by Eryn Scott
Penny was a pleasant woman about five years older than Hadley, and definitely the reason anything got done at the post office. Pete was the reason people came to the post office. Not only was the man a born entertainer, regaling customers with stories and smiles in the few minutes it would take him to process their packages and letters, but he sang just about anything he could.
“Good afternoon, Francine,” he sang at that very moment, holding the last syllable of the woman’s name as she beamed.
Hadley sighed, knowing she’d miss how he would say her name as if it were three separate words. Miss Had Ah Lee, he would call her—technically adding the “ah” in the middle, but she didn’t care.
She stepped forward as Penny finished with her customer. Meeting Hadley’s gaze, Penny’s happy face morphed into an apology.
“Sorry, Had.” She placed the closed sign in front of her. “I’ve got to run to the back for a few minutes to figure out a mix up with one of the deliveries. You’ll have to go to Pete.”
Hadley nodded, hiding her smile. If Pete was the only one there would be no way she could avoid his line. Oh well, she thought as she got behind another local who stepped up to the counter to a song.
She finally let the smile consume her face as the customer in front of her finished and walked away. Glancing behind her, she saw there weren’t any other people needing assistance. Hadley loved it when she didn’t have to rush her interactions with Pete, but then she remembered that she couldn’t stay and chat today. A hungry Suze waited in the car.
“My oh me, it’s Had-ah-lee!” Pete sang to no specific tune, using more pitch changes than Christina Aguilera.
Hadley grinned. “Hey, Pete.” She slid her pile of packages onto the counter and let him take over scanning and entering them into the computer.
“What’s new?” she asked, leaning on the counter.
“Everything and anything,” he gave her his standard first response. “But did you hear …” He leaned closer, just like he always did, unable to keep out of the gossip. “Oh, of course you did. With that brother of yours.” He swiped at the air with his hand, pulling back and giving her a wink.
Pete had worked at the post office for as long as Hadley had been alive, so he knew exactly what he could and couldn’t say while still staying in compliance with the United States Postal Service bylaws. Now in his fifties, the man was a veritable magician, able to tell you everything without actually telling you anything at all.
“We’re looking into it, actually. Anything you’ve seen or heard?” Hadley cocked an eyebrow.
Glancing right, then left, then over his shoulder, Pete cleared his throat. “I don’t know what it means exactly, but I do believe our sour friend was the object of someone’s step nine of twelve.” He made a circle in front of his chest with his right fist.
Hadley pulled in a deep breath as she deciphered his clues. She recognized his sign for sorry and then it clicked. Step nine of a twelve step program must be the resolution step, apologizing for hurting those around them. The sour friend had to be Edith, which meant …
“I wasn’t aware they had a twelve-step program for embezzlement,” Hadley said when it clicked, watching Pete closely to see if she’d figured it out correctly.
He shrugged. “But they do for what makes a man need that kind of money.” He locked eyes with Hadley. When he seemed to see his information click in her brain, he added another of his signature phrases, “I don’t know, and I’m not saying anything.” He finished with her boxes, setting them on a cart behind him. “Shall I put this on your tab, little darling?” he asked.
Hadley nodded. She used the post office so much that she usually just came and paid up once a month. They knew where to find her, after all.
While he finished moving her packages, she pondered what Pete’s information meant for her suspects. If Robert had been in a twelve-step program in prison, then maybe he didn’t harbor as much hatred toward Edith as Hadley had first thought. Maybe he’d come to terms with his actions and was taking responsibility. This very well could topple him right off the suspect podium.
“The interesting thing,” Pete said, leaning his elbows on the counter, “is that they could’ve just as easily been hand delivered.”
Hadley pressed her lips together. If Robert could’ve hand delivered his apology letters, that meant he’d only started sending them once he was out of lock up.
“Prison funding cuts? His program didn’t begin until he got out?” Hadley guessed.
To which Pete let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, doll. You kill me. Prisons are better funded than schools these days.” He shook his head. “And that’s a short time to get all the way from one to nine.”
“Which means the letters might not have been apologies after all,” Hadley said, her revelation mixed up with a long exhale.
“You don’t say?” Pete smiled, giving the response he always did when Hadley had figured out what he was trying to say.
“Thanks, Pete.”
He winked at her. “Nice to see you,” he sang after her as she jogged back to Suze’s car.
She could feel her best friend’s cool stare from ten feet away. Inside the car was practically Alaska.
“What?” Hadley said, cringing. “It was busy.”
Suze scanned the empty parking lot and then cocked an eyebrow in a “oh, really?” kinda way.
“He was the only one. Penny had to go to the back.” Hadley held up her hand. “But I did learn something about your suspect, so you might want to drop the attitude and listen.”
“Okay spill, time-liar.”
“I think Robert was sending Edith threatening messages.”
Suze leaned in, intrigued.
“You know how Paul told us Edith’s sister had said the only unusual thing she said before dying was how she needed to get out of Stoneybrook because someone or something from her past was creating trouble?”
“Yeah, you think she meant Robert?”
Hadley nodded.
“Does a year count as the past?” Suze asked. Then she added, “Well, I know it technically does, but would you say that? Would you say, ‘It’s from my past’ if something was only a year old?”
“Not necessarily, but then there’s the note I found on Edith’s counter by her mail the day I found her. It was a note that said something about taking what wasn’t hers and how she’d done it for the last time.”
“Yeah, that could just as easily be from Louise, though.”
“Except it couldn’t. The handwriting was way too nice. I tried to read a sock pattern from Louise the other day, and it was just a notch above chicken scratch.”
Suze dipped her head to the side. “Robert did have very nice handwriting.”
Suzanne had received many a note from Robert in high school. They’d always marveled at his neat, practiced script.
“And I’ve seen Dirk’s writing on notes he would leave my dad about the building when he rented it and had to fix a door lock or unclog a drain. It’s barely better than Louise’s.”
“So the threatening note could be from Robert.” Suze sighed. “Got it. Now can we eat?”
Hadley nodded. “But we’re going to the taco truck so we can get something to go. We need to call Paul right away. He needs to get his hands on that letter from Edith’s, so he can compare it with Robert’s handwriting.”
18
As intrigued as Paul was with the clue about Robert possibly sending Edith letters, he said McKay had banned them from going into Edith’s house without him, so he would have to wait until he could convince the sheriff to make a trip down.
In the meantime, Suzanne promised to search for an old yearbook to see if she could find a sample of his writing. Hadley wasn’t holding her breath, however, as her friend was one of the more disorganized people she knew, and it sometimes took the woman a week to locate her TV remote.
But, being that Robert had never signed any of Hadley’s yearbooks, she was stuck waiting.
&nbs
p; To take her mind off the case, Hadley decided to jump in the shower and wash off the greasy Cascade Ridge pizza experience from earlier that day. She emerged minutes later, wrapped in her robe and a towel twisted into her hair, with a much breezier outlook on life. Smoothing some moisturizer on those little lines appearing on her forehead and around her eyes, she sighed.
Ansel, who was perched on her bathroom counter, meowed as if to pull her attention away from her self-criticizing thoughts.
She smiled. “Thanks, buddy. I think you look great too.”
Ansel tipped his head to the side, dipping it slightly as if in thanks. Then, without as much as a meow for warning, Ansel vaulted from where he was sitting and launched himself at her head. For a quick second, Hadley thought he was attacking her, but then he settled on her towel-wrapped hair. Her head wobbled with his weight, small and insignificant as it was. After getting his balance, Ansel blinked and plopped his bottom down, sitting on top of her head.
Glancing up at the mirror, Hadley realized her mouth was hanging open. She let out a chuckle, but then thought better of it when the motion caused him to tip to one side.
“You truly are a special cat, aren’t you?”
It took her a little coaxing to get Ansel down, but after that, Hadley dressed and went downstairs. She still wasn’t hungry after her late lunch, so dinner seemed unnecessary, but a hot drink sounded perfect.
Just as Hadley sat down with a tall mug of steaming tea, there was a knock on her door. She looked down at Ansel, lying in her lap.
“Sorry, buddy. You’re going to have to move.”
Ansel didn’t need to be told twice. With the next round of knocking, he jumped off and slipped under the couch.
While she wasn’t expecting anyone, it was possible Suze had located her yearbook 500 percent faster than Hadley had predicted. Or Paul could’ve found a different way to gather a handwriting sample from the man.
Hadley padded across the living room and into the entryway, opening the door without a second thought.
Her heart jumped into her throat as she saw who was standing on the other side.
“Uh, Louise … hi. What are you doing here?” she asked, hoping her voice wasn’t wobbling as much as her courage was.
The older woman smiled, big. Big and fake. “Oh. Hadley, dear, I just—well, I know it’s silly, but … could I come in?” She wasn’t stammering nervously, but almost talking over herself as if there were two different people talking.
Hadley gulped. Did sweet Louise have dual personalities? Was one a knitter and the other a murderer?
She wished she’d grabbed her phone when she’d gotten up to answer the door. She needed to get Paul here, right now. She tried to send him panicked, twin vibes. Maybe he would feel her distress and come running.
“Sure, come on in.” Hadley took a wary step back and let the woman into her house.
Louise slipped out of her clogs, revealing a pair of striped, hand-knitted socks. Hadley could tell from the ridge running right at the tip of the toes that it was the same toe-up pattern she’d taught Hadley the other day.
“Hey, cute socks.” Hadley pointed at her feet.
Apparently fear made her extremely complimentary.
Louise scrunched up her toes and then released them. “Why, thank you.” Even though she acknowledged Hadley’s remark, the woman didn’t seem interested in Hadley at all. She scanned the house, doing everything short of pulling up the couch cushions, as she searched for something.
“What can I do for you, Louise?” Hadley asked, walking around her and into the kitchen. “Would you like anything to drink? I just made myself some tea.”
“Yes, yes. Tea would be lovely.” Louise continued to search the room.
Is she looking for boogeymen? Murderers? Hadley half expected Louise to drop to her hands and knees any moment to check under the couch.
Turning to make the tea, Hadley’s throat went tight as she thought of another explanation for the strange behavior. Was Louise making sure no one else was in the house, so she could get rid of her just like she got rid of Edith?
People talked in Stoneybrook, so she would surely know that Hadley had been investigating Edith’s murder. It was possible she was getting close, too close for the killer’s comfort.
She poured hot water into a mug and pulled a teabag out of her basket of choices. Dipping the bag into the steaming water, Hadley glanced over at her phone on the kitchen counter. It was a good five feet away from her. Louise would most surely notice if she went for it. She increased the power behind her twin vibes and turned to face Louise.
“Here you go.” She held out the mug. “It’s just a chamomile blend. I don’t like to drink anything caffeinated after four or else I’m up until the middle of the night.”
“Thank you, and chamomile is just lovely.”
Hadley looked at her own mug, sitting on the end table next to her couch. She remembered the cup of tea sitting next to Edith at her home. Hadley’s cheeks heated up with worry as she realized she’d turned her back to Louise. She could’ve very well added anything she wanted to Hadley’s tea. And while she didn’t take any medications Louise could use to poison her with, she was sure the woman could figure something else if she wanted her gone badly enough.
“Oh, there you are!” Louise cooed as she sat in the chair across from Hadley’s couch. “I was hoping I’d get to see you.”
Hadley craned her neck to see Louise smiling down at Ansel from where he hid under the couch. Her fear of being poisoned calmed from code red to a warm orange. Louise had just wanted a chance to see Ansel. The thought made her soften as she walked into the room, settling on the couch.
“Ansel, buddy. Come here.” Hadley fluttered her fingers toward the cat in hopes of luring him from his hiding spot. As he slowly slunk out into the open, Louise’s face peeled into a joyful smile.
Hadley asked, “Louise, is this why you came over? To see Ansel?”
The woman studied her mug of tea for a moment before nodding. “I wanted to make sure he was happy here with you.”
Louise’s blue eyes settled on Hadley before they returned to Ansel, who was launching himself into Hadley’s lap, purring up a storm.
“Which,” Louise said, “it very much looks like he is.”
Hadley narrowed one eye as she petted Ansel.
“But that’s not quite it.” That warm orange began to tick back up into the red range as Hadley realized Louise had ulterior motives for coming over. Would she try to take Ansel away from her? Or just kill them both?
Louise sighed. “No. There is … something I need to get off my chest.”
Like admitting to murder? Hadley wondered, heart rate spiking back into a concerning range. Didn’t murderers in movies always like to tell people how they did it, how they got away, right before killing those new victims?
“You’re not like the others, Hadley,” Louise said. “I know there’s more to your divorce than you’re letting on. I have a feeling you could’ve dragged Tyler’s name through the mud and back if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You’re not a gossiper.”
“Thanks?” Hadley wasn’t sure what to say, but that sounded better than, please don’t kill me.
“It’s just killing me, and I have to tell someone, so someone knows.” Her blue eyes were becoming wild, moving around the room as if they didn’t feel safe settling in one spot.
Hadley didn’t appreciate her use of the word, “killing,” and she held onto Ansel, tight. Could they run for the front door? Make it outside? In her mind, she willed a knock to sound on the front door. Suzanne. Paul. She didn’t care. Someone needed to show up.
“I lied the other day when you came to the knitting club.” Louise’s eyes became glassy with tears.
Hadley gulped. Unsure if she should pretend she didn’t already know Louise had lied, Hadley decided to stay silent.
“I wasn’t at the shop all day. I went out to see Edith. That was when we had the fight I told you abo
ut, concerning Ansel.” She nodded to the cat.
Of course. She already told me this, but I’d run out of the shop at the mention of her wanting Ansel and hadn’t done any more digging. Hadley felt like rolling her eyes at herself, but kept them trained on Louise instead.
“I didn’t kill her, though. I know many people think I did. I thought I had at first, honestly, when they said it was natural causes. I spent those first few days feeling awful that our fight had caused her poor heart to give out. Then, when I learned that she’d most likely been killed and that she’d left the shop to me, I knew it would look even worse, so I started lying.”
Hadley wanted to relax, but she also wasn’t a fool and knew Louise could be putting on an act just as easily as she could cast on a hundred stitches or more.
“I swear she was still alive when I left her house that morning.” Louise shook her head, and a tear fell down her cheek.
Tears seemed to be the one thing Hadley couldn’t quite handle. No one would ever cry alone around Hadley. The reaction was akin to watching someone yawn and finding herself yawning the next moment. She’d never been able to stop it.
In an attempt to steel her silly emotions, she said, “If that’s the case, why were you in Cascade Ridge the other day, talking with the company who was trying to force her out of her house?”
Louise blinked, inhaling quickly. “You—how—I didn’t—” she sputtered.
“Cut the act. Suze and I saw you.” Hadley stared her down.
“That’s not exactly my secret to share, you see.” She tightened her hands around the mug in her lap.
Hadley sighed. “Look, Paul’s pretty sure that whoever killed Edith had something to do with that company, so whomever you’re protecting could be the killer, if you say you aren’t.”
Eyes wide, Louise nodded. “Okay, I—”
Her sentence was cut off by a loud banging on Hadley’s front door. She couldn’t help but feel a trace of frustration along with relief at hearing that sound. It must be Paul; he’d gotten her twin vibes. But darned if he wasn’t interrupting the moment Louise was about to spill the one thing that might help them catch the real killer, if it wasn’t her.
