Bought The Farm (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 1) Page 9

  “Dad isn't much of a talker,” he said, holding out his hand. “I'm Davis Konrath and that's my dad, Len.”

  I shook his hand. “A pleasure to meet you. And I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch.”

  “But you're doing it anyway,” Len Konrath muttered, setting his mug down and clearing his throat. “And I know who you are.”

  I could see Gunnar’s words were true. Len Konrath was definitely a grump. “I just had a question for you, if you don't mind?”

  The elder Konrath cleared his throat again. “And if I do?”

  “Dad, knock it off,” Davis said, frowning across the table. Then he looked at me. “Ask away.”

  I flashed him a grateful smile.

  “The wiring was fine,” Len said, before I could get any words out. “I did it myself 24 years ago. It was on a Tuesday and Chuck Windegard helped me. He's dead now. Heart attack, two years ago. But between the two of us, we knew electrical wiring like nobody's business. So there wasn't a problem with that.”

  I was completely confused. “I'm...I'm not sure what you mean?”

  “We did the box ourselves,” he continued, as if he hadn't heard me. “We got the permit and Chuck had done wiring his whole life. So the work we did was solid.” He picked up the mug and fixed me with a hard stare. “So if that's what you're here to complain about, you can just turn back around and walk away, Miss, because I am not having any of what you've got.”

  I stood there for a moment, still confused. And then I realized I was flat-out tired of everyone in this little town assuming they knew what I wanted and who I was. Actually, I wasn't flat-out tired.

  I was angry.

  “I have no idea what you're talking about,” I finally said, my hands on my hips. “Literally none. So let me first tell you that I don't appreciate being spoken to as if I'm some toddler who just dropped my toy under your table and maybe suggest that you ought to listen rather than assume you know why I'm standing here. It's called courtesy, something that really seems to be lacking in this town.”

  The old man's lips twitched and he set his mug down.

  “And you can give me your tough old man stare all you want, but you better believe me when I tell you I've been stared down by tougher old goats than you,” I continued, my voice rising. “It's gonna take a lot more than an ugly face and a small IQ to run me off.”

  He worked his jaw back and forth.

  His son's eyes widened.

  The elder Konrath picked up his mug again. “My wiring didn't cause your fire. I'll get you the permit paperwork for your insurance company.”

  I looked at Davis for a moment, then back to Len. “Sure, that'd be great. But I'm not standing here to ask you about that. If you say the wiring was good, then I believe you. I'm letting the insurance company handle the fire.”

  He took a sip from the mug. “Well, I don't know nothing about them bones, either.”

  It occurred to me that maybe I should've come over to his table with a lot more questions than I had. “Well, I didn't come over to ask about those, either.”

  He stared at me over the coffee cup. “Then why exactly are you standing here?”

  “Jeez, Dad,” Davis grumbled, shaking his head.

  “I want to know about the other offer,” I said.

  Len Konrath leaned back in the booth. “The other offer?”

  “I'm told you received another offer before mine,” I said. “For your farm. And that it was a better one.”

  Len Konrath stared into his coffee cup. “Where'd you hear that?”

  “I've heard it from several people,” I told him. It wasn’t several. It was two, but he didn’t need to know that. “I'm just curious as to why you would've accepted a lesser offer from me.”

  Davis picked up his glass of water, watching his father.

  “I'm not really sure that's any of your business,” Len Konrath said.

  “I'm not sure it is, either,” I said. “But I've found a dead body on the property and lost a building in a fire. I'm starting to think those things aren't a coincidence, and I'm wondering if someone's angry that I'm on the farm and they're not.”

  He raised a bushy eyebrow at me. “So you think those things happened on purpose? Someone dropped off some bones and then took a match to the bungalow?”

  He, like everyone else in town, knew the details of what had been going on at my farm as well as I did. I wondered if there was some sort of closed Facebook group that shared gossip by the hour.

  “I'm just trying to learn what I can,” I said. “That's it. And I've heard from a few different people that you got a better offer on your place before I made mine.”

  Len Konrath shifted again in the booth and his expression soured. “People in this town just can't keep their mouths shut.”

  “I agree,” I said, nodding. “They really can't.”

  “I don't see how telling you anything is going to help you.”

  “And I don't see how telling me is going to hurt,” I countered.

  “Maybe it just ain't your business?”

  “Or maybe you know more than you're letting on.”

  His brows narrowed and his eyes went cold. “You think I've been messing with you since I sold you my place?”

  I shrugged. “Since you haven't told me anything, I wouldn't know, would I?”

  He pointed a bony finger at me. “You've got a lot of nerve.”

  “Thank you.” Based on what I’d learned about Len and his attitude over the last few minutes, he probably could have said much, much worse.

  His finger shook. “I took your offer because it was a fair offer. Because you were offering me cash and a quick close. I didn't care what he offered me, I wasn't taking it.”

  He. Finally.

  “I've been tired of his attitude for years,” Konrath continued. “And I didn't need any of his guff in selling the place. He was the last person I wanted to deal with.” He took a quick sip from the mug. “I've earned the right to deal with the people I wanna deal with and to not deal with the people who rub me the wrong way.”

  He fixed me with a stare at the end of that statement that left no doubt he was including me in that last group. But I was already beyond caring what Len Konrath thought of me.

  “Who is he?” I asked.

  Konrath set his mug down and laid his hands flat on the table. “Since you aren't gonna leave me alone until I tell you, I guess I don't have a choice.” His gray eyes were as cold as steel. “Gunnar Forsythe, that's who.”

  TWENTY

  I blinked several times, letting the name run through my head like it was on repeat.

  “Gunnar?” I finally said out loud. “From across the road?”

  “Gunnar from across the road,” Konrath confirmed. “That's the one.” He watched me for a moment. “Sound like you've already met him then.”

  I was still processing that it was Gunnar. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

  Konrath's stony facade finally cracked for a moment and he chuckled, but it was more mean than fun. “He has that effect on people.”

  “You okay?” Davis asked, eyeing me. He looked genuinely concerned.

  “I'm...yes, I'm fine,” I lied. I tried to slow my racing pulse and the roar building in me ears. “I'm fine. I'm just…surprised.”

  “Aren't they all,” Len mumbled over his mug.

  I tried to focus. “Why…why did he want to buy your farm?”

  “Didn't ask him because I didn't care,” Len said.

  “You don't get along with him?”

  Len shrugged, but didn't say anything.

  “But why wouldn't you sell to him?” I asked, still confused. “If he offered you over your asking price, why wouldn't you just sell?”

  Konrath set the mug down and pushed it aside. “Because I didn't want to. How's that for a reason?” He looked across the table. “I'm done, Davis. Let's go.”

  Davis looked a little unsure of what to do as his father heaved himself out of the booth and stood next to me. His bac
k was slightly hunched, putting his eyes right at my level.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Day,” Konrath said, his tone indicating it was anything but. He stepped around me, waved at Dawn behind the bar, and pushed through the front door of the restaurant.

  I stood there for a moment, trying to get my head around the entire conversation.

  “Are you okay?” Davis Konrath asked again as he slid out of the booth.

  “I don't know what I am,” I said.

  That was the truth. I was reeling over what Len had just told me, because it meant Gunnar had lied to me. Gunnar, my friendly, handsome next-door neighbor, had known exactly who had made the better offer on the farm. And he hadn’t told me.

  Davis stood. He was taller than I expected, a few inches over six feet. He glanced toward the front door and winced. “I'm sorry about my dad.”

  “It's okay.” A grumpy old man was the least of my concerns at that moment.

  “Well, he has no reason to be rude to you,” he said. “Just sorta his way. And selling the property has been hard on him. Wasn't his first choice and he misses it.”

  “Why did he sell then?”

  He started to say something, then bit off his words. He rubbed his chin, thinking. “Things have been tough lately for him. His savings didn't last him the way he'd hoped. My mom passed a while back and she sort of kept everything in line in that regard. So he didn't have much choice other than to sell it and move in with my sisters.”

  I immediately felt guilty for taking the man's farm if he really hadn’t wanted to get rid of it. No matter that it had all been done on the up and up, it felt strange to be occupying a home that the previous owner hadn't wanted to leave. My irritation with the elder Konrath morphed to sympathy. Not completely—he had still been a prickly pear—but maybe there were reasons for that gruff and sour façade.

  “But if he needed the money, why didn't he take the better offer?” I asked. “That doesn't make much sense to me.”

  Davis shrugged, a small smile on his face. “My dad's a stubborn man. If he made up his mind that he wasn't going to sell to Gunnar, then Gunnar could've offered him ten million for the farm and he wouldn't have taken it.” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “That's just him.”

  “So what does he have against Gunnar?” I asked. I knew what I now had against my neighbor, but I wondered what history was between the two of them.

  “I really don't know,” he answered. “You might've picked up that my dad isn't exactly warm and fuzzy.”

  “I did catch that,” I admitted.

  He smiled. “Yeah, well, he's also not real talky, either. He believes in an economy of words. Or something like that. So he keeps most of his thoughts to himself. Including his thoughts about his former neighbor.”

  There was a rapping on the front glass and we both turned.

  Len Konrath was staring at his son through the window, and he wasn't happy.

  “I need to go,” Davis said. “I'm sorry I couldn't be more help. And, again, I'm sorry if he came off a little rude.”

  “Don't worry about it,” I told him. “And thank you.”

  I watched him leave and stood in the middle of the bar for a moment, thinking about what I'd just learned. I'd gone to The Wicked Wich to find more answers, but I felt like all I'd done was add to my growing list of questions.

  As I headed for the door, purposely avoiding Dawn's shrewd gaze, I wondered if buying this farm in Latney would turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life.

  TWENTY ONE

  My anger percolated as I drove.

  It started the moment I got in my car and headed home.

  Home.

  Whether I liked it or not, the farm was my home now. I'd fully committed to it, both financially and emotionally. I couldn't turn back, despite everything that had happened.

  But I was bound and determined to get to the bottom of things. To find answers. And I knew exactly where I was going to start.

  I eased off the accelerator, realizing that my anger was giving me a lead foot, and slowed down to an acceptable rate of speed. The last thing I needed was to be stopped by Sheriff Lewis or some other local cop who would only serve to amp up my irritation.

  When I got to the farm, I kept on driving, right past my house and right past my driveway.

  I wasn't ready to go home just yet.

  I was going to have a word with Gunnar.

  A long, winding gravel road about half a mile long led me to an A-frame home that looked like it belonged in the mountains of Colorado rather than a farming community in Virginia. It was angles of logs and glass, with a long deck that ran the length of the front of it and around to the sides. I didn’t want to admire it, didn’t want to wonder what it looked like inside.

  Gunnar’s pickup truck was parked to one side of the house, next to a shiny black motorcycle. A gray cat lounged on the railing above the front deck, eyeing me as it tried to find a little bit of sunshine in the cloud-filled sky.

  Gunnar was bent down in a garden just beyond the truck, a green hose stretched from the side of the house in his hand, water spraying out over a row of plants. He looked up when he heard me coming and held up a hand in greeting, holding the hose over the tender plants.

  I pulled the car to a halt, killed the engine, and got out, slamming the door behind me.

  He dropped the hose into the garden area and stood. “That was a pretty severe slam.”

  “You lied to me,” I said, stalking toward him.

  His friendly expression changed to one of confusion. “I what?”

  “Lied to me,” I said. “I asked if you knew who made the offer on the house before mine and you told me no.”

  His expression darkened. “Rainy, hang on a minute...”

  “And it was you,” I continued, my voice rising. “You were the one who made the offer. And you lied to me without even blinking.”

  “I did—”

  “I hate liars,” I barked at him. “Despise them. But you acted like you didn't know anything.”

  His lips pinched together in a tight line and he suddenly wasn't standing nearly as tall as usual. “Rainy, listen. I didn't—”

  I cut him off again. “You’ve been pretending to be my friend this whole time, haven’t you? Why? Were you hoping to get close to me so you could run me off?”

  “No, I—”

  “Because whatever you were thinking, you were wrong,” I said, jabbing a finger in the air at him. “I bought that farm and I'm staying. If you couldn't strike a deal with that old man, that's your problem. Not mine. But let me be very clear here.” I stared at him, my heart hammering inside of my chest. “I don't need friends who lie to me. Ever. I don't need friends who are befriending me simply because they have an ulterior motive. And I don't need friends like you, Gunnar. So you stay on your property and I'll stay on mine and when we pass each other on that road, you can wave and I'll show you my middle finger.”

  I turned and left before he could say another word.

  TWENTY TWO

  I wasn't much for confrontation, actually loathed it, but as I drove away from Gunnar's, I had to admit that I felt pretty good. Whether it was learning he was a phony or just blowing off steam, I felt some of the stress that had invaded my body over the previous few days begin to evaporate.

  Until I saw Sheriff Lewis getting out of his truck in my driveway.

  I sighed, drove around him, and parked my own car.

  He tipped the brim of his hat in my direction. “Ms. Day.”

  “Hello, Sheriff,” I said, not bothering to pretend I was happy to see him. “What can I do for you?”

  He pushed the brim back up. “Oh. I'm still just working on, you know. The investigation.”

  “Which one?”

  He seemed puzzled by that for a moment, then the invisible bulb turned on. “Ah, right. Well, I guess, mostly the first. The bones and whatnot.”

  “Okay.”

  We stood there and
looked at one another for a moment.

  “You know, we don't really find a lot of dead bodies in Latney,” he offered. “It's a pretty unusual thing.”

  “I think you alluded to that before,” I said, nodding. “I'd assume it is a little off-putting.”

  “Yes, yes. That's certainly what it is.” He let his eyes drift past me and take in the property behind me. “You noticed anything else out of the ordinary?”

  “You mean other than the fire that burned one of my buildings to the ground?” I asked. “Because that seems a little unordinary. At least to me.”

  He sniffed at the air. “Well, sure. That's another one that I can't say is a regularity around here.”

  I had no idea where he was going with this. But that was how most of my previous conversations had been with him. “Other than the fire, no. I haven't noticed anything really out of the ordinary.”

  It wasn’t the truth, not by a long stretch. I could mention Dawn’s hostility or Gunnar’s deceptiveness or his own friend Len’s gruffness, but what would that accomplish? I could mention the melted lighter fluid can, but what would he do about it? Nothing. And honestly, maybe those things weren’t out of the order. To me, sure, but from the sound of things, it seemed like that was just the way things were around here. At least for someone who didn’t belong.

  I didn't think that was what he was talking about, though, and I didn't think a conversation with him about any of it would be productive in anything other than giving me a headache.

  He tugged on his earlobe. “Tell me again where you moved from?”

  “Arlington.”

  He frowned.

  “D.C.,” I said, hoping that would clarify and wondering how anyone who lived in Virginia didn’t know where Arlington was.

  “And how come?”

  I didn’t know I needed a reason to move.

  “Well, I retired from my job,” I said. “And because I wanted to.”

  He pursed his lips and looked at my car. “And what was that job again?”