by Ellery Adams
“I wanted to talk to you alone,” Molly said. “I realized I put you in an awkward position yesterday, asking you questions in front of Helen. May I come in?”
Iris hesitated, but finally stepped aside and allowed Molly to enter. Her home was sparsely furnished, as it had to be, given the small size. It was also neat and tidy, which was a testament to Iris’s cleaning skills.
There was a round bistro table with two chairs by the window. A single coffee mug was on the table next to a plate with a half-eaten buttered English muffin with blueberry jam. Molly had interrupted her breakfast. Iris pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit in, but Molly ignored her and walked over to a row of built-in bookshelves along one wall. It was filled with paperback novels, DVD video games, and a stack of board games. There was Scrabble, Parcheesi, Murder Mystery, Trivial Pursuit, Uno, Balderdash, and Ghostbusters Monopoly. Ghostbusters Monopoly? Molly picked up the box. What will they think of next? She would have loved to take a look inside all of the boxes to check for missing pawn pieces, but she couldn’t think of a way to ask Iris without sounding like she was accusing her of something.
Molly put the box back on the shelf. “Who do you play all these games with?”
“My friend, Olga,” Iris said.
“Bonnie told me about her. She’s the lady you used to work for. You lived with her, too?”
“Yes, she’s like a mother to me,” Iris said. “I try to spend as much time with her as possible.”
Molly saw a framed photograph on the window ledge above the kitchen sink. It showed Iris and an older woman standing together in a flower garden with their arms around each other’s waists. Both women were smiling, and Iris appeared much younger than she was now, perhaps a good ten years younger. Molly pointed to the photograph. “Is that Olga you’re with?”
“Yes. She doesn’t like to watch television, so at night we’d play board games.”
Molly turned her attention back to the DVD video games. They were mostly zombie-related, and rated violent for adult audiences only. She hadn’t pegged Iris as a zombie fan.
“You don’t seem to have a television, and I can see you have battery-powered lanterns for light,” Molly said. “How do you play?”
“On my laptop,” Iris said. “I take it to work with me to charge it.” She folded her arms across her chest. “So, what is it you want? Did you come here to talk about my DVDs and board games? Or is this about Brett? I didn’t have anything to do with organizing the auction, and I told you I hardly knew him.”
“Yet he defended you when Holt was harassing you at the shop, telling everyone that you couldn’t handle it when he broke up with you,” Molly said.
Iris blushed slightly. “Oh. You heard about that. Who told you?”
“Helen did,” Molly said. “She was surprised you got involved with Holt. He has a bad reputation when it comes to women.”
Iris sighed. “He made me think I was special, but all along I was just another one of his conquests. He made me feel like a fool.” She sat down in the bistro chair. Molly sat across from her on a small love seat.
“How often did you go to Laurel Wreath?”
“Once a week, I’d take Olga,” Iris said. “She likes antiques and walking around the store is good for her. She broke her hip last year. That’s why she had to sell her house. She couldn’t do the stairs anymore. She moved in with her son and his wife. Now she spends most of her time taking care of their flower garden, and watching their cat while they travel. She doesn’t mind, though. She fell in love with the cat and has practically adopted her. She even sleeps with her at night. She never had a cat before. Her late husband was allergic. Do you have a cat?”
“I have two,” Molly said.
“I’d like to have a cat, but I’m at work all day, and it doesn’t seem fair to leave it alone,” Iris said. “Anyway, her son’s house is all one level, which makes it easier for Olga to get around.”
“How long did you live with her?”
“Ten years,” Iris said. “But how did we end up talking about me again? I thought you were writing an article about Brett.”
“Yes, of course I am,” Molly said. “What did you think of him?”
“He was nice,” Iris said. “He always talked to us when we were in the shop. I think he had a soft spot for Olga.”
Molly took a closer look at Iris. She was soft-spoken, young, and naturally pretty. It occurred to her that Olga might not have been the only woman Brett wanted to talk to when he saw them in the shop.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“At the auction,” Iris said.
Molly waited to see if she’d mention being there later that night, when Herschel saw her. When she didn’t, she prodded her. “I thought you went back to Laurel Wreath after the auction,” she said. “Someone I know saw you there.”
“Oh, right, now that you mention it, I did go back,” Iris said. “But I didn’t talk to Brett. I went there to talk to Sabrina.”
“And did you talk to her?”
“I tried to, but she told me she was too busy.” Molly was going to ask her what was so important that she’d tried to speak to Sabrina twice in one day, but Iris said, “Would you like to see my cookie jar collection? You mentioned you were thinking of writing an article about cookie jars.”
“I’d love to see it,” Molly said.
“It’s upstairs in the loft. You don’t mind climbing the stairs?”
“I don’t mind.”
Iris went over to the staircase to the loft and began to climb the steep stairs. Molly got a good grip on the handrail before she followed her. The last thing she needed was to fall and break an ankle, or worse. When she got to the top, she had to crouch over, as the ceiling was low and it was impossible to stand upright. There was a single mattress on the floor covered in a colorful patchwork quilt, and along one of the walls was another built-in bookcase. Only instead of books, videos, or games there were cookie jars on the shelves.
Feeling like she’d struck gold, Molly sat on the floor next to Iris. She counted eighteen cookie jars in total. She didn’t see any of the stolen jars—not a single Bobbie the Baker, clown in a barrel, little lamb, pig, or Cinderella pumpkin coach. If Iris had them, she wasn’t keeping them at home.
Iris said, “Most are vintage McCoys, but I have some Bartlett Collins, Ransburg Pottery, and Shawnee jars. Some are gifts from Olga, and Atlas gave me this one on my last birthday.” She picked up the elephant cookie jar he’d told Molly about. “So, are you satisfied?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not a fool,” Iris said. “You wanted to see if I had any of the stolen cookie jars. As you can plainly see, I don’t.” She put the elephant jar back on the shelf. “You talked to Sabrina, didn’t you? That’s how you knew I came back to the shop.”
“Ah, well . . .”
“She must have told you I stole forty dollars from her,” Iris said. “That’s why you think I’m a thief. But I didn’t steal her money. I keep trying to tell her, but she won’t listen to me. Olga was right. She told me I couldn’t trust her. She’d heard things about Sabrina, how she used to run wild when she lived in California, how she gave her father grief. Cleaning for her is one thing, she said, being her friend is quite another. She told me to be careful. But when I was cleaning for her, Sabrina was so nice to me, and we’d talk about all kinds of things, and then she started asking me to do things with her. We went shopping together, to the movies, and out to dinner. I don’t have any close friends, other than Olga, and I was flattered. I thought Sabrina was my friend, until she accused me of stealing the money. Did she tell you she thinks I stole the cookie jars from the shop?”
“No, she didn’t,” Molly said. It was the truth, but only on the margins, since Sabrina had implied it.
“You said you found a pawn in the cookie jar you found at Brett’s house. I suppose Sabrina also told you I like to play board games.”
“She did mention it,” Molly said.
“But I bet she didn’t tell you she’s played games with me at the Lakeside Brewery,” Iris said. “They have a game room, Buds and Boards. Five dollars a person, you can rent a game and play all night.”
Molly considered this new information. If Sabrina played board games at the Lakeside Brewery with Iris, that meant she also had access to pawns.
“Do you think Sabrina could have stolen the cookie jars?”
“I know she was jealous of Helen dating Brett,” Iris said. “I wouldn’t put it past her to have done something stupid to try to get his attention. She thought he was in love with her, until he started dating Helen. I told her, just because he’s helping you train for a race, it doesn’t mean you’re going steady.” A phone rang downstairs. “That will be Olga.” Iris scooted her way back to the top of the steps. “I call her every morning to check in on her, and I’m late.” She went downstairs, and Molly turned herself around and carefully followed after her. But Iris didn’t get to the phone in time. The call had gone to voice mail. Iris would have to call her back.
“I’d like to talk to Olga,” Molly said. “Where does she live?”
“Why do you want to talk to her? She wasn’t friends with Brett and had absolutely nothing to do with the auction.”
“You said he talked to both of you at the shop, and he had a soft spot for her. Surely she has an opinion about him.”
“Yes, well . . .” Iris hesitated. “All right, I’ll give you her address, but you have to promise you won’t upset her.”
“I’ll do my best not to,” Molly said.
Chapter 17
As soon as Molly got home, she used her map app to find Olga’s house. She was pleasantly surprised to see she lived only two blocks from her own home. She put Tyler in his stroller and told Starling they were going to walk to Olga’s before it got too hot out. They came to a stop in front of a modest brick ranch. A woman wearing a wide-brim sunhat was kneeling in a garden bed, and she looked up as Molly pushed the stroller up the driveway.
“Olga Saunders?”
The woman stood. “I’m Olga,” she said. She was short and plump with curly silver hair peeking out from under her hat.
“I’m Molly Appleby. I got your address from Iris.”
“She told me you’d be in touch,” Olga said, walking across the lawn to her. “I thought you’d call first.”
“I live in the neighborhood, and Tyler and I needed a walk. But if I’ve interrupted your gardening, I can come back another time.”
“The weeds can wait,” Olga said. She smiled down at Tyler. “What a cute baby.” She looked back up, and her face grew serious. “Iris told me you’re writing an article about Brett and talking to people who knew him. We weren’t friends. He was more of an acquaintance.”
“Iris said he always talked to you when you came into the shop. She said he liked you.”
“And I liked him,” Olga said. “His death came as quite a shock. Iris couldn’t stop crying when she told me what happened. It still doesn’t seem possible.”
Molly thought Iris’s crying was interesting, since she hadn’t shed a tear when she’d talked to her about Brett. “I didn’t think she knew him that well to be so upset,” she said.
Olga looked at her. “Does one have to know someone intimately to grieve their passing?”
Molly realized she had to be careful with Olga. She was elderly, but there was nothing wrong with her mind. “No, of course not,” she said.
“Why don’t you come in.” Olga slipped off her gardening gloves. “It’s already starting to heat up, and my knees hurt.”
They went into the house. In the foyer, Olga hung her hat on a coat rack and laid her gloves on a console table. She walked into the living room fluffing her curls, and Molly followed her into the room pushing the stroller. The furniture looked and smelled brand-new. Olga sat down on a wing chair by a bowed window with a view of the front lawn and the garden, and Molly sat on a couch. The cushions were so stiff, she felt like she was sitting at attention. She kept Tyler in his stroller, where he was happily preoccupied with his stuffed panda bear.
“This is a lovely home,” Molly said.
“It’s not mine, it belongs to my son and his wife,” Olga said. “They’re in Hawaii.” A gray cat with white paws sauntered into the room, glancing suspiciously at Molly. Keeping one green eye on her, she walked over to Olga, and in one fluid movement jumped onto her lap. “This is Elle, their cat. I think she’s the real reason they asked me to live with them. They needed someone to take care of her while they’re away. They’ve been traveling a lot since I moved in last year.”
“Iris told me you used to own the property where Atlas Dolan built his new house.”
“Yes, I did,” Olga said. “I didn’t want to sell to him. I told my sons, if I sell to him, he’ll tear the house down. And I was right. The ink had barely dried on the closing papers when a bulldozer showed up and started ripping it apart.”
“You didn’t have any other buyers?”
“Oh, sure, there were quite a few, but no one could match what Atlas was willing to pay,” Olga said. “My boys convinced me to put my sentiments aside and sell to him. I knew it made sense, for the sake of the estate, and in the end, it is just a house. As Iris said to me, he can destroy the structure, but he can’t destroy my memories.”
“She’s right,” Molly said. “I’m curious about your relationship with Iris. She told me she used to work for you, and live with you.”
Olga nodded. “Iris lived with me for ten years. At least Atlas gave her a job, so losing my house wasn’t a total loss.”
“She must have been very young when she moved in with you.”
“Iris was only sixteen,” Olga said. “I was looking for someone to help me around the house, and Iris applied. I got the feeling she’d come from a bad home situation. She told me her parents had hit hard times and were out of work, so she was looking for a job. She also hinted that a live-in situation would be better for her. It seemed odd, and sad, but I made a deal with her. I told her she could stay with me for the winter as my housekeeper with some light cooking and cleaning. She moved in that night, and as it turned out, we got along great. By the end of winter, I told her she could stay on, as long as she promised to get her GED, which she did when she was nineteen.”
“Did she say more about her parents or ever talk to them?”
“She only said she’d had a falling out with them, but she wouldn’t give me any specifics. I stopped asking years ago.”
“You never tried to find out on your own?”
“No. I suppose some people would criticize me for that, but I was worried about her. She was scared to go home. She was safe with me.” Olga stroked Elle’s fur, and the cat squeezed her eyes shut and purred. “So, what do you want to know about Brett?”
“Did you notice a change in his mood lately, or did you ever see him get into an argument with someone at the store?”
“No, nothing like that,” Olga said. “He was always friendly and attentive, and I thought that was smart of him. It’s good to have a personal touch with your customers. Keeps them coming back.”
“Iris told me about her friendship with Sabrina. She said you disapproved from the start.”
Olga’s mouth turned down. “I most certainly did,” she said. “Sabrina is nothing more than a spoiled rich child who always has to be the center of attention. When Atlas bought Iris a car last Christmas, she had nothing nice to say about it. She told Iris she was taking advantage of her father.”
“Atlas told me he gave large bonuses to the rest of his staff, so it’s not like he excluded them from his generosity.”
Olga was silent, and Molly could almost see her organizing her thoughts. Finally, she said, “You asked about Brett. I may be old, but I haven’t lost the ability to see, and over the last few months, I noticed the way he was looking at Iris.”
“What way was that?”
“The way a man looks at a girl he likes
, of course.”
Brett was longing for Iris? Molly found this hard to believe.
“You do know Brett had a girlfriend, Helen Hughes. She works for Atlas.”
“I’m telling you what I saw,” Olga said. “But perhaps Helen is the reason nothing ever came of it. I know Iris wouldn’t encourage him, even though I told her to smile at him more.”
This is bizarre, Molly thought. Was Olga’s imagination running wild, hoping someone as handsome and successful as Brett would take an interest in her shy, quiet young friend?
“Was Iris interested in him?”
“She was her usual self, being shy and sweet,” Olga said. “Iris isn’t like Sabrina. Sabrina is flashy and flirty.”
“You saw Sabrina flirting with Brett?”
“Oh, yes, many times,” Olga said. “For a while, I thought there must be something going on between them, but about a month ago, Iris and I saw her in the parking lot making out with Julian, the store manager. They were in his car, steaming up the windows.”
Molly couldn’t help but feel somewhat vindicated. She’d told Matt she thought something could be going on between them. Unless, of course, the make-out session Olga and Iris had witnessed was a one-time thing, a way for Sabrina to dull the ache of losing Brett to Helen, if even for just a moment.
“Olga, did Iris tell you about the six cookie jars that were stolen from Laurel Wreath?”
“Yes, she told me you found one at Brett’s house with a pawn piece inside it.”
Molly took her phone out and pulled up the photograph of the picnic basket cookie jar. She got up and went over to Olga to show it to her. “Have you ever seen this jar before?”
Olga held the screen close to her eyes. “I can’t say that I have.” She handed her back her phone. “Did Iris tell you what Sabrina has accused her of?”
Molly nodded. “Yes, she says she stole forty dollars from her. Sabrina also told me Iris collects cookie jars and plays board games.”
“Leave it to Sabrina to point that out,” Olga said. “Iris started playing board games when she came to live with me, because I love to play. We do jigsaw puzzles, too. Was there a jigsaw puzzle piece in the cookie jar?”
