“Clyde never mentioned it, that I know of.” Miss Georgina’s silver curls bounced when she shook her head.
“He probably didn’t know.” Miss Jane’s eyes glinted. “If I’d been in his wife’s place, I sure wouldn’t have told him. In fact, I don’t know how he ever got anyone to marry him in the first place.”
It was obvious the two friends had exhausted their supply of information on the subject, so I stood. “Thank you so much. And I hope you both win at bingo.”
Georgina giggled. “We’re playing for a pie from Sam- son’s Bakery. Maybe we can furnish tonight’s dessert.”
I hoped not. I’d much rather have Mabel’s freshly made cobbler than the day-old pastries Mr. Samson donated to the senior center.
I stepped into the kitchen and was met by a beaming Mabel.
“Bobby will bring Sarah next weekend. He’s going to stay until Monday to get her enrolled in school. Thank you so much, Victoria, for making a way for me to keep my job here.”
“We couldn’t do without you, Mabel. And I’m sure it’ll be nice to have a child around.” I wasn’t exactly sure, but I was sure praying the little girl wouldn’t be anything like the Hansen kids across the street. Even Buster shied away from them since they’d thrown over-ripe tomatoes from their father’s garden at him.
I went to my suite on the third floor. I’d remodeled Grandfather’s library and Grandmother’s sitting room last year, and for the first few months, every time I walked through the door I seemed to sense their presence. But gradually the rooms had become my own. A haven for rest and to gather my thoughts together.
I got cleaning supplies from the small utility closet at the end of the hall and polished all the furniture in both rooms, then cleaned my bathroom. The carpet had been freshly vacuumed the day before. The outside windows could use a cleaning, but they’d have to wait until a warmer day. Maybe I’d call someone and have them done. Finances were getting better, and the two remodeled bedrooms on this floor were ready for occupancy. I’d had to turn down boarders several times in the last few months. There were several on the waiting list, so I decided to make some calls and let them know I had rooms available. The first two I called were no longer interested, but the third almost screeched in my ear with excitement. She promised to call back and let me know when she could come look at the room.
The fourth was an elderly man who was tired of living with his daughter.
“I love those grandkids, but sometimes they drive me crazy.” A bellowing laugh followed to show he was joking. He said he’d be in Cedar Chapel the following week to meet me and view the room.
Seating myself in Grandma’s rocker by the front window, I browsed through the mail I’d ignored the day before.
A letter from my mother lay on top where I’d deposited it. I ripped it open, and a photo fell out. Mom and Dad in beach clothes with wide-brimmed hats atop their heads. Mom was grinning, and Dad looked pained. As though he’d rather be somewhere else. Which I had no doubt he did.
I pulled out the single sheet of paper and read the two paragraphs. Nothing new. Same old, same old.
Mom loved the Bahamas and planned to stay for a while, but Dad was leaving for Rome on a business trip. Familiar loneliness clutched at my stomach, and I swiped a hand across my eyes. I would not cry. After all these years you’d think I wouldn’t care anymore. And I’d had Grandma and Grandpa. And the lodge. I’d always loved the lodge. Once a real lodge, it had been the Storm family’s private home for many years. I’d spent all my summers and most holidays here when I was growing up. The rest of the time I was away at boarding school, while Dad did business around the world and Mom did whatever she did in her social whirl of a life. After Grandpa died, Grandma had turned her home into a boardinghouse for seniors—mostly lifelong friends. But it came as a com- plete surprise when Grandma had left Cedar Lodge to me in her will.
I went through the rest of my mail then went down to take care of the seniors’ rooms. Most of them were already spotless, but I checked for bed linens that might need to be changed early.
I laughed silently when I entered Martin’s room. Comics were stacked up in three piles. His collection. Those, I wouldn’t dare touch.
When I went into Miss Aggie’s room, Whatzit glared at me as though he’d like to peck out my eyes. He liked me about as well as Clyde had.
When I finally made it down to the first floor, wonderful smells drew me to the kitchen.
“What’s for lunch, Mabel? It smells delish.”
“Mexican meat loaf. I found the recipe online the other day. Sounded like something you’d like, so I thought I’d make it for lunch when the seniors weren’t here.”
Everyone knew I loved Mexican food. Most of the seniors liked it too, but I’d pretty much burned them out on it when I was doing some of the cooking before Mabel came.
The meat loaf was as good as it smelled, and I asked Mabel to keep the recipe on file.
After lunch I went to my office and pulled out the list again.
Beside Laura’s name, I put a notation. Seeking revenge for her mother?
I frowned at Christiana’s name and wondered if she’d started working for Ben yet. I reached for the phone and began to punch-in his office number, then slammed the phone down. How pathetic was I? Besides, if she answered she’d probably figure out why I called. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.
Maybe I’d call his cell instead, just to hear his voice and ask him if his new secretary was working out. As I reached for the phone again, the front door opened.
“Victoria?” Phoebe’s voice rang out. “Where are you?”
Phoebe Collins and I were complete opposites. While I was insecure and sometimes shy around strangers, she liked everyone and figured they liked her, too. Bouncy and outgoing, she drew me out of myself and taught me how to have fun again. I’d known her as the bank teller where I made my deposits, and that was about it, until Corky fell head-over-heels in love with the blue-eyed, blond beauty. Since then, she and I had become best friends. The first real friend, except for Ben and the seniors, I’d had since leaving Dallas to take over the lodge.
“Phoebe. Aren’t you working today?”
“Yes.” She laughed. “But I had to tell you something. Face-to-face. Uncle Jack’s coming this weekend.”
My stomach jumped. Why did Jack Riley show up every time someone got murdered around here? Raised in Cedar Chapel, he’d left at a young age to eventually own an import/ export business in Germany. Until last year, when he’d arrived for an unexpected visit, Phoebe had never met the uncle she’d heard about and admired all her life. While here, he had regaled them with tales of his exploits during World War II and afterwards. At the time I’d suspected him of being guilty of selling jewels stolen from the Jewish victims before and during the Holocaust years. But when Mr. Riley had helped solve the murder at Pennington House, I’d decided I might have misjudged him.
But here he was, popping up again after a suspicious death had occurred.
“Really? That’s great, Phoebe. Why is he coming to the states?”
“Well, silly. Because he wants to see us, of course.”
“Of course. I am silly.”
“I have to run. I’m almost late back to work.”
Okay, but I wanted to know more about Jack Riley’s sudden visit. “Why don’t you and Corky come to dinner tonight?”
“Wonderful idea. Will you call Corky and ask if it’s okay with him?”
“Sure thing. See you later.”
She rushed away, and I went to the office and punched in the number to Corky’s cell. He answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Victoria.” Huh? Oh. You’d think by now I’d be used to caller ID.
“Hi, Corky. How goes everything out there?”
“Great. Aunt Aggie’s ordering around all the interior decorators as though they were small children instead of professionals with degrees.” He laughed.
“I just invited Phoebe to dinner
tonight. Are you free?”
“Are you kidding? If my girl’s going to be there? I’ll call the bank and tell her I’ll pick her up.”
“Good. See you later.”
The seniors arrived home around two o’clock, and they all went upstairs to take naps. They started to trail back down- stairs a couple of hours later, most of them settling into the recreation room in front of the big-screen TV.
I peeked in, thinking I might join them, but when I saw the black-and-white cowboy movie jumping across the screen, I hurriedly turned away. Of course, it could be worse. Martin’s favorite old-time actor was W. C. Fields.
I made a quick call to Ben and invited him to dinner. He and Corky had become fast friends over the last couple of years, which made it nice for Phoebe and me.
“I’ll be there,” Ben said.
Before I knew it, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “Has Christiana started working yet?”
“Yes, is that still bothering you?” I distinctly heard a sigh. “I told you I wouldn’t hire her if it bothered you.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. It doesn’t bother me. I just wondered if she’d started yet.”
“Okay, that’s good. She’s doing a really good job, and I’d hate to have to let her go.”
Yeah, I’ll just bet he would. Oops. I was doing it again. “I’ll see you later then. Bye.” I needed to control my emotions better.
“Bye, sweetheart.”
I sighed. I probably didn’t deserve a sweet guy like Ben- jamin, even if he had been my tormentor when we were kids. Actually, he’d mostly been my dog Sparky’s tormentor. However, Ben had turned out very well, in spite of my expectations to the contrary.
Corky and Phoebe arrived at six fifteen, and Benjamin’s Avalanche pulled up a few minutes later.
“Benjamin and Corky. What fun.” Miss Aggie chortled. She adored her nephew, and I knew Ben came in a close second. She tolerated Phoebe and me.
We sat down to dinner at seven. Mabel had prepared everything buffet style before she went home. She’d fried chicken, much to Ben’s delight. I hoped for his sake she would never leave us, because my fried chicken always turned out greasy and undercooked.
“How’s the hotel coming along?” Frank asked. Miss Aggie had forbidden anyone to come to Pennington House for the last few weeks, wanting to surprise us on opening day.
“Just a few finishing touches and we’re ready to go.” Corky’s voice held excitement. His dream had been to restore Pennington House to its original splendor and convert it to a posh restaurant/hotel. From the joy in his eyes, I was pretty sure he wasn’t disappointed.
“Okay, Phoebe,” I said. “I know you’re bursting to tell everyone your news, so go ahead.”
She laughed, her eyes lighting up. “Uncle Jack is coming this weekend.”
A murmur of pleasure rose from the seniors. Miss Georgina clapped her hands. “Oh, good. He can tell us more stories.”
“Maybe he’s sick and tired of always having to tell us stories, Georgina,” Martin piped up. “Ever think of that?”
Miss Georgina’s face crumpled. “Oh, I didn’t think about that.” Clearly distressed, she appeared to be near tears.
“Aw, I was just kidding.” Martin reached over and patted her hand. A few months ago, we’d all have been shocked, but we’d come to realize a budding romance between those two. I hoped Martin would learn to think before he spoke instead of always having to comfort her after the fact.
Miss Jane glared at him but didn’t say anything.
“I wonder why he’s coming at this time.” I leaned back, eager to see what response that would get.
“Why, I told you, Victoria. He misses Mom and me.”
“Hmm.” Frank was staring at me. “It does seem sort of odd, with Clyde’s murder and all. Seems every time he comes, someone just got killed.”
Phoebe gasped, and Frank looked ashamed. “I didn’t mean anything by that, Phoebe.”
“Don’t start again, Victoria,” Corky snapped, glaring at me. “I thought we’d settled that Phoebe’s uncle isn’t involved in anything illegal. Especially murder.”
“Why, I didn’t say—”
“Oh Victoria, you don’t suspect Uncle Jack of being involved in Clyde’s murder, do you?” Phoebe stared at me.
“Of course not. Why does everyone always think I’m accusing him? I’m not. All I asked was a simple question. Frank’s the one who mentioned the murder.”
“Yeah. But I didn’t mean it. Like I said, I got carried away. Sorry, Phoebe.” Frank leaned closer to Miss Evalina, who patted his hand.
I glanced at Ben. He sat looking at me with a lopsided smile.
“What?”
“What, indeed?”
He knew me too well.
Chapter Five
Why did I have such a sensitive conscience? After battling with it for the past half hour, I had to face facts. Withholding evidence was against the law, and the Bible said to obey the law. So, didn’t that mean I was committing sin by not turning the fragment Miss Aggie’d found in the bedpost over to Bob Turner?
With one finger, I slid open the bottom drawer—the one I’d unlocked and stared at for the last thirty minutes. The fragment lay on top of a box of checkbooks. The faded letters on the paper seemed to jump out at me.
Oh, all right. I took the fragment out, then relocked the drawer. The seniors would be furious with me for going without them, but I wasn’t about to have them involved if the sheriff decided to drag me over the coals for keeping it from him. Besides, they’d just be sitting down to lunch at the center about now, and I didn’t want to wait.
I should probably change, but why bother? It was just the sheriff. I grabbed a jacket from the hall closet, slipping it on as I went into the kitchen. Mabel was whistling “Amazing Grace” as she stirred something in a cast-iron skillet.
Curious, I stepped closer. I caught my breath. She was caramelizing sugar. Was she. . . ? “Mabel, are you making caramel pie?”
“Yep.” She grinned. “Miss Eva told me your grandma used to make ’em for you all the time.”
My eyes flooded, and I blinked back tears. Grandma had hated making caramel pie, but she did it all the same, at least once a month, each time I was at Cedar Chapel. Just to please me.
“That’s right. She did. It was my favorite dessert. I haven’t tasted one since Grandma died. Thank you, Mabel.”
“Ain’t nothing.” Apparently just noticing my coat, she nodded. “Going out, eh?”
“Yes, I have a little business to take care of. I shouldn’t be long. Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“No, shopping’s all done.”
I waved and went through the door that connected to the garage. I hopped into the van, wondering if it was time to get myself a smaller car for when I traveled alone. I’d been trying to talk myself into it for months. Just like I’d tried to convince myself I needed a cell phone. Actually it was Ben who insisted I get a cell phone for emergencies. But I hated to take on more monthly payments until finances improved.
I passed High Street, drove another block, and turned at the square. Ah. A parking spot right in front of the court- house. I got out, locked the door, and hurried inside to the sheriff’s office.
Tom Lewis looked up as I walked in, and a pained expres- sion crossed his face. I ignored the groan that rumbled from his throat.
“Good morning, Tom.” I might as well be pleasant. It couldn’t hurt anything. “I’d like to see Sheriff Turner if he’s available.”
Was that suspicion on Tom’s face? And after I’d been so nice?
“He’s busy.”
Okay, I would not act annoyed. “Will you please see if he can talk to me for a minute? It’s important.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I’ll bet it is.”
Okay, enough was enough. I leaned over the counter and glared into his eyes. “Listen, you twerp, I’m going to see Bob Turner. Do you want to announce me, or do I barge in?” Uh-oh. Had I reall
y said that? I whispered a silent apology upward.
“Victoria. Get in here.” Bob Turner stood in his office doorway, glaring.
Oops. Not a good way to get things started.
I walked past the sheriff, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. “Hi, Sheriff Turner.”
“Sit down.” He sat behind his desk and motioned to the chair in front of it. He steepled his fingers and stared at me.
“I want you to stop coming in here and trying to intimidate my deputy.”
“But he—”
“Uh-uh.” He shook his finger. “Don’t want to hear it.”
“Fine.” I folded my arms and leaned back.
“Now, what do you want?” He picked up a pencil and tapped it on his desk.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe this was a big mistake.
I took a deep breath then plunged in. “I found something in Clyde’s apartment.”
His hand slammed down on the desk, and then he jumped up. “Are you telling me you broke into a crime scene?”
My chair vibrated from the volume of his voice. Or maybe it was my shaking that caused it.
“No!” I yelled back. Two could play his screaming game.
He sat, leaned back, and I wondered if he were counting to ten.
“Listen,” I said as calmly as I could manage, “I looked around the place when we went back to get Whatzit’s big cage. You’d already been over the place and hadn’t said anything about it being a crime scene at the time.”
He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Okay. What did you find and where?”
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the fragment of paper. With a great deal of reluctance, I handed it over. But at least I was doing the right thing. I hoped.
Sheriff glanced at the scrap and scratched his head. He looked at me as though I’d just sprouted horns.
“What is this?”
“Look, Sheriff.” I hopped up and went around to his side. Bending over, I pointed to the letters n-n-e-l.
He frowned and turned the paper sideways, then back. “So?”
“Tunnel. It has to mean tunnel. Like the ones at Pennington House.”
Rest in Peace, Miss Aggie (The Misadventures of Miss Aggie) Page 4
