The Uninvited Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “Of course it is.” Hope wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t. She was the one who put herself in the situation by sticking her nose into something she had no business with. But she didn’t know any other way to help Claire.

  The sirens grew louder.

  “Ethan is going to freak when he finds out.” Hope didn’t want to imagine what he was going to say.

  Sally approached Hope with a full cup of coffee. “Here you go.”

  The gentle fragrance of hazelnut wafted up Hope’s nose. Her hands, still shaky, reached for the cup.

  “He’s going to want to put me in a bubble.”

  “Maybe he should. If we’d arrived later, you could be dead,” Sally said.

  “That person was in my house, and I’ll be damned if he or she is going to get away with that.”

  “You’re not going to stop?” Drew asked.

  Hope shook her head. “No. Now it’s personal.”

  Sally escorted the responding police officers into the house and one took Hope’s statement while the other officer searched the house. Hope was confident the intruder had left but maybe the officer was looking for some evidence. After recounting what happened after she got out of bed, Hope retreated to her bedroom to take a shower. The hot water felt good on her sore body, and the few moments alone allowed her to compose herself. She dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie then headed back downstairs. She retrieved her composition notebook from her office and settled at the table to jot down some notes. Jane had prepared her a cup of tea while she wrote in the notebook.

  The intruder was as tall as or taller than Hope, based on where she was grabbed around her torso. There were no indicators of whether it was a man or woman. If she hadn’t taken those pain pills, maybe she would have been more alert. The gloves were black.

  Her hand paused over the page. What else?

  The sleeves were black.

  Why couldn’t she remember any more?

  It happened so fast, and she was fighting for her life. Noticing details wasn’t a priority.

  Why hadn’t she gotten a look at her intruder’s face?

  All she had to do was look up when she dropped to the floor.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

  Startled, Hope looked up and found Detective Reid approaching her from the hall. She quickly closed the notebook.

  “I’m sure. I wasn’t hurt. Just scared to death.” The truth was she couldn’t tell which soreness came from which incident—car accident or being manhandled by some lunatic.

  “Are you working?” Reid eyed the notebook.

  “Just making some notes.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. She doubted he would approve of what she was making notes of.

  “You didn’t get a good look at the person who grabbed you?” Reid sat across the table from Hope.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Reid nodded. “Do you have any idea how the intruder got in?”

  “The back door was closed when I came downstairs. But I didn’t check the front door. I usually don’t lock my doors. Nobody does in Jefferson.” A definite difference from her years in New York City. Her apartment door had had three locks on it. Her ritual every night after coming home was to make sure all three locks were locked. And sometimes in the middle of the night she got out of bed to double-check. When she made the move back to Jefferson and spent her first night in her new home, she didn’t get up in the middle of the night to check the one lock on her front door. She’d had a peaceful night’s sleep that night. Now she wasn’t sure if she would ever sleep soundly again.

  “It’s always a good idea to lock your doors. Have you received any type of threats? Perhaps from a fan?”

  Hope shook her head. “I’m not that big of a celebrity to have obsessive fans.”

  “We need to look at all possibilities,” Detective Reid said.

  “It was the murderer.” Jane ambled over to Detective Reid with a cup of tea.

  Reid accepted the mug and took a sip. “Mrs. Merrifield, while I am not ruling out a connection to the recent murders—”

  “Don’t forget about Hope’s car accident,” Jane said.

  “I’m not. I cannot jump to the conclusion the murderer caused the car accident or assaulted Ms. Early today.”

  “May I quote you?” Drew said from the doorway of the hall.

  “No, you may not.” He set the cup on the table, flipped his notepad closed, and stood.

  “You have my assurance I will do my best to find the person responsible for your accident and for entering your house tonight.”

  Hope didn’t have much choice but to accept Reid at his word. Ethan had told her Reid was a good detective. She’d have to trust Reid to do his job. “I appreciate that.”

  “Do you know where your sister was tonight?”

  Hope was caught off guard. Why was he asking about Claire? “Are you suggesting my sister did this to me?”

  “It’s just a question.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “You probably should get some rest.” Reid exited the kitchen through the mudroom.

  “I can’t believe that man.” Hope grabbed hold of the mug and took a long drink, then grimaced because the tea had gotten cold.

  Drew came to the table in a split second with a cup of coffee. He slid it in front of Hope.

  “Bless you,” she whispered, before taking a grateful drink of coffee. She caught Jane’s disapproving look from the island.

  “Are you sure you want to pursue this?” He pulled a chair closer to Hope and sat.

  “I don’t have a choice. Reid is determined to pin the murders on Claire, and the killer thinks I know something. I have to see this through.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  After Hope’s alarm blared, jolting her out of her first good night’s sleep in days, she dragged her weary bones out of bed and into the shower. She didn’t expect to sleep so well, given what had happened the day before. Maybe it was because she was exhausted, physically and mentally, that her body just gave in to sleep. Regardless of the reason, she was glad to finally have had a good night’s rest.

  In the shower, she stood under the spray of hot water longer than usual, an indulgence she rarely afforded herself because of her schedule. Since she had moved back to Jefferson, pampering had taken a backseat to barn chores, home restoration, and work. Remodeling her home and building her business had all fallen onto her shoulders. She didn’t have a partner or a backup plan. She threw her list of things to do out the window and lathered up with her favorite vanilla goat milk soap. The soap was crafted by Edie Barlow, a fellow contestant on The Sweet Taste of Success. After Edie’s fifteen minutes of fame, she packed it in and headed to Vermont to raise goats and make bath products from their milk. Hope’s city friends thought she was crazy for wanting to move back to Connecticut to blog and raise chickens, but at least Hope had her roots in the country, unlike the city-born Edie. Edie’s friends and colleagues thought she needed to be committed because she was trading in her Jimmy Choos for barn boots to milk goats.

  There were a lot of negative things that came from being on reality television, but they were balanced out by the friendships Hope made along the way.

  Dried off and her hair blown dry, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a Henley top then pulled on a pair of socks before walking out of her bedroom. Downstairs she made a quick breakfast of a smoothie with a banana, a few frozen strawberries, and a heaping scoop of protein powder. She’d discarded the pain pills. She needed to be alert and coherent. Not only for her safety, but she had some work to do and she’d figure out a way to cope with the pain.

  With her smoothie gone, she headed out to the barn to collect eggs and do her morning chores. In the mudroom, she slipped on her work boots. There was a chill in the morning air and the breeze wasn’t as soft as a spring breeze should feel. There were still hints of winter as the wind whipped through the air.

  She crossed the yard to the barn, where she�
��d converted one of the stalls into the chicken coop. Making a home for her chickens in the unused stall saved her a little money, plus the barn provided an extra layer of protection against predators and was well-ventilated and out of the harsh weather. She’d made a few modifications to the stall and in time, she’d moved her chicks in and added an outdoor pen so her chickens could get fresh air. While she didn’t have any concrete proof, she believed happy chickens produced more eggs. She planned on filling the barn with other animals, but that was way down on her list of things to do once her home was finished. So, for the meantime, the chickens had the place all to themselves.

  Slower than usual, Hope fed the chickens, filled up their water containers, and did a spot check of her girls for any scratches, coughs, or anything out of the ordinary. Some hens were more cooperative than others. Helga didn’t appreciate Hope’s concern and didn’t hide her feelings when Hope attempted to pick her up. Hope couldn’t imagine how Helga would respond if she needed medical attention. Dealing with an angry hen made fending off an intruder feel like a piece of cake.

  On the way back to the house, she heard a car engine. She made a detour to the front of the house. Audrey’s luxury car pulled into her driveway. As she approached, Audrey stepped out of the car and then retrieved a fruit basket from the backseat. A moment later, Bigelow jumped out of the car and took off investigating, paying particular attention to a maple tree.

  “Hey!” Hope called out.

  Audrey looked up at the greeting and smiled. With her hands full, she closed the car door with her hip. She was dressed in a bright floral dress that accentuated her blue eyes. Her aviator sunglasses were pushed up onto her head, pulling back her dark hair and revealing clear, unswollen eyes. She looked relaxed and tranquil, a stark contrast to the last time Hope saw her.

  “You’re doing an amazing job on this house,” Audrey said. “I apologize for just dropping by. But I was worried if I called you’d tell me not to come over.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Harrison wasn’t very hospitable to you. He’s been under a lot of pressure at work and with the murder . . . well, let’s just say it didn’t help.”

  Bigelow raced past his owner to Hope. She leaned forward and cupped his face in her hands and the dog stood still for a nanosecond, just long enough for Hope to say, “Good morning, Bigelow. How are you doing?” The dog wagged his tail feverishly as his eyes widened with excitement. His energy was contagious, and instantly Hope began to feel a bit more uplifted.

  “Please, come in.” Hope led Audrey around to the mudroom, where she kicked off her boots and slipped on a pair of suede mules. They continued through to the kitchen.

  “What a beautiful kitchen.” Audrey set the basket on the island. “When are you going to have a housewarming party?”

  “I really haven’t thought of having one.” Hope inspected the basket of apples, oranges, and pears Audrey had given her. She found a bar of dark chocolate tucked among the fruit. Audrey knew her well.

  “Why not?”

  Hope shrugged. “I guess I’ve been so focused on renovating this place. I have no idea of when I’ll be done.”

  “You shouldn’t wait. If nothing else comes out of these tragedies, the one thing we should realize is life is short. Too short sometimes.”

  Hope paused. Audrey had a point. She didn’t need to have every room perfectly renovated and decorated to celebrate her new home with her friends and family. It could be years before she was done with the interior and exterior, and what a shame it would be not to take the moment to celebrate.

  “I think you’re right. I’m going to have a housewarming party. I’ll get right on it.”

  Bigelow nudged Hope’s leg, and she glanced down. He looked at her with his warm brown eyes. She loved that dog, and seeing him reminded her how much she wanted one of her own. The building she lived in back in New York had a strict no-pets policy, and one of the things she’d looked forward to by moving back to Jefferson was getting a dog. While she loved her chickens, they weren’t cuddly, and she questioned their loyalty. As the projects wound down around her house, she promised herself she’d get a dog. Until then she would get her dose of puppy love from Bigelow.

  “Good. If you need anything, just let me know.”

  “I will.” Hope pulled out a canister of dog biscuits she always kept on hand for canine visitors and offered Bigelow a snack. He gobbled it up eagerly and gave her a sad-eyes look only a dog could pull off, and she melted and he got another biscuit. She closed the canister, signaling to the pup snack time was over, so he trotted away and found a corner in the family room where the morning sun streamed in to curl up and take a snooze.

  “I wanted to come over and check on you, to make sure you’re okay. When I heard about the accident, I felt so horrible it happened just hours after you left our home. Then I heard last night someone broke in here and grabbed you. Are you okay?”

  Hope reached out and covered Audrey’s hand with hers. “I’m okay. A little sore from the accident. But I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure? I can’t imagine being attacked in my own home.”

  Hope squeezed Audrey’s hand before letting go. “I’m sure.”

  “I also wanted to tell you that you were right.”

  “About what?”

  “About hiding in my house. After you left, I headed out for a run. A long run to clear my mind.”

  “Did it?”

  “Yes. By the time I came home, I knew I wasn’t going to stay inside my house like a prisoner. Peaches’ death was unfortunate, and I am confident the police will find the person responsible. And that person will have to deal with the shame of having done something so horrific.”

  “Good for you. How many miles did it take?”

  Audrey laughed. “About six.”

  “Six? I’m lucky I can do three these days.”

  “I think you and I need to run together. I’ll make a marathoner out of you.”

  Hope shook her head. Every year when she lived in New York City, she found a spot to watch the annual marathon and looked on in awe of athletes who ran by her. She’d never run a marathon or a half-marathon. Unlike Audrey, she had no desire to put herself through twenty-six grueling miles.

  “I’d be happy with running up to six miles.” With all the recipes she tested for her blog, Hope needed to exercise regularly. She found running not only burned a bunch of calories, but the time spent zoned out gave her the chance to clear her mind. She needed to run soon. Though she doubted she would get very far since every muscle still ached. Maybe a long walk would suffice.

  “We’ll see.” Audrey smiled.

  Hope admired Audrey’s confidence. Audrey always knew what she wanted and went for it and got it. Unlike Hope, who thought she’d always be a magazine editor. Then one spontaneous decision turned her life upside down and she landed as a divorced blogger living back in her hometown. There was one thing she wouldn’t end up being and that was a marathon runner. No matter how much Audrey believed she could convert Hope.

  “I’m going to try and salvage my book launch. You know that old saying about any publicity is good publicity? Well, it’s not true. Calista told me my career is now officially on life support.”

  Hope grimaced. “Ouch.”

  “All this negative press is swirling around, and if I do an interview, I’ll be asked about the murder.”

  “I’m sorry.” Hope poured two cups of coffee and pulled out a container of plain Greek yogurt with a basket of blueberries, a canister of homemade granola, and a jar of locally sourced honey. With a couple of glass canning jars, she whipped up a healthy breakfast for the both of them. She served the breakfast parfait with a couple of her oatmeal-cherry-chocolate bars.

  Audrey drew in a deep breath. “While I may not be able to save my writing career, I can do something else.”

  Hope’s interest was piqued. “What are you planning on doing?”

  “I’ve decided to run for mayor. Scandal is su
pposed to be good for politicians, right?”

  Hope shrugged. She had no idea of the inner workings of a political career but thought it had a lot of similarities to reality television. Both were docudramas based on one part reality, one part fiction, and one part morbid curiosity, with a fleeting acquaintance to the truth.

  “I just don’t want things to get weird between us.”

  “Why would they?” Hope scooped a spoonful of parfait. The tartness of the yogurt mixed with the sweetness of the honey and the crunchiness of the granola made for a refreshing breakfast.

  “I heard Claire is thinking of running for mayor. That may put you in the middle.”

  Oh. Hope hadn’t given that much thought. Her sister and her good friend both going after the same thing. High school all over again, just this time around it wasn’t a boy, it was a political office. No good was going to come out of that. Especially for Hope.

  “We’re all adults. It’ll be fine.” Now it was Hope’s turn to be confident. She plunged her spoon into the parfait, seeking a blueberry.

  Seemingly satisfied with Hope’s assurance, Audrey dove into the parfait. “This is so yummy.”

  “And easy.” Hope took a spoonful herself. She embraced simplicity as often as she could. That was one of the catalysts for starting her blog when she was at the magazine.

  Audrey took a bite of the oatmeal-cherry-chocolate bar, and her eyes lit up as she chewed. “I love your bars.”

  “Thank you.” Hope had decided a few weeks earlier to challenge herself to revamp a basic oatmeal-raisin bar recipe she’d been making for years. Tired of the same old thing, on a whim she’d replaced the raisins with dried cherries and dumped in some leftover mini-chocolate chips. Within twenty-four minutes, she had a new favorite bar recipe that could rival any brand of healthy bars.

  “Speaking of your cooking, how did your lesson go with Elaine?”

  Hope shrugged. “Good. She did surprisingly well.” She was surprised by how well Elaine had settled into the lesson and followed directions. Hope wasn’t sure what to expect when Elaine begged for the cooking lesson, but it had turned out better than she thought it would. Until Hope messed things up by snooping. Hope inwardly cringed. Between Lionel shouting at her and humiliating Elaine in front of her, Hope wanted to crawl under a rock. But the worst part was the look of hurt and betrayal on Elaine’s face caused by Hope. Somehow, some way, she needed to make things right with Elaine.