The Hidden Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

“Claire, please,” Ethan said.

  Claire shook her head vigorously as she marched over to the sofa and dropped down with a huff.

  “What happened next?” Reid asked.

  “I told Hans Lily was dead, and he got angry and demanded I leave. I did right away. I don’t think he knew Lily was dead.”

  “Yeah, he’s a recluse,” Claire chimed in.

  Ethan leveled a warning glance on Claire, and she huffed again.

  “I’m not sure how many times I need to warn you about interfering in an official investigation. Perhaps some time in jail would help you remember you’re not a police officer but a blogger.” Reid snapped his notepad closed.

  Hope set her mug on the island. “All I did was inquire about some signs and make a little conversation with Hans.”

  “Humpff,” Claire muttered from the sofa.

  Apparently, her sister wasn’t going to help her. Claire wouldn’t be Hope’s one phone call after she got fingerprinted.

  “Were you just making conversation with Donna Wilcox?” Reid asked. “She called me right after your visit.”

  “I can explain,” Hope offered, but Reid’s intense glare made it clear he didn’t want an explanation.

  “On top of the murder investigations, I now have members of the Planning and Zoning Commission calling because they’re worried they could be a target.”

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen.” It wasn’t her intention to cause hysteria among the commission members. If only Drew hadn’t shown up, Donna wouldn’t have panicked. “Do you think they’re targets?”

  “You should be more worried about who’s going to post your bail,” Reid countered.

  “You’re arresting me?” Hope set her cup on the island with a thud. “You can’t be serious. I didn’t do anything.”

  “You’re not being arrested, Hope,” Ethan interjected. “We’re just asking questions.”

  “Your call, Chief.” Reid stood, with his notepad and pen. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Miss Early. I’ll show myself out.” He exited the kitchen and, within a moment, she heard the front door close.

  Lucky day? The detective couldn’t have been more wrong. Not one thing went as planned and the day wasn’t even half over yet.

  “I don’t know how many more times I can stop him from arresting you.” Ethan went to the coffeemaker and poured a full cup. He liked his coffee black and strong, and he gulped a large drink. If he wasn’t on duty, he’d probably pour something stronger, and Hope couldn’t blame him. To think, he’d left the Hartford Police Department for a less stressful job in the country. Hope wondered if he regretted his choice.

  “Ethan, I’m so sorry. I don’t know anything about Hans Vogel’s death. He was alive and very angry when I left.”

  “I believe you. I know why you’re doing what you’re doing. I also know that nothing I say will stop you.”

  Hope picked up her coffee mug. “You know me too well.”

  “Maybe you should arrest her so she’ll stay out of trouble,” Claire said.

  “Why are you still here?” Hope walked to the sink and rinsed the mug. Then she surveyed the family room. There were a few scones and muffins to wrap, dishes needed to be loaded into the dishwasher, and the buffet tables needed to be taken down. Any other day those tasks wouldn’t have felt so daunting. She’d happily shift into clean-up mode, pulling out a large trash bag and her cordless vacuum and get to work. But at the moment, all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed. As if reading her mind, Claire slipped out of her stilettos and padded barefoot across the room to retrieve a trash bag from a bottom drawer, then began tossing stirrers, sugar packets, and any other garbage left over. Hope smiled. Even though she encouraged Ethan to arrest her, Claire still had her back.

  “Now, I have one question for you.” Ethan closed the space between them. “What’s with the photo of you and Cal hugging?”

  Hope stared up at him, searching his eyes, and found a mix of fatigue, worry, and hurt. She guessed the hurt came from unfolding the newspaper and finding that photo glaring back at him. Even though the hug was innocent, it was positioned as something salacious. She couldn’t blame him for questioning it. If the situation was reversed, she’d be curious.

  “The photo was taken as I was leaving his house. After the workshop we had coffee and talked and then I left. He hugged me good-bye. I swear there’s nothing going on between us.”

  “I believe you. Just to be clear, because his wife’s death has been ruled a homicide, he is a person of interest. It’s a matter of course.”

  “Cal couldn’t have killed Lily.”

  “You know this how?”

  “Well, I just do. Just like I know you could never do such a thing.”

  “Thanks for your confidence.” His tone was light as his lips curved into a relaxed smile.

  Hope’s pulse zipped a little bit as she thought how kissable his lips were.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding!” Claire shrieked from across the room.

  Both Hope’s and Ethan’s heads jerked up to find Claire dashing across the room with her cell phone in hand.

  “What’s wrong?” Hope had switched from thinking about kissable lips to bracing herself for more bad news.

  “This.” Claire shoved the phone into Hope’s hand. On the screen was an article on another news website about Cal, and it featured the photograph of him hugging Hope. “This is now officially a scandal, and I’ll lose the election to Maretta.”

  “Good grief.” Hope shook her head and handed the phone back to Claire. She had no interest in reading the article.

  “Maretta’s running for mayor?” Ethan asked.

  “She made the announcement earlier.” Claire took another look at her phone. “Why do you always have to find the strays?” She turned and stalked out of the room.

  “Wow, you’ve had a hell of a day.” Ethan’s cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out of its holster and took the call. “I’m on my way.”

  “Duty calls?”

  “Yes. Try and stay out of trouble.” He kissed Hope on the forehead like he’d done so many times before, but never had the simple kiss left her wanting more.

  * * *

  A knock at the back door drew Hope’s attention from stacking the plates she’d just removed from the dishwasher. She walked through the mudroom and glanced through the glass to find Mitzi Madison. She pulled open the door. “You know you’re late.”

  “I know. Sorry. A friend of ours was rushed to the hospital. I went to be with her husband until their children arrived. Where is everybody?” Mitzi peered over Hope’s shoulder.

  “They’re gone. Come on in.” Hope led her neighbor into the kitchen. “There are some muffins and scones left, and I still have coffee.”

  Mitzi’s face brightened. “I’d love a scone.” She walked over to the table and sat while Hope went to the counter. “Coffee, too, please.”

  “Coming right up.” Hope poured a full cup of coffee and added three teaspoons of sugar and milk. Light and sweet, just the way Mitzi liked her coffee. After the tumultuous morning she’d had, preparing a snack for Mitzi was exactly what she needed. The simple act of plating a scone and pouring coffee calmed Hope’s nerves and settled all the thoughts that rattled her mind. All of the clutter in her head fell to the wayside. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend. I hope she’s going to be okay.” Hope approached the table with the plate and the cup of coffee.

  Mitzi bit into the scone and moaned with delight as she chewed the light and airy treat. “These are so good. I think my grandson would say they’re stupid good.” A smile stretched across her face, lines forming along her lips and the corners of her brown eyes. Her silver hair brought out flecks of amber in her eyes, and wispy bangs gave her a youthful look. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, then took a drink of her coffee. She set the cup on a coaster, which Hope appreciated. “I can see something’s wrong. What happened?”

  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

 
; “Go all the way back to the beginning. I’m not in a rush.”

  All the way back to the beginning? If Hope did that, Mitzi would be sitting in the kitchen for days. She began just after Brenda left and the guests started to arrive for Maretta’s event. She gave her neighbor all the gory details of the party, which had Mitzi shaking her head. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the turn of events, just like Hope did. In a strange way, Hope found Mitzi’s reaction somewhat comforting.

  “I can’t believe I missed all of that.” Mitzi finished her scone and pushed the plate away. “I’m still in shock over the fire.”

  Hope nodded in agreement. “I think everyone still is.”

  “You know”—Mitzi leaned forward—“Peggy said something very odd the night I went to check on her after she burned the peppers and onions.”

  “She did?” Hope asked.

  “She said some of her things seemed out of place, but she couldn’t be sure. You know, she was getting on in age. Heck, sometimes I forget where I put something.” Mitzi laughed before she took another drink of her coffee. “She probably was just confused.”

  Hope nodded. “I guess you’re right. She’d been away for a while and Meg probably came over to tidy up once in a while.”

  “Exactly what I thought.” Mitzi finished her coffee and then stood to carry her cup and plate to the sink. “I better get going. I’ll have Gilbert bring Bigelow home.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate all your help with Bigelow.” Hope followed her neighbor to the mudroom.

  “We’re happy to help. That’s what neighbors are for. He’s a sweet boy. Full of energy.” Mitzi gave Hope a big, reassuring hug. “Peggy will always be with all of us,” she whispered into Hope’s ear. She then disappeared out the door.

  Hope closed and locked the door. Even though her morning had been a disaster and she was overwhelmed by the craziness of it all, the threatening note left nailed to her front door wasn’t too far from her mind. She did a double check on the lock before she went back into the kitchen. And a triple check.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “You’ve had quite the morning.” Jane closed the hardcover book she had been reading when Hope entered the inn.

  “Somehow, I’m still standing.” Hope dropped her purse on the reception desk. She was beyond exhausted. Her body felt like she was a dead woman walking, and if she sat down to relax for a moment, she’d fall asleep. As appealing as napping sounded, she couldn’t give in to the tiredness that dogged her. She still had a full to-do list to tackle.

  “Is everything all right with Ethan and Detective Reid? Neither looked happy when they were at your house.” Jane set the book down. She spent her afternoons reading. In the morning she fussed over her guests, making sure they had good breakfasts and their itineraries for the day were set before venturing out to the northwest corner of the state. Aside from antiquing, which Jefferson was known for, the area had great trails to hike or bike, art galleries, farm stands, vineyards, and breweries. There was something for everyone, and Jane knew where all the good places were. Once her guests were out the door, she settled with a cup of tea and a good book in the wingback chair angled so she could see the comings and goings in the foyer. There she recharged before her guests returned later in the day. “The police are being very hush-hush about Hans Vogel’s death.”

  “No gossip?”

  Jane shook her head as she stood and joined Hope at the desk. “Not a peep.”

  “Hey, Hope.” Louis jogged down the staircase. His plaid shirt was untucked and his khakis were baggy and wrinkled as usual.

  As tired as Hope felt, she still had an urge to steam a crease into his pants.

  “Heard you had some excitement at your house this morning.”

  Hope glared at Jane, who blinked innocently. “There wasn’t any gossip about Hans. But you, on the other hand? Loads of gossip.”

  “Thanks.” Hope grabbed her purse off the desk. Felicity arrived at the top of the stairs, so their meeting could start. “Where’s Elena?”

  Jane shrugged again. “She left right after breakfast. I hardly recognized her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The mouse turned into a vixen. The hair, the makeup, the short dress. She looked like she should have been getting back from somewhere rather than leaving first thing in the morning. The girl has a secret,” Jane said.

  Felicity reached the bottom of the staircase, her phone still glued to her ear. “Tell him I’ll provide the photographs. He just needs to send me the products.” Felicity turned away from the group but talked loudly enough so they couldn’t help but hear her.

  “She’s on the phone with her agent, again.” Louis arrived by Hope’s side. “Saw the photo of you and Barnhart. You two close, huh?”

  “If class hadn’t been cancelled, she’d be getting an A-plus.” Felicity pulled the phone away from her ear. “I know I did in college when I cozied up to the professor.”

  Somehow, Hope wasn’t surprised by Felicity’s statement or candor. “Do either of you know where Elena is?”

  “She said she had to go out and was fine with her topic for the panel discussion.” Louis started walking to the living room.

  “Jane said she was all dressed up when she left.” Hope followed Louis.

  “She looked smokin’. I didn’t think she had it in her.” Felicity tossed her hair.

  “It’s only us three, so let’s get started,” Hope suggested.

  The group got comfortable in the living room as the early afternoon sun flitted through the sheer window panels. A soft breeze came through the open French doors to the patio, while melodies of wild birds drifted inside.

  In between brainstorming, Felicity and Louis shared what they’d been up to since the workshop was cancelled. Rather than return home, they decided to stay and visit local businesses and participate in the panel discussion. Their outings would provide fresh content for their blogs. They’d found farm stands and restaurants and even visited a brewery. To Hope, it looked like Jefferson was growing on them.

  “I need coffee.” Felicity popped up from the deeply cushioned armchair. Her long, slim figure seemed more fitting for a fashion blogger than a food blogger. A twinge of envy pricked at Hope as she discreetly glanced at herself. She was still in good shape, thanks to remodeling her house, the daily chores for the chickens, and her semi-regular runs, but she wasn’t as taut or firm as she had been when she practiced Pilates four times a week and sweated it out in the gym the other days. Living in the country had made her soft.

  “Hope, do you want a cup?” Felicity asked.

  Hope lifted her gaze. “Yes, a big cup, please.”

  “Be right back.” Felicity walked out of the living room, the thick carpet cushioning her high-heeled sandals.

  Louis jumped up and joined Hope on the sofa. “I’m glad we have a moment alone.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “Really?”

  “I want to ask you something. I’m thinking about auditioning for the next season of The Sweet Taste of Success.” Enthusiasm danced in his cocoa-colored eyes as a smile stretched from ear to ear. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

  “It’s a baking competition and you’re not a baker.”

  “Right. But it’s done wonders for your career,” Louis countered.

  “It’s also done nothing for some of the other contributors. Only a handful of us were able to capitalize on the show. Honestly, I think your time and energy is better spent working on your blog rather than putting yourself through the audition process and learning how to bake.”

  Hope wasn’t sure if Louis could handle the rigors of the competitive cooking show. He’d be dropped into a relentless cycle of near-impossible baking challenges and never-ending and highly encouraged backstabbing and he’d be isolated from friends and family for an extensive period of time. Had she known about those conditions before she signed the contract, she wasn’t sure she would have participated.

&
nbsp; “Have you considered writing a cookbook?”

  “Yeah, every now and again.” Louis slumped back onto the sofa.

  Hope hated dashing his dreams of stardom, but he did ask for her opinion.

  “I just feel stuck. I don’t even have an agent.”

  “You have a brand you’ve built from your first post, and it would be a shame to toss it because you feel stuck right now.” She patted his knee as she stood. Where was Felicity with the coffee? “I’m going to see what’s keeping Felicity.”

  Hope stepped out into the foyer. Jane had left the desk unmanned and Felicity was leaning against the doorframe of the dining room talking on her cell phone. Her back to the foyer.

  “Your article was amazing . . . I would have given anything to have seen the look on her face when she saw it . . . Oh, you’re welcome. I had to wait so long for her to come out of the house, but it was so worth it when they hugged.”

  Hope stopped where she was and Felicity’s words repeated over in her mind. Felicity took the photograph of her and Cal hugging? She was working with Norrie? They were friends? They were conspiring together against her? Or Cal? It had to be Cal. It was all about chasing the story for Norrie. She didn’t care who she trampled over as long as she got a front-page story on Cal Barnhart and her byline was seen by everyone. In Norrie’s world, Hope was what was called collateral damage. Hope had a word for people like Norrie and Felicity and she was going to share it.

  Hope was ready to confront the underhanded Felicity Campbell, until the inn’s front door swung open and two guests came rushing in, giggling and jostling their shopping bags. Shoot. Hope retreated and bumped into Louis, who had come up behind her.

  The two women dropped their bags beside the desk, waved a hello to Hope and Louis, and then headed for the dining room, where a beverage cart held snacks for guests to help themselves to.

  “Is our meeting over?” Louis stepped into the foyer.

  Hope turned and nodded. Boy, was it ever over. She doubted she could remain civil toward Felicity, and it was best for all of them for her to leave the inn. “Yes. I have to go.”

  She dashed into the living room, grabbed her purse, and fled the inn. Outside, she inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. She felt like she’d been sucker punched. She knew she and Felicity weren’t friends and there was some competition between them, but to do something so low and subversive was outrageous. Hope felt ill.