Three Widows and a Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “Kent Wilder has hired me to stage his new listing. It’s an adorable little cottage. I know exactly how I’m going to stage it.” Claire’s face shone with excitement and her eyes were hopeful.

  “Why do you need a retail shop?”

  “Because I’m going to sell home accents to complement my staging business. This way, I’ll have two revenue streams. I have ideas for this shop.” Claire twirled and swept her arms out wide. “So many ideas!”

  Words failed Hope. She couldn’t recall the last time her sister had twirled. She chewed on her lower lip as everything Claire had just told her settled in. “You haven’t talked about opening a shop before. I’m a little surprised.”

  “Well, you didn’t talk about starting a blog. You just did it one weekend.”

  “My starting a blog was a little different.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Claire was giving her the stink eye, challenging her comment. “I mean, it was a hobby back then. I still had a full-time job.”

  Claire’s face tightened, and she squinted. “What are you saying exactly? Are you saying I can’t do this? I shouldn’t do this?”

  “No, no, no. I’m saying . . . Look, starting a business is a big deal.” Hope’s stomach knotted. Her sister’s intense glare wasn’t easing up. “You know what’s involved in running a business. You’re incredibly talented when it comes to decorating. Your advice is priceless to your clients. You know how their homes need to look so they can sell.”

  “Stop buttering me up.”

  “Fine. While you have the knowledge of the real estate market, and the skill for decorating, what do you know about running a retail store?”

  Claire’s brows furrowed.

  “When you’re out staging a house, who’ll be working here? Retail shops are open evenings and weekends.”

  Claire’s angry face slipped away, and she looked around the empty store. Hope detected her sister hadn’t thought out her plan.

  “Hey, I love you. I want you to be happy, but I also want you to be smart. You can do anything you want. I believe that. Just don’t rush into something. Maybe start with home staging working from your house. That way you’ll keep the flexibility you had as a real estate agent.”

  Claire’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll think about everything you’ve said.”

  “Promise?”

  “Pinky swear.”

  “The kids are at sleepovers tonight and Andy is in Michigan, right?” When her sister nodded, Hope wrapped an arm around Claire’s shoulder. “Why don’t we have a sleepover of our own?”

  “Can we watch Sleepless in Seattle?”

  “And we’ll have popcorn and watch in our jammies. Sound good?”

  Claire nodded. “I need to get going. I have to meet Kent.”

  Claire locked up and walked to her car, while Hope headed to the police department. She hadn’t seen Ethan in what felt like forever. Their only contact had been quick calls and texts. Every day there was a new headline and arrest. He had his hands full. She hoped to convince him to take a coffee break so they could talk. Something they hadn’t been doing a lot of lately.

  Hope reached the police department and followed the path to the front entrance. Would she be able to get some one-on-one time with Ethan? Before she reached the door, it opened, and Miranda Whitcomb appeared, blocking the entrance.

  “They’ve released you?” Hope sputtered, coming to a quick stop.

  “It’s about time. I had to spend two nights in there!” Miranda pointed to the one-story brick building behind her. Her hair was unwashed and tousled. Her eyes were bloodshot and heavy with exhaustion. “Because they considered me a flight risk. Ha! Well, let me tell you. I can’t wait to get out of this awful town.”

  “Ms. Whitcomb, we should go,” said the short man in a suit behind Miranda, who Hope guessed was her attorney.

  “Are you going back to the inn?” Hope asked.

  “Yes. I need a shower.” Miranda brushed by Hope with the short man following. But she stopped and looked back at Hope. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. Lionel was a horrible man who didn’t care about his wife or child.”

  The short man prompted Miranda to continue walking toward the parking lot.

  Hope walked to the building’s front door. Inside, Ethan met her in the lobby and explained he had a few spare minutes.

  “Everything okay?” He led her away from the dispatcher’s station behind the partition glass.

  “Yes. I was hoping you could take a break, but I’m guessing you can’t.”

  “Sorry. It’s hectic.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  Hope knew his stiff neck came from sleeping on the sofa in his office. When was the last time he went home? He was in need of a good night’s sleep and a shave.

  “I can bring you something back,” she offered.

  “You already did.” He lowered his mouth to hers and their lips touched. His kiss was gentle, though the heat that was kicked up in Hope was anything but gentle. It surged through her, ratcheting up her internal temperature. Remembering they were in a public place, she reluctantly pulled away, but with a satisfied smile.

  “Guess I did.” She laced her fingers with his.

  “Look, I have to . . .”

  “I know. You have to get back to work. Call me later?” She released his hand. “I ran into Miranda on my way in. Kitty’s been released?”

  Ethan nodded. “Yes, she was. Yesterday. We have two confessions with little evidence to back them up and the murder weapon found at Elaine’s house. See why I’ve been here around the clock?”

  “Maretta must be all over this.”

  As if on cue, the main entrance opened and the mayor swept in and eyeballed Ethan as her lips pinched together. “Chief, what on earth is going on? Three suspects all released? Two of them confessed? In your office, now!” She barreled through the lobby to the entry door into the inner offices. She grabbed the handle and twisted, but when the door didn’t open, she turned to Ethan and scowled.

  Hope leaned into Ethan. “She has to be buzzed in, right?”

  “Yep.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Gotta go.” He stepped away from Hope but hesitated. “Almost forgot. We’re keeping the specifics of the search at Elaine’s house confidential for now.”

  “Got it. I won’t say anything.”

  “Thanks.” Ethan continued toward Maretta, swiping his ID to open the door for her.

  Hope turned to shield her laughter. It really wasn’t a funny situation. But it was. She quickly exited, and outside she texted Drew. He was on his way back to the newspaper from interviewing Iva and said he’d meet her at The Coffee Clique.

  The sun peeked through the clouds, and Hope didn’t want to stay inside, so she ordered two coffees to go. She sat on a bench outside the store Claire had just rented and waited for Drew. Many of the businesses on Main Street had outdoor decorations, including benches and blooming flower containers. Soon mums, pumpkins, and bales of hay would replace the late summer decor.

  Hope held out one cup to Drew as he approached. “Coffee alfresco. Nice change.”

  “I thought so.” She sipped her coffee.

  Drew sat and then took a long drink of his beverage. “Did you really hire Iva to work for you?”

  “I did. She showed up today, and I was impressed by how well she did with the chickens.”

  “She didn’t barbecue them?”

  “Drew!”

  He chuckled. “I couldn’t resist. Make sure you count your chickens when they come back to the coop. Okay, now for business. Iva said Elaine hired a caterer for yesterday.”

  “She did? I guess Reid really did break up the party. I didn’t know there was food.” Hope slid down her sunglasses from the top of her head onto the bridge of her nose. Why couldn’t Elaine have hired a caterer for the funeral reception? Because she had Hope, that was why. She really needed to work on saying no to people. “Wait. This means there was someone else in the house besides Iva and Elaine.”

  “
Exactly. I’m going to check out the caterer.”

  “Good idea. Oh, Ethan told me they’re keeping details of the search confidential for now.”

  “I know. I’m not mentioning it in this article. You know, if the caterer planted the gun, we may have been looking at this all wrong. Maybe the intended victim was Maurice.”

  Hope’s mind churned with possibilities. Drew could have been on to something. The killer could have been at the restaurant to confront Maurice. Maybe the killer was lying in wait for Maurice or planned to lure him outside, but Lionel showed up and got in the way. Then, determined to finish his job, the killer returned to the restaurant and ran Maurice down.

  Professional kitchens could be cutthroat. The reality shows that showcased them didn’t need to work very hard at fabricating drama.

  Hope and Drew finished their coffees in silence. Hope figured Drew was also working out theories in his mind.

  “What are you thinking?” He lifted his shades from his face.

  She glanced at her watch. “I’m thinking I should get going. Let me know what you find out about the caterer.” She stood.

  “Of course.” Drew leaned back. “I’m going to chill for a few minutes before going back to the office.” He lowered his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose and let his head fall back.

  Hope adjusted her purse strap and sipped her coffee as she walked away from the bench. On her walk home, she mentally went through a list of all the local caterers she knew and tried to remember the restaurants where Maurice worked before the Avery Bistro. Being away from town for several years, she wasn’t certain of his work history. She’d check online when she got home. Had Maurice really been the target all along?

  Could Lionel have been collateral damage?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “How’s it going over there?” Hope looked over her shoulder as she placed the flatware in the dishwasher.

  Claire stood vigilant at the microwave, watching the clock countdown. Popcorn could burn in a split second.

  “Any minute.” Popcorn was one of the few treats Claire allowed herself during the week, and she indulged in a gourmet brand she ordered online. While her sister preferred to make it the old-fashioned way on the stovetop, she insisted on bringing a bag of her stash.

  Hope closed the dishwasher door and set the controls. “The movie’s all set when we’re ready.” She grabbed a cleaning cloth and wiped down the island. She’d been doing it obsessively ever since she found Princess sitting on the countertop. She wanted to be irritated with the cat, but Princess had been purring and loving since the incident, making it impossible for her to stay angry at her.

  The microwave beeped and Claire pulled out the bag. She carefully vented it before ripping it open to pour the popcorn into a large bowl. Hope discarded the cloth and moved to the stovetop. There was no more wonderful sight than melted sweet butter. She lifted the small pot of bubbly goodness.

  “I’m glad we’re having this sleepover. After the movie, I’ll tell you what I have planned for the shop, and wait until you hear my marketing plan for the staging business. I think I have a new client. Bella Graham—she owns the lavender Victorian on Apple Hill Road—called me today. She’s selling.”

  “Another client? Fabulous. Your staging business will take off, I’m certain.” Hope poured the butter over the popcorn. “You may not even need the shop.” With the pot empty, she set it on a trivet and then, with a spoon, tossed the popcorn, coating every kernel. She couldn’t resist and popped a kernel into her mouth.

  Claire pulled back from the island. “You still don’t think I can make a go of a shop, do you?”

  “I didn’t say that. To be honest, I don’t understand why you want a shop.”

  “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you, of all people.” Claire grabbed the bowl and tramped over to the sofa.

  So much for a fun evening.

  Hope rinsed the pot and set it to soak with soapy hot water. After wiping her hands on a towel, she joined her sister on the sofa, in the spot where Bigelow liked to curl up when he thought Hope wasn’t around. For the night, she’d sent him over to the Madisons’. When she dropped him off before Claire arrived, he’d looked ecstatic as he ran off in the yard with Buddy.

  “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to explain. Because I can’t figure it out.”

  Claire huffed, then leaned forward and put the bowl on the coffee table with a thump. “I need a challenge. I’ve sold real estate for fifteen years and I’m bored.”

  “Opening a retail store is risky.” Hope did a quick calculation of what her sister had to invest, and it was mind-boggling the number she came up with. Inventory, utilities, insurance, and staff, and she was sure she was missing other expenses.

  “Pish.” Claire waved away Hope’s concern.

  “Pish? Seriously?”

  “I’m aware of the financial risk, and so is Andy. We’re both entrepreneurs. We understand what’s at stake. Besides, I have years of experience.”

  “Of selling houses. Not running a brick-and-mortar store. Why can’t you stage houses until you’ve established yourself in that field and then expand?”

  “Why can’t you support me?” Claire stood. “I can’t believe you’re behaving like this. Are you worried you won’t be the only successful Early sister?”

  “What? Now you’re being crazy. You’ve been very successful, more so than me over the years.”

  “Until I lost the mayor’s race.”

  “Is that what this is about? Losing the race doesn’t define you.”

  “Losing the race made me see I’m stuck. I need a change. It would be nice if my sister understood and supported me.” Claire’s cheeks puffed out and her neck corded. She swung around and stomped out of the room.

  “I do support you!” There was no reasoning with Claire at the moment. Hope wasn’t going to apologize for being concerned.

  So much for movie night.

  She swiped up the bowl and stood. On her way to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. She glanced at her watch and wondered who was visiting so late. On her way to the foyer, she dropped the bowl on the island, after grabbing a handful of kernels. It was nice not to have to race Bigelow to the door. Before she reached it, she popped the kernels in her mouth. She had to admit the gourmet microwave popcorn was good.

  Hope opened the door and almost choked on her mouthful of popcorn. She hadn’t expected to see Kitty again. Yet there she was, standing on the welcome mat.

  The last time she’d come to the house, she’d stormed out, giving Hope cause to be wary of this unexpected visit.

  “I apologize for showing up without calling, but I worried if I called, you’d hang up on me.” Kitty glanced downward.

  Hope had swallowed her popcorn. “I wouldn’t have hung up on you. But I’m surprised you’d want to see me.”

  Kitty looked up and met Hope’s gaze. Her hair hung below her shoulders, flyaways untamed and her part uneven. “I owe you an apology. I behaved poorly. And, boy, have I made a mess out of everything. Because of me, my mom was in jail.” Regret flashed in Kitty’s eyes.

  “You’re here, so you might as well come in.” Hope opened the door wider and Kitty entered. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Water, please.” Kitty followed Hope into the kitchen and stopped at the island while Hope retrieved a glass from an upper cabinet and turned on the faucet. “I shouldn’t have confessed to killing Lionel Whitcomb to help my mother.”

  Hope set the glass on the island in front of Kitty. “It could have hurt the investigation into the real killer.”

  “You don’t believe my mother is the killer either?” Kitty pulled a hair tie from her back pocket and fingered her hair, gathering it together into a ponytail. She looked more like the enthusiastic kitchen manager Hope met over a week ago. Except for her sad eyes.

  “No. She confessed to protect you.” Hope leaned her forearms on the island and clasped her hands. She wasn’t sure how she could
help Kitty, but she was willing to listen. Sometimes people just needed to be heard.

  “Mom said that’s also why she lied about Ken being my father. I know she loves me, but I’m having a hard time dealing with the lies.”

  “I’m sure you two will work it out.” Just like Hope believed she and Claire would get past their little tiff.

  Kitty lifted the glass and took a drink of water. “At least now we know who killed Lionel. It was Elaine.”

  “They arrested her on a weapon’s charge, but I don’t think she’s guilty of the murders.”

  “You don’t?” Kitty set the glass on the countertop. “Who else could’ve killed him? The gun was found in her laundry room.”

  “There could be another explanation.” Hope’s cell phone rang and she went over to the table to snatch it up. “Excuse me.” She swiped on the phone. “Hey, Drew.”

  “I talked to the caterer. He didn’t know Maurice.” Drew sounded disappointed.

  “Are you certain? Do you believe him?”

  “He seemed to be honest, but I’ll do more digging. He told me he saw a woman who wasn’t Elaine or Iva come sneaking out of the house when he was closing up his van.”

  Jocelyn came to mind. “Could he identify the woman he saw while delivering the food?”

  “No. He was in a hurry. He had another stop and was running late.”

  “It sounds like the caterer is a dead end. Call me when you have something.” Hope ended the call and set the phone back on the table. Something niggled at her brain. Something Kitty had said.

  The gun was found in her laundry room.

  How did Kitty know the gun was found in the laundry room? The police hadn’t shared the location of the find.

  She turned around to face Kitty. She gasped.

  Kitty stood solid, her eyes wild with fury, her hand gripping a chef’s knife.

  “What’s going on, Kitty?” She glanced at the knife block on the island. There was an empty slot.

  “Shut up! Step away from the table.” She jabbed the knife forward. “Move!”

  Hope did as she was ordered. She put more space between her and the table and, unfortunately, her phone too. Damn. She had to think fast about how to disarm Kitty and get herself and Claire out of the house alive.