Fit To Be Tied

by Elizabeth Craig

  Ramsay said, “I had a quick question for you—just one thread we’re following in our investigation. I’d ask Meadow, but she absolutely explodes whenever I suggest that a quilter could possibly have anything to do with a murder investigation.”

  Beatrice smiled. “Then you must be asking about Joan.”

  Ramsay grinned. “How did you guess? I don’t know how well you know Joan, but we’ve found reason to suspect that she might have had some financial concerns. Do you know anything about those? Is she a big spender?”

  Beatrice said, “Unfortunately, I don’t, I’m sorry.” She hesitated. “I have heard that second-hand, but you and I might be hearing it from the same source—Laura. I don’t think that she and Joan have the best relationship, though. And I don’t personally know anything about Joan’s financial affairs. I’m starting to know her better, but not enough to know anything about her financial situation.”

  “Got it. Just one thing we’re trying to follow up on,” said Ramsay.

  One of the state policemen called out to Ramsay and he closed his notebook. “I’ll check back in with you later,” he said. “Thanks for this.” He walked toward the house and the policeman.

  Beatrice turned to walk around to the driver’s side of her car and stopped when she saw Joan Carpenter parking her car in front of her.

  Joan’s car door immediately swung opened and she hurried toward Beatrice. Her face was white. “What happened?” she asked in a rush.

  Beatrice said, “I’m so sorry, Joan. Salome has passed away.”

  “What?” Her voice broke as she spoke.

  “Salome didn’t show up this morning at the shop and Posy asked if I could run by and check on her. When I got here, I . . . found her.”

  Joan stepped back until she was slumping against Beatrice’s car. “Dead! Murdered?” she asked urgently.

  “I’m afraid so,” said Beatrice.

  Joan shook her head and said, “I can’t believe it. What’s happening around here?” Her voice rose at the end.

  More police cars pulled up and Beatrice said again, “I’m sorry. Here, would you like to sit down in my car for a minute?” Joan was wobbling a little from the shock.

  Joan nodded and they both climbed into the car.

  “I can’t believe this,” she murmured. “Poor Salome. And what’s going to happen to her daughter now?”

  Beatrice said, “I know. I’m sure Carla will step in, but I feel terrible for them both.”

  Joan said absently, “And I’ve just been driving around town doing random errands and meeting with Wyatt while Salome was in trouble at her own home. I wish I’d known.”

  Beatrice said, “Whatever happened, it was fast. I don’t think that Salome suffered at all. I know you’d been looking for her to talk to her when I saw you at the Patchwork Cottage. Were you ever able to catch up with her?”

  Joan shook her head. “No. And I feel terrible about that. I wish I’d had the chance to speak with her again.” She turned to look through the car window at Salome’s house. “We’re going to have to do something to help little Jenna.” She hesitated and then said, “You probably don’t know this, but Jenna was my father’s daughter. My half-sister.” The last words ended in a sob and Joan fought to keep control over her emotions.

  Beatrice kept her expression very still and said quietly, “I’m so sorry. This must all be so very hard for you.”

  Joan gave a hard laugh. “No, it should have been hard for all of us. Instead, Dad made things a whole lot less-complicated by refusing paternity and then removing Salome from his sight by firing her. We should have been helping Salome out when she needed us instead of denying that her child was part of our family.”

  “When did you find out about this?” asked Beatrice.

  Joan said, “Not immediately. Oh, I’d known that Dad fired Salome. I thought that was outrageous enough on its own. Salome was the perfect assistant for Dad because she was just as organized as he was. She fell right into his methods of filing, saving emails, and scheduling. She made life so much easier for Dad. And then one day, he abruptly fired her. I was flabbergasted.”

  “Did you ask your father about it?” asked Beatrice.

  “Right away. He was very brusque with me and told me not to ask questions about matters I didn’t understand and which weren’t any of my business. I told him that he was never going to find another Salome—that he was going to end up going through a string of assistants, just like he did before Salome came on board. He’d never been satisfied with any of them. He just growled at me and waved me out of his office,” said Joan, rolling her eyes at the memory.

  “So you asked Salome,” guessed Beatrice.

  “Exactly. I was worried about Salome anyway because I knew she was a single mom. I just didn’t know that her daughter was my half-sister,” said Joan, her voice tight. “I caught up with her here at her sister’s house one day and sat down right on that front porch there and asked her if she was doing all right. That I was worried about her. That triggered this outpouring of emotion—sadness, fear, worry. She told me that her daughter was Dad’s.”

  Beatrice said softly, “That must have been a terrible shock for you.”

  Joan gave a strangled laugh. “It was a terrible shock that my father would treat Salome and Jenna that way. It made me see him in a totally different light. I mean, I’d always known that my father was no angel. After all, it was his selfishness and focus on the business that I blamed for my mother’s car accident. But for him to cheat on Laura with his own assistant and then deny the child that came as a result of their affair? I was livid.”

  “Did you approach your father about it?” asked Beatrice.

  “I sure did. I left Salome’s house and marched straight over to Dad’s office. I let him have it. And the whole time he just looked at me with this cold expression on his face. He had no intention of righting any wrongs, I can tell you that,” said Joan.

  “What did you do then?”

  “I called Salome and spoke with her. I felt so guilty by association with my father. She was so sweet and told me not to worry—that her sister had said she could live with her as long as she needed to and that Posy had stepped in and offered her a part-time job while she was looking for an office job. That only made me feel slightly better. I slipped Salome a little money from time to time, but I’ve been low on funds, myself, so it wasn’t as much as I wanted. Her main concern was finding quality childcare for her daughter so that she and Carla could both work,” said Joan.

  Beatrice said, “That was good of you. It sounds like you’ve worked hard to redress your father’s actions.”

  Joan snorted. “Not hard enough. Salome was just scraping by. And here Laura is living high on the hog, not a care in the world.” She sighed. “She’s going to be living even better, soon, as Dad’s widow. She seems to have done well by Dad’s will.”

  “You’ve met with the lawyer?” asked Beatrice.

  “Yes. And Mark is not particularly pleased with the terms of the will. It sounds like Dad was especially generous to Laura. I have to admit that I wouldn’t have turned down money from Dad, either—I’ve made some poor investments in the past few years at an attempt to do day-trading. It didn’t go so well. I mean, Dad definitely provided for Mark and me, but not to the extent that he did Laura.”

  “And Salome’s daughter didn’t benefit at all, I’m guessing?” asked Beatrice.

  “Not a bit,” said Joan. She pressed her lips together tightly.

  “Does Laura know about Salome?” asked Beatrice.

  Joan said, “Who knows? She’s never said anything to me about it. Maybe she was happy just to look the other way. After all, if she stayed married to Dad then she was able to live this really comfortable life that she’d gotten used to. But I doubt that Dad would have said anything to her about it. He was all about covering up what he’d done and denying Salome anything.”

  Beatrice said carefully, “Meadow and I stopped by Laura’s house th
is morning and brought her some breakfast before Wyatt went over to meet you all about the service. Laura talked a good deal about your father.”

  Joan rolled her eyes. “I can only guess what she said. She always acts like the most loyal wife ever and sooo supportive of her husband. And, if you count lip service, she certainly was. But that woman gets on my nerves and I’m sure I get on hers, too.” She paused. “Did she say anything about me?”

  Beatrice gave a short nod and Joan continued with a groan, “Laura always does. She likes to spread around her own version of the truth to everyone she can. And somehow, I always end up being the bad guy in these versions of the truth. The evil Joan who needs money and is selfishly angry at her father for events that took place decades ago.”

  Beatrice kept quiet and Joan kept on, “Sorry, it just makes me mad. People believe her, you know. She’s a prominent person in town. I think she spreads this stuff so that everyone is distracted from looking at her and what she’s up to.”

  Beatrice asked, “What is it that you think she’s up to?”

  “Well, I sure don’t think my dad was the only one in that relationship having affairs. She probably just kept hers under close wraps because she knew Dad wouldn’t put up with any public humiliation. He wouldn’t have been able to bear it—he was a very proud man,” said Joan. She looked back over at Salome’s house. “I just don’t know if I can believe that Laura could murder Dad and Salome in cold blood. She’s calculating in her way, but I don’t see her as being a killer.”

  Beatrice said, “Who do you think might have done this?”

  Joan blew out a long breath. “I just don’t know. All I keep thinking about is that everyone has been acting differently lately. Laura had been even more insipid and fawning whenever Dad was around. I guess I’ve been stressed out because I knew the truth about Salome’s baby and was so disappointed in my father. And then Mark has been different because of his concerns about the business and pressuring Dad into selling it at what he thought was a good time.” She hesitated. “Mark and I have always gotten along pretty well. I guess that’s because he and I are two totally different kinds of people. But lately, Mark has been really difficult to get along with.”

  “Stress from the job maybe?” asked Beatrice.

  Joan shook her head. “No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the business has been plenty stressful. But the way that Mark has been acting, it’s been more like a midlife crisis. By that I just mean a really abrupt change. Some of the things he was doing fit a midlife crisis to a T. He got a new, sportier car. He changed the way he’d been doing his hair and started buying some expensive new clothes.”

  “Could he have thought that the sale of the business was really going to come through?” asked Beatrice.

  “That could be it. But I don’t know, it seemed like it was more than that. That was all stuff that was happening on the surface. What made me really raise my eyebrows was when we were together at a family dinner and Dad reprimanded him for losing his temper at the office a few times that week. I mean—Mark is always cool and contained and professional. I had a hard time believing that he could lose it at the office,” said Joan.

  “I don’t know Mark very well, but I agree that sounds out of character for what I know about him,” said Beatrice. “He always does seem very collected.”

  “And that was one thing that my father always tried to be at the office: the one in control. Dad wanted to always be the one with iron control, especially in front of employees. Although I guess that control slipped when he fired Salome that day. She told me that he’d really yelled at her,” said Joan miserably.

  Beatrice said, “What’s going to happen with Dappled Hills Pimento Cheese now that your dad isn’t there to run it? Will Mark step in?”

  Joan sighed. “I actually went by there this morning as one of my errands. Mark insisted that the employees needed to work, no matter what happened—that they needed both the money and the routine. I thought we should close up for a couple of days out of respect for Dad, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Mark will be in charge of the company now. I suppose he’ll finally get his wish and sell it soon. All I know is that he wasn’t happy to see me there this morning, showing any kind of interest in the business. He was glad when I left.”

  “Why do you think that was?” asked Beatrice.

  “I’m guessing that he’s hoping to sell the company as soon as he can and that he doesn’t want anyone else to stand in his way,” said Joan with a shrug.

  “Would you stand in his way?” asked Beatrice.

  Joan gave a short laugh. “Not at all. I’ve seen what that business did to Dad and I think it’s time that we sell it before it consumes Mark, too. Not that Mark ever talks enough to me to actually know what I think about anything. He’s too absorbed in the business, just like Dad was. If he’d simply taken the time to ask me, I’d have told him.”

  Joan sighed. “Thanks for hearing me out again, Beatrice. It seems like all I do is unload on you whenever I see you. I’d better go get ready for work.”

  Beatrice said goodbye and watched as Joan drove away. She headed slowly back to the Patchwork Cottage.

  Chapter Thirteen

  POSY’S FACE WAS HOPEFUL when she saw Beatrice come through the door, but when Beatrice shook her head, it crumpled. “Oh, no,” she said, putting her hands to her face. Her gentle eyes filled with tears. “Oh, that poor girl.”

  Beatrice reached out to give Posy a hug. Posy hugged her hard and then pulled back. She said with wide eyes, “And you found her. I’m so sorry, Beatrice. Sorry that you had to go through that.”

  Beatrice shook her head. “It was better this way, Posy. What if Salome’s sister and daughter had found her? It would have been so much worse.”

  Posy said sadly, “I just never thought that something this serious could have happened to her. I figured that maybe she had some car trouble because she drove an old car. Or that maybe she’d had a long night with Jenna keeping her up and had overslept. Or that she was sick or something. I never expected that something like this could have happened.”

  “What happened?” demanded a crotchety and elderly voice from the sitting area.

  Posy’s eyes opened wide. She whispered to Beatrice, “Miss Sissy took quite a liking to Salome and Jenna. She’s not going to take this well.”

  Miss Sissy, always spryer than you’d think she’d be, darted toward them. Her wiry hair had mostly come out of the messy bun she always sported and she looked as if she’d just woken up. Beatrice winced. Miss Sissy could be moody at the best of times but if she was upset then she made everyone have a rough day.

  Fortunately, Miss Sissy was briefly waylaid by Maisie the shop cat. While she bent over to gently pet the cat, Beatrice hissed at Posy, “I’ll trade you. Could you take Noo-noo for the afternoon and I’ll take Miss Sissy?”

  Posy quickly said, “You know I’d love to have Noo-noo here. Do you mind taking Miss Sissy? I know that everyone who comes in the shop is going to be talking about Salome and that’s not going to be a good distraction for her.”

  “Absolutely,” said Beatrice. “It’s no trouble at all.”

  Except that it did end up being some trouble. Beatrice ran back home to pick up Noo-noo and drop her off at the shop. Then she persuaded a particularly sour and angry Miss Sissy into her car.

  “Stay on the road!” barked the old woman as Beatrice headed back home.

  “I am on the road,” said Beatrice through gritted teeth. From the way Miss Sissy drove, the old woman’s impression of what constituted the road was decidedly skewed.

  Trying to get Miss Sissy’s attention off of the road, Beatrice started talking about the kitchen project. “So at some point, Len is coming back over and you and I can sit outside in the backyard.”

  Miss Sissy looked suspicious. “Not in the hammock.” Her snarl indicated her general mistrust and disregard for the ropy recliner.

  “I may get in the hammock, if you won’t. But there is a table and
chairs out there, too,” said Beatrice, trying to sound persuasive. The last thing Posy needed was for Miss Sissy to disapprove of the arrangements and ask to go back to the Patchwork Cottage.

  Miss Sissy grunted.

  “We could have a picnic out there,” suggested Beatrice. Then she pressed her lips together. She couldn’t possibly host a picnic on the scale that would be needed for the always-ravenous Miss Sissy with the yogurt, bread, and peanut butter that she knew to be at the house.

  Now Miss Sissy had perked up, however. “Yes, a picnic.”

  Beatrice said slowly, “Okay. The only problem is that there isn’t a lot of food in the house because Wyatt and I have been eating a lot of sandwiches since we can’t use the kitchen.”

  Miss Sissy scowled at her and Beatrice quickly said, “So let’s turn around and go by the grocery store. We can pick up things for the picnic and maybe some more paper plates and plastic cups since it’s tricky to get to the dishwasher. But nothing that needs heating up!”

  Miss Sissy gave her a scornful sideways glance as if she understood completely and didn’t need to be reminded what the limitations were. But as soon as they were in the grocery store, Miss Sissy acted as if she were on a timer. She started pulling things off the shelves and out of the refrigerated section and into the cart. Bread, cold cuts, unusual mustards, charcuteries, and fruit bowls quickly entered the cart along with cereals, pickles, chips, crackers, and other general grocery items.

  Beatrice had the feeling that Miss Sissy was not planning on paying for any of the things in the cart. “Now, it’s just for the afternoon, Miss Sissy.” Because the amount that the old woman had put in the grocery cart indicated that she was planning for the Siege of Leningrad. Or an extended stay at Beatrice’s house.

  Miss Sissy continued trotting through the store, but only put five or six more items in. They went through the checkout line and Beatrice winced at the bill’s total. At least it was all food that she and Wyatt could eat without heating up. If Miss Sissy didn’t plan on eating everything in the next couple of hours.