Despite talking to Rafe and his cousin, I had no fresh leads to help Rafe beat a murder rap. Today’s newspaper offered me an opportunity to approach the problem from a different direction. Starr Jeffries’ funeral was on Friday.
Tomorrow.
The lighthearted puppy antics took my mind off my troubles. Madonna lumbered over to drool on my shoulder, her maternal pride in her babies apparent in the way she mooned over them.
I stroked her face. “You’re a good mom to look out for your little ones.”
Arnold spied his mom and let go of the toy to nip at her heels. Madonna gave me a pained look, then hurried upstairs. I had no doubt that she planned to hide out on my bed. Initially, I’d discouraged her from sleeping with me. Saint Bernards were large dogs, after all, but I understood her need to get away. To have a space apart from the children. These days we shared the bed.
Which brought me back full-circle to my problem with Rafe, who wasn’t sharing much of anything with me. He said he didn’t kill Starr Jeffries. Someone killed her. Someone who wanted Rafe to pay for the crime. That wouldn’t happen as long as I had breath in my body.
I wanted to wave a magic wand to fix everything. Failing that, I could plague Britt until he let something slip. I could contact Rafe’s other family members in hopes they’d confide in me about Rafe and Starr. I could grill his assistant, Jasper, at the golf course. I could go to Starr’s funeral.
Of my options, the last one held the most promise.
Puppies climbed on me and licked my face. I rolled on the floor with them, laughing. Charla breezed in from school on a whirlwind of teenaged angst. “Jackie has the coolest car ever, Mom. I need a cool car.”
“You’re getting my car.” Soon as I buy a good used car for myself, I amended silently.
“Ugh. The Gray Beast isn’t cool. Dad says—”
“Don’t start with me on ‘Dad says.’ Dad doesn’t keep his promises.”
“He does now. He’s changed. He told me so, and I believe him.”
With that, she stomped upstairs to commiserate with her sister. I could’ve saved her a trip. Lexy was worried about the other photographer on the yearbook staff. She had no energy to spare for the “let’s get Mom and Dad back together” campaign that Charla waged.
Moses and Ariel snuggled next to me while Arnold tried to leap on top of them. I positioned him beside his littermates, dividing my attentions between the three of them. Arnold wouldn’t settle. He jumped on the others again, prompting them to chase after him.
There I was again. Alone.
Getting to be the norm for me these days.
The more I saw of alone, the less I liked it.
I caught the puppies and placed them in the puppy box for a time-out until after dinner. After all that romping, they ought to be sleepy.
I sighed deeply, filling my lungs with the mouth-watering aroma from the kitchen. It smelled like roasted pork. I could only hope that it wasn’t basted with lime gelatin or swimming in blueberry yogurt. You never knew what Mama would mix together in the kitchen.
I followed my nose to the kitchen where Mama bustled around with a happy glow I recognized. She was in love. The big rock on her finger caught the light, reminding me that Mama’s future looked bright. I was truly happy for her.
“Roast pork?” I asked, settling into a wooden chair.
“Pork tenderloin with an orange marmalade glaze.”
“For real? It sounds so normal.”
“I don’t have to pinch pennies anymore. Bud’s got more than enough money for the both of us. I thought normal might be nice for a change.”
“You said normal was boring.”
“I’m trying on normal. Never said I’d wear it everyday.” Mama sat down beside me at the table. “What’s bugging you?”
“Rafe.”
“I thought as much.”
“Has Bud said anything to you about Rafe’s case?”
“A little, but I’m not supposed to tell.”
“That’s no good. How can I help him if you keep me out of the knowledge circle?”
Mama chewed her lip for a moment. “Bud says Rafe doesn’t have a good alibi.”
“Rafe says he didn’t do it.”
“Bud says Rafe’s determined to keep you out of this.”
I waved away that news. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Can’t.”
The front doorbell rang. “This discussion isn’t over.” I rose to answer the summons, knowing that it had to be a stranger or a cop. A friend would come to the kitchen door.
Tall and regal, Regina Golden looked down her nose at me. She presented an immaculate appearance in a chestnut-brown leather jacket, coordinating blouse, snug cream-colored trousers, and high-heeled boots. Behind her, the Bentley purred in the driveway. The female driver nodded to me.
Regina got right to the point. “May I speak with you?”
I knew this woman could shred people in a matter of seconds, and I didn’t want the girls or Mama exposed to her. Heck, I didn’t want to be exposed to her, but she was Rafe’s sister. I stepped out on the front porch, leery of what she had to say. “Sure.” I gestured to the rocking chairs. “Would you like to sit down?”
“No. This won’t take long. Stay away from my brother.”
I barred my arms across my chest, conscious of the fact that my jeans and floral blouse were dotted with puppy slobber and dog hair. “Why would I do that?”
“He doesn’t want you around. He told me so.”
Coming from her, it didn’t sound like a generous act on his part. She made me feel as if I were inflicting myself on her brother. I hastened to clear the air. “He’s protecting me, but I can look after myself.”
Regina flicked her wrist dismissively. Diamonds sparkled on her fingers. “Ashley called me. You’re interfering in our lives. Stop it at once.”
“I’m not interfering. I’m trying to clear Rafe’s name. What are you doing to help him?”
“I don’t answer to you.”
“Rafe’s in trouble,” I shot back. “He doesn’t have an alibi.”
“If you care so much, why don’t you give him one?”
“I do care, but I won’t lie for him. The best way to protect Rafe is to find out who killed Starr Jeffries.”
“Damn Rafe and his plebian tastes. If he hadn’t associated with the help in the first place, this never would have happened.”
Her derisive tone made me wonder how she talked about me to others. I wasn’t in her financial league, that was certain. “Playing the blame game never helps. Rafe needs help, not accusations.”
“He won’t use the company legal team. Said he prefers the geezer you hired for him. That’s ridiculous. We need big guns to fight this kind of accusation.”
Rafe’s choice made me smile inside. It was a small victory, but joy surged clear to my toes. Regina might be his blood kin, but I knew my man.
“Finding out who killed Starr is the best way to prove Rafe didn’t do it,” I insisted.
“Stay away from my brother. You won’t get a dime out of our family.”
That did it. I worked my back teeth apart. “I’m not after your money.”
Regina’s face flushed red. She whirled to leave, and tossed me a parting salvo over her shoulder. “So you say.”
So I know. My hands fisted as Regina’s chauffeur drove them into the sunset. Miss High and Mighty thought she knew everything, I fumed. She didn’t know me, or she wouldn’t have bothered telling me to stay away from her brother. One sure way to get me to do something was to tell me not to do it.
I’d better iron my navy slacks after supper. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from Starr’s funeral tomorrow.
CHAPTER 12
* * *
After three wrong turns, I arrived at the Parkerville Funeral Home at five after eleven on a cloudy Friday morning. The flickering neon sign by the squatty brick building tickled my funny bone. If you only read the illuminated part, y
ou’d think this was the kerville funeral ho.
If it was me, I’d have that sign fixed.
According to the notice I’d found online in the Montgomery County News’ obituary section, Starr Jeffries’ memorial service started at eleven. Which meant I was late.
I buttoned my navy blue blazer as I hurried across the thinly populated parking lot. The lack of cars worried me. Didn’t Starr have family or friends who mourned her passing? Was she a lost soul Rafe had taken under his wing?
From the obituary, I’d learned Starr was thirty years old and had lived in Madeira, Maryland, about eight miles west of the funeral parlor. That was all. There was no next of kin mentioned, no parents, no children. There’d been no occupation listed and no designation for memorial gifts. My heart went out to the woman, and I hadn’t even known her.
She’d lived such a short time and had barely left a footprint to show she’d been here. I hoped more could be said for me when my time came.
Inside the funeral home, my eyes watered at the heavy floral scent. Since there were no cut flowers in the vicinity, I assumed the fragrance came from air freshener.
An older woman in a dark purple leisure suit hoisted herself up from her seat by the door when I entered. She leaned heavily on a wooden cane. “May I help you?”
“Starr Jeffries. I’m here for her memorial service.”
She gave me a long look, the same expression Mama used when she disapproved of something. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t apologize for being late. I’d never been here before, and I didn’t see how my lateness mattered. Of course, if I had a GPS gadget, I could have come straight here. Maybe I’d get one for my next car.
“Follow me,” the woman said as she limped off.
We traversed a brightly lit hall with only two closed doors at the other end. “I hate for you to walk this far for me. I can find it if you’ll just point out the door.”
“I’m old but I’m not useless. If I don’t do my job, they’re gonna fire me, so hush up and follow me.”
I hushed.
Finally, she stopped and pointed to the door on the left with her cane. “That one.”
“Thank you.” I opened the door and slid inside before she ordered me around again.
In the room, two clumps of people gazed at a man in a shiny suit who extolled the power of Jesus to save sinners. He thumped his Bible and used sweeping arm gestures to emphasize his points.
I slid into the back row and tried to look inconspicuous. Did I know anyone? Quickly, I took an inventory of the occupants. Three gray-headed ladies. A bald guy with two squirming kids. A brunette about my age, and two Hispanic women.
Rafe wasn’t here.
I released the breath I’d been holding. The youngest kid stopped kicking the support under her chair long enough to look over her shoulder at me. I winked at her, and her eyebrows shot up as if this was some wonderful new game.
The service leader moved on to talk about when we all lived in heaven with Jesus. I found myself checking the time, wondering if the minister had ever known Starr. None of the remarks seemed personal.
Worse, none of these people looked like murderers.
The door snicked open and a barrel-chested man swaggered in. Oh, no. I sank down in my seat, but it was too late. He’d spotted me.
Detective Britt Radcliff sat down next to me. He placed his arm around my folding chair and leaned in close. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“You shouldn’t swear in a funeral home.”
“Answer my question.”
It wasn’t so much his tone of voice as his stern face that prompted my whispered response. “I need to learn more about this woman. If she has ties to Rafe, I want to know what they are.”
“This is a police matter,” Britt growled in my ear. “You’re not the police.”
The preacher glared at us. I ignored the angry detective at my side and feigned interest in the service. Another ten minutes of fire and brimstone, and the man turned on a canned recording of a tinny piano beating out the notes to “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”
The people in the front rose. I stood, too. Britt caught my arm. “Do not make trouble. Pretend you’re with me.”
The brunette stood talking with the preacher, so we approached her first once the preacher moved on to shake other mourners’ hands.
I didn’t enjoy Britt telling me what to do. He could hang on to me all he liked, but I was free to say what I liked. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I offered.
The woman scrunched up her face. “I don’t know you. How do you know my sister?”
Britt offered his hand. “Britt Radcliff, ma’am, and this is my associate, Cleo Jones. My sympathies to you and your family. We drove over from the Frederick area for Starr’s service today.”
“You knew Starr?”
Britt nodded. “We recently became acquainted with her. We’re terribly sorry her life was cut short. She had so much to live for.”
“Well, I hate to speak ill of the dead, but if she was so stupid as to get herself killed, the least she could have done was to buy a life insurance policy to get me some money. Now I’ve got to raise her brat. Kids cost money. I can barely afford to feed myself, plus I had to pay for her cremation. Can’t afford to bury her, so I’ll take the ashes home with me. Just what I wanted, to keep Starr with me forever. It’s ghoulish, I tell you.”
The woman’s words didn’t ring true to me. “Do you need help clearing out her place?”
“Heck, no. I’m moving into that trailer of hers. Deer Pines Mobile Home Park over in Madeira is a sight better than the dump I’ve been living in. Her place is paid for, and it goes to Kylie and me anyway. Say, you want some punch and cookies? They’ve got both in the back.”
“No, thanks. We’ve got to get back home. We only wanted to say goodbye to Starr.” I started to turn away, but I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring Kylie.”
“Kylie’s only five. Much too young to sit through a funeral.”
“Good point.”
Britt boxed me in at the Gray Beast. “You will cease and desist your investigation.”
“I won’t. You’re looking at Rafe for the murder. He didn’t do it, and I’m going to prove it. Someone else killed Starr Jeffries.”
“He had the means and the opportunity, Cleo. Your boyfriend isn’t the nice guy you think he is.”
“You’re wrong. He didn’t have any reason to kill her. He wasn’t involved with her. He told me so.”
“People lie, especially desperate people.”
“How do you know someone in that room didn’t kill her? The sister was hiding something. It could be her. She profited from Starr’s death.”
“I don’t have any eyewitness reports of her being at the scene.”
“That doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. Any one of those people from the funeral could have been there. How will you eliminate them as suspects?”
“Legwork, but I don’t need to be tripping over you.”
“Don’t you get in my way either. I plan to have a future with Rafe Golden.”
“Not a good idea. I’d feel more comfortable if you stopped seeing him until this was over.”
“When’s the last time I did what you said?”
His face fell. “Never.”
CHAPTER 13
* * *
Teeth clenched, I grabbed hold of a handful of dead zinnias and yanked them out of the ground. An explosion of rich dirt landed on my sleeves, my knees, my lap. I filled my lungs with the comforting smell, tossed the shriveled plants into my wheelbarrow, and reached for another cluster of brown stalks.
I’d been putting this chore off for days. Once I pulled out the annuals, it was an acknowledgment that fall was here and winter was breathing down my neck. I wasn’t ready for the seasons to change. In fact, I wanted to turn the clock back to the halcyon days of summer.
Those golden moments with Rafe where I found love and allowed myself to be loved.
I thought I’d hit solid gold with Rafe, but now I doubted my judgment and his integrity. Not good. October was off to such a rocky start. I couldn’t see my way clear to December; at least I wasn’t sure if Rafe would still be in the picture at Christmas. How could I even think of a near-term relationship with him while he was under suspicion of murder?
I still didn’t know what Starr Jeffries meant to Rafe. She wasn’t his former fiancée; that was a woman named Tiffany who currently dated Rafe’s brother. I’d learned Starr had a sister and a young child, and that both would live in Starr’s trailer home in Madeira. Other than that, I had nothing.
I hated having nothing.
Would Rafe even remember he’d promised to show up at Jonette’s mayoral fundraising party tonight?
I yanked and tugged my way across the front of my house, wishing I could remove the deadwood from my life so easily, that I could just be done with it and move into my happily ever after. I needed to take action to make it happen, but how?
“Mom!” Lexy stomped down the porch stairs. “I need you.”
“I’m right here.” I rocked back on my heels and watched her approach. Ever since she’d started middle school this year, Lexy had worn a pale blue bucket hat everywhere, and today was no exception. The collar-length ends of her dark hair flipped out beneath the hat. She scowled as she plopped down beside me.
“What’s on your mind?” I tugged off the leather gardening gloves and hoped it wasn’t the puppies. Or her sister. Or her wanting me to date the football coach. Or something her father had promised and then failed to deliver.
“John Paul Delong, that’s what.”
For the life of me, I couldn’t place John Paul Delong. “How can I help? What has he done to make you so unhappy?”
“He’s pushing me out, Mom. Mrs. Sellers loves his photographs. She never picks mine from the picture cache. His pictures are taking over the yearbook, and he’s a freshman like me. It isn’t fair. I want you to fix it. Call Mrs. Sellers. Tell her not to shut me out.”
Ah. The boy wonder photographer on the yearbook staff. Lexy’s competition. It was coming back to me. I identified with Lexy’s outrage. As her mom, I wanted to fix her problem. It would be so easy to call the school and burn into this Mrs. Sellers. But was that really the best thing for my daughter? No. As daily problems went, this one wasn’t major. With luck, it would be a confidence-boosting opportunity.
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