“Well, did he?”
“No. In the end, I think he felt a little bad for scaring me. We ended up having a conversation about the whole thing. Basically he told me to stay out of it.”
Gemma nodded. “That’s very good advice. You should stay out of it. It’s really not your place to go snooping around.”
“But, Gemma! I just want to help them.”
“You don’t think the cops have gone over every angle of the case? You really think you’d be able to find something that they couldn’t?”
Evanee shrugged. “I don’t know, but I sure feel like I need to try. I need to make this right with everyone.”
“I think you’re making a mistake. I love you, and many of the residents here have grown to like you a lot, but let’s face it, Ev. You’re still an outsider, or as they say around here, a flatlander.”
Evanee grimaced. “Yeah, I’ve been here long enough to know what they call us non-Vermonters around here, Gemma. But you know what? I think I’m the perfect person to get involved. I’ll see things from a different perspective from the rest of the town. You all know everyone involved. You all have preconceived ideas and opinions about them. But I’m coming in with a fresh, non-biased opinion about the whole town.”
“I don’t know, Ev. You could get yourself too mixed up in all of this. Someone killed that poor woman. You rile up the wrong hornet’s nest and you could find yourself in a whole heap of trouble.”
Evanee nodded. She’d certainly thought of that. Especially after Lane Dawson had scared the living daylights out of her the night before. It had definitely occurred to her that perhaps anger issues ran in the Dawson family and that perhaps Steve Dawson wasn’t as nice as Priscilla thought him to be. But Evanee certainly intended to find out. “Well, I’ll be careful. I promise. Listen, Gemma. I need a few minutes. Can you watch the counter?”
“But it’s the first Saturday of fall, Ev. That’s like our busiest day of the year. Our second rush should start up any minute.”
“It’ll just be a few minutes. That’s all. And I’ll be upstairs. If it gets too busy for you to handle, just shoot me a text, and I’ll run right down.”
“Oh, fine. But don’t make it long.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes, I swear.”
“Well, go, then. Hurry up.”
“Thanks, Gem. You’re a peach!”
With Whitley seated next to her, Evanee opened the five-year-old newspaper and began to scan it for details relevant to the case.
“This Monday will mark both the thirtieth anniversary of the fire that killed Rachel Dawson as well as what would have been the local woman’s fifty-fifth birthday. Local police continue to seek out witnesses that may have seen anything on the evening of the Renaissance Festival parade in 1983,” read Evanee.
Whitley sucked in her breath. “Oh my gosh, the poor woman died on her birthday! How horrible!”
Evanee nodded sadly. “The worst thing ever!” Her eyes glanced up at the date on the paper. “Okay, so this paper came out on Thursday the nineteenth of September. If her birthday was that Monday, that would make it September twentieth, twenty-first, twenty-second, twenty-third,” she said, counting on her fingers. Evanee sucked in her breath. “Whit! You know what that means?”
Whitley furrowed her brow, shaking her head. “That her birthday was September twenty-third?”
“Well, yeah, but do you know what today is?”
“Ev, I’ve been stuck in a snow globe since last Christmas. I don’t even know what month it is.”
“It’s September. Today is September twenty-second,” said Evanee with excitement. “Tomorrow would’ve been her sixtieth birthday!”
“Oh, wow. No wonder someone sent us to help. It’s also the thirty-fifth anniversary of her death.”
“Funny how things happen like that,” said Evanee softly. She shook her head and looked at the paper again. She could feel herself getting choked up once more, but there was no time for getting soft. She had to think like a detective. “All we need is somewhere to start investigating,” said Evanee, her eyes scanning the pages quickly. “Since we obviously can’t start by interviewing her husband or son, we have to think of somewhere else to start.”
“What about her parents?” said Whitley. “I wonder if they’re still alive.”
Evanee’s eyes brightened. “Ooh, that would be a great place to start. And Priscilla told us their names yesterday.” She pinched her fingers against her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. “What were their names? Doris and Bob or something.”
Looking over Evanee’s shoulder, Whitley pointed at the paper. “It says right here. Doris Church, Rachel’s mother, says she prays every day for a resolution to the case and justice for her daughter.”
“Church!” said Evanee, hitting her forehead with the heel of her hand. “That’s right. I knew it was something memorable like that. Yeah, we’ll put her on our list of people to interview. But you’d think her parents would’ve told the police everything they knew. We need to look somewhere the police haven’t looked.” Her eyes scanned the newspaper. She pointed at a photograph of a charred building that had been burned nearly to the ground. “That must have been where it happened.”
“Yeah,” agreed Whitley, sorrow heavy in her voice. “That’s so sad. Poor woman.”
“I’ve seen it in town before. I never really paid much attention to it, though. Maybe we should go check it out. You know, it’s the scene of the crime.”
Whitley looked unconvinced. “You really think there’s gonna be any evidence just lying around?”
“There very well might be,” said Evanee with a shrug. “I mean, we’ve gotta start with the things we know. We know who her parents were and we know where she died. I think those are the best places to start, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Maybe her parents can give us some new clues to follow. I think we should start with them.”
“Fine. I’ll ask Gemma about her folks. If they’re still alive, she’ll know where they live. Maybe after we close the shop today, we can go pay them a visit?”
“I’m free,” said Whitley with a smile.
Folding the newspaper, Evanee stood up. “Well, I better go. Gemma’s probably waiting for me. Saturdays are our busiest days in the fall. We close at four today. As soon as I’m off, we’ll leave.”
Whitley nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
15
It was a little after five that afternoon when Evanee and Whitley started up Doris and Bill Church’s sidewalk. According to Gemma, the elderly couple lived in town on a corner lot just behind the elementary school. Their house was small, with slate-blue siding, a big picture window in the front, and a two-car garage around back.
Evanee wrung her hands in front of herself while her stomach gurgled anxiously. “Whit, tell me what I’m supposed to say,” she begged.
“I don’t think you can plan for these things,” said Whitley. “But based on Steve and Lane’s reactions, maybe you should prepare yourself. This could go badly.”
“Well, obviously I don’t want that to happen. I hope they’ll take my interest in their daughter’s case seriously.” Evanee took two big deep breaths and let them out slowly before knocking on the door.
It took a minute before the door finally opened. A brute of a man wearing baggy sweatpants, house slippers, and a blue New York Giants T-shirt stepped forward to hold open the screen door. “May I help you?”
Evanee gave a confident smile despite her stomach continuing to do flip-flops. “Are you Bill Church?”
He nodded. “I am. And you are?”
“My name is Evanee Woods. I own Woods Rustic Wares on the other side of town.”
He nodded and gave Evanee an easy smile. “Oh, sure. My wife’s been into your shop a few times. What can I help you with, Ms. Woods?”
“I was wondering if you and your wife might have a few minutes to speak with me.”
His brow furrowed. “Me and my wife? May I ask wh
at it’s regarding?”
Evanee swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes. I’d like to speak with you about Rachel.”
Doris Church was a short woman with curly white hair and an extraordinarily wide bottom. She moved quickly as she set about pouring Evanee a cup of coffee while Bill silenced the Virginia Tech football game playing in the living room.
“How do you take your coffee, Evanee? I’m sorry I don’t have any fancy flavors like you have over at your shop.”
“I’ll just take cream and sugar, Doris, thank you,” said Evanee, glancing around the cozy home. The kitchen opened into the living room, and there were framed pictures of family hanging all around. A big cross hung on the wall above the television set. The house smelled amazing like fresh-baked bread and lemon all at the same time. “Mmmm, what’s that amazing smell?”
“Oh, I just made a loaf of honey bread,” said Doris, wiping her hands on the front of her apron. “It’s Bill’s favorite, isn’t that right, Bill?”
Bill entered the kitchen and set the remote down on the side table next to the refrigerator. “My all-time favorite. Doris is the best bread baker in all of Windham County.”
“Is she?” said Evanee with a grin. She was starting to feel slightly better, knowing that Bill and Doris knew why she was there and they were being nice to her anyway.
“She is. She’s won more purple ribbons at the county fair than any other woman in the county.”
Doris waved a hand at her husband. “Oh, you’re embarrassing me now, Bill.” She pulled out a chair for Evanee. “Why don’t you sit down, Evanee? Tell us what you came to talk about.”
Evanee had a seat but took her time talking. She wanted Doris and Bill to be sitting when she got started with her questions. “Well, like I told Bill, I wanted to speak with you about Rachel.”
Doris finished pouring the cup of coffee and put the mug in front of Evanee. Then she handed her a small ceramic creamer and two packets of sweetener. “What about Rachel?”
Esmerelda’s advice to be upfront replayed in Evanee’s mind. She would try it her way this time.
“Well, I’m just going to be completely frank with you about everything, so I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion if I’m too upfront.”
Bill shook his head. “When it comes to Rachel, we appreciate people who are upfront. Her story made headlines around the area, and every once in a while, some journalist comes to see us and they aren’t always upfront about their intentions. I appreciate honestly more than someone who’s lying straight to my face just to spare my feelings.”
Evanee smiled at him. “Fair enough. Well, here’s the deal. The other day, I was at a flea market in Brattleboro and I happened upon an old dress. Well, it didn’t really look like an old dress. It was in mint condition, actually. And imagine my surprise to discover that it had come from a local seamstress.”
“Isn’t that something?” said Doris with a smile. “Someone from Stoney Brook?”
“Yes. Do you know Priscilla Pankhurst?”
Doris’s smile froze. Only her eyes moved to look at her husband.
“Yes, we’re quite familiar with Priscilla. I was schoolmates with Priscilla’s late husband, Dennis,” said Bill.
Evanee couldn’t take her eyes off Doris, though. “You remember that Rachel worked for Priscilla for a short time, don’t you?”
Doris nodded. “Yes, I do. Steve told her they couldn’t afford a fancy dress for the Renaissance Festival, so she took up a second job to pay for it.”
“I have that fancy dress,” Evanee admitted.
“B—” Doris seemed to have come out of her funk. She shook her head. “That’s impossible that you have Rachel’s dress. It should’ve burned in the fire!”
Evanee tipped her head to the side. She hadn’t heard much of the pertinent details, but that was certainly something of interest. “What?”
Doris nodded. “Rachel went to the fire hall to get ready for the parade. She was dressing over there, so the dress should have been in there with her when it…” Doris used the bottom of her apron to blot at her eyes. “When it burned.”
“Are you sure that it’s Rachel’s dress that you have?” asked Bill, eyeing her skeptically.
“I took the dress over to Priscilla’s to see if she knew anything about it,” she explained. “Priscilla was the one that told me that was the dress she’d made for Rachel. So unless Priscilla’s mistaken about the dress she made…”
Doris shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t think that Priscilla would forget about that dress, or about Rachel. That’s just so odd that it somehow made it out of the fire.”
“Well, that’s kind of the reason I’m here.” Evanee took a deep, calming breath before starting again. “When Priscilla told me about Rachel’s passing, I had a million questions. But the thing I don’t understand is why an arrest was never made.”
Bill cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “We’ve wondered the exact same thing for the last thirty-five years. I think shoddy police work is to blame. The case involved a lot of locals, and I think sometimes these small-town police stations just don’t have what it takes to separate friends and family from the facts of the case. I think some lines got blurred, and whoever killed our daughter got away scot-free.”
“Do you have any suspicions about who killed her?” asked Evanee curiously.
“Obviously we’ve got suspicions, but at the end of the day, we’re in the dark, just like everyone else in town. There were a few people I wish they’d looked harder at, instead of only focusing on Steve. But I wasn’t in charge of the operation, and the police at the time didn’t want Doris’s or my input.”
“You don’t think Steve did it?” asked Evanee.
Doris swiped her hand across the table, chasing invisible crumbs to the floor. “We honestly don’t know. We hate the idea of Lane being brought up by his mother’s murderer. Steve always struck us as a good husband to Rachel. She never mentioned him so much as uttering a cross word to her. I find it very hard to believe that he’d want to kill her. I mean, why? Why would he have wanted to kill her? They’d just had Lane!”
“Maybe he was having an affair,” suggested Evanee uncomfortably.
Bill swatted a hand in the air. “Oh, puh,” he spat. “That’s what the police at the time were trying to say. The small-town rumor mill put it out there that Steve was seeing some old high school flame, but she swore up and down they weren’t seeing each other. And look! He never got married again.” He shook his head. “No, I feel like if he’d killed my daughter to shack up with some other woman, he would have done it eventually. But he didn’t. And as far as we know, he never dated after Rachel’s death.”
“Have you two had any kind of relationship with Lane?”
Doris smiled sweetly. “Oh, yes, Lane comes to see us several times a week, doesn’t he, Bill?”
Bill nodded, his face very serious. “Lane’s a good boy. And we’ve got Steve to thank for that. Steve raised him up right. He raised him to respect his mother’s memory and to value his maternal grandparents just as much as his paternal grandparents.” He wagged his finger at Evanee. “You know, Stoney Brook didn’t make it easy on Steve after Rachel died. Steve endured a lot at the hands of this town. There might not’ve been a trial at the courthouse, but he was sure convicted by the people of this town. He could’ve moved. If I’d been in his shoes, I don’t know if I’d have been able to stay, but that man did. He did it because of his son. He wanted his son to have the roots that he and Rachel did. He wanted Lane to grow up with two sets of grandparents nearby. And even now that Lane’s a man himself, they both continue to stay. They farm together. Lane has supper with us every other Sunday. Of course, on the opposite Sundays, they go to supper over at Steve’s folks’ house.”
Evanee’s pulse quickened as she looked over at Whitley. That sure didn’t sound like the type of man who would’ve killed anyone. With her elbows on the table now, she leaned her head on her hands. “My heart goes out t
o the two of you. I really want to help you solve this case.”
Doris looked surprised. “Do you have experience with solving cold cases?”
“Well, no, I don’t. But something about this case just tells me that I need to try and help. I feel like me being an outsider will help me see things that everyone so close to the case hasn’t been able to see.”
Bill’s brows lifted. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Evanee. Someone out there really did kill our daughter. It was an intentional act. If whoever did this finds out that you’ve gotten involved, you could wind up hurt.”
Evanee’s heart raced. “Yes, I know. I’ve thought of that. I’ll be careful, and I won’t tell people what I’m doing. It won’t hurt to just ask a few questions.” She looked between their faces. “Something inside me says I have to do this. It would really be nice to have your blessing.”
Doris blotted her eyes once again. This time, her head bounced. “I can’t speak for my husband, but I give you my blessing. That’s the only thing I want before I die. I want justice for my little girl and for my grandson’s mother. That’s all I want. Tomorrow would be Rachel’s birthday, you know.”
Evanee nodded softly. “Yes, I know. I read an old article about the case. It’s also the anniversary of her death.”
“Yes. It’ll have been thirty-five years. I think it’s about time we put this case to rest. Don’t you, Bill?”
They all turned to look at Bill then. He rubbed a hand around the back of his neck, his head dipped towards the kitchen table. “I understand it’s what you want, Doris. It’s what I want too. I just don’t want this little gal getting mixed up in all of this and then getting herself hurt.”
“I’ll be so careful,” promised Evanee. She felt like she was in high school again, begging her daddy to let her go out on her first date. Bill just had to give her his blessing!
Bill sighed. He glanced over at his wife and then back at Evanee again. “Why do you want to do this?”
“Ever since I heard about Rachel’s case, I just felt a connection to her. I don’t know, Bill. I wish I could give you another reason. I wish I had some experience I could lend to the case. But the truth is, I’m just a girl who appreciates the fact that another girl, who had the same taste in dresses, didn’t get to have her fairy-tale ending. And my heart hurts for her.”
Snow Way Out: A Mystic Snow Globe Romantic Mystery (The Mystic Snow Globe Mystery Series Book 2) Page 11
