A Time To Kiln

by Gilian Baker

  Gabby finished my thought, “I can definitely see Roger honing in on Paula, hoping to seduce her, but if Betty went around killing everyone he cheated with, half the town would be dead. I don’t know why she’d start protecting her turf now, after all the years they’ve been married.”

  We sat silently for a moment, trying to come up with other leads. Shelly came back and put the new hot pot of tea down on the table. “Here ya go, ladies. Anything else right now?”

  “Not now, Shelly,” I said absent-mindedly. After she’d moved on to another table, I came out of my reverie. “You know, I understand Dillon has an alibi—he was at work—but he fits the profile to a T. He also has a possible motive and the means, since he surely had access to the building.”

  “But Ross would have checked that he was there for his entire shift. After all, the spouse is almost always the first to be suspected.”

  “Yeah. I must say I’m still kind of worried. Ellie’s been spending a lot of time with Dillon since this happened. I don’t like the thought of her getting involved with him again, especially if he’s a suspect. I mean, I know he likes her, but supposedly, he liked his wife too. Do you think she’s safe spending time alone with him?”

  “I think you’re jumping to conclusions, Jade. Ross must not think he’s a serious suspect or he’d already have him in custody. As for Ellie taking back up with Dillon, I don’t think you need to worry about that. She’s got too many dreams to get stuck in a small life in this little town. She’s just being a good friend.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m being a worrywart. Comes with being a parent.” I chuckled half-heartedly. My internal restlessness must have oozed up to the surface because after a few beats of silence, Gabby cleared her throat and asked me what was wrong.

  I sighed deeply. “I know I have nothing to complain about. I’ve got an amazing family and financial stability…but lately I’ve been feeling as dull as dishwater.”

  Gabby stayed quiet, giving me the space to continue when I was ready. I avoided her eyes by folding my napkin into different shapes. “I was perfectly content before, but after Liz’s case was over and life got back to normal, I realized how dissatisfied I am with what I’m doing. Even though the tasks vary, I feel like I do the same thing day in and day out. It’s a drag. No doubt that’s why I’m obsessing about the murder and Ellie’s involvement with Dillon. When my mind doesn’t have something productive to analyze, it starts creating things to worry about.”

  Noticing my napkin was now completely shredded, I put the pieces down and picked up my teacup. “The situation hasn’t been helped by the realization that I’m totally out of the loop, being stuck in my home office every day. When I was at UW, I was consulted on important matters and kept abreast of news and details. Now I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels. The pottery class stimulated my mind, but now that’s over too.”

  Working up my courage, I looked over at Gabby. I hoped she didn’t think I was being ridiculous, complaining about my first world problems.

  “I understand what you mean. I hated criminal law when I practiced it in the city after passing the bar. I mean, it was exhilarating, don’t get me wrong, but it was just too much stress, day in and day out.”

  She blew out a breath and looked up at me. “But I’ve gotten into such a rut since I’ve been back home. The same old things come across my desk at work. I just feel like… I don’t know… When we worked together on Liz’s case, I realized what I’d been missing. The grass is always greener, I know, but I wish I could find something in the middle between dreariness and over-stimulated stress.”

  Having found we were both experiencing the same thing, we allowed ourselves the chance to vent. Even though she was twenty years younger and wasn’t a solopreneur, she understood better than most.

  I chuckled, “It’s no wonder we’re both drawn to thinking about motives and suspects for this crime. We need something to distract us from our everyday lives, and we’re not the type to be content with watching reality TV.”

  Gabby looked at her watch and started gathering up her things. “How about we meet at Paula’s viewing Monday evening? We can watch people’s behavior and note anything dubious. We don’t have to be officially on the case to take the opportunity to add some spice to our lives.” She smiled widely.

  Nodding in agreement, I said, “That’s what the sleuths in my mystery novels would do, and if it’s good enough for Ms. Marple and Poirot, it’s good enough for me.”

  Chapter Five

  Saturday mornings are used for scheduling next week’s work, and this Saturday morning, I wanted to get all of next month’s writing roster coordinated before leaving for my hair appointment.

  The problem was, I was much more interested in analyzing the murder scenario than evaluating the schedule. With a deep sigh, I looked at my big desk calendar to see what I had so far. Not much. Maybe if I make notes of what’s swirling around in my head, I’ll be able to focus on my work. On impulse, I pushed the list of work items to one side and grabbed a yellow legal pad. I’d always found getting things down in black and white helped me organize my thoughts.

  I jotted down possible motives and suspects, all of which Gabby and I had debated. Rather than come up with anything helpful, what little I knew just brought up more questions, even when it was all written down. But, I reminded myself, that’s usually how a murder investigation goes, even for the great detectives in literature.

  Certainly, once I came up with a strong motive, the suspect list would fall into place.

  How was I going to discover for certain if Paula was having an affair and who it was with? I was hardly going to ask Dillon. A revelation dawned on me. Was I not headed to the den of gossip this very day? Where better to find out about Paula’s clandestine rendezvous than the local beauty shop? Unexpectedly, I didn’t mind needing to have my gray covered.

  Looking at the clock, I realized I’d better get a move on if I wanted to finish my work before I left. I attacked the task with much more fervor than before. I’d begun organizing the work roster like this during the cyber-stalker investigation when I’d been required to radically change the way I ran my business. To meet all the deadlines, I’d been forced to outsource much of the writing rather than do it myself. The unexpected result had been higher profits since I’d been able to take on more work.

  When the outsourcing experiment worked so well for the ghostwriting branch of my business, Professor’s Pen, I engaged others to do most of the blog writing for The Writerz Block as well. Now I mostly managed my small team, approved final work and decided on blog topics. I took on the odd writing project if the topic interested me, but that didn’t happen frequently.

  I finished the schedule and sent it and all instructions to my virtual assistant—or VA as they are usually referred to—Geena, who would communicate with the freelancers we subcontracted. With that, I tidied up my desk feeling refreshed. With any luck, I’d come home not only with my hair color revitalized, but also the name of Paula’s mystery man.

  ***

  I walked into The Hair Hut to calls of greetings, both from the staff and the patrons. The typical small town hair salon, the Hut had a single barber’s chair used by the owner, Darlene. The décor hadn’t changed much since the late ‘80s, but the equipment used to keep the women of Aspen Falls beautiful was top-notch. The usual salon smells filled the air—perm solution and dry heat from the blow dryer that worked almost non-stop.

  I had a seat to wait my turn, while Darlene finished brushing out Thelma Birchweed’s perm. Once the hellos were said, the conversation I’d interrupted swiftly returned to the murder.

  Bernadette “Berny” Comer was commenting on the skimpiness of Paula’s shirts and shorts, prophesying this had been her undoing. Berny loved her Bible-thumping and was sure to find sin around any topic of conversation. Unfortunately, she tended to skip over the parts of the Ten Commandments that asked she refrain from bearing false witness against her neighbors.


  Sheila Baringford reminded Berny there’d been no liberties taken with Paula, so her attire hardly had a bearing on her murder. Like a flash, Berny firmly stated she simply meant that a morally bankrupt woman brings these things on herself.

  Theories were flying in every direction, and I was quite enjoying myself when Darlene called attention to me. “Whadaya think, Jade? You’re our resident sleuth.” She’d just finished ringing up Thelma’s color, perm and set. After collecting her miserly tip, she began sweeping up stray hair.

  Noticing the sudden silence in the room, I looked around. Darlene wasn’t the only one interested in my breakdown of the case. Even Thelma had retaken a seat after paying.

  I squirmed in my chair, unsure how to disengage myself from the discussion now that Darlene had put me smack-dab into it. I’d planned on observing, rather than participating. “Well, I didn’t know Paula well, but she seemed like a nice girl. She certainly didn’t deserve what happened to her—no one does.”

  They were all still looking at me, seemingly waiting for me to pronounce the name of the murderer. “I don’t know anything you don’t know. Really.”

  Time to entice them. “But what I can’t quite figure out is how she managed to make such a dangerous enemy in the short time she was here.” There, that should get the tongues wagging.

  Marge Blanchard was the first to pipe up, “I’d bet my last dollar it had to do with an affair. She was a big flirt and there’s been talk of her stepping out on her husband.”

  “But with whom?” I asked. “I’ve heard the rumor too, but not about who she was supposedly meeting on the sly.”

  A chorus of voices sang out two names simultaneously. The first one I heard was “Roger Garber.” The second I’d not even considered. Jack Bristol, our one and only local real estate agent and well-known gadabout.

  Darlene motioned for me to come on over, and once I sat down, she draped the plastic cape tightly around my neck. The image of the wire tightening around Paula, choking the air out of her lungs, caused me to involuntarily stick my finger around the collar to loosen the fit.

  As she brushed out my hair, I asked the room at large, “Jack Bristol?”

  “Oh, you know good ole’ Jack. He’s always available to help a lady out.”

  “But I thought he only gave extra help to the women he sold properties to, not women in general.”

  “Who do you think brokered the deal for Paula’s Pottery Barn?”

  Why hadn’t I thought of that? Maybe because I’d never seen them together. But considering how infrequently I was in town, that wasn’t surprising. Back when she’d bought the property, I’d been neck deep in work, per usual. I still felt dense for not considering him. According to rumors, it mattered very little if the lady was married or not. He could zero in on a woman who wasn’t getting the attention she needed and use it to his advantage.

  By playing the stud muffin, he got to enjoy her affections while bettering his chance of landing the deal. The woman would defend him to their male companion and be blind to his questionable tactics. I never saw the appeal myself. He always seemed so obvious. But then again, I’d never been in a position where I was desperate for my husband’s attention.

  In a questioning tone I said, “I don’t know. Paula seemed pretty sharp. And she hadn’t been married long. I wonder why she was open to his advances.”

  Of course, it was Berny who piped in. “Well, as I said, she was of loose character, now wasn’t she? Does a woman like that need a reason?”

  I met Darlene's gaze in the mirror. I rolled my eyes, and she stifled a giggle.

  I needed facts, not innuendos, so I asked a direct question, “What about Roger? Has one of you seen him with her?”

  Silence.

  Mousy little Kaye Kilgore spoke up finally. “I saw them.”

  I turned at an inopportune time, causing Darlene to squirt color down the side of my neck. She dabbed at it while I craned around to see Kaye’s face, finding it helpful to read people’s expressions while they spoke. Granted, I could have saved myself the trouble since Kaye always wore the same look of apology.

  “It was just the other day at the tea shop. I was having a nice cup of chamomile while I waited for the library to open when I saw Roger stop Paula right outside the door. They talked hastily for a few minutes, and then he seemed to become angry.” Kaye paused and looked around. When she realized everyone was watching her, she snapped her mouth shut and lowered her blushing face.

  “Go on. This is helpful.”

  Kaye shook her head and kept her mouth clamped tight.

  Darlene stopped messing with my hair to look at Kaye. “Come on now. You could help solve poor Paula’s murder. Speak up, for goodness sake.”

  I looked at Darlene in the mirror and raised my eyebrows. She shrugged one shoulder. She knew how to get each of the women under her charge to divulge information.

  Kaye peeked up, her eyes looking over the rims of her thick glasses. “Well… Then Roger grabbed ahold of her arm, and she shook it off and seemed to give him a piece of her mind. That was it. She walked into the tea shop, and Roger walked back across the street.”

  “Interesting, but it doesn’t sound like an amorous situation. I wonder what they were arguing about?”

  “Who knows with that man?" Sheila had venom in her voice. "He’s a letch. I don’t know how our sweet Betty has put up with him all these years. I would’ve castrated him by now.”

  Berny sniffed. “And yet, he has the nerve to enter the Lord’s house every Sunday, acting all pious. He only comes because he thinks it’s part of his duty as a pillar of the community. Hah.”

  Marge was next. “Oh, Betty knows what he’s up to, that’s for sure. I feel so sorry for her.” She suddenly gasped. “You don’t think Betty coulda done it, do you?”

  I wasn’t about to let on I’d wondered the same thing. If I did, it would be all over town—they’d have ‘our sweet Betty’ tarred and feathered in no time flat.

  It seemed everyone was considering the likelihood of this new idea, when Berny said, “How could you all think such a thing? Betty is a good Christian woman. She’s done her duty as a wife to that scallywag all these years, hasn’t she? She’s above such things. Why, she’s in a pew every time the church doors are open. And she always hosts the women’s Bible study group in that beautiful home she has, going all out by making homemade desserts every week.”

  She looked around at each of us in turn with the usual scowl on her face. Several women abruptly found the magazines on their laps interesting again.

  I stepped in before we had to listen to a full sermon. “Berny does have a point. Why would Betty kill him now? She’s been married to Roger for forty years at least. Why would she suddenly go off the rails and kill one of his sideline love interests?”

  No one had an answer.

  I added, “Besides which, none of us has seen them together, except for Kaye here, and that sounded more like an altercation than a lover’s tryst.”

  Marge took a stab at it. “Maybe they were play-acting to keep people from knowing the truth about their romance.”

  “I suppose that’s possible, but why make it into a fight?” I asked. “Why not just ignore each other or say a polite hello and walk on? They made a spectacle of themselves, which can lead to just as many rumors as a quick kiss.”

  I need to rein in these women to get to the facts. “But what have we seen, ladies? All we have now is supposition.”

  Kaye blinked at me from behind her glasses. Berny muttered something to herself that I didn’t quite catch, Marge scanned her magazine, and Sheila shrugged.

  Prompting them, I said, “Think back to when Paula first arrived in town. Let’s go back to Jack, since he would’ve been one of the first people she met here.” I could only look around with my eyes at this point as Darlene was rolling up each strand of hair in a miniature piece of tin foil.

  If I didn’t sit still, she had a tendency to tug on a person’s hair to remind
them who was in charge. I could tell by the silence that wheels were turning, thinking back to a possible link between Jack Bristol and the murder victim.

  “I’ve got it,” Thelma shouted, causing me to jerk, which in turn made Darlene pull my hair. I’d forgotten Thelma was still here.

  “Well, don’t keep it to yourself, woman,” said Sheila.

  “They were still stayin’ at Dillon’s folks’ place when I saw Jack and Paula in The Pie Hole one afternoon. They were sitting close together in one of the booths when I came in. When I spoke to them, they claimed to be reviewing properties that might suit Paula’s plans for the gallery.” She furrowed her brow, “They did have pictures and papers in front of them though, along with glasses of wine…”

  I heard Berny “tut” in the background before Thelma went on.

  “I didn’t think much about it at the time. I was focused on getting my order placed for the grandkids who were coming over that evening.”

  I could picture the scene: Jack wooing her because he wanted the commission. There were plenty of people around who sold their own properties or found an agent from Laramie, rather than go through Jack. He’d want to get her under his spell so he could cash in. It wasn’t like Aspen Falls had a lot of real estate ventures going on.

  Thinking back, the last person who’d settled here from out of town before Dillon and Paula was Natalie Fisher. I knew she’d bought from Jack because I’d seen them driving around looking at homes for sale. She was younger and taller than the other ladies in the class, and she was strong. She ran a horse farm almost single-handedly. What would she have against Paula though? They seemed to get along fine when I was around.

  When I left The Hair Hut, I not only had my striking auburn hair back, I’d also gotten a couple more names to add to the suspect list.