“I’ve been thinking a lot about the fall festival, where I first saw Philip,” Abbie said. “He was acting odd there. I didn’t realize it at the time because I was so traumatized to see him and distracted with signing my books. But I realized he left very abruptly after he mumbled something about getting back to me.”
I tapped my pen on my notebook. “This could have something to do with the past.” I told Abbie about the Adlers.
She nodded. “They did hate him. I was never sure why.”
I had a sudden, brilliant idea. “Do you think his mother would talk to me? June?”
Abbie’s face lit up. “Yes, I think she would.”
“Will you call her and ask her and then let me know? Would you feel awkward doing that?”
“No. We do talk now and then.”
“Do you want to go with me to see her?”
Abbie shook her head violently. “No. She and I have already agreed that to see each other right now would be too emotional.”
I glanced at my watch. “I need to get Charlie at the YMCA. He’s there with Mike. I also need to pick up Chris from the sitter. And Sammie will be home shortly. Oh.” I reached into my purse, pulled out the button, and held it out to her. “I found one of your buttons in the parking lot of the church hall. It must have fallen off the other night. It’s flattened. I don’t think you can do much with it.”
“Thanks,” she said as she took it from my hand. Her cell phone rang. When she answered, she paled, said, “Yes. . .yes,” then hung up.
“That was the state police. They’re coming to get me to take me down for more questioning.” She took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know if I’m going to survive this.”
I wanted to take Abbie’s place and face down Detective Reid, but I knew I couldn’t.
“This makes me all the more determined to find out who killed Philip,” I said. “I’ve waited a long time for you to be happy. You are going to get married in a little over two weeks.”
When I picked up Chris from the sitter, he didn’t want to leave and pitched a fit. I had mixed emotions about that, which, given my desire to go back to work, was amusing. The mother ego part of me wanted him to be clingy. The other part of me was relieved that he was happy with Gladys. That meant I was free to pursue a new job after I solved Philip’s murder.
Gladys laughed as she handed my grumpy son to me, wrapped up in his coat. “He’s a cute one. And such a good boy.” For everyone but his family, I thought as he drilled his heels into my sides and complained in my ear. Her smile suddenly died. “Trish, you’ve got to do something about your mother and Gail. This disagreement of theirs has gone on long enough. It’s starting to impact everything, including the church. The phone lines are burning up.”
I was surprised by her vehemence. “What can I do?”
“Really, it’s your responsibility as your mother’s daughter to help her. You can start by trying to talk some sense into both of them. This is just not a healthy situation. Not in any way, shape, or form.”
I fought resentment a few minutes later as I tucked Chris into his car seat. Gladys’s words settled around me like a noose. How was resolving my mother’s fight with Gail my responsibility? They were both adults. And I doubted I would be able to talk sense into either woman, as stubborn as they were.
I picked up Charlie and made it home just in time for Sammie to arrive. I fed everyone snacks and put an exhausted Chris down for a nap. Then I began to prepare dinner. Not exactly from scratch, since I was making spaghetti with bottled sauce and frozen meatballs, but at least I was cooking instead of ordering pizza.
While the sauce simmered, I put water on to boil for the noodles. Then I sat at the table with my notebook.
After reading through what I’d already written, I jotted down kitty litter and thought about that. Weird that it would be next to Philip’s body. Especially since he was shot from the woods. Where had the litter come from? Had it been on someone’s shoes? Philip’s? Or someone else’s?
I tapped the pen on the paper. The kitty litter was definitely a clue. How, I wasn’t sure. But I needed suspects. The one thing Gladys had said that really made sense to me was to look for people who were strangers in town. Clark was one, and he’d definitely been exposed to kitty litter because of the busted bags he’d delivered to the Adlers’ store.
Then there were the Adlers, who had hated Philip for years.
Kitty litter. I frowned. The water for my spaghetti began to boil. I jumped up from the table and put noodles in the pot. As I stirred the sauce, I watched the pasta turning over and over in the water. That’s how my brain felt. Like my thoughts were tangled, churning spaghetti noodles. I hoped I could think straight quickly enough to solve this mystery before my best friend’s wedding date.
Chris had more sauce from his chopped-up spaghetti on his mouth than in it. Max smiled at him, and he grinned back. “Dadadadadada.”
“He’s happy tonight,” Max said as if that had never occurred before.
“I think he likes the babysitter,” I said. “He didn’t want to leave.”
Charlie was pushing his spaghetti around on his plate, for once not stuffing his face so fast that remnants landed on his chin.
“Are you feeling okay, honey?” I asked. I was trying to be as normal as possible for my family.
His mouth twisted into a terrible frown. “When is Aunt Abbie going to jail?”
Sammie’s mouth dropped open, and she turned to Charlie, big blue eyes filling with tears. “Aunt Abbie is going to jail?”
Charlie nodded solemnly. “I heard in school she killed her husband.”
“But Aunt Abbie doesn’t have a husband yet,” Sammie said. “Did she kill Uncle Eric?”
I glanced desperately at Max. We’d foolishly put off telling the little kids about Abbie, thinking the news wouldn’t spread that fast. I didn’t know how to tell them. I was afraid I’d cry, and I didn’t want them to know how upset I was.
“Aunt Abbie didn’t kill anyone,” Max said. “Yesterday, Aunt Abbie’s ex-husband, Philip, was killed. That’s all.”
“Yeah, but I heard that she shot him—”
“She didn’t,” Max told Charlie firmly. “You know your aunt Abbie wouldn’t do anything like that.”
Sammie looked at me for confirmation.
“It’s true.” I forced myself to smile. “Aunt Abbie didn’t shoot anyone. Now I have a great idea. Do you guys remember that cornfield maze we went to last year?”
The kids’ expressions immediately brightened.
“I thought maybe we could go this weekend.” I glanced at Max. “Friday night?”
He nodded. “Excellent idea. We’ll do the maze, take a hay ride, eat s’mores, and drink hot chocolate.”
Maybe by then, Philip’s murder would be solved. I could only hope.
After dinner, I gave Abbie a quick call to make sure she had survived her time at the state police barracks. She was as good as could be expected. She said that Eric was on his way to her house. He’d read her e-mail, and everything was okay; I knew she’d be in good hands. She also told me that she had spoken with June, who said she’d be delighted to meet with me. After Abbie gave me June’s phone number, we exchanged “I love you’s” and hung up.
Max and I went to the living room while Sammie and Charlie cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen. Chris was in his high chair in the kitchen with the kids, so Max and I could have a few moments of alone time.
“That was a good meal.” He sat on the sofa, and I dropped down next to him. “And a good idea about the cornfield maze. The kids will love it.”
“I think we all will.”
“How is Abbie?” he asked. “Does she need a lawyer?”
“I’m afraid she’s going to.” I told him about my visit and how she’d been called to the state police barracks.
“It’s not unusual in a case like this that she would be questioned over and over again, especially given what you’ve told me.” He took
my hand. “You’re still investigating this?”
“Yes, I am. But I do have some news that might make you feel better about it. Corporal Fletcher is working with me to find out more about Philip’s murder.”
“Oh?” Max’s surprise was evident by his raised brows. “That’s a little. . .irregular, isn’t it? Like, against the rules?”
I smiled at his choice of words. “Yes, it is irregular. He could get in trouble if someone knew. Like fired. I’m the only one who knows. And now you know, but he made me promise we wouldn’t say a word.”
“I certainly won’t,” Max said. “This means you’re just collecting clues, right? He’ll handle the tough stuff?”
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure what Max meant by “the tough stuff,” but agreeing with his summation was the easiest thing to do.
He bent down to kiss me, which is normally one of my very favorite activities, but because I was too distracted to indulge, I didn’t encourage him.
He lifted his head. “I guess that means you’re not done talking?”
“No,” I said.
He sighed. “Okay.”
“Do you remember Ma’s neighbor Gladys?”
“You mean the one whose shed you almost burned down when you were eight and decided you needed to learn how to smoke?”
I slapped his arm. “Don’t remind me of my past. I wasn’t always a good kid.”
“Wasn’t always a good kid?” he asked. “How about hardly ever? Your middle name was Trouble.”
At my frown, he laughed. “It’s true. And you can’t say you’re not glad our kids aren’t like you.”
“Well, that’s true. I am glad.” I couldn’t imagine being mother to a child like I had been. But then, my parents were a little odd. Ma always sniped at me, and my daddy spoiled me rotten. I was blessed to have grown up semi-normal, although I was still prone to personality issues that I was trying to work on with God’s help. Like selfishness.
“So what about Gladys?” Max asked.
“I think I’m going to leave Chris there when I go back to work part-time.”
Max’s smile died. “I didn’t know your working was a done deal. We haven’t really discussed it.”
“Yes, we have.” I leaned against his shoulder. “Remember? I told you I want to work at Cunningham and Son.”
He shook his head. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mention that again. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Well, we worked together at Self-Storage.”
He sighed. “Yes, but I was only there sometimes while we were building the other facilities.” He paused and squeezed my hand. “I’m worried about it affecting our relationship.”
I sat up straight. “But we get along well. . .okay, most of the time.”
He stared at me. “I’m just not sure we’d get along working together and living together.”
“Does that mean I’m quarrelsome?”
He sighed. “I’m not sure I can explain it right now. Besides, my father wants me to consider a new partner.”
“I want to be your new partner,” I said.
Max avoided my eyes. “Dad has several people in mind. My mother is pushing one in particular, and he doesn’t want to battle her.”
“Your dad is basically retired, isn’t he? How can he make suggestions like that?”
“He’s still on the board of directors. And he’s still my adviser.”
I pulled my hand from his. “So a new partner would be someone who isn’t family?”
“Yes. You know who he is. Leighton Whitmore.”
“Leighton Whitmore?”
“Yes. I’m not sure about him. I’m still looking into his background and experience.” He stared at the wall over my head for a moment then looked back at me. “I’m sorry.”
Irritation slapped at me like ocean waves, each one stronger than the last. “You know I’m good at what I do, Max. Accounting. Running an office. And I was great with the customers at Four Oaks Self-Storage. It’s not like I’m a loose cannon or something. And I care for the company. A stranger would never care like I do.”
Max stroked a piece of hair out of my face. “Honey, think about your talents. You have all sorts of options.”
He was using his soothing voice. The one he used with the children when they were unreasonable.
I scooted away from him. “And what would those talents be? Why don’t you tell me since you’re such a know-it-all? Do you mean doing laundry, cooking dinner, and taking care of the children?”
“You know I don’t mean that,” he said. “Although all of those are commendable qualities and nothing to be ashamed of.”
I took a deep breath and tried to regain my composure, but I couldn’t. Too many emotions and conflicts warred in me, and worry about Abbie was top on the list.
I jumped to my feet. “I need to take a bath now.”
“Trish. . .” Max reached out a placating hand.
“It’s fine. We can talk later. Seriously. I don’t want to quarrel.”
To his credit, he just let me go. I knew I was being unfair by walking out, but I didn’t want to chance a fight. I felt ready to snap.
As I stepped into the tub, Gladys’s last words about my mother crept back into my mind. Why was it my responsibility to fix the problem between Ma and Gail? What could I do, really?
And then there was my mother-in-law, Angelica. Our relationship had been strained since the day I met her. Her digs at me hurt. She’d made it very clear I wasn’t the ideal daughter-in-law. I had responded by shutting her out of my life and, to a degree, out of the kids’ lives. I had a feeling that God was dealing with me about my relationship with Angelica. The problem was, I didn’t want to listen.
I deliberately turned my mind to other things, and in just a few minutes, the heat of the bathwater began to loosen the tension in my muscles. I let my brain run on autopilot. I thought about Abbie, Philip, the Adlers, Clark, kitty litter, and Cunningham and Son. How could Max be thinking about hiring someone like Leighton? He wasn’t family. He wasn’t even from around here. They’d just moved here from. . . I sat up abruptly, splashing the floor with water. Leighton and Hayley had lived in New York City. They were new in town. He was a hunter and owned rifles. And they had kitty litter.
What connection would they have with Philip? Or did I just want them to be guilty of something because the Cunninghams thought they were so perfect?
Chapter Eleven
It was Thursday morning—two weeks and two days before Abbie’s wedding. Once again, I’d slept fitfully. While the kids got ready for school, I sat at the table in the kitchen and perused my clue notebook
Under Suspects, I quickly jotted down Hayley and Leighton Whitmore before I could lecture myself about being biased. Instead, I told myself that a good sleuth follows up all possible leads, no matter what.
When Max walked into the kitchen in a classic gray suit, I murmured hello but kept my eyes on my words. I was still slightly irritated with him.
He bent over to kiss my temple. “I’m sorry about last night. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I might have a job idea for you. Just let me think a little bit more, okay?”
I glanced up at him in surprise. “Really? At Cunningham and Son?”
“Yes and no.” He grinned. “I’m not going to say anything else right now, so don’t ask.”
He disappeared through the door to the garage. I felt humbled, and self-reproach knocked aside my self-righteous crankiness. Max loved me. Enough to allow me to be happy, despite what he wanted. Love sometimes means making choices we don’t want to make for the sake of someone else. Doing things we don’t want to do. I had a feeling this was a lesson the Lord was trying to teach me. And class wasn’t over yet.
Maybe I could hurry my lesson along by trying to help my mother. My first stop after dropping off Chris at the sitter’s would be to visit Gail. Maybe I could make a difference.
Gail’s house had once stood alone in the middle of ten acres, but as her f
amily grew, she and her husband had subdivided the property, giving each child an acre on which to build a home. That said something about her that went beyond her weirdness and sniping at me. She was loyal to the people she loved, and they returned that loyalty. That was another reason I was surprised by the intensity of the bitterness between her and Ma.
I pulled into the driveway and saw a curtain twitch on one of the front windows. When I got to the door, I rang the bell and waited. Finally, Gail opened the door just enough for me to see her.
“What do you want? If your mother sent you, you can tell her to be happy with Linda.”
“She didn’t send me,” I said. “I came on my own.”
Gail didn’t move; she just stood like a sentry at the door.
“Can I please come in and talk?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re sure you’re not here because your mother sent you?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I was trying to think of something that would make her open the door to me. And something that would start the conversation without talking directly about her and Ma. “I—I want to talk to you about Linda.”
The mention of Linda’s name lit a fire in Gail’s eyes. I’d said the right thing. She flung the door open and motioned for me to come in.
“Just go to the living room.” She nodded to a room to the left where a soap opera played on the television. “You want anything to drink?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you. I won’t be long.”
I sat on a beige and blue plaid couch. She dropped heavily into a beige recliner. I looked at her more closely, concerned by the lines in her face. Despite her propensity for joining my mother in marathon Trish-sniping sessions, I liked her. Probably because she’d been my mother’s faithful friend for longer than I could remember. Loyalty is something I prize.
“Now,” she said, “what do you want to know about that tramp?”
“Linda?”
“Certainly. There aren’t any other tramps we were talking about, are there?”
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