The outing was too compelling to miss. Avery had thrown on a sweater against the morning chill and set off with the ladies. They were walking to get their daily exercise, which took more time, but it was an activity she could hardly fault herself for doing. Those doughnut and cheese indulgences were wreaking havoc with her hips.
Avery leaned back against the comfortable cushion, remembering the conversation with Ida Greb. Josephine Gaskell had hit the target when she said an outsider to Jenny Blake’s social circle might have some interesting observations. Ida did indeed have some very interesting observations. The St. Ives librarian had shed an entirely new light on the character of Jenny Blake, revealing why she might’ve been killed—and by whom.
ST. IVES Municipal Library was small but well-stocked; run by an army of volunteers who took their role of Friends of the Library seriously. Ida Greb was the only paid employee and consequently, her work was always under close scrutiny.
“I can squeeze fifteen minutes in for a chat,” she said with a harried, nervous air. “We’ll call it a coffee break. Yoohoo, Linda! I’ll be in the back with these ladies for a few minutes. If you need me, give a holler.” She waved and nodded and hustled the group into a storage room that did double duty as a break room. “That woman scares the hell out of me,” she whispered. “Now, what did you want to ask me? Can I offer you a cup of tea? Coffee? I have some cookies here from the bakery—pumpkin spice oatmeal.” She dug clean mugs out of a cupboard.
Ida was sixty-one and looked her age, though those looks were unconventional. Her natural hair colour was probably grey but she dyed it a vivid bluish black. She had wide staring green eyes, a small mouth and almost no chin. Avery always noticed a woman’s weight first thing as a mental check against her own. Ida was disappointingly slim-hipped. She carried her weight in her chest. Her figure was what Avery’s mother-in-law would’ve called ‘stacked.’
“We’re working on the St. Ives High School Reunion and we’re trying to track down the Class of ’75,” Helen began, “and we thought you could help us identify some of the alumni. You were in the Explorer’s Club with Jenny Blake, weren’t you?”
She nodded, her open expression changing to wary politeness. “That was a long time ago. I hope you’re not relying on me to give a ‘where are they now’ of everyone in the group. We were a bunch of oddballs. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Begin with Jenny,” Avery said sharply. “At least we know where she is—buried in St. Ives Cemetery.”
Helen sucked in a breath but didn’t look away. Josie lifted a cookie and chewed on it, her eyes resting on Ida Greb. She wasn’t budging off the question either. Between the three of them, they would force Ida to speak.
“Jenny Blake.” She said the name as though she’d eaten something unpleasant. “Jenny wasn’t the girl everyone thought she was. You say you know where she is—she’s dead—it’s true. Am I sorry she’s dead? No. Was I shocked or saddened when I heard the news? No. I wasn’t surprised someone killed her. Not surprised at all. High school is a terrible time,” she said, abruptly changing the subject. “Terrible. I won’t be going to your reunion. I have no desire to relive those years.”
“Tell us about the Explorer’s Club,” Avery prodded in a kinder tone.
Ida’s smile was weak. “We need to tell young people that high school ends eventually and they are not the best years of their life.” The kettle boiled and she got up to fill the tea pot. “The Explorer’s Club was the only means I had to survive my teens. I wasn’t athletic. I developed early which attracted the worst sort of attention from boys and alienated me from the other girls. I wasn’t clever so I didn’t even have that to fall back on. I read a lot because I had nothing better to do, consequently my grades were good. Not exemplary—just good. I won no awards. Made no mark whatsoever. Except in the Explorer’s Club.”
She handed around mugs of tea—English Breakfast, Avery noted from the aroma. The cookies smelled good too but she would not yield to temptation.
“As I said, we were a group of oddballs. There was me and another girl I managed to rope into joining, and three guys whose names I can’t remember. The club was formed to explore various worlds through books, research, maps and outings to museums. We would come up with an area of study that we wanted to explore, then devour everything we could on the subject and debate what we had learned at our meetings. If we chose space, for example, we’d go stargazing or take a trip to the planetarium in Toronto. It was geeky, hopelessly uncool, and I loved it. In the club, I was popular. I had friends and something to do every weekend.”
“It doesn’t sound like anything Jenny Blake would be interested in,” Josie observed.
“No, it doesn’t, does it?” Ida agreed grimly. “We held a membership drive after March Break to drum up interest. Naturally no one wanted to join. And then lo and behold, Jenny Blake shows up at a meeting. She walks in, sits down and puts forward her idea for a world to explore—human sexuality.”
“She didn’t,” breathed Helen.
Ida nodded her head vigorously. “You see where this is heading. The boys were completely enchanted. The only other female in the group—my friend—decides to drop out. I hung on, thinking it was a joke. At the next meeting she asked the boys if they found the size of my boobs distracting and to describe how they found them distracting. They had a huge talk about it!”
The librarian’s face flared with heat. “Can you imagine how humiliating that was for me? I didn’t know how to fight back. She had this big smile on her face! In the halls or in the cafeteria, she always waved and said hello. It was confusing. I told myself she didn’t mean anything by it. I told myself to stop being so sensitive.” Ida broke off with a laugh. “Can you imagine? I thought I was the problem! Eventually I had to quit the Explorer’s Club. It got to be too much. I felt threatened and not just by her—the boys starting getting aggressive, probably because she kept goading them on. I made an excuse for why I had to drop out and that was that. Jenny dropped out not long after and the club was defunct before school let out for summer.”
Josie gazed at Ida quizzically. “That sound so out of character for her, from what I remember. I didn’t know her personally. Karen Haggerty shared some pleasant anecdotes about when they were lifeguards together.”
Ida took a swallow of tea. Her hands were shaking slightly. “Jenny wasn’t horrible with everyone. I’m sure most people have good memories of her. The thing she had against me—okay, I’ll tell you what I think provoked it if you promise not to laugh.”
All three of them nodded, unnecessarily, because Ida carried on without pause.
“I wasn’t one of the gorgeous girls, okay? I had these,” she said, indicating her bosom, “but not the face to go with them. However, I did attract the attention of one male and not for my bra size. He liked my personality.” Ida gave them a shy, proud smile. “It’s true. I know they all say that, but with him it was true. He was tutoring me in Calculus that year. I was hopeless but he stuck with me and we got to be friends. He was a loner at school, like me. A smart guy with a great sense of humour. We made each other laugh.”
“Oh no,” Avery moaned. “Was his name Jesse Sutcliffe?”
Startled, Ida met her eyes. “How did you know? That’s exactly who it was! They were broken up. I think he broke it off because she fell for another guy, but little did I know that Jesse was the property of Jenny Blake. I guess she expected him to cry himself to sleep every night instead of tutoring me and having fun.” Bitterness soured her voice. “She didn’t want him. She wasn’t jealous. That was the worst part about what she did. She knew he wasn’t into me but she punished me anyway, just like she punished anyone who tried to strike up a friendship with Jesse. He was alone because Jenny wanted him to be completely dependent on her.”
Helen lowered her voice. “I heard a rumour that Jenny had bruises on her body that summer. When she was asked about them, she said Jesse did it. Was he jealous of her too?”
I
da shot her a keen glance. “Not in the least. He’d had enough of the soap opera. That was my impression from the little he said about it. There was a crisis in that incestuous group nearly every day of the week. Karen, Duncan, Frank, all their friends. Jenny’s problem was that she didn’t know what she wanted. She was attracted to the drama but scared by it as well. I think she was always expecting it to come back and bite her. And then one day it did.”
“I get the feeling Karen Haggerty knows more about Jenny’s murder than she lets on,” Avery said casually. “We had lunch with her the other day and the subject came up and she became very cagey. Ida, is there anything you remember about that night that felt out of the ordinary? I can’t help believing somebody must have sensed something was wrong.”
“Like a premonition?” Ida’s eyes lifted to the ceiling and she screwed up her face. “It was the middle of August, I remember. I was at home alone, watching TV. I heard there was a party at Karen’s house. I figured Jenny would be there. I wasn’t invited, of course. It was a party for the football team and their girlfriends and Jenny was going out with the team captain at the time. Karen’s parents were out of town and I heard things got out of hand. At some point in the evening, Jenny’s body was discovered on the Abbey grounds by Jesse Sutcliffe, and that was the end of parties for the in-crowd. Karen got married in her senior year to Frank Zwick. I don’t know what happened to the others. I graduated from high school and never looked back. I haven’t seen Jesse in years and years. I doubt he’d even remember me.”
“Karen claims Jesse killed Jenny,” Helen said.
Avery watched Ida’s reaction closely. There was something in the librarian’s story that didn’t ring true. She wasn’t lying exactly, but she wasn’t telling the whole truth.
Ida Greb laughed. “Typical. The cool kids stick together. No, it wasn’t Jesse, but it was someone who knew her. Someone from around here.” Ida collected their tea mugs and placed them in the sink. “Jenny thought she could control everyone like she controlled Jesse. That was her downfall. She never knew when to back off. My guess is whoever killed her killed her to shut her up. That’s all I wanted in 1975—to shut her up. She was the kind of girl who knew exactly what would drive a person over the edge and she used it.”
Ida glanced at them, her face flushed. “Sorry. Old wounds. I didn’t kill her, but pardon me for sympathizing with whoever did.”
AVERY DRIFTED back to the present. Her wine glass was empty, the sun had disappeared behind the trees and the streetlights had come on. The garden was now shadows and grey shapes. In her old life she would’ve gone inside to start dinner long before this. Even after a year, the reflex was still there, the sense of urgency to leave off what she was doing to attend to something else. That’s what marriage often was, a sidebar of tasks that no one ever talked about.
She had loved Thomas very much. She didn’t actually feel like a widow until this moment of sitting outside past the dinner hour because there was no one waiting for her to go in.
“Excuse me? Mrs Holmes, is it? Hi. I’m your neighbour, Francesca Murphy?”
She introduced herself like it was a question as all young people did these days. Avery hopped to her feet and strolled to the gate.
“Hello, I haven’t met any of my neighbours yet. Which is yours?”
“I live over there.” The young woman pointed to the brick house on the next corner. Avery’s neat little clapboard was on a large corner lot that was likely surrounded by pasture when the house was built. The apple trees and lilac shrubs were a dead giveaway of farming activity.
A corner lot was wonderful for space but terrible for privacy. Francesca’s pretty face poked over the fence that was bordered by a flaming sumac bush.
“I caught sight of you sitting out and I thought I’d better get this to you before I forget. It’s a letter for you; it was shoved in our mailbox by mistake.” She produced it and passed it over the fence to Avery. “I don’t know how long it’s been sitting there. My husband and I were away on vacation with our three kids and we just got back. It must’ve come while we were away. I hope it isn’t important.”
There was no stamp or return address. Avery opened the envelope as Francesca retreated toward her house.
“Oh and welcome to St. Ives,” the woman called back with a light laugh.
Avery lifted her hand to wave while her eyes absently scanned the contents of the letter. Her hand hung in mid-air as the words jumped off the page.
I know who killed her and I can prove it. He thinks he can silence me but he’s had his way long enough. It’s time for the truth to come out. If you want to know what I know, meet me at the Abbey ruins Wednesday night at nine pm. – K. H.
Today was Wednesday. Avery consulted her wristwatch. Seven-forty-five. She had time to call at least one person from the murder club. Of the five, there was only one impulsive enough to go with her.
“Hello, Elliot. There’s been a development.”
Chapter Thirteen
THE ABBEY grounds were lit by warm yellow lights intended to provide soothing illumination for the clients strolling the gardens. They were not meant to light the sanctuary like a soccer field, but Elliot Marks complained anyway.
“It’s a wonder there isn’t a murder here every other week,” he grumbled.
September fog had rolled in, softening the light even more. The setting did look ripe for murder but her companion seemed to be more concerned about the condition of his loafers than public safety.
Avery already regretted calling him. First of all, his response to the note was not what she expected. Instead of making a plan, he asked a load of questions about her neighbour Francesca who Avery described as a typical wife and mother. Surely he wasn’t going to waste time gossiping about the neighbours when they were close to solving the murder? Avery grew impatient with his meandering curiosity and had attempted to get him back on track.
“The note is handwritten. It’s signed K. H. - Karen Haggerty—who else could it be? I knew she was holding something back! It might be a wild goose chase. She might not have the vaguest idea who the killer is, but I think I should go just in case, don’t you?”
“Does Mrs Haggerty know where you live?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied with rising frustration. “Does it matter? She could’ve asked someone or looked it up. It’s unlikely she delivered the letter herself, Elliot,” she explained in a slightly pitying tone. “She probably gave it to someone to give to me and that person stuck in the wrong mailbox by mistake.”
“Hmmm ... that is one possibility....”
He fell silent.
“Elliot!” Avery called him back to earth. “What do you think—should I go or not?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he replied as though answering a very different question. “Yes, you should go, Mrs Holmes, and I’ll go with you. It’ll be interesting to see what comes next. I’ll pick you up at your place in an hour. Bring a flashlight. I can’t find mine.”
And so, here they were, lurking on the St. Ives Spa grounds, waiting to see what came next.
“Where is she?” Avery approached the sanctuary of stone ruins with a trace of anxiety.
“Very likely Karen Haggerty is at home in bed.”
Avery whirled on him. “How can you say that?” she hissed. “Honestly, I can’t figure you out! Sometimes you act as if you’re not even interested in solving this case. You heard me read what Karen said in her note. She knows who killed Jenny! Why would she write that if she didn’t have information?”
“I would be very much surprised if Karen Haggerty sent that note,” Elliot replied. He was distracted by a patch of soggy lawn that had soiled his shoes. “Wrote it or sent it.”
“You’re not making any sense, but all right—enlighten me. If Karen didn’t send the note who did?”
“Someone who wanted us here. What time is it?”
“Nine o’clock on the dot.” Avery swung the beam of the flashlight over the stone ruins. They look
ed like bones sticking out of the tall grass. Her shoulders hunched as she wrapped her arms around her middle. The light wool coat she was wearing kept out the chilly night air, but Avery’s teeth chattered anyway.
“Shush! Listen.” Elliot put a finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?”
“No. What is it?”
There was no sound at first and then in the far corner of the sanctuary where it was darkest, she heard the sound of an animal mewling.
“Is it a cat?”
“It’s not a cat,” Elliot shouted and took off at a run. He made for the stone window that looked out to the forest.
Avery sprinted after him. The flashlight beam flared wildly over the fog. When she reached the spot, she found Elliot bending over the body of Karen Haggerty. His fingers were pressed to her neck feeling for signs of life.
“Oh my God! Is she dead?”
“No, only unconscious.”
To Avery’s immense relief, the school secretary’s eyes fluttered open. Karen coughed and rubbed her throat. She looked around, vague and confused, and then seeing Avery’s face, she burst into hysterical tears.
“He came up behind me! I didn’t have a chance to fight back.”
They helped the shaken woman to her feet and half-lifted her to the stone table to rest. Elliot reached for his phone to call 911, but Karen stopped him. “The paramedics are in Casterbridge. They’ll take forever to get here and it’s not necessary. I’m all right—just a little shaken up.”
“I’m calling anyway. A crime has taken place. The police must be notified.”
“Did you get a look at him?” Avery shone the flashlight into the dark corners of the ruin, but the fog was like a curtain, obscuring everything.
“There wasn’t any time. He put something around my neck and pulled ... pulled so hard ... I thought ... I thought I was dead.” She pressed her hands to her face and shuddered.
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