by Nancy CoCo
“That took a lot of guts,” I said.
The women nodded. “Alex is a good man. The board agreed he could pay them back over four months and agreed not to prosecute if Alex promised to never steal again.”
“He promised.”
“In writing,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “It’s why everyone knows what he did.”
“It doesn’t make any sense to bring it up now. Why would Mrs. Smart tell Tori her father was embezzling?”
“She didn’t,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “She told Wanda Sikes who told Harriet Gross. Remember?”
“Still, why did Barbara bring it up now? Why did Wanda tell Harriet?”
“That’s what we wondered,” Mrs. Helmsworth said. “We don’t know. Barbara was a mysterious creature full of plans and schemes. It’s like she was purposefully goading Victoria.”
“Or she wanted Victoria to be angry with Wanda,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “Barbara always had an agenda of some sort. I guess we will never know what she was thinking now.”
“But why? Isn’t Barbara the one who called and asked Tori to come and plan the fund-raiser?”
“She is,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “Strange. It’s as if she lured the girl here and then ensured everyone saw her argue with her. It’s as if she was setting her up for something.”
“Which is why Victoria is a perfect suspect. She must have gotten wind of whatever Barbara was doing and told her to stop. The two fought and—bam!—she stabbed Barbara with a garden spade. That’s where you walked in.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, it takes time to die. When I got there, she was definitely dead. Poor Tori isn’t used to finding dead people. Her first instinct was to try to pull out the trowel and stop the bleeding, but when she tried it was stuck in too tight. Then I showed up and told her to step away.”
“Why are you defending the girl?” Mrs. Abernathy asked. “She hates you.”
“Because she didn’t do it,” I said stubbornly. “And she doesn’t hate me.”
“If she didn’t do it, who did?” Mrs. Abernathy asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” I said. “Do you know who Barbara hung out with?”
“Wanda Hewlett Sikes is or was Barbara’s best friend,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Poor dear is devastated. She couldn’t even come for craft day.”
“Wanda Sikes,” I murmured. “She lives on First Street, right?”
“Yes, her family owns the Hewlett cottage and the clothing boutique on Main Street,” Mrs. Morgan said. “She and Barbara grew up together. What terrors. They were always pranking people. You’d think they would outgrow that thing at our age.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “Trouble was Barbara’s middle name. Why, last year she had Marylou Spelt in tears thinking she had dementia.”
“What? That’s horrid.”
“It seems Barbara and Wanda were upset because Marylou won the cookie contest at the center. So they set about a plan to tell her things she did that she wouldn’t remember because she didn’t really do them.”
“They were diabolical,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “They had Marylou so convinced, she went to her doctor and they ran all the tests. It was after the third doctor didn’t find anything that Marylou’s daughter, Bridgett, became suspicious. You see, Marylou had no problem remembering things that happened with anyone else but Barbara and Wanda.”
“Bridgett confronted them and they laughed and said it was all in good fun.”
“Sounds like a few people had reasons to kill Barbara,” I said.
“Indeed,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Barbara Smart was a tricky one. She loved to manipulate people. She was always flirting with the men at the yacht club.”
“It was rumored she had a new affair every year.”
“She would pick a man, move in on him until he didn’t know which way was up. She would have him following her around like a lost pup and then drop him like a hot potato at the end of the season.”
“Indeed she was a soap opera rolled into one person.”
“I heard she had liposuction and a tummy tuck.”
“She had her forehead frozen with that injectable poison and her lips and cheeks filled.”
“She looked twenty years younger and had it all paid for by whichever man she was attaching herself to at the time.”
“Then why would she have her lovers pay her doctor bills?”
“Well, you see, her mother-in-law, Ingrid Smart, was on to Barbara’s ways early on and attached a codicil to her will. She allowed Barbara a monthly allowance. Her husband, Richard, was not allowed to give her any further support. When Richard died of cancer, everyone thought she would inherit, but Ingrid still holds the purse strings so to speak. Barbara might have had money coming but she couldn’t get her hands on it until the old coot died.”
“Wow—is Ingrid still alive?” I asked.
“Oh yes, she is ninety-eight years old and as sharp as a tack,” Mrs. Helmsworth replied. “She would have had Richard divorce Barbara but he refused. Lovestruck the whole time, even though he knew of her affairs.”
“Not very smart that one, despite his name,” Mrs. Tunisian said.
“Barbara sounds like a nasty piece of work,” I muttered.
“If you truly believe Victoria didn’t kill her, then you are going to have trouble figuring out who did. There isn’t a soul on the island who isn’t a bit relieved to see her go.”
“Except for Elmer, of course,” Mrs. Abernathy said.
“Who’s Elmer?”
“Elmer Hanson, Barbara’s latest fling. Poor soul is devastated.”
“He didn’t come for his weekly pinochle game. We all know how devoted he is to his cards. Almost as devoted as he was to Barbara,” Mrs. Morgan said.
I stood. “Thank you, ladies,” I said. “You have given me a lot to think about.”
“So you are sleuthing,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “Good. Do come back and update us on what you discover. We love a good puzzle.”
“Yes, we’d sleuth ourselves if we were able to get around better,” Mrs. Morgan said.
“I have a feeling you all get around pretty well,” I said. “Thanks again for the information.”
“Thank you for the fudge. Remember, dear, bring the pecan pie fudge next time.”
“Emily, nuts will break your teeth.”
“I’ll chew slowly.” She winked at me.
I left with a lot to think about. There were a couple of people I needed to see if I were to puzzle this thing out. The first would be Ingrid Smart. Then Wanda Sikes. Perhaps Wanda would be willing to tell me what Barbara’s plans really were for my cousin.
Chapter 6
“I’ve booked a wedding party,” Jenn said. “They are friends of mine from Chicago and they wanted a destination wedding.”
“Wonderful,” I said from my side of the office. Jenn and I worked facing each other in the center of the tiny room. I thought it was more collaborative than if we had put the two desks along the wall and had our backs to each other. “How big is the party and when are they coming?”
“They want to book the entire hotel,” she said. “They have friends and family close by. I’ve got them booked for a sunset wedding at Arch Rock. It’s going to be fabulous.”
“The entire McMurphy? We have regulars that book every week of the season. How did Frances clear the hotel?”
“She’s still working on that,” Jenn said and put her chin in her hand and frowned at me. “Why all the negativity?”
“I’m not negative,” I said. “I’m practical.”
“You’re hurt because Victoria hasn’t come to see you yet.” Jenn knew me better than anyone. Sometimes I didn’t like it.
“She insists on staying at her family cabin. I was in there. Everything is dust covered and I’m not even sure she has running water. She could stay here so much more comfortably.”
“I heard through the grapevine that Victoria was running her own investigation into Barbara Smart.”
> “What?” That made me sit up. “Who told you that?”
“Mrs. Abernathy,” Jenn said with a nod and studied me. “It seems you two are more alike than you realize.”
“Except she seems to know everyone on the island better than I do,” I said. “Which is why I don’t understand how she could have let Barbara do this to her.”
“Wait, what? Barbara is the victim here.”
“Yes, I know,” I said and waved it away. “I don’t think she was supposed to be. There is something else going on.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I went to the senior center looking for more information about Mrs. Smart. It seems she was a master manipulator. She has had more affairs and ruined more reputations than a Jane Austen villain.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” I said and put my hand in my chin. “Who would have thought that kind of psycho really existed? You should hear the stories they had to tell. Apparently there wasn’t a man on the island she didn’t either seduce or attempt to seduce. It makes me wish Papa Liam was alive. He could tell me if she tried any of her tricks on him.”
“Crazy.”
“Oh, and it isn’t just the men she went after. It seems she would decide she didn’t like a woman and go about making things happen that would ruin her victim without actually making it look like she was involved. ‘Diabolical’ is what the ladies called her.”
“Imagine having that kind of mind,” Jenn said. “I mean in real life.”
“I know, right? I’m so busy thinking up new candy recipes and figuring out how to pay bills, I don’t have time to manipulate people. But apparently she started from nothing. Married Mr. Smart because he was incredibly rich but terribly dim-witted.”
“She sounds like my kind of woman,” Jenn said with a laugh. “Except of course, you know I like my men nerdy and scientific.”
“She might sound cool, but it’s something that got her killed. I’m sure her victims didn’t think she was cool at all.”
“I was just joking,” Jenn said. “Sheesh—what will it take to get you to lighten up?”
“Figuring out who killed Barbara and why,” I said. “And reconciling with my cousin.”
“You should call Tori,” Jenn suggested.
“That might not be a bad idea,” I said and pulled out my cell phone. “If she is sleuthing, perhaps we can put our heads together and solve this murder.”
I dialed Victoria’s cell phone. Luckily I had gotten her number from my mother at Papa Liam’s funeral. It was then that I realized I needed to keep in touch with my extended family. My parents didn’t exactly speak to their cousins every day. It was a bad habit I needed to break. Especially because I had so few cousins. Mostly they were like Tori, second cousins. But family was family.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Tori,” I said and raised a thumbs-up sign to Jenn as I stepped out of the office and into the tiny hallway that allowed access to the office and my apartment. “It’s Allie.”
There was a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the phone. “What do you want, Allie?”
I tried not to overreact. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine.”
“I heard that you were questioned again about the murder. What happened?”
“Allie, I’m fine. Stay out of it. Okay?”
“I’m not going to do that, Victoria,” I said. “You’re my family and I won’t let you go to jail for something you didn’t do.”
“I’m not going to jail,” she said. “At least not yet.”
“But you are the main suspect and I’m sorry for that.”
“Stop. I’m not blaming you, Allie, okay? So just leave me alone.”
“I didn’t say you were blaming me. I said I wanted to help find the killer. Why don’t you come for dinner? We can talk and put our heads together on this thing.”
“Allie—”
“Hear me out, Tori. Please. Just come for dinner.”
“Fine,” she said. “What time?”
“We eat at seven.”
“We?”
“My roommate, Jenn, and Frances, and Mr. Devaney. You remember Frances, right?”
“Sure, and did you say Mr. Devaney? The English teacher?”
“Yes, he’s my new handyman and he’s quite good at it.”
“Okay, weird, but okay. I’ll be there by seven.”
“You can bring someone if you want.”
“I don’t have anyone here to bring, Allie,” she said. “I’ll be there. Just don’t invite Liz McElroy, okay?”
“Sure, but why not?”
“She’s making it sound like I murdered Barbara Smart,” Tori said, her voice getting softer. “I didn’t do it.”
“Okay, no Liz. I’ll see you at seven.” I hung up the phone and went back into the office.
“So?” Jenn asked.
“She’s coming to dinner.”
She clapped her hands. “Good for you. Now what are we having for dinner?”
“I have no idea,” I said and frowned then brightened. “When we were kids she used to like sloppy joes. How about I fix those?”
“Oh my gosh, I haven’t had those in ages. I’ll make homemade fries to go with them and a nice green salad to round it out.”
“Great. I guess I’m off to the grocery store to pick up the ground beef, the sauce fixings, and the hamburger buns.”
“We can bake the fries so that they are healthier.” Jenn popped up out of her chair. “This is so exciting. I get to meet another member of your family.”
“You’ll like her,” I said. “As long as we don’t talk about the murder or the McMurphy, everything will be fine.”
“Good luck with that,” Jenn said, her eyes twinkling. “You’re going to need it.”
Butter Pecan Fudge
Ingredients
½ cup of sugar
½ cup brown sugar
½ cup butter
½ cup heavy whipping cream
dash of salt
1 tsp. vanilla
1¾ cup sifted confectioners’ sugar
1 cup toasted pecans, coarsely chopped
Directions
In a heavy saucepan, bring the sugar, brown sugar, butter, and heavy whipping cream to a rolling boil. Stir constantly and boil for 7-10 minutes until it hits softball stage. (Roughly 234 degrees on a candy thermometer.) Remove from heat. Add salt and vanilla. Do not stir—let cool in pan for roughly 30 minutes or until 110 degrees F. Then stir in confectioners’ sugar until the fudge loses its gloss and is smooth. Add nuts. Blend. Pour into 8-inch square pan and let cool completely. Cut into 1-inch squares and enjoy!
Chapter 7
“I heard your cousin killed Barbara Smart.” Mary Emery was the main cashier at the grocery store. She rarely spoke to anyone. So I was startled by her statement.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked as I set my groceries on the counter for her to ring up.
“Your cousin is a murderer. That has to be tough on your business.”
“My cousin is not a murderer,” I said. “I wish people would stop saying that.”
“But you found her kneeling over the body with the murder weapon in her hand, right?”
“Well, in a way, yes, but—”
“There’s also an eyewitness to a heated argument between Barbara and your cousin. Wanda told me that Tori was hopping mad.”
“It was just an argument,” I said as I watched her bag my things. “All circumstantial.”
“She had the look of a killer in her eyes,” Mary said. “Rex is going to put the pieces together and then Tori will go to jail.”
“There isn’t any real evidence she did anything wrong,” I protested and gathered up my bags. “I wish you all would stop spreading such evil rumors.”
“Oh, it’s not a rumor,” Mary said with a shake of her head. “Wanda wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.”
“Who is this Wanda anyway?”
“Wanda Sikes,” Mary said. “She was Barbara’s best friend.”
“Oh, that Wanda. Well, Wanda is wrong.” I left the shop in a huff. It wasn’t very far from the grocer to the McMurphy as both were on Main Street. I negotiated the crowds of tourists with as much cheerfulness as I could muster. I didn’t want to give anyone a bad impression.
The bells on the door to the McMurphy rang as I entered. Mal jumped up to greet me with a wag of her little stub tail.
“You look upset,” Frances said from her perch at the receptionist desk.
“Mary Emery actually spoke to me again,” I said.
“Why would that upset you?” Frances looked at me from over the top of her glasses.
“She told me that Wanda Sikes is the eyewitness to Tori’s argument with Barbara.”
“And that makes you angry because . . .”
“Because Wanda is telling everyone Tori killed Barbara in the heat of the moment.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Victoria said from behind me. I turned on my heel. “I don’t remember Wanda Sikes being anywhere near me when I argued with Barbara.” Tori crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s lying.”
“I told Mary that you didn’t do it.” I started toward the stairs with my hands full. Mal trailed behind me, determined to get her welcoming pats.
“Thank you,” Tori said. “I didn’t do anything but try to save Barbara’s life.”
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said and started up. “It’s better to have this conversation in private.”
“I don’t care who hears me,” Tori said, raising her voice. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Fine,” I said and blew out a long breath. “You’re early.”
“I was bored.”
“Well, I’m going upstairs to put these groceries away and start dinner. I’m glad you came. You can keep me company.”
Tori frowned at me suspiciously for a moment then followed me. My cousin was beautiful in a silky tank top and beach shorts. I could hear her flip-flops on the steps behind me. We walked up in silence. I unlocked the apartment door and Mella jumped up on the back of the couch to greet me. Mal barked at her, but the cat ignored the pup.
