by Amy Lillard
It had to be the same girl who let them in.
“Lying about what, love?” Camille asked in that gentle teacher voice with her Aussie-gone-southern accent.
“She said she saw Dylan and Haley arguing. But they never argued. They were so much in love. Perfect for each other. And Haley was such a sweet person. Did you know that she was helping look after Judith since her stroke? She was premed, you know, so she had medical knowledge, and she was trying to help.”
Sabrina tapped lightly on one of the doors about midway down the hall and entered without waiting for permission. She held the door open and allowed them to step inside before closing it behind them.
Arlo looked around. They stood in an antechamber to the bedroom. Maybe a lady’s sitting room, or maybe a dressing room, though she wasn’t sure exactly what to call the space. It was filled with antiques—tables, chairs, couch—and more of those gilded frame portraits. This time on walls of pale salmon.
“Let me see if she’s awake.” She placed one finger to her lips and quietly walked to the door opposite them. She eased it open and slipped inside, shutting it behind her without a sound.
She returned a few moments later.
“She’s awake. But you can’t stay long.”
They didn’t need to stay long. They didn’t need to be there at all.
Camille nodded, and Helen started toward the door of the inner room, Fern trailing behind. Camille patted Sabrina’s arm. “If you think they’ve got it wrong, you should contact Mads and Jason, the police chief and his officer. They’ll know what to do.”
“It’s just—” She stopped, her eyes focused on something behind Camille.
Arlo turned around to see the maid standing there. The young maid that had let them into the house. Andrea.
Sabrina pressed her lips together. “Yeah, whatever.” After that she clammed up, and it was so obvious to Arlo: she didn’t trust anyone in the mansion. Least of all Andrea.
Fern, Camille, and Helen marched into the room with more confidence and purpose than Arlo had ever seen, leaving Andrea behind standing in the doorway. Arlo simply followed behind wondering how they had managed to get this far.
Even as nice as it was, the room had been converted to a quasi-hospital space. There was a hospital bed and other hospital equipment that only someone with Judith Whitney’s money would be able to afford in their home.
“Judith, love,” Camille crooned at the lady in the bed. If Arlo had been shown the woman and not told who she was, she would have never guessed it to be the once-vibrant, if not flat-out mean-spirited, Judith Whitney. Her normally coiffed blond hair was mashed on one side and sticking out on the other. It clearly hadn’t been set in several weeks, and judging by the amount of gray showing through the gold, nor had it been colored. At least it looked clean. Marginally, anyway. Her green eyes were dull and reminded Arlo of a fish. They stared ahead but appeared unseeing. A shiny glob of spittle glinted in one corner of her mouth.
“You brought her a cake,” Pam said, entering the room behind them, her tone surly. She was as intimidating as ever. Head and shoulders taller than everyone except Helen, she glared at them as if she could make them leave by her scathing look alone. She was dressed like anyone you might meet on the streets of Sugar Springs but seemed to hold herself up higher than that.
“Well, of course we know Judith can’t eat it, but surely someone in the household might find it tasty,” Fern said.
It was obvious to Arlo that she was trying to bait Pam, but the younger woman just sniffed.
“I suppose you’ve seen her now and know that she is unable to truly entertain guests,” Pam said, looking down her nose the entire time. There was something familiar in her manner, a snobbery that shouldn’t have been there given her station in life. Not that there was anything wrong with being in home health care or being a nutritionist. It was just that not many of them carried themselves like royalty.
“She can’t entertain, and the whole town is coming out here in a couple of weeks for the barbecue.” Fern tsked as if to say, What a shame.
“We thought it would be better to go ahead and host it this year. We didn’t want to offend anyone.” Pam sniffed again.
Arlo wondered about the we. Had Judith been in on that decision? Or had it simply been made for her? From the look of her now, she was incapable of coherent speech, much less discussion about the annual barbecue. Arlo had expected her to be alert at the very least. According to the security officer she had talked to, Judith was more like a fine, whole person trapped in a body that merely didn’t work, instead of both physically and mentally incapacitated. Was she drugged?
“Time to go.” Pam pulled a silk cord similar to the ones used to hold back the drapes around the bed.
“But the cake,” Camille protested.
“I’ll take that.” Pam stepped forward, hands outstretched.
“I just bet you will,” Fern grumbled under her breath.
The door opened behind them, and Roberts appeared, surely to make certain they left.
So they did.
* * *
“Let’s think about this logically,” Helen said forty-five minutes later.
The ladies had all gathered back in the reading nook, at least for a time. Helen would have to go cook supper at the Inn soon. “Wally’s heroine, Darlene,” Helen said. “She came back to her town pretending to be someone else. In fact, I don’t even like to call her Darlene because her real name wasn’t Darlene. It was Millicent.”
“The only reason Darlene-slash-Millicent even came back to town was to exact her revenge.” Camille nodded.
Arlo was at once happy that they were talking about the book instead of Haley, Lillyfield, and everything else going on in Sugar Springs.
“Kind of like The Count of Monte Cristo,” Fern said dramatically.
That made two books to make it into the discussion. It was a banner day, Arlo thought. Then she waved goodbye as Chloe and Jayden left with their promises to be at the cottage later for the house rewarming party.
“It sounds logical enough,” Helen said. “But there’s no one in town like that.”
“There has to be,” Camille protested. “Somebody had to have left and come back.”
“Lots of people leave and come back. Lots of people just flat out leave,” Fern said.
“No,” Helen said. “This is something different. This is someone who left and came back, but they’re not the same person.”
“Hmmm, I guess Sam’s not the missing piano teacher suddenly returned then, huh?” Arlo chimed in.
“I wish she would take this just the least bit seriously,” Helen complained to no one in particular.
Arlo held up both of her hands in surrender.
Helen turned back to Fern and Camille, purposely leaving Arlo out of it. “No. It’s not Sam. This is someone else. Someone who left, then came back and didn’t tell us they were the person that left. Someone that just came back out of the blue.”
“What about Debbie Hatfield?” Fern snapped her fingers. “She just showed up one day with no warning.”
“Debbie Hatfield has lived in this town for over forty years,” Arlo said.
“I rest my case.” Fern gave an emphatic nod.
“I don’t think it’s Debbie Hatfield. She doesn’t seem to have any kind of beef with anyone. This would be someone trying to outdo everyone else. Debbie is a nurse at the hospital. She works double shifts for her grandkids. She is not our count.”
Camille stood, her purse still hooked over one arm. “This is fun and all, but I must be going.”
“Another date with Joe?” Fern grumbled.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Camille picked up her book bag and started for the door.
“You should bring him by Chloe’s,” Helen said. “The more the merrier.”
Arl
o almost choked. They had their bowling plans all lined out, but she wasn’t ready to have that confrontation tonight. And definitely not at Chloe’s.
“Yeah,” Fern said, her voice gravelly. “You should bring him over.”
“And if I didn’t know any better, Fern, I would think you might be jealous,” Camille said.
“Jealous.” Fern scoffed in reply, but Arlo noticed it was after Camille was already outside.
“I must be going too. I’ve got to get dinner on and then work out something for in the morning for breakfast. I’ll see you ladies tonight at Chloe’s,” Helen said.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Fern said.
“Don’t mind her,” Arlo joked. “She’s just coming for the mini quiches.”
Fern slung her book bag over one shoulder and headed for the door. “See you then,” she said.
“See you then.”
* * *
“Want to make a bet on whether or not Camille brings this Joe?” Chloe asked sometime later. They were standing in the tiny living room in the cottage, milling around with other friends who had come by to wish Chloe and Jayden well.
“I don’t think she’ll bring him.”
“Why not?”
Arlo hadn’t told a soul about seeing Camille and Joe at the steak house last week. There been so much going on, she hadn’t really had an opportunity to say anything to anybody. It was a little shocking that she hadn’t told her best friend.
Times change, she supposed.
“He’s not someone you would expect Camille to be dating.” How was that for diplomacy?
Chloe took a sip of the sparkling apple cider they were serving instead of champagne or wine. It wasn’t hard cider, so Jayden could partake. This was a family party, after all.
“What’s wrong with him? Is he badly scarred or like the Hunchback of Notre Dame? What?”
“He got quite a few tattoos.” Arlo said.
“Define quite a lot.”
Arlo picked up a cheese cracker and busied herself eating it so she could to figure out exactly how to answer her friend. Or try to, anyway. “You want a number?”
Chloe shrugged. “How about a body percentage? Would that be easier?”
“He was wearing clothes, so I can’t say what was under them, but from what was exposed—”
“Head, neck, and arms?” Chloe asked.
Arlo nodded. “Maybe seventy-five percent.”
“Seventy-five percent!” Chloe screeched.
She drew the look of everyone standing around. There wasn’t a lot of room in Chloe’s little cottage, so they had decided to have a come and go party. People were invited to drop in, stay for a while, then head out. There hadn’t been any more than five people there at one time, minus Helen and Arlo, of course, since they had been there most of the evening.
Fern had buzzed in a little bit later, then buzzed right back out again, and Arlo wondered if she was simply trying to avoid Camille tonight for whatever reason. Arlo was fairly certain that reason was Camille’s crack about her being jealous.
Arlo didn’t think Fern was jealous that Camille had a boyfriend. She was upset that Camille was spending time with someone other than Fern. The two had gotten close since Arlo had started the Friday night book club.
“Well I guess if I was dating a guy and seventy-five percent of his body was tattooed, I wouldn’t bring him here either.”
“That’s not very fair. Seventy-five percent of what was showing isn’t a great deal of tattoos. He might be perfectly untattooed on the rest of his body.” Arlo sighed. “Besides, it’s not really the tattoos that are a problem.”
“Oh, Lord,” Chloe said. “What now?”
“I saw Camille and Joe when I was out with Sam.”
“Yeah. I got that.”
“Sam said that he thought Joe’s tattoos were ones he’d gotten in prison.”
Chloe’s eyes widened in shock. “That doesn’t mean anything,” she said when she had pulled herself back together. “They may not be. And anyone can go to prison. I’m sure there are even innocent men in prison.”
“You’re right,” she said. “It just worries me. I know she’s old enough to be my grandmother, but Camille just seems so innocent. Maybe it’s that accent.”
“Definitely the accent.” Chloe laughed. “But you have to trust that Camille can take care of herself.”
“You know how people prey on the elderly when they’re on the internet. They don’t know how to work everything. Heck, I don’t even know how to work everything.”
“I know. We’ll just have to watch out for her. So do you think it’s serious between the two of them?”
Arlo shrugged. “I have no idea. She seems like she’s happy, and he seemed to be having a good time. But anytime the book club ladies crook their fingers, she’s there, trying to find clues and necklaces and breaking into a car that has been sunk in water for fifty years.”
“Yeah,” Chloe said thoughtfully.
How serious could it really be between Camille and Joe if she still spent more time with Fern and Helen than she did her boyfriend?
“Have you seen Jayden?” Chloe asked Sam as he approached.
“I think he’s outside with Manny.”
“Let me go make sure they don’t get in the mud again.”
Arlo laughed and grabbed another cheese cracker. “I’ll stay here and guard the refreshment table.”
Chloe shook her head but smiled. “You do that.”
“I never really realized how small this place was until we got five people in here.” Sam laughed.
“I figure she’ll eventually take some of Wally’s money and buy a house in town. It would get her closer to everything, and it would be a lot easier.”
“And she’d have room for her cat?”
“She doesn’t need room for the cat. She doesn’t have a cat. You’ve got a cat, remember?”
Sam looked down at the healing scratches on the back of his hands. “I remember.”
“Ouch,” she winced. “He still attacking you?”
“Only on days that end in Y.” Sam shook his head. “That’s not true. He has settled down pretty good. These are all starting to heal finally. But that cat does have a mean hook.”
Arlo nodded. “Yes, he does.”
“I noticed Camille isn’t here with Joe tonight.”
“They could still show up.”
Sam shot her a look. “You really think she’s going to bring him here?”
“You’re the one who said that anyone can go to prison for any reason.”
“And I stand by that.” He took a sip of his own apple cider and swallowed before continuing. “It’s just that Sugar Springs is a small town, and she’s lived here a long time.”
“Maybe she’s just going to break down social barriers,” Arlo said.
Sam chuckled. “You just keep telling yourself that.”
Arlo wanted to come back with something snappy, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Mainly because Sam was right. Demanding social change in a town the size of Sugar Springs was no light undertaking.
“Uh-oh,” Sam said. “Here comes Mads.”
The Chief of Police was indeed headed their way, with a scowl of determination marring his handsome features. There could only be one reason why. “Don’t you dare leave,” she told Sam.
Sam tossed back the contents of his drink, then looked down into his empty glass. “Oh, look. I think I need a refill.”
“Sam.”
But he was already on his way for more apple cider.
“Arlo.” Mads gave her a stern nod.
“Hey.”
“I need to talk to you a minute.”
Arlo feigned innocence. “Oh, yeah?”
Mads’s frown deepened, a feat she did
n’t think possible. “I’ve had a few complaints from the brand new Lillyfield security.”
“You don’t say.”
“Seriously, Arlo. What in the world were you doing snooping around the car?”
The split second after he asked the question, a half a dozen excuses,—er, reasons—and made-up lies floated around inside her head. Thankfully she didn’t have to settle on one as Mads closed his eyes and held up one hand. “No. Never mind. Don’t tell me.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Just do me a favor.” He opened his eyes and pinned her with a hard stare. “If they try to go out there again, stop them. And if you can’t stop them, then for heaven’s sake, don’t go with them. I can only do so much to keep you out of jail.”
“That seems a little chicken,” Arlo said. “Leave my friends to take the heat.”
“Not at all,” Mads said. “You need to stay out of jail because they’ll need someone for bail.”
“That sort of makes sense.” But it stung a little. Was she supposed to be fun loving or logical?
“And three elderly citizens of Sugar Springs have better defense for doing stupid things than a smart and savvy business owner.”
Arlo wasn’t sure exactly how to take that. So she decided to skip over it altogether. Mads wasn’t one for throwing around compliments. “You really need to go up to the mansion,” she said.
“Are you just completely ignoring what I’m telling you?”
“I heard you. And I have noted it.”
He shook his head. “Good.”
“Now about Lillyfield… There’s a maid out there I think you should see.”
“Why? Do you think she’s my type?”
“Ha. Ha. She’s young enough to be your daughter.” Well maybe not, but it sounded good. “She thinks that the other maid, Andrea, is lying about seeing Haley and Dylan arguing.”
Mads closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Why is everyone determined to be an armchair quarterback on this case?”
“I don’t know about all that,” Arlo said. “But she talked to me for a bit when we were there this morning.”
