The Hidden Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “Promise?” Drew asked.

  Hope nodded and then set a time for dinner. They separated and when she reached her vehicle, she received another text message. It was from Cal.

  Need to see you. Now.

  Hope followed Cal into the living room and stopped at the sofa while he plodded to the wall of windows. He buried his hands deep into his pants pockets, his shoulders slumped, and he faced the vast expanse of the rolling hills.

  “I appreciate that you came right over.” His voice was shaky, as if Lily’s death was finally sinking in.

  Hope had seen it begin to settle in him earlier at her house, but at least he had a distraction—her photography. Now, all alone in his home, there weren’t any distractions, just memories and reminders of his wife.

  Cal’s head dropped and he shook it. Hope’s heart ached for him. In less than twenty-four hours, his world was ripped apart. Any glimmer of hope he’d had that his wife would return home safely was destroyed. Hope was familiar with those feelings. While her husband didn’t die, she was left with memories and should-haves that still haunted her.

  “I know you’re busy, but I just needed a friend.”

  Friend? They barely knew each other. Surely he had people closer to him whom he could have called. “I’m glad you reached out.”

  He turned. His eyes were somberly hooded, with thick brows, and the crease lines that had given him an air of maturity before now were deeper and showed stress. “I have to make arrangements for Lily today.” He pulled a hand out of a pocket and dragged his fingers through his hair as he stepped forward. “I thought I could handle this. I can’t.”

  Hope moved toward Cal. “I’m so sorry.” She reached out and rested a hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine what this is like for you. Do you want me to go with you?”

  Cal half smiled. “No, no. Lily’s sister is going to be there. I just needed to see a friendly face. You know?”

  Hope squeezed Cal’s arm. “I know. I went through a divorce. It’s nothing compared to what you’re going through, but there were times when I just wanted someone with me. Not really to talk or do anything, just someone to be there. Someone I trusted.”

  “Who wouldn’t blab to the gossip rags?”

  “Exactly.” Hope’s divorce had made the gossip columns because her ex-husband decided her fifteen minutes of fame was the perfect launching pad for his new career. He went from financial adviser to reality TV star in the blink of an eye, trashing their marriage in the process. “You can trust me.”

  Cal covered Hope’s hand with his and pressed firmly. “I know.”

  She wanted to be a good friend to Cal because he was a good person who was dealt a horrible hand. “How about some coffee or tea before you go?” She broke from Cal and started for the kitchen. “Have you eaten today? I can make you something.”

  “Brenda made an omelet for me.”

  Hope stopped. “Is she here?”

  “She’s running errands.”

  “I know this is a difficult time for you, but . . .” She hesitated to ask him about Lily’s work on the P&Z Commission. Her mind was focused on solving the case and bringing the person responsible to justice, while Cal’s focus was on planning his wife’s funeral. How could she ask him questions?

  “Hope, if you have something to ask me, go ahead. I’m an open book. Have been for weeks since Lily disappeared.”

  Hope chewed on her lower lip as she considered what to do. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “Ask.”

  “Did you know how Lily was going to vote on Lionel Whitcomb’s development? The one next to the Village Shopping Center?”

  “No. She never discussed the projects brought before the board until after the vote. Do you think he had something to do with her murder?”

  “I don’t know. Did Lily discuss her work on the commission with anyone?”

  “She talked about her work. She was proud of the houses she designed. But she was very quiet about the commission. I guess it had to do with confidentiality and, to be honest, I really didn’t ask a lot of questions about that part of her life.” Regret flashed in his eyes. He’d never have the chance to ask her questions again.

  Hope blinked back tears. “You talked to her about what really mattered to her. And she shared what was really important to her with you.”

  Cal scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not sure how to do this.”

  “Take it one day at a time.”

  “Sure.” Cal glanced at his watch and shook his head. “I’m losing track of time. I have to meet with the funeral director.”

  “Of course. Before I leave, is there something you need help with?” After all, he did ask her to come over.

  He scrubbed his face. “There is and I hate to ask. Lily needs an outfit. Would you mind selecting one for her?”

  Hope’s breath caught. Cal’s request was unexpected and, honestly, a little awkward. She hadn’t known Lily. The task of selecting the dress should have been done by someone closer, like her sister or best friend. “Are you sure?”

  “I would ask Lily’s sister, but I’m worried she won’t be able to make it through the meeting with the funeral director. It would be a great help to me.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Please select the dress you think is appropriate. Our bedroom is at the end of the hall, left side. I need to get going.”

  “I’ll make sure the front door is locked when I leave.”

  “Thank you.” Cal walked out of the living room and, a moment later, she heard the front door close. Hope raised her hand and her fingertips touched the spot on her cheek where he’d kissed her. It was a friendly kiss. Just a peck between friends. So, why did the spot tingle with heat when his lips pressed against her skin?

  She needed to get out of there. She didn’t belong in the Barnhart house and definitely not in the bedroom. Besides, the thought of going through a dead woman’s closet gave her a serious case of the woollies.

  She swung around, determined to leave and not look back. She’d send him a text message and apologize for not being able to help. On her way out of the living room, she noticed a framed photograph of Cal and Lily on the coffee table. It wasn’t there a few days earlier when Hope came in for coffee. He must’ve been going through photos, remembering their life together. They looked so happy in the photo. And Cal now looked so sad. How could she not help him?

  She continued out of the living room and walked down the hallway, which led to the private quarters of the house. She opened the last door on the left and entered the master bedroom. Another wall of glass caught her attention first, followed by the expansive space of the room. It was huge. And like the public spaces of the house, the room was minimally furnished.

  A king-size platform bed with a fabric upholstered headboard was the centerpiece of the room. Simple linens covered the bed, and two mirrored nightstands flanked either side of the mega-sized bed. Hope was drawn to the shiny and sparkly nightstand closest to her. She glided her hand over the beveled mirrored surface. Each drawer had a crystal pull. “Exquisite,” she murmured.

  Along the opposite wall of the floor-to-ceiling windows were two doors and a mirrored dresser with a charming shell inlay. She couldn’t imagine the upkeep the furniture required. She’d be cleaning for hours every day. Shrugging off thoughts of housekeeping, she refocused on why she was there. She crossed the room and opened one door to find Lily’s closet.

  She stepped inside the closet. Smaller than she expected, the space was well organized and tidy. Along one wall, clothing racks were hung at different levels and organized by garment type and color. Even all the hangers matched. Hope smiled. Lily was a kindred spirit. Shoe storage was built in at the deep end of the closet, while the wall opposite the hanging clothing was lined with shelves for folded garments and purses.

  Lily’s purse collection was minimal compared to Claire’s collection. There were nine bags set atop a shelf. Nine. That was how many Claire had in black satchels a
lone. She couldn’t imagine her sister surviving with only nine purses. She also couldn’t imagine herself staying in the closet any longer than absolutely necessary.

  She studied the clothing rack. A dress. Lily should be buried in a dress. Hope reached up and slid the hangers, studying each garment. One caught Hope’s eye. A deep purple dress with a V-neckline and full skirt. She draped the dress over her arm and turned to the shoes. She chose a pair of nude pumps. Before she exited the closet, she stopped at the purses. Instinctively, she reached out to the snake print clutch but realized Lily didn’t need a purse. As she returned the clutch to the shelf, she accidentally knocked over a tote and it fell to the floor. She scooped down to pick up the tote and noticed a small notebook had spilled out of the bag.

  She heard footsteps outside the closet. She froze in place and listened. Footsteps again. “Cal?” she called out. Maybe he’d changed his mind about letting Hope select the outfit for Lily. When there was no answer, she called out again. Silence. She chided herself for being ridiculous. Her imagination was running wild. She scooped up the notebook and continued out of the closet.

  She laid the dress and shoes on the bed, then dropped the two purses next to the dress. She opened the notebook and leafed through the pages.

  Blank. All blank. Except for one page at the back of the notebook.

  An address in the town of Westport, Connecticut, was scrawled on the page.

  Westport was a coastal town located about an hour away from Jefferson and within commuting distance to New York City. Several of Hope’s former magazine coworkers lived in Westport.

  She flipped through the notebook again to make sure she hadn’t missed something else written in the book. She hadn’t. Except for the address, the notebook was blank. A little odd. Just one address. Why did Lily write it down? What was at that address? Did Lily go there? Was the address somehow connected to her disappearance and murder?

  Hope debated on what to do with the notebook. Return it to the tote? Or take it and find out what was at the address? Since the house was probably searched when Lily disappeared, the police must not have considered the notebook and address of any importance. She slipped the notebook into her purse. She then grabbed Lily’s tote and replaced it back in the closet. Could there be some other overlooked clues tucked away in the other purses? Just as she reached for the red satchel, she was interrupted by a creaking door. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and a danger warning sounded loudly in her head.

  There was someone in the house.

  She had to get out of there.

  Pulling the closet door closed behind her, she listened for other sounds, but there were none. Of course there weren’t any noises. She was alone in the house. Her overactive imagination, combined with searching through a dead woman’s closet, had her hearing danger where there wasn’t any. If Jane could see her now.

  “What on earth are you doing in Cal’s bedroom?”

  The unexpected voice of Cal’s assistant caused Hope to jump and her hand covered her heart. “You startled me.”

  Brenda stood in the doorway, with her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders squared. Displeasure was written all over her face. Her thin lips were pursed and her eyes cast a heavy dose of suspicion on Hope.

  As Hope’s pulse rate returned to normal after being scared out of her mind, she wondered how long Brenda had been lurking before she made herself visible.

  “Why are you snooping?”

  “I wasn’t snooping.” Technically she wasn’t until she leafed through the notebook. “Cal asked me to select an outfit for Lily.”

  “He did? Why would he ask you? You didn’t even know her.”

  Brenda’s tone didn’t encourage Hope to explain herself. “Perhaps you should ask him.” She stepped forward. It was definitely time to go.

  But Brenda blocked her. “I intend to protect Cal.”

  Weird vibes emanated off Brenda, and Hope sensed she was marking her territory, which had Hope asking herself if Brenda could have been involved in Lily’s disappearance and death. Was Brenda in love with Cal and decided it was time he was all hers?

  “Protect him from what?”

  “From women like you who see an opportunity.”

  “I’m just a friend.” Even though she didn’t owe Brenda an explanation, she opted to try to diffuse the situation rather than escalate it. Brenda appeared to be a little unhinged. “If you don’t mind stepping aside, I’d like to leave.”

  Brenda gave Hope one final look up and down before she stepped aside. Hope bolted out of the room and dashed down the hallway at warp speed. Visions of Brenda chasing her down the hall flashed in her mind and propelled her feet to move faster. She reached the front door and yanked it open.

  Outside, she breathed a fresh gulp of air as she followed the path to the driveway. Against her better judgment, she glanced back at the house. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had unknowingly inserted herself into a deadly love triangle.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Well, if this isn’t a surprise.” Donna Wilcox shaded her eyes with her gloved hand. Positioned precariously on a kneeling pad, she was knee-deep in spring planting. Empty plant flats were scattered around the garden bed and a bag of soil had toppled over, spilling out a small pile of rich, nutrient-dense soil. “I’m just cleaning up.”

  “I apologize for just dropping by, but I was on my way home and passing by your street.” Hope wasn’t lying. Arthur Lane was on her way home from Cal’s house.

  “It’s good to see you.” Donna stood and removed her gloves and gave Hope a big hug. “Looks like I’m very popular today.”

  Popular? The comment had Hope looking over Donna’s shoulder and there was Drew standing next to a wheelbarrow, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He’d broken their agreement. She suppressed a frustrated sigh. She’d deal with him later.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” Hope said.

  “I’m so glad you stopped by. It’s been too long. We all have so much to catch up on.” Donna let go of Hope and she glanced at Drew. “Gosh, the last time you both were here was when you were just kids in high school. I’m so glad we never sold this place and just rented it instead. I can’t imagine living in another house in Jefferson. All my memories are here. Come, I’m due a break.”

  She led her guests past the newly planted border of petunias to the back door. They passed through the ranch-style house out to the deck, where Donna told them to sit while she went inside for beverages.

  Once the slider was shut, Hope leaned over the table. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a strained whisper. He hadn’t parked his car in Donna’s driveway. Sneaky.

  Drew leaned forward. “My job.”

  “I thought we agreed I’d talk to her alone first.”

  “That doesn’t work for me.”

  “Doesn’t work for you? Seriously?”

  “I need an exclusive interview. I need something for the front page. An interview with another commission member who could be a target of a killer will get me the front page.” He glanced to the slider and then back to Hope. “Norrie’s been kicking butt with her stories. I have to give something to my editor. Besides, I don’t know why you’re upset. It’s not like it’s your job to find the killer. You’re a food blogger.”

  Hope cast a death glare at Drew and she could tell it was effective because he recoiled back into his chair and gone was the bravado on his face. “I see.”

  “Here’s the lemonade.” Donna stepped out of the house and onto the deck with a tray and set it on the table. She sat and served her guests their drinks. She seemed oblivious to the tension between Hope and Drew as she filled them in on her daughter’s exciting career in Hollywood as a public relations specialist and her own divorce after thirty years.

  Hope thought the breakdown of her own marriage, which was just over a year old when it ended, was rough, so she couldn’t imagine what it was like for Donna after thirty years. All those years with the s
ame person and suddenly to be on your own? Hope glanced around. It looked like Donna landed well on her feet. She had her home, her garden was starting to come into bloom, and her excitement over her job as a patient advocate was contagious.

  “Listen to me prattle on.” Donna eased back into her chair. Her khaki capris and a floral short-sleeved shirt were smudged with dirt and her gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her blue eyes beamed with life. Divorce looked good on Donna. “What’s going on with you? Back home, too. I read your blog every day.”

  “It’s been pretty amazing since I left Jefferson. But, I’m glad to be home.” Hope sipped her lemonade. The tart and sweet liquid slid down her throat as she reflected on coming back to the place where she started. Resettling in Jefferson came with unique challenges. Some people thought she was settling, some people thought she was hiding out, and some people thought she’d finally come to her senses. Being back home was a lot like the lemonade, bitter some days, sweet other days.

  “Your Gingerbread Muffin recipe you posted last Christmas was delicious. Don’t get me started on your vegetable lasagna. Perfect for Christmas Eve. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m starting to work on the post for this coming Christmas.”

  “It’s nearly eighty-five degrees. I can’t imagine thinking about Christmas now.” Donna laughed and then took a drink of her lemonade. “What about you, Drew? You’re working at the Gazette, right?”

  Drew nodded. “I’m a reporter.”

  “Good for you. I read an article in the paper about Peggy Olson’s fire.” Donna set her glass on the table and looked at Hope. “Terrible thing. She was a kind woman and your neighbor, right? I can’t believe they found Lily Barnhart’s body in her house. She’d been missing for weeks. How did she end up there?”

  Hope shrugged. “Good question. Since you’re on the P&Z Commission, do you know if anyone had a problem with Lily?”