P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 149
I touched his hand and said, "Let's leave the van here,
and I'll buy you a cup of coffee someplace."
To my surprise, he took my hand and laced his fingers
through mine. "Deal."
We strolled over the lovely wood bridge that spanned
Crestview Creek. After a minute or two, I gathered my
nerve and said, "So tell me more about the real Richard
Thayers."
"He was a great teacher and a true role model. Like I
just got through saying at the service." He released his
grasp and stuck his hand in his coat pocket. "And you've
already made it clear you weren't impressed by him."
"But I didn't know him. So enlighten me. Tell me
about your favorite experience in his classroom."
Sullivan thought for a moment, then smiled a little.
"That had to have been the day he brought a frog into the
classroom to demonstrate design ergonomics."
"Using a frog?" I asked with a smile.
"Like I said before, he was a nonconformist. He'd built
this mazelike foam-board house with a clear plastic roof.
In the center of the house is a sunken goldfish bowl, half
full of water. Then he sets the frog inside the outer wall.
And the frog just sits there. So Richard asks: 'Why doesn't
the frog move?' The students are calling out answers all
at once: 'The walls are too narrow.' 'The ceiling's too low,'
and so on, and Richard is making adjustments to the enclosure and nodding. This rapid interchange of ideas is
happening, and he asks us things like: 'What would make
this even better for the frog?' We keep firing ideas at him,
but, ultimately, the frog still isn't moving, even after
Richard has removed all the inner walls. We're throwing
out suggestions--may be it's too hot in there, or too cold,
or the walls should have been green or the floor covered
150 L e s l i e C a i n e
with silt. Finally, one girl says, 'How would we know? It's
just a stupid frog!' So Richard points at her and says,
'Whose fault is that? The frog's?' And I interrupt and say
to him, 'It's yours, because we didn't get the chance to research habitats for frogs.' And he grins and says, 'Exactly,
S.S. When you're building a home, you've got to build it
with the occupant's needs in mind. You can't expect your
client to always be able to tell you what those needs are.
You've got to be able to know what options to present. In
short, you've got to be smarter than the frog."
Although my first thought was how resentful our clients
would be to hear themselves likened to frogs, I said, "Wow.
He sounds like a wonderful, engaging teacher."
We reached the coffee shop, where eight aluminum
tables were crammed into a space big enough for only
six, ordered coffees, and found seats. Sullivan told me
several more anecdotes about Richard, both as a teacher
and as a sounding board for Sullivan's environmentally
minded designs. He then said, "Now that some time's
gone by, I'm ready and able to work with Burke again."
"You are?"
"Yes."
"Okay . . . but why do you want to? Are you starting to
doubt his guilt?"
"Not really. But I'll be better able to keep tabs on him
when I'm part of his inner circle."
"You're going to work for the person you think killed
your friend? Do you really think that's wise?"
He shrugged. "I can handle it." He checked the display on his cell phone. "Jeez. Look at the time!"
I glanced at my watch and silently agreed that it was
much later than I'd have guessed. We hurried back to the
van. As he moved toward me, I thought he was just going
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 151
to unlock my door, but to my total surprise, he took me in
his arms and kissed me tenderly. As our embrace ended
reluctantly, he whispered, "Thank you," then opened the
door for me.
My head was spinning, but as Sullivan drove us toward
the office, I remembered reading an article in a women's
magazine, addressing what they'd termed "funeral passion." Apparently, attending funerals encourages us to
confront our own mortality, thereby inspiring false feelings of passion.
I had to stop reading women's magazines.
didn't call him on it, judging by his caginess, his "something to do" had to be with Ms. Hands-on. Just like that,
my mood did one of its flip-flops. I avoided looking at
him as I got out of his van and into mine.
Feeling miserable, I drove to M.H. Custom Furniture
and went into Matthew's store. He was there alone. I
forced a smile. "Hi, Matthew."
He smirked at me. "Well, well. Erin Gilbert. This is a
surprise. Fraternizing with the enemy?"
"I don't consider you a personal enemy."
"Just an enemy of the environment."
I shrugged at the element of truth in that statement.
He grinned. "You're going to love the article in tomorrow's paper, about how I'm giving a discount to all cardcarrying members of Consumers for Common Sense."
"I heard about that group yesterday, for the first time. I
met the woman who founded it, in fact."
"Asia McClure," he said with a nod. "She's the one
who suggested the discount."
152 L e s l i e C a i n e
"What's this 'common sense' that they've apparently
got and the rest of us lack?"
"We object to environmental extremists. We're for sensible fair exchange on the open market. We don't want
the government or anyone else telling us what we should
or should not buy."
"Isn't it self-defeating for any business owner in
Crestview to actively come out against conservation?"
"I'm not against conservation. Just against this notion
that we've got to criminalize selling products made from
rare and exotic materials. It's basic supply and demand.
When the supply is low, the demand and the price go up.
Nobody is ever banned from selling antiques, or rare
coins."
"It's not the same thing. One's a fixed entity. The other
is trying to preserve diminishing resources."
"Oh, we'll have wiped the human race off the planet
long before anyone will notice or care that the mahogany
trees are gone, too. Anyway, what brings you to my offensive little corner of the world? Other than to debate
global policies, I mean."
"As it happens, I'm on a mission from one of my
clients. Burke Stratton."
"Mr. Green Machine himself? That's ironic."
"There's a corner desk you make that would be perfect
for him. Provided you use a zero-off-gassing finish on it,
of course."
"Of course," he replied. "So Gilbert and Sullivan isn't
boycotting my company?"
"Not yet."
"Glad to hear it." He grinned. "I'm grateful for your
hypocrisy."
"Oh, from everything I've read you're in complete
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 153
compliance with the trade laws. You're simply trying to
&n
bsp; change them through legal means. Am I giving you too
much credit?"
"No, that's absolutely true."
"You're sure? Because it's not too late for me to boycott
you."
He held up his palms and gave me a sincere-looking
smile. "Honest, Erin. I might not be the planet's best steward, but I'm nowhere near its worst, and I never will be."
"That's nice to hear, Matthew. For one thing, this sale
will be contingent on your practices remaining true to
the tests. If Burke discovers you are, in fact, violating import agreements, he's going to demand a refund."
"I can't see that happening anytime soon," he said
cryptically.
My cell phone rang. It was Sullivan. I excused myself
and walked to the far side of the store to answer quietly.
"I'm at Burke's. You'd better come out here right
away," Steve said.
So he wasn't with Jennifer Hands-on Fairfax. Maybe
I'd jumped to conclusions. Maybe he wasn't seeing her,
after all. Part of me wanted to leap for joy, but the somberness in his voice kept me grounded. "What's wrong?"
"I know why Richard disqualified Burke." Before offering any additional explanation, he hung up.
I finished placing my order with Matthew and left.
Some fifteen or twenty minutes later, Sullivan was waiting for me in his van when I pulled into Burke's driveway.
"Is Burke here?"
He shook his head. "The garage is empty. That's the
first thing I checked."
154 L e s l i e C a i n e
"You're here by yourself?"
He spread his arms. "It was the only way I could search
for evidence in private."
"Evidence that he was cheating on the contest, or that
he killed Richard?"
"Could be both."
Sullivan walked me down along the small creek that
formed the water source for the pond. He pointed at the
ground. "Look carefully along the underbrush."
At first I didn't see anything, but when I told him that,
he said, "Look harder."
"Uh-oh." I stared in disbelief. "Are those power cables?"
"Yep. I traced them back. They lead from Asia's to
Burke's property. Burke has been siphoning power from
Asia McClure. His home isn't truly self-sustaining, after
all."
I stared at the cable, still not quite believing my eyes.
It was impossible to believe that nobody had noticed
this--that Sullivan and I hadn't noticed it--during the
full six months and more since Burke had first entered
the Earth Love contest. Finally, I muttered, "This is
just . . . unbelievable."
"It's what Richard must have meant when he talked
about what our client was 'really doing.' Let's face it,
Gilbert. Burke has a double motive for killing Richard."
"You think he would have killed Richard just to save
himself from getting booted out of this contest?"
"By the time you consider their past relationship, yes."
"According to Burke, he was trying to resolve their
problems."
"He was lying."
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 155
"How do you know? Did you find anything in his
notes about their troubles?"
"No, I didn't. But I knew Richard. He didn't pull all
this out of a hat. If he complained about someone, that
person had a problem. Period. So Burke did something to
him."
"Or maybe Richard never forgave Burke for the vile
things that he said when his son died!"
"I just can't believe that," Sullivan said. "I'm reporting
this to Earth Love."
"Absolutely. But maybe there's another explanation.
Maybe he wasn't siphoning power with the cable, but
rather--"
A twig snapped behind us. I turned quickly. Burke was
standing there, glowering at us. "What cable?" he demanded. "What are you talking about?"
I felt more than saw Sullivan tense up, and I knew that
he was inwardly seething at Burke's presence. "Sorry to
be sneaking around on your property, Burke," Sullivan
said, his voice clipped. I doubted Burke would detect the
source of his discomfiture, at least. "It's my doing, not
Erin's. I wanted the chance to double-check in privacy
whatever Richard Thayers had found on your property
that wasn't kosher."
"But I haven't done anything wrong!" Burke protested.
"What cable are you--"
He drew closer and looked at the ground by our feet.
He'd obviously spotted the black cable for himself.
"It's a power line from Asia's house to yours."
"It can't be!"
"Burke," Sullivan said, "this cable runs between your
and Asia's properties. It's located at the back corners of
both of your yards, where the power company is likeliest
156 L e s l i e C a i n e
to have installed their power lines. It looks like it's a
splice, which taps into her power supply and feeds into
yours."
"But . . . I didn't put it there."
"Somebody did. And it's going to be really hard to believe that anyone other than you would have installed
and buried the cable without your knowledge."
"But . . . that's exactly what happened!" He gaped at
the coax cable, as if willing it to vanish. "Maybe Richard
set me up."
"He wouldn't have done that," Sullivan insisted. "He
wouldn't have any reason to do that. He'd already said he
was stepping down."
"Burke?" I interjected. "We're going to have to report
this to Walter Emory and see what he says about it."
"I'm being set up! If not by Richard, then by somebody! By Darren or Asia, maybe."
"That would have taken a lot of nerve," I said, "not to
mention electrical know-how."
"Asia's a major nutcase, but she's also a genius. And
Darren's held several jobs, including repairing computers for IBM. Either one of them could have done this."
"But they're both fanatics about watching out in the
neighborhood. Unless they were working in cahoots, one
would have caught the guilty other in the act."
"Or it was done at night, or when one of them was out
of town. In any case, there's no way I did this myself. So
go ahead and call Walter. I've got to find out who's doing
this to me!" He looked at us, wild-eyed, and grabbed his
head. "I'm being framed again!"
c h a p t e r 1 3
he three of us--Burke, Sullivan, and I--went inTside to talk things out. Sullivan was obviously
loath to admit that Burke's claims of his innocence were
very convincing, but at least he was attentive and cordial
toward our client. Sullivan got ahold of Walter Emory
and convinced him to meet us at Burke's house immediately. "It's time for Earth Love to hire a private investigator," Sullivan urged Walter over the phone. "Someone
who can test for fingerprints."
Burke said to me, "I'll have someone cover for me at
the lab," as he dialed a number on his cell phone.
158 L e s l i e C a i n e
While we waited, Burke paced and fidgeted incessantly with his glasses, muttering that he couldn't believe
this was happening. He continued to offer various scenarios as to how someone c
ould have gotten away with it. He
even suggested, "Maybe it was Margot Troy. I think she
still resents me for breaking up with her. I don't think her
ego could withstand my winning the contest right after
dumping her."
"Margot doesn't live anywhere near here," I replied.
"She couldn't have run those wires without being seen by
anyone at the three houses with views of the footpath."
"She could have easily done it with her boyfriend's
help, though," he fired back.
"You think Jeremy would have sabotaged a house of
his own design?" Sullivan asked.
He shrugged. "If he's nuts enough about his girlfriend.
Guys will do all sorts of crazy things for their ladies."
"Not that crazy," Sullivan retorted.
"The thing is, Jeremy and I have been butting heads
lately," Burke countered. "I got real concerned about my
basement after reading about Richard's lawsuit, and
Jeremy keeps trying to blow me off. What if he realized
he's backed the wrong horse? That my house is falling to
pieces, thanks to his faulty design? He could have decided to cut his losses . . . shift the blame for losing the
contest onto me by making it look like I was cheating,
and help his wealthy girlfriend to win."
Steve gaped at Burke for a moment, then shifted his
gaze to me, and I knew at once that Steve's certainty that
Burke was guilty had been shaken. Either Asia or Darren
was angry enough about Burke's windmill that one of
them could have tried to sabotage his chances in the con-P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 159
test, and now Burke had just given us plausible motives
for Margot or Jeremy to frame him, as well.
"Discovering this cable might give you exactly what
you wanted," I said to Burke, patting him on the shoulder. "This is your chance to answer Richard's charges
against you."
Burke sighed. "Yeah. I guess that's one good thing to
come of it. As long as the judges believe me when I say I
didn't hook the damned thing up myself. What do you
think my chances are of that happening?"
Sullivan cleared his throat. "You've got Erin and me to
vouch for you. You're our client, so Earth Love will know
we have a vested interest, but it can't hurt."
Burke said, "Thanks, man," and gave him a friendly
jab on his arm.
I gave Sullivan a grateful smile, which he didn't acknowledge. It killed him, I knew, to have to admit to himself that his mentor's intense rage at Burke might very