A Wrinkle in Thyme

by Sarah Fox

  I was glad to hear that. Now I didn’t have to admit that I’d been snooping around Dean’s place.

  “It’s great to know what happened to them,” I said. “And even better that some of them were saved from the fire. But if the letters went missing when Jane was murdered, why wasn’t that enough to tie Dean to her death?”

  “Perhaps it will be,” Winnifred said. “Although maybe they can’t prove that the letters were taken right when Jane was killed. At any rate, Dean is facing a charge of possession of stolen property, and Sheriff Georgeson mentioned that they’re investigating him for possible identity theft.”

  “Apparently he had a bunch of other papers that he was burning too,” Krista said. “Sheriff Georgeson thinks he stole them from people’s recycling bins.”

  That explained the financial documents I’d seen in the box by the fire pit.

  “Including recycling bins from this street,” Krista added, “judging by the names and addresses on some of the papers. Luckily, Aunt Winnie shreds everything with any personal information on it before it goes out of the house, and I do the same for my grandma.”

  “Krista and her cousins bought me one of those cross-shredders,” Winnifred said. “I’m more grateful than ever now that I know what Dean Vaccarino was up to.” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Even if he’s not guilty of killing Jane, that young man is certainly a crook.”

  “I can’t disagree with you there,” I said.

  Krista sat up straighter. “But we’re forgetting the most important part of all this. Do you want to tell her, Aunt Winnie?”

  “You go ahead, dear,” Winnifred said.

  Krista’s eyes shone with excitement. “One of the pages that the sheriff photographed was from a letter I barely looked at before donating the box to the museum. We were able to read some of it from the picture, and it confirms that Aunt Winnifred’s grandmother, Flora Penrose, was carrying Jack O’Malley’s child.”

  I did my best to act as though I hadn’t already read that excerpt for myself. “Do you think that child was your father?” I asked Winnifred.

  “The dates fit,” she said. “I think it’s more likely than not.”

  Krista beamed. “I think it’s exciting. Aunt Winnie is the granddaughter of the legendary Jack of Diamonds!”

  “Notorious might be a better word,” Winnifred said. “We can’t forget that the man was a criminal. However,” she added, a smile forming, “it does make for an interesting family tale.”

  We chatted a while longer about the letters and what they’d revealed.

  “I should probably get going,” Krista said after glancing at her phone. “I really just came by to see Aunt Winnie for a few minutes, but when the sheriff stopped by, my plans got derailed. I was hoping to clean up my grandmother’s attic this afternoon.”

  “Do you need any help?” I asked.

  When I glanced Winnifred’s way, she gave me a knowing smile, but didn’t comment.

  “I wouldn’t say no,” Krista said. “I took a look up there on the night my grandma was hurt. The whole attic looks like it was hit by a tornado.”

  “I don’t need to be anywhere for the next while,” I said. “I’m happy to lend a hand.”

  Krista readily accepted my offer, and we walked the short distance to Dolly’s house, where Krista let us in with her key.

  When we reached the attic, I saw that her description wasn’t much of an exaggeration. Boxes were tipped over, and their contents spilled across the floor. Books, papers, knickknacks, and holiday decorations were scattered everywhere. There was barely a free spot on the floor to stand on.

  “It’s not too late to run away if you want to,” Krista said when she saw the look on my face. “I know it’s an overwhelming mess.”

  “There’s no way I’m leaving you to deal with this all on your own,” I said.

  That was the truth. Even if I knew for sure that there was no hope of finding any helpful clues among the chaotic jumble, I couldn’t leave Krista to clean it up alone.

  So, without wasting any more time, the two of us got to work.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, Krista and I were hot, thirsty, and covered in dust. We’d made decent progress with cleaning up the attic, but there was still plenty left to be done. To my disappointment, we hadn’t come across any other letters penned by the Jack of Diamonds, or anything else that might give me a clue as to why Jane was murdered.

  Of course, it was possible that Dean stole the letters for some reason unconnected to Jane’s death, even if he was the murderer. But killer or not, I couldn’t think why Dean would want the papers, especially since he’d ended up burning them, or had at least planned to. I didn’t see how he could have mistaken the old letters for anything that would have helped him with his identity theft scheme.

  Krista declared that we were done for the day and insisted that she’d enlist the help of one or more of her cousins to finish the job with her at a later date. She offered to get me something cold to drink, but I declined. I’d texted back and forth with Brett earlier, letting him know what I was up to, and I’d told him I’d be home by six. He’d promised to have dinner ready for me when I arrived, and if I didn’t leave now, I’d be late.

  As thirsty as I was, I parted ways with Krista, my grumbling stomach and my parched throat sending me homeward at a brisk pace.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  By the time the following Wednesday rolled around, the preparations for Wild West Days neared their completion. Brett had volunteered some more time in the evenings to set up the building façades, and the old west street in Wildwood Park needed only a few finishing touches. The event would open the next evening, and I didn’t know of anyone in town who wasn’t looking forward to it. Brett and I had already made plans to spend time at the park on Thursday evening so we could check out the festivities.

  I had plenty to do before then. I needed to schedule more interviews, for starters. Three more people had responded to the ads for the jobs at The Flip Side. Hopefully, these candidates would be more promising than the first two; otherwise, my staffing shortage would continue indefinitely, and that wouldn’t be anywhere near ideal.

  Since it wasn’t even seven in the morning, I wasn’t about to call the job applicants yet. I decided to wait until mid-morning to do that. With luck, I’d have all of the interviews scheduled by the end of the day.

  I was in the midst of going over the dining room one last time, making sure everything was ready for opening at seven when Leigh arrived.

  “Morning,” she called out as she came in the front door. “Looks like another beautiful day.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” I agreed.

  I’d taken my time on my walk to work that morning. The beach was peaceful—no one out there but me and the birds—and the rising sun glinted off the waves.

  “Do you have a minute to chat?” Leigh asked once she’d put her purse away in her locker.

  “Of course.” I set aside the stack of menus I’d just tidied on the cash counter.

  “I’ve come to a decision about your offer,” Leigh said. “And I’d like to accept.”

  A smile broke out across her face at the same time as one did on mine.

  “That’s fantastic!” I gave her a hug. “I know you’re the perfect person for the job.”

  “I think it’ll be great,” Leigh said. “And I’m grateful for the opportunity. With all three of my kids in school now, it feels like the right time to take this step.”

  “I’m thrilled. We’ll have to set up a time when we can go over everything. To start, would you like to sit in on the interviews for the new server position? I’m going to call the applicants today to set them up.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I’m hoping to schedule the interviews for next week, after Wild West Days.”

 
“My kids are sure looking forward to that,” Leigh said. “Greg and I are too, to be honest. It sounds like it’s going to be a fun event.”

  We cut off our conversation there because the first customers of the day were already outside the door. I hurried over to flip the sign and let them into the restaurant.

  Between the breakfast and lunch rushes, I managed to slip away to the office for a few minutes to phone the job applicants. I got in touch with two out of three and scheduled interviews for them the following week. I made a note to try the third applicant again later and then headed back out front to help Leigh with serving.

  It took me by surprise to see Ray, in ordinary clothes, seated at a table with his wife, Gwen. She showed up at the pancake house every now and then, often with her sister-in-law, Brett and Chloe’s mom, but Ray spent long hours working as the sheriff and didn’t often have a chance to come by The Flip Side for a meal. Usually, his visits were short ones to talk to me about whatever investigation I might be mixed up in at the time.

  Leigh had already provided Ray and Gwen with coffee and had taken their orders, but I stopped by their table. I really did want to say hello, but in all honesty, I had an ulterior motive as well.

  “Have you charged Dean with murder?” I asked Ray once we’d exchanged greetings and small talk.

  He didn’t appear the least bit surprised that I’d turned the conversation in that direction. He’d probably known I would the moment I approached them.

  “No,” he replied. “He won’t be charged with Jane Fassbender’s murder.”

  “But he was lurking around the museum that night,” I reminded him, no doubt unnecessarily. “And he had the letters that were inside the building with Jane.”

  “He claims he never went inside the museum that night.”

  “And you believe him?” I asked, unable to keep a hint of disbelief out of my voice. “He doesn’t strike me as a very trustworthy guy.”

  Gwen smiled as she picked up her coffee mug. “Don’t worry. Ray doesn’t trust him.”

  Ray added cream to his coffee. “Dean says when you and Brett saw him at the museum, he was planning to break in. While he was refinishing the floors, he noticed several items that he thought were valuable.”

  “And he wanted to steal them,” I concluded.

  “Under the cover of darkness, when everyone had left the museum,” Gwen said. She’d clearly talked this over with her husband before.

  “Except the museum wasn’t empty,” Ray said.

  “Because Jane was there after hours.” I knew she had been, since she’d been murdered there either that evening or sometime during the night. Brett and I hadn’t seen any lights on at the museum, but there could have been one on in a back room.

  Ray nodded. “He was waiting for her to leave, but after you and Brett saw him there, he gave up on the plan and left.” Ray held up a hand before I could ask why he’d accepted Dean’s word on that. “Shortly after you and Brett saw him at the museum, Dean showed up at the Windward Pub. He was propping up the bar there until closing.”

  He paused, and I stepped back as Leigh arrived with their meals. She set a plate of raspberry orange pancakes and hash browns in front of Gwen and a stack of blueberry pancakes and crispy bacon before Ray.

  After they thanked her, Leigh swept off to another table where an elderly couple was ready to order. I needed to get back to helping her, but I thought I could spare another moment or two.

  “So, you know that Jane was killed after Brett and I walked past the museum and before the Windward Pub closed for the night?” I surmised.

  “The post-mortem narrowed down the window of death,” Ray confirmed as he doused his pancakes with maple syrup.

  “Then he has an alibi.” I could hear the disappointment in my own voice.

  Gwen gave me a sympathetic smile. “We were all hoping the case would be wrapped up quickly.”

  “No one more than me,” Ray said.

  I knew that was the truth.

  Something still bothered me, though. “But Dean had the letters. And the letters went missing from the museum.”

  “Dean claims he didn’t know the letters were in that box of papers,” Ray said. “He figures they must have been in one of the recycling bins he scavenged from.”

  “Do you believe that?” I asked, not sure how much stock to put in that claim.

  “I’m not sure yet,” he said. “It’s possible that he broke into the museum before Jane showed up that evening, despite what he claims. We tracked Jane’s movements for that day, and we know she left the museum around five o’clock before returning later on.”

  “Sometime after eight,” Gwen added. “She made a phone call to Winnifred Woodcombe at that time.”

  That was definitely after Brett and I had seen Dean lurking about the museum. At the time, it didn’t look like he had anything he could have stolen from the museum in his possession, but he could have easily hidden letters—or anything small and compact—in his pockets or under his T-shirt.

  “Does that mean you found Jane’s phone?” I asked.

  Ray shook his head as he cut into his pancakes. “She called Mrs. Woodcombe from home. Jane didn’t have a cell phone.”

  “But she did,” I said, puzzled. “I saw her with it when we found the letters.”

  Ray set down the forkful of food he’d been about to eat. “Are you sure it was hers?”

  “It seemed like it was. It even had Jane Austen cover art as the lock screen, and Jane was a big fan of Austen’s books.”

  “Hm.” Ray seemed as perplexed as I was. “The only phone number currently under her name is her landline at her house.”

  “Maybe she’s been borrowing a cell phone from a family member?” I suggested.

  “Her only remaining family member is her sister, who lives in Sweden,” Ray said. “I’ll get in touch with her again and see if she knows anything about it.”

  I circled back to the subject of Dean. “Even if Dean did break into the museum before Jane showed up on the night she died, why the heck would he steal the letters of all things? Surely there were other small items that would be easier for him to sell.”

  “So maybe he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t take the letters on purpose,” Gwen said. “Maybe they really were mixed in with someone’s recycling.”

  “But why?” I asked. “How did they end up there?”

  “That,” Ray said as he cut into his stack of pancakes, “is a mystery that remains to be solved.”

  * * * *

  Before Ray and Gwen left the pancake house, I asked about the progress of the investigation into the hit-and-run. Unfortunately, Ray didn’t have anything he could tell me about the case. I hoped that meant he simply couldn’t share any new information with me, and not that no progress had been made.

  After closing the restaurant and saying goodbye to Leigh for the day, I returned to the office and phoned the third job applicant again. This time I had success and set up a time for the following week when the young woman would come in for her interview.

  That was one more task off my plate. I hoped I’d find a suitable person for each position by the time the interviews were over next week. Then, once Leigh and the successful applicants settled into their new positions, I could focus on my future with Brett.

  I was almost finished cleaning the dining room when Ivan emerged from the kitchen.

  “Everything all right?” I asked when he hesitated by the cash register.

  “I’d like to leave early today,” he said. “I’ll put in extra time tomorrow to make up for it.”

  “No worries,” I assured him. “Is everything okay?”

  Ivan rarely left early, and he was often the last to leave at the end of the day. Even so, it was more the hint of uncertainty in his eyes that prompted me to ask the question.

&nbs
p; “Everything’s fine,” he said gruffly, the uncertainty disappearing so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. “I just need to go to Port Angeles before the end of the day.”

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

  He gave me a curt nod before disappearing into the break room. A minute later, he left through the back door.

  I remembered Lisa mentioning that Ivan had been acting a bit mysterious lately. I wouldn’t have thought anything of him leaving early, if not for his unusual demeanor—as brief as it might have been—and the fact that Lisa was wondering what was up with him. I would have simply assumed he had an appointment to get to, medical or otherwise. When I considered everything together, however, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on.

  He wasn’t the only one who seemed slightly out of sorts lately. I hadn’t forgotten my mysterious conversation with Tommy about Sienna. During her shifts on the weekend, there had been a couple of moments when it seemed like she wanted to say something to me, but then she’d changed her mind. Since she’d already confessed that she had some anxiety about leaving for college at the end of the summer, I figured it had to be something else entirely.

  Was she planning to give up her job at The Flip Side earlier than I’d anticipated?

  Maybe that was it. Maybe she was scared to tell me, because the pancake house was already short on staff.

  If that was the case, I’d have to get it out of her sooner rather than later. I’d understand if she needed time to prepare for the new chapter in her life, but the more warning I had, the better.

  I doubted I’d ever know what was behind Ivan’s early departure. He was a reticent man at the best of times and rarely ever shared much about his personal life. I had no intention of prying into his business. With Sienna, on the other hand, I might have to pry to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with her. I hoped it wasn’t anything serious, and I hoped she wouldn’t be leaving The Flip Side earlier than expected, but whatever was happening, I was determined to support her in any way I could.