She gave Carly one more call with no answer, then started up her truck. It wouldn’t be easy getting to sleep tonight, so before she drove off she sent Scott a text message asking him to please get in touch when he found out what was going on, no matter how late.
When she got home she suddenly wished her boys were there. They were both at Penn State, and during the academic year she rarely saw them. She was proud they were doing so well and knew she must have done a decent job raising them, since they were achieving high marks and thriving in their independence. Yet she really wished she could be around them now. They calmed her and reminded her of what was really important in life. She realized Ken’s death had cut very close to home. It was reminding her of when Greg had disappeared and the years she spent with her boys, worried and wondering where her husband had gone, what had happened, if he was dead. They’d spent months trying to reconcile the worst of it, wrapping their heads around the daunting possibility that he really was dead.
Carly would soon be told that her father was dead, and Kate dreaded that her best friend would be filled with a sense of anguish similar to the kind that had once consumed Kate.
Kate went into her kitchen, found a bottle of red wine in the cabinet, and uncorked it. She poured a generous glass then went into the bathroom and drew a hot bath. Getting to sleep wouldn’t be easy, but this should help, or so she hoped. She kept her cell nearby on the counter and within reach just in case Carly or Larry called her back. Most of all, she hoped Scott would call. He hadn’t responded to her text yet, but that was understandable. Her highest hope was that Ken had died of natural causes. Her greatest fear was that he hadn’t.
Chapter Three
The next day, Kate woke with a start well before her alarm went off. Lifting out of stressful dreams about Carly, Ken, and Celia’s chilly lack of emotion, it took her a moment to get her bearings and remember that she was only in bed and not desperately running around Rock Ridge in search of her best friend.
The sun had barely pierced the sky and her bedroom was dim. These days, with autumn in full swing, she awoke to a cold room and dreaded getting out from underneath the warm covers, so it took her a moment to muster up the nerve to dash to her closet where her thick robe was hanging. Next, she slipped her feet into her slippers and grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand. There were no missed calls, no new text messages, which concerned her, but perhaps Scott would get in touch today. It was only 6:00 a.m. after all. He was probably still sleeping if he’d been up all night.
In the kitchen, she put on a fresh pot of coffee, and while it percolated she reviewed her day calendar. She’d gotten so busy over the past month that she now kept a small calendar-book, each page was a day with time slots in rows. Justina’s business, Carnegie Real Estate, had also been booming, and, because of it, Kate had a lot of homes to stage. She was still learning the ropes and getting a knack for how best to stage the homes. Too much furniture was off-putting, too few flowers and accents caused a home to look dreary. It was all about striking the right balance. She noted she had to stage Jessica Wentworth’s house. Though Harvy Stuart and his wife, Kendall, had been interested, they were both now in jail, and Jessica’s house had been sitting on the market untouched. The difficulty was that it was quite costly since it was one of the largest estates in Rock Ridge. Curiously, Kate wondered if perhaps Jessica would want to move back in with Dean now that he was the mayor, but she reasoned against it. There were probably too many memories there for Jessica to feel at peace.
Kate poured her coffee into a mug and drank it black while staring at her cell phone. Grayson’s Hardware would be open soon, but Kate was more interested in swinging by the library to pick up a number of books she’d reserved on decorating homes for the real-estate market. Unfortunately, the library wouldn’t open for another hour, and when it did, she was fairly certain Mrs. Briar would be there. Kate didn’t exactly get along with Mrs. Briar.
She felt like she’d been lazing about a bit too long once she’d drank her second cup of coffee, so she hopped in the shower and then got dressed in her usual fair: overalls with long johns and a long-sleeved shirt underneath, work books, and a flannel. She pulled on her heavy Carhartt coat and was out the door.
Bean There, her favorite coffee shop, was the only business open at this hour. Clara, who owned the shop, was in the habit of getting in at 5:00 a.m. and opening the doors an hour after that.
Kate pulled up to the curb out front and glanced in through the windows. Clara had decorated the shop with autumn leaves and pumpkins, the fall spirit in full swing, which Kate appreciated. Some of the bigger chain stores had already put up Christmas decorations. It was downright ridiculous.
“You’re up early,” said Clara behind the counter. She was setting out pastries under the glass display from a large plastic bin. “Are you blown away about our new mayor?”
“Surprised, certainly. But I think Dean will do an excellent job.” Kate watched Clara pour dark roast into a large to-go cup for her, which she then set on the counter.
“Fresh bear claw?” she asked. “Oh! Cookie dropped off yogurt muffins! You have to try one.”
“Yogurt muffins?”
“Yeah, instead of using butter, she uses yogurt so the muffin is healthier, more protein, less fat. And you’d never know it. They’re so fluffy. I have chocolate chip and blueberry.”
“I’ll try the blueberry,” Kate said, happy to have anything even remotely healthy. “Hey, let me ask you,” she began, but when she popped a corner of the top off the muffin and tasted it, she was momentarily speechless. “Wow, this is great!”
Clara beamed. “Cookie’s working on a lot more healthy breakfast options, and I’m thinking about getting bagels in here, too. Nothing like a bagel with your coffee. What were you going to ask me?”
“Do you happen to know anyone in town who drives a black SUV? A souped-up one? I’m not sure they make.”
Clara took a moment to think it over. “I’m really not sure. This is more of a pickup truck kind of town.”
“I know,” Kate said, thrown. The only other person she’d known with an SUV was Kendall, who was in prison. Besides, the vehicle she'd seen at the Johnsons’ last night couldn’t have been Kendall’s, because it didn’t have those gaudy hubcaps—the gold-rimmed ones.
Before Clara could ask why she had inquired, Kate paid her for her breakfast, thanked her, and was out the door.
As Kate made her way to her truck, a disturbing realization took hold. What if Kate had been in the house with the killer? The SUV had been in the driveway when she showed up, and was gone by the time she left. She kicked herself for not looking at the license plate, but it hadn’t occurred to her.
When she got to Jessica’s house, intent on rearranging the furniture according to some Internet research she’d done a few nights back, she noticed the morning paper was rolled in a plastic sleeve and resting against the front door. She grabbed it then let herself in.
Jessica’s house was chilly, so she kept her coat on. She sat on the living room couch, which was positioned awkwardly in the corner. Kate had read about placing certain furniture pieces in the corner of rooms, facing them towards the center. It rounded off the hard corners, she’d read, and made the flow of the room more appealing. But Jessica’s couch was much too long to make sense here. She’d realized that two seconds after she’d dragged it over. She’d have to move it back under the windows and perhaps set the bookshelf in this corner. The bookshelf was narrow, though tall, and if she set a small, potted plant atop it, it could do the trick.
In the meantime, she drank her coffee and opened up the paper. She’d gotten in the habit of flipping to the back whenever the paper arrived at her house. It was a compulsive need to see her ad space. Her divorce attorney, Arthur Joseph, had instructed her to run a notice of divorce in the paper for three weeks to publicly notify Greg of the divorce proceedings. Of course he hadn’t responded, and soon Arthur would take the next step and file the act
ual divorce papers with the court. That day was fast approaching.
There it was in the back: a small two-by-three-inch ad. She read Greg’s name. It was as surreal as ever, but at least it was running. Then she closed the paper and set it on the coffee table, which was also set awkwardly, to the side of the couch. It reminded her of how much work she had to do before Justina could have a second go at showing the house.
As soon as the paper landed on the table, the front page caught her eye. There, in the upper-right corner, was a black-and-white photo of Ken—a classic cop in full uniform regalia. The headline said Rock Ridge’s Finest Found Dead. Gosh, she hoped this wasn’t how Carly would find out.
Munching on her muffin, she began to read. Her heart skipped a beat when she found her name, but of course she’d be mentioned in the article. She’d been the one to find Ken, after all. She hadn’t seen any reporters last night, however, and she couldn’t help but feel somewhat irked that one of the officers had mentioned her to a reporter.
If she read any further, she was sure she’d lose her appetite, so she stopped, noting the reporter who’d written the article—Eric Demblowki. The name wasn’t familiar. Was he new in town? Perhaps he was an out-of-town reporter who’d drafted and submitted the article to the Rock Ridge Tribune. But if he was from out of town, and Kate felt certain he had to be, why on earth would one of the responding officers tell him anything? Then again, word traveled fast. If Gunther said anything to his barber, the news was sure to spread like wildfire. Still, between last night and the wee hours this morning, there would’ve been no time for gossip to spread. Even Clara at Bean There hadn’t mentioned Ken’s death, which could only mean that she hadn’t heard about it yet.
The morning sun was inching up the sky and brightening the room, which inspired Kate to hop to it. She threw away her muffin wrapper and empty to-go cup in the kitchen, and began rearranging the furniture. She liked how creative staging homes could be, but she wasn’t naïve to the fact that she was still pretty green. After forty-five minutes and a lot of sweating and cursing, she realized the furniture was exactly where Jessica had placed it when she’d lived here. Ugh, Kate grunted. Well, if that’s how it looked best, then that’s where she’d keep it, but it’d be hard to justify to Justina her bill when technically she hadn’t changed a thing. She reasoned that more fresh flowers would spruce the place up, figuring Sunshine Florist would be open by now, and, at the very least, Kate needed to connect with Carly who worked there. She was about to head out when the doorbell rang.
It crossed her mind that it could be Justina at the door, but Justina usually called or texted when she needed to see Kate.
Kate opened the door and found a strange woman standing under the portico. In a word, the woman looked like money. She wore a sharply tailored skirt suit that reminded Kate of tea in the queen’s palace, as well as a wide-brimmed hat. Her makeup was precise and her hands were gloved. She was head-to-toe white, though her skirt suit had black trim.
“Can I help you?” Kate asked, trying to recall what time it was.
“I’m Lily van der Tramp,” she announced in a well-articulated, sing-song tone. “I noticed the realtor’s sign on the lawn and I’d like to see the house.”
Lily looked Kate up and down then frowned.
“I’m Kate Flaherty,” she said, feeling embarrassed in her overalls. “I’ve been fixing the place up. Did you call the realtor, Justina Anastasi?”
“Did I say I called the realtor?” she said curtly. “Now step aside, I’d like to see the property.”
Kate didn’t move, she was so taken aback by Lily’s rudeness.
“Excuse me, do you know who I am?”
“Lily van der Tramp,” she said dryly.
“The famous designer,” she stated then again looked Kate up and down. “No, of course you don’t know who I am. Why would you?”
Lily was not the kind of resident Rock Ridge needed.
“I think we can both assume,” Lily went on, “that the owner of this house would like to sell it. I’m interested. What’s the problem?”
Though the woman was unpleasant, Kate couldn’t argue with her logic, so she stepped aside.
Lily boldly crossed through, taking her gloves off as she went into the kitchen. Kate trailed behind her.
“I’m still in the process of staging the house, so you’ll have to excuse it if it seems in disarray,” Kate explained.
“I don’t care about that,” she said. “I care about the architecture, the land taxes, the neighbors.”
“Let me give Justina a call then,” said Kate, knowing she wasn’t actually equipped to answer such questions. “Justin knows every last detail about this house.”
Ignoring her even though Kate had her cell to her ear, Lily asked, “Who lived here prior? The former mayor?”
“Well, technically the mayor before the former mayor. Dudley Stuart and his wife at the time.”
“Ah, that’s right. And how much are they asking for it?”
“Well, it’s only Jessica who’s asking—”
“I don’t care about that,” she interrupted without so much as glancing at Kate. “I care how much they want.”
“Right, well, Justina will know.”
As Lily wandered into the living room, turning her nose up at various details, Kate walked towards the front door, which she realized she’d left open, and hoped Justina would pick up.
“Good morning, Justina!” she said urgently when Justina came through the line. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Not at all.”
“There’s a Ms. van der…”
“Tramp!” Lily shouted from the living room.
“A Ms. van der Tramp here looking at Jessica’s house. She’s interested in the details, the asking price and all that.”
“Tell her on I’m my way,” Justina said excitedly then hung up.
Kate almost wished she hadn’t. She didn’t especially want to be alone with this woman.
Just as Kate turned to close the door, she noticed the vehicle in the driveway. It was a black SUV, and she was almost certain it was the car she’d seen in Ken Johnson’s driveway.
When Kate joined Lily in the living room she saw the woman in a whole new light.
“Well?” Lily demanded.
“Justina is on her way.”
“Ah,” she sighed. “She couldn’t simply tell you?”
“Where are you from?” Kate asked.
“New York. Isn’t it obvious?”
The only thing that was obvious was Lily’s lack of social graces.
“And what brings you to Rock Ridge?”
“I’m looking for a second home,” said Lily, easing her tone a bit so that it sounded more conversational and less like a tongue-lashing. “I love New York, but it's exceptionally noisy. It can really grate on your nerves if you don’t find ways to get out of the city.”
“I can see that,” said Kate, trying to sound pleasant. “But why Rock Ridge specifically? We’re not exactly written up in Town & Country magazine.”
“I attended boarding school up north not too far from here when I was a little girl. We used to take class trips down to the campsite, and I have many fond memories. If I live here, I’m sure I could maintain a low profile, and that’s just what I need right now, to slip away every few months, breathe some fresh, country air.”
“So you must know some people in town?”
“Not really. It was many years ago, not that I look it.” She laughed. The woman certainly thought highly of herself.
“So you don’t know Ken Johnson?” Kate challenged.
Lily’s face drew long and her eyes narrowed. She looked as though she could spit or, at the very least, say something insulting, but Justina barreled through the door, winded yet thrilled to have a prospective buyer.
“Ms. van der Tramp!” She exclaimed as though they were old friends. Judging by the look on Lily’s face, Kate determined they were utter strangers, but Justina had a
knack for making complete strangers feel like old friends. With Lily, it wasn’t working very well, however. “Let me give you a tour. I hear you have a lot of questions.”
As Justina ushered Lily through the living room and down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder at Kate, indicating Kate could come back later.
Before she climbed into her truck, she held her cell phone in front of the SUV’s license plate and took a picture.
If Lily had been at Ken Johnson’s house last night, then Kate had every intention of finding out exactly what had happened.
Chapter Four
It was starting to drive her nuts that Scott hadn’t gotten in touch, and she couldn’t imagine proceeding to stage the next house on Justina’s list before she spoke with Carly, who also hadn’t returned her calls. She reasoned she could stop by Sunshine Florist to see if Carly was there and pick up an order of flowers, which were needed as the final touch on Brent Townsend’s house.
Sunshine Florist was open by the time she was walking up the sidewalk. She’d opted to park a block away to get some fresh air and exercise. When she got to the door she saw that it was propped open. There were a few early morning customers smelling certain bouquets as she passed through to the register counter, but where she hoped to find Carly, there was only Greta Mann, Carly’s new assistant.
“Hey, Greta, is Carly around?”
Greta looked suddenly forlorn. “Carly’s dad died,” she said regretfully.
Immediately, Kate’s heart sank. If Greta had heard about Ken, it meant Carly knew, as well.
“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Carly.”
“She’s taking the day off. She’s at her mother’s,” said Greta. “I’m sure she’ll end up taking the week off. How tragic.”
“His death comes as quite a shock,” Kate agreed.
“And that he was poisoned,” said Greta, shaking her head. “Who would think to do such a thing?”
“Where did you hear that?” Kate asked, stunned, though she had feared he’d been killed.
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection) Page 40
