by Reagan Davis
“Promise you’d tell us if something was wrong?” April extends her pinky finger to Connie for a pinky swear, and Connie, hooking her own pinky finger around April’s says, “pinky swear, my dear.”
Chapter 23
In unison, April and I move our sunglasses from the tops of our heads to our eyes as we step out of the post office and onto the sunny sidewalk. We walk in the direction of Latte Da and enjoy the sun on our faces while I fill April in about Ryan being off their suspect list, without disclosing where Ryan and Archie were the night Paul was murdered. Besides, April forgets all about Ryan and his alibi when I tell her about running into Archie on his way out of Connie’s apartment this morning.
“Just wow!” April’s mouth is open in disbelief. “I mean, good for them. They’re both such great people, and they deserve to be happy, but it’s shocking that we live in such a small town, and we’re so close with Connie, yet we never knew.”
“I know,” I agree with her. “I’ve been thinking the same thing lately. We assume because we’re in a small town where everybody knows one another, that it’s hard to keep a secret, but since Paul died, all we’ve done is find out people’s secrets. It makes me wonder how well we can really know anyone.”
“Well, you know me as well as anyone can!” April pulls the door to Latte Da and motions for me to go ahead of her. “And I have no secrets. What you see is what you get.”
She lets the door close behind her and joins me in line. Latte Da is busy today. Everyone is here checking out the new fall menu, making sure their favourite fall drink is back, and looking to see what new items have been added.
We order our coffees and sit in the last available cozy sitting area in the coffee shop. I put my mocha chip iced coffee on the table, settle into my seat and pull out my knitting. I want to finish Hannah’s cowl and hat before she comes home for Thanksgiving in October. I’m also hoping this murder investigation is solved by then, so Hannah won’t come home to a mother who is a murder suspect. Tears began to well up in my eyes, thinking about Hannah and what could happen if the killer isn’t found.
“Hey…” April touches my knee. “Are you OK? You aren’t listening to my review of this Spiced Caramel Apple Latte, or if you are, it’s so boring it’s bringing you to tears.”
“I’m sorry,” I put my knitting on my lap. “I’m worried because Hannah will be home for Thanksgiving in three weeks and I’m still a murder suspect. We haven’t even told her about the investigation. She has no idea I’m a suspect or that Adam was a suspect. I just want it solved so badly.”
A familiar voice gets my attention, and I look toward the cash register to see Kelly paying for her order. Hairway to Heaven is right next door, so it makes sense to run into her here. Kelly looks over and sees me looking at her. She starts waving.
“Hey ladies!” she calls. “Save me a seat. I’ll join you as soon as my Gingerbread Spiced Coffee is ready.”
I wave back at her and nod.
“I still have feelings about her knowing about Adam and Stephanie, and not saying anything,” I say quietly to April.
“I get it,” April whispers, “but Stephanie is her sister. You’re like my sister, and I wouldn’t rat you out if you had an affair. Even if she told you as soon as she found out, would it have changed anything? You guys were splitting up anyway, the affair was still a threat to Adam’s career, and you both still would have wanted those text messages and photos kept private. I don’t think it would have made a difference.”
“You’re right,” I say, “but it still sucks that I feel like I can’t trust her and that she’s such a good liar.”
I sit up and move my large, cinnamon-coloured tote from the chair between April and me to the chair on my other side. As Kelly walks over, I pat the empty chair, motioning for her to sit down.
Kelly sits, puts her drink on the table, her purse on the floor and sighs. I smile at her. Convincing liar or not, if she didn’t kill Paul, she’s going through a horrible time right now, and needs all the support she can get.
I notice she looks tired and is wearing less makeup than she usually wears. Her hair is pulled into a low ponytail instead of fully blown out and styled like it usually is when she’s working, and the only jewelry she’s wearing is her wedding ring and a pair of lovely, delicate, gold love-knot earrings.
“Those earrings are lovely,” April says, as if she were reading my mind.
April is good at small talk, a quality I both admire and am grateful for because her gift has saved me from more than one awkward silence.
“Thank you. They were a gift from my grandparents when I was a teenager. They gave us each an identical pair”—Kelly gestures toward the counter where Stephanie is paying for a drink—“but she has a metal allergy and can’t wear any jewelry at all, no gold, no silver, nothing. She breaks out in a horrible rash that lasts for days if she even touches the stuff.”
Trying not to show a reaction to seeing Stephanie, I move my tote bag from the chair beside me to the floor to make room for her.
“Listen, thanks for coming to Paul’s celebration of life yesterday,” Kelly says, putting one hand on my lap and her other hand on April’s lap. “I wish I could’ve spent more time with you, but it was busy, and overwhelming. I wanted to talk to everyone and thank each person for coming, but I’m not sure I even had a chance to talk to everyone once.”
April puts her hand over Kelly’s hand on her knee. “How was your first night back in your apartment?”
“Not good.” Kelly shakes her head. “It was harder than I expected.”
She perks up. “Stephanie! Over here!” she says, waving until Stephanie sees her and waves back.
I give April a look that I hope says, Really? We’re going to have coffee with Stephanie and pretend we’re all friends?
April gives me a look in return that I interpret as, I know, just grin and bear it for Kelly.
“I thought it would be comforting to be back in our apartment,” Kelly explains,” with all our stuff and happy memories. But I was an emotional mess and ended up calling Stephanie to come and stay with me.”
“That’s understandable,” I say. “It’s only been a week, you’re still in shock, and maybe until the m—person is arrested, it’s safer to not be alone, anyway.”
“Look Megan, before Stephanie comes over here…” All three of us glance quickly toward the counter and see that she’s still waiting for her coffee. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about her and Adam. I honestly didn’t know until after Paul died. I found out she was seeing someone the day before he died, but she didn’t tell me who it was. That all came out after.”
Kelly’s version of events matches what Fred told me outside the pub yesterday.
“But, even if I did know, she’s my sister, and I don’t think I would have been able to tell you. I hated knowing, and I hope this doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
Kelly places her hand on my knee again and looks sincere.
“Did you know they used the photos to blackmail Adam into leaving the firm? So, Stephanie could stay there without Fred having to worry about her and Adam working together?” I ask.
I don’t get a chance to gauge Kelly’s reaction because Stephanie, drink in hand, is on her way over to the table.
“Hi ladies,” Stephanie mutters without looking up from her drink.
“Hi,” April and I say weakly in unison.
To distract myself from Stephanie’s presence, and wondering what in the heck Adam saw in her, I pick up my cowl and resume knitting.
“Is the salon open again?” April asks while fussing with her bangs.
“Yes,” Kelly replies. “The stylists need to get back to work. They worry that their clients might go elsewhere if we’re closed for too long, and it’s good for me to keep busy.”
“She’s working at the salon during the day,” Stephanie adds, “and after work she comes out to our place in Harmony Hills. She knows there’s always a room for her at ou
r house.”
Stephanie smiles at her sister.
“It’s amazing how well I sleep at Stephanie and Fred’s house,” Kelly looks wistful. “Almost every night, within an hour of eating supper, I get so relaxed and drowsy that I take myself off to bed, and the next thing I know, it’s morning. Stephanie and our mom think it’s all the crying and emotions. Grief is exhausting.”
“You two are lucky to have each other,'' I say. “So, how’s Fred doing?”
I don’t care how Fred is but want to do my part in keeping up this awkward, painful conversation. I take a sip of my iced coffee.
“He’s been so great!” Kelly says. “He’s upstairs right now grabbing a few things for me to take back to Harmony Hills. I can’t handle being in the apartment today, so Fred and Stephanie are making sure I don’t have to.”
“I think he’s packing the car, then we can go.” Stephanie looks behind her, “He said he’d pop in to let us know when everything’s packed, and we can head out.”
April is fussing with her bangs again. “No pressure, Kelly, but when you have time, I’d love to pop into the salon to get my bangs trimmed and maybe have my ends cleaned up. There’s no rush, I’m not going to go anywhere else, just let me know when you’re ready.”
“I think I can squeeze you in tomorrow, hun! Let’s pop next door quickly, so I can look at my schedule.” Kelly gets up, grabs her drink, and motions for April to follow her.
Next thing I know, they’re both gone and I’m alone with Stephanie, pretending this isn’t horribly uncomfortable.
“Well, this is awkward,” Stephanie says, stating the painfully obvious.
“What, having coffee with my husband’s girlfriend?” I shrug. “Just another Thursday, Stephanie.”
My tone is sarcastic, and I don’t care. I take a sip of my iced coffee, and resume knitting while sending telepathic messages to April to hurry the heck up.
Stephanie clears her throat. “I’m not his g—”
“Girlfriend?” I finish her sentence for her. “You’re both on the same page about that. Neither of you want you to be referred to as Adam’s girlfriend.”
I smile and look around to see if there’s another free table where I can relocate, alone. Nothing. The unveiling of Latte Da’s fall menu is a big event in Harmony Lake and all the tables are full of people enjoying their beverages and the company of friends and neighbours. Except our table. There’s no enjoyment at our table. Please come back, April.
“Megan, I’m sorry. It was never my intention to interfere with your marriage. I regret the affair, and I wish it had never happened.”
She might think she sounds sincere, but she sounds fake and patronizing.
“So, the affair wasn’t part of your blackmail scheme from the very beginning?” I ask.
It’s crossed my mind more than once that blackmailing Adam could have been the goal all along. With Adam gone, there’s an opportunity for everyone below him to move up a rung on the career ladder, including Stephanie.
“No,” Stephanie says emphatically, shaking her head, “there was no scheme. It was a mistake. Adam is charming and handsome, and I was weak.”
Sneaky, sneaky Stephanie. I see what you did there. Subtly labeling Adam as the pursuer and minimizing her own role in this mess. I’m starting to think Stephanie is a skilled manipulator and her meek, shy persona is an act.
“I didn’t want to blackmail him, or you, that was all Fred.” She looks down at her drink. “But I didn’t stop him.”
I’m not a lawyer, but I know enough about the law to know that Stephanie just admitted to aiding and abetting a crime. Blackmail is a crime, and Stephanie, aware that it was happening, didn’t stop it or interfere. She’s a lawyer for goodness’ sake, an officer of the court. We both know if I say anything, it would be her word against mine, so nothing will ever come from her admission to me.
“Adam is a senior partner. He has a well-established career and reputation. It would be much easier for him to find a new position than it would be for me as a newer lawyer and junior associate. I love Fred and I want us to get past this, but Fred couldn’t get past it as long as Adam and I were working in the same office. I truly am sorry for everything, and I hope your marriage survives this as well.”
Stephanie gives me a meek little smile and looks down at her cup. I put my knitting on my lap and lean in toward her.
“I’m telling you this for one reason,'' I say quietly, holding up my right index finger, “because I don’t want you to think anything you or your blackmailing husband ever say or do could have any influence on my life, ever.”
I narrow my eyes and look directly into her eyes.
“Adam and I separated months before you two started swapping dirty text messages and photos. You did not destroy our marriage. You aren’t significant enough to do that. Your six-week affair didn’t end our twenty-year marriage, years of apathy and disinterest did. You came along afterwards, and, knowing Adam as well as I do, you were just a distraction.”
I grab my tote bag, drop my knitting inside it, stand up, throw my bag over my shoulder, pick up my coffee, and stride to the door without looking back.
Chapter 24
I squint into the sunlight outside Latte Da, slide my sunglasses from the top of my head down to my eyes, and get my bearings.
I walk over to the recycling bin, dump my empty coffee cup inside, and keep walking. I’m making a mental note to text April to explain why I bolted from Latte Da when my left shoulder bumps into the right side of someone walking toward me. I look up to apologize and realize the person I’ve bumped into is Fred Murphy.
There might only be two of them, but it feels like there’s a Murphy everywhere I go today. I nod at Fred and continue on my way, picking up the pace as I walk, putting as much distance between me and the Murphys as this small town will allow.
I turn into the alleyway beside Knitorious, continuing toward my car, and hear my phone ding inside my bag.
I get into my car and lock the door because, on top of everything else that’s happened this week, I’ve become someone who locks her car and house when she’s in them to feel safe.
I plug my phone into the console and check my texts; it’s Adam. We were just talking about him, his ears must be burning, as my mother used to say when someone she was thinking or talking about would suddenly call or show up.
Adam: Where are you? Everything OK?
I start the car and look at the time on the dashboard 1:05 p.m. Shoot, I’m late.
Me: On my way. Be there in 10.
While I drive, I think about how the Stephanie I met yesterday at the pub and the Stephanie I spoke with today at Latte Da are like different people. What you see is not what you get with her.
Since first finding out about their affair, I’ve wondered which one of them made the first move. Fred said it was Stephanie who made the first move, but after meeting meek and mousey yesterday-Stephanie, I couldn’t imagine her making a first move to get anything, and figured Adam was more likely the pursuer. But after talking to today-Stephanie, I’m starting to think there’s a third possibility: She chased him until he caught her. She let him believe the relationship was his idea, but she was in charge the entire time.
I’m also not convinced Stephanie really sent Fred the photo of Adam by accident. I wouldn’t put it past her to send it to him accidentally-on-purpose to expose the affair and eliminate Adam as an obstacle on her career path.
I pull up to 845 Mountain Road and park on the road in front of a large, Victorian-era house. I sit in the car for a moment and assess my surroundings. Mountain Road is in one of the oldest areas of Harmony Lake. The stately houses are set far back on large lots with mature, leafy trees and tall, imposing coniferous trees that I would guess are even older than the houses.
Several houses have signs indicating they’ve been converted to duplexes, triplexes, or small professional buildings. The neighbourhood predates sidewalks, and the east side of the road is lined wit
h the old-fashioned lamp posts connected to each other with electrical wires. During tourist season, Mountain Road is well travelled because it’s one of the two roads that lead into the mountains and to the two vacation resorts that are busy with skiers in the winter, and escapees from the city in the summer.
I text Adam to let him know I’m outside, get out of the car and lock the door, then listen for the chirp that confirms it’s locked and walk up the driveway to the front door.
As I approach the wraparound porch, the large front door opens with Adam on the other side, waving. I can tell he’s excited. He’s grinning and giddy as he beckons me inside. I haven’t seen him this excited about something since he made senior partner at the firm.
Stepping into the foyer, I can tell this isn’t one of the houses that’s been renovated into residential apartments. It’s been renovated into office suites. I try to hide my disappointment and not ruin Adam’s obvious joy. Hopefully, he's so wrapped up in his own excitement, he doesn’t notice my initial shock that he isn’t showing me his new home.
What was likely once a grand foyer is now a waiting room and reception area. There is a sitting area to the right of the stairs with a leather sofa, two leather chairs, a coffee table, and two end tables covered with a variety of magazines and brochures.
To the left is an ornately carved, wooden reception desk and coat rack that look as though they were hand carved specifically to match the restored ornate woodwork of the railings, banisters, and moldings throughout the house.
Behind the wooden desk sits a woman a bit younger than me and wearing a hands-free headset that’s almost camouflaged by her black hair. Adam introduces us. Her name is Lin Chow. She’s friendly and she has kind eyes.
Lin offers me a selection of refreshments, which I decline. Then Adam takes me on a tour of the main floor, which is mostly meeting rooms, a kitchen, two washrooms, and a supply room with printers, a fax machine, boxes of paper, shredders, and office supplies.
