by Nancy Basile
“Your secret’s safe with me.” Robin mimicked zipping her lips.
The minister stood, which brought Robin to her feet. “I must be off. Sadly, I have a funeral up the river in Ohio. That’s my job, overseeing beginnings and endings.” She shook Robin’s hand.
“Do you mind if I stay for a minute?” Rev. Littrell frowned and cocked her head. “I’d like to say a prayer for my sister and Jenn.”
The minister’s face cleared. “Oh! Of course, my dear. God’s house is always open.” She patted Robin’s shoulder and scooted out the door, her polyester dress swishing as she went.
Robin sat again, folding her hands in her lap. She’d always found this tiny sanctuary so comforting. She supposed everyone felt that way about their place of worship, but the church’s coziness brought back her warm memories of Christmas Eve and Easter morning services, and when the congregation would sing to her for her birthday.
She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to whomever was listening, asking for happiness and peace for Jenn and Deb. Then she prayed for Roy’s soul, wherever it was, to find rest. His chalky face, pale lips, and wide eyes filled Robin’s mind. She added a prayer that, although he’d found few friends in life, he would find his loved ones in the afterlife.
“Amen.” She slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and walked up the aisle, gazing at the story of the Good Samaritan in the window at the back of the church. Outside, the dappled shade provided a cool oasis before she melted in the heat of the parking lot.
Robin started when a woman appeared from behind an old oak tree. Her breath escaped in a whoosh when she saw the woman was Jodi. “You gave me quite a fright.”
Jodi hiked her handbag on her shoulder and came closer. “Sorry about that. After our last meeting, I was afraid if you saw me from the church steps you might run before I could talk to you.”
“Never.” Robin squeezed Jodi’s arm. “I know I upset you. You weren’t yourself.” She looked around and saw Jodi’s car in the parking lot next to her Subie. “How did you know I was here?”
“I was on my way to work at Pasture and saw your car.” Both the church and the casino were on Route 2. Jodi swallowed. “Can we talk?” She pointed to the church steps. The two women sat down on the cool concrete. A cardinal chirped from the depths of the oak tree and a slight breeze carried the scent of honeysuckle from across the road.
For a moment, Robin worried about being alone with Jodi. Chris’s warning that the killer was still on the loose came back to her. But when Robin looked at Jodi, all she could see was her 4-H friend, who used to wander up and down the small animal aisles with her cooing over the rabbits and baby chicks. She couldn’t see Jodi as a murderer. “What’s up?”
Jodi looked tired. Her eyes were red and her beautiful face was puffy. “I need to ask you a question, but I can’t tell you why.”
Robin pressed her lips together. “Okay, but you know you can trust me, right? I only came to your house the other day because I wanted to give you Roy’s message. I just want to help.”
“I know.” Jodi wrung her hands in her lap, facing the river. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. You’re the most trustworthy person I know. Well, except for Bruce.” Saying her husband’s name made her smile. “I just can’t tell you why I need your help.” Jodi suddenly brightened and looked at Robin. “Remember that time in 4-H, when I slipped you that hinky carrot right before the judge came to my table? You took it, no questions asked, and slipped it into your satchel.”
Grinning, Robin nodded her head. “That carrot belonged in a carnival freak show.”
Jodi laughed. “I swear someone could have used it for a voodoo doll.”
It was good to see Jodi’s face light up, even if only for a minute. Robin sobered. “What do you need me to do?”
An explosive breath escaped Jodi’s mouth. “I need you to find out who killed Roy.”
Robin goggled. “That’s a tall order.”
“I know.” Jodi swallowed. “But you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. I know Chris thinks I did it. He came to the house.” She turned pleading eyes on Robin. “But I swear, I didn’t kill Roy.”
“Jodi, I don’t even know how to go about looking for his killer. I’m a web traffic analyst, not a detective.”
“You’re sort of a detective.” Jodi rested her hand on Robin’s shoulder. “When you were always fussing with computers in school, didn’t you tell me you loved connecting the dots, finding patterns in data? Isn’t that like detective work?”
Robin’s eyebrows came together, and she stared at the brush across the road. Honeysuckle blanketed the bank, bobbing in the breeze, offering nectar to the bumblebees traveling from one bud to the next.
In a way, Jodi was right. Robin was a detective of sorts, searching for clues and answers in her clients’ web traffic numbers. “I’ve done some research at the library because I swear something isn’t adding up. But that isn’t the same as tracking down a murderer. Chris is really—”
“Before you say no—” Jodi held up her hand, “I want you to think about something.” She let a heartbeat pass. “Roy gave you a message to pass on to me, so you’re already mixed up in his murder. I know you, Robin Pearce. You see things through to the end, no matter how hard things get.”
Robin sighed. “That’s true, but this isn’t my thing.”
“You and I both know that Chris will come to arrest me soon. You’re the only one I trust to clear my name and find the real killer.”
Closing her eyes, Robin hung her head. “You’re killing me Jenkins.”
The corners of Jodi’s mouth lifted at Robin’s use of her maiden name. She knew she’d won. “It’s Clark, now, Pearce, try to remember.” She threw her arms around Robin, knocking the breath from her lungs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“I can’t promise anything,” Robin wheezed. “But I’ll try.”
Jodi let go. “That’s all I can ask.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stood up. “I gotta get to work.”
The two women parted. Robin watched Jodi’s car pull onto the road, wondering where to even begin to look for Roy’s killer.
Chapter 19
Robin pinched the bridge of her nose in the inner corners of her eyes. She needed a break. A break from the wedding hubbub and a break from thinking about Roy Cooter’s murder.
When she packed for this trip, she had fretted over running into former classmates and what they would say to her — if would they tease her, make fun of her, like the old days — and what she would say in return. Right now, she would give her noise-canceling headphones if that was the most she had to worry about.
She opened the back door and strode toward the garden. The freshly cut lawn smelled sweet and tangy, with a hint of dank from the creek. Her father puttered in the garden, watering plants and hoeing weeds between the rows of vegetables and cutting flowers. Zinnias bobbed next to budding pepper plants, and foxglove swayed next to caged tomato plants.
She snagged a watering can that hung on a stake at the corner of the garden. Her father paused to smile at her, then went back to watering. She took the watering can to the creek, where a small bend created a deeper pool, then dunked the can to fill it. The water chilled her hand, a pleasant respite from the summer warmth. Returning to the garden, she watered plants beginning in the opposite corner from her father, planning to meet him in the middle.
As a little girl, this was her favorite summer chore. Jenn had been too impatient to water the plants thoroughly, so her father always asked Robin to help. She would spend a little too long at the creek and pretend she wasn’t there just to get wet. But mostly, she loved spending time alone with her father.
After she’d watered a few plants, her father stood and stretched his back, his salt and pepper hair poking out from under his John Deere ball cap. “Are you feeling a little at sixes and sevens?” He squinted at her in the sun.
Robin shielded her eyes with her hand. “What do you mea
n?”
Her father chuckled. “You’re wearing a silk sundress and those shoes don’t look like garden clogs to me.”
She leveled a look at him. “You know what they say, ‘You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.’” She poured cool water on a few beets.
He chuckled again. “Good point.” He bent and watered the zucchini. Robin moved onto the okra. “I figured between the wedding and this business with Roy you were out of sorts.”
How did he know her so well? “Will you hold it against me if I say you’re right?”
He grinned under the brim of his cap. “Course not. Why do you think I’m out here?”
It was her turn to grin. “I just have all these emotions boiling inside me, like they’re going to spill over and burn me if I’m not careful.”
Her father nodded. “Uh huh. Do you remember when you were five and had pneumonia?” He emptied his watering can, shaking out the last few drops. He walked to the stream to refill his can, his feet swishing through the grass.
She called after him. “Yeah, but not much.” She stood, squinting to see him in the sun, and waited for him to return.
When he did, he nodded, then bent to his task, watering the cosmos. “I remember it pretty well. I was so worried. You were so little, zipped up in your oxygen tent, clutching your stuffed bunny.”
“Oh, yeah. Hoppy.” The corner of her mouth quirked as she remembered her neon yellow stuffed rabbit that kept her company when her parents couldn’t be there. She emptied her can, but stayed to hear what her father had to say.
“What you never knew, was the mill was laying off workers. I was terrified I was going to lose my job.”
A weight pressed on her heart. “Oh, Dad.”
He moved his watering can on to the marigolds. “We would have had to move because jobs were drying up in steel mills all over the valley. I didn’t know how to do anything else, and where’s a stove tender going to get work? We would have lost our health insurance, everything.”
She swallowed, imagining the stress he must have shouldered. And she and Jenn had never known.
He stood up and pressed his hand into his lower back. “Obviously, I didn’t lose my job and you’re healthy as a horse. But it was a tough row to hoe.” He winked. “Pun intended.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course not. That’s how I wanted it. You kids didn’t need to know any of that, especially you, in the hospital.” He surveyed the garden, looking for dry patches in the dirt. “Meantime, I couldn’t share much with your mother because she had Jenn to look after.”
Her father was such an easygoing man you would never know that he ever shouldered such heavy burdens. He was always quick to smile or give a hug. Still waters run deep.
“My point is,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her, “‘this too shall pass.’ Everything you’re feeling about your sister getting married, well, I know you. You’re happy for her, but there’s a little bit of sadness in there, too.”
“Everything will change.” A lump appeared in her throat and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. Her father had put words to something she didn’t even realize she’d been feeling. “I know she’ll always be there for me, but now when I see her, we won’t be alone. Deb will be there. And she won’t have time to call as much. And—”
“I know.” He stepped over the radishes and carrots to stand next to her. With one arm, he pulled her into a hug. She closed her eyes, holding the tears at bay, breathing in his Old Spice. “But life has seasons. It won’t always be that way. And you’re going to meet someone and the same thing will happen to you.” She blew her lips, sounding like an incredulous horse. “It will happen. And then you’ll both be busy. But one day,” he pulled away to look into her face, “you two will be older, your kids will be grown up, and suddenly, you’ll have all this time to be together. Do you think your mom and I ever thought we’d have time for each other after you two were born? Heck, we were so busy chasing after you two, we were lucky if we said more than two sentences to each other all day. And we were so tired at night, there certainly wasn’t any pillow talk.”
She wrinkled her nose and held up her hand before he could continue. “All right. Picture painted.”
He laughed and let her go. “It will be a busy time, sure, but a joyous time. Just remember, life has seasons.”
Life. A vision of Roy bleeding out in the road filled her mind. The killer robbed him of those seasons. Roy would never get married, have kids, grow old.
Her father frowned. “You look pretty serious. Thinking about Roy?”
“Yeah. I can’t get his face out of my head. His eyes.”
“You’re so much like your mother.”
“What?” Where did that come from? She was nothing like her mother. You wouldn’t catch Robin slaving away all day in the kitchen. She was more likely to hit the prepared food section at the grocery store or call for takeout.
“Tenacious. Like a dog with a bone.” Robin stared at him. “You heard me. Your mother is one tough cookie, and you get your strength from her.”
Robin had always known her mother was tough, but mainly tough to deal with. “What are you talking about?”
He cocked his head. “Do you think it’s easy raising two girls pretty much on your own while your husband is working double shifts at the mill? Don’t you remember her volunteering for all those committees at church and at school? She didn’t do that for herself. She did it for you girls, keeping her hand in, making sure she knew what her girls were up to and who they were spending time with.”
She thought back to all those meetings her mother had dragged them to, Crayons and coloring books in hand to keep them busy. “I just thought she enjoyed doing the work, being in charge. Like that was her job instead of, well, a job-job.”
He shook his head. “Nope. And it isn’t easy living in a small town, as you can attest.” She chewed on her upper lip. “Your mom grew up in Wheeling, which isn’t a big city, like Cleveland, but it’s bigger than River Sutton, that’s for sure. The other women held up everything she ever said or did for judgement. You know what I mean.”
Robin nodded. She did. She loved the people of River Sutton, but she also knew there was a wide streak of gossipmonger in all of them. If something juicy happened, they were like vultures, waiting to swoop in and pick apart the carcass. “I guess I never saw her like that.”
“Of course, you didn’t. You were a kid. You’re not supposed to.” He took her watering can from her. “Parents have to hide that part of themselves because kids are too young to understand that it’s just part of life and everything will be okay in the end. I’m just saying, you’re taking on Roy’s death and it isn’t yours to bear. It’s the sheriff’s duty to find his killer.”
“But I made a promise.” She made an unspoken promise to Roy. Now a spoken promise to Jodi.
He pressed his lips together, but then the corners turned up. “And you never break a promise. It’s part of who you are. But remember, if it gets to be too much, you don’t have to bear it alone.” He bent and kissed the top of her head. She watched him hang the watering cans back on the stake, then go into the house.
Suddenly she missed him so much it would overwhelm her. Her chest squeezed until it was almost painful. He had a knack of shining a light on problems to make them seem so simple, so clear. She hadn’t talked like this with him in forever. In a startling realization, she knew — no, felt — their lives spinning past them. Life was short, and she wasn’t paying attention to the people who were most important to her. That needed to change.
She scanned the garden again, looking for any dry patches her father missed. But like everything else he tackled, her father was thorough. Closing her eyes and raising her face to the sun, she breathed deeply, then returned to the house.
Chapter 20
The next day flew by in a flurry of wedding to-dos. Jenn dispatched Robin to supervise th
e floral delivery at the church, while her mother went to the country club to oversee the setup of tables, centerpieces, and the bar.
Gowns were picked up, tuxedos were delivered, wedding party gifts were distributed, and favors were deposited at the country club, after Deb realized she hadn’t dropped them off yet.
Both the Pearce and the Snyder families came together for the wedding rehearsal at the United Methodist Church. Rev. Littrell nearly twittered with excitement and anticipation.
The minister quickly ran through the various stages of the ceremony, with the organist playing snippets of each accompanying song. Friends and family passed around a truckload of tissues, and no one could quit smiling.
Finally, the rehearsal was over, and they carpooled to The Last Canary, a brewpub that sat at the edge of Prospector Park, the local golf course. The hostess led them through the bar to the private party room. They milled about until each person found their place card at the long table in the center of the room. Robin ended up in the middle of the table, facing the outer room. She was between two of Jenn’s friends she met at a girls’ weekend awhile back — Colby and Angela — who were Jenn’s attendants, and across from one of Deb’s friends from college, who was standing up for Deb. The women chatted over each other, sharing stories about Jenn and Deb before they met each other.
Midway through dinner, Robin excused herself to use the ladies’ room. She wound through the tight spaces between tables, attempting not to knock over drinks with her hips. When she exited the restroom, a towering man pushed his way through the crowd straight toward her. She didn’t realize who it was until he was standing in front of her. Bruce Clark. He cornered her in the short hallway outside the restrooms. His hair was unkempt and his eyes were rimmed with red.
“I thought I saw you.” His words came out slurred. Robin inhaled through her mouth after she caught a strong whiff of whiskey on his breath. “You always did have a stick up your butt. Always thinking you know better than everyone else.”
