A Wrinkle in Thyme

by Sarah Fox

  Just to be sure, I sent a quick text to Tommy after thanking Diana for the information. In the message, I asked Tommy about the timeline.

  By the time Bentley and I returned home from our outing, Tommy had replied. He’d headed for home as soon as he’d left the charity gala and was struck within fifteen minutes of leaving the banquet hall.

  That left no room for doubt.

  Frankie was in the clear.

  And I was back to square one.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marjorie phoned me shortly after Bentley and I arrived home. She’d spoken to her friend’s granddaughter, Desiree, who worked at the community center, and asked if I wanted to meet up for lunch. Since I still had some time before meeting Winnifred, I readily agreed. I could meet up with Marjorie and then head straight over to the museum.

  We arranged to meet at the local coffee shop, the Beach and Bean. In addition to coffee and other drinks, the Beach and Bean offered a small selection of sandwiches and baked goods. Marjorie was already at the coffee shop when I arrived. She sat at a table near the back, a sandwich and drink in front of her. I waved to her and got in line at the counter. After I’d purchased a matcha latte and a croissant sandwich, I joined Marjorie at the table she’d claimed for us.

  The weather was gorgeous again, and I’d noticed lots of people out and about around town. It seemed that many had gravitated toward the coffee shop, as the place was crowded, with no free tables. I figured that might be for the best because the noise of the crowd made it less likely that anyone would overhear our conversation. Even if Marjorie didn’t have anything juicy to report, I didn’t need anyone else catching on to the fact that I was looking into Adya as a murder suspect. If any rumors ended up flying around town about her, I didn’t want to be responsible for starting them, especially if she was innocent.

  We spent the first couple of minutes catching up on one another’s lives, but after Marjorie had finished half her sandwich, she got down to business.

  “I spoke to Desiree the other day,” she said, keeping her voice low. “She’s known Adya for a few years now.”

  “Does she know her well?” I asked.

  “They aren’t friends or anything, and they don’t hang out in the same circles. Desiree’s in her twenties, and Adya is in her late thirties, I believe. But Desiree said that the two of them are on friendly terms at work.”

  I wondered if that would have colored Desiree’s opinion of Adya, making her information less than impartial. It turned out that I didn’t have to worry about that.

  “Even so,” Marjorie continued, “Desiree didn’t hesitate in saying that Adya and Jane didn’t get along in the least. I guess you already knew that, though.”

  “That seemed to be the case from what I’d already heard,” I confirmed.

  “What you might not have heard,” Marjorie said, “is that the conflict between Adya and Jane recently heated up.”

  “Because Jane got the promotion?” I guessed.

  “That was part of it.”

  “And the other part?”

  Marjorie lowered her voice further. “After Jane received the promotion, she embarrassed Adya at a staff meeting, in front of all their colleagues.”

  I winced. “Embarrassed her, how?”

  “Adya pitched some ideas for new classes for the fall season, and Jane tore each and every one of them apart. Desiree was taking notes at the meeting. She said it was painful to record what was going on.”

  “It sounds like Jane wasn’t all that professional.” I knew some people found Jane abrasive, but I had trouble picturing her being purposely cruel.

  “I think it’s more that she was insensitive,” Marjorie said. “Desiree told me that Jane never seemed to be trying to be mean, but she also didn’t seem aware of the effect her words had on people at times. Jane had some legitimate concerns about Adya’s ideas, according to Desiree, but the way she went about sharing those concerns was tactless.”

  “Did Desiree say anything about how Adya responded?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. Adya sat quietly while all that was happening at the meeting, but Desiree was afraid she might spontaneously combust. Desiree was surprised there wasn’t smoke pouring out of Adya’s ears. Afterward, Desiree overheard Adya fuming to one of her other coworkers about what had happened. And, that’s not all.”

  Marjorie lowered her voice so much that I had to lean forward to hear what she said next.

  “Adya told her coworker that she wished Jane would drop dead.”

  * * * *

  I mulled over everything Marjorie had told me as I walked from the Beach and Bean to the museum. If Jane were still alive and well, I would have written off Adya’s wish for her to drop dead as words spoken in the heat of the moment, not truly meant. But since Jane had been murdered, I couldn’t help but view Adya’s words in a much more sinister light.

  Fortunately, Ray was already aware of everything Desiree had passed on to me through Marjorie. As we’d finished up our lunches, Marjorie had mentioned that Ray and his deputies had questioned Jane’s colleagues at the community center in the days following the murder. Desiree wasn’t keen for Adya to find out that she’d shared what she’d overheard, both with me and the sheriff, but Marjorie had assured her that Adya wouldn’t learn about that from me. That was the truth. I didn’t want to get anyone in hot water. Plus, if Adya was the killer, I didn’t want to paint a target on Desiree’s back.

  When I arrived at the museum, I checked around back to see if the door was open, as it had been several times when I’d come by to volunteer. The backyard was quiet and the door was shut, so I returned to the front of the building and knocked on that door. Winnifred must have been close by, because she responded to my knock within seconds.

  “Marley, come on in,” she said as she stood back so I could step into the foyer. “It’s another beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  “Gorgeous,” I agreed.

  Once again, the sun was shining brightly, colorful flowers bloomed in gardens all across town, and birds twittered and sang in the trees.

  “I was adding a few items to the exhibits Jane set up,” Winnifred said as she shut the door.

  “If you need any help with that, let me know,” I said. “I have some time on Mondays and Tuesdays when The Flip Side is closed.”

  “Thank you, dear. That’s very kind of you. We should be all right at the moment. Almost everything is in place now.”

  “Any sign of the missing letters?” I asked, wondering if they had turned up while Winnifred was sorting through the museum’s artifacts.

  “No sign at all, I’m afraid. Of course, I haven’t carried out a thorough search yet. I checked Jane’s desk again, as well as the filing cabinet in her office, but no luck.”

  “Hopefully we’ll find them,” I said, although I was trying to keep my hopes from climbing too high.

  “Shall we start in Jane’s office?” Winnifred suggested. “Once we finish in there, we can head upstairs to the storage rooms.”

  That sounded like a good plan to me, so we got to work. Aside from the desk and the filing cabinet in Jane’s office, several shelves of boxes were full of documents. We started our search by going through those. Right away, it became clear that most of the boxes contained receipts and other papers related to the running of the museum, rather than documents of a historical nature. We decided to search every box, anyway, in case the letters had somehow made their way into one where they didn’t belong.

  “I enjoyed my chat with Krista,” I said as we worked. “Were you surprised to find out that Flora Penrose was the recipient of Jack O’Malley’s letters?”

  “Surprise doesn’t quite cover it.” Winnifred lifted the lid off a box I’d shifted over to the desk for her. “I’d assumed that Jack had written to some distant cousin of my grandparents, not my grandmother. Flora’s family was very w
ell-to-do and held a position of prominence here on the peninsula. I always understood that Flora was a proper lady. But that’s not all…”

  I stopped searching through a stack of receipts I’d taken out of a box, eager to hear what she had to say next.

  “My father was born about seven and a half months after Jack O’Malley was killed. Flora married my grandfather four weeks after Jack’s death.”

  I turned that information over in my mind. It didn’t take more than a second or two for me to catch on to the implication of Winnifred’s words.

  “You mean, Jack O’Malley is your grandfather?” I asked with surprise. I hadn’t expected that twist in the story.

  “I don’t know for certain,” Winnifred said quickly, “but the timing is suspicious. Although I have no idea how much time Flora would have spent with Jack. It must have been difficult for her to sneak away to see him. Even exchanging letters would have required some secrecy.”

  I set one box aside and opened another. “If it is true, how do you feel about it?”

  “I suppose I have mixed feelings,” Winnifred said. “On the one hand, I feel sorry for my grandfather—the one I knew as my grandfather—if he was deceived. He was such a kind man. Then again, it’s possible he knew my father wasn’t his child and raised him as his own regardless. Another part of me feels quite excited about the prospect. It certainly adds an interesting twist to my family’s history.”

  “That’s for sure,” I said.

  I finished searching another box. “No luck here.”

  Winnifred closed the box she’d checked. “I’m afraid I haven’t found them either.”

  I returned everything to the shelves. We’d searched all of the boxes.

  “Let’s try upstairs in the storage room,” Winnifred suggested.

  As I followed her up the stairs, I tried to buoy my sinking hopes. I really wanted us to find the letters, but I couldn’t think of a reason why Jane would have taken them back up to the storage room, especially since she’d planned to show them to Winnifred. We didn’t want to leave any stone unturned, though, so we continued our search on the second floor.

  First, I grabbed what I thought was the box we’d found the letters in originally. When I spotted the journal, I knew I had the right one.

  Winnifred flipped carefully through the leather-bound volume. “I’d love to read this from cover to cover. Perhaps Krista could help me with transcribing it.” She set the journal aside. “But that’s for another time. I must remain focused if we’re to find the letters.”

  It didn’t take long to confirm that Jane hadn’t returned the letters to the box. We moved on to the other boxes in the room, but all we turned up was a lot of dust, artifacts, and documents donated by other local families.

  “That’s the last one,” I said as I hefted the last box back onto the shelf.

  Winnifred picked up the journal again. “Thank you so much for helping me with the search, Marley.”

  “I was glad to help,” I assured her. “I’m sorry we didn’t find what we were looking for.”

  Winnifred sighed. “I am too. It’s strange that the letters are nowhere to be found.”

  I wiped my dusty hands on my jeans. “Can you think of any reason why someone might have stolen the letters?”

  “None at all.” Winnifred seemed to reconsider the question. “If the letters had related to someone else’s family, I might have said that perhaps someone didn’t want the information contained in them getting out. But the letters are connected to my family, and I know that Dolly and Krista didn’t take them. If they’d wanted the contents kept secret, they simply wouldn’t have donated them in the first place.”

  That was a good point. Not that I’d suspected Dolly or Krista of stealing the letters.

  “I guess we’ll have to wait and see if they turn up sometime in the future,” I said with disappointment.

  “That does seem to be the case, unfortunately,” Winnifred agreed.

  I checked the time on my phone. “Do you need help with anything else?” I asked.

  “No, thank you, dear. You’ve been such a great help already. You head on out. I think I’ll have a look at this journal before I carry on with my day.”

  I tucked my phone back in my tote bag and left the room. When I was halfway down the staircase, I paused. I thought I’d heard a floorboard creak below me. I listened hard, but the only sound that met my ears now was a barely perceptible rustle of pages coming from the storage room where I’d left Winnifred.

  I continued on my way down the stairs. When I reached the foyer, I stopped again. This time I was certain I’d heard something on the main floor. Another sound drifted out into the hallway from Jane’s office. It sounded like somebody was opening and closing drawers. I wondered if I should retreat upstairs or call 911. I decided the latter might be overreacting. After all, maybe Winnifred was expecting someone else to turn up at the museum.

  Again, I considered heading back up to speak with Winnifred. That was probably the best option. I took one step backward. A floorboard creaked beneath my feet. The noises coming from Jane’s office ceased abruptly.

  I cast around for something I could use as a weapon to protect myself, but there wasn’t anything in the hallway. My heart beat painfully in my chest as I tried to work up the courage to move toward the office.

  A shadow filled the doorway. Adya Banerjee appeared so suddenly that I almost yelped.

  We stared at each other for two full seconds before she spoke.

  “Who are you?” She managed to make the question sound casual, but I knew she’d been as startled as I was when we’d first laid eyes on each other.

  “My name’s Marley,” I said, wondering why I wasn’t the one asking questions. I decided to change that. “Are you looking for Winnifred?”

  I knew she wasn’t because that wouldn’t explain why she’d been moving about in Jane’s unoccupied office.

  “Winnifred?” Adya seemed confused.

  “Winnifred Woodcombe. She’s in charge of the museum at the moment. I can get her for you if you’d like. She’s upstairs.”

  Adya forced a smile that lacked any warmth. “No need to bother. I was just looking for a bracelet I lost.”

  “You lost it here at the museum?”

  “I don’t know where I lost it. That’s why it’s lost.” She brushed past me, jostling my shoulder. “Clearly, it’s not here, though. I’ll be on my way.”

  She slipped out the front door and shut it behind her before I had a chance to say anything more.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Winnifred appeared a moment later. “Did I hear voices?” she asked.

  “Adya Banerjee was here,” I said.

  “That name rings a bell. She works at the community center, I believe.”

  “That’s right. Were you expecting her?”

  “Not at all,” Winnifred said. “You’re the only one I was expecting to show up today.”

  I headed into Jane’s office, and Winnifred followed.

  “She was in here.” I couldn’t see anything obviously out of place. “And I thought I heard her opening and closing the desk drawers.” I moved around the desk to study it. Sure enough, one of the drawers was ajar. I opened it farther to take a peek inside, but it held office supplies and nothing else. I shut it and tugged on the top drawer, but it was locked.

  “How strange,” Winnifred said. “Did she explain herself?”

  “She said she was looking for something she’d lost. A bracelet.”

  “Did she find it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I also didn’t think Adya had been completely honest with me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Winnifred didn’t seem overly troubled by the fact that Adya had been sneaking around the museum, but she did mention that she’d make sure to k
eep the doors locked in the future. On my walk home, I replayed my conversation with Adya in my head. If, in all innocence, she wanted to search for something she lost on a previous museum visit, why hadn’t she knocked on the door or at least announced her presence? Even though Winnifred and I had been up on the second floor, we left the storage room door standing open, and I was certain we would have heard anyone who knocked or called out from below.

  Perhaps my pre-existing suspicions of Adya had influenced my view of her behavior at the museum, but when I added everything together, I couldn’t help but conclude that she was a strong murder suspect. I wondered if Ray considered her to be one. The whole situation was still on my mind when Brett arrived home that evening.

  “Maybe I should call Ray,” I said after I’d filled Brett in on everything that had happened at the museum.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” he said.

  I hesitated with my phone in my hand. “He’ll probably think I’m meddling.”

  “He might.” Brett grinned at me. “Are you?”

  “I didn’t intentionally come across Adya acting suspiciously at the museum.”

  Brett gave me a quick kiss. “I know. And no matter what Ray thinks, I’m sure he’ll appreciate you making sure that he has potentially useful information.”

  I hoped that was the case. I tried phoning Ray, but I hung up without leaving a message when I didn’t receive an answer.

  “No luck?” Brett asked as he put our dinner dishes in the dishwasher.

  “No, and I wasn’t sure how to explain everything in a message.”

  “Why don’t you explain to him in person, then. He’s supposed to help out tomorrow evening with the construction for Wild West Days. If he doesn’t get called into work.”

  I agreed to that plan and hoped that Adya wouldn’t get up to anything criminal in the meantime.

  * * * *

  When I closed The Flip Side on Wednesday afternoon, I asked Leigh if she could stick around for a few minutes.

  “Sure,” she replied, eyeing me as she stacked up some dirty plates. “Is everything okay?”