by B. J Daniels
The decoy business had grown and so had the town as the demand for decoys grew and Dennison Ducks became famous.
Mitch hurried through the rain to the front door of the well-kept Victorian, rang the bell and waited. If Ethel really was sick…
She opened the door immediately. Almost as if she’d been expecting him. “Mitchell,” she said. She was the only person besides his mother who’d ever called him that. “Do come in.”
He stepped into the cool darkness of the house. It smelled of furniture polish and fresh-perked coffee. As Ethel motioned him into the parlor, he caught the hint of lilac perfume.
She wore a blue cotton dress, sensible shoes and a white cardigan with tiny blue-and-white flowers on it. Her gray hair was neatly pulled back in a bun from her heart-shaped face. It was obvious she’d once been a real beauty.
“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” she asked after offering him one of the antique chairs in the dark and austere parlor. He doubted the decor had changed since her parents’ day.
“I’d love a cup, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“I just made a pot. Please make yourself comfortable.”
It surprised him that she lived alone. She’d never married or hired a companion or any help. She was much too independent and self-sufficient for that. He thought it too bad more women weren’t like her—then he thought of Charity and that overconfidence and irritating independence of hers. Maybe it was better more women didn’t have it.
“You don’t take cream or sugar, as I recall,” Ethel said, putting down a silver tray. She poured the coffee, handing him a fine China cup and saucer.
“You have a good memory.” He took a sip, the China feeling fragile in his big hands. “I’d forgotten how good perked coffee tastes.”
“Did you stop by to compliment my coffee?”
“No, I’m here for the same reason you made a fresh pot. You knew I’d be asking you about Nina Monroe.”
She nodded. “I understand she’s missing?”
He nodded. “Tell me about her.”
Ethel raised a brow. “She’s only been employed at Dennison Ducks for a little over a month.”
“And caused a lot of trouble during that time.”
“You are well-informed.”
“Is there any truth to it?” he asked.
“Truth to what?”
Age didn’t seem to matter when it came to getting straight answers from women, he thought. “That Nina could easily be Wade Dennison’s downfall?”
“You’re asking if Nina had some kind of hold on him….” Her blue eyes darkened and she nodded. “I saw it and tried to warn Wade about her.” She sighed and picked up her cup and saucer to take a dainty sip of her coffee.
He noticed that her hands were shaking. “Wade didn’t take kindly to your concern?”
“He reminded me yesterday that I was only his secretary.”
Mitch was surprised. If there was any truth to the rumor that she’d helped Wade start the business, she must have been furious. And hurt. “I’m surprised he’d say that to you.”
“I was, too.” She paused. “I’m very concerned for him.”
“Not for Nina?”
“Nina, it seems, can take care of herself.”
“You didn’t like her.”
Ethel’s only response was a tight smile.
“I’ve never known you to miss a day of work.”
“I’ve never known you not to say what’s on your mind, Mitchell.”
“You aren’t sick.”
“No, I resigned yesterday.”
He was shocked. “After you spoke to Wade about Nina?” And before Nina’s disappearance, he thought.
She nodded. “I should have retired a long time ago. Wade just helped me realize that the time was right.”
“Was Wade’s attitude toward Nina the only reason?”
She put down her cup and saucer and folded her hands in her lap. “It was time.”
“Ethel, I need to ask you something and I’m not sure how. You’ve been close to the Dennisons for years.”
“I’ve known Wade all my life.”
“You probably remember when Desiree was born.” She nodded and he continued, “Wade had special silverware designed for her. Then another set made when Angela was born two years later. Ones with duck’s heads on them?”
“A spoon and a fork engraved with each girl’s name. Hart’s Jewelry in Eugene made them just for Wade.”
“Then Daisy probably still has them.”
Ethel shook her head. “Wade ordered everything of Angela’s to be discarded. He couldn’t bear to see anything that reminded him of his daughter.”
“When was this?” Mitch asked.
“A few weeks after the baby disappeared. By that time, he was convinced Angela wouldn’t be returned, and every time Daisy saw something of the baby’s, she became upset.”
Wade’s compassion for his wife surprised Mitch. Especially if the rumors were true and baby Angela hadn’t even been Wade’s. Whatever the case, Daisy had been a recluse, hiding in that big old house for the past twenty-seven years, ever since her daughter’s disappearance.
“Wade didn’t keep even Angela’s baby silver?”
She shook her head. “Not as far as I know. He took everything of the baby’s to the dump and buried it himself. I remember the day all too well. I’d never seen Wade so…devastated.” Her eyes shone with tears and her cheeks were heightened with color.
Mitch stared at Ethel, wondering why he’d never seen it before. She was in love with Wade! Ethel was a good five years older than Wade. Not that the age difference mattered when it came to love. Mitch wondered if Wade knew. According to Sissy, men could be dense as tree stumps when it came to this sort of thing.
“You don’t think Daisy squirreled away something of Angela’s?” he asked. “Or maybe Wade did at the last moment?”
Ethel shook her head. “Why are you asking about this now?”
“I found what I believe is Angela’s baby spoon. It was in Nina’s bungalow, taped under a dresser drawer.”
She took in a sharp breath, her eyes suddenly hard and cold. “I haven’t heard Angela’s name even whispered in years, and now this.”
“Is it possible Nina is Angela?” If he’d expected Ethel to be surprised by the question, he would have been wrong.
She didn’t even blink. “It is possible Wade believed it. Or wished it were true.”
“You don’t believe she’s Angela?”
Ethel smiled. “It really doesn’t matter what I believe, does it, Mitchell?”
“It does to me.”
She straightened and took a breath, her gaze steely. “If Nina Monroe is the baby who was stolen from her crib at the Dennison house twenty-seven years ago, then it’s best if we never know it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nina Monroe is…flawed. Maybe she was born that way. Maybe life made her that way. It doesn’t matter really. Either way, if she is Angela Dennison, then it’s a dark day for the Dennison family.”
“Flawed how?”
“I believe she is capable of doing anything to get what she wants. No matter who she hurts. She is a dangerous woman who won’t stop until she destroys herself and anyone who gets in her path.”
He felt a chill curl around his neck. “What does she want?”
“Money, position. Everything she’s been denied.”
He stared at her. “She wants to be…Angela Dennison?”
Ethel raised a brow. “If it gets her what she feels she deserves.”
He didn’t like what he was hearing. If Ethel was right and Nina wanted to be Angela Dennison—might actually be Angela—who in town would try to stop her?
Ethel Whiting for one, he thought. She would do whatever it took to protect Wade, he realized with a start.
He’d learned a long time ago to leave the hard questions until last. That way if he got thrown out, he’d at least have some answers.
> “I took a look at the old case file on Angela Dennison’s disappearance,” he said carefully. “Wade was a suspect. It seems there was a rumor circulating that Angela wasn’t his and he knew it.”
Ethel got to her feet and drew herself up to her full height. “Wade Dennison can be a fool, he’s proved that. But he wouldn’t have hurt that baby. Even if it wasn’t his.”
“Was it his?”
“Were either of them his? I guess that’s something you’d have to ask his wife.” She met his gaze, making one thing perfectly clear: there was no love lost between Ethel and Daisy.
“Thanks for the coffee. It was wonderful. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t…”
“I wouldn’t dream of carrying this conversation outside these walls,” Ethel said primly.
“Sorry, it’s habit. But if you should think of anyone who might know something about Nina…”
“I wouldn’t rule out Nina staging her own disappearance,” Ethel said. “Or using Charity to get what she wants.”
“Charity?”
“Yes. She was asking questions about Nina at the plant yesterday.”
He was stunned. Charity had been asking questions about Nina Monroe the day she disappeared? “What kind of questions?”
Ethel shook her head. “She didn’t talk to me. I think she knows I would never talk about Dennison Duck business with a reporter. You’ll have to ask her.”
He turned to leave, anxious to find Charity and do just that.
“Mitchell.”
He felt Ethel’s fingers dig into his arm.
“Whatever you do, don’t underestimate Nina—or what she’s capable of.” Ethel’s words vibrated with emotion. “Be careful. Very careful.”
He nodded, surprised by the concern he heard in her voice.
“You know where you can find me if you should…need to,” she said, and released his arm, appearing almost embarrassed by her little outburst as she turned away.
CHAPTER SIX
Charity looked up from her computer, surprised to see Mitch come through the newspaper-office door. He appeared upset.
“You found the black pickup?” she cried, getting to her feet. Or did his visit have something to do with that stupid present?
“Why were you asking questions about Nina Monroe?” he demanded.
She stared at him. “What?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
Where had he heard that? And more important, why was he so upset? “Unless I’m mistaken, you and I don’t talk about much of anything anymore. And you certainly haven’t shown any interest in my newspaper articles.”
“You were doing an article on Nina?”
He wasn’t going to tell her that there really was a story there, was he? “Why do you care?”
He pulled off his hat, raked a hand through his hair and groaned. “I just found out that you were asking questions about her the day she disappeared.”
Charity blinked. “Disappeared?” Holy moly, maybe there really was a story.
“Nina didn’t show up for work this morning, and Wade is worried that something’s happened to her.”
Charity lowered herself into a chair, her mind reeling. “I’d heard rumors about the new painter at the plant but—”
“What kind of rumors?”
She looked up at him. “Rumors that something was going on between her and Wade.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I asked a few questions, didn’t get any answers.” Had she missed something? Obviously. “I was going to do a feature on her. She’d promised to write down a few things for me and get back to me.”
“Charity, if you know anything about Nina Monroe’s disappearance, now is the time to tell me.”
She wished she did. “I haven’t a clue, really.”
He sighed, eyeing her suspiciously. “It just seems odd that you would be asking questions about her on the day she was last seen.”
Yes, it did. She glanced at her watch.
“What?” he demanded.
“I was just thinking.” Her stomach rumbled.
“About food?” He sounded incredulous.
She smiled. “You know me so well.”
“Charity, I don’t have time for even a late lunch.”
“I had Betty put back two pieces of lemon-meringue pie.” She gave him her most seductive smile, hoping that, combined with lemon-meringue pie, she’d be irresistible.
“You were that sure we’d be having lunch together?”
“I guess some things are destined, Mitch, especially if you want to continue this discussion,” she said, and went to get her raincoat before he could argue the point.
Mitch told himself that he had to eat. Also, he knew he’d get more answers out of her on a full stomach—hers, not his. And there was something about Nina Monroe she wasn’t telling him.
* * *
BECAUSE IT WAS the middle of the afternoon, Betty’s Café was relatively empty. Everyone was probably out looking for Bigfoot.
He and Charity took a booth at the back and ordered their usual: cheeseburgers, loaded, and French fries, the kind that were hot and greasy and made from potatoes that still had their skins on when they hit the boiling grease.
It reminded him of when they were in high school. Those were good memories. In fact, when he thought about it, he could call up lots of good memories with Charity. But they were before she’d become the town reporter and he’d become the sheriff, before he’d realized that marrying her would be nothing less than disastrous given their families and their genes.
“All right, let’s hear it,” he said, after he’d watched Charity put away most of her burger and fries.
With her fingers, she dragged a long greasy French fry through a pool of ketchup and took a bite, closing her eyes as if eating for her was an erotic experience. He had a feeling it probably was. Just watching her definitely did something to him.
She smiled as her eyes opened, focusing on him in a way that made him more than a little uneasy.
“Nina,” he reminded her quietly. Betty was busy helping the cook finish up the dinner special and so was out of earshot. But this was Timber Falls. And Betty had amazing hearing.
Charity swallowed the bite, putting down the French fry to wipe her hands on her napkin.
He reached across the table to whisk away the drop of ketchup at the corner of her mouth. She did have the most wonderful mouth, bow-shaped lips full and luscious.
He shook himself mentally, knowing where thinking like that would get him. A cold shower. How many times had Charity made it abundantly clear: marriage or nothing. Nothing but frustration.
She gave him a smile now and licked the spot where he’d touched her lips. The woman was incorrigible.
“Charity.”
“I already told you. I heard rumors about Nina and Wade, about her not being too popular out at the plant, and I decided to do a story on her.”
“And?”
Charity picked up another fry and eyed him, smiling. “Your turn. Tell me what you’ve found out.”
“It doesn’t work that way and you know it.”
“It should.” She took a bite.
He groaned. “Her bungalow at your aunt’s was ransacked.” He figured Florie would tell Charity, anyway. “Your turn. Was Wade having an affair with Nina?”
“I don’t think so, and frankly, most of what I heard about Nina sounded like sour grapes among a few employees trying to make trouble for her and Wade, especially Sheryl. She’d be my first suspect if Nina really is missing.”
He wished now he hadn’t said anything. All he’d done was alert Charity to a possible story. But then again, Nina had done that by disappearing. He was reminded of what Ethel had said. Was this just a way for Nina to call attention to herself? Had she ransacked her own bungalow, leaving the baby spoon for him to find, knowing Wade would involve the sheriff when she didn’t show up for work? And maybe she’d helped along the rumors about her and Wade just to get Cha
rity involved. Ethel had said Nina might be using Charity. Nina had agreed to an interview. If Nina was Angela Dennison, maybe Nina hoped Charity would break the story.
He frowned. “You said Nina was going to write something down for you? Like what?”
Charity shrugged. “She said she’d had an interesting life. Everybody thinks their life would make a good book. What would make Wade think Nina met with foul play?”
He shrugged.
She wasn’t buying it. “Maybe there was something going on between them.”
“I don’t think so.” He tried to think of something to change the subject.
Charity looked disappointed but not deterred. “It would explain why Wade hired her without any experience and so quickly, why he seemed to think she could do no wrong, even why he’s so worried about her now, huh?”
Yeah, that was one explanation all right.
“But then there’s the gun she bought for protection,” Charity said.
“Gun?” It wasn’t registered to Nina Monroe or it would have come up on the computer. And why had she thought she needed protection?
“She showed it to Hank Bridges one night at the Duck-In.”
“She showed it to the bartender?” He definitely didn’t like the sound of this.
“I guess she’d had quite a lot to drink—she was the last to leave the bar. Hank was worried about her getting home safely. She told him she could take care of herself, then opened her purse and showed him the gun.”
“What kind of gun?”
“You know Hank.” She rolled her eyes. Hank Bridges still lived with his parents. His mother, Sarah, was Timber Falls’s postmistress, and Buzz, his father, was a carver out at Dennison Ducks. His younger brother, Blaine, was still in high school and worked part-time for Charity. Neither young man was what you’d call manly. Hank, especially, was scared to death of guns and spiders and, well, most everything outdoors.
“Hank didn’t know what kind of gun it was.”
Charity nodded. “Just said it was small but lethal-looking.”
“When was this?”
“Saturday night.”
“What if Nina did write something down and mailed it to me?” she cried.
He stared at her. “Like what?”
“Her life history. Or maybe why she was carrying a gun for protection?” Charity suggested.
