Heart Strings

by Lynne Waite Chapman

  I slowed to a stop in front of the house, keeping my foot on the brake, and snapped a picture with my phone, before allowing the car to roll on. My rear view mirror reflected a man walking around the corner of the house. It looked like Paul, I couldn’t be sure. Without thinking, I punched the accelerator and the tires squealed as the Chrysler lurched forward.

  That was smooth.

  Once again, I passed my street and motored uptown to Ava’s, this time looking for Clair. Had she recognized Paul Cooper when he moved to town? To my delight, Clair occupied her usual table near the window.

  Sharp turns aren’t easy when driving a monster station wagon, but I managed to cut through traffic and snag a parking place across the street.

  Ava gave me a quizzical look. “Welcome back.”

  I purchased a ham sandwich and carried my plate to join Clair.

  Pulling out the same chair I’d sat in earlier. “Glad I caught you—oh, may I join you?”

  “Silly question. Of course, sit down. I don’t have an appointment for an hour. What’s up?” She closed her eyes. “Wait, I don’t want to talk about Earl Clooney. That’s all anyone wants to talk about. I hope I don’t sound shallow, but I can’t think about it anymore.”

  I held up a hand. “Don’t worry, it’s all I heard at work today and I’m ready for a break, too.”

  I bit into my sandwich and took a minute to swallow. “I want to interview you.”

  Clair brightened. “Interview me? About what?”

  “I’m doing a little research to develop the characters for my new novel. These questions may sound strange, but they help me delve into the minds of the players.”

  Well, I might write a novel about it—someday.

  I put the sandwich on the plate and pulled out my notebook. “First question. When did you meet Paul Cooper after he returned to Evelynton? That was about six years ago wasn’t it?”

  Clair leaned forward on the table and grinned. “Are you still stalking Paul the Impostor?”

  Doing my best to appear embarrassed, I forced a small smile. “Oh, no, that was crazy. But as a writer, no experience is wasted. I want to use those fantasies for a character in my book. So could you help me out?”

  “Okay girlfriend. It would’ve been fun if he were a spy, wouldn’t it?” Clair leaned back and studied the ceiling. “Anyway, it’s probably been six years. Um, I think I met him through Perry. Paul had started working with him at Empire Realty and they came in here, for coffee, one morning.”

  I tapped my pen on my teeth. “When they walked in, did you recognize him right away? Did you think, ‘That man looks familiar.’ or ‘I’ve never seen that man in my life.’?”

  Clair laughed. “I don’t know. I guess I would never have picked him out of a crowd, but when I’m working, I could walk right past my own mother. I don’t know if I even thought about it because Perry introduced him as soon as they walked up.”

  Angling the notebook so Clair couldn’t read it my notation, I scribbled, Perry again.

  I tapped the pen on the notebook, still modeling the interested researcher. “Does Paul have relatives in town? Are his parents still around?”

  Clair put a well-manicured index finger on her chin. “It seems to me his mother’s been gone for ages and his father died a few years ago.”

  Geesh. Why hadn’t I asked this earlier?

  “Then his father was alive when Paul moved back to town. Is that true?”

  “Sure, he was living at Beaver Creek nursing home. I remember because my aunt June used to go and visit anyone without family. She used to talk about Harry Cooper. He must have been alone until Paul moved home.”

  I doodled a solid black circle on the notebook page.

  Clair’s cell phone hummed and vibrated on the table. She pulled it closer to look at the screen. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

  She stared out the window, lowering her voice, as she spoke to the caller.

  A smile lit her face, when she clicked the phone off and tucked it into her bag. Stuffing papers into her briefcase, she said, “I have to go. The Muhollands are writing an offer. Hurray!”

  In one fluid movement, she picked up her handbag and briefcase while scooting her chair out. “Good to see you. Anita and I are meeting here Thursday morning. Join us?”

  She was halfway to the door when I answered. She stepped out onto the sidewalk as I wrote in my notebook. Both parents deceased. Check out Beaver Creek Nursing Home—Harry Cooper.

  That visit just might settle the matter, but it would wait until tomorrow.

  I was anxious to be home, so I gobbled my sandwich without tasting it. If I was totally wrong about Paul, who killed the insurance man?

  ***

  Rarity’s familiar smile shown through the little window in the door. Who else would be knocking at six in the morning? I released the bolt and pulled the door open.

  “Good morning Rarity. This is a surprise.”

  “Good morning. I’m so glad you’re up. Have you been out to see the sunrise?

  I shook my head.

  “You must see it. Step out and admire God’s glory. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  The porch chilled my bare feet, but the fresh morning air made me wonder why I didn’t get up early more often. Glowing shades of pink, peach, and apricot filled the sky with beams emanating from the rising sun. Not a bad way to begin the day.

  “How about some coffee? I haven’t had any yet.”

  “Oh dear, almost forgot what I came for. Not just to admire the sunrise. I wanted to see if you would deliver a casserole to Patsy for me. At a decent hour, of course. It’s way too early now. I’m on my way to work and won’t have any time to take it until late this afternoon.

  Assuming my consent, she retreated down the steps.

  “Just a moment, I’ll get it from the car. Wanted to make sure you were up.” She trotted to her car and pulled out the dish, wrapped in a towel.

  Climbing back up onto the porch, she handed it to me. It was heavy and hot.

  “I know Patsy said she didn’t need any more food but this is really nutritious. Anyway, I think someone should stop in every day to check on her, and this provides as good an excuse as any. I’m sure she’s seen enough of me already. You don’t mind taking it, do you?”

  “It’s no trouble. I’m happy to take it.”

  Even through the towel, the heat began to burn my fingers, and I looked for a place to set it down.

  “You cooked this casserole already this morning? While you got ready for work?”

  “Sure. It’s easy to whip up, and I got dressed while it baked.”

  “You’ll probably be safe stopping by any time after ten. I’m not telling her you’re on the way because I want you to see how she’s doing. Don’t want her to have time to put on an act. You’ll get a feel for it by the way she looks. You know—if she’s pale, or looks tired as if she hasn’t slept. Just talk to her and ascertain her state of mind.”

  I wondered what we would talk about. We worked together and still had only one short conversation, previously.

  Rarity continued. “Patsy always insists everything is fine, but you know how some people would say they’re okay, no matter what. Tell her this is her favorite dish. It’s chicken and vegetables. I know she likes it. Easy to warm up, so she’ll have something good to eat.”

  ~

  At ten o’clock, I loaded the food into the passenger side of the Chrysler, wishing I’d thought of an excuse not to go. What would I say? I’d rather avoid contact with the bereaved. Maybe, my past experience should have prepared me to comfort another woman in pain, instead of driving me away.

  I argued with myself on my way. Anita. I should have called Anita. She’d be here in a flash.

  I talked to myself in the mirror. “Grow up Lauren. This is what grown-up people do—comfort others.”

  I needn’t have worried about coming face to face with a grief-stricken woman. Patsy opened the door, beaming. As recognition dawned, he
r expression morphed to neutral—noncommittal. Was she expecting someone?

  I must quit being suspicious. She might have been indulging in some happy memories, thinking of better days, and my unexpected appearance brought her back to reality.

  “Hi, Patsy. How are you today? I’ve been thinking of you, and wanted to check in.” I held up the cooled casserole dish. “This delicious treat is straight from Rarity’s kitchen.”

  She stared at me.

  “I know you must have tons of food, but you know Rarity, afraid you might not be eating. She had to send one more thing to tempt you. It’s your favorite—chicken.”

  Her awkward silence hung between us.

  “Have I come at a bad time? I won’t stay long, just checking if there’s anything I can do for you today.”

  I wondered if she had taken a tranquilizer. If I’d ever seen an expressionless face, this was it.

  After a few agonizing, silent, seconds, Patsy’s voice came out clear and strong. “No, there’s nothing I need. But how kind of you to ask. I’m really getting along so well. And thank you for bringing the casserole. I love Rarity’s casseroles. She’s a wonderful cook.”

  What would Anita do in this situation? I began to edge inside, slid one foot forward, then the other. That’s as far as I got, Patsy stood her ground. I thought about how I’d shut myself away after Marc’s death.

  But Patsy showed no signs of the desperation and sorrow I remembered. Her hair was combed. She wore full makeup, eyeliner not even smudged.

  I glanced over her shoulder. The living room was cluttered. A fresh box of tissues balanced on the arm of a chair. Magazines and paperbacks littered the sofa and coffee table.

  Flowers. A bright pot of them occupied the middle of the table. Very colorful, but in need of water. A few wilted blooms hung over the side of the pot.

  “There must be something I can help you with. Have you been to the funeral home to make arrangements?”

  “No. I’ll just go to Klinc Funeral Parlor and have him incinerated.”

  “Cremated?”

  “Yeah. That’s it. I have to wait until they release Earl’s body, anyway. I’m not worried about it.”

  “Call me if you want someone to go with you.”

  Patsy raised her voice. “I’ll be sure to call if I need anything. Thank you for coming, and thank Rarity for sending the food. I know it will be delicious.” She chuckled. “Gosh, there’s so much, I’m going to get fat. Bye now.”

  I took the hint and stepped back across the threshold. Patsy bumped the door with her hip, and it swung closed.

  I sat in the Chrysler for a moment before starting the engine, thinking she was very strong, or very much in denial. Maybe she hadn’t taken the time to think about how her life would change.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “T hanks so much for coming in on your day off. I must’ve been crazy to think we could handle it. Phone’s ringing constantly with women wanting information.” Rarity gave my shoulder a squeeze and hustled back to her styling chair.

  “Not a problem, Rarity. I wasn’t accomplishing anything at home anyway. I couldn’t concentrate.” I took my place at the desk and fielded calls for an hour until the phones went silent, and I welcomed a chance to breathe.

  Chills ran up my spine as I felt the warmth of a presence close to my back. Glancing up, I was relieved to see Stacy leaning over my shoulder. She pointed at the appointment book and whispered. “Gladys Murphy is coming in. There, in Rarity’s column. Gladys is the cleaning lady at Justice Insurance. She’s the one who found the body.”

  “No kidding? This will be interesting.” My thoughts raced, wondering what the crime scene would have looked like. Was the place ransacked? What evidence would have been there?

  Thirty minutes later, right on time for her appointment, Gladys Murphy pushed the door open. Her light blue sweat pants and mauve ruffled blouse were clean and pressed, but her short brown hair had a serious case of bed-head. As soon as she stepped inside, her gaze darted to Rarity’s chair. The woman’s face softened with relief when Rarity walked up to meet her.

  “Gladys, it’s so good to see you. How are you?” Rarity put an arm around the woman’s shoulders and escorted her to the styling station. Safely settled in the chair, Gladys started blabbing as if she’d spent days waiting for someone to listen.

  “I was just doing my job, same as always. Earl wanted me to clean on Sundays, but I like to have family time on the Lord’s day, so I went in real early. Earl’s office was always my worst job. The man’s too cheap to pay for cleaning more than once every other week.” Her eyes opened wide, and she peered up at Rarity, “Oh, forgive me. I didn’t mean to speak ill of the dead.”

  Rarity kept her voice soothing and leaned close to the woman. “Don’t worry, Gladys. I know this has been a terrible strain on you. You can tell me anything you want. No judgment here.”

  I hurried to the break room, poured a cup of coffee, and brought it back to offer to Gladys. She smiled and cradled the warm mug with both hands before setting it down. I slid into a chair close by, waiting for her to continue.

  “Had my arms full of cleaning supplies and I was pulling the vacuum sweeper in. Walking backwards so I could push the door open with my backside. All of a sudden, I tripped over something and thought, ‘Crap, what’s he left on the floor now?’ Turned out to be Earl’s foot.” She shook her head and waved a hand. “Well, I fell right down, and the window cleaner and sponges went flying. I ended up sprawled out on the floor, and when I came to my senses, I looked over and there was Earl’s face.”

  Gladys grabbed Rarity’s arm. “He was right next to me, staring at something over my shoulder. I swear, I almost turned to see what he was looking at, but then it came to me. He wasn’t looking at anything. He was dead. Dead!”

  Gladys covered her eyes for a minute, then dropped her hands to her lap while Rarity patted her shoulder.

  After a deep breath, Gladys continued. “There was blood all over the front of his white shirt. I tell you, I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could, and ran over behind the desk. I wasn’t thinking, ‘cause when I got there, I wished I’d headed the other way, to the door. I wanted to get out of there, but had to stay ‘cause Earl was between me and the way out.”

  Rarity nodded knowingly. “How awful for you.”

  Gladys seemed to be talked out. Rarity just stood there and held her hand. I couldn’t stand the quiet. “What did you do then?”

  This brought the woman back to the subject. “It took me a while to get my wits about me, but there was a phone right there on the desk, so I called 911. Then, I sat down on the floor, in the corner, and I prayed the Lord’s Prayer until the police came.”

  She looked into the mirror for the first time, grabbed one of Rarity’s brushes, and passed it through her hair.

  “They came in and said it was all right and I should get up, but I told them, ‘No way.’ I was going to stay right where I was ‘til they took Earl’s body away.” She threw the brush down and it went skidding off the table.

  While recovering the brush from the floor, Rarity asked, “Did they take him away?”

  “Well, no. Melvin said I’d be more comfortable in one of the other offices. He’s such a nice man. He put his arm around me, put his hand over my eyes, and led me out to the hallway.” Gladys relaxed and sat back in her chair.

  I couldn’t stop myself. “Could you tell what happened? While you were waiting for the police, did you notice anything about the office? Something out of the ordinary?”

  Gladys’ mouth flew open and her head swiveled toward me. “Something out of the ordinary? You mean, other than Earl’s dead body and the puddle of blood on the carpet? No ma’am, I didn’t see anything else and I didn’t want to see anything else.” With that, she turned back to Rarity. It reminded me of a child looking to her mother.

  Rarity patted Gladys’ shoulder. “Let’s get your hair done. You just relax and let me take care of everything.”
/>   I retreated to my desk, wondering how to find out if Earl handled Paul Cooper’s insurance.

  Chapter Nineteen

  T he mailbox produced a fresh set of bills, forcing fanciful dreams of authoring a true crime novel from my head. I dedicated the remainder of the day to gainful employment, polishing and submitting a magazine article.

  Later, in the dark, images of Paul Cooper flitted through my mind’s eye. I tossed and turned in bed, wondering why everyone took his identity for granted. In the early hours of the morning, with crickets singing outside, my exhausted brain surrendered to sleep.

  However, upon opening my eyes to sunlight, the mantra returned. Why believe him? Clair and Anita met Paul through Perry. When did Perry meet Paul?

  I planned my interview with Perry while shampooing my hair. By the time I stepped out of the shower, I was in full interview mode, so I passed the blow dryer through my hair and grabbed some clothes. The business card, he’d handed me at the reunion, lay at the bottom of my handbag. It listed his office address and I decided to take a chance on him being there.

  Thirty minutes later, I almost missed the sign for Empire Realty. The office building could best be described as a rambling, country home. I approached the structure with a sense of awe. It may have been the only building in Evelynton with an entrance framed with Crown molding and white pillars. As I tentatively opened the ornate door, I half expected to be welcomed by the butler. Instead, a quirky tune of door chimes sounded my entrance.

  The room oozed luxury. Within seconds, a tall, slender woman strode into view from a side entrance. Her flowing dress and sleek French twist gave her an air of lady of the manor.

  I stood gaping while she extended her hand. “Hello, welcome to Empire Realty. I’m Judith. May I help you?”

  I shut my mouth and returned the handshake. In my jeans, I felt as if I’d wandered out of Evelynton, into another dimension. “Hi, um hello. I’m Lauren Halloren. I’d like to see Perry Sizemore. I’m sorry, I don’t have an appointment but hoped he might have a few minutes.”