“There are ways around that, Marsha. You’re still as nosy as you were as a child.” She pointed a finger at me. “Sometimes, that can get you in a lot of trouble.”
“Is that a warning?”
“It’s advice.” Her eyes narrowed. “You think I killed Harriet and that reporter, don’t you?” She cackled. “Oh, this is priceless. I may just have to put it in my next book. Nosy mom accuses upstanding teacher of murder.”
“Did you?” I leaned my elbows on the table and speared her with the most intense look I could muster. “I’ve seen your manuscript.” I held up a hand as she started to speak. “It doesn’t matter how I got a hold of it. The details are pretty accurate for someone to have read about the crimes in the paper. I gave the manuscript to the police.” Satisfied, I straightened.
Her eyes widened. “You’ve ruined me. If word gets out…” She shook her head. “Meddlesome, that’s what you are. One of these days, your luck will run out, and I’ll write about it in a novel.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.” She leaned across the table until our noses were inches apart. “I’ve never liked you Marsha Callahan. Not even when I was your teacher. Don’t bother writing a book. You’re skills aren’t up to par.”
“It’s Marsha Steele.”
“Whatever. Go stick your nose in someone else’s business.” She sat back down and started typing. “We’re done here.”
I shoved away from the table. The conversation could have gone either way, I suppose. I didn’t expect her to confess, but she gave me enough information to keep her at the top of my suspect list. If she was the killer, maybe she’d make her move soon and this whole thing would be over. As long as over didn’t mean me lying on a slab in the funeral home.
On my way out of the lounge, I passed Mr. Dean. He avoided my gaze, but his landed on Estelle instead. Her eyes flickered toward him before returning to her computer screen. If the two were in a relationship, things were on the rocks.
I headed to the front office and marched up to Cheryl’s desk. “Congratulations on the promotion.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Everyone thinks I got Sarah fired on purpose so I could have her job. I didn’t! All I did was inform Mr. Dean that she hadn’t booked the buses for the third grade field trip. Since it wasn’t the first time, he reported her to the board. Then, she told him she had a cruise booked for December. When he denied her request because of the time frame, she ordered the tickets anyway.”
“I doubt it was your fault. It’s not that easy to get fired from a school unless you’re into something illegal or immoral.” Most likely it was the purchasing of the tickets when she’d been told no. Even I knew that working right before the Christmas break was mandatory. What was wrong with people?
River Valley seemed to be overrun with strangers. What happened to our peaceful little town? Crime used to be virtually nonexistent. Now, there was a murder every six months. And it all started with the women’s ministry at the church when the leader wanted to adopt a child from South America.
That one act seemed to have opened Pandora’s Box, and I was getting sucked into the vortex.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Mom?” Lindsey entered the kitchen, her face creased with worry. Behind her marched Officer Bradford.
I slid my notes under the morning paper. “Officer. Can we help you? Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“This isn’t a social call, Mrs. Steele.” He squared his shoulders. “We received an anonymous call to the station alerting us to the fact that you killed Mrs. Grimes.”
“What?” I shot to my feet, spilling my coffee over the newspaper. “That’s ridiculous. What possible motive would I have? Where’s Bruce?”
“Officer Barnett is following other leads.”
I glanced over his shoulder at my daughter. “Lindsey, go to school. Everything is fine here.”
“But—”
“Go to school.” My neck heated. This latest killer was a coward, accusing innocent people of their devious crimes. Well, I wouldn’t stand for it. Not for a minute.
Once Lindsey scooted out the door, I turned back to the officer who didn’t look much older than my daughter. “What did the anonymous caller say?”
“That if we search your house, we’ll find evidence that you killed both victims.” He glanced toward the knife block on the counter.
My gaze followed his. One of the knives was missing. How could I not have noticed that before? It must have happened during our break-in. “If you think one of my knives was used to kill Stacy, you’re wrong. It wasn’t the same brand.” The one that had stuck out of Stacy’s chest had had a red handle. I was certain of it. Mine were stainless steel.
“Perhaps.” He looked taken aback that I knew such a detail from the crime. Most likely, that was a fact they wanted kept secret in order to whittle the killer out of the list of suspects. “That particular weapon is easily found at Wal-Mart.”
“Then why the interest in the empty spot in my knife block?” I crossed my arms. “This is harassment, plain and simple, and a clear tactic to throw y’all off the real killer’s tracks. It appears to be working.” If they didn’t get their heads on straight and catch this person, one of my family might be the next victim, and that was something I would not stand back and let happen.
“What’s going on?” Mom entered through the back door, clearly arriving for her morning coffee chat with me.
“Officer Bradford seems to think that since we’re missing a knife, that I killed Stacy.”
“That’s ridiculous. Besides, I borrowed the knife yesterday to chop carrots. It’s at the cottage.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, and then noticed my spill on the table. She sighed and grabbed a rag.
She grabbed the sodden papers from the table, my notes included, and dumped the lot in the trash. I could fish the notes out later, when Office Sharp Eyes wasn’t around. First Bruce kept his nose in my business, now this upstart. The day hadn’t started well and would most likely go downhill from here.
“Now, unless you plan to arrest me,” I said. “I’m going to ask you to leave. Does Bruce know you’re here?”
“No, ma’am, he doesn’t. I don’t need to clear my actions with him.”
“Be sure that I will tell him of your visit. Good day.” I marched to the front door and held it open. “If you actually find incriminating evidence against me, feel free to return. I’ve enjoyed our visit.”
He rolled his eyes and left. I closed the door and sagged against the painted wood. I had an hour until my dress fitting. This ugly accusation threatened to ruin the joy of the day.
“Our killer has to be a woman,” Mom said from the kitchen doorway. “Only women are this sneaky.”
“Maybe.” I grabbed my purse. “I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my fitting. The suspect notes were under the newspaper. Could you see whether they are salvageable?”
“Yep. I’ll see you at the store in a couple of hours.”
While I drove, my mind circled around what facts I knew. One…someone needed money bad enough to kill for something that might or might not exist. Two…I was closer than I thought or they wouldn’t be taking such drastic measures as trying to cast suspicion on me. Three…well, other than a list of suspects that might or might not contain the actual killer, I had nothing else.
I drove past Norma Rae’s tea room where she and her daughter yelled at each other on the sidewalk. What was up with those two? If I weren’t so focused on the case at hand, I might do a bit of nosing around there. Maybe I’d stop at the tea room on my way back into town. Both women stopped screaming as I passed, and I watched them through the rearview mirror. Neither of them turned away.
From a side street, a police cruiser pulled onto the main road. Officer Bradford, no doubt. Well, he could follow me for the next thirty miles and be the first to catch a glimpse of my wedding dress. Idiot. With a grin on my face, I circled around, leading the officer on a winding route to o
ur destination. I might arrive at my fitting a few minutes later, but I’d feel better about the morning.
When I arrived at the dress shop, I exited the car and tossed a jaunty wave at Officer Bradford as he sped by. He must not think my destination was interesting after all. The good thing about him following me…the killer couldn’t get close enough to cause me harm.
I pushed through the double glass doors and approached the counter. A few minutes later, the sales girl brought me the one dress in the world that made me feel like a princess. She helped me into the gown, made the minor adjustments with clips, and I was back behind the wheel of the jeep. After glancing around to see whether I still had an escort, and not seeing one, I pulled back onto the highway and headed back to River Valley.
A closed sign on the door of the tea room kept me continuing to Country Gifts from Heaven. Asking Norma Rae more questions would have to wait.
I parked in the alley behind the store. I turned the knob on the back door and pushed. It was locked. “Mom?” I pounded before peering through the slit of a window.
“Sorry,” she said after unlocking the door and letting me in. “A person can’t be too careful nowadays.”
“True.” I set my purse in the cupboard and moved to the front of the store.
Norma Rae stood on the other side of the counter. In front of her was a cardboard box. “I’ve come to sell a few things on consignment. These are antique tea cups and saucers. I believe they’ll catch a good price.”
I glanced in the box and caught my breath. “They’re exquisite. Are some of them trimmed in real gold?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“But don’t you use these in your shop?”
“I’m closing the tea room. There isn’t enough business to make a profit. I know of another way to make money.”
Mom started setting the delicate china cups on the counter. “I heard you’d have to move in with your daughter.”
“I’ll avoid that at all costs.”
“What is between you two, if you don’t mind my asking?” I held up a delicate white cup with tiny blue flowers. “Y’all’s relationship seems a bit…strained. Maybe Mom and I can help. We have a great relationship.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky?” Norma Rae smirked. “Not everyone gets along with their children. If they did, we wouldn’t have the amount of child abuse that is so prevalent in our society. Do you want the cups or not?”
“Definitely.” I set the one I held with the others. “We keep twenty percent of what they sell for. Have you had them appraised? If not, we can find someone for you.”
“Just sell them.” Norma whirled and marched from the store.
“That is one unhappy woman.” Mom pulled a sheet of paper from under the counter and started cataloguing the cups. “Did you get a glimpse of her shoes?”
“No, why?” I dashed to the front door.
“She had on ballet flats.”
“So, I’m wearing ballet flats.” I went outside and searched the surrounding area for a footprint. There, next to a puddle of water was a rapidly drying imprint of a smooth soled shoe. I rushed back inside. “How did you notice that?”
“Before you arrived, she sat in the rocker and removed a pebble from her shoe.” Mom grinned. “Am I a good spy or what?”
“You’re the best!” Now, what could I do with the information? Bruce would only laugh and tell me Norma Rae wasn’t the only woman in town wearing those types of shoes. He would be right. But, since she was already a suspect, maybe he’d pay attention.
I grabbed the phone off the counter and dialed his private number. “Bruce?”
“Hello, Marsha.”
“Did you know that Officer Bradford received a call this morning about me being the killer? He came to the house and practically accused me.”
“He was only checking out a lead.”
“So, you did know.”
“He called me a few minutes ago. What do you want? I’m busy.”
I plopped into the nearest rocking chair. “Are you following a lead?”
“I can’t divulge that information.”
Yeah, yeah. “I have another one for you.”
“Do tell.” His sigh was so heavy I could almost feel his breath over the phone line.
“Norma Rae Jenning’s is wearing shoes that match the print we found.” I closed my eyes and waited.
“Do you know how many women in River Valley wear those shoes? At least twenty. I’ve been counting. That means nothing. I’ve told you to stay out this, Marsha. What will it take for you to follow my orders?”
For him to catch the murderer, but somehow I didn’t think he’d appreciate that answer. “I’m doing my best—”
Mom grabbed the phone out of my hand. “Bruce Barnett! Your mother is rolling in her grave right now, upset at the way you must be talking to my daughter. Yes, I can imagine. I can see the stricken look on her face. If you’d get off your rear end and catch this crazy person, Marsha and I wouldn’t have to.” She slammed the receiver on the hook.
“Stricken, Mom?” Really, I doubted I had any such look on my face.
“I’m playing the Irish mom guilt trip,” she said. “Hopefully, it will work.”
I shrugged and moved to the computer to find an appraiser for the tea cups. Norma Rae wouldn’t make enough to save her business or even to prevent her from moving in with Ingrid, but it would be something to offset some of her costs.
The relationship between the two Jennings women tore at my heart. I glanced at Mom. How would it feel to dislike your mother so much? Or for Mom to virtually hate me? I couldn’t fathom it. Lindsey might cop a teenage attitude sometimes, but the girl loved me. Of that I had no doubt.
I found a prospective appraiser and sent an email. Since I had to count out fliers and do some stapling, Mom grabbed a crocheted table runner and started working. Most of the time, I did the crafts and she worked the counter, and I deeply appreciated her willingness to switch roles for the day. I hoped someone slapped me the next time I volunteered for something while in the middle of a mystery.
Wait. What was I saying? I would never, ever, get involved in another mystery. My nerves couldn’t take it. I’d get through the book fair and this investigation and focus on married life with Duane. Then, the most pressing question that would need answered was whether I wanted another child or not.
Sometimes, that question scared me the most.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Who was the crazy person that scheduled the book club and the PTO meeting on the same night? The club meeting is scheduled for six and the PTO for seven. I shoved a handful of M&Ms into my mouth. With all the stress swirling around me, and my tendency to turn to chocolate, I’d be lucky to fit into my wedding dress in two months.
To compensate, I skipped supper since Lindsey was studying at a friend’s house anyway and rushed to the cottage to fetch Mom. I wasn’t facing the Piranhas alone.
She met me in the yard. “I’m coming. Can’t a girl get a bite to eat before rushing out the door? It isn’t good for the digestion.”
“We’ve a full schedule tonight.” I hurried to my jeep. Mom opened her Cadillac. I sighed and joined her. I had no energy to argue with her about who was driving.
I slid into the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt. Mom had a tendency to treat her car as if she were driving in a NASCAR race.
“Relax.” She turned the key in the ignition. “I’ll get us there in one piece.”
We arrived at the church for the book club meeting ten minutes late, despite Mom’s speedy driving. She slammed on the brakes in front of the fellowship hall and we sprinted inside. Estelle was new face in the group. She glanced up and gave a snide smile. In front of each seat was a pile of papers. Her manuscript.
“The book club has decided to give me valuable feedback,” she said. “Since you somehow already read it, I guess you don’t need a fresh copy.”
I rolled my eyes and took a seat as far from her as I could,
which wasn’t far considering we sat at a round table. “Mom hasn’t read it.”
Estelle handed Mom a copy. “How is your book coming, Marsha?” She glanced around the group. “Did you ladies know she was writing one of her own?”
I’d forgotten the little white lie I’d told. All eyes turned in my direction.
“What’s your book about, Marsha?” Cheryl asked. “If we would have known, we could have brainstormed with you.”
“I, uh, thought I’d write about the mysteries I’ve been involved in. Make it a series of sorts.” Good grief. I couldn’t write a book to save my life.
“Well, don’t use Harriet’s death.” Estelle tapped the manuscript in front of her. “I’ve already used it.”
Tears welled in Cheryl’s eyes. “Somehow that seems so disrespectful to our dear friend.”
“She was no friend of mine,” Estelle said. “I have no qualms writing about her death.”
I’m sure she didn’t, the evil witch.
“Well,” Norma Rae crossed her arms and glowered across the table at Ingrid. “If anyone wants to know what it feels like to want to kill someone, just ask me. I’ll be a great research source.”
“Oh, stuff it, Mother.” Ingrid grabbed her purse. “This club is a ridiculous waste of time. Consider me resigned.” She marched out the door without a backward glance.
Norma Rae pointed at the door. “See my point? The girl is hopeless.”
“If you weren’t so mean to her, she might not be.” Mom straightened her shoulders. “I would never dream of talking to Marsha the way you talk to Ingrid.”
“You don’t know a thing about it, you Nosey Nellie!” Norma Rae shoved back her chair. “You and your perfect little life. And you, Estelle, can shove your stupid book where the sun doesn’t shine!” She stormed out of the room.
“Well!” Estelle gathered up the copies of her manuscript. “If this is how you ladies run this book club, I want nothing to do with any of it. I have another meeting to attend anyway.” She followed the other two, leaving me, Mom, and Cheryl staring at each other.
The Librarian's Last Chapter (A River Valley Mystery, Book 3) Page 12
