She worked her lip, trying to decide what to do. The last time she’d opened an envelope her granny had hidden, she’d uncovered an ugly can of worms. Even if opening the smaller envelope now didn’t cause a big to-do, it would feel like invading her granny’s privacy. Again. She tossed the envelope onto the floor and continued to go through what remained in the drawer.
Howard meowed loudly after he butted his head against her thigh. She was getting the message. Dinnertime. She uncrossed her legs and stood while the little guy trotted toward the kitchen.
“If only I could teach you how to open your own can of food.” She followed her feline companion and emptied a can of tuna casserole Kitty Delight into his dish and refilled his water bowl. While he feasted, she poured a glass of wine and returned to the hutch.
It looked like a tornado had passed through, and she wasn’t sure she was making any progress in claiming the space as her own. Her sights zeroed in on the envelope with her granny’s name on it. The curiosity was overwhelming. She bent down and picked it up. At the table, she set her wineglass down, opened the blue envelope, and pulled out the floral card.
Opening the card felt like spying on her grandmother, but she pushed through and found a handwritten note.
Our fling was nice while it lasted. You’re the best one-day wife I ever had. Marvin.
She closed the card and pressed it to her chest.
One-day?
One-day wife? The marriage certificate wasn’t legit?
Her breath caught. If her granny and Marvin weren’t married, then he and his grandson didn’t have a claim to the estate. She pressed the card against her chest.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Wait . . . I have to show Caroline.” She grabbed the envelope, her coat, and her tote bag and rushed out of the apartment.
By the time she reached the parking lot, she’d thrown on her coat, slipped the card into her tote, and cursed herself for not changing from her Ugg slippers into boots. Not a good choice when the slippers cost three digits and it was slushy and snowy outside, but it was too late now. She didn’t want to turn back.
She was too elated. She wasn’t going to lose her inheritance.
“I was coming to see you!” Ralph’s voice boomed in the parking lot and zapped the spring out of Kelly’s step.
“Is everything okay with Summer and Juniper?” Somehow, over the past couple of weeks, she’d worried about Summer. She chalked it up to the fact that a murderer was still on the loose and both she and Summer had been threatened.
“They’re both fine. I wanted to talk to you about Marvin Childers.”
Kelly huffed. The weasel grandson. “You know?”
“Can’t believe my mother never told me she remarried. She probably thought I’d disapprove. Water under the bridge.” Ralph attempted to chuckle, but it turned into a coughing fit.
“How very mature of you, Uncle Ralph.” She continued toward her Jeep.
“Not much I can do about it now.” He followed her. “Like it or not, he’s my stepfather. And luckily for me, my stepnephew, Barlow, is a savvy businessman like myself.”
Kelly held back the laugh that tickled her throat. “Is that so?”
“I’m confident I can convince Barlow to sell this property. He’d make a nice little profit for his grandfather. Yes. We’ll all make out nicely. Well, except for you, kiddo.”
Kelly’s urge to laugh disappeared. Now she simmered with irritation. Ralph wasn’t going to let the fact that his niece would be homeless and out of work interfere with a business deal. No. He didn’t care who got hurt as long as he made money.
“Though you’ll probably get to keep the cat—what’s its name again?
“His name is Howard. And, yes, I’ll be keeping the cat.”
And the business and building too. Thank you very much.
She tightened her hold on her tote bag. Inside was her proof Granny wasn’t really married to Marvin, but she wasn’t going to share the information with her uncle. Let him plan how he was going to finally be rid of his executor duties and make a little profit somewhere in the deal. Then bam! The whole deal would go up in smoke.
“I’ve gotta go, Uncle Ralph. Let me know what Marvin decides.” She turned and rushed around to the driver’s side of the vehicle. Backing out of the space, she saw her uncle head back to his Mercedes and slip behind the wheel. She’d known him all her life and didn’t doubt for one second that he was counting the dollars he expected to get from Marvin Childers. She laughed. The joke would be on him.
* * * *
“You won’t believe what I found.” Kelly followed Caroline into the kitchen, where the aroma of something had her nose sniffing. “Oh, boy, I’ve interrupted your dinner. I’m sorry. I lost track of the time.”
“No, no, you haven’t. It’s about to come out of the oven and needs to set for a few minutes. I made baked shells. Have a seat.” Caroline grabbed a pot holder and pointed to the stool at the peninsula. At the wall oven, she pulled out the deep dish of bubbling cheese and took measured steps to the trivet on the counter. “I wasn’t expecting you. What’s up? Another legal battle on the horizon?”
“No.” Kelly wanted to add “smarty pants” to her reply, but since their relationship still wasn’t solid, she kept it to herself. “Actually, it looks like there may be no legal battle with Marvin Childers.” She pulled the card she’d discovered in the drawer out of her tote and handed it her sister.
Caroline discarded the pot holder and opened the card. She read the note. “Interesting.”
“It’s more than interesting.”
“What might have happened was Granny and Marvin married at the wedding chapel and received the marriage certificate, but it was never officially filed.”
“Then the marriage isn’t real.” Kelly’s shoulders relaxed. The tension she’d been carrying around since finding the certificate vanished.
Caroline held up a hand. “We don’t know for sure, but from what I’ve found out so far and what Marvin wrote in this note, it looks like he won’t have a claim on Granny’s estate.”
“You have no idea how much I needed to hear this.” Kelly went to stand up, and her sister waved her hand, gesturing for Kelly to stay seated.
“You’re here and dinner is ready. Stay and have dinner with us.”
Could tonight get any better for Kelly?
“I’d like that.” She shrugged out of her coat and handed it to Caroline, who carried it to the hall closet. When Caroline returned, together they made the salad. Working side by side, it felt like old times when they’d helped their mom prepare supper. By the time the salad bowl was set on the table and the stuffed shells were ready to be served, Caroline’s fiancé had arrived home, and they ate together as a family.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bright and early the next morning, Kelly set to work stuffing the goody bags for the Holiday Edit event. As she filled the petite shopping bags, she hummed her favorite carol, “The First Noel.” Finding the card from Marvin and having her sister agree that most likely the retired illustrator and his greedy grandson had no claim on the boutique had improved her mood.
Breena entered the staff room from outside and shook off the cold. Temperatures had dipped below twenty degrees overnight and had gone up little since sunrise.
“I can’t imagine what it will feel like in the middle of January if this is how December is going.” Breena unzipped her coat, hung it on the coatrack, and then pulled off her hat. “You have most of them done.” She joined Kelly at the table and peeked inside the little shopping bags. “Too bad we didn’t have the budget for customized bags.”
“I know. But, hopefully, we will at the next event. RSVPs have been coming in.”
Breena’s head bobbed up and down. “I saw. This will be off the charts. I completed the menu with Frankie last night, so he’s all set. He�
�s making a cranberry cocktail and three appetizers. Do you think that’s enough?”
“Absolutely. We want the ladies focused on clothes and buying, not eating. Besides, the budget is tight. Frankie is donating his services, but we have to pay for the food and the beverages.”
Having a cousin who was a trained chef was a perk not only because he fed her often but because he kindly worked for free.
“Good point.” Breena stood. “I’ll open, okay?”
Kelly nodded as she dropped small bags of chocolate into each goody bag. There were a few more items to add, and she’d be done. Her cell phone rang, and Breena grabbed it from the desk and handed it to Kelly on her way out to the sales floor.
Kelly glanced at the caller ID. Patrice. She swiped the phone on. “Good morning, Patrice.”
“Hey, Kelly. Hope I’m not catching you too early, but I’m on my way to class and won’t have a chance to talk to you later.”
“No problem. I’ve wanted to talk to you.”
“I can’t believe they arrested Wendy for Diana’s murder. I’m positive she didn’t do it.”
“What is believed to be the murder weapon was found during the search of her home.” Kelly pressed the speaker button and set the phone down to finish the goody bags. She could multitask with the best of them.
“If it is the murder weapon, then someone is setting Wendy up. I think it’s Yvonne.”
“Why?”
There was silence on the line.
“Patrice, are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m ashamed to say why. I was stupid. Really stupid.”
Kelly slid a glance at the phone. She wasn’t a stranger to doing stupid things she was embarrassed about. “How stupid?”
“I had an affair. It was brief, with Yvonne’s husband.”
Kelly dropped the bag of chocolate and lunged for the phone, taking it off speakerphone. She held it up to her face.
“What?” She cringed. Her question came out louder and more shocking than she’d expected.
“I think it was Yvonne who set me up at the airport, and I think Diana figured it out. If Diana threatened to reveal that, I’m certain Yvonne would have not only been tossed from the show but probably would have been arrested.”
“She most likely would have been arrested.” Kelly fell back into the chair. She had a hard time imagining the prim and proper socialite planting cocaine on the production assistant. Did she drive up in her Rolls-Royce and buy a bag from the local drug dealer? Kelly shook her head. In the world Yvonne lived in—television, extreme wealth, and privilege—drugs were easy to come by. No distasteful trips to back alleys needed.
“Did Hugh know about you and Yvonne’s husband?”
“No. It was brief. I think Yvonne’s husband got worried she’d found out about us. He ended the relationship. Besides, Hugh’s too busy with his own girlfriend of the month to notice much else.”
“What are you talking about?”
Patrice gave a throaty laugh. “He practically has a new girlfriend every month. He gets bored easily. I’d put money on him having one right now. Between producing the show and sneaking around with his mistress, he doesn’t have time for anything else.”
“What about his wife?”
“What about her? All she cares about is ratings. So far, Hugh has gotten awesome ratings for the show. Look, I have to get going.”
“Wait. I need you to answer a question. Why didn’t you tell me you went to Diana’s house just days before her murder? What did you two talk about?”
“Does it matter now?”
“Yes. It does.”
“You know I got probation, and that was all thanks to Diana. If she hadn’t intervened, I’d probably still be in a Florida prison. While I’m grateful I didn’t go to prison, I’m determined to clear my name. I wanted Diana to help me. I know she knew more about the incident than she let on.”
“Did she?”
“She refused to help me.”
The swinging door opened, and Breena poked her head in and cleared her throat, catching Kelly’s attention. “We’re getting busy.”
Kelly nodded and silently mouthed, “Okay”.
Breena smiled then disappeared.
“I have to go, Patrice. Thanks for calling. I’ll be in touch.” She disconnected the call.
Was it possible Yvonne was responsible for Patrice’s legal problems and Diana had discovered the nasty deed? Yvonne had lied about when she last saw Diana. People typically lied when they were trying to hide something. Was Yvonne trying to hide the fact that she murdered Diana?
She stood and swiped up her phone. She’d already told the police about Yvonne’s visit to Diana’s house the night of the murder. Should she tell them about Patrice and her suspicions? Maybe it would be better for Patrice to contact Wolman directly. She pushed open the swinging door and was struck with the chatter she heard. And as she made her way to the sales floor, she was pleased to see so many customers.
Breena came up to her with an armful of clothing. “They’re on fire. Look at them.”
“Where did everyone come from?”
Breena shrugged. “Don’t know. But a lot of them have asked about the Holiday Edit. Guess our marketing is working. I have to hang these in a changing room for Mrs. Bancroft. Oh, there’s someone at the register.”
“I’ve got it.” Kelly broke away while Breena continued to the changing room. For the next several hours, there was a steady stream of customers, all in good spirits and many sharing holiday memories of Kelly’s granny. She found the stories heartwarming and comforting. Her granny was beloved by many people in Lucky Cove.
“Martha and I went way back.” Mildred Fisher pulled out her wallet from her sturdy brown leather shoulder bag. “We grew up next door to each other. Oh, your great-grandmother could cook like no one else. My mother was so envious.”
“Is that where Granny got her cooking gene from?”
“Gene? Oh, I’m doubtful Martha inherited any cooking genes. There was one Christmas when we were teenagers and home alone on a Saturday. Martha got it into her head we’d bake.” Mrs. Fisher handed her credit card to Kelly. “Not only did we make a big mess of the kitchen, but there was smoke everywhere. Your great-grandmother was furious with us. Martha had burned a sheet of cookies.” The older woman laughed at the memory.
Kelly hadn’t laughed at the incident in her own kitchen the other night, but hearing the story of how her granny also failed at an early attempt at baking made her feel better. “I never heard that story.” Kelly handed the card back to her customer.
“I’m not surprised. Martha wouldn’t ever tell the story.” Mrs. Fisher leaned forward. “I have more stories. You let me know when you’re ready to hear them. Merry Christmas.” She took the shopping bag from Kelly and left the store.
Kelly made a mental note to follow up with Mrs. Fisher. She wanted to know as much as possible about her grandmother’s life. It seemed they had a lot in common.
* * * *
The day progressed with a steady flow of customers, and by closing time, Kelly and Breena were both exhausted. Kelly closed out the register while Breena did a quick tidy-up of the boutique before leaving. With the end-of-day bookkeeping tasks completed, Kelly climbed the stairs to her apartment.
Her thoughts were still working on the information Patrice had shared with her. All day long, snippets of their conversation rolled around in Kelly’s mind. The most intriguing part was Patrice’s admission that she went to ask Diana for help and Diana refused. What was at stake for Patrice was significant—being cleared of a drug crime. Patrice could have returned, determined to force Diana to help her; one thing might have led to another, and with emotions running high, Patrice may have killed her.
But where did the knife come from?
Kelly had gotten a quick glimpse of it, an
d it didn’t look like a kitchen knife. But it didn’t look like a pocket knife either.
At the kitchen counter, she opened a can of soup, and while it heated in the microwave, she tossed together a salad. Patrice could have brought the knife with her. She was a single woman living in the city, and it wasn’t unreasonable to think that she carried some kind of personal protection.
After Kelly finished eating her dinner, she fed Howard and then curled up on the sofa with her favorite reading material, fashion magazines. There were plenty of things she could have been doing, but she needed downtime. She hoped the glossy pages would suck her in and not let her think about the murder or her stalker or what a dog Hugh was.
It sort of worked. The magazines engrossed her for over an hour, and rarely did her mind stray beyond the pages of outrageously expensive clothes featured in the extravagant, over-the-top editorial layouts. When she couldn’t stop yawning, she knew it was time to go to bed. She closed the January issue of Marie Claire and stood. As she stretched, she looked for Howard. He was nowhere in sight, so he must’ve been on the bed already.
Sure enough, the orange cat was curled up on a corner of her bed.
She set the alarm on her phone, kicked off her slippers, and slipped into bed, pulling the covers over her. She might have tugged on the covers a little too hard because Howard lifted his head and meowed at her.
“Sorry.” She dropped her head on her two down pillows. When she’d moved back to Lucky Cove, she didn’t have money to rent a moving truck, so she was limited in what she could bring with her. Luckily, all of her clothes and accessories and a few family mementos fit into the Jeep Pepper had loaned her, and there was enough room for her cloud-soft pillows. She left everything else. Priorities, you know.
She closed her eyelids and willed herself to fall asleep. Too bad her mind had other ideas, playing a loop of conversations she’d had with Hugh, Wendy, Yvonne, Janine, and Wolman. Every now and again, there was a break in the loop. Recalling the figure in black, the threatening note, and the screeching smoke alarm made for a restless night.
Silenced in Sequins Page 21
