by CeeCee James
I waited to see if that would sink in. Officer Carlson had the amazing gift of keeping his expressions locked tight behind a stone face. He was giving me that stony look now, although it did appear a tad annoyed.
Hurriedly, I continued. “So the day that Ian died, he used one of the oils on his neck. It was in a roller ball. He must have collapsed nearly instantly, losing the cap. Celeste got rid of the bottle, but couldn’t find the other piece.”
“So Jasmine is innocent.”
“I think she might be. Both Celeste and Jeffry killed Ian for Jasmine. One out of family loyalty, and one maybe out of love. Poor thing. Now Jasmine has nothing left but her home.”
“That’s a big story. Could be a bunch of hot air, you know,” he said.
I shrugged. I might have some details wrong, but my gut feeling told me I was pretty close.
Officer Carlson didn’t get a chance to respond. The paramedics came in and gently nudged me to one side.
“Come on, Champ. Time to get that bullet out,” One of them said, as they wheeled the stretcher to the back of the ambulance. Officer Carlson grimaced as they collapsed the front legs and loaded him into the ambulance with a bump.
I peeked inside. “Get better soon!”
“We’ll talk later!” He gave me a cute grin and they shut the doors.
Wait. Did I just think that? Gah!
Shaking it off, I went over to the police officer guarding the store entrance to see about getting my shoes back.
26
The next day, my phone rang off the hook with calls from news reporters. I wanted to keep my name out of the media as much as possible, and after a few “no comments,” I put my phone on silent.
I did need to get ready though. Uncle Chris had sent a message asking for a Flamingo Realty meeting for lunch. He wanted to meet at a small pub, but I talked him into moving the meeting to Springfield Diner. Kari was right. Their bacon burger was to die for.
And I had worked up an appetite. I’d spent a good hour that morning talking with Dad. He was less than reassured about the events from the night before, even when I told him I was fine. I may have down-played the actual gunfire a bit, so he wouldn’t worry. Our call ended with him still dubious about my move to Pennsylvania and a few bribes to try and get me to move back. When I was adamant about staying here, he’d sighed and said he was going to look into a plane ticket to visit me soon.
Honestly, my heart was singing after I’d hung up with him. He was finally, finally coming out after all these years. My hope of getting the family back together was this close. I could feel it.
Quickly, I finished getting ready, and then grabbed my purse and keys. After skirting around the flooring boxes—good grief, what had I gotten myself into?—I jogged out to the car.
As I was backing out, my phone dinged with a text. I checked it really quick in case it was Uncle Chris.
It was from Officer Carlson—Have a second? Call me.
I hit dial and put the call through the car’s speakers. “How are you?” I asked, when he answered.
“Getting out of here today.”
“Oh, that’s great!”
“Yeah, like I said, it was just a nick. Anyway, first things first. We tracked down the phone call that Ian was on during the surprise party. Two guesses on who it was, and I’ll tell you right now, it wasn’t his brother.”
“It was Jeffry.”
He growled. “How did you know? Do we have a leak?”
I shook my head. “It had to be him. Ian said he’d kill him. Very few emotions cause that kind of hatred to come through a person’s voice, but talking to someone your spouse is cheating on you with will do it every time.”
“And you don’t wonder what the extortion part was?”
“What was it?”
“Jeffry wanted money to leave Jasmine alone. Otherwise, he was going to follow them to New York City.”
“How do you know that?”
“Celeste and Jeffry gave a full confession. In fact, Celeste said, and I quote, ‘I just wanted Jasmine to live her best life. Sometimes people need a little nudge to get there.’ Jeffry’s wasn’t so saintly, and had more to do with money, sadly.”
“What about the note I found at the funeral?”
“It was from Celeste to Jeffry, to remind him to watch his p’s and q’s. He was getting a little antsy when Ian’s death got ruled a murder. The Little White poison he’d used was supposed to mimic a heart attack. He never suspected it would be identified as the cause of death. He was freaking out because he’d bragged to more than a few people when he got back from China that he’d smuggled in the mushroom, and was afraid someone would put it together.”
I smiled. Say it, Officer Carlson. Someone like me.
He wouldn’t though, and I wouldn’t bring it up either. After all, if I hadn’t renewed my license on the day I had, and run into the Valentines, I never would have learned that information. “Wow, so it’s over then.”
“It’s over. Now I don’t want to be hearing from you for a long time. At least about something like this. If something else comes up, maybe we’ll talk.”
I laughed, and we hung up. As I turned onto Main Street, I did puzzle for a second over what he meant by his last line.
Yellow police tape distracted me. Down at the corner, Heritage Dispensary was still closed with the investigation. A shiver ran through me, remembering the events of yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago. I did want to go in there when life had mellowed out. I’d like a chance to introduce myself to Mrs. Lavender under better circumstances.
The red-and-white awning of the Springfield Diner cheered me up considerably, though, and with visions of a bacon burger in mind, I parked and walked into the restaurant. It only took me a second to spot Uncle Chris sitting at a round table near the window. Kari wasn’t there yet, apparently. Well, I wasn’t waiting for her before I ordered. I walked back there, smiling.
He looked up and saw me and I watched his face crumple into five different emotions. First, his eyes widened—fear. He swallowed and clenched his fists, and then he smiled, tight-lipped and fake.
I won’t lie, my steps faltered. Fear? Why would he look afraid at seeing me?
I swung my purse off my shoulder as I approached. “Hey, Uncle Chris,” I said, keeping my voice easy.
“Hi, Stella.” He stood up and waited until I sat, before sitting back down himself. He cleared his throat and took a drink from something he’d already been served from the bar.
“Gin and tonic,” he said, wiping his lip. “You want one?”
“It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” I asked. Alarms were ringing in my head.
“Hi, you little trouble maker,” Marla said with a smile. I glanced up, having not heard her approach. “You’ve got to keep a better eye on her,” she admonished Uncle Chris.
He grinned, a weak one, and nodded. What was up with him?
Marla turned back to me. “So did you ever thank that hot rod guy?”
Hot rod guy? I felt like I was caught in someone else’s conversation. “What do you mean?”
“When you were in here the other night.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “He must have seen you through the window there and parked that fancy car of his to pay for your dinner. Said that you looked like you’d had a hard day. Didn’t Tammy tell you?”
With so much else going on, I’d completely forgotten about my dinner being paid for by a mystery man. “Who was he?”
“Well, that was Richie Wilson. He owns Wilson Mechanics up the road. Moved most of his business out to his mom’s place, but he does good work. Yeah, he loves them hot rods. Just bought that purple Challenger the dealership had for sale. Boys and their toys.”
Uncle Chris nodded at me. “And girls too. She wanted that car.”
“Did you, now?” Marla nodded, studying me. “I think you better be thanking Richie then. Sounds like someone you should get to know.” She winked.
I half-heartedly smiled back.
Since I’d entered the restaurant, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was on unstable ground.
We gave Marla our order. It was weird. Uncle Chris hemmed and hawed like he was reluctant for her to go. So when the silence descended between us after she left, I wasn’t surprised.
He sighed deeply, as though his very soul were groaning.
I slowly shook my head. My hands squeezed together under the table.
“Kari’s not coming. I needed to talk with you,” he murmured.
My jaw clenched. There’d been a point when I’d wanted to hear what he had to say, but now I wasn’t so sure. My life was finally getting stable, getting back to a place where I’d wanted to be for a long, long time.
And I knew. I knew that what he had to say was going to blow all that up. My stomach rolled over in revolt. Everything I’d worked so hard for these last few months hung in the balance like the bead of sweat on his upper lip.
“Please…” I said, shaking my head.
“Stella,” he answered. “I’ve needed to have this talk with you for a long, long time. I’ve been afraid.”
“Uncle Chris, I don’t need to know anything. I’m fine just where we are. You don’t need to talk with me about anything, especially if it makes you afraid. I—”
“Stella!” His voice was stern as he cut me off. But his red-rimmed eyes belied the sternness. He took another sip. “You sure you don’t want a drink, Stella?”
I shook my head.
“You’re going to need it,” he said. He waved his arm to beckon the waitress. She walked over with a smile, not realizing a disaster was about to happen.
“What can I get you?” she asked, setting a glass of water before me.
“Another gin and tonic for me. And for her—”
“Nothing,” I muttered, feeling sick.
“She’d like a shot of brandy.”
“My, my,” she said, her eyebrows lifting with admiration. She walked away.
“Uncle Chris—” I started.
“Wait,” he said. “Wait until she brings the brandy.”
“I’m not going to drink it,” I answered, crossing my arms. “I’m not sure what this is about. If you’re so determined, you should just spill it.”
He waved a finger at me and stared desperately after the waitress. A moment later, she walked back with the two glasses on a tray. He watched her approach like a man watching the prison trolley roll in with his last meal.
“Here you go,” the waitress said, setting the drinks down. “Can I get you something else?”
“Maybe later.” He quickly took the last swig before handing her the empty glass. Then he clutched the new drink with both hands.
I stared at my shot glass before me, the fumes of the alcohol rising up. Then I raised my gaze to meet his. This time I didn’t say anything. I just waited.
“Stella, I knew your mom.”
I nodded. I suspected he did. What was so startling about that? Then my eyes widened. What was he going to say next?
“I know where she is.”
I swallowed, fear freezing me from speaking.
“You’re not going to like it. You’re going to be very angry with me. It’s the real reason your dad left all those years ago. And I’m sorry, honey. You’re going to hate your grandfather, Oscar as well.”
“Why?” I whispered.
Because he’s the one that took her from us. From you.”
Slowly, he unveiled a story I never wanted to hear. Each word tore my family away. My father. My uncle. Oscar. My mother. When he was finished, I was left orphaned, abandoned, and betrayed. And I never wanted to see any of them again. I jerked back from the table, the chair scraping harshly against the floor, and I ran out of the restaurant with Uncle Chris calling helplessly after me.
I drove away from the restaurant in a sweat, in a panic. I don’t remember how the conversation ended, or where I was going. All that was running through my mind was Uncle Chris’s face and this horrible, gut-wrenching feeling of loss and betrayal. My mother was alive, but in prison, most likely for life. She’d been a Pit Lizzard, a Nascar groupie that hung around at the race track. My uncle had met her first. They’d only been friends—or so he claimed. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. But he admitted, his face pasty white as he spoke, that he’d gotten her addicted to drugs.
Later, she fell in love with my dad. Dad had helped her clean up her life, and they had a little family. She had me. And then my uncle lured her back to one more party.
I don’t know all the details. I couldn’t care less at this point. I know it had something to do with a drug dealer that Oscar had been investigating. What mattered was that something horrific went down, and my mother had been sent to prison for murder.
Oscar had taken her away.
I needed to talk to someone, but who? My friends from back home never heard me talk about my mom. They wouldn’t understand. Kari had a life of her own, and honestly knew Uncle Chris better than me. I could never go to her.
And Oscar….hot tears coursed down my face. How many times had he comforted me, pretended he’d cared, when, all along, he’d known what he’d done.
The rain lashed against the windshield. Three men in my life stole something from me. My father stole the memory of my mother. My uncle set the temptation in place to draw her away. And my Grandfather put her in prison.
Lightening flashed outside, echoing my heart. The black clouds couldn’t match the dark thoughts in my head. I could barely see, and who knows if it was the rain or the tears.
I found myself standing in the downpour at the foot of Mrs. Crawford’s wide veranda. I’d gotten out of the car, and trudged straight through the mud puddles that had formed at the sudden dump of water, not caring.
My nose ran, but there was nothing left to dry it with. I stumbled up the stairs and stood, shivering, on the welcome mat. I had no idea what she’d think. I usually only came by her house to pay my rent, and what with the deal we made, she’d know that’s not why I was here.
She opened the door without a smile, having seen me through the glass.
“Stella?” she said. “Is something wrong at the house?”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. It’s just… please, I’m sorry for barging in.” I didn’t even know what I was going to say to her. “I just had to be around someone right now.”
“Absolutely. Let me get you a towel.” She scurried back down the hall and came back a moment later with a white towel. Hummming comfortingly, she wrapped it around my shoulders, bringing a scent of lavender. Its heavy weight was welcome, and I wiped my face on the corner.
“Is it Oscar?”
I nodded. “He’s not dead or anything.” The words came out grudgingly. My life felt changed forever.
“Come on. Let’s go sit down and talk a spell.” She led me into her sunroom and sat me on the settee. She settled into a white wicker chair across from me and nodded, and her kind face made me burst into tears again.
“It’s my uncle. He told me the worst story. All the men in my family have betrayed me.”
And, for the first time ever, I cried over the loss of my mom. Everything spilled out. She nodded and hmmed sympathetically through the whole ordeal, though I have no idea how she understood me through my hiccups and rabbit trails. She didn’t ask any questions, just gave me space to let it all pour out like the rain from the clouds.
When I was done, she stood up and tucked the towel a bit more around my neck. And then she disappeared into the kitchen where I heard the sound of water running and the comforting clinks of stoneware. A moment later, she came back with two steaming mugs, one of these she settled into my hands.
I took a sip and stared at her a little nervously, waiting to hear her response. But instead, she leaned back to relax and nodded at me to do the same. We sipped our tea and allowed the soft sounds of the rain to fill the silence for a while. The downpour had turned into patters that lightly danced across the ground.
When she
did speak, her voice was low, comforting. “Stella, I hear your frustration and pain at the consequences that other peoples choices have caused in your life. Your anger, your grief, and your feelings of betrayal are all understandable.
But you need to know you are going to get through this. Even though now you might not be able to see how, this is not where you will always be.” She took a sip of her tea and watched out the window. “You know, sometimes I think our greatest fear in life is that the situation we’re in right now is forever. I can tell you from experience, you won’t always feel the way you do today.
You have a beautiful story… the story of your life. Take the time you need to sit here in your emotions and then wipe your face. Your story doesn’t end here. You will figure out the next step. As my father always said, ‘Look up. There’s always a path ahead.’”
I nodded. I couldn’t think too much past the anger right now, but I knew in my heart that Mrs. Crawford was right. Life was different now. I didn’t know all the ways that it had changed. But I knew one thing. When I looked up, all I saw was a path leading to my mother.
The End
Thank you for reading Home Strange Home. The story continues in Duplex Double Trouble.
Here are a few more series to whet your appetite!
Baker Street Mysteries— Where Oscar and Kari are first introduced! Join Georgie, amateur sleuth and historical tour guide on her spooky, crazy adventures. As a fun bonus there’s free recipes included!
Cherry Pie or Die
Cookies and Scream
Crème Brûlée or Slay
Drizzle of Death
Slash in the Pan
Oceanside Hotel Cozy Mysteries—Maisie runs a 5 star hotel and thought she’d seen everything. Little did she know. From haunted pirate tales to Hollywood red carpet events, she has a lot to keep her busy.
Booked For Murder
Deadly Reservation
Final Check Out
Fatal Vacancy
Suite Casualty
Angel Lake Cozy Mysteries—Elise comes home to her home town to lick her wounds after a nasty divorce. Together, with her best friend Lavina, they cook up some crazy mysteries.
