by Sofie Kelly
“She was so beautiful,” Mia said softly.
“Inside and out,” Mary agreed.
We spent the next few minutes looking at the rest of the photos. There were several more of Meredith and one of Mary in a bathing suit with one hand on her hip and the other behind her head in a bathing beauty pose.
“Wow! Look at those legs,” I said admiringly. Harrison would have said Mary had legs up to her neck. In fact I recalled him using those exact words about her once.
“I’ve always been told they’re my best feature,” Mary said with a sly smile. She pulled an envelope out of her sweater pocket and handed it to Mia. “I made copies of the pictures of your grandmother. I thought you’d like to have them.”
“Thank you,” Mia said, her voice suddenly husky with emotion. She turned to me, both hands holding the envelope. “I’m just going to put these upstairs and then I’ll get started on the shelving.”
I nodded. “That’s fine.” I watched Mia head up the stairs. Then I turned to Mary. “That was really nice of you,” I said.
“I’m sorry she never got to know Merry. She really was special.”
“She must have been,” I agreed, “if she was friends with you.”
“You’re really shoveling it today,” Mary said, waving away my words with one hand, even as she was smiling at me.
About quarter to five, Victor Janes came into the building. I was dealing with a balky keyboard in our computer area. He stopped at the circulation desk to speak to Mia and I could see from her body language that she was uncomfortable. I got up and joined them.
“Hello, Victor,” I said.
He turned to me with a smile that seemed a little forced. “Good afternoon, Kathleen,” he said. “How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you. Could I help you find something specific?” I asked in my best friendly, helpful-librarian tone.
“I was hoping that Mia could help me,” he said.
I felt a surge of annoyance followed by a twinge of guilt. I didn’t like the man. Maggie would have said his energy was off and I felt the same way. On the other hand, I felt guilty for feeling that way about someone who had been fighting a serious illness.
Mia was so tense her shoulders were hunched up to her chin and Mary was openly looking daggers at Victor from across the room.
“I need Mia here,” I said. “But I can help you with whatever you’re looking for.”
Victor hesitated, then he nodded. “Thank you, Kathleen. I was wondering what you could recommend for some escapist reading. I like mysteries with some kind of historical connection.”
“I can think of several series you might like,” I said.
He glanced at Mia again. “I hope we can spend some time together before I leave.”
“School takes up a lot of my time, Uncle Victor,” Mia said in a tight voice.
I led Victor over to the shelves and showed him two different authors’ books. He chose one but since he didn’t even look at the back cover or flip through the pages I doubted that he’d really come for reading material. He seemed desperate to connect with what family he had left, which was understandable given that he’d just lost his only brother.
I wanted to tell him not to try so hard, but it wasn’t any of my business.
It wasn’t any of Mary’s business, either, but that didn’t stop her. Mia was gone when we got back to the checkout desk. Mary took the book and Victor’s temporary card and checked the book out for him.
“Victor, let the child be,” she said when she handed them back to him.
I shot her a warning look, which she ignored.
“She’s my niece, Mary,” he said.
“That you’ve seen how many times in the last seventeen and a half years?”
“And you know who prevented that.”
She nodded. “I know whose actions did.”
His jaw muscles tightened. He took a deep breath and let it out and then swallowed down whatever had been his first impulse to say. “I can’t argue that with that, Mary,” he said. “But I don’t exactly have a lot of time to right all the wrongs.”
Mary’s expression softened. “Don’t push, Victor,” she said. “It’s not going to get you anywhere.” She looked at me then. “I’m just going to straighten up the magazines.” She came around the desk and headed across the room.
Victor looked at me. “I’m sorry, Kathleen,” he said. “My family is . . . messy.”
“All families are messy,” I said.
“You’ve probably heard that I have some time constraints as far as fixing my relationships.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t have enough time to fix things with my brother,” he continued. “I knew that could happen but I never thought Leo would be the one who would end up dead.” He gave his head a shake and held up the book. “Thank you for your help,” he said, and with that he made his way to the front doors.
Mary must have been watching for Victor to leave. She came back to the desk. “I owe you an apology, Kathleen,” she said.
“If you’re trying to apologize for looking out for Mia you’re wasting your time,” I said, “because there’s nothing to apologize for.”
She smiled and patted my arm. “I like you,” she said. She looked over at the front doors. “I don’t like Victor. I’m sorry he’s sick and I’m sorry he lost his brother but I can’t pretend I like him.”
“Were you ever friends?” I asked. “I mean when you were kids?”
She gave a snort of disgust. “No. To use an expression of my mother’s since we were talking about her, he’s always been as useless as a bag of smoke.”
“But you and Leo were friends.”
Mary nodded and brushed a bit of lint off the front of her sweater.
“You know, we actually went out for a bit. Nothing came of it and I’m glad we were able to stay friends because we were much better friends than anything romantic.”
I knew I could beat around the bush to try to find out what I wanted to know or I could just ask. It seemed easier to do the latter.
“Did Leo tell you that he was looking into his wife’s death?” I asked.
Mary wasn’t one for prevaricating, either. “Yes,” she said. She narrowed her eyes. “How did you find out? Did Simon tell you?”
I nodded. “Do you know what happened that made Leo think there was something to find?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He said time has a way of catching up with you sometimes. I asked him what the heck did that mean? He laughed and said, ‘You might say I came upon a key fact that changed everything.’ That’s all he’d say.”
The phone rang then and she leaned over the counter to answer it.
Based on what he’d told Mary, Leo had found some new piece of information, something that had changed his opinion about the accident that killed his estranged wife. But how had he found that piece of information? And more important, what was it?
chapter 10
I headed home after work to change and have a quick bite of supper. I was meeting Maggie and Roma at Abel’s to look for a wedding dress.
Maggie was standing on the sidewalk outside the small boutique when I got out of my truck. She was wearing a red duffel coat and a red-and-white-striped scarf. “Roma is on her way,” she said.
“What are the chances we’re going to be able to find her a dress?” I asked.
Maggie held out one hand and waggled her fingers from side to side. “Fifty–fifty,” she said.
“This is where Rebecca’s wedding dress came from and it was beautiful,” I said, pulling up the collar of my black peacoat. “I’m going to think positively.”
Roma arrived then, parking at the curb behind my truck. She hugged us both and then studied the display of holiday dresses in the front window of the shop. “Are
you sure I’m not too—”
Maggie held up a hand. “If the next word out of your mouth was going to be ‘old’ you might want to rethink what you were going to say.”
Roma closed her mouth, pressing her lips together, but there was an amused sparkle in her dark brown eyes.
We headed inside. Avis, who owned the store, was behind the cash register, her silver-framed glasses slipping down her nose as she waited on a customer. She smiled at us. “Go ahead and look around,” she said. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”
Maggie led us to the back of the store, where the more formal dresses were displayed. Roma fingered the chiffon overskirt of a petal pink, knee-length gown. “This is pretty,” she said.
Maggie shook her head. She reached for the fabric and draped it over the back of her hand. “Uh-uh,” she said. “That color is too pale for you.” Something on the back wall caught her attention and she moved ahead of us.
“Kathleen, what if I really can’t find a dress I like?” Roma said.
I put my arm around her shoulders. “Then I’ll loan you my big fuzzy bathrobe.”
“Be serious,” she said.
“Who’s saying I’m not?” I retorted. “Look, we want your special day to be, well, special, but if you want to get married in your jeans or my fuzzy bathrobe or a garbage bag held up by duct tape that’s fine with us. We love you no matter what.”
Roma swallowed hard. Then she shook her finger at me. “You better not make me cry. I promised Olivia I’d send her pictures of the dresses and I don’t want my nose to be all red.”
Olivia was Roma’s daughter and I knew Roma wished she could have been with us.
I held up both hands. “I promise not to be nice for the rest of the night.”
Avis joined us then and after a bit of consultation Roma decided she would like to try on a couple of more traditional gowns. The first was a strapless sheath.
Roma disappeared into the dressing room and Avis grabbed her tablet to see if she could order the chiffon wrap that went with the dress. She didn’t have it in stock. She tapped the screen a couple of times and exhaled loudly. “I cannot get used to this new tablet,” she said, her voice edged with frustration. “I just got it yesterday and I’m still figuring out the new software.” She rolled her eyes. “I left my old one too close to the radiator. It turns out heat isn’t good for rechargeable batteries.”
“Neither is vinegar and water,” Maggie offered, slipping off her jacket. “Or so I’ve heard,” she added, cheeks turning pink.
Avis smiled and gestured toward the far wall. “I’m just going to see if I have something else that Roma might like.”
“I’m going to need a roll of double-sided tape to make this dress work,” Roma said when she came out of the dressing room. She put one forearm under the boned and underwired corset bodice of the dress and made a show of hiking up her chest, complete with a grunt for the effort.
I made the mistake of looking at Maggie. We both dissolved in laughter.
The second dress was a strapless mermaid-style gown. Roma looked beautiful but once again Mags and I couldn’t contain our laughter when Roma tried to sit down and discovered she couldn’t, no matter how she contorted her body.
The next dress was a fairy-tale tulle-and-lace creation. When Roma sat down on the bench beside us the skirt puffed out and up with an audible push of air so that Roma was surrounded by a cloud of tulle.
I pressed my hand against my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh.
Maggie frowned and tipped her head to once side. “It’s not that bad,” she said. “The skirt may be a little too poufy.”
Roma looked at Avis. “How do I pee?” she asked.
Avis made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Oh, that’s no problem,” she said, as a customer carrying two sweaters and a black pencil skirt approached us. “You get one friend to hold up the skirt and the other gets your underwear down.” She headed toward the woman with the sweaters. “I’ll be right back,” she added over her shoulder.
“I call dibs on holding up the skirt,” Maggie said.
She and Roma both looked at me. “If I have to help you get your underwear down so you can pee on your wedding day I am not wearing chartreuse,” I said firmly.
Maggie was struggling not to laugh.
Roma looked down at the froth of fabric, lace and sequins around her. “How do you feel about helping me pee right now?”
In the end none of the dresses Roma tried on worked and after an hour we adjourned to Eric’s Place to figure out what to do next.
“I can just wear a regular dress,” Roma said, dropping two marshmallows into her cup of hot chocolate.
“It was just one store,” Maggie said. “And a special day deserves a special dress.”
I nodded and since no one was looking at me dropped three marshmallows into my cup. “Maggie’s right. As my mother says, how many times do you get married in life? Two, three times, tops.”
Roma smiled.
Ella King was sanding over by the counter, probably waiting for a take-out order. Maggie suddenly said, “Ella.”
“I see her,” I said.
Maggie shook her head. “No, I mean Roma needs Ella.”
“What do you mean I need Ella?” Roma asked.
“She could design a dress for you.”
“Really?” Roma looked uncertain.
Maggie nodded and got to her feet. “I’m going to see if she has a minute.” She walked over to Ella and they spoke for a minute, Maggie’s hands gesturing as she talked, then Ella came back to the table with her.
She smiled hello at us. I stood up and got a chair from a nearby table for her.
“Maggie says you’re having trouble finding a wedding dress,” she said to Roma as she sat down.
Roma nodded. “Yes. I need one I can walk in, pee in and that doesn’t require the use of double-sided tape anywhere on my body.”
Maggie smiled at me across the table.
Ella nodded as though she’d heard that before. “Do you have a particular style that you like?”
Roma picked up a spoon and stirred the marshmallows in her cup. “I’d like something simple and sleek with no lace or tulle—or boning.” She made a face.
Ella pulled a fine-point Pitt pen out of her purse. She grabbed a napkin and quickly sketched something, then she pushed the napkin across the table.
Roma looked at the drawing and a smile stretched across her face. “Yes,” she said. “That’s what I want.”
“I could make it for you,” Ella said, “if you’d like.”
Maggie and I leaned over to look at the sketch. The dress Ella had drawn had a sleek, fitted silhouette with sheer, long sleeves, a draped neckline and a flowing overskirt. The dress was Roma.
Roma looked at us.
“Yes,” Maggie said.
“Yes,” I echoed.
Ella smiled, and a flush of color touched her cheeks. “Call me tomorrow,” she said to Roma. “I’ll do a better sketch and we can get together to talk about fabric.” She got to her feet.
“I will,” Roma said. “Thank you so much.”
Ella said good-bye and walked back over to the counter, where Nic was waiting with a large take-out bag.
Roma looked at us, her expression a mix of excitement and a bit of shock. “I’m actually getting married,” she said.
I laughed. “What did you think all that lace was about?”
“What color are you thinking about?” Maggie asked, leaning forward for another look at Ella’s sketch.
I caught Nic’s eye as Maggie and Roma talked about blush versus ecru. I pointed at the carafe of hot chocolate and he nodded. I glanced at the napkin Ella had left on the table. Roma’s dress was going to be beautiful. She was going to be beautiful. I wished every problem could be solved so easily.
<
br /> • • •
Hercules moved back and forth between the bedroom and the bathroom as I was getting ready the next morning, which I didn’t seem to be doing fast enough for him. Spending some time with Mia on Sunday night seemed to have motivated him to help figure out who had killed Leo Janes and he clearly wanted to keep going. He sat in front of the closet making grumbling sounds in the back of his throat and when I pulled my head out he was gone. I guessed that he’d given up and gone to wait for me in the kitchen.
When I got downstairs I found him sitting on top of my messenger bag, which I’d left on one of the kitchen chairs. Since Hercules knew my laptop was inside, I wondered if he was suggesting we needed to do some more research.
I had called Simon after I’d gotten home from dress shopping to share what Mary had told me. “I’m sorry,” I’d said. “It doesn’t really help, does it?”
“It was a long shot,” Simon said. “Thanks for trying. Maybe the PI will be able to track down the so-called witness or maybe he’ll come up with something else.”
It occurred to me that I hadn’t told Simon about my conversation with Celia Hunter. “Simon, did your father ever mention a woman named Celia Hunter to you?” I asked.
“The name doesn’t ring a bell,” he said. “Why? Who is she?”
“She was a friend of your mother. She’s here in Mayville Heights.” I hesitated. “She came to talk to your father.”
“Does she know he’s dead?” he said, his voice tightening.
I was in the big wing chair in the living room. I stretched my legs out on the footstool, which Owen took as an invitation to jump up and sprawl over them. “Yes,” I said. “She talked to him a couple of times before he died.”
“Do you think she has anything to do with this kick Dad was on to find out more about my mother’s accident?”
I rubbed my shoulder with my free hand, wishing I could see his face. It was hard to read him when I couldn’t see his expression. “Not directly. I don’t see how she could have been the source of whatever information he came across. But she did have a letter from your mother.” I let out a breath. “You know that they found some mail along with that cache of old photos when they took down that wall at the post office?”
