As Hobbs drove into the quaint town of Chester Bay, he nodded his agreement. “I’m all for pushy if need be. Now, there’s only one library here, you said?”
“Right, and according to GPS, it’s three lights into town and a right on Fig Road.”
As he looked around, getting his first glimpse of Chester Bay and its cute stores, decorated for Christmas, he said, “It’s pretty here, but not as pretty as Marshmallow Hollow.”
I looked at the charming stores lining their Main Street and had to agree, it was pretty, with the ocean to the left of us and a lighthouse off in the distance. But they didn’t decorate the way we did.
“Really, what is as pretty as Marshmallow Hollow at Christmastime—or any time, truthfully?” I asked as he made the right onto Fig Road.
When he turned into the library, a cute little red and white box with ample parking, I sucked in a breath. I found myself a little nervous.
Pulling into a space and putting his Jeep in park, Hobbs reached for my hand. “We’re just going to ask some questions.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go ask some questions.”
Popping open our doors, we hopped out and met at the front of his Jeep, making our way across the snowy parking lot and up the stairs to the heavy wooden double doors boasting a cute Christmas wreath.
It was intensely quiet inside, making me feel guilty for buying most of my reading material online. I remember when visiting the library was a sacred event for me. I adored going to mine in school on my lunch breaks when I was a kid. I loved the scent of old books, the feel of them in my hands, and right then and there, I made a promise to visit Marshmallow Hollow’s library more often for my romance novel fixes.
There were a few people scattered amongst the long beige tables and row of computers, with shelf after shelf of books behind them. The carpeting was worn and bland, but the walls held pictures of scenic Chester Bay and some general who’d lived here. Tinsel hung from the front of each aisle of books and there was a display of homemade ornaments, proudly hanging on a tree on the opposite end of the room.
The aisles held only one very serious-looking woman, and another with a pink mohawk and heavy makeup.
As we approached on quiet feet, I smiled at the older woman with a severe gray crewcut, a pencil slim skirt, and prim sweater, and held out my hand. “Hello, I’m Halliday Valentine.”
She visibly cringed, backing away. “I don’t shake hands. How do I know where your hands have been?”
The girl with the pink mohawk, wearing a T-shirt with the name of a band I didn’t recognize on it, rolled her eyes and nudged her. “Jeez, Millie, it’s a hand, not a used condom.”
I heard Hobbs muffle a snort from behind me and I had to fight a laugh, too, but then I remembered why I was here.
Tucking my hand inside my jacket, I said, “Anyway, I’m Halliday Valentine, and this is Hobbs Dainty. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
Millie gave me a severe look, her already thin lips thinning further. “What’s the question?”
I briefly explained my Uncle Monty’s situation and the deal with Kerry Carver, and Millie’s overplucked eyebrows rose. “It was all over the news today. How horrible for Kerry and her parents.”
“Yeah,” the girl with the pink mohawk agreed. “She was always pretty nice. I hope she’s gonna be okay. I’m Solange, by the way.”
“We do, too,” I assured her. “But here’s my question. Do you ever remember her coming in here with anyone? Specifically, a man in a hoodie?”
“Kerry Carver with a man?” Millie asked, as if it were a surprise she’d even consider men. “No, never. Why would you ask such a thing? She came in to study—strictly. She was destined for an Ivy League school, not a man.”
You’d think I’d asked if she’d come in with a three-eyed monster by the way Millie choked in distaste on the word man. I didn’t bother to explain to Millie why even someone with a little sense would guess a man had beaten Kerry half to death, and that was why I’d asked.
“Then how about this—did you ever see her with anyone at all? Did she ever seem upset?”
The girl with the pink mohawk and bright eyes said, “I did. I saw her with someone. Just once.”
Aha.
Now we were getting somewhere.
Chapter 16
Hard Candy Christmas
Written by, Carol Hall 1982
“Can you tell us what he looked like?” Hobbs asked, leaning against the shelf of modern history books.
“I didn’t see what he looked like,” she hastened to add. “I was putting books back and I happened to see her sitting at one of the tables with a guy with a hoodie on, but his back was to me. Their heads were pressed together like they had some big secret, but I didn’t see his face. When you said hoodie, it sorta clicked.”
My palms grew damp and sweaty. “Here’s a crazy question, but it’s pertinent, so bear with me. Did you smell smoke? Like, cigarette smoke?”
“There’s no smoking in the library,” Millie said crossly.
I wrestled with my patience. “I realize that, Millie. But that doesn’t mean you can’t smell a smoker. Some people are quite sensitive to it. As an example, my uncle is very sensitive to the smell with even just a hint of it.”
But Solange shook her head. “He was sort of far away, so I didn’t smell anything.”
“And how do you know it was Kerry with this man?” Hobbs asked.
“I’d know her laugh anywhere. It’s kind of light and tinkling. Like a fairy, ya know? Plus, she was always in here, like Millie said, studying.”
I gulped, my throat tight. “So you didn’t see his face, but you did see his hoodie, right?”
“Yep,” she said with a cluck of her tongue. “He had on a University of Virginia hoodie. I noticed it because it’s my dad’s alma mater. He played college ball there.”
A fizzle of hope bubbled in my stomach. “Can you remember anything else about him? Anything that might be important?”
She rocked back on her high-top sneakers. “I wish I could help you—for Kerry’s sake—but that’s all I remember.”
“Millie?” Hobbs encouraged.
She pursed her lips. “I don’t remember her with a man at all. I’ve told you everything I know. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Without another word, she swept off to do said work.
Solange crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m super sorry she’s so rude. She’s not so bad once you get to know her, but she can come off as kinda snotty at first.”
I smiled. But all I could think was, no kidding. “It’s fine, Solange. Listen, if you think of anything else, will you give me a call or a text?” I handed her my phone so she could add her number
She bobbed her head, typing in her number. “You bet I will. And hey, if you see Kerry, tell her I said I hope she’s okay. And your uncle, too. I hope he’s okay, too.”
Hobbs nodded at her, putting his hand at my waist. “Thanks, Solange. We’ll pass it on.”
We didn’t have a lot, but we had more than we came in with. The University of Virginia. That was something. Not a lot of something, but something.
As we headed out the door and down the steps, I turned to Hobbs, who had his face buried in his phone as he walked.
“The University of Virginia.” Hobbs held up his phone. “Did his hoodie look like this in your vision?” He showed me the emblem for the University of Virginia and I stopped dead in my tracks.
“That’s exactly it!” But my excitement quickly faded. “But now what?”
And so what? Now we’d added to our pile of clues with no connections.
“Miss Valentine? Wait! Miss Valentine!”
I turned to find Solange running after us with no coat, her pink hair tipped with the falling snow. “Yes?”
She shivered as the frosty wind blew. “I thought of something else about that guy.”
My ears perked up. “What’s that?”
&
nbsp; “This is gonna sound stupid, but he talked funny. I can’t explain it, but it was like he had an accent or something.”
How curious. “An accent? British? French?”
“Southern like mine?” Hobbs asked.
But she shrugged as she rubbed her bare arms, now turning red from the cold. “I don’t know. I’m not good with stuff like that. I only volunteer here because my dad says it’ll look good on my college resume. I’m not much of a reader or anything, and Millie’s awful as you already saw, but I put up with it because of my dad. Anyway, I just know he had a weird way of turning a phrase.”
I peered at her through the lightly falling snowflakes, my head starting to throb. “Do you remember what he said?”
She wrinkled her freckled nose. “Shoot. I wish I could, but I just remember thinking it was really strange and a little dorky.”
Hobbs ran a hand over his jaw. “Did you ever see him come in with anyone else, or just Kerry?”
“Just Kerry. But if I remember what he said or think of anything else, I’ll text you, okay? I’d better get back in there or Millie’s head’s gonna pop right off.”
“Go,” I ordered with a grateful smile. “It’s freezing out here. And thanks, Solange. You’ve been a big help.”
As she turned and ran back into the library, Hobbs beeped his Jeep. “Talked funny…” he murmured. “That could mean a lot of things.”
I squeezed my throbbing temples before blowing my nose. “Yep. It sure could. I only wish I knew what those things were.”
He glanced over at me as he positioned his tall frame in the driver’s seat. “You’re not feeling well, Hal. Let me take you home.”
“Not on your life, Cowboy. How do you feel about driving to Jasmine Franks’s house in Chowder River and asking her mother some questions she probably won’t want to answer?”
He backed out of the parking space and headed out of the library parking lot. “I feel fine about it. It’s you who doesn’t feel fine. And how’d you find an address on her anyway?”
“I didn’t.” I held up my phone and showed off her Facebook page. “I found the hair salon where she works. She posted on Facebook today and made the mistake of adding her location. So we’ll be busting in on her place of work, but it’s worth a shot if she gives us something that can help.”
He fluffed his hair in comical fashion and batted his eyelashes. “My ends are pretty split, don’t you think? I think my ends are split. I think I should get my hair did.”
Laughing out loud made me sneeze and groan. “I’ll happily buy if you take the hit.”
He held out his fist for me to bump. “I still think you should be at home in bed, but go Team Hah.”
My brow furrowed and I tucked my jacket around with the sudden onset of the chills. “Hah? What is that?”
“Our names shipped together, silly filly. Hal and Hobbs equals Hah.”
That made me laugh so hard I had a coughing fit.
But when I was with Hobbs, I laughed a lot.
So far, no regrets over telling him about my visions.
None at all.
By the time we entered the tiny beauty salon, You Are Hair, in Chowder River, I was feeling right crummy. My head felt like someone had shoved an entire pillow between my ears and my nose dripped like a faucet.
But I was determined to get Jasmine Franks’s mother, Sienna—a single parent living paycheck to paycheck, according to the GoFundMe set up for a search for Jasmine—to talk to me.
The salon was small but adorable, with mirrors lining each wall and posters of the latest hair fashions, the smell penetrating even my stuffy nose.
I saw her immediately. A tall, graceful woman with long limbs and shoulder-length hair so dark and shiny, I’d bet I could see my reflection in it. She looked a great deal like Jasmine, who’s picture was proudly displayed at her station. They stood side by side, their cheeks pressed together, smiling at what I guessed was her high school graduation.
She smiled at us and waved us back as she finished up with an older woman who headed toward the small receptionist desk, grabbing a broom to sweep the pile of hair on the floor. “Can I help you two?”
“My name is Halliday Valentine, and this is Hobbs Dainty. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
Instantly, she stiffened, and I can’t say as I blame her. I’d bet plenty of people had approached her since Westcott Morgan’s article came out.
“About?” she asked, her tone defensive.
“About your daughter and Kerry Carver,” Hobbs said.
She blinked, her beautifully made-up eyes instantly suspicious as she leaned against the broom handle. “Are you reporters? Because if you have anything to do with that article, where that chump all but called me Little Orphan Annie, I have nothing to say to you. Nothing at all. I work hard. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. It might not be much, but I’ve worked for every cent, and I didn’t cotton to being called economically disadvantaged. I’m not onboard the pity train.”
“No, ma’am,” Hobbs said, his accent exceptionally pronounced. “It’s nothing like that. Nothing at all. I’m sure you’ve heard about the shooting at Feeney’s and about Kerry Carver, who turned up last night in Marshmallow Hollow?”
She stopped moving at all then and looked at Hobbs with less of a glare. “You mean about how they found her lipstick at the convenience store?”
“Yes, ma’am. Hal’s uncle was involved in that shooting, which is why we’re here.”
Thankfully, Hobbs took the reins on this one and explained why we were interrupting her day. When he was done, her entire attitude changed. “I’m so sorry, Miss Valentine. And believe me, I wish I could help, but I don’t have much more than I told the police, who, as you know, were about as much help as a poke in the eye.”
My heart hurt for her. “And I’m sick to death over that, Miss Franks. I’m sorry you were treated so horribly. I’d like to try and find out as much as I can to help find your daughter and Lisa Simons.”
She clucked her tongue at me, jamming her hands in the pockets of her hairdresser’s jacket. “To think because she’s an adult, she’s not worthy of a search party? I couldn’t believe my ears, and everything we’ve done since they basically told me my girl wasn’t worth their time has been done by me…by her friends.”
“I agree a hundred percent with you,” I assured her. “Some of the rules for a missing person are ridiculous, but with Kerry Carver found, maybe she can help.”
Her posture relaxed, and her next question told me that she wasn’t holding grudges about how the police had handled her daughter’s disappearance. “How is she, the poor thing? They said she was pretty beat up.”
Hobbs drove his hands into his jacket and shook his head. “We don’t know much yet, Miss Franks. She’s still unconscious. But we did learn a thing or two at a library Kerry went to, and we thought maybe if we told you what we learned, it might trigger a memory—something—anything that can help?”
“C’mon to the back where we can sit. You, young lady, look positively green. I’ve got a cup of hot tea with your name on it.”
I felt positively green, but I followed her to the back where there was a small table, a refrigerator, and shelves of hair dye and shampoo.
We each took a seat as Hobbs told her about our conversation with Solange while she made me some tea, but Sienna shook her head. “I don’t know anything about a boyfriend, or anything like that at all. The police kept making it sound like Jasmine ran off with some boy, but she’s a hard worker, her head always in a book. I didn’t know about any boys or any men at all. She wants to be a veterinarian, you know. Gracious, that child loved…loves animals.”
When her voice hitched, I reached for her well-manicured hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry to upset you. That’s not our intention at all.”
She set my tea down and slapped the table with her free hand. “I will not talk about my girl in the past tense. Period.”
“And you
shouldn’t. If Kerry’s case is connected to Jasmine and Lisa’s, and Kerry got away, Jasmine can, too,” I insisted, inhaling the steam of the tea.
Sienna brushed a tear from her eyes. “Darn right, she can. And my Jasmine’s a tough cookie. I promise you that. But I don’t have anything more than anyone else does as far as leads go. I’ve talked to everyone. Her friends at college, her teachers, everyone, and they all say the same thing. She wasn’t seeing anyone and they never saw her with anyone suspicious.”
I wanted to bang my head against the table, but I figured that might be a bit overboard. Yet, these constant roadblocks were infuriating.
“So she never mentioned anyone, never mentioned having any trouble with anyone? Nothing?” I asked.
“Nope,” Sienna said, fiddling with the edge of her winter-white turtleneck as though she were thinking about something. And then she sat up ramrod straight. “Wait—did you say the girl at the library said the guy Kerry was with talked funny? Was that the word?”
“We did,” Hobbs answered.
She put a finger to her chin, and said, “You know, I remember Jazz on the phone with someone. I don’t know who it was, but she said they had a way with words that was very unusual. Is that the same as funny?”
Both Hobbs and I stopped all motion and looked at each other. Again, it wasn’t a lot, but it was something.
“I don’t know, Miss Franks,” I admitted. “But it’s one step closer than we were before. Thank you for talking to us.”
And then, in what felt like a desperate, uncharacteristic move, she grabbed my hand again and held firmly. “Please, please find my little girl! I don’t…I don’t know if I can go another second without her.”
As we rose and said our goodbyes, I gave Sienna a quick hug and promised if we found out anything new, we’d let her know.
While we walked to the car, I had another sneezing fit, making Hobbs give me a concerned look, his eyes filled with worry.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Witness Page 14