who Miguel was. I found out that McGill had lost his wife not long after they were married, and after some mutual commiseration we were devouring lunch and chatting like old friends.
“So, was anything ever resolved between my uncle and the Turners?” I said, turning the conversation to business. “What were they fighting over?”
He shrugged, dipping a big chunk of savory muffin in his soup. “Bad business blood,” he mumbled, around a mouthful of muffin. “When Rusty disappeared, everything screeched to a halt. There’s a lot more to it than that, but I don’t know everything.”
I exchanged a glance with Shilo. It seemed like McGill was avoiding the subject, or trying to pass over it lightly. “Did he just disappear? What do you think happened to him? Is he really dead?”
McGill shrugged yet again, as he chewed and swallowed. “I just don’t know. There was so much going on. Rusty Turner . . .” He shook his head and made a sound between his teeth. “He was a contentious sort. Melvyn wasn’t the only one he was having trouble with.”
“But Binny clearly thinks he’s dead,” I insisted, refusing to be sloughed off.
“Tom’s got her convinced that Melvyn killed him, and—”
“Tom?”
“Her older brother. He worked for both Turner Construction
and
Turner Wynter, their construction partnership.”
“I didn’t know my uncle and Rusty Turner were in business together!”
“Oh, yeah! I guess I didn’t exactly say that. They had a company together, and Rusty’s son, Tom, worked for them. So did Dinah Hooper, Rusty’s sorta girlfriend. Rusty and Tom had Turner Construction, too. Anyway, Turner Wynter was working on the castle, as well as on developing other properties.”
“What other properties?”
He shrugged. “They had a few interests.”
“If they had a company together, that’s more than just a few common interests.” Was he being evasive or just noncommittal? “I don’t want any more trouble. If they keep digging holes . . .” I shook my head.
“Hey, I’m just
guessing
that Binny and Tom are behind the holes,” McGill said, holding up both hands. He pushed away his bowl. “I don’t have a scrap of evidence to back that up.” He glanced down at his watch and leaped up. “Shoot! I gotta go.” His cell phone wouldn’t work—service in Autumn Vale and environs was spotty, at best, he admitted—so he made a quick call using the castle landline for someone to pick him up. It was fortunate that he had left the landline hooked up for just that purpose, in case he got stuck out at his most remote listing without cell coverage. He then said, “Got a client from outta town meeting me at a house, and I’d better go home and clean up first. I’ll be back tomorrow to fill in more holes. Thank you, ladies, for the lunch. Those muffins . . .” He shook his head and rubbed his stomach, where a half-dozen cheddar-bacon muffins now lived. “
So
good!”
“I made a lot. Do you want to take some with you?” I asked, and laughed at the hopeful look on his face. I popped another half dozen in a big baggie and handed them to him. “They’re best while they’re fresh. You can warm them up in the microwave.”
Shilo and I washed up the mismatched jumble of bowls, mugs, and cutlery, then took a ramble around the castle. It was soon clear that the pattern of the building was a
U
shape. The kitchen and pantry was on the end of one prong, with a neglected kitchen garden behind. The entrance McGill had shown me in the butler’s pantry opened right out onto the huge swath of land where he was working, filling in holes.
But I hadn’t slept since the day before, and Shilo was always ready to snooze, so we both hit the hay early. I fell asleep right away, then awoke in the pitch black of night, feeling confused and scared for a few minutes. I finally figured out where I was, and once I fully came to, my mind began to teem with questions and ideas. I peeked in Shi’s room, but she