Meg Harris Mysteries 6-Book Bundle. R.J. Harlick

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Meg Harris Mysteries 6-Book Bundle - R.J. Harlick A Meg Harris Mystery

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the Indians, forgot about them. You don’t have much to do with them, do you?”

      “Well, we are neighbours,” I said and left it at that. His faintly derogatory tone told me he wouldn’t welcome my close relationship with Marie and especially Eric, whom he’d probably view as a threat. Gareth always did have a nasty streak of jealousy. He used to get quite upset when I spent what he considered too much time talking to another male.

      His face softened. His eyes shone with a forgotten tenderness. “Remember that trip we took to Waterton Lakes? This place has the same quiet, peaceful feel to it.” He paused, then continued, “Boy, we had some wonderful moments together, didn’t we, Megs?”

      With a few more words, he plunged me back into the happy years of our marriage when we were two young people very much in love. As the afternoon sun gradually spread its warmth into the verandah, we laughed and smiled over shared memories of exploratory trips to out-of-the-way places, of lingering afternoons lying in bed, of candlelight dinners and other special moments. Once in a while, the words would fade, as each of us became lost in our own private memories.

      After one long pause, Gareth said, “Don’t you think we could go back to those days?”

      Lulled by the memories, the soothing afternoon sun, I said, “Perhaps.”

      He reached for my hand lying beside my glass. For a second, I enjoyed the soft caress, then like an electric shock, the painful memory of his last touch flooded back. I jerked my hand away.

      “Hey, what gives? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he said.

      I shook my head, too stunned by the force of my reaction to come up with a good excuse.

      But it looked as if Gareth knew the cause. “I wasn’t going to say anything, Megs. I thought you wouldn’t want to drag up old dirt. But look, if it means anything, I’m sorry, really sorry I hurt you. I never meant to. I don’t know what got into me that day.”

      I took a long slow sip of vodka to try to still the trembling that had returned. “You’re right, I’d just as soon not drag up the old dirt. Why don’t you tell me about that new job of yours?”

      He turned a startled look towards me. “How do you know that?”

      “I called your old office number. Who did you go with? Anyone I know?”

      “No, you wouldn’t know them. Great job, though. Came after me and made an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

      “Enough to eat into your usual hefty credit card balances?”

      He laughed, “You sure know me, don’t you? Yeah, I like the high life, why not? And with the bonus I’ll get when I deliver on this special project, I should be on easy street.”

      “Oh, what’s that all about?”

      He lit up another cigarette, sipped his drink, then replied, “Nothing much, it would only bore you. Hey, what do you think about my new car?”

      “Great,” I said absentmindedly, while I thought about the special project that he didn’t want to divulge.

      “Company car. Didn’t have to spend a cent of my own.” He glanced quickly at his watch and continued, “What about yourself? Like living in the wilds?”

      “It suits me,” I said.

      “Do you think you’d ever move back to Toronto?”

      “In time perhaps, but not now.”

      “Well, you do have a special place here, Megs,” he said. “Not many like it. I know people who’d pay a fortune to stay at a place like this. Ever think of converting it into a lodge?” he asked.

      “No, why would I?”

      “Just a thought. How are you for finances these days, now that you’re no longer working?”

      “Aunt Aggie’s money provides me with enough. Besides, living here doesn’t cost much,” I replied, beginning to wonder why he was asking me these questions.

      “Must cost a bundle to maintain this old building, though?”

      I nodded. I’d just finished writing out a cheque for five thousand dollars to pay for the drilling of a new well.

      “Ever think of selling it?”

      My antenna went on alert. “Of course not.”

      Gareth rocked back and forth in Aunt Aggie’s chair. He puffed on his cigarette, then took a drink. I waited.

      Finally he said, “Look, I might as well not beat about the bush any longer. I’ve got this client who’s looking for a property exactly like yours to develop a resort. I know I could arrange it so you’d get top dollar.”

      “Now the truth comes out,” I said, trying to keep from shouting. But before I had a chance to really blast him, a loud pounding from the other side of the house cut me off.

      Half-hoping it might be Eric, I went to answer it. As I turned the corner of the verandah, I said, “Hi Eric, glad—” and stopped. Instead of Eric standing at the front door, it was the grinning mass of Charlie Cardinal.

      Too startled for words, I could only gape.

      “Expecting your boyfriend, eh? Whatever would your husband think? Tell Mr. Patterson I’m here.”

      “You never mentioned a boyfriend, Megs,” sounded Gareth’s voice at my ear. “He this guy Eric you called me on the phone? Never mind, we can talk about him later. Go inside while I see what this guy wants.”

      Gareth brushed past me and down the verandah stairs with Charlie Cardinal in tow and a barking Sergei not far behind. I remained rooted, trying to fathom why Charlie Cardinal was here, let alone how he knew Gareth.

      I watched Gareth march towards his car, abruptly turn around and jab his finger into Charlie’s chest. Charlie just stood there and took the full force of Gareth’s anger. For a second, I almost felt for Charlie, for I knew too well how it felt to be pummelled into the ground by Gareth’s scathing words. I strained to hear, but caught only the familiar condescending tone of his voice. I moved closer.

      “I told you not to come here,” Gareth hissed. “If you screw up this deal, Charlie, I’ll kill you.”

      His face twisted in anger, he finally noticed me. “Get inside, Meg. This has nothing to do with you.”

      Old habits die hard. I started to do his bidding, then I woke up. “The only person leaving is you . . . and your henchman,” I shouted.

      “Now, Megs, no need to get yourself worked up. You’ve got it all wrong.” Gareth tried to erase his anger with a conciliatory smile. But it didn’t work. The glint of sarcasm had returned to his eyes.

      And I was suddenly back to where we’d been three years ago. Gareth standing over me, saying those exact words in that same patronizing tone after I’d finally mustered up my courage to confront him about Janice. His words hadn’t stopped me. Determined to find out the truth, I’d believed that once he admitted to the affair that that would end it, and we’d go

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