by Mary Kennedy
I stopped dead in my tracks and looked in my tote bag. I always keep it in a separate zippered compartment, and my heart dropped when I saw it was empty. “I don’t know, but let’s hope it’s still there.” We immediately retraced our steps, my heart thudding with anxiety. They say women carry their lives in their wallets, and I’m no different. I keep telling myself to scale down and carry one credit card, a few bills, and my driver’s license, but somehow I never get around to it.
I raced inside while Ali stayed outside to make a quick call to Dana about an incoming order. I’d pushed through the double glass doors, vaulted through the lobby, and zipped into the coffee shop when the hostess looked up and recognized me.
“Ms. Blake,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t panic. We have your wallet right here. The busboy turned it in when he cleared the table.”
“Thank goodness,” I said, nearly giddy with relief. “I was in a panic.” She had my wallet neatly stashed in a manila envelope under the counter at the front, and I gratefully accepted it.
I was about to turn to leave when I saw a familiar face out of the corner of my eye. I quickly ducked behind a pillar and peeked out to take another look. Hah! Just as I thought. There was Jeremy Watts, sitting with a well-dressed woman in the back of the restaurant. He had his head bowed, looking over some documents.
His companion turned to talk to the server, and I got a full view of her face. Olivia Hudson! I quickly jammed my wallet into my tote bag and hurried onto the street. Maybe we weren’t back at square one after all. I could feel a big grin spreading across my face and couldn’t wait to tell Ali the news.
13
“Jeremy and Olivia?” Ali asked, as I grabbed her arm and pulled her down the street. “I had no idea they’d be so open about their relationship. Not very discreet, are they?” I wanted to get away from the Red Lion as quickly as possible, in case Jeremy glanced out the bay window and spotted us. “What were they talking about?”
“I told you, I was at the cashier’s station. I couldn’t hear a word they said.”
“But how did they act? What was their body language like? Did they look like they were a couple?” We stopped at a crosswalk and I inhaled the soft air. It was a beautiful day in Savannah: not too humid but warm enough to know you were in the South.
“Do you mean, were they canoodling over the French toast? I really can’t say.” I thought back to the scene I had just witnessed. It was impossible to figure out what sort of relationship they had. Business? Pleasure? Or maybe both.
“Canoodling?” Ali raised her eyebrows.
“I got that expression from Minerva Harper. She used it the other day,” I said, slightly embarrassed. I don’t know why the expression had popped up in my head, but it had.
“I’ve never heard anyone under eighty-five years old use that term.”
I grinned. “Whatever.” The light changed and we hurried across. We didn’t have any particular destination in mind. My thoughts were scattered and I tried to make sense of what I’d just seen.
“Do you suppose they were staying at the hotel together?” Ali said after a moment.
I stared at her. Ali has the uncanny ability to read my mind when I least expect it. I’ve heard that sisters can do that sometimes, and I find it fascinating.
“That was why I caught him looking past my shoulder and staring into the lobby from time to time,” I said. “I bet he was afraid Olivia would suddenly show up and spot us. It all makes sense now.” We were walking fast toward the center of town, and the streets were crowded with tourists. The sunlight was filtering through the banyan trees, and it was good to feel the balmy air against my skin.
“But does that mean he’d arranged to meet her for a business meeting over breakfast”—Ali paused—“or does that mean they were sharing a room and he happened to go down to breakfast first?”
I shook my head. “No idea. And don’t forget he said he had almost no contact with her. I wonder why he thought it was important enough to lie about.”
“He could have lied because he wanted to mislead us, or maybe he lied because he’s a sociopath and that’s what they do. They lie just for the fun of it. It’s part of their nature; they like to feel they’re putting one over on us.” Ali prides herself on being an amateur psychologist and loves to read books on the criminal mind.
“Maybe,” I murmured. Another thought zinged into my brain. “If they were sharing a room, it certainly gives Olivia a motive for getting rid of Sonia.” Could both women be fighting over Jeremy? He wasn’t Johnny Depp, that was for sure—not heartthrob material by any stretch of the imagination. But sometimes women made odd choices, and it never ceased to amaze me. Two intelligent, ambitious women smitten with Jeremy, who seems like the ultimate hanger-on? It boggled the mind.
“I can’t imagine anyone committing murder over him.” Ali frowned. “Maybe it isn’t a romantic relationship between Olivia and Jeremy. Maybe they’re coconspirators.”
“Coconspirators?” Ali’s also a great fan of shows like CSI and Criminal Minds and was warming to her new theory.
“Yes, I can see that happening,” she said, her voice spiraling upward in excitement. “Think about it; it makes sense. Both Olivia and Jeremy have the inside track at the company. What if they figured out some way to swindle Sonia Scott, Inc., and they’re going to split the rewards? Maybe Sonia got wind of it, so she had to go. Either Olivia or Jeremy could have done it.”
“That’s not a bad theory,” I told her. “It works, up to a point. In fact, it might even explain why Jeremy wasn’t present at the book signing. Why did he say he missed it?” I struggled to recall his exact words.
“I think someone said he had to get back to Atlanta,” Ali reminded me. “That could mean anything. He could have set up the whole thing ahead of time. Did you notice he flushed a little when Sara asked him about the silver necklace?”
“He seemed uncomfortable,” I agreed. “He obviously wanted to get off that topic as fast as possible.”
“I think it fits,” Ali said. “It’s the best theory so far.”
“You’re right on that one,” I told her. “Now it’s time to bring in the big guns.”
“The big guns?”
“The Dream Club, of course.”
• • •
“We called this emergency meeting,” I explained a few hours later, “because things are moving slowly with the investigation into Sonia’s death and we need to put our collective energy to work.” It was nearly four o’clock, and I hoped we could get right to the point.
I didn’t mention that profits had plummeted at the shop; even some of our most loyal customers were canceling orders and hardly any new people were dropping by the store. A cloud was hanging over us, and the only way to dispel it was to find the killer. As far as the general public knew, we were somehow responsible for serving tainted food that caused Sonia’s death. The local paper had reported it as a “severe allergic reaction,” but I knew a few gossips thought otherwise.
“You know we’ll help you any way we can, dear,” Rose Harper offered. Her sister Minerva, sitting next to her, nodded vigorously. Since it was before dinnertime, Ali and I decided not to serve desserts to the group. I made a pitcher of iced tea with fresh lemon and Ali pulled a container of homemade cheese straws out of the freezer. Cheese straws are a popular treat at Southern gatherings, and they are deliciously addictive. Like potato chips, it’s very hard to eat just one.
“What exactly do you need us to do?” Dorien asked.
“I’m not completely sure,” I admitted. “I feel like we’re stalled and need some prodding to go forward.” I looked at Minerva. “I want to thank you for your phone call this morning. I found Jeremy Watts, and everything was just as you said it would be.”
“Really?” She clapped her hands together with delight. “I’m so glad, my dear. I was afraid you would think I wa
s a foolish old woman, but the dream was so vivid, I just knew it meant something. You thought so, too, didn’t you, Rose?”
Rose nodded, reaching for another cheese straw. “I knew you were on to something. I felt a little chill when you told me about your vision. But tell us how the meeting went,” she said to me. “I bet Mr. Watts was surprised to see you.”
“I’ll say,” Ali piped up in a wry voice. “Stunned was more like it.”
I quickly filled her in on our meeting with Jeremy at the Red Lion. When I mentioned having spotted Olivia at the same hotel, she lifted her eyebrows.
“The plot thickens,” she said archly.
Minerva nodded. “That it does, my dear.”
I’d debated calling this emergency meeting but had decided to go ahead with it after talking with Ali. I knew only a handful of the Dream Club members were available in the late afternoon, but I thought it was important to get their take on where we stood. I was disappointed that Sam Stiles was absent again. I hadn’t seen her since the day of Sonia’s murder.
“I have something I want to run by you,” I said, pulling out pages I’d copied from the sign-in register before Sam took it to the police. “These are the people who signed in that day. I think it’s a good starting point.” Dorien Myers leaned close. “I recognize most of the names,” she said, going down the list with her finger on the page. Most of them were longtime customers, people from the neighborhood who knew us socially.
“But you don’t recognize all of them, right?” I prodded. It was a long shot, but we had to try a different tack. What if the person responsible for Sonia’s murder was present that day and signed in? And at this point, we couldn’t afford to ignore any lead, no matter how far-fetched.
“Read the names to us, dear,” Minerva said. She had leaned over, peered at the pages, and then sat back in her chair. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
I read out the names of familiar customers, friends, and Dream Club members. Several minutes passed while people contemplated the names, and I drew a blank.
I thought of another angle. Sam Stiles had told Noah they’d found a silver chain and pendant in the bags of evidence they’d collected at the shop. Presumably it was the one Sonia had worn at the signing. It was engraved with the name “Trudy.”
“This is a long shot, but does the name ‘Trudy’ ring a bell with anyone?” I quickly explained about the pendant. It must have been significant if Sonia wore it every single day.
“Trudy? Could it be Trudy Carpenter?” Lucinda broke in. “I think she was a student at the Academy. I’ll have to check the records to be sure.” Lucinda still had friends on the faculty of the school where she had worked and participated in some of the school’s events. “And if I’m not mistaken, she may be related to Sonia.” She took a delicate bite of a cheese straw.
“She’s related to Sonia?” This took me by surprise.
“I believe she’s her niece.” She thought for a moment. “I can check the school yearbooks, but Minerva and Rose are the experts on genealogy. I bet they could come up with something more definitive.”
“Was she a local girl?” I asked.
Lucinda nodded. “She was definitely from Georgia. As I recall, her parents lived in Valdosta, and she may have moved to Brunswick when she graduated.” She frowned. “I seem to remember she was a very sweet girl, but she fell in with the wrong crowd.” She shook her head sadly. “Sometimes all it takes is one wrong turn, and your life spins off in a different direction.” There was so much emotion in her voice I wondered if she was talking about herself, not a student from years ago. I’ve always believed that Lucinda is a woman with secrets.
“Yes, we can check it out for you, too,” Minerva said eagerly. “We can work on it tonight.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, we’d really appreciate it,” I told her. Minerva and Rose have an amazing amount of genealogy knowledge at their fingertips. I might spend hours laboring over something they could find in a few minutes, so I never hesitate to ask them for help.
“Glad to do it!” Rose beamed. “We’ve finished all our flower orders for the rest of the week, so we were just going to watch the NCIS marathon. I’d much rather work on a project and feel productive.” She looked genuinely happy at the prospect of working on the case, and I certainly wasn’t going to dissuade her.
“I can check legal records for you,” Persia offered. Persia works as a paralegal and has access to all sorts of interesting commercial transactions, real estate deeds, and state records that have helped us in the past. It’s amazing to me that everyone leaves a paper trail. Sometimes the past catches up with you, in spite of your best efforts to hide it.
“It’s shocking how much information is out there,” Lucinda said. “Either online or in courthouse records or newspaper clippings. My grandmother taught me that a proper Savannah woman is mentioned in the newspaper only three times in her life: when she’s born, when she’s married, and when she dies. Of course, she was from a different generation.” She sipped her tea and a shadow crossed over her face. “In some ways, life seemed simpler, you know. Fewer choices, I suppose.” She gave a sad little smile. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever go back to those times, will we?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ali told her. “The genie’s out of the bottle.” Barney and Scout awoke from their naps and strolled lazily into the kitchen, looking for their dinner. They liked to eat at 5 p.m. sharp, and you could set your watch by them. “Oh,” Ali said, jumping up. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I think we should stop for tonight, unless someone else has something to discuss?”
“I think we’ve covered everything,” Persia said. “Let’s all get to work. We’ll touch base with you in the morning.”
“Good idea,” Rose agreed. “Maybe we can have a conference call,” she said eagerly. “I’ve been doing that for some of my crowdfunding projects and it’s been really effective.” Crowdfunding? I smiled. As an octogenarian, Rose is the oldest person in the Dream Club, but she has embraced technology in a way that would put younger members to shame.
14
“One thing I don’t understand,” I said to Noah the next morning, “is why Sonia didn’t make it a point to invite her niece Trudy to the book signing and the TV taping. She never said a word to Ali or me about her niece. You’d think she’d be glad to have family show up. I just don’t get it.”
“Maybe Sonia was close to her niece but not to other members of the family,” Noah said mildly. “There could be jealousy on Trudy’s side, or maybe some old family feud, who knows? Another possibility is that Sonia didn’t want to share the limelight. Sometimes these celebrities are pretty self-centered.”
Noah passed me a cup of fresh-brewed coffee. I was touched that he remembered hazelnut was my favorite flavor, and he even added some fat-free half-and-half and a packet of sweetener. Noah is a stickler for details. “Families can be the key to understanding the victim,” he said wryly. “I hope I’ve taught you that much.”
I smiled at him. He was sitting behind his desk, the sunlight slanting in the window and dancing over his finely chiseled features, his smoky eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Now that he wasn’t with the Bureau anymore, he was wearing his hair a little longer, and it suited him. He also seemed more relaxed, less tightly wired. Leaving the Bureau and all his friends behind was a gut-wrenching decision for him, but the right one.
“Yes, you’ve taught me well. And that’s why I’m looking at family and employees right now. The case is complicated because Sonia’s company is so vast and her entourage was enormous. The trouble is, I’m still trying to figure out who’s who in the inner circle and who’s on the fringes.”
“Start with the key players,” Noah advised.
“That’s part of the problem. Sonia surrounded herself with so many people it’s hard to know who was a friend and who was a foe. And who was just a hanger-on,” I added
. “I called a meeting of the Dream Club yesterday to regroup. I figured it was time to decide what to do next.”
“What did your fellow dreamers come up with?” Noah always looked mildly amused when I mentioned the Dream Club, but he knew enough to keep an open mind—or at least the appearance of one. He’d started out as a complete skeptic, and now he’d warmed up to the idea that dreams can send powerful messages.
So much material is hidden in dreams. Sometimes a little nagging thought will unlock a fragment of a forgotten dream. That happens to me all the time. The message might be buried deep in symbolism, and our job is to dig it out and decipher it. I’ve been surprised at how many times my dreams have offered me insight on an issue I’ve been struggling with. Sometimes I don’t see the connection immediately, but it’s there.
Some of the more seasoned Dream Club members, like Sybil and Persia, will get to the meaning very quickly. I’m new at the game, but I’m making progress. It takes a lot of skill to interpret dreams, but I think I’m on the right track.
“We all agreed we need to start close to home. That’s why I want to find out everything I can about Trudy Carpenter. She’s Sonia’s nearest relative, as far as I can tell. I figured I’d start there and expand the circle outward.”
Noah taught me the importance of learning everything you can about the victim when you begin an investigation. And leaving nothing to chance. This advice came in handy when the Dream Club solved the murder of Chico, the dance instructor who owned a studio right across the street from Oldies But Goodies. When you look at the family, you can discover new leads and the investigation can go off in a totally different direction.
“Do you want me to run a background check on her? I can do it right now.”
“Yes,” I said, surprised. “It wouldn’t hurt to see what turns up.” I remembered that Lucinda had said that Trudy had fallen in with the wrong crowd, but that was years ago, when she was a schoolgirl. As far as I knew, she was now a respectable Southern matron, married with children, who happened to be related to a celebrity.
