Investigations were highly analytical affairs that were best conducted when the mind was at its most alert, not exhausted. The longer I stayed up, the more it would hurt me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to convince my brain of that.
It took me two hours, but I finally drifted off. By then, I was so drained that I could sleep through an earthquake. The sleep I’d been coveting finally came, and not a moment too soon.
Chapter Eighteen
Morning came, and with it, the promise of a new day. That was exactly what I needed. I’d like to be able to tell you that I had sweet dreams, but that would be the most bald-faced of lies. I’ll spare you the nightmarish details, but suffice it to say, the case followed me into my sleep.
I had to solve this murder, not just to bring justice to Sid, but also for my own sanity. The peace of mind would be sweet, as this case had started monopolizing my thoughts. It was one thing to spend all day lost in a book--it was another to be crippled by the anxiety and despair that came with such grim subject matter.
As much as I wanted to take my mind off of this investigation, my first thought after waking up was that I didn’t hear anything back from my daughter. Did that mean her trip back to the police station yielded no new leads? That the lab tests her forensics team performed didn’t provide any additional details? Were we right back where we started, juggling a handful of suspects who each looked guiltier than the last?
If I kept going over the case in microscopic detail like this, I’d give myself a headache before I even had my first cup of coffee. I needed a respite, however brief. Really, just anything to temporarily distract me from the jumbles that were forming in my head. It was crazy--I was barely awake, and my mind was already running around in circles. Luckily, I knew just the perfect soothing activity.
Gardening had a way of instantly putting me at peace. The act of watering my plants kept me physically occupied, while my thoughts focused on how beautiful my flowers were. Sometimes, I even found myself slipping into a trance-like state.
My stress levels instantly lowered, and my anxiety slid away with each plant that I watered. For a moment, I even forgot that I didn’t even have coffee in my system yet. That was a tall feat, considering how caffeine was my best friend in the morning. This was just the peaceful interlude I needed before taking on the tumultuous day that was in store.
Like all good things, my quiet few moments came to an end with an unexpected greeting from my neighbor. For the second morning in a row, Ginny Foster managed to sneak up on me. Had I lost my razor-sharp skills of perception, or were these just two understandable slips given the abnormal circumstances I’d tackled the last few days?
I didn’t have enough time to mull over the answer right now. I’d have to add that to the list of things I had to figure out when, or if, my life returned to normal.
As for Ginny, she was uncharacteristically less than cheery.
“Morning,” she said.
Her greeting was the same as always, but her demeanor was vastly different. There was a downcast nature in her voice—not to mention a defeated tone. I couldn’t let that lack of enthusiasm slide without a mention.
When I turned to Ginny to ask about her mood, she must have seen something on my face that made her raise an eyebrow, because she couldn’t resist following up her initial statement.
“Or, is it?” she continued.
“I didn’t have any nightmares last night, if that’s what you mean,” I said.
That wasn’t entirely true. Sure, I didn’t have any bad dreams while in bed, but the last twenty-four hours had been a relentless waking nightmare with no end in sight. I decided to spare her the details, as much for my own sanity as hers. It was bad enough having to live through it, much less relive it.
Besides, my problems weren’t what she needed to hear right now. She’d waited months for her grandkids to visit--dropping my problems in her lap would only spoil their long-awaited visit. I approached the fence between our yards and kept my anxiety bottled up.
“I’m glad you got a better night’s sleep,” Ginny said.
Once again, the well-wishes of her words didn’t match the troubled expression on her face. I couldn’t let this pass any longer. Whatever it took, I was going to get to the bottom of this.
“Are you ok?”
Ginny looked startled, as if she thought she was hiding her unhappiness better than she truly was.
“The grandkids are even cuter than the last time I saw them,” she said.
That was the most flagrant deflection I’d heard in a long time, which was especially relevant, considering that I’d just talked to a slew of murder suspects. Maybe I wouldn’t have picked up on how cavalier she was about avoiding the subject had I not hyper-analyzed the faces of potential killers yesterday, but it was as clear as day to me now.
What I couldn’t figure out was why she was avoiding a question as innocuous as mine. While I was eager for an answer, I also found the prospect of talking about grandkids too alluring to resist.
“I was just about to ask about those little goobers,” I said.
“Without exaggeration, they really are the cutest things I’ve ever seen. I’m talking true bundles of joy.”
I looked off with great yearning. “You’re so lucky.”
“I count my blessings every day. My only complaint is that I wish I could see them more often. I could play with them all day.”
Even if it was only vicariously, I loved hearing about grandkids. Were it not for the tinge of sadness on Ginny’s face, it would be easy to let myself get swept up in talking about nothing else.
But, having spotted the troubled look once again, even if it was masked by talk about her grandchildren, I realized just how serious this matter was that she was hiding. I hated seeing her bottle up her emotions and vowed to get to the bottom of it right then and there.
“Are you sure that’s your only complaint?” I said.
She feigned confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Ginny, I know something is wrong. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”
My neighbor saw the resolve in my face to find out the truth and finally realized that any further attempts to distract me would only delay the inevitable. She let out a sigh then revealed what was bothering her.
“My daughter is having trouble with her ex.”
“Still?” I replied.
This was hardly a new thing. Poor Amy Foster. Even though she divorced her husband a few years back, she still couldn’t get peace. The drama between them was an ongoing affair that, like income taxes, could only ever be temporarily put off, never completely avoided. I’d prayed that one day her troubles would clear up, but apparently, that day had yet to come.
Ginny reluctantly nodded. “I don’t know that they’ll ever be on good terms again.”
“What kind of trouble has that ex-husband of hers stirred up now?”
“The kind that’s the most difficult to talk about. Messiest kind of trouble.”
Words usually came so easily to Ginny, so for her to get choked up, even under duress, was difficult to fathom.
I tried to urge her along. “What happened?”
She tried to keep the spotlight off of herself as long as she could. “You don’t need to hear about this.”
At that moment, I was struck by how much this conversation had veered from my expectations. I went in thinking she’d talk about her cute little grandkids. Instead, there we were, embroiled in drama. If that was the exception, it would be one thing, but with all the strange discussions I’d had over the last two days, it appeared to be the new normal. It was as if the world had been turned on its axis, leaving normal conversations nowhere to be found.
With my life turned squarely upside down, I didn’t shy away from setting her straight. “Because I don’t share my problems with you, right?”
I usually tried to steer clear of sarcasm but made a brief exception, which yielded immediate dividends.
Ginny laughed h
eartily, lifting the tension. With her in a better mood, I tried to get her to open up.
“Come on, Ginny. Tell me what’s going on. I can take it.”
Ginny finally revealed the latest development. “All right, but you asked for it.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ll spare you the nitty-gritty for both your sake and mine, but basically, her lousy ex-husband refuses to act like a father. He wants no part of his children’s lives and has been withholding child support.”
A shiver went down my spine as I listened to my neighbor. I had a visceral, stream-of-consciousness reaction. “That’s disgusting.”
“As if it isn’t hard enough being a single mother, right? Even more, the only thing he does seem to care about is getting back at her for leaving him in the first place.”
“With that kind of callous behavior, he shouldn’t be surprised she divorced him.”
Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Trust me, self-awareness is not Todd’s strong suit.”
“How about a little awareness of others? He does realize this abhorrent behavior is causing serious emotional harm to his children, doesn’t he?”
She groaned. “That’s the problem. He just doesn’t seem to care.”
I was at a complete loss. I’d heard a number of appalling statements in the last few days, but that was one of the hardest to stomach. “How could you not care about your own kids?”
Ginny also had trouble explaining that rationale. “As a mother, I don’t have an answer for that. I love my daughter and would do anything for her.”
“As would I with my daughter.”
“From what my daughter tells me, Todd never wanted kids. He’s always secretly viewed having them as an accident.”
Just when I didn’t believe I could think any less of Todd, my opinion of him hit a new low. I tried to keep my focus on the topic at hand rather than to let it devolve into character attacks, but that was hard to do.
“Here’s the thing, though. Regardless of if he views them as an accident or not, they’re here now. He’s a father, whether he likes it or not.”
“You and I know that, but we’re rational people. Todd is a little on the nutty side.”
“I think he may be more than just a little on that side.”
“I can’t argue with you there.”
My head was chock-full of thoughts, all of which were negative, and each seemed to be vying to come out of my mouth first. Yet, as bursting at the seams as I was, I responded with a sigh.
Ginny knew exactly what I was wrestling with. “I second that.”
“Is your daughter going to be okay?” I said.
Ginny took a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. She’s a trooper. This is just a tough emotional roller coaster for her to constantly be on. Every time she thinks she’s finally gotten over the old wounds, Todd seems to find a way to create a new one.”
I winced. “That would be really tough.”
Ginny grimaced. “It is. Unfortunately, the worst part is that she can’t ever cut off communication with her ex-husband altogether. As much as she hates him, he is the father of her kids.”
“True.” I exhaled. “I wish I had some answers for you, but all I can do is extend my sympathies.”
“How do you think I feel? As a mother, I’d give anything for my daughter’s pain to stop. Yet, I’m standing around, feeling so helpless as this happens in front of me. I’m doing my best to help Amy, but some of these wounds have cut really deep, while others look like they may never heal.”
Ginny’s last response triggered something in me. I had this strong feeling in my gut as my neighbor’s comment kept repeating on a loop in my head. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to go away. Then again, I had a feeling there was a distinct reason for that.
It seemed like more than just a coincidence that I happened to be having a discussion about an absentee father, a bitter ex, and children growing up without a dad at that exact point in time. Even as I’d tried to get a reprieve from the murder investigation, the universe appeared to be trying to get me to turn my focus back to the case by whatever metaphorical means necessary. The scenario of estranged former lovers brought back together because of a child they had conceived together was eerily familiar, as was the presence of an absentee father.
It all cut too close to the bone to just be a coincidence. Or, did it? That was the problem. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. It would be easy to attribute bigger meaning to these individual bits of information, but just because I wanted it to lump them together didn’t mean that they belonged that way.
My gut kept telling me that there were conclusions to draw from this, but I hadn’t quite figured out what they were yet.
With my mind so deep in thought, I’d grown uncomfortably quiet for Ginny’s taste. She tried to pull my head out of the clouds.
“Are you okay?” Ginny asked.
I looked for some clarification. “What was that thing you just said to me about wounds?”
“Just that some of Amy’s wounds may heal, but that others might not ever go away entirely.”
That thought lingered with me, long after I said good-bye to Ginny and headed back inside. It kept pounding at my brain, throbbing like a migraine that wouldn’t go away.
Chapter Nineteen
After finishing up with Ginny, I knew where my next stop needed to be. Truffles were not the pillars of a healthy breakfast, but on an extraordinary day like this, an ordinary meal like a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee just wouldn’t do the trick. Besides, this visit was about more than just eating chocolate. At the same time, I’d be a fool to turn down a treat.
As I walked into the chocolate shop, I knew I was in for some ribbing. Trina would no doubt look at me like I was really pushing the limit of my chocolate cravings. Typically, I never went into Trina’s Truffles before noon, but now two days in a row I found myself there shortly after breakfast.
My waistline sure wasn’t thanking me. At the same time, I reminded myself that this was only a temporary thing. Desperate circumstances called for desperate chocolate runs. Yeah, that was the excuse I was going to go with.
As expected, I could tell that Trina had a sarcastic one-liner to throw my way. Before she took the opportunity to sass me, I wanted to head her off at the pass.
“I know you didn’t expect me for a couple of hours, but it’s just one of those days.”
Upon seeing the look of concern on my face, Trina decided to hold her tongue when it came to delivering her zinger. Instead, she replied quite differently than I expected.
“Actually, I kind of wish you’d been here a few minutes ago.”
I wrinkled my nose, equal parts confused and intrigued.
“Why? What happened?” I asked.
She leaned forward with great anticipation. “You won’t believe who was just in here.”
If I had been sitting down, I would have been at the edge of my seat. As it was, I couldn’t wait for her to come out with her answer. “Who?”
“Hannah Gable.”
What were the odds? Apparently, timing truly was everything, and mine happened to be just off. I had to keep from kicking myself. It would have been nice to question Hannah again.
“No way,” I said. “Did you get any information from her?”
“Actually, I did.”
Trina had me intrigued.
“What was it?” I asked.
“She told me she was just getting some chocolates for the road.”
Oh, dear. That was bad news. I knew Hannah and her daughter weren’t planning on staying in town forever, but for them to be leaving so soon was highly suspicious.
“Wait a minute. Did she look like she was on her way out of town?” I said.
“The back of her car looked like it was full of luggage,” Trina replied.
“That is not good news. Anything else?”
“Just that when she returned to her car, I could see her arguing with her daughter. Unfortunately, they were too fa
r away for me to make out what they were saying.”
“Hey, there’s only so much you can do. Besides, you did a good job.”
I’d have to give Trina more kudos later. Right then, I had a very pressing matter to attend to. I pulled out my phone to call Kaitlin. An all-points bulletin needed to be put out on the Gables immediately. They couldn’t be allowed to leave town while this investigation was still ongoing.
Then, just as I began to dial Kaitlin’s number, I heard something that caught my attention.
“Hey, you can’t smoke in here,” Trina said.
I turned to the front door, where a tattooed twenty-five-year-old man in a tight black T-shirt was puffing on a cigarette. He shot an annoyed look at Trina before heading back outside.
Once he reached the sidewalk, instead of putting his cigarette out in one of the many outdoor standing ashtrays that lined the street, he simply dropped his cigarette and put it out by smothering it with his shoe. The tattooed man then reentered the chocolate shop and began gazing at the display case.
My focus remained on the flattened cigarette that was on the sidewalk. I kept staring at it, completely fixated on it. As I got wrapped up thinking about it, I was convinced that I had a new lead that would break this case wide open.
Suddenly, I knew that I had no time to waste. The killer was still out there, and for the first time since this investigation had begun, there was no doubt in my mind who it was.
Chapter Twenty
My instincts led me to make another trip back to the scene of the crime, where Kaitlin and I made a fortuitous discovery. From there, Kaitlin and I made a stop at The Greasy Spoon, where we found Peter Widmark smoking in the alleyway beside the diner.
I didn’t waste any time in going right after him. “That’s a nasty habit that will really come back to haunt you.”
He looked up at us with disgust. “I don’t remember asking for your advice, nor your company. I’m not in the mood to be badgered again.”
“That’s not why we came here,” I said.
Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set Page 83
