The Hidden Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “Elaine told me,” Hope whispered as she craned her neck forward.

  Drew’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Seriously? When?”

  “A few minutes ago, when we had coffee.”

  “Coffee? You and her?”

  “Long story. Anyway, she said Lionel didn’t have a reason to kill Lily because Lily was going to vote in his favor. My question is who could’ve assured him?” She thought for a moment and an idea wriggled in her brain. “The killer. Of course the killer would have because there’d be a vacancy on the commission and filled by someone in favor of the development.”

  Drew looked unimpressed. “Good theory.”

  “You have another?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. There’s another way to make sure someone does what you want them to do. Bribery.”

  “You’re way off base. Lily didn’t seem to be the type of person who would have taken a bribe. And she’s dead. If she accepted the bribe, she wouldn’t have been killed.”

  “Unless her death had nothing to do with the commission.” Drew’s cell phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his back pants pocket. “Maretta. Gotta take this.” He spun around but tossed a look over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m still looking into who owns that property in Westport.” He continued out of the store.

  “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for today?” Everett asked from behind Hope.

  Hope startled. People kept sneaking up on her. “Yes, there is.” Her fingertips glided across the table’s polished surface. Not a scratch. Pristine condition. Hence the price. Should she buy it or be financially sensible and leave empty-handed?

  “Ah.” Everett’s eyes twinkled. “You won’t regret this purchase.”

  She looked at the beautiful table. It’d been calling her name since it arrived in the store. She placed a palm on the surface. She really wanted it. Really, really wanted it. She’d be receiving an advance payment for the cookbook soon and she was finishing up an e-book on frozen desserts she’d be selling on her website in a few weeks. What the heck. Throwing caution to the wind, along with her financial responsibility, she made an offer.

  She and Everett haggled a little bit and finally got to a price they both agreed upon. She was slipping her credit card back into her wallet when he said, “You and Drew had your heads together before he left. Is everything okay? You seemed a little distracted when you came into the shop.” His face was pinched with concern.

  “I was a little distracted. So much is going on. Maretta’s surprise announcement, the fire, and Hans is dead, did you know that?” When Everett nodded, she continued. “And I heard Whitcomb had been assured he had Lily’s vote.”

  “The only way anyone can be assured of our vote is when we actually vote. It’s probably just gossip.” He stepped out from behind the sales counter. “But I will make some inquiries. If something is going on, I’ll make sure to find out.” He guided Hope to the door. “I’ll deliver the table tomorrow.”

  “See you then.” Hope turned, refusing to second-guess her decision. Just as she stretched her arm out to open the door, she noticed a new item in the shop and it jogged her memory from her visit to the country club the other day when she confronted Kent.

  “Hickory-shafted clubs in their original nineteen-twenties’ canvas bag.” Everett joined Hope by the antique golf clubs and pulled one of the clubs out of the bag.

  The clubs appeared to be in good shape; their heads were clean and their leather wrap grips were in fair condition for their age. Hope was familiar with golf clubs because her dad often asked for a new set for Father’s Day.

  “You play golf, right?” she asked Everett.

  “I do. Are you thinking about taking up the sport?” He admired the club like Hope admired a perfectly risen soufflé.

  “No. But I saw you the other day at the country club. I was leaving and I waved but you didn’t see me. Oh well, I better get going. Great set of clubs.” She glimpsed at the price tag and frowned. It was much less than her table. Maybe she should collect golf items rather than furniture.

  Outside the shop, she glanced over at the Jefferson Town Real Estate office and remembered her dinner plans with Matt. Was it a date? No, he said it was to celebrate his new home. It wasn’t a date. But what if it was a date? She hadn’t been on a date in ages. If it was a date, what should she wear? Did she really want it to be a date? They were friends, kind of. Not like her and Ethan. Maybe it was better that way if it was a date. She and Matt didn’t have a history or anything to risk if the date didn’t go well.

  She needed to stop overthinking. Her plans with Matt were for dinner. Dinner. Period. With a firm nod, she picked up her pace to get back home. She had a dinner to get ready for.

  It wasn’t a date.

  * * *

  Hope followed a count of three on the way down and a count of one on the way back up for her fifth squat out of twelve. Two fifteen-pound dumbbells rested on her shoulders, and she went down for another three counts. The move was slow and controlled, with a burst of energy on the way back up.

  “So, what time is the date?” Claire set her twenty-pound weight on the rack. She’d just finished an overhead triceps extension.

  “It’s not a date.” Hope concentrated on her form to make sure her knees didn’t extend over her toes.

  “Then why this emergency workout?” Claire patted her forehead with a towel and then took a swig of water from her bottle.

  When Hope returned home after dropping a small fortune on a table she shouldn’t have purchased, she panicked. Again. And not about the table or the threats but about Matt. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but think the dinner was really a date and, after her earlier assessment of her body, she had an unrealistic need to firm it up within just a few short hours. Even though she knew it wasn’t possible, she had to try. So, a quick call to her sister for a guest pass to the gym and Hope changed into her workout clothes and hit the weights.

  “Come on. Admit it. You’re attracted to him. It’s okay. He’s single. You’re single.” Claire grabbed two ten-pound weights and began doing a set of upright rows.

  “He’s handsome and I like his company. He’s smart and funny.” Hope stopped squatting. “But what about Ethan?”

  Claire gave Hope a sympathetic look. “It’s only dinner. You’re not marrying him.”

  Hope squatted again. “You should have seen the look on Ethan’s face when he showed up the other day and Cal was helping me with my photography.”

  “Jealous?”

  Hope shrugged. “I think so.”

  “Good. The two of you have been doing this little dance for too long. You either need to let him dip you or let someone else cut in.”

  Hope traded down to twelve-pound weights. “Dip me?”

  Claire stopped lifting her weights. “Look, you both needed each other’s friendship after your marriages ended. And you both needed the little flirtation to rebuild your self-esteems. Your exes have moved on, so you both need to move on also, either with each other or with other people.”

  Hope absorbed her sister’s solid advice. She hadn’t realized how detrimental the divorce had been to her self-esteem until recently when she realized Tim’s behavior stemmed from him not feeling he was good enough as a husband, friend, and person. He looked outside their marriage for validation, admiration, and love. Hope would never be able to fill the void he had. The time had come to let go of the past and move forward, and not just with her career. The blog was in a good place. She’d just signed with an agent and was connecting with more brands. She had the opportunity to participate in a cookbook and, rather than dreading being pulled back toward the past, she now saw the potential for her future. She had a beautiful home, a loving family, friends, and a faithful dog.

  Claire was right. It was time to move forward and open herself up to finding love again.

  “Just don’t stand there. You have six more squats to do,” Claire barked.

  Hope laughed.
“Yes, sir.” She went back to her workout and, for the next thirty minutes, sweated and moaned her way to feeling less stressed. She didn’t know how much firmer she was, but her head was clearer and the dreadful morning was in her rearview mirror.

  After they finished working out, they hit the showers and dressed.

  “Smoothie?” Claire asked as she touched up her makeup. “And you can finish telling me about your coffee with Elaine. I can’t believe you two had coffee.”

  “Neither can I.” Hope slipped on her ballet flats and stood up from the bench. She grabbed her gym bag and followed Claire out of the locker room. At some point, she was going to have to tell Claire about the second threat she’d received. But, she didn’t want to think about it at the moment. As nervous as the threat made her, she wasn’t going to allow the person behind it to get inside her head and change how she lived her life.

  At the beverage bar, they each ordered a green tea smoothie. They grabbed a couple seats at a table and Hope filled Claire in on what happened after the tea party but left out the detail of the table purchase. She knew Claire would jump all over her for spending that much money. Since the table was being delivered the next day, she’d have to fess up to the purchase eventually, but that would be a problem for another day.

  “I want to hear everything.” Claire took a long drink of her smoothie as Hope began recapping her one-on-one time with Elaine. It felt good to spend a little girl time with her sister and it almost had her forgetting about her date with Matt. Almost.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I’m happy you were able to get reservations here.” Hope tucked her chair under the table for two while Matt walked around to the other side and sat. The Avery Bistro was a popular restaurant with a small menu. “I was here a few months ago to celebrate Claire’s anniversary.”

  “She’s the one who suggested this place. She said you love the food here.” The candlelight on the table flickered. Its glow softened Matt’s chiseled jawline. He gave a slow, knowing smile that Hope felt all the way down to her toes.

  “I do.” She lifted her menu to give her mind something else to concentrate on, other than Matt’s sexy grin. She perused the menu, even though she was certain of what she was going to order. The list of entrées was a distraction and gave her a chance to get a grip before she made a complete fool out of herself. The resulting silence between them made her uncomfortable, so she peeked a look over the top of the menu.

  Matt was studying the menu.

  “You’ll find, once you’re settled, a lot of great places for dinner. There are also a few wineries.” When did she become a walking, talking, breathing tour brochure for Jefferson?

  “Someone mentioned a brewery nearby.”

  “Yes. Northwest Hills Brewery. They have a great pub menu. You should definitely check it out.”

  “Maybe you’ll be able to join me,” he said over his menu.

  Oh, boy. So, they were on a date. A first date. Hope cleared her throat. “Maybe,” she squeaked out.

  Matt closed his menu. “I know what I want.” His gaze was intense, and she prayed he was talking about food. “What about you?”

  “Linguini with clam sauce.”

  Matt let out a hearty laugh. “Great minds think alike.” He closed his menu and relaxed back into his chair. “You look lovely tonight.”

  Hope’s cheeks warmed from the compliment. She’d shimmied into a little black dress and stepped into a pair of strappy sandals. Simple yet elegant and perfect for dinner with a friend or a date. She’d added a shimmery wrap over her shoulders and put her hair into a more polished updo than the one she wore the other day to the spa. Which reminded her she hadn’t heard from Drew. He was going to look further into Pamela’s spa. She’d have to call him later when she got home.

  “Thank you. It’s been a while since I’ve been out to dinner. It’s kind of nice to dress up. Most days I’m in jeans and a plaid shirt between working on the house and recipe testing.”

  “You always look great, no matter what you’re wearing.”

  Hope reached for the water glass at her setting and drank. She needed to cool off and change the subject. A little part of her liked the idea of a date with Matt, but the truth was she wasn’t ready for a date. Dating required her to be willing to risk being hurt again. And, she wasn’t sure she was up for that. The hurt from Tim’s betrayal was starting to fade with each passing day but it was still there, a reminder to be careful with her heart. Was Matt a man she could trust with her heart? On paper, yes. But, then again, Tim looked good on paper too.

  She lifted her gaze from her water glass and found Matt looking at her, his expression curious, and she couldn’t blame him.

  She’d just gulped half a glass of water. “Thirsty.” She set the glass down.

  Their waiter arrived and took their orders.

  After the waiter walked away, Hope leaned back. She was going to stop the craziness in her head and enjoy her evening with her friend Matt.

  “I’m dying to see your house. I remember seeing it in the newspaper when it was first listed. It looks charming.”

  “And I’d love for you to come over. You know, I’m a pretty good cook. Maybe not food blog worthy, but I do make a mean chicken Marsala.”

  Oh, boy. A third date? If he kept it up, they’d be planning their wedding reception by the time dessert came. Even with what Claire had said about her relationship with Ethan and her own worries they could never move past anything but a friendship, she still wasn’t ready to enter into a romantic relationship with someone else. Okay, now she was just being silly. Of course she had to consider other men because she and Ethan were just friends. Weren’t they? Looking across the table at Matt she was completely confused. She gave herself a mental shake and what dislodged was a small, hopeful thought that she and Ethan could be more than friends.

  Whoa!

  The waiter reappeared with a bread basket and then moved to another table. More patrons were coming in, and the din of conversation was starting to fill the room. Grateful for the distraction from her thoughts, Hope reached for a slice of bread just as Matt did, and their hands brushed. His skin was warm and their contact lingered for a moment before she yanked her hand back. So much for a distraction.

  He offered her a roll and she accepted. As she buttered her roll, she wondered if she should say something about any future dates. Or should she just leave it alone and enjoy their dinner tonight?

  “Do the police have any leads on who left that note nailed to your front door?”

  Hope set her butter knife down and said a silent thank you for the change of conversation, even though it was about a threat made on her life.

  “No. And it isn’t just one threat. I received another threat earlier today.” She took a bite of her roll.

  “What? Did you tell the police? What did the threat say?”

  Hope shared the specifics about the text message with Matt and told him she reported it to Ethan. The niggling suspicion that Ethan would want to lock her in her house once he learned about the second threat was correct. When he realized she wouldn’t agree to his suggestion, he tried to assign a police officer to her, which she promptly declined. She didn’t want a shadow and, besides, she was having dinner with Matt so she’d be safe.

  “Why on earth did you turn down police protection? Hope, those threats are very serious. There are two people dead.”

  “Three,” Hope corrected. “Hans Vogel was found this morning. I spoke with him just a few days ago.”

  Matt shook his head as his face darkened. “I’m very concerned for your safety.” He reached across the table and rested his hand over Hope’s and squeezed gently. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re a very special woman.”

  Special? “Matt, I think we should talk about something. About us.”

  “Us?”

  Hope nodded. “You and me. What’s happening between us? I just think you should know I’m still sorting things out from my divo
rce. I have to admit I’m a little gun-shy about entering into a new relationship . . . I think that’s why Ethan and I haven’t moved past our friendship . . . I’m not saying we’ve talked about it and decided we want to but are just waiting . . . Maybe we should talk about it. We talk about everything else except us.”

  “You and Ethan?”

  Hope nodded again. “I talked to Claire earlier about us. . . .”

  “You and Ethan or you and me?”

  “Ethan and me. She thinks I should let him dip me.”

  “Dip you?”

  Hope giggled. “She meant we’ve been doing this dance around our relationship and it’s time to find a new partner or let him dip me. Silly, huh?”

  “And the new partner would be me? Us?”

  “Exactly. Maybe we’re just meant to be friends.”

  “You and Ethan?”

  “Yes. I mean, after all this time, nothing has happened between us romantically so maybe it never will and I should look for a new partner. I just don’t think I’m ready. You’re a very nice man. Very attractive, I have to admit you’re kind of sexy for a lawyer, but I don’t want to lead you on.”

  The waiter reappeared with their salads.

  Hope murmured a thank-you and once the waiter was out of earshot, continued, “I don’t want you to think this dinner is going to turn into a second date at the brewery or a third date in your house over pasta.”

  “Good to know.” Matt lifted his fork and jabbed at a slice of cucumber. He chewed. “The dressing is very good.”

  “Is it?” Hope lifted her fork but set it down. It landed with a clink against the plate. “That’s all you have to say after everything I’ve just said?”

  “Hope, I’m not looking for a romantic relationship with you. Tonight’s dinner is to celebrate my new house. And I mentioned dinner at the brewery because besides Claire, you’re the only friend I have up here.”

  “I see.” Hope lifted her fork again and stabbed at a chunk of lettuce. “My mistake.” And what a big mistake it was. Huge. Gigantic. Stupid. She didn’t consider he might have been involved with someone else. A girlfriend. A fiancée. Heck, he could have had a wife stashed someplace. If so, what was he doing going out to dinner with her without telling her? The nerve.