by Lauren Carr
“Not everything can be copyrighted,” Jacqui said. “For example, did you know that fashion designs can’t be copyrighted?”
“I did not know that,” Doris said.
“Fashion is not considered art as much as it is considered a useful item,” Jacqui said. “That’s why fashion designers are especially susceptible to having their designs stolen by their competitors.”
“How do you know stuff like that?” Francine asked.
“I read.”
“I read, too, but I don’t know as many useless little trivia factoids as you,” Francine said.
“Useless?” Jacqui’s neatly sculpted eyebrows rose up on her forehead. “I’ll have you know that every little factoid I have in my head is quite useful.”
“To change the subject,” Ray said, “Sue Richardson, Mercedes Livingston’s literary agent, is the registered copyright holder for The Last Thing She Said. She got twenty percent of the royalties from the book for life. According to their agreement, when Mercedes died, the copyright would go to her husband or children. Since she and her husband were declared dead and they had no children, Sue Richardson inherited her share of the copyright—one hundred percent.”
“How about that?” Doris said.
“With Mercedes and her husband dead, Richardson became a very wealthy woman,” Chris said.
“But Mercedes didn’t tell her what she was planning,” Doris said.
“She could have found out,” Helen said. “Think about it. Billy was seen having breakfast with Mercedes and Robin Spencer. If they were planning to run away, Sue Richardson could have overheard them.”
“If she realized Mercedes was going to go missing, then she would know that Mercedes’s share of the book would be going to her husband,” Bruce said. “But if she got rid of George and managed to extort half a mil from Mercedes’s father, then she’d come out more than all right.”
“Sounds like a motive for murder to me,” Chris said.
“Easy.” Chris held the dog treat between his thumb and forefinger.
His ears erect, Sterling nibbled on the exposed bit of goodie.
The hour was late. The meeting of the Geezer Squad had broken up and the members had left. Each was excited to pursue his or her leg of the investigation into George Livingston’s murder.
Sitting on the floor near the table with her father and sisters, Emma held the wiggling Jack Russell pup desperate to snatch the treat from Sterling. She was the only one left who still called him Cutie-Pie. Chompers was much more fitting for his personality.
Oblivious to being in the middle of everything, Thor stretched across Chris’s crossed legs to stick her snout into the bag of treats, which further enraged Chompers. Even at his young age, the pup knew the rabbit was prey.
Couldn’t the big dogs see that fact? the pup seemed to cry out with his whining.
Emma giggled. “Chompers really wants a treat.”
“He doesn’t understand why Sterling isn’t biting my fingers off,” Chris said. “Good boy.” He released the treat for the German shepherd and scratched him behind his ears. “We’re teaching him by example.”
Chompers barked as if to demand that he be next.
Instead, Chris moved on to the Doberman. “Sadie, down.” He dug a training treat from the pouch.
The Doberman lay down next to Sterling and placed her head between her front paws. Her eyes focused on the treat he pinched between his finger and thumb. “Sit.” She sat up. He held the treat out to her. When she stretched out her nose to snatch it, he pulled it back. “Easy.”
She looked at him.
“Easy,” he repeated before offering it again.
Slowly, she reached out and gently nibbled at the treat before he grinned. “Good, girl.” He released it for her to take. As she chewed on it, he patted her on the head. “You are a good girl.”
Mocha inched into the circle from where she had been waiting patiently for her turn.
Squirming, Chompers dug into the hardwood floor with his tiny paws. When it looked as if he was about to burst out of Emma’s arms, Katelyn took him.
On the other side of the breakfast counter, Helen paused in helping Doris clean the kitchen to watch Chris with his daughters.
It was the end of what she knew had to be a long day for him. Coaching Nikki’s soccer team first thing in the morning, acquiring the unexpected puppy, rushing his daughters home after Shannon’s death, giving Sierra a riding lesson, and then holding an impromptu Geezer Squad meeting. Through it all, not only was Chris patient, but he treasured every moment. He enjoyed his family.
“He’s so good with them.” Doris broke through her thoughts to put into words what she had been thinking. With a maternal grin, Doris took the pot that Helen had been drying. “I think it’s dry now.” She bent over to slip it into the cabinet and closed the door.
Chris yelped. Chompers pounced on the treat that fell to floor after he nipped his fingers. The girls burst into a round of high-pitched giggles.
“You little demon dog!” Chris said around the wounded finger that he stuck into his mouth.
“So much for learning by example,” Doris said.
“You work with him then.” With a grimace, Chris sucked on his finger.
“I’m sure Cutie-Pie didn’t mean it.” Emma took his finger and kissed it. “There you go, Daddy. All better.”
Chris hugged her. “Thank you, sweetie.”
Doris called across the counter to her granddaughters. “It’s late, girls. Time for bed.” She winked at Helen. “We’ll leave you two kids alone.”
Emma picked up Chompers. “The puppy’s sleeping with me.”
“If the puppy is sleeping with you, then Thor can’t,” Katelyn said. “Chompers will have her for a midnight snack.”
“Thor’s bigger than him,” Emma said.
“Yeah, Thor can kick his furry butt and will if he gets near her pookie doll,” Nikki said.
“Thor will sleep with me and Sterling.” Chris picked up the rabbit and waded through the girls and dogs to the breakfast bar. “We can’t leave Chompers alone with Thor until the puppy learns that the rabbit is not part of the food chain.”
“Poor Thor.” Nikki petted the rabbit that Chris placed on the breakfast bar. “Kicked out of your own bed by a demon puppy.”
“Cutie-Pie is not a demon puppy.” Emma hugged the little dog. “He’s the cutest puppy in the whole world. And he’s free!”
“I think we know why he was free,” Katelyn said with a giggle.
Emma’s face was blank with wonder. “Why?”
“Because you get what you paid for.”
The girls took turns giving their father a hug and kiss goodnight before filing up the stairs. Sadie and Mocha took up the rear to follow Doris to her suite on the second floor.
Chris and Helen eyed each other in silence with the counter between them while they waited to be alone, just the two of them—not counting the bunny and German shepherd.
Once everyone was gone, he leaned across the counter to kiss her softly on the lips. “It’s about the barrel racing, isn’t it? Listen, if you don’t want Sierra to do barrel racing, then we won’t. You’re her mother and—”
“Guess who decided to come for a visit—unannounced.”
“The Queen of England.”
Helen blinked. “Why would the Queen of England come to visit me?”
“You told me to guess.”
“And you guessed the Queen of England?”
The corners of Chris’s lips curled upward. From her spot on the counter, Thor rose up onto her hind legs and planted her front paws on his chest. She stretched upward to nibble on his chin.
Helen let out a deep breath filled with disgust.
“Your ex-husband,” he said while petting the rabbit down the length of her long body.
“How’d you guess?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “If it wasn’t the Queen, then it had to be your ex.”
She shook her head. “He’s staying at my house. The size-D implants fitness trainer kicked him out. He says he has no place to go.”
“Isn’t he with the West Virginia state police?”
She uttered a deep sigh. “He’s on medical leave. Remember I told you that he got shot the year before our divorce? He’s got to go in for regular psyche exams.”
“I know all about that.”
“Well, it seems the trauma of his break-up with the fitness instructor caused some suppressed issues to bubble up and he’s been ordered to take thirty days off to get his head straight.”
“And he decided to spend those thirty days reconnecting with his daughter,” Chris said. “He’s staying at your place?”
Helen nodded her head. She studied Chris’s face for a clue to his feelings about the situation—his lover’s ex-husband sleeping under the same roof. Angst. Uncertainty. Jealousy. There were none of those things on Chris’s face as he peered down his nose—almost to the point of being cross-eyed at Thor nuzzling his chin.
“I can’t have a serious conversation with you with that rabbit.” She took Thor from him and deposited her on the floor next to Sterling, who picked the bunny up by the scruff of her neck and carried her upstairs.
It was their usual routine. At some point during the night, after Emma had fallen asleep, Thor would find her way to Chris’s room in the finished attic. Sterling would pick her up by the scruff of her neck and put her in bed with them.
“What do you want me to do?” Chris asked her.
“I want you to tell me what you think.”
“What I think doesn’t matter? What’s important is what you and Sierra think.”
“This is my ex-husband,” Helen said. “Thomas has invited himself back into our lives—”
“He’s never been out of your lives,” Chris said. “He may not have been an active participant, but he became a permanent member of your life the day you gave birth to Sierra. For her sake, you need to get along with him.”
“Are you really taking his side?”
Chris opened his mouth. He closed it. With a grimace, he rubbed the back of his neck. After a long pause, he shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I am. He’s made some huge mistakes. Haven’t we all? Whatever he’s done, he’s Sierra’s father. Nothing is ever going to change that.” He gestured at her. “You of all people should know that, Helen. He needs to be a part of your daughter’s life. If he drove all the way up here to reconnect with her, you need to encourage them to make it happen.” He shook his head. “There are millions of kids in this world whose fathers want no part of their lives. Sierra’s lucky. She may not feel it right now, but later she’ll realize that she is.”
With a roll of her eyes, Helen growled. She rubbed her face with her hands. When she lifted her face from her hands, she grumbled. “I hate it when you’re so reasonable.”
“Sorry.” Chris took her into his arms. “We need at least one grownup in this house. I’m it.”
She sighed and laid her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I ever married him.”
“You don’t mean that.”
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes.
“If you hadn’t married him, you wouldn’t have Sierra.”
She smiled softly. With a low growl, she delivered a soft punch to his shoulder. “There you go again. Being reasonable.”
With a chuckle, he gathered her up in his arms. “Enough with being reasonable. Now it’s time for us to be bad.”
He proceeded to nibble on her neck while she playfully resisted. Her giggles turned into squeals of delight. Their wrestling gradually turned more sensuous until he pulled away. “Can you stay for a while?”
Helen checked the time on the clock. Most likely Sierra was home. She hated leaving her home alone. Then, she remembered that Thomas was there. Guess he’s good for something. She took Chris by the hand and led him to the stairs leading up to his room. “How about if we pretend to be Mr. and Mrs. Smith checking into a seedy motel?”
“What about the bedbugs?”
“They can get their own dates.”
Chapter Seven
With Sunday church service and brunch, it was well into the afternoon before Chris could pick Helen up at her home for their trip to Baltimore. Sierra met Chris at the door with a big hug.
Over her shoulder, Chris noticed a brawny man with dark hair and eyes sizing him up—as if to determine if he could take him down. After Sierra released him, Chris held out his hand to Helen’s ex-husband. “Chris Matheson. You must be Thomas.”
With a frown, Thomas clasped his hand. “So you’re Helen’s new guy.”
Chris shrugged his shoulders. “Actually, I’m the old guy. We dated back a long time ago.”
“They were each other’s first love,” Sierra said with a broad grin. “Long lost loves. Rekindled romance. It’s so romantic.”
Thomas’s face darkened.
“What are you two going to do today?” Chris asked to change the subject.
Sierra shot a glare in her father’s direction. “I have homework.”
“It’s a beautiful day.” Chris gestured toward the valley bathed in bright sunshine. “The Appalachian Trail runs right along the ridge of the mountain. It’s perfect weather for a vigorous hike.”
“I have a paper due tomorrow” Sierra said.
“An hour in the fresh air will inspire you,” Chris said, “and give you and your father a chance to catch up.”
“I’ll go tell Mom to hurry up.” Sierra trotted out of the room.
Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “Sierra tells me you like horses.”
“I love horses and dogs and cats and rabbits and foxes. We saw a fox and her babies yesterday.”
“I get it. You’ve got a soft spot for all critters great and small.”
“Snakes, not so much. Lizards and frogs are okay. Toads, too.” Chris shook his head. “But not snakes.” He was relieved when Helen emerged from down the hall.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
Chris threw open the door. The fresh air seemed to scream an opening to escape from Thomas’s dark mood. “I was born ready.”
Shannon and Billy Blakeley had made their home in a sprawling stone house built on the hilltop behind the library. The backyard provided a splendid view of Bolivar Battlefield, the site of a major battle during the Civil War.
After spending a sleepless night of vacillating back and forth, Doris had decided it would be best to take the case of books that Shannon had signed and lock them in her office at the library. She would give them to her children after the Geezer Squad had completed their investigation.
The thought of using her key to enter her dear friend’s home and go through her stuff made her uneasy—and it was difficult for Doris to feel uneasy. She had decided to invite Jacqui and Francine to join her. That way, the three of them could share in the emotion of guilt.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Doris said to her partners in crime as she drove her Malibu past the library and up the hill toward Shannon’s home. “Reverend Ruth’s sermon this morning was about deception. I felt like she was directing it right at me through the whole service.”
“That’s why I don’t go to church on Sunday,” Francine said from where she was sitting in the back seat. “You’re less likely to feel guilty about lying and cheating when you don’t get called out for it.”
“Do you know what really makes you feel less guilty?” Jacqui turned around in her seat to ask Francine. “Not lying and cheating.”
“If I gave up lying and cheating, I’d have to go into another profession.”
“You’re retired,” Jacqui said.
“Yeah,
you’re right,” Francine said. “I guess at my age it’s become a lifestyle.”
Their plans to slip into the house, find the box, and leave went up in smoke when they rounded the corner at the top of the hill to find three vehicles in the Blakeley’s driveway: a full-sized SUV with West Virginia plates, a van with Maryland plates, and a small SUV with Pennsylvania license plates.
“So much for slipping in, grabbing the box, and leaving,” Jacqui said.
“We should go in and offer our condolences.” Doris turned into the driveway.
“And an explanation when they find those books,” Jacqui said.
“Shannon said it was in the back of her closet,” Francine said. “If hers is anything like mine, they won’t be discovered for another thousand years.”
The front door opened before they climbed the steps to the top of the stone-lined porch. Erin Blakeley, the younger daughter, took Doris into a tight hug and sobbed.
Jacqui and Francine squeezed around them to enter the two-story foyer where her older sister, Amanda, was wiping tears from her eyes. “Thank you so much for coming. Mom thought the world of all of you.”
Erin dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Doris, she used to say you were the sister she never had.”
“I felt the same way about her.” Doris noticed several moving boxes littered the living room. There was a breezeway that opened into the country kitchen, which provided a view of the deck and the battlefield below. “Speare had said you weren’t coming out until tomorrow.”
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Erin explained. “So I got up and started driving. I drove straight through. Got in early this morning.”
“We actually got here about the same time,” Amanda said. “Speare arrived a little bit ago. Will the library be open tomorrow? We’ll have books to donate.”
Thinking about the box in Shannon’s closet, Doris uttered a squeak. “Books?”
Erin gestured toward the study that also served as a private library. “Mom and Dad’s library. It’s probably going to take all week to go through all of them.” She frowned. “My condo can only hold so much. I’m sure Speare will take the lion’s share.”
