Fatal, Family, Album

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “Anya went through a mac and cheese stage, as I recall. Oh, well.”

  I had to be back at the store by six thirty for the crop. When I left the house, Anya was using her Kindle Fire to show Erik the book on penguins. The atmosphere between her and Brawny had been tense but civil.

  Detweiler was working late again. If I hadn’t known about the visit from the young royals, I would have suspected him of staying away on purpose.

  “Hello, Sunshine!” Clancy greeted me as I walked through the back door. She was using the nickname I’d been given by Dodie.

  “Back at you,” I said as I joined her in the back room of Time in a Bottle.

  “I can see from your face that Anya’s back home and doing okay.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Thanks so much for asking.”

  “Anya is giving Brawny a wide berth, but so far she’s been polite. Brawny has assured me that she’s fine and that she doesn’t need Anya to apologize. I must say that Brawny’s taking this...” I stopped myself.

  “Taking it like a man?” Clancy asked. She was wearing what she called her “work clothes.” After a series of disasters with people spilling glue and paint on her, she’d bowed to practicality. Her new uniform consisted of a crisp pair of jeans, an older Oxford cloth button-down shirt in light blue, and a pair of low boots. Over the ensemble was a neat black apron with pockets on the front. “That is what you intended to say, isn’t it?”

  “Guilty as charged.” I had on a pair of jeans, too. Mine were left-over maternity jeans with an elastic panel across the tummy. Over them, I’d thrown a cute plaid sweatshirt I’d picked up from the bargain racks at Target. The length of the top disguised the fact I was still wearing mom-to-be togs.

  Clancy had started a pot of hot water. I heard the bubbling and took the opportunity to brew myself a cup of peppermint tea.

  “How are the little boys?” Clancy checked the expiration date on a carton of almond milk. For some odd reason, she actually likes cleaning out the refrigerator. I think it appeals to her sense of order. Every Saturday, she starts at the top and works her way down, wiping the surfaces as she goes. It’s a job I’m happy to hand over to her. When she visits my house, she usually busies herself organizing and alphabetizing the food in my pantry.

  Hey, whatever floats your boat.

  “Much better. Thanks. Although Erik is on a mac and cheese and fish sticks only diet. He refuses to eat anything else.”

  Clancy laughed. “That sounds age-appropriate to me. I remember when my son ate mac and cheese three times a day. Shortly after I bought a case of it, he decided he hated mac and cheese. I gave all the boxes to a food bank.”

  I thought about asking her if she’d heard from her kids, but I figured she’d let me know if she had. Instead, I turned to the topic at hand. “Are we ready for tonight’s crop? Are we getting any traction with the Zoo Keepers’ folks? Anyone signed up from their mailing list?”

  “You’ll be happy to know that we have a full house tonight. Standing room only tomorrow, if we would allow people to line the walls. Instead, I put together a stand-by list.”

  “Could we haul out those two card tables? We’ve used them in the past.”

  “Already planned on doing that.”

  “You mean we’ve filled both crop tables and both card tables?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thirty people are scheduled to arrive and do their thing. Including all four of our suspects. Vicky Dillon and Peggy Rankin will be here tonight. Lee is coming tonight and tomorrow. Tonight she’s bringing Annie Patel. Tomorrow she’ll have Rook Smith with her.” After closing the refrigerator door, she spritzed it with car wax spray. This she rubbed into the surface vigorously. When she’d given it the sort of shine you’d typically see on a new car, Clancy stepped back to admire her work.

  “Good job,” I said.

  “Same back at you. Looks like you’ve got a hit on your hands.”

  “Right. But I wasn’t concerned about filling seats. I had hoped to learn more about Nancy Owens.”

  Clancy put the cleanser back in the cabinet under the sink. The rag was dropped into the bag of dirty things to be washed. Satisfied that she’d done everything she could to organize and sanitize our refrigerator, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me.

  “Good job,” I said as I patted her on the shoulder. “Clancy, what would I ever do without you?”

  CHAPTER 23

  “It’s show time,” I said, picking up my folder. In my head, a brass marching band struck up a spirited tune. Every crop thrills me. I hope that if I live to be a hundred I won’t lose this enthusiasm for my job. Maybe this is all ego, because seeing the reactions to my newest projects always gives my self-esteem a boost. But I also suspect it has to do with how much I enjoy seeing other people enjoying themselves. Woman’s work is undervalued and underappreciated. Even worse, our effects are quickly undone, erased, or consumed. But when a woman commits her memories to a scrapbook, she hands to the next generation a tangible work of art. I am so blessed to be a part of that process.

  Of course, this crop served many purposes. In addition to our usual goals, we would be supporting the zoo, attracting new potential customers, and finding out more about Nancy Owens. We usually let our customers sit where they want, but this time, Lee and I needed access to the Zoo Keepers’ board members. As always, I stood at the head of the work table. To my left sat Vicky Dillion and Peggy Rankin. To my right sat Lee Alderton and Annie Patel.

  After my welcome, I held up the adorable board books we would be making. The “oooohsss” and “aaaahhs” of excitement put a big smile on my face. Once I explained how the book was recycled, I stepped back from my role as instructor.

  One person isn’t really enough to run a big crop. Two can barely keep up with a huge crop like this, especially when we have a crowd of first-timers who might or might not have much experience with papercrafts. I’d phoned Rebekkah and asked if she could come and help. However, she was running late. The women had already begun working on their projects when Rebekkah burst in through the front door. Standing over the welcome mat, she shook her hair to dislodge snowflakes.

  “Is it sticking?” I asked.

  “No. Not yet. Might be later.”

  As soon as she pulled off her pea coat, Rebekkah got right down to the business of helping our guests. I liked that. Her helpful presence gave me the time to chat up guests with the hope I’d learn more about Nancy Owens’ death.

  I focused on Vicky Dillon. Her look is singular and unusual. In a daring move, she wears a burr haircut that is striking, especially when paired with her designer glasses. To add to her femininity, she always wears a pair of interesting earrings. My immediate impression of Vicky was a woman who knew her own mind.

  At first, Vicky had trouble getting her new backgrounds to stick to the pages of her board book. I showed her how she could scrub the slick cardstock with a bit of sandpaper to give the old board pages more “tooth,” a word that means a surface with fissures and holes. Surfaces with “tooth” do better at grabbing onto anything applied to them.

  “I like the colors you chose for your backgrounds,” I said as I looked at her choices.

  “Yes,” she said, adjusting her purple-rimmed specs. “Aqua and lavender are my favorites.”

  “I can see that! So cute. May I?” I glanced through her stack of photos, stopping when I found one of Nancy Owens. “By the way, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Vicky took the photo out of my hand. “Poor Nancy.”

  “I don’t know how well you knew her, other than as a board member, I mean.”

  “I brought her onto the board.”

  “Really?” I stood up and said, “Hey, everybody. There’s a lot of food on the tables. Please get up and fill a plate. We have sandwich makings, potato salad, fruit, and cupcakes.”

  When most of the croppers got up to get food, I pulled my chair closer to Vicky. “How did you meet Nancy?”

  “She and I met as volunte
ers at the library. We used to shelve books. Both of us had just gotten married for the second time, so we had a lot to share. She inherited an angry stepdaughter, and I got an angry stepson. Let me tell you, Kiki, a step-kid who hates you is like living with a blister on your soul. I think that Derrick spends his entire day thinking up new ways to make my life miserable. If he put nearly that much time into his schoolwork, he would be on the Dean’s List.”

  I couldn’t imagine trying to parent a child who hated me. Erik, perhaps because he was young, hadn’t resented me. It had taken him a while to warm up, but that was because he was grieving for his mother, and because he’d moved across the country into a new family.

  Vicky sniffled. “If I had known how miserable Derrick would make me, I would never have married Richard. I swear. Sometimes I find myself looking for reasons to stay away from home, just so I don’t have to interact with him. I always thought that love conquered all, but it doesn’t. Not really. Or maybe that should be amended to, ‘Love conquers all but a determined teenager.’”

  Our conversation was interrupted by Annie Patel. Her dark brown eyes were warm, and the severe way she wore her jet black hair set them off, making them huge in her gentle face. “Kiki? May I borrow Vicky?”

  “Sure. Annie, do we have enough to eat for you? You’re vegan, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but so is Peggy. We always bring snacks for each other.”

  At the mention of her name, Peggy joined us. “I’m having so much fun. I saw the other project you’ve planned for us. Where do you get your ideas?”

  While Annie and Vicky wandered off, I talked with Peggy about my “process,” although I still feel a little awkward calling my brainstorming activities, as disorganized as they are, by such a highfalutin name.

  “I wanted to offer my sympathies,” I said at an appropriate point in our conversation. “It can’t be easy to cope with Nancy Owens’ death.”

  “Y-y-yes,” Peggy admitted. “I’d known Nancy for years.”

  To underscore what she said, she pushed an 8-by-8 inch scrapbook toward me. “There I am with my daughters. The girl to the far right is Rochelle. She’s the same age as my child, Erin.”

  I stared down at a sullen-looking pre-teen standing so far right that she was nearly out of the picture.

  “Here’s a more recent photo.” Peggy flipped pages until she found a better shot, a close-up, of Rochelle and Nancy.

  “That’s probably the only good photo I have of the two of them together. They didn’t get along. Bert and I were neighbors before his divorce. My girls played with Rochelle, as you’ve seen. After Bert and Nancy started dating, we went out several times as couples. Nancy was well-liked, although she did have a temper. She had a bit of a victim mentality because her parents had it so hard when they moved here from Hungary. Her dad worked in the steel mills, which is pretty rough and tumble. Her mom never did learn English.”

  “What do you think happened to the missing check? The one gone from the Zoo Keepers’ money market account” I asked. Immediately I regretted opening my mouth because I’d clearly shocked Peggy.

  She stiffened and drew back from me.

  Rats. Sometimes I spoke without thinking, and this was definitely one of those times. I would have tried to smooth over my faux pas, but I didn’t get the chance. Lee and Vicky joined us. I could tell by the way Lee smiled at Peggy that she’d overheard what just happened.

  “It’s okay, Peggy. Don’t worry about it. Kiki’s a dear friend. Vicky? I told Kiki about the missing check that Nancy said had been voided. She knows about the police interviewing me. I thought maybe Kiki could help. She’s good at getting to the bottom of things.”

  Slowly Peggy dropped her defensive stance. “I’ve heard about your, um, exploits.”

  That brought a chuckle from Lee. “More than just exploits, Peggy. But honestly, you can trust Kiki. I sure do.”

  I thanked Lee. “Ladies, it seems to me like Lee got tangled up in this when she discovered that a money market check disappeared on Nancy’s watch. Is that what you think, too?”

  With a jerk of her head, Peggy signaled for us to move away from the others. Even though the rest of our guests were too busy eating to care about our conversation, I knew that was a wise idea. “Let’s go back into the back room. Rebekkah? Clancy? I’m heading into the back for a few minutes, can you take over? Thanks.”

  “Have a seat”. I pointed to the break table as the women followed me to the stock room. But on her way, Peggy paused and stuck her head inside my office. My eyes followed hers and came to light on the framed photo of Dodie on the wall.

  “That’s right,” Peggy said. “I’d forgotten. Dodie Goldfader is the one who originally hired you, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, that’s her daughter Rebekkah who is helping me out there.”

  “I thought she looked familiar! She’s grown up to be a pretty young lady, hasn’t she? Dear, dear Dodie. She and I were Boy Scout troop leaders. I remember when her son Nathan died. Poor Dodie and Horace. I can’t imagine losing a child, can you?”

  We all agreed that would be the worst thing ever to happen to anyone. If Peggy had been standoffish before, she was now in a more conciliatory mood. As for Vicky, I couldn’t read her. I trusted that if she wasn’t happy, we’d soon know it. The women pulled up chairs. I opened the refrigerator and offered them a selection of beverages. Not surprisingly, their choice was a round of Diet Coke.

  “Peggy, do you know what happened to that missing check?” Lee turned to her friend. “I never could get a straight answer. Not from Nancy and not from Fareed.”

  Peggy and Vicky exchanged looks that suggested they both knew the answer, but neither wanted to say. I caught their silent message. So did Lee, and she wasn’t happy with it, because it meant they were privy to information but didn’t want to share.

  Lee frowned. “Look, ladies. I’ve been questioned by the police. I think I have a right to know what the truth is.”

  Peggy gave a tiny nod and Vicky seemed to agree with her. “Here’s the deal. That original missing check? Rochelle took it.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  “The one from our money market account? I didn’t know it had turned up!” Lee’s hands gripped the edge of her chair. I could imagine that she was resisting the urge to throttle someone, and I couldn’t blame her. Obviously, she wasn’t in the information loop. That wasn’t fair, especially since she was carrying a lot of responsibility for the group’s funds.

  “Fareed asked us to keep it quiet,” Peggy said in a mollifying tone. “I only know because I’m the secretary. You see, I wondered if I should mention what happened in our minutes. Vicky only found out because she was standing beside me when I asked Fareed. We were out in the parking lot, getting ready to ride home together. This happened immediately before Nancy came out and started yelling at you, Lee. Fareed said I should let it go, and I trust his judgment. He’s known Nancy for ten years, and he’s well aware of the problems she’s had with Rochelle.”

  “What did Rochelle plan to do with the check?” I slipped my question in.

  Peggy flipped her hands over in a “beats me” sort of gesture. “From what I understand, Rochelle took the check in an attempt to embarrass Nancy. She wanted to ruin Nancy’s reputation. You see, Nancy’s one of the founding members of Zoo Keepers. I’ve known—I knew—her for years. Because she doesn’t have any children of her own, she thinks—thought—of Zoo Keepers as her legacy. Rochelle wanted to really, really hurt Nancy. She knew Nancy really cared about taking care of animals, and she figured that embarrassing Nancy in front of the Zoo Keepers organization was the best way to accomplish her goal. That child has hated Nancy from the moment they met. I’ve never seen such a spiteful kid.”

  “But in a way, Rochelle did Nancy a favor.” Vicky crossed her arms over her chest as if to underscore the validity of the statement she’d just made.

  “A favor?” Lee sounded incredulous. I, too, was surprised by this twisted logic.
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  “Absolutely,” Vicky said with a nod. “I’ve known Bert Owens for a long time. I remember how guilty he felt after he divorced his first wife. He swore to Rochelle that he’d never leave her, and she grew up with a sense of entitlement. Bert would never listen when people told him things that Rochelle had said or done. He would laugh them off. To him, Rochelle was his darling baby girl, and he owed her for ruining her life. You’re right, Peggy. That kid hated Nancy, but Nancy didn’t help herself. She didn’t have kids, so she didn’t understand why Bert could get so blindsided by his daughter. All that changed when Rochelle took that check, he came around. He was stunned. Totally shocked.”

  “How did they find out that Rochelle had taken it?” I leaned in to listen carefully. We couldn’t stay back here much longer, but I wanted to learn everything I could.

  “After Lee brought up the missing check at the board meeting, Nancy went home and told Bert what she suspected,” Peggy explained “Together they rummaged through Rochelle’s backpack. That’s when they found the check. Nancy phoned Fareed right away and told him everything. Fareed’s a dad, too, and he’s had his share of issues with his kids. He was very understanding. Bert was horrified, but then Rochelle told him it was only a harmless prank. Believe it or not, Bert accepted her explanation.”

  Lee shook her head sadly. “That’s just awful.”

  “And now Nancy’s dead,” I said, “and a cashier’s check has been written for a million dollars is missing. I wonder if law enforcement officials have questioned Rochelle. If they haven’t, they should.”

  “Why would they?” Peggy shrugged. “She learned her lesson. Now that Nancy’s dead, Rochelle has no reason to pull the same stunt again.”

  I couldn’t believe how cavalier Peggy was being. Lee and I looked at each other. I bit my lip. It wasn’t my place to set Peggy and Vicky straight, but clearly they had no idea how bad the situation was.