Scene of the Brine

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  A series of wrong turns, one oblivious pass of the unobtrusive café, and a circle back brought Piper—amazingly—to her target. The Birch Café sat tucked between a tiny grocery store and a beauty salon, its sign visible only to the few who searched carefully. Piper pulled into the single open space—at a fire hydrant—and was out of her car in an instant. Would the women be there? Or would the crafty Lydia have changed locations once again? She couldn’t hope to string along Frances, who was nobody’s fool, for too long, Piper told herself as she took off toward the café at a run.

  She pushed through the café door and paused. The café was deeper than she’d expected and apparently popular, with many tables filled, making it difficult to locate who she was looking for.

  “Can I help—?” a hostess began, but Piper suddenly spotted Frances Billings, sitting alone at a table set for two against the far wall. Her face was flushed and she clutched at her throat as though gasping for breath.

  “Call 911,” Piper cried. “That woman in the purple dress needs help!”

  28

  The hostess of the Birch Café looked where Piper pointed. “Oh! Oh, my goodness!” she cried, and spun toward the desk.

  “Is there a doctor here?” Piper called, weaving rapidly between the tables to reach Frances. “Anyone?”

  “I’m a nurse!” A woman seated near the front of the café jumped up and followed after Piper.

  When they reached Frances, she was gasping. The people at nearby tables scattered to make room as Piper and the nurse helped Frances lie down.

  “I think she’s been poisoned,” Piper told the nurse, whose face registered shock. “The desk is calling 911. Make sure they take her food with them to be tested. It might seem like a heart attack, but it could be bloodroot. Possibly something else.”

  The nurse nodded, though still stunned, and took charge at that point, leaving Piper able to scan the café. Where was Lydia? She scrambled up, leaving Frances with the nurse, and hurried back to the hostess.

  “There were two people at that table. Where did the other person go?”

  The hostess looked at Piper blankly, clearly struggling just to process all that was happening. Piper left her and ran to the door. She leaned out to scan the street in the direction of her car but saw no one. She looked the other way and spotted a woman in a dark suit walking rapidly, closing in on a black Lexus at the end of the block.

  Piper rushed out, but before she got more than a few feet, Lydia had jumped into the Lexus and was taking off. Piper raced back to her own hatchback, praying that Lydia wouldn’t disappear from sight before she could get behind the wheel.

  Piper screeched out of her spot, barely missing a red Ford coming from the opposite direction, and turned right at the intersection, as she’d seen Lydia’s Lexus do. She soon spied the black car up ahead, hampered by the congested, narrow street, as was Piper. Two cars separated them but Piper was able to keep Lydia in sight, though aware that could change at any moment.

  She watched as the Lexus turned left on a green light up ahead. The car behind it slowed as the light changed to yellow, then red. “No!” Piper cried as both cars ahead of her stopped. But each then turned right after the required pause at the intersection. Piper, now first in line, looked to the left to see Lydia’s Lexus disappearing in the distance. She checked cross traffic and decided to chance it, swinging left in front of an approaching white van whose horn blared and whose driver no doubt cursed as he braked to avoid collision. Her heart racing, Piper saw the tail end of the Lexus turning right up ahead. She pressed down on her accelerator to close the distance between them enough to see Lydia take the ramp leading to the highway.

  Piper raced to pull onto the ramp herself, appalled to see heavy traffic flowing. Didn’t anyone stay home anymore? She eased onto the congested roadway, struggling to keep moving safely while watching for the Lexus. Then she spotted it. Unable to close the gap between them, the best Piper could do was keep the black car in view, thankful that the traffic at least kept Lydia from taking too far off.

  Had Lydia seen her give chase outside the café? Piper couldn’t be sure, though if she had, Lydia would know her plan to get away with an attempt on Frances’s life was shattered. Lydia had probably picked the Birch Café as a place she would be unknown and where the busy staff would be unlikely to come up with a description. With Piper able to place her at the scene, any attempt to manufacture an alibi would be useless. Was Lydia instead hoping to escape altogether? If that were the case, Piper intended to put a stop to that as well, though exactly how was still up in the air.

  The Lexus changed lanes, then took the exit for Cloverdale. Piper, working her way through the traffic, was able to follow suit. Though several cars behind, she still had Lydia in sight. Was Lydia heading home after all, she wondered? Perhaps ready to give up altogether? Piper wanted to hope so. But then the Lexus suddenly turned off onto a side road. Where was Lydia heading? Puzzled, Piper continued to follow. Then it hit her. That road led straight to Sugar’s place!

  Piper scrambled for her cell phone. Deciding her best bet of direct contact to the sheriff would again be through his daughter, she called that number.

  “Amy! Did you reach your father?”

  “Yes, but it took a while. He informed the Bellingham police. Did they get there?”

  “Not in time.” She gave Amy a quick rundown of what had happened and her current location.

  “Tell your father to send someone to Sugar Heywood’s place. Lydia is heading there. I don’t know what she has in mind, but it can’t be for anything good. I’m right behind but I’ll need help!”

  “I’ll get him,” Amy promised and immediately disconnected.

  Piper drew a deep breath, confident that aid would come. But how soon? She pressed down on her gas pedal to close the gap between Lydia and herself. She, at least, had Lydia in sight.

  29

  Lydia knew she was being followed. That became obvious to Piper as the Lexus wove down the middle of the narrow, shoulderless road as if to block any attempt by Piper to pull ahead and block her—a scheme that only a mad person would try, what with all the twists and turns they were navigating. Heading to Sugar’s, then, could mean only one thing. Lydia, Piper feared, had given up any thought of getting away with murder and had decided, as some demented form of satisfaction, to strike at one last person while she could.

  Piper had tried to warn Sugar, calling both her landline and cell phone, but got no answer. Did that mean she wasn’t home and that her cell phone wasn’t on? Maybe, but though she hoped that was the case, Piper couldn’t count on it.

  The road finally opened up, and Piper recognized Sugar’s white house up ahead. Lydia apparently knew it, too, as she picked up speed. Her Lexus swerved onto the driveway, tires spraying gravel, and Lydia was out of the car in seconds. Piper pulled up behind the Lexus within moments and blocked her in as Lydia raced to the front door. She pounded Sugar’s door with her fists and rattled the doorknob, but the door, thankfully, must have been locked. Piper jumped out of her car, hoping again that nobody was home. Then she saw Sugar come around the side of the house from the backyard, drawn by the racket.

  Piper tried to wave her back, but it was too late. Lydia caught sight of Sugar, too. Where was the sheriff?

  “You!” Lydia cried.

  Sugar stopped, looking stunned into immobility at the sight of Lydia on her front stoop, skirt twisted, blouse hanging loose, and hair in disarray.

  Lydia flew at her, fingers curled into claws. “You’ll never have my son!” she screamed. Lydia wasn’t a large woman, but the momentum of rushing at Sugar, along with the element of surprise, pushed Sugar off balance and to the ground. “You’ll never be a Porter! I’ll see to that! I’ll kill you first.”

  Lydia had both hands at Sugar’s throat and was pressing down hard enough that Piper could see Sugar struggling for breath. She rushed u
p and tried to pull Lydia off, yanking at her arms. The woman was surprisingly strong, plus the tangle of legs kicking out—both Sugar’s and Lydia’s—made it difficult for Piper to brace. There wasn’t enough of Lydia’s silvery, short-cut hair to grasp, so Piper swung one arm around Lydia’s neck, grabbed onto her own wrist, and squeezed.

  “Get . . . off . . . !” Lydia gasped, but Piper held firm until she saw Lydia’s hands leave Sugar’s throat.

  Lydia fell sideways to the ground and Sugar rolled away, breathing hard.

  “Help me hold her,” Piper cried, quickly grabbing Lydia’s hands and pulling them behind her back. Sugar scrambled over and plopped onto Lydia’s legs.

  “What . . . ?” Sugar started to ask until the sound of sirens pulled her attention to the road.

  Piper sighed with relief. Sheriff Carlyle was on his way. She felt Lydia’s struggles slow, though Piper continued to hold on to her tightly. No way was this murderer going to slip away from justice.

  Before the sheriff’s car appeared, a tan pickup drove up behind Piper’s hatchback. Two people jumped out from each side of the cab.

  “Mom?” Zach cried, frozen for a moment before running toward them. “What the heck? What’s going on?”

  Sugar looked up in astonishment to see her son standing over her, with Ralph Strawbridge coming up from behind.

  “Found him,” Ralph announced, calmly, just as Sheriff Carlyle’s flashing lights rushed down the road.

  . . .

  Lydia sat, handcuffed and nearly unrecognizable in her current state, in the back of the sheriff’s car as Sheriff Carlyle continued to interview Piper and the others. Sugar was smiling from ear to ear as she held on to Zach’s arm and looked like she had no intention of letting go for quite a while.

  “He was at his girlfriend’s,” Ralph said early on, and when Sugar looked puzzled, Zach explained.

  “Her name’s Lauren. My friends don’t really know about her, yet, but I mentioned her to Ralph, when we were talking, one time. I was going to tell you about her, Mom, but then all this stuff happened. She’s really special and she didn’t know about any of this,” he said, waving toward the sheriff. “Lauren thought you and I were having problems and I needed a place to cool down.”

  “If she’s really special,” Sugar said, “you’d better start being more honest with her.”

  Sheriff Carlyle had enough to charge Lydia with for the time being—her assault on Sugar—but wanted the rest of the story.

  “All I know for sure at this point,” Piper said, “is that Frances Billings had worked at Tedbury Academy when Lydia was a student there. She must have known something that Lydia wanted hidden badly enough to try to silence her. Is Frances okay?”

  “She’s alive and apparently recovering. Thanks to you, they knew exactly how to treat her at the hospital.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “We’ll get her story as soon as she’s able to talk with us.” The sheriff turned to Zach. “As for you, young man. We need to talk more, too.” His stern expression relaxed a smidgen. “That can wait until tomorrow. I imagine your mother has a few words for you, first.”

  “Yes, sir,” Zach said, looking relieved.

  They watched the sheriff drive off, Lydia facing stonily ahead. Then Sugar urged them all to come inside. “I haven’t been able to cook for days. Now I have an amazing reason!”

  Piper excused herself. This was family time. And from the looks of it, Ralph would be sharing that title before very long. Sugar was extremely grateful for his actions in finding Zach, of course. But the looks of affection Piper had seen flowing between them came from much more than gratitude. She gave and received hugs all around, then headed on home. There were plenty of people who were waiting for news.

  And she could hardly wait to tell them.

  30

  Well,” Emma Leahy said Monday morning at Piper’s Picklings, “between Joan Tilley and Frances Billings, there’s been plenty of mileage put on cars running between Cloverdale and Bellingham Regional Hospital.” She handed Piper the two jars of spiced apple butter she was picking up for Joan Tilley.

  Piper nodded agreement. “At least Mrs. Tilley is home now.”

  “Yes, and her appetite for your preserves has returned. Frances has a ways to go yet, but she’s getting there. Tell me exactly why Lydia wanted to get rid of her, would you? When Judy called me, I was so astonished I wasn’t able to take it all in.”

  Piper finished ringing up the apple butters and reached for a bag. “Frances was the librarian at Tedbury Academy years ago, when Lydia was a student. She was Frances Kingsley, then, so Lydia didn’t make the connection when they met again all those years later. And, of course, besides the name, Frances herself had changed.”

  “So what clued Lydia in?”

  “I did, I’m afraid. I told Mallory about Frances having been on the Tedbury staff. Then for good measure, I told Lydia, too, when she came here the next day with her sister, Gwen.” Piper grimaced at the memory, though she’d done it quite unwittingly at the time. “I’m sure Lydia had heard the Kingsley family name mentioned as the original owners of the house, and she finally connected Frances Billings as having been Frances Kingsley from Tedbury.

  “When I started putting all the pieces together—that Lydia had something so important for her to hide that she resigned from her prestigious position at Tedbury, and that Frances must have known Lydia in her student days—I became very afraid for Frances, though I didn’t know the full story yet. I got that later from Frances.

  “Lydia, it turns out, left Tedbury under a cloud during her third year as a student there. She was pregnant. The school kept that very quiet. In those days, I’m sure you know, and at that school, particularly, a student being pregnant was not something to be talked about. But Lydia was certain that Frances must have known about her condition, that she must have been Dirk Unger’s source of that information when he informed Lydia that he knew, and that she would also let it out to others in Cloverdale. Lydia couldn’t stand the thought of what that would do to the perfect image she’d so carefully built up. The sad thing is that Frances, once she realized who Lydia was, wouldn’t have said a word about Lydia’s past. Gossip about former students was unthinkable to her. She told me when I saw her at the hospital that if Lydia had spoken to her about it, she would have assured her of that. Lydia, unfortunately, acted on her own assumptions.”

  Emma nodded. “People tend to believe others will behave the same as they would.” She thought about Piper’s revelations for a moment. “So Jeremy was born out of wedlock?”

  “No, not Jeremy. He was born a few years later, after Lydia married. She didn’t keep her first baby. These things happen, and I’m totally sympathetic to teens who find themselves in that situation. But I can’t forgive Lydia for being so hypocritical regarding Sugar. Lydia, of all people, should have understood. Instead, she denounced Sugar for being a single mom and pronounced her unworthy of any connection to the exalted Porters.”

  “Sugar’s lucky she got away from that family when she did.”

  Piper spotted someone at her shop door. “You’re not the only one who feels that way. Hi, Ralph!” she called as Ralph Strawbridge walked in.

  Ralph looked much more relaxed than he had the last several days. He greeted both women, then said, “I thought you might like to know what was up with Stan Yeager’s sudden disappearance.”

  “Absolutely!” Piper cried. “With everything else, I’d almost forgotten about Stan. Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine, and both Stan and his wife are back home. Neither of them had a clue that anyone was concerned about their absence.”

  Sugar, of course, in her anxiety to see her son cleared of suspicion, had been convinced that poor Stan was a murderer, but Piper didn’t bring that up.

  “Where were they?” Emma asked.

  “In Clevelan
d.” Ralph grinned at the huh? looks he got back from that information. “His daughter was going through a high-risk pregnancy. Stan’s wife went first, to be with her and help out. Stan followed later, when the delivery seemed imminent.”

  “So that’s why he seemed so anxious the last several days,” Piper said. “He was worried about his daughter!” She thought about Stan’s last visit to her shop. “He bought kimchi and said it was for her.”

  “Kimchi?” Emma asked. “For an expectant mother?”

  “He said she liked it. He didn’t say anything about her condition.”

  “Some people,” Emma said, “especially men, don’t like to talk about things they’re worried about—particularly female-type things. Did she have the baby yet? Is everything okay?” she asked Ralph.

  “She did—a boy—and all is well. Stan is back at his office and has blue ‘It’s a Boy!’ balloons in the window. That’s how I found out.”

  “That’s terrific,” Piper said, delighted for the Realtor. “I remember we had wondered where Stan was when Dirk Unger was poisoned. Stan had closed his office at five thirty but didn’t show up at the party here at the shop until seven.”

  Ralph nodded. “We may never know what he did in that time frame, unless . . .” He looked from Piper to Emma. “Either of you feel like asking?” Ralph grinned as both firmly shook their heads. “So, we’ll just assume he went somewhere by himself to deal with his worry over his daughter and leave it at that.”

  “Good thought,” Emma said, then smiled broadly. “A new grandson! I’ll have to run over and congratulate Stan.”