by Tonya Kappes
“I understand that, and maybe we can talk to Wally about some of the charity money going to her sister, but you have to tell me what you know. This could be a major break in the case.” I wasn’t sure how, but somehow I knew this was a piece of the puzzle.
“Kenni.” Darby looked up and her eyes were wet. “I don’t know. What if I say something and end up like Paige, or even Cecily?”
“What if you don’t and still end up that way? Because your guest, Jetter, she’s with a national newspaper. You know they publish gossip and half-truths.” I left out the fact that it was a celebrity tabloid and most of the articles had to be taken with a grain of salt. “I can’t protect you if you don’t give me a reason to.”
“You’re telling me that if I tell you everything I know, you will put Finn here to keep us safe?” she asked.
“I’d get a reserve officer here for sure. And right now,” I said, putting my hand on the walkie-talkie.
“Fine,” she said. “Let me put a pot of coffee on.”
“You do that and I’ll call in an officer.” I pushed in the button on my radio. “Betty.”
“Yes, Sheriff,” Betty immediately answered back. “Over.”
“I need you to call over to the Stone estate and get one of the reserve officers over to the Inn. I need a twenty-four-hour officer on duty. Meals included.” I looked over at Darby and lifted a brow. She nodded her head.
“Will do, Kenni.” She corrected herself, “Sheriff.”
While the coffee brewed, Darby sat back down across from me at the table.
“I told you how she got here. I make sure Hattie gets to all of her doctor appointments,” Darby said.
“Who is her doctor?” I asked.
“Dr. Camille Shively,” Darby said. Camille was the only doctor in Cottonwood. “Once a month I have Camille here for a lunch and at that time she sits with Hattie and makes sure everything is good. Beryle had it set up like a finely tuned machine. Hattie has a special diet and plays different games. And Paige Lemar takes care of her like her sister would.”
“Yes. I want to talk about her.” I flipped the notebook to a fresh page and wrote “Paige Lemar” at the top.
“Paige had worked for Beryle for years as her housekeeper. When Beryle was moving was also when I was turning the old house into the Inn. Beryle said she had to leave in order for her to fire,” she put air quotes around the word fire, “Paige and then make it look like I gave Paige a job. I do pay Paige to clean the other rooms, but Beryle pays her to take care of Hattie. She said she needed to move out of town in order to care for her sister and keep writing to make money so her sister could live the same way when she was dead and gone. I think it literally killed her inside to leave her sister and her home, but Beryle was so selfless that she only wanted what was best for Hattie because she carried the burden of her parents putting Hattie in a home.”
“How long has Beryle known about her sister?” I asked.
“After her father passed, there was a letter he’d left her in his will. He told her about Hattie and how they’d faked her death back when Beryle was in high school.” Darby’s chest heaved up when she sucked in a deep breath.
“They obviously knew then that Beryle was going to try to pursue a writing career after college and didn’t want to hold her back with a lifelong burden.” It was all coming together.
“Right. Her parents were getting older and they knew Hattie would be a lifetime commitment, and Beryle was so kind-hearted that she would give up her dreams to care for Hattie,” Darby confirmed. “Beryle said that she’d made so many career commitments for books that it wasn’t fair to take Hattie. That’s when Beryle moved Hattie from the home her parents had placed her in to the Inn. And like I said, only a handful of people knew about it.”
“Did Paige know about all this?” My mind swirled.
“She did. She knew that Beryle didn’t fire her. But she couldn’t tell anyone, not even Lonnie. He thinks that Beryle fired Paige and I hired her.” Darby’s voice faded. “Beryle put money in an account, and I pay Paige out of that account. So when I saw Cecily at the ceremony the other day, I asked her about the account, because nothing’s been put in for the care of Hattie or for Paige’s wages. She told me that I was going to have to figure it out. That’s when I told her I’d heard about the manuscript and I could only imagine the story about Hattie is in there.”
The front bell rang at the desk, signaling someone was up front and needed help.
“Jenny must be cleaning rooms.” Darby stood up. “She was God sent. I had to hire her quick since Paige was put in the hospital.” She held up a finger. “I’ll be right back.”
After the door swung shut, I stood up and started to pace.
“This is big,” I said to Poppa. “Not only that Hattie is Beryle’s sister, but Paige, along with Darby, knew it. Somehow someone knows or thinks they know what’s in the tell-all manuscript.” I bit my lip. “If we only knew where it was. Where did Beryle hide it?”
“The only way to find out is to tear the estate apart. She always said there were so many hiding places and after the death—” Poppa stopped himself. “After Hattie was taken away, Beryle said she’d hid for hours in those secret places. But she never told me where.” He wisped across the floor and looked out of the small round window of the pass-through door. “Hattie doesn’t look like the girl I remember. But you know she still acts the same. I can’t believe Beryle never told me.”
“Maybe she didn’t know until she was older,” I suggested.
“Whoever killed Cecily and nearly killed Paige knows about something. Hopefully that person doesn’t know about Hattie, or she could be in danger of being the next victim.” Just as Poppa finished his sentence, Jenny Rose Neil walked into the kitchen with Kiwi on her shoulder.
Chapter Twenty
There were many things about Darby’s story that bothered me, and Jenny was one of them. Not only did she just so happen to show up on the day of the murder and attack, but she’d fit in all too well with Hattie and kept Kiwi close to her.
There was a person at the guest counter dinging the bell as I caught up with the reserve officer that was sent over. I’d given him instructions to stick close to Hattie. Play games with her, stay at her side twenty-four seven. I also gave him a quick rundown on my suspicions about Jenny, but told him to keep undercover until I could get some background and solid evidence on her. Darby said she was a good worker and nothing on her application made her think Jenny wasn’t telling the truth. To me, it was a little too convenient.
“Betty,” I called for her, pushing the radio button as I was getting into the Jeep.
Poppa sat in the passenger seat. It was great to have him with me. If I wasn’t on the right track, he had no problem telling me.
“Go ahead,” Betty confirmed.
“Can you get me a background check on Jenny Rose Neil? I don’t have any more information than that. Where is Finn right now?” I asked and steered the Wagoneer back to town. I had to meet Mama for lunch, and after that I wanted to go see Preacher Bing. It was time I saw him and Stella to see what they knew about this and about the charities Beryle wanted to benefit from her estate.
“He’s gone to the hospital to check on Paige Lemar. I heard that she was rousing.” Betty gave me the best news of the day.
“Thanks, Betty. Let me know if any new developments come in.” I clicked off the radio and picked up my phone. I dialed Finn.
“What’s up?” His voice was a welcome warmth.
“I hear you’re headed over to the hospital.” I turned off the country road and headed into town. “Are you there yet?”
“No. After you left the office this morning, Betty got a call from one of the henny-hens saying they’d heard Paige had moved around her bed all night like she was having some bad dreams. I thought it’d be a good idea to be there in case she was wakin
g up. You know,” he paused, “so Lonnie couldn’t get to her first.”
“Good.” I smiled, not only because it was so nice that he could think and act on his own without me telling him what to do like I had to do with Lonnie, but also how he was now referring to the gossipy women as the henny-hens when just a few short months ago he was so businesslike. “I have a major development.”
I turned onto Main Street.
“Hattie Hankle is Beryle Stone’s sister.” I still couldn’t completely wrap my head around it.
As much as I tried, I couldn’t remember just when I’d had my first memory of Hattie. I was able to recall Poppa’s stories, and sometimes Mama and Daddy would take me to the Inn for supper or special occasions like Easter brunch and I’d see Hattie there, but other than that, nothing.
“What?” Finn asked with quite an emphasis.
“Yep. Apparently, she didn’t die like her parents told the community. According to Darby, Beryle came to see her after Darby bought the old house and was renovating it into the Inn. Beryle’s paid for everything for Hattie.”
“Do you think there’s something about Hattie that someone wouldn’t want to be known and that she’s in the tell-all?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But I do know that the new girl, Jenny, the one on the list of the Inn guests, seems a little suspicious to me. She showed up on the day of the attacks.”
There was a parking spot right in front of Kim’s Buffet on Main Street. I maneuvered the Wagoneer in the spot and parked.
“It would completely be possible that Jenny showed up in town to get the manuscript, because we have no idea who Beryle met along the way when she didn’t live in Cottonwood. Jenny could have known Cecily and somehow got Cecily to meet her in town or even at Ruby’s where she unknowingly brought the feather along with her. She could have killed Cecily and broken into Ruby’s to see if the manuscript was in one of the estate antiques. When Paige walked down to get in her car, she noticed the door was broken in her friend’s shop, so she went in there, and that’s when she happened upon Jenny, who then took the ax and struck her. That’s when we heard all the commotion, only we scared her off, and she’s just young and fast enough to get away in the darkness,” Finn said.
“Possible.” I looked into the restaurant window. All the Sweet Adelines were in pink pillbox hats and matching suits. Some of them had on gloves. Even Edna Easterly had changed out the feather on her fedora to a big pink one. The writing on the notecard glued to the feather read “PRESS” in pink Sharpie. “I guess at this point, Paige holds all the answers.” As I spoke, little puffs of my breath hitting the cold air floated out of my mouth.
“Did you get to talk to any of the guests?” he asked.
I turned the knob to turn on the heat in the Wagoneer. As the morning turned into afternoon, the sky was actually getting a little more gray, like it was about to snow. The temperature had dropped.
“I talked to half of them. I only really learned about them hearing about the sale through estate-based newspapers, eBay, and Craigslist. It’s interesting that not only was Beryle an author, she was also a painter, and a good one from what I hear. Ruby said there was a painting missing from the inventory list.” I reached in the back of the Wagoneer and grabbed my coat. “I don’t recall seeing any paintings in the house, but I’ll take a better look around. I’m on a mission to find out where that key goes and if there is a manuscript, just in case Paige can’t tell us anything.”
“How did you find out about the paintings?” he asked.
I could hear some beeps and voices over an intercom as well as some background noises.
“One of the guests knew that Beryle painted and was hoping to get a piece of her artwork.” I glared over at the door of the Buffet—a few of the women were leaving.
“Listen, I’ve got to go. Let me know if Paige is awake.” I clicked off the phone and turned the Jeep off. I tugged my coat on and zipped it up. I grabbed Crimson Hearts and got out.
“Good afternoon,” I greeted some of the women.
“You’re so sweet to meet your mama for lunch.” Viola White peeled her gloves off her perfectly manicured hands, one finger at a time. She picked at the edges of her gray hair and then pushed her big black-rimmed glasses up on her nose.
“Thank you, Viola.” I held the door as Ruby Smith came out.
“You got the person who broke into my shop in custody yet?” Ruby’s bright orange lipstick sure did add color to the gray day.
“Working on it. Have you heard anything about Paige?” I thought I’d ask.
“No.” Her lips pressed together. “I just don’t know why someone would want to hurt her.”
“Me either.” I patted her on the back and walked into the restaurant.
“Kenni, how you?” Mrs. Kim asked in her broken English. “How criminal going?”
“I’m good. Investigation is going well.” Maybe the “fake it till I make it” attitude would help me get these clues together and solve the murder. “I’m meeting my mama for lunch. Is Gina here today?”
“You just missed. She go to the store.” She waved.
Mrs. Kim plucked off her pink pillbox hat and walked off. She darted from table to table taking the pink polka dot tablecloths off. Pink glitter fluttered all over the floor. Mama was sitting at a table with a water for her and a Diet Coke for me.
“Mama.” I greeted her with a kiss and sat down.
“What do you want?” Mama’s southern charm was more sarcastic than endearing. “I know you want something if you wanted to take me to lunch.”
“Take you to lunch?” I smiled. “I’d love to pay for your lunch. But you’re right, I have a few questions to ask you about this.”
I put the book on the table in front of her.
“I can’t wait to hear what your mama’s take is on these novels.” Poppa showed up. “She knows her gossip.”
“Crimson Hearts.” Mama’s face lit up. “You know,” she tapped the cover, “they don’t write ’em like they used to.” She winked.
“Mama, that’s gross.” The ick factor rushed through me again. “I’ve come into some interesting facts about Beryle. Apparently, she based all of her characters on people she knew. I’m wondering if she wrote about someone in Cottonwood. Then maybe when they found out she was writing this tell-all book, they went looking for it and killed Cecily, Beryle’s assistant.”
“Honey, Crimson Hearts was about a woman painter who had an affair with her best friend’s husband. There aren’t any women in Cottonwood who paint.” Mama twisted in her seat. “And then there was Cuff Me, which was about a local jeweler who was having a secret love affair with the town sheriff.” Mama leaned in. “He loved to be cuffed with jeweled handcuffs.”
My eyes slid over to Poppa. He was rubbing his wrists.
“Ew.” I frowned. “Did Poppa ever date Viola White?”
“Now, Kenni, that’s none of your business.” Poppa’s eyes popped open. “We are here to talk about the murder.”
“What you want?” Mrs. Kim stood next to the table with her pen and tablet.
“We aren’t sure yet.” I smiled and picked up the menu as if I was interested in ordering.
“I be back,” Mrs. Kim said and rushed off to the next table.
“You know…” Mama eased back into the seat. “They did go to some movies after my mama died, but I don’t think—” She slowly shook her head then suddenly stopped. “Viola better not be the woman in Cuff Me.” Mama huffed.
“Okay, that’s enough. I’m out.” Poppa disappeared. All this told me was that I was on the right track.
“If I find out that Viola and Daddy had a thing, I’ll jerk her bald.” Mama downed her glass of water. She was shaking her leg, making the entire table wiggle back and forth.
“Calm down and focus. Tell me about her other novels.”
&
nbsp; “They all had the same sort of story, just told in a different way. There was a girl who either dated a married man or had someone else’s baby, and their love was so great it was hard not to root for them to get together.” Mama’s wheels were turning.
“Now that you think back on her novels, do you see anyone from Cottonwood disguised in them?” I asked.
“Cuff Me could be your Poppa!” she cried out, plunging her head in her hands. “I’m disgusted. Do you think Viola White killed that girl?”
“No, Mama. Why on earth would Viola White kill someone because she and Poppa had a fling?” There was no reason for it. “Who cares? She and Poppa enjoyed a little company. I’m just not sure how Beryle would know any gossip if she didn’t live here.”
“What you want?” Mrs. Kim came back. She looked between me and Mama. “No loitering. You want eat, you order.”
“I’ve lost my appetite.” Mama stood up. She tugged on the edges of her pink suit coat and ran her hands down her pink pants. “I’m suddenly sick to my stomach.”
“Mama,” I called after her. “Mama, please don’t go saying anything to Viola White.” I stood, running alongside her.
“Then she shouldn’t have done such dirty things for Beryle Stone to write about!” Mama smacked the front door of the restaurant and ran out.
“That didn’t go so well.” Poppa was sitting in the car when I got back in.
“Would you want to know about your parent’s affairs?” I asked him and then decided to drop the Cuff Me plot. “We know that one plot could possibly be about you. What about the others? Mama was so upset about you that she didn’t answer any more of my questions. But at least your little tryst with Viola was a possible plot, which means that she might’ve written about someone else in Cottonwood.”
I started the Wagoneer up and did a U-turn on Main to head south a couple of blocks down, where the church was located on the right.
