“Are you kidding me?”
Meeka yelped and leapt off her cushion. The poor half-asleep dog tore around the apartment, searching for whatever the problem was. I caught her as she rushed from the living area back into the bedroom. Her little heart thumped hard inside her ribcage.
“Easy, girl. Everything’s okay.” I rubbed her ears and scratched her chest. “I’m sorry.”
After another few seconds, she calmed down. Then, she glared at me.
“I said I was sorry.” I opened the french doors so she could go out. As she left, she looked over her shoulder at me and snorted. I apologized again by placing one of Violet’s biscuits on top of the kibble in her breakfast dish.
After a quick shower, I ran across the yard to grab breakfast and hopefully beat Reed into the station. Really though, at this point, there wasn’t much I could do; he had either read them or he hadn’t. Would he do that? Would he go into my office and read something that was obviously personal?
I opened the back door to the house and found two figures sitting at the breakfast bar. One I was familiar with. The one sitting next to Tripp I didn’t know.
Approximately five foot six, long wavy auburn hair, tiny waist.
“Good morning,” I greeted with an elevated voice as neither of them seemed to have heard the firm closing of the door when I entered.
Tripp startled and jumped off the bar stool. “Jayne. Good morning. This is Alex.”
The woman sitting next to Tripp turned around with a big smile full of gleaming white teeth. And rather large boobs held captive in a one-size-too-small tank top.
“Alex is the tiler I told you I was going to hire,” Tripp explained like we had just talked about her.
I paused and thought. “You said you’d hire someone. I don’t recall hearing a name.” Turning on cop mode, because Sheriff Jayne could handle anything while Regular Jayne suffered from all kinds of insecurity, I held my hand out to Alex. “Jayne O’Shea. I own the property. Actually, I own all of the property Whispering Pines sits on.”
That was childish. And besides, my dad owned it. I didn’t own anything. Yet.
A sunbeam blinded me when it reflected off her big white teeth. Alex shook my hand like she was one of the guys, giving me one of those sideward slap-shakes with a few enthusiastic arm pumps. She smelled fresh, like bedsheets dried in the sun.
“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard the O’Shea name. And Tripp has told me so much about you.”
She had the sweetest little hint of a southern accent. Must’ve made her irresistible to the crew.
I forced my mouth into a tight smile then tugged my hand free of Alex’s and continued to the counter to fill a travel mug. I had a feeling this would be a two or three extra-large coffee day. Then I went to the refrigerator. “Do we have any of those breakfast sandwiches left?”
“No. I ate them for lunch yesterday.” Tripp gave me a pointed look. “Your dinner plate from last night is still in there, though.”
Was that a dig? On the way home last night, first walking in the rain from Morgan’s house to the parking lot and then driving the short distance from there, I thought about Tripp. I’d thought about him off and on all day. Jonah had hurt me, and I was taking it out on Tripp. I needed to let that go and move forward. As I’d planned while sitting on the patio yesterday morning, I was going to talk to Tripp, but both the house and his trailer were dark when I got here, so I decided not to disturb him.
“I got home late.”
“Must’ve been really late.” Tripp took his seat next to Alex again. “I didn’t even hear your car.”
Was he irritated with me? He was sitting next to the Goddess of Tile, and he was irritated with me?
“You know how my job is. Gotta catch those killers.” I glanced between the two of them, shoulders practically touching. “What are you two working on so early in the morning?”
Oh god. Did she stay over? Flustered by this possibility, I reached into the refrigerator and blindly grabbed breakfast. I heard Tripp’s voice but not the words he was saying. All I could think was that Alex had spent the night in Tripp’s trailer. Guess that’s what I got for being gone so much.
Like that was my fault. Working all hours of the day was the reality of the job.
Well, really it was kind of my fault. I didn’t have to accept the position.
“Jayne.” Tripp grabbed my arm and stopped me at the back door. “What’s the matter?”
“What makes you think something’s the matter?”
“Because you’re holding a package of ground beef, an uncooked egg, and a cucumber.” He glanced down at my hands. “Interesting breakfast choice, but if that works for you . . .”
And I left my coffee sitting on the counter. Next to Alex. I shoved everything into his hands. “Guess I’m distracted by this case. I’ll grab something at the Bean Grinder. You should get back to whatever it is you’re doing with Alex.”
I was outside with the door halfway closed when Tripp said something that sounded like “planning a fling.” I pulled the door all the way shut, gave him a half-hearted wave, and rushed over to the Cherokee. Once there, I realized I didn’t have Meeka’s leash. Or Meeka.
~~~
Relieved to find that Reed wasn’t at the station yet, I rushed inside, flicked on the lights in my office, and found the journals stacked in a neat little pile at the center of my desk. My shoulders dropped, like one of those giant balloon people deflating. Maybe he had just straightened up for me. Or maybe he’d read every word. Which he couldn’t be mad at me about; I didn’t write them.
Before I could deal with another thing, I needed coffee.
“Hey, Jayne,” Violet chirped as I entered Ye Olde Bean Grinder.
“Planning the tiling,” I blurted as I realized what Tripp had really said.
Confused, and probably a little concerned, Violet blinked and said, “What?”
“Nothing. Just a frustrating start to the day.”
She put the smile back on her face. “What can I make you this morning?”
The aroma that permeated the shop inside soothed me. Like the ghosts of a million coffee beans had just wrapped me in a hug. I needed that.
“My usual today, please.” I calmed further at the thought of the extra-large mocha that would be in my hands in a minute.
Like any good barista/therapist, the ever-inquisitive Violet had already noted my demeanor. “Long night? No offense, but you look a little haggard this morning. What’s going on?”
“Oh, you know.” I shrugged, dismissing the question as I lifted the cover of the scone container on the counter in front of me. “What are my choices today?”
“Sugar’s raspberry almond buttermilk have been so popular, we’re keeping them stocked. The other is an orange scone with dark chocolate chips.”
I took my time selecting one of each scone, hoping she’d move past me and my haggard appearance. That hope was dashed as she secured a lid on my coffee cup and, with an expectant look on her face, clutched the cup on the far side of the counter where I couldn’t reach it. I could throw myself across and snatch it, but that would not be respectable sheriff behavior.
Giving in, I explained, “I reopened a case. There are a lot of pieces to this puzzle and it’s got me a little stumped.”
She nodded like she understood. And sure enough, she did. “Your grandma’s case.”
“How do you know that?”
“I was out for a walk last night and ended up over by The Triangle. I ran into Effie and she mentioned that she was a little worried about you.” She paused until she had my full attention. “Does she have a reason to be worried about you?”
The greatest thing about this village was how everyone cared so much about each other. There were a couple of outliers that came to mind—instantly, Flavia and Donovan—but overall it was one big family.
“No.” I gave a grateful smile. “There’s no reason to worry about me. Yes, I reopened Gran’s case. There’s a coverup of
some kind going on, I’m sure of it.” Damn. I didn’t mean to say that much. “We’ll keep that between us, right?”
Violet did her version of zipping and locking her lips, which was to wiggle her fingers in front of her mouth.
“Don’t think you’re alone with your concern, Jayne,” she said. “You know how much we loved Lucy.”
“Most of you,” I amended. “Clearly, at least one person had a big problem with her.”
“Just promise me you won’t take all of this on yourself. If you need us, we’ll help you in any way we can. Just say the word.”
She slid my coffee across the counter to me but didn’t release the cup until I agreed I’d ask for help.
“Thank you, Violet. I need to get to work.” I held up my cup of coffee. “I’ll probably be by for another one of these later.”
Meeka and I hurried back to the station, where I was relieved to find that Reed still wasn’t there. Was he coming in today? Or ever again? What if he was in cahoots with his mother and was involved with Gran’s death? What if Flavia pushed me to rehire him so she could have someone on the inside? It wouldn’t be the first time. She had Sheriff Brighton wrapped around her pinky finger.
I sat at my desk, slowly eating my scones and staring at the stack of journals while wondering what my deputy’s mood would be if he came back to work. I had finished the raspberry-almond and was two bites into the orange with dark chocolate when the back door opened. Should I go out and confront him or wait for him to come to me? That decision was made when Reed immediately came into my office and sat in the chair across from me.
“My mother said you stopped by yesterday.”
“I did.” Regular Jayne squirmed inside while Sheriff Jayne reminded her that there was no reason to feel bad about investigating a case.
“She says you accused her of killing your grandmother.”
I finished chewing and swallowed. “Martin, did you read the journals?”
He flushed bright red. “You’ve been so obsessed with those things for the last few days. Curiosity was killing me. I didn’t read all of them, but I picked up the open one and saw my mother’s name on the page. I backed up to the start of the entry you were reading. Kind of a shocker.”
I didn’t like him going through my stuff, but he did have the right to know what was going on in the station. I decided to bring him in on the case.
“Flavia tells me she didn’t do it. She insists she didn’t kill that girl, Priscilla, forty years ago.”
“She didn’t want to talk about it much, but she said the girl’s death was an accident.”
“It could have been. There was no investigation, so I have no proof either way. The thing is, I think that Priscilla’s and my grandmother’s deaths are linked somehow. That means someone from The Pack, the group that your mother and my father hung out with, could be a killer.” I took a sip from my mocha. “I’ll be out of the station today, interviewing people from that group.”
Reed sat there and studied me for a long minute and finally said, “If Lucy’s death wasn’t an accident, you do need to figure out who did it. I don’t think it was my mother, though.” He glanced pointedly at the stack of books on my desk. “Maybe you should finish reading that journal.”
I eyed him. “I thought you didn’t read the whole thing.”
He shrugged. “Might have finished that one.” He stood to leave my office.
“I have a question for you. If my investigation does lead to your mother and I press charges, are you going to hold that against me?”
He glanced down at his hands folded in front of him and hesitated before answering. “If my mother killed someone, she needs to pay for it.”
That helped more than I thought it would. I finished my second scone and the remains of my now-cold coffee and returned to the journal.
This village means everything to me as do the families that live here. What am I supposed to do about this girl’s death? I spoke to those who were at the Meditation Circle that night. They all, with the exception of Flavia, Karl, and Horace, said they didn’t think Priscilla’s death was intentional or planned. They said it started out innocently enough, with Flavia wanting to settle the conflict between Rae and Priscilla, but that she quickly became frenzied, pushing them to fight each other for the right to be with Gabe.
None of this makes any sense to me. Why exactly was Flavia so dead set on Gabe being the solution for Priscilla’s situation?
Good question. I’d been wondering the same thing.
For the next few entries, Gran talked about how Priscilla’s death devastated the village. Convinced that not even tiny Whispering Pines was safe from society’s evil influence, a couple of families packed up and left. The Originals stayed, but the closeness wasn’t what it once had been. And then some new information regarding Priscilla’s death came to light.
Rae showed up at my front door today, she was hysterical. I was terrified something had happened to Effie. It took a long time to calm her down enough for her to say it was her fault Priscilla was dead.
She insisted she didn’t mean to do it, that Flavia pushed and pushed, egging on both she and Priscilla. The more they fought with each other, she said, the more Flavia’s eyes gleamed with delight. Then Flavia whispered something in Priscilla’s ear, and Priscilla charged at Rae. In an attempt to defend herself, Rae said she held out her arms to block the onslaught.
The next thing they knew, Priscilla was lying on the ground “with blood oozing out of her ears.”
Everyone agreed that Flavia wasn’t responsible for Priscilla’s death. She didn’t strike the fatal blow, but it sounded like she initiated Priscilla’s attack on Rae. If I could prove any of this, Flavia could be charged with aiding and abetting. But with no autopsy, not even a police report, I had little chance of even proving a girl had died.
The next entry:
I went to see Effie and Cybil today. Rae and Gabe were there as well. I asked Rae to tell them what she had told me. Poor Effie was a basket case by the end of Rae’s statement, terrified that her daughter would go to prison.
I’m convinced it was an accident, and if the authorities ever do find out, most of the kids will come to Rae’s defense. But Effie insists we can’t know that for sure. Rae agreed and said she wants to confess, which upset Effie even more.
I’ve decided that there’s only one way out of this. Rae and Gabe have to leave Whispering Pines. I told them that once they’re gone, I’ll make sure that the situation is never discussed within the village again.
I felt numb. My grandmother had covered up a death. How could she have done that? Now that I knew, what was I supposed to do? If I had found all of this out six months earlier, when Gran was still alive, and was able to prove everything, I would have had to implicate her as well. Was I willing to tarnish her name now?
After Rae and Gabe had been gone for forty-eight hours, Flavia appeared at my door. She told me that, for Priscilla’s sake, the truth needed to come out and demanded that I tell the villagers what really happened. I warned her to leave it alone, that the situation had been dealt with and we needed to move forward as a village. She refused to let it go, pushing me to tell the truth as she must have pushed the girls to duke it out that night.
So, I summoned everyone to the pentacle garden and told them the truth as I understood it. I explained that after speaking with all the children present that night, I determined that Flavia was responsible for Priscilla’s death, that I was handling her punishment, and that no one was to talk about this again. Then I told Flavia that if she wanted to stay in my village, she was to accept my decision without further question. She’s well aware of her role in this incident. For now, she’s quiet. For her own sake, I hope she stays that way.
Instigation. Seduction. Collusion. Intimidation. Bribery. Cover up. How many other crimes had my grandmother committed? I was so stunned, I could barely breathe.
Months later after no journal entries:
I feel horrible a
bout what I had to do. But I couldn’t let one girl take down what so many have built. More importantly, I couldn’t let my best friend suffer for a simple mistake.
By “best friend” she meant Effie of course, but by “girl,” had she meant Flavia or Rae?
I wanted to be angry at Gran. I wanted to be furious at all she had done, and I was for a few minutes, but then I read the final entry in the 1979 journal.
We did it. I can’t believe we did it. The state of Wisconsin is letting us incorporate. After all the council’s hard work, finally everyone can stay without worry. They can open businesses to support themselves and their families. More importantly, people will be able to stay in this place where they will be free of harassment and ostracism. This is what I wanted for them all along. This was why I opened my doors to those who didn’t belong anywhere else.
And would that have happened if word had gotten out that a teenage girl, an unwed teenage mother, had died in a village with no law enforcement?
Chapter 24
I attached Meeka’s leash to her harness with the “K-9” patch, and we headed for the front door. I stopped before stepping outside and turned back to Reed.
“I understand the conflict,” I said. “Looks like your mother might have been the instigator, but my grandmother employed some strong-arm tactics.”
“What are you planning to do about it?” Reed asked without looking at me.
“Not sure yet. I won’t do anything without solid proof.” I took a few steps closer to his desk. “Look, I like the teamwork we’re forming here. What happened in the past isn’t our fault and shouldn’t affect us.”
Original Secrets: A Whispering Pines Mystery, Book 3 Page 19
