Bran New Death(34)

I got out and walked to the edge of the road, where there was a break in the tree cover. Shilo joined me. The town was laid out like a little animated map, the main street, Abenaki Avenue, pretty much a straight shot through town, and the streets off it curving along rising elevations. This was the place I had stopped the morning I arrived; I had been just a couple of miles from the castle and hadn’t known it. A distance away along the valley, I could see some kind of industrial business: an office trailer, a big warehouse, a machine yard with lots of heavy machinery lined up, and stacks of construction materials. I wondered if that was Turner Construction, or Turner Wynter, whatever it was called. What was going to become of that business now? It must already be in tatters, with my uncle gone, Rusty missing, presumed dead, and now Tom gone, too.

I shared my thoughts with Shilo, and then said, “Poor Binny. She lost her dad, and now she’s lost her brother.” I got back in the car and we made our way into town. I directed her to Golden Acres, and dashed in to give the muffins to the kitchen staff to disperse. I’d visit with Gogi and Doc another day. As we then drove down Abenaki Avenue, I saw that the bakery was actually open.

“Should I go in and say how sorry I am to Binny?”

Shilo guided the car to the curb and parked. “I’ll go in with you.”

I felt trepidation as I entered. There were a half-dozen people already in there. Given what had happened to her brother, I was surprised Binny was there and open for business as usual. Her relationship with her brother was something I knew little about. The baker was serving customers and she didn’t seem any more or any less grumpy than she had the last time I was in there. I waited my turn, and, with Shilo by my side, came up to the counter. “Binny, I just . . . I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what happened to your brother.”

She swallowed, and tears welled in her eyes. She simply nodded. I was relieved. I’d been afraid, after the confrontation I had with her brother, that she’d think I did it. Her face was white, though, and it looked like she was just holding herself together by a thread.

A hunched-over fellow of indeterminate age, thin as a rail, and with a sparse, fine covering of hair on his head, said, “I bet it was them two guys who showed up last year asking all kind of questions. That was just before your dad disappeared, Bin.”

I watched him with interest; he was young, probably about Shilo’s age, but had the stature of a little old man, and I wondered if his hunched look was a congenital condition or just a mannerism.

“Gordy, that was a year ago,” Binny said. “You can’t possibly think they did something to Tom.”

“But they were real suspicious, asking all kind of questions about your dad’s business, and even about Tom.”

She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I don’t understand what’s going on anymore.”

Another local who had just entered, a fellow about the same age as Gordy, chimed in, “You gotta know it was probably Junior Bradley who did Tom in.”

“What are you talking about, Zeke?” Binny asked sharply. “Tom and Junior were best friends.”

“Who is Junior Bradley?” Shilo said.

Gordy, who had been watching Shilo with that hopeless admiration most men felt for her, said, “Junior is the zoning commissioner in town. Him and Tom were good buddies, but they had a big fight the other night at the bar up Ridley Ridge.”

“What was the fight about?” Shilo asked.

“A girl,” Gordy said.

Zeke chimed in. “Yeah, Tom and Junior were both after Emerald, one of the dancers at the bar. They got into it, and Junior threatened Tom. Said he’d better leave Emerald alone if he knew what was good for him.”

I had been right; there were others out there who had been less than thrilled with Tom. “Were you guys there?” I asked.

Both men turned crimson.

“Uh, nope. I heard about it from a friend,” Zeke said, his Adam’s apple bouncing up and down his throat, his gaze turned away from all of us women. He stared steadily at the wall of teapots.

“Or, the awful event could be connected to . . . the Brotherhood,” Gordy said, his tone sententious.

Both Zeke and Binny rolled their eyes.

“The Brotherhood?” I said.

“You’ve got to get off that kick,” Zeke replied to his friend, with the air of someone who has said the same thing many times before. He turned to me. “The Brotherhood of the Falcon is a bunch of old farts who sit around and make exclamations, or declamations, or whatever they do.”

“Declarations,” Binny said. “The last one was something about keeping the Brotherhood all male, as if any women would want to join! Zeke’s right, Gordy. Those are just a bunch of old guys drinking beer and remembering their glory days.”