by Sarah Fox
“No. He doesn’t have a microchip, so there’s no way to contact his owners. The vet thinks he was on his own for a while. His leg had been broken for a few days at least.”
“Poor thing.” My heart ached to think of the dog limping around on a broken leg for that long. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“If they can’t track down his owners, or if he can’t be returned to his owners, I’d like to adopt him.”
My face lit up. “You would?”
“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog for a while. I always had dogs growing up and I miss having one around. I’d love to bring Bentley home.”
“That’s great, Brett. I think it’s a perfect idea.”
“So do I, but I can’t get my hopes up too high. Legally, there’s a holding period of seventy-two hours before a stray animal can be adopted out, and sometimes they’re held longer. He’s going to have to stay at the clinic for a while anyway, but I won’t know what’s going to happen for several days.”
I tugged a fluttery, blue-and-white sundress from its hanger. “Well, if he doesn’t already have a good home, you’ll give him a great one.”
“Is it terrible of me to hope it turns out that way?”
“Of course not. He’s a lovely dog. It’s understandable that you’re hoping for the chance to adopt him.” The sundress over one arm, I sat down on my bed. Although I’d intended to go to the tea at the church, I realized I’d rather spend my afternoon with Brett, despite the anxiety that had plagued me lately when I thought about our relationship. “What are you up to today?”
“I’m in Port Townsend. I just helped my mom and Gwen pack up after showing their art at a festival earlier today and now I’m about to head over to a buddy’s place. He and his wife invited me for dinner.”
“That sounds nice.” I managed to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
He asked about my plans and I told him about the tea.
“Have a good time,” he said. “I hear the food’s always delicious.”
I bit down on my lower lip for a second. “Brett?”
“Yes?”
I hesitated, unsure of what I wanted to say. That I missed him? That I was crazy about him, but terrified for some reason I couldn’t pinpoint?
All that and more, but I heard a car door shut on the other end of the line and realized that he’d probably climbed into his truck, ready to head to his friend’s place.
“Marley? Is everything all right?”
I forced my voice to sound normal. “Everything’s fine. Will I get to see you soon?”
“I hope so. Tomorrow, if at all possible.”
“Okay. Enjoy the rest of the day.”
“You too.”
When I ended the call, I had a sudden desire to curl up with a good book and hide away from the world for the rest of the day. I wasn’t sure that would be the best thing for me though. More likely than not, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the fictional story, my mind instead going around and around, fixating on the very real situation of Ida’s murder and my personal life.
Knowing it would be better to go socialize for a while, I quickly changed into the sundress and slipped my feet into a pair of sandals. Since the sun was beating down, making the day much warmer than was normal for the middle of June, I decided to drive across town to the tea. I had to park half a block away from the picturesque white church and wondered if there’d be room for me inside. Judging by the number of cars lining the curbs, the church tea was a popular event.
Leaving the air-conditioned interior of my car, I followed handmade signs to an exterior stairwell that led down to the church’s basement. At the bottom of the concrete steps, the door stood open, another sign directing tea-goers into the building. As I descended the stairs, a hushed and furtive female voice floated out the door.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” the woman said, “but at least our troubles are over now.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” a man’s voice said in response, sounding none too happy.
His female companion spoke again. “But with that woman gone, everything will be fine.”
The man lowered his voice, so I couldn’t hear what he said to that.
With my sleuth’s antenna on alert, I stepped into the doorway.
Compared to the bright, sunny outdoors, the church’s interior seemed dim and shadowy. Although I couldn’t see much at first, I did notice the startled movements of the two people standing a few feet away from me. I blinked, and as my eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, more details began to emerge. While the two people hurried away, out of what I now saw was a small anteroom and into the main room of the church’s basement, I caught enough of a glimpse to know that I didn’t recognize the dark-haired woman. But I definitely recognized the bald bank manager, Mitch Paulson.
Chapter 12
I remained standing one step inside the doorway, distracted by what I’d seen and heard seconds ago. The woman’s words played over again in my head.
I’m sorry for what I did.
With that woman gone, everything will be fine.
What had she done? And was she talking about Ida?
That seemed likely. Ida was most definitely gone, and she had some sort of link to Mitch Paulson. I didn’t know what that link was, but it clearly existed. I didn’t think trespassing at crime scenes under the cover of darkness was a typical pastime for bank managers.
Two young girls, squealing with laughter, came clattering out of the main room, running for the door. I stepped quickly out of the way and they barreled past me, out into the sunshine. My thoughts interrupted, I remembered why I was at the church and left the dim anteroom for the brightly lit main room.
Tables draped with white cloths filled the space, all but a handful occupied by people of various ages enjoying tea, dainty sandwiches, and an array of small desserts. I scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. A group of four middle-aged women sat down at a table and beyond them I spotted a head of bleached-blond hair.
Navigating my way around the tables and chairs, I approached Leigh. She was standing next to a long table attended by two elderly ladies, handing money to the one who appeared to be in charge of a metal cash box.
“Leigh,” I said in greeting.
She turned at the sound of my voice. “Oh, hey, Marley.” She tucked her wallet into her purse. “I sent the girls to claim a table for us.” She scanned the room and then nodded to a table, currently occupied by Leigh’s three daughters.
“I’ll bring your food over in a jiffy, dear,” one of the elderly ladies told her.
“Thank you,” Leigh said. “Come and join us, Marley?”
“I’ll be right there.”
“What would you like to drink, dear?” The woman asked as I handed her some money. “We have tea, coffee, and lemonade.”
“Tea, please.”
“Have a seat and I’ll be right there.”
I thanked her and made my way over to Leigh and her daughters.
“Hi, Marley!” Leigh’s oldest daughter, ten-year-old Amanda, greeted.
“Hi, girls.”
Seven-year-old Brianna bounced in her seat and smiled at me while five-year-old Kayla brushed the hair of the doll she held in her lap.
The woman who’d taken my order arrived at the table along with another white-haired woman, one carrying a tray of drinks and the other a tray of food. Soon the table was laden with plates of tea sandwiches and one of the women assured us that our desserts would be along soon. As the girls dug into their sandwiches and sipped at their lemonade, I glanced around the room.
“This is a really popular event,” I commented as I eyed the dozens of people present.
“Yes,” Leigh agreed. “It always is.”
“The food is so good,” Amanda piped up before chomping down on one of her sandwiches.
“Especially the strawberries,” Brianna chimed in. “Mommy, when will they bring the strawberries?”
“Soon,” Leigh said. “Eat your sandwiches.”
“They’re not real strawberries,” Amanda said to her sister, rolling her eyes.
“I know that!” Brianna shot back.
“Okay, girls,” Leigh cut in. “Quiet down, please.”
They did as they were told and refocused on their food and lemonade. I started in on my own sandwiches and had just polished off a spiral one filled with cream cheese when I spotted the dark-haired woman who’d been speaking with Mitch Paulson when I arrived.
I nodded in her direction as I asked Leigh, “Do you know that woman?”
She followed my line of sight. “Deanna Paulson? Slightly.”
“Mitch Paulson’s wife?” I asked.
“Yes. I know her to say hello to, but not much beyond that.”
I considered the new information. Had the couple had something to do with Ida’s death? Deanna said she was sorry for something she’d done. Killing Ida, perhaps? If that were the case, had her husband made a clandestine trip to Ida’s house in an attempt to retrieve a piece of evidence that could tie his wife to the crime?
I watched as the woman chatted and laughed with the two couples at her table. Her husband arrived at her side and gave her a kiss on her cheek before claiming the seat next to her.
Leigh too was still watching them.
“They always look like the perfect couple,” she said.
“Are they really?” I asked.
Leigh shrugged as she picked up her cup of coffee. “They might be, but who knows what goes on behind closed doors.”
She had a good point, and judging by the snippet of hushed conversation I’d overheard, not everything was perfectly rosy in the Paulsons’ world. But whether their life was currently clouded by some minor issue or by their involvement in a murder, I didn’t know.
Pushing thoughts of the Paulsons aside, I asked the girls how they were enjoying their summer holidays, and we chatted for a few minutes while we finished off our sandwiches. One of the church ladies returned a moment later and placed a two-tiered platter in the middle of our table. We thanked her and focused our attention on the mouth-watering display of goodies.
“I want that one!” Brianna piped up, pointing to a dainty petit four with pink icing.
Her sisters enthusiastically voiced their own preferences and Leigh helped them get their chosen desserts—along with one marzipan strawberry each—onto their plates. I enjoyed a mini chocolate cupcake and then tasted my own marzipan strawberry. Sienna and Leigh’s girls were right—it was absolutely delicious.
By the time we finished eating, the girls were all bouncing about in their seats, so Leigh sent them outside to play while we finished off our coffee and tea. When our cups were empty, Leigh gathered up her purse.
“I’d better go see what trouble they’re getting up to out there. Do you want to head over to the flower show with us? We won’t be staying long, but I’d like to see the displays.”
“Sure, that sounds nice.”
After thanking the ladies running the tea, we left the church and found Leigh’s girls playing tag on the lawn, their faces flushed from the heat.
“Come on, girls,” Leigh called to them.
“Is Marley coming to see the flowers with us?” Kayla asked as she skipped over to us, holding her doll in one hand.
“I am,” I answered. “Which flowers are your favorite?”
“The roses,” she replied without hesitation. “They smell so pretty.”
She took my hand and as a group we walked across the street to the town’s only elementary school, where the flower show was being held in the gymnasium. Even after the short walk, it was nice to get out of the sun. As soon as we entered the gym, beautiful scents greeted us and I could see table after table of gorgeous blooms on display.
Still holding my hand, Kayla pulled me over to the roses and I picked her up so she could smell each vase of flowers, chattering away to me the whole time. When we reached the end of one table, I set her back down and she caught sight of another little girl across the room.
“Look, Mommy, it’s Aisha. Can I go say hi?”
“All right,” Leigh said, “but don’t leave the gym.”
“I won’t,” Kayla said, already running off to see her friend.
Amanda and Brianna were looking at a table of flower arrangements, leaving me and Leigh to wander among the displays together. We stopped in front of a particularly impressive vase of roses, the petals transitioning from yellow to peachy pink at the outer edges. A first-place ribbon lay on the table next to it, along with a fancy rosette proclaiming the entrant to be the winner of the prize for most points in the rose category. I glanced at the entrant’s tag tucked under the base of the vase and saw Joan Crenshaw’s name on it.
“I just met Joan recently,” I said to Leigh. “She really does have a beautiful garden.”
“I’ve never seen her garden, but these roses are definitely spectacular,” Leigh said. “I know she’s won this prize in the past, but not for a few years now. I’m sure she’ll be happy. In fact, I’m sure pretty much everyone will be happy that the results are different from last year.”
“Oh?” I said with interest.
Leigh lowered her voice. “Ida won last year. Nobody was impressed.”
I was about to comment on that when I heard a voice from behind me say my name. I turned around to see Patricia approaching.
Leigh put a hand on my arm. “I’m going to go make sure the girls aren’t getting up to any mischief.”
She set off across the room and I turned my attention to Patricia.
“Hi, Marley,” she said with a smile. “How are you liking the displays?”
“They’re beautiful. Did you enter any flowers?”
“No. I only have a few pots and hanging baskets at my place, but I do like to come and see what everyone else has grown each year.”
Patricia was about to say something more when her gaze shifted to a spot beyond my right shoulder. “Hello, Sheryl.”
I turned around to find Sheryl Haynes about to pass us, but Patricia’s greeting brought her to a halt.
“Oh, hello, Patricia.” She spotted me. “And Marley. Are you enjoying the displays?”
We both responded in the affirmative.
“I see you won several prizes for your roses,” I said, nodding at the nearest table. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Gardening is one of my favorite hobbies, and it’s always fun to enter the show.”
“How are you doing?” Patricia asked Sheryl. “It must have been unnerving having a murder committed right next door to you.”
Sheryl’s hand went to the pearls at her throat. “Terribly unnerving. Of course, it’s probably been awful for Marley here as well. She was the one to find Ida, after all.” Her eyes settled on me. “And I heard that some suspicion has fallen on you. I understand how upsetting that is.”
I wasn’t thrilled that word of my status in the investigation had spread, but I wasn’t surprised. However, I found Sheryl’s last statement the most interesting.
“Is the sheriff investigating you too?” Patricia asked before I had the chance.
Sheryl glanced around and lowered her voice, her fingers still fiddling with her pearls. “Not me, but Melinda. Unfortunately, there was a poorly timed incident on the day of Ida’s death.”
“So I heard,” Patricia said.
“Of course Melinda had nothing to do with Ida’s death,” Sheryl went on, “but the incident has drawn some rather unwanted attention from the sheriff and his deputies.”
“What was she so upset about that morning?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t recall that she’d already dodged that question on the day of the murder.
“Oh, I think she was just annoyed that Ida’s front yard looks like such a dump,” Sheryl said quickly, a tinge of pink coloring her cheeks. “You see, I’m hoping to sell the house soon and that sort of thing does have an effect on the value of the neighboring properties.”<
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“So it’s true you’re planning to move to Florida?” Patricia asked.
Sheryl confirmed that, but I barely heard her response. I was too focused on the fact that she’d seemed flustered while answering my question. Was she lying? If so, why were she and her daughter both so unwilling to reveal the true reason for Melinda’s outburst?
I tuned back into the conversation. As soon as I had a chance, I asked, “Does Melinda have an alibi that could help clear her name?”
“She was with me that entire morning,” Sheryl replied.
“So the sheriff is no longer investigating her?”
“I should hope not,” Sheryl said. “To think they could have believed even for a moment that Melinda was involved! Really, that’s just one more thing that makes me want to get away from this town.”
I wasn’t too sure what to say to that, but Patricia jumped in, asking when Sheryl was planning to leave for Florida.
“That depends on how soon I can get the house sold. Melinda and I are sorting through everything, figuring out what to keep and what to get rid of. It’s a terribly big job though, so I’m not sure when we’ll get the house up on the market.”
A cluster of women Sheryl’s age drew her attention and she took a step toward them while saying, “Nice to see you, ladies.”
She was gone before we had a chance to say any words of farewell.
After speaking with Patricia for another few minutes, we parted and I moved on to check out the display of dahlias at a neighboring table.
At one point I glanced up and noticed Gavin Paulson chatting with Joan across the room. Leaving the dahlias behind, I went over to join them.
“Hello, Marley,” Joan said when I approached. “Have you met Gavin?”
“I have. Good to see you again.”
“You too,” he said with a smile.
“Marley’s something of an amateur sleuth,” Joan said.
I stepped to the side, making way for Kirk Jarvis’s shop assistant, Jake, to squeeze past, a curvy brunette right behind him, holding his hand.
“Not really,” I said once Jake and his companion were gone. “I’m just interested in clearing my name.”
