Tainted Waters

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

"Harry."

"George."

Or at least that's what Keegan surmised, through the static and muffled sounds, were the names they'd said. The bug he'd planted in Harry's jacket worked, but the guy either squirmed around a lot or a pocket just wasn't a great place to put a listening device. Keegan looked out the window, off to his right. The sun was shining but had dropped low in the sky, just topping the trees.

He sighed as he realized he'd missed another nice day to be out on the lake. He'd made a promise to himself when he'd moved here the year before that when he finished his current book, which was done and off to the publishers, he'd at least attempt to get out on the water every beautiful day he could. Mrs. MacNeil had said he could use her canoe anytime he wanted to. He had fully intended on taking her up on it, but time had gotten away from him. The book had taken longer than he'd thought, and he'd realized that if he was going to find out what really happened to his grandfather, he'd better get the manuscript finished. And start snooping.

"… life in danger."

"… kill …"

Keegan strained harder, not sure that those were the words he'd heard. Or hoping that wasn't what had been said. But if they were, whose life? And kill. What? Who? When? It was really the first useful thing he'd heard. Harry was beyond boring. In the next ten minutes, he was able to make out a few things but nothing much that would help. Or really give him an idea of who or what Harry had been talking about. Or whether he was talking literally or figuratively. Harry Donner had seemed to be the best place to start his research. After all, he was in the position of the man who Keegan wanted to learn what had really happened to.

There were many stories about Harry, some had come from Cora MacNeil. According to her, he never should have become the CEO. He was an overgrown wart, mouthy, and no good. Cora's words. She'd told him a lot about Donner's unsavory past but without coming right out and asking her if the man was capable of murder, Keegan knew he'd have to figure that out for himself.

Tossing the headphones onto the tiny desk he'd uncovered when he'd moved in, he picked up a stack of papers on the table beside it. He flipped through until he found a page where he'd written down all the players he knew. Skimming through them he found George Dunn. It wasn't him since he was dead. Keegan put a line through his name. George Elliot. Bus driver. Upstanding citizen, volunteer of the year two times in a row. So probably not him. George Comstock, a farmer just outside of town. He'd check more into him, but it just didn't feel right. George Milter, maybe. He was from one of the founding families of the area. Cora had spoken highly of him but still worth consideration. And then there was George Assenby.

Assenby, Assenby … tapping his index finger on the name, Keegan stared off into space.

The guy at the funeral home. What had he said … he owned it.

"Hmmmmm."

Why would Donner want George's—whoever that was—help? To kill someone? Or to protect someone?

And what was he supposed to do with this illegally gained knowledge?

~~~~

Knowing she couldn't follow him, Sam walked toward the building. Since she didn't want to abandon her mom, but also didn't want to miss what was going on, she raised her arm over her head and pointed toward the building. It took a few minutes but finally, she caught her mother's attention. She nodded in acknowledgment, so Sam headed inside the front entrance. The loud chattering and clanging of dishes brought her attention to the far end of the hall, off to her right. Several people were still sitting and visiting and enjoying the homemade goodies. To the left was the chapel and past it down the hallway was a set of closed doors. They led to the inner sanctum of George's office. She walked up to them, grabbed the handle, turned it, and pushed. The door opened, catching her off guard. She hadn't been expecting that.

A flashback of coming there with her dad, of him walking through there, and telling her she'd have to be quiet. Giving her a book and telling her to sit in the secretary's chair but not to touch. Everything had always been so hush, so silent. It still had that sense of quiet, but it had a heavy cloying feeling now.

Muffled voices coming from one of the rooms brought her back to the moment. She paused, debating about how to best hear them. If she got caught, all hell would break loose. She'd barely taken a step when the door she was tiptoeing toward was opening. A quick shuffle backward and she was able to slip back into the hallway she'd just left. She sped her way down it, slipping into the empty chapel. The stained-glass window gave her a perfect peeking spot. She watched as her old boss, Mr. Donner, and her dad's old business partner, Mr. Assenby, came out of the office and shook hands. Mr. Donner left by the side door.

"Can I help you with something?"

Sam spun around so fast she stumbled and, only with luck, sat down in one of the pews instead of on the floor.

"Jesu—uh, oops." Feeling heat crawl up her neck, she pushed herself to her feet. "Thank you, Reverend. I'm fine. I was just watching for someone. Great service today. I really have to run." Sam nodded before stepping around him and beelining it for the door. Spotting her mom, she made her way over to her.

Now she just needed to convince her they had to leave.