by Liz Turner
Camelia laughed. “How on earth could I forget that?”
“She’s too straightforward for all this subterfuge, but you never know what people are capable of,” Ray said, hanging his head a little. “People do amazing and terrible things when it comes to greed and jealousy.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” After a few seconds of silence, each thinking their own dark thoughts, Margie cleared her throat, setting down her coffee on the table in front of her. “Well, have you found anything new in the case?”
“We did find something strange in Lady’s house. We’ve been rummaging through all of her papers nonstop, hoping to come up with some clues.” Ray pulled out a small notepad from his pocket. He flipped through a few pages, eyes running over the handwritten words. “We found... Ah, there it is... $12,458 hidden in a hollowed out book inside of Lady’s house.” Shaking his head, Ray tucked the note pad back in his pocket. “Lady isn’t talking either.”
“That’s almost as much as Kevin made all year,” Margie said absently, recalling Kevin’s salary from one of the pages of the case file. Ray had shown it to her at some point during the investigation, and she remembered his yearly income very vividly.
“It was; Kevin made a good salary of about $14,000.”
“So where did that money come from?”
Ray shook his head and Camelia’s brow furrowed. They were all silent for a long time, considering the possibilities. “Perhaps he sold something of value?” Margie ventured.
“Inheritance?” Camelia guessed.
“Maybe he was squirreling away money for something he didn’t want Lady to know about.”
Margie yawned, glancing at the clock over the kitchen stove. “Oh my, is that clock correct?”
Camelia blinked at it, just as shocked as Margie. “Yes, it is! My goodness, you should be getting back home, Margie!”
Home, she thought bitterly, keeping her smile in place by sheer force of will. It’s no more home than anywhere is right now. But she hugged them goodbye with a smile, took another quick look around at their lovely little home, and walked out waving. Ray offered her a ride home, but she wanted the time to herself. The walk to the station wouldn’t be too bad, even in the cold. The buses would still be running up to the winery this late in the day.
So “home” she went, her feet dragging on the asphalt of the roads. It took about a half an hour to get to the bus stop, then another twenty minutes back to her cabin. By the time she reached the little house, it was nearly dark. Kicking off her shoes, Margie threw herself into bed, her heart as heavy as the thick blanket of fallen snow around the winery’s mountain.
Chapter 9
John finally returned to work the next day. Although he avoided her gaze and kept to his work, he seemed in good enough spirits. She couldn’t blame him for the awkwardness of their interactions. Luckily, the kids were a little too busy to notice, and life went on. Dolly’s winery continued to be a big success despite the suspicious death on the premises. The case wasn’t any closer to being solved, and Margie was so busy that she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow day after day.
The Carol investigation went nowhere, much as Margie expected. The lead dried up when it turned out that Kevin had written records of paying the widow for most of his debts before she cleared him of the rest as a wedding gift. Carol had even been part of the wedding ceremony, a fact that Margie had never known.
“Oh yes, I remember it well. Lady asked if’n I would play for ‘em,” Carol said, her voice thick with nostalgia and loss. “I’d retired from playin’ the church organ long afore, but who canna say no to a bride on her weddin’ day? Lady was quite the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen.” She sighed, her voice wistful.
“It was right after Lady got back from the city, was it not?” Margie asked, picking up Carol’s dish. It looked like it had been wiped clean. She blushed a little with pride that Carol, as well-traveled and food-loving as she was, was so fond of Margie’s cooking. “I heard she was trying to make it on stage or something.”
“She was good; I saw her perform once in a show downtown. It wasn’t the lack of talent that drove her back, yah know,” Carol held out a glass to be refilled. “No, something else drove her back. And I’m doubtin’ it was love.”
Margie paused, her brows furrowing. “Whatever do you mean?”
“There was some young buck threatenin’ her, or that’s what I think. Lady looked scared when she got back here, not defeated.” Carol hung her head. “I think she came back to Kevin so quick, lookin’ for protection.” Carol sighed, downing another glass of wine and holding it out to be refilled again. “A shame, I think she felt safe with him around. I wonder now what she’ll do.”
Margie nodded. It still wasn’t common knowledge that Kevin’s death had been anything but a terrible accident. She tucked that little of information away, continuing on to another table, refilling glasses and chatting. Who on earth could have scared Lady away from a potentially successful career on stage? Perhaps it was the murderer. But who was it and if Lady knew who it was why did she refuse to talk?
If the murderer had chased her out of town, she might not have known who it was at all, a reasonable part of her brain argued. That could have been why she was so scared, the not knowing who was after her.
Frowning, Margie made her way back into the kitchen, her arms loaded down with dishes and her thoughts loaded down with the case. So what on earth could Lady have done that was so bad that someone would chase her all the way here after a year to try to kill her?
Margie strained, building a list in her head of possible crimes or slights she could commit that would have made someone chase her into Bristol. She scrubbed at the pans absently. If she was going to be up half the night thinking anyway, she might as well get the kitchen back in shape for the morning; she had already sent all the kids home for the night. If we don’t come up with some idea, we may not figure out who is after her in time. We can’t keep her location hidden away from everyone forever. She’ll eventually have to go back to her life. But she can’t without being in danger.
So then why is she refusing to talk? Perhaps whatever she did was illegal, and she doesn’t want to get in trouble for it?
Margie pondered over the situation, every avenue of thought making less sense than the last. She scrubbed and scrubbed, rinsing pan after pan. There was a particularly dirty looking copper pot that took some special attention. She spread a mixture of vinegar and baking soda on it, trying to get back the beautiful coppery shine that was somewhere underneath all of that muck. The kitchen filled with the scent of vinegar, making Margie’s nose wrinkle.
“My goodness, Margie. What are you cleaning with vinegar?” John walked into the kitchen, holding a thermos and a few bags of groceries. “Or are you making pickles?” he asked hopefully, looking around at the counter. His face twisted in disappointment when he saw no pickling jars.
“Just cleaning the copper pots, John.” She said, quietly. All of her feelings from earlier were rushing back to her. The loneliness at seeing how happy her friends were without her, the surge of pain in her heart when Ray and Camelia kissed. It seemed to press harder on her now when John was around. But what did that mean? I’m probably just trying to make John a surrogate for everything I think I’m missing out on.
She studied his beautiful profile and wondered.
“After work tomorrow,” she said carefully, the words pressing hard against her tongue and forcing their way out, “would you like to come to town with me? I have some errands to run.” Margie blushed, her skin burning from her collarbones up to her eyebrows. “Not like a date, but just...I was hoping... I mean...”
John placed a hand over hers and smiled. “Of course. Not a date. Just,” He paused as if looking for the right words. “Getting to know one another a little better.”
All the air left Margie’s lungs in a whoosh. “Yes, sort of like that.”
“That sounds wonderful. We can get coffee.”
He nodded sagely, smothering his goofy smile with obvious effort. “Of course. I understand. I’m just thankful you’re willing to give me a little chance.” Exuberance leaked out of his very stoic shell, so he turned away, bidding Margie good night.
Half of her was happy at his reaction, the other half horrified. What had she been thinking?
Sighing, Margie resigned herself to this little not-date and turned back to the pots and pans, determined to finish before bed. As soon as everything was clean, Margie slipped off to her cabin. At first, she thought her head would be too full for sleep, but she managed to drift off in no time, the weight of the day pulling her down into the dark arms of sleep as soon as her weary head hit the pillow.
She woke to feel rested and ready for the day, her mood slightly lifted. Determined not to analyze that too closely, Margie quickly dressed and then slipped off to the kitchen. She started the day’s prep before the kids could get there, making sure the dough had risen properly and decided on the menu for the day. There was enough lamb left over for a rich stew for lunch, and she wanted to make something unique for dinner. She pondered over the ingredients in her pantry before deciding on sausage stuffed quail with gourmet macaroni and cheese. It would certainly turn some heads; judging from her headcount, Margie would need about twenty servings. That would keep the kids and John, busy as bees.
It would keep her busy as well, which would be just perfect. With her hands busy, she had little time to ponder over her decision. They served dinner at 5 PM, getting the plates cleared away early for some kind of gaming night the winery was hosting. Since dinner was cleared early, it left Margie with a little more time than usual afterwards.
After dinner, she dismissed the kids and went back to her cabin. She showered quickly, changing into the first thing she found in her closet. She refused to mull over her clothing for longer than it took to put on, just as she refused to put on makeup or add any accessories to her normal attire. No, she refused to think of this as a date
Her heart fluttered in her chest as John knocked on the door. He was glowing, his blonde hair left down to brush his shoulders. He wore a checkered shirt tucked into a warm looking pair of khakis. There was that goofy grin spread over his face again. His hands were pressed down hard into his pockets against the cold outside. “Well, are you ready to go?”
“Of course.” Margie locked her cabin door behind herself then turned back to him. “Let’s head to the bus station?”
John grinned. “I have a car.”
“Wouldn’t you like to walk? It’s such a nice day.” And it was. The weather had warmed enough that the snow was melting like rain off of the evergreens, the scent of Christmas trees rising up around them. The sun was very bright, but they both had sunglasses against the snow glare.
“A walk would be wonderful.” John turned on his heel, heading down towards the bottom of the mountain. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the occasion to walk anywhere.”
They were silent for a long time, listening as the birds sang merrily in the quiet, tree-lined forest. “It’s very pretty out here.”
“It really is,” Margie replied, her fingers knitting together. “So what brought you here? I mean to Bristol. You aren’t local are you?”
He shook his head. “I was actually born on a US Naval base in Puerto Rico and travelled a lot once I turned eighteen. I’ve been all over, trying out a ton of different jobs, like sewing and cooking and building and writing. But lately, I’ve been looking to settle down and hold still for a few years. So, I figured on trying to find a job doing one of those things I know how to do in the city, but I never got there. I found Dolly’s place instead. It was in chaos, and she was looking for temporary help. So I stopped, and here I am.”
Margie nodded. “That happens to lots of people; they are on their way in. And then suddenly, they’ve moved in and get stuck here for years. That’s how I ended up here.”
“Oh?” John grinned. “Now that’s a story I’d like to hear.”
So she told him. She told him about leaving Lakeshore when she was just twenty one. About stopping in at the Bonne Table restaurant and witnessing a murder. She told him about how Ray had asked her to stick around Bristol for the case and how she ended up living with her best friend Camelia for nearly eight years. “It was quite the wild ride; it was my first time away from home. I was so young, and everything went so completely wrong.” They made it to the bus stop, and Margie sat down on the bench to wait for the next bus, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her face.
It was so easy to talk to John, she’d nearly forgotten her nerves. Eventually, the bus came and picked them up, and they rode in silence to the market part of town. There were lots of little shops; Dolly had given her a little money to restock the kitchen with anything she was missing. “Okay,” John said, rubbing his hands together. “What’s first?”
Margie glanced down at the little handwritten list she had in her pocket. “Let’s start with the chocolate.”
John’s eyes lit up. “That sounds like a great idea.”
They found a small shoppe on Main Street decked in bright colors and promising sweets. Margie, who had scrimped and saved for six years to be able to pay her way through culinary school, had never allowed herself to come in here. It would have been a waste of her already small paychecks, so she tended to avoid this kind of indulgence. No, the only thing she had ever allowed herself was dinner three times a week with Camelia at the Big Easy Diner. And an occasional clothing shopping spree.
The shoppe was brilliantly lit, the whole inside was painted in pink and white candy stripes. There were cases of different kinds of chocolates, candies, and caramels. Margie’s mouth instantly began to water, her eyes growing bigger as she sighted more and more things she wanted to try. But she swallowed hard and remembered what she was here for.
“Good evening!” Margie called, smiling at the owner. “Can we can a few pound blocks of chocolate for the Heavenly Springs Winery? Dolly sent us.”
The owner’s face split into a giant grin that lit up his brown eyes. He was tanned and round, his hair deeply black. Margie found his smile to be absolutely contagious. “Of course, anything for Dolly!” he nearly shouted, his deep voice shaking the rafters. He had a very thick Italian accent, and Margie’s grin spread even wider at hearing him talk. What a lovely little shoppe you have here!
John was also grinning. “And I would like two of those.” He pointed to two giant, round truffles that looked like they would explode if Margie tried to bite into them. They looked amazing, and Margie was salivating at the thought of trying one. But instead, she held her ground, ignoring the little voice in the back of her head that insisted she probably had enough money to cover it.
They paid for and collected their purchases. John pulled out one of the giant chocolate bombs and handed it solemnly over to Margie.
Her eyes lit up. “You got one for me?”
“Of course. We don’t get to leave the winery much, so we should have a little fun. Let’s find a table and some napkins; these look like they will be messy.” John’s eyes twinkled with mischief. They were just as messy as expected, caramel sauce and gooey ganache spilling down their chins as they bit into the chocolates. The taste so amazing and sweet that Margie couldn’t help but sigh in contentment. This was the most delicious piece of chocolate she’d ever had, and she made sure to tell the owner. He beamed with pride.
Margie and John were both laughing when they left the chocolatier, glowing from the aftermath of a succulent treat. “What’s next on the list?” John asked, peering over her shoulder at the wrinkled scrap of paper Margie held.
They managed to clear up most of the list before the shops started to close up for the evening. Hanging out with John was incredibly fu
n; he always had a quick joke or an interesting observation about wherever they ended up. Margie was grinning so widely that the muscles in her cheeks were sore.
Lately, those smile muscles were woefully out of practice.
The only thing that dampened the spirit of the outing were the surprised, yet knowing, looks Margie got on the street. They were the same looks she and Ray had collected for years before he married. The knowing looks that drove her crazy. They didn’t know anything about her or anything about John; they just assumed. She shivered, knowing her next outing would be filled with people stopping her, questioning John’s identity. There would be secretive smiles and innuendo that made anger boil in her veins. Why does everyone have to assume so much?
Margie chose a seat near the front of the bus, piling all of their purchases onto the seat next to hers. John sat down on her other side after adding his stack of bags and parcels to hers, his blue eyes glittering. “Well thank you very much for bringing me with you. Did we miss anything on the list?”
“Not really,” Margie answered absently. “I was supposed to visit Ray at the police department, but we didn’t have a chance to. Not a big deal. I will go see him tomorrow.”
“Oh? What are you visiting him for?”
Margie opened her mouth to tell him, then instantly shut it. “I’ll be helping him pick out baby furniture while his wife rests at home. She’s too far along to be out in this cold.” It was almost instinct to tell him the truth, so it felt a little strange lying to him. But it was best if Margie didn’t spread it around that it was a murder investigation; loose lips cost lives as they say.
“Your police friend, was he the one on the scene when poor Mr. Withers passed, was he not?” John’s face fell when she nodded. “I’m not sure how he does it; all of those dead bodies. It must be difficult. Is the widow doing okay?” He was looking very pointedly at her face. Margie blushed and looked away.