An enormous TV was on, but the volume was turned down low. An exercise tape was paused, and the woman leading the group of perky exercisers, in neon-colored shorts and an assortment of tops from sports bras to T-shirts, had her mouth open, in the midst of saying something. The camera had zoomed in on her face, and I could almost make out her tonsils.
Mallory didn't work outside of her home, but what I knew of her, she never sat around. She was not only a part of the PTA, but she was a true soccer mom—the kind who enjoyed her kids in every after-school activity and spent more time in her car than her house. She was a hardworking Capricorn to the letter, and I only knew that because she often talked about how awful it had been growing up with a Christmas birthday.
"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Mallory pushed a navy sweatshirt off of the cushion of the sectional and stacked several magazines on the coffee table. Now this room was lived in.
I sat down. "I was wondering if you saw anything suspicious that day."
That caught her attention. She stopped mid-organizing and slowly sat on the sofa. "Like what?"
I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but come on. I had to have a legit reason for the question. No one made a surprise visit to an acquaintance unless they had a good reason.
"The e-mail about the freebies. You received one?" I asked.
"Yes. That's how I knew about the event. I had an appointment at The Clip and Sip hair salon just before I got the invite. I don't normally eat carbs, but I figured one time wouldn't hurt." She rolled her eyes and pointed to the TV. "As you can see, I was wrong. That cookie went straight to my hips. I gained four pounds. I should've known better."
It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. She needed to buy a new scale or to start journaling her food intake if she truly believed half a cookie had caused her to gain weight.
"Any chance you saw someone carry in a plate of scones?" I asked as if it was the most common question.
She shook her head. "No. That would be silly. Why would someone bring in their own food?" She giggled, not catching on. That was just as well.
"What do you remember of that morning?"
"Well, let's see. I got the e-mail, decided to take a detour, and ate some excellent cookies, even if they were extremely fattening." She chuckled as if she'd said something funny.
"I mean at the bakery. Who do you remember seeing?"
"Oh, well that's easy enough." She cocked her head and looked off past me. "If I go around the room, there was Glenda, Shirley, and Patricia—the women who dote on your grandmother's every word."
So those were the names of the Bitty-Batty women.
"Norma Childs, Susan Monroe, the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery employees, Jeff Truman, Lorna…"
As she named every single person there, I wished I'd brought a notebook. I hadn't expected her attention to detail. Damn, she was good. But when she was done, I was no closer to finding the truth. She hadn't mentioned Holly or Gloria Dearborn.
* * *
My next stop was the Ocean View Bed & Breakfast to see Holly and Gloria. I wanted to know if they knew about me possibly being their niece. Maybe they knew more than Max. I doubted they'd just hand over information, but I hoped to either trick them into declaring all or at least catch a guilty expression. Something. Anything. And I prayed I wouldn't run into Erin, Jared's ex who didn't remember she was his ex.
When I arrived, the main door was locked, and I needed to ring to get inside. Well that put a damper on my sneaking in and surprising Holly. I had to admit I was hoping for a chance to find the letter without Holly getting in the way, too.
I started to take a step toward the back of the house, because that was where Joe made our bakery deliveries most mornings. We even had a key to gain access, but I didn't have it on me now. It was hanging on a hook in the bakery's office. I could go and get it, but by the time I got there, I'd be too tired to come back. I may have enjoyed rolling and cycling around town, but it was exhausting at times.
I wasn't sure what to do now.
Suddenly, the door opened, and an older woman in a salmon-colored sweat suit stood in the threshold.
"I'm looking for Gloria and Holly Dearborn," I said quickly and somewhat guiltily. Standing here contemplating breaking and entering, even with a key, had me feeling a bit unnerved.
She nodded toward the back of the house. "One of them is out back sunbathing. Damn woman needs to learn how to keep parts covered. No one wants to see all that."
She walked past me with a huff.
What the heck was that about? I didn't wait long enough to wonder if I should walk to the back of the house. I quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind me. This would be the perfect time to snoop. As long as someone else didn't catch me.
A huge old register book sat on the black marble counter. I flipped open the book. The last guest who had signed it was Erin. My stomach knotted at seeing her curvy penmanship. The person before her was Holly, and the book listed her room number. Some more snooping could reveal where she put the letter.
I walked upstairs, trailing my hand along the wrought iron banister. I stepped in front of her door and knocked, just in case she was inside. I tapped my foot on the floor as I waited, excitement building with every second that passed when no one opened it. I gave it a few more seconds, and then I twisted the knob. But it wouldn't turn… It was locked. Of course it was, Riley. No one wanted to rent a room where their personal items wouldn't be safe. What was I supposed to do now though?
The door had one of those fancy hotel things you slid a key card into. There was no way I could jimmy that, even if it was possible to do so.
Someone cleared her throat behind me. Great.
I turned to see Holly. Of course. If it had been the B&B owner, Bree, maybe I could've come up with a satisfying lie as to why I was standing here. Or I could've spilled all and threw myself at her mercy. But no, I had to face the one person I wanted to avoid most.
"Looking for me?" she asked with a bored look on her face.
I lied. "Yes."
She stepped forward, and I got a better look at her. She was in a bikini, and the top was a size too big. Yep, she didn't know her own size. Since Holly was getting up there in age, her boobs were no longer perky and needed more support than an oversized halter top. The bikini bottom, however, was a size too small. Other than the wedgie I assumed she sported, it didn't look as ridiculous as the top. It clearly showed an angel tattoo on her left hip though.
Now I understood what the older woman had meant by Holly needing to cover up.
She stepped forward and slid her key card into the lock. "What do you want?"
"Is that a way to greet your maybe niece? Come on, Auntie Holly. I just want to get to know you."
She scoffed and pushed her door open. "Like I need any more damn relatives. He didn't even know you, and you get part of his estate. Yet I, his sister, get nothing? What kind of BS is that?"
So she definitely knew of Nathan and Mom's affair, as well as my inheritance. All of that coupled with the hysterics, and how her sister Gloria talked about Max being the executor of the estate, and how they were left penniless at the funeral made Holly look like an excellent candidate for Brother Killer. I guessed this should've hit me emotionally, considering we may have been related, but it didn't. Maybe it was shock, or maybe I simply didn't know any of the Dearborns well enough to be upset.
I expected her to slam the door in my face, but she walked inside and left it open. I did not hesitate to step inside.
The room was bright and looked newly updated. The walls were white with an accent wall in yellow. The furnishings included the bed with dark-gray bedding, a couple of end tables, a dresser, a table with two chairs, a mini fridge, and a TV. It was gorgeous, but it didn't look all that lived in.
There was a tube of Chap Stick on the dresser. The closet door was open. The hangers were empty, but an open suitcase sat on the floor. Clothes were still inside. A few were nicely folded, but the r
est were tossed and scattered, not only on the suitcase but along the closet floor too. She wasn't one for unpacking.
"Not inheriting anything is mean," I said.
She raised a brow.
"And not my problem. What my problem is though is that I didn't set out the scones that killed him. Someone else did, and I'm determined to find out who."
At first she looked…almost happy. The corner of her mouth tugged up ever so slightly. Maybe she was just surprised. "You think he was murdered by scones?"
Oh yeah, I had just revealed that, huh? I was getting confused as to who knew what.
But before I had to explain what I knew, or what I wanted her to know, the skin between her brows puckered. "Don't even think I had anything to do with it."
Considering she and her sister hadn't been in town before Nathan died and Mallory hadn't seen either of the Dearborn sisters at the bakery that day, I no longer considered Holly or Gloria suspects. This also meant the only other person on that list was the neighbor with the peed-on rose bush. Not exactly a stellar motive for murder.
"I may have thought my brother had become a waste of space, but I didn't kill him," Holly said.
I cringed at her choice of words.
She walked to the other side of the bed and reached under the mattress. "You might want to talk to Gloria though. She hated him big time. She's not here. Hardly ever is. She spends all her time at that bar—the Smugglers' Tavern. She's been there every day for the past three weeks."
She stood straight and thrust her hand at me. She was holding the letter.
To say I was surprised would've been an understatement. I gawked at her offering.
She had to shake her arm and ask, "Do you want it or not?" before I unfroze and took it from her.
The name on the return address was Lily Templeton. Oh my God.
I searched her face for some telltale sign to what the letter contained, but more importantly to why she was just handing it over. I'd assumed I'd have to fight for it. But the only readable emotion on her expression was annoyance.
"Is that all?" she asked. "Because I just came up to get more lotion. I need to get back before the sun moves."
I nodded and turned to leave, and then what she'd said struck me. I glanced back. "Three weeks? That means you didn't arrive in town just before Nathan's funeral?"
She scoffed. "Gloria and I got here long before dear brother choked."
* * *
I skated to the pier and found an empty bench. I texted Jared, not wanting to call and interrupt a class. Tara had back-to-back dance classes on Monday night, and I wasn't ready to tell Amber the truth about her mom, which left Jared. I just hoped he wasn't too busy with eradicating Erin from his life to help me.
My cell vibrated in my hand and then rang. "Hey, what's up?" he asked.
"I was wondering if you wanted to help me with some sleuthing later." I stared down at the letter. I hadn't read it yet.
"Sure. What do you have in mind?" Chatter sounded in his background.
"I need to talk to Gloria Dearborn, and according to her sister, she's been spending most of her time at the Smugglers' Tavern. Wanna get a bite or a drink with me?"
"A date?" he asked in a falsetto tone.
I giggled while my insides turned mushy. "Something like that."
"Sure. I'd love to. I have play practice after school though, but I'll call you when I get done, and we can set a time?"
"Sounds like a plan."
We hung up, and I stared at the letter. I needed to get past whatever reason I had for hesitating and just open the darn thing. It couldn't have been that bad. It wasn't like I was about to find out my dad may not have been my dad and possible New Dad killed my old one.
I carefully pulled the letter from the envelope and unfolded it.
Dear Nathan,
I told Christopher I'm pregnant, and he asked me to marry him. I said yes. I love him too. This is what's best for everyone. Even if there was a way to find out if my baby was yours or Chris's, you don't want to be saddled with a kid. You said you're a confirmed bachelor My unborn child and Chris are my family. I hope you have a happy and successful life. I'll be watching you on the big screen.
Love always,
Lily
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, then read the letter again. This was obviously pre–Jerry Springer days. I wondered if Mom thought about having DNA testing done years later when it became accessible?
I stared out at the water and replayed my childhood memories, one after the other. Had there been any signs that I may not have been Dad's? Had I ever caught Mom watching us funny? I sighed. There was no way to tell, and I couldn't look to my past for the answers.
I jumped up and rolled to Nathan's house. It was a shorter distance from the pier than Grams' or the bakery, but I was still slightly panting by the time I got there. Probably because I was on a mission and skated extra fast.
I knocked on the door. The old neighbor wasn't around this time.
Max answered.
"I want to see everything relating to me or my mom."
He stepped back and let me enter.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Max had combed through all of the journals and most of Nathan's personal effects, and he hadn't found anything else pertaining to Mom or me. We sat on the back terrace, drank tea, and talked about our childhoods. It was nice. He promised to tell me about anything else he still might find. I trusted him, so I told him all I knew about the scones, the security footage from the bakery as well as the bank, and my belief it was murder. He listened intently and didn't blame me for his uncle's death. That was what I feared the most. Then I told him what Holly said about her and her sister.
"I had no idea they've been in town for that long!"
"Any idea why they were here?" I asked.
He took off his glasses, rubbed the sides of his nose, and put them back on. "I'd found some recent postcards from each of my aunts. They asked for money. They must've decided to come in person."
This meant they were back on my suspect list. I tried to not smile and act like this was a good thing.
"Holly said Gloria hated Nathan."
Max sighed. "That doesn't surprise me. Nothing does with those two." He, however, sounded hurt by this revelation.
When I left, I rolled home, showered, and changed into a pinkish-red swing dress with a white slightly off-the-shoulder neckline. I secured my hair up, slipped into two-inch-heeled white Mary Janes, and blotted my fuchsia lipstick so it wasn't so bright. Shortly after, Jared called and picked me up for our "date."
We stepped inside the Smugglers' Tavern, and I blinked several times to adjust to the dim lighting. The large bar sat in the middle of the room. Tables surrounded it, and doors leading to the garden were ajar. Normally, I'd want to sit out there, but tonight wasn't a social occasion.
With a hand on my elbow, Jared guided me to a table against the right wall. I surveyed the room and spotted Gloria at the bar. Her back was to me. She was talking to the man beside her. Unless she'd noticed us when we first arrived, she couldn't see me now. Good. I didn't want her to notice my staring until I was ready to pounce. First, I needed to develop a plan. The one with her sister hadn't worked too well, at least not the talking to her part. And second, I was famished.
I picked up a menu and stared at my options. I'd been here a few times. Tara loved this place for its pirate feel. She was a huge Johnny Depp fan. Pirates didn't do anything for me, but I was a huge fan of the onion rings.
"So, are you going to tell me?" Jared asked over the top of his menu.
I glanced up, met his brown eyes, and looked away. I had every intention of telling him the details. I just wondered if this was the right time. If I started now, would I break down and not get the opportunity to grill Gloria? I looked into his eyes again. But this was Jared. He'd be here to comfort me. He and the onion rings.
I set my menu down and leaned closer. "I found a letter my mother wrote to Nathan Dearb
orn when she was pregnant with me."
His brows arched, and he leaned forward too. "What did it say?"
I took a deep breath. "How my father asked her to marry her, she said yes, and Nathan wouldn't make a good dad anyway."
His eyebrows lifted higher. There wasn't much more room for them to travel.
Before he could ask if the dead man in my bathroom was my father, I said, "She didn't know who my dad was, according to the letter."
Jared leaned fully back in the chair and rubbed his chin. "Wow. And how are you handling this?" His eyes did a slow search over my face, hair, and upper torso, as if that would give him an indication of the sheer screaming going on inside my head.
I clenched my teeth together and flashed him my everything is crazy but I'm pretending I'm sane smile. He knew it well from high school.
He reached out, grabbed my hand on the table, and squeezed my fingers.
"That's not all either." This probably wasn't the right time, but I felt compelled to tell him about Will and me. When I had finally told Tara last night, she'd first playfully slugged me and then gave her speech about how she knew we wouldn't last because I really wanted Jared. I'd denied it, of course. However I felt or was beginning to feel, I hadn't wanted to share it yet.
"What else could there be? Please don't tell me your mother wasn't your mother." He smirked, trying to lighten the mood.
I smiled. "No, but Will and I broke up last night."
The left corner of his mouth lifted. "Really? Are you upset? You don't sound it."
I shook my head. "Upset, not really. I feel guilty about it though. He'd given more to our relationship than I did."
He nodded. "I understand. I feel the same way about Erin."
"How's that going?" I asked.
"I haven't seen her since my parents'. I'm hoping she came to her senses and left town."
That was unlikely.
Death by Scones Page 14
