The Uninvited Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “I didn’t know Meg was a writer,” Hope said.

  Meg Griffin was full of surprises, just like she was in high school. Back then there wasn’t a word to describe Hope and Meg’s relationship but now there was—frenemy. After being away for so long, Hope thought things would be different between them. They weren’t. You could take the girl out of high school but you couldn’t take the high school out of the girl.

  “She’s not a writer. But I guess she has a lot of skills. She’s even set up a Facebook page for the preservation society. She’s like a mini-me of Audrey with tech skills.” Vanessa laughed.

  “It’s good Audrey has someone to help her with the group. It’s a lot of work.”

  “And speaking of work . . .” Vanessa smiled. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little nervous about the garden tour. There’s so much that can go wrong, and I don’t want that for Audrey.”

  “It’s going to be a lovely day. A walk around a beautiful garden, some refreshments, and a book signing.” Hope turned back to her work. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  Chapter Two

  “My invitation didn’t include a ‘plus one.’ ” Hope climbed out of her SUV, leaving her sister in the passenger seat.

  Claire shrugged. “What’s the problem? Are you worried Audrey will be angry with you for bringing me? I thought you were over that ‘everyone must like me’ phase of your life.”

  Hope ignored her sister and grabbed her purse off the backseat. She checked her phone messages and found three, all from her former producer at the Culinary Channel who’d moved on to another network. He’d been pitching a new reality show idea to her, and she kept refusing. She had no desire to ever be in front of a television camera again.

  “Would you hurry up? I’m freezing.” Claire made her way around the vehicle.

  Hope looked over her shoulder. “What do you think it’s going to be like during the tour?” Audrey’s garden was a full acre. Even Hope had to muster enthusiasm for a late March garden tour. Though the sun was brighter and the temperatures were steadily climbing, it snowed two days earlier. And the morning hadn’t warmed much.

  “I’m all prepared.” Claire tugged at her wool trousers to reveal a leather boot with a two-inch heel.

  Hope shook her head. “Are you kidding? Is that supposed to be Manolo Blahnik’s version of a hiking boot?”

  Slightly deflated, Claire let her trouser leg fall.

  “This is a very important day for Audrey,” Hope said.

  “Despite my opposition to Audrey’s grassroots association fighting any and all development in town, she is my friend.”

  Hope slung her purse over her shoulder. “Try again, Sis.”

  “All right.” Claire pushed a lock of blond hair from her face with a gloved hand. “Maybe, just maybe if I can get her group to back off of Whitcomb’s new subdivision, he might make me the listing agent for his next project. I need to get an exclusive listing. Peaches McCoy is closing sales left and right. I need that slob to owe me a favor.”

  “You have to stop this obsession with her. You’re a very competent and skilled real estate agent.”

  “That is true but Miz Pits landed the exclusive listing for Whitcomb’s new development and it had nothing to do with competency or skill in real estate.”

  “Stop calling her that.”

  Her sister had coined the unflattering nickname for her competitor months ago.

  “Pffft.”

  “You’re not going to turn Audrey’s garden tour into a fiasco.” Hope aimed her key fob at her vehicle and clicked it.

  “What do you think she and her stupid preservation group are doing to Jefferson?” Claire snipped. “The Society to Protect Jefferson. Ha! More like the society to keep Jefferson in the Dark Ages.”

  Hope began to walk, passing by Sally Merrifield’s sensible station wagon. A lifelong gardener, Sally would never miss a gardening event. Each year she held a garden party at her family’s business, The Merrifield Inn, to showcase her hard work all year long and to celebrate her love of plants and flowers. Hope noticed Meg Griffin’s sporty SUV. She sighed. Yet another opportunity to travel back to high school. “Looks like a few people have already arrived. I hope Audrey is all prepared.”

  “We’re just going to be walking around a garden full of dead stuff. What can go wrong?”

  “I don’t have time to make a list.”

  “You know, if I can convince Audrey to let me list her house, I’d get a hefty commission.” Claire followed her sister along the herringbone-patterned brick path to the Federal period house.

  “You’ll do no such thing. Besides, you know she’ll never sell this house.”

  Claire rolled her pale blue eyes. “Loves it. I know. Like old homes aren’t a dime a dozen in Connecticut.”

  Hope reached the red front door and pressed the doorbell. “It’s more than just an old house. It’s her grandmother’s house. And the material for her gardening books.”

  A few seconds passed before the door opened and Audrey greeted them.

  “Good morning.” Audrey’s unsteady smile vanished when her gaze passed over Hope’s shoulder and found Claire. “I thought you’d change your mind about coming.”

  “Like I said last night, she’s not going to cause any trouble,” Hope reassured her friend. When they spoke, she found that nerves combined with frustration made a wicked combination. Audrey was frustrated by the town council’s recent approval of Whitcomb’s proposed development plan. But she’d promised Hope TSPJ wasn’t going to back down, they were looking at other legal options. Hope had considered not telling Audrey of Claire’s intention to attend the event. But she’d decided her friend should know. Forewarned was forearmed.

  “Whatever.” Audrey opened the door wider for her guests to enter.

  Hope and Claire entered the spacious antique-filled foyer. Overhead a crystal chandelier glistened in the early-afternoon sun. A fleur-de-lis-stenciled chair rail and a treasured Persian rug finished off the elegant space.

  “That mutt of yours isn’t loose, is he?” Claire glanced around.

  Audrey exhaled a deep breath. “His name is Bigelow and he’s out in the garage for the tour.”

  “Great. Is there coffee yet?” Claire asked as she took off for the kitchen.

  “Help yourself.” Audrey gestured for Hope’s coat and then hung it in the closet. “I heard this morning Whitcomb intends to break ground in two weeks.”

  “He’s not wasting any time moving forward.”

  “Thank goodness you’re here, Hope.” Sally Merrifield approached from the living room. The former librarian, a close friend of Hope’s mother, had a deep frown on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Hope asked.

  “I simply cannot understand why Elaine was sent an invitation to attend this wonderful tour,” Sally said.

  “She’s the garden club’s president. How could I not invite her?” Audrey asked in a tight voice.

  “What’s the problem?” Hope asked.

  Elaine Whitcomb wasn’t the most popular person in Jefferson, especially for those with husbands, because of her flirtatious nature. But Hope didn’t understand why Sally was so upset while Audrey had put their differences aside for the day.

  Sally’s frown deepened. “Because of her, we didn’t even rank in the top twenty-five community gardens in the state.”

  “This isn’t the time or the place to discuss this. Elaine has been invited. If she shows up, we’ll just have to deal with it,” Audrey said.

  “Letting the inmates run the asylum,” Sally muttered as she marched back to the living room.

  Audrey turned her attention back to Hope. “I need your help. The girls I hired from the high school haven’t shown up yet, and I’m shorthanded in the kitchen.”

  Hope smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” The students from the culinary program at the high school were usually reliable and prompt, and she expected they would show up any minute. Until then, she�
��d lend a hand.

  Audrey glanced at her watch. “Great. I can’t believe how late it’s getting. There’s a tray of pastries on the island, could you put it on the server for me?”

  Before Hope could respond, her friend was already halfway up the staircase.

  “You’re a lifesaver.” Audrey dashed up the remaining steps and disappeared into her bedroom.

  Hope headed to the kitchen. Claire was seated on a stool at the island, checking her lipstick in her designer compact.

  “Nicely done, Sis. She never saw it coming.” Claire took one final look in the mirror. “You know you have a serious problem.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hope lifted the tray of pastries off the granite countertop.

  “She just asked you to help, didn’t she? Fess up. What did you do with the high school kids she hired?”

  Hope shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just lending a hand.”

  “Is that all you’re doing? My guess is right now you’re thinking about rearranging the pastries, aren’t you?” Claire pointed to the silver tray.

  Hope bit her lower lip. She was thinking about rearranging the tray. The napoleons should have been placed in the center, flanked by the mini-cream puffs and éclairs. Exercising restraint to prove her sister wrong, she stepped into the dining area without touching one pastry.

  Pure hell. But she resisted.

  Decorated in yellows and blues, with white accents, the room was bright and cheery. The scent of vanilla floated in the air from candles arranged throughout the room. White-painted French doors overlooked a flagstone patio, where a collection of potted dwarf evergreens was displayed. The assorted cedars, spruces, and junipers were neatly groomed and were the perfect entry out to Audrey’s early spring garden.

  Hope set the tray down on the server and stepped back to admire the buffet set with silver pots, floral plates, and heirloom flatware. “It’s beautiful.”

  Claire snatched a strawberry from the fruit tray. “But is it perfect yet?”

  “No.” Hope readjusted the ivory sateen napkins so they cascaded toward the edge of the server, rather than just being lumped in a pile. “Now it’s perfect.”

  “Yeah, the napkins make all the difference.”

  Hope cleared her throat. “So far, so good. Despite you showing up.”

  “You worry too much. And worrying will only deepen your lines,” Claire said before snatching another strawberry and biting into it.

  “Be careful, Sis. You’re about to exceed your caloric intake for the day.” Hope turned and went to the refrigerator. She had pulled out a carton of milk and filled a crystal creamer when she remembered what she’d left in the car. “I forgot my camera.”

  “Just use your phone.”

  “I prefer the camera since I’m writing a post about the tour for the blog. I’ll be right back.” Her fancy digital camera cost a small fortune, but since her blog was photo rich and her readers loved seeing images, it was worth the investment. Just as she began to hurry out of the kitchen, she heard Claire squeal.

  Hope spun around and found Claire looking out the window over the sink. “What’s wrong?”

  “The dog is loose out in the garden,” Claire answered.

  Jeez.

  Hope turned and rushed to her sister and peered out the window. Bigelow was digging in the garden.

  “I’ll be right back.” She sprinted through the mudroom to get outside to the backyard. For a moment, she paused and looked around in awe. Audrey’s garden had good bones. Stone walls in the distance ran along the property, while evergreens stood tall and decorative urns were strategically placed. Distinctive edging skirted fluid borders, and a Japanese maple spilled over a corner garden bed. A sea of early daffodils popped the landscape with color and the hope of warmer days to come.

  A playful bark drew Hope back to her mission—corral Bigelow before Audrey realized he was loose. She reached the rectangular patch where Bigelow dug. The medium-sized dog raced toward Hope and then bounced back to the hole he was digging.

  “You’re supposed to be in the garage,” she said, but the dog ignored her and continued to dig.

  “Is the tour beginning?”

  Hope glanced over her shoulder. Some of the guests emerged from the house. Leading the group were Claire and Meg. Claire already looked bored and cold while her companion exuded enthusiasm.

  Trailing behind them was Drew Adams, a local reporter and one of Hope’s closest friends, with camera in hand. He was his usual J. Crew self from head to toe. His chinos were perfectly pressed, and he held a notepad and pen. Hope didn’t recognize the three women walking with him, but they might be the gardening editors and writers.

  And finally a sour-looking Maretta Kingston marched behind them. It was hard to believe she was a member of the Jefferson Garden Club by her less-than-enthusiastic appearance.

  Sally and Jane Merrifield were soon ushered out of the house. The sisters-in-law were cheerful in nature and smiled. A little bit of cold didn’t dampen their spirits.

  Elaine Whitcomb lagged behind them. So she did show up. No doubt those three-inch heels she wore gave her problems with traction.

  But where was the hostess?

  The back door swung open again and Audrey appeared with a few more guests behind her. She hurried to catch up with everyone.

  Hope grabbed Bigelow, who’d settled next to her legs, by the collar and walked him to the garage, where she would give him a chew toy to keep him busy. With any luck, that would keep him occupied until the tour was over.

  When she joined the group on the patio, Audrey had eased into her role as host. She shared tips, techniques, and advice with grace and poise.

  Hope listened to Audrey’s tips for pruning. “Every tree needs to be assessed, and the rule of thumb is . . .” Or at least she tried to listen until she got elbowed in the ribs.

  “Ouch.” Hope glared at her sister, the assailant.

  “Sssh,” Maretta hissed.

  Hope rubbed her side. “You have bony elbows.”

  Claire nodded for her sister to turn around. Hope did and couldn’t believe her eyes. Peaches McCoy. What the heck was she doing at the tour? Shocked, Hope could only stare.

  Dressed warmly for the day, Peaches wore a navy jacket over a pair of dark jeans and a beige sweater. Her long strawberry-blond hair blew in the wind and her hands were buried deep in her coat pockets. She approached the group with no sign of hesitation or concern that she was unwelcome. It was that confidence that made Peaches such a successful real estate agent.

  Meg turned around. A cold glare revealed she wasn’t happy. “Why on earth would Audrey invite her? She, along with Whitcomb, are trying to destroy this town.”

  “They’re trying to improve Jefferson,” Claire countered.

  Meg shook her head. “How? By destroying farmland for subdivisions? My family has been here for over one hundred years and I’ll do whatever it takes to stop them both. Any outsider who thinks they can stroll into town and buy and sell like it’s some board game will have a battle, I promise you.” Meg held Claire’s gaze for a moment before she marched forward to keep up with the rest of the group.

  Hope turned and gave her sister a warning look to let Meg go. They didn’t need to engage in a spirited debate on the pros and cons of development at that moment.

  “I can’t believe she had the nerve to show up here. She’s nothing but trouble.” Maretta Kingston came to a stop next to Hope and Claire.

  “She’s probably just here to dig up trouble,” Claire said.

  “Yes, that’s the only thing she’d ever dig for. Trust me, she’s no gardener,” Maretta said.

  “Sssh,” Hope hissed that time. “You’ll distract Audrey.”

  “Like she won’t?” Claire gestured at Peaches, who was just a few feet away from them.

  “Enough,” Hope warned.

  “Humph.” Maretta crossed her arms in protest.

  Quiet descended.

/>   If Audrey had noticed Peaches’ arrival, and Hope didn’t see how she could have missed it, she never let it show.

  “I use leaves I’ve raked up in autumn and pile them around each rose plant.” Audrey stood in front of her expansive rose garden. “Then I wrap them in burlap, and as you can see, there’s been very little, if any, damage to them.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Hope noticed Peaches had caught up with them and stood dead silent behind them.

  * * *

  “Hope, everything seems to be going well. Doesn’t it?” Vanessa asked as she entered the kitchen. Her long paisley skirt fluttered as she moved along the buffet. “Despite that woman showing up. Do you know why she came?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question.” Hope grabbed a handful of stirrers and empty sugar packets off the buffet and deposited them in the trash container. She’d returned to the kitchen to check on things and ended up tidying up.

  “I have no idea. I’m dying to ask Audrey if she invited her at the last minute. But why, I have no idea.” Vanessa poured a cup of coffee from the urn.

  Hope wiped her hands on a clean dish towel. “Maybe Audrey decided it was a good idea to not be enemies with Peaches since she’s considering running for mayor.”

  Vanessa shrugged. “Possibly. That would be a smart thing to do, but they’re on such opposite sides of the development issue in town. I can’t see Peaches supporting Audrey’s run for mayor.” She set her cup on the table and glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time to start the book signing.” She scooted out of the kitchen, brushing by Claire.

  “What was that all about?” Claire asked.

  “Book signing.” Hope pulled open the door of the dishwasher and loaded it with plates, coffee cups and saucers.

  “Didn’t those girls show up?”

  “I’m just helping out.” Hope lifted the door and shut it.

  “You have a serious problem.”

  “Did you enjoy the walk around the garden?” Hope wiped down the counter. Her last act of tidying up. She promised herself.

  “Forget about the tour. We have to find out why Peaches is here.”

  When Peaches arrived in Jefferson a year ago, she turned the real estate agency Claire worked at upside down. The small firm wasn’t used to her aggressive selling tactics, but the agency owner, Alfred Kingston, didn’t complain about the profits.