by Raven Snow
Rose was a little out of sorts herself lately. Rowen hadn’t done much in the way of probing for answers, but she got the impression that she and Ben were on a break. It was a shame. She had really liked those two as a couple. She got where Rose was coming from though. Mrs. Williamson had played a hand in her breaking up with Ben herself, after all.
“I don’t miss it,” Margo said over a webcam chat before she was off to work. “You can keep on solving these little mysteries of yours. I’m happy where I am.”
“You’ll have to come back eventually,” Rowen reminded her. “With any luck, we’ll have a fresh new mystery for you by then, huh?”
Margo laughed. “No thanks,” she said.
Things seemed to be going well with her and David. They were in London right now. Margo said they made a good pair meeting new clients. David talked business, and Margo read their palms. It was a great ice breaker, she said. Rowen wondered how David’s parents felt about it, but Eric said they were happy with all the effort he was putting in.
“They might just be trying to hint that I should come back,” said Eric. “I think they still want me to head the company.” That wasn’t something Eric wanted, of course. Neither of them had forgotten about that little existential crisis of his. He still didn’t seem quite sure what he wanted to do with his life. Right now, he was helping her try to puzzle through this business with Ben’s mother. Unfortunately, even after putting their heads together, neither of them could quite make heads nor tails of any of it.
“Well, have a nice day at work, dear,” he said, seeing her off at the door. “I’ll…I don’t know. Go grocery shopping or something. Text me if you think of anything we need.”
Rowen kissed her husband goodbye and headed off to work. There was a lot to do today. There were some stories around town they needed to do legwork on. None of it was thrilling stuff, but it was the sort of thing their readers liked. They also needed to decide on their next article about Willard’s murder. It wasn’t like they could break the story about what they had found in Mrs. Williamson’s house, so they needed to try and think of something equally captivating. Granted, that probably didn’t exist, but they had to try.
Rowen pulled up to the Lainswich Inquirer office and was more than a little surprised to find a car already there. Usually she was the first one at work. Sometimes Rose made it there first, but this definitely wasn’t Rose’s car. This car was an old hunk of junk. Rowen parked beside it and headed for the door to the office.
It was at the door that Rowen spotted Trish Lydell. She was seated on the sidewalk, like she had been waiting for quite some time. She stood when she saw Rowen, a copy of the Inquirer in her hand.
“Trish,” said Rowen, looking the woman up and down. “This is…Well, uh, this is definitely a surprise.” She had known Trish was coming down sometime soon to confront her sister. She hadn’t expected her here quite this soon. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“What is this?” Trish demanded, waving the Inquirer for emphasis.
Rowen looked at what she was holding. “That’s a copy of our paper,” she said, stating the facts. She didn’t see anything particularly unusual about the paper.
Trish huffed and pulled back the paper. She flipped through its pages until she found the item she was looking for and thrust the Inquirer back out to Rowen. “This,” she said again.
It was the article Rowen had written on Mrs. Williamson. “We put that out this past week,” she said, not sure what else to say about it. She had the sneaking suspicion that she knew why Trish was angry. It was a rather flattering article.
“You make her sound like a victim here,” said Trish, waving the paper as she spoke for emphasis.
“Well, she is…in a way,” said Rowen. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she wished they hadn’t. That probably wasn’t the right thing to say to Trish at this particular moment.
Trish gave a loud, mirthless laugh. “If you think that, then she’s got you fooled.”
“Did you read the article we put out about your brother?” asked Rowen. “I think we sent you a copy.” That was probably poor timing, too. Maybe Rowen just wasn’t the best under this particular kind of pressure. She had no idea what to say.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Trish. “It’s completely undermined by this garbage.” She threw the paper at her own feet. “She’s a murderess. Willard is probably rolling over in his grave as I speak.”
“I’m sorry,” said Rowen. “I didn’t think it would upset you this much. It’s just a local paper.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Trish shook her head sadly. “It’s only the people in Lainswich who even care about this whole mess. It’s their opinions that matter.”
“I—” Rowen looked up as another car parked near her own. It was Rose. That was good timing, at least. She didn’t want to be alone with Trish much longer. This was beyond being a bit awkward.
“Is something wrong?” asked Rose, closing her car door and approaching the both of them.
“This is Trish Lydell, Mrs. Williamson’s…Willard Lydell’s sister.” Rowen indicated Trish. “Trish, this is my cousin, Rose.”
“I know who she is. Ben’s girlfriend. We met.” Trish pointed down to the paper at her feet. “I hope you didn’t have any part in this.”
Rose looked down at the paper squinting at the headline. “The article about Mrs. Williamson?” she asked. “I was there for the interview, but I didn’t think we should run it.”
“Why?” asked Trish.
Rose looked uncertain. “Well, there’s a lot of new information coming out. This felt a little too much like picking sides to me.”
“At least one of you has some sense,” Trish grumbled.
“I thought it was pretty objective,” Rowen said in her own defense. “We didn’t twist anything. We just presented the facts.”
Seeing that Trish agreed with her, Rose didn’t shy away from speaking her mind. “We did cherry pick the facts a bit,” she said. “The aim was to sway public opinion towards Mrs. Williamson, and that’s what we accomplished. The timing really couldn’t have been worse either. It…I mean, I didn’t want my name on it because I’m not proud of it.”
Trish looked at Rose, an eyebrow raised. “What do you mean about the timing?” she asked.
Rose glanced at Rowen. She looked back at Trish and shrugged helplessly. “I just mean, like I said, there’s a lot of new information coming out lately.”
Trish gave Rose a critical once over. “Did something happen?” she asked. “Is there something you’re keeping out of the papers?”
“I—I don’t,” Rose stammered. She looked over at Rowen again.
“Okay,” said Rowen. “Look, we’re really sorry you had a problem with the article.” She really was sorry, but what could she do about it now? Besides, Trish had sort of stepped over the line here. If she had a problem, harassing them at work wasn’t the answer. “We have to get to work.” Rowen moved toward the door, unlocking it.
“What happened?” asked Trish, reaching out and grabbing Rose by the wrist.
That was enough for Rowen. She opened the door and gave Rose a nudge inside. Rose went, and Rowen stepped in front of the door before Trish could follow. “If you need anything while you’re in town, ask. I feel terrible that I upset you. If there’s anything, within reason, that I can do for you, I absolutely will. But I can’t have you doing this. Let’s do lunch or dinner or something, all right? Can we do that?”
Trish turned on her heel with a huff. It didn’t look like an amicable dinner was something that was going to happen any time soon. Instead, the woman marched to her car. Rowen watched as she put it into gear and pulled away.
With Trish gone, Rowen headed into their office building. Rose was sitting behind her desk, staring down at its surface and looking shaken. “Are you all right?” Rowen asked.
Rose shook her head. “This doesn’t feel right,” she said. “I should have told her what happened.
”
“We told Ben we would keep it to ourselves for a while,” said Rowen. “If you had told Trish, she would have gone right out and told someone like Julia Martinez.”
“This doesn’t feel right,” Rose said again.
“Would it have felt right to get scooped by Julia Martinez?” asked Rowen.
Rose looked up. She frowned at her cousin. “It would have felt right to publish the real story instead of some puff piece treating Ben’s mom like she’s some poor innocent victim.”
“It doesn’t,” grumbled Rowen. “I’m beginning to think none of you even read that article.”
“You know what I mean,” said Rose. “It doesn’t matter what it says. It’s still not telling the real story.”
“Telling the real story would hurt Ben,” Rowen pointed out.
Rose shrugged. “I’m sorry, Rowen. What’s right is right, and what’s wrong is wrong. I don’t feel like there’s a gray area here.” She shook her head after she had spoken, like she didn’t mean what she’d said. “I guess we should call Ben or his mom or something, let them know that Trish is in town, if they don’t already know.”
Rowen offered her cousin a strained smile. “Let them find out the hard way,” she said, though she doubted Rose would take much comfort in that.
Instead of Trish, Rowen met with her husband on her lunch break. After all that had happened this morning, she really needed to see him. As soon as he approached her booth at the diner, she stood and hugged him.
“Rough day?” asked Eric, giving her a squeeze back.
“You have no idea.” She sat down and proceeded to tell him all about it. He was always a good audience. He sat there and listened, asking only the occasional question for clarification until she was finished.
“That does sound pretty bad,” Eric conceded. Their food had arrived by then, but neither of them were paying it much attention. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Do I have to do something about it?” asked Rowen. She was feeling a bit powerless in this situation, though that was far from the truth. Deep down, she knew there was more she could be doing right now. Maybe she just didn’t want to bother. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” Eric said with a shrug. “I’m not sure there’s a clear answer on this one. If you publish an article about what you found at Anita’s house, you’re going to really upset Ben. If you don’t write it, you’re going to upset Rose…Though, writing it will probably ruin her chances with Ben, which could also upset Rose. Of course, writing it is probably the right thing to do from a journalistic standpoint. Not that I would know, since I’m not a journalist.”
“I’m not sure I’m much of a journalist either,” Rowen grumbled as she pushed her fries around on her plate.
“So don’t focus on the journalism,” said Eric.
Rowen looked up at her husband, not quite sure what he was getting at. She wasn’t convinced he knew either. There was a good chance he was just trying to offer any sort of comfort he could think of to make her feel better. “What do you mean?”
“There’s an underlying mystery here, right?” It wasn’t really a question. Eric knew there was a mystery. They both did. “So, focus on the mystery. Solve the mystery. Do that, and maybe the rest will fall into place.”
“Isn’t that kind of shirking my journalistic duties or whatever?”
Eric shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “What I know is that solving mysteries is something you seem to be good at. So if you can’t come to a decision with the other stuff, start there. I’ll help.”
Rowen smiled. She wasn’t sure this was the most responsible thing to do, but it sure made sense when he put it like that. “What would I do without you?”
“I don’t know,” said Eric. “You’d still be living with your family. You wouldn’t have your own paper. I think you’d be mostly the same, just poor. I’m basically your sugar daddy.”
“I’m sorry I asked.” Rowen rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help but smile, though. “I love you.”
Eric smiled back at her. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Eleven
Any immediate mystery-solving was derailed by a phone call. Rowen was in bed when the phone rang. She wasn’t sleeping yet, just sitting next to Eric with their dog at the foot of the bed snoring. Her laptop was open and they were reviewing the facts by lamplight. They weren’t any closer to having answers, but it was nice just to have a second pair of eyes and plenty of support—even if they were only coming up with more questions.
They were about to have another question on their hands. A big one.
Rowen was puzzled when she saw that it was Aunt Nadine calling. Aunt Nadine almost never called unless she had a reason. It wasn’t that they weren’t close. It was just that they saw each other every day anyway, and Aunt Nadine was a woman of few words. She didn’t call to gossip. She generally only called when there was news. So already, Rowen was wary. “Hello?”
“Hi, dear. I’m afraid I have some bad news,” said Nadine. That was no surprise. What was a surprise was the news itself. “That poor woman, Trish Lydell, is dead.”
“What?” Rowen wasn’t sure what else to say. She had about a million questions all vying to be asked at once.
“Killed herself, it seems. Oh, the poor thing.” Aunt Nadine sounded genuinely upset. She was such a good woman, very empathetic.
“Where?” asked Rowen. It was the next question she managed. Eric was mouthing some questions of his own at her, but she ignored those.
“Hmm?” asked Aunt Nadine, apparently lost in her own thoughts.
“Where did she do it?” Rowen asked. Maybe that was an insensitive question, but she felt like the answer was important.
“At Mrs. Williamson’s house, if you can believe it,” said Aunt Nadine with a sigh. “I’m not sure when it happened exactly. Ben only called Rose about half an hour ago.”
“Is he all right?”
“I doubt it,” Aunt Nadine said. “I know the two of them were on something of a break. I suppose it’s good he feels like he can still turn to her in times like these.”
“Is she all right?” asked Rowen.
“That’s what I’m calling you about, actually. She’s off in her room and seems awfully upset. It’s worth getting upset over, of course. It just seems odd is all. Lydia is trying to talk to her, but she’s not having much luck. Apparently, she mentioned you.”
“Me?” Rowen repeated. “Like me, as in she wants to talk to me? Why? Why didn’t she just call?”
“She seems very shaken,” Aunt Nadine said again, driving the point home. “Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be calling at this hour.”
“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” said Rowen before hanging up. She looked at Eric. “Trish killed herself,” she said.
“What?” Eric asked, responding about the same way Rowen had.
Rowen nodded. “Apparently, Rose is taking it really hard for some reason. They want me to come check on her.”
“What about you?” asked Eric.
Rowen looked at her husband, somewhat puzzled. “Me?” she asked. He didn’t have to explain, though. She realized what he meant. She felt pretty shaken by this news. She must have looked the part, too.
“I’ll drive you over,” Eric said.
They both quickly got dressed and hopped in the car. The Greensmith house wasn’t far, and everyone in it was still awake. It was Rowen’s mother who answered the door.
“It’s really sweet of you to come,” said Tiffany, hugging her daughter. “Isn’t it just awful about Trish?”
Rowen nodded, though it was clear no one else in the house knew how to feel about the situation. They hadn’t really known Trish. Her death didn’t mean much to them aside from being a sad thing in general. On the other hand, Rose was clearly upset. That made things personal.
Rowen headed for the stairs. Willow and Peony intercepted her. “Rowen!” Willow called out. “We were waiting for you to get
here.”
Peony nodded. “We were going to call, but Mom said you were on your way, so…”
“What is it?” asked Rowen, glancing at the stairs and feeling impatient. She wanted to know what was up with Rose. That seemed like what was most important right now.
“Should we write about this?” asked Willow.
“And should it be one of us? I mean, do you want to take this?” asked Peony.
“We’re not sure it can wait though,” Willow added quickly.
Peony nodded. “Yeah, Julia Martinez is already reporting on it.”
Rowen swore. They were a small paper. Getting scooped wasn’t a big deal or anything. They’d need to have some sort of thoughtful piece on it up by morning though. “Just gather the facts,” said Rowen. “See what you can find out.”
