The image of her aunt screaming in church wouldn’t quite come into focus. “You’re kidding, right?”
Evidently, Abby wasn’t the only one struggling to take what Gage was telling them as seriously as he was. Tripp leaned forward, elbows on the table and his lips twitching as if he was trying hard not to laugh. “Seriously, Gage, are you actually saying that Abby’s aunt is your prime suspect because of some bad crab dip?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Not exactly, anyway. What I am saying is that Mrs. Cayhill accused your aunt of some pretty terrible things in front of all their friends. Normally, I wouldn’t give a care about an argument between two old ladies, but I can’t ignore this one.”
His ice-blue gaze met Abby’s head on, sending a chill straight through her. “The problem is, that argument with your aunt is the last time anyone can remember seeing Dolly, alive or dead, until you two found her buried here in Sybil’s backyard.”
Abby leapt to her feet, determined to defend her aunt’s honor, although she had no idea how to do that. “I’m sorry, Chief Logan, but I want you to leave. I won’t let you sit there and insult my aunt’s memory by hinting she might have committed murder.”
Tripp rose to his feet beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Abby, this isn’t Gage’s fault. He’s doing his job, and all he can do is play the fact cards that he’s been dealt.”
Then he pegged his friend with a hard look. “It’s still early in your investigation, right?”
When Gage nodded, Tripp let his hand drop away from her shoulder but made no move to step away from her side. “Let the man do his job. I know those things were tough to hear, but at least you’re forewarned what people might be saying.”
She swallowed hard, trying to get a few words past the huge lump of worry and anger that threatened to choke her. “I’m sorry, Gage. Tripp’s right, and I do appreciate your letting me know what’s being said. I understand that you didn’t know my aunt very well, but she simply wasn’t capable of anything like this. Ask anyone. Heck, the mayor just gave me a plaque last week honoring all the work Aunt Sybil did for this town.”
Tripp gave her a sympathetic look. “Not to mention the fact that the woman didn’t weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds. She wasn’t strong enough to haul dead bodies around.”
Gage grimaced. “That’s true enough, Tripp, but a couple of people have gone out of their way to point out that you live right next to where the body was buried. Since you don’t fit the usual profile of the students Sybil typically rented the place to, they wondered if you might have had something to do with Mrs. Cayhill’s death, or at least the cover-up afterward.”
Tripp took the news far better than Abby, who found herself sputtering, “What? Are they crazy? He wouldn’t—”
Gage cut off her protest. “I agree. He wouldn’t, and I set them straight on that score. I pointed out that I’d served with Tripp and made it extremely clear that I had personally vouched for him when he moved to town.” He glanced at his friend. “I stand by that recommendation. If anyone has questions, tell them to come find me.”
By that point, Gage’s hands were curled in tight fists. Clearly he hadn’t appreciated anyone questioning his friend’s honor. He finally took a deep breath as if trying to control his temper before speaking again. “Listen, it’s very likely that you weren’t even living here when the woman was killed, but we won’t know that for sure until we can narrow down the time frame involved.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Tripp picked up his cookie container. “Now, if you two don’t need me anymore, I have a test to study for. Thanks for the cookies, Abby.”
On the way out, he stopped to pat Zeke on the head. “And if that reporter comes back, let me know. I might have a hand grenade or two tucked away that I could lob in his direction.”
He was gone before Abby could decide whether or not he was serious. Probably not, considering Gage didn’t seem all that worried.
“I know your investigation is complicated by the fact that my aunt isn’t here for you to interview.” She drew herself up to her full height, which meant she was still more than half a foot shorter than the police chief. “But just be aware, I will do everything I can to clear her name, no matter what it takes.”
Gage stuck his notebook back in his uniform pocket and picked up his hat. She followed him out onto the back porch, where he stopped to say, “Abby, I know you’re upset and have every right to be. But remember this—investigating this murder is my job, not yours. Like Tripp said, I’m just getting started. We’re waiting for the autopsy report and results from forensics. There are a lot of people I still need to interview. If I have questions for you, I’ll get in touch.”
She bit back the urge to argue. Just because he liked issuing orders didn’t mean she had to follow them. “Fine, but I’ll say this one more time. My aunt wouldn’t have murdered anyone, not even her archrival. It wasn’t in her to do such a thing.”
She didn’t know where Gage’s thoughts took him at that moment, but it clearly wasn’t a happy place. “You’d be surprised what people are capable of when they’re feeling cornered. I would also point out that by your own admission, except for that one time twenty years ago, your visits with your aunt have been few and far between. Think about how well you really knew her.”
Then he walked away, leaving her staring at his back and hating the little bit of doubt about her aunt’s innocence that had suddenly stirred to life.
Chapter Five
Abby’s day had started off bad and hadn’t gotten any better as the hours passed by. The freezer was already overflowing with the cookies and treats that she’d baked during the night. The laundry was done, and she’d already vacuumed the entire house, top to bottom. She supposed she could dust or wash windows, but why punish herself anymore for that one little moment of doubt? Besides, she was pretty sure Aunt Sybil would’ve forgiven her even if Abby couldn’t quite forgive herself.
After pouring a tall glass of iced tea, she grabbed a handful of oatmeal cookies and wandered out to sit on the back porch. She angled herself so that she was facing away from the blackberry patch, which still had yards and yards of crime scene tape looped around its perimeter. Even if she’d been able to forget the events of the past two days, the garish yellow streamers were there to remind her.
The sound of a car door closing drew her attention to the front of the house. Who could that be? As tired as she was, it was tempting to stay sitting right where she was and leave it up to the unexpected visitor to find her, or, better yet, not. But what if it was that awful reporter again? Tripp wasn’t home to lob those promised hand grenades in her defense. Not that she thought he really had any. Probably not, anyway.
It was time to see who it was, just in case she needed to hightail it inside and barricade herself behind locked doors. She set her cookies up on the railing in the futile hope that Zeke would leave them alone and crept around to the front yard while huddling close to the overgrown rhododendrons along the side of the house. When she spotted a head of brassy red hair, she breathed a sigh of relief. It had to be Glenda. Hopefully she was alone.
She stepped around the corner just as the older woman knocked on the front door. Abby hurried around to the steps to catch her friend’s attention. “Hey, Glenda, I’m down here.”
The woman jumped as if Abby had hit her with a Taser. “Abby! Don’t sneak up on an old woman like that.”
“Sorry, I guess I was sneaking, but I really didn’t mean to startle you. I was sitting on the back porch when I heard someone pull up out front. A local reporter came banging on my door earlier today, and it took both Tripp and Gage Logan to run him off. I was afraid he’d come slithering back.”
Glenda slowly made her way back down the steps. “I heard the awful news about Dolly and wanted to see if you were all right. I tried twice to stop by yesterday, but with so many policemen wandering all over the place, I couldn’t even park.”
The two o
f them made their way around to the back of the house. Abby kept to a slow pace, knowing that Glenda wasn’t always steady on her feet, especially on rough ground. When they rounded the last corner, her friend gasped and froze midstep. She stared at the tangled web of crime scene tape, a look of horror on her face. “Is that where they found Dolly? Back there in that tangle of blackberries?”
What had she been thinking bringing Glenda back there? Aunt Sybil and Dolly Cayhill had had issues with each other over the years, but it didn’t follow that Glenda had felt the same way about the woman. After all, she’d also grown up in Snowberry Creek. She undoubtedly had known Dolly for decades. Although Abby had been feeling a bit claustrophobic in the house, it wasn’t good manners to force a guest to stare at the scene of a crime.
“Why don’t we go inside so I can fix us a cup of tea?”
Glenda immediately turned her back on the stark reminder of what had happened in the yard and started up the steps. “Actually, something cold sounds better if it’s not too much trouble.”
“I’ve got iced tea, ice water, and a couple of kinds of pop. We can sit in the living room where it’s more comfortable and relax for a while.”
There was also the added benefit that they couldn’t see the backyard from there. Out of sight, out of mind, at least for a few minutes. Still, she needed to ask someone about what had happened between Sybil and Dolly. If Glenda didn’t know the answers, she might know someone who did.
When they were comfortably ensconced in the matching easy chairs that flanked the bay window in the living room, Abby struggled to frame the questions she’d been pondering since her earlier conversation with Gage. Meanwhile, the warm sunlight streaming in felt good against her skin. It was probably her imagination, but Abby had felt cold ever since she’d first realized what had been lurking under that half-rotted piece of plywood in the back corner of the yard. And if she was horrified by the discovery, how much worse was it for Tripp when he’d actually seen the body?
“Are you all right, Abby?”
She hadn’t realized she was crying until she saw the tissue that Glenda was holding out to her. A couple of quick dabs took care of the problem. “Sorry about that. It’s been a tough twenty-four hours.”
“Well, I’d say that’s an understatement. I’m so sorry you got caught up in this mess.”
The sympathy in her elderly friend’s voice proved to be Abby’s undoing, and the tears began to fall in earnest. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s not like I even knew the woman, and it was poor Tripp who actually uncovered the body. All I really saw was my aunt’s quilt.”
Glenda settled back into the chair. “I’m sure it was terrible for Tripp, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t traumatic for you as well. Anyone would be upset to learn that the perpetrator in a homicide case had used her backyard as a dumping ground.”
Perpetrator? Dumping ground? Where had she picked up those terms? Probably from watching television.
As if guessing the direction Abby’s thoughts had gone, Glenda smiled just a little. “My late husband loved reading those true crime books. I never understood his fascination with such things. We’d be lying there in bed, and he’d share some gruesome detail with me just when I was ready to turn out the lights and go to sleep. I can’t tell you how many times I asked him not to do that because it gave me nightmares.”
Now her eyes looked a bit misty, too. “I never thought I’d miss that, but I do. Howard has been gone for nearly five years now, and I still keep the last book he was reading on the bedside table. It might be silly, but somehow it makes me feel closer to him.”
“I think it’s sweet, Glenda. It’s nice to hear about two people staying happily married for so long.”
She’d hoped to grow old with Chad. Now Abby couldn’t look at him without wondering what she’d ever seen in the man. Maybe that was her anger over his betrayal talking, but on the few occasions their paths had crossed since the divorce, he’d seemed like a stranger to her. No, that wasn’t right. It was more like talking to someone she’d gone to high school with. They shared a few common memories, but they no longer had an important role to play in each other’s lives. Sometimes she was almost as disappointed in herself as she was in him. They’d been so focused on creating a successful business that they’d lost sight of what was really important. They were supposed to build a life together, not just a healthy bank account.
Too late now.
She and Glenda sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes. Finally, the other woman sighed heavily and set her empty glass aside. “While I did come by to make sure you were okay, I also needed to warn you that you may hear some things about your aunt and Dolly.” She turned to stare out at the front yard. “Unpleasant things.”
It was obvious Glenda was uncomfortable broaching the subject. To ease the way, Abby said, “You mean about the crab dip and the fight the two of them had in the narthex at church?”
Glenda jerked her head back around to look directly at Abby, her knobby hands clenched in fists. “Who had the gall to come gossiping to you about that? I want to give them a piece of my mind.”
“I appreciate the offer, but there’s no need.” Abby reached over to pat her friend on the arm. “It was Gage Logan. He stopped by this morning to let me know how the investigation is progressing. Seems he’s been getting an earful from some folks, but he didn’t mention any specific names. He figured I should be warned about what was being said.”
Glenda’s flash of temper faded a bit. “That was nice of him. I’m glad you heard about it from someone who would give you the straight story without taking sides. Unfortunately, that isn’t true of some other people I could name, especially with emotions running a bit hot right now. A lot of us took it hard when we lost your aunt. And then to find out about what happened to poor Dolly . . . well, it’s a lot to take in.”
“I can imagine.”
Which was only the simple truth. Her own divorce, followed so closely by Sybil’s death, had left Abby reeling. Losing two friends so close together had to be just as hard for Glenda and the other ladies in their tightly knit group.
“Gage said he didn’t actually know either of them very well. I know he’s trying to be fair, but all he could tell me was what he’d heard from other people.”
“I can only imagine what all he heard. People do love a good scandal.” Glenda sighed and paused. “You see, both Sybil and Dolly have . . . had . . . their supporters here in town. I’m not saying they couldn’t work together if the occasion called for it, but usually they did better if someone else was actually in charge. Even though Snowberry Creek isn’t all that big of a town, there are enough organizations and committees around to keep all of us busy and involved. It was only when Sybil and Dolly were thrown into direct competition that sometimes there were problems. I guess you could say that it was like having two queen bees trying to rule one hive.”
Now that was one heck of an image, but it painted a clear picture of what Glenda was trying to tell her. Obviously Sybil and Dolly both had strong personalities and leadership qualities. The problem was that Snowberry Creek was a small town. With a population of fewer than two thousand people, it was probably difficult for the two women to avoid each other. Having said that, they had clearly managed to coexist for over eighty years. It was hard to imagine that some bad crab dip would’ve resulted in murder.
No, that’s not what happened. She was convinced of it. “I have to say that Aunt Sybil taught me everything I ever knew about good old-fashioned etiquette. I can’t picture her getting into a screaming match in public, much less at church.”
Glenda actually laughed a little. “Sybil got along with almost everyone she ever met, Dolly being the main exception to that. It took a lot to get your aunt all riled up, but you could only push her so far before she’d dig in her heels. Before that incident at the church, I would never have expected her to make such a spectacle of herself. Dolly either, for that matter. She was always
about keeping up appearances.”
“If we assume that Aunt Sybil wasn’t the culprit, did they ever figure out what really went wrong with the crab dip?”
“Not that I know of. It’s not like the police were called or any kind of investigation done. Everyone felt fine at the actual luncheon. It wasn’t until hours later that people started getting sick. From what I heard, the dip was such a hit that there wasn’t any left over.”
Interesting. “So what made Dolly think it was the crab dip that made everyone sick?”
“Since not everyone got sick, there was a lot of discussion about who had eaten what. The ladies who hadn’t eaten the crab dip were the only ones who didn’t get deathly ill at the end of the day.”
“So my aunt wasn’t the only one who didn’t eat the dip?”
Glenda murmured a series of names under her breath, counting them off on her fingers. When she ran out of names, she said, “No, there were at least six women at the luncheon who didn’t get sick.”
“So why assume that it was Sybil who was at fault?”
“I’m not actually sure who put that bug in Dolly’s ear. Maybe she thought of it all on her own, but I’ve always had the impression that it was someone else’s idea. I can ask around if you think I should.”
Abby suspected that Gage wouldn’t appreciate her encouraging Glenda to get involved in the investigation. Besides, since someone had already told him about the incident, he was probably already asking these same questions. The only problem was that he would be unlikely to share his findings with her.
Death by Committee Page 5
