by CeeCee James
To make him never miss my mom again.
I sighed now, a big heaving one. My throat felt tight and my eyes burned.
I’d never realized before this moment just what a heavy burden that had been.
I twirled the letter in my hand. Why did Dad cut Grandpa off? I mean, I know the reasons he gave me, the man was evil, a family destroyer, always moving them from place to place. Dad had also been resentful because grandma used to beg Oscar to quit the FBI and Oscar wouldn’t.
All those reasons had been enough for me to accept the division for years. But now, thinking about it, seriously thinking about it, I felt like I was missing a huge piece of the mystery.
And not only had Dad cut off Oscar, he had never been all that close to Uncle Chris either.
Oscar. I smiled as I thought of him. I didn’t call him grandpa—he hadn’t invited me to, and I sure didn’t feel comfortable. But he was a new gift in my life. My own flesh and blood, a history that extended past just my father and me.
I rolled over, springs squeaking underneath me in the ancient mattress, and flipped off the light. My dad might not be as easy to crack as Grandma Wiktoria’s letters, but I was determined to do it. I would bring this family back together, one way or another.
Chapter 6
The next morning, I woke up to a frosted wonderland. I checked the MLS to keep fresh on new listings, and then wandered about the house, still in my pajamas, wondering if I’d ever get any new clients interested in a house showing. I hadn’t received any new messages in days.
I knew I should get dressed, so I’d be ready to go in case I got a call, but so far my morning had been spent on more pressing business of reheating the same mug of coffee over and over again because I kept getting distracted with chores needing to be done.
I was hanging up a load of laundry over the antique wooden drying rack—this cute old house had the most amazing claw tub but no electric dryer—when my phone dinged with an incoming text.
It was from Kari. —Joe ate the potato salad and lived. I think he knew it was his last chance since I wouldn’t be making it again for another year.
I chuckled and wrote back, —terrific!
Then I grimaced. That wasn’t the same news for poor Ian.
I walked through my bedroom and gathered clothing for the washing machine. As an old habit, I checked the pockets. There had been too many loads that I’d ruined with a pen back when I was in college.
The round metal piece in one of the pockets took me by surprise. The thing from Ian’s house. I hadn’t realized I’d stuffed it in my pants the day before.
Now that I had it out, I examined it closer. What was it?
It appeared to be the clasp of something. Yet it also looked like a screw-on top. It reminded me of one of the necklaces I had, but I hadn’t seen a necklace in the bathroom when I’d cleaned it though. The thought crossed my mind that someone at Ian’s house could have thrown it out and just missed the can. But they seemed to be the type who wore expensive jewelry. Wouldn’t you want to repair it instead?
There was something odd about it besides the tiny threads. Studying it closer, I saw a 24k stamp which further supported my assumptions that whatever this belonged to was worth repairing.
Great. I needed to bring back to Jasmine’s house. What excuse could I use to go tromping in on her grief? I could bring a meal, but when I’d left, their fridge had already been stuffed from the party food.
Flowers? That’s it! I could ask Uncle Chris if he’d want to contribute. Maybe the realty office could send some.
I jetted off a text to him with my question. Satisfied, I went back to stuffing the laundry into the machine. I hit start and brushed my hands together.
There. Another chore done.
My phone dinged with an alert. Uncle Chris was fast to respond today! I hummed as I clicked it open…a humming that quickly faded. My worst fear and suspicion had come true.
He wrote—Coroner says it’s murder.
There was no time for a text back. I hit call.
“Hey,” Uncle Chris answered, his voice heavy.
“Are you serious? How does he know? Are you okay?”
“Blood vessels burst under his skin. He also had blue fingernails. There’s some other signs the coroner didn’t go into, but it all points to acute poisoning. They are examining the stomach contents now.”
Shocked, I reeled backward until I rested against the wall. I’d eaten that lunch! It could have been me!
“Uncle Chris, any one of us could have died!”
“I know. It’s crazy. The detectives have returned to the house for samples of all the food and wine for testing. We should know more later.”
I hung up the phone, my mind swirling in surrealness. It wasn’t until I caught sight of the jewelry metal top on the counter that I realized my real reason in trying to get hold of Uncle Chris in the first place.
I picked it up and examined it again. Should I just chuck it? I mean, who would care in the light of Ian being murdered? This whole thing was bananas.
I dropped the jewelry piece into my purse, thinking I’d figure it out later.
Were they able to test all the food? They couldn’t have tested Kari’s potato salad. Kari had taken it home and Joe had eaten it. Of course, that meant it must have been safe. But what if it was a fluke? I scrambled to call her.
“Hello?” she answered, cheerily.
“Kari, don’t let Joe eat any more of that potato salad! And for heaven’s sake, keep the kids out of it!” I yelled into the phone, probably blasting out her eardrum. Panic had me in a frenzy.
“Stella? What’s the matter?”
“It’s Ian. Uncle Chris just called to say his death has been ruled as murder. They think he was poisoned.”
Kari gasped. “Are you serious!” I could practically hear the implication clink into place. She gave a low moan. “I ate that food!”
“I know. It could have been any of us.”
“My kids…” she whispered. The enormity of her statement hit like a ton of bricks. Her little boy and girl could have been left without a mother.
I swallowed hard. “I know.”
“Who do they think did it?” she demanded, angrily. “Because there won’t be a need to arrest them. I’m going to kill them, myself.”
“Kari! Don’t let anyone else hear you say that. I don’t know who the police suspect. It could be any one of us.”
“Any of us?” she squealed. “You mean I’m a suspect in a murder that almost knocked me off?”
It didn’t make sense. Why would someone have done something that could have killed any one of us, including themselves? “Do you remember anyone avoiding any particular food item?” I asked.
“Well, there was Jasmine who didn’t drink the wine.”
I nodded, remembering that.
“Of course, Jasmine didn’t seem to do much, other than push the food around on her plate,” Kari continued.
“Celeste was the same way.”
“Well, they are socialites. They might be on one diet or another. Everyone else seemed to enjoy their meal.”
Everyone else had, including Ian.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Uncle Chris. —Call me ASAP
Chapter 7
“Uh, Kari, I have to go. Uncle Chris wants to talk to me immediately.”
“Oh, my gosh! What other horrible thing does he have to say? Go!” She hung up in a panic. I wasn’t feeling much better as I called Uncle Chris.
“Stella, I forgot to tell you. You have a showing today,” he said in a grief-stricken monotone.
I clutched the phone, my heart pounding. “What? That’s it? You scared me with your text!”
“I’m sorry. The showing is in an hour. You need to get down to the Springfield Diner to meet them. It’s actually the old buyers for Ian’s place. Jennifer and Mark Clark. Jasmine has already stated she does not want to sell.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah, so this couple
is feeling a little desperate. I told them we could line up a couple of showings today. I’ll send you the MLS numbers right now.”
“Got it. I’m on my way.”
A red notification in my email showed that the contact information for a Jennifer and Mark Clark, along with the house appointment that was scheduled had arrived. I shot them a text saying I was looking forward to meeting them and hurried to get dressed.
A short time later, I parked in front of the Springfield Diner. The diner was built over fifty years ago and had been maintained to keep the same charm. White flower boxes filled with red geraniums—fake, I assume, considering it was winter—and a red-and-white awning completed the charm.
The Clarks were standing under the awning, trying to avoid a slushy pile of snow. Somewhere in their thirties, they were both bundled up with boots, hats, and scarves against the cold. Crimson cheeks and watery eyes greeted me as I walked up. Mark stuck out his hand for me to shake, while his wife, Jennifer, snuffled a red nose into the top of a zipped winter jacket.
“How are you two?” I asked, rubbing my hands briskly. My breath gusted in white clouds.
“Cold,” chattered Jennifer. She appeared miserable. I knew I needed to get her out of the cold.
“Disappointed,” added Mark.
“Oh, dear. Cold and disappointed. You want to grab a cup of coffee? Or just head straight to the showing?”
“If you don’t mind, I want to get back into my warm car,” Jennifer said. She turned and was already stiffly headed in that direction before I could respond.
“Okay, straight to the showing.” I nodded to Mark. “You guys can follow me. I’m in that sedan over there.”
With that, I hurried to my car. It was cold, so cold that the air burned the inside of my nose. Already, the temperature was lower than I’d usually seen it in Seattle. This was my first official winter out here, and the ol’ thermometer was making me a little scared.
I climbed in and turned on the heat before plugging in the address to my phone’s GPS. After it routed, I gave them a wave to let them know I was ready. They shot me a thumbs up, and we were off.
The bit of snow that had fallen the other day had mostly melted. Tall deciduous trees, their stark naked branches highlighted by the gray sky, flanked the road. Mingled around them were the evergreens. Along the fence lines, wild grass lay in wilted, rain-pounded waves.
I was looking forward to spring.
The map led across the valley into the next town, finally announcing we’d arrived at the front of a cute Colonial two-story. The driveway was empty.
I parked and climbed out as they were parking behind me. The air was quiet, the chilly temperature silencing what non-migrating birds clung to the branches and hid in hollows. Jennifer was still bundled in her jacket, not looking all that much warmer from when I last saw her.
“Beautiful place!” I puffed enthusiastically. She just looked longingly at the front door.
I trotted up the steps and located the lock box. Quickly, I punched in my code and retrieved the ice-cold key. The lock didn’t give me any trouble, and we were soon inside.
Whew! It was warm inside, but the smell that hit was both unusual and strong—menthol. Like someone had waxed the furniture with vapor rub. My hand automatically went to my nose, unprofessional I know, but my eyes were watering.
“Well, that’s interesting,” I said, trying to cover.
“Stinky,” said Mark, while Jennifer waved a hand in front of her face.
I closed the door behind us, and we slipped booties over our shoes. The house had an open floor plan with the dining room straight ahead of us. We walked over there.
“Oh, how nice. there’s a connecting sunroom,” I pointed out. At that moment, sunbeams cut through the many clouds and filtered through the sliding glass door, illuminating smear marks at the bottom as evidence to a very large dog.
“A little splash of window cleaner will clear that right up,” I said, casually dismissing it. However, the marks put me on alert for more damage.
“We have a dog too, so it’s okay. This house seems nice, Jennifer,” Mark said, wrapping his arm around her waist.
Jennifer wrinkled her nose. “A bit dirty.”
It was a tad more than ‘a bit dirty’, but that wasn’t what was so off-putting. There was a feeling in the air that made the house seem slightly unwelcoming, for lack of a better description.
We walked into the living room which practically pulsed from the sunlight bouncing off of lime green walls. Jennifer gasped, stopping dead in front of a wall of portraits laid out like a clock. It appeared really cute, and I couldn’t understand her shocked expression until I walked closer and realized the pictures were of different sandwiches.
Uh… what kind of person has pictures of lunch meat on display?
“So, how are you doing with the homeowner’s death?” I asked, trying to distract them. Too late, I realized I’d pulled out the big guns.
“Fine. I mean as well as can be expected,” Jennifer said.
“I know that it’s a shock for everybody, especially with an added blow for you guys because you thought you were buying the house.”
“That house would've been perfect. But, of course, I understand why his wife is staying there.” Mark answered.
“Well, I don’t understand it. It was always a strange home for them.” Jennifer flashed, crossing her arms. Her scowl set my teeth on edge.
Mark glanced at her with a tip of his head. Was that a subtle warning? She moved away from him.
He scratched the back of his neck. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. It’s kind of a sensitive subject.”
Jennifer glared at her husband, obviously now feeling exposed and cornered at needing to explain herself.
Her husband wilted under the look and tried to cover. “We showed up at the house last week, a little unexpected,” he said. “We were there to sign some papers, and I wanted to see about the possibility of building a dog run. We’d actually set up the time to meet the day before, but apparently, Ian and Jasmine had forgotten.”
“So, you met them before?” I asked to clarify.
Jennifer rubbed her hands together and nodded.
“Yeah. We met them a few times.” Mark continued. “Anyway, when we showed up on their porch, we could hear a lot of yelling, and we heard something break.”
Here Jennifer interrupted. “Glass breaking. We didn’t even have a chance to knock.”
“Oh, my goodness!” I said. “What did you guys do?”
Mark glanced at Jennifer again and, this time, she gave a slight, permissive nod. “Well,” he answered, “Ian was yelling that she needed to get with the program that he needed her support. Jasmine freaked out, saying that she could be pregnant, and this was a life sentence she was facing, and that it was up to him to fix this. Ian asked her how could she be pregnant. He’d gotten a vasectomy years ago. And she screamed at him that he was a liar.”
My jaw dropped. Mark and Jennifer watched me, wide-eyed. They knew they had the goods.
“Did you tell any of this to the police?” I asked.
Mark shook his head as his wife answered. “Actually, we've never talked with the police. Do you think we should go to them?”
Did I think they should go to them? Yeah! Then I thought about Jasmine. She might be young and a little flighty, but did I really think she could be a killer?
My inner voice chided me. Of course. Wasn’t the other half of a couple usually the main suspect?
I must have been frowning because Jennifer said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I shook my head, hoping to relieve her and get her talking some more. “No, you haven’t at all. Other than the fact that the whole idea is upsetting.”
Jennifer chewed on her thumbnail. “The reason why it upset me so much is that we’ve been trying so long. To have a baby.” Her husband watched her with soft eyes. “So to hear her talk about it like that, it was hard. And then to have ou
r dream house yanked away….”
My stomach plummeted. Oh, boy. I felt like the proverbial bull in a china shop, dragging this poor woman into such a sensitive conversation.
I reached over and touched her elbow. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such a hard topic.”
“It’s okay. Everyone has their struggles.” She shrugged nonchalantly, but I saw her lip tremble.
I nodded, wishing a hole would open up in the floor and swallow me up. We stood there for a moment. I really had no idea how to continue.
Luckily, her husband saved the day. Standing with his hands on his hips, facing the wall, he blurted out, “This clock is a bunch of bologna.”
We all laughed, mostly with relief. “Mark, you’re so corny!” Jennifer said, leaning into him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in tight for a kiss on the head.
We wandered through the bedrooms—six of them, all stuffed with odd furniture. One room was filled with big, round Papasan chairs. Another was a quilting room, set up with a permanent built-in table and quilt stretcher.
The master bedroom was nice, with a window seat and a five-piece en-suite bathroom. It was here that I discovered where the dog slept. A giant cedar pillow lay on the floor, accompanied by black marks on the wall.
As I followed the Clarks, I thought about Jasmine possibly being pregnant. But the other shocker was that Jasmine insisted it was a life sentence they were facing. Was she talking metaphorically about how a child was a lifetime commitment?
Or was she referring to actual jail time?
Jennifer had paused outside a linen closet.
“What’s that in there?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
I glanced inside. There was another door in the back of the closet. I reached in and tried to open it but it was stuck fast.
Grunting, I tried the door again, as well as casually trying to approach the conversation one more time. “You know, I think you should consider talking to the police about your experience. It might be nothing, but with it so close to Ian’s death, you never know.” I gave up on the door. It wasn’t going to budge. I hoped I had better luck convincing Jennifer.