by Annie Irvin
As she approached Wilcox and Wilson Realty, Deputy Hal Kennedy stepped out through the door, got into his squad car and drove off.
Now might be a good time to drop in on the realty boys, Harper decided. The receptionist’s desk was empty when she walked inside, so she called out, “Hellooo, James, Aaron.”
“Hi, Harper!” James stuck his head out of his office. “We were just discussing your mother. Sort of. Come on in.”
Aaron hovered next to James’ desk and offered Harper a chair.
“Thanks,” Harper said, wondering if there was a reason the men were dressed identically in tan khakis and light blue polo shirts or if it was unintentional.
“I saw Hal Kennedy leaving. Was he here about Grace?”
“You familiar with Mr. Jersey Simon?” Aaron asked, leaning toward Harper and lowering his voice.
“Besides the fact that he and his wife were guests at the Inn several times in the past few months, I only know what I’ve heard. He has a shady past and Grace was in the process of showing him some commercial property in St. Andrews.”
“Yeah,” Aaron growled, sitting on the corner of James’ desk. “Grace dealt with a damn criminal and didn’t even know it. Didn’t even know it.”
“Well, we didn’t know it, either,” James reminded him in a soothing voice. “And we’ve taken the liberty of removing Jersey Simon from our client list.”
“Hal informed us this Simon fellow is a person of interest in Grace’s murder,” Aaron announced dramatically while slapping the heel of his hand on his forehead in a slapstick manner.
James shook his head at his partner and made little ‘tsk tsking’ sounds.
Aaron said, “We handed over Grace’s client file on Mr. Simon to the deputy. She’d shown him a couple of apartment complexes but hadn’t actually drawn up any proposals or agreements, thank goodness. She was determined to beat Fannie to the draw on dealing with the Simons. The woman could be grating at times. Very grating. Could get on one’s nerves. One’s nerves. Not that we didn’t appreciate Grace’s good points––we did. It was just her mouth, you know. Just her mouth. Maybe the cops will get to the bottom of all this soon and arrest the guy for murder.”
Changing the subject, James remarked, “We understand there’s been a hold up with the Hoovers closing the deal at the Inn, thanks to Mrs. Hoover’s belief in, umm, the occult. The two of us have taken over Grace’s clients and we’re going to do whatever we can to convince the Hoovers to sign on the dotted line. We’ve been in contact with your mother and assured her we’re committed to doing our very best for her.”
“We don’t want to be known as the realty company who did business with a money-laundering crook. Especially if the crook turns out to have murdered Grace. Of course, that did save us from having to poison the witch, yes, poison the witch,” Aaron mumbled, almost as though he had forgotten Harper sat within earshot.
“Aaron,” James barked.
“Not that we would have,” Aaron sputtered. “Not that we would have.”
“We all have our fantasies,” Harper replied.
Flipping the pages of the new Antique Trader magazine while chewing on a ham and rye, Harper ate lunch at her desk while Helen sat on a rose-colored Regency style sofa on the opposite side of Harper’s office, munching a chicken salad on wheat. Neither woman wanted to answer the telephone when it rang.
“You’re the closest,” Helen sniffled.
“But I’m the most relaxed right now,” Harper protested.
Helen shoved a large wedge of sandwich into her mouth. “Mouf full, can’t talk.”
Sighing, Harper picked up the receiver. “Our Earthly Remains, this is Harper.”
“This is Lawrence Hart. I’m glad I caught you. Do you suppose you could meet me at the church office this afternoon?”
Raising her eyebrows and shooting a look at Helen, Harper agreed to stop by the Church of the Merciful Redemption at three o’clock.
“What was that all about?” Helen inquired after Harper hung up the phone.
“Lawrence Hart wants to meet with me.”
“About time someone tried to save your soul. I’ll lock up so don’t worry about coming back today. Your salvation might take the Pastor several hours.”
Chapter Seventeen
At precisely three o’clock, Lawrence Hart closed the office door behind Harper.
“The best way to be sure we’re not disturbed would be to lock the door,” Lawrence stated, taking a seat across the desk from Harper. “But there’s no lock, which is the reason Grace Potter was able to walk in on Mrs. Abbott and me the other evening.”
So Lawrence knows I know about his affair, Harper thought. Of course, Fannie would have told him. I wonder if he has any idea he’s on my list of murder suspects.
Lawrence sighed and rubbed his forehead. He met Harper's eyes with a steady if embarrassed look. “I recently spoke with Mrs. Abbott who told me you are aware of our, umm, transgression.”
“I’m truly sorry, Pastor Hart. Believe me when I say I’d much rather have never found out.”
A cheerless smile partially formed on Lawrence’s lips. “I didn’t ask you to come here so I could unburden myself of this sin I committed. Daphne doesn’t know about Fannie and me. I will confess it to my wife, but I’m hoping I can do it in my own time, my own way. Grace Potter wasn’t going to allow me that.”
“She planned on destroying your career, too, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she didn’t want to ruin me half way. The blame is mine, and I own up to that. But to hurt Daphne and Bruce, even Fannie, that was evil. As a minister, I thought I knew all about evil. Until this business with Grace.”
“Grace played the same hand with several people, Pastor. Someone decided to call her on her dirty dealing.”
“I know you think I had a motive to kill Grace,” Lawrence said, wincing at the thought. “Fannie said you brought it up with her.”
Harper felt relieved Lawrence’s motive for murder was out on the table. It would make it easier to question him.
“A threat to destroy everything he holds dear could drive a person to do something he would never consider doing otherwise,” Harper asserted. “With Grace dead you’re in the clear. No letters sent to Bruce Abbott or Deacon Fairweather. And clergy have committed murder before.”
Lawrence smiled grimly. “Clergymen are human, Harper. Sometimes we have to struggle with the weaknesses of our flesh, true, but we never plan to commit sin.”
Harper shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Both Lawrence and Fannie were attractive people which might have been enough for Fannie but somehow she felt it would take more than an eye-catching body to cause the pastor to risk so much. Whatever his reason, she didn’t want to know. She really did not desire to pry into the rationale Lawrence and Fannie had come up with to carry on an affair with each other.
Lawrence spoke again. “Daphne mentioned you stopped by our house and asked her some questions about the night Grace was murdered. She disclosed to you the fact that I was gone during the bonfire, which I understand from Marshall was around the time Grace was murdered.”
“That’s right.”
“This would give me opportunity, of course.”
Harper looked the pastor in the eye and gave him points for being forthright.
“Daphne told you a parishioner came and expressed a need to confer with me. This person said it was urgent so we strolled away from the crowd where we could have some privacy.”
“Yes, your wife mentioned you are always being cornered by folks who need to ‘bend your ear,’ as she put it. She didn’t say someone had actual ‘business’ to discuss with you.”
“That’s because she didn’t want to reveal anything confidential. But it’s exactly what happened. A parishioner needed counsel and that’s my job. I was doing my job.”
“I suppose you can’t tell me who the person is so I can corroborate your story.”
“That’s right, I can’t. You’ll have to
take my word for it.”
“Pastor Hart, even if I could take your word, the cops could not. Wouldn’t it be better if you let me check out your alibi and not get the cops involved? Because that’s just what I’ll have to do in order to exclude you. I’ll have to involve the authorities.” Harper wasn’t sure she was ready to involve the cops but it sounded really good and could be a lever to get the pastor to talk.
Lawrence groaned softly. “Give me a little time and I’ll see if the parishioner will step forward and vouch for me. It’s all I can offer you right now.”
“Fair enough,” Harper agreed. She truly hoped Lawrence Hart had nothing to do with Grace Potter’s murder. However, she wasn’t quite ready to let him off the hook.
Taking Helen at her word to close up shop, Harper steered her truck toward home. She felt exhausted. Two confrontations in one day were enough for any novice sleuth. She wanted a quiet evening of down time.
Driving past the apartment complex where Roger Strumsky lived, she recognized Rachel’s Mazda parked along the curb.
Oh, why not? Harper asked herself. Might as well go for three. Besides, I’m not confronting Rachel about anything, just asking questions about Summer and Grace. That shouldn’t provoke her. Lord knows I’ve provoked enough Turnbuckles for one day. Besides, Roger might have noticed something. He seems like the observant type who would take note of his surroundings.
After checking the names on the mailboxes inside the foyer, Harper climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door of 2C. In a couple of minutes, Roger greeted her with a jolly smile on his round face.
“Come in, come in. Rachel and I are having a disagreement about new curtains. Maybe you can settle the argument.”
“I’m probably not the best person to dish out decorating advice,” Harper cautioned. “Not about window treatments, anyway.”
“Oh, hello, Harper,” Rachel said, coming in from the kitchen carrying several swatches of material. “We’re trying to decide on kitchen curtains.”
“Striped, plaid or plain. It’s a tough decision,” Roger laughed.
Harper winked at Roger. “Just remember, Roger, when Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
“That’s the truth of it,” Roger nodded. “Guess we’ll go with the stripes, Rachel.”
Flashing a blissful look at her fiancé, Rachel patted Roger’s arm. “Wise choice, dear. And thank you, Harper. You saved us at least an hour of arguing.”
“Glad I could help.”
“I’m forgetting my manners,” Roger said. “Would you like a glass of tea or a cup of coffee?”
“Thanks, but I’m good. I only stopped by to pick your brains about the day Grace Potter was killed.”
“Oh? Well, pick away,” Roger said.
“Anything seem out of the ordinary to you that day?”
“No, can’t say as it did.”
“Grace rambled around the grounds all afternoon and must have gone out to the shed right before the bonfire started,” Harper said. “Did you see her at all?”
“Yes, up by the house. I was with Roy and Glennis. We’d just come from the dining room. Remember, Rachel? I made you serve me a cup of coffee.”
Rachel smiled at Roger and he continued. “That was probably a half hour or so before the bonfire. Don’t remember seeing her any other time.”
“How about you, Rachel?”
“Let’s see, I must have seen her a couple of times. I noticed her over by Ida Aldwinkle’s candy cart during the afternoon when I changed places with one of the other girls. Then she came into the dining room a few minutes after Roger and my folks left.”
“That must be right after I saw her,” Roger said, offering Harper a chair.
“I suppose it was,” Rachel replied as Roger sat down on the sofa.
Harper switched from Grace to Summer.
“Did you notice if Summer hung around on the porch toward the end of the evening?”
“She and Riley worked their last shift on the porch,” Rachel volunteered.
“I know they did. I’m wondering, though, if Summer might have slipped away for a few minutes.”
Rachel laughed. “If you’re asking if she skipped out to meet up with someone, I did see her and some guy having a few words out toward the edge of the pumpkin patch. But it was dark by then and I’m sure Riley didn’t need Summer’s help. I don’t want to get Summer into any trouble, you know.”
Harper gave Rachel a friendly smile and laughed, too. “I’m sure Summer can get into plenty of trouble without your help.”
“We’ve all enjoyed working for Olivia. I’ll miss that,” Rachel said as she laid the swatches on the coffee table and perched on the arm of the sofa next to Roger
“I’m sure the Hoovers will need experienced help for the festival. They’re nice folks. And Mom will give all you girls a good recommendation.”
Rachel put her hand on Roger’s shoulder, gently massaging it in small circles.
“That’s nice of her,” Rachel said absently.
Give her a few months, she’ll get tired of rubbing his neck, Harper smiled to herself.
“Okay, thanks for the info. I’ll be going now. Have fun with the curtains.”
When Harper stood to leave, Roger politely popped up like a cork in water. “They’re practically hung,” he chuckled.
An hour later, Harper stepped out of a relaxing bubble bath, toweled off and slipped on a pair of soft pajamas. Wiggling her feet into a pair of wooly socks, she headed for the kitchen and poured herself a glass of Moscato. Back in the living room she dug through her CDs, choosing a Bruno Mars album, and curled up on the couch.
Damn, she thought, stretching her legs, at my age it takes longer to rest than it did to get tired.
When the phone rang, she hoped it wasn’t someone inviting her to go out, or worse yet wanting to drop by. This is why I don’t date, she muttered to herself as she answered the call.
“It’s Mom, dear,” Olivia spoke on the other end.
“What’s up, Mom?”
“I think I came up with a wonderful idea. Since the Hoovers are going to be staying here this weekend, I decided to have a nice Sunday dinner for a few people. You’re coming out that day anyway.”
“Sure. Who are the few people?”
“You, Lonnie, Paul, Mead and Alice, and Aaron Wilcox and James Wilson.”
“That sounds like quite a little party.”
“With Violet, Ezra and me, there will be ten. A nice, even number––perfect for a dinner party.”
“You cooking up a plan to help James and Aaron convince the Hoovers to close the deal?”
“No, just cooking up a nice standing rib roast. If James and Aaron are as clever as I think they are, they’ll go far in persuading Alice all’s well out here. They’re around the same age as the Hoovers and young people tend to believe their peers instead of us old coots.”
“I hardly consider myself an old coot.”
“No, of course you’re not, but you’ve got close to twenty years on Alice. Besides, I have a feeling she’ll be more susceptible to the charms of two attractive young men than she is to the unfriendly aura of a dead woman.”
“And Mead won’t get jealous of James’ and Aaron’s charms?”
“My dear daughter, there’s a difference between a charming man and a lecherous one.”
Too bad Summer couldn’t tell the difference, Harper thought.
“I asked my guests to come around noon. We’ll have a little chat first and eat at one o’clock.”
“Sounds like a plan. Tell Violet I’ll give her a hand tomorrow.”
“That’s nice, dear. Your sister said the same thing. ”
After Harper hung up the phone, she poured herself another glass of wine. Taking a long, slow drink, she set the glass on the coffee table and got comfortable on the sofa again.
A couple of rapid taps on her front door made her groan and she pulled herself up and off the sofa. Now who on earth would be
at her door at this hour? If it was Eli she was going to give him a good piece of her mind before she slammed the door in his face. She was sick to death of his interfering. She jerked open the door and stared into the face of Mickey O’Connell.
“Oh,” was all Harper could say.
“Sorry to bother you. It seems I really did, too. I should have waited until tomorrow, but I wanted to get this over with.”
