I barely suppressed the giggles rising like bubbles when I caught his look of total amazement.
He held the envelope on his lap and glanced at the pages. “How the hell did you find this?”
I shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”
John started to say something when Sylvia asked him a question.
Dylan was watching me, an amused expression on his face. “What have you been up to?”
“Later.”
Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco left the table to bring in the rest of the meal. Julia and I collected the soup dishes and carried them into the kitchen. When I sat down again, John asked, “Do you have any idea who L is?”
My pleasure knew no bounds! Lieutenant Mathers of the Clover Ridge Police Department was asking my opinion about the murders.
“There are three possibilities,” I said in a low voice. “Laura’s neighbor Lou Devon; Helena’s late husband, Lloyd Koppel; and Laura’s old friend Harold Lonnigan.”
John stroked his chin. “We’ll talk later.” He pushed the pages back into the envelope and placed it under his chair.
I put a little of everything on my plate—cranberry relish, turkey, green beans, stuffing, and sweet potato casserole. It all tasted heavenly. I’d hardly made a dent in my food when I realized I was full. Still, I kept on eating. When I’d finished all I could manage, I looked up and saw dazed expressions on the faces around me. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who had overeaten.
Julia, Sylvia, and I cleared the table. Aunt Harriet put away the leftovers while I loaded the dishwasher. We all agreed dessert would have to wait and returned to the dining room while the men wandered into the den to watch the football game.
Somehow we managed to consume a goodly amount of dessert as well. I ate a piece of the apple cake Julia had made, a nice-sized wedge of pecan pie, and a scoop of ice cream Sylvia and John had brought. I passed over my brownies, which I could always make. I was pleased to see Dylan take a brownie and hear Uncle Bosco praise them. After dessert, the men returned to the football game. Mark and Tacey ran around the living room until Julia told them to stop. Tacey began to cry and went to sit on her mother’s lap. We cleared the dessert dishes, and Aunt Harriet insisted that everyone take home what was left of their desserts, or else she’d eat herself into a coma.
Too soon, it was over. The Claymonts said a general good-bye and took their leave. I hugged Randy, Julia, and Tacey good-bye. Mark shook my hand again. Sylvia and I went into the den, where the three remaining men were watching the game.
“Time to go, honey,” she said to John.
He rose slowly from the sofa, his eyes still on the TV.
Dylan and I nodded to one another as though agreeing with Sylvia. We hadn’t said much to one another all evening, but I was constantly aware of his presence.
“We’ll be leaving too, Uncle Bosco.” I leaned over to kiss his forehead. “Great dinner.”
“Made especially wonderful because you were here.”
Sylvia hugged me good-bye.
John gave me a solemn look. “We’ll talk. Meanwhile, don’t do anything foolish.”
“Of course not.”
I went into the kitchen to say good-bye to Aunt Harriet. She’d filled several containers of food for me to take home.
“This was the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.” I grabbed her in a bear hug.
“Oh, honey, you’ve made it special for your uncle and me.” Then she turned to Dylan, who’d been standing behind me. “I’m so glad you were able to come.”
“Spending Thanksgiving with you meant more to me than you can imagine.”
His words surprised me, but not as much as seeing him and Aunt Harriet embrace.
We carried the packages of food out to the car and started for home. Coming here, I’d felt both exhilarated and shy riding next to Dylan. Now I felt relaxed and comfortable in his presence.
“What were you and John Mathers talking about right after he and Sylvia arrived?” I asked.
“He asked about my latest case. And I wanted to know how the investigation into Al Buckley’s homicide was progressing.”
“Did you know Al?”
Dylan nodded. “Al’s a major reason I became an investigator. We had a few good conversations after I graduated from college without the slightest idea what to do with my life. He was a great guy. Must have been a hell of a detective before he started drinking.”
“I liked him too, though we’d only spoken briefly the night he died.”
“Freakish, that—a retired detective poisoned in our local library.”
“What did John have to say?”
“Not much. Seems they hadn’t found anything conclusive pointing to any one person.”
“I gave John a sort of journal Laura kept before she died. I found it in the library attic.”
Dylan’s body stiffened. “Carrie, I hope you haven’t told anyone else what you’ve found.”
“I was going to tell Jared, but—”
“Don’t tell Jared or anyone else in that family!” Dylan swerved to the edge of the road and stopped the car. He grabbed me by both shoulders. “Promise me you won’t.”
“Okay, I won’t. But why the alarm all of a sudden? I’ve met his family a number of times. I’ve never felt threatened by any of them.”
Dylan leaned back and exhaled loudly. “This was told to me in the strictest of confidences, so keep it to yourself: John is convinced the killer is a member of the family. He can’t move on it because he only has the testimony of one witness and no clear evidence.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Surely he doesn’t think Jared murdered his mother. He’s so intent on finding the person who killed her and Al. Now, his brother Ryan’s a hothead, but even so, I can’t see him as a killer.”
“Did Jared tell you about the time he spent in a psychiatric hospital?”
“No. When was this?”
“A month or so after Laura’s murder. He became violent, worse than his brother. Got into fights in school. Beat up a kid so badly, he almost lost an eye. Bryce couldn’t control him and had him committed. He stayed in the hospital for a couple of months.”
“It’s hard to believe. Jared seems fine now. He has a job. I’ve never seen him angry, even when Ryan goads him.”
“He’s good as long as he takes his meds.”
Dylan put the car in gear and edged back onto the road. As we headed for home, he said, “I know you guys are dating, and it’s not my place to tell you not to see him, but steer clear of discussing the murders—with Jared and the rest of the Fosters.”
“We’re not dating.”
Dylan had turned on the radio, and a blast of rock music drowned out my words.
When he pulled up in front of the cottage, I opened the bag that held the tin of brownies Aunt Harriet had returned to me.
“Why don’t you take these, since you like them so much?”
Dylan grinned. “I won’t say no.”
“Thanks for driving me,” I said.
“Thanks for inviting me.”
He surprised me by kissing my cheek. “Be careful, Carrie. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I unlocked the front door and turned on the hall light. Something was different. Felt different. I walked slowly to the kitchen and studied the cabinets and the placement of the chairs. I was far from the neatest person, but I had this thing about making sure my kitchen chairs were pushed squarely under the table. The one I usually sat in stood slightly askew.
Despite my feeling of alarm, I moved slowly through the cottage. Nothing in the living room appeared to have been disturbed. Smoky Joe was asleep on the sofa. I turned on my computer. Judging by my browser’s history, no one had touched it.
Someone had used the small towel in the guest bathroom and left it hanging with one end lower than the other. The toilet seat cover was down, and there were drops of water on the floor. My intruder had used the bathroom!
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I was too frightened to check out my bedroom. What if the person was still in the cottage? I ran to the front door, ready to jump in my car and drive to safety when it dawned on me: Jack Norris had fixed the toilet in the guest bathroom.
I was still laughing when the phone rang.
It was Jared. “Hi. We just finished eating. How was Thanksgiving at your aunt and uncle’s?”
“Great. I ate too much.”
“I’m about to burst. I had to have two servings of Tommy’s aunt’s sweet potato pie. And the desserts were awesome.”
We talked a bit more about our Thanksgiving dinners, and then Jared told me what he and Tommy planned to do tomorrow. As he spoke, I imagined him as a young teenager, hurt and angry at the world. He’d never mentioned his stay in a psych ward. It must have been hushed up, because my aunt and uncle hadn’t known about it or they would have told me.
“I should arrive home around noon on Saturday,” he said. “Helena expects us at seven thirty. I’ll bring over a good bottle of champagne for the occasion.”
“Good idea.”
There was a long silence. “I guess that’s it for now. See you in two days. I miss you.”
“Enjoy the rest of your visit,” was the best I could offer. I promised myself that after Saturday night, I’d tell Jared that since our investigation had reached an end, I wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with him. No, I had to tell him I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore. Jared thought we were dating. It was only fair to tell him how I felt.
I changed into my nightgown and flitted through channels on the TV. I was too restless to settle down and watch one program. My mind kept churning over what I’d learned in the last few days.
What had convinced John that Laura’s killer was someone in her family? Did “family” include her brother, George? Close friends Ken and the Koppels? Was it because there had been no sign of a break-in that night? Because the only fingerprints found in the house belonged to family members?
Was Lloyd the L in Laura’s life? Did he kill Laura because she threatened to tell Helena about their affair?
Or had Helena found out about Laura’s relationship with Lloyd, killed her out of jealousy, and then murdered Lloyd a year later? I let out a humorless chuckle at the thought of adding another possible homicide to the mix. It was a preposterous idea! According to Jared, Lloyd had died of a heart attack. But there was no harm in finding out the circumstances of his death.
What about Harold Lonnigan? Had he been Laura’s lover? Lonnie was a friend of the Fosters. His fingerprints might have been found in the living room where Laura was killed. And why had he come to hear Al talk about the old case? It could have been simple curiosity.
Or he might have been worried that Al had figured out he’d murdered Laura and wanted to shut Al up before he exposed him.
Or was his wife, Francine, the killer?
Was Jared dangerous?
I put my hands over my ears to silence the various homicidal possibilities clamoring inside my head. Dylan suddenly came to mind, blotting out all other thoughts. I smiled, remembering how much I’d enjoyed sitting beside him during dinner and driving to and from Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco’s. Being in his presence, whether we were conversing with each other or speaking with other people, both soothed and excited me. I told myself not to get hung up on a guy who was hardly ever around. Who probably still considered me his friend’s kid sister. Besides, if he was interested in dating me, he would have asked me out before he flew back to Atlanta.
I got ready for bed listening to Enya’s soothing tones. I picked up my Kindle and started reading where I’d left off in the latest Jack Reacher thriller. Oddly enough, I found Jack’s aggressive behavior comforting as he pummeled the bad guys for the sake of the good. By ten, I was fast asleep.
* * *
I woke up at six feeling energized and well rested. It was Black Friday, the biggest shopping day of the year, and I was glad to be working. There was nothing I was dying to buy, and besides, I hated crowds.
When I got to the library, I stopped by the circulation desk to chat with Angela. She gave Smoky Joe one of the cat treats she now kept on hand and told me she’d made up with Steve, who showed up at her mother’s house after all. Then she asked for a Dylan Avery update.
“Nothing to report.”
“That’s a bummer.”
I shrugged. “I told you nothing would come of it.”
We made plans to have lunch together at the Cozy Corner Café. I ran into Sally, who was as ecstatic as I’d ever seen her. She and her husband had stood in line the night before until early that morning and managed to snag a huge 4K Ultra HD smart TV a local store was selling for less than a thousand dollars. I congratulated her and continued on my way.
I spent part of the morning responding to phone messages and e-mails. One of the chefs wanted to change his menu from a beef dish to a chicken dish. I’d written it up for the newsletter but still had time to make the change if I moved on it that day. I notified the printer and e-mailed the chef to say the change would be okay.
Trish called to say she’d be a little late because she was in a store with her children, and the lines were horrendous. I told her to take her time, as there wasn’t much happening and I was going out for lunch with Angela at twelve thirty.
“Thanksgiving’s the holiday I miss most of all.”
I blinked as Evelyn materialized inches from my chair. She wore a gray dress with a full skirt, gray suede pumps with low heels, and a strand of pearls at least thirty inches long.
“Don’t you look lovely.”
“This is what I wore to my last Thanksgiving dinner.”
I was about to ask Evelyn where she kept her wardrobe when she asked, “And what did your aunt Harriet serve yesterday?”
“The usual—turkey, sweet potato casserole—”
“With pineapple? Marshmallows?”
“There was pineapple in the casserole.” I listed the other dishes we’d eaten. “I made brownies for the occasion. They went over big.”
“Did you give Laura’s pages to Lieutenant Mathers?”
“I did.” I looked at her. “Don’t you want to know what she wrote?”
Evelyn turned away.
“You know what she wrote because you read them!”
“I confess I read a few pages.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you have me waste time looking in the other desks when you knew exactly where Laura hid those pages?”
“I was too ashamed to tell you. One day, I found Laura scribbling away when I entered the attic. Years ago, it wasn’t the holy mess it is now. A few of us liked to take our coffee breaks up there. The next time I was there alone, I found where she’d hidden the pages.
“At first, I thought Laura was writing a romance novel. Then I realized she was spilling out her passion for a man she didn’t name. I was horrified and shoved the pages back in the envelope.”
“Later on, she refers to her lover as L.”
Evelyn’s mouth fell open. “Don’t tell me Lou Devon and Laura were having an affair.”
“He’s one possibility. Helena Koppel’s late husband, Lloyd, is another.”
“Lloyd Koppel,” Evelyn said slowly. “The Koppels were good friends with Laura and Bryce.”
“What was Lloyd like?”
“He was an architect. A nice-looking man who dressed well. He was reserved but had a charming smile.”
“Helena said Laura seemed to have a crush on Harold Lonnigan.”
Evelyn’s face brightened. “Lonnie! Everyone doted on Lonnie.”
“I told John Mathers about the three men. Dylan said John thinks a member of the family killed Laura. Who do you think it might be?”
“I couldn’t begin to guess.”
“Did you know Jared spent time in a psych hospital after his mother’s murder?”
Evelyn shook her head. “No. How is he now?”
“All right, as far as I can tell. Tomorro
w night, we’re going to a party Helena’s hosting at her new condo.”
She reached out as if to grab my arm. I felt a chill as her hand nearly touched me. “Promise me you won’t ask questions about Laura. If the killer hears you, he might think you know his identity and come after you.”
“I’ll be careful.”
* * *
Angela’s advice was the opposite of Evelyn’s. I’d invited her over that night to help me finish off Aunt Harriet’s leftovers. She brought along some of her mother’s famous brussels sprouts casserole and half an apple cake. Angela thought the party presented the perfect opportunity to raise questions and look around.
“What am I looking for?” I cleared the table. “A hidden photo of Laura and Lloyd in an embrace?”
Angela downed the last of her diet soda. “You never can tell what you’ll find. Or what someone will say. In vino veritas.”
I giggled. “Right. I’ll make sure everyone drinks plenty of booze and then interrogate them.”
“That’s the spirit!”
I stacked our dishes in the dishwasher and then filled the Keurig with water for our coffee. “Tomorrow night’s my last evening with the Foster family.”
“You’re dumping Jared?”
“I’ve decided not to see him anymore. Our investigation has come to a dead end. Unfortunately, we made little headway.”
“Don’t feel bad. Neither did the police.”
After Angela left, I found myself too restless to settle down to read or watch TV. I wanted to solve the murders but hadn’t the slightest idea how to move forward. Laura’s pages reflected her state of mind but offered no clues. I decided to drive to the supermarket in town and do my grocery shopping.
I was halfway home when I realized a car had been following me. My pulse jumped when it continued onto the private Avery road. I grabbed my phone to call 9-1-1 when I heard two beeps. It was Dylan, who had stopped in front of his house. I waved, and he waved back. Smiling, I drove the remaining few hundred yards to the cottage.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Soft rock music and the aroma of warming canapés wafted toward us when Helena welcomed us into her condo. Tonight’s getup was a purple harem outfit: a plunging, fitted bodice trimmed with gold-colored coins and gauzy harem pants gathered at the ankles. More gauzy fabric hung from the round, boxlike headpiece atop her blonde hair.
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