Setting down her coffee mug, Ellen scooted forward in the sofa. “I really should wake Mother and go home.”
“Ellen?” a cry came from the other room. “Is that you?”
Ellen hurried into the bedroom. “I’m here, Mother.”
“I’m so glad you were able to come, dear. Did you meet the vicar’s wife?”
Kate stepped into the room.
“Yes, I met Kate.”
“Can we stay here?” Claire raised a shaky hand to her hair.
“No, Mother. We can’t stay here. Where are your clothes?”
“I don’t know.” Tears gathered in Claire’s eyes.
Kate took a step toward them. “She fell in the mud earlier, so I loaned her an outfit. Her clothes are still in the washer. I forgot to put them in the dryer. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Maybe you can put her things in a bag, and we can take them with us. I can return your clothes as soon as I can.”
“It’s no trouble, really.” Kate glanced at the clock. “Look, it’s nearly time for dinner. Let me put the clothes in the dryer, and they’ll be done by the time we’re finished eating.”
“That sounds lovely, doesn’t it, dear?” Claire scooted off the bed and headed toward the kitchen.
Ellen ran a hand through her hair and sent Kate an exasperated look. “I guess I’m outvoted. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I made soup and bread this afternoon and would love to share it with you. Besides, I’ll bet Claire is starving.”
Ellen smiled then. “I have to admit the wonderful smells in here are making my stomach growl.”
Kate hurriedly took care of the clothing, hanging up the dress and giving the stained shoes another wipe with a towel.
The soup and bread were a hit, as was the salad Kate served with it. Ellen seemed as famished as Claire. Both women had two helpings of everything. When they raved about the bread, Kate offered to send a loaf home with them.
Once they’d finished eating, Kate went out to the garage to get Claire’s clothes. The dress and shoes weren’t quite dry, and Kate offered to bring them to their house the next day.
Ellen refused again. “We’ve taken up enough of your time. I can dry them at home and return your clothes tomorrow.”
Claire broke in. “Let’s stay here, Ellen. I’m certain Kate wouldn’t mind.”
Ellen looked horrified. “Mother, no. We can’t.” She placed the cape over Claire’s shoulders.
“But, dear, I’m so tired of—”
“Mother,” Ellen said through gritted teeth. “We have to go.” Turning to Kate, she apologized and then asked, “Would you mind giving us a minute alone?”
“Of course not.” It felt awkward, but what was Kate supposed to do? She went into the bedroom and paced back and forth. Several minutes went by, and Kate heard nothing from either of them. Had Ellen strong-armed her mother, or threatened her?
How long did Ellen expect her to stay in here? Five minutes passed, though to Kate it felt more like thirty.
I’m going back out there. Kate sucked in a deep breath and ventured out of the bedroom.
Claire and Ellen were gone.
Chapter Nine
Kate stepped outside to look for Claire and Ellen, but to no avail. They must have gone as soon as she’d left the room. They had certainly left a lot of unanswered questions in their wake. The cool spring air brought goose bumps out on Kate’s arms, and she went back inside. Exasperated, she began clearing the table and carrying dishes to the sink.
Ellen’s actions puzzled her. In thinking back over their conversations, the woman had been abrupt and even rude at times. She’d apologized over and over and seemed anxious and defensive—except when she relayed her mother’s background. Ellen had been animated then and even pleasant.
Kate filled the sink with hot water and squirted in some lemon-scented dish soap. After washing off the table, she settled her hands in the water.
“Forget it,” Kate told the image in the kitchen window. “There are some things you can’t fix, and maybe this is one of them.” But as much as Kate tried to erase the women from her mind, she couldn’t.
After finishing the dishes and wiping down the countertops, she brewed some jasmine green tea, grabbed a pad and pen and sat down in her favorite rocking chair in the living room. Maybe if she wrote her jumbled thoughts down, she could make more sense of it.
Kate attempted to put herself in Ellen’s shoes but found it difficult. From what she had gleaned during their time together, Claire’s mental capacity had changed recently. Ellen had mentioned medication as a possible cause. She’d also said she would need to take her mother to the doctor. Ellen seemed like a reasonable woman, if you didn’t count the ire she showed toward her mother as she was trying to leave.
How would I feel if I came home from work and found that my mother, who’d been increasingly forgetful, was missing?
Kate wrote worried; panicky; frustrated; frightened.
She imagined Ellen tearing around her house and then going outside, frantically calling for her mother and searching every possible place she could be. Finally she had called the police and discovered that her mother was safe.
Relief.
Kate hadn’t seen relief in Ellen’s face when she’d come to collect her mother. Apologetic, yes, too much so. Guilt? Kate wrote down the word and tapped the end of the pen against the pad. Impatience. Resentment—toward Claire and toward me? Why would she act like that? Did Ellen not want Claire to be found?
Kate leaned back and took a sip of tea. Could Ellen be trying to lose her mother? The idea seemed outrageous, but Kate wrote down that possibility.
Ellen had been on edge most of the time, as if she had something to hide. Maybe she did, but what? Kate continued the what-if-this-were-my-mother idea to the place where Claire had accepted Kate’s dinner invitation.
Ellen had been congenial enough through dinner, but the wall came up when Kate suggested bringing Claire’s clothing to their house. Maybe she didn’t want anyone to know where they lived. But why? Were they running from something? Or someone?
The worst part, however, was Ellen’s reaction to Claire’s innocent request that they stay at Kate’s. Apparently, Claire felt safe there and hadn’t wanted to go home. What had Claire started to say before Ellen cut her off? Something about being tired...Tired of what?
Ellen’s reaction had Kate wondering about abuse. Kate couldn’t just let it go. No doubt about it; she needed to find out more. Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten a last name. Had Ellen omitted it on purpose? She’d hoped that by writing out her thoughts about the women, she’d satisfy her curiosity, but no such luck.
She’d call Skip in the morning. He would have gotten Ellen’s name when he filed his report. Kate didn’t know where her digging would lead. She just needed to make certain that Claire was safe and in good hands.
Having a plan settled her mind to some extent, and with much of the evening still before her, she headed into the studio to work on her stained-glass project and enjoy her favorite music.
WEDNESDAY DAWNED as bright and sunny as Kate’s mood. Working in the studio the night before had revived and excited her. Today, along with trying to find out more about Claire and Ellen, Kate wanted to check the latest news on Ned Castile. She also wanted to research St. Lucy’s and find any history available on its stained-glass windows. She also had to volunteer at the Faith Freezer house after lunch. So many tasks, so little time.
Before tackling anything else, however, she made coffee and snuggled into her favorite rocking chair to read her Bible and pray. The devotional reading that morning had to do with being anxious for nothing and knowing that the Lord would provide her every need.
What a hard lesson to learn. Yet hadn’t God always provided for them?
Kate sent up a thank-you. Lord, you have met all my needs and more. What a wonderful life Paul and I have. At the moment she almost felt guilty. How many women had this kind of opportunity—to sit q
uietly each morning, enjoying coffee and the sunshine streaming through the windows, new buds on the trees, and colorful tulips, crocuses, and daffodils?
Thoughts of Troy Eaton came to mind. He had come into the diner Monday morning needing help, and help came to him. She hoped Troy would let them know how he was doing. She prayed again for his family and that he would find work and a place for them to live.
AT TEN THIRTY, reluctant to leave her studio, Kate went into the master bedroom to change out of her work clothes and grab a much-needed shower. Half an hour later, feeling comfortable and presentable in khaki slacks and a short-sleeved blue sweater, Kate settled into her Honda and aimed the car toward Town Hall.
She had meant to call Skip earlier to get Ellen’s and Claire’s last names but had forgotten. Now, since she was going into town anyway, Kate figured she might as well stop by and see the deputy in person.
Kate parked in front of Town Hall. On her way into the historic building, she paused to admire the tulip gardens on either side of the walkway. Once inside, she headed for the deputy’s office and found Skip filling out a form at his desk. Behind him, Sheriff Roberts looked equally busy. They both looked up and greeted her when she walked in.
“Can I help you, Mrs. Hanlon?” Skip asked.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to ask about the situation we had yesterday. Can you give me Ellen’s last name?”
“Last name?” Skip held his hands up. “Mrs. Hanlon, I hardly remember their first names.”
“So you didn’t file a report?” Disappointment flooded her.
“What report?” Sheriff Roberts’ disapproving gaze moved from Kate to his deputy.
“Just that missing-person call yesterday,” Skip said. “Well, she wasn’t exactly missing; Mrs. Hanlon had her.”
Sheriff Roberts frowned. “Maybe you’d better fill me in.”
Skip looked embarrassed. “I didn’t figure we needed to do anything on our end. Mrs. Hanlon called me earlier to let me know she had this Claire lady. A little while later, this woman called to tell me her mother, Claire, was missing, and I just gave her the address for the Hanlon house and called Mrs. Hanlon.” Skip hesitated. “Should I have written it up?”
The sheriff rubbed a hand across his face and through his hair. “Yes, Skip, you should have. And you shouldn’t be giving out addresses like that. You should have verified first. For all you knew, the woman could have been a thief, or worse. Go ahead and write it up now. Maybe Kate can help you fill in the blanks.”
With a face almost as red as his hair, Skip mumbled an apology and pulled open a file drawer from which he extracted a report form.
She didn’t like exposing Skip’s blunder and wished now she hadn’t said anything in front of his boss. Kate wasn’t able to supply much more than a description of the two women and their first names.
“I’m afraid that’s all I have. I don’t know why Ellen never gave me her last name. I have the feeling she didn’t want me to know.” Kate planned to check out the family anyway. She didn’t think the Earl or Countess of Eltonborough would be too hard to find on the Internet.
Just then, a message came in on the sheriff’s radio about an accident. Kate didn’t quite catch it all, but Sheriff Roberts acknowledged the dispatch operator. “Be there in a few minutes.” Standing, he pulled his sagging belt up around his ample waist.
“Skip. Forget about that report for now. We have more pressing matters. We have an accident over on Mountain Laurel Road.”
He stepped around the desk and headed for the door. “Don’t mean to be rude, Kate, but we need to go.”
“No problem.” Kate thought about asking what had happened but decided against it. They didn’t need to waste precious time filling her in. Besides, based on past experience, she knew the sheriff probably wouldn’t tell her anyway.
Kate had helped solve a number of mysteries in town, for which he’d been grateful, albeit reluctantly. Over time, they’d become friends, and on occasion he even asked for her help. Still, he preferred not to involve her or any other civilian in police business. Kate understood and respected that.
They all stepped out of the office, and Skip closed the door behind them. She followed them past the old copper-mine display and out the double glass doors.
Outside, as she descended the concrete stairs and made her way along the tree-lined walkway toward her car, Kate reviewed her to-do list and headed to the pharmacy to pick up several personal items along with a prescription for pain pills which she occasionally took for her knee.
When Kate walked into the pharmacy, she found the owner, Fred Cowan, muttering to himself and looking over a ledger.
“Hi, Fred.” Kate paused on her way back to the aisles.
“Hmm.” Fred frowned and finally looked over at her. “What did you say?”
She waved. “Just saying hello.”
“Oh, yeah.” Fred took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Is something wrong? You seem preoccupied.”
“Guess I am. I just realized some of my inventory is missing. I think I’ve been robbed.”
Chapter Ten
Really?” Kate wasn’t certain she’d heard right.
“I didn’t notice anything missing when I came in this morning.” He wrote something on a clipboard. “Whoever did it was neat at least.”
“Did you lose much? Were they after narcotics?”
He shook his head and frowned. “That’s the strange part. The culprit got away with very little. Far as I can see, it was just a few prescription items: sleeping pills, blood-pressure meds, pain pills, insulin and syringes, and some antibiotics. There was one pretty expensive drug, but nothing monumental.”
Kate frowned. “That is odd.”
He brushed his knuckle across his bushy mustache. “Maybe not so much when you consider the number of folks losing their jobs and not having insurance these days.”
“I suppose. Still, it seems strange. If someone went to the trouble of breaking in, wouldn’t they help themselves to more things?”
Fred shrugged. “You’d think so, but I’m glad they didn’t.”
Kate glanced toward the rear door and window. “How did they get in?”
“I have no idea. I looked around back there but couldn’t see where anyone broke in. Window’s always locked, and so is the door—just like it was last night when I left.”
Kate considered this. “No signs of forced entry might mean someone was already inside.”
“You can have a look around if you want. You’re pretty good at solving mysteries. Maybe you can solve this one.”
“I can certainly try,” Kate said with a smile. “But first things first, let me give you this prescription. Take your time filling it out, of course.”
Fred waved his hand. “It’s no problem. I’ll fill this prescription for you now. Then I suppose I should call the sheriff.”
Kate smiled. “I think that would be a good idea.”
Fred excused himself and headed toward his maze of shelves in the unauthorized area behind the counter.
Kate went to the back door and window and had to agree with Fred. There were no pry marks or broken glass.
“Could the thief have somehow gotten a key?” Kate raised her voice so Fred could hear.
“Don’t see how that’s possible,” he responded from somewhere in the maze. “I keep one set with me all the time and the other in a locked safe at my house.”
“How hard would it be for someone to borrow the keys and have copies made?”
He rubbed his forehead. “S’pose that’s possible, but I don’t see when or how.”
“What about your assistant? Could she have borrowed the keys to make another set?”
Fred shook his head. “No. Well, she could have, but she wouldn’t.”
“There may be another answer.” Kate knelt down to examine a piece of wood that was lying near the wall just beneath the window. “It looks like a piece of old shingle or something
. There’s still a little moss on it.”
Fred came back to see what she’d found. “I’ll be. Didn’t see that earlier.”
Kate looked up at the window and then down at the floor. “I could be wrong, but I’d say it doesn’t belong here.”
“You’d be right about that. The place gets a good cleaning at least once a week.”
Kate’s brain raced to make a conclusion. “Do you specifically check the window every night?”
“Well, no. I don’t usually open it.” Fred cleared his throat.
Kate nodded. “I’m thinking maybe someone was in here during the day yesterday, unlocked the window, and slipped the piece of wood between the sill and the casing. It would have kept the window from closing all the way, and then—”
“They came back at night and opened it. And probably just walked right out through the back door.” A wide smile split the pharmacist’s face. “Good thinking, Kate Hanlon. Now all we have to do is figure out who did it.”
Kate agreed with his conclusion. “And that would explain why the window was locked this morning. The thief came in through the window, shut and locked it, and locked the door behind him when he left. I suggest you call the sheriff and let him take it from here. We need to leave everything like it was so they can process the scene.”
He sighed. “Never had a problem with theft before. S’pose I should think about getting an alarm system put in like they do in the big cities. At least put bars on the windows.”
“Probably not a bad idea.” Fred seemed saddened by the prospect. She didn’t blame him.
Kate stayed until Skip arrived. The sheriff, he told her, was still involved at the accident scene.
Remembering their hasty departure earlier, Kate asked, “Was anyone hurt?”
“Nothing serious. Just a guy talking on his cell phone who rear-ended an elderly woman he thought was going too slow. Truth be told, I think he was going too fast.”
After Fred filled Skip in on the missing drugs, Kate led him back to show him the evidence she’d discovered.
Strangers in Their Midst Page 5
