by Linda Reilly
Chapter 15
Feeling her heart drop like a stone, Lara hurried over to her friend. She put an arm around Sherry’s shoulder. “What is it, Sher? Did something happen?”
Sherry shook her head and then sucked in a shaky breath. Her eyeliner was smudged, and her nose was red from crying. “I-I just couldn’t take it anymore, staying in that house with Mom. She’s...she’s driving me crazy!”
“I already put the kettle on,” Aunt Fran said, getting up from her chair. She set Dolce on the floor. “I’ll go make us some tea.”
“I’m serious, Lara. I want to run away. Someplace where no one can find me. No one!”
“You’re not running away,” Lara said. “We’re going to figure this out. All of it.”
“You said that before,” Sherry sniped at her.
Ouch. The barb stung.
“I know I did,” Lara said quietly. She squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “Sher, tell me what happened.”
Sherry blotted one eye with the tissue. Munster snuggled against her and yawned. “D-David called me a little while ago. He sounded weird, not like himself at all. I asked him if everything was okay, and he said it was, but—” She shook her head. “Lara, I was a fool to think this would work out. Nothing’s ever worked out for me before. Why should it now?”
“Sherry, that’s nonsense,” Lara chided. She glanced toward the kitchen and then lowered her voice. “You told me that David wanted to get engaged for Christmas. Even if you’re not ready, doesn’t that tell you something about his feelings?”
Tears leaked from Sherry’s eyes. “It tells me that he’s impulsive. That he’s not thinking it through.” She stroked Munster’s back.
Aunt Fran came in with a tray, and Lara fixed a mug of tea for Sherry.
“Thanks.” Sherry blew a ripple of air over the steaming liquid. “I sent Loretta a text this afternoon. I asked her if she could meet us at the bagel place on Thursday.”
“Okay, that’s a start,” Lara said, trying to sound chirpy. “Did she respond?”
Sherry nodded, her eyes glazing over. “She said yes. You’ll still go with me, right?”
Aunt Fran shot Lara a silent question, but Lara only nodded. “You know I will. I won’t let you go alone, okay?”
“Would someone fill me in, please?” Aunt Fran said, stirring the tea in her mug.
“Aunt Fran, remember when you saw Daisy in the market?”
“Certainly I do. I called to her, but she ignored me.”
“No,” Lara said. “She didn’t ignore you. That wasn’t Daisy. It was David’s mom, Loretta Gregson.”
Aunt Fran looked surprised. “I’d have sworn it was Daisy. From the back, anyway.”
Sherry pulled in a loud sniffle. “She’s been copying Mom’s hairstyle, wearing more makeup,” Sherry said. “It’s like...she wants to be exactly like Mom!”
“I’m not sure what to say,” Aunt Fran said after a pause. “But...honestly, Sherry, I don’t see that as a bad thing. Maybe she admires Daisy’s style and wants to be more like her. There are worse things. It’s also possible she might not realize how she appears to other people.”
Sherry brightened a little. “You think so?”
“Aunt Fran’s right,” Lara said, not entirely convinced. “She might be copying Daisy without even realizing it.”
Sherry set down her tea, then reached over and hugged Lara. Munster meowed a tiny protest, then settled back into Sherry’s lap. “What would I ever do without you two? I can’t even imagine it anymore.”
“Don’t sound so glum,” Lara said lightly. “We’re here to stay.”
Aunt Fran smiled in agreement. “Sherry, what about your mom?” she asked gently. “Is there anything we can do for her?”
While the two chatted about Daisy, Lara’s thoughts veered off. Should she tell Sherry what she learned about Loretta and Miss Plouffe? Lara hated keeping a secret from her friend, especially one that involved Sherry’s possible future mother-in-law.
Still, Sherry had a right to know. If Loretta was involved in any way in Miss Plouffe’s death, everyone had the right to know—especially the police.
Lara waited for a lull in the conversation, then told Sherry and her aunt what she’d learned from Googling Loretta.
“Oh my God,” Sherry said. “Then she did have a run-in with Miss Plouffe. That’s why she tried to look like Mom that day, to throw the police off her trail. The woman is diabolical, Lara. She must be the killer!”
Aunt Fran held up one hand. “Hold on a moment. Let’s all take a deep breath. It’s a big leap from Loretta wearing her hair like Daisy to killing someone.”
“Aunt Fran’s right,” Lara piped in. “Besides, Loretta had no way of knowing your mom had originally planned to stay away from the school that morning, did she?”
“I guess not,” Sherry conceded. “I never mentioned anything to David about it.”
“And there’s something else—a big something else. We don’t know if Loretta knew that Miss Plouffe was deathly allergic to shellfish. That’s the missing link.”
Sherry’s face fell. “I forgot about that.” She looked at Lara. “When we see her on Thursday, we have to find out. I don’t think the police have revealed what the so-called poison was. Maybe we can trick Loretta into tripping herself up!”
Lara didn’t like the idea. In fact, she hated it. If Loretta was the killer, Lara wanted no part of it. Let the police figure it out. Let the police take her into custody.
Lara looked at Sherry, at her best friend in the entire world. Even as kids, they’d stood up for one another. She reached over and squeezed Sherry’s hand. “We’ll give it a try. But we have to come up with a plan first. We can’t just go bumbling into that bagel place and ask her if she killed Loretta.”
Sherry jiggled her fists. “You’re right. We need a plan.” Her face dropped like a fallen cake. “Except...if we do prove that she killed Miss Plouffe, then David will never forgive me. Either way, our relationship is doomed.”
Chapter 16
On Wednesday Lara performed her morning duties—dress, feed, scoop—and then bundled up and went off to the coffee shop.
“Hey, you,” Sherry said, plunking a mug of steaming coffee in front of Lara.
Lara thought her friend looked a bit better today. Her eyes were brighter and her smile more natural. Given that Sherry had declared her relationship with David doomed, Lara wondered how long her friend’s cheerful countenance would last.
The coffee shop was super busy. Nearly every table was filled. Lara spotted Daisy clearing dishes off one of the tables. She smiled and waved at her, but Daisy offered only a forced smile in return, along with a tiny wave.
Sherry rolled her eyes at Lara. “She finally ventured into the land of the living. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
“No, not at all,” Lara scolded her friend. “She’s been through a lot, Sher. We have to cut her some slack.”
“I know.” Sherry groaned. “Let’s talk about something else. Have you thought about how we’re going to approach Loretta?”
Lara loosened her scarf. “I’ve thought about it, but I haven’t come up with anything.” She took a slow sip of her coffee. If she were honest with herself, she’d confess that she didn’t have a clue what they were going to say to Loretta.
Sherry’s gaze drifted toward the glass front window. “Whoa. That’s weird. There’s a huge black limo idling out there.”
Lara swiveled on her stool. She followed her friend’s line of vision, a gasp snagging in her throat. A sleek black limo, which looked freshly washed, was double-parked in front of the coffee shop.
Lara swung back around, her heart pounding. “Sher, I think that’s Todd Thryce’s limo.”
Poker-faced, Sherry nodded and lowered her voice. “Then I’ll bet that’s him strolling through the d
oor right now.”
Lara felt a whoosh of cold air as the door opened. She turned again, and Todd Thryce stepped inside, rubbing the cold from his hands. He sported the same wool coat and Burberry scarf she’d seen him wearing on Saturday.
“Lara, I thought that was you!” Todd Thryce beamed a warm smile at her, displaying perfect white teeth. He pulled off his gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped them with a crisp white handkerchief. “I’d forgotten how cold the New Hampshire winters can get.”
For a moment Lara was speechless. When she finally found her voice, she said, “Mr. Thryce, hello. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“It’s Todd, remember?” Smiling, he dipped his head toward the vacant stool beside her. “Is it okay if I join you for a minute?”
“Be my guest,” she said, ignoring Sherry’s questioning stare.
“Coffee, sir?” Sherry asked him.
“You bet,” he said. “Smells wonderful.”
“So, you’re still in town,” Lara said.
Todd’s smile faded. “I delayed our trip back to New York. I’m hoping the police will figure out what really happened to Gladys Plouffe before we have to go back. We’re both very distressed by all of this.”
We, Lara thought. As in...he and Alice?
“I’m sure you are. It was a horrible thing.”
Sherry set a mug of piping hot coffee in front of Todd. “Anything else I can get you?” she asked, pasting a fake smile on her face.
“I’d love a blueberry muffin, if you have one,” he said. “And two more to go for my driver. Poor guy. I rousted him out of bed early this morning so I could come into town and chat with the police chief.”
“You’re not staying in town?” Lara asked as Sherry hustled off into the kitchen.
“No. Whisker Jog doesn’t exactly abound with hotels. But we’re not staying too far from here.” He smiled, but his eyes were sad. He touched Lara’s hand with his own manicured one. “Lara, I understand you were one of the first people to find Gladys.”
“I was. I mean, my boyfriend and I were. A woman ran into the cafeteria screaming for help, so we followed her and called nine-one-one. I think it was just happenstance that we got there first.”
“I see.” Todd shook his head. “But it was already too late, wasn’t it?” he added gravely.
Tears pushed at Lara’s eyelids. She didn’t want to rehash it. Once was bad enough.
“It was,” she said. “A man who worked at the school was trying to revive her, but even he saw that it was hopeless.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing it up again.”
Lara blotted one eyelid with her finger. “It’s okay.” I’m getting used to finding dead bodies. “Um...I noticed that you called her Gladys. Did you know Miss Plouffe?”
For a moment, Todd appeared to study Lara’s face. Then he turned away and stared into his mug. “Actually, I did know Gladys, a lifetime ago. She used to sew for my grandmother. Every time Gran lost weight, all her clothes had to be taken in. You’d think she’d have just bought new ones, but she couldn’t shake that Yankee frugality. It was in her genes, I guess.” He took a long sip from his mug. “Ah, that hits the spot.”
“Was Gladys a good seamstress?” Lara asked him.
“Well, I was only a grade-schooler when she started sewing for Gran. But I can still remember my gran saying, ‘What would I ever do without Gladys?’ Sometimes I’d come home from school and see her in my grandmother’s room. She’d always slam the door shut when she saw me, because Gran would be trying on clothes.” He smiled wistfully. “Funny, how I remember that. After sixth grade I got shipped off to a private school. I don’t think I ever saw Gladys again. Nonetheless, I’m grateful to her, for the way she treated my grandmother. If she was, in fact, poisoned, then I want to see her killer brought to justice.”
Lara felt stunned. It was the first kind word she’d ever heard spoken about the home ec teacher. The utter sadness of it struck her like an arrow to the heart.
“Todd, I’m really glad you told me that story about Miss Plouffe. You’re the first person who’s had anything good to say about her.”
Sherry burst out of the kitchen and set down a muffin oozing with blueberries in front of Todd. “I’ll keep the other two warm until you’re ready to leave,” she told him. She gave Lara a meaningful glare.
“Hey, thanks. This looks great.” He grinned at her.
Lara got the message. “Um, Todd, I’m sorry, I never introduced you. This is my best friend in the entire world, Sherry Bowker. She and her mom own the coffee shop. Sher, this is Todd Thryce.”
Todd’s grin wilted. He held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Bowker. I hope your mom is doing okay.”
Sherry shook his hand briefly, then dropped it as if it were electrified. “She’s managing, no thanks to that stupid cookie contest. I’m sorry she ever got involved.”
Lara gawked at her friend. Sherry had always been blunt, but this time she was being downright rude.
Todd’s jaw tightened, and his face flushed. “I’m...sorry you feel that way. I know it hasn’t been easy—”
“You know nothing,” Sherry sputtered, her words coming out in bitter tones. “You don’t even live around here. This is a small town, Mr. Thryce. Everyone knows everyone else’s business, and now all our customers look at Mom like she’s some sort of demon!”
“Ms. Bowker,” Todd said softly. “Please calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. I will not calm down. This whole mess has been a travesty, and Mom and I have taken the brunt. I’m sick to death of it. All of it!”
She spun on her heel and slammed through the swinging door into the kitchen.
Lara felt the eyes of everyone in the coffee shop swerving in their direction. “I need to talk to her,” she said, rising from her stool.
Todd got up quickly. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and stuck it under his coffee mug. “Please give your friend my apologies. I certainly didn’t mean to upset her.”
Lara nodded. “I know. I’ll tell her.”
He gave Lara an earnest look. “Is it okay if I stop by your shelter before we head back to New York? Maybe Friday?”
“Sure. Great. Look forward to seeing you,” Lara said, not caring if she ever saw him again. “Sorry, but I have to run.”
She left him with his mouth hanging open.
With dread weighting her heart like a dense rock, she pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen.
* * * *
“Your day hasn’t gotten off to a very good start, has it?” Aunt Fran said. She stood at the counter dicing an onion into tiny, even squares.
Lara pulled her hair into a tight swirl and secured it with a scrunchie at the back of her head. “No, it hasn’t. If the cops don’t find Miss Plouffe’s killer soon, Sherry and Daisy are both going to go nuts. If they haven’t already,” she added dismally.
After she’d returned from the coffee shop, Lara had vacuumed and dusted the entire downstairs. With the exception of Valenteena, the cats had made themselves scarce. Teena, the rebel, had opted to wrestle with the vacuum cleaner hose as Lara commandeered it over the carpets.
“Shall I get the crabmeat out of the fridge?” Lara asked her aunt.
Aunt Fran swept the diced onion into a glass mixing bowl. “Not yet. I still need to chop the celery.”
Lara went over and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “This is so sweet of you to do. A lovely holiday treat for the book club.”
“Not a problem. I enjoy it,” Aunt Fran said. She repeated the dicing process with a slender stalk of celery, adding that to the mixture as well. “I hope you remembered that we’re having a Yankee swap. Five-dollar limit,” she added sternly.
“I’m all set for it,” Lara said. The five-dollar limit had been a challenge, but she�
��d lucked out by landing on the perfect item. On the bargain table at Jepson’s Crafts, she’d found a green velvet change purse embroidered with a darling cat. Inside, she’d stuck a one-dollar lottery scratch ticket.
Her aunt had suggested the spending limit, Lara knew, because of Brooke Weston. Since Brooke’s income consisted mostly of her babysitting earnings, five dollars was a lot for her.
“I’m ready for the crabmeat,” Aunt Fran said, sprinkling coarsely ground pepper into the bowl. “And the mayo.”
Lara removed a plastic container of Louisiana crabmeat from the fridge and pulled off the cover. The slightly fishy scent made her nose wrinkle. She grabbed the jar of mayo and set it on the counter next to her aunt’s bowl.
“Thanks,” her aunt said. Using a fork, she flaked the crabmeat into the diced celery and onion, then gradually added spoonfuls of mayo until the texture was perfect.
“That looks great,” Lara said. “Flaky and not too dense.”
The pitter-patter of feline paws sounded behind them.
Lara laughed. “Look who’s here, Aunt Fran. Just in time for a crabby treat.”
Nutmeg bounded over to Lara, her nose lifting at the scent she detected drifting from the countertop. Just as the tortie was about to leap onto the counter, Lara scooped her up and hugged her to her chest. “You’re not supposed to be on the counter, remember? If you promise to be a good girl, maybe Aunt Fran will let you have a smidge.”
Aunt Fran smiled at the cat. With a spoon, she placed a tiny bit of crabmeat onto a saucer and set it on the floor. Nutmeg attacked it as if she hadn’t eaten in a week.
After the crabmeat rolls were put together, Lara covered them with plastic wrap and stuck them in the fridge. For dessert, Aunt Fran had made peppermint flan. Lara was already salivating in anticipation of the book club’s holiday luncheon.
The front doorbell rang.
“Strange. No one ever comes to the front door. Must be a salesperson,” Aunt Fran said.
“No worries. I’ll take care of them.” Lara wiped her hands on a dish towel and went through the large parlor to the front entrance. When she opened the door, her jaw dropped in shock.
