The Advice Column Murders

by Leslie Nagel

  “You knew Sarah,” Charley said patiently, returning them to the topic at hand. “Extending your condolences would be a natural thing to do. From there just ask the questions any old school friend would ask: What has she been up to? What brought her home this time?”

  “Keep her talking, and if you get stuck, we’ll…nudge things in the proper direction,” Frankie added.

  Cecilia laughed again. “Well, you’ve certainly given me the right job! Talking is kind of my thing. I’ll give Rachel the third degree, while you girls go jimmy her safe open, or whatever private detectives do.”

  “No safe jimmying, either.” Charley would’ve been appalled if she weren’t laughing so hard. “Goodness, what did Frankie tell you about me?”

  “Everyone knows about you, Charley.” Cecilia winked at her. “You’re famous!”

  Once again, it struck Charley that her personal anonymity was nonexistent, a casualty of the notoriety she’d garnered through her sleuthing. Hopefully, Rachel Howard wouldn’t recognize her, guess why she was there, and toss her out on her ear before they could learn anything useful.

  Cecilia continued her cheerful monologue as they cruised along Delaine Avenue. Barely three minutes later, the van turned onto a cross street and pulled up to the curb. To their left lay a community green space called Orchardly Park. To their right and facing the park stood a typical Oakwood assortment of cottages, Cape Cods and Dutch Colonials, in various shapes and colors, all fronted by neatly kept yards, some sporting gaily painted furniture on immaculate porches of brick or stone.

  “Talk about a prime location for a preschool!” Cecilia exclaimed. “Can you imagine?”

  Taking up nearly an entire residential city block, Orchardly Park offered pickleball courts, a wading pool, and a picnic shelter. Most of the space, however, was filled with fantastically shaped and brightly colored play equipment. Half a dozen children climbed, swung, or slid as young parents looked on from a scattering of tree-shaded benches.

  “We could’ve walked here,” Frankie commented. “I didn’t realize this place was so close.” She began freeing her niece from the various straps and buckles holding her captive. “Aunt Frankie’s ready to go check out somebody else’s toy stash. Who’s with me?” Elena raised a tiny hand, and Frankie kissed her nose.

  Cecilia climbed ponderously from the van and sighed deeply, a hand pressed into her lower back. “I am five times bigger at eight months than I was with Elena. I feel like the Hindenburg. And traveling with a toddler makes a ten-block stroll even more impractical. For one thing, I’d have to knock on every third door and ask to use their bathroom!”

  Charley watched in bemusement as her friend lifted Elena free and propped her on a hip with a practiced air. “Well, aren’t you the expert.”

  Frankie stuck her tongue out. “Never do that,” she immediately admonished her niece, who nodded, wide-eyed. “I am such a bad influence.”

  They followed Cecilia up the front walk of a modest brown-brick two-story house. Freshly painted white shutters bordered windows that sparkled in the sun. The concrete porch held two red canvas chairs and a wrought-iron table whose mosaic-tiled top depicted a laughing lady bug. A shaggy lilac bush blooming beside the steps scented the air. A discreet brass sign tucked into a flower bed read the crayon club, the only indication that this home was also a place of business.

  Cecilia rang the bell, and after a brief wait the door was opened by a slender young Asian woman wearing a purple smock on which let’s play! was spelled out with appliquéd crayon shapes in primary colors.

  “Welcome to The Crayon Club,” she said in accented, singsong English. She produced a perfunctory smile, her cool glance pausing fractionally on Charley. “I am Jenny. Please, Miss Rachel is reading and asks that you join her and the children.”

  She led the way down a short hall whose walls were hung with a delightful hodgepodge of preschool art and candid photos of children at play. Along the left wall a series of pegs had been mounted about three feet off the ground; several of the pegs contained brightly colored jackets and cartoon-themed backpacks.

  They emerged into a large, well-lit space that would have been furnished as the living room in a normal household arrangement. Instead, the room contained an almost bewildering assortment of toys and furniture, everything scaled for a preschool-sized clientele. As Charley took it all in, she realized that the apparent madness had a method. One corner contained a miniature kitchen and grocery store, complete with shopping cart, play food stacked on low shelves, and even a little cash register. Another area held three plastic picnic tables, several easels, and a locked cupboard that Charley guessed held art supplies. Against the far wall a full-length mirror had been mounted. A jumble of old shoes, hats, and purses spilled from a row of plastic bins. More low pegs here continued the dress-up collection, with feather boas, hooded capes, and fairy dresses just waiting for the next game of pretend.

  In the center of the room a woman sat in a padded rocking chair surrounded by a semicircle of seated three-, four-, and five-year-olds. Charley recognized Rachel Howard from the website photos. In the flesh, she could see the family resemblance between the cousins. Rachel was short and stocky like Judith, with the same coarse brown hair, square face, and resolute chin. However, this woman seemed far more relaxed than her older cousin. Even taking into account the age difference, her brown eyes were far more friendly, her expression open and welcoming in a way that reflected an optimistic approach to life, even if that life had not always been a happy one.

  Rachel held a picture book open with the pages facing her audience. As she read aloud about a young pig’s adventure on a pirate ship, she imbued the simple sentences with lively personality in a way that held her little listeners spellbound. Pausing to turn the page, she glanced over at Elena and smiled warmly. The little girl had been curled shyly against Frankie’s shoulder with a finger in her mouth. At this invitation, however, she immediately squirmed free, dropped to the floor, and took a spot next to another child.

  “Does she have the magic touch or what?” Cecilia whispered.

  When Rachel lowered the book at last, she smiled and said, “Time to wash up! Melissa is our line leader today. Miss Jenny, can you please supervise in the washroom?”

  As the children formed a surprisingly orderly line behind a girl with blond pigtails, Jenny popped around a corner, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Miss Rachel, I do not have the lunch ready yet.”

  “I will finish the lunch,” Rachel assured her. Jenny nodded, flipped the towel over her shoulder, and, with another sharp glance at the visitors, stepped over to lead the line, which included a delighted Elena, as her employer came forward. “Welcome. You must be Elena’s mother. I can see the resemblance.” Rachel shook Cecilia’s hand, then turned to Frankie with a grin. “And you are absolutely a Cartolano!”

  Frankie grinned back. “Guilty as charged. I’m Aunt Frankie to all those monsters you’ve tamed over the years. This is our friend, Charlotte. She’s helping Cecilia get ready for her new baby.” The white lie came out so smoothly, Charley almost believed it herself.

  Rachel regarded Charley for a moment. “I’m glad to meet you, Charlotte. If you’ll all follow me into the kitchen, we can talk a bit while I finish getting the food ready. Once everyone’s eating, I’ll have a few minutes to show you the rest of the school.”

  They retreated to a gleaming modern kitchen, where Rachel arranged sandwiches and apple slices on eight rainbow-colored plastic plates while Cecilia peppered her with questions. When everything was ready, the four women carried the food out to the picnic tables. The children appeared a moment later in a noisy, chattering group, and Rachel left Jenny to supervise the meal.

  “My son and I live upstairs. We use the third bedroom as a family room and office,” she explained as they descended a flight of steps to a surprisingly airy and well-lit basement. “In bad
weather we use this space for Duck Duck Goose, hopscotch, and other big games. Otherwise we take the children across the street at least once a day. You have to burn off all that energy!”

  As they followed her around, Cecilia continued her barrage of questions and exclamations over the features of the school. She seemed to have completely forgotten their primary mission. Charley’s and Frankie’s eyes met in silent communication. How were they going to learn anything about Sarah?

  When they returned to the main schoolroom, Frankie glanced over to where Jenny was crouched next to a tearful boy, smiling and murmuring reassurances as she mopped up spilled juice. “Your assistant seems very capable. Where’d you find her?”

  “Jenny’s a treasure. I’ve been hiring Early Childhood Education students from UD for years. In exchange for a modest wage, they can use this job as a field experience for one of their classes,” Rachel replied. “The international students are particularly hardworking. Normally they only stay the one semester, but Jenny’s been with me for over a year. I don’t know how I’ll manage once she graduates.”

  After the children finished eating, they hopped up and began playing at the various toy stations. The room soon filled with a happy hum of activity.

  “Cecilia, let’s get you off your feet for a few minutes and give your daughter a bit more time to explore.” Rachel indicated the rocker, and Cecilia sank into it with a grateful sigh. “Frankie, perhaps you’d like to help Elena and Melissa at the dress-up area. Charlotte, will you help me clear the tables?”

  Charley hid her surprise behind a smile. “I’d be happy to.” Ignoring yet another meaningful eye roll from Frankie, she stacked plates and cups and followed Rachel into the kitchen. “I don’t have any children,” she began, “but everything here seems—”

  “I know who you are.”

  Rachel leaned against the counter, observing her closely. As she unwittingly echoed the words a murdered woman had spoken just a few days before, Charley shivered with a macabre sense of déjà vu. And then, as the full meaning of Rachel’s pronouncement hit home, she flushed with chagrin. She’d been recognized, just as she’d feared would happen. “I’m so sorry. I’ll leave.”

  “Are you here to snoop?” Despite the pointed question, there was no sign of hostility in Rachel’s voice or posture. She seemed guarded yet resigned.

  “I sincerely apologize for this intrusion.” Charley set down the dishes she’d carried into the kitchen. “Coming here wasn’t my idea, but I could have said no. The thing is…” She hesitated, not knowing whether Rachel was aware of Pippo’s true gender. Better to wait until I have more information. Instead she said, “I’m not here to snoop, at least not in the voyeuristic sense of the word. I only met Sarah once, but I liked her. I want to help find out who killed her, and why.”

  Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “I saw it on the news this morning. It’s just so surreal. There was no answer at the house. I left a message, but no one’s called back, and I don’t know what to do. I want to see Judith, but I can’t leave my school, and—” She pressed a hand to her mouth and stifled a sob.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Charley touched Rachel’s shoulder. “You and Judith are close?”

  Rachel took a shaky breath and wiped her eyes with her shirttail. “We used to be. Is she all right?”

  “She’s actually in the hospital,” Charley replied gently. “She collapsed from the shock, but she should be home this afternoon.” At Rachel’s gasp of dismay, she briefly described what had happened, leaving out the gory details.

  “I’m glad you were there to help her.” Rachel lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table. “I’ve been so worried.”

  “You said you ‘used’ to be close.” Charley sat across from her. “You’re not close now?”

  “I haven’t seen or talked to Judith in years.” Rachel smiled wanly at Charley’s expression. “I know. We live five minutes from each other. It’s nuts.”

  “May I ask what happened?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, but I have my suspicions.” Rachel sighed. “Maybe I should start from the beginning. When I was eight years old, Judith came to live with us. I was an only child, homeschooled, living on a farm in Mercer County; it’s a couple of hours north of here. It was a lonely childhood, so I was thrilled by the arrival of a playmate. The thing is, Judith was fifteen—and she was pregnant.”

  “I wondered,” Charley murmured, “when I met Sarah.”

  Rachel nodded. “Her parents were members of an ultrareligious sect, living off the grid in the West Virginia mountains. My own father left that life when he was seventeen. There’s a lot of child sexual abuse in many of those isolated Appalachian communities, some of it incestuous. Judith never said so, but I got the impression the father was a relative. She ran away, and my parents took her in.” She scowled. “Those people made Judith feel like the pregnancy was her fault. Can you imagine what that must have been like? Being raped, then being rejected by your own mother, and then having a baby at fifteen? Even though I was so much younger, I tried to help her, to make her understand she was the victim. I loved Judith like a sister, and I adored helping with baby Sarah. I loved that sweet child so much.”

  Her eyes filled again, and Charley laid a hand over hers. “I am so sorry. If this is too difficult—”

  “No. I want you to hear this.” Rachel sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “I figure the next knock on my door will be some awful policeman, wanting to know every sordid detail of our family history. I’ll feel better knowing that at least one person who actually knew and liked Sarah is trying to help her.”

  After a moment she continued. “Judith did a pretty good job being a single parent to Sarah. She was strict, and even now she still adheres to some of the old habits of her childhood, but I never saw her raise a hand to her little girl. Judith’s never been what you’d call an upbeat person. Marrying Paxton seemed to make her happy, although—” She frowned, then shrugged. “In any event, after nine years of fertility treatments, they finally became pregnant with the twins. Those were happy days for Judith.”

  Charley asked gently, “Can you tell me about Sarah?”

  Rachel smiled. “She was such a sweet girl. Quiet. Very religious, like her mother. Personally, I thought Judith pushed all the Bible study too hard, not to mention the chores, and cripes, just endless rules! Can you believe she was still picking out her daughter’s clothes? Still, Sarah seemed fine with it. Her grades were solid, and she was developing into quite an artist. She loved that Bob Ross painting show on TV—you know, the palette knife painter from Indiana? It was one of the only things Judith allowed her to watch. My father gave her an art set for Christmas when she was thirteen. I’ve got a couple of her landscapes hanging upstairs. They’re actually quite good.”

  In her mind’s eye Charley saw again the laptop image of Sarah in front of an easel, spattered with paint and smiling in triumph. She felt a renewed sadness. The more she learned about the murdered woman, the more she felt the tragedy of her untimely death.

  Rachel’s smile faded. “Spring of her senior year, she ran away. My parents took Sarah in, just as they had done with her mother. Then…then she stole money from my folks and disappeared for good. They were so disappointed.” Rachel closed her eyes briefly. “I never saw or heard from Sarah again.”

  “But Judith must have,” Charley pointed out. “Sarah was here visiting her mother. They established contact at some point.”

  Rachel nodded. “Judith was frantic at first, but at least Sarah had the decency to let her mother know she was alive. She wrote occasionally, and Judith shared those early letters with me. Sarah had an apartment with several other girls outside St. Louis. She wouldn’t tell Judith exactly where, only that she’d landed some hourly wage job and was paying her way. She insisted she was fine. The girl didn’t want her mother interfering in her new life;
that much was plain. That really cut Judith to the quick.”

  “Is that why she left?” Charley asked. “Because her mother was too strict?”

  “Teenage rebellion was part of it,” Rachel affirmed. “I’d seen the signs for weeks and knew trouble was brewing, but Judith refused to listen. Unfortunately, I had problems of my own.”

  Rachel’s gaze turned to a grouping of framed family photos on the wall. One showed a younger Rachel and a strapping blond man in wedding clothes. Another was a formal military portrait of the blond man in the dress uniform of the US Marines. All the others were of Rachel and a young brown-haired boy at various stages of growth. In the center was one taken at a Halloween party, in which mother and a now preteen son wore black Nehru jackets and bowl-cut wigs in imitation of the Beatles of the sixties. The boy wore tinted John Lennon spectacles.

  “Your son’s very cute.”

  Rachel smiled again. “That’s my Danny. I can hardly believe my baby is sixteen. He definitely favors the Weller side, only taller and skinnier, lucky for him. Mike was big and blond, a real Viking. But Danny…” A shadow fell across her smile, a tightness caused by remembered pain. “My Christmas Eve miracle. He was a preemie and had all sorts of medical problems: low birth weight, vision problems, delayed language development. With Mike overseas, it was a scary time.”

  “Cecilia told us about your husband,” Charley murmured. “That must have been terrible.”

  “Mike was deployed less than a year after we got married. I opened this school to make money, but also to keep from going nuts worrying about all the things that could happen to him. Not that worrying helped him any. He got compassionate leave when his mom died, which is when I got pregnant with Danny. And then…” Rachel lifted her shoulders, then let them fall. “Life goes on, and that’s quite enough about me. You’re here to learn about Sarah. Ask your questions, although I’m not sure what I can tell you.”

  With that invitation, Charley decided to cut to the chase. “When Sarah ran away, was there any chance she was pregnant?”