Veiled in Death

by Stephanie Blackmoore

  “Rachel, you’re a genius.” I gave my sister an appreciative smile.

  But Becca just shook her head. “C’mon, you two, don’t you think he’s already tried that? The records are sealed.”

  Interesting, and unusual.

  I fleetingly wondered for the thousandth time in the last few days if I made the right decision concealing Tabitha’s revelations about witnessing Richard’s death. It must have been such a leaden burden for a young teen to carry around into adulthood. But it was Tabitha’s own secret, to do with as she wished.

  Still, a nagging feeling of doubt crept up between my shoulder blades like an unseasonal chill. Truman had his ways of questioning, an expertise honed over decades on the force and as chief. He might be able to tease out details and memories from Tabitha’s account that neither I nor she could ever imagine. And I was denying him that opportunity, and a chance to find out what had really happened to Richard Pierce.

  But there was no more time to think about it. Becca stared quizzically at me.

  “This is heavy stuff, Becca. And you’re definitely in the right here.” I dragged my eyes from her pretty brown ones and glanced at my watch. “But Rachel and I need to head over to the Antique Emporium. My ring is being repaired, and I’d like to pick it up today.” I gestured to my naked left hand.

  Becca nodded sagely. “I just assumed you and Garrett broke up!” she stated in a jaunty tone.

  Of course you did.

  But Becca’s presumptions knew no end. “And I’ll just join you two. We can strategize about my situation after you get your ring.”

  And with that the three of us set off. I wouldn’t be able to shake Becca today, but oh well. Even with all of my troubles and intrigues, my life really was simpler than hers, by dint of the fact that Helene Pierce was not my mother-in-law. Rachel placidly followed along, pleased as punch with her delicious turbo-charged malt shake, and giggling at my interactions with Becca.

  “Hello?” I cocked my head after we entered the Antique Emporium. Little Miri was crying somewhere in the store, and unbelievably, for once June wasn’t tending to the sweet baby.

  “This is probably your ring.” Rachel advanced toward the counter and picked up a pretty striped cream and pink bag. A pile of crumpled tissue paper lay beside it on the counter, with extra balled-up pieces on the floor. Rachel frowned. “But it looks like someone already helped themselves to the bag.”

  I took the little parcel from my sister. “I see what you mean.” Inside the bag was a little receipt written out to me for the repair, but marked paid in full. And a pretty black velvet jewelry box with Antique Emporium scrolled across the top in metallic red script resided in the bag, too. But the box was already open, and there was no ring inside.

  “Just great,” I groaned. “June appears to be missing, as is my ring. And most importantly, Miri is crying in here somewhere. Let’s find her, now.” My voice became frantic as the three of us split up to find the baby.

  “Oh, my goodness.” Becca’s yelp told me and my sister where to go. Miri was bawling her big brown eyes out, ensconced in a pretty antique crib with vines and roses and curlicues painted on the tan wood. “You sweet little girl. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay.” Becca lifted Miri into her arms, and gave her an expert series of pats. The infant calmed and seemed to regard Becca. I wordlessly retrieved a pacifier from the crib mattress and handed it to Becca. Miri accepted her binky, blinked a few times, and fell into a blissful if not exhausted-seeming slumber. She looked at peace nestling into Becca’s neck. And despite the strange circumstances we found ourselves in, Becca looked at peace, too.

  “So where in the heck is June?!” Rachel turned around in a circle, taking in the various knickknacks and endless rows of old wood wardrobes and cedar chests. I saw her take in more shallow breaths with her impending panic. “She could be anywhere.”

  “I don’t like this.” June was a doting, caring foster mama. There was no way she’d leave Miri unattended, even in a safe crib in her own store. Plus, it looked like some miscreant had already come and made off with my engagement ring. Something sinister was afoot, and I felt like we were going up against an invisible timer. The only respite was the cessation of Miri’s cries. I wondered dimly how long the sweet girl had been crying.

  I pushed past my sister into the final room in the back, a vestibule filled with even more heavy furniture. Most of the pieces were old china cabinets that were for sale, as well as serving as storage and display pieces for tea sets, crystal, and various other glass baubles.

  In the center of the room was a gorgeous crystal chandelier, the thousands of leaded crystal pieces reminiscent of the lovely earrings June had given me. And hanging from the centerpiece of the massive light fixture was no longer its usual crystal snowflake orb. The delicate ornament had been replaced by June herself, her face a lurid shade of purple, her legs dangling lifeless beneath.

  Becca hightailed it to the front of the store when she heard me scream.

  “Quick! Move!” Rachel pushed a high stool past me and positioned it beneath June.

  “Becca, call 911!” I hollered the order to the front of the store, hopeful Becca could hear me. “This is too short,” I moaned. Even my tall sister couldn’t reach the tie holding June up.

  I found a bucket and a piano bench and Mac-Gyvered a somewhat sturdy tower tall enough to reach June. This time Rachel held my legs while I strained on tiptoe with a pair of rusty garden shears from one room over. I cut June down and she fell to the hard ground in a sickening, seemingly lifeless thump. The wail of first responders’ vehicles advanced down the street. Becca, Rachel, and I stood as wordless sentinels when they carried June out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Thank you, girls.” June’s voice came out in a raspy whisper. She gave Rachel and me a tender and grateful smile. The doctors said it might be weeks for her normal voice to return. She’d been hanging from the chandelier for who knows how long. “If you hadn’t gotten there when you did, I might have been a goner.”

  The town was all abuzz with gossip over what had happened to the antique store owner. It was a titillating, if not macabre situation. First Claudia was gunned down with a replica musket at my failed event. Then June was found hanging, by Rachel, Becca, and yours truly in her own store. Half of Port Quincy thought June had hung herself in anguish over the loss of her mother, while the other half guessed it was something more sinister.

  And that was what June recollected. She touched the bandages covering the lurid bruises mottled at her throat and gave us a wince. “The last thing I can remember was packing up your ring, Mallory. I gave you a call to come pick it up. Then I fed Miri a bottle and set her in the crib while I ran to the bathroom.” June took in a restorative breath and closed her eyes. Her hands fluttered up to her neck once more. “When I emerged from the bathroom, someone was lying in wait. I felt something hard connect with my face.”

  June had more bruises and an egg-shaped lump smack-dab in the middle of her forehead to prove it.

  “My would-be killer”—June choked even more over the words—“probably strung me up then. But I can’t be sure.”

  “We’re just glad you’re alive.” I’d never forget the sweet advice and gentle push she’d given me to move up my wedding and make my commitment to Garrett and Summer official.

  “In a sick way, maybe this was meant to be.” June swiveled her gaze from my sister and me and seemed to peer out the window. “I know I talked a big game about being a better foster mother to Miri than I was a mother to Tabitha and Pia growing up. There is some truth to that.” She gulped down what seemed like a painful swallow and tore her eyes back to meet mine. “But it has been hard this summer running the store and caring for an infant on top of all that’s gone on.”

  I soothed her protestations. “This would be nearly impossible for anyone, June. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  “I won’t,” June said with a weak chuckle. “Some sicko already literally t
ook care of that.”

  I regretted my poor choice of words, but June didn’t seem to mind. “I do think it was meant to be. Becca Cunningham happening on Miri. I let my caseworker and the judge know that Becca is temporarily looking after the baby.” A serene smile lit up June’s face despite her bandages and lurid bruise. “We’ll see what comes of it. Hopefully something good.”

  Tabitha appeared in the doorway with a box of lavender tea. “I got your favorite, Mom.” She gave me a hug in thanks, and hesitated in front of Rachel. “Thank you for saving my mom.” Rachel gave Tabitha a hug in turn, a real one. Tabitha returned it, and I felt a whoosh of air leave my lungs.

  One grudge down, only several to go.

  It was a season of forgiveness, I supposed. First my own mother and Bev had seemed to move on from their silly enmity. And I hoped this embrace between Tabitha and Rachel was the start of a new beginning.

  “Pia’s getting together some more of your things at home, Mom.”

  We exchanged polite chitchat for a few more minutes, until June dozed off. My sister headed out to meet her boyfriend at the entrance, but I lingered to talk to Tabitha.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Tabitha grabbed my hands in hers. “For what? I really do owe you and your sister and Becca a debt of gratitude.”

  A large figure loomed in the doorway. “Mallory, Tabitha, hello.” Truman looked a bit standoffish as he regarded June’s eldest daughter. And Tabitha must have felt the same. She gave him an icy glare and crossed her arms against her vivid trapeze dress. “What do you want now?”

  Ouch.

  Her question for Truman was as much a warning as anything else. I’d never seen her so rude. But I guess she felt inclined to act that way, since Truman had all but accused her of selling items from her own historical society.

  “I’ve never wanted anything but the best for you, Tabitha.” Truman seemed momentarily chagrined. Tabitha answered him by shutting her mother’s hospital room door in his face.

  Double ouch.

  “I can’t help having to investigate her.” Truman wearily gestured toward the closed door. “No one likes to be on the receiving end of that. But it’s my job.” A flash of empathy crossed his face. “Besides, it’s got to be tough when your grandmother is newly murdered, and then your mother attempts suicide.”

  “Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “June was attacked. Whoever did this to that poor woman wanted it to look like suicide.”

  Right?

  Truman arched a brow. “It’s early still, Mallory. And the most likely reason usually is the one that ends up being correct.” He took in my frown of disagreement and changed the subject. “I’m sorry your ring got stolen. But I was so happy to hear that you and Garrett are moving up the wedding.”

  It was the first time I’d seen my fiancé’s father since our decision. I basked in the glow of his happiness for Garrett and me, but some part of my brain was still irritated. Why couldn’t he just take June at her word that she’d been attacked rather than attempting suicide? Or Tabitha’s word, for that matter, that things were disappearing from the historical society?

  Truman seemed to harbor a grudge against the Battles women, and it manifested in an acute case of needless suspicion. I was a bit cool with Truman as we chatted about the moved-up ceremony plans, and I knew he caught my chilly vibe. I quickly excused myself to attend to a happier visit at the hospital.

  I took the elevator down two floors to the maternity unit, just in time for visiting hours to start. Olivia’s last-minute baby shower was to have started right about now. But she’d canceled the event, and for good reason. She’d gone into labor in the wee hours of the morning, and delivered her son around noon.

  “Mallory!” Olivia ushered me in as best she could from her perch on the hospital bed. “Come meet my little guy, Sebastian.” She happily showed off her itty-bitty son. I held him briefly with the same sense of aching wonder I felt when June had first passed Miri to me.

  “Toby went out to get an extra-large pizza. Hawaiian with double pineapple.” Olivia seemed to swoon at the mere thought of the takeout due to arrive.

  I broke the news of my sped-up nuptials. “I guess you won’t get to be a bridesmaid,” I told my friend. “Unless you feel up to it.” Olivia clapped in excitement. “See? I knew we’d be able to turn this accident-ridden month around.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her about the grisly yet fortunate discovery of June. But Olivia already knew. She picked my brain for all the lurid details, and at the end, found the silver lining yet again.

  “I can’t say I’m unhappy that Miri is with Becca and Keith.” Olivia grew pensive. “I’m not sure if it’ll all work out. Becca and Keith are not officially foster parents, but judges have made exceptions before.” Her gaze grew wistful. “I chatted quite a bit with Becca in the waiting room of the OB’s office this spring. She was undergoing fertility treatments, and I know how much she wants a baby.”

  I decided to spare Olivia the details of Becca and Keith’s attempted surrogate pitch on yours truly.

  “You know what would be super sweet?” Olivia’s face broke out into a grin. “You might want to stop by June’s place and get some of Miri’s favorite things, and bring them to Becca and Keith.”

  I clapped a hand to my forehead. “Becca’s going to need more than that! A crib, diapers, a changing table . . .” My mind went back to the flotilla of baby gifts I’d accepted today despite Olivia’s shower getting canceled.

  Olivia smiled again. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Becca may have jumped the gun just a bit. She already has a nursery ready to go, with the drawers filled with neutral clothing, wipes, a mobile, the whole works.”

  Of course, she did.

  I gave my friend a hug and set off to complete my new task.

  “Oh, and Mallory?” Olivia called out one last thing as I made my way to the door. “Be a support for Becca, would you?”

  “Of course!”

  Becca wasn’t my favorite. I’d never forget the photos sent to me detailing her initial affair with Keith while we were engaged. But we’d had a number of close calls and inadvertent adventures over the years to become somewhat, grudgingly, friendly. I returned for one last hug, grateful for Olivia’s optimism.

  * * *

  Half an hour later I pulled into June’s driveway. I had the address, and was helped by finding Pia’s Nissan Versa parked at the top.

  “Mallory.” Pia flung open the door and gave me a hearty embrace. “You saved Mom.”

  “It was the least we could do.” I followed her into the house. Pia was packing a pile of what looked like June’s favorite things into a pretty brocade suitcase.

  “Mom is still weak, but she’ll enjoy having her thrillers, her own fuzzy socks and slippers, and lots and lots of lemon candy for her throat.” Pia placed each item into the luggage with tender care, and patted the top closed. I couldn’t help but recall the moment that seemed to have set off the deadly domino effect this month, beginning with finding the veil buried within the lining of a different suitcase.

  We headed upstairs over creaky yet charming farmhouse boards to reach baby Miri’s nursery. The pretty house was like a miniature, less cluttered version of the Antique Emporium, with whimsical pieces of Americana decorating the walls and small tables.

  “Mom was so worried for when Miri began walking.” Pia gestured to the tables topped with delicate ceramics and mirrors. “All of this would have to be put away.”

  But the infant’s room was a soft and bright haven of yellow, green, and cream. An antique quilt hung over one wall, and I recognized a similar crib anchoring one corner of the room, just like the one we’d found the baby in yesterday.

  “Let’s see. She loves this rattle. And I may as well give Becca all her clothes and diapers and binkies.”

  We worked in companionable silence loading up board books and baby items into another suitcase. Pia finally began to grow pensive.

  “Losi
ng Grandma Claudia, then almost losing Mom, has really brought some things into clarity for me.” She took a deep breath. “Did you know June has never told me who my father is?”

  I dropped a pile of onesies with a start. “Um, no. That’s a pretty big deal. Not to be poking my nose into your familial business, but is it possible she doesn’t know?” I recalled June alluding to the fact that it had been hard to raise the girls without either of their fathers.

  But Pia shook her head. “Mom was married to Tabitha’s dad, and he passed away. But I do know my mom had a relationship with my father.” She rolled her eyes and left the room, returning with a grainy, yellowed photo from the local newspaper, the Eagle Standard. “One day, five years ago, I think she thought she could stop my badgering by telling me that this dude was the one.”

  The picture heralded a local chemistry professor, and there was a portrait topping his obituary. “Hm. Genes can be recessive, but you really don’t look a thing like him.”

  Pia burst out laughing. “I know. I’ve even done those genealogical DNA things to see if something comes up. So far, nada.”

  Pia’s voice grew low. “Claudia knew.”

  Excuse me?

  My incredulous look said it all.

  “She promised me she’d tell me on my birthday this year.”

  “Which is in two weeks.” I knew from Pia’s new-hire paperwork that we’d soon be celebrating her birthday.

  “But something spooked Grandma. We’d even done a super-secret pinky swear promise when I was eighteen. And last year, when I turned twenty-four, Grandma took me out for a shot of whiskey at one of the distilleries, and reiterated her promise. But two days before she died, she wanted to push the reveal out a few years.” A flicker of fear marred Pia’s pretty looks. “What made Claudia so afraid to tell me? Why change her mind?” Pia showed a brief flash of anger, hurt, and disbelief in her pretty green gimlet eyes that matched her sister Tabitha’s, a striking feature both girls had inherited from June.

  “And why wait to tell you precisely when you turn twenty-five? Or even go against your mom’s obvious wishes not to tell?”