“What are you up to, Hope Early?”
The question dragged Hope’s head up and she came face-to-face with Elaine Whitcomb. Her day just kept going downhill, didn’t it?
Elaine propped a hand on her hip. “I know you spoke with Gigi.”
“Yes. I spoke with Gigi when I went for a facial. I’m allowed to get a facial. It’s a free country. So, I got a facial. And she’s the one who brought you up, not the other way around. I didn’t mention you. I didn’t ask about you. She’s the one who told me you get all of your services for free. I didn’t ask!” She exhaled a short, aggravated breath after spewing out all her pent-up frustration of the day. She thought she’d feel better, but nothing changed.
Elaine just stood there. She looked stunned, well, as much as she could, given her facial enhancements. “Hope, are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” Hope snapped.
“No, no, you don’t.” Elaine hesitated. She looked around, as if looking for help. There wasn’t anyone else nearby. “Why don’t we get some coffee?”
Elaine swept an arm around Hope and led her into the Coffee Clique. She guided Hope to a table and sat her down on a chair while she rushed to the counter to place an order. She returned with two coffees and a cinnamon roll. “The kid said this is your favorite.” Elaine set the pastry down, along with the cups.
Hope eyed the pastry. It was her favorite. But did she really need the extra calories? A few minutes ago, she envied Felicity’s figure and accepted the move to the country made her own body less firm. Soft, she had decided on. Maybe it had. But at least she didn’t go around sabotaging other women out of petty jealousy or whatever motivated Felicity. Hope reached for the cinnamon roll. Yeah, her body might not be firm, but her soul was kind. That had to be more important than a six-pack. Justified in indulging, she bit into the pastry, and the warm flavors of butter, cinnamon, and velvety sugar icing swirled in her mouth. Heaven.
“I got you a decaf.” Elaine sat across from Hope and placed her clutch bag on the table. She took a sip of her coffee. “You’re having a bad day?”
Hope glanced up from the cinnamon roll.
“You could say that,” Hope said after swallowing her bite. She went to take another bite but stopped. Oh, God. What was she doing? She was consoling herself with a pastry and having a meltdown in front of Elaine Whitcomb, of all people. Get it together, woman. She couldn’t take another bite. Not one more. She pushed the plate away. All she wanted to do was run home, snuggle with Bigelow, and forget this day ever happened. But she was an adult who couldn’t run from her public meltdowns. She squared her shoulders. It was time to pull up her big girl panties and apologize to Elaine.
“I’m sorry for my outburst. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. You’ve been very kind.”
The last word was a struggle to say, but she got it out.
“We all have our bad days. I guess yours is pretty bad.” Elaine sipped her coffee again.
Now there was something they both could agree on. “I swear I wasn’t at the spa to snoop on you.” No, she was there snooping on Pamela Hutchinson, but she didn’t want to burden Elaine with the details. “Gigi asked where I lived and then she started talking about her other client from Jefferson, which is you. She continued to say you don’t pay for the services you receive.”
“She does like to talk.” Elaine circled the rim of her cup with her manicured finger. “I don’t know why Pamela doesn’t charge me for the services I receive. She called me one day and invited me for a facial. I went. It was nice to go back. I used to live in Westport.”
“You did?”
Elaine nodded. “With my second husband.”
“Second?” Hope sputtered on her coffee. After swallowing, she wiped her mouth with a napkin before asking, “How many times have you been married?”
“Not many. Lionel’s my fourth.”
“Fourth? That’s a lot of husbands.”
“It’s hard finding the right one.”
Now there was something else they could agree on. Maybe there was a chance for a friendship between them after all. Four husbands was a lot. She couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the other three husbands. The question was right on the tip of her tongue, and she was dying to know, but asking would be rude. She took a sip of coffee and let the question go . . . at least for the time being.
“Anyway, I went for the facial, and Gigi was great. I booked another appointment. I tried to pay, but Pamela said the services were complimentary.”
“Did she say why?”
“No. It felt weird, but when I told Lionel, he said to accept the gift. I didn’t want to go back. I felt funny about it. You know? But Lionel said since it’s free, he wouldn’t pay if I went somewhere else. I had to keep going back there for my facials and all the other treatments. I simply can’t do without them. You know, it’s not easy maintaining all of this.” Elaine batted her eyelashes as her unnaturally plump lips curved into a smile.
“I can’t begin to imagine.”
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason why Pamela is being so generous.” Elaine’s smile slipped. “Something has been bothering me.”
“What’s wrong?” Hope asked cautiously.
“It seems like you’re always trying to pin a murder on my husband. Why don’t you like him?”
Talk about a loaded question. Hope laced her fingers around her coffee cup as she tried to find a way to phrase her answer. “It’s not about me liking or disliking Lionel.”
“It’s not?”
Hope was relieved Elaine didn’t push her to say how she actually felt about Lionel. “On the surface, it appears he could’ve had a motive for murder.”
“That’s silly. My husband isn’t a murderer. Sure, he has a bad temper and sometimes says things he shouldn’t, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He’s a teddy bear.”
Hope wouldn’t ever have described Lionel as a teddy bear. Maybe a grizzly bear. “I’ve learned the P&Z Commission delayed the vote for his newest development and it appears Lily wasn’t in favor of voting for the project to continue. So, if there’s anything you can tell me to change my opinion, please do.”
Elaine waved her multi-ringed hand and it nearly blinded Hope. How many diamond rings could one woman wear at once? “Oh. Okay. This will be easy to clear up. Lionel told me he didn’t have to worry about Lily’s vote because it was taken care of.”
“What did he mean by that?”
“He wasn’t specific. He just said the project would get the go-ahead and not to worry. So you see, Lionel didn’t have a reason to kill Lily. She was going to vote in favor of the development.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because Lionel told me.”
Hope leaned back. Unfortunately, what Elaine said made sense to her. If Lily was swayed to vote in favor of the development, then Lionel wouldn’t have had a motive for murder. But everyone Hope had talked to said Lily wasn’t inclined to vote in favor of the development. How could Lionel have been so certain of Lily’s support?
“So, we’re good? Lionel didn’t murder anybody, and I’ll start paying for my spa services. I’m confident I can convince Lionel to pay going forward.” She twirled a strand of her bleached blond hair. “I can be very persuasive.”
Hope didn’t doubt Elaine’s ability to persuade Lionel to part with a few bucks.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Hope said.
Elaine stood and lifted her clutch bag off the table. “Anytime.” She flashed a broad smile before sashaying out of the coffee shop.
Hope drained the last of her coffee and eyed the cinnamon roll. As tempting as the pastry was, she remained steadfast. She pushed the plate away and thought about what she’d learned so far but only came up with questions.
Why would Pamela offer up hundreds of dollars’ worth of services to Elaine for free? Why did Lily go to Westport the day before she disappeared? Did she find out Elaine was getting free services? Was there something else about the
spa Hope was missing? Or was Lily’s death not connected to the spa or Lionel Whitcomb?
“Do you want the pastry wrapped to go?” the kid from behind the counter asked as he walked to Hope’s table.
Hope stared at the cinnamon roll. She wanted to say yes, but she knew she wouldn’t enjoy it. “No, thank you.”
“Okay.” Before he turned to go back to the counter, he left a register receipt on the table. “The other lady said you’d be paying.”
Seriously?
“Of course she did.” Hope grabbed the receipt. To think she thanked Elaine for her coffee. She was a piece of work. She reached into her purse for her wallet, mumbling to herself about being stuck with the bill. She opened her wallet and then heard her cell phone ring. She pulled the phone out and there was a new text message from a blocked number.
Burn baby, burn. Is that the way you want it?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hope leapt out of her seat with the phone still in her hand. Panic pulsed through her as she surveyed the coffee shop. Was her anonymous texter there? There were just a few other customers clustered into small groups engaged in conversations. She slapped down a ten-dollar bill on the table, grabbed her purse, and raced out of the shop. She stepped out onto Main Street and the afternoon sun beat down, yet a chill snaked its way through her body. The person could be anyone. Anywhere.
Burn, baby, burn.
She had to call Ethan to let him know she’d received another threat.
Burn, baby, burn.
She stopped walking and cast a wide glance over Main Street.
Everything looked normal. Businesses were open, locals came and went while tourists flocked to the antique shops. Spring drew visitors from all over Connecticut for day trips and from out of state for serious antiquing. With a stretch of lovely weather, business was booming in Jefferson. Not even the recent turn of events in the case of Lily Barnhart seemed to dampen tourism. Hope had an unsettled feeling Lily’s case actually boosted tourism. She guessed morbid curiosities were good for the economy. Her own curiosity at the moment was trying to figure out who sent the threatening text and how the person got her phone number.
A tap on her shoulder nearly sent Hope swinging around, ready to throw a punch.
Matt raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa! Is everything okay?”
Hope caught her breath. “You scared the daylights out of me.” She shoved her phone back into her purse.
“I’m sorry. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just a little jumpy.” Her admission had Matt cocking an eyebrow. “Okay, a lot jumpy.”
“I heard about the threatening note left nailed to your front door. I suspect you’re playing detective again.”
“Yes, I am. And you can save the lecture. I’ve already heard it. Several times.” Her heartbeat was returning to its normal rate and her nerves were settling down. Whoever sent the text probably wasn’t watching her. Or, at least she hoped not. Her chest felt tight just thinking that someone had eyes on her and was waiting to strike again.
“I wasn’t going to lecture you. You’re a grown woman and if you insist on making foolish decisions, it’s your right.”
“Foolish? Thank you for understanding. I have to go.”
“Hope.” Matt reached out and grabbed her arm. “You know what I meant. Doing what you’re doing is dangerous. I’m not saying any more on the matter. But still on the subject of the murders, I’ve been retained by Cal Barnhart.”
“He’s been arrested?”
“No. However, it’s a smart move to have legal representation. He should have actually done it earlier.”
“Wouldn’t he have looked guilty?”
“He would have looked smart. Far too many times the police will gravitate to the path of least resistance and an innocent person can be arrested, tried, and convicted of a crime.”
“You’re generalizing and I’m not a juror.” She knew Ethan wouldn’t sacrifice the freedom of an innocent person just to close a case. Though, she wasn’t too sure about Detective Reid. The jury was still out on him.
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t hurt to have an ally on your side. I saw the photograph of you two in the newspaper. What exactly is your relationship with Cal?”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Not you, too. There’s no relationship. We barely know each other!”
“You’re wound pretty tight today.”
“Am not.” Who was she kidding? She was ready to punch him a moment ago. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “You’re right. I am. I’m sorry. I think I’m going to be apologizing a lot today.”
Matt rested his hands on her shoulders, tugging her a little closer but not too close. The last thing she needed was another candid photo of her in a man’s embrace or in the vicinity of his broad chest. “How about dinner tonight? We won’t talk about Cal or anything related to the murders. We’ll just celebrate.”
Hope smiled. Not talking about Cal or the fire or the threats on her life sounded perfect to her. “Celebrate what?”
“My new house. My offer was accepted.”
Mental face palm slap. She’d completely forgotten he’d put in an offer on a house. “Congratulations! Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you tonight to celebrate.”
“I’ll call you later.”
He released her with hesitation before continuing on his way. He was concerned for her and, truth be told, so was she. He reached the curb and looked both ways before crossing. She smiled. Safety first. She reveled in the first light moment she’d had all day and let her gaze follow Matt to the Jefferson Town Real Estate office. He sure was a fine specimen of a man—his confident swagger as he walked, his broad shoulders and his glutes. She wiggled an eyebrow. Yeah, he had good glutes.
After he disappeared into the building, Hope lingered for a moment as she considered what to do next. There wasn’t any shortage of options for her. She had to report the text message she received, she had a pile of work to do, and, even though she tidied up after the tea party, the house needed a good cleaning. Her gaze drifted along the line of shops and homes and landed on the Red House Antique Shop. Her day was about to get a whole lot better.
When she caught a break in traffic, she dashed across the street and made a beeline for Everett’s shop. Before she could reach the front door, she was intercepted by Drew.
“You’ll never guess what happened.” He beamed. He didn’t give her time to respond. “Maretta called me. Me! I have an interview with her. I’ll be back on the front page!” His hands were expressive as he shared his comeback story.
“Congratulations,” Hope mustered. She was too emotionally and mentally drained to rally any more excitement.
“That’s all I get? Not for nothing, but my career has been circling the drain since Norrie joined the newspaper and now I have an exclusive. Could you show a little more enthusiasm?”
Her friend was right. What was she thinking? Of course she should’ve been more excited. Forget there was an arsonist/murderer stalking her or the tea party she hosted was turned upside down and ended with an official visit by the police. How selfish of her.
She forced a smile. “Congratulations!”
Drew smiled gratefully in return. “Thank you. It feels good to be back.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Doing a little shopping?”
“I need some retail therapy.”
“I heard about the tea.” Drew grimaced. “Maretta, Meg, and the cops. You throw a hell of a party.”
“Not funny. Either get out of my way or open the door.”
“Touchy, touchy.” Drew shifted and opened the door of the antique shop for Hope. He followed after Hope entered.
“Good afternoon, Hope, Drew,” Everett greeted as he looked away from a display of china he was arranging on a hutch. When he wasn’t telling the story, or provenance as it was known in the antiques world, of an antique, he was busy fussing with the shop’s merchandise.
Hope drifted to the mahogany table she’d
been drooling over and dreaming about for months. Financial sensibility had kept her from making an offer on the table, even though the price on the table wasn’t the final price. Everett would negotiate like he always did, and she actually enjoyed that process of haggling. However, the final cost would still be in the four figures.
“I heard what happened at your house this morning.” Everett looked over his shoulder. He was the consummate antiques dealer—keen eye, inquisitive, knowledgeable, and discreet. He’d never reveal who gave him all the salacious details on the tea party. “Looks like we need to find another candidate for the commission since Maretta is now running for mayor.”
“Looks like you do.” Hope was still focused on the table. At least she was trying to focus on the table. The stress of the past few hours overwhelmed her and, as much as she knew it was wrong, making a purchase would help her feel better. She needed a little pick-me-up.
“I wonder what prompted Maretta to run for mayor. I’ve never heard her mention an interest in politics before,” Everett said.
“That’s one of the questions I’m going to ask her.” Drew drifted away from the table, but not too far. A gilded mirror caught his attention. “I have an interview with her today.” He leaned forward and smiled into the mirror. He combed his fingers through his blond hair and adjusted his striped tie.
“Speaking of the commission, did you know someone assured Lionel Whitcomb he didn’t have to worry about Lily’s vote?” Hope asked Everett as she lifted her gaze from the table. What Elaine had told her over coffee left her more curious. Who was Lionel’s source about the vote?
Everett raised his eyebrows slightly. “This is the first I’m hearing of it.” The shop’s telephone rang and he excused himself to answer the call at the sales counter.
Drew slid back to Hope’s side and tugged on her arm. “What are you talking about? Lily was going to vote in favor of the development? Since when?”
The Hidden Corpse Page 21