Deadly Revenge (Pearl River #3)

Chapter 38

38

Granna dropped her gaze to the hands in her lap where she rubbed gnarled fingers. Jenna hadn’t meant to upset her. “They used to be friends. What happened?” she asked gently.

“I never knew for sure, only that they had a falling-out over the dam project.” Granna raised her gaze. “You know how your uncle is.”

Unfortunately, Jenna did. Any opinion other than his was wrong.

“It seems like a lot of people were unhappy with Carter and the city council about the dam project,” Max said.

Granna nodded. “Just about the whole county.”

“Is there anyone who would still be upset, Granna?”

“You mean upset enough to kill Paul Nelson? Probably. The Slaters, not so much.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess it was in their personalities. People liked Joe in spite of some of the things he did, and of course, everyone liked Katherine. Paul got beat in the next election after the dam project went through, but Joe got reelected every four years.” Her grandmother lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “Enough negative talk. I want us to sit here and drink our coffee and enjoy these cookies.”

“And I’m sure they’re delicious,” Max said. “Would you think about the people who were involved with the dam project and see if anyone pops in your mind who might still hold a grudge?”

“I’m not sure that I want to point a finger at anyone—they might turn it back on me since both Sam and Randall were mighty upset about losing the farm.”

“Granna, we’re not talking about you pointing the finger at anyone. I don’t know all the families involved in the dam dispute, and it would help to know who they were.”

“I suppose I could do that,” she said. “I’ll make you a list.”

“Good,” Max said. “We’ll stop by after we talk to Harrison Carter again.”

Her grandmother’s face turned stony. “I’ll tell you this about him. Don’t believe anything he tells you. You know the old saying—if his lips are moving, he’s lying—that’s Harrison.”

“Granna, what do you remember about the land where the dam and reservoir are now?”

Her grandmother frowned. “Other than the families involved, not a lot. Your grandfather wasn’t one to discuss business matters with me.” She stopped and pointed her finger at Jenna. “Don’t let that happen when you get married. I didn’t know anything about our affairs when he died, and it made his passing so much harder. If it hadn’t been for Sam and your dad ...”

“What about the land,” Max prodded gently.

“Yes, the land. Walter inherited it from his father and that’s why he didn’t want to sell. He grew up on that farm, and it’d been in his family for fifty years before he was born.” Then as if banishing bad thoughts away, she smiled and picked up a tea cake. “You still haven’t tried these.”

Jenna handed Max a cookie then picked one up and bit into it. Butter and vanilla exploded on her taste buds. No one could make tea cakes like her grandmother.

Max sampled his and grinned. “These are so good.”

“I’m glad you like them.” The worry lines disappeared from Granna’s face. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

They spent the next thirty minutes talking about families, with Max sharing stories about his parents and Granna telling on Jenna and the troubles she got into as a child. Some of the stories even Jenna had forgotten. Stories that made her grandfather and her mother come alive.

“You have a good memory, Eva,” he said.

“Too good,” Jenna added dryly. “And you could’ve kept the story about catching me skinny dipping in the pond to yourself—I was only five.”

Granna laughed. “Your mother was so upset, thinking you could’ve drowned.”

“I knew how to swim.” She sighed. “I have so few memories of her ... or my grandfather. We need to do this again.”

Granna nodded solemnly. “It’s hard for me to talk about them.” She smiled at Max. “But he’s such a good listener that it loosens my tongue.”

“It’s because you tell good stories.” Max stood and gathered the cups and empty plate. “We need to be going.”

She took the tray and walked to the kitchen. She’d hoped her grandmother would bring up the wreck that killed Jenna’s grandfather, but she hadn’t. Maybe they could find details of the accident in old newspapers.

Ten minutes later, they said their goodbyes and reminded her grandmother they would return soon.

“Thanks for listening to her,” Jenna said.

“I enjoyed it, but I thought the time was a good bridge builder—she’ll be more likely to discuss the past if she considers me a friend.”

They hadn’t driven a mile before her stomach growled.

Max cocked his head. “It’s almost noon. Why don’t we grab lunch at Pete’s?”

“Sounds good.”

After Jenna picked up her SUV, she followed Max to their small downtown area and got lucky when a car backed out of a space right in front of Pete’s Diner. Max had to park a block away.

“They’re busy,” she said when he joined her.

Busy was an understatement, but the diner fell silent and everyone turned toward them when they entered. Odd. She questioned Max with her eyes, and he gave her a barely visible shrug.

Jenna scanned the room for a table and found one near the back. Once they were seated, she picked up the menu. “What day is it today?”

“Wednesday.”

“Meat loaf and three vegetables day—you’ll like it.” She tilted her head. “It’s been a long week. Does it seem like it ought to be Saturday already?”

“Now that you mention it ...”

She scanned the menu for which of Pete’s homemade vegetables she wanted. They both looked up when Ethel set their water glasses on the table.

“Any word on who killed Paul Nelson?” she asked, her voice rising above the din in the room.

Once again the restaurant got quiet, and before Jenna could answer, someone at the front of the diner said, “And I heard the Slaters’ accident was no accident.”