Beneath Blackwater River Leslie Wolfe (me reader txt) 📖

dipped her lips, then set it carefully back. “Finally, Kendall, the youngest, he’s another failure. I should’ve stopped having children after Blanche.” This time, bitterness colored her voice, unchecked, acute.

“What does Kendall do?” Kay asked, treading carefully.

“As close to nothing as possible,” Carole replied with a long sigh. “He took what little money was left to him by his father after his death, and put it in some hedge funds, deciding to live off capital gains instead of building something with his own hands, instead of making a difference.” She clenched her fists in her lap. “A meaningless existence, parasitical and hedonistic.” She paused for a beat, but Kay didn’t interrupt, curious where all that was going. “Although he’s smart, in his own way,” she added, unclenching her hands and folding them in her lap. “He’s brilliant.”

Kay continued to listen, encouraging the woman to keep going. “Interesting. What makes you say that?”

“He spends as little as possible, because his one true passion is his own laziness. This boy has made an art out of doing as little as possible. But he loves luxury, my youngest son, and to get that without spending, he preys on unsuspecting rich women who let their guard down, knowing he’s also well off. Brilliant.” Her bitter voice trailed away, as if bearing the load of disappointment had taken the breath out of her chest.

“I see,” Kay said, wondering if Carole had finished sharing the story of her family. She had dozens of questions she wanted to ask, about Alyssa’s social life, her friends, her daily routine. About Shelley, and if she had known Bill Caldwell.

“These two, Madelyn and Kendall, had absolutely no reason to get rid of the heiress,” Carole said, her voice stern and purposeful. “Bill will tell you that Blanche and her son, Dylan, had all the reasons, but don’t believe a word a grief-stricken father will say. He’s wrong.” She’d raised her voice somewhat, pleading with Kay to believe her, the entire story she’d shared about the family nothing more than a calculated preamble. “My Blanche wouldn’t hurt a fly,” she continued, the shine of tears in her eyes. “She wouldn’t do anything to harm Bill or his family. She… loves her brother very much.”

18Aunt

Heiress? What heiress? Kay wondered, looking at Carole’s display, her perfectly calculated cocktail of grief and persuasion. The Caldwells owned a farm, the biggest one in the county all right, but still, just a farm. Not a megacorporation or a billion-dollar venture. Heiress, to a farm? Huh. She wondered what Elliot would think about that.

And still, Carole behaved with the sophisticated elegance of someone who had been born rich and had been rich all her life. She had been educated to contain her emotions and not say a single word that didn’t have a purpose. The change in her attitude toward Kay showed she had something to fear, something she was desperately trying to manage. A threat of sorts, perhaps a secret she was trying to protect. Carole was clearly hiding something of crucial importance, enough to keep her riveted across from Kay, her legs crossed at the ankles and her hands folded neatly in her lap, the only sign of the tension she was feeling showing in the tightness of her jaw and the steely fire in her eyes.

Yet she’d been caught off guard by the news of Alyssa’s death; she’d had no prior knowledge of it. As soon as she’d managed to contain her initial emotional response to that, her interest in catching her granddaughter’s killer had dropped to zero. Maybe she was afraid that the killer was someone close to her, someone she was trying to protect, even if that meant protecting a murderer.

It was time to find out how much the Caldwell farming business was really worth. Typical farmers don’t refer to their offspring as heirs or heiresses. Was Carole living a delusion of grandeur, in her mind being the queen of the land, or was her arrogance founded on financial reality? Had the generational farming enterprise been extremely lucrative? Even so, what was Carole hiding, and why did she seem terrified of what her son had set out to do?

“Tell me about Alyssa,” Kay asked, deciding not to probe into her apparent fear of her son’s actions. She leaned forward, her elbows on the chair armrests, and kept her voice soothing and calm, determined to pace herself through the dozens of questions she had.

Carole patted the corner of her eye with the crumpled tissue she held in her hand. “She was a sweet child, even as a teenager,” she said, her voice tinged with genuine sadness. “She grew up with a sick mother, as you already know, and we all tried to compensate for that. I, my oldest daughter Blanche, even the house staff spoiled her rotten, but she didn’t grow up entitled or with the nasty attitude some of the kids these days have.”

She stood and started pacing the room slowly, studying the walls as if she’d never seen them before, keeping her face effectively hidden from Kay’s scrutiny. The old woman was smart.

“I honestly don’t know why Bill didn’t divorce and remarry,” she added, keeping her back turned to the detective. Her voice had hardened, disappointment seeping with every word. She turned and looked at Kay for a brief moment, then gazed away. “You must think me callous, but Alyssa’s mother, well, she’s been sick all her life. What kind of marriage is that, for my poor Bill? He would’ve been better off divorcing her and finding a woman who could make him happy. A strong, healthy woman who could’ve given him sons.”

Slack-jawed, Kay was speechless, grateful Carole was looking away, unable to see the consternation on her face. She shook it off quickly. “I believe it’s admirable, his loyalty to his sick wife, to his child’s mother.”

“Yes, you’d believe that, wouldn’t you,” she replied coldly. Then she must’ve realized she was pushing it too far, because she smiled and