by Sarah Hualde
Flora waved, frantically, from Miss Jacqui’s front porch.
Chapter 25
Miss Jacqui was wise enough to suggest using her kitchen footstool to help Lydia vault the fence. She’d offered it to Lydia, with her blessing, before taking on Cordelia duty. Flora watched from the safety of Miss Jacqui’s porch as Lydia scaled Victor’s chain-link fence. With a phone in one hand and Jacqui’s binoculars in the other, she tracked Lydia’s movements.
Lydia tossed the stool over the fence. Victor’s trash barrels were most natural to use for entrance. Lydia would need the lift on her way back. Her crafter sandals were horrible for climbing fences. She left them behind and completed her journey with bare feet.
Victor’s greenhouse lit up his entire yard. With the sun still stalling, the light wasn’t necessary, but it did comfort, Lydia. She perused the back yard. A barbeque and a lawn chair sat on a small cement slab. Other than that, the only exciting thing in the yard was the greenhouse.
The You Pick Logo clung to a glass wall. It reminded Lydia of Mario’s You Pick inspector’s cap swimming among the heads at the Market. He’d been so proud of his contribution to Honey Pot’s home farmers. Now, he was gone.
Lydia was still thinking of Mario when she reached the greenhouse door. It was sealed with three chains and three separate locks. Lydia gave each lock and chain a tug, hoping they were for looks and not protection. Each stayed secure and firm. She was relieved. If she could not gain entry, neither could the trespassing shadow.
Lydia couldn’t see any damage or other signs of tampering. She also couldn’t see any plants in the glasshouse. She cupped her hands around her temples and pressed her face to a panel. Her breath fogged the pane. Lydia took a deeper look. She cataloged a pile of cardboard boxes and two tables.
Lydia’s phone twirled, her face still smooshed to the window. She startled smashing and sliding her nose against the glass. She pulled away and rubbed her insulted feature while checking her messages.
Out now!!!!
Flora’s text flummoxed Lydia and her thoughts scattered. It was too light outside to make a straight out run for the fence. Dusk was only barely approaching. She silenced her mobile and tucked in under a bra strap. She’d have to hide and pray Victor didn’t come outside.
Lydia’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. She wasn’t a thief or a vandal. Still, she didn’t need Ethan pulled from the office to haul her in. She decided to wait out the sunset and make her exit under the night sky.
Her only nook of safety was an overgrown bush that traversed each side of the fence between the Muggs’ home and the Cotton residence. She shoved herself between its branches and padded her shelter with broken twigs and fallen leaves. I must look ridiculous, Lydia thought as brambles and thorns poked at her. They tangled in her hair. She waited.
Victor’s front door slammed. Lydia steadied her breathing. Her calves already ached and shook beneath her. She searched, with blind hands, for a spot to anchor herself. The back screen to the yard squeaked open and swung closed with a clatter. Lydia froze. Her position was now more unsustainable than before.
Victor stomped to the greenhouse. He muttered to himself and repeatedly smoothed his dark hair off his forehead. Keys jangled in his hand. Smoothly and swiftly, he unlocked the door to his garden and entered. Through the bushes, Lydia squinted.
Victor sat at the cleanest table and fidgeted with a hot plate. He paced and played with his cell, eventually turning on a playlist and setting down the device. From the nearby box, he extracted another hot plate and an aluminum pitcher. Using the pitcher, he scooped up a serving of dark blue beads. Lydia watched the man melt and pour the first layer of his Victor E Candles. In every other jar, he added a small sack and patted it, like a seed, into the cooling blue wax.
He pulled out a separate pitcher and repeated part of the process with white wax pellets. Holding the wicks sturdy, he poured the center to his Americana candles before reaching for the red pellets. On the candles, with the sacks, the wicks rested in the center of the white layer. Victor moved slowly and purposefully. Delicately ensuring every candle looked the same.
Lydia could no longer feel her feet. Her quads sent prickles of pins and needles like lightning through her body. Nighttime settled over Honey Pot, but Victor Cotton was not leaving his well-lit greenhouse. Lydia didn’t know how to go without being spotted.
Her phone rattled at her shoulder. She tugged it out with her free hand and teetered with the redistribution of weight.
Jacqui’s got this. Be ready to run.
The message frightened Lydia. She wasn’t sure her body could run after being cramped up for so long. She prayed and waited. In the distance, a phone rang. Victor paused his music. Trilling continued from inside the house. He set down his pitcher and exited the greenhouse.
Lydia scooted out from the bush. Her legs responded at a snail's pace. “Come on, body, move!” She whispered, trying to connect her brain to limbs. Her first lurch forward sent her to the dirt. A mouthful of grass and soil revived her senses, and her muscles woke. She charged down the side of the house.
Using her stool as planned, she flung herself up the chain-link. Its little sharp edges tore at her feet and the palms of her hands. Remembering, at the last second, her sandals, Lydia turned around and retrieved them from the top of Victor’s trash barrels. A metal bat clanged against the cans and hit Lydia on the top of her foot. She swallowed a scream and halted to prop the bat back against the trash cans. Then she hustled across the street and straight into Miss Jacqui’s living room.
“He hasn’t come back out yet.” Flora informed her with a warning finger on her lips. She tilted her head toward the kitchen as she peeked through the blinds.
“...yes, well, let me know if you think of anything else.” Miss Jacqui spoke into the receiver.
“Victor?” Lydia mouthed without sound while her heart raced in her chest. Breathlessness stung her dry throat.
Miss Jacqui replaced the phone and helped herself to a seat on the couch before reprimanding Lydia. “You look awful. What happened to you? And what was that noise? It sounded like someone dropped a truckload of tin cans on the driveway.”
“Do you think Victor heard that?”
“If I could hear it, he most certainly did.”
Flora interrupted her soft voice brimming with concern. “He’s at the fence.” Lydia froze. Though he wasn’t in the room and couldn’t see through walls, she felt as though Victor Cotton was staring right through her. “Uh, oh.”
“What, uh oh?” Lydia hurried behind Flora. They each spied out at the Cotton drive. Victor stood, in his backyard, at the fence. He bent, inspecting something. His face morphed with irritation and confusion, as Victor lifted Miss Jacqui’s footstool. He turned his head from side to side, wiping back his hair as he’d done before, searching the street. His eyes landed on the mess Lydia created at the trash cans.
Lydia held her breath as she watched Victor race around his yard. He disappeared and reappeared out his front door. He knelt on the concrete, still holding the footstool. He tossed the stool in the bin and carried the bat back inside the house.
“You’re going to go get that,” Jacqui snipped. “That was my mother’s stool, and I want it back.
Flora gawked. “Now?”
“No, when he’s asleep.” Lydia’s stomach dropped. Another trip over to the Cotton’s did not bode well with her cramping muscles.
Chapter 26
Ivy held Emily. The broken-hearted teen was limp from crying. Occasional sighs and sputters of sadness shook her shoulders as she stared ahead without seeing. Ivy cradled her friend.
Kat sat nearby and waited for a moment. Her children snuggled atop Ivy’s bed and watched a video on Ivy’s laptop. Scout dreamt in her portable crib.
Lydia walked in the front door at 11 pm. Her clothes were filthy and torn. She wore fattening scratches on her face. “You fight with a bobcat?” Kat laughed. Lydia’s face cut the snicker short. “What happe
ned?”
“Make me some coffee, and I’ll tell you.”
The women left the girls curled on the couch and retreated to the living room. Giggles came from the dark hall. Lydia enjoyed the noises. In comparison to Cordelia’s creepy vibe, her house purred with family chaos. She was happy she wasn’t alone.
Lydia spilled her day’s events, and Kat told of hers. Both were astonished and repulsed with the other’s day. “And I have to go back. Flora will text when Victor heads inside for the night. Until then, I’m staying home.”
“Emily wants to talk with you.” Ivy interrupted, escorting the trembling teenager to the kitchen table.
“Does Mike know where you’re at?”
“No. Do we have to tell him?” Emily talked to her palms and shuddered. Ivy hugged Emily’s shoulders. She held Emily’s hand, bolstering her best friend.
“You know the answer to that,” Lydia said.
Kat clucked her tongue. “Can’t we wait?”
“I’ll text him and tell him you’re here and that I’ll bring you home.” Emily nodded with a pout. She didn’t want to face what lay ahead of her.
Ivy forced Emily to look into her face. “You don’t have much time. Why don’t you start telling Lydia what you told me and then go on from there?”
Emily choked on a sob before talking. “Lucas is my boyfriend. He isn’t bad. Not really. Things just went wrong.”
“What things?” Kat asked, bringing a tissue box closer to the group.
“I can’t tell you everything, but I can tell you most of it. We did crash the garbage cans. It started as a joke. Something wild to do at night. A stress reliever. Braden kept asking him to hit the same houses over and over again. I guess that’s when you guys caught him on film.” Emily searched every face and lighted on Kat’s grimace.
“Not just him.” Kat said, “You’re on the tape too.”
“But I didn’t do anything. I’m just a passenger.”
Kat scratched her nose. “It doesn’t matter. You’re guilty by association. You didn’t stop him, and you didn’t turn him in.” Emily whimpered. “What made Braden target Cordelia?” Emily shrugged. “Seriously?”
“They wouldn’t tell me. You know Braden was a courier and delivered packages for the general store. He also worked with Mr. Cotton and helped load and unload his supplies. Other than that, I don’t know what the boys did. I know they made a lot of money. Braden said a friend had a problem with Mrs. Muggs and wanted him to shake her up a bit. So, we started hitting her trash cans once a week and stuff like that. I think prank calls were the scariest thing they did to her.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kat asked.
Emily cried and brought a tissue up to her face. She wiped away her tears and blew her nose. “I was worried. I figured if I were around, Lucas would get in less trouble than if I wasn’t.”
“But you didn’t stop him. So, you weren’t helping him.”
Again, Emily cried. She looked to Ivy for strength. “I didn’t want to lose him. He’s all I have.”
“Tell them the other thing,” Ivy urged Emily to continue.
“Last week, I was supposed to sneak out and meet Lucas at the gazebo. I was late. When I got there, I heard....”
Lydia’s stomach rolled. She could feel what was coming. She remembered finding Emily’s earing at the crosses. Mr. Joe said he remembered Lydia crying. Lydia hadn’t thought of it at the time, but he couldn’t have heard Lydia. Not before passing out. He’d heard Emily.
“Braden kept... and I couldn’t...”
“What about Lucas? Did he?”
Emily shook her head. “Not that I saw. When I got there, I jumped in front of Braden, and Lucas caught the bat before it hit me. He was as stunned as I was.”
Tears stung Lydia’s fresh thorn scratches as they rushed down her cheeks. She could only imagine what Emily had seen. The aftermath invaded Lydia’s dreams. “Why?”
“Braden said someone paid him. Lucas was disgusted. However, Braden pulled him aside. Lucas was scared, too. We didn’t know what to do.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Kat patted her eyes dry and handed Ivy a tissue.
“I didn’t want Braden to hurt Lucas or me.”
Lydia concentrated past her emotions. “Does Mr. Joe know who attacked him?”
Emily convulsed in sobs. “Yes.”
✽✽✽
Flora texted Lydia with the all-clear. Lydia loaded the shaken Emily into her car and drove her back to Mission House. She stumbled over Emily’s revelations. If Hobo Joe had known who his attackers had been, it offered a whole new motive for revenge. Still, Lydia couldn’t fathom him beating anyone as brutally as Lucas and Braden.
Lydia pulled into the drive with Miss Jacqui glaring under the porch light. “He left twenty minutes ago.”
Lydia locked her car and greeted her elder. “Sorry, I had to drop someone off.”
Miss Jacqui sighed and crossed her arms. “Well, we’ve got bigger problems. Cordelia’s up. Come inside and help us out.”
Flora paced the kitchen floor bouncing Enoch. Her eyes bagged. Between Cordelia and Enoch, she hadn’t seized over ten minutes of consecutive sleep. Cordelia sat on the couch, cradling her head.
“She’s got a bit of a headache,” Flora whispered. “It’s not unusual given her condition. We’ve called the doctor, and he says she’s fine. She’s weepy. Can you sit with her? I need a nap.”
“What about Jacqui’s stool?” Lydia asked, draping her purse strap on a banister post. Jacqui waved Lydia’s suggestion away.
“Later.”
Cordelia’s eyes pierced Lydia’s heart. Still edgy and wild, drowning in deep grief, they were rimmed red. Much as hers had been just a day or two earlier. Lydia sat softly next to Cordelia and waited. The words would come, and so would more tears. Lydia braced herself for both.
Jacqui took to her porch swing. Flora, once Enoch was asleep, curled up on Jacqui’s oversized recliner. Her eyes shut moments after sitting, and her breathing grew shallow and swift.
“How are you feeling?” Lydia braved breaking the silence but only in the gentlest of whispers.
“Remembering shouldn’t hurt so badly.”
“Why not?”
“It should bring me joy. But it doesn’t. Mario and I had such a beautiful life together. I should see that life, every time I close my eyes, but I don’t. I only see Mario, dead, and me alone.”
Lydia kicked off her sandals and rubbed her aching feet. She regretted not taking the time to put on her boots before leaving the house. “So, let’s talk about Mario. The good things.”
“He was a great man,” Cordelia started. “I don’t think he ever knew it. This only made him more amazing. After his last tour, overseas, we almost split up. He was distracted and violent. Yelling and cursing with the littlest disturbance and then curling on the ground crying after a nightmare. A few times, he hit me. Once he got in a huge bar fight. That landed him in jail. It’s why we moved out of the city and to Honey Pot. To get away from the violence.”
Cordelia’s focus shifted. Lydia imagined she was thinking of all the violence that fell upon the couple in Honey Pot — escaping one kind of abuse for another.
“But the past followed him and wouldn’t let him go. Once, he tried to ... to...” Lydia waited for words to return as Cordelia pictured something from long ago. “That’s when he met Joe. Out at the crosses. Joe introduced him to Jesus and Dr. Lawrence. He got help. No one but the four of us ever knew of his past condition.
I got my husband back. He became the Market Manager and The You Pick auditor. Life was better than ever. For years and years, until a few months back. He started showing symptoms. His meds weren’t working like they used to. And he... he...” Cordelia’s voice cracked and cut off.
Lydia ended the thought for her. “He went missing.”
Chapter 27
Lydia stared at her favorite Barista, Tamas, as she nibbled the white plastic lid of her coffe
e cup. She wasn’t sure where to begin the conversation. Her visit to 3 Alarm Coffee wasn’t solely for caffeine replenishment.
Tamas greeted her with a grin. He paused and waited for Lydia’s order.
“I’m on breakfast duty for the Sheriff,” she said.
“Gotcha.” Tamas winked, but his eyes stayed solemn. Hobo Joe was a fixture at 3 Alarm. “Should I get you his favorites?”
“That would be great.”
“I’ll prep a bagel and croissant platter. Want a coffee while you wait?” Tamas filled a large cup before Lydia answered.
“Hey, Tamas, how well do you know Joe?” Lydia scooted a stool closer to where Tamas worked. Other employees helped the trickle of Honey Pot commuters with their orders.
Tamas clicked stainless steel tongs in one hand and passed Lydia the coffee with the other. “Well, he’s here every day. Even more often than you.”
“Yes. But, how well do you really know him?” Steam plumed from Lydia’s cup.
“Do I think he’s a crazed child beater?” Lydia liked Tamas. He wasn’t slow with the truth. “No and neither do you, and neither does your husband.”
Tamas bent to collect pastries and sort them onto a plastic platter. He paused now and then to talk more with Lydia. “What about his past,” she asked. “Did he know Mario Muggs?”
“Why? Are they going to arrest him for Mario’s murder too?”
“No. Cordelia mentioned...”
“Mario came here often. Especially in the summer. He’d pick up a coffee before his You Pick inspection runs. Sometimes Joe went with him. So yes, they were friends. Good friends.” Tamas added a few muffins to his dish. “Joe’s past is a mystery. Except...” Tamas leaned against the coffee counter. He crossed his arms and rested his jaw in one hand. His eyes trailed above Lydia’s head as he searched for information.
