Whispering Pines Mysteries Box Set 3
Page 6
We’d decided to go with light moody-blue walls, ivory on the ceiling, black trim, and medium-brown floors. I could already picture how cozy it would be.
“It’s coming along,” I said and sneezed from all the dust. “What do you want me to do?”
“Prepare to get dusty.”
He showed me how to sand the spackled wall seams, not that it was a difficult task, but this was the final coat and it was important that it be as smooth as possible. I slid on a pair of goggles and a dust mask and got to work. While I couldn’t say it was an enjoyable job, there was something meditative about it. My mind went from one topic to another—the recent rash of arguments with Tripp, the people at the campground, and what I was going to do with myself all winter. I’d be decorating our new apartment but hanging curtains and choosing throw pillows wouldn’t take long. I really did need a hobby.
Two hours later, Tripp declared the sanding portion of the job officially complete. The dust was powder fine and got everywhere, so we spent another hour vacuuming. We hadn’t finished, but it was time to head over to Grapes, Grains, and Grub.
After taking a second shower—seriously, that dust got everywhere—I slipped on my uniform shirt and paused. This was a fun community gathering. I didn’t need to be Sheriff O’Shea tonight so took off the shirt and swapped it for my “87” Packers jersey instead. Then I contemplated the tools I usually carried in my cargo pockets. I would skip the cargos tonight, too, and wear jeans but couldn’t go unprepared. Wearing my shoulder holster and having my Glock on display didn’t feel right, but I fully expected Gavin Lindsey and his gang to show up and cause problems. I dug out my waist holster. The jersey nicely covered my weapon while still affording easy access should the need arise. Best of both worlds. And team spirit.
I grabbed my badge along with a few zip-strip cuffs to shove in the pocket of my fleece jacket and left the room to find Tavie and the girls in the great room. Like every other young adult I knew, Silence, Melinda, and Gloria were sprawled on the sofas, staring intently at their cell phones.
“They’re not bored, are they?” I asked Tavie.
“Bored? Roaming this beautiful home, no chores, and that lake view? They’re in heaven.”
In a hushed tone, I noted, “But they’re not viewing the lake.”
“Yes, we are,” Melinda said, eyes seemingly never leaving the phone’s screen.
“They have their ways,” Tavie said with a chuckle.
I was out of touch. When I lived in Madison, my cell phone was an accessory I was never without. Pulling it out to text someone or snap a quick picture had been as common as pulling out a credit card to pay for a cup of coffee. Something else I didn’t have to do anymore thanks to Violet’s No family member of Lucy O’Shea’s ever has to pay for coffee in my shop generosity. Over the last six months, with cell reception in the village being nonexistent unless connected to WiFi, my phone had become a device for notes and taking the occasional picture. Old-school walkie-talkies were my go-to for communication now.
That reminded me, I’d forgotten my talkie. I grabbed it from its charger on my nightstand and came back out to find Silence sitting in the oversized reading chair in the corner outside our room. She looked up at me and smiled her megawatt smile.
“Found yourself a little nest, did you? I won’t bother you.”
She scribbled on her whiteboard. You’re not bothering me. I just wanted to get closer to the lake. It’s so beautiful.
“Isn’t it?” I agreed. “I’m blessed to live here.”
You are very blessed.
In many ways was the unwritten conclusion to that statement. I knew I was, but I forgot to remember that sometimes.
I gasped at the sudden memory of one of Gran’s favorite sayings.
Whenever Rosalyn or I would proclaim we hated something, Gran would say, “Don’t forget to remember how blessed you are.” Or, “Don’t forget to remember that somewhere a person isn’t getting dinner tonight.” Or, “Don’t forget to remember there are little girls living on the streets.”
Like Silence.
Are you okay, Sherriff?
I laughed, fighting off threatening tears. “I’m fine. I was just remembering something my grandmother used to tell me. This was her house. Funny how even though we’ve changed almost every room, I still feel her presence here.”
She gave me a tight closed-lip smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
I understood what the look meant. She thought I grew up privileged. I wouldn’t say that, but I certainly didn’t want for much. Except my dad. He was never around.
“Silence?” She looked up at me. “Can I ask you why you don’t speak? Tavie explained your circumstances to me. I hope that’s okay. I don’t mean why don’t you speak; I mean why do you continue to be mute?”
She scooted to the side of the big chair and patted the cushion for me to sit. She cleared her whiteboard and then started to write, the marker squeaking as it left hot-pink words behind.
No one was listening to me. My uncle abused me. Not just with his fists.
Her jaw clenched, and her beautiful face turned serious as she waited for me to nod that I understood what kind of abuse she meant. She cleared the board.
One morning I decided since my mom refused to listen, I’d stop trying to get her to. She knew.
I’d never understand how a person could know that kind of thing was happening and still do nothing. I nodded and she wrote again, the slight smell of alcohol in the ink permeating the air around us.
I left in the spring right before graduation.
“You waited until spring because it would be warm enough to sleep on the streets?” I’d heard this kind of story enough times that I could keep my voice steady. Inside, though, between this and the fact that her mother did nothing, I was raging for her and wanted to scream. The world was chock-full of scum and enablers.
Right. I stayed in parks, keeping clear of cops the best I could. I knew no one so didn’t bother speaking.
Pause. Nod. Wipe. Write.
She blushed. My not speaking became a sort of pick-up line. I learned to get what I needed using other means of communication.
I had a pretty good idea of what that entailed.
You hear a lot more of what’s going on around you when your own voice isn’t getting in the way. She erased the words. It’s amazing how much bigger the world becomes if you get quiet and listen. She cleared the board again and then tapped her forehead. You learn more about yourself by listening to your thoughts instead of your voice.
“That scares some people.”
Listening to their own thoughts? Yes, it does.
I chuckled. “Sometimes when I’m interviewing witnesses, I’ll ask a question and then sit mutely and wait for them to answer. There tends to be a lot of squirming before they finally respond. Quiet makes people uncomfortable.”
That’s because there’s so much going on in the silence.
“The kind around us and the one sitting next to me too.”
The dazzling smile returned, joined by sparkling baby blues.
“What did you hear in your thoughts?”
That I was being tested. That better things would come if I survived.
If she survived. “So far so good. You’re a very strong person, Silence.”
She shrugged off the compliment. More stubborn than strong.
“It depends on how you look at it. You found a way out of an awful situation. That’s what matters. It wasn’t a way anyone would choose if they thought they had another option. I’m sorry that’s the only one you felt you had.”
She shrugged again. This time it was a gesture of submission. You do what you need to do.
We both looked out at the lake then. The bright sunlight sparkled on the surface. A few puffy white clouds floated past. The trees swayed ever so slightly.
“Is it possible that along with your own thoughts you were hearing that higher power Tavie talks about?”
She consider
ed this as she wiped the board slowly and thoughtfully but only responded with a shrug.
“I’m glad you made it through that part. I’m so grateful there are people like Tavie out there helping those in need.”
Me too. She saved my life.
I didn’t doubt that for one second.
I did graduate, by the way. No one was there for me. It was one of the best days of my life.
My throat clogged with emotion, and I couldn’t respond. Instead, I spread my arms wide and wrapped her in a hug. Tavie was right. Silence was a joy to have around.
Tavie appeared from around the corner. “Here you are. What are you two doing?”
Silence tapped her board as I said, “Having a chat.”
“If you’re ready, the others want to get over to the buffet. Gloria says she’s starving.”
Gloria is always starving. Goes right to her cheeks.
Tavie laughed, a big happy belly laugh.
“You all can ride with us if you like,” I told them.
“No need to cater to us. We know where to go.” Tavie cleaned the lenses of her glasses and held them up to the light, checking for any remaining smudges. Satisfied, she put them back on and leaned in to me. “Besides, I believe you and Mr. Tripp need all the alone time you can get.”
Was our squabbling that obvious? We’d managed three hours in the attic without a single sideways word. Of course, we were both wearing dust masks. And we worked at opposite sides of the room. Still, I’d count that as a win.
~~~
There was a line outside Triple G when we got there. Not an unusual sight during the summer season, but unexpectedly thrilling today. That line meant lots of villagers were attending the buffet. We dropped Meeka off in the doggie play yard behind the pub. Standing electric heaters for the less furry pups, and therefore more easily chilled, were scattered across the yard. Meeka was thrilled to have playmates and ignored my impression of a guilty mom dropping her kid off at daycare. She was fine. What was I getting emotional about?
“Buffet is all you can eat,” Maeve said, for probably the hundredth time, as she charged us for the buffet at the door and handed Tripp his change. “Soda and milk included. Beer and other alcoholic drinks are extra, and you’ll have to get them at the bar. We’re running on a lean staff tonight, so catching a server to get something for you will be tricky.”
Inside, the pub was packed. The building itself was a cottage that used to be someone’s home and had long ago been converted into the restaurant it was now. Rather than tear down all the walls to accommodate a single large dining area, they’d turned each room into a separate dining space. One long, narrow room held a twenty-foot table normally used as a community dining spot for singles, couples, or smaller groups looking to socialize with others. Today, it held the buffet. Extra seating had been shoved in wherever it would fit throughout the pub. I prayed there wouldn’t be a fire because we were well beyond the fire code tonight. A violation I’d ignore for this one occasion.
After filling our plates with turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and other traditional Thanksgiving offerings, Tripp and I chose a table along the outside wall in the big main room. We discussed the attic as I dunked my turkey into my mashed potatoes with gravy, and Tripp mixed everything together into a sort of casserole.
“I was thinking,” I said between bites, “it’s too bad there isn’t a fireplace up there.”
Tripp stared at me with a look that said he was envisioning the space. “We could put a little freestanding pot belly stove in the corner next to the windows. Not quite the same as a fireplace, and we’ll need to put in tile on the floor and walls to deal with the heat, but it could be done. It would keep the space nice and toasty.”
“Sounds great. Add it to the list.” Then I amended, “That can wait until after we’re moved in.”
“That will require venting to the outside which means exterior work. Not something I want to do when it’s cold outside.” He shoved a forkful of his casserole into his mouth and chewed happily. “So nice to have someone else make dinner now and then.”
I filled my mouth with stuffing rather than saying if he wanted me to cook, all he had to do was ask. I wasn’t much good in the kitchen but did know how to grill. Maybe I’d surprise him with burgers or brats one night this week.
“You know, we don’t really have to buy any furniture,” my frugal boyfriend said. “We’ve got all that stuff in the garage loft.”
“True. I’m fine with antiques if you are. As long as they’re comfortable. We will need to buy a mattress, though.”
He waggled his eyebrows at me. “So our first purchase as a couple will be a bed?”
I grinned and heat spread from beneath my collar to the top of my head.
As we ate, numerous people stopped by to say hi and wish us a Happy Thanksgiving, most of whom I had to introduce to Tripp.
“Didn’t realize you knew everyone in the village.” He took a long swig of his beer, looking at me over his mug.
“I don’t know everyone, but it is part of my job to get out and patrol the village as often as possible. I meet a lot of people that way.”
His brow creased at that comment. I hadn’t left the house lately, much less patrolled the village, but he knew what I meant. He waved at someone across the room. “Those are the guys that helped with the renovation. I haven’t seen them in a while. I’m going to say hi.”
He placed a quick kiss on the top of my head and walked away.
Speaking of my job, I was with the community now. I left our jackets lying at one end of our table and went on patrol. And to find some dessert. I took the long way around Triple G, stopping to greet villagers and proving my earlier point that I didn’t know everyone by meeting some folks for the first time. It amazed me how people could live so close together and never see each other.
Groups filled the corners of the bigger room and gathered in tight clusters in the smaller ones. They laughed and talked nonstop, everyone keeping an eye on everyone else’s kids. I suddenly had a pretty good idea of what the weekly Sunday gatherings would be like this winter. That would be the time not only for everyone to check in with each other during the cold months, it was also when Tripp could get to know more of the villagers.
Tavie and her group had taken a table almost smack in the center of the main room. They looked like they were enjoying themselves and waved when they saw me looking. I couldn’t help but notice Silence. It was like watching my college roommate Taryn all over again. Taryn’s eyes would start scanning the room, looking for a “date,” the second we’d walk into a club. She always dressed in micro-miniskirts that barely covered her butt, filmy spaghetti-strap tank tops, and heels high enough I was sure she’d fall off them. I hated how she put herself on display that way. She didn’t need to do that to get a date. And the guys who responded to her clubbing costume weren’t the kinds of guys she deserved.
I was about to wander over and see how they were doing when I spotted my deputy. He was at a small table tucked all the way at the back of the main room next to the door that led to the pub’s massive deck. By the dazed look in his eyes, it seemed Reed had been sitting there for a good while, pounding back beer.
“Hey there, Sheriff,” he slurred. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
I recognized Brady Higgins but not the two other guys sitting with him. They all greeted me in the same slurry way and gave off a vibe that said I’d interrupted a private conversation.
“Are you here all weekend?” I asked Reed. We hadn’t spoken since he returned to school in Green Bay after everything with Lupe fell apart. That was three weeks ago.
“Yeah.”
“Do you have time for a chat?”
“I’m busy right now.” He refilled his mug from the pitcher in front of him, sloshing a bit on the table as he did. Good thing no one had to drive home tonight. “I got a lot to do on my cabin, too, so . . .”
Speaking as his boss, I said, “We really should talk soon.”
“Yep, guess we should.” He stared past me at the television hanging on the wall.
Even if we made a plan to get together, he wouldn’t remember it tomorrow. Maybe I’d stop by his place. I hadn’t seen his cottage yet.
The tension broke when I took a half step back. I got it. I wasn’t welcome.
I said hi to a few more people as I wandered, then paused in the buffet room. I loaded two big slices of pumpkin cheesecake and pecan pie on a dinner plate. As I covered them in whipped cream, a voice in my head told me I was reverting to old habits of self-medicating with food.
“I am not,” I whispered at the voice.
Well, maybe I was, but it was just this one time. Everyone was here with family or celebrating with friends. I had no idea what my family was doing today. Guess I could have invited them up. Mom wouldn’t have come but Rosalyn might have. My boyfriend was with his friends, and I didn’t see Morgan anywhere. I felt all alone in a room full of people on Thanksgiving. So what if I celebrated on my own with a bit of cheesecake?
I returned to my table with the overfilled plate in hand and froze. An envelope with “Sheriff O’Shea” typed on it, exactly like the one I’d gotten at the station, lay on the table in the spot where I’d been sitting. Was this person following me around the village?
With a steak knife from one of the flatware bundles on the table Tripp and I hadn’t used, I sliced open the envelope. The card inside was also identical. Except for the message.
You know what you did.
Who the hell was leaving these? And what did they think I did? I stood and slowly scanned the room, pausing at every table and cluster of people standing around. I looked at every face, checking for any sign of responsibility. No one was paying any attention to me. If the guilty party was one of them, they were hiding it well.