by Traci Wilton
“I’m sure I could get away after Christmas and before you leave. Does that work?”
“Perfectly,” her father said. “You going somewhere this morning? You’re all dressed up.”
Black pants, black sweater, a looped red scarf around her neck. “The remembrance service for David. Do you want to come, or can I drop you off in town?”
“No, we’re not in a rush,” her dad said. “We might just enjoy the quiet today. Maybe go for a walk after lunch.”
“Okay. Suit yourselves. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Have a good day, dear,” her mother said.
Charlene grabbed her jacket and boots, and headed out the door. Once the Pilot was warmed up, she slid it into gear and backed out of the driveway. The road she lived on was strictly residential, with large properties. She had yet to meet a neighbor.
She turned the radio on and drove to Fourth Street. Not in the mood for holiday music, she switched the dial to a talk show. Some guy was saying that hit-and-run accidents were up sixty percent around the US, adding that drivers were likely to be young males with prior histories of driving under the influence. She suddenly thought of Kyle. That description fit him to a T.
It also reminded her of Jared, who’d lost his life at the hands of a drunk driver.
Charlene spotted the church, but the small parking lot was full. After driving around the block, she found a parking spot a few blocks away. When she entered, she searched for friendly faces, Jessica’s in particular.
Around a hundred people were seated in the assorted pews and chairs. Others stood talking in the back or along the sides. A few clustered near the lectern, reading about David’s life and perusing photos.
Charlene spotted Brandy speaking with Sharon from Cod and Capers. Kevin was there as well, but she didn’t see his friend Amy. Across from them and a few rows back sat Jessica with some friends. There were no seats available next to them, so she’d have to find one on her own.
At the front of the church was a large picture of David as a younger man, in his thirties, and very handsome. Only a few feet from the picture was Tori, in the first row of chairs, dabbing her eyes with a black handkerchief. Her diamonds sparkled on the outside of her black gloves, even from way in the back. Did the woman have no shame?
The ladies from Felicity House were there as well. They sat in the third row, next to Kyle, and a blond woman Charlene recognized from her online search as Linda Farris, Kyle’s mom.
The ceremony was about to begin, and Charlene took a seat in the back row.
She noticed Vincent seated behind Sharon and Kevin, sitting with a man in his fifties holding a red and black football jersey, his eyes red-rimmed, his cheeks gaunt. She wondered which one was Zane. Tori had ladies around her, but no male companion, and Charlene had no idea what the gym instructor looked like.
Jessica turned and caught Charlene’s eyes. She gave her a sad smile, then stood up, making her way past her friends’ knees to the aisle. She gestured for Charlene to join her outside and walked out the door. Charlene followed.
What did Jessica want to tell her that was so important it couldn’t wait until the ceremony was over? They took the steps of the church to the path leading to the sidewalk. Jessica was dressed in black slacks, a black blouse and jacket, her eyes red, her brown hair twisted in a clip.
“Jessica, I’m so sorry,” Charlene said when they reached the sidewalk. “It’s obvious that you really cared about David.”
“I did.” Jessica rubbed her hands together and shuffled her feet. “It’s cold, so I’ll keep this quick. With the whole canceled check fiasco, I forgot to tell you what I’d overheard from Vincent.”
Charlene braced herself.
“Vincent was more a silent partner at the restaurant, leaving David to be the hands-on manager,” Jessica said. “After his lottery win, David wanted out, but Vincent wasn’t happy with the offer David made.”
“I noticed that Vincent was angry, and he left early.” Could he have come back to run David over?
“Vincent’s got a short fuse. I heard him yelling at one of the chefs,” Jessica said. “Dalton, a friend of Kyle’s, David’s son.”
Charlene warmed her hands in her pockets. “I saw Kyle that night. He was pretty upset about his dad not giving him a check.”
“I know. I like Kyle and feel bad for him and his mother, which makes this even harder.” Jessica hesitated. “Vincent told Dalton that he’d heard his conversation with Kyle. Apparently, Kyle had said some awful things about his father.”
“Like?”
Jessica glanced around and lowered her voice. “Like, Kyle wished his dad was dead.”
Charlene put her hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “Was this before or after David had died?”
With a look of distress, Jessica admitted, “Before. I cornered Dalton after overhearing that conversation and asked just to make sure. Dalton doesn’t want any trouble and doesn’t want to go to the police, but yeah, that’s what Kyle said.”
“I think he might have to, Jessica. David’s dead, and his son said he wanted to do it.” Cold seeped beneath her jacket.
“Not in those words. He was just angry and said that he wished he was dead, which is very different. Kids say stuff like that, but it doesn’t mean anything. Right?” She sniffed. “I know him, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Jessica took a Kleenex from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Anyway, I know you and one of the detectives are friendly, so I thought you could speak up for Kyle. He’s really a decent guy and has kept himself clean for the past year. No arrests—that I know about.”
“Let’s hope it was just him blowing off steam to his friend.” Charlene lifted Jessica’s chin with a gentle finger. “And where did you hear that I was friends with a certain detective?”
Jessica blushed. “I don’t know . . . around. Are you?”
She took a step back. How had she and Sam become part of the gossip mill? “I am, but I don’t know Kyle, so I may not be able to help him.”
Jessica’s shoulders dropped, and her expression closed.
Charlene put her hand on Jessica’s elbow. “You inspired me after we talked yesterday, and I went to Felicity House. I’m going to spend the next few days fund-raising like crazy. While I was there, I talked to Avery. I’ll give her a try while she’s on school break for some extra help at the bed-and-breakfast.”
Jessica grinned, all forgiven. “That’s great news. I think you’ll like her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but deep down I think she’s all right. Funny too.”
“I’ll pick her up tomorrow morning.”
Jessica shivered and rubbed her arms. “Let me say one thing in David’s defense. He held the annual Felicity House auction for the last four years at my urging.”
“I know how important Felicity House is to you.” Jessica had shared over tea that day at Charlene’s house when she’d collected the week’s stay donation that Alice, who had been a home aide back then, had helped Jessica find her forever home.
“David would want them to have that money. Yes, he talked a big game but underneath it, he really cared.”
“Did you know that the check he made out was for ten thousand? Not the hundred thousand he’d promised? Alice told me yesterday.”
“No!” Jessica put a hand to her heart. “Tori was probably behind that. He’d mentioned that night of the auction that he hadn’t had access to all of his funds or something.”
Charlene recalled how Tori had acted as if each check David had handed out was food from her mouth. “Did you tell the police that they planned on leaving the next morning?”
Jessica scrunched her nose. “I think so. Why would that matter now?”
“I’m not sure. But what if Zane, the guy Tori was fooling around with, didn’t want to be left behind?”
“You mean, maybe Tori told him the secret plan to leave Salem?” She paled. “And so what? Zane ran David over? God, Charlene—that’s awful. But it makes more sense than Kyl
e doing it, I guarantee that.” Jessica’s poor lips had a blue tinge.
She didn’t share what she’d learned at the police station, but because of how slowly the vehicle had been going, with no attempt to stop, it made her think that whoever’d hit David had known, and chosen to leave him there. Worse, she couldn’t discount the possibility that it had been deliberate.
“Come on, let’s go in before you freeze to—” Charlene stopped, not wanting to joke about death. “You’ll have to point Zane out to me—I don’t know what he looks like.”
“Tori’s dressed him up as her security guard—but she’s not fooling anybody. Look for a big-shouldered blond in a shiny new suit, and that’s your man.” They reached the top stair. “Poor David.”
“Poor David,” Charlene sighed, and followed her into the warm church, taking a lone seat in the back as Jessica joined her friends.
An hour later, the service ended, and the minister directed everyone to have refreshments at the hall next door.
Charlene decided to go and have a cup of coffee, maybe talk to Linda Farris and offer her condolences in person, since the woman had hung up on her. She entered the old community hall, with cheap fold-up chairs and long tables scattered against the walls. The place was nearly as crowded as the church with people clustered together. It was also unbearably hot, so she unzipped her black coat to get some air.
Her black sweater and scarf were suffocating in this dry, little room with too many people. Fanning her face, she made her way to a table and selected a bottle of water instead of hot coffee, then took up a position next to a wall. Across the room she could see a punch bowl and a long line gathering around it. Brandy, Sharon, and Kevin, minus Amy, all joined her, each carrying a cup or mug.
Tori flashed more diamonds than tears as she commandeered the table closest to the window overlooking a side garden, barren for the winter. A tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular blond man, in a suit so new it gleamed, stood with his arms crossed between her and the guests who wanted to speak with her. That had to be Zane.
He wore a shiny watch that Charlene guessed wouldn’t be silver, but platinum, and probably a Rolex. Tori sipped from a coffee mug after the man poured something from a flask into it, and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, not removing her black velvet gloves. A diamond pendant the size of a quarter was snug at the hollow of her throat. Matching earrings sparkled.
“The girl is going to get robbed on the way to the car,” Brandy murmured. “Money sure can’t buy class.”
Sharon and Kevin chuckled, spellbound by the spectacle of people lining up to speak with the young, rich widow. All of them had their hands clasped in front of them, heads bowed, wearing the same sad expression.
Kevin nodded toward them. “They look like a cult. Or hired mourners.”
Charlene lightly smacked his arm. “Kevin, do you really think she’d stoop to that?”
Sharon pointed her coffee cup at the bodyguard. “Check out the muscles on that guy. Even his chin looks chiseled.”
“Hmm,” Charlene observed. “Jessica told me that he’s her friend from the gym. You know the guy David was so jealous of? Rumor has it, he’s her lover. Would Tori cheat on her older husband with a huge hunk of bronze?”
Brandy snorted. “I might even be tempted.”
“Give the guy shades and he could be a character in Men in Black.” Kevin finished his coffee and tossed the empty cup in a trash bin. “Who’s the other guy?”
Charlene shifted to see where he was pointing. It was the man with the football jersey, who looked as if he’d been crying. He’d bypassed the line of people waiting to speak with Tori, the jersey outstretched toward her. Definitely the odd man out.
Tori put her hand in the air and made a gasping noise.
Zane flexed his muscles before stepping in front of Tori.
“Wow. Watch those muscles ripple,” Brandy whispered, then sighed with pleasure. “Oh, please do it again!”
Charlene snickered, surprised the stitching on the suit held firm.
“What’s the guy doing?” Kevin stepped around the group to get a better view.
The emotional wreck of a man was no match for Zane. The body builder was like a cement-block building with no way around. Vincent took the man by the arm and steered him toward a platter of sandwiches.
Brandy’s amusement glittered from her green eyes. “For ten million dollars the wifey should try to act a little more sorry, don’t you think? At least hide the man she was having an affair with instead of flaunting him in public.” The owner of the winery tapped her black heel against the linoleum floor.
Kevin shrugged. “She obviously doesn’t care, and why should she? David’s gone, and she’s got the money. Anybody want some punch? I brought a flask from the bar.”
“None for me. I need to head off soon.” Charlene’s parents were waiting for her back home. “Where’s your friend Amy?”
“She had family obligations today . . . do you like her, Charlene?”
“She seems really sweet. I’ll try to make the beach thing tomorrow.”
Brandy’s auburn brow swooped up. “Kevin, you invited straitlaced Charlene to a Winter Solstice celebration?”
“Hey! I think it sounds fun, but I have guests.” Straitlaced? If only Brandy knew the truth, but her haunted bed-and-breakfast was her secret to keep.
“We’re all going,” Brandy said. “Mom and I, and my girls. They’re home for yule. We have much to give thanks for, and we hope to make this next year the most profitable yet for the winery.”
“Your wine is delicious—I have no doubt that you’ll succeed.”
“Cheers to that,” Sharon said, lifting her cup of pink punch. “I’ll take that hit from your flask, Kevin. This is like sugar water.”
Charlene elbowed Brandy. “Uh-oh—looks like Pamela and Alice want to speak with Tori.” Tori blanched an awful shade of pasty white as she saw them and called for Zane, who quickly escorted her out the nearest door.
Smart thinking, she thought. A remembrance where the widow needed an escape route.
“I heard,” Sharon said, with a glimpse at Brandy, “that Tori closed the account with all of David’s money so that none of his checks cleared. That can’t be right, is it?”
“Jessica told me that too,” Charlene shared.
“You are a sponge for gossip,” Brandy declared.
“It isn’t gossip if it is true,” Charlene said. “I know you received an envelope.”
“It was payment for his wine order, which I’d given at a discount for the auction, in addition to the back three months’ pay he owed. I deposited it the night of the auction, with my phone app for my bank. Lucky I did.”
“Yes, good thing.” Kevin ruffled his shaggy blond hair. “That sure takes moxie—why on earth would Tori be at this service after making so many enemies?” He looked to the exit, as if expecting Tori to hustle back in and explain herself. Pamela and Alice shook the door, but it didn’t budge. Had Zane locked it? Or was he holding it firm?
“She has to,” Sharon said. “Otherwise she’d appear very suspicious to the police.”
“My mother has already solved the case. The wife did it. Everyone knows that.” Charlene smiled. “She reads a lot of mysteries, and it’s no longer the butler but the spouse.”
“You are always in the know, Charlene.” Brandy sipped from her coffee mug. “What have you found out so far? Besides the affair and the checks.”
Charlene tried not to take offense at Brandy’s blunt observation. What else did she know? That Tori and David were going to skip town and disappear, that David had called out a man’s name before running out of the restaurant. And that Kyle had told a friend that he’d wished his dad was dead. Most important, she believed the “accident” to have been very personal.
She was saved from answering Brandy by Kyle and the blond woman joining them.
“I’m Linda Farris, David’s ex—how did you all know David?” Linda wore an off-the-rack black s
kirt and jacket with a black blouse and black flats. Her mouth was etched with lines of grief. “Are you friends of his or of that twit he married?”
Brandy chuckled. “David’s, I assure you. I’ve never met the twit.”
Charlene offered her hand. “Charlene Morris. I’m so sorry for your loss.” She turned to Kyle, who continued to glare, but this close, Charlene wondered if his anger was covering up guilt. Or sorrow. Or both?
“Kyle,” she said. “I was there the other night, at the restaurant. You were sitting toward the front.”
The young man wore black jeans and a black polo shirt, his hair hanging limp around his face. He looked uncomfortable, but what kid wouldn’t be around all these strangers who might or might not know the father he’d lost.
“I remember.”
Linda zeroed in on her son with an expression of hurt. “I told you not to go there, Kyle. It was a bad idea.”
Kyle lowered his head. “Yeah, I know. You were right.”
Linda put her arm around his shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetie. That explains why—well, I just thought you’d been working late when you didn’t get home until eleven.” She turned toward Charlene and the others, her emotions rushing across her face. “David said he’d leave Kyle something, but now what’s going to happen? If that bitch has her way, we’ll be lucky to get invited to the funeral.”
Kyle moved out from under her arm, his mouth twisted bitterly. “He wins the damn lottery, ten million bucks, and he’s married to that slut! It’s not fair.”
“We will manage,” Linda said quietly, her hand on her son’s cheek. “Don’t hate him. Not now.”
Charlene couldn’t miss the maternal love in Linda’s eyes.
“I have a right to be pissed.” Kyle tossed his hair back. “You do too.”
Charlene silently agreed that they each a reason to be angry at David.
Vincent and the man with the football jersey sauntered over, and Linda made room for them. “Hey, Vincent.”