by Meg Macy
I wished now I’d made my escape along with Cissy and Gus. Instead, I turned to face Lois Nichols, who resembled a witch more than ever, in a ratty coat over a plain black dress. Silver threaded her dark hair, and her sour tone washed over me.
“I heard who won the bake-off contest.”
“Yes, Amanda Pozniak with her Cranberry Walnut Snowballs.”
“Maddie’s best friend, ha! No different than if Mary Kate won.”
“The judges’ decision is final, I’m afraid.”
“I expected to lose. Now I can hire a lawyer—”
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” I said coolly. “Someone witnessed you tampering with Flora Zimmerman’s gingerbread house cookie.”
“That’s a lie.”
“You and Flora had problems at the factory. You didn’t want her to beat you, so you made sure she wouldn’t make it into the final round. Admit it.”
“I don’t have to do squat. You’re not the boss of me anymore! All you Silvermans were born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”
“You’re wrong about that. My parents worked hard to earn what they have now, and they didn’t give me a free ride to college. My sister and I worked for everything we have, and to achieve our goals in life.”
Lois sneered. “What rot. Harry and I sold our house and we’re leaving this stupid town. Nothing but trouble here, that’s all we’ve ever gotten. I’m glad Cal Bloom’s dead. Old codger promised to help Harry, but did he? No. He only helped his close friends.” She snatched up a black teddy bear. “Might as well get something free from your shop.”
“Um—”
Lois pushed her way toward the front door and disappeared. I shrugged. She was welcome to steal a cheap Bears From the Heart toy from the funeral home. Good riddance to her and her bad attitude. I doubted if anyone would be sorry to see the Nicholses leave.
I made my way to join Mom, who’d finally gotten the chance to speak with Cleo, Tom Junior, and John Richardson. Thankfully, they didn’t expect me to add to the conversation. But Maddie wormed her way through the crowd and gripped my elbow, drawing me away toward the group’s edge, where Dad talked to Gil Thompson. She hissed under her breath.
“What was that all about? With Lois?”
“Tell you later.”
Dave Richardson appeared at my elbow, startling me, and reached out to shake hands with my father. I edged sideways around Maddie, uneasy about visiting the funeral home only yesterday, although it seemed like a year ago. Especially after such a busy day. My feet ached in my damp boots. I wanted to go home and sleep until the weekend.
If only.
“—at eleven,” Dave was saying. “I hope you’ll be there.”
“Of course,” Dad said. “Silver Hollow has suffered a big loss. We’ll miss your dad. The Richardsons have always been a big part of the community.”
“Pastor Lovett and his wife have arranged everything. The service, the luncheon, the burial out at the cemetery,” Dave said. “Mom’s so grateful. She’ll be lonely, but we’ll keep a close eye on her. Thanks for coming. We’ll see you and your family tomorrow.”
I glanced at Maddie, who didn’t look pleased at the idea. I knew she’d wanted to work at the graphics studio tomorrow. We planned to close the Silver Bear Shop & Factory, since staff members wanted to attend Tom Richardson’s service and lunch. And the mayor’s was on Friday, which meant we’d lose more precious time. It couldn’t be helped.
Dave and Leah weren’t the only ones burdened by two funerals.
Hot from the crush of bodies, I walked into the hallway. Waited in line at the drinking fountain, and decided to hit the restroom. A line snaked out the door, so I gave up that idea. A few acquaintances from outside the village came over to greet me.
Maddie soon dragged me off again. “What did Lois Nichols say?”
I checked into a side room where Jodie Watson, Phil Richardson, and the rest of the Wags and Whiskers pet rescue volunteers gathered. Instead we headed down the hall, past the busy lounge with its curtained glass doors, and found an alcove with an antique phone stand. Double doors led outside behind the funeral home.
I picked up the receiver, but didn’t hear a dial tone. “For looks, I guess.”
“Will you please tell me what Lois said?” Maddie folded her arms over her chest. “She was furious about losing. That much I knew, but what else?”
“Your friend took first place. Guess that was as bad as if Mary Kate got it.”
“Amanda is your friend, too!”
“I know that. Lois would have complained no matter who won.” I leaned closer. “She did tell me something interesting.”
“Oh? What did she say, tell me.”
“I’d love another box of cookies. Snowballs, or shortbread—”
“Okay, okay already. So spill.”
“Wow, you’re too easy. I don’t need a bribe.” I laughed at her narrowed-eye glare. “Lois and Harry sold their house and plan to leave Silver Hollow.”
She tossed her head. “For your information, they rented that house. You can’t believe anything Lois says. But I know how to verify it.”
I trailed after her down the hall. Maddie joined Mom and Aunt Eve, who chatted with Barbara Davison in the front parlor. All three women, wearing traditional black suits, teetered on high heels. The netting of their small hats half hid their eyes.
“—already arranged with Mary and Norma to deliver all the poinsettias,” Mom said, “and they’ll arrange them on different levels, like a Christmas tree.”
“It sounds lovely,” Barbara said. “So no church ceremony, I take it.”
Aunt Eve shook her head. “Ross and I didn’t want a big fuss. Judith arranged everything for the party, so all we have to do is show up.”
“But I hired a photographer and arranged for a wedding cake,” Mom added. “I also found the perfect shoes to go with Eve’s dress.”
“Vintage, I assume?”
“The most darling pair of kitten heels, with red velvet bows.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Davison?” Maddie apologized for interrupting, but Barbara waved that away. “I only have a quick question. Didn’t you rent the little Cape Cod house on Kermit Street to the Nichols? The middle one.”
“Yes, and our property manager mentioned how they broke their lease,” she said. “We have a lot of cleanup to do before it can be rented again. The Nicholses will lose their security deposit, but that won’t cover all the costs. Who knows if we’ll be able to rent it this late in the year, or even in January.”
“I know someone who’s interested.” I stepped around Maddie. “Jay Kirby is looking for a studio to do his carving. Not in the house. He’ll live there and work in the garage. It’s not a shed, right? It’s a full-size garage?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll keep him in mind, then. And thank you.”
“Ross told me Lois Nichols quit her job at the Quick Mix Factory,” Aunt Eve said, her voice low. “He heard they planned to fire her anyway. Nothing could be proven, but a co-worker accidentally left her purse in the restroom. She’d cashed her paycheck at lunchtime, and when she realized her mistake and rushed back, the purse was there. But not the money.”
“How terrible,” I said.
“Lois had been washing her hands when the woman first left. By the time she called security, Lois had already gone home. Said she had a bad headache.”
“Maybe the police could check if she deposited the same amount in her bank.”
“I doubt it. Cash is easier to hide.” Maddie sounded disgusted. “I bet she left before they could accuse her of stealing the money. And never went back. Now she’s leaving.”
They all nodded sagely. I suspected Lois would make off with more than a cheap teddy bear, but no one could prove it. I glanced around. The crowd hadn’t lessened much. Or the noise, either, muffling the hallway’s grandfather clock when it struck nine.
“There’s Kristen and Alison Bloom.” Maddie gripped my elbow tight. “I wondered if they’d show up tonight.”
<
br /> Ow. I rubbed my arm once I escaped her clutch. I also lost track of Alison and Kristen in the crowd, and shivered when a chilly gust of wind blew through the foyer. Dave Richardson struggled to shut the door after the departing visitors.
“Sasha?”
I turned to see Leah Richardson. Pale, her eyes red and puffy, she twisted a handkerchief between her fingers. Her dark hair fell into soft curls over her shoulders, and once more her neck was hidden with a high-necked blouse under a dark blazer.
“I know this has all been a lot of work for you,” I said.
“Yeah. Things will get better once this week is over. Thank goodness Dave recovered fast. I’d never have been able to handle all this without him. He knows exactly what to say, and how to comfort grief-stricken families.”
I didn’t know what to reply. I was nervous, since I suspected her husband of faking his illness. Leah glanced around, as if checking to see if Dave was near. Why would he keep such close tabs on her if there wasn’t domestic abuse? And she always looked fearful. I’d researched the subject on Google and found a list of red flags. Controlling behavior was near the top.
When Paula Richardson strolled by with her family, Leah leaned close to my ear. “She reminds me of Joyce, Cal Bloom’s first wife, who moved out to California. At least Dave’s dad didn’t fool around like the mayor did with Alison.”
“You mean—”
“Yeah. When Joyce found out, she divorced him and got full custody. Took Kristen with her, so he had to fly out to LA to see his own kid. Alison shouldn’t be surprised that Cal cheated on her. Some people never change.” Leah’s bitterness had returned. “And Alison’s as cheap as Cal. Can you believe she told Dave we owe her a thousand bucks?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I thought the mayor owed you money.”
“Yeah, but she claims Dave signed for stuff when Cal never—Uh-oh.”
Leah clammed up at the sight of her husband and then rushed to join him in the front parlor. Dave glared over his wife’s shoulder at me. Ignoring him, I wandered among the smaller groups still sharing memories with the Richardson clan. Poor Leah. I remembered being afraid of Flynn’s moods, although he’d never abused me in the physical sense. A mental slap in the face was just as painful, however.
“If it isn’t Silver Hollow’s chief snoop.”
Kristen Bloom raised an eyebrow, as if expecting a reaction from me. Her three-inch heels lifted her to my eye level, so I couldn’t miss the fierce anger that blazed in her eyes. I had no chance of dodging her, either. I swallowed my pride and smiled.
“Sticks and stones, huh?”
“I heard you were spreading rumors about me. I’ve got one thing to say to you—”
“I hope it’s four words actually, like ‘Sorry, I was wrong,’ ” I said. “I wasn’t gossiping about you. Isabel French didn’t, either. You owe her an apology, too.”
“Mom said you knew about me and Phil, don’t try to deny it.” She had deflated a little, but Kristen’s sarcastic tone remained strong. “And you’re asking all kinds of questions and stirring up nasty stories about my dad.”
“I’m trying to find out the truth.”
“Dad was fabulous, and everyone here knew it! Why else would they have voted for him again in a landslide? Tony Crocker might be unhappy, but he hasn’t accomplished anything compared to what my father’s done for Silver Hollow.”
“I know that.”
“Do you really?” Kristen cocked her head, one hand on her hip. “He made sure all the lamp posts in town remained Victorian in style, but with modern fittings. He improved council meetings, worked hard with all the commissions to improve the village in so many ways. And he made sure business owners coordinated their Christmas and other holiday decorations, instead of letting them be tacky and cheap.”
I wondered if that was a dig at Maggie Davison, but I let that go. “My parents were good friends with your dad—”
“Then you ought to know better. Quit being such a troublemaker, Sasha.”
Kristen marched toward the Richardson clan surrounding Cleo. I ground my teeth in frustration. How unfair, calling me out in public, but she was grieving. I retreated to join my family, knowing the day would come when I lost my dad. I’d probably feel as heartbroken as Kristen. I hoped I never lashed out at other people, though. Deserving or not.
How odd that she hadn’t berated me for gossip about her stepmother. Alison had the strongest motive for murder. Three reasons to be rid of her husband.
Adultery, alcohol addiction, and that big insurance policy payoff.
Chapter 18
The next few days were a blur. My exhaustion tripled, and mainlining coffee during the day didn’t help much. Sleep eluded me at night, too. I barely remembered Tom Richardson’s funeral service, lunch, and burial on Wednesday, except for the bitter cold. Thursday seemed the same, another mad race to sell, produce, and ship out wizard bears. Even Aunt Eve complained that the Child’s Play Toy Box Co. had sent multiple email reminders of the deadline.
“Like we don’t know,” I grumbled and taped another box shut.
Cal Bloom’s evening visitation turned out to be another noisy crush of people at the funeral home. Triple the number of floral arrangements, baskets, and plants in every parlor and alcove, but minus the warm atmosphere. Everyone whispered and tiptoed through the parlors. They’d been prepared for Tom Richardson’s death, given his long illness, but the shock of the mayor’s death left everyone uneasy.
Suspected murder had that effect.
Alison Bloom looked every inch the grieving widow in a modest black suit and flats. She maintained a calm mask that only slipped when my mother hugged her tight. Alison sagged visibly as if close to collapse.
“It’s been so awful, Judith. You understand what I’m going through.”
“We’re here for you,” Mom said, her voice soothing, and she reached for Kristen’s hand. “How are you holding up, sweetie?”
“I’m fine.”
Kristen pulled away, her tone cold. I suspected she didn’t appreciate her stepmother getting all the attention, for one thing, and her own friends hadn’t yet arrived. That might be to blame. No one could miss the glittery diamond pendant that hung over her lacy-sleeved black minidress, too. Alison wore simple pearls in comparison. Neither shed any tears while they greeted people, which seemed awkward to me.
I’d be inconsolable—like I was at Grandpa T. R.’s services. Maddie as well, and we chose to hang his photo near Mr. Silver in the shop and display his tools. We’d never forget his humor, love, and steady influence in our lives.
I joined my sister to murmur a prayer at the mayor’s casket, but quickly moved on. I’d lost respect for Cal Bloom due to his condescending attitude toward women. And after learning he wasn’t all jolliness and fun, my admiration fizzled.
But no one deserved to be murdered.
On Friday morning, Silver Hollow residents gathered at the church for the funeral. A line of cars stretched along Kermit Street all the way around the curve that ended at Archibald. Leah and Dave Richardson greeted mourners in the church narthex; Pastor Lovett stood beside Alison and Kristen. The rest of the Bloom family consisted of his niece, Zoe Fisher, and her widowed mother, plus Alison’s brother, Tim Jackson—the entire Bloom family. I saw no sign of Phil Hunter. The haughty detective had not put in an appearance at the visitation last night, either.
I bypassed the sanctuary and slipped into the restroom. I’d slapped on makeup without paying attention, so I fixed that and brushed out my blond locks as well. Pinned them up a few times, and finally gave up, choosing a simple braid in surrender. I smoothed my burgundy skirt and sweater, wishing I’d had time for a second mug of coffee.
“Out into the fray—”
“Excuse me?” Vivian Grant, the owner of the Pretty in Pink bakery, had emerged from a restroom stall. “Did you say something to me?”
I blinked. “Oh! Um, no. I was talking to myself. Sorry.”
She only nodd
ed. Strands of frizzy dark hair swirled around her face, and she yanked her dress down on one side. Vivian slung her hot pink purse over one shoulder and departed without another word. I waited a few minutes for the heat in my cheeks to recede. How embarrassing. And then outside the restroom, I bumped into an older gray-haired man, who looked rail thin in a suit that hung on him. I blinked. Tony Crocker? I hadn’t recognized him.
Thankfully he ignored me and shook hands with a tall, muscular man who had silver hair, pale blue eyes, and a ruddy complexion. “Keith Dyer, right? You and your son opened that microbrewery, out past my Christmas tree farm.”
“That’s right. Eric’s business permits came through before the mayor’s death, so we’re grateful for that, given the soft opening we planned for this month.”
“Good thing. Gil Thompson’s Mayor Pro Tem, and he’s slower than a Galapagos turtle getting anything done. Doesn’t like outsiders complaining. No different than Cal Bloom.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Dyer said, but Crocker shrugged.
“All the village council members have their hands in each other’s pockets. Especially Alex Silverman, his brother, Ross, and Thompson. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Crocker stalked off and took a seat in the sanctuary’s last pew. I introduced myself to Mr. Dyer, hoping to set the record straight. “That’s not true, what Mr. Crocker said.”
“I figured that.” He lowered his voice and smiled. “Given my son’s business, I know the taste of sour grapes.”
I stifled a laugh. Keith Dyer slipped past me and chose a pew halfway up the aisle. The pastor’s office door was slightly ajar, and I heard Alison Bloom chiding Kristen about some detail in the service. When their voices raised in argument, I rushed into the sanctuary. No way would I be caught listening outside and accused of spreading more gossip.
My parents, Maddie, Uncle Ross, and Aunt Eve all sat together, so I walked around the side to slide into the pew closest to the window. Five minutes later, Kristen marched toward the front row and joined Zoe and her mother. Alison sat with her brother in the opposite front pew. Clearly their feud had festered deeper now to be on public display. I noted several people with raised eyebrows and heard a few whispers.
