The Hidden Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  Glancing at her watch, she was reminded Gilbert would be dropping Bigelow off soon so she better clean up her kitchen and put away the video equipment. After she put her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, she added all of her prep bowls and utensils. With the dishwasher started, she divided the corn chowder into three containers—one for Gilbert, one for Drew when he stopped by later, and one for her. With her nine-quart Le Creuset emptied of the chowder, she filled it with soapy water and let it soak while she reviewed the video footage.

  Pleased that she got some good shots, she returned to the sink to wash the pot. Editing the video would wait until after dinner, when she could settle down in her office and work in peace. Bigelow would be in a deep sleep, thanks to his playdate, and she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone dropping by so late in the evening. After the pot was rinsed, she hoisted it from the sink to the counter. She loved her enameled cast-iron pots, but they weighed a ton. How on earth had Peggy managed to lift her six-quart pot the other day when she made peppers and onions?

  Hope ran a dish towel around the edge of the pot and then carried the hefty vessel to the open shelf, where she displayed her Le Creuset pieces she’d been collecting for years. Memories of good food and good company flooded her. Along with the memory of Peggy’s house fire and her ill-conceived idea to try to rescue Peggy. She still didn’t know what she was thinking at that moment. She stepped back, her thoughts racing.

  She’d brought Peggy’s pot home with her the day the smoke alarm went off so she could clean up the mess the burnt peppers and onions had made. It was so heavy, especially for an elderly woman. She’d noticed some other, lighter weight pots in Peggy’s kitchen. So why had Peggy cooked in her Le Creuset pot?

  Something about Peggy’s fire wasn’t sitting right with her, and it kept poking at her brain. The night of the fire, Ethan had asked Everett to walk her home. No doubt he wanted to make sure she didn’t do something else stupid. On the walk back to her house, Everett had made a comment about Peggy falling asleep again cooking.

  Falling asleep again.

  Again?

  How had Everett known about the previous incident with Peggy’s stovetop fire? Hope hadn’t told him. She had told Gilbert, and Claire when she returned home with the pot. Then she told Ethan. But not Everett.

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes at how suspicious she was being. Neighbors talked and there was a chance Gilbert or Mitzi had mentioned the incident to Everett in passing.

  Hope returned to the island and gave it one final wipe down before checking her Facebook page. Settled at the table and her laptop open, she checked her page engagement. The numbers looked good. Her Facebook page was all about creating relationships so she liked to keep the conversation light and filled her page with photos of food and Bigelow. Her pleasure with her statistics didn’t last long.

  Her mind fixed on Everett’s words and wouldn’t let go. He wasn’t really a part of their close-knit neighborhood. He didn’t volunteer to get Peggy’s mail or do her yard work when she was in rehab and he certainly knew about her hospitalization because Dorie had gone door-to-door one weekend to have all the neighbors sign a get-well card. Hope remembered Everett’s generic “feel better soon” message scribbled beneath Mitzi’s heartfelt mini-novel. For weeks all everyone talked about was Peggy’s recovery and Lily’s disappearance. Everyone except for Everett.

  So how did he know about Peggy’s cooking mishap?

  Hope closed her Facebook page and stared at the blank screen. She didn’t know Everett very well. He was either at his shop or inside his home. He didn’t putter outside. Rather, he had a lawn service. He didn’t accept invitations to backyard barbecues. He didn’t walk the street like Dorie or Leila. There was so much she didn’t know about Everett.

  What she did know was Everett directed her to Hans Vogel by giving the hoarder a motive for murder and then Hans had ended up dead.

  Before she could stop herself, her fingers were tapping on the keyboard and she was doing an Internet search on Everett Cranston. Results immediately came up. She clicked on one link and then another and began piecing together who the man was. She wasn’t sure what that said about the world today when you could easily piece together a person’s life one click at a time.

  He’d owned an antique shop in Fairfield, Connecticut, before moving to Jefferson. A few more clicks gave Hope a better understanding of the shop and why it closed. The building, which Everett owned, burned in a fire. Wait. Gigi from Pamela’s spa mentioned her favorite antique shop in Fairfield closed because of a fire and relocated to Jefferson. Could they be one in the same?

  Hope continued reading. At first the fire was labeled suspicious but, after an investigation, there was no evidence the fire had been intentionally set and he collected a significant amount of money from his insurance company.

  Hope took in all of the information and reviewed what happened in Jefferson recently. Lily Barnhart disappeared, then was found dead in Peggy Olson’s house after a fire was intentionally set. Lily Barnhart, by all accounts, was not in favor of Lionel Whitcomb’s proposed commercial development. According to Elaine, Lionel was assured Lily would vote in his favor. Hans Vogel had an angry outburst directed at Lily and was later found dead. Everett was on the P&Z Commission and led Hope off in the direction of Hans. Everett was a guest at the country club the same day Lionel Whitcomb was there.

  And then there was Milo. His wife had a sweet leasing deal with Lionel Whitcomb, and he had given Hope a veiled threat to back off the investigation. As mayor, he worked closely with Everett and the P&Z Commission. The other day she interrupted a serious discussion at the antique shop between Milo and Everett.

  Could it be possible Everett was behind all of this?

  The mother of all headaches was ramping up. She rubbed her temples, but there was no relief forthcoming.

  She needed a mindless distraction. A quick visit back to Facebook provided her with some needed comic relief. A silly cat video. She loved them. She laughed as a fluffy gray kitten batted a Great Dane with its teeny-tiny paw.

  The cat.

  Dorie had told Hope she’d been taking care of Peggy’s cat and her house had been broken into around the time of Lily’s disappearance. Hope reached for her cell phone and called Dorie. She picked up on the third ring.

  “Hi, Dorie. Sorry to bother you. I have an odd question. Do you have a key to Peggy’s house?”

  “Of course. I watered her plants while she was in rehab. What’s going on?” Dorie asked.

  “Nothing,” Hope lied. “Thanks.” She ended the call with a promise to bring over some corn chowder later. Could something have been taken and later returned? Like Peggy’s house key? The intruder could have stolen the key and used it to enter Peggy’s house and hide Lily’s body.

  A sinking feeling settled in Hope’s stomach. Everett might not have been the most involved neighbor on the street, but he was observant. He could have easily known Dorie had a spare key to Peggy’s empty house.

  She set her phone on the table, remembering Everett had an alibi for the night of the fire. He’d told her that night he’d been on the phone for an hour with Milo.

  But the hostess at the Avery Bistro said Milo had been there having dinner with his wife and then talking to Norrie. So how could he have been on the phone with Everett at the time of the fire?

  Everett could have been the person who assured Lionel Whitcomb that Lily’s vote in favor of his development was a done deal. But when Lily refused, she might have threatened to go to the police and Everett had no choice but to kill her and dispose of her body.

  Hope shivered.

  Everett needed somewhere to hide Lily. He knew Peggy’s house was empty. She didn’t have any proof. Only snippets of conversation on a very hectic and stressful night.

  Even so, she needed to let Ethan know there might be another avenue to investigate. The police might have the wrong man in custody.

  The chiming doorbell broke her concentration.
She glanced at the time on her phone.

  Oh, no!

  She’d forgotten Everett would be delivering the table today. How did the appointment slip her mind? She stood. Maybe it was Dorie or Leila again or some kid selling cookies. Could she be that lucky? Passing through the living room, she caught a glimpse of Everett’s black van out the window.

  She considered not answering the door, but the thought of cowering in her home angered her. She wasn’t about to hide from anyone and, besides, she had no proof Everett was involved in any wrongdoing. For all she knew, he could have been duped by Lionel Whitcomb or even framed. She also couldn’t forget that Kent Wilder had a motive to murder Lily. He and Whitcomb could have worked together with the intention of steering the suspicion in Everett’s direction.

  The doorbell chimed again and her stomach lurched.

  She drew in a calming breath. She’d play it cool. Allow Everett to make his delivery and then shuffle him out as quickly as possible, and then lock the doors and call Ethan. She just needed to stay calm and Everett wouldn’t suspect anything.

  Her shaky hand twisted the doorknob and she opened the door. “Hey, Everett. Thanks for coming by with the table. I do have a conference call with my agent in a few minutes.” She hoped the lie sounded believable as she hid her still-trembling hand behind her back.

  “No problem.” He gave a toothy smile. “Where should I put the table?”

  At the moment, she wanted the table and Everett far away from her house. “The dining room for now. I’ll prop the door open while you go get the table.”

  “Let me see where it’s going first.” Everett walked past Hope and dropped a black backpack on the floor beside the staircase. He must’ve noticed Hope’s stare. “When I make deliveries, I bring some tools of the trade.”

  “For delivering a table?”

  Everett’s toothy smile broadened. “A few furniture slides so I don’t damage hardwood floors, some dustcloths and polish.” He headed for the dining room.

  Shoot.

  Hope chased after him. When she caught up with him, he was standing in the middle of the room. Remodeling clutter ate up most of the square footage. Chair railing was piled in a corner and a white sheet covered an antique chandelier she’d found at an estate sale weeks ago. For now, the antique table would be stored there until she found a permanent place in the house for it.

  “I don’t mean to rush you, but I do have a conference call.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll bring the table right in.” Everett’s gaze swept the room and landed on Hope. “Everything okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course. It’s just a hectic day.”

  “Let me get the table.” Everett gestured for Hope to lead him out of the dining room.

  Hope breathed a sigh of relief. He looked like he didn’t suspect anything. Just a few more minutes and he’d be gone. She turned and walked out to the hall.

  “I saw a couple of vases in your shop I want to get for the living room.” She hoped a little chitchat would keep the mood light.

  “Stop by when you have a chance.” Everett paused to pick up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

  “I will.” The chitchat was working. Just a little bit longer. Hope reached for the open front door but before her hand could reach the knob, she was grabbed and jerked back.

  Everett’s free hand clamped down over her mouth. “You just had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong. Now I have to get rid of you, too.” He stretched out a leg and kicked the door shut. He then dragged Hope farther into the house.

  Hope cried out in pain, his grip crushing her ribs, but her voice was stifled because Everett’s hand covered her mouth. Panic and fear exploded inside of her. Her brain scrambled to come up with an escape plan. But first, she needed to break free of his hold. She struggled to breathe. Part of his hand pressed against her nose. She shook her head, trying to loosen his hold on her. All she was doing was exhausting herself.

  He wasn’t letting go.

  The more she struggled, the tighter he squeezed.

  In the family room, he let her go and pushed her so hard she fell to the floor. Her head struck a corner of the coffee table and a sharp pain disoriented her. She cried out again.

  She slapped her hand on the coffee table and used the leverage to try to rise, but Everett pressed his foot on her back. The sole of his hiking boot forced her down. Her head banged against the knotted pumpkin pine floorboards. A moment of darkness was shattered by a mini-explosion of bright lights. Her eyes fully opened in time to see Everett pull out a length of rope from his backpack.

  She shoved down the sobs lodged in her throat. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry or having her beg. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice was uneven and she willed it not to crack. “You won’t get away with this.”

  Smirking, he squatted down and straddled her. “You know too much.” He yanked her hands behind her back. He tied them together with the rope. He rolled her over onto her back.

  She stared at him through teary eyes. What happened to the mild-mannered antiques dealer she knew? Her mind whirled with questions, but her head throbbed. Everett became blurry.

  “Why? Why did you kill Lily?”

  He sneered. “Still with the questions.” He rested his hands on his thighs. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you since you won’t have the chance to tell anyone else.” He leaned down farther. “For the money.” His smirk bloomed into a smile and a deep bout of laughter oozed out of him. His deep, chilling laugh made Hope’s skin crawl and tears streamed down her face.

  Damn it. She didn’t want to cry in front of him.

  “Milo paid me to persuade Lily to vote in favor of the development. He and Lionel have an arrangement. But you know about that, don’t you? Your visit to Pamela’s spa wasn’t just for a facial, was it? Lily wouldn’t listen to reason. Too bad for her, she had morals.”

  Hope fought back a whimper. The rope cut into her wrists and her head pounded. Everett seemed to sway, but when she blinked, he was perfectly still. “What does Milo get out of it?”

  “Money. It’s all about the money, honey.” The word honey dripped out of his mouth with disdain.

  His menacing eyes bore down on Hope. She’d find no compassion in him so begging for her life would be futile. She had to maintain her strength if she was going to escape.

  First, she had to distract him.

  “You abducted Lily when she was on her way to work and killed her. Then you hid her body in Peggy’s house because you knew she was in rehab. You broke into Dorie’s house to get Peggy’s key. Where did you hide Lily’s body? The basement?” Keeping him talking bought her time. Time to devise a plan. Time for someone to come and discover she was in trouble. Big trouble.

  His gaze hardened. “Right up to the end you’re full of questions. I’m happy to indulge because you have just a few more minutes to live.”

  Hope grimaced. Her head pain intensified, spreading from her forehead down to the base of her neck. Her eyelids started to close. No! She forced them to open and stared at Everett. How was this the same man who was so pleasant and amiable just the day before?

  “In the basement.” Everett straightened and propped his hands on his hips. “That’s where I put her, all wrapped up because I didn’t know how long she’d have to stay hidden. You know, I didn’t plan to kill her, but when we met, she argued. Her death was an accident. No one would believe me once they found out what we were discussing. I looked guilty no matter what.

  “I had to hide her while I figured out what to do next. I tried to move her, but there were always people around. Walking, gardening, chatting . . . what the hell is it with you people?” Everett shook his head. “Then the old lady came home quicker than any of us thought. And then it hit me. Having the old lady back home was a blessing . . . for me at least. Old and still recovering from whatever ailment she had. I knew I had the perfect way to dispose of Lily’s body.”

  “The fire
. You intended it to look like Peggy accidentally set fire to her house while cooking. You burned those peppers and onions the other day?”

  Everett nodded. “You’re pretty good at this detective stuff, too bad for you. Yeah, I’d made a copy of her house key after I stole it from Dorie and snuck in while she was napping and cooked up the peppers and onions. They were out on the counter. I set the pot on the stove and then I locked up on my way out.”

  “How could you? She was an innocent old woman who never hurt anyone.”

  Everett scoffed. “What do they call it? Ah yes, collateral damage.”

  Hope’s stomach rolled with nausea. She was looking at pure evil. “But what about the gasoline container? You used gasoline to set the fire? It seems like your last fire was better planned out.”

  Everett cocked his head to the side. “You know about the shop in Fairfield? Impressive. If you were going to live you might have wanted to make a career change.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I don’t have a choice. And yes, not everything went as planned the night of the fire at Peggy’s house. As I mentioned, this street has a lot of activity on it. Now, I think I’ve answered enough questions. I’m going to tie your feet up and then get the gasoline. By the time the fire department arrives, I’ll be heading for the New York border. Sorry it had to end this way, Hope. I really did like you.”

  Everett tied Hope’s feet together and then straightened up. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said in a mocking tone before he stomped out of the room.

  Hope struggled, trying to untie her hands, but she couldn’t. Her breathing was ragged. Her chest hurt on every inhale. He must have broken a rib or two when he grabbed her. Fighting through the pain, she wiggled and shifted to make herself upright, but she didn’t have the strength.