by Meri Allen
Tillie and I sat at a picnic bench in front of the shop. In the gathering twilight, I silently read the report as Tillie munched her ice cream cone.
Deceased found in bedroom. Mother stated deceased had taken sleeping pills on occasion under doctor’s supervision. Mother found girl in the morning when she didn’t come to breakfast. Empty bottle of sleeping pills found by deceased’s bed.
The medical examiner’s report corroborated Martha Woodley’s records. Brooke was pregnant.
Decedent’s mother has no knowledge of the identity of deceased’s boyfriend.
The sleeping pills had suppressed her breathing.
Stomach contents … blueberry pie.
Tillie sat across from me enjoying the warm night air, savoring her delicious creamy treat.
“Do you remember when Brooke Danforth died?” I asked.
Tillie cocked her head. “Yes. No. What I remember more was that it was the first time I heard about eating disorders.”
When she finished, Tillie thanked me, got into her red convertible Beetle, and took off. I sifted through the papers again and realized that something was missing. Not something, someone. There was no mention of Nina Baldwin. I guess she’d gone home after baking the pie with Brooke.
On my phone, I searched “bulimia” and found this: “an eating disorder in which a large quantity of food is consumed in a short period of time, often followed by feelings of guilt or shame.”
If you knew your friend had bulimia, would you bake them a pie?
Chapter 45
The windows of Buzzy’s farmhouse glowed with warm light. Why were the lights on? A car I didn’t recognize was parked by the kitchen door, a Zipcar with Massachusetts plates. Caroline was home?
“Riley, is that you?” Caroline called as I entered. Sprinkles lunged from under the kitchen table and I just managed to avoid tripping on her.
“I thought you were staying in Boston all week?” I said.
Caroline put a takeout salad on the table. She was still dressed in her work clothes, a conservative black skirt and simple white blouse. The jacket of the suit was on the back of her chair, and its lapels were already covered with Sprinkles’ fur.
“With that firebug on the loose? I didn’t want you alone,” she said. “I got a Zipcar and came down.”
My heart warmed. Petite Caroline, my protector. “We don’t have to worry about the firebug.” I paused. “Well, we don’t have to worry about one firebug.”
Caroline shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts. “What are you talking about? There are two? Here, eat something.” She put some salad on a plate and set it in front of me, her concerned brown eyes magnified behind her glasses. “What is it? You look like you’re going to burst.”
I was too jittery to sit, unsettled by what I’d learned and what I now believed. Sprinkles’ head swiveled as I paced and told Caroline what I’d done and what I suspected.
“You broke into Dandy’s house and read Brooke’s diary? Have you lost your mind?” Caroline’s voice rose. “What does Brooke’s diary have to do with Mike’s murder?”
“I think the seeds of Mike’s murder were planted seventeen years ago…”
Caroline slowly lowered herself into a chair.
“… when Brooke got pregnant with Kyle Aldridge’s baby.”
Caroline gasped and her brow knitted. “What?”
“I’m pretty sure Kyle was the father of Brooke’s child.” How would Caroline react to my next words? “At first I thought it was Mike’s.”
Her eyes widened but she shrugged. “Mike dated a lot of girls but I don’t remember him with Brooke. She never seemed into him.”
I took a deep breath. “Caroline, when we were at the funeral, remember Emily came up to us and Mike couldn’t recall her name? He called her Sugar Bear. Brooke has a teddy bear in her room with a Sugar Bear T-shirt.”
“So?”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to gather my rushing thoughts. “Let’s start at the beginning. Brooke kept secrets from Dandy. Dandy forbade her to date, but Brooke did. When Brooke died, suddenly Dandy had access to her diary. However, Brooke never named boys’ names. She just wrote “him.” Picture Dandy in Brooke’s bedroom, every day after Brooke died, paging through that diary, looking for clues, wondering who the father of Brooke’s baby was.
“I realized something when I, ah, broke in. If Dandy sat on the bed, she’d see that teddy bear. Since Brooke never named boyfriends in her diary, I think Dandy put that bear together with Mike at the funeral. Dandy must’ve had the shock of her life hearing someone speak the words she’d seen every day in her daughter’s room. She’d stumbled when she heard them. I thought she’d simply been distracted by Emily’s outfit. Plus—” I stopped, certain now.
Caroline whispered, “Yes?”
“I don’t think Brooke’s death was an accident.”
“Not an accident? You think someone murdered Brooke? Who?” Caroline whispered. “Kyle?”
I gripped the back of a chair. I’d considered so many scenarios. What did the diary say? He’s worried about his precious family finding out. Martha Woodley noted that she’d seen Brooke walking with a boy by the lake—where the Aldridges lived. I remembered the football summer camp photos over Mike’s bed. I shook my head. “No. Brooke died in July, when Kyle and Mike were at football camp in Indiana. No, it was someone who wanted to keep Kyle for herself.”
Caroline searched my face. “Oh my god. You think Nina killed Brooke? But they were best friends.”
I said slowly, “The diary says Nina was at Brooke’s house the night before she died. Nina wanted to bake a pie with Brooke. She must’ve known about Brooke’s eating disorder. She knew Brooke took sleeping pills. All she had to do was grind some of the same brand of sleeping pill, add them to Brooke’s pie, then make sure Brooke’s own bottle was empty so it looked like she’d taken them all.”
Silence fell on the kitchen and I met Caroline’s eyes.
After a moment, she said, “There’s no way to prove that now, is there?”
I shook my head and fell into a chair. Rocky emerged from the parlor, threaded around my ankles, then padded softly to the door, where he sat down and groomed a paw. Sprinkles flopped onto the floor, batted a toy mouse, and yawned.
Though the night was warm, a chill ran through me and I rubbed my arms.
Caroline spoke softly. “So you think Dandy killed Mike because she blamed him for the pregnancy and for Brooke taking her own life? Mike was killed because Dandy assumed, incorrectly, that he was the father of Brooke’s baby?”
I shook my head. “No. I think Dandy told Nina what she believed and that she intended to confront Mike.”
Caroline picked up Sprinkles and stroked her fur.
My thoughts and words tumbled. “Careful Nina was covering her tracks. All these years everyone assumed Brooke had died by an overdose. Then when Dandy had this realization, incorrect though it was, that Mike was the father of Brooke’s child, killing Mike was a way to cement that belief.
“Dandy must’ve been”—I could only grope for words—“shaken to her core. She and Nina are close. She’d probably told her what she’d figured out, and that she was going to confront Mike.
“Nina had to act. What would Mike say? Had Kyle ever told Mike that he’d gotten Brooke pregnant? The diary said Brooke and Kyle were talking, perhaps making plans. Maybe Kyle had planned to make a life with Brooke.” Had he ever told Nina any of this? Had he told Mike? It didn’t matter. What mattered was what Nina believed, what she feared she’d lose. Poor Nina, all these years living a life that looked perfect on the outside, but suffering betrayals by Kyle—in the present with his secretary, and in the past with her best friend.
“The only course open for Nina was to make sure Mike couldn’t answer any of Dandy’s questions. Letting Dandy think that Mike had been the father of Brooke’s child added a layer of camouflage to the fact that Nina had killed Brooke, giving credence to Brooke’s suicide and hiding Kyle’s ro
le in her pregnancy.
“This was an opportunity for Nina. Kyle’s starting on the campaign trail. If Dandy was convinced that Mike was the father of Brooke’s baby and Mike was silenced, that messy chapter of Kyle’s life would be closed forever.”
The paper bag with Mike’s effects was still on the table. I picked it up. It was lighter than I remembered. I opened it and looked inside. The phone was gone.
“Caroline, did you move Mike’s phone?”
“What?” She looked inside the bag then up at me, her face stricken. “Someone took Mike’s phone!”
“And left a heavy gold class ring and keys to an expensive car?” I thought back to that uncomfortable moment with Kyle and Nina at Udderly. “Caroline, do you remember Nina’s face when you asked her about the diamond watch? She had no idea Kyle was on Block Island with another woman. I should’ve realized Nina wasn’t there—she was here doing the Memorial Day Fun Run.” Another memory surfaced. “Do you remember after the funeral, Nina came up to talk to us? Angelica was there. Do you remember what Nina said?”
Caroline rubbed her forehead, then her eyes widened. “Nina was so excited to meet Angelica. She said ‘I’m so pleased to meet you.’”
“Nina hadn’t met Angelica before,” I said. “But they all—Kyle, Mike, Angelica, Kyle’s secretary with the fancy watch—had been together on Block Island.”
“How on earth did Nina find Mike’s phone?” Caroline said. “It’s in the bag.”
“She probably called it. Kyle must’ve had Mike’s number.” Caroline didn’t even have to mention that the door was unlocked. I’d forgotten to lock it.
Still, that was desperate, breaking into this house. Nina’s back was against the wall.
Caroline’s voice seeped into my consciousness. “We have to call Detective Voelker.”
“So I can tell him I broke into Dandy’s house?” I chewed my lower lip. How could I corner a killer without mentioning that? I had no evidence except old photos, a diary, a sprig of heather, a typewritten note, and a missing phone. I couldn’t believe Voelker would take any of it seriously.
I grabbed a flashlight from the mudroom and checked that the beam was strong. Its solid weight was comforting. “Stretch said a crazy lady was digging at Brooke’s grave the night of the murder. I’m going to the cemetery to check it out.”
“You’re not going alone. Wait a sec.” Caroline grabbed a piece of note paper and a pen, then spoke out loud as she wrote, “We’ve lost our minds and are going to the cemetery. Come get us if we’re not back by breakfast.”
Rocky yowled as we ran out and closed the door on him. My stomach churned as we walked up the road and turned onto the narrow lane that ran past the cemetery. “Let’s cut behind the sunflowers.” In case anyone was watching, the tall stalks would hide our approach to the cemetery.
I thought about Nina as we took slow, careful steps on the sun-baked earth. For as long as I could remember, Nina and Kyle had been a couple. They were both from old Penniman families, perfectly matched.
While I was sure Brooke and Kyle had been as discreet as high school kids can be—love triangles are a delicate, dangerous business—Nina wasn’t a fool. Nina must’ve seen the sprig of heather in her friend’s room, noticed that she’d saved the Brigadoon program. When she’d learned about the other woman on the Block Island trip, it must’ve reopened the wound of Kyle’s earlier betrayal.
I wondered if there’d been other infidelities along the way. Nina, neat as a pin Nina, was a woman with so much to lose. She had a spectacular home, beautiful children, Kyle’s political career, her place at the top of Penniman society. She’d killed Brooke to keep Kyle for herself. She’d done too much to give that up now, and had killed Mike to keep her secret.
Or was I wrong? Would we find another woman, another crazy lady, at the grave?
Pale light glowed from the cemetery near Brooke’s grave and seeped through the curtain of sunflower stalks.
Caroline’s breathing was ragged as she grabbed my arm, holding me back. “Don’t get too close.” Her fear gave me pause. Mike’s killer had killed before.
“I’m just going to look,” I whispered.
I parted the leaves.
Soft white light created a nimbus around Brooke’s gravesite. A woman, tall and thin, crouched at the headstone. The light of a lantern distorted her shadow into something nightmarish, her limbs elongated like spider’s legs. She wept as she stabbed at the earth with a trowel.
As Caroline craned to see better, she lost her balance and fell into the row of sunflowers. The rustle of dry stalks carried in the still night air.
The woman’s head jerked around, her face contorted by fear. Nina. “Who’s there?”
A black form darted past me, brushing my ankles. Rocky? Caroline cried out. Rocky leapt from the ground to the stone wall, then straight at Nina.
She shrieked and flung her trowel. Rocky sprang aside, hissing as the trowel missed him by inches. Nina scrambled to her feet and ran into the trees, taking the same path Stretch had, the path to Dandy’s house.
Caroline and I gasped and clutched each other. “Nina! And Rocky!” Caroline exclaimed. “Sorry I yelled. I felt him brush my feet and I freaked out.”
I picked my way through the sunflowers, and after a moment Caroline followed. In the distance, a car engine turned over and sped away.
Rocky peeped around Brooke’s headstone and slunk over the disturbed earth.
The grave drew me closer, but I stopped short of the spot where Nina had dug. I crouched, turned on the flashlight’s beam, and watched Rocky sniff at the freshly dug soil.
Caroline stepped close to the grave, but I put out my arm to stop her. I didn’t want to contaminate the site further. Rocky tested the earth with his paw and started digging.
She whispered, “He’s going to find the phone.”
I swallowed hard. Yes, but I was pretty sure Rocky would find something else too. Stretch had told me the crazy lady had been at work here on the night of the murder.
Rocky suddenly stopped digging and looked up at me, his amber eyes inscrutable. Just visible in the dirt was the finger of a leather gardening glove.
* * *
Police vehicles arrived in minutes, lights strobing over the gravestones. The squawk of radios, the slamming car doors, the jangle of the cops’ equipment belts were loud in the dark. We spoke with the officers, then Voelker arrived on scene. After listening to our story, he said, “Go wait at home.”
Caroline and I shared a guilty look, then melted back into the sunflowers and watched. Voelker crouched by the grave and shone a flashlight on the glove. The investigators conferred around the site and I heard one say they needed to wait until daylight in order to search and photograph the scene properly. Officers taped off the area.
“I can’t wait until daylight,” I said.
“So Nina buried the gloves,” Caroline’s voice was small. “She killed Mike.”
I wrapped my arms around her, remembering the loose dirt and plantings I’d seen at Brooke’s grave. Did Dandy know what had been buried there? “The police will have to talk to Stretch.” I hoped he could positively identify the woman he’d seen burying the gloves. I tugged Caroline’s hand. “There’s something else I have to do.”
“Are you kidding me?” Caroline’s voice strained. “What else is there? Nina killed Mike, right? The police have the gloves! She was digging there.”
I took a deep breath. We crept to the end of the row of sunflowers, then crossed Farm Lane, moving in the shadows away from the line of police vehicles. We melted into the crowd of curious farmhands gathered there. Darwin saw us and rushed forward. “I was looking for you!” he said.
I turned up Farm Lane toward Dandy’s house. Caroline and Darwin followed.
“Nina killed Mike,” Caroline said dully.
Darwin put his arm around her and looked at me over Caroline’s bowed head. “Is that true? Why?”
“It’s complicated,” I said.
The scent of smoke still emanated from the burned hulk of Aaron’s house. I recalled his thick glasses. He’d seen a tall, slim woman with shoulder-length hair at the barn on his security camera the night of the murder. He’d assumed it was Dandy. He’d thought the knowledge gave him the upper hand, gave him leverage to get her to join the real estate deal, but all it had done was almost get him killed in a fire and put his most precious possession in Dandy’s hands.
“Come on,” I said. Safety in numbers. Dandy must know the police were just down the road at the graveyard. Had she seen Nina drive off? Surely the police would soon be knocking at the door of Nina’s spectacular lakefront home.
I opened Dandy’s garden gate, stepped into the lush beauty of her garden, inhaling the soft scent of roses. McGillicuddy barked from within the house. Before I could knock, Dandy pulled open the door, a hand to her chest, panting. “What is it? What’s going on?”
I felt a surge of sympathy for Dandy. There was only one way I could help her now.
“I hope you didn’t get rid of Aaron’s flash drive,” I said. “You’ll need it to prove your innocence.”
Chapter 46
Dandy reared back. She looked from Darwin to Caroline and back to me.
“The police are searching for evidence at Brooke’s grave,” Caroline said in a quiet voice.
Dandy stiffened, her knuckles white on the doorjamb. Behind her McGillicuddy whined, his nails tapping as he ran back and forth on the kitchen floor.
“You and Nina resemble each other. Your height, your build, your hair, even the way you both dress in athletic wear,” I said. “That’s why Aaron’s been blackmailing you. He saw Nina on his security video and thought she was you. You burned down his house to protect her.”
Dandy slumped. I grabbed her arm and Darwin took the other. We helped her into the living room and lay her on the sofa as Caroline picked up McGillicuddy, soothing him with quiet words.
As Dandy’s eyes fluttered open, she moaned, “Nina was Brooke’s friend.”
Did she never suspect that Nina had killed Brooke?
