by Linda Reilly
The dog licked Lara’s hand, then rested her head against Felicia’s shoulder.
“Aw, she’s mummy’s best girl, isn’t she?” Felicia cooed to the pup.
Lara thought it was so sweet the way Felicia adored her dog. She wished every pet owner could be as kind.
“Are you back for more goodies?” Felicia asked, a smile lighting up her face.
“I’m sure I won’t leave here without some treats,” Lara assured her. “When I was here with my friend the other day, we were on our way to an appointment. I don’t think I got to see everything.”
“Well, you take your time and browse all you like. But before you do, would you like a taste of my raspberry coconut tea? So perfect for a chilly winter day. I created the blend myself, and I have to say, I’m quite proud of it.”
Lara had already had her fill of coffee. She didn’t know if she could squeeze in even a drop of tea. “Normally I would, but then I’m afraid I’d have to find a bathroom. I’ve had a lot of coffee this morning.”
“That’s not a problem. There a restroom right behind me. Someone’s in there now, but she shouldn’t be long.” Felicia tilted her head slightly behind her and winked at Lara.
“Well then…sure,” Lara said, wondering if the “someone” was Karen Chancer. Was that her Lexus parked in front? She didn’t see anyone else in the shop. “But just a small taste, okay?”
For Felicia’s sake, she could manage a few sips. The woman looked as fragile as a hummingbird. Lara wondered if the seventysomething lived alone with her dog.
“Excellent. Lemon or cream?”
“Just lemon, thanks.”
Felicia scuttled off through a rear doorway. She returned a minute later with a delicate china mug rimmed with white bell-shaped flowers. “Here you go. I only filled it halfway, and I squeezed in a pinch of lemon. Let me know what you think.”
Lara blew on the steaming liquid, then took a small sip. “Wow. This is delicious! My aunt Fran would love this. Do you sell it in the store?”
“Oh, you bet I do. My tea blends are in the far corner near the window.”
“Great. I’ll grab a basket after I finish this and do a little shopping.”
Lara drank the rest of her tea and set the empty mug on the counter. She started toward the front of the store, where a stack of wire baskets rested. The door to the restroom swung open with a bang, and Lara whirled around.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to slam the door,” said a thin, thirtysomething woman with red-rimmed eyes. Her light blond hair wrapped into a French twist, she pressed a tissue to her nose and then went over to stand next to Felicia. She started to cry.
“Oh no, honey, please don’t cry anymore. Everything’s going to be okay.” Felicia set down her dog, who shuffled back underneath the counter. She wrapped a bony arm around the woman’s shoulder. “Everything’s going to work out. I promise.”
Lara didn’t know what to do. She hated to see anyone hurting. Was the sobbing woman Karen Chancer? She went over to her. “Miss…is there anything I can do to help?” It sounded like a hollow offer, but she didn’t know what else to say.
The woman shook her head, while Felicia rubbed her back in soothing motions. “Lara, this is Karen, Wayne Chancer’s wife,” Felicia explained. “She’s been having a tough time since her husband’s sad death.”
Karen sobbed harder. “I can’t stand it anymore. People keep calling, accusing me of killing my husband. What do they think I am, a monster?”
Lara felt for her. The despair in Karen’s pale blue eyes was heartbreaking. She spotted a ladder-back chair against the wall behind the counter. “Why don’t you sit, okay?” she suggested. “I’m Lara, by the way.”
“Thank you, Lara,” Karen said, dropping onto the chair.
Lily must have picked up on Karen’s dismay. She inched out of her cozy nook under the counter and curled up next to the chair, as if to comfort her.
Karen smiled down at the little dog. “I could probably use another tissue,” she said, reaching down to pat Lily.
Before Lara could rummage through her tote for a tissue, Felicia snagged one from a box beneath the counter. “There you go, sweetie.” The kindly shop owner spoke to Karen in the same tone she used with Lily.
Karen blew her nose loudly, then sniffled. “I’m okay. I’m better now,” she said in a shaky voice. She crumpled the tissue in her fist. “You…you said your name is Lara? That’s such a pretty name. Like the woman in Doctor Zhivago, right?”
“Exactly.” Lara smiled, impressed that Karen had picked up on that. Lara’s dad had loved the movie, although her mom, Brenda, had already chosen the name “Monica” for her long before she was born. Then shortly before Lara’s birth, the movie came on one of the classic TV stations. Reminded of how much he’d loved the name “Lara,” her dad had persuaded her mom to change it.
“You’ve been awfully sweet,” Karen said. “Do you live in town?”
“No, I live in Whisker Jog. I was in Bakewell a few days ago, at the bridal salon. I happened to stop in here, and that’s when I met Felicia. I was so impressed with this store! In fact, I bought a jar of your cherry fruit bits.”
“Oh, did you like them?” Karen sounded thrilled.
“I haven’t used them yet, but I will. My, um, boyfriend loves anything cherry-flavored. I’m planning to make either scones or muffins with them.”
“I’d go for the scones, but it’s up to you. And use real butter, not the fake stuff.” Karen looked up and smiled up at Felicia, who reached down and squeezed her hand.
Without warning, another furry form appeared at Karen’s feet. This time it was a cream-colored Ragdoll cat, but only Lara could see her. Blue pressed herself against Lily, then gazed up at Lara with bright turquoise eyes. Lily’s ears perked for a second, as if she’d sensed a stir in the atmosphere, but then she settled down and rested her head on her forepaws.
“Feel better now?” Felicia asked Karen.
“Much,” Karen said, a thread of steel in her voice. “I have to learn to be tougher. I’m alone now, and I need to work things out for myself. I can’t always be depending on others, like you and Dad, to rush to my rescue.”
Lara was curious what she meant by that but didn’t press her. She was still thinking about Blue, who had already faded. “Karen, is there anything I can do for you?”
“Oh no, you’ve already made me feel much better.”
Felicia beamed at her younger friend. “Karen is thinking of becoming a fifty-fifty partner with me in the store. Isn’t that marvelous?”
Lara was stunned. It seemed like an odd time to be talking about a partnership with Chancer’s widow. He’d only been dead five days.
“That sounds great. I’m sure you’ll both work well together.” She didn’t have any real reason to believe that, but it was all she could think of to say.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Karen said. “My home-based business gives me great pleasure, but now I need something more substantial. Maybe the timing is right. Of course, there’s still a lot left to do to settle my husband’s…estate.” She seemed to tiptoe over the word. “But in time it should all work out.”
Wow. Quick change in demeanor, Lara thought. She couldn’t help speculating—had Chancer been in favor of Karen buying in to the gourmet shop? If not, his death had given her the freedom to make that choice. And possibly the funds.
The door to the shop opened abruptly. A pink-cheeked brunette wearing a stylish, red wool jacket with a matching hat skimmed her glance all around. When she spotted the women behind the checkout counter, she grinned and strode toward them. “Come on, Murph. I think she’s in here!” She waved at the twentysomething man trailing behind her, a camera the size of a microwave oven propped on his shoulder.
Lara froze when she saw what the woman was holding—a microphone.
&nbs
p; “Mrs. Chancer? Karen Chancer?” the woman bleated. “I’m Iris Kelly from the news channel. We’ve been trying to get an interview with you for days!”
Karen’s face paled, and her eyes filled with panic. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Felicia looked equally stricken. She twisted her fingers around each other, frozen to the spot.
Lara glanced through the front window of the shop. A TV van was parked sideways in the parking lot, blocking the entrance. Lara recognized the call letters—they belonged to a “wannabe” cable station trying to gain momentum in the state. Rumor had it they were struggling to find enough advertisers willing to hop on board.
Lara bent toward Karen and said quietly, “Karen, do you want to be interviewed?”
Karen shook her head vehemently. “God, no!”
Lara turned back to the reporter and glued on a fake smile. “I’m sorry, Ms.—Kelly, is it? Mrs. Chancer is not interested in being interviewed right now, so she would appreciate it if you would respect her privacy. This is, after all, a place of business. Thank you.”
The reporter looked almost gleeful at being challenged. She thrust the mic at Lara. “And you are?”
Lara held up a hand in front of the microphone, careful not to touch it. “I am a friend, and please remove that microphone from my face.”
The reporter shifted the mic toward Karen and tried to push past Lara.
“Ms. Kelly, please don’t force me to call the police,” Lara said, more firmly now. “You’re overstepping your boundaries. You’ve now crossed over the line into harassment territory.”
Iris Kelly’s nostrils flared. “No, Miss Whoever-You-Are, this is not harassment. It’s called reporting the news, a term I’m guessing you’re not familiar with. Mrs. Chancer,” she called out, “is it true that the killer dropped a note next to your husband? Didn’t you tell the police you found a note in the snow next to your husband’s body?”
Inwardly, Lara gasped. Even Megan hadn’t told her that. Was it true, or was the reporter only baiting Karen?
The cameraman, clad in a puffy brown vest and a fleece ballcap, came over and tapped his companion on the shoulder. “Hey, Iris, come on. I don’t wanna get in trouble like we did last time. I’m goin’ back to the truck. I’ll meet you there.”
Keeping his face down, he turned on his heel and hurried outside.
Lara breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t think he’d filmed anything yet. In fact, she wasn’t even sure his camera had been on.
“I can’t believe I have to work with that moron,” Iris muttered. She scowled at Lara and pointed a glossy pink fingernail at her. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving. But remember one thing. You can’t hide from the truth, and neither can the weeping widow.” She swiveled on her red high-heeled boots and stormed outside.
Lara felt her pulse race toward her throat. She looked over at Karen, who was crying softly. Felicia fluttered around her, unsure what to do. Finally, Felicia said, “Lara, if you stay here with Karen, I’ll go out back and make some more tea. She needs a strong dose of my lemon balm tea with lots of sugar to calm her nerves.”
“Sure thing. But what if customers come in?” So far, the shop had been quiet, but Lara didn’t think it would last.
Felicia held up a finger. “Good thinking. I’ll put up the Closed sign temporarily.”
Lara grabbed the box of tissues and gave it to Karen. Karen snatched a handful and blew her nose again.
“You must think I’m a helpless ditz,” Karen said. She took in a halting breath.
“Not at all. I think you’ve been through a horrible experience, maybe without much support.”
Karen nodded, her eyes redder and puffier than before. “My dad is supportive, and so is Felicia, but I don’t have many other friends. Wayne either didn’t like my friends…or he liked them too much, if you know what I mean. Eventually, they all stopped calling me.”
Ugh. Lara’s opinion of the man had sunk to a new low. But that made her wonder—why had so many people attended his birthday party?
Karen reached over and touched Lara’s wrist. “Lara, thank you for telling that awful woman you were my friend. You can’t begin to imagine how good that made me feel.”
The poor woman, Lara thought. For a small gesture from a total stranger to have meant that much, Karen had to be almost friendless.
Either that or it was a clever act.
The more Lara thought about it, the more she wondered if the police should be taking a closer look at Karen Chancer.
Chancer’s death had brought his widow a good deal of freedom. Freedom from being friendless. Freedom from bullying, if Lara had read her correctly. And maybe freedom to invest in a business she’d been eager to become a part of.
Except that it’s all speculation on my part, Lara reminded herself. She couldn’t prove a thing, nor did she want to.
Felicia emerged from the back room carrying a steaming mug of fragrant, lemon-scented tea. She gave it to Karen, then rested a protective hand lightly on her shoulder.
Something else had stuck in Lara’s head. “Karen, do you know what that reporter meant about a note?”
Karen took a sip from her mug and then stared into her lap to avoid Lara’s gaze. “There was a note found next to Wayne’s body, but the police never revealed it to the public. I don’t even know how that terrible woman found out about it.”
“May I ask what it said?”
“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. The note simply said, ‘I know who you are.’”
“‘I know who you are’?” Lara repeated.
Karen nodded and sniffled. Felicia looked at Lara and swallowed.
“Karen, not to pry, but do you have any idea what it meant?”
The young woman shrugged. “I’m guessing my husband had been hiding something from me. Unfortunately, I don’t have a clue what it was.”
Chapter 18
I know who you are.
The words reverberated in Lara’s head. If Karen was right—and if she was telling the truth about the note—there might have been a lot more to Wayne Chancer than anyone knew.
Had he been a fugitive? Running from the law? In a witness protection program? The possibilities were endless.
Except that none of those scenarios made any sense. How could a man be hiding out and still have a thriving business as a personal injury lawyer? Wouldn’t a fugitive want to keep a low profile?
Or had Chancer been hiding “in plain sight,” as they say? Maybe a plastic surgeon had completely transformed his appearance. With false IDs obtained illegally, he could start over again as an entirely new person.
No, that still didn’t work. Chancer had been a lawyer, a member of the Bar. The impostor theory was a bust.
Lara couldn’t think about that now. She was already on mental overload. Her allotted shopping time had shrunk, and she really wanted to buy a few goodies from Felicia. It would be fun to bring a bag of Tina’s fortune cookies to the book club, plus she wanted to pick out some of Felicia’s specialty teas for Aunt Fran.
Felicia went to the front door and flipped her sign to Open. Karen hurried through her tea and then hugged both women and left, but not before asking Lara for her cell phone number.
“Thank you, Lara, for being so kind to Karen,” Felicia murmured, waving at two women who’d just entered the shop. “If anyone needed a lift, she did.”
“I was happy to help, though I don’t think I did much.” They drifted back over to the crate-shaped sales counter. Lara spoke in a low voice. “Felicia, do you think the Chancers had a happy marriage?”
Felicia frowned. “You know, I always thought they did. At least Karen gave me that impression. But after seeing how she’s reacted to Wayne’s death, I highly doubt it. I think Karen was putting on an act so her dad wouldn’t worry about her. He’s not a well man, you know.”
“I met Mr. Becker a short while ago, at the diner. I was having coffee there with Tina Tanaka, and he came over to talk to her. He sure coughed a lot.”
“Emphysema,” Felicia explained. “Bad, too. Gary’s totally addicted to cigarettes. He’s tried to stop, but nothing works. Wait—you know Tina?”
“Sort of,” Lara said. “I met her at the bridal shop when I was looking for shoes for my friend’s wedding.” Which didn’t explain why she was having coffee at the local diner with a near stranger. Fortunately, Felicia didn’t pursue it.
A thought struck Lara. “Felicia, what do you think about that note Karen mentioned? Is it possible Wayne had a secret from his past that he’d been hiding from her?”
Felicia eyelids fluttered. She looked troubled by the question. “I suppose anything’s possible. How would we know?”
“How, indeed,” Lara mused aloud. “It’s weird, because her dad said something, too.” She wasn’t sure how much to share with Felicia, but the woman clearly cared about Karen and wanted to help her friend. “He said knowing what he knew, he should’ve stopped the marriage before it ever happened.”
Felicia gasped. She gripped the counter for support. “Gary said that? Then maybe there was something to that note…” Her words trailed off, as if she was trying to recall something.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Lara apologized. She seemed to be doing a lot of that, lately. Apologizing, that is.
“No, no, it’s obvious you’ve thought a lot about this,” Felicia murmured. “You’re a very observant young woman.”
Another thought struck Lara. “Felicia, were you at the party that night? You know, when Chancer…?”
Felicia fluttered her hands. “Oh no. I never go out at night. Even if I wanted to, I can’t see to drive in the dark. Besides, I can barely make it through Jeopardy! without falling asleep.” She dipped her head closer to Lara. “Truth be told, my driving issues made a good excuse for my not accepting Karen’s invitation. Wayne wasn’t my cup of tea, if you get my meaning. But the other thing is, Lily gets very antsy if she’s left home alone. She suffers from abandonment issues. That’s why I take her with me almost everywhere.”