She leaned over to look at the picture. “Bev took that at a Wild West Sunday school party she and Bill hosted.” She chuckled. “Beverly knew how to throw a good shindig in her day.” Her smile faded. “Everyone loved her.”
Maybe not everyone. I tucked the pictures away. “So Beverly never had any conflicts with anybody at church?”
“No.”
“What about problems with the museum volunteers?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” She turned and selected a seasoning packet from her cabinet.
“Did she ever say why Clara decided to come home?”
“She wanted to make amends. Wasn’t an issue with needing money—Beverly said she made that clear right away.” She ripped open a seasoning packet and sprinkled it into the pot. “She didn’t say a lot about Clara. Why would she?”
“True. What about Denise?”
“Oh, Beverly talked about Denise all the time—they were very close. They got along great.”
I traced my finger over the crease in the water bottle. “I heard Denise and her husband are having marriage trouble.”
“Yes, but I don’t know any details since Beverly never said.” Wanda crumpled the packet and tossed it into the trash. “I never understood why Denise married Jack Schultz. He was a jerk when he was young, and he hasn’t changed. Not to mention, he never got along with Beverly—or Bill when he was alive.” She shook her finger at me. “If or when you and that boyfriend of yours ever decide to tie the knot, don’t be thinking you’re gonna change him.”
“I know.” I liked Cal the way he was, and I hoped he’d say the same about me.
“And if you marry somebody, you marry his family, so you’d better like them too.”
“Excellent advice.” I raised my eyebrows. “I take it that means you like us?”
“Sure do. I know I’m getting a stubborn old coot for a husband. But I love him, and I can put up with it because he’s so good to me.”
I laughed. “Stubbornness runs in the Winston family.”
“Sure does.” Her eyes sparkled.
“Back to Clara for a minute.” I relayed to Wanda everything Clara had said about Daddy. “It’s hard to believe she’s so bitter after almost forty years.”
Wanda drained a can of kidney beans in the sink and pressed her lips together.
Uh-oh. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Silence fell over the kitchen as she rinsed and added the beans to her chili. “Look.” She faced me. “I understand you have questions about Clara, but I’m not convinced there’s anything else you need to know.”
I closed my eyes. The way she said it made me wonder about Daddy’s involvement. “Wanda, don’t leave me hanging like that.” Why was she choosing this opportunity to be discreet?
“It’s best if I do.” She adjusted the burner’s temperature. “If you want answers about your dad and Clara, talk to your mother.”
Chapter Five
Even though I was in my four-wheel drive truck, I took it easy on the slick country roads while fighting my lead foot. I was running behind because after I’d left Wanda’s condo, I’d been heading through town when a widow from my church called and asked me to dig her out since her son was in Jamaica.
This served to bolster my conviction that half of Richard County had taken refuge near the equator.
I’d already decided the conversation with my mom would have to wait because she and Dan wouldn’t be home from Hawaii until late Saturday night, and my gut told me it’d be best to chat about Daddy’s teenage drama in person. Right now, I turned my focus to making myself look cute—ASAP—because Cal was bringing Chinese take-out.
When I turned into the driveway, a red hatchback blocked the side of the garage where I normally parked my truck.
Clara Alspaugh. What in the world?
I stopped on the cement approach, and she got out of her car. Nothing in her body language suggested she was as angry as she’d been the night before, but I made sure my phone was easily accessible in my overall pocket.
Help me be kind, Lord. I took a deep breath, tapped my garage door opener, and slid out of my truck.
“Hi, Clara.” I forced myself to sound pleasant, but my voice came out like a perky cheerleader who’d sucked a helium balloon. “Do you want to come in?” I motioned toward the house.
She shook her head. “This won’t take long.” Her bloodshot eyes were rimmed with dark circles. “I owe you an apology and an explanation for overreacting last night.” She studied her multi-colored athletic shoes.
“It’s okay. You were in shock. I’m sorry my daddy’s death caused your father so much stress.”
“Dad had a weak heart—for years. Mama would be ashamed if she knew I lashed out at you like that.” She fidgeted with the zipper on her red fleece jacket. “Truth is, I loved your dad so much that it was hard seeing his girl. Especially when I don’t have any children of my own.”
I bit my lip. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She smoothed her hair and gazed out toward the grain bins that stood next to my pole barn.
Seconds ticked by as the frigid wind whipped around us, and I opened my mouth to fill the silence with some Georgia-style jabbering, but instead, I whispered, “Your mom was so glad you were coming home.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You know the prodigal’s father in the Bible? That’s how it was. When I arrived on Thursday night, she welcomed me with open arms and chicken and noodles—my favorite meal. We had a wonderful talk before we went to bed. And then…” She dabbed her eyes with her coat sleeve.
Her genuine emotion poked holes in my theory that she’d shot her mother and staged the scene, but while she was here, I figured I should keep her talking. “Why’d you leave Wildcat Springs?”
She hung her head. “I thought my life would be better if I got out of this town.” Clara shoved her hands in her coat pockets and looked me in the eyes. “I could never measure up to my big sister Denise because she was Mama and Dad’s favorite. The pretty cheerleader with the quarterback boyfriend. A walking cliché. Plus, Ray was never going to leave because he wanted to farm with his dad.”
“Did you and Daddy break up over that?” Clara’s story wasn’t sounding like the scandal Denise and Wanda had alluded to.
“No. We split because your dad was overprotective of me—at least I thought so at the time—and I resented it. I let my family and friends think the break-up was Ray’s fault, but it was all mine. I’m ashamed about that, and I knew if I ever visited, I’d have to face my past.” She waved a hand. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to get into that ancient history.” She moved toward her car. “I’d best be on my way. You have more important things to do than listening to me reliving the past. I just wanted to apologize.”
Even though I wasn’t satisfied with her answer about Daddy, I couldn’t let her leave without asking one more question. “Clara, do you think your mom interrupted a teenager looking for drug money, or is there more to it?”
She opened her car door and rested her arm on it. “I’ve heard how you’ve solved a couple of murders.”
“I helped.” There was no sense in taking all of the credit when Cal had done his part in the investigations.
“Since you brought it up, I want your take on something.”
“Okay.”
Clara swiped her bangs out of her eyes. “I grew up in that old farmhouse, and my sister Denise doesn’t walk—she stomps. When we were kids, every time she was upstairs and I was down, I could hear her pounding around. I never figured out how someone so skinny made so much noise. Part of it was the house’s poor insulation and not just her Bigfoot gait.”
I tried to make sense of what she was telling me. “The intruder heard you upstairs.”
“Yep. I heard the gunshot and leaped out of bed. I weigh a whole lot more now than my sister did as a teenager, and my bedroom’s right above the kitchen. The shooter had to have heard my feet hit the floor.”<
br />
I remembered what Cal had told Detective Hawk last night. “And that person came upstairs after you.”
“Right. If you were a thief looking for money and you’d shot a person who’d surprised you, would you take the time to go upstairs and shoot a second person or would you run out to escape?”
“I’d cut my losses and scram.”
“Exactly.”
“Did you see the getaway car?”
“No. I was too busy taking care of Mama.”
I shivered and wrapped my arms around my waist. “Is there anybody in your life who would’ve been angry enough to try to kill you?”
“My ex-boyfriend hates my guts, but he’s in prison for dealing heroin.” She flattened her lips.
Interesting. What kind of life had Clara led? “Could he have hired someone to come after you?”
“It’s possible, but a professional wouldn’t have botched the job. I’ve replayed last night over and over in my head. The intruder knew how to shoot but was tactically weak. Besides, if it was my ex hiring a hitman, why not have him take me out in Texas where I live alone?”
“True.” It seemed surreal to be discussing a hitman. What had happened to my peaceful small-town life? “What else can you tell me about the shooter?”
“The person was average build and could’ve been an average-sized man or a tallish woman. Definitely not as tall as you.”
I stifled a wry laugh. “I heard you clipped the shooter’s coat.”
“Sure did. It was a black puffy coat, and the shooter also had on a mask. At first, I assumed the intruder was male, but I wonder if it was a woman trying to hide her figure.”
I dug my boot toe into the ground and tried to ignore Gus. He’d heard us talking and was howling as if he were auditioning for a starring role in a musical because I hadn’t released him from his crate.
Clara looked toward my back door. “Is your dog okay?”
“He’ll survive.” My appendages were numbing, and I wanted to ask her to come in but was afraid of ending our conversation prematurely. Instead, I dug in my pockets for my gloves but only found one. Great. “Let’s put aside the theory that the killer was after you and focus on your mom.” I told her what Brandi had overheard at the museum. “Do you have any idea what that could’ve been about?”
Clara blinked. “Is your friend sure about what Mama said?”
“Yes.” I trusted Brandi completely, even though her speculation about Wanda had annoyed me.
“I might have an idea, but it’s just a theory.”
“What’s that?” I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice, but I wasn’t 100 percent successful.
“My brother-in-law Jack cheated on Denise with Fiona Sylvan. What if Mama was talking to him?”
Chapter Six
“Does Denise know about the affair?” I asked Clara.
Fiona owned Sassy Salon where I had my hair trimmed on a semi-regular basis.
“I don’t know. Probably. Since she and Jack are separated,” Clara said.
Even though Beverly had already told me this, I still wondered about something. “But they were together last night when they came to pick you up.”
“True. But he dropped us off at their house and left. Denise must’ve needed a shoulder to lean on, and I guess he’s trying to win her back.” She shrugged. “Denise and I didn’t get into details.”
“That makes sense.”
She nodded. “What if Mama heard something and was giving Jack a chance to come clean instead of telling Denise herself—or before someone else did?” Clara ran her hand back and forth over the top of the car door.
I reconsidered Beverly’s words about how people in Wildcat Springs liked to gossip. “That makes sense. How’d you find out about the affair?”
“Fiona Sylvan and I were friends back in high school, and we’ve kept in touch. When I told her I was coming to visit, the affair came up, but Fiona swore it’s over.” She got into her car and started the engine. “My family is such a mess. Thanks for listening.” She gazed at me. “Your dad would be proud to see you farming.”
“Thanks.” My brain was swirling with everything I’d learned in the last few minutes.
After Clara drove away, I let a very miffed Gus out of his crate, and I filled his food dish while he was outside. He thundered back into the house and snarfed down his supper.
While I thawed, I quickly flipped through the mail—nothing but junk that I tossed in the trash as my doorbell chimed.
I groaned and glanced at the clock. I’d been counting on at least twenty more minutes to make myself look presentable, especially since I hadn’t bothered with putting on makeup that morning. “Uh-oh. Cal’s early, little buddy.”
Gus ignored me and slurped water. I smoothed my hair as I walked to the door. I hadn’t even taken off my overalls, so I hoped Cal liked the disheveled-farmer look. I threw open the door. “Hey… Hamlet.” I gave myself an F for failing to keep the shock and dismay out of my voice.
He thrust a glove at me. “It fell out of your pocket as you were leaving. I didn’t notice while you were at our shop, but I examined our security camera footage to find the owner.”
“I didn’t know you had cameras.” Though it didn’t surprise me because Bobbi Sue’s paranoia was a town legend. I took my wayward glove.
“Mom had them installed a couple of weeks ago.”
“I see.” I found it interesting Bobbi Sue had waited so long. “Thanks for delivering it.”
“No problem.” His eyes twinkled. “I didn’t want your hand to get cold.”
“That’s sweet.” A nervous chuckle escaped my throat, and I clung to the edge of the door. “I’d invite you in, but I have plans tonight and need to change.” Thank goodness I had a ready-made excuse.
“Of course. I won’t keep you.” He started to turn but then furrowed his brow. “Your dog got in the trash.” He pointed behind me.
I whirled around. “Guster Winston!” I bit back a few naughty words that I should’ve let fly to scare Hamlet away.
Gus held a used coffee filter in his mouth. He’d left a trail from the kitchen to the foyer, and he wagged his tail and gazed up at me, as if daring me to embark on a chase that would spread grounds all over my house.
A drip of coffee plunked to the floor as I stared down my vengeful dog.
“Hamlet?” I whispered.
“Yes?”
“Do you remember where the utility room is?” My fingers curled around my glove.
“Sure do.”
“Will you slip past me and get the dustbuster? It’s on the floor in the corner. Gus hates the noise and will drop whatever he’s got if you turn it on.”
I froze in place and prayed Gus would stay put as Hamlet moved.
“On my way.” He darted behind me and down the hall. A few seconds later he charged out, brandishing the dustbuster like a sword.
“Turn it on,” I hissed.
As soon as Gus heard the high-pitched whine, he dropped the filter. Unfortunately, he tracked back over his coffee-ground path on the way to his crate and managed to distribute more grounds over my hallway and kitchen floor.
I stuffed my glove in my pocket as I trudged to the kitchen. My shoulders slumped when I saw the overturned trashcan—a cornucopia of waste spilling onto the floor.
I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t get the lid shut when I threw away my junk mail,” I stomped to the utility room where Gus cowered in his crate. I slammed the door, locked it, and returned to the kitchen, where I skidded on a puddle of coffee.
Hamlet reached for my arm and steadied me.
My face flamed, and I tried to ignore my fluttering stomach. “Thanks.”
“Your doggie discipline is very effective.” Hamlet let go of my arm, stooped over, and began sweeping the grounds.
“You don’t have to do that.”
He waved a hand. “It’s no trouble.” He worked his way toward the foyer.
“Thank you.” I righted the over
turned can and began tossing the trash inside.
A few minutes later, we’d cleaned up the worst of the coffee chaos, but I’d still need to mop. “Gus has been going through a spiteful phase lately. He doesn’t like it when I’m gone for a long time, and I was out plowing for most of the day.”
“My family’s dog, Scout, used to drag toilet paper all over the house after we’d been gone on vacation.” He set the dustbuster on the kitchen table. “It’s nice to be loved.”
“I guess so.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Thanks again for your help.” We moved to the front door. “And for returning my glove.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Our eyes met long enough to venture into Awkwardland. As I turned away and opened the door, Cal strolled up the porch steps. He held a plastic bag, which I hoped contained our dinner.
“Hey!” My voice was pitched unnaturally high. I stepped aside to let him in, and my stomach growled when I caught a whiff of greasy egg rolls. “Cal, this is Hamlet Miller. Hamlet, this is Detective Cal Perkins—my boyfriend.”
Cal swept Hamlet with his gaze and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Hamlet surveyed Cal.
“What brings you to the farm tonight?” Cal’s tone was casual, but I detected a slight flicker of suspicion in his blue eyes.
“My glove.” I yanked it out of my pocket and waved it around. “I stopped by Latte Conspiracies when I was out plowing, and Hamlet was working because Bobbi Sue and Hemi are on a cruise. I dropped it when I left, and Hamlet was nice enough to bring it to me, but then Gus got in my trash, and of all things, got a used coffee filter and spread grounds all over my hallway, Hamlet helped me clean it up, but I still need to mop, and…”
Both men gaped at me. Merciful heavens. Why was I babbling like a kid caught snooping for birthday presents? I hadn’t done anything wrong. “And Gus needs obedience school.…”
Smooth, Georgia Rae.
“I’ll be on my way.” Hamlet’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Enjoy your dinner.”
Cal closed the door behind Hamlet and took off his coat. “Nice of him to brave slick roads to deliver a glove.”
Deadly Heritage Page 5
