Page 149 of Sugar & Shadows

Frankie sat in a massaging pedicure chair while Nina carefully put away polish bottles by color.

“I’m technically closed,” she explained. “This way we can talk without worrying about eavesdroppers.” Lip curling, she stared at my hands. “I can’t let you walk out of here looking like that.” She grimaced at my chipped nails and overgrown cuticles.

“That means she’s happy to see you,” Frankie quipped as she scooted forward in her seat.

With a roll of her eyes, Nina went back to fussing with bottles at her station.

Frankie rubbed her hands together. “I like you, but if you’re wasting our time…” She shook her head.

There it was. The real reason I’d asked for this meeting.

“I’ve been looking into things.” I said slowly. “And I want you to know, I’m doing everything thing I can.”

“We all know Caleb didn’t kill Will.” Frankie pushed to her feet. Despite the freezing temperatures, she was once again wearing a tank top, showing off her defined, tattooed arms.

“You know I can’t speak on that,” I said carefully.

She growled at me, but I let it go. I couldn’t blame her.

“I think there are a lot of coincidences,” I went on. “And it’s obvious that the official story is missing a lot of details.”

She sighed, seemingly pacified.

“The trail was cold for three months.”

“Because he didn’t do it,” she told me, her voice rising. “None of this lines up.”

I nodded. “The confession solved the investigation politically. Doesn’t mean it solved it logically.”

She paced to the other side of the salon and back again. “Our brother? He’s a hothead. He’s young and stupid and thinks he’s invincible. But Will was his best friend. They grew up together.”

“Tell me about Will,” I said softly. All I knew was what I’d gotten from reports and files.

“Poor kid.” Nina wrapped my old gels in foil to remove them. “He was dealt a shitty hand from the start.”

“Maple family,” Frankie explained. “Big farm on the north side of town. His great-grandfather founded the local co-op after the war. That was back when everyone boiled their own syrup. They’d store it up on the McManus land. Had a cold storage barn. Then all the local farmers would get together to negotiate the best rates for sale. It was a regional reserve system, like they do in Canada. Prosperity for everyone.”

“But the co-op failed in the nineties,” Nina explained.

A signal in my brain pinged. “The co-op failed? How? Maple syrup is in such high demand.”

“Prices tanked, investors pulled out, and companies like Sugar Moon swooped in,” she said. “Cut costs for farmers by buying sap direct and building factories to boil and bottle the syrup. It made it more efficient for the farmers to sell to them.”

“The McManus family lost everything,” Frankie went on. “Will’s grandpa, who he’s named after, shot himself in his truck a year later. Will was only a baby. After that, his dad started running drugs from the Canadian border and ended up in prison.”

“Eventually,” Nina said, “Sugar Moon bought the property.”

Of course they had.

“They don’t use most of it. The trees weren’t maintained.”

“And Will?”

“His dream was to buy it back.” Frankie sighed. “Worked nonstop—deliveries, office work, maintenance, shifts on the floor. Kid did every job there he could to learn the business.”

“And he was going to school,” Nina added. “Working toward his business degree at the community college over in Rutledge. Used to tell Caleb he wouldn’t just rebuild but make it better than before.”

I perused the rack of polish on the wall, the wild rainbow of colors, my brain working to incorporate this information. A good kid with a family tragedy. His determination to rebuild.