Lucky nodded in response. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Elias since their dinner last Friday night, and deliberately hadn’t said much about Jack’s “spells,” as she thought of them. She didn’t want to influence any opinion Elias might form. When the results were back, she’d find a private moment when she could hopefully talk to Elias about her fears.
Rosemary continued to stare at Lucky. “You’re Lucky Jamieson, aren’t you?”
Lucky nodded and smiled in return.
“My friend Janie works for you. We went all through high school together. She’s really my best friend. She told me about you—how you went off to college and lived in Madison. That’s so great. I hope I can save enough money to do that too. It must be so exciting to be anywhere but here.”
Lucky smiled ruefully. “Sometimes. Yes. But there’s no getting away from yourself, and after a while, it’s just the same as if you never left.”
“Oh, don’t say that! It’s all I dream about.”
Lucky remembered her own yearnings when she was younger, sure that greener pastures awaited her. She didn’t want to disillusion Rosemary at her tender age, or stomp on her dreams. “And once you’ve been away, then sometimes coming home is wonderful too.”
Rosemary shrugged. “I guess. Wouldn’t mind finding out.”
The door on the far side of the room opened. It was marked with a sign that said NO ENTRANCE. A plump woman in a long beige coat with a fur collar stepped into the waiting area. She smiled and nodded to Rosemary and walked out through the front door. Rosemary sat up slightly straighter in her chair and returned a tight smile.
Lucky raised an eyebrow and looked questioningly at Rosemary. Rosemary turned to her. “That’s Mrs. Starkfield, Dr. Starkfield’s wife. She stops in a lot.”
Lucky spoke very quietly. “Do I detect a teensy bit of dislike?”
Rosemary dropped her professional air and leaned closer. “Oh, she’s all right—she means well. It’s just…” Rosemary’s voice trailed off.
“Just what?”
“Actually, I feel a little sorry for her. I think she’s kinda lonely. She and Dr. Starkfield never had any kids, and she tries to keep herself busy. She comes into the Clinic to help out with whatever we need. It’s just—she’s the boss’s wife, you know. You feel like you don’t want to make a mistake or say the wrong thing in front of her.”
“And the other staff people don’t mind?”
“No. Not at all. She and Dr. Starkfield are so cute together—he’s very tall and she’s so short. He adores her and we all love him. She volunteers a lot of time at St. Genesius too. She’s head of the Ladies’ Auxiliary. I’m sure she pretty much runs the show—has a lot to say about which minister gets hired, who’s allowed to plan their wedding there, that kind of stuff. And besides, Elias is really the more senior doctor, even if he’s younger. And Dr. Starkfield’s real nice. We all like him a lot.” Rosemary beamed.
Lucky smiled to herself, wondering if the women here had the same crush on Elias as she had always had. She picked up her magazine and managed to read two long articles, something she usually never had time to do. Finally, she heard voices approaching from the corridor. The same nurse in the pink uniform opened the door and held it as Jack returned to the waiting area. Elias followed behind him. Elias shook Jack’s hand and said, “It’s been a real pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jamieson.”
“Call me Jack, please.” He was smiling. Lucky breathed a sigh of relief.
Lucky rose and joined him as he headed for the front door. She smiled and waved to Elias.
He called out, “Lucky, give me a call when you have a minute. Let’s talk about next weekend.” Jack was slipping on his coat, and while his back was turned, Elias winked. Lucky realized Rosemary was staring unabashedly and felt her cheeks flaming. She did her best to avoid Rosemary’s gaze.
Elias turned and reentered the corridor to the examining rooms. Lucky held the door for Jack, and as it closed behind them, she gave Rosemary a quick wave. When they had walked a few steps away from the Clinic entrance, Lucky asked, “Well, how did it go?”
“Fine, I guess. The nurse said they’d call if there was any question about the results. So I guess I’ll have a clean bill of health.”
“Good,” Lucky replied. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Jack shrugged. “Those docs always make me nervous. But that young man wasn’t bad at all. He a friend of yours?”
“Mmm, yes. I guess he is.”
Jack stared straight ahead as they walked. “That’s good. We all need friends.” Lucky glanced at him quickly to see if he was teasing her, but his expression remained neutral. Jack never missed much.
As they turned the corner to Broadway, Lucky said, “Jack, I have a quick errand to run. Can I meet you at the Spoonful in a half an hour?”
“Of course, my girl. You go ahead. Janie’s gonna be there—her mother’s calmed down. We’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Jack smiled and turned away, heading down the street to Broadway. Lucky stood in the bright sunlight watching him walk away. He moved slower, she noticed, his posture more stooped than she remembered. She felt a sudden pang in her chest, frightened that something could take him away. She had to make sure that didn’t happen soon. Without him, what real connections would she have—not just in Snowflake, but anywhere?
She turned away and headed back to her apartment building where her car was parked. She dug her keys out of her purse and climbed in. Inside the car it was much colder. She shivered and turned on the engine, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to warm up. She rummaged in the side pocket of her purse and found the slip of paper with the address she had discovered in Patricia Honeywell’s datebook.
She turned back to Broadway and drove north out of the town center. Near the end of the road, she made a left before it continued to the highway. Mohawk Trail wound slowly up the hill, the homes becoming larger as she approached the top. This section of Snowflake had been built more than fifty years before, but by Snowflake standards, the neighborhood was new. It was an enclave of the wealthier residents of town, including those employed at the higher end of the corporate structure of the Resort. The house at 201 Brewster sat elevated up from the street, a two-story colonial with a brick front, its peaked roof covered in snow.
Lucky leaned over the passenger seat as she drove past, curious to get a better look. She reached the top of the hill where a small park had been carved out and then turned and drove slowly down the hill again, stopping one house before she reached number 201 on the opposite side of the street. She pulled over to the side and turned off her engine. The interior of the car was warm now, but it wouldn’t last very long without the heater running. Curiosity drove her, but now that she was here, she had no idea what to do. An address in a murder victim’s calendar—jotted down quickly in a margin. How had Nate overlooked Honeywell’s datebook, or missed this address? What significance did it have, if any?
Perhaps Honeywell had known the residents of this home? Had they been her friends? For all anyone knew, the dead woman could have had friends—maybe even relatives—who lived in the area. That alone could be the reason she was in Snowflake. Cold started to seep through the floorboards. Lucky turned the key in the ignition and cranked the heater on full blast, shifting the dial so the rush of warm air hit her feet. What should she do? Could she simply walk up the stairs, ring the bell and ask whoever answered if they knew Patricia Honeywell? Was it possible whoever lived here had not heard of the murder? Lucky thought, Unlikely. And of course they might deny knowing the victim for fear they’d be entangled in a murder investigation.
Just as she had finally come to the decision to ring the bell and see who answered, the front door opened, and a woman and a young girl of perhaps ten came out. The girl was carrying a knapsack with a pink design that looked like an elongated cat. The woman wore slacks and a heavy jacket with a hood. S
he hurried to an SUV parked in the driveway and unlocked the doors. The young girl climbed in the passenger seat, and the woman leaned over to make sure the girl’s seat belt was secure. The car backed slowly down the incline to the street and headed down the hill. Lucky put her car in gear, half wanting to follow them, but before she could, the garage door slowly rose and a white sedan pulled out on the drive. The car also backed down the steep driveway, as the garage door closed. The driver executed a turn and, following the path of the SUV, headed down the hill. On impulse, Lucky slipped the car into gear, following at a discreet distance. The white car headed down Mohawk Trail to the bottom of the hill. The SUV turned left toward the highway. The woman gave a quick toot on the horn as she made the turn. The white sedan, driven by the lone man, turned in the opposite direction, heading south on Broadway. Lucky followed several car lengths behind, passing the Spoonful and the shops on Broadway. When the driver reached Spruce, he turned right and drove up the hill toward Ridgeline. This was the route to the Snowflake Resort.
The driver didn’t appear to be rushed. He moved smoothly up the hill, turning in at the stone-pillared entrance to the Resort and its attendant businesses. Driving to the very end of the main parking lot where the administrative buildings were housed, he parked in a spot near the front door. Lucky passed his car slowly, watching as he climbed out and headed for the entrance to the business offices of the Resort. These were housed in a building erected to resemble a small Swiss chalet, continuing the theme of the other buildings. He wore a long black coat over slacks and a sports jacket, a dark shirt with no tie and a plaid scarf around his neck. His hair was short and fair. He was somewhere in his midforties and carried a leather briefcase. The man appeared intently focused, a severe expression on his face as though he was about to reprimand his secretary or any other employee he found in his path.
Lucky watched until he entered the building and then backed up to read the sign above the reserved parking space—THOMAS REED—RESERVED. Lucky let her car idle behind the white sedan. Who was Thomas Reed? He lived in a large house near the top of Lexington Heights, with a wife and at least one child. And his address was in Patricia Honeywell’s datebook. Was he another lover? Or was there more to the story than that? She needed to find out whatever she could about Thomas Reed.
Chapter 20
JANIE WAS HOLDING the fort at the Spoonful. She had just served soup and sandwiches to Hank and Barry, handling cook and waitress all in one. She smiled and waved at Lucky.
“Heard you met my friend Rosemary today.”
Lucky smiled. “Yes. She introduced herself.”
“She really likes working there but she’s trying to save her money and maybe go to nursing school in a couple of years.”
Lucky hung her coat on the peg that Sage always used in the kitchen. She lifted the lids of the two Crock-Pots to check that nothing was overheating or drying out. Janie followed her into the kitchen.
Lucky looked up and smiled. “I saw Mrs. Starkfield there too—Dr. Starkfield’s wife.”
“Oh yes.” Janie moved closer. “She’s nice I guess, but from what Rosemary’s told me, she’s always asking questions and trying to do things. I don’t know if she’s a control freak or thinks they’re all shirkers. You know the type—one of those women who thinks she can manage her husband’s office better. I don’t know why she’s there all the time. You’d think if she didn’t have to work she’d be glad to stay away. Probably just doesn’t have enough to keep her busy.”
“Everyone speaks very highly of Dr. Starkfield.”
“He’s real nice. And he and his wife seem real close. He’s always cracking jokes and making everybody laugh.”
“And they like Elias too.”
“Oh yeah, he’s a dreamboat…” Janie stopped in midsentence, suddenly realizing that Lucky probably knew more about Elias than anyone else. She stammered, “I mean…I heard you were seeing him.” Janie blushed.
“Oh no, not like you mean,” Lucky hastened to reply. “We’ve just known each other a long time—we’re friends.”
“Uh huh,” Janie answered with a neutral expression.
Lucky had no desire to fan the flames of any town gossip. She might be attracted to Elias, but that didn’t mean it would be returned or that anything would ever come of it. Best to keep her feelings under wraps.
“Are you hungry, Janie? Why don’t I fix us some soup and rolls for lunch, you and me and Jack? We’ve got a huge pot of this carrot with fresh ginger and rosemary.”
“That’d be great. I am kinda hungry. And I guess it’s lunchtime already.”
Lucky grabbed a large tray and ladled out generous servings of Sage’s soup. She quickly warmed some poppy seed rolls and laid them on a tray with a small butter dish.
Jack had been studying Hank and Barry’s moves on the chessboard, but when he saw Lucky arrive with the tray, he joined her and Janie at the table. Jack shook out his napkin. “I made a list of what we have in the freezer. We should be good for a while.”
“Let’s just hope we get more customers soon.”
Janie turned to Lucky. “I heard you went to see Sage. It’s so horrible to think of him sitting in that jail. How’s he doing?”
“I’m sure he’s depressed, to say the least, but he didn’t want to talk. I’m hoping he’ll talk to Jack. And I want to make sure he gets some decent legal help. The court has to assign someone, but maybe there’s a lawyer in town willing to help him. Jack or I will be bringing him food every day until…until they move him.”
“Can’t he get out on bail?”
“The arraignment’s next Monday. The judge might set bail, or maybe deny it. We won’t know till then. For now, he’ll be in a cell at the police station.”
“Poor Sage,” Janie said. “Whoever would have thought…Meg still feels bad, still thinks it was her big mouth.” She looked toward the front window, her eyes widened. “Oh no,” she groaned.
The door banged open. Remy DuBois stood in the open doorway, swaying and obviously inebriated. He stomped into the restaurant leaving the door wide open behind him.
“Wha’d you do to my brother?” he shouted.
Jack rose and slammed the door behind Remy, shutting off the blast of cold air. “He’s in a cell at the police station, Remy. You should go see him,” he growled. “After you sober up, that is.” He fixed Remy with a stern look.
“Wha’d you people tell the cops?” he shouted.
Jack and Lucky exchanged blank looks with each other. “Nothing,” Lucky answered. “We have no idea what’s going on. And Nate hasn’t been talking to us anyway.”
Remy attempted to lean casually against the counter but, missing his mark, almost fell down. He quickly caught himself, stumbling. “Yeah, sure. You’re tellin’ me you didn’t hang him out to dry, is that it?” He was slurring his words badly.
Lucky felt a wave of frustration and anger rising in her chest. Why did everyone think she and Jack were out to railroad Sage? First Sophie and now Remy. She walked over to Remy. “No, we did no such thing, Remy. So get off it. You need to sober up and go see your brother—not come here bothering the people that are trying to help him.”
Remy took a step, looking as if he were about to lunge toward Lucky. Involuntarily, she took a step back. Jack rushed over and, grabbing him by the arm, marched him to the front door. “You need to behave yourself and get straightened out—you’ll be welcome here when you do that.” He gave Remy a mild shove and shut the door firmly behind him. Then he turned the lock.
Remy grabbed the handle and rattled the door furiously, unable to believe it was locked against him. Swaying from side to side, he took a few steps back, reached down and grabbed a hunk of ice from the snowbank. He swung wildly and threw it at the front door, shattering one of the small panes of glass.
“You jerk!” Janie shouted.
“Damn…” Jack roared. “What’s wrong with that kid?” He undid the lock and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Lucky and
Janie rushed over to the front window. Hank and Barry had halted their game to watch the exchange. Now that Remy was safely outside, they joined Lucky and Janie at the window.
Remy stood, his legs wide apart, trying to stay upright. He looked confused, as if just realizing what he had done. Jack approached him. Lucky couldn’t hear what was being said, but she could tell Jack was lecturing him. Remy took a step backward and suddenly, like a rainstorm that ends quickly, his face collapsed, all the anger draining away. His chest was heaving and he burst into tears, falling into Jack’s arms. They stood like that for a minute or so on the sidewalk. Finally Jack led Remy back inside, guiding him to a chair. He looked apologetically at Lucky. “Can you grab some coffee?” She nodded and headed for the kitchen.
“I’m sorry. I’m real sorry.” Remy wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Janie looked at him disdainfully and passed him a napkin. “I don’t know why I did that. It’s just…he’s my brother…I thought…”
“What did you think?” Jack asked as he sat down next to Remy.
Lucky placed a large mug of black coffee on the table. “I guess I thought you pushed the cops to arrest him. I thought you knew…”
“Knew what?” Lucky asked.
“About him and…that woman…” he trailed off.
Lucky and Jack stared back at him blankly. Janie sniffed as if to say What next? and started gathering up dishes from the table. She carried them into the kitchen and dumped them in the sink. Hank and Barry turned back to their game, but Lucky was well aware they were hanging on every word.
“What about her?” Jack asked, not betraying that Lucky had told him Sage’s history. There was no need to speak her name; thoughts of her murder were uppermost in everyone’s minds.
Remy sniffed and did his best to blow his nose in the napkin Janie had passed to him. “They knew each other before.”
“Before Sage came to Snowflake?”
Remy nodded. “You’ll have to ask him. He made me swear I’d never tell.” Remy grabbed another napkin and wiped his eyes. “I’ll fix that pane of glass for you. I feel like a real jerk.” Lucky caught Janie watching through the hatch. Janie rolled her eyes heavenward, as if to say, You are a real jerk.
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