A Vintage Death

by Mary Ellen Hughes

“I have to go now.” Lyssa was out the door before Callie could say anything, and within moments the red Corvette raced down the street.

  Callie stared after it, struggling with what she’d just heard.

  Twenty-Nine

  H ouse of Melody was quiet for a while, for which Callie was grateful. It gave her a chance to think. Did she believe what Lyssa claimed, that she wouldn’t care if it came out that she was Alissa Hanson, a woman some considered a murderer? She’d cared enough to let Alissa Hanson virtually disappear as Lyssa Hammond was created. If in fact Cliff Ashby had threatened blackmail, could she have stood up to that?

  Lyssa had denied the accusation of murder, and Callie wanted to believe her. But what was the truth? Without getting more facts, she had only Lyssa’s word for it. She’d found nothing on the internet. As far as she could determine, Alissa Hanson had never been charged. But did that mean she was innocent? The two things didn’t always go together. There could have been insufficient evidence to bring charges even if there was guilt. Which was it?

  Callie had come to like the author, and trust her. She’d believed that Lyssa chose to work with her to clear Dorothy of suspicion. But had she really? Lyssa’s comments about Dorothy during their drive back from Easton had bothered Callie—Lyssa had pointed out how Dorothy could in fact have committed both murders. Was she protecting herself with misdirection while only pretending to search for the truth? That was a terrible thought, one that jarred Callie to the bone. It meant she might have totally misjudged the woman, and that someone she’d grown close to might actually be a murderer.

  Might, she reminded herself. It was by no means an established fact. But she was glad that Lyssa would be away from Keepsake Cove for a while. She needed that time and space, and decided to look into a couple of things on her own without Lyssa’s input. This included talking with Dorothy again. With that goal, as soon as Tabitha arrived, Callie headed over to Stitches Thru Time.

  The two men who’d cleaned Dorothy’s windows of the egg splatter were just packing up their buckets and squeegees. Callie recognized one as Jack Tate. He greeted her and introduced the second man as his brother-in-law, Mark Lyons.

  “Mark had the window-washing equipment,” Jack explained. “He didn’t just lend it to me but came along to pitch in.”

  “That was great of both of you,” Callie said, sincerely. “Have you heard anything about who the culprits might be?

  “’Fraid not,” Mark said. “Jerks and idiots, whoever they are.”

  Callie agreed, then excused herself after spotting Dorothy inside the shop and went in.

  “Are they done?” Dorothy asked. When Callie said they were, she asked, “Just give me a minute?” and hurried out to thank the two men effusively. As Callie watched, Jane emerged from the back of the shop.

  “That means the world to Dorothy,” Jane said, nodding toward the activity outside. “She needed that show of support. The name-calling yesterday and then the egg mess have really tested her resolve to tough it out.”

  “While she’s outside,” Callie said, “I’d like to ask you something. Have you told her about what’s going on now with George?” When Jane looked surprised, she added, “I got the definite impression, when it came up, that Dorothy had no clue about your relationship.”

  Jane glanced toward the front window. Laurie Hart had crossed over from Kids At Heart and was speaking with Dorothy, keeping her longer. “I don’t know if I’d call it a relationship at this point,” Jane said. “We’re getting to know each other again. A lot of years have gone by, you know. But yes, I did talk to her about it. She was surprised, of course, since she’d never heard about George. She and Cliff were off on their honeymoon when George and I began seeing each other. After that they settled in the place they’d bought in Annapolis. By the time we saw each other again, George had moved on. I was too hurt, then, to want to talk about it.”

  Dorothy came back in, a smile on her face after talking with her window washers and Laurie. “Such good people. Things have been such a roller-coaster of ups and downs over the last two weeks that I’m going to savor this particular up while it lasts.”

  “The people who know you well have always been in your corner,” Callie said. “I hope you’ll always remember that.”

  “I do, and I appreciate it so much. It’s just hard to take the kind of viciousness that’s shown up from others. I try to tell myself that those people might be coming from their own dark places that have little to do with me. But it’s difficult.” She waved away a frown. “But enough of that,” she said brightly. “It’s good to see you. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “No, thank you. I can’t stay too long. But there’s something

  I wanted to check with you. Yesterday, I spoke with a young woman who’d worked until very recently at the Foxwood Inn as a maid. She told me she quit when she felt threatened by Cliff.”

  “Threatened!” Dorothy said. Jane’s hand flew to her mouth. “Do you mean … ?” Dorothy began.

  “Sexually harassed,” Callie said. “It had escalated enough to cause this woman to quit a job she needed. At least, that’s her side of it. I need to know if it sounds plausible.”

  “How could I know? Cliff and I were separated.”

  “You weren’t there, of course. But you knew him probably better than anyone. Had something of that sort ever happened before? Was he capable of it?”

  “Cliff and I had grown very far apart. I don’t pretend to know everything about the man by any means. There were things he hid from me and things about him I didn’t like. But they were mostly about his spending habits or his choice of friends, such as that odious Vernon Parks. I never saw or heard about any such kind of harassment.” Dorothy sighed. “Did this young woman report it to anyone?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “Then maybe she made it all up. Who knows? Maybe she just wants money and plans to sue the estate.”

  “Don’t say that,” Jane begged. “It’s very difficult for a young woman in that kind of situation to speak up at all. There’s never any witnesses, but just because nobody else can confirm it doesn’t mean she’s lying.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Dorothy said, shaking her head. “That was very wrong of me. I’m just not thinking straight what with all that’s been happening. But being unfairly accused myself should have made me more sympathetic, not less. I wish I could help you, Callie, but I’m afraid I can’t.” She hesitated. “The harassment … What, that is, to what extent … ?”

  “Verbal, only, from what she said. At one point it might have gone farther except for an interruption.”

  “Thank goodness. And this was recently, you said?”

  “The final incident was the day of his murder. And before you ask, no, I don’t suspect her of Cliff’s murder. The worst this girl would have done is spray cleaning solution in his face. The threat ended when she quit.”

  Dorothy and Jane were silent for several moments, apparently dealing with this new revelation about Cliff Ashby’s character.

  “In fact,” Callie said, turning to Jane, “it might have happened shortly before you were there to get the papers from Cliff. Perhaps you noticed him being a bit off?”

  “Papers?” Dorothy asked.

  “The ones you asked Jane to pick up for you.”

  Dorothy stared at Callie, uncomprehending, then turned to look at her cousin, whose face had flushed a deep red. “Jane?” she asked.

  Jane shook her head, apparently from embarrassment. “That’s what I told Callie,” she said softly.

  “But … why? Why would you go there without telling me? And make up a story about some papers?”

  Jane drew in a deep breath. “I was hoping to see George.”

  “Oh!” Dorothy continued to look puzzled, and Callie waited.

  “It was one of the reasons I came here,” Jane said. “I w
anted to see you, too, Dorothy. Absolutely! But this strange coincidence came up back home.” She paused, twisting her fingers awkwardly. “I met someone who knew George. It came up so unexpectedly I could hardly believe it. I happened to mention Mapleton and Keepsake Cove because of you, and this woman said she knew a man who had always stayed at the Foxwood Inn near there with his late wife. She said it became an annual thing and that he’d continued it after she died. It was very likely that he’d be there again around this time of year. Then she said his name.”

  Jane stopped the finger twisting and pushed her hands into her pockets. “I’ve been lonely, Dorothy, ever since Richard died. I … I’d been thinking of George a bit, and wondering about him. I know it was foolish of me, but I just thought if I could run into him again, maybe … ”

  Dorothy took hold of Jane’s shoulders. “It’s not foolish at all,” she said, shaking her affectionately. “I’m just surprised you didn’t tell me right away.” She stepped back. “But didn’t you say you saw George for the first time when he came here to my shop?”

  “That’s true. I never saw him at the inn. I was waylaid by Cliff. It got so unpleasant that I never asked about George and didn’t see him.”

  “But he saw you,” Callie said. “From his window, as you were talking to Cliff, though he didn’t recognize you at the time.”

  “Oh! I didn’t realize that.”

  “Well, you found each other, anyway,” Dorothy said. “I’m just sorry Cliff got in the way.”

  Jane turned to Callie. “You asked if I picked up anything a bit off with Cliff when I spoke to him. I’m afraid I was too flustered. I regretted the whole thing and just wanted to get out of there.”

  “Understandable,” Dorothy said, patting her cousin on the hand.

  “Well, thank you both,” Callie said. “I’d better get back.”

  “Thank you,” Dorothy said as she walked Callie to the door, “for your efforts on my part. And Lyssa Hammond’s, too. Please thank her for me when you see her.”

  Callie nodded but said nothing. She was happy to see a text on her phone from Tabitha saying that she was needed at the shop. She said her goodbyes and hurried off, trying to focus on Tabitha’s message instead of Lyssa … or Alissa.

  Thirty

  Once again Callie went through the motions of tending to her shop and its customers. Even Tabitha’s outfit of the day, a medieval-looking dress topped with a furry shawl, couldn’t pull her fully out of her thoughts. A woman customer asking “Is she Sansa Stark?” had Callie reacting with a “Huh?” until she realized she was referring to Tabitha’s Game of Thrones-inspired ensemble.

  “You got it!” Tabitha answered happily. She tossed her braid over her shoulder and stroked the shawl fondly. “This is fake, of course. Sansa would have had a wolf skin or something. But that was a different time.”

  The customer and Tabitha launched into a discussion of the latest episodes of the popular HBO series, which Callie tuned out, only returning to the present when her customer held up the music box she’d been looking at.

  “Ma’am? I’ll take this.”

  “Oh! Sorry. I was somewhere else for a minute.”

  The woman laughed. “I do that all the time. New boyfriend?”

  Tabitha grinned as Callie managed a smile while shaking her head. “Just something I need to work out.”

  Later in the day, the garage called to say her car was ready. Delia had offered to drive her to pick it up, so Callie arranged to be there shortly after six. Not long after that a delivery arrived. As Callie watched Tabitha unpack it, she recognized the music box she’d ordered for George. She’d almost forgotten about it.

  “This is pretty,” Tabitha said as she held up the rosewood box.

  “It’s for George Cole. He wanted a specific tune: The Surrey with the Fringe on Top. He said it would mean something to his daughter, whose birthday is coming up.”

  “That’s sweet. Shall I call him to say it’s here?”

  Callie thought a moment. “I’ll do it.”

  A customer walked in, and Callie let Tabitha deal with him. She went to her office and put in the number for George’s cell, explaining, when he answered, that his music box had arrived.

  “Great. I’ll come by a little later to pick it up.”

  “I was thinking I’d bring it,” Callie said. “This evening, if that works for you. There’s a few things I’d like to talk to you about.”

  “Sure, that’s fine. You know Lyssa’s not here right now, don’t you?”

  “I do. I’ll be there around seven. Okay?’

  “See you then.”

  Callie disconnected and sat at her desk. She could hear Tabitha’s voice and the lower tones of her male customer’s, but it was white noise as far as Callie was concerned. Things about Ashby’s murder had started to come together, but there were several missing pieces. She needed to find them to fill in the holes. Hopefully tonight would bring her closer to doing that.

  Callie grabbed a quick sandwich after checking with Delia about the ride to the garage, turning down her suggestion of dinner out. Any other time it would have been great. But she had too much on her mind to be much of a dinner companion that night. Once at the garage she settled her bill, glad to have her own transportation back, and then leaned out of the office door and waved to Delia that all was okay. She saw her friend wave back and drive off.

  Callie took a different route to the Foxwood Inn, one that avoided the area of her near head-on collision. But she was aware that her hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly, especially when oncoming headlights approached. She expected she would feel the tension even more on the way back, when the roads would likely be quieter, but she’d have to deal with it. Some things were more important than catering to her nerves.

  When she pulled up the driveway to the B&B, she saw only two cars parked at the top of it. She didn’t know what George drove, but assumed one of the two vehicles was his. As she parked nearby, a gray Ford backed out, and she thought she recognized Jackie at the wheel. So the black sedan must be George’s, though it did look older and more worn than she would have expected.

  Callie grabbed the packed-up music box and climbed out. On reaching the front door of the inn, she stepped right in as she had on her first visit, then rang the small brass bell that sat on the hall table. Though she’d half expected George to be waiting near the entrance, she wasn’t particularly surprised not to see him.

  “Hi Paula,” she said when the woman appeared from the kitchen. “The parking lot looked pretty empty. Didn’t you get new guests recently?”

  “They only stayed one night. We were a stop-over for them on their way to Florida.”

  “I see. Well, I brought something for George. Is he upstairs?”

  “Mr. Cole isn’t here.”

  “Oh! He knew I was coming. Did he say when he’d be back?”

  “He didn’t know. He got a call from his daughter about some kind of emergency. One of the grandkids is in the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But he didn’t check out?”

  Paula shook her head. “He kept his room. He said he’d let me know what his plans are.”

  “Well,” Callie said, “I brought this music box he ordered. Can I leave it with you?”

  Paula nodded. “I’ll put it in his room right now.” She took it before Callie could assure her there was no hurry and dashed up the stairs.

  Callie waited until Paula returned, then said, “I’d like to take another look at Ashby’s office while I’m here. If you’ll just unlock it for me, I won’t bother you anymore.”

  Paula looked less than pleased at that, but she didn’t protest. Dorothy had already given full approval for Callie to look around as much as she needed. Paula turned and led the way through the kitchen and to the office, grabbing the keys as she went. After unlocking the d
oor, she stepped aside for Callie, who walked in not sure exactly what she expected to find that she’d missed the last time.

  Paula lingered at the doorway, watching as Callie opened the top drawer of the file cabinet that Lyssa had already looked through. Lyssa had declared nothing of interest to be in it at the time, but Callie wanted to see for herself. As she fingered her way through the file tabs, she said, “If you want to get busy on your own things, Paula, I promise not to take anything away without running it by you.”

  “I can wait,” Paula said.

  Callie nodded and pulled out a couple of files. She looked through them rapidly, then replaced them and closed the drawer. She paused before opening the next one. “There’s something I need to check with you, since you’re here,” she said, looking over at Paula. “About the day Cliff was murdered. Did you tell Lyssa it was your afternoon off?”

  Lyssa had said exactly that when she’d explained about George spotting Jane on the grounds of the inn. Callie thought she’d better verify Lyssa’s report.

  “I must have, since it was my afternoon off.”

  “But I’m confused, because George later told me that he spoke with you in the kitchen a minute or so after he saw Dorothy’s cousin, Jane, from his window. It was that same afternoon.”

  For Callie, it was simply a matter of placing everyone correctly. But to her surprise, Paula’s face darkened. “Are you checking on me now? Do you think I’m lying?”

  “No! I just want to get it all straight. I didn’t mean—”

  “Maybe it’s George Cole who’s lying! But of course you look at me right away. ‘Paula, huh? All she does is cook and answer the phone. No real education, so of course you can’t trust her.’ Isn’t that how it goes?”

  “Paula, I was just—”

  But Paula had turned on her heel and rushed off. Callie stared at the empty doorway, not sure what to make of that or what to do. She knew this reaction wasn’t normal. Clearly she’d hit a nerve. But of what? Why would Paula’s being, or not being, at the inn that afternoon matter?