Sweet Saboteur

by C A Phipps

  She smiled at his concern. “I’m ready. The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be finished.”

  “I’ve got to go too,” Sam explained.

  Looking grateful, Brent led the way to the door where they were stopped by Daisy.

  “I’ll see you there soon. I’m driving, but I have a few things to pick up otherwise I’d offer you a ride.”

  “No problem. The walk will do us all some good,” Ruby linked arms with Violet and headed down Main Street.

  Scarlett was aware of Arthur Tully standing on one side of the steps with some of his committee members. His face screwed up in some torturous thought, and Scarlett wondered if the Finch women leaving with Mable’s nephew bothered him? Shaking off a sense of foreboding, she decided that if that was the case, it was really none of his business and certainly nothing to do with the committee.

  Alongside Brent, she followed her sisters, and by the time they got to Mable’s, Daisy was pulling folded boxes out of her trunk.

  “Thanks, Daisy.” Brent picked up an armload and carried them to the door. “I wasn’t sure what I would do about packing the rest of the stuff. I’ve begun to put things in piles but thought I’d have to wait until Monday to get more boxes. This will speed things up immensely.”

  Daisy laughed. “It’s no problem at all. I get plenty from the diner. The bigger ones mainly go to waste, so I’m glad that they’ll be re-used.”

  Brent opened the door and yelped.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The house had been ransacked—glass littered the floor. Down the hall, they could see that a glass panel was broken in the back door.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Daisy took a few steps, glass crunching underfoot, a hand to her throat.

  “Who would break into a dead woman’s home?” Brent stated angrily.

  “It’s despicable,” Ruby blurted.

  “I’m calling Nate,” Violet pulled out her phone without waiting for an answer.

  “Good idea. Nobody should touch anything,” Scarlett informed them as her eyes searched the part of the rooms she could see from just inside the doorway.

  Brent looked helplessly at the mess of upturned furniture and emptied drawers from the kitchen. Within minutes not only Nate but Sam and Arthur arrived.

  “There really is nothing of value,” Brent said a couple of times, his shock as distressing as what lay before them.

  “Please wait outside, everyone. I’ll take a look around and see if there’s any point in taking fingerprints.” Nate told them. “Sam, you come with me.”

  The Mayor came closer. “What good is a paramedic?”

  “If there happens to be someone in here, he could be of help. My deputies are out of town, so unless you’d like to offer . . ?” Nate suggested with a growl.

  “It’s far too dangerous for someone in my position,” Arthur spluttered.

  “Then please, wait outside as I asked.”

  Arthur glared but went to stand on the lawn with the others, but not too close. Scarlett waited beside Brent on the doorstep, peering through the doorway, trying to see more and being unsuccessful. Worried for them, she was relieved when both men came out from the bedrooms. It wasn’t too long before they came to the doorway.

  Nate motioned to Brent. “The house is empty. Come inside, and see if anything’s missing.”

  Scarlett took a step forward. “May I come too?”

  When Nate shook his head, Brent intervened.

  “Actually, Scarlett was here yesterday and might have more of an idea if anything is missing. She was in my aunt’s room and looked around there for longer than I could bring myself to do.”

  Scarlett was a little embarrassed. It sounded like she’d been a nosey-parker when in truth, she’d been careful not to poke around too much. Still, if it got her back into the house, she needed to swallow any offense.

  “Very well, but please don’t touch anything,” Nate said with reluctance. “Either of you. And call me if you have a question. I’m going to see if I can get prints off the back door.”

  Tentatively Brent and Scarlett surveyed the kitchen and lounge. With cushions and ornaments thrown on the floor, plus the glass which had been spread through the house, it was an entirely different look and feel to yesterday.

  Mable’s bedroom was just as bad. The wardrobe doors were open, and every item of clothing lay on the floor. The mattress was askew on its base, and the bureau spilled color from a half-open drawer.

  This one thing, in particular, upset Scarlett more than the rest. That she’d touched, these hidden gems were bad enough—for a stranger to do so was heartbreaking. She studied the drawers again. But what if it wasn’t a stranger at all?

  “The burglar must have known we were all at the funeral,” she mused.

  Sam answered from the doorway. “I’d say it’s a good bet. Doing this in broad daylight, they’d have to at least know that Mable wasn’t home.”

  “Then they’d also know she was deceased and that they wouldn’t be interrupted. Which gave them time to do all this damage.” Scarlett crouched down at the wardrobe doors. “I wonder what they wanted?”

  “I guess if it was under the mattress, it’s gone,” Brent offered.

  “Do you think anything’s missing?” Scarlett asked as she moved back to the bed.

  Brent shrugged. “As I said, I barely came in here.”

  Nate came into the room, still wearing his gloves. “Scarlett, what did you touch when you were in this room last time?”

  “I took one outfit from the wardrobe, plus a scarf and some underwear from the drawers,” she pointed at the bureau. “Everything was neatly folded, and I barely disturbed them.”

  “Did you touch anything else?”

  “I admired that photo,” she pointed to an old black and white shot which lay discarded on the floor next to the bed.

  Nate pulled out a pair of tweezers from one of his copious pockets and picked the photo up by the corner. He lay it on top of the bedding and nodded to Brent.

  “Do you know who these women are?”

  “That’s my mom, and I assume that’s Mable when they were teenagers.”

  “They look very alike.” Scarlett peered over their shoulders.

  Brent nodded. “I guess they were in those days—not so much now. Mom was the eldest by two years. The gap seemed a lot more because of mom’s ill health, and Aunt Mable was very active back then.”

  Scarlett was fascinated, and Sam also came closer to listen.

  “Do you know if Mable had money?” Nate continued.

  “I think she was okay, but not wealthy. She stopped sending me birthday and Christmas presents a long time ago due to the cost of postage. Mom said Aunt Mable certainly knew the value of things.” Brent smiled suddenly. “Instead, she would deposit $20 into my bank account twice a year. It was a sweet thing to do, and she wouldn’t hear of stopping it. I’m her only family apart from mom.”

  Nate smiled encouragingly. “And your mom?”

  Brent’s eyes widened. “Do you mean money-wise?”

  Nate nodded, intriguing Scarlett by his line of questioning. What did it have to do with a burglary? Unless he suspected Brent, which was crazy because he was at the funeral and had many hours in which to search the place if he was looking for hidden treasures.

  “My dad was a carpenter and had his own store. We’re very comfortable, and we certainly don’t need anything from my aunt’s.” Brent said coolly.

  Nate took some of the police procedural tone from his voice. “I didn’t mean to offend you, but it could be pertinent.”

  “I don’t know how unless you think I somehow orchestrated this.” Brent opened his arms to encompass the mess.

  “I’m sure that the sheriff didn’t mean to imply that,” Scarlett added soothingly.

  Nate gave her a warning look, and she closed her mouth firmly. Of course, there was no way she knew what lay behind Nate’s methods, so she left them to their discussion, and took a few steps closer to t
he bedside table. The photo had been right there facing the bed. Along with a pair of tortoise-shell glasses that now lay on the floor. Her hand stilled as she bent to pick them up, remembering at the last moment that she might confuse the fingerprint collection if Nate decided he needed to do that here.

  She had the sobering thought that her fingerprints could potentially be found around the whole house. In her mind, she pictured herself holding onto the doorjamb, leaning on the wardrobe doors, opening drawers. Now she felt ridiculously guilty.

  “Did you find something?” Sam called to her.

  “Only Mable’s glasses. They were here alongside the photo. And there was a book.” Confused, she slowly stood.

  “What is it?” Sam asked.

  “A book was here yesterday. Right on this cabinet.” Scarlett stared at the empty space, then peered behind it, before crouching again to peer under the bed.

  Nate crouched beside her. “What kind of book?”

  “Just an ordinary book. Although it had no cover.”

  “You don’t remember anything else about it—like the name?”

  She racked her brain and came up empty. “I didn’t see a name. It was dark brown. Like an old novel.”

  George popped his head out from under the bed, meowing loud enough to make Scarlett squeal. It wasn’t as bad as a dead rat, but he sure needed a lesson in manners.

  “George, you shouldn’t be in here!”

  “Take him outside, Scarlett. You can go too, Sam. I’ll finish up here, but Brent will need a place to stay tonight. Does either of you have any suggestions?

  Scarlett was about to offer Brent the couch when Sam jumped in ahead of her.

  “I have a spare bed. You can stay with me, buddy. For as long as you need.”

  “Thanks, Sam. Hopefully, not too long,” Brent said glumly.

  “I’ll do my best to clear the scene,” Nate assured him. “Meanwhile, I might call on any or all of you, so please stay where I can find you.”

  With a heavy heart, Scarlett picked George up and walked out to find a pretty sizeable crowd on the front lawn. Olivia had her arm around Daisy’s shoulder with Violet and Ruby flanking them. With a small wave, Sam led Brent to his car, and she made her way to her family, avoiding questions as best she could.

  There was every likelihood that a date was off the table while poor Brent needed their support. Just when she’d accepted the notion.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sunday was sunny, yet there was a definite chill to the air. Scarlett decided it was the feeling of foreboding that was hanging over her. It felt like time was running out. With plenty of clues for each of the issues plaguing them, she couldn’t find a way to connect the dots.

  Recently dressed and giving George his breakfast, she was surprised to see Olivia at the door.

  “Morning. What are you doing here so early?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Daisy was so upset last night that she begged me to call you and see if you’d heard anything. I told her that you girls needed a little time and that she’d have to wait until morning. The poor woman’s got herself tied up in knots over the break-in, wondering who we have in our midst capable of such a thing.”

  “It is pretty scary, and I imagine the whole town is troubled by it. You can tell Daisy that we don’t know anything more.”

  “If she’ll listen. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she didn’t come by later.”

  Scarlett nodded. Daisy liked to be where the action was and could be very full-on, but she meant well. She’d proved that with wanting to help Brent pack and attending the funeral.

  Her mind wandered down that path and pushed aside a couple of obstacles. “It was touching how many people came to the service and consoled Mable’s nephew.”

  Naturally, Olivia was surprised by this new conversation, but she was used to Scarlett’s habit of veering from topic to topic. “Sometimes ill-feelings disappear when a person dies. We get a dose of the guilts which are hard to shake.”

  Scarlett was curious. “Is that how you feel about Mable?”

  “I can’t forget everything she did that hurt, my friends and family.” Olivia sighed. “All I can say is that I’m trying to forgive her.”

  Scarlett hugged her. “That’s a relief because I feel the same way. Bad blood needs to be pushed to the background out of respect, and also for Brent.”

  “Agreed.” Olivia hugged back. “Now, how about a coffee and you can tell me what you know that you don’t want me to share with Daisy.”

  Scarlett snorted. She poured coffee and hearing her sisters up and about, poured for them too. “Come and help me talk things through with Olivia,” she told them when they arrived in their dressing gowns.

  Both were surprised to have an early visitor, but considering who it was, they sat down without hesitation.

  Olivia got comfortable in her seat. “I’m ready.”

  Scarlett repeated what she’d told her sisters last night, from the interior mess to Mable’s love of ornaments. Then, even though Nate had told her not to mention it, Scarlett told them about the book.

  Olivia paled. “What did it look like?”

  “Is that important?”

  Olivia made a strangled noise of assent, worrying Scarlett so much that she grabbed her aunt’s hand. Violet and Ruby leaned closer, looking unsure of what was happening while Scarlett’s stomach clenched.

  Olivia squeezed Scarlett’s hand in reassurance. “Please, dear. Go on.”

  “It was an old brown book. Really old. About this size.” Scarlett picked up one of Ruby’s paperbacks from the end of the table and handed it to her.

  Olivia tilted her head as she studied it. “Did you happen to see the name of it?”

  Scarlett frowned, trying to visualize the old book. It didn’t help any more than it had last time. “No, it was so worn, and I never picked it up.”

  “So, you didn’t open it?”

  Scarlett shook her head, desperate to know why an old book had Olivia so upset, yet somehow fearful of that knowledge.

  Olivia took a deep breath. “Your father had a family heirloom. It was extremely valuable.”

  The girls gaped at each other, never having heard this story before.

  “The book?” Scarlett asked breathlessly.

  Olivia nodded. “He loved that book for many reasons. Mostly it was to do with being the only thing he had from his past. His family had been very wealthy until a fire took everything, including his parent’s lives. The only thing he saved was that book, which he kept safe from that day.”

  “We knew his parent’s died in a fire, but if they lost everything and the book was worth a lot, why didn’t they sell it?” Violet asked.

  “Guilt. Your father saved the book—his parent’s died. That’s a lot for a young man to deal with, even though your mom told me he slept in a separate wing of the house. She said he escaped through the library where the book was housed in a cabinet near the door he left by.”

  Scarlett could picture their father as a young man, trying to run from the flames as it devoured his home. “It sounds as though he knew the importance of the book, and he would surely have been in a panic. What started the fire?”

  “No-one knew for sure, but the police put it down to faulty wiring and heaters being left on.”

  Scarlett stood, scraping the chair along the floor. While the fire was something they could never know the exact details of, the rest had to be solvable. “How did Mable get hold of the book?”

  Olivia shrugged. “Someone must have told her about it.”

  Scarlett began to pace. “As much as she was mean and difficult, I can’t see Mable stealing anything. Who else could have known about the book, if we didn’t?” She looked to her sisters for confirmation.

  “It’s definitely news to me,” Violet assured her.

  “And me,” Ruby said.

  Olivia squirmed in her chair. “As far as I’m aware, the only people your mom told this story to was myself, and Daisy.
It was after your father died, and Lilac was distraught. The insurance money obviously helped, but she wasn’t satisfied that it would pay for everything long term, which is why she bought the bakery.”

  The girls knew this and nodded.

  “When she got sick, Daisy and I sat with Lilac many times, and she often reminded us about the book. She said that if you girls ever grew desperate for money, we should tell you to sell it. With no insurance for herself, she saw the bills piling up and hated the thought that you girls would struggle.”

  Olivia began to sob, and Scarlett crouched in front of her. “Please don’t cry.”

  “It breaks my heart that I made a promise and couldn’t keep it. To think that soon after Lilac left us, the book was stolen,” Olivia’s sobs grew louder.

  Scarlett swiped tears from her cheeks. “Wait. The suitcase was under her bed. That’s where she kept it?”

  Olivia lifted her wet face to nod. “She made me drag it out one day. I opened it, and we saw it for the only time.”

  “I remember that suitcase!” Scarlett jumped from her chair. “It was the one thing we were forbidden to touch.”

  “Me too,” Violet tapped the table. “Mom said it was just papers, and she wasn’t ready to deal with them.”

  “Naturally, we didn’t argue.” Scarlett paced the room. “We went through the case after I moved into her room, and just as she said, it was mainly paperwork.”

  “I remember. It was so hard not to be shocked when I’d been hoping that you would have a lovely surprise. That’s what’s so difficult to accept.” Olivia took a deep breath. “If you’d been able to sell the book, your financial worries would be over.”

  Ruby pulled her chair closer and hugged Olivia. “Don’t blame yourself. We don’t.”

  “If I’d told you about the book as soon as your mom passed away, it might still have been there.” Olivia insisted. “You know if I could have given you money to help, I wouldn’t be so darn angry about this, but Cozy Crafts hasn’t made me wealthy by any stretch of the imagination.”

  “Ruby’s right. We don’t even know how much the book was worth, so it’s only speculation that it could have fixed things financially. Besides, it’s gone, so there’s no use dwelling on it and making yourself ill. You’ve done plenty for us, and we’ll always be grateful.” Scarlett smiled fondly, willing their aunt to let the self-blame go.