Page 68 of Noble Neighbor
Bert lapsed into silence for a moment before adding,“Guess it could happen, and I’m sorry for that. But remember,the program would’ve happened with or without my co-operation. They interviewed a lot of her friends, clients even. My thinking, this way, at least my Agatha’s remembered the way we want her to be. And it kept them from houndingyou.”
It irked Oliver that Bert was right. If he were truly honest with himself, he’d have to admit his father-in-law had done him a favor by keeping the producers off his back.
He sagged against the pillar. “She hated that name, Bert.”
“Never knew why. It’s a perfectly good family name. At least she used it professionally,” Bert ended and chuffed a good-natured laugh as he ground the butt in the handy potted plant.
It was the first bit of humor shown by Bert since their arrival in DC a couple of hours ago, and Oliver looked at him in a new light. “You’ve been worried, old man. About telling me you talked to the enemy.”
“Do you blame me? Oliver, I know how much you’ve done to protect Clement. Me and Vera, well, we appreciate it, we truly do. We still have nightmares, knowing what he experienced.” He shuddered.
Oliver moved closer and placed a hand on the man’s shoulders. “Me too, Bert. Me too.”
Both silent, they stood and looked into the night, each lost in their own thoughts.
Bert was the first to break the quiet. “I heard Vance died. Heart attack. About a month ago.”
“That’s a shame.” Oliver remembered the man only too well. Father of Sue-Ellen, the third victim. JimVance had been a retired cop, and his thirst for revengehad been grim. “He was so filled with pain. With hatred,” he mulled.
The man had blamed himself for his only daughter’s death. He had been a few minutes late in picking upSue-Ellen after her shift ended. Those few minutes had cost the young woman her life. He never recovered from the loss.
For a brief period, until his own father’s sound reasoning had broken through his haze, Oliver had fueled his own resentment with the man’s hostility toward Savannah Randolph.
He still felt shame recalling his harsh words during the single interview he’d given.
“Didn’t he lose a son as well?” Oliver asked.
“Yes. About three years ago. Killed while cleaning his weapon.” Bert shook his head. “So much loss for that family. His wife to cancer only weeks after Sue-Ellen’s death. His son a year later.” He pursed his lips, then snapped, “Ah, to hell with it,” and removed the pack of cigarettes again and lit another one.
“Vera’s gonna scold you something fierce,” Oliver warned with mild amusement.
“Nah. She’s got Clement to fuss over.” Eyes narrowed, Bert stretched his neck up, watching the tendrils of smoke dissipate into the dark. “Back to Vance …”
He turned, his look worried as he peered at Oliver. “A couple of months before his death, round about the time the documentary people started nosing about, hecalled here, spoke of the accident. Savannah Randolph’s accident.He spoke about justice being served when the car crashed. Got me thinking. It wasn’t so much the words he said, harsh as they were. Rather, it was his tone. Led me to wonder if he had a hand in the accident.”
“Vance?” Oliver frowned. “He wanted to confront her. Talk to her. Like me.”
Bert shook his head, inhaling deeply. “Oliver, you don’t understand. Vance gloated, talked about children crying, and a vehicle burning. It chilled me to the bone.”
*
“You’ve gone all out. As always, Mom,” Oliver commented,scanning the various pies in the making as he entered the kitchen the next morning in search of coffee. He’d overslept, waking only when Clement popped into his bedroom to say he was going out with his two grandpas.
Bending his head, Oliver dropped a light kiss on the top of Vera’s layered, silver-blonde hair as he peered over her shoulder. She was putting together one with apples, and he noted a large open can to one side. A flash of Sunny and a pot of apple mush brought a chuckle to his lips.
At Vera’s questioning look, he explained. “Our neighbor bought a crate of apples, figuring she’d make apple pie, but ended up with bottles of applesauce and dozens of apple crumble squares.” Oliver filled a mug of coffee from the warming pot.
“Hmm.” His mother-in-law wiped her hands and pointed to the kitchen table. “Have a seat, Oliver. I’ll warm the sausage and scramble set aside for you.” She poured herself a coffee while nuking his food and took a seat kitty-corner to him after setting his plate before him.
“Mom?”
“Tell me about Sunny. And Kenzie and Molly.”
A wry smile pulled at his lips. “Who told?”
Vera leaned closer. “Well, Clement’s been talking about his honorary sisters for weeks now. And last night, while you were enabling Bert’s dreadful habit, Frank might’ve mentioned your pretty neighbor a few times,” she ended, grinning madly. “Well?”
Oliver took his time chewing a mouthful of food, arranging his thoughts. He didn’t want to admit how far he’d fallen.
