Ice Cold Murder

by Kate Bell

  “Of course I am. Iris found out about it. Richard’s a high school teacher and he had an affair with a student. Janice Cross. Later she went off to college and became a second grade teacher. Just Like Iris.”

  Alec looked up at her. “Was Janice still in high school when the affair occurred?”

  “He said it wasn’t until the summer after she graduated, but why would anyone believe him?” she said bitterly.

  “Did Janice Cross work at the same school that Iris did?” I asked, hoping she didn’t.

  “Oh yes. You know it tormented her every time she had to see that woman at work. I told her not to marry Richard. That he would only bring her misery. First, he tormented her for not being able to get pregnant and have the children she wanted so desperately. And then he had an affair,” she said and broke down crying. “My poor baby.”

  I reached for the box of tissues on the end table and handed them to her. “I’m so sorry, Hilda. I know this has got to be so hard for you.”

  She looked at me sharply. “You know as a mother, it’s a nightmare. My daughter didn’t deserve this. That monster is living free, right over there and that’s not right. He’s the one that deserved to die out in those woods, not her.” Her face tightened up in anger.

  Richard Rose was right about one thing. She had a temper.

  “A lot of people have affairs, and while it’s not right, they don’t usually want to murder their spouses,” Alec said gently. “Why, specifically, do you think he would murder her as opposed to divorcing her?”

  Janice sighed loudly. “Because it’s easier. Why go to court, when you can just end the marriage this way? There’s just no accounting why people do the things they do.”

  Hilda wasn’t making sense. I glanced at Alec and could see his jaw tighten.

  “Is there anything else we need to know?” he asked.

  “Just that Richard is an evil man. You have to keep your eye on him. Iris didn’t have an enemy in this world. If you had known my daughter, you would know that everyone that knew her, loved her,” she said, now completely dry-eyed. She turned toward me. “Isn’t it true that your daughter loved her when she was in her class?”

  I nodded. There was no denying it. Iris Rose had had a way with kids. “Absolutely. She talked about her all the time.”

  She looked at Alec and nodded triumphantly.

  “Mrs. Bixby, where were you on Sunday?” Alec asked without skipping a beat.

  Janice’s eyes got big. “I went to the school to help my daughter. She had papers to grade and I always helped her out. I don’t know how she would have managed to do her job if it wasn’t for me helping her. And she really appreciated it. She said so all the time.”

  “What time did you leave?” Alec asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Around 2:30 if I remember right,” she said.

  “And did Iris stay late?” he asked, making notes.

  “Yes. She said she had a few more things to do and she said she would be home in an hour or so. But, she never showed up,” she said, and her voice cracked.

  My heart went out to Hilda. She may have been a difficult person, but she really was grieving for her daughter.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bixby. If you think of anything else, please give me a call,” he said and handed her his card. “And we’ll be in touch.”

  We left Hilda and climbed down the stairs, hanging onto the handrail so we didn’t take a tumble. I would not have liked having to navigate those stairs every day.

  “So what do you think?” I asked when we got back into the car.

  He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know at this point. Mrs. Bixby is a little off, if you ask me.”

  “She is an oddball, but that doesn’t mean she’s a murderer. And why didn’t Richard mention his affair?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t think it was relevant.”

  “I think things like that become relevant when there’s a murder involved,” I pointed out.

  “True, but if he really dated Janice Cross around the time she was in high school, and now she’s been through college and is a teacher, it’s been a while ago and he may not have thought it was important,” he said, pulling away from the curb. “One thing’s for sure. They both have very different views of what Iris felt for her mother.”

  “That’s for sure. Richard saw her as being controlling and she saw her actions as being helpful,” I said.

  “We’ll have to see how this all plays out. It’s much too early to point the finger at anyone.”

  That was true, but I had a finger that I wanted to point and I really couldn’t make up my mind about either one of them.

  --5--

  “So, how’s it going?” I asked Alec. He was sitting at my kitchen table with his nose in a book, studying for his PI license. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips moved as he read. I figured it would be easy as pie for him to pass, but he was a worrywart and insisted on studying.

  “Just fine, thanks,” he said, not looking up from his book.

  I opened a cupboard door and stared into it, trying to decide on something to bake. I had ended my blog on grief and I needed something to do with my life. I had considered a food blog, and it was still a possibility, but if I was going to write about baking, I needed to bake.

  “How does blueberry sour cream pie sound?” I asked.

  “Sounds good,” he said.

  I looked over my shoulder at him. “A little more enthusiasm?”

  He looked up at me. “Yum. Blueberries.” Then he went back to his book.

  “Gee, thanks,” I said and the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.”

  “Lucy!” I said when I opened the door.

  “Hey, Allie, what’s up? I heard Iris Rose was murdered! I know you have to know something. Spill it! I need the scoop,” she said.

  I put my finger to my lips, and stepped back, letting her in. “Alec’s in the kitchen.”

  She closed the door behind her and we headed for my bedroom. I knew Alec knew I was going to tell Lucy everything, but I still didn’t want him to hear me tell it.

  “We found her buried in the snow out in the woods. We’ve talked to her husband and mother and they both blame each other. Other than that, nothing else has happened,” I whispered.

  “What? You found her? When? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she exclaimed, taking her white knit hat off. Her blond hair was a little wild this morning, and I reached out and pushed a lock of it down. “Stop it,” she said, slapping my hand.

  “Monday. We were going out to collect snow for snow cream and I unburied her,” I said, looking away. The thought of eating the snow that was covering her still sickened me.

  “Monday? And you didn’t call me? What’s up with that?” she asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.

  I sighed. “I don’t know. It all happened so fast. And it was kind of gross, you know?” I asked.

  “Oh. Was she, like, messed up?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I was scooping up the snow that covered her for our snow cream.”

  “Oh,” she said, making a face. “So how did she die?”

  “We don’t know yet. There wasn’t anything apparent when we found her. Did you know her?”

  She shook her head. “No, but her husband worked part-time at the newspaper with Ed about fifteen years ago. We went out for drinks once, but Iris had to work I think. He seemed like a nice guy.”

  “But I thought he was a teacher at the high school?”

  “He is. I guess they needed the money because he only worked a couple of hours a day in the late afternoons,” she said.

  “How about her mother, Hilda Bixby? Do you know her?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Didn’t she work at the Bank of Maine years ago?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure. We didn’t ask.”

  “I think she did, and as I recall, I always thought she was a little bit off. Just kind of weird, you know? It seemed like there was someplace else sh
e worked, too, but I can’t remember where,” she said.

  “Weird how?” I asked.

  “She would ask personal questions when she waited on me. Personal for a teller-customer relationship, you know? Like who my husband was, did I love him, and did we have kids and I don’t know. It always seemed like she really wanted to know the answer. I never knew her well though, so who knows?”

  “Well, that’s all I know,” I said. “And now, I’m going to figure out something to bake. Want to help?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. I am still trying to forgive you for going to Alabama for Christmas. I missed out on all those holiday treats,” she said, following me into the kitchen.

  “You’ll live,” I said.

  “Hi, Alec,” she said. “What are you working on?”

  “Studying for my PI license,” he said looking up from his book.

  “I don’t understand why you need to study,” I said, opening the refrigerator door.

  “Because the state of Maine has laws and regulations and I’d like to not cross them,” he said, getting up and pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Lucy, there’s coffee if you’d like some.”

  Lucy got a cup out of the cupboard and poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “I think I know what I’m going to do,” I said.

  “Yes?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes. I think I’m going to write a baking blog and also, since I need to be baking all the time, I think I’m going to see if any of the local restaurants around here would be interested in selling some of my desserts. Otherwise, I’m going to eat far more of them than I need to,” I said. The idea had just occurred to me and it seemed like a good one.

  “Oh wow, who would have thought of you selling your pies at a local restaurant? What a novel idea!” Lucy said. Her words dripped with sarcasm.

  I gave her the evil eye. In September she had made the same suggestion to me, minus the blog. Reluctantly, I had baked up the perfect apple pie and taken it to Henry Hoffer to try, with the hopes that he would sell my pies in his restaurant, Henry’s Home Cooking Restaurant. Unfortunately when I went to check on how he liked the pie the next day, I found Henry dead. Someone had plunged a knife into his chest. Let’s just say I was a little soured on the idea of baking for his restaurant after that.

  But a few months had passed since then, and his widow had taken over the restaurant. I was ready to try again. I had checked on her once after Henry’s murder and hadn’t been back since. The rumor around town was that she had redecorated, changed the menu and really turned the restaurant around and was doing a brisk business. It might be a good relationship if I could get my pies and maybe some cakes onto the menu.

  “So how does a blueberry sour cream pie sound?” I asked her.

  “It sounds like I need to stick around to see how this turns out,” she said with a grin.

  I took out some sour cream, blueberries, and eggs from the refrigerator and then moved to the cupboards.

  Lucy sat at the table across from Alec while I assembled everything.

  “So, Alec, how do you like retirement?” she asked.

  “Well, I didn’t get much in the way of retirement, seeing as how we discovered a body less than a week after I retired. But other than that, I’m doing just fine,” he said.

  “At least there’s none of that police paperwork, right?” she asked. “And no annoying co-workers.”

  He sat back in his chair and nodded. “There is that. And no paperwork frees up a lot of my time. Plus I can set my own schedule. What’s not to love about that?”

  I looked over my shoulder and saw her lean closer to Alec and whisper. “So Alec, when do you move in?”

  He smiled and glanced at me. “The way things are going, I’d say never.”

  “What?” she said loudly and looked at me. “What’s wrong? I thought you two were all cutesy-cutesy kissy-kissy together. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing is going on,” I said. “You know how I am.”

  “What? How are you?” she asked.

  “She’s old fashioned,” Alec supplied. “And I like old fashioned.”

  “Awe,” Lucy said. “That’s so sweet. See, you guys are cutesy.”

  “We are not cutesy, Lucy Gray. And this isn’t any of your business,” I warned.

  She gasped. “Okay, okay. I won’t pry. Much. But I expect to be informed of all the details, as they occur.”

  I rolled my eyes. “See what I got you into, Alec?”

  “I do see. Now I’m going to go into the other room so I can study,” he said, standing up and picking up his book.

  “Ah, are you saying I’m loud?” Lucy asked as he left the room.

  “Yup,” he called over his shoulder.

  She looked at me. “He’s so cute!”

  “I know!” I agreed. He was the best thing that had happened to me in a long time.

  --6--

  “I don’t know what she looks like. How are we going to know it’s her?” I asked Alec as we pulled up to Belmont elementary school.

  “We’ll figure something out,” he said, shutting off the engine. He looked at me with those dark blue eyes and gave me a smile. “It’s called detective work.”

  I smiled back at him and wondered what our children might have looked like if we had met earlier. Him with his black hair and dark blue eyes and me with my red hair and green eyes. I pushed the thought away guiltily. I would never have wanted to miss out on being with my husband, Thaddeus, or the two beautiful children we had had. Life was as it was supposed to be.

  The hallways of the school were nearly empty. We passed a mother with her daughter in tow and a couple of adults.

  “See?” Alec said, pointing at classroom door number five. Beneath the number was the teacher’s name, Mrs. Johnson.

  “I see,” I said and we kept walking.

  We passed another man and six more doors and came to classroom number twelve and the name Ms. Cross.

  Alec opened the door without knocking and a young woman at the big desk at the front of the classroom looked up.

  “May I help you?” she asked. She had a stack of papers on her desk in front of her and she looked surprised to see us.

  Ms. Cross was blond and fair skinned and pretty. Model pretty. It was easy to see why Richard Rose had fallen for her.

  “Yes,” Alec said and introduced us. “Can we have a few minutes of your time?”

  Janice’s face went pale. Paler than it already was.

  “Of course,” she said and forced herself to smile. “Sorry, I only have small people chairs.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” I said and grabbed two chairs from the closest desks and set them in front of her desk. Alec and I sat and looked up at her. “Wow, talk about a different perspective.”

  She smiled at me and then turned to Alec. “What can I help you with?”

  “I’m assuming you’ve heard about Iris Rose?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. It’s so tragic. Really, she was such a nice person and a wonderful teacher. Her students are heartsick.”

  “They know already?” I asked. I don’t know what I expected, but it surprised me.

  “Yes, the principal broke it to them today. No details, of course. It would frighten them to know their teacher had been, well, murdered,” she said with a frown.

  “I’m sure it would. Are there counselors for them? In case they need to talk to someone?” I asked.

  “Definitely. We have two on loan from another district,” she said, glancing at Alec.

  “Miss Cross, do you know of anyone that might want to hurt Iris?” Alec asked. He already had his notebook and pen out.

  She shook her head, wide-eyed. “I have no idea. Like I said, she was well liked.”

  “Did you know Iris’s husband, Richard?” he asked. Just like that. I expected him to beat around the bush, but he just threw it out there.

  Her face went white. She opened her mouth to speak, and stumbled over the words, then she closed her mouth an
d looked down at her hands. After a moment, she cleared her throat. “I do,” she said, looking up at me. “Richard and I had an affair. It didn’t last long and it was a few years ago.”

  “Who broke up with whom?” Alec asked, showing no emotion.

  “I broke up with him. I never felt right about it and I couldn’t stand the lie,” she said. “Plus, I went away to college.” She looked down when she said that part.

  “How old were you when the affair started?” Alec asked.

  “Oh, I was eighteen. I had just turned eighteen when we started seeing each other. It didn’t last long. Three months and then I was off to college,” she said quickly.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if the affair would have continued if she hadn’t left town.

  “How did Iris find out about it?” I asked.

  She looked at a spot on the desk in front of her, quiet for a moment. “I guess she might have suspected he was running around on her,” she said, looking up at me. “Then when I got a job here, she came to help the new teacher decorate her class. And I had brought a box of items from home, a corkboard, art supplies, and pictures. And there was a picture of Richard and I in the box.”

  “And she found it. Wow,” I said.

  She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “She was a good person. She came to help out the new teacher, you know? She was the only one that did. I swear I thought I had gotten rid of all those pictures. I swear. The relationship had ended years earlier.”

  I nodded slowly. I could never imagine dating a married man, but to have his wife discover the truth, in such an “in your face” way? How devastating. I breathed in deeply.

  “What did she do?” I asked.

  She shook her head slowly. “She just looked at me with so much hurt in her eyes. She backed out of the room without saying a word.”

  Alec was making notes again and for once, I wished he’d stop. I wanted to hate this woman for what she had done, but she didn’t seem like a terrible person. Young and stupid, yes. But not a murderer.

  Finally, Alec looked up at her. “Is there anything else you want to tell us?”