I supposed my unwitting ability to draw people out was a kind of double-edged sword, as most abilities are. While it was often inconvenient, it also gave me deep blips of insight into worlds I might not have glimpsed otherwise. Like the teary old man at the optometrist's office who told me he was picking up his wife's glasses because he'd just moved her into a nursing home. Or the woman who was returning a toddler bed at the counter because she'd dropped out of drug rehab again and she couldn't bear for the foster parents to have the furniture she'd bought for her child.
Yes, people talked to me. I carefully repositioned Bo's photo on the granite sill. Perhaps there was a way to use my ability to gather information about Ivy Hill in a more direct manner. Taking classes hadn't worked—our stealthy recon missions hadn't turned up anything. What if I went closer to the source and talked with one of the employees, tried to get the inside scoop that way?
I wouldn't approach Katie directly—I didn't want her getting the wind up. Alice and Jedi already knew who I was, so it would seem strange if I showed up and started questioning them. But what about the Ivy Hill psychologist, Dr. Schneider? Isabella had nothing but praise for him, and although psychologists tended to be close-lipped, perhaps if I opened up about my divorce, I could inject a few questions about Ivy Hill without getting him suspicious. He had to have heard that dog barking the same night Isabella did, so I'd be interested to see how he explained that.
Fired up about my new plan, I finished tidying up Bo's place and locked up. The sidewalks had recently been swept, and red, pink, and white begonias had been planted along the streets. The town was gearing up for the Taste of our Towns event on the first of October.
Bo had managed to finagle a late reservation on a vendor table for Barks & Beans. Charity was working on pastry recipes she thought would sell well, and we planned to set up an espresso maker and a hot water dispenser, as well. It was my job to ask Summer about the possibility of having a couple of shelter dogs to pull in customers for the day, but I kept forgetting to talk to her about it.
There was no time like the present, especially since I was taking a day off, so I slid my phone from my pocket as I walked over to my house. I knew Bo had cut through my place on his way to work, just to make sure no one had tried to break in again. The door was securely locked when I stuck my key in, but my heart sank as I observed the mess the vandals had left behind.
I punched Summer's number, and she picked up on the fifth ring. "You busy today?" I asked.
"Yeah, but it's not for adoptions. We just checked in a litter of abandoned puppies. An entire litter. You don't want to know where they'd been dropped before a kind Samaritan brought them here. I've been giving flea baths all morning."
I was sure I didn't. "Actually, I needed to chat with you about the Taste of our Town event. We can talk later."
"Go ahead. I'm done bathing them, and the vet just walked in with their shots. My assistant can take it from here." She let out a huge sigh and I could visualize her propping her sandaled feet up on the counter.
"We were wondering if we could borrow a couple of shelter dogs for the event—nice dogs that wouldn't mind being kenneled and having people pet them throughout the day. We'll be in a covered tent and I'll keep them watered and walk them occasionally, of course."
Summer practically shouted into the phone. "Yes! What about taking a couple of these puppies for the day? That would be perfect! I'll bet someone would buy them."
It was a brilliant plan, actually. "That sounds great. Let's set it up. I'll let you go for now—"
"Why are you in such a hurry?" she asked with alarming astuteness. "Bo told me you were taking a day off, but he didn't say why. Is everything okay?"
I reluctantly told Summer about the break-in, assuring her that nothing had been stolen, but I had a lot to clean up.
"Why don't I come over and help you?" she asked.
I was surprised by the genuine concern in her voice. As I glanced around my overturned living room, I had to admit I could use an extra set of hands. "Don't they need you at work today?" I asked.
"Like I said, my assistant can handle things now. I did the most unpleasant work." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "And, to be honest, I could use a break. I'll be over in ten."
I hung up and started digging around under my sink for cleaning supplies. As the morning sunshine beamed through my windows, I felt a strange sense of elation, despite my recently burgled state.
It felt like Summer Adkins was becoming a friend, and I had precious few of those in my life.
10
Summer showed up at my doorstep exactly on time. When I opened the door, she had turned to gaze at my flowerbeds as if in awe.
"Wow. It must be great to have such established flowerbeds," she said. "I mean that rose—is it an heirloom variety? I haven't seen that shade before."
She pointed to a pale apricot colored climbing rose that covered a trellis. The cabbage shaped blooms were spectacular, and they smelled the way roses should smell.
"Yes, I think so. I keep forgetting to pick a bouquet for my table," I said. "They'll probably get frosted off in a couple weeks. Be sure to clip some for yourself before you go," I added.
Summer smiled like I'd offered her a bar of solid gold. "Sure!"
Once inside, Summer accepted a cup of coffee before we got down to work. It didn't take long until we were elbow-deep in cleaning, but many hands truly did make light work, and before I knew it, it was lunchtime.
"Bo will be coming over to install some locks for me soon," I said. "I'm not the chef in this family, but I can offer you a tuna or turkey sandwich, if you'd like one."
"Turkey sounds good," she said. "And I'm happy to fix it myself."
As I pulled the turkey from the fridge and arranged the bread and condiments on the counter, Summer asked if there'd been any news on Coal's whereabouts.
"No—actually, I was hoping you'd seen or heard something," I said. "The cops even know he's missing now."
"What about the previous owner's place? I mean, I know he's dead, but what if Coal broke out to try to run home?" she asked.
I'd had the same thought, but it would be quite the jaunt for a dog to run from our house into Fairlea, especially since there was quite a bit of through traffic on the road connecting us. Still, it was worth looking into.
"Maybe I'll drive over after lunch," I said. "Isabella told me what the owner's house looks like, so I think I could find it."
"Isabella...are you talking about Isabella Rhodes?" Summer's nose crinkled. "That hoity-toity rich bottle blonde?"
"I guess so," I said, though the woman hadn't struck me as hoity-toity when she let the shelter dogs sit on her lap at the cafe. "You've met her?"
"Oh, yes," Summer said. "She's been in the shelter before. She wears huge sunglasses and casual clothes, but I know it's her, all right."
I was confused. "You mean she's adopted pets there?"
"More like returned pets," Summer said. "She has this habit of picking up shelter pets like they're accessories, then returning them the first time they have an accident on her marble floors."
Shoot. I'd hoped Isabella would be a good customer, one who could provide a good home to some of our Barks & Beans dogs. So much for that.
We sat at the table and started eating. Summer ripped into a bag of barbeque chips. "So, your brother...is he the one who likes to cook?"
I laughed. "Yes, because he took the time to learn how. Auntie A was more than happy to teach him, since I was such a hopeless case in the kitchen."
I found myself opening up about Aunt Athaleen and sharing how I'd landed back in her house. I'd just answered Summer's questions about Bo's years in the Marines when there was a knock on the interior connecting door and it began to open.
"That'll be Bo now," I said.
A tinge of pink crept into Summer's tan cheeks, and it dawned on me why she'd been steering the conversation toward my brother.
Summer had a thing for Bo.
"Hey, bro," I sang out, a bit too loudly.
Bo clanked in with his tool belt and a couple of boxes of new locks. "Hey." He stopped and glanced at Summer. "Hi. What's up with that skittish Dalmatian mix you brought in today? We can't get that dog to calm down, so he's had to spend most of his time in our kennel area."
Summer wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Yeah, but he's beautiful, right? I figured someone might want that purebred look without paying for it."
"Purebred or not, he's a real toot," Bo said.
Summer laughed, and her face lit up. "Yeah, he definitely is," she agreed. "Sorry about that. I can pick him up and take him back when I leave."
Bo shook his head. "No, we'll give him a little more time. Jimmy's found a chew toy he likes and maybe after a couple of walks, he'll settle down. I'll just drop him off after work, like usual."
I had noticed that Bo had recently commandeered my job of returning the dogs to the shelter. Maybe it was because he didn't want me using his truck, or maybe it was because he enjoyed seeing Summer. All the romantic wheels in my brain were whirring.
As Bo walked over and began drilling in the back door, Summer's eyes trailed after him. She unconsciously adjusted her ponytail.
Oh, yes. They might make an unlikely pair, but something told me Summer would make a much better sister-in-law than Tara ever could. She'd fit in here, for one thing. Also, she liked talking with me.
Let the matchmaking begin.
Once we finished eating, Summer and I completed the downstairs cleanup while Bo finished installing the locks. He made himself a sandwich before heading back to the cafe.
Summer got a call from the shelter and said she had to get back to work since one of the puppies wasn't eating. I thanked her profusely, planning to give her a substantial gift card to Barks & Beans in the morning.
I called Ivy Hill and asked to speak with Dr. Schneider. Once they put me through to the psychologist, I gave him a sob story about how I was feeling depressed from my divorce and I really needed to talk with someone as soon as possible. He said he was quite booked, but he could work me in for a thirty minute slot at eight tonight. I jumped on it.
In the meantime, I'd take a drive and find Gerard's place. I wondered if he had owned his house, and if so, who he'd left it to in his will.
Fairlea was smaller, population-wise, than Lewisburg, but more sprawled out. I passed the state fairgrounds and continued driving until I finally ran into Third Street, where Isabella had said Gerard lived. His house was unmistakable—bright yellow, with white gingerbread trim.
I cruised past it once, trying to get the lay of the land. No cars were parked in his driveway and a For Sale sign sat in the yard. The sign actually had the asking price marked on it, and it was unbelievably low for such a well-kept place. Either he hadn't left the house to anyone, or they wanted to unload it quickly.
When I drove around the second time, I parked along the street, right in front of Gerard's yard. If anyone asked why I was walking around, I could say I was interested in buying.
The yard itself was neatly kept, with a white picket fence surrounding the front porch and extending into the back yard. I walked around back, imagining Coal had been let out there to do his business. Just picturing my big dog lumbering around brought fresh tears to my eyes. It wasn't a surprise Coal had won my heart so quickly—unlike humans, dogs had no concept of faking their feelings. Either they liked you or they didn't, and Coal had immediately made it clear that he liked me.
Had Gerard loved Coal and been a good owner? He sounded like he'd been a good golf instructor, but that wasn't the same thing. What had he done to make Alice upset with him? And had Katie really been as close to him as she'd insinuated?
I found myself wandering up onto Gerard's front porch. The mailbox was overflowing, and although I wasn't making an effort to snoop, my eye was drawn to a hand-addressed letter that bore a familiar return address—from Dylan Butler's art gallery, The Discerning Palette.
Did Gerard and Dylan know each other personally? Or was it just something like a generic invitation to an art gallery showing?
I'd left things in an awkward place with Dylan at the concert, when I'd told him about my useless broadcast journalism major. Maybe Bo could ask him over to the cafe on some pretense, and we could pick up where we'd abruptly left off.
The neighboring houses appeared to be empty, but I knew that was an illusion. Our county had a substantial number of retirees, and any number of them could be watching my every move. West Virginians were nothing if not suspicious of outsiders—I'd always figured it was the Scottish clan mentality. They wouldn't hesitate to turn me in or even to confront me. I backed behind a lush grapevine, trying to peer in the living room window.
Surprisingly, the furniture had already been removed and the house looked stark. No one had bothered to stage the place, then. Someone was looking for a hasty sale.
As I stepped from behind my leafy hideout, sure enough, a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties approached me.
"Were you looking at the house?" she asked, her dyed black hair harsh against her pale skin.
"I was, actually." Deciding to feign ignorance, I asked, "Do you know the owner?"
She frowned. "Oh, no, honey, he died. A young man, too. So sad."
"Oh, I'm sorry! What was it, an accident? Cancer?"
"You wouldn't believe it, but it was murder, they're saying." She pressed a hand to her chest. "Not in this house, mind you. They found him on a golf course, bless him."
I tried to look adequately horrified. "And they put his house up for sale?"
The woman stepped closer. "They did, and not too long after. Are you interested? It's a lovely place inside."
"Oh, did you visit a lot? Were you close?"
She motioned to a blue Cape Cod a couple of houses down. "That's my place, just there. And Gerard and I were casual acquaintances, I'd say. He was friendly with his neighbors, but not obnoxiously friendly, if you know what I mean. Kind of kept to himself. He threw a street party at his place once, so that's how I came to see the interior."
"Did he have any pets? I don't care for pet smells in a house," I said.
She clapped a hand on my arm. "Oh, honey, he had the biggest dog you ever saw! A...what do you call 'em...a Great Dane, that's what. Law, but wasn't it a beauty, and a really polite dog, too. Didn't keep us up barking all night like some dogs do. I'm sure he kept the place clean, though. It didn't smell when I visited."
"What happened to the dog?" I probed, aware I was digging myself in deep if this woman ever caught me out and about with Coal in the future.
"I believe some of his coworkers came and took it. Must've gone to a new home, I reckon."
I had one more question I needed to ask, but I needed to figure out a plausible way to frame it. "I'm glad to hear the dog is safe and sound now. I've heard of some dogs running away from their new owners when they lose their first one so suddenly." Perhaps I shared a little of Bo's talent for spinning things.
She nodded, her attention wandering to the mailman, who had pulled up next to her house. "Yes, but that dog hasn't been around since, so I reckon it's doing okay. Nice talking with you. Be sure to call that number on the sign if you're interested." She marched straight across the front lawn toward her mailbox.
"Thank you!" I called out, heading toward my car.
Once inside, I leaned back into the headrest for a moment. Coal hadn't come back to Gerard's. And if he'd gotten hit on the road, people would've reported it because he had a collar and a dog like that was obviously someone's pet. No, in my mind there was only one possible explanation for his disappearance, and it started and ended with that crooked Ivy Hill center.
11
I wasn't sure how Bo wou
ld feel about me traipsing up to the center again tonight, but I had an easy out because Bo sounded tired after he dropped the dogs at the shelter. He said he was going to order take-out and crash, but that I was welcome to stay over if I felt insecure at my place.
Strangely enough, I wasn't feeling as antsy as before, largely due to the locks Bo had installed. I told him I had soup at home and I'd be fine. I knew a large part of his exhaustion came from his thwarted early morning attempt to smooth things over with Tara. Bo never did anything halfway, and I knew he'd been all-in with his engagement to Tara.
Maybe if Doc Schneider was any good, I'd tell Bo about him. My brother needed to unpack some of the false guilt Tara seemed so willing to heap on his shoulders.
I pulled into Ivy Hill and was glad to see the battered police tape had finally been removed. It seemed slovenly to leave it up for so long, but maybe the police had instructed them to do so until the scene was completely cleared. I wondered how the police were doing with tracking down Gerard's murderer. They hadn't seemed to be hanging around, but they'd probably completed all their initial interviews. Besides, they were probably concentrating their efforts on the golf course where Gerard spent most of his time.
Furious drumbeats echoed in the hallway as I stepped inside. Jedi must've left his classroom door wide open, perhaps in an attempt to spiritually heal everyone within earshot. I jogged upstairs, eager to escape the somewhat violent throbbing.
I rapped on Doc Schneider's door a bit too hard, and after a brief moment he opened it.
The doctor had long white hair, round glasses, and a bit of a paunch. Although he didn't have a beard, he seemed a jolly sort of fellow, kind of like Santa Claus. "Hello, hello. You must be Macy. What a lovely name. Come on in." He motioned me into his office, which was filled to the gills with indoor plants. He had the indoor waterfall going, no doubt to cushion against the racket of the drums below us. The overall effect was one of an oasis, and I guessed he had a hand in creating the greenhouse area downstairs.
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