by Vikki Walton
“Mom, this is Anne Freemont!” Missy’s huge grin barely contained her noticeable excitement.
“Yes, I believe that’s true.” She turned to Anne. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt earlier. I knew I had a short time for lunch before I had to get back here. I’m Sorcha.” She smiled and held out her hand which Anne took.
Anne returned the smile. “No worries. I know today was hectic for everyone.”
Sorcha released Anne’s hand and pointed to the window. “I hope you approve of the display.”
“I do. I was just telling…” “Missy,” the girl interjected.
“I was just telling Missy that I would be happy to sign some of the books for you.”
“Wonderful.” The woman motioned toward a small alcove Anne hadn’t noticed on entering the shop. “Please, take a seat.”
A lit fire crackled and warmed the tiny room. Missy turned on a few floor lamps, dispelling any lingering shadows. Anne quickly scanned the room and headed toward an overstuffed chair next to the fireplace. Draped over every chair was a soft throw in various jewel tones. She spied a pair of closed heavy wooden doors. Across the top on the door’s fascia, a carved wooden sign spelled out Library .
Anne sighed deeply. “This is wonderful.”
“Thank you. It’s my favorite room in the shop.” The woman closed the doors behind them.
Sorcha pulled stacks of Anne’s books from a couple of the boxes. She and Anne set the books on a mahogany pie crust table in the adjoining room.
She motioned to the chair that Missy had pulled up to a larger table against the wall. As she sunk into the comfortable high-back chair, a plate holding a sweet- smelling cookie was placed in front of her.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” The woman left and returned shortly bearing a tea pot and two glasses of milk.
“If you’re like me, you’ll want milk with your cookies and hot tea too.” She set the items on the table. “Sorcha is a beautiful and unique name. Is that Irish?”
The woman threw back her head and laughed heartily. “Oh, no. Good thing my mathair —mother—didn’t hear you say that. Celtic—Scottish. It means bright, radiant. As you can imagine from seeing my daughter, I too came into this world with bright red hair.”
The woman took a sip of her tea. “My great- grandfather came to Colorado during the gold rush. He met my grandmother and never left.” She focused intently on Anne. Her green eyes were rimmed with brown eyeliner and almost glowed like a cat’s. “I heard that you are helping Kandi with her dilemma.”
“Her dilemma?” Anne took another bite of cookie, the warm chocolate infusing her mouth with its sweetness.“Oh. Well, I don’t believe for one moment Kandi killed Ralph, if that’s what you mean.”
Sorcha fixed her piercing gaze on Anne from across the table. “Yes, it’s what I mean.”
Anne squirmed under the intense appraisal. “I’m not sure how I can help her, but I’m doing what I can.”
Sorcha sipped her tea.
Maybe Sorcha could give Anne some insights. “What about Ralph? Did he have any enemies or anyone with a grudge—?”
“No. Of course not.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Are you referring to Hope?”
Anne nodded, sadly wiping her chocolate-covered fingers on a napkin instead of popping them in her mouth.
“Such a heartbreaking story.” Sorcha took in a deep breath. “Faith and Ralph fell in love in high school. Families in this town have lived here since the town’s inception. I believe Faith’s ancestry relates to Romanian gypsies. But everyone in town considered her relations witches. And there’d always been bad blood between the two clans.”
She frowned and shook her head. “Anyway, his parents were dead set against the union. When he’d come home from college they could see that his relationship with Faith was becoming serious. So they contacted an old friend in another state and got Ralph an internship. It made sure he couldn’t visit with Faith. Yet, what Ralph didn’t know at the time was that his father was intercepting all communication.
“That’s horrible!” Anne’s cup rattled as she set it in the saucer.
Sorcha nodded affirmation. “No one has proof but his dad, who was mayor at the time, may have paid off the postman to intercept all of Ralph’s letters to Faith.” When she saw Anne’s surprised look, she acknowledged it. “Remember, the prejudice ran deep back then against Faith’s people. They were tolerated but the idea of a marriage was out of the question. As powerful as Ralph’s father was, it would have been pretty easy to pay someone to look the other way.”
Anne motioned Sorcha to continue with the painful story. “Since Ralph thought Faith had never written back, he believed she was over him. He met his wife in college. She came from a wealthy family. They got married during his senior year. But what was most heartbreaking was that Ralph didn’t know Faith had gotten pregnant with Hope on his last visit back to the Springs.”
Sorcha took a sip of tea, leaving a smear of coral lipstick on the rim. “Of course, Faith thought he had simply stolen a treasure and left. She felt he had used her. She was crushed.”
She took a sip of the milk. “Then Faith refused to tell anyone who the father was.”
“Please continue,” Anne urged. Maybe this story could reveal a clue.
“Ralph didn’t live here… or even visit for that matter. Whenever he’d say something about coming home, his folks would always say the timing was off. His parents would always go to visit them. It’s sad but I think they knew that Hope was Ralph’s.
“Years passed. Ralph and his family were in a terrible car accident. His wife and teenage son were killed. Ralph was hurt pretty badly and had to go through months of rehabilitation. His parents urged him to move home so they could care for him. I guess they figured it had been long enough.
“But as soon as Ralph saw Hope, he knew. He tried to reconcile with Faith, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with him. She thought he had abandoned her. Faith finally did confess to him that Hope was his daughter. She asked him why he hadn’t responded to her letters.” Sorcha leaned back in her chair before continuing.
“By that time, Hope had left to go to medical school. She thought she’d received a full ride scholarship, but Ralph paid for every bit of it.”
Anne shook her head at the injustice done on the young couple. “Wow. That’s some story. How do you know all this?”
Sorcha stared pointedly at Anne. “Sometimes all you have to do is take the pieces and pull them together.” She picked up a tapestry throw on the chair next to her. She turned it over and showed it to Anne. “On this side, all you see are the threads of varying colors, but when you turn it over, the pattern becomes clear. Or”—her smile widened—“basically, wait to find out from the town’s gossip grapevine.” She set the tapestry down and continued.
“Ralph begged Faith to marry him. She refused. He tried to provide support, but she refused that as well. She also forbid him telling Hope that he was her father. Faith did finally relent just a few years ago and told Hope. Then Faith started exhibiting early signs of dementia. So Hope moved back to care for her mother.”
She paused. “But old hurts run deep. Poor Hope will never get the chance now to have a relationship with her father.”
“You’re right. That’s just so sad.” Anne sat back in her chair. “So Faith never married?”
“No.” Sorcha’s voice broke. “And he loved her until the very end.”
Anne glanced down at her now-empty plate. What would it be like to have one person love you for so long and so deeply? How cruel Ralph’s father had been.
Sorcha placed another cookie on Anne’s plate. “Please, have another one. If not, then I’ll end up eating them all.”
Missy peeked her head around the corner and Anne finished the cookie quickly. While she went to the bathroom to wash her hands, the tea items were removed, the table cleaned, and a pen provided. Anne signed the books placed in front of her, with Missy affixing signed copy stickers.
Anne closed the last book. “I really appreciate your display and having my books on hand. Honestly, a bit surprising to see you have so many.”
“I ordered in for the homesteading fair. I’m hoping to sell these and then take orders for the town now that we have an author in our midst.” She winked.
Anne rose. “Thank you again for the cookies and conversation. It was nice visiting with you, Sorcha. Missy, thank you for all your hard work on the display.” The girl beamed with the praise.
Sorcha patted the stack of books. “Thank you for signing these. Please stop in again. I normally try to make cookies when one of the book clubs in town is meeting.”
Anne thanked the woman and exited the shop. The bell over the door jangled behind her as she hunched her shoulders and headed home. Thoughts swirled in her mind.
The story of Ralph’s and Hope’s lives had certainly been a tragedy. Had Faith ever told Hope that Ralph paid her way through college? Or had she kept that fact to herself? Had Hope finally taken her revenge on Ralph for neglecting her and her mother all those years? But then, why wait? Hope had been back for more than five years. Why now?
Chapter Sixteen
A few days after the fair had concluded, Anne went to Kandi’s for a visit where the conversation soon turned to Ralph’s murder.
“So, any news?” Anne scraped a plate into Kandi’s compost bucket and closed the lid.
“My lawyer says it’s going to be a tough fight. It looks like Ralph definitely died from an axe blow. My fingerprints are on the handle and it was found in my yard. Plus, my DNA is everywhere . My attorney says we have to create reasonable doubt in the jury’s mind.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be able to survive in prison. I didn’t do it. Why would I kill Ralph?” A knot formed in Anne’s throat at seeing Kandi in such pain. She needed to provide a distraction and offer some hope. “Who else may have had it in for Ralph?
Can you think of anything, no matter how small, that could lead to a clue?”
“I’ve been wracking my brain, but I can’t come up with anything.” Kandi wiped her eyes, which now shone with renewed determination.
“We just need that one clue that helps us figure everything out. So no giving up, okay?” Anne squeezed the girl’s hand.
Kandi groaned. “Well, it better be fast. My initial court appearance is next month.”
Once they’d finishing cleaning up, Anne said goodnight and headed home. She walked to the hedge that divided her yard from Ralph’s. The crime scene tape had been removed, and she stared at the area where Ralph’s body had been found.
What had happened here? Did Ralph know his killer? What were they doing out in the backyard? Was the axe the intentional murder weapon or a weapon of opportunity?
Stewart stood the most to gain from his uncle’s death, but she didn’t rule out Jeff and his devious nature. Hope might have been hurt by the man she’d found out was her father, but was it enough to want to kill him? Hope seemed to be successful and financially secure, but she’d said herself that Ralph’s money would really help with Faith’s care. Faith was certainly too frail to harm Ralph, and why would she want to do so now, after all this time? Was she upset Ralph hadn’t cared for her and the baby? Most of the possible suspects claimed to have been sleeping at the time of the attack, but that didn’t mean anything. It’s not like the killer was going to admit to having been there that night.
What am I missing?
A hand latched onto her arm. She screamed.
“Hey! Settle down.” Sam laughed. “It’s just me.”
“Are you crazy?” She punched him on the arm and pulled free. “You scared me to death.”
“What are you doing? Probably not good to be wandering around back here. You know what they say about the killer returning …wait, a minute.” He cocked an eyebrow and grinned at her.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Not! Stewart beat you to that old saying. I’m trying to help Kandi. I wanted to see if I could think of anything.”
“You need to leave it to the sheriff’s office.” His tone had become serious.
“Did someone mention the sheriff?” Anne and Sam turned to see Carson standing in a clump of trees.
“Are you spying on me?” Anne’s voice rose.
“I’m spying—as you put it—on anyone who comes into this yard. It’s called investigative work. I actually wanted to check out this property boundary again to confirm if anyone entered or exited this way.”
Anne hadn’t thought of that. The edges of the property bordered a forested area with a seasonal creek running through it. The town had wanted to preserve the green space, so they’d created a creek-side path for bikers, runners, and walkers.
Had the killer crept up from the stream, killed Ralph, and then returned the same way?
Anne shivered. The trail also wound around her property. She looked beyond the hedge to the woods, dark and menacing. Was a serial killer on the loose and she the next victim? Her mind raced with new possibilities and threats. Anne jumped when she turned back and found Carson had walked up next to them.
His face hardened as he glanced down at her. “This is a formal investigation. Do not, I repeat, do not insert yourself into something you will regret.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but strode back toward the forest edge.
“That man is something else. Just who does he think he is, talking to me like that?” Anne bristled.
Sam laughed. “You crack me up. He thinks he is the law. Because—he is!” He turned toward her. “Seriously, you need to be careful. Someone murdered Ralph in cold blood. Stay out of it.”
“Where were you the night of his murder?” She was shocked to hear the words leave her mouth.
He tensed. “Are you kidding me? You’re asking if I murdered Ralph?”
“Well…I…” Anne fidgeted.
“You have got some nerve, lady. No wonder you needed to change your identity if that’s how you treat people.”
The words cut deeply. She threw her shoulders back and dared herself not to cry in front of him. They glared at one another. Finally, without a word, he turned and marched across the yard.
After Sam rounded the corner, she turned toward her house. As she did, something in the compost pile caught her eye. She glanced over at it. It was something tiny and reddish that was partially hidden under the lilac bushes. What was it?
Maybe she’d found the clue she’d been waiting to discover. She advanced toward it but stopped herself. She looked toward the forest. Carson stood there, watching.
He must have heard everything. Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.
She glanced toward the compost pile. She’d have to come back when Dudley Do-Right wasn’t on guard. If she went for the object now, he might confiscate a needed clue. Because it could be the very thing that could help Kandi, she didn’t want to take the chance. And since there was no more crime scene tape, she reasoned it was fair game and she couldn’t get in trouble.
Anne crossed toward the opening in the lilacs. Carson may have won that round, but it only served to make her more determined to prove Kandi’s innocence.
Anne awoke to find her room bathed in bright light. She pulled back the curtain to spy a layer of white snow glistening in the sun. Shoot. While she’d read Colorado could be notorious for its mood swings, the timing of this snow couldn’t be more frustrating. It was still September and it had already snowed twice. But this time, almost a foot of snow covered the ground and Anne had no desire to go digging in snow-covered compost it to find whatever object she’d seen. With no way to figure out where it had been, her search would amount to finding a needle in a haystack. Now whatever she’d seen by the compost pile would be covered in snow for at least a few days.
Bang.
The intrusion startled Anne. Another bang. A loose shutter upstairs?
She grabbed a wool jacket from her closet and put it on over her flannel pj’s. She slid her feet out of her slippers and into some heav
ier rain boots she found in the mudroom. In the kitchen she looked longingly at the coffee pot, but she needed to get the shutter refastened before it broke.
Remembering the back stairwell to be dimly lit, Anne grabbed the flashlight from the side of the refrigerator. She opened the door from the kitchen and started up the wood treads, well worn by the footsteps of past residents. Anne reached the landing on the second floor and spied the hall entry door with the remnants of green baize. She’d often wondered if the original owners had come from England and determined once again to do some deeper research on the house.
Anne proceeded up a set of narrow wooden steps toward the attic. The attic revealed a web of tiny rooms. Here and there boxes coated with dust sat stacked in the corners. The boxes’ owners, now long gone, must have been too tired to even check the contents before leaving.
Bang. BANG.
She moved toward the sound. Inside the room, a light snow blew in from a broken window. Frigid air enveloped the room. Anne headed over to the dirt-caked window. Using a scrap of old material from the floor, she wiped off the primary panes.
Her breath caught at the magnificent view. She could see the entire park area, the perimeter of her property, and over into Ralph’s yard. She moved out of that room and went across to the far left room. Here the window revealed more of the park in the distance, its trees now covered in a beautiful snow fondant. Anne could also see Kandi’s house and garage area.
She squinted.
Someone moved across the yard. By the person’s size and stature, it looked like Jeff. Unfortunately, it was difficult to tell for sure since he had on a heavy coat and a hat pulled low over his face. He held something in his hands. One of Kandi’s chickens? But her coop was located in the other part of the yard.
The hen hung limp from the man’s arm, the long neck stretched away from its body. Was the chicken’s head missing? Maybe he had dispatched a chicken for dinner. Maybe a fox or raccoon had gotten to one of the chickens, and Jeff was taking care of it before Kandi saw the damage. He disappeared around the back of the house, and Anne stepped back from the window.
