"Good morning, Chuck," I said brightly.
He looked up at the stone face of the angel he was cleaning, then he looked back over his shoulder. Relief washed over him. "Lacey, it's you. I thought the angel said my name. Thought maybe it was my time."
"Oh gosh, I'm sorry about that. Still, I'm glad it's not your time. I saw you chiseling away on that statue. I always wear something around my nose and mouth, like a bandana, when I'm cleaning up after Kingston. That way the powdery debris doesn't get sucked into your mouth."
He lowered his tool. "That's probably a good suggestion, but after ten years of cleaning these statues, I think I'm immune to whatever gets sucked in." He glanced over at the side of the cemetery road where I'd parked my bicycle. "Did you ride all the way up this hill just to tell me that, or is there something else in that curious head of yours?" Chuck always liked to get right to the point. I decided to do the same, only I wasn't sure if he was going to go along with my request.
"Would it be terribly inconvenient if I took a quick tour around the vault? I'd just like to see how the famous Price family rests in peace, as they say. I'm sure they must be buried in style."
"Not as fancy as you might think. They had plenty of power, those Price men, but they were never all that successful in business," Chuck said.
"That's interesting. Still, I'd love to just take a quick look around." I motioned toward the massive loop of keys on his belt. I flashed him my most enthusiastic smile. It seemed to do the trick.
With some hesitation, he reached down to the loop of keys and unclipped it. "Just a quick look, mind you. I'm almost done here, and I've got a dozen more statues to clean."
I nodded sharply. "I promise. Just a quick look around. Besides, it's probably not all that inviting in there," I added.
"Not unless you like cold, dark and musty smelling places," he quipped as he walked to the arched black door that led into the vault. I expected a few minutes of searching for the correct key, but he produced it with hardly any effort and unlocked the deadbolt. "Just a few minutes," he reminded me. "I'm going to keep working and make sure no one from the church walks this way. Not sure how I'd explain this little field trip."
"You're a peach, Chuck. I'll be right back." I pulled my own keys out and turned on the fairly powerful penlight my dad had insisted I always carry on my key chain. It had come in handy far more times than I expected, which made me feel extra silly considering the fuss I'd put up about hanging the thing on my keys.
An instant shiver went through me as I stepped into the main chamber. It wasn't just from the cold. It was always slightly alarming to see stone sarcophaguses just sitting inside a room like pieces of furniture. Chuck had been right. There were no special adornments or gold plated angels or any of the other fru fru things one might expect in a powerful family's tomb. Harvard Price had a simple block of stone with his name carved in it.
The smell of hundred-year-old dust and decay was already starting to penetrate my sensitive nose cells. I hurried around the chamber and directed my light at each stone. Fielding Price was buried next to his wife, Charlotte Price. His daughter, Henrietta, was buried next to Charlotte. His son, Denton, and the current mayor's father had his own section of the tomb. His wife, Claudia, was entombed next to him, along with a smaller sarcophagus for a daughter named Brenda. From the dates on the headstone, she'd only lived to the age of ten. Mayor Price had suffered the tragedy of losing a sister early in his life. I supposed that would help me respect him a bit more.
I walked back over to Harvard Price. There was no sarcophagus for Jane Price. His own daughter did not make the cut for the family vault. Or maybe she preferred not to be buried with the rest of them. It was entirely possible that she had moved away and married and was now resting in a cemetery next to her husband.
"Lacey? Are you finished?"
"Yes, coming right now." I was just as glad to step out of the cold, dark tomb and back into the sunshine. "Whoa, that place can make you feel really gloomy. Does it ever get to you?" I asked. "Working in a cemetery?"
He shook his head. "Nope. I used to work in a factory where machines were pounding on metal all day. This is the quietest place on earth."
"That makes sense. Well, thank you so much for allowing me to take a tour of the tomb."
"Find anything interesting?" he asked.
"Not sure but hopefully." I waved to him and hurried down to my bike. Once again, I was late for work. But it had been a productive morning nonetheless.
Chapter 20
My gloves proved to be a little thin for the bike ride to town. The brilliant sunshine had turned out to be somewhat deceiving, which was my fault. I knew well enough that sunshine in late fall was quite different than a full day of sun in August. My fingers and nose were so cold from the ride that I determined wrapping my fingers around a cup of hot coffee, all the while resting my numb nose in the warm, fragrant steam, was just what I needed. I parked my bike in front of the shop and circled around to Les's coffee shop.
Much to my surprise, my very handsome boyfriend was sitting at one of Les's pub height tables warming his own hands and nose with a cup of coffee. "I came here looking for you, but your shop wasn't open yet." He glanced at his watch. "You're late."
"I'm well aware of that. I decided to ride my bike to work today and made a little pit stop." I held up my hands, still covered in the inadequate gloves. "My fingers are numb, so I need to wrap them around a hot coffee."
He pushed forward a second cup of coffee. "I bought you one, but it might not be as hot as you hoped."
"Any bit of warmth should help." I picked up the cup and pushed my nose closer, hoping to warm it up. It filled with the rich aroma of Les's special roast coffee, but it seemed the only thing that was going to defrost me this morning was my warm shop. "Thank you for the coffee."
He stood up and we walked toward the flower shop. "Where's the bird?" he asked.
"He decided he wasn't up for a flight to town. He prefers to travel by automobile." My fingers were still too stiff to unlock the door. "I think my bird had a good point this morning." I handed Briggs the key to open it.
"What was the pit stop?" he asked as we entered.
I walked straight to the thermostat and tapped the heat higher. "I stopped by the cemetery," I said as I headed down the hallway to put away the backpack I'd used to carry my things on my bike. I walked back out with my coffee.
"You sure do love that creepy old cemetery," Briggs noted.
"It's not creepy. It's—It's, well, I guess it's a little creepy. But there's so much history there, and this morning I treated myself to a personal tour of the Price family crypt."
He laughed, then saw that I was serious. "You toured their crypt?" he asked.
"I did and it was rather plain and uninspiring, but I found out something interesting. Jane Price was not buried next to her father, Harvard. All the other children, daughters included, are tucked in next to their paternal counterparts, but Jane is nowhere to be seen."
He shrugged. "Could be she married someone far away from Port Danby and is buried with her husband. Don't you think you might be straying off on the wrong path with the Jane Price connection to the Hawksworth murders? I mean a sprig of hundred-year-old lavender is hardly evidence."
"I guess we'll see once I solve this case." I flashed him a cheeky grin.
He chuckled. "I like your attitude. You're right. I guess we'll see."
"Help me pull some flowers out of the cooler. I need to put together some everyday bouquets. Then you can tell me what's going on with the Lionel Dexter case."
"We're trying to find out who owns the Funtasy, and we're having a hard time tracking down the woman who was living on the boat. It's especially hard when we don't have a name or any information about her."
I nearly spilled the bucket of carnations I was carrying. "I saw her. I saw the woman." We put the flowers down on the work island. "In fact, I smacked into her and caused her to drop a few oranges. She was qu
ite frosty in our exchange. I kept apologizing but she had no response. She was definitely distracted, almost nervous, as if worried she was being followed." I motioned for him to follow me back to the cooler for more flowers. "Maybe she was worried that the police were looking for her, which I guess they were."
"She was in the Corner Market? I've got a full-time watch on the boat, but she hasn't shown up. I'll have to ask Gigi if there was a credit card used on the transaction. Thanks for that." He placed the tall vase of day lilies on the island. "I've got to head back to the station. I'm waiting for Kate Yardley. I've asked her to come in and answer some questions."
"Yes, she's quite distraught about it. Which reminds me of something else. Now, let her bring it up first because I was told by someone who Kate confided in."
"Dash," he said, dryly.
"Yes but do you want to hear this or not?"
"Yep, go ahead." His demeanor always changed when Dash's name came up.
"Apparently, someone sent Kate a picture of Lionel walking on the wharf, hand in hand with the mystery woman."
"Mystery woman?" His brows bunched.
I sighed. "The woman on the boat. I was trying to use a different title for her rather than the long, pedestrian 'woman on the boat'. I thought mystery woman sounded more intriguing. You really need to find out her name."
"I plan to. Who sent the picture to Kate? Sounds like someone was trying to warn her that she was attaching herself to a player."
"That's what it seems like. But she doesn't know who gave it to her. They slipped it under the shop door."
"I guess someone was hoping to get Lionel into trouble. I'll have to ask her about it."
I opened my mouth to protest, but he put up his hand to stop me. He gave me that tilted head, sincere brown eyed look. "Lacey, this is a murder investigation. I'm not going to tip toe around to spare people's relationships. But," he continued before I could put in my two cents. "I will give her a chance to bring it up first." He took hold of my hand and drew me closer. "What I would like to know now is—how the heck do you always stay two steps ahead of me on these investigations?"
I shrugged. "I'm in the community much more than the detective who is always either chained to his desk with paperwork or sitting at the courthouse to testify against bad people." I grinned. "I've got more bridges."
"I suppose that's true." He leaned forward and kissed me. "Stay out of trouble . . . and crypts," he added as he headed out the door.
Chapter 21
Lola took a bite of her burger. She chewed and swallowed. "Now that you've bribed me with lunch, exactly what sketchy thing are we up to during this lunch break, and why have you involved your best friend in your clandestine activities?" She went in for another bite.
"Well, on a crazy whim this morning, I decided to ride my bike to work. Then, as lunchtime grew near, I got the sudden urge to go back to the scene of Lionel's murder. It happens to be in Chesterton, which is too far to travel on two wheels during a lunch break. Therefore, I needed my best friend to drive me."
She lifted her soda out of the console and took a long draw on the straw. "So you're using me for my car. Anyone could be your best friend today as long as they had a car."
I wiggled my bottom on the passenger seat and sat up straighter. "If you're going to put it in such general terms, then I suppose so. Only, you're the best friend I knew would be happy to drive me as long as there was a cheeseburger included."
She leaned her head side to side. "Good point." She wrapped up the last few bites of burger. "Can't eat another bite. I had two of Elsie's chocolate scones this morning. Feeling a little glutinous." She wiped off her hands and turned the key. "Direct me where to go. I'm now at your service."
"Great. Just go down this road and turn right at the end of it. We're heading to that neighborhood overlooking the bay, the one with all the mansions. That was where Lionel was living when he was shot." I used air quotes for the word living, which rightly confused my driver.
"Why the air quotes? Was he a vampire or a member of the walking dead?"
"No, I might have used those quotes wrong. He was living, of course, but he never actually purchased the house. It's never been on the market. He must have discovered that it'd been vacant for years and just moved himself in."
A short laugh burst from Lola's mouth. "So, Kate's supposedly rich boyfriend was squatting in a mansion. He drove a nice Porsche though."
"Leased, apparently. It seemed he did have some money but not enough to purchase a big home in Chesterton. There seems to be a great deal of mystery surrounding the victim."
"Pull up right here to this sad looking place in the middle of all these splendid homes."
Lola parked the car and we climbed out. "Boy, this place sure stands out like an ugly brown grape in a bright red cluster. I'll bet the neighbors close their eyes when they're driving past it." She followed me across the dead front lawn to the path leading around to the back of the home. "I guess we're not important enough to be invited in the front door."
"I assume the front door is locked, but with any luck, the back door will still be unlocked. Someone, probably Lionel, himself, broke into the house through the back door. They turned the door jamb into splinters."
"Someone? Maybe it was the cold blooded killer?" She grabbed my arm. "Are you sure this is safe? I thought killers always returned to the scene of their crime."
"Only really stupid ones." The back patio was just a puzzle of chunks of cement with weeds popping out of every crack. We stepped over some particularly tall ones and reached the back door. It was slightly ajar.
"Guess we're in luck," Lola said. "It appears to be open."
"I would have expected the police to shut it so that it at least looked like it was locked." I shrugged at their carelessness and opened the door.
"What are we looking for?" Lola whispered.
"Not too sure," I whispered back.
"Why are we whispering?" Lola asked.
"I don't know," I whispered back. "You started it and I just followed along."
Lola laughed. A noise followed that didn't come from either of us. It had come from the room with the sofa. I turned to Lola and pressed a finger to my lips to let her know we needed to be quiet. Although, I was sure she figured that out.
"What if it's the killer, the really stupid killer?" Lola hissed in a quiet but worried whisper.
I put up my hand for her to stop walking, then I crept as silently as possible on creaky floors toward the sitting room. I reached the doorway and peeked inside. Margaret Sherwood stared back at me, frozen to the spot, and white with fear. Her eyes looked close to popping from her face. "Who are you?" she asked in a wavering voice. It seemed we had scared her as much as she had frightened us.
"I'm Lacey. I occasionally assist the police with investigations." I didn't have the time or the wherewithal to come up with an alternative explanation for me to be sneaking around a murder scene, so I went with the truth.
Margaret looked close to fainting. I led her to the sofa. Lola came down the hallway to see what was going on and who I was having a conversation with.
"Margaret?" Lola asked. "Didn't expect to see you here." Margaret shook her head sadly. I was glad to see the color coming back to her face.
"I came here to look for something, something I lost."
"Was it a necklace?" I asked.
Margaret looked as if someone had slapped her. "Why, yes. How did you know?"
"Lacey was in my shop when Lionel came in to buy it for you," Lola said. "What happened to it?"
Margaret rested back to catch her breath. "It was silly of me. But I was angry with Lionel. I actually thought he liked me." Her cheeks reddened. "What a silly old woman I am. I should have known a man like Lionel would never have fallen for me."
I sat next to Margaret. "Nonsense. Besides, you were way too good for the likes of him. Why were you angry at him?"
She sniffled but neither Lola nor I were equipped with a tissue. "He w
as seeing another woman," she said. "I went out to my mailbox Tuesday morning and found a picture tucked in between the envelopes. It was a picture of Lionel in an embrace with the woman who owns Mod Frock." She sniffled some more.
"There has to be at least some tissue or toilet paper in this house," Lola said. "I'll be right back."
"Don't touch anything else," I called to her. "This is still a crime scene."
She popped her head back in with an annoyed eyebrow arch. "Really? What am I going to touch? The bloodstain on the floor or the crusty dirt that seems to be on every surface of this house?"
"Just go get the tissue." I waved her along and turned back to Margaret. I was hot on the trail of something. I just wasn't sure what. I had definitely uncovered a pattern. "Margaret, do you have the picture? I'd like to see it."
Her shoulders rounded. She looked droopy and sad. "It was too painful to look at. I tore it up and threw it away."
"Is it still in your trash?" I asked, hopefully.
"No, yesterday was trash morning. The picture is long gone. Now the necklace is gone too. I really loved it. I got angry, tore it off and threw it at Lionel before I stomped out of the house. I regretted it instantly."
"Your necklace is safe," I said. "It's in evidence right now, but I'm sure, eventually, you'll be able to claim it."
"Evidence?" She covered her face. Lola returned just in time with a few squares of paper towel. Margaret blotted her face. "That must be why the police want to talk to me. They think I had something to do with Lionel's death. He broke my heart, but I would never kill him or anyone, for that matter." She pressed the paper towel to her mouth and stifled a sob. "Now I've left evidence at the scene of the crime. What a silly old woman I am, and how quickly I fell for his smile and compliments. Never again. I will be alone until the day I die." She sobbed. "I just hope that day won't be when I'm in jail."
Lavender and Lies Page 10
