels."

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"I'm not kidding. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd go ballistic."

"Well, you were freaking right about that! Regardless of the differences between your dad and me, the way that family treated him – well, a dog doesn't deserve to be treated like that. It seems to me somewhat disloyal to your beloved Daddy that you even speak to those people."

Bev said, very softly in order to avoid screaming at her mother, "Actually, that may be the closest you've ever come to saying something decent about Daddy. Thank you. As for my being disloyal. I did feel that way at first. But, Emily was curious about her family. And, all of the people who shunned Daddy are dead. I ran into his younger brother and we talked. He offered to introduce Emily to the family. They included me in the invitation."

"You see them socially?"

"Mennonites don't exactly socialize. We've had Sunday supper with them a few times. Over the winter, I was traveling on a job in Florida. Uncle Hank and Aunt Betty took Emily in when Mrs. Donahue became ill." Bev shook her head and cleared her throat, "In any case, I wish you would let up on me about how much I love Stanforth."

"I understand loving your home town. I feel that way about Chicago. I love my condo in Florida, especially in January through March, but I couldn't live anyplace other than the Loop. I guess I've just been pissed off and hurt for a long time that you felt that way about Stanforth rather than Chicago."

Bev said, "Mom, I'm really sorry to have to cut you off in the middle of the closest thing we have ever had to a real mother-daughter conversation, but I'm pulling into the parking lot at the airport. I have to return my rental car and catch a plane."

"I understand. Send me your dates and your Aunt Paula and I will plan to meet you. It'll be something of a sacrifice for both of us. Our hair does not like the humidity of summertime in Florida. But, I'll be willing to do it to help celebrate your new job and new life." She brought herself up short, "What impact is this going to have on the new man in your life? Does he know about it?"

"Yes he knows about it. I talked to him about it before I accepted the job. We don't know yet what impact it will have on any potential romance we might be headed for. We already agreed to remain friends and colleagues. I'm guessing Ed will visit me in the wintertime in Florida."

"To recap: you have a new job, a new beau, your kid will got to a big nationally ranked school instead of Shawnee State. Anything else you have to tell me?"

"That about covers it, Mom."

"Okay. I'll be standing by with bated breath for the next installment."

"I'll be in touch. Bye, Mom."

Bev had booked a flight into Orlando that arrived an hour before Emily's. She was waiting at the gate when Emily came off the plane. Their appointment for a tour of U. F. was at 11:00 AM on Monday. They decided to spend Saturday and Sunday night at the beach and then drive to Gainesville on Monday morning. During the tour, they would get a suggestion for a hotel in Gainesville for that night, and then head back to Ohio on Tuesday.

They got in the car and Emily logged into a GPS mapping site. She said, "We'll Tampa is to the left and Daytona Beach is to the right on I-4. According to this the closest beach from here is Cocoa Beach. But if we have to be in Gainesville Monday, looks like our best bet is Daytona Beach. It's an hour or so from here. It's two hours from there to Gainesville. What do you say?"

"I'll drive. You find us a hotel. Pick a nice one. I'll spend up to $200 a night. Beach hotels can be really crummy if you go too cheap."

"Whoa, Mom!"

Bev winked, "I got my signing bonus yesterday. I'm flush."

They enjoyed walking on beach but did not venture into the ocean because there were too many jelly fish. They swam in the hotel pool, and gorged on fresh seafood. They rented bikes and rode the entire 26 miles of the beach. After a few very stressful weeks, they relaxed and enjoyed each others' company.

On Monday they drove to Gainesville. As they approached the outskirts of Gainesville Bev murmured, "Maybe I should look at moving to Daytona Beach, this drive is beautiful."

"Yeah, but I think you should look at the Gulf Coast. I can't see you living in Daytona Beach, besides you said you want to be near an airport."

"They don't have an airport in Daytona?"

"They do but it's a little rinky dink one with only a few flights a day and practically all of them are to Atlanta. I checked. Sarasota, Tampa and Clearwater airports all have direct flights to Georgetown and Bermuda."

"I'm impressed with your initiative."

"I want you to be happy, Mom. I know spending large amounts of time away from Stanforth is going to be hard for you. I want you to find someplace that is beautiful. The beaches in Daytona are fabulous, but I wasn't that impressed with the town."

"You were only there for a weekend."

They spent the next half hour in bumper to bumper traffic, searching in vain for a parking space in a lot that did not require a university parking pass. Emily called the person they were supposed to meet and explained their predicament. The girl asked where they were, and then told them to take the next left and pull into the parking lot behind the dorms. She told them to just drive around the parking lot, and she'd meet them in five minutes.

True to her word, in only a few minutes a beautiful co-ed dressed in khaki pants and a UF polo shirt hopped in the back seat. "Welcome to the University of Florida. If you're smart, you'll park your car when you arrive and not try to move it again until you graduate. Get a bicycle."

She directed Bev to a lovely little park tucked away on side street near campus where they found a legal parking space. They then walked around the campus for an hour or so. After that, the girl took them to the admissions office where they met with a counselor. She gave them the application paperwork, went over the procedures for applying for scholarships, grants, and financial aid, if necessary.

She looked at Emily and raised her eyebrows, "You still interested after experiencing the campus on a school day?"

Emily clasped her hands in an ecstatic gesture and said, "Oh, yes."

The woman tapped the copy of Emily's high school transcripts and her SAT scores, "Based on this, I'd say you have a good chance to get in. Submit your completed application as soon as you can and send it to my attention. She waved at a person in the hall behind them and stood up. "Since you're specifically interested in the performing arts program, I thought before we let you go, you might want to meet one of the students in the program. He can take you through the fine arts buildings and maybe you can pop in on a rehearsal or two."

Emily was speechless, especially when she saw the gorgeous young man who was their new guide. The lady introduced him as Tony Giacone. Bev shook his hand and said, "One thing you have to do is to help us find our car. We are in a park someplace near campus, but I'm so turned around I have no idea where."

Tony asked, "Do you have the cell number of the person who was your Prevue guide?"

Emily dialed the number, and handed him the phone. He asked Caroline where their car was parked and then listened and laughed. "Ok. I can get them back there. Thanks."

He winked at Bev and said, "No problem. I know right were you are. It's gonna be a hike, but," looking at Emily, he added, "you might as well get used to walking. A lot."

Emily said, "That's no problem. I like to ride my bike, too."

"Even better."

They spent a couple of hours walking through the fine arts buildings, sticking their heads in empty studios and eavesdropping on various rehearsals. Emily gave every impression of wanting to move to Gainesville that very day.

Tony asked Emily where she lived now an she told him. He said, "Then you know a little about the rhythm of life in a college town. This place can be overwhelming. Find a group that suits you and you'll be fine. Do you like sports?"

She said, "Sort of. I'm a cheerleader so I go to all the games, but I'm not all rabid about it like some people."

"You going out for the cheer squad here?"

She shook her head, "No. I'm too much of a geek to be a decent cheerleader. I just did went out for cheerleading because I got too tall for gymnastics and I though cheering would be the next best thing."

"You will find that football in the SEC is very different from football in the Midwest."

Bev said, "Emily's father was an Ohio State alumni. He had season tickets. Is it like that?"

He laughed, "It's like that only ramped up a few more notches."

Bev said, "Oh, my God. Remind me to check the football schedules so I can be far away on game days."

Emily asked, "Did you go to Ohio State games with Dad?"

Bev said, "I went once. That was more than enough."

Tony said, "Emily, I think you're in for quite an experience. I hope you get in." As he walked away he waved and said, "Go, Gators!"

Emily responded with a huge grin and a thumbs up, "Go, Gators!"

They checked into a hotel near campus and went in search of a place to get an early supper. The bars and restaurants were packed even on a Monday night. Bev was not thrilled about that. Emily said, "Mom, there are more than 50,000 students here. Everything's crowded all the time."

They returned to their hotel immediately after dinner. Their flight from Orlando was at 11:00 AM, so they had to leave fairly early. They were tired from the long day and all the walking. Neither of them was still awake for the news.

They were through security by 9:00 AM. Emily groused about being so early and having so long to wait. Bev said, "You go get a load of those security lines at 10 o'clock and then you'll know why I insisted on being early."

"What are we going to do for two hours?"

"I am going to work. I advise you to spend some time on that homework you didn't do over the weekend."

Emily made a face, but she pulled her Netbook from her satchel and started working on a paper.

Bev called Pete Dietz and told him that she was no closer to resolving the claim and that she would like to schedule meeting with him. She told him that if her plane was on time, she could be at his office by 4:00 PM. She hung up and called David Jamison, who was actually her boss when she wasn't loaned out to Dietz's department. He answered on the second ring. She said, "I know this is highly unusual for me and all, but I have a meeting with Pete late this afternoon and I'd kind of like to catch up with you before I head out. Would you have time for me to stop by your office maybe around 5:00?"

Emily looked up, puzzled. Emily shook her head and put her finger across her lips in a shushing gesture. Bev nodded and said, "Great. I'll see you then."

After Bev hung up, Emily said, "You're giving your notice today?"

"Yes. It's earlier than I had planned, but I can't stand having such a secret. Besides, I've already wrapped up and/or prepared to transition everything else. I thought I could wrap up the Walker Trent matter before I leave, but it's looking very much like we may have to ask a judge to decide that one. If that's the case, I might as well let them know now they need to reassign it."

Emily went in search of coffee and scones. Bev read a book. When her phone rang, she glanced at the incoming number. It was not a number she recognized. The person on the other end said, "Mrs. Deller. My name is Tamra Trent. I'm a little surprised you haven't called me, but I'm pretty sure my name has come up in many of your conversations lately."

Bev said, "I didn't call you because you are not my policyholder. I assumed that your attorney would not want you to talk to me. I'm a little surprised you are calling me."

"My attorney knows I'm making this call."

"Okay. So, what's on your mind?"

Tamra was quiet for a few minutes. She said, "Before I tell you why I called, would you mind telling me whether or not people think I'm responsible for the fire."

Bev said, "People who don't know you, think you are behind it. I have not spoken to one person who knows you personally who thinks you did it. For what it's worth, that includes Mr. Trent."

"Thank you for sharing that. I'm not the most popular person in Walker's world. It's gratifying to know that, while they may loathe me, perhaps with some justification, they know that I'm not capable of setting that fire. Have you found out who did it?"

"No, ma'am."

There was silence on the line. Tamra said, "Will it make a difference if I tell you that the Austin city police have a man in custody? He has confessed to setting the fire and has signed an affidavit attesting to the fact that Walker had no knowledge or involvement with the arson. The Austin city police are waiting for the Bexar County cops to pick him up for extradition to the local jail."

"Who is he?"

"He's a student at the University of Texas. A local Everly boy."

"Why did he do it?"

"Does that matter for your purposes?"

"I suppose not."

"Who should I call to get a copy of his affidavit?"

"The Everly fire chief gave the Austin cops your email address. They are supposed to email it to you. You may already have it."

"If you'd like to hold on, I'll check my email."

Bev's hand was shaking as she pulled up her email. The affidavit was there, and it was perfectly drafted to allow her to release the claim money. She clicked back over to the phone call, and said. "I think that will do it. Thank you for the call."

The line went dead.

Bev forwarded the email to Pete Dietz and dialed his cell number. He picked up the phone on the first ring, knowing she never called him on that number unless it was urgent. "Whatzup?"

"Check your email."

A few seconds later she heard him whistle. "Son of a bitch. Where did this guy come from?"

"I dunno. Tamra Trent called me. He's a local. Maybe the crackpot. There's something very strange about this, but, frankly, Pete, I don't care. This gives us what we need to pay the claim to Mr. Trent. As far as why this guy set the fire, that's up to the cops to figure out. No our problem."

"Our subrogation unit won't appreciate hearing you say that."

"I'll write a check for $17 million. I've done my job. The subro unit can do theirs. Do I have your authority to tell Mr. Trent's attorney we're ready to pay?"

"I need to get David and Russ on the line. Let me get that call set up and I'll call you right back."

Emily walked up with scones and coffee. Bev said, "I am about to get a very important conference call. You can listen, but please don't say anything. The phone rang and flipped it open, "Bev here."

Dietz said, "OK. I've got David Jamison in my office. Russ McGavin is on the line. We've all read the affidavit and we've reviewed your reports of your investigation. We agree there is no indication that Mr. Trent was involved in this fire. This affidavit is sufficient to demonstrate that somebody else did it. We don't know who this kid is or why he did it, but for our purposes, that's not relevant. David and Russ, we need your okay to proceed."

"David here. Go ahead and wrap it up, Bev."

"Russ here. You have my authority as well."

Dietz said, "Call Trent's attorney and get his bank routing number. Do you have a release ready?"

"I can have it ready in only a few minutes. Do you want to see it before I send it to him?"

"You using our standard form?"

"Yep. There's nothing out of the ordinary about it at this point."

"Go ahead and send him the release. As soon as we get it back, we'll release the money."

"I'm going to be in the air for a while. How about I tell him to send the release to you if he wants to wrap this up today."

"That's fine. I'm in the office all day. You still want to come in this afternoon."

"No, I guess not. I'd rather not have this conversation on the phone, but since you are all together, I'll get this over with now."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closed her eyes and said, "I have been offered a job with a private investigations firm. I will be doing essentially the same work I am doing for you, but as an independent contractor working for a number of carriers. For a whole lot more money. I am giving you two weeks notice. Frankly, since we just wrapped this one up and I have nothing else hanging fire, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take two weeks of my accrued vacation time, since I'll lose it when I leave."

There was absolute silence on the phone. Bev was sweating and her hands were trembling in her lap. Emily reached out and clasped one of her mother's hands. Bev squeezed Emily's hand and swallowed hard, trying not to cry. After an interminable amount of time, Russ McGavin, the general counsel said, "Is there anything we could do to make you change your mind?"

Bev said, "The only thing that would come close would be to give me a $50,000 bonus, double my salary and promise profit sharing bonuses in the future."

Emily massaged Bev's hand which continued to tremble violently. The silence on the other end went on for several very long seconds. Eventually Russ said, with a surprisingly husky voice, "We wish you good luck. You have to know this is a huge blow to us. Professionally and personally."

Bev swallowed a couple of times and said, "It wasn't an easy decision to make. I've considered you not just my bosses but my colleagues and my friends. However, I have a kid headed for college, and I have to look out for her and for my own financial best interest."

Jamison asked, "Is it Cameron Andrews' agency?"

"Yes."

Dietz said, "Cameron's a good man. He'll be good to work with."

Jamison said, "You need to come in and see the personnel people. Come in tomorrow and meet with them to get the paperwork done. I want to take you out to dinner. We'll order wine so I'll make reservations at the Marriott. Bring Emily if you like."

"I'll come alone. Thank you. It will be nice to have the opportunity to say good-bye in person."

Dietz laughed, "It may not be a permanent good-bye, sweetums. You're the best there is at what you do. If we get a bad one, we may hire you."

Bev said with a tone that had a bitter edge, "You'll have to pay a lot more for me."

"I know."

Bev said, "They're calling my plane."

McGavin said, "We'll see you tomorrow."

"OK. 'bye."

She hung up the phone and put her head between her knees praying that she would manage to hold off the nausea. Emily rubbed her back. Bev managed to fight off the panic for the time being. She sat up and asked Emily, "Aren't you on spring break next week?"

"Yep."

Bev clicked her speed dial and said, "Mom, what are you and Aunt Paula doing next week? How about meeting me and Emily in Sarasota. It won't be as humid in April as it would be in June." She paused and laughed, "Well, I guess you could say that, while it takes me a long time to make a decision, once I've made it, I can move pretty fast."

Emily asked, "How come you told them they were calling your plane."

"Number one, I wanted to get off the phone before somebody started to cry, like me. Number two, I've got work to do."

She flipped open her computer filled out a form and attached it to an email. She hit send and then looked up Trent's attorney's number. After going through several layers of automated voice mail, she finally got Ronald Thompson on the phone. She said, "I just emailed you the release with instructions to send it to the insurance company's special investigations unit manager with Mr. Trent's bank routing information. We'll issue a wire transfer as soon as we get the executed release."

Thompson said, "My God. What happened? Who did it?"

"I found out this morning that the Austin city police arrested a young man who confessed to setting the fire. He signed a statement indicating that he acted alone and that Mr. Trent had no knowledge or involvement with it."

"Can you send me a copy of that affidavit."

"No, but I'm sure you could probably get it from somebody in Austin or Bexar County. It's my understanding they will extradite him to San Antonio as early as today."

"Why did he do it?"

"I don't know. All I had to do was verify that Mr. Trent was not involved. I've done that, so we can now pay Mr. Trent's claim. I really don't care why the kid did it. I'll turn the matter over to our subrogation unit. It'll be up to them to see if they can get restitution from this guy, or from whomever it might have been who put him up to it. Is Mr. Trent in Nashville?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, he's rehearsing at a studio that is only a couple of blocks from my office. I'll take this to him and get it to Mr. Dietz within a couple of hours. Why am I sending it to him?"

"I'm in Orlando and will be flying to Cincinnati this morning. I'll be in the air for a while and then in the car. I thought it would be fastest if you sent it to Pete, who's in the office all day."

"Thank you, Ms. Deller. You did a great job."

"I did nothing but spin my wheels, Mr. Thompson, and buy time for this to play itself out. My experience in these things is that sometimes that's the only thing I can do."

## Chapter 8

The flight from Orlando to Cincinnati landed on time. Bev and Emily did not talk on the drive to Stanforth. Bev could feel her anxiety level rising. She was nervous about the next day with her bosses and the next week with her mother, and then the trip with Andrews ... by the time she got home, she was barely able to function. She didn't want Emily to see her fall apart.

She called Ed's cell and asked if she could come over to his house. Without asking any questions or hesitating an instant, he said, "I'll pick you up at your house in ten minutes."

Bev dumped her suitcase in the bedroom without unpacking it and waited in the front hall. Emily walked by and asked, "Mom, what are you doing?"

Bev didn't turn around. She said, "I'm going to Ed Casey's house. I don't know how long I'll be there. I'm a little overwhelmed and I need to step away."

"You're going to be sick aren't you?"

"I hope not. Please don't call me. I'll have Ed check in with you later."

Emily stepped forward and put her hand on her mother's arm. Bev held up her hand, still without turning around. "Please don't. I can't ...." Casey's truck pulled into the driveway. Bev opened the door. Casey took one look at Bev's haunted eyes and knew what was coming. He took her arm and said to Emily over her mother's shoulder, "She'll be fine. I'll call you in a little while."

Emily nodded, with tears in her eyes. "I love you, Mom."

Bev nodded and waved her fingers behind her.

Several hours later, Casey called Emily to tell her he was bringing her mother home. She was tired and would be going straight to bed but she was okay. Emily asked, "Can I talk to her?"

"You might want to wait until in the morning. If you can get up early enough, she might appreciate some tea before you go to school."

"Okay. Tell her I love her and I'll see her in the morning."

A few minutes later Casey and Bev came in and walked straight to her bedroom. Bev was glad to see that Emily's bedroom door was closed. She said, "I want to take a shower before I go to bed."

He said, "I'll wait."

"You don't have ..."

"I told you I'll wait, so don't be all night about it."

While she was showering he helped himself to a short drink from his bottle. She came out of the shower in her pajamas. She put her arms around him and said, "I am so sorry to burden you so."

He held her tight and said, "That's what friends are for."

He helped her into bed and tucked her in. Then he bent over and kissed her forehead. She was asleep before he closed the front door on his way out.

Bev had gone to bed so early, she got up before Emily and made pancakes for breakfast. Emily lumbered into the kitchen, yawning. When she saw Bev, she rushed over to hug her mother. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine now. You know how miserably I handle stress and change. This a hard transition for me, but I'm motivated to get through it. I think it may be something of a personal breakthrough for me. Last night was actually not quite as bad as I feared it would be. Maybe I'm getting better."

"Do you think you should get some professional help, Mom?"

"You mean like a psychiatrist? Probably, but I don't have time for that right now. I have a lot to do. Fortunately, in Ed's job he has a lot of experience dealing with people who are in a state of high anxiety. He is very good at talking me down from the ledge. But, I promise to talk to a professional at some point if I continue to have these episodes."

They ate breakfast and Bev dropped Emily off at school, reminding her to take the bus home or get a ride. Emily told her that since Bev was spending the night in Dayton, she had made arrangements to spend the night with a friend. They were going to study for a test.

Bev did some grocery shopping and replenished her supply of travel sized personal care items, buying a set for Emily as well in anticipation of their trip to Sarasota. While she was thinking about that, she called her mother and firmed up the dates for their trip.

On her way to Dayton, she checked in with her assistant and filled her in on the situation. Cassie started to cry, and Bev asked her to hold it until lunchtime and they could cry together.

A few minutes later, while she was still on the road, Walker Trent called her. He asked if she had a few minutes. She responded that she had approximately forty-five minutes in the car. He told her that he was in a bit of a quandary and wanted her advice. She asked him to explain.

"Did Tamra tell you why Travis Sutherland set the fire?"

"No, sir. All she told me was that the kid had been arrested and had exonerated you. Frankly, that's all I care about."

He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "It more complicated than that. Tamra left out some important details. You see, Travis Sutherland was Melinda's boyfriend in high school. She broke up with him because his family wasn't rich enough for her and she didn't think his was likely to be able to maintain her in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. Even after she dumped him, he continued to carry a torch for her." He cleared his throat and stammered, but continued, "They kept in touch occasionally, on MySpace or Facebook or whatever site the kids are using these days.

"Melinda paid Travis to start that fire. She offered to pay the rest of his college education if he would drive to Everly and set the fire. That's why nobody saw any strange cars. Everybody knew Travis's truck, and he came home from college frequently, so nobody thought it was odd to see him – if anybody actually did see him. Anyway, Melinda is the person behind the fire.

"My attorneys have been working overtime, around the clock to hammer out a deal with the Bexar county prosecutor. Travis is pleading guilty to a lesser charge and will be offered probation and a fine. A fine which Melinda is paying on his behalf, probably with money she'll get from Tamra.

"The open issue is restitution. The prosecutor told my attorney that restitution is not optional because the insurance company has already filed a restitution demand. Obviously, Travis doesn't have the money to pay restitution. Tamra does, but it would wipe out the last of her money from our divorce settlement, at which point she'd probably make another run at me and sue me for something.

"I propose to prevent that by returning the claim settlement to your company, and sign any kind of release or waiver the insurance company may require. Do you think that will satisfy your company?"

"I'm quite sure it will. If you return the settlement, we'll have no damages to support a claim for restitution other than our claim expenses. I'm guessing I can talk the company into waiving its claim for costs. Fortunately for you, I travel cheap.

"Other than seeking restitution, the company has no interest in how the criminal matters are handled, but I'm curious. Is your daughter being charged?"

"Yes. She's on her way to San Antonio now. She's going to turn herself in, and plead guilty. She'll be ordered to pay the restitution and court costs of something like $5000. She will be offered probation."

"I'm sure we will withdraw our claim as soon as you return the money. Your attorney should contact our subrogation specialist to work that out. I am on my way to a meeting with the claims executives. I'll let them know."

"I'm sure they will be pleased. You may get a bonus."

"Probably not, because I've just resigned."

"Oh, where are you going?

"I'm going to work for a private investigator." She hesitated, but gave in to the urge to ask the next logical question, "Mr. Trent, it isn't my business, but why did your daughter want to destroy that house. You told me she loved it as much as you and your wife did."

"The answer to that involves some personal information that is very difficult to talk about. I'm holding you to your previous promise to keep everything I tell you in strictest confidence."

"Of course."

"Melinda is not my biological daughter. Her mother was a backup singer on one of my early tours. We dated casually, but we were both seeing other people. Tamra became pregnant by a married roadie who promptly disappeared. She was in a real jam. She was only 19. There was no way my production managers would allow a pregnant backup singer to continue with the show, even if Tamra hadn't been too sick to travel. Her parents basically told her she literally made that bed, and she'd have to lie in it. They refused to help her.

"I married Tamra and raised Melinda as my own. Nobody but Tamra and I ever knew the truth. Frankly, I had all but forgotten about it. Melinda was my daughter in every way but genetics. The fact that we are so terribly estranged now in no way diminishes the love I had for her when she was little, or still have for the idea of her even though I can't stand to be around her.

"She is taking a biology class at college. A few weeks ago they were doing a unit on genetics and they did an experiment in blood typing. Melinda asked Tamra what blood type she was. Tamra answered her. She asked if Tamra knew my blood type and Tamra answered her. I think it never crossed Tamra's mind what she had done, because I think sometimes Tamra also forgets that I am not Melinda's biological father. In any case, according to our blood types, I cannot be Melinda's father.

"When Melinda figured that out, she completely freaked. She confronted her mother, who told her the truth. Tamra's a money grubbing witch in many ways, but she always appreciated the fact that I gave her a chance when her chips were down. Tamra's spin on the whole thing was that Melinda should be grateful. She pointed out that the lifestyle Melinda enjoys today is because I married her mother instead of letting her become another single mom scraping to get by. Melinda's view of the situation was that her entire life has been a lie. In a self-destructive rage, she hired Travis to destroy the house that was the symbol of her happy childhood."

"Oh, my God."

"Yes. It's a tragedy."

"I sincerely hope you can heal the rift between you and your daughter."

"That may be difficult. She is as angry with me as she is with her mother for what she considers our betrayal."

Bev said, "I am very sorry for your whole family. You have lost much more than a house."

His voice sounded like it came through a sieve, "Don't I know it."

He cleared his throat and said, "The good thing about being a songwriter with troubles is that I have an outlet for my pain. I'm guessing my next album will be filled with good old-fashioned cryin' hillbilly songs."

Bev chuckled, "I have very hard time dealing with strong emotions. Perhaps I should take up song-writing."

"Any kind of writing will do."

"That may be good advice."

"Thank you for calling, Mr. Trent. I hope your tour goes well. I like your most recent album."

"Thanks. If you're allowed to accept gifts, I'd love to comp you tickets to one of my shows."

"If I were still employed with Midwestern, I'd have to say no to that, but since I'm leaving, I will accept with gratitude. My best friend is a big fan of yours. Any chance you could throw in a back stage pass for five minutes?"

"I'll do you one better. I'll send you tickets and take you and your friend out for dinner after the show. Get in touch with Ginny to make the arrangements."

"Thank you, Mr. Trent."

"The name's Walker."

When she arrived at Midwestern's home office, she stopped in Pete Dietz's office and told him about her conversation with Trent, without revealing all the intimate details. He advised the subrogation supervisor to contact Trent's attorney to arrange for reimbursement of the money. When he put down the phone, he shook his head. "Nothing like hitting a freaking home run on your last at bat. Is that by way of a little farewell present to let us know what we're losing?"

"Pete, I accomplished nothing during that investigation, and you know it."

"We managed to pay zero in legal fees and zero in indemnity. All that claim cost us was your travel, which is a small price to pay for such a spectacular result. It doesn't seem fair to Trent, but that's his business."

Bev sighed, "In a way it is fair to Mr. Trent. The girl was part of his family. She grew up in that house. It was only because of the divorce that she was not an insured under the policy. I won't betray his confidence and go into the details behind it, but her anger arose out of a family dispute."

"Good point. In any case. Russ and the business people will be pleased. What are you doing for lunch?"

"First I'm meeting the HR people, then I'm going to lunch with Cassie. David wants to see me in his office at 4:30 before going out for dinner. Are you included in that party?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll see you later."

Bev met with a functionary in HR, and then went out to lunch with Cassie. They laughed a little and cried a lot, and then re-did their makeup in the bathroom of the restaurant. Cassie went back to work. Bev went shopping for couple of hours and then headed for David Jamison's office about 4:30 PM. He stood up and walked around his desk when she came in. For a minute she was terrified he would try to hug her and she was so not capable of handling anything sentimental at that point. Fortunately, he merely shook her hand and offered her a seat in his guest chair. He sat in the guest chair next to her instead of going back behind his desk. That was an astonishing gesture coming from an attorney, not to mention a senior vice president of Midwestern Indemnity, which was on the extreme wing of stuffy old-fashioned corporations. Bev couldn't quite decide if it made her want to laugh or cry.

There was little to say. Jamison and Bev had worked together for a long time. He told her he would miss her. She said the same. They both knew that life would go on, and that after more than two decades of almost daily contact, they would probably never speak again. They chatted, mostly about their children, basically killing time until the others joined them. Bev let herself go numb. It was better than giving in to grief. That would, no doubt, come later.

Soon McGavin and Dietz arrived. The four of them went out for dinner to a very expensive chop house that was sort of a throw-back to the fifties. Bev declined the offer of a drink, saying she thought she'd prefer to go home after dinner rather than spend the night alone in a hotel. They ordered without looking at the menu and ate more or less in silence, not even sharing the typical banter of claims war stories. Dietz waited until near the end of the evening to drop the bomb that Bev had got the money back from the Walker Trent claim. McGavin simply shook his head and laughed. They all knew that Bev was one of a kind and they'd never see her match again. Evidently nobody trusted themselves to say that. Bev felt it in the air, and was grateful that nobody tried to say it out loud. She was beginning to think she'd make it through the evening without breaking down.

After dinner, the small group walked out onto the sidewalk and stood in an awkward circle. The men wished her luck and thanked her for her many years of loyal service to the Company. Dietz asked her to be sure to send him her contact information once she got squared away. She told him she doubted he'd ever get Midwestern's approval to pay her new rates, but she promised to send him her email address and she told him she intended to keep her same cell phone number.

At 7:00 PM she drove away from the parking lot at Midwestern Casualty Insurance Company for the last time, after nearly 30 years of service. She had her final paycheck, including two week's of vacation pay, and COBRA paperwork in her purse. That was that. It all seemed so anti-climactic and, even, somewhat pathetic. She had poured her heart and soul into her job for nearly three decades, and now she was driving away forever. She never believed she would be able to leave that job until she reached the mandatory retirement age.

Rather than feeling the grief she expected to experience, she felt liberated in a way she had never felt before, and she noticed that she was no longer afraid (at that moment, anyway). Her fears had revolved mostly around extricating herself from the job she had allowed to occupy the center of her life for so many years. She was sad to discover how relatively easy it turned out to be to simply walk away from it. She was pretty sure that there would be bumps along the road later on, but she was grateful to have gotten through this day without behaving unprofessionally.

She called Casey when she got on the highway and asked if he would mind if she stopped by. He asked if she were okay. She told him that she was fine now that she had the meeting with Midwestern out of the way. She pulled into his driveway forty five minutes later.

He met her at the door and they hugged for a long time. He offered her a drink, but she declined. She told him she wanted to have all her faculties for this conversation. She could tell from the look in his eyes he how the conversation would go.

They sat on his couch talking for several hours. They each shared intimate details of their backgrounds that neither of them would have shared with anyone but a best and most trusted friend. They mutually agreed to be best friends and quasi-siblings instead of lovers. They knew too much about one another to risk a romance. They depended on and loved one another too deeply to be anything but bosom buddies.

They didn't touch each other nor did they cry while sitting together, talking. They sealed their friendship with a very long, loving bear hug at the door before she left.

Just before she turned away, she laid her hand on his chest and said, "Omigosh, I almost forgot the best thing! Walker Trent is comping us tickets to one of his shows on his tour. And then he's going to take us out for dinner after the show. What do you think about that?"

He picked her up and swung her around saying, "I think I'm going to have much more fun with you as a sister-friend than I ever would have as a significant other."

She kissed his cheek and said, "Amen to that, Dude. We know too much about one another to ever be lovers. I can't risk losing you to a silly spat. Ever. You're too special to me."

"Ditto. And, you're introducing me to Walker Trent! Wow."

"Plus you can come visit me in Florida in the wintertime."

"How swell will that be?!"

They stood grinning at each other. While their would-be romance wouldn't be, the more important friendship had come through the crisis, stronger than ever. They smiled at each other, and hugged once more, quickly and affectionately.

## Chapter 9

The next morning, Bev got out of bed and headed for the shower at 5:30 AM, just like always. She stopped half way to the bathroom and realized that she had nowhere to go. For the first time since she was 14, when she went to work as a dishwasher at _The Barn_ restaurant, she was unemployed. She had nothing to do all day except make plane reservations for her trip to Florida. She went back to bed.

After tossing and turning for a while, Bev gave in to the fact that she was a morning person and even if she didn't have to go to work, she did have to get up. She got dressed, straightened up the already immaculate house, made coffee and read the paper. Then she logged onto her computer and made the reservations for their flight to Sarasota, emailing the itinerary to her mother, Emily and Ed. Ed emailed her back asking if they wanted a ride to the airport. Bev responded that she would just park her car at the airport now that she would be making a decent living and didn't have Midwestern looking over her shoulder calculating the difference in cost between paying parking and paying mileage.

Emily responded with a text message that said: _YAY!_

Bev called Cameron Andrews to discuss their upcoming trip. She told him that she had wrapped up her employment with Midwestern and planned to vacation in Sarasota for the next couple of weeks, after which she was all his. He told her he was delighted, and suggested that when she had finished in Sarasota, she should join him in Georgetown for a few days. He'd introduce her to his attorney, who would finalize the paperwork involved in getting her on his payroll, and they could plan their presentations to the various carriers.

Bev asked what hotel she should book. He said, "When you're in Georgetown, you can stay with me. My house is my office or maybe my office is my home, since I essentially make no delineation between my personal and professional life.

"I've designated the large guest room as your room/office. It has a huge alcove that can easily be set up with computers, printers, etc. I've already ordered the equipment. When you get here, you can order a chair and desk. That's something too personal for me to select for you. I also want you to have satellite phone service. I'm assuming you won't want to change your cell number. Why don't you change your service plan to include international calling, and I'll simply reimburse you for your phone bill, less whatever portion is for Emily's phone."

Bev wondered how much time he expected her to spend in Georgetown if he was allowing her to order furniture for her office/room, but she found that she didn't really care. His house was huge, gorgeous and the large guest room had a balcony overlooking the ocean.

She realized that she was about to become something of a gypsy for the next few years, hopping from Ohio to Georgetown to Florida to various places for claims investigations. She hoped she would be able to spend enough time in Stanforth to satisfy her soul. Then again, having her own room in the Cayman Islands overlooking the Caribbean Sea ought to satisfy anyone's soul, including hers.

Next she decided to act on a crazy but wonderful idea that had come to her in the middle of the night recently. She called Carrie Donahue and invited her to lunch. After Bev's dad died, Mrs. Donahue, a widow who lived down the street, had stayed with Emily when Bev was on the road. Now, Bev would be traveling more than ever. Emily and Ed had both told Bev there was a rumor going around town to the effect that Mrs. Donahue was having financial problems. The word was that she had mortgaged her house to pay her husband's medical bills during his final illness. Now that she was getting older, and with her own medical bills piling up, she was having trouble meeting her expenses. Bev's house was a three-bedroom, split floor plan ranch. Bev had decided to invite Mrs. Donahue to move in with her and Emily.

After Bev explained what she had in mind, Mrs. Donahue shook her head and leaned forward, looking over the top of her glasses, "You mean you want me to live with you _permanently_?"

"Mrs. Donahue, you've helped me out all these years since my dad died and you've never let me pay you as much your services were actually worth. Emily will be driving soon so you won't have to haul her around town like you do now, but I don't want her living here alone. She's too young. When she goes away to college, my house will be vacant. Vacant houses draw vandals and all kinds of other bad things. I do not intend to sell the house because I want to come back to it when I retire. I don't want to rent it to strangers. I would love it if you would live in it because I know you'll take care of it, and you know how much I love my home. It will be a good deal for both of us."

"But what about when you are home. Won't I be in your way?"

"No you won't. You'll have your privacy on the other end of the house, but you know you're practically a member of the family, anyway. Emily thinks of you as practically her grandmother anyway. It'll be fun! What do you say?"

"I am overwhelmed. I've been so worried about how I was going to manage financially, and with my arthritis, the stairs in my house are hard for me. Sometimes I sleep on the couch in the living room to avoid climbing the stairs to my bedroom. How much rent will you charge me?"

Bev made a face. "There is no rent involved here! I want you to live in my house and watch over my daughter when I'm not home and watch over my house when neither Emily nor I are there. I'm not going to charge you rent when you're doing me such a huge favor."

"I don't know what to say!" The woman looked as though she was about to cry.

Bev reached across the table and patted her hand, "Start by saying 'yes'. We can work out the details as we go along."

Emily whooped when Bev told her the news. Mrs. Donahue was more like a normal grandmother than Bev's own mom, and Emily loved spending time with her. Emily told her mom she had been worried about Mrs. Donahue living alone in her huge old house, with her increasingly painful arthritis, and added that she thought it was a really nice gesture for Bev to make. Bev shrugged it off and said, "It doesn't really qualify as a 'nice gesture' because we all benefit from it."

Bev made a face, "But it's nice that your thought of it."

On Friday afternoon, Bev and Emily flew to Sarasota. Bev's mother and her Aunt Paula had arrived the day before. The sisters each had a condo in separate complexes on Longboat Key. Bev and Emily stayed with Bev's mom. Peggy had ordered Chinese food to be delivered on Friday, so the girls could talk uninterrupted. Emily and Bev sat on the floor by the large coffee table. The older women occupied a couch and love seat that flanked the table on two sides. Paper boxes of various sizes and shapes were strewn across the table and the women spent some time eating and discussing the food. When they were finished, Bev and Emily cleared away the mess. _Because God forbid that Mother or Aunt Paula would ever bother to clean up after themselves._ Bev's mother waved at them and said, "Just leave it. The housekeeper will clean it up in the morning."

Bev made a face and said, "For one thing, Mother, there's quite a bit of food left over that Emily and I will eat for lunch tomorrow. I know that you don't eat leftovers, but we do. It would be wasteful not to refrigerate it. For another thing, I'm not going to leave this food out over night to smell up the house."

Her mother just rolled her eyes. Annoyed, Bev wondered what in the hell she was thinking when she agreed to spend a few days in the same house with her mother.

Paula said, "Well, when you finish with that, let's talk about what kind of house you're looking for."

Bev and Emily returned to the living room, with a pot of fresh tea, and returned to their places on the floor. Paula looked at Emily, "What do you want in a house, dear?"

Emily made a face and said, "Well, since I'm not going to actually live there, I don't think I should have much of a vote. I'd like something near the beach maybe. Definitely with a pool. I'd like Mom to consider a second floor or higher condo. Since she'll be living alone and traveling a lot, I think security should be an issue."

Bev nodded. "I agree with that. I don't want a high-rise, or at least I don't want to be too high up in a high rise, but I don't want to be on the ground floor, either. For the same reason, I think I'd like a secured building. The rooms can be small, but, obviously, I will need two bedrooms for when Emily visits."

Emily said, "Are you sure you don't want three bedrooms, so you can have an office and/or if you have other company?"

"No. My bedroom can be my office. It has been for thirty years already. My office is wherever my laptop and cell phone are – most of the time it's in a motel room. I don't plan to have a lot of company, especially not when you're home. My time with you is too short and too precious, I won't voluntarily share it with anyone else."

Paula said, "Besides, Peg and I hardly ever come to Sarasota any more. If you have overflow company, somebody can always stay in one of our condos."

Peggy asked Bev, "What about location? Do you want beach front or in town?"

"The most important thing for me is that it has to have easy access to the airport. It would be swell if it were close to the beach, but I don't want to spend too much money either. By the way, I think I'd like to look at a long term rental for starters. If I like the area, I'll probably eventually buy a place, but I want to kind of dip my toe into the Florida lifestyle kind of slowly. From the online research I did, it looks as though I could get a very nice furnished condo for around $1000 a month."

Bev took out an aerial map she had printed from Google maps. There was an X over the airport. Bev had circled three different communities. One a residential area in an older part of town, where there were a lot of old Victorian homes that had been converted into apartments. One was an area in Bradenton that was very near the Sarasota airport and the last one was Siesta Key. Peggy asked, "Why not Longboat near us?"

Bev almost made a smart remark, but stifled it. Instead, she said, "It's inconvenient to get to the airport from out here. I have to admit that as much as I would like to be near the ocean, I don't want to spend a bloody fortune on an apartment that will be empty most of the time, and I don't want to have to worry about closing it up and boarding up if a storm comes when I'm away."

Peggy waved her hands in a dismissive gesture, "That's what caretakers are for."

Paula said, "I have made arrangements with a Realtor to show you some places tomorrow."

Bev said, "Give me her email address. I have some specific places picked out that I want to see."

Paula reached in her purse and pulled out an old fashioned address book. She gave Bev the woman's email address. Bev tapped out a message on her phone and sent it to the woman with links to several condos she was particularly interested in. She figured that would also let the woman see the kinds of condos that she really wanted as opposed to the palatial monstrosities her mother and aunt would probably try to steer her toward.

They turned in early. Just after Bev turned out the lights Emily whispered, "You're doing great, Mom. Not one argument all evening or even any cross words."

"My main goal for this trip is not to bite my tongue completely off. Please stay close and help me out."

"I will. I promise. You know I think it's interesting, Grandma seems to go along with whatever Aunt Paula says. I always thought that Gram was outgoing and vivacious, not to mention nuts, but it seems like she's more of a follower."

"They have a strange relationship. They inherited a lot of money from their parents and grandparents. They also each married money, but Aunt Paula did better in the marriage lotto than Mom. Aunt Paula extracted an enormous divorce settlement from her first husband and then inherited another potful after her second husband died. Mom married a rich man after she divorced my dad. That man died a few years later and left Mom very comfortable, but by no means in Paula's league. That, plus the fact that she's the older sister, gave Paula an edge that she has used ever since. She tells Mom to jump, and Mom jumps. They seem to get along just fine. It works out very well, too, because my mother is not a very bright person. It's good that she has Aunt Paula and all her many paid caretakers to keep her on track."

"That's interesting. I always thought Gram was just kind of ditzy and wild."

"She is that. Mother is only interested in having fun. She likes parties – giving them and attending them. In connection with that, she likes clothes, jewels and all the accouterments such as hair and makeup. It can take her all week to get ready for a weekend party. But when it comes to practical things like paying the rent and buying cars or whatever, she's pretty hopeless. Fortunately, Aunt Paula is a very sharp cookie. I have to add that Aunt Paula is every bit as wild as Mom, but not as ditzy."

"How in the hell did Gram and granddaddy ever hook up?"

"The best theory I have been able to come up with was that it was a case of opposites attracting, and then discovering, only after they were married and she was pregnant, that they were utterly incompatible. The marriage became toxic for everybody at that point, and they spent the next ten years battling in court over the only thing in the marriage that both of them wanted: me."

"Did they fight?"

"Honey, I never heard my parents say a civil word to each other when they lived together and I never heard either of them say a civil thing about the other after they divorced. To his credit, my dad refused to speak of my mother. My mother badmouthed him at every opportunity. Still does when she thinks she can get away with it."

"That must have been awful."

"It was hell."

"Did Gram ever live in Stanforth?"

"Yes. She lived there for five years. She was a scandal in many ways. For one thing, she didn't keep house or take care of me. She had a housekeeper and hired a nanny for me. She proceeded to try to create a life in Stanforth that was similar to what she would have lived in Chicago. She joined the Methodist Church and got involved in their women's group. She was involved in a couple of community charities, and she kept getting crosswise with all those ladies because she wanted to throw lavish fund-raisers like they do in Chicago. You know that kind of thing does not go over in Stanforth. The people in town basically thought she was a loud-mouthed, pushy Chicagoan who needed to go back to where she came from. I think the town breathed a collective sigh when she snatched me and headed north in the middle of the night."

"You never told me about that."

"My dad spent five years and tens of thousands of dollars trying to get me back."

"He finally succeeded!"

"No. Actually, he lost the custody battle. The courts are stacked against men getting custody of small children. I lived with my mother in Chicago until I was fourteen. Then I went to the court and asked to be allowed to go home to Ohio. After some further investigation and with three social workers saying that I was so adamant about my desire to live with my dad that I was at risk for becoming a runaway, the judge finally reversed his order.

"Three months after I turned fourteen, I returned to Stanforth to live with my dad. My mother and I had no further contact until I was 35 and pregnant with you. I was so bitter about my miserable childhood that I personally would have been fine not ever having anything to do with her again, but I felt she deserved to know her grandchild. I regretted it immediately. She loathed your father. She thought he was too boring. He didn't make enough money. It was a shame that I had to work. Our house was too small. I wasn't taking care of myself. I was gaining too much weight. Blah. Blah. Blah.

"Now, I can honestly say I'm glad I reconciled with her – even though she still drives me crazy. In the years since then, I have gotten to know her and Aunt Paula, and I have come to understand Mom a little. I don't like her a whole lot. And I still can get worked up about the terrible things she did to my dad. But, reconnecting with her provided an opportunity for me to do a lot of healing and get past my bitterness. That has been good for my soul.

"What is more, I've learned a little about her, and I have developed some compassion for her. She's somebody with no goals and no ambition. She just sort of drifts through life grasping at opportunities to have fun in the immediate moment instead of finding her passion."

Emily thought about that and said, "That's an interesting way of putting it. What is your passion, Mom?"

"I'm sorry to tell you that I have concluded that my passion is work. There are other things I enjoy. I adore you and I love being a mom, even though it something that does not come naturally (which is understandable considering the way I was 'mothered'). Watching you turn into a wonderful young woman is so delightful. But, you're your own person. You don't belong to me. I can't take credit for your successes nor will I accept blame for your failures. The only thing I own and can totally take credit for is what I 'do', whether it be in my job or maintaining a nice home or keeping myself in shape. Does that make sense?"

Emily got out of her bed and slid into bed beside Bev, "First of all, Mom, I think every kid I know would kill to have their mother feel that way about motherhood. You would be astonished and appalled at the way some mothers treat their kids. They treat them like the kid is somehow responsible for the mom's happiness and self-esteem. They're bossy, controlling and hyper-critical. It's gross. I've always thought it was strange that you never did that to me. I appreciate it more than I can tell you. I guess I never had the opportunity before to mention that before.

"Second, I want to think about the other part. Seems to me like people want kids to pick a goal, and ambition. Make money. Be a doctor. Cure cancer. Whatever. Seems like most people think that life needs some kind of goal that you can achieve. What I hear you saying is that your passion is the process, not any particular goal."

"Maybe it's even bigger than that." Bev snuggled down and took Emily in her arms like she had done a thousand times when her daughter was little, but which they had not done lately. "We're getting awfully philosophical here, but maybe now's the time for it. It's late at night and both of us are on the brink of starting a new phase in our lives. Maybe it's a good time to contemplate what is most important to us before we start picking out houses and signing up for school programs.

"I can tell you that you are right: the thing that positively lights me up is the process of doing things with focus and concentration. Whether I'm going out on an investigation, biking with you, cooking a meal or reading a book, I kind of get lost in the immediate experience of what I'm doing. You know how I totally lose track of time. That's because I'm so engrossed in what I'm doing that time sort of stops for me. I never changed jobs because I don't have any real ambition to advance in my career. I always found what I did fascinating enough that I never got bored. If work is my passion, boredom is the thing I can't tolerate. I need whatever I'm doing to engage my full attention."

"I like that. I'm going to think about it."

"Good. I hope you will. You will probably end up being passionate about something else, and that is fine. Actually, I rather hope you don't turn out to be the Drone that I am. Just don't let yourself drift through life looking for entertainment and fun. "

"That's exactly what the teen magazines and TV shows want me to do."

"You got it. Everything about our culture tells us that we should want to have fun and be happy and look sexy. When you live life with only those goals in mind, you turn into my mother. She's good for the economy because, Lord knows, she pumps a lot of money into it. But, she can never be really happy because she's always looking for the next party to go to, or the newest trendy clothes to buy or the next man to give her a thrill. Entertainment is like a drug, it can be fine in its place and in small doses, but it can leave you craving more. Other people can't make you happy. You can take delight in the company of certain people, but you can't expect them to make you happy."

"How can a person be happy?"

"By making the decision to be satisfied with what you have."

"God, Mom, that's practically un-American. We learned in Econ this year that the whole basis of the American economy is the constantly increasing market for consumer goods." She paused, remembering something. Then she giggled and added "Actually, it's funny. The last time I was at the farm, Aunt Betty told me almost exactly the same thing you just said. They live simply, but they're the happiest people I know."

"I think that my dad's Mennonite upbringing took root in him in ways that neither he nor his family ever realized. He left the community and his family turned its back on him, but the values they taught him remained in his heart and soul, and he never abandoned them. He passed some of those core values on to me. It's probably not surprising we'd have this conversation tonight because these feelings about being satisfied with simple things and filling your life with meaningful work roar to the surface whenever I'm with my mother, and find myself confronting her shallow and (to me, anyway) pitiful existence. I want to just shake her."

Emily snuggled up against her mother and laughed softly, "Geez, Mom, given your background, it's amazing you are not totally bonkers."

Bev chuckled, "There are a lot of people who think I am nuts. But I'm a kind of high-functioning nutcase. Most of the time, anyway." She pulled her daughter close and kissed Emily on the top of the head, whispering, "Good-night, sweetie."

Emily asked, "You want me to go back in my own bed 'cause I wiggle so?"

"No. Stay here. I'll deal with it."

In the morning, Bev and Emily got up before Peggy. They made breakfast and read the paper while waiting for Peggy to get up and Paula to arrive with the Realtor. Long before Bev expected her, Peggy came out of her bedroom, fully dressed, perfectly coiffed and wearing full-face makeup, including lipstick. Bev poured her mother a cup of coffee. Peggy said, "I have something to tell you both. Would you mind joining me at the table?"

Peggy went to her desk and pulled out two envelopes and a couple of sheets of paper, stapled at the top corner. She sat at the kitchen table, without looking at her coffee. She pointed at the two chairs across the table from her. "I want to get this out of the way before Paula gets here. She doesn't know about this, and I don't want her to find out because I'm afraid she'll tell me not to do it, and I don't like to cross her." She grinned in a sheepish way, "You think I'm a pain in the ass when I'm pissed off! Paula's impossible when she doesn't get her way. Please do not tell her about this conversation."

She looked from Bev to Emily, and each of them nodded, without saying anything. Emily was staring at the envelopes. Bev's attention was totally riveted on her mother's face. She knew this was going to be something huge, but she could not imagine what it might be.

Peggy said, "When my second husband's youngest daughter got married, he had his attorney draw up trusts for each of his children and his grandchild from his son. When each successive grandchild came along, a trust would be added for that child as well.

"I thought that was a good idea. At the time, I was not in contact with you, Bev, but I did stay up on your news through my attorney, who periodically got reports from your dad's attorney. I guess I felt that I owed you something, even if it was only money, after all the hell I put you through as a kid." Peggy looked at Bev's incredulous expression, "Yes, I knew it was awful for you. It was awful for me and for Paul, too. And, yes, it was all our fault. We were stubborn and selfish and the whole situation stunk. But, that was then. This is now.

"While the attorney was setting up trusts for my husband's kids, I put some of the money I inherited from my mother into a trust for you. My husband tuned over the trusts to his children immediately. I designated my attorney as Trustee for you, Bev, while you were a minor, but I never wanted him to tell you about the money. I can't explain why, other than I didn't want you to get too comfortable living in Stanforth with your dad. I wanted the money to make it possible for you to fly off on your own. It was always there and would be made available if you needed it, but I could never bring myself to give it to you because you were so utterly content and self-sufficient.

"When Emily was born, I opened a trust for her, as well. Up until now, my attorney has been her Trustee. I planned to make you the Trustee, Bev, when she graduates from high school so you could use the money for her college."

She consulted the stapled papers, which Bev could tell were talking points of some sort. Peggy said, "Knowing how frugal you are I imagine that you probably have a saved money all your life even though you never earned a large salary. In your new job you say you will be making more money than you did before, but I'm betting your new salary will still not be exactly huge. Paul probably had some life insurance and you more than likely put it in the bank and never spent a dime of it. I imagine that you feel comfortable living on a lot less in a year than I spend in a month. I have to tell you I admire you for that, although I'd never try it myself.

"You and I are like people from different planets, but even I know that the changes you're making in your life are huge for you. As dense and dizzy as I can be, I know that the last few months must have been positively wrenching for you. Having Emily go off to school in a year or so will be another period of turmoil, both emotionally and financially.

"I've decided that I want to help you in the only way I can: I want to turn over the trusts to you now. Emily's trust will more than pay for her education, with plenty left over to get her started in her adult life after she graduates. Your trust will pay for a condo or house or, if you prefer, you can let it continue to grow, and use it to provide yourself a very comfortable retirement."

She pushed one envelope towards Bev and the other towards Emily. She put her finger on one of the bullet points and said to Emily, "Your mother will be your Trustee until you are thirty. I am sure she will provide you with whatever you need for your education and perhaps a down payment on a home soon after. When it comes to managing your money, I hope you will be more like your mother than like me. I'm offering you the seed money towards a comfortable future, with your mom as the steward for that money until you're ready for the responsibility of managing it. Learn from her how to manage it wisely."

Bev looked at her mother with tears streaming down her cheeks, unchecked. "Oh, my God, Mom. How wonderfully generous of you!"

Peggy chuckled, "You haven't even opened the envelope to find out how much it is!"

Bev said, "I don't care if it's $50. The fact that you did this after I turned my back on you for all those years. I'm overwhelmed."

Peggy waved both hands in front of Bev's face, "Let's not go there, now, please. Paula will be here soon and I want to get through this without messing up my makeup. Open the damned envelope and then go in the bathroom and wash your face."

Emily opened her envelope first, and she gasped. Bev was trembling and couldn't get the clasp undone. Her mother huffed in an exasperated gesture, "It's $500,000. Emily's is $250,000. And before you go all to pieces, you should know that this is a drop in the bucket to what you will inherit when I die."

Bev let out a sound that was a combination of a gasp and a sob. Emily's eyes darted from the papers in front of her to her mother's face. She looked at her grandmother and smiled, "We thank you, Gram. From the bottom of our hearts. Both of us."

Bev had managed to staunch the flow of tears, but she couldn't speak. She stood up and leaned forward, kissing her mother on the cheek, then she went into the bedroom and closed the door, leaving the unopened envelope on the table. Peggy said, "Emily, please put those envelopes in your mother's suitcase before Paula gets here."

Emily went into the bedroom to put the papers in the suitcase. Bev was crying in the bathroom. Emily knocked and called softly, "Mom, are you okay?"

Bev came out of the bathroom with a washcloth over her eyes. "Go ask your grandmother if she has any cucumbers or other swollen eye remedies. I do not want Aunt Paula to see my puffy eyes and ask a bunch of questions."

Emily returned a couple of minutes later with some slices of cucumber and some cream that Peggy promised would take away the last of the redness.

Bev pulled herself together in the bathroom while Emily entertained Peggy with stories about school and cheer-leading. Bev rejoined them a few minute before Paula was due. She took her mother's hand in hers and squeezed it without saying anything. The women looked at each other and smiled. Bev finally said, rather lamely, "I could use another cup of coffee, how about you?"

Peggy said, "Personally, after that, I'd like a drink. But, considering the hour and the fact that we have a day of house-hunting ahead of us, I'll take a cup of coffee, too."

Bev put a cup of coffee in front of her mother and said, "We'll take a rain check on the drink."

Peggy laughed and said, "Or several."

The housekeeper came in and Paula followed a few minutes after that with the realtor in tow. The realtor took out her laptop and showed them pictures of several condos she proposed to visit, including three of the five Bev had picked out. She explained that one of the others had just been sold and the last one was a nice unit, but it was in a bad neighborhood. She wouldn't recommend even looking at it.

The five of them piled in the realtor's SUV. Emily and Bev exchanged amused glances. Under the right circumstances, Bev could do ten minutes of ranting about Americans driving gas-guzzling vehicles and supporting institutions (such as OPEC and middle eastern governments) that hate us, and would do us harm at every opportunity. Typically, Bev would not ride in an SUV or a pickup truck, other than Uncle Henry's actual working-on-the-farm vehicle. Bev pursed her lips tightly to indicate she knew what Emily was thinking. Emily almost lost it.

Paula, who was sitting up front with the realtor, asked, "What's so funny back there?"

Bev tried to wipe the silly look from her face and said, "Oh, nothing, Emily and I are just kind of excited about this expedition and we're a little giddy."

Her mother laughed and said, "You really should learn to be a better liar, Bev." She added, "I'm guessing that my environmentalist daughter who drives a tiny car at home and sets her thermostat on 85 in the summer and 62 in the winter has probably never ridden in an SUV before. I'm guessing that we should be grateful not to have to listen to a speech about how driving gas-guzzlers puts money in the pockets of drug dealers and terrorists, not to mention it's probably bad for our souls to be too comfortable."

Bev recalled giving her mother just such a lecture after Peggy bought her first Cadillac Escalade.

Paula, who did not know Bev well at all, said, "Oh, don't be absurd, Peggy."

All three of the women in the back seat collapsed into a giggle fit that didn't end until they pulled into the entrance of the first condo complex. Bev liked the area. It was convenient to the airport as well as stores and services. She didn't care much for the architecture of the buildings. They looked like cracker boxes stacked at random angles around a central pool. The unit they looked at was a good size, and nicely furnished, but Bev looked out the sliding glass door to the balcony that overlooked the pool, and shook her head. "Add a new requirement. I don't want anything overlooking the pool. I don't want to be disturbed by pool parties. I don't want to have to keep my drapes closed to prevent people from looking into my unit. I don't want to look out my window and see old people sunbathing."

The realtor laughed and looked at her list, crossing off two others, saying, "We probably should have thought of that."

They visited seven condos, with time out for a quick lunch at a tea room Paula and Peggy raved about. As they drove around town between stops, the Realtor pointed out the sights and filled them in on some of the history and heritage of the area. Bev found herself smitten with the place. She couldn't wait to get out and ramble around by herself.

After they visited the last condo on the list, Bev thought they were finished. She hadn't seen anything she really loved and felt somehow disappointed. She decided to try craigslist the next day and find a place on her own.

Paula and Peggy got into a debate about where to go for happy hour.

The realtor said, "I actually have one other place to show you. As it happens, my mother-in-law owns a duplex on Siesta Key. The apartment end is vacant. She's very picky about who she'll take as a tenant. I think you would suit her perfectly, Bev. There is no pool but the house is on beach, and there's a dune walkover that runs off the deck from the back of the house. It's about 20 minutes from the airport, which may be farther than you want, but. it's a lovely neighborhood. A lot of the homeowners have lived there for decades. It's the kind of neighborhood where people really get to know each other and look out for one another, which is unusual in Florida and almost unheard of that close to the beach. It seems to me that might be attractive for you, since you will be traveling so much. Would you like to see it?"

Everyone in the car said, "Absolutely!"

## Chapter 10

A few minutes later they crossed the bridge onto Siesta Key. High rise condos and resort complexes littered most of the beach, but in places there were still holdout remnants of old neighborhoods that had managed to stave off the developers. One such area ran along the southwestern side of the island, where there were little pockets of ordinary houses nestled on the dunes, or across the street from the beach around cul-de-sacs cut into the hammock.

There were places where you could see the Gulf from the road. Bev asked, "Are these beaches private?"

"You can only enter the beach from the public beach access points, which are located about every quarter of a mile, but once you're on the beach you are free to walk as far as you like. We have a nice stretch of beach here. At a very low tide you can walk all the way to the public beach, although you have to come right back or you'll get stuck."

Bev said, "The sand is so white and the water looks like the water in the Caribbean."

"It doesn't look like that every day, but it does have that clarity a lot of the time."

Emily said, "I am ready to move in without even seeing the house!"

Bev laughed, "You're staying in Ohio until you graduate from high school. Remember?"

Emily said, "I'm going to try to work a deal with my school. Remember?"

Bev narrowed her eyes. "Mrs. Donahue along with the rest of our support network is in Ohio."

Emily visibly deflated until Bev patted her knee and told her that they'd work something out. Peggy patted Emily's other knee and suggested that Mrs. Donahue might like to spend some time in Florida in the wintertime. Bev closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Things were spiraling out of control.

The realtor pulled into a half circle driveway in front of a house that was built among the dunes. The realtor said, "The houses on this stretch of the beach were built in the 1960's, before dune preservation was an issue. They are among the few homes in the area that are built right in the dunes. In some ways, I think, they help preserve the dunes. You should be careful where you walk outside. It is illegal to disturb the dunes. You have to stay on the wooden walkovers."

The house was rather average-looking from the outside. It was red brick, which Bev thought was interesting. It looked a little out of place on the beach, but she rather like that it was different from the faux-Spanish stucco that seemed to be slathered over every other building in Florida. They were greeted by the owner, Jenny Holland. The realtor introduced Bev to Mrs. Holland and explained briefly her situation. Mrs. Holland said, "Well, first you need to see the apartment, then – if you're interested – we can talk turkey." She winked at Emily.

The apartment had its own separate entrance on the south end of the house. "I have to tell you, there is an interior door that opens between the apartments inside, as well. When we first built this house, my mother lived with us. We sort of went back and forth rather freely. I leave the door between the apartments locked, but I have a key in the event repair people need to be let in or something like that. I like to rent to tenants who I feel comfortable giving my key as well in the event of an emergency."

There was a fairly high sand dune that obstructed the view of the beach. Standing at the sliding door, Bev could see the water, but not the beach itself. The living-dining area was tiled and opened onto a deck that connected to the wooden walkover to the beach. Mrs. Holland said, "The last tenants beat the heck out of the furniture. It needs to be replaced. If you want the apartment furnished, I have some shopping to do. If you'd rather have it unfurnished, I'll get rid of this junk and give you a break on the rent."

The kitchen opened onto the living-dining area in an open arrangement that Bev liked. A breakfast bar divided the kitchen from the dining area. Bev loved the openness of it, and the huge amount of counter space.

The second bedroom was small, but it had a huge storage closet. Mrs. Holland said, "I have had tenants with children who turned the closet into a bedroom as well." On the other side, the bedroom opened into a very large bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub and European shower. Emily said, "This is my bathroom!"

Bev turned up her nose, "You can have it. I'm not much for tub-bathing."

Paula said, "Don't tell me you've never been in a Jacuzzi!"

"No. As a matter of fact I haven't. I have always had an aversion to sitting in hot water that is a host environment to every manner of germs from a bunch of strangers."

Mrs. Holland laughed, "Which is all the more reason to have your own private Jacuzzi. There are no germs because you use clean water each time, and you're the only one in it. You should try it. It's very relaxing."

Bev looked skeptical. "It seems to be a terrible waste of water. Doesn't Florida suffer from periodic drought?"

"Mom! Lighten up!"

The master bedroom was large enough to include a small sitting area with a desk and book case in one corner, it had a sliding door that opened onto a small deck that also connected to the dune walkover.

Emily said, "Oh, my God, Mom, you could walk out your door and be on the beach in five seconds!"

Bev was trying to maintain a neutral expression to hide her excitement until after she had negotiated the rent, but she had already decided to take the apartment before she even got to the bedrooms. She was smitten by the opportunity to live where she could open her window and hear the ocean or walk out onto her deck from the living room to drink her coffee in the morning, smelling the salt air. She didn't even mind the obstructed view, because it would give her privacy, as well: If she couldn't see the beach, the people on the beach would not be peering into her windows.

Bev asked, "That is a huge selling point, but it raises the question of security. If I can access the beach that easily, can't people from the beach wander up here."

"We had problems with that a number of years ago. After my husband died, I installed a security system. There is a locked gate at the foot of the stairs leading to the beach. It is posted with a "No Trespassing" sign. I had the security company install motion detectors outside. If someone approaches the house from the beach, the police are notified. If you go to the beach, you have to enter a code both going out and coming back through the gate to deactivate the alarm. Anybody who approaches the house from the beach will set off the alarm."

Paula said, "That's very good." Bev nodded.

The entire place was tiled, which Bev liked. It was immaculate, but the furniture was pretty beat up.

Mrs. Holland said, "I just made some lemonade. Would you like to have some refreshments, and I'll show you my side of the house."

They agreed. Instead of leading them back around the front, she led them out through the bedroom slider, which she locked behind them. They went out the walkover ramp to the top of the dunes where they could see the beach itself, then they turned back towards the house and followed another walkway that led to a deck behind Mrs. Holland's side of the house. They entered into the living/dining/kitchen area, which was similar to (but much larger) than the one in the apartment. The outer walls were almost entirely glass, and several paintings on easels, in various stages of completion, filled half the room. Other paintings, obviously by the same artist, graced the inner walls.

Bev gasped, "You're a painter! These are fabulous!"

"Thank you. It kind of started as a hobby when I retired. It has now reached the point where it is almost a sickness, I think. But, I do enjoy it."

Paula asked, "Do you sell your work?"

"Yes. There is a gallery in Anna Marie Island that sells my paintings. I also sell some on the Internet. Correction, my granddaughter sells my work on the Internet."

She went into the kitchen and returned with a pitcher of lemonade. They sat in the living room, with the ocean on one side and gorgeous paintings of seascapes all around the room. Bev thought that she had never been in a room that was so warm and welcoming. Part of that was the proximity to the ocean and the beautiful paintings. Most of it was the delightful person who inhabited the house. While Mrs. Holland chatted with Emily and Bev's mother, Bev sat back and felt herself feeling the sense of serenity and relaxation she knew she would feel living in this house. She interrupted the conversation and asked, "How much do you want for the apartment."

"On a long term rental, which is six months or more, I get $1500 furnished. If you want me to get rid of all that crap, I'll let you have it for $1200 a month unfurnished."

The woman had barely got the words out and Bev said, with a huge smile, "Deal!"

Mrs. Holland grinned back and said, "I am so delighted. You are exactly the kind of tenant I was looking for. The last people were very noisy, and they were dirty."

Bev laughed, "I sure as heck won't be noisy because I will be traveling a lot, and for at least the next couple of years, I will spend as much time in Ohio as I can. I will tell you that I plan to stay here for six years minimum, until Emily gets out of college. At that point, I will decide if whether or not I want to buy a house in Florida or relocate someplace else. Even when I am here, I will be quiet. I am clean to the point of obsession." She took out her check book and raised her eyebrows, "First and last, plus how much deposit?"

"If you pay first and last months' rent, I won't ask for a deposit."

"What utilities are included?"

"I pay the water, garbage and sewer and the security system. There's a separate meter for the apartment, so you will get your own bill for the electric."

Bev wrote out a check and handed it to the woman. She held out her hand, but Mrs. Holland stood up and enveloped her an tight hug. Emily commented, "I think we may have started building our support network here, too."

Bev winked at her, "Yep." Bev turned around and looked out at the blue-green waters of the Gulf of Mexico and sighed. She had always feared and resisted change in her life. _Who knew change could feel so wonderful?_ She pushed aside a niggling regret about all the opportunities she had missed because she had been too afraid to take a risk.

Mrs. Holland said, "I'll have the stuff out of the apartment within the next ten days. You can move in on May 1, if you like."

Bev said, "Well, I will be on a fairly extended business trip at that time. I'm going to have to do some heavy duty shopping in the next couple of weeks. Could I store some purchases in the apartment?"

"Sure." She snapped her fingers. "I'll have a sale this weekend. I'll open up the apartment and put up for sale everything in it. What doesn't sell I'll either throw out or give to Goodwill."

Bev gave her a high-five. "I'll help you. It'll give me an opportunity to meet the neighbors and feel like I'm not imposing by moving stuff in before the first of the month."

Emily jumped up and said, "I want to help, too. I love garage sales!"

Bev noticed that Paula and Peggy rolled their eyes. She was pretty sure they'd clear out before the weekend to avoid having to stoop to attending a yard sale. Bev managed not to chuckle at the thought of her mother and Aunt Paula digging through other people's junk at a yard sale. She hoped her mom would let her and Emily stay in her condo for another couple of weeks.

Once the business was concluded, the women started gathering their purses in preparation for leaving. Bev looked at one of the paintings-in-progress that appeared to be practically finished. It was a picture of the view from the house that looked exactly as it looked at that moment: ice blue sky, cobalt seas laced with white foam, and sea oats waving in the breeze. Bev said, "I want to remember this day. How much will you sell this for in the gallery?"

"In the gallery here in Florida paintings this size go for $300. On the Internet they go for $500 because people far from the ocean don't know that every other person who lives at the beach is an artist." She grinned, "You want that for the big wall in the living room?"

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of the wall in the bedroom, so it will be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning ... just before I go outside and look at the real deal."

"I'll make a housewarming gift of it."

"That is too generous!"

"Not at all. You are the tenant of my dreams."

The women left, with Bev and Emily promising to return on Friday to help sort out stuff for the garage sale. Mrs. Holland gave Bev the keys to the apartment and the garage door opener. She said she'd have the lease ready to sign on Friday. Bev felt weird about taking the keys before she'd signed the lease, but she took it as an indication of trust on Mrs. Holland's part: she had told Bev she could store anything she purchased in the garage, starting immediately.

The realtor dropped the others off at Peggy's apartment. Peggy said, "I don't know about anybody else, but I'm ready for Happy Hour. Do you want to go out?"

Bev said, "Not if we're going to start drinking now, which doesn't sound like a bad idea. Do you have a place nearby that delivers pizza?"

Paula made a face, "We do not eat pizza. We could call a cab and go out, or we could order from Louisa's down the street. They make bracciole that is to die for."

Bev said, "Oh, my God, I haven't had bracciole in years! Do they deliver?"

"They do for certain people."

Bev decided not to let that get to her. She really did not want to go out for a four hour dinner in some fancy restaurant watching Emily fidget (and doing plenty of fidgeting herself) while Peggy and Paula got sufficiently sloshed before they were ready to order dinner. Paula asked Emily if she liked bracciole. Emily replied that she'd never had it. Bev said, "Think Italian pot roast. It is wonderful. Aunt Paula, just in case, put in an order for lasagna, too. I know Emily likes that. We can share."

Paula said, "We always order an extra dinner of lasagna, because it's just that good." She stepped into the other room to put in the order while Peggy opened the wine. Emily said, "I have a school project to work on. I think I'll go in the other room while you ladies are getting drunk."

Peggy snapped, "We are not going to get drunk."

Bev interjected, "Speak for yourself!" She looked at Emily and winked, and said in a perfect imitation of her mother's voice, "Ladies call it 'tipsy', dear. Drunk sounds just so _common_." Bev was a little surprised that her mother didn't come after her for that remark, which she regretted as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Then she realized Peggy had not heard her. She was rooting around in the fridge looking for a bottle of wine.

While they waited for the food, Peggy and Paula slugged down several glasses of expensive chardonnay and regaled Bev with advice for the stores she "just must visit" and the decorators she "just must consult." Bev sipped her (one) glass of wine and reverted to her manner of dealing with her mother to avoid strangling her: she put a bland look on her face and mentally checked out of the conversation completely. By the time dinner had arrived, Bev had furnished the entire apartment in her imagination. She knew just what she wanted, and she also knew that her mother and her aunt would flip out when they found out what she had in mind.

Bev called Emily to the table, and the older ladies proceeded to fill her in on all their plans for the apartment. After they wound down a little, and started picking at their food (Bev never saw a fork actually get to either of their mouths: they apparently maintained their scrawny figures with a diet that seemed to consist almost completely of morsels of fruit in the daytime and copious amounts of wine in the evening), Emily leaned forward and asked, "Is that what you want, Mom?"

Bev said, "Absolutely not. I am not about to dump that much money on a rented apartment that I will only visit occasionally for the next several years. I intend to start with only a few pieces of essential furniture that I plan to pick up at a used furniture store someplace or maybe on craigslist. I doubt that Mom or Aunt Paula would know anything about used furniture stores, but I'll ask Mrs. Holland or call the claims department at FCCI Insurance. Claims people know where all the good used stuff is in part because that's where they sell salvaged furniture and in part because that's where they get prices for used furniture which they use in evaluating claims.

"All I need for starters is a bedroom set, a couch or two love seats, a table and a couple of chairs. I'll need some dishes and pots, but not many because I won't be entertaining or doing heavy cooking.

"As for filling out the rest of the furniture and the decoration, I plan to do that gradually. I'm going to be traveling to some really cool places. I think I'll make it a point to buy something at each of the places I visit. The result will probably be an eclectic look, where every piece will mean something to me."

Emily smiled, "Just like in our house in Stanforth! You can recite the origin and the circumstances that led to the purchase of every stick of furniture and decorative piece in our house."

"That's right. That's the only way I think I can furnish a house I could be happy in."

Paula looked as though she might be about to have a stroke. Peggy exploded. "You cannot be serious about buying _used_ furniture."

Bev laughed, "In all honesty, Mom, I've never bought any other kind. Just about everything I have came from estate sales or moving sales. I see absolutely no reason to spend a lot of money on furniture for a rented apartment, and I won't do it."

"I would be humiliated going to a used furniture store."

"You don't have to go with me. It would be better if you didn't try to help me shop. You know how different our tastes are. We'd just fight. Emily and I will probably be able to buy everything I will need for starters in a few hours. If you and I had to take the time to fight about every piece I want to buy, I'd be sleeping on the floor until Labor Day."

Peggy objected and fussed, but after she thought about it for a few minutes, she seemed to agree that going shopping with Bev would not be a pleasant outing.

They finished their dinner more or less in silence. Emily beat a retreat back to the bedroom claiming she still had work to do on her project. Bev cleaned up the mess while her mother and Aunt Paula lingered over their decaf coffee. When she had finished in the kitchen, Bev excused herself, saying she wanted to call Ed Casey. She did not think it necessary to inform her mother that she and Ed had taken a step back in their relationship. It didn't seem necessary to share that they had reverted to being best friends.

She passed along her good news to Ed and told him to let her know when he would have time to take some vacation, preferably in the late fall or in the winter. She said she'd try to work around his schedule as best she could. He suggested Thanksgiving, in the hopes that she would not have to be away at work for the holiday. She said she thought Emily would not mind spending Thanksgiving in Florida. At that point, she realized that Emily had been right about her needing a three bedroom apartment. Then Bev remembered this was Emily's year to spend Thanksgiving with her father.

She decided to turn in early. Emily was propped up in bed with her computer across her knees and papers scattered all over the bed. Bev laughed, "That looks like me at work."

"It's actually a pain. I don't know how you do it."

"Fortunately there are usually decent work desks in most hotel rooms these days." She pushed aside some papers and said, "Thanks for not getting me in trouble. Fortunately, Mom didn't hear my remark."

Emily said, "Aunt Paula and Gram really are not all that bad. I guess they mean well. It's just hard for me to imagine someone like you being raised by somebody like her."

"I think they call it rebellion."

"I'm glad you rebelled."

"I rather hope you don't flip back the other way because I couldn't take it if both my mother and my kid were like that."

Emily patted her mother's arm and blew her a kiss to avoid messing up her stacks of papers, "You indoctrinated me well. At least dinner was good!" Emily leaned her head to one side, "You fell in love with that apartment the minute you saw the back deck off the living area, didn't you."

"Yep. I love the house. And I think I'm going love Jenny, too. I believe she and I will get along well."

"You know, I was thinking. Mrs. Donahue doesn't have any family. I'll be at Dad's for Thanksgiving – gag! – but why don't we have Mrs. Donahue come down at Christmas. I can sleep on the couch."

"I think that's a great idea. Mrs. Donahue and Jenny will get along great. Maybe when you're out of school and I'm traveling, sometimes you and Mrs. Donahue can come down here." Bev thought about it. "We'd have to measure, but that huge closet may be big enough for a small bed or a futon. We could make it into a small guest room." She grinned, "Maybe if I offered to pay for it, Jenny would even let us put in a door to the hall and truly turn it into a room."

"What about storage?"

"We have a house in Ohio with both a basement and an attic if we need to keep crap. Let's only keep what we absolutely need here."

"That's a terrific idea."

Bev said, "It will also avoid awkwardness when Ed Casey comes to visit. I hate to have him sleep in your room."

Emily smiled, "I've been thinking about that." My room is huge. We could put two double beds in there. One could be my bed for when I'm there and the other can be for spreading out my crap when I'm here, or for your guests when I'm in Ohio. Plus, if I want to bring a friend home from college, I can do it. I think we should keep the décor in that room totally neutral. No girlie stuff. If I get into UF maybe we could put some Gator stuff around, but that would be okay because it's Florida!"

"I like that idea. You can bring your pillow and your personal stuff with you when you visit so you'll feel at home, but we'll keep it neutral enough that Ed won't feel like he's sleeping in a girl's dorm." Bev sighed, "Now for the hard part. I'd like you to go shopping with me tomorrow, but I don't want to wait until noon for you to get up. Can we compromise. Can you be ready at 9:30?"

"Sure. You go for an early walk, and I'll get up by 8:30. We'll leave at 9:30. Can we get a regular breakfast somewhere? All Gram has here is fruit and yogurt. I want eggs or pancakes. Or both. And bacon."

## Chapter 11

They stopped for breakfast at a little place that was open only from 6:00 AM until 11:30 AM. Emily thought that a place with those hours would specialize in breakfast. She was not wrong. They feasted on the best pancakes either of them had ever had outside of Bev's kitchen. While waiting for their food, they both went on craigslist.com to look for yard sales or used furniture being sold directly. Bev did a couple of searches for used furniture stores. They started with the stores. Bev bought bed frames only, saying she wasn't much for headboards anyway. She had a several beautiful antique quilts packed away that she thought would be pretty as wall hangings behind the beds.

Bev didn't like any of the rest of the furniture at the stores. Most of it needed refinishing and/or repairing.

Next they hit some estate sales. They hit pay dirt at the second one. The person who lived in the house had been moved to a nursing home. In a lot of those situations, the house and the contents were not maintained because the elderly person was unable to take care of the place. In this case, the lady had a live-in housekeeper and caretaker. The furniture was immaculate. Even better, it was simple and yet elegant. Bev bought bedroom furniture for both bedrooms, plus a sleeper-loveseat and small desk for the "closet/guest room". She told Emily that if the landlady wouldn't let them put a door from the room into the hall, it would make a nice sitting area for her. Since they were using the closet for a room, Bev bought an armoire for Emily's room. She also bought stools for the breakfast bar and a small table with two chairs for the dining area. Bev had seen the same table at Ikea and loved it. It had a glass top with 'shelves' below to stash place mats or other clutter – including laptop computers – to keep the table top clear.

She didn't like the couches in that house, so they moved on. The next one was a moving sale. The people had retired and moved to Florida, but they hated it and were returning to Indiana. Their furniture was all less than five years old and in perfect condition. Bev bought an entire living room set consisting of two very well maintained but broken-in leather love seats, a coffee table, end tables and lamps.

The people who were handling the estate sale had put her in touch with a moving company that also did furniture deliveries. She arranged for the furniture at both places to be picked up and delivered the following Monday.

Emily asked why she didn't buy any mattresses. Bev told her she'd prefer to buy new bedding, linen and dishes. She located a mattress store and picked out a queen sized one for herself, plus two doubles for Emily's room. That took all of ten minutes. The store would deliver them on Monday.

For the kitchenware, they started at Marshalls and filled out the last of it at Target.

Bev looked at her watch. It was 3:00 PM. She grinned, "Not bad for a half day's work!"

"I can't believe we furnished a whole house in only a few hours! What do you want to do now?"

"Let's drop off the kitchen stuff at the apartment. We can stack it in the garage. I want to sweep out the garage and move anything Jenny may have stored there to make room for the furniture.

"Maybe what we should do is move anything that doesn't sell at the yard sale into the garage until Goodwill can pick it up, and have our stuff moved directly into the house."

"Good idea."

Jenny was working in the yard when they pulled in the driveway. She greeted them and offered to help them carry in their things. They filled her in on what they had bought. She smiled. "Listening to your mother and aunt talking, I was afraid that you'd be spending the next week interviewing decorators."

"I put my foot down. I didn't want to spend a lot of money on furniture for a place I'll occupy only part of the time. Mom doesn't get that. She's mad at me for robbing her of a shopping opportunity." Bev shrugged, "But, she stays mad at me most of the time anyway. I don't let it get to me."

They put their purchases in the garage, which was immaculate. Bev was delighted to see that there was shelving and cabinets for storage.

When they were finished, they made arrangements to come over to help Jenny price things and organize the contents of the apartment on Thursday. Bev looked at Jenny sheepishly and asked, "Would you mind giving us the code to the gate? I'd kind of like to go for a walk on the beach to decompress after that shopping orgy and to prepare myself for dealing with my mother's drama at dinner tonight after we tell her what we bought."

Jenny put her arms around Bev and said, "Sure. But first let me give you and Emily some sunscreen for your faces. You must get in the habit of putting on sunscreen every day."

They walked for a mile or so, and bought fresh squeezed lemonade and hot dogs from a vendor. Then they walked back to the house. They had a little trouble finding it from the beach, but Bev said she was sure she'd learn the landmarks soon enough. Emily laughed, "You'll pass the house four times out of five, Mom. Heck, you've lived in our house for decades and you still drive past it at least once a week."

Bev tried to look embarrassed. "I get lost in my thoughts."

"You should not do that when you are driving."

Bev's mother and aunt insisted on taking her and Emily out to dinner to celebrate her new home. They picked an expensive place on the intra-coastal waterway near their condos on Longboat Key. Bev told her mother she didn't bring any clothes suitable for a fancy restaurant. Her mother told her that in Florida the normal rules for proper dress were suspended. She said, "That is one thing I despise about Florida. You go into a restaurant where you can expect to pay $100 per plate, and there will be people who appear to have just come off the golf course. I like to dress for dinner, and it upsets me when I take the time to dress up and I find myself surrounded by people in Capri pants and sandals."

"I brought a pair of black slacks and a white sweater set. Do you have maybe an accent scarf or something I could borrow?"

Emily had bought a sun dress while they were at Target; her grandmother thought that would do for her. Emily said she was afraid she might be cold in an air conditioned restaurant. Paula said that she never goes to a restaurant without a shawl. She said she had pashmina shawls in a variety of colors. She thought a bright coral one would look beautifully dramatic with the yellow sun dress. Emily said she was afraid she'd look ridiculous in such clashing colors. Paula looked disgusted, "You have no more fashion sense than your mother."

Emily shrugged, "I went through a phase of reading the fashion magazines. I decided that I like dressing simply. I don't like to call attention to myself."

Her great aunt looked at her and said, "Why not? How can you get out and meet people without calling attention to yourself."

Emily laughed, "You have to remember: I live in a small town. I already know everybody."

Paula squinted her eyes and leaned forward, "When you go away to college, you won' t know anybody. I think you should consider working on your wardrobe and your social skills."

Bev walked into the room just as Paula finished that remark. She wanted to kill her aunt, and started to say something. Emily didn't hesitate, "Thanks for the advice, Aunt Paula, I'll keep it in mind. Meanwhile, I will wear the coral shawl with my new dress if you think it will look okay."

Paula left the room and Bev said, "You don't have to go along with her if you don't want to."

"I'm willing to try it. She does have a point about upping my social skills before I go away to college. I never thought about the fact that I won't know anybody when I get there."

"Your social skills are just fine. Aunt Paula's idea of social skills involves dressing to call attention to yourself, making a big entrance, flirting with every male in the room – regardless of age – and then making a dramatic exit, preferably on the arm of a man."

Emily made a face, "EW."

"That's always been my opinion. And it's gotten worse as those two have gotten older. They're increasingly flamboyant to the point of being obnoxious. They can both still pick up guys, but now they tend to be younger men who are obviously only interested in their money."

"That's sad."

"Yeah. So don't take their advice on social skills, or fashion, either, for that matter."

They were seated at a window table, but it was already dark by the time they arrived, so all they could see was their own reflection in the black windows. Emily and Bev decided to share a dinner, because they'd had a snack so late. That drew disapproving glares from the older women, who thought it was an indication of Bev being cheap, which was unnecessary in view of the fact that Paula was paying for the meal. Paula ordered a bottle of wine. The waiter asked Bev if she wanted a glass. She shook her head and said, "I really prefer beer with fish. Please give me a glass of whatever you have on tap that is closest in taste to Kalik."

The waiter looked a little puzzled, "We have Landshark on tap. Is that what you had in mind?"

Bev had never heard of it, but she told him she was sure that would be okay. She ignored the disapproving expressions from her mother and aunt, and for the thousandth time wished that they would get mad enough at her to go back to Chicago. She spent a few minutes fantasizing about all the things she could do that would infuriate her mother enough to cause her go home. Emily kicked her gently under the table. She looked at her mother and realized she was waiting for an answer to a question.

Bev said, "I'm sorry. My attention wandered. What did you say?"

Her mother put down her glass and said, "For God's sake, Bev. What the hell is wrong with you? You have barely spoken to us in two days. You clearly do not listen to a word we say."

Bev said, "I'm sorry, Mom. I've just got a lot on my mind. My 'to do' list is kind of whirling around in my head and I can't focus on anything else."

"Well, get a grip. It's very annoying to try to have a conversation with someone who is not listening to half of what you are saying."

Bev managed with difficulty not to laugh. She knew the feeling well because Peggy never listened to her, either. The fact was that they annoyed one another so much, they had both developed the habit of checking out when the other one was talking. Bev nodded, "Yeah, I know. Anyway, what did you ask me?"

"I asked you to tell me about the furniture you bought."

Bev and Emily took turns describing the furniture they had purchased, which was classic and very neutral.

Peggy said, "It's going to look like a hotel room."

Bev nodded, "Yeah, it probably will look like that for a while, until I gradually add treasures I'll collect on my travels. I plan to make it my own, gradually."

Paula made a face and started to say something, but Emily blurted, "Yeah, and then it will be wonderful, just like our house in Stanforth." Both Paula and Peggy made faces, but neither of them said anything, for which Bev was grateful.

The seafood was fabulous. The restaurant was so extravagantly expensive, Bev knew she would never come here on her own dime, but she enjoyed every bite. She even rather appreciated the fact that her mother and aunt were talking among themselves about people she didn't know and planning a shopping trip to Miami that she hoped would take place soon. That relieved her of the burden of trying to converse with these women who were like alien creatures to Bev. Emily was surreptitiously texting with her friends beneath the table.

As they dropped Paula off at her condo, she said, "I'll say good-bye now, ladies. We're off to Miami tomorrow, so I probably won't see you."

Bev asked, "Do you want me to take you to the airport?"

Paula shook her head. "No. We're not flying. We've arranged with a car service to drive us. It's just way too much of a hassle to fly. Alligator Alley is a straight shot. We can get there just as fast driving as flying."

Bev said, "That's probably a good plan." She got out of the car and hugged her aunt, thanking her for coming to help get her situated.

Paula sniffed and made a dismissive gesture with her hands, "You could have done everything you did without any help from us, and you know it. But, we appreciated the opportunity to try to help you."

On the way to her mother's condo, Bev asked, "Mom, would you mind if we stayed in your place a few more days. My apartment won't be ready until Monday."

Peggy said, "Stay as long as you like. I won't be back here until probably January, if then. Keep the keys to my place and feel free to use it whenever you need it. Frankly, I probably should have just given it to you outright."

"That's okay, Mom. It's really not what I wanted anyway."

"I understand that. I'm glad you found a place you will like."

The car service called for Peggy late the next morning. Bev and Emily saw her off and then decided to go to the beach. They spent the day alternately playing in the surf and lounging on the beach. At one point, Emily closed her eyes and said, "A person could get used to this."

Bev laughed and said, "A person who doesn't have a job or school responsibilities could. Those of us with a real life need to cherish every second of such luxurious relaxation."

Emily thought about that and said, "I wonder if busy people appreciate the beauty and relaxation of this place more than the people who live here and do this every day. It's hard to imagine, but I'll bet some people who live here all the time take all this for granted."

"Probably. Although it's hard to imagine that anyone could take the beach for granted."

They stopped at a grocery store and bought a vegetarian take-and-bake pizza and bagged salad. Emily laughed as she put the pizza in the oven, "I bet this is the first pizza that's ever been baked in this oven."

Bev said, "Hell, it may be the first food that has ever actually been cooked in that oven."

Emily said, "You know, Mom, Gram and Aunt Paula are really nice ladies. They mean well and they truly wanted to help us."

"I know that, and I tried really hard to be on my very best behavior."

"You did a good job. I think that Gram was baiting you about half the time, and you managed not to let her get to you."

"I've got to tell you, I'm emotionally exhausted from the effort. I love my mother, but I can only take her in small doses."

"I know how you feel. A little of her goes a long way. It's weird. I feel the same way about the Weigels. They are truly wonderful people and I respect and admire them, but if I'm with them more than a few hours, I find myself wanting to run away."

"I understand that. The cool thing is that you are learning early in life about people who live dramatically different lifestyles from ours. Our rural Mennonite relatives live a simple, rustic life that is admirable, but not something I would want to share. Mom and Aunt Paula live a lifestyle that is so self-indulgent it borders on hedonistic, that is not admirable in anyway and which makes me want to shake both of them. But, as you say, they are nice ladies and they are doing nobody any harm, so I try to be polite and keep my mouth shut."

"How did Gram get along with Grandpa's family?"

"She never met them. Dad left home when he was 18 and went into the service. After he got out he went to college on the GI bill. He never saw anyone in his family until his mother died years later. He went to her funeral, but no one in the family spoke to him. They never met Mom, although I'm sure that they heard about her. She was rather infamous in Stanforth." She winked and they both chuckled at the thought of Peggy bumping up against the stodgy, conservative Buckeyes in Stanforth.

Bev's phone rang, and she picked it up without looking to see who was calling. "Bev, this is Pete Dietz. I'm sorry to bother you on your vacation."

"No problem. What's up?"

"Have you heard from Walker Trent or anyone in his employ?"

"No. Why?"

"There's a rumor going around that's very disturbing."

"Such as?"

"Such as that the San Antonio police are about to release Travis Sutherland."

"You're kidding. Why?"

"I don't know. That's why I called you."

"Does that mean that Melinda Trent is really not the person behind the fire? If so, do you think that Mr. Trent might come back to us and ask us to pay him the money again?"

"That's why I'm calling. You're his point of contact. If he were going to do that, I think he'll you first."

"I haven't heard from him, but I'll for sure call you immediately if I do." She chuckled, "I am, after all, still technically an employee of Midwestern until the end of next week. It's just my luck that I would have to end up with one of the weirdest claims I ever handled."

"Nothing about this one makes any sense. Call me if you hear from anyone in Trent's camp."

"You want me to make some calls to folks in Texas? I developed a couple of contacts there."

"No. We need to stay in the high grass and be very quiet."

"Alrighty, then."

"Did you find a place to live?"

"Yeah, I rented an apartment right on the Gulf. It's fabulous."

"That's enough! I don't need to hear about your newly perfect life when it's pouring rain and there are tornado watches all over the state of Ohio. Busy days in the claim department. You take care. Enjoy your vacation."

Early the next morning Bev and Emily rented bikes and took a long ride around Longboat and St. Armand's Cay. By 9:30 AM, they were on their way to Siesta Key. Bev called Jenny to let her know they would arrive shortly. Jenny said she was just opening up the apartment ready to get started. Bev and Emily reported for duty as her assistants. In only a couple of hours they had everything out of the closets and drawers. They had accumulated several boxes of stuff that Jenny thought they should put out for trash. Bev suggested they simply set the boxes out with all the merchandise and tag each one for a dollar or so for the whole box. They put kitchen stuff in one area, bathroom stuff in another area and various nick-nacks and decorative things in another.

Bev looked around and said, "I'm going to go to a rental place and get several long tables that we can put in the driveway to hold all this little stuff. We can leave the furniture inside, but you've got some decent things here. Having tables set up outside will both reduce clutter in the apartment and draw the attention of passers-by."

She came back an hour later with four long folding tables and a dozen cardboard bankers boxes. They spent another hour or so putting all the small items in boxes to make it easier for them to haul it out to the driveway in the morning.

Before they left, Bev asked Jenny what time the sale started. Jenny said, "Typically around here yard sales start at 8:00 AM. People start showing up by 7:00. It's not uncommon for people to show up the night before to ask for a preview. I'm not one to cooperate with that. My ad in the paper says 8:00 AM, I'm not opening the doors before that. Bev said she and Emily would arrive at 7:30 to help set up. Emily groaned, and then smiled and winked at Jenny.

They rummaged through the fridge and ate an odd assortment of leftovers for dinner and then went for a short bike ride on the beach, timing their return to coincide with sunset. They both went to their rooms shortly after they returned to the condo.

The yard sale was a fantastic success. Their customers included a number of tourists who bought up the bric-a-brac and souvenirs that Jenny thought they'd have to throw out. There were several people (obviously dealers) who bought all of the decent furniture pieces and most of the kitchenware. In addition, during the course of the day most of the neighbors stopped by, not so much to buy things but just to visit – and to check out Jenny's new tenant.

Jenny introduced Bev to each of them and Bev enjoyed the opportunity to get acquainted with her new neighbors so quickly. She realized that while the city of Sarasota was much bigger than Stanforth, she was moving into a very small community of neighbors who cared for and looked out for one another, rather like the home town she loved. She liked that feeling.

Friday was a big day at the garage sale, but Saturday was huge. By noon on Saturday they had sold almost everything. Jenny called Goodwill to pick up the few pieces of furniture that hadn't sold.

As they were dragging the rest of the unsold items to the curb for the trash, a jogger stopped and pitched in. Bev didn't say anything, but laughed to herself. That was exactly the kind of thing that would happen at home in Stanforth. She loved the thought that people could be so neighborly even in a place with the kind of mixed population as existed in Florida.

When they finished hauling out the last of the junk, Jenny said, "Bev, I want you to meet my favorite neighbor, who is also my best customer. He's bought more of my paintings than anyone. Ray Bailey, meet Bev Deller."

She added, with pride in her voice, "Ray is a reporter for the Sarasota _Times_. I'm not supposed to mention his two Pulitzer prizes."

Bev smiled and shook his hand, "Pleased to meet you, with or without prizes."

He laughed, "You didn't make any comments about meeting a dinosaur before newspaper reporters go totally extinct."

"You guys won't go totally extinct. You'll just go online."

"Not me! I am scheduled for extinction." He asked, "What do you do?"

"I'm literally between jobs right now. I worked as an insurance adjuster in Ohio for almost 30 years. Week after next I'm starting a new job with a private investigations firm out of the Cayman Islands. I work primarily on large fire losses."

He raised his eyebrows, "You know anything about the Walker Trent fire?"

"No. I don't. Which is problematic in view of the fact that I was the adjuster who handled the claim."

"Rumor has it that the cops in Texas are going to release the kid who confessed."

"I heard that rumor. I know nothing about it."

"You're off the case?"

"Our file is closed. I'm still technically employed by Midwestern Casualty until next week, so if anything comes up, I'll probably get a call. I hope that doesn't happen."

"You have an interesting job."

"I'd say mine is probably on a par with yours. Digging through lots of crap to find out if there is any actual evidence."

He smiled and said, "Yeah, 98 percent of the time it's boring as hell. It's the other two percent that constitutes the payoff."

She laughed out loud, "That about sums it up." She stepped forward and said softly, "If you hear anything out of Texas, let me know."

He nodded and headed up the road at a fast jog.

Someone in a pickup truck came by within the hour and picked up all the left-overs from the sale.

The women swept and mopped the empty apartment. Jenny asked Bev if she wanted to move her dishes into the kitchen. Bev shook her head. "Nope. I'm pooped and Emily has worked very hard today helping us. I think we'll go back to Mom's condo and crash on the beach for the rest of today and the weekend. My furniture will be delivered on Monday. I think I'll move in then."

Emily grinned. "Thanks, Mom. After we get moved in on Monday, we can get acquainted with this beach. One day next week before we go home, do you think we could go to one of the parks in Orlando? I love rides."

"It would probably be more fun if you went with a friend. Do you have any friends who might be able to get away quickly and come down here for a few days?"

Emily looked sheepish, "Actually, my best friend is going to be in Orlando next week. She invited me to come over and spend the a couple of days with her family at Universal."

Bev tried not to make a face, "You know how I feel about theme parks. Who is this friend?"

"Katey."

"Her family's really nice. They want you to stay for a couple of days?"

"Yes. They're arriving on Sunday. Her mom suggested maybe you could bring me over on Tuesday and pick me up Wednesday afternoon or Thursday morning."

"That would be fine. I'll order your tickets online. Will you share a room with Katey or do I need to reserve you a room."

"They have like a condo or an apartment of sorts. I can stay with them."

"Sounds like a plan. I can spend a couple of days settling in. Then you and I can spend the end of the week together. There are some really cool things in Sarasota. We should go sightseeing around here the latter part of the week."

"When are you leaving for your trip?"

"I'm supposed to go to Georgetown on Monday, and spend a few days with Cameron. We'll finalized the paperwork and legal stuff to make my employment official and he wants to spend a couple of days planning our presentations to the carriers explaining the kinds of services we are going to offer and the fee structure. Obviously we have to figure that out first. I imagine we'll head out the following week."

"Sucks to be you."

For Bev, the next few days went by in a flash. The furniture was delivered and Bev moved her things into the apartment. It looked bare and almost institutional, but it was clean and functional. She took consolation in the knowledge that she would fill it with treasures over time, and gradually transform it into her space.

On Tuesday she drove Emily to Orlando and they had lunch with Katey's family, who were all excited to hear about her new job and new digs in Florida. They were surprised to learn that Emily had decided to apply for admission to UF. Katey's dad, like Bev, was a life-long resident of Stanforth and a graduate of Shawnee State. He thought it was odd that Bev was not insisting that Emily attend her alma mater.

Bev shrugged, "I know that for some families having generation after generation educated at Shawnee is a tradition. I'm not one of them. Emily hates the cold and she's been yearning to live someplace else. I personally can't imagine living anyplace but Stanforth long-term, but Emily's inflicted with a wanderlust that I've never had."

Emily laughed, "What do you mean? You travel all the time."

"I travel for business. When was the last time you knew me to take a trip for pleasure?"

Emily thought about that and said, "Oh, I don't know, like _never_. Which may be one reason I so want to travel. You get to go to all kinds of cool places. Even though it's for work, you still get to see them. I don't get to go anywhere, because when you're not working, you don't want to leave the house."

Bev nodded and said, "You're absolutely right. And, it's understandable that you would want to get out and see the world. I'll have a lot more freedom in my new job with the travel arrangements and you're old enough now to travel alone. I will try really hard to build in some extra days in some of the places I travel to so I can have you join me from time to time."

"That would be awesome!"

Katey's mom said, "What a wonderful opportunity for both of you!"

Bev noticed that Katey's father still didn't seem convinced she was doing the right thing. She found herself feeling annoyed that he was so open about his negative opinion of her life choices. It was none of his business. For a second, Bev understood the suffocation that Emily felt living in Stanforth. Bev's travel schedule and her lack of connectedness with the community shielded her from the worst of those cultural burdens. Emily took the brunt of it by virtue of being stuck in town all the time, and dealing with the kids and teachers at school, many of whom had opinions about how local citizens should conduct their lives, and were not reluctant to share their opinions.

After lunch, Bev said good-bye to Emily and Katey's family and headed back toward Sarasota. The traffic out of Orlando on I-4 was at a standstill. Bev pulled off at the first exit and got out her phone, looking for alternative, back routes. She decided to take a drive through the countryside. She discovered that there was a lot of rural land in the middle of the Florida peninsula. What was more, it was beautiful country: wild and untamed. Bev never expected that, having experienced only the over-developed coastal areas on her few previous visits to the Sunshine State.

She passed through a little town that was only twenty or so physical miles away from Universal Studios but light-years away in terms of atmosphere and character. She passed a vintage motel, the kind with little individual cottages for rooms. Most of those old roadside motels had either fallen into ruins or had been turned into virtually slum dwellings for transients. This one was painted brightly, with flower boxes in the windows. Bev didn't see any cars in the parking lot.

For perhaps the first time in her life, she did something on a total whim. She didn't like the idea of having to drive all the way back to Sarasota, through the Gulf Coast's horrific traffic, and then turn around and repeat the trip the next day. She asked the attendant at the motel, who turned out to be the owner, how much it would cost for one night. The lady told her it would be $59 plus all the taxes and fees and whatnot that she had do add to the room rate. Bev asked if there were a Target or Wal-Mart nearby where she could purchase necessities, because she had not planned to spend the night. The lady gave her directions to a shopping center that was about five miles away. Bev took the room key and headed for the store.

After buying the necessary toiletries for an overnight stay, and a change of undies, she returned to the motel, which was as adorable and quaint on the inside as it was on the outside. She wandered up and down the main street of the town, stopping in some of the shops. She bought fudge in a candy store and some cheese and crackers in another shop.

It was almost dark by the time she got back to the motel. There was a liquor store on the corner. She decided to buy a bottle of wine to go with the cheese and crackers. Initially, she planned to sit outside on the stoop and enjoy her wine – until she heard the humming of the bugs. Florida was not a place for sitting outside at night! The motel owner stopped by with a basket of toiletries for the bathroom, along with some fruit and candies. They chatted for a few minutes. Bev learned the woman was a widow who had run the motel for decades. Bev invited her to have a glass of wine and share some stories. The lady suggested they take the wine to her apartment, where she had a screened-in back porch that would allow them to sit outside with out being eaten alive.

The women talked for several hours, and polished off the bottle of wine in the process. Bev went back to her room and stretched out in bed, feeling happier than she had felt in a very long time. She couldn't remember the last time she spent such quality time with another woman. She made a mental note to visit her BFF, who lived in Arizona.

The next morning she walked down the street to a diner and ordered breakfast. Several locals, who apparently ate there every morning, included her in their conversation as though she belonged to the group. The fact that she didn't know the people or events they were discussing was irrelevant. She felt very comfortable. After breakfast, she returned to her room and read for a while until it was time to check out.

As she checked out the owner slid a business card toward her. The proprietor's name was Marie Simmons. "Come back and see me again." She turned the card over and wrote a phone number and email address, adding, "I enjoyed our talk last night. I'd like it if you'd keep in touch."

Bev grinned, "I think we're both people who could use a girlfriend."

"Yes. My sister was my best friend. She died about four years ago and I have been lost without her."

"I know what you mean. My best friend moved to Arizona ten years ago. We email and text message frequently, but it's been years since we sat down face-to-face with a pizza and a bottle of wine and talked all night. Last night caused me to make up my mind to rectify that situation as soon as it can be arranged."

Bev reached out to shake hands but Marie came around the counter and gave her a hug.

Bev drove around through some of the small towns and countryside that still managed to survive in the interior of Florida, but whenever she found herself on a main thoroughfare, she found herself assaulted by sensory overload: billboards, chain discount stores (all in huge cracker box buildings painted garish colors), chain restaurants in such endless variety that she wondered if anybody ever cooked at home anymore, but then she saw the huge super-sized grocery stores.... _It is no wonder Americans are obese!_

Eventually – reluctantly – she turned back towards Orlando. The traffic slowed to a crawl as she approached the attractions area.

She met Emily's friend's family at Universal's City Walk for an early supper. Knowing Bev's obsession with Jimmy Buffet, Emily had suggested they meet at Margaritaville. That proved easy to find. Bev was early so she wandered around the venue, where there was not one thing that didn't make her want to run away. She decided that at least in the restaurant, they'd be playing Buffet music, so she headed for Margaritaville and ordered a glass of tea on the porch. The others joined her shortly. Besides Katey and her parents, the group included Katey's two twin brothers who were ten, and totally wired by the experience of riding the big rides at the parks for the first time. They were not happy about interrupting their day for a sit down meal, and they made their displeasure clear – to everyone's dismay.

The group ordered sandwiches. Bev ordered fish. Katey's dad laughed, "Emily says you're a huge Buffet fan. I expected you to go for the Cheeseburger in Paradise."

Bev laughed, "I love the song, but I rarely eat meat."

He looked as displeased at that as he had been at her willingness to let Emily choose her own college.

They spent enough time at the restaurant to be polite, but no more than necessary, given the boys' eagerness to get back to the "good stuff." Emily and Bev said their farewells and headed for the parking lot. Once they were out of earshot, Emily said, "Mom, I've gotta tell you, I am so proud of you. You're usually so opinionated and outspoken. You handled Gram well last week and, now, you managed to handle Universal and Katey's dad without batting an eye. I know this was very hard for you, and I appreciate your being polite enough not to say anything. The Hendersons saved up all year for this vacation. They are all having the time of their lives. I'm sure you were appalled by everything you saw at City Walk, and I thank God nobody suggested you pay the $90 admission to go inside the park!! Thanks."

"Sweetheart, I would never embarrass you in front of your friends, at least as long as I am able to control myself." She winked and laughed, "But sometimes that can be difficult.

"Here's the important question: did you have fun?"

Emily nodded and sighed, "Yeah, I did. The rides were exciting. In Ohio, I've been to Cedar Point and King's Island with Dad and his family, so I had the general idea of what an amusement park would be like, but this was so overwhelming it even got to me. I guess you have kind of ruined me for all of that kind of overly done plastic, artificial type stuff. I am looking forward to getting back to the beach. But, I did have fun. I like Katey a lot. I can do without her dad. He's kind of a blowhard and thinks he's a big deal. Her Mom is nice. The twins are a total pain in the ass. Thank you for not having any more kids after me!"

Emily looked at her mom and said, "You don't look like someone who just drove from Sarasota to Orlando. You looked relaxed and rested. What is more, you are wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday. What did you do?"

"I spent the night in a little motel in a small town about twenty miles from here. I shared a bottle of wine with the owner, who's a widow, and this morning I had breakfast in a diner and chatted up the locals."

"You didn't even bring a toothbrush!"

"I went to Target and bought a toothbrush and a change of underwear."

Emily grinned and clasped her hands in front of her. "Who knew my mom could be spontaneous? I'm so glad you did that! When I realized how far it is from Sarasota to Orlando and how awful the traffic was, I was sorry I asked you to do this. I'm glad that you made other arrangements."

Bev said, with a slight edge in her voice, "I'm actually rather good at taking care of myself. You don't need to worry about me so much."

"I do, however. Just like I know you worry about me when you don't need to. We'll just both have to deal with that."

They arrived at the apartment in the late afternoon, Jenny invited Bev to join her on the deck for cocktails later. Bev suggested that she and Emily take a bike ride on the beach first. They had barely broken a sweat when Bev's phone rang. She answered it without looking at the phone to see who the call was from.

"Mrs. Deller, this is Ginny Phelps from Walker Trent's office. I am not sure who I need to talk to about this, but I'm starting with you."

"What's up?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but something very strange is happening. There have been rumors going around for days that Travis Sutherland was to be released from jail and exonerated. That is evidently going to take place today. Sutherland is being released from jail. All charges against both him and Melinda Trent have been dropped."

"Have the police given any indication as to why? I'm assuming they've had a breakthrough. It's odd, though, that Sutherland would have confessed if he didn't do it."

"Here's what little I've been able to piece together. Somehow Travis got the idea that Melinda was behind the fire. He has been in love with her for years, and he evidently decided to prove it. He got Tamra to agree to give him money when he got out of jail in exchange for taking the fall for Melinda. He confessed. Melinda went along with it, reluctantly, but I heard that in private she was adamant that she didn't put him or anyone else up to it. She insisted up until the time she signed the plea bargain that she was had nothing to do with the fire."

"Then why did she sign the plea bargain?"

"Because her mother and Travis talked her into it."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to Melinda or Tamra yet, but I think I will before long. I wanted to ask you what you think I should do about something else I just found out. I think Walker told you that he's been writing songs under a couple of pen names, and doing fairly well."

"Yes, he did."

"Well, I found out that he's actually been writing songs under several pen names for years – for most of his career, in fact. He's apparently been writing scores for movies almost as long as he's been in the music business. He's scored a couple of movies a year almost every year. That pays pretty well. He's also been writing songs for other artists. A couple of country and pop stars who supposedly write their own music actually buy the rights to songs from Walker and then put their own names on them. He's made millions from all that moonlighting and he never spent any of it. He had it in holding companies that he never let anybody know about it except his tax adviser. He paid all the taxes he owed, but he didn't report the income under his personal estate, it was reported as corporate income. Tamra never knew about it.

I have known for a few years that he moonlighted under other names, but I had no idea how much he made from his side jobs.

"I just found out that the money Walker accumulated from those side jobs has grown to a pot of almost $150 million dollars."

"What does that have to do with the fire?"

"I don't know that it has anything to do with the fire. The reason that I'm bringing it up is that Walker missed a performance last night for the first time in his career. He has never failed to show up for an appointment of any kind without at least calling. He's very obsessive about appointments and proud of his track record of being a dependable performer. To make it more odd, this was not just any performance. It was the kickoff concert for the tour promoting his new album. It was a gala event in Nashville: an invitation-only concert at the Grand Old Opry. Everyone who is anyone in country music was in the audience. Walker never showed."

"Where was he?"

"I don't know. I haven't been able to reach him at any of his numbers. I tracked his cell phone through the service. It's in his house near Gatlinburg, but he isn't there. Yesterday his plane went to Gatlinburg to bring him to Nashville. Rusty Jones picked him up at his house and dropped him off in front of the airport, but he never showed up at his plane.

"Walker's tax adviser confirmed this afternoon that the two corporate bank accounts where he kept his 'secret stash' of money have been closed. He doesn't know what Walker did with the money."

Bev stopped her bike and took a deep breath, "Are you telling me Walker Trent has disappeared with $150 million?"

"The last time anyone on his team saw him was about ten days ago. He did a run through of the entire concert at the Grand Old Opry. It was kind of a dress rehearsal and publicity shoot. They did it in costume and took a lot of photos to use for advertising. When he left, he told us that he was going to Gatlinburg to chill out for a few days. He was due back yesterday morning. When he didn't meet his plane, the pilot called me. I've spent most of yesterday and all day today on the phones trying to find him."

Bev asked, "Why are you calling me about this? It's his money, he can do as he pleases with it. He may be in for a contract dispute over failing to show up for the tour. I don't understand what this has to do with me."

"Well, for one thing, there's a rumor that the San Antonio cops are trying to get a warrant to search Walker's house in Gatlinburg. I'm beginning to think the cops think Walker is responsible for the fire after all."

"Disappearing like that doesn't look good for him."

"Right. That's why I'm calling you. If you don't mind, I'd like to know what Walker told you about Melinda's role in the fire. He told you something and then the next thing I know, he returned the money you paid him for the house. He told me that he returned it so Travis would get probation instead of going to jail. I didn't understand why he would do that. He wouldn't explain. None of his actions recently have made any sense. I'm trying to figure out what he was up to. What did he tell you?"

"He told me that Melinda had hired Travis to burn down the house when she found out that Walker is not her biological father. He said that she was angry about her whole life being a lie, and she paid Travis Sutherland to burn down the house where that life took place."

"What are you talking about? Melinda is not his daughter?"

"He told me that Mrs. Trent got pregnant by a roadie who disappeared. He married her to avoid a scandal."

"And you believed that?"

"It had the ring of truth."

"I assure you that, if you really knew Walker, you'd have known that was not true. He's a very stern moralist. He would not have married Tamra if he knew she was pregnant by another man. If Tamra were pregnant by someone else when they got married, which I doubt, she would have gone to extreme lengths to hide that fact. Walker would never tolerate a woman stepping out on him."

Bev asked, "Could it be possible that instead of Melinda finding out he wasn't her father, that Trent found out he wasn't her father. Instead of her burning the house, maybe he did it. What do you think?"

"If you had made that suggestion day before yesterday, I'd have been furious. Today, I don't know what to believe."

"Have you talked to Mrs. Trent?"

"No."

"I think you should call her."

Ginny asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing. Trent returned the claim proceeds to Midwestern and signed a full release. We are not out any money. I'll let the company know about this turn of events, and we'll cooperate with the police if necessary, but our file is closed and it will stay closed unless somebody decides to go after Mr. Trent for the costs of our investigation. I would appreciate it if you would keep me informed about what you find out."

Ginny agreed to do so, and hung up. Bev called Pete Dietz and filled him in. He asked her how much she had spend on the investigation. She told him to check with Cassie, but she figured two trips to Texas and a trip to Nashville, plus Ben Tucker's fees would put the cost of the investigation at only a few thousand dollars. Dietz said, "If he is behind it, we will file for restitution for our costs of investigating. That will give us the standing to turn him in for insurance fraud."

Bev shook her head, "I don't know how this one got so screwed up! I've never had someone pull the wool over my eyes so successfully. He told me lie after lie and I never picked up on it."

"That's so strange, Bev. You've got the best lie-detector radar I've ever seen. How did he do it?"

"I don't know, but I've got to tell you, I'm plenty freaked out by it. I hope to hell I'm not losing my edge right before taking on this new job!"

"Don't sweat it, Bev. You can always come back here."

"I doubt that. David Jamison is a great guy, but disloyalty is an unforgivable sin in his book. The fact that I so much as considered taking a new job is the most disloyal thing I could have done. He'd never hire me back."

"I would."

"Thanks. I appreciate the offer. I hope it doesn't come to that. Listen, I gotta go. Emily is waiting. I'll keep you posted on anything I hear about Trent. I'd appreciate if you'd do the same, even if it's after the end of this week."

"I will. The claim is closed and I'm not going to reopen it. I'll keep it on my personal diary until we know which way the wind is blowing."

Bev and Emily continued their bike ride, going as far as they could in one direction, then they turned around and rode as far as they could in the other direction. When they returned, Jenny was sitting on the back deck. She waved them over. "Sunset's in about half an hour. I have mojitos and a pitcher of lemonade on the counter. Help yourselves."

Emily said she'd like to shower first. Bev helped herself to a mojito and joined Jenny on the deck.

After a few minutes, Jenny said, "You seem distracted."

"I am very distracted. The last claim I worked on at Midwestern has just taken a very disturbing change in course. I don't know that it's as resolved as I thought it was." She shook her head and sipped her drink, "But, I don't want to talk about that now. I want to enjoy the sunset show in your delightful company."

They watched the sun go down, chatting about the weather and with Jenny filling her in on neighborhood gossip. When it was fully dark, Bev got up to go inside and take her shower. Emily was sprawled on the couch, watching TV. She said, "I hate the thought of going home. You should know that I talked to Mrs. Donahue today. She's all moved into our extra room and said that her back feels better already at not having to go up and down steps. She has her house up for sale. She sounded positively ecstatic."

Bev smiled, "I feel very good about the decision to invite her to join our family. She doesn't have a family and she's always been very good to you."

"Yeah. I've always thought her story was kind of sad."

"What is it?"

"She was married to a man who was a lot older than her. When they married, he was a widower with two small children. She took care of him and raised his kids. When he died, his kids totally turned their backs on her."

Emily lifted her head and looked at her mother, "What's wrong with you? You have that pinched-around-the-eyes look that I haven't seen since your last day at Midwestern."

"Turn of events with the Walker Trent claim."

"Yeah. I saw about that on the news. Wow."

"What was on the news."

"They said the police in San Antonio released the kid who had confessed and dropped the charges against Walker Trent's daughter. There's a warrant out for Trent's arrest, but he seems to have disappeared."

"Did the news reports say anything about why the boy confessed to a crime he didn't commit?"

"No. And he's not talking to the press." Emily raised her eyebrow, "What's up with all that?"

"I have no idea. You know more from watching the news than I do. I know that Walker Trent evidently was dishing out a huge pack of lies and I bought every one of them. I can't believe that happened. I can almost always tell when someone is lying. I'm plenty freaked out, I've got to tell you."

Bev went into the bedroom and called Dietz on his cell. "Sorry to be calling so late. I just saw on the news that there's a warrant out for Trent's arrest. Do you want me to do anything?"

"You're on vacation. Remember?"

"Yeah and after this week, I won't be working for you anymore, but I want to do all I can to wrap this one up. Let me know if you need me to make any calls."

""No. Our file is closed and I'd like to keep it that way. Stay out of it. I made some calls today to some contacts I have. Something is seriously amiss. You said Walker Trent was a very nice, kind of ordinary sort of guy. The people I talked to say he is an absolutely crazy man, who is probably a danger to himself, if not to others."

"What!?"

"Evidently the guy is kind of one of those anti-government quasi-militia types. He and his whole family go around fully armed at all times. One of the people I talked to owns a recording studio. He won't let Walker Trent on his property. He says the guy is a psycho."

"This is getting more and more bizarre. People in Texas told me Walker Trent was a little odd, but they attributed that to a sort of artistic mentality. His assistant and publicist told me that he was very conservative politically. Ginny told me today that he was a strict moralist with extremely old-fashioned ideas about marriage and fidelity. I thought what she was trying to tell me was that Walker has antiquated ideas about women's roles. Somebody told me that Trent took self defense so seriously, he always carries a gun and, so does his whole family, including the kids."

"That doesn't make him a psycho, necessarily. Although, most people in his situation hire body-guards instead of arming their children."

"Yeah."

"What do you know about his early life?"

Bev said, "Nothing. I didn't look into his background very much. He's a public person. His story should be relatively easy to find out."

"Maybe not so much. I did some online research and I had Cassie do some digging around. The official word is that Walker Trent was born into a poor family in Bexar County, Texas. He graduated from high school and then left Everly. There's a gap in his bio of about 18 months in the early 1970's. In 1975, he was in Nashville working as a go-fer in a recording studio. In a matter of weeks, he learned how to work all the machines, and demonstrated that he could play virtually any musical instrument. He was promoted to a technical assistant. He did that for a couple of years. The official story of his 'discovery' is that one day a record producer was cutting a demo track for a girl singer who was supposed to be the next Reba McIntyre or something. The male backup singer they hired to sing harmony on the chorus didn't show up. Supposedly, the producer asked Trent if he could harmonize. He said he could. Turns out he was a better singer than the girl. They ended up having him sing lead and she sang harmony. The girl, by the way, was Tamra Sterman. She became his backup singer, instead of the other way around, and they married a year or so later.

"He has no living family that anyone knows of. He's evidently a musical genius who can write music in several different styles. He must be an incredible genius if he can score several movies a year in addition to writing regular songs for other people and meeting his commitments as a star."

"It doesn't add up, does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

Bev said, "I'm going to call Mrs. Trent. It isn't too late. Don't try to stop me. I am so freaked out that he pulled the wool over my eyes, I have to find out the truth."

Bev put on her pajamas and sat cross legged on her bed, with her computer in front of her, and the phone on its charger. She dialed Tamra Trent's home number. A housekeeper answered and asked Bev to hold while she checked to see if Mrs. Trent would be able to come to the phone. Bev waited so long she was about to hang up, believing they had forgotten about her – or chosen to ignore her. Eventually, the housekeeper came back on the line and said, "Mrs. Trent will be with you momentarily. She wants to take this call in her office."

Bev waited a few more minutes. Tamra Trent picked up the line and told the housekeeper to hang up the other extension. She said, "Ms. Deller? Sorry to keep you waiting so long. I was on another call."

"No problem. Thank you for speaking to me. I probably don't need to tell you what this is about. Do you know where your ex-husband is?"

"No, ma'am. I don't."

"Do you have any idea what Mr. Trent told me about why he thought Melinda hired Travis Sutherland to set the fire?"

"No. But I bet it was a huge whopper."

"Why do you think that?"

"Walker loves to jerk people around. He lies just for the hell of it. Especially to people he's just met, who don't know that they can't believe anything he says. It's a game with him."

"Is your daughter Walker Trent's biological child?"

There was silence on the line. "What did he tell you?"

"He told me that you were pregnant by another man, and you had no resources. He liked you and didn't want you to have to be a single mom, so he married you. He said that your daughter recently discovered that she was not his biological child and freaked out."

"He told you he married a pregnant teen-ager out of charity?"

"Basically."

Tamra laughed until she started to sob. After a long pause she said, with a ragged voice, "I'm sorry for that outburst. That is the most utterly absurd thing he's every said to anybody. Of all the lies he's told, that is the most vile and wicked. For one thing, Walker Trent has never done anything out of pure kindness in his life. Ever. Not once. He doesn't believe in charity or kindness. He believes only in people picking themselves up by their own bootstraps. To my knowledge only two of his girl backup singers ever got pregnant while they were his employees. He fired both of them on the spot as soon as he found out. One of them had to borrow money from me to fly home.

"Hear me, well, Ms. Deller. There is no question that Melinda is Walker's daughter."

Bev could hardly speak for her shock. She managed to croak, "Why would he tell me that? Or that your daughter incited Travis Sutherland to set fire to Mr. Trent's house because she was enraged that her whole life had been a lie? How did that whole business with Travis Sutherland come about?"

Tamra said, "I don't know for a fact, but it is my opinion that Walker manipulated the whole thing. He told Travis that Melinda was behind the fire. Travis carries a huge torch for Melinda, so he agreed to take the fall in exchange for money. Melinda heard that Travis had confessed. She had no involvement, but she was charged because the cops believed Travis' story."

"Why?"

"Because Walker is a mean, hateful bastard who has gone completely psycho in recent years. He hates me and he hates his kids because he can't control us any more. He can't stand anything he can't control."

"So, Mr. Trent hired someone to set the fire. He talked Travis Sutherland into taking the fall and implicating your daughter. He was going to let your daughter and some poor college kid take the blame for his crime?"

"That would be my guess. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if Walker didn't set the fire himself."

"His travel records show he was in Gatlinburg when the fire happened."

"Walker has access to more planes than the one he owns. He often charters planes under assumed names and Rusty is not the only driver who ferries him around Tennessee. Often, he drives himself. He keeps a Ford Focus hidden in the barn, and drives it when he doesn't want Rusty's wife to keep track of his movements. Famous people travel incognito all the time when they want to go on vacation and not be disturbed. Walker does it merely because he's paranoid and crazy. He only travels on his own plane or under his own name occasionally, usually when he's going to public events. Most of his travel is done under assumed names. I bet if you were able to check enough records, you'd find there was a charter plane or a private plane that took off from somewhere in eastern Tennessee and landed at an FBO in Austin a day or two before the fire."

"Nobody saw any strange vehicles."

"You overlooked the fact that Travis Sutherland's truck was stolen from its parking space the day before the fire. A day after the fire, the car mysteriously reappeared in the same parking space, with a full tank of gas, and having been freshly washed and detailed."

"Oh, my God."

Both women were quiet for a long time. Bev did not want to believe what she had heard. Of all the crazy theories people had spun for her over the past few weeks, this was the craziest. It also rang true, because of the sorrow and pain in Tamra Trent's voice as she was telling the story.

Bev couldn't resist asking, "Was he always like that?"

There was a long pause. Tamra's voice was raspy but she managed not to break down, "He was always a little crazy. Texans can be like that. He had what most of us thought was an artistic temperament that was rather extreme because he is such a musical genius. Almost everyone in his life cut him too much slack for too many years because of that. Instead of insisting that he get help for his anger and paranoia, we catered to him and let him behave as badly as he wanted – provided he kept writing great music.

"We covered for his bad behavior in order to allow him the freedom to write music. I should probably have had him committed years ago, but I couldn't make myself do it.

"Then, about five years ago he progressed from paranoid and strange to violent and psycho.

"I threatened to get a restraining order and/or have him committed if he didn't go away somewhere and stay away from the kids. That's why he moved to the mountains alone."

She added with tears in her voice, "He doesn't deserve to go to jail. He needs to be in a hospital. I'm afraid that one of two things will happen. He might very well kill himself rather than let the cops arrest him. He hates and fears the police more than anything. Or, he will come out shooting and force the cops to kill him. If were a betting person, I'd bet on the latter. That way he'd force the cops to do the very thing he fears the most."

Bev was quiet for a long time. Finally she said, "Thank you for your honesty, Mrs. Trent. I am sorry you have had to share your pain with a stranger."

Tamra whispered in a voice that sounded almost terrified, "I'm going to be sharing it with a lot more strangers when they arrest Walker."

"I am so very sorry, ma'am."

"Me, too."

Bev sent an email to Dietz: _Leave the file closed. After they arrest Walker, if you want to file a claim for restitution of our costs, that's up to you. My advice would be to stay altogether out of the circus that is likely to ensue._

Before she turned out the lights, she booked a flight to the Cayman Islands on Monday.

