by Annie Irvin
“It must be very difficult for you,” Harper said, trying her best to think of some positive things to say about Grace’s life. Fortunately, Marshall prattled on about his wife, reminiscing about her attributes as he saw them.
Finally Harper had the chance to ask, “Did Grace mention anything unusual or out-of-the-way happening to her lately? Something that bothered her? Anyone upset her?”
Marshall mulled over the question.
“Well, she was upset when someone accidentally dented her new car. She said it probably happened when she was parked someplace. The damage was minimal. I’ve called the garage to fix it when they have time.”
“Do you think someone might have deliberately damaged her car?”
“I suppose they could have. I just assumed someone didn’t pay attention when they parked next to her.”
Mona entered the living room carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and some stemmed glasses on it. “Would you care to join us in a glass of rosé, Harper? It seems too late for coffee.”
“Thanks, but I’m just going,” Harper answered, standing. “Please don’t bother showing me out. I can find my way.”
Instead of going directly to her truck, Harper took the opportunity to make her way around the side of the garage. The walk-in door wasn’t locked and she slipped inside. A security lamp in the yard cast enough light into the garage for her to see her way around Grace’s red Lexus. Pausing when she reached the front of the car, she pulled her cell phone from her purse and deftly snapped a picture of the dented fender before hurrying out to her truck.
Later, she sat in her living room and studied the photo of Mickey and Summer she’d found in Grace’s desk drawer. No wonder Summer had called Grace wicked and evil, Harper thought. But she’d also said Grace deserved to die.
Harper powered up her computer and downloaded the picture she’d taken of the Lexus. After closely studying the dent a few minutes, Harper thought it just possible someone wearing a heavy boot had tried a bit of kick boxing on Grace’s fender. She wondered if the dent had anything to do with Mickey and Summer, caught at the Rest Stop Inn, or with Lawrence and Fannie, caught on top of the Pastor’s desk. Had one of them damaged the fender, then taken their anger a step further, catching Grace in the garden shed behind the Bittersweet Inn?
Chapter Eight
Harper crawled out of bed on Tuesday morning and grimaced when she looked in the bathroom mirror. What she saw certainly wasn’t flattering. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, her mind on murder. Her sleuthing had raised more questions than it had provided answers. This morning, staring bleary-eyed into the mirror, she knew only one thing for certain—she needed a cup of coffee.
While she waited on the coffee to brew, she considered the evidence she’d uncovered so far. The letters Grace wrote to Deacon Fairweather and Bruce Abbott, and the picture Grace had taken of Mickey O’Connell and Summer Storm.
All I had to do was look in two desks and I end up with four suspects, Harper said out loud. Not a bad day’s work.
But she needed to do even more. She had to ask a few questions and she might as well start with Summer.
Harper called Helen and asked her to hold down the fort, then she drove a couple of miles out of town, heading toward the Big Bittersweet River where Rubino’s By the River, located along the river bank, served up some of the best food in the area. The restaurant occupied what had once been an old grain mill before Jimmy and Kay Rubino remodeled it. Rubino’s restaurant and the Bittersweet Inn were neighbors, the main highway running between Bittersweet Hollow and St. Stephens separating the properties. Summer, employed on Rubino’s wait staff, also tended bar when the lounge was busy.
The breakfast crowd had cleared out and the lunch crowd wasn’t due yet. A few cars were in the front lot when Harper parked her truck. Shutting off the engine, she hoofed it inside. Bypassing the main dining area, she located Summer in the lounge chatting with Max the bartender. Harper climbed onto a bar stool next to Summer and ordered a soda. She planned to give the young woman the benefit of the doubt and let her explain what was behind Grace’s snapshot.
“Hi, Harper,” Summer said and smiled. “Are you here to eat?”
“No, I'm not,” Harper told the young woman. “I need to talk to you. Someplace private.”
“I can ask the boss if we could use the office,” Summer suggested, a puzzled look spreading across her face.
“That would be great,” Harper said. “I’ll drink my soda while you go ask.”
In a few minutes Summer returned to the bar and motioned Harper to follow her. She led Harper to a short stairway along the back wall and after climbing the steps, pointed toward an empty office.
“So, what’s up?” Summer asked a little hesitantly, closing the door behind her.
“I won’t beat around the bush,” Harper said, reaching into her purse and extracting the incriminating picture. “You need to take a look at this.”
Grabbing the photo out of Harper’s hand, the color drained from Summer’s face.
“How did you get a hold of this?” she demanded roughly.
Harper remained silent and waited for Summer to enlighten her.
“You want me to explain this picture?” Summer snapped at Harper.
“Can you?”
“I think the question is ‘why should I?’”
“Let me tell you where I found this picture,” Harper said. “I found it at Grace Potter’s house, in her desk. She probably took it with her cell phone. Am I close?”
Summer looked glum and didn’t answer.
“It’s none of my business if you were sleeping with your brother-in-law,” Harper said, “and I really don’t care. But when the person who snapped this shot is found dead on my family’s property, and when she might have used this picture for the purpose of blackmail—which by the way is a really great motive for someone to murder her—then I’m making it my business.”
Still fuming, Summer plopped down in a chair. “Are you accusing me or Mickey of killing Grace Potter?”
“I’m trying to find out who was on my family’s property Sunday night with a motive to bash Grace in the head with a hammer.”
Summer paused solemnly for a minute, shrugged her shoulders, and said bitterly, “Fine, Grace caught Mickey and me outside a motel the other night. She must have seen us leave here, and then followed us. She took the picture and threatened to tell my sister. Then she disappeared into the night, like a vampire after it’s sucked all the blood out of its victims and left them worse off than dead.”
“So Grace didn’t tell Lucy about the affair?”
“No. If she had, you’d have heard the explosion clear out to the Inn. Mickey and I both know Lucy would have kicked him out of the house and taken him to the cleaners but good. He said she’d drag him through the mud, ruin his business and he’d be lucky to end up with his toothbrush. I know my sister and she’d have followed through on all of that. Mickey wouldn’t have much left.”
“Mickey must have been furious with Grace,” Harper said, her voice changing to a conspiratorial ‘just between us girls’ tone.
“Furious? He slammed his boot into her new car and put a dent in the fender. The next day she sent Mickey and me each a copy of the picture. She phoned Mickey and gave him just one week to tell Lucy or else she would tell her. Mickey could have killed her!”
Summer suddenly looked stricken as though she realized how her words incriminated Mickey. She clamped her mouth shut and refused to answer any more questions.
Of course she isn’t going to say any more, Harper thought as she made her way back to the parking lot. She might end up saying too much and implicate herself.
Harper pulled up in front of the O’Connell Farm Implement dealership and parked. After talking to Summer, a bad feeling about Mickey formed in her head and she knew it wouldn’t be easy to shake it loose.
A customer stood beside the sales counter with Mickey, the two of them discussing the advanta
ges of a new combine when Harper entered the building. After a couple of minutes, the customer left and Mickey walked over to Harper, throwing her a big, gleaming smile.
Really, Harper thought, Mickey should know better than to screw around on his wife after all the times she’s caught him at it. He must be in his mid-forties, old enough to have learned a few lessons. She did admit to herself the man’s deep blue bedroom eyes, chiseled chin and sexy smile might be tempting for some women. It was hard for Harper herself to take her eyes off those rippling shoulder muscles and that good-looking face. But it didn’t excuse Summer’s actions by any means. Good grief, this man was her brother-in-law.
“What brings you here?” Mickey asked, his dimples fading and a forehead-creasing frown taking over when he noticed how serious Harper looked.
“Let’s go into your office,” Harper said, “and I’ll tell you.”
Mickey pulled up a chair for Harper and plopped into the big oversized chair behind his desk.
A picture’s worth a thousand words, Harper thought, silently sliding the photo across the desktop.
“Okay, you got a picture that doesn’t look good for me or Summer,” Mickey said, cracking his knuckles as he surveyed the photo. “So what?”
“I spoke with Summer a little while ago. She says you were so mad at Grace you dented the fender of her Lexus.”
“So?”
“Summer also said you stood to lose everything if Lucy found out about your affair. You’d have been reduced to nothing. Grace gave you a copy of that picture and a week to tell Lucy. And Summer said you wanted to kill her.”
“And the old bitch got killed before she could ruin my life, isn’t that right?” Mickey hissed, his face turning an ugly shade of red while a vein throbbed in his right temple. “Do you think I’m the only person in town who’s glad to see Grace’s damnable mouth shut for good?”
Harper couldn't argue with him about that.
Mickey jumped out of his chair and slammed his fist on the desk. Snarling, he threw a menacing challenge at Harper. “If you’re thinking I had something to do with shutting her mouth, well, I guess you’ll just have to prove it.”
Chapter Nine
Harper breathed a sigh of relief after she pulled into her driveway and parked her pickup. She had been halfway concerned that Mickey might follow her home; he’d been so angry.
That was a stupid thought, she said to herself. What could he do to her in broad daylight anyway? Hit her in the head with a hammer?
Harper headed for her warm, snug kitchen with its cranberry-colored curtains and pale yellow walls. She ran fresh water into a dark blue tea kettle and fired up the range. While she waited for the water to heat, she grabbed a notebook and pen from a kitchen drawer. She fixed herself a cup of tea and sat down at the table. She’d been scribbling for a few minutes when the doorbell rang and Lonnie shouted ‘hello’ at her from the living room.
“In here, Lonnie,” Harper shouted back.
Lonnie strolled into the kitchen, grabbed a large cup from the cupboard and dropped in a tea bag. She peeked over her sister’s shoulder.
“Why did you write down ‘Mickey O’Connell’ and ‘Summer Storm’?”
“Let’s just say Grace was a busy woman. Sit down and I’ll tell you about two more suspects who stood to gain by Grace’s death.”
Between sips of spicy tea and jotting down notes, Harper filled Lonnie in on the photo she’d uncovered in Grace’s desk. Then she told her sister all about her visit with Summer and Mickey.
Lonnie stirred her tea. “Grace must have been pumped to have uncovered two love affairs in the same week. You think after Grace gave Mickey the ultimatum to tell Lucy within a week or else she would that he bashed her head in so his wife wouldn’t find out he was cheating?”
“It’s possible. Summer said Mickey has a rotten temper and he’d like to kill Grace. He certainly didn’t hide his temper when I questioned him.”
“But it’s a big step from boinking your sister-in-law to murdering someone,” Lonnie exclaimed, scrutinizing the picture of Mickey and Summer.
“Maybe he lost it in the heat of anger,” Harper replied.
“Maybe. By the way, I talked to Violet this morning and she said the cops were out at the Inn earlier. They asked Mom to give them the names and addresses of the guests who stayed in the house over the weekend, especially the ones hanging around for the festival on Sunday.”
“Poor Mom. There was enough for her to deal with before a murder took place in her own backyard. We need to get her moved and soon. So who did stay over the weekend?”
“There were three couples who rented rooms. I don’t think the cops will find anything attention-grabbing when they question Mr. and Mrs. Newly. They’re an older couple from St. Andrews. Their weekend stay was part of a fiftieth wedding anniversary gift from their kids.”
Harper walked over to the counter and brewed herself another cup of tea.
“Who else?”
“The Leonards from Nebraska. They come through Bittersweet Hollow every year on their way to visit their family out east. You’ve met them, remember?”
“I remember them. Middle aged, happy-go-lucky. Can’t see either one of those couples doing away with Grace. They didn’t even know her.”
“Nope, I can’t see them doing it either,” Lonnie said. “The other couple staying at the inn was Mr. and Mrs. Jersey Simon from Chicago. I met them briefly Sunday afternoon. They were a little strange, to say the least. They didn’t want to join in the outside festivities at all. Pretty much stayed in their room.”
Harper grinned. “Honeymooners?”
“Could have been, but they weren’t young. Must have been our age.”
“What? Couples in their fifties can’t go on a honeymoon?”
“Wouldn’t you rather just stay home and sleep?”
“Good point,” Harper agreed as the telephone rang.
“I’m outta here; got to get to the store. See you later,” Lonnie said, waving goodbye and dashing out the door.
Harper grabbed the phone in the kitchen and said, “Hello?”
“Hey, Mom. It’s Lincoln. Have they arrested whoever murdered Grace Potter out in Grandma’s shed?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time,” Harper said, trying to sound positive.
“Maybe I should come back and stay with you or Grandma until they do catch the culprit. I hate to think of you alone and Grandma with only Violet and Ezra for protection. Dad said it’s probably some crazy person running around loose. You don’t think they could be hiding out behind Grandma’s, down by the river do you?”
“That’s ridiculous, Lincoln. No one’s hiding by the river,” Harper snapped. “Now don’t you worry. You know your dad. He always was a damn drama queen.”
Besides, Harper thought, mulling over the evidence she’d found in Grace’s desks, if anyone’s hiding, they’re hiding in plain sight.
Harper jumped into her pickup and drove to her shop, parking by the back door of the building. Instead of going inside, she decided to visit a couple of the vendors who had set up stands at the festival on Sunday. One of them might have noticed something suspicious going on, or spotted Grace talking with a stranger or arguing with someone she knew.
She hustled through the alley and made her way down the street to Morgan’s Fine Meats. Jack Morgan’s hot dog stand had been a very busy spot on Sunday. Once inside the meat market, she spotted Jack wearing his white counter jacket and soda jerk cap, methodically arranging pork chops in a tray behind the glass front of a display case.
“How’s your mother holding up out at the Inn?” Jack asked Harper as he glanced up and recognized her.
“All right, I guess,” Harper answered. “This has been quite a shock for everyone.”
“It’s pretty much all anyone’s talking about,” announced Hattie McDonald, quietly shuffling up behind Harper on her old, arthritic legs. “It’s not every day we get a real murder in these part
s.”
Pointing to the freshly ground turkey sausage and holding up two boney fingers on her wrinkled hand, Hattie flashed a toothy smile at Harper and continued, “I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I couldn’t help overhear.”
Harper smiled back at the old woman, knowing full well Hattie had ears like a bat and listening to other people’s conversations was second nature to her.
