by Raven Snow
There wasn’t much time before the meeting with Debra. Rowen spent the intervening time moderating some of the comments on the Lainswich Inquirer website. There were more comments than usual, none of them positive. Rowen didn’t really believe in silencing the publics’ opinion. She did, however, remove the ones that directly threatened her family. She also turned off anonymous comments. People got a lot bolder when they didn’t have to fess up to their negativity.
It was a shame really. Rowen had genuinely thought that the town was coming around. Finally, they had been treating the Greensmiths a bit like just an eccentric part of the community. Sure, they had picketed their business the last time there had been a murder they indirectly blamed the Greensmith family for, but after that, Rowen had thought they were past it. No one really changed, she supposed. Oh, well.
Ten-thirty rolled around, and Rowen headed to the agreed upon location with Margo. It was a small café about ten minutes from the office. It was a cute place. Rowen had never eaten there before. She had heard it was a bit on the expensive side, but she hadn’t been willing to argue with Debra. Let the woman eat where she wanted to eat especially given that Rowen had been the one who had asked her to meet. Even if Debra did have a track record of being an attention-seeker, she was doing Rowen a favor this time.
“Oooh,” cooed Margo as they went in. “This place is nice. I like it.”
The interior was laid out like a quaint little tea house. At the moment, it was mostly full of women that looked to be around forty and up. It wasn’t an establishment that catered to your typical lunch crowd. Margo didn’t seem to notice, but Rowen could practically feel the eyes on them. She wasn’t sure if it was because they were dressed in street clothes rather than their Sunday best, or because they were just that unpopular around town at the moment.
They waited at the front to be seated. There was a sign out, but no one came immediately. When the hostess finally showed her face, it was only with the most halfhearted of apologetic smiles.
“Sorry,” said the hostess, motioning to the door through to the back. “We’re getting ready for the Fall Festival back there. We have a booth this year, so…”
“Oh,” said Margo, putting on a smile. Despite the poor service, she was still in an unusually warm mood. She must really like this place and want to make a good first impression. “Do you have a booth? What are you selling?”
“We’ll have a food stand this year,” said the hostess, meeting Margo’s small talk with minimal excitement. “This way.” She led the way to a table in the very back. They were behind a column and well out of sight.
“We’re waiting for someone,” said Rowen before the hostess could turn around and leave. “Debra McCormick? If she comes in, could you seat her back here with us?”
The hostess raised her eyebrows slightly. The name must have registered with her. “Of course,” she said, forcing out one more smile before she turned and left.
“This is a nice place,” said Margo once they were alone. She unrolled the frilly napkin from around the silverware to inspect it. “I like it. I like it a lot. I know it’s mostly full of old people, but we should come here sometimes. What do you think?”
“I think we’re not exactly welcome,” said Rowen, keeping her voice down. The café felt a little quieter than it had been when they had first come in.
Margo took a look around. There wasn’t much to see. They were so far in the back that they were well away from the regular clientele. Margo rolled her eyes. “You’re overreacting.”
“If you say so.” Rowen didn’t want to point it out to Margo, but she had a feeling that their cold reception had something to do with Norman. Julia Martinez had reported it, and now the whole town seemed to think the Greensmiths were involved in another murder. Margo seemed to be in such a good mood today, though. There was no point in ruining it when there was very little either of them could do to fix it. “How are things going with David?” she asked instead.
Margo’s smile returned then widened. She looked down at the table, uncharacteristically embarrassed. “Good,” she said, to absolutely no one’s great surprise. “He’s being sweet,” she said. “Hopefully, it lasts. I like him a lot.”
“Try to catch the bouquet at my wedding,” said Rowen with a wink. “Maybe you’ll be next.”
“No, thanks,” said Margo immediately. “It feels like just yesterday I got out of one failed marriage. I’m in no hurry to repeat it.” She smiled to herself. “I know we’re off and on a lot. I know what that must look like. I don’t mind, really. I sort of like the excitement of it, if I’m being honest.”
“I never would have guessed,” said Rowen, heaping on the sarcasm. “You like drama. Everyone knows you like drama.”
Margo rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, sue me.”
“You didn’t get enough of that drama with your ex-husband?” teased Rowen.
“Terry? Ugh.” Margo started to go off on another tangent. She was likely about to mention whatever idiotic thing Terry had done recently to try and win her back. Instead, her gaze moved to the door. “She’s here,” she said.
Rowen turned to see Debra approaching. Clearly, she had known what sort of place this was.
Debra was a stick of a woman. She had no curves and had to be at least six feet tall. She had on clothes that would have been appropriate for church. Her skirt and jacket were black like she was in mourning. Her gloves were startlingly white against them. Had Rowen not known better, she would have thought this was just a sweet older woman.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Debra, holding out her hand as Rowen and Margo rose up to greet her. They both shook her hand before sitting. “I couldn’t decide what to wear.”
“You’re not late at all,” said Rowen, sitting down as well. “And you look great.”
“Thank you,” said Debra. She looked over to the waitress as she approached.
This was the first Rowen and Margo had seen of their waitress. Rowen couldn’t help but wonder if the waitress hadn’t been avoiding them until Debra arrived.
“Carla! Hi!” Debra greeted the waitress like she knew her. She held up a hand when she was offered a menu, refusing it. “You know what I want, Honey. I don’t need one of those.”
“It’s so good to see you,” said Carla the waitress, tossing a couple of menus in the general direction of Rowen and Margo. “How are you holding up, Sweetheart?”
Debra’s expression took on an over-dramatic quality. She leaned back in her chair, slumping a bit as if exhausted. “I’m taking things one day at a time,” she said. “It’s all I can do.”
Carla nodded. She and Debra gossiped a bit more before she headed back to the kitchen. She barely paused to take Rowen and Margo’s drink order.
Rowen gave Margo a brief and knowing look when Carla’s back was turned. She hoped it conveyed an appropriate level of “I told you so.”
Margo only rolled her eyes, clearly reluctant to let Rowen think she was right. “So glad you could make time for us today,” she said, addressing Debra instead.
“I have plenty of free time,” said Debra, waving a hand like it was nothing. “I don’t work anymore. I’ve been on disability for the last few years. It’s my knee.”
“Well, we’re glad you found the time for us all the same,” said Rowen, jumping in before Debra could go off on a tangent. She knew from meeting with her a month or so back that she had a tendency to ramble on unrelated subjects.
“Of course,” said Debra. “Anything for my sister. I feel like it’s very important that the general public stay interested in these things. When the public stops caring about a missing person, well, that’s just tragic. Jeana was a very important part of this community.”
Rowen nodded. “I agree,” she said. “Like I mentioned to you in that e-mail last night, we’re doing a new piece on Jeana. It’s of a more personal nature.”
Debra nodded. “I think that’s lovely.”
“We want to know more about what she was l
ike as a person,” continued Rowen. “Close to the time when she went missing.” She made sure to specify before Debra could start off on any unnecessary tangents. In their last interview, she had talked for an hour straight about their uneventful childhood together. “I heard that the two of you had dinner together shortly before she vanished.”
Debra looked surprised to hear that. “Oh?” she said. “Who told you that?”
Rowen wasn’t about to tell her that it had been Norman. She had told a completely unsurprised Margo, who had agreed that that should definitely go unmentioned. “Peter, I think,” said Rowen. “I was interviewing him just yesterday.”
“Peter,” said Debra fondly. “He’s such a good man. He’s been very helpful through all of this.”
“What did the two of you talk about?” asked Rowen.
“Peter and I? Oh, nothing in particular. We get together often just to chat. Sometimes, we come here!”
“Your sister,” Rowen corrected. “You and your sister. What did the two of you talk about the last time you met?”
Debra frowned a bit, likely because she wasn’t getting to talk about what she wanted to talk about. “Oh, the normal things,” she said. “We got together regularly to talk about our lives and such.”
Rowen knew that wasn’t true. She didn’t point that out yet. Instead, she would let Debra talk. This conversation she had had with her sister interested her. It was the sort of thing Debra would have brought up before now. A final conversation with one’s sister seemed awfully dramatic, and Debra was all about some drama as long as it made her look good. Whatever they had talked about must be very telling if Debra didn’t want to talk about it. Now Rowen just had to get it out of her. “Where were you this time?”
Debra considered the question. Rowen doubted her memory was that bad. She was probably just considering how much she actually wanted to tell and which parts to leave out. “I think we met at her apartment,” said Debra. “She made dinner. She was always a very good cook, my sister. I was always the chef in our family, but she was a close second. It was a very relaxing evening. We had a spaghetti dinner. After that, we watched a movie. I’m not sure I can recall anything specific that we talked about. It was just a nice evening. That’s all.”
“You can’t recall anything?” asked Rowen, pushing.
Debra frowned slightly. She looked a tad suspicious but seemed to shrug it off. These were fairly normal questions, after all. Rowen was just looking for a story.
Carla looked equally suspicious as she returned for their orders. “Is everything all right?” she asked, and Rowen had the distinct impression that she wasn’t asking in regards to their current dining experience.
“Everything is lovely,” Debra assured her. They all placed their orders. As soon as Carla had gone, Debra continued, “I believe we talked about her work. I would be surprised if we didn’t. She talked about work a lot. She loved her job.”
“What did you normally talk about when it came to her work?” asked Rowen.
Debra shrugged. “Oh, recent events at the library and the like. Sometimes, she would talk about a book I should read.”
“Did she get along with her coworkers?” asked Rowen.
“Of course,” said Debra, sounding surprised Rowen even had to ask. “She enjoyed working with every single one of them, as far as I know. Tina, I think, was newer than the others. I know she’s a friend of yours.”
Rowen nodded. “She’s more a friend of my cousins,” she said.
“We aren’t that close to her. We’re more friends by association,” Margo added.
Debra nodded and lowered her voice. “Then I hope you won’t mind me saying that I’m afraid she’s a bit of an attention-seeker. I don’t believe that nonsense she was spouting for a moment.”
Rowen nodded. “I know from experience that she is,” she said, not daring to point out that Debra was slightly worse in that regard. Besides, it seemed heartless not to try and suggest that Jeana was still alive somewhere to her own sister. “How did she get along with her boss?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Wonderfully,” said Debra without hesitation. “He was there before she ever went to work for the library, which was quite some time ago.”
Rowen decided to go for it. She made a show of throwing a furtive look around and lowered her voice like she had some juicy gossip. “Just between you and me… I wouldn’t dream of putting something like this in the paper. It doesn’t strike me as appropriate, but… Were Peter and Jeana, you know… involved?”
Debra’s eyes widened at the mere suggestion. It was difficult to tell whether she was surprised by Rowen’s audacity or merely intrigued. “I don’t know,” she said finally.
“I don’t believe that,” said Rowen, trying to keep her tone a bit casual, like the answer didn’t really matter to her. “You were her sister. You two were inseparable. I’m sure she told you everything.”
That had appealed to Debra’s ego. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Unfortunately, she held strong, not admitting anything one way or the other. “Did Peter say something?” she asked.
“Not really,” said Rowen. “It was more in the things he didn’t say, if you know what I mean.” Rowen hoped Debra knew what she meant. Rowen didn’t even know what she was trying to imply there. It just sounded right.
Debra frowned at that. She leaned forward onto the table. “Well,” she began, lowering her voice again. “Just between us… I think that, maybe, they had something going.”
“You think?” Rowen asked, put off a bit by the phrasing. “She didn’t say anything?”
“My sister was secretive about her love life,” said Debra. “Even to me. Well, especially to me, I suppose. Ever since middle school, the men she’s been interested in have had a tendency to sort of gravitate towards me. I don’t try to get their attention, but…” Debra trailed off with a helpless shrug. “I know that sounds a bit strange. It’s just a sort of trend that I’ve noticed.”
Rowen doubted that. She hadn’t known Jeana all that well, but she knew that she had been all around more popular in town than her sister. What Rowen didn’t doubt was that Debra had a history of going after some of the same men her sister was into. Rowen sensed jealousy there. A glance to her right told her that Margo sensed it too. “Did you attract any of her coworkers?” asked Rowen.
Debra looked down at the table. She swirled the straw in her iced tea. “I’d rather not go into detail about that.”
Rowen backed off. Margo didn’t do the same. She had reason to want the truth from Debra. If they didn’t find out what was really going on, Norman was likely to continue to be singled out. “Just between us girls,” said Margo. “We’re not publishing this or anything.”
“Even so…” Debra trailed off. She did seem a bit torn—like she wanted to gossip, but that this was a sensitive subject for her.
“Was it Peter?” asked Margo.
That was too far. Debra looked up, a frown on her face. “I was never anything but a loving sister to Jeana. What is it that you’re fishing for here? After what your uncle did, I was kind enough to come here, and you start interrogating me like I had something to do with this.”
Oh, no. Rowen looked from Debra to Margo then back again. Bringing Margo along had been a mistake. Things were about to get ugly. “So−” Rowen began, trying to change the subject. She hadn’t gotten a word out completely before Margo stepped in.
“After what my dad did?” said Margo, raising her voice more than was probably appropriate for a quaint little café. “What did he do, exactly?”
Debra’s eyes widened, like she hadn’t expected someone to call her out on her wording. She must be used to total sympathy from others lately—what with her sister missing and all. She clearly wasn’t accustomed to confrontation. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean she shied away from it either. “You know as well as I do that Norman Greensmith probably had something to do with all of this. The police took him in just yesterday. I’m s
ure you know that seeing as he’s your father.”
“They took him in for questioning!” Margo snapped, leaning forward. She would have knocked over her drink had Rowen not been there to set it right. “They didn’t hold him. They had no reason to, because he didn’t do anything.”
Debra made a scoffing sort of noise.
“It would be more likely that you had something to do with this,” said Margo, continuing.
“Me?” Debra looked positively scandalized. “I loved my sister!” There were tears in her eyes. Something about the way she kept insisting upon what a good sister she was seemed oddly defensive. A good sister didn’t have to keep reminding you of that fact. “I wouldn’t… I would never!”
