by Cat Johnson
“Hi,” she said, but didn’t follow it up with a kiss or a hug or anything intimate. I wasn’t sure if that was because we were in that post-sex awkward stage or—and this was more likely—she knew I was pretty unhappy about her sleuthing and her plan to socialize with the local criminal.
Fine. I was glad she knew how I felt.
“Get in. I’ll drive. You have the address?” I asked, pushing off the truck and walking around to the passenger door to open it for her.
Harper shook her head. “No need. It’s just down the road. Blue house next to the pharmacy.”
My eyes widened. How the hell did I not know this guy? I didn’t know, but I intended to find out.
“All right. Then we walk. Come on.”
“You’re bossy when you’re mad.” She shot me a sideways glance as she walked around the side of the house toward the front yard.
The accusation had me laughing. “I’m not mad.” I was concerned. There was a difference.
“Still bossy,” she mumbled.
Reaching out, I grabbed her arm and stopped her stomp toward Main Street. I reeled her in and pulled her close to me.
Leaning low so we were just a breath apart, I ran one hand over her hair, soft beneath my palm. “I worry. I don’t want anything to happen to you. And if I have to be bossy to make sure you’re all right, then I’m gonna be bossy.”
Her gaze met mine and her expression softened. “I’m not used to having someone to worry about me . . . except for my mother.”
“Get used to it,” I said and leaned in closer.
“All right. I’ll try.”
“Good,” I said before, pressing her back against the house, I closed the remaining distance and took her mouth in a possessive kiss.
We were sheltered from view of the road by the chimney and I took advantage of that, taking the kiss to the next level. Thrusting my tongue between her lips while gripping her hips to hold her tighter against me.
She pulled back. “We should go. I don’t want to miss him.”
“One-track mind,” I mumbled as I braced my palms against the wall on either side of her and tried to catch my breath.
I wouldn’t have her attention until she satisfied her curiosity so we might as well get it over with.
“Sorry,” she said.
Since I seemed to have a one-track mind as well, except it had to do with Harper, I couldn’t blame her.
“Nope. Nothing to be sorry about. Let’s go interview your intruder.” I swept my hand for her to proceed.
She pushed off the wall and started walking, shooting me a glance. “Can we continue that later?”
I smiled. “Oh, yeah.” No doubt about it.
When we reached the house it became apparent that the mysterious Joe and his mother wasn’t such a mystery to Harper. She walked right up to the door and rang the bell.
When the older woman answered the door, Harper said, “Mrs. O’Leary? I’m Harper Lowinsky. Carson Bekker told me Deputy Callahan dropped Joe off here. I was wondering if Joe was around and if I could talk to him briefly.”
For a stranger in town, Harper had sure made the rounds, spewing out names like she’d been born and raised in Mudville.
“May I ask what this is in reference to?” the older woman asked.
The question had Harper pausing. “Um, Joe will know what it’s about. I’m Agnes’s great niece.”
“Oh. Agnes. I love her. She’s so sweet.”
“Yeah, that’s what people say. So is Joe here?” Harper asked.
“Yes. Come in. Sit down. I’ll get him.”
“That was weird right?” I asked Harper when the woman left the room.
“Yes, very. It was like she didn’t know anything about what happened last night,” Harper said.
Joe appearing in the doorway ended our conversation.
“Hi, Joe. I’m Harper, Agnes’s niece,” she reminded him. “Can we talk?”
His gaze cut to me standing behind her before he nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Can we go outside though?”
He glanced over his shoulder at the doorway where his mother had disappeared.
“Sure.” Harper nodded and we both waited for Joe to lead us outside and around back to a metal outdoor dining table and chairs.
“Look. I’m really sorry,” he began.
“I just have one question. Why were you there? What were you looking to find?” she asked.
That was actually two questions, but all I cared about was what Joe would say in response.
He drew in a deep breath and after one more glance back at the house, he leaned forward.
“My mother worked for Rose. Right up until the end. She was her paid companion. Cooked and cleaned for her. But more than that, she was her friend when Rose’s relatives wanted nothing to do with her. They only started coming around at the very end when they figured there was a will with their name on it.”
“Sounds familiar.” Harper snorted.
“What is your mother’s name?” I asked, still trying to piece together where this family fit into Mudville.
“Patience O’Leary.”
“Does she not know about last night?” I asked. “It didn’t seem like it when she answered the door.”
Joe drew in a deep breath. “She’s starting to show signs of dementia. What she does know she forgets pretty easy. I figured this was one thing I was happy for her to not remember.”
I didn’t want to side with this guy after last night. And I hated it, but I was actually starting to feel bad for him.
“Did you grow up here? Go to school here?” I asked.
Apparently Harper wasn’t the only one with questions for her intruder. I seemed to have more than my share. More than she’d had.
Joe shook his head. “No. My parents were divorced when I was young. I actually lived with my dad in Pennsylvania. But I’d visit mom here.”
“Did she always own this house?” I asked, still trying to work out why I wasn’t familiar with the O’Learys. I thought I knew everyone who lived on Main Street.
“No. She just started renting it a couple of years ago. She couldn’t afford to keep our old house up on Brook Hill. The bank took it. That’s why it was so devastating for her when Rose passed. Rose had told my mother she’d written a new will and left everything to her as thanks for all she’d done for her. But when Rose died—”
“You couldn’t find that will,” Harper guessed.
He shook his head. “Mom looked everywhere at Rose’s place and didn’t find it. She even checked with Rose’s lawyer. She didn’t have it.”
“And you thought it might be in with Rose’s journals,” Harper said.
“Yeah. I heard him talking about how a trunk of Rose’s stuff ended up in Agnes’s attic and I took a shot.” Joe tipped his head in my direction and bam, just like that, the guilt came down on me like a hammer.
I’d done this to Harper, as much as Joe. It had been me talking at the bar when there were other people listening who’d put Harper in this situation. Fuck.
Things were starting to make sense now. But as I pieced the sequence of events together, Harper had obviously been working through things on her own. Damned if she didn’t reach right out and grab Joe’s hand.
“I’m going to look for it for you,” she said, sounding excited.
“You will?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ll search through everything in that trunk. Through every page in those books. If anything in there has your mother’s name on it, I’ll find it. I might be new to the town, and my proficiency in taking care of animals is still in question, but if there’s one thing I’m exceptionally good at, it’s finding things,” Harper assured him.
“I would love to help you, but I have to get back to my job. I still live and work in Pennsylvania. I was only here for the weekend visiting Mom. If I’m allowed to leave, that is.” He frowned. “I guess I need to check with John Callahan.”
I quirked up a brow. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.�
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I wasn’t quite as willing to forgive and forget his breaking and entering, even if he did think he had a good reason. Even if it had been my loose tongue that caused him to be there in the first place.
“One more thing,” I continued.
“Yeah?” he asked, looking tired. Defeated. Not just from lack of sleep but from life in general and this conversation.
“How did you know where Agnes’s spare key was?” I asked.
Harper needed her answers and I needed mine. The question would nag me if I didn’t learn the answer.
Joe looked contrite as his gaze shot from me to Harper and then down to focus on his hands clasped on the table.
“Years ago, Agnes was away when the church was having some kind of event, but she had their big coffee maker. She told the pastor where the key was, and he sent me over to get the coffee pot. I was young. Like ten I think, but I remembered.” Finally, Joe met my eyes. “I’m so sorry. Really I am.”
“Why didn’t you just ask me if you could look through Rose’s stuff?” Harper asked.
“Like I said, I’m not in town. I didn’t know anything about you being there. I was visiting for the weekend. I figured I’d take a look quick. Get in and out before anyone even knew I was there. And I’m kind of afraid if Rose’s relatives got wind of what I was looking for, they’d find it first and destroy it. If they haven’t done that already.”
I had to agree with him. Her relatives had to have made off with a fortune when they sold the house after Rose died. They wouldn’t be happy to have to turn over that money to Joe’s mom.
Shame too. A damn city guy had bought the house. He put a big ugly addition on it and was here maybe a couple of weeks a year. The rest of the time it sat vacant.
Even though I had wanted to pummel Joe last night, I believed him. His story had a sad ring of truth to it. And I would have preferred his mom had the house rather than an outsider.
Harper leaned forward. “Joe, I’m going to tell the sheriff I don’t want to press charges. I mean, at least I’ll try if I’m allowed. I don’t own the house. Agnes does, so officially she was the wronged party. But I’m the caretaker for now, and I was the one inside at the time. That should count for something.”
Joe’s eyes looked glassy with unshed tears of gratitude. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Harper nodded her acceptance of his thanks, but said, “Just don’t do it again. Okay? You need anything in that house, you come to me and ask. I can keep things quiet. And I’ll make sure it doesn’t get out what you were looking for.”
I hadn’t even thought of it before but her comment made me think that Rose’s relatives could be interested in breaking into Agnes’s house next.
I was going to have to buy Harper a watchdog or I’d end up worrying all the time about her. Too bad Petunia wasn’t a pit bull.
“Joey! Did you want me to put on the kettle for tea for your friends?”
With Patience O’Leary’s shouted offer my wildest prediction for today had come true—having tea with the intruder and his mom.
Harper shook her head. “We really should be going, but thank you for the offer.”
Thank goodness Harper was on the same page I was. Although chances were she wanted to leave so she could play Nancy Drew and start her search for the missing will. While I wanted to leave because this was too fucking weird and awkward.
“No, thank you, Mom. They have to leave,” Joe called back.
“All right,” she called back. “Let me know if you change your mind. I have a nice Bundt cake.”
Yup. Weird.
I stood. Harper did too—thank you, baby Jesus, for that.
She and Joe exchanged a few more surreal niceties and promised to keep in touch, talking until I was tempted to grab her hand and pull her out of there. Luckily I didn’t have to.
Finally the goodbyes were said and we were headed down Main Street.
“So, feel better?” I asked her as she motored fast enough I had to lengthen my stride to keep up.
“Yes and no.”
Uh oh. “The case of the missing will?” I guessed.
“Yes. How horrible is that? That poor woman. And poor Rose too, not to have her final wishes honored.”
“And you believe him?” I asked.
She shot me a frown. “Yes. I saw my own mother go from ignoring Agnes to jumping in the car and rushing up here. And Mom hadn’t even been promised an inheritance, not to mention the fact Agnes wasn’t even dead like Mom assumed.”
My eyes widened. “That’s why you were here that day?”
“Yup. Dee Flanders called my mother asking if she had time to meet. My mother jumped in the car, dragging me with her, and rushed here to see what she’d inherited.”
I couldn’t help my laugh, but I did try to hide it behind my hand. “What did she do when she found out Agnes was alive and well on her European vacation?”
“She stormed over to your corn stand and made a scene.”
This time I didn’t even try to cover my laugh. “This explains so much,” I said.
Even Harper had to smile. “The poor lawyer was so confused. She thought we were local when Mom agreed to meet that afternoon. Meanwhile all Dee wanted to do was ask if we could watch the house.”
Boy, was I glad Harper had agreed to do that. Without her mother.
“But don’t you see how money changes people? Even otherwise good people. That’s why I believe him. Don’t you believe Joe’s telling the truth?” she asked me.
I couldn’t lie. As much as I hated it, I had to admit, “I’m not sure, but yeah, I think he might be. It sounds plausible.”
“Wait. What’s that?”
Quick changes of subject were usual for Harper. It was hard to keep up.
“What’s what?” I asked. Her question had me glancing around.
“That cute little building over there.”
I followed her gaze down the side street. “That’s the old train depot.”
“Oh my God, it’s adorable. Can we go see?” she asked.
“Sure.” I should probably get my fill of looking at it now since it was for sale. I figured any new owner was going to tear it down and likely build something ugly and modern in its place.
Harper was way ahead of me, her phone out as she snapped pictures by the time I caught up with her.
“This is amazing. The details. It’s charming. So cute. I’d love to live in it.”
I let out a laugh. “Until the train came by and rattled you out of your bed. Not to mention the whistle.”
She cringed. “There is that. It’s loud enough at Agnes’s and it’s blocks away there.”
“Exactly. But you’re right. They don’t make architecture like this anymore.” I looked up at the elaborate roof supports and the old lights.
The windows were broken and boarded up. The weeds overgrown. The paint peeling. But it still had solid bones. It wouldn’t take much to fix it up if someone wanted to bother.
But then what? What would they do with it? Why would anyone want to put the time and money into a place like this when they could level it and put something practical in its place, like storage units or something?
The stop had put a damper on my mood, but it seemed to only invigorate Harper. I watched her take more pictures from every angle before she finally turned to me. “Okay. We can go.”
“Okay.” I was the follower here. Harper was most definitely in the lead.
We turned back toward Main Street and she glanced sideways at me. “So you want to help me with the search?”
Her eyes were bright with hope.
I drew in a breath and let it out. “Yeah, I’ll help you. I just have to do something for my Dad at the farm first. It’ll take a few hours but then I’ll be over later. If that’s okay?”
“Okay. Whenever is fine. I’ll be there going through those books, even if it takes all night.”
“Great.” It looked like I’d be spending the night with Har
per after all. Unfortunately, I suspected we’d be spending it all in the attic with Rose’s memories.
What a man will do for a woman . . .
From the Journal of Rose Van de Berg
MUDVILLE INQUISITOR
1960
Split sessions have begun at the Junior High School. This was due to the increased enrollment from the post World War II baby boom.
TWENTY-THREE
Harper
By the time I heard Stone’s truck pull into the driveway I was dirty and sweaty and miserable, surrounded by old books and clippings and assorted ephemera.
It seemed like Rose had stashed away for safe keeping anything she could get her hands on except the one piece of paper I needed. That will.
With a sigh that had me coughing as I inhaled a lung full of attic dust, I heaved myself off the floor. I took one heavy, stiff legged step and realized I’d been sitting in one position for hours and would be lucky if I didn’t fall down the back stairs.
Stone would find me there, crumbled in a heap with a broken neck and nothing to show for my sacrifice.
With that morbid thought I pressed my palms against the wall on either side of me, wondered why the hell nobody had installed handrails on these steep stairs, and gingerly made my way down.
It seemed to take forever to get down the three flights to the kitchen level. By the time I got there Stone was standing by the kitchen door.
I undid the regular lock, the deadbolt and the sliding bolt, and tugged until the swollen door finally opened. “Hey. Sorry. I was upstairs.”
“No apology necessary. I’ll gladly wait. I’m happy you triple locked the door.” His gaze swept over me. “You’ve been working up there all this time?”
“Yeah.” It was a hot day and I’d felt every degree of that heat up in the attic. It would have been smarter to bring the books downstairs I guess. But there were so many it seemed easier to look through them where they were.
Though I supposed a fan would help. I’d have to carry one up.
“You need a break,” Stone said, still staring at me.
I probably looked horrible. I did know one thing. I needed a big drink of water because I’d forgotten to bring one up with me. I moved to the cabinet and grabbed a glass, then filled it from the fridge.