“Your research really is impressive. Yes, it was over by then. To Maggie, that made it even more personal. How dare someone like Abby reject someone as wonderful as Reid? I got the distinct impression Maggie had a very vengeful streak in her.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that I’ve always wondered if Maggie Lonergan was behind your mother’s disappearance.”
The statement caught me by surprise. During our run in Muskoka, Melanie had demanded I stop investigating. At the time I believed she was protecting Reid, but it was equally possible she’d been protecting her sister. Another thought occurred to me.
“Who told you that Maggie was in love with Reid?
“Another volunteer at the food bank. A woman by the name of Misty Rivers. Claimed to be a psychic.”
Misty Rivers. Again.
“How would Misty Rivers know?”
“They grew up on the same street in Marketville, back when it was a really small town. Reid and Melanie were high school seniors when they started dating. Maggie and Misty were a year younger, and close friends at the time. By the time I interviewed them, the friendship was over. From what I could gather, neither sister had much time for Misty’s so-called mystic abilities.”
I rubbed my temples, trying to fight off the headache I knew was coming, and trying to make sense of everything Gloria Grace had told me so far.
“You believe Maggie might be behind my mother’s disappearance. Where do you think my mother went that day?”
Gloria Grace shook her head. “I wish I knew. I tracked down every lead, no matter how slim. Nothing. The police also came up empty-handed. It was if she just vanished in thin air.”
“But people don’t just disappear into thin air.”
“No, they don’t.”
“What do you make of Dwayne Shuter leaving on the same day?”
Now it was Gloria Grace’s turn to look surprised. “Dwayne Shuter? I don’t recall any Dwayne Shuter.”
I filled her in. Told her how he’d been a witness at my parents’ wedding. How he’d had an affair with Melanie. How he’d left the same day as my mother. How I’d seen his picture in the Christmas food bank photo, and later on, on LinkedIn, where his occupation was listed at site supervisor at the same company as my dad had worked when he died. How, despite repeated efforts, he was not returning my calls. By the time I was done talking, I realized that Dwayne Shuter looked very guilty indeed.
Gloria Grace reached the same conclusion, although she was none to happy about it. “I don’t know how I missed Dwayne Shuter,” she lamented, buttering the other blueberry scone and offering half to me. I waved it off. The last thing I needed was more starch and sugar.
“Well, to be fair, he had left Marketville,” I said, dabbing on the balm. “In all likelihood he and Melanie kept the affair a deep secret. I don’t even think Maggie knew. And if Misty knew—”
“You’re right. If Misty had known, she’d have told me in a heartbeat.” She sighed and took a bite out of her scone. “We need to find a way to get this Dwayne Shuter to talk to you.”
I had to smile at that. “We, Gloria Grace?”
“Yes, we. I always finish what I start, Callie, and I’ve been waiting to write the ending of this story for thirty years. Now, what else can you tell me, so we can get started?”
I thought about the tarot cards. The four seasons of a happy family photographs. The silver locket from Reid. The letter from my father. The photo in the Sun of Misty with Leith Hampton. For the first time since I’d started on this journey, I was ready to show my collection of clues to someone. Who better than the reporter who’d been there at the beginning of it all?
“It’s not what I can tell you, so much, Gloria Grace, as what I can show you.”
“These things, did you bring them with you?”
“I did.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
Chapter 54
“I found these in the attic,” I said, laying out the four seasons photographs of our family on the kitchen table. I left out the part of finding them inside a coffin in the attic. There were some things just too weird to try and explain. “The next-door neighbor, Ella Cole, took these in 1985. The location is the elementary school where the Canada Day tree planting took place. You interviewed Ella for the Marketville Post.”
“I remember her,” Gloria Grace said. “She was a bit of a gossip, as I recall.”
“Still is, though I don’t think there’s anything mean-spirited about her.”
“Why did she take the photos?”
“Ella claims to be an amateur photographer. According to her, my mother asked her if she’d do the series. Ella said she didn’t question why, that she was honored to be asked.”
“She’s a good photographer. Caught the nuances of each face, used the lighting to her best advantage. None of that explains the why of it.”
“It’s possible my mother was trying to create a time capsule. It’s also possible she just wanted to reassure herself everything was back to normal. From what Reid told me, she’d broken up with him in January 1985. From what Ella told me, my mother approached her that February.”
“Hmmm… I suppose that’s one possible explanation. What else do you have in that bag of tricks?”
I put the photographs back in my purse and took out the envelope containing the tarot cards and the locket. “I was stripping out the old carpet in the living room—there’s hardwood under there I want to get refinished. Anyway, I found this envelope.”
“How old was the carpet?”
“Original to the house, if you can believe that. I’m sure whoever hid this envelope either expected to come back or expected someone to find it long before now.”
Gloria Grace nodded. “That’s a valid point. I take it that you think your mother hid the envelope?”
“I do, though I don’t have anything concrete to back that up.”
“Okay. Let’s see what you have in there.”
I started with the five tarot cards, laying them in the order listed on the paper they were wrapped in. “I’ve consulted with a tarot card reader, a woman by the name of Jessica Tamarand, goes by the name of Randi, who coincidentally, was also a tenant at Sixteen Snapdragon Circle about four years ago.”
“You’re sure it’s a coincidence? Did it ever occur to you that she might have been the one to hide the cards?”
I shook my head. “I don’t see it. Randi was just twelve when her family moved to Marketville. She didn’t even realize that the house she was renting was the house my mother had disappeared from, though she remembered the story because it made her parents second-guess their decision to move to Marketville. She said the house had a bad aura, made worse when Ella Cole came around, so she broke her lease agreement early and moved out. She seemed very sincere.”
“I’m sure she did.”
I looked down at my shoes and tried to think of something to say. Gloria Grace took pity on me.
“Let me go through my notes. The Tamarand name doesn’t sound familiar, but I might have something on the family.”
“Thank you.”
Gloria Grace fingered the cards, tapping the images one at a time. “The Empress, The Emperor, The Lovers, The Three of Swords, and the Death card. What did Randi have to say about the cards?”
“She said whoever sent them selected them for their obvious imagery, versus any real knowledge of tarot. I thought perhaps Reid had sent them, because of this.” I handed her the locket. “There’s a picture of Reid inside, with an inscription to Abby. When I confronted Reid about it, he said he’d never seen it before. Furthermore, he claims the note isn’t his handwriting, but an attempt to copy it.”
“Let me guess,” Gloria Grace said with a smile. “He seemed sincere.”
I felt the color rise in my face. “I must seem like a complete fool.”
“No, just someone very trusting, and perhaps a little naïve. But let’s take Reid at his word. If he didn’t give your moth
er the locket, who did, and why would they go to the trouble of making her believe the locket came from him? What purpose could it serve?”
I shook my head, my frustration mounting. “I don’t know. The cards might have been sent to scare her, but the locket wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Exactly. When I was a journalist, if something didn’t make sense, it usually meant I was looking at the situation in the wrong way.”
I mulled over the possibilities. Earlier Gloria Grace had suggested that Randi might have hidden the tarot cards. I still didn’t believe Randi would have done such a thing, but I could think of one person who had the means, motive, and opportunity.
Misty Rivers. The only question was whether Leith was her accomplice.
Chapter 55
“I have an idea of who might have hidden the envelope,” I said.
“I thought you might, once you considered the possibility that it wasn’t your mother,” Gloria Grace said. “Care to share?”
I wanted to, I really did. I also knew it wouldn’t be right to make unfounded accusations. I needed to confront Misty Rivers first. How I was going to do that remained to be seen. What Misty told me would also determine how, or if, I approached Leith about his prior relationship with the self-proclaimed psychic. It might even be possible that Misty hid the envelope on Leith’s instruction.
“I’m sorry. I dragged you back into this and now I’m being secretive, but I need to speak to the person first.”
“I respect your position, Callie. Just be careful.”
I was tired of being told to be careful, but I nodded anyway. I’d come here hoping to learn something, anything, that might help me, and I’d learned a lot. I didn’t want Gloria Grace to think I was ungrateful. Besides, there was more that I wanted to show her.
“I have one final printout. It’s from the March second issue of the Toronto Star.” I slid the photocopy across the table and waited while she read the article.
“You can almost feel the tension,” Gloria Grace said. “I’m guessing they weren’t too pleased with the coverage, but they probably didn’t want to make a scene.” She flipped the copy back to me. “You take after your grandmother.”
“Did you ever meet them? My grandparents?”
“No. In fact, that was one of the things about this story that bothered me.”
“In what way?”
“It didn’t take me long to find out that your mother’s parents were Corbin and Yvette Osgoode of Moore Gate Manor in Lakeside. I’ll admit I was surprised. Nothing about your parents’ house indicated coming from that sort of affluence.”
“They were estranged. Didn’t approve of my dad, the wedding, or my being born.”
“That would explain the quash.”
“The quash?”
“I told my editor I’d found another angle for the story, and that the Osgoodes were it. At first he seemed enthusiastic. A couple of hours later he came back and told me in no uncertain terms to back off. There was to be no mention of either Corbin or Yvette. Nor was I to approach them.”
“Why would he want to stop an interview? If nothing else, it could have strung the story along.”
“A large media conglomerate owns the Marketville Post, along with a number of other regional newspapers and magazines. Osgoode Construction was a big advertiser in Home and Builder, one of its major trade and consumer publications—when it comes to print, it’s usually trade or consumer, but Home and Builder had a glossy magazine format for each market. I suspect Corbin threatened to stop advertising if the Post went down that road. At the time, I figured the Osgoodes just wanted privacy during a difficult time, and since my editor assured me they knew nothing, I let it go. It rankled, but I had to drop it if I wanted to keep my job. Which I did. I’ve never felt right about it.”
“Did your editor make a habit of interfering in your articles?”
Gloria Grace shook her head. “Never. That was the one and only time.”
Now that was interesting. I filled her in on Yvette’s impromptu visit. “I don’t think she was involved in stopping your investigation or your story,” I finished. “Corbin, on the other hand, it’s entirely plausible.”
“Makes you wonder what he was afraid I’d find out.”
“Do you think you’d be willing to try now, all these years later? I mean, you’re not working for the Post any longer.”
Gloria Grace smiled, a glint brightening her pale brown eyes to amber. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 56
Gloria Grace’s promise to follow through on Corbin Osgoode had done wonders for my peace of mind. For the first time since I’d moved to Marketville, I woke up ready to face Misty Rivers.
She answered her phone on the second ring. “Hello, Callie.”
Damn call display. Ruined any element of surprise. “Hi Misty. I’m wondering if you had some time to stop by. I have some questions. About my mother.” Among other things.
“You’re in luck. I’ve got nothing planned for today that can’t be shifted to another. I can swing by this morning if that works.”
“It does. Thank you.”
Misty was at my door within the hour. She had managed to squeeze into a pair of black jeans that were ten years and ten pounds away from the present. The jeans were topped off with a rainbow-colored crocheted sweater that looked homemade and probably was. The inky blue nail polish had been changed to black with silver glitter at the tips.
“Misty. Thanks for coming.” I led her into the kitchen. “Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee or tea?”
“Do you have milk yet?” Said with the hint of a smile, but it was a definite dig in reference to our first meeting. What Misty was telling me in a not-so-subtle way was that she remembered how dismissive I’d been. I let it go.
“I do indeed. I also have some store-bought chocolate chip cookies.”
“Then coffee please. One sugar. I’ll pass on the cookies, much as I’d love one. I should probably pass on the sugar, too, but can’t seem to manage it.” Misty looked down at her too-tight jeans and shifted in her seat. “I’m trying to lose a bit of weight. Unfortunately, it keeps finding me.”
Could this woman actually read my mind? Or had I stared at those jeans without realizing it? I got the coffeemaker going, put the mugs, milk, and sugar on the bistro table, all the while trying to steady my nerves. Watched as the coffee dripped, dripped, dripped.
Misty reached for the milk and sugar, poured some of each into her empty mug, and stirred the contents into a thick paste. “On the phone you said you had some questions for me.”
I poured the coffee, tried to keep my hands steady and my voice calm. “Actually, I have some things to show you if that’s okay.”
“I’m more than happy to help.”
I went to the cupboard where I’d hidden everything inside the cereal box—admittedly feeling a bit 007. I took out the locket and tarot cards and placed them on the table. “I found these in an envelope, hidden under the living room carpet. At first I thought my mother had hidden them there but I no longer believe that.”
“What do you believe?” Misty’s black eyes narrowed.
“That you placed them there, knowing I’d rip up the carpet in short order.”
Misty clapped softly, her silver-tipped fingernails sparkling in the kitchen’s soft light. “I wondered when you’d figure that out. I thought I might have given myself away when I mentioned the envelope the last time I was here. I saw you’d been tearing up the carpet and knew you must have found it.”
“So you covered up the slip by claiming to have psychic vision.”
“Guilty as charged, though in my defense, I do have some psychic abilities. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t show me the locket and tarot cards there and then. Why wait until now?”
“I’d just found the envelope. It didn’t even have a chance to process what I’d seen, let alone show it to anyone. I didn’t know whether I could trust you
. I knew my father had, but he was dead, and I’m not convinced that his fall was an accident. Add to the mix that Leith seemed skeptical about you and your psychic abilities and you can understand my hesitation.”
“Leith was skeptical?”
“Yes,” I said, not sure why that was the point Misty had zoned in on. “Why, does that matter?”
“No, I’m just surprised. He never seemed like a doubter to me. Go on.”
“After you left, I checked the peephole in the door. I could see right into the kitchen. I figured you’d seen me hiding the envelope in the cupboard. That really gave rise to my suspicions.”
“I didn’t look through the peephole and see you hide it, but I can certainly see where you would have arrived at that conclusion.” Misty leaned back in her chair, her eyes piercing in their appraisal. “You trust me now, though. At least enough to invite me here and do a show and tell. What’s changed?”
“I met with Gloria Grace Pietrangelo yesterday.”
No reaction beyond a shrug.
“You might remember her as G. G. Pietrangelo.” Still no reaction from Misty. “She used to write for the Marketville Post. She covered my mother’s disappearance extensively.”
A flicker of recognition in the inky black eyes. A nod. “I remember her now. Weird eyes. Pale brown, a hint of amber. Skinny. She was very intense.”
“She’s chilled out some,” I said, trying to imagine a skinny Gloria Grace. I couldn’t. “The way I figure it, there was only one person with the means, motive, and opportunity to hide that envelope. That was you. You lived here. You were into tarot. You worked with my mother at the food bank. What I haven’t been able to figure out is why.”
Misty nodded her approval. “I admire your powers of deductive reasoning, not to mention your investigative research. As for the why, it’s a long story that goes an even longer way back. I think I’ll take you up on the offer of chocolate chip cookies after all.”
Skeletons in the Attic (A Marketville Mystery Book 1) Page 23
