The Best Man to Trust - By Kerry Connor Page 0,40

Tom couldn’t help but wish he didn’t have at the moment.

Alex raised his eyebrows slightly. “I don’t know when that was, so I couldn’t say. Why?”

Because someone was eavesdropping on our conversation. Was it you? Tom smiled thinly. “No reason.”

Alex studied him for a long moment—wondering what he was talking about, or wondering if Tom truly suspected anything? He finally nodded shortly and pushed through the doorway.

As soon as he was gone, the tension in the room seemed to palpably ease.

“Are you both okay?” Meredith asked her staff.

Tom didn’t miss the way Ellen glanced uneasily at him before answering. “Sure. He just wanted to ask some questions.”

“What kind of questions?” Meredith asked.

Ellen shrugged. “Did we see anything last night? Have we seen anyone else around here—”

“Did we kill that woman?” Rick added tersely.

Tom surveyed the other man, who stared back, unblinking. As much as he knew Meredith didn’t want to believe it, he had to agree with Rachel. Ellen and Rick were the two unknowns here. It made more sense that one of them was the killer.

“I’m sure you can understand where he’s coming from,” Meredith said. “A friend of his was murdered. It only makes sense he’d want to try to find out who’s responsible. Not to mention, Mr. Corbett is a reporter. I’m sure asking questions is second nature to him.”

“Yes, he mentioned that,” Rick noted wryly.

“Any reason why you wouldn’t want to answer his questions?” Tom couldn’t help asking.

The man’s expression didn’t change in the least. “Does anyone like being accused of murder?”

“I wouldn’t know. It’s never happened to me. I take it it’s happened to you before?”

“Yep,” Rick said. “About five minutes ago.”

“Rick, I was thinking about the plow,” Meredith said quickly, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “I never asked how much experience you’ve had with them, or how long it might take you to hook one up to the truck.”

“I’ve never driven one or had to hook one up to a truck before,” Rick admitted. “But I have experience with a lot of different kind of vehicles. I can’t say for sure until I get out there and look it over, but I’m betting I can figure it out.”

“Actually, I’ve driven a plow before,” Tom said. “My dad did it for the town where I grew up and showed me how. It’s been a while, and I’ve never tried to attach one to a truck before, but I can help if you need it.”

The handyman eyed him carefully. “I’ll let you know.”

“You say you have experience with vehicles? What is it you used to do before you came here?” Tom asked.

“U.S. Army. Eight years.”

So he’d been right when he’d thought the man’s bearing reminded him of a soldier’s, Tom thought. “It’s a big change from the army to handyman at a mansion in the mountains.”

Rick grew quiet for a moment. “I needed a change in scenery, someplace different from what I’ve been doing the past eight years. Thought I’d seen enough death and suffering for one lifetime. A peaceful place in the mountains sounded pretty good.”

“Considering what happened here before, I’d think Sutton Hall wouldn’t be a place anyone would think of as peaceful.”

A shadow passed over the man’s face. Rick nodded in acknowledgment. “Guess I was counting on nothing like that happening here again. Wish I hadn’t been wrong about that.” He stared hard at Tom. “Any other questions?”

Tom was tempted, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Meredith clenching her fists. He’d gotten more than he expected from the man, certainly enough to think about for now. “No.”

“Not going to ask me if I killed her?”

Meredith jumped in. “No one thinks—”

“Did you?” Tom asked without missing a beat.

Rick’s stare never wavered. “Nope.”

Tom believed him. He wasn’t sure he could have said exactly why he did, and he knew he probably shouldn’t just take the man at his word. And yet, he believed him. Everything in his demeanor was entirely forthright. He was either a damn good liar, or he was telling the truth. In spite of everything, Tom’s gut said it was the latter. “Okay then.”

“What about you?” Rick shot back.

Tom raised a brow. “What about me?”

“How do we know it wasn’t you?”

“It wasn’t Tom,” Meredith interjected. “He was with me when the murder happened. We were here in the kitchen.”

“That’s right,” Ellen said. “You told us that.”

Tom glanced at her. There was a certain innuendo in her tone he couldn’t entirely read. She looked at him,