The Hidden Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “Coffee is fine. Thanks.”

  With her mug in hand, Hope walked along the island and stopped when she reached Cal. “I’m glad you came here. It’s probably not a good idea to be driving in the state you’re in now. It must have been a shock to see the house. I know it was for me this morning. I couldn’t believe the devastation.” She dragged in a breath. The image of what was left of the Victorian house flashed in her mind and she blinked hard.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask how you’re doing. I heard you called nine-one-one last night about the fire. Did you know the homeowner? Were you friends?”

  Hope leaned her hip against the island. “We were. She was a nice lady. Everybody loved her. Did either of you know Peggy Olson?”

  “I didn’t.” His brows furrowed, causing a deep line between his eyes. “Maybe Lily did. Since she was on the P&Z Commission, Lily knew far more people in town than I did.”

  Further confirmation to Hope’s theory that Lily wasn’t hiding out in Peggy’s home for those weeks she’d been missing. Which seemed to make sense; after all, why hide out in your own town? It seemed more likely Lily was abducted or lured to Peggy’s house and kept there . . . either alive or dead until the fire.

  “Tell me about the photo you were taking.”

  Cal’s question brought Hope’s attention back to the present. “What? Oh . . . I was photographing French fries for the blog and for practice.”

  “I’ve seen your photos on your blog. You’re good.”

  Hope’s cheeks warmed. Goodness, she hoped she wasn’t blushing. “For a blog, maybe, but I’ve been asked to contribute to a cookbook being put together by The Sweet Taste of Success. I have to develop a couple of recipes and photograph them. So, I need photographs that will knock the socks off my editor. That is, if I decide to participate.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  Hope took another drink of her coffee. “There would be a fair amount of promotion involved with the other contributors, and I’m not sure I want to go back to that. I’ve worked hard to move on from the show.”

  Cal set his mug on the countertop, brushing Hope’s arm with his body. His gaze lingered on her for a long moment before he returned both hands to his pants pockets. “There was a piece of advice my mentor gave me when I was just starting out, and it was to never forget where you came from. Before I made it big, so to speak, in food photography, my first job was photographing Santa at the mall.”

  “Really?” Hope cleared her throat. The teeny-tiny moment of Cal crossing into her personal space unsettled her. Which was ridiculous. The man was in mourning, not looking to pick up the first food blogger he saw. She really needed to work on interpreting signals because she was clearly rusty.

  “Not a day goes by I don’t think I’m one photograph away from being Santa’s photographer again. I guess it keeps me humble.”

  “Point taken.”

  “It feels good talking to you right now.” The corners of his lips curved into a small smile. “I have an idea. Show me your setup.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I could use the distraction.”

  “Okay. Come on.” Hope set her mug down and led Cal to the office.

  He went right to her setup and studied it for a moment before picking up her camera. He scrolled through the shots she’d taken and, with his eagle eye, he reviewed each one.

  She twirled a ring on her right hand as she stood, waiting for him to say something. Why was he so quiet?

  “Good job. I can see you’ve been paying attention in class.”

  She blew out a relieved breath. “It helps to have a good teacher.”

  Cal turned to Hope and handed her the camera. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

  Accepting the challenge, Hope took the camera. Her palms were a little sweaty. Having someone with all the experience Cal had watching over her was more than just a little intimidating. It was freaking nerve-racking. What if he critiqued her posture, the angle she selected, the shutter speed, or a million other things she was doing wrong? Stop! She silenced the negative voice practically screaming inside her head. Cal was just looking for a distraction. He wasn’t going to grade her.

  “I’ve tried for years to get Lily interested in photography, but she was content with her cell phone to take pictures.” Cal moved, positioning himself behind Hope.

  “Sounds a lot like me only a few years ago.” Hope snapped a flurry of photographs before leaning forward and spinning the foam board to get another angle on the French fries display.

  Cal also adjusted his placement to stay close to Hope. “As much as it pains me as a professional photographer, I have to admit Lily took some wonderful photos with her phone.”

  “I’d only met her a few times. She was very nice.”

  “Yes, she was. That’s why all of this doesn’t make sense. She would have never taken off on her own just to end up a few miles from home.”

  Hope stopped taking photographs and lowered the camera. Nothing about the fire or the deaths made sense. “Do you mind me asking if there was anything unusual the morning she disappeared? Was she stressed? Nervous?”

  Cal shook his head. “No more than usual. There was pressure from both her job as an architect and from her work for the town. I’ve gone over that day a million times. There wasn’t anything different. When she said good-bye to me at the front door, she seemed like herself.” He leaned forward to make a small adjustment to the angle to the canning jar of French fries, brushing Hope’s side with his arms and pressing his body against her back.

  Hope lifted the camera and leaned forward to continue photographing her setup and to put some space between her and Cal, just as she heard heavy footsteps approaching the office.

  “Hope?” Ethan’s voice pulled Hope from her camera and Cal’s closeness.

  She looked over her shoulder and found Ethan had stopped at the doorway and stood with a deep scowl on his face, and his dark eyes were laser-focused on Cal. She disengaged herself from Cal, putting a wide gap between them, and set her camera on the table.

  “Ethan . . . I . . . I wasn’t expecting you.” Her heartbeat quickened and she swore the temperature in the room surged thirty degrees. Why did she suddenly feel guilty?

  “I apologize for interrupting.” Ethan’s gaze was still on Cal.

  “No, you’re not interrupting. Cal just stopped by after seeing Peggy’s house.”

  “I should go. I have plans to make for Lily’s funeral.” Cal reached out and touched Hope’s arm. “Thank you for the company. I can show myself out.”

  “Anytime.” Hope’s heart stopped racing a mile a minute because it was now threatening to break at the sight of Cal’s grief-stricken face.

  “Mr. Barnhart, please accept my condolences and be assured we will do everything possible to find the person responsible,” Ethan said to Cal as he headed toward the door.

  “I appreciate that, Chief.” Cal continued out of the room and then disappeared.

  Bigelow came rushing in and playfully jumped on Ethan, who rubbed the dog’s head. “I bought him a treat and it looks like he devoured it.”

  “Did he sit for the treat? I am training him.” Hope picked up her camera and placed the lens cover on it.

  “Are you listening? You’re supposed to be behaving yourself. Sit!” Ethan commanded but Bigelow jumped up again.

  Hope rolled her eyes. “The book isn’t working.”

  “When Heather and I brought Molly home from the hospital, we had all of those books on how to take care of an infant. The only problem was that Molly hadn’t read those books.”

  Hope laughed. Maybe Ethan had a point and she should chuck the books and go with her instinct on training Bigelow. He wasn’t a bad dog, just a very energetic one.

  “Both of your girls are doing well, so maybe I should give your advice a chance.” She set her camera on her desk. She was done for the day so she snatched a cold French fry and bit into it. She hadn’t realized how h
ungry she was.

  “What was Mr. Barnhart doing here?”

  “I told you. The least I could do was invite him in and offer him coffee and then he offered to help me with my photography. I’m in his class. Or, was in his class.”

  “His wife was just found dead after being missing for weeks and he wanted to give you pointers on your photos?”

  “He said it would be a distraction for him.”

  “I bet.”

  “Why are you being so cynical?”

  Ethan crossed his arms and assumed his official police officer stance—shoulders squared, legs spread hip width apart, and feet firmly planted. She’d been seeing a lot of that lately.

  “Mr. Barnhart is involved in an active investigation.”

  “I know. His wife was found dead last night. I was there. Remember?” Hope gathered all of her props back onto the tray. “Was Lily dead prior to the fire?”

  A neutral expression covered Ethan’s face. “You know I can’t comment.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” she challenged.

  “You’ve been hanging around Drew too much.”

  Hope moved over to her laptop and connected her camera to the computer to download the hundreds of photographs she’d taken. “I’ve been thinking. First, is there a connection between Peggy and the P&Z Commission?”

  Ethan stared at her blankly.

  She ignored his no comment. “You know, her death doesn’t have to be connected to her work for the town. Maybe something happened at her job. Maybe an angry client or coworker.”

  Ethan’s stare didn’t change one iota so Hope continued sharing her theories.

  “Lily could’ve been murdered right after she went missing and then her body hidden in Peggy’s house while she was in rehab. Jane and I were wondering if anyone other than family visited Peggy at rehab, perhaps to get an idea of how much longer she’d be there. How much time the killer had before he or she had to move Lily’s body. But her roommate said only family and close friends visited.”

  “Her roommate? You went to the rehab facility? You and Jane?”

  Uh-oh. Damage control. Fast. “It was nothing.” Stellar damage control. “I mean, Jane barely spoke to the roommate.”

  Ethan took two steps forward, placing himself directly in front of Hope, and he raised his index finger in a “stop” gesture. “Hope, don’t. We’re looking at everything. You and Jane don’t need to investigate. Don’t forget, the last time you inserted yourself into a murder investigation you almost got yourself killed.”

  “I know and that’s why I’m sharing this with you now.” She reached out and wrapped her fingers around Ethan’s index finger and smiled. “I’m not investigating. I’m just thinking out loud.”

  He shook his head and Hope knew that shake all too well. He was thinking she was incorrigible. “You looked pretty cozy with Barnhart.”

  Hope cocked her head sideways as she let go of Ethan’s index finger and rested both hands on her hips. “Are you serious? He was helping me with my photography. He’s a good man. I just know he didn’t have anything to do with his wife’s death.”

  “Please, just be careful. I probably should go. I have another long night at the station.” Ethan turned to walk out of the office.

  “Wait! Why did you come over?”

  Ethan paused and looked over his shoulder. “I just wanted to check on you and make sure there were no ill effects from getting too close to the fire last night. Talk to you later.” He continued out of the office.

  After she heard the back door close, she looked at her computer. The photographs were downloading. Her mind wandered back to the fire and to what Drew said about the discarded gas container found behind the garage.

  Who set the fire? It seemed unlikely Lily did because Hope was convinced Lily wasn’t a willing guest in Peggy’s house.

  While she waited for the download to finish, she lifted the tray and carried it out to the kitchen, with Bigelow trailing her. She set the tray on the island while Bigelow trotted to his favorite spot in the family room. As he circled around several times before curling up on his bed, Hope stared.

  There had to be a third person at Peggy’s house last night. The person who doused the house with gasoline and then set fire to the house. Was the intention to let the fire consume both victims, rendering the identification of Lily even harder if not impossible? Could the fire have gotten that hot? If Hope hadn’t been out for a run then there was a chance that might have happened. Just as Bigelow’s eyes shut for his umpteenth nap of the day, the realization hit her hard like a truck—had she just missed the arsonist escaping?

  Chapter Ten

  “Lead me to your grill.” Louis entered Hope’s house with a shopping bag from a local grocery store. “We’re gonna eat good tonight.”

  Louis’s enthusiasm was a welcome change from all of the sadness the past couple days. After Ethan left, Hope’s thoughts had been ping-ponging back and forth from how Lily ended up in Peggy’s house to how she may have just missed the arsonist when she arrived back on her street from her run. The second thought still sent chills through her. As frightening as the encounter might have been, she sure would have liked to have seen the person responsible for the fatal fire. From the way Louis bounded into her home, swinging his grocery bag, she was looking forward to a few hours of distraction so she wouldn’t be dwelling on the what-if scenario.

  “It’s all ready for you.” She caught up with Louis as he entered the kitchen and then led him to the patio, where her most recent indulgence was located. A state-of-the-art stainless steel grill that cost way too much money but was a dream to cook on.

  Louis blew out a whistle. “Man, oh man, this baby rocks.” He high-fived her. “Good job, Hope!” He lifted the lid and blew out another whistle. “Holy cow! You can feed an army with this thing. I may never be able to go back to my rinky-dink grill after cooking on this beauty. Warming drawer, too? You’re killing me.”

  “Speaking of cooking, what are you planning on making? Ribs? Burgers?”

  “I splurged and now that I’m cooking on this bad boy, I’m glad I did.” He extended the shopping bag to Hope. “Beef tenderloin.”

  It was Hope’s turn to whistle. “Wow, fancy. I’ll go unwrap the tenderloins and season them.” She started to turn, then paused. “Do you know where Felicity and Elena are?”

  Louis shrugged. “They should be here by now.”

  Bigelow barked, signaling there was someone at the door. “Guess they’re here now.” Hope hurried through the kitchen, dropping the bag on the island, and welcomed Felicity into her home.

  “Your house is so charming.” Felicity followed Hope into the kitchen. “Wow, what a great kitchen. It makes mine look so teeny-tiny.”

  “I’ve had my share of small kitchens when I lived in the city.”

  “Right. Before you had to move back home.” Felicity swung around and flashed a smile. “Louis said he’d be grilling beef so I picked up this bottle of wine.”

  Hope took the bottle of Cabernet and gritted through Felicity’s passive-aggressive behavior. “Very nice choice. Thank you.”

  Felicity’s head bobbed up and down. “I do know my wine. In fact, my agent is working on a deal with a winery out on Long Island. You have a deal, don’t you?” She paused a nanosecond, as if she was trying to remember Hope’s sponsorship deal. Felicity wouldn’t have mentioned it if she didn’t recall every little detail. “With a house paint company. Yeah . . . paint.” She flashed a grimace before she shrugged off her wrap and draped it on a chair, along with her purse. “You’ll have to give me a tour of your house.”

  Hope set the bottle of wine on the island. Over the winter she’d signed a deal with a paint company to write sponsored posts. It was a perfect partnership since Hope was painting every room in her house. Though it wasn’t as glamorous as having a partnership with a winery like Felicity, it did help pay the bills and her readers responded positively.

  “I’ll be happy to.” She wasn�
��t going to let Felicity’s snide comments get to her. Rather, she was going to rise above them and be the gracious hostess her mother taught her to be. Though, a few glasses of wine might help with the being gracious part.

  “It’s awful about Cal’s wife. I can’t believe it’s real. You know?”

  “I think it’s still settling in for all of us.” Hope pulled the tenderloins out of the bag, then unwrapped them. She placed them on a platter.

  “I can’t imagine being in a fire. Trapped. I’m getting chills just thinking about it. You saw the fire. Do you know how it started?” Felicity settled on a stool at the island.

  “Are you sure you’re not a reporter? You ask an awful lot of questions.” Louis entered from the patio and made a beeline for the tenderloins.

  Felicity tossed back her head, her hair bounced, and she laughed. “I’m naturally curious. I can’t believe the rest of the workshop has been cancelled.”

  “I’m disappointed, too, but I don’t think there was any other option.” During the grim phone call from Brenda she made it clear there wasn’t a possibility for rescheduling and a full refund would be processed for each of them. While Hope was grateful to have all the money back, she felt a little funny accepting it because they did attend two full days of the workshop. But she wasn’t going to argue with Brenda or Cal over the matter.

  “I’ve trekked all the way up from Brooklyn for this workshop, and I spent money on a room at the inn, which isn’t being refunded,” Felicity said. “Wine opener?”

  Hope nodded, pulled open a drawer to retrieve a wine opener, and handed it to Felicity.

  “Same here, sister, well, not from Brooklyn. I’ll just take those out to the grill. Where is Elena?”

  Felicity opened the bottle of wine and let it breathe for a few minutes. “She said she had a call to make and she’d be here soon.”

  “She better hurry up. These babies aren’t waiting for anybody.” Louis walked out to the patio with the tenderloins.

  Felicity tossed a look over her shoulder. “He needs to cool his jets. The tenderloins aren’t going to cook in a couple of minutes. We have time.”