“There’s nothing that you can do that the police can’t.”
Hope leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. He had a point, but Detective Reid seemed to be more interested in making sure Claire’s new wardrobe consisted primarily of orange. It was Hope’s job, as Claire’s sister, to protect her and that was what she was going to do. She was going to keep Claire out of prison and out of orange jumpsuits.
“Where’s Vanessa’s laptop?”
“What?”
“Her computer. Where is it? She always had it with her and now it’s missing.”
“How do you know that?” Ethan stood and walked over to her. He rested both hands on his hips and stood firmly.
Hope wasn’t sure if he knew about the missing computer and wanted to keep it quiet or if he didn’t know about the computer, which meant his officers missed something. Either way, he didn’t look happy with her. Again.
“I was helping her sister pack up her belongings yesterday.” Hope set the potholders on the counter and walked past Ethan to enter her office. She heard his footsteps behind her as he followed her. She began making her housewarming party invitations after she assembled the pie and put it in the oven to bake, She could easily purchase invitations at the store, but she preferred to take the time to hand make the cards. She gathered her card stock, her rubber stamps, and her ink pads. The night before she wrote up the guest list and set it on her worktable, along with her trusty camera to photograph each step for a blog post. Now, she just needed to decide how she would decorate the cards. Staring down at the craft table, she was torn between two stamps, a bird trio or a flutter of butterflies for the card cover. Maybe she could do half and half.
“Of course you were just helping.”
Hope ignored Ethan’s sarcasm and grabbed the butterfly stamp. Butterflies it would be. A sign of spring and rebirth.
“What’s with all the newspapers?”
Oh, no. Hope swung around. Her eyes widened. Shoot. Ethan stood at her desk, sifting through the clippings she took from Peaches’s house the day before. How was she going to explain stealing them?
“Hope?”
Hearing her name snapped Hope out of her panic.
“Ah . . . for a craft project.” She scooted over to the desk and gathered up the newspapers in lightning speed. When she sat down the night before to go through them, she noticed the pages appeared to be from the first few pages of the Hartford Daily newspaper, so whatever was cut out was considered news. What made the front part of a newspaper were crimes, like a hit-and-run. Or was it possible Peaches was involved in a crime eleven years ago? Hope could see her fibbing a little to close a real estate deal but not committing a crime worthy of the front page. Peaches could have been involved in real estate fraud. News like that made the front page. Hope didn’t think about that last night. And Harrison was a mortgage broker. Could that have been the reason Peaches was in his home office? Was she looking for evidence? Maybe she was trying to make a deal with a prosecutor if she’d gotten caught up in something illegal. She had a card from a criminal defense attorney. He could have been negotiating the deal. So maybe her murder wasn’t about the hit-and-run but her turning on a business associate. Harrison or Lionel. Or both men. She wouldn’t put it past Lionel to cheat people. But how would Harrison be involved?
“I shouldn’t have left all of this out. It’s too messy.” Hope hurriedly gathered all the papers, stacked them, and set them aside. Out of sight, out of trouble and no explaining necessary.
“It’s a work in progress. A little messy is okay.”
“Have you determined if Peaches and Lionel Whitcomb were having an affair?”
“What?”
“They had a close business relationship, and I found out from Iva Johnson that she found Lionel’s wallet in Peaches’ bedroom one day while she was cleaning. That’s an odd place for a man to drop his wallet, don’t you think?”
“Look, Hope, I need you to back off of the murder investigations.”
Hope looked up from her desk and studied Ethan for a moment. He looked serious.
A lump caught in her throat. Something must have happened. She swallowed hard and braced herself before asking, “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Detective Reid is building a compelling case against Claire. What she’s going to need is a good lawyer and a sister to lean on, not an amateur sleuth putting her life in danger.”
Hope’s knees nearly buckled. There couldn’t be a compelling case against Claire. She wasn’t guilty of murder.
“How, how can he be building a case against her? She didn’t kill anyone.”
“He’s uncovered some more evidence.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. I’ve already said too much. But I thought you should hear it from me.”
Hope shook her head. “You barely said anything.” She couldn’t believe that a seemingly intelligent man like Detective Reid could believe her sister was a murderer. “I need to know. You know Claire. Tell me honestly, do you think she’s a killer?”
Ethan shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
Hope reached out for Ethan’s hand and squeezed it. She needed his reassurance because she was terrified. “Good.”
“What are you going to do?”
Hope didn’t have an option but to continue with her own investigation. Her sister wasn’t going to be prosecuted for crimes she didn’t commit.
“Well, since Morning Pete has just announced to the whole state I was an integral part of the murder investigation, I’m not going to disappoint. I’m going to find the killer, prove my sister is innocent, and then I think I’ll make a pan of brownies.”
* * *
Hope checked her messages. Her cell phone was blowing up with texts and e-mails from the people she knew back in New York City. She wasn’t the only person who’d found out about Tim’s upcoming appearance on Life After the Big D. She shoved her phone back into her purse and continued through the entry hall of the Merrifield Inn. Perhaps Vera could shed some light on a connection between Vanessa and Peaches. She hadn’t heard from Vera since the day of Peaches’ funeral, so she didn’t know what her plans were for the day. Hope decided to catch her first thing in the morning.
The Inn’s reception area was quaint and opened to the front sitting room, which was furnished with antiques and quilts. Hope was certain they were all Merrifield family treasures. In addition to scattered area rugs, well-read books, and strategically placed flower arrangements, the Inn came with its own ghost. Or at least so legend had it. Legend was good for businesses in quaint New England towns.
“Good morning, Hope,” Jane said from behind the reception desk. The older woman smiled warmly and looked genuinely pleased to see Hope, which was a nice change of pace considering it seemed few people in town were happy to see her. “Come to visit Vera?”
Hope wondered if Jane had already pumped the woman for information. A pot of chamomile tea, a couple slices of toast, and a piece of chocolate served along with a few well-thought-out questions about Vanessa’s past. Vera wouldn’t even have realized she’d been interrogated by the time Jane was done with her.
Hope approached Jane and rested her arms on the counter. “Yes, I am.”
Jane leaned forward. “She’s very sad. That’s to be expected. I brought her a tray last night since she didn’t come down for supper.”
Hope’s heart squeezed. She couldn’t imagine being alone in a strange town dealing with her sister’s death.
“When she returned yesterday afternoon, we chatted a bit.” Jane’s bright lips formed an innocent smile, as if they’d discussed the weather or which antique shop to visit.
“What did you two chat about?”
“Vanessa. The poor child bounced around here and there for years. Which means there is a chance she had crossed paths with Peaches at some point. Find where they connected and we’ll find the killer,” Jane advised.
; “I’ll do my best.”
Jane patted Hope’s hand. “Of course you will. Claire’s name needs to be cleared in this awful matter. Now go see Vera. She’s out on the patio having breakfast. I practically had to force her to eat something.”
Hope made a beeline for the patio. Spring was a fickle season in New England. One day it could snow and the next day it could hit over eighty-five degrees, and somewhere in between there was bound to be a rainstorm. Hope likened the season to a box of chocolates. You never knew what you were going to get until you bit into one. The past few days had been rainy and gloomy and felt more like autumn than spring, but today was a beautiful spring day with lots of sunshine and warmth. Stepping onto the patio, she was greeted by the bright morning sun. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes and scanned the brick patio for Vera. The patio was compact but fit five tables comfortably. From any seat, you had a view of the deep, narrow lot of land that comprised the Inn. The landscaping was simple and uncluttered, with tall fencing for privacy from the neighboring homes. In a few weeks, the garden would be lush with color and texture, thanks to Sally’s keen gardening eye. The spot was perfect for a relaxing meal or cup of tea late in the day. Hope soaked in some of the serenity of the simple garden as she approached Vera, who sat at a table by the edge of the patio.
As Hope reached the table, she noticed Vera looked deep in thought. She reconsidered her decision to question her. Could she really intrude on a grieving sister?
“Hope? What are you doing here?” Vera glanced up. She looked tired and sad and lost, and it broke Hope’s heart. Her eyes were hooded, deep bags circled underneath, and her face was drawn and pale. Hope noticed Vera’s breakfast had barely been touched. Jane wasn’t going to be happy.
“I came to check on you. To see how you’re holding up. May I join you?”
Vera blushed. “Where are my manners? Yes, yes, please do.”
Hope seated herself across from Vera. “I hope you’re comfortable here. Jane is a wonderful innkeeper.”
Vera nodded. “She has been such a dear. She kind of reminds me of our, I mean, my grandmother. I have to remember it’s just me now.” She let out a nervous laugh.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss. I can’t change anything that has happened, but I want to, no, I plan to make sure the person who is responsible for Vanessa’s death is found and sent to prison.”
“I’ve heard talk your sister is a suspect. Is that true?”
“Yes, it is. But Claire isn’t a murderer. She had professional disagreements with Peaches McCoy, which makes her a person of interest in the murders. I assure you she is not the person responsible for your sister’s death. Or Peaches McCoy’s death. That’s why I’m here. I want to ask you a few questions, if you’re up to it.”
Vera pushed her plate away and then rested her elbows on the table. “Maybe helping you will make me feel a little better. What do you want to know?”
Hope wasn’t sure what the etiquette was in asking a woman if she knew why her sister was murdered. A handbook would have been helpful.
“Vanessa was the second victim, but she was present the day of Peaches’ murder. So I wondered if Vanessa could have been the intended victim the day of the garden tour. After all, she was invited and several people knew she would be there. Unlike Peaches, who just showed up uninvited.”
“I have no idea why anyone would want to kill Vanessa. She didn’t have any enemies.”
“Then perhaps she saw or heard something,” Hope thought out loud.
“I guess that’s always a possibility.”
“Why did Vanessa move to Jefferson? What was she doing when she came here?”
“Oh, Van moved around a lot. She didn’t plant roots, our grandmother always used to say. She held so many jobs. She liked variety.”
“What kind of jobs did she have?”
“She worked as an administrative assistant for various companies over the years. She never stayed in one spot too long. I think she had a new place to live with each job. She truly had a nomad’s soul.”
“There’s nothing you can think of that could explain why she was killed?”
Vera shook her head. “I’m sorry. Van had one of those personalities that everybody loved. That’s why she did so well adjusting to new jobs. I wish I could be more help.”
“No, no, you’ve helped. Now it’s my turn to reciprocate. I have a few errands to run, but I can be at her house later to help finish the packing.”
“I have appointments to make the arrangements for Vanessa, so I won’t be doing any packing today.” A wave of grief swept over Vera’s face.
Hope nodded her understanding that the “arrangements” Vera would be setting up were the funeral. “Call me if you need anything.” She stood and walked back into the Inn, and waved good-bye to Jane, who was on the telephone, as she passed through to the front door. She descended the front steps to the sidewalk and right into Elaine Whitcomb’s path.
“Oh,” Elaine said in a cool tone.
“Good morning, Elaine. I’m so glad I’ve run into you.” Hope wanted to make things right between them. She’d seen a side of Elaine’s life no one else had, and she knew Elaine needed a friend.
“I really don’t have time.” Elaine stepped forward. She wore stilettos in a leopard pattern, leaving Hope to wonder how she got from point A to point B without falling over.
“Wait, please, Elaine. I want to apologize.”
“For what, exactly? Coming to my house under false pretenses? Snooping around my home? Or insinuating I’m a murderer?”
Hope cringed. She was guilty on all counts. She couldn’t explain because no one would understand. Heck, she had a hard time understanding her willingness to put herself in danger to find a killer.
“I’m trying to find the truth, the person who murdered two people. You have to understand I have to ask questions.”
“I understand you used me and you suspect me of murder.”
“Let me explain.”
Elaine raised an index finger, signaling to Hope to stop talking. “Just so you know, I’ve unfriended you, unfollowed you, and unsubscribed from your newsletter.”
Hope gasped. She had no idea Elaine was social-media savvy.
A sliver of a smile touched Elaine’s lips. She looked proud of herself. Putting Hope in her place seemed to be an ego boost for the woman.
“When did Lionel first meet Peaches? Could they have been more than just business colleagues?”
“Seriously? Hmmppff.” Elaine swung around and marched away.
Hope let out a sigh as Elaine disappeared into a shop. She’d deal with Elaine’s hurt feelings later. After she found the murderer. A quick motion caught her attention from the direction of where Elaine had disappeared.
Drew was speed walking toward her, gesturing to her with one hand as he held his cell phone in the other. As he got closer, he swiped his phone screen, shoved it into his pants pocket, and linked his arm with Hope’s.
“What’s going on?” Hope asked.
The door of the Inn opened, and Jane descended the front steps. The skirt of her floral printed dress flowed in the breeze created by her fast pace. “It’s good you’re still here, Hope.”
“Only because I ran into Elaine.”
“How did that go?” Jane asked.
“Never mind about Elaine.” Drew rolled his eyes. “You won’t believe what I found out.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Hope followed Drew and Jane into The Coffee Clique. The morning rush had come and gone, leaving them with their pick of tables. Jane claimed one by slapping down her black purse and sitting, then gave her order to Hope.
Hope joined Drew at the counter, where he was studying the overhead menu. She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. The overpriced, oversized shades had become her favorite accessory because she still looked like hell. Restless nights did that to a girl. The past few days haunted her like a bad movie. A yawn escaped. Whatever she ordered needed to be an
extra-large.
There was a woman ahead of them placing her order. “A short café, no sugar, whipped cream, dry with half-skim and half-milk. Don’t use two percent. A pump of peppermint, mix it with the milk,” the woman said to the teenage boy behind the counter.
“What are you getting?” Drew asked.
Hope shrugged. French vanilla, hazelnut, raspberry aromas mingled in the air, dizzying her with endless possibilities. All of the choices overwhelmed her.
The woman ahead of them took her hot beverage and walked out of the shop. Hope and Drew moved up.
Still not sure what she wanted, she chose to start with Jane’s order first. “I’ll take a tea with a spot of milk.” Hope moved up to the counter.
“Spot?” the teenager asked with a puzzled look.
Hope stared at the young man. He had no problem with the dry, half-milk-pump of peppermint woman, but an order of tea confused him? And what exactly was a dry coffee?
“It means a little amount,” Hope said.
“Oh, why didn’t you say so?” He reached for a mug.
“I did. I’ll also take a large coffee with milk.”
“More than a spot?” He laughed.
Hope nodded. “Please.”
“Plain coffee? So boring. I’ll have a double, extra frothy latte with cream and an apple muffin,” Drew said. “I hit the gym this morning so I can splurge.”
Hope paid for her beverages, picked up the cups, and walked back to the table. She sat and took a long drink of her coffee. Heaven. All that was missing was a cinnamon bun, but since she’d already indulged in one this week, she resisted diving into another.
“You look tired, dear. That horrible Morning Pete must have worn you out. Sally and I listened this morning. All he wanted to do was spread gossip to please his listeners. You don’t need him.” Jane sipped her tea.
“Do you want to hear what they said after you hung up?” Drew joined them at the table.
“No, I want to hear what had you practically running down Main Street.”
The Uninvited Corpse Page 20
