by Amy Lillard
“Okay…” Arlo continued to feast on the fleshy part of the apple. “Let me think a sec.”
“Take all the time you need. They only want me to get back to them by tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning?”
“I’ve been sitting on this awhile.”
“I’ll say.” She managed another bite of apple. “So not having enough room. We can’t make enough room, and people who are coming all the way here for a movie premiere do not want to sleep on the hard gym floor, Sugar Springs experience or not. So why not check into one of those bus tour companies? Maybe we can get someplace in Memphis to work with us or even Tupelo. Heck, maybe even Corinth. Just depends on how many people are coming in. We can have the tour company running routes and give tours of the city, if you want to be generous and call Sugar Springs a city.”
“Good enough for me,” Mads said.
“They give the tours, and when everybody’s ready to go back to their hotel, they hop back on the bus.”
“Bus?”
“Come on, Mads. You played for the NFL; you know what a luxury bus is like.”
“Luxury. Got it.” She could hear scratching in the background. She supposed he was writing all these ideas down.
“That help any?”
She could almost hear his grin on the other side of the phone line. “That helps a lot, actually.”
“I think I should warn you,” Arlo started. “The girls, as you call them, are pretty determined for you to reopen the Mary Kennedy case.”
“Mary Kennedy?”
He didn’t even remember. “The piano teacher who went missing like forty years ago. Helen, Fern, and Camille are convinced that Mary Kennedy’s disappearance and disappearance of the girl in Missing Girl are one and the same. Just kind of dressed up for fiction.”
“I’ve read Missing Girl, and they are not the same.”
“I still can’t believe you actually read it.” Arlo tossed the apple peel toward the trash and missed. Not even a bank shot.
“Why? I read.”
“Of course.” And that was a new development. Mads had never been a reader before. At least not while they were in school. Back then, Arlo could barely get him to look at the CliffsNotes. He had been more interested in making out and football. Not necessarily in that order.
“The woman who’s missing in the book comes back to town,” Mads continued. “From everything I’ve heard about Mary Kennedy, she’s still missing.”
“Well, you’re right about that, but they still say there are a lot of similarities. The mansion and some other stuff to do with the Whitneys and Lillyfield.”
Mads sighed. Heavy enough that she could hear it all the way into her house. “I know they mean well,” Mads said. “But please try to keep them on some kind of leash. I mean I know it’s not your job. But we’re still trying to gather evidence on Haley Adams’s death.”
“I understand. And I’ll talk to Elly about it. She’s usually reasonable.”
“Usually,” he agreed, but they both knew that the last few weeks Helen had been much more interested in murderers and books and life outside the Inn than she had ever been before. Arlo was glad that the book club gave Helen something to get out and do, but at the same time, Arlo was a little leery since it made Helen start to think she could solve mysteries. At least she and the others weren’t driving around in a van with a dog, but Arlo would never admit that out loud. They might hear and take up a collection for a Mystery Machine.
“I’ll do what I can,” Arlo said. It was weak as far as promises went, but it was the best one she could make.
* * *
“Guess what everyone was talking about at Dye Me a River today,” Fern demanded as she and Camille breezed into the Books and More the next afternoon. “Go on. Guess.”
It was Friday, beauty parlor day.
“You went to the beauty parlor again?” Arlo asked, peeking around to get a full look at Fern’s hair. Camille and Helen went every week, but Fern was another matter altogether. That she had shelled out the money to have a professional work on her hair once was odd enough; that she had done it twice was more like a miracle. “Two times in a row.”
“Yes,” Fern huffed. “Now focus.”
“Okay,” Arlo said. “I’m going to go with Haley.” A person couldn’t get killed in a town the size of Sugar Springs and not be the talk for at least a couple of days or weeks, maybe even years. It all depended.
“More than that,” Fern said with a grin.
“Where’s Elly?” Arlo asked.
“Oh, she had to stop and charge her car or something,” Fern said. She might have just gotten back from the beauty parlor, but she had already smacked on her floppy straw hat. Though Arlo had previously witnessed that a mere hat couldn’t destroy a “’do” from Teresa at Dye Me a River.
“My car does not run on electricity,” Helen said, coming into the bookstore and shooting Fern a chastising look. “One of my tires was low and needed air.” She plopped her handbag down on the couch. “See if I treat you to a Friday at Dye Me again.”
Which explained why Fern was willing to have her hair professionally colored and set again.
Fern sniffed. “If you want me to get it right, then learn to text better. The garbled mess that you sent me wasn’t enough to go on.”
Arlo had been patiently explaining to Helen that simply removing the vowels from words did not make any sort of text code. Apparently, her lessons had been falling on deaf ears.
“Anyway,” Camille started once again. “Half of Dye Me a River says that someone from Lillyfield told Mads that they had seen Dylan and Haley arguing earlier in the morning on the day she was killed.”
“My vote goes to that Pam,” Fern said.
Arlo would not tell them there had to be more than that to go on. She would not engage in this talk. If she did, it would only lead to more talk and probably action, and no one wanted action. She had promised Mads that she would do what she could to keep the girls in check.
“And,” Helen drawled, picking up the story as Camille paused to draw breath, “CCTV shows that Dylan was indeed in the mansion. That afternoon.”
“But there are no cameras where Haley fell so it’s not like they can put him at the scene. The scene-scene.” Fern said.
Arlo was beginning to think her head was spinning. “And all this came out of the beauty shop today?”
“I keep telling you, you got to get your hair cut more than once every couple of years, and you’ll be able to find out all sorts of things in this town,” Helen said.
Arlo didn’t bother to point out that only half of it would be true. Who even knew how much of this was the gospel? “You have no evidence to back up any of this. I mean, it’s all a rumor. You know that, right?”
“All rumors and legends start with some grain of truth,” Camille said sagely.
“I don’t think I would believe it until I heard Mads say something, and you are not going down there.” She added the last as the ladies turned, no doubt to march down the police station to question the chief about the whole deal.
“It’s that Pam,” Fern said. “What do we really know about her? Suppose she’s got a lot to hide.”
“What do you mean?” Camille asked.
“Just that it might be a gauge of whether or not she’s telling the truth. If she has something to hide, then maybe she’s making all this up.”
Helen shook her head. “Why would Pam want to make stuff up? She’s a cook.”
Fern shook her head. “Pam isn’t a cook; she’s a nutritionist. And a nurse, I think. Dutch is the cook, remember?”
Arlo remembered. Dutch with the many colorful tattoos standing at the grave site, head bowed, expression solemn.
“Whatever she is, she could have something to hide. And she could be telling lies to hide it. Wha
tever it is,” Fern continued.
“If she even said these things,” Arlo said. This conversation was getting a little out of hand. “Which we don’t know that she did.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Fern started for the door to the third floor, even as Helen and Camille headed toward the reading nook.
Arlo seemed torn between the two of them. “You’re having a meeting now?”
“Of course,” Camille said. “Friday’s a little bit of a challenge. We have to wait until we get all our appointments in, then have the meeting.”
“Fern will be making drinks here in a minute or two.” She smiled and waved at Chloe who had managed to keep silent during this whole exchange. Arlo was certain she was sniggering behind her hand and hiding her face so Arlo couldn’t see her laugh. It was something she would have to talk to her best friend about later. Arlo needed backup in these situations. Chloe may not have been involved in the investigation of Wally’s murder, but she definitely needed to help Arlo with this one.
“Where are you going?” she called after Fern.
“Up to talk to Sam. Anyone know Pam’s last name?”
“I don’t reckon I heard anyone say,” Helen mused.
Camille shook her head. “Me either.”
Fern shrugged as if it was no big deal at all. Like last names were for amateurs. “I’m sure Sam can figure it out.”
Still trying to form the words of protest to keep Fern on the first floor and out of Sam’s office, Arlo watched her disappear into the stairwell. Then she looked back to the two remaining members of the Friday-night-turned-every-day book club. Not exactly what she had planned. Not at all actually. No hipsters, no coffee drinkers, no guys with beards and black-framed Buddy Holly-esque glasses boasting cardigans and man buns.
Okay, if she were being truthful, there weren’t many cardigan-wearing hipsters in Sugar Springs. But she expected at least a few more people. Maybe having it on Friday night had been a mistake. Maybe a Sunday afternoon. She could open for that, she supposed. Though she liked to have her Sundays off.
She moved toward the book cart as the bell sounded over the front door. She turned to see a young man step into the bookstore. He wore a gray cardigan and rusty-brown jeans with flat skater shoes. He had a man bun but no beard and no black glasses.
As soon as he came in, he spotted her and started in her direction. Either he knew who she was or he knew she could help.
“Arlo Stanley?” he asked.
“That’s me,” she replied.
“I’m Andy,” he said. “Sam’s nephew.” When she didn’t reply, he continued. “He told me you might need some help.”
Arlo smiled. Andy was perfect. This was the kind of guy she was looking for to be in the book club, but he also seemed to be a great candidate for employment. “Let me get you an application.”
“Thank you.” He moved toward the dogleg coffee bar where old-fashioned metal stools waited. When he wasn’t looking, Chloe flashed her a thumbs-up. Arlo smiled and gave a quick nod, then ducked back into her office for the stack of blank applications she had there. It was a standard form just to know what a person did and if they had been convicted of any major crimes. Other than that, she went with her gut. So far, her gut was telling her that Andy would be a great addition to the Books and More. Even Chloe thought so.
She returned with the form and handed it to him along with a ballpoint pen. “Take your time,” she said. “We can talk when you’re finished.”
* * *
“So what about the guy?” Chloe asked a little while later. “Sam’s nephew.”
“You like him?” Arlo asked.
Chloe nodded. “I do.”
Arlo smiled. “Good. I’ll call him next week and tell him he got the job.”
“Next week?” Chloe asked.
Arlo gave a small shrug. “I don’t want appear too eager. He’ll think he can run all over us. Otherwise I think he’ll be great help. He can lift the heavy boxes and”—she cut her eyes toward where the book club ladies sat, lounging in the reading nook, still discussing whether or not Mary Kennedy actually had a necklace when she left Lillyfield that fateful night—“he might be able to help us with other things that get away from us around here.”
Chloe chuckled. “Very well put, bestie.” She slipped off her stool and went around to the other side of the coffee bar.
“Why don’t you go ahead and go home?” Arlo asked. “I have Fern here if anyone needs coffee.”
Chloe frowned a bit, and Arlo knew she was torn with indecision. “It would be good to get a jump start on moving everything around. I’ve got to get the new dresser moved back into the bedroom. Thank goodness it’s already painted blue in there. I don’t think Jayden could take a lavender- or peach-colored room.”
“You still feel good about this?” Arlo asked.
Chloe sighed and grabbed her purse from underneath the counter. “Yeah, I do. I feel like it’s the right decision and the right time to make it. It’s going to be a big adjustment for the both of us,” she said.
Arlo smiled. “Trust me. It’ll all be great in the end.”
Chapter 14
SOMEONE’S GOING TO GET HURT!
Arlo read the note, then laid it on the coffee bar. She looked to Chloe, who bit her lip, her agitation practically tangible. “And this was taped to the door when you got here this morning?”
Chloe nodded. “What do you suppose it means? Who’s going to get hurt? How are they going to get hurt?”
“Good questions. But I wish you would have called me when you first got it.”
Chloe had given Arlo the note as soon as she had arrived at the Books and More.
SOMEONE’S GOING TO GET HURT! Big red letters, block print, with an exclamation point for good measure.
Someone was scared. About what? Haley’s murder? The Mary Kennedy case? Or maybe she was reading too much into the whole thing. Maybe it was just a senior prank, someone trying to stir up emotions when the town was already on high alert.
“What have you got there?” Sam asked, coming up behind her.
Arlo shoved the paper to the other side of the counter where Sam couldn’t see it. “Nothing.”
Chloe shot her a look and handed the paper to Sam. “This was on the door when I came in this morning.”
Sam studied the note, lines of worry starting to form as he did so.
“What do you make of it?” Arlo asked.
He shrugged and handed it back to Chloe. “Could be that someone here might be stepping on toes that don’t like to be stepped on. Or it could be a joke. Not a very funny one, but still a joke.”
“I think she should take it to Mads,” Chloe added.
Arlo sighed. The very last thing she wanted to do was add more to his already heaping plate. “Mads has more important things to do than run down the kids who taped this to the window for giggles.”
“What kid would be up at six thirty for something like that?” Chloe asked.
Arlo frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If it was a kid or a high school prank,” Sam said, taking up the explanation, “the funniest part would be seeing the face of the person finds it. In this case, Chloe. If they left the note, they would want to see her face.”
“At six in the morning,” Arlo finished.
“Exactly.”
“But Chloe hasn’t done anything,” Arlo protested. Chloe hadn’t even been with them when they went out to the mansion or on one of their harebrained trips to find clues.
“But they knew she would show it to you.” Sam looked from one of them to the other. “I don’t mean to scare you, but I think Chloe’s right, Arlo. You should take this over for Mads to see.”
She picked up the note and read it again. It was clear, not threatening, and a little on the cryptic side. She looked at it a mo
ment more, then tucked the missive into her pocket. “I’ll think about it,” she said. Though she had no intention of bothering Mads with such things.
* * *
Arlo was more than surprised at all the things one little boy could have. That Saturday after the Books and More closed, the moving crew, which consisted of everyone they could finagle into helping, filled the back of Fern’s car, as well as her trunk, Arlo’s back seat, every available space in Chloe’s SUV, and the bed of Sam’s truck, as well as the one belonging to Chloe’s father, with boxes, bags, and baskets of toys, clothes, and assorted boy paraphernalia.
“What’s going on over there?” Fern nodded her head toward the lake that sat on the edge of the Lillyfield property.
That wasn’t entirely true. The lake sat mostly on Lillyfield property. It was man-made, and no one at the time that it had been created ever dreamed that the prosperous Lilly family could have so much as a nickel’s worth of financial trouble. Even then, someone down the line, maybe even Weston Whitney himself, had sold off a chunk of the estate. And some of that chunk just happened to contain some lake water.
“It looks like they’re dredging out the lake,” Sam said.
“For what?” Helen asked.
The whole moving procession was stalled, watching the goings-on as the group tried to figure out exactly what was happening at Lillyfield Lake. All sorts of equipment had been brought in, including something that looked like a large pump, along with a couple of generators to keep everything going.
“No idea,” Camille said. “Let’s get these boxes inside.” Of everyone, she was the one most interested in getting the work done. She hadn’t said as much, but Arlo figured she had a date with Joe tonight.
“Yes!” Jayden said, standing the doorway of the little cottage and waving them in.
Scratch that. Camille wasn’t the most focused on getting the move accomplished. But she was a close second to Jayden.
“I’m going to go find out what’s going on,” Fern said. She ducked into the little house, then started her march down the hill to where the lake was located.
“I’ll go with you.” Helen rushed to put her box down and headed off after her.
