Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  “Somewhat. I mostly feel guilty because my first reaction hadn’t been joy. It was anger. I couldn’t sit there and have a happy family reunion. I needed to process he’d been alive and hadn’t contacted me in all those years. That he has another family.”

  “What are you most angry about?”

  Being questioned by Sister Madeleine and her unemotional manner was like being queried by a psychiatrist. All our session lacked was my being stretched out on the sofa.

  “That he had deserted me and never looked back. Also, that I could have had a brother and sister in my life. If it hadn’t been for Nita and her family, I would have been so alone. You know how emotionally distant my mother was, and Aunt Kit lived out of town. I think I’m in mourning for what I could have had.”

  “You said your father came because the police have accused his son of murder. What is that all about?”

  I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “That’s the awful part. He’s accused of murdering a young woman he worked with. He no sooner comes into my life, even if indirectly, only to be whisked away to jail.”

  “Did you meet him?”

  “Briefly, but I liked him.” Remembering his friendly manner made me smile.

  “Do you think the young man knew who you were? What’s his name?”

  “Chris. I don’t think so. The company he worked for came to Louiston to film a competition I’m participating in. I wasn’t originally scheduled to be a part of it. It’s one of those bizarre coincidences that wouldn’t be believable in fiction.”

  I sighed deeply. “I don’t know what to do. This is so convoluted. If it were simply that my father came to town to see me, with some time, I probably would get over my anger and deal with it. Knowing he didn’t come here to find me and having a brother, and by the way, a sister too, thrown into the mix with one of them accused of murder, is too much.”

  “Do you plan to talk to your father?”

  I shrugged noncommittally. “Right now, I couldn’t face it.”

  “It’s a lot to deal with all at once. Why don’t you break it down into manageable pieces? For now, separate yourself emotionally from the idea of a brother—and his situation. Then hear your father out. After hearing his story, determine your next step.”

  Arriving home again, I entered the kitchen with feelings of dread, wondering if my father would still be there. I didn’t want to face him again this soon. Finding the kitchen empty, I expelled a sigh of relief.

  Aunt Kit came in from the living room, her face creased with concern.

  “Are you hungry? Phillip left, and I waited to have dinner with you.”

  I loved that she was acting so casually. I expected her to criticize me for leaving so abruptly.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Kit, for running out like that. I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Don’t worry, dear. If I could have, I would have been right behind you. He caught me by surprise too. You can imagine how shocked I was seeing him after all these years. He was surprised to find me here as well.”

  “How could he have done that—not contacting me for so long? Leaving me to think he was dead.”

  “To be fair, dear, he may not have known your mother told you he was dead.” She took plates down from the cupboard, scooped drained spaghetti onto them, and ladled sauce over it.

  I stared at the plate she placed in front of me. I was hungry, but I wasn’t sure I could eat it. My stomach was in knots. “Yes, but he never bothered to let me know he was still among the living.”

  “That wasn’t right, but I think you need to hear what he has to say. Not for his sake but for yours. He’s staying at the Hamilton Inn and said you could reach him at this number when you are ready to talk.” She handed me a slip of paper with his number on it.

  “How had he known how to find me, especially since I use my married name?”

  “For a start, you are living in the house he and your mother bought and she lived in it all those years. And for all you know, he may have been aware of what you were doing through someone here in town.”

  “Or maybe not. Did you know he was still alive?”

  “No, I didn’t. If I’d known, I would have told you.” The look of pity on her face made me feel worse.

  I remembered what Mrs. Webster had told me not long ago—that she’d always suspected Aunt Kit had been in love with my father. If so, how had she felt suddenly seeing him without any warning?

  I finished eating, thankful that Aunt Kit had prepared dinner. She wasn’t into food or a very good cook, so a hefty sprinkle of Pecorino-Romano cheese helped it.

  Aunt Kit insisted she would clean up the kitchen, so I dragged myself to my room and prepared for bed. Could this week get any worse? Being involved in a competition I was rushed into, a runaway teenager, a murder, an attack on Josh, a parent who had returned from the dead, and the discovery of two siblings—one of whom had been accused of murder. As I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, I shuddered to think what tomorrow might bring.

  Chapter 20

  Home stagers can save you from using paint colors that don’t work with floors, cabinets, or carpets, which can turn off buyers.

  Competition Day Five

  After tossing and turning all night, I finally gave up trying to sleep as a lost cause and dragged myself from bed. The smell of coffee drew me to the kitchen, where I discovered Aunt Kit sitting at the table.

  “Did you get much sleep, dear?” She closed the Marilyn Levinson library ghost mystery she’d been reading and placed it on the table. She’d always gravitated toward paranormal mysteries.

  “Not much. What about you? Have you been up long?” I rubbed my eyes, which felt like they were filled with sand.

  “Long enough to make coffee. I knew you could probably use a strong brew this morning.”

  I stood at the kitchen sink and stared through the window at the dark sky. Trying to put thoughts of my father aside for the moment, I remembered the copy of the photographs Josh gave me and pulled them from my canvas bag.

  “I almost forgot these,” I said, starting to leaf through them. Someone had a good eye for items of quality they could sell quickly. Among the things shown were several Remington brass figures of horses with riders, silver pieces, a Stickley rocking chair, and lots of jewelry.

  “What do you have there?” Aunt Kit placed a mug in front of me and poured steaming coffee into it. Having her fussing over me made me wonder what my life would have been like if she had raised me instead of my mother.

  “Detective Spangler gave Josh photos of items stolen from area homes. That way, Josh can be on the lookout in case anyone tries to sell them to him. Some of the items have been appearing in area stores, including Josh’s. Focusing on this is taking my mind off things I can’t deal with at the moment.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  I shuffled through the photos. Nothing looked familiar. Then one caught my eye.

  “You look like you’ve seen something you recognize,” Aunt Kit said.

  “I did. Look at this antique clock. It’s a Vienna Regulator. I know because I saw it at the house of an older woman who was thinking of downsizing. She hired me to give her some advice about preparing her house for sale. It’s what we call a consultation. We tour the home and provide the homeowner with a list of recommendations of things they can do themselves and things we can help them with.”

  “But how do you know that’s her clock? Someone else could have one like it.”

  “It’s the exact clock. I remember because the tip of one of the finials was missing. She told me how she and her husband found the clock in an antique shop in London when they lived there and how the finial got broken during their move back to the States. I was there for quite a while because the woman was lonely and wanted somebody to talk to. She told me about the various places they lived and show
ed me things they’d collected. Her nephew kept coming in and out, doing work outside.”

  “You were kind to listen to her.”

  “She asked what she could do with the furnishings she didn’t plan to take with her. I suggested she give them to family members. That caused her to sniff, not liking the suggestion. Then I said she could donate them or sell them to a reputable dealer. I recommended Josh, knowing he would give her a fair price. The woman’s nephew made a big fuss about her selling her things. After he left, she said she would get in touch with me later.”

  “Did you stage her home?”

  “No, that’s the strange part. For someone keen to work with us, she never got back to me, even when I called her and left a message.”

  “She may have changed her mind about moving.”

  “Could be. But seeing the photo of her clock among the items stolen makes me suspicious of the nephew. It may be nothing, or it could be another piece of the puzzle.”

  After getting ready for my day, I sent Nita a text, asking her to meet me at Vocaro’s. The competition was interfering with my usual morning meetings with her there. Tyrone had an early morning class and would be joining me later at the warehouse.

  Nita slid into the seat across from me and eyed me critically. “Did you get any sleep last night? You look like you’ve been on an all-night bender.”

  “Thanks. It’s comforting to know I look as bad as I feel.”

  “Is this competition and what happened to Beth and then Josh getting to you?” Nita asked. Her happy expression quickly turned to one of concern.

  “If it were only that simple.” I laughed, thinking about how ludicrous that must sound. How could the situation with my father be worse than what happened to Beth and Josh?

  I took a big gulp of my cappuccino and then wished I hadn’t since it was still quite hot. I grimaced, waiting for the sting to subside. Having a painful mouth seemed appropriate to tell a painful story. “Do you remember how my mother told me my father was dead? Well, he has come back to life.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  With a somewhat quavering voice, I told her about his appearance in my kitchen and my disappearance afterward.

  “Oh, Laura. How wonderful to know he’s alive. But also how awful hearing nothing from him for so many years. I don’t blame you for ducking out. I would have done the same thing.”

  “That’s not the half of it. My father didn’t come to town to find me—he came to be here for his son—who’s been accused of murdering Beth Crawford.”

  “You have a brother?” She had known me for almost my entire life, so that was big news for her.

  “Chris, one of the cameramen on the production set. And a sister. They’d all lived in Florida.” I couldn’t figure out why I kept emphasizing Florida. Perhaps it was part of my resentment. While I had been enduring hard Pennsylvania winters, they had been luxuriating on sandy beaches. I chided myself for being so petty.

  “Did he say why he hadn’t contacted you all these years?” With her large and loving family, Nita couldn’t even fathom a parent disappearing and letting a child think he was dead. Throughout the years, she and her family had been my lifeline.

  “I didn’t give him a chance. I was so confused finding him there, and after hearing the only reason he was back in town was that his son is in trouble, I bolted.”

  “This gets more complicated with every second. Do you want me to have one of my brothers rough him up for you?”

  I laughed. Good old Nita to give me some comic relief. I knew full well her brothers wouldn’t do that. “No, but thanks for the offer.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I guess I’ll listen to what he has to say.” And try to listen with understanding, but I wasn’t sure that was going to happen.

  “What about Chris? Do you want me to call my cousin Ted to represent him? He’ll give him the family discount.”

  As I made my way to the warehouse, I wondered whether Ted would be willing to represent Chris. For that matter, would Chris or my father want a different attorney?

  Since there was nothing I could do about it, I decided to focus on the task at hand. Standing at the doorway of our cubicle, I took in what we’d accomplished so far. We were far from being finished, but I was pleased with how it was taking shape. The drapery panels and Roman shades looked good, making the windows appear identical in size. The room was large enough to allow us to place the sofa and chairs toward the center of the room. That solved the problem of limited wall space caused by multiple doors. We’d anchored the furniture by adding a Pendleton rug with a Native American design. Tyrone found it rolled up in one of Josh’s back rooms. A good vacuuming had brought it back to life.

  We’d solved most of the design challenges and now just faced adding some flair to the room. I had nixed Luke’s suggestion that we add some animal heads.

  At one point, I looked up to see a cameraman aiming his camera at me. I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to being in the spotlight, no matter how bright or dim it was.

  Later, standing outside our cubicle, I looked up to see Tyrone approaching, weighed down by an armful of items, including a pair of old-fashioned wooden skis with leather straps to hold the skier’s feet in place and a couple of snowshoes.

  “Hi, Laura. Look what I found at Josh’s.” Tyrone dropped the skis and snowshoes onto the floor.

  Gloria, who was walking by, stopped and stared at them. “That’s your idea of what to put into a room to appeal to buyers?” She shook her head and walked away.

  A hot flush crossed my face. I took the bag Tyrone had also been carrying and walked back into our cubicle to cool off.

  Tyrone picked up the skis and snowshoes and followed me. “Ignore her. Once she sees them in place, she’ll wish she’s had thought of it.”

  “What did you have in mind for them?” I trusted Tyrone’s judgment and knew whatever he had in mind would most likely work.

  “We can cross the skis and hang them over the fireplace. They’ll fit into the mountain cabin theme we’re going for. And here are the red Royal Stewart tartan pillows and lap blanket you wanted.” He emptied them from a large bag and tossed them onto the sofa. “They’ll be a nice balance for the red chest against the wall over there.”

  I picked up the blanket, rubbed its soft texture against my cheek, and laid it on the sofa. “That will look nice, Tyrone. Thank you.”

  “That’s not a very enthusiastic reaction. Are you sure you like them?” Tyrone’s eyes squinted as he stared at the items, looking like he was second-guessing himself based on my perceived lack of enthusiasm.

  “Sorry. The items are perfect. I’m just not myself today—I had a shock last evening.” I switched off my microphone and motioned to him to do the same. I then told him about my father’s sudden appearance and that the man accused of murdering Beth was my half-brother.

  “Man, that would’ve been a shock. I mean having your father show up and learning you have a brother—and that he’s accused of murder. Double shock.”

  “You definitely could say that.” I reached into my bag for my cell phone. “If you don’t mind covering here for a few minutes, I’ve got to make a call. Set up a time to meet with my father. I want to get that out of the way.”

  I went into the stairwell and punched in the number Aunt Kit had given me. My father answered after the second ring. Before I lost my nerve, I asked him to meet me at noon at nearby Veterans Park, where he used to take me. I dreaded the meeting.

  Shortly before noon, I slipped out of the building and set out at a rapid pace for the park. Meeting with my father during my lunch break wasn’t ideal, but the limited time I had and the need to get back would serve as a good excuse to break away if things became awkward between us.

  As I walked, feelings of resentment started to build again. I thought of all th
e times I could have used a father’s support. Walking me down the aisle when I married Derrick. Okay, that marriage had been a disaster, but it still would have been nice having him at my wedding. Or when Derrick was killed in a car accident, when my mother died, and when I decided to start my own business. Learning now that he could have been there for those occasions made it all the harder to get over.

  The beauty of the bright autumn day and the colorful trees on the street leading to the park helped calm me. Using the yoga technique of taking deep cleansing breaths helped me to center myself. I also gave myself a shake, reminding myself I shouldn’t be the nervous one. I didn’t have to provide an explanation—well, at least not much of one. I would have to explain why, if just to assure myself he was dead, I hadn’t searched for him either.

  Bright sunshine filtered through the trees, leaving a dappled pattern on the ground. It helped warm the day that had turned cool. The smell of burning wood wafted through the air from someone’s fireplace. It made me wish I could be sitting in front of a blazing fire, reading one of Anna Lee Huber’s historical mysteries that would whisk me away to nineteenth-century England.

  I realized part of my route was the one my father and I took on our walks to the park. Past Hendricks Funeral Home, the ice cream parlor where we’d stopped for milkshakes, which probably hadn’t been a good idea right before Sunday lunch, and past the house with an orange neon light in the shape of a hand—the home of Madam Zolta, Louiston’s local psychic. As a child, when I had misbehaved, my mother would threaten to call Madam Zolta to come get me, so she hadn’t been one of my favorite people. So when we passed her home on the way to the park, I’d insist we walk on the opposite side of the street. Later, Madam Zolta had come to my aid during a murder investigation, but I still shuddered when I walked past her home. Old memories died hard. With my father’s reappearance, so many memories had come to mind—some of them unwelcomed.

  When I arrived at Veterans Park, I looked across the green area with its many monuments to various veterans’ groups. My father stood next to the one honoring Marines who had fallen during the Vietnam War. When we visited the park together, he would point out all of the statues and monuments dedicated to the Marine Corps. Having served in the Marines himself, he spent hours there, and the park meant a lot to him. I remembered jumping in piles of dried leaves during our visits in the fall. What had happened to our little family?