I managed a smile. “So much doesn’t add up to me.”
He stopped so quickly I almost ran into him. “It doesn’t have to add up.”
“I won’t accept that.” I crossed my arms.
“You can jump to conclusions without knowing the whole story. Look at us: We disappeared and ran into the woods. How do you think that would look to our group?”
“We were just looking for Seth,” I said.
“We’re also a couple in love,” Ben fired back. “Do you think that sets a good example? What do you think some people would assume?”
“That’s not fair. If you really think that, we shouldn’t have gone into the woods. Besides, people who know us also know our standards.” We continued our trek back to the picnic site.
“What about those who don’t?” His footsteps pounded the trail next to me.
Sweat stung my eyes as I trudged beside him. “It’s not the same.”
“Oh, isn’t it? You’re making assumptions about people you barely know.”
“So what is it I’m assuming?” I caught sight of the edge of the woods and a glimpse of our group beyond.
“A secret affair, a cover-up of some kind. A crime of passion.” Ben took my hand as we left the woods.
“Yes on the first two.” I wiped my forehead with the back of my free hand. “But on the third assumption, no. I think whoever did this planned well. Mike Chandler showed me that much.”
I wanted to scream once we reached our picnic table. Not only had my plate been pitched out with the rest of the trash, but Seth glanced up at us as he chowed down on a thick slab of watermelon.
“Would you look at that?” I whispered, thankful the rest of the group appeared oblivious to our absence and arrival.
Ben shook his head.
Melinda, Emily. Emily, Melinda. I chewed on a piece of fresh beef jerky that Di had dropped off at the store on her way to take the kids to the library. If I ate much more jerky, I’d be ready to moo, but Di had been so enthusiastic about using her food dehydrator I couldn’t resist.
The afternoon was still young, and the lunch rush was over. This time, all three customers had come and gone by two, and the hours until closing time stretched ahead of me. I couldn’t expect more business on a Wednesday, and I’d stewed over the whole strawberries situation since the picnic on Saturday.
I had to dig deeper into both Melinda’s and Emily’s relationship with Charla. I still remembered Sadie’s nana and her reminiscing about Melinda and Charla. But then there was that secret meeting between Emily and Robert at the parking lot. Emily had seemed urgent, desperate, almost passionate as she’d addressed him. If only Ben and I could have gotten a little closer to them.
If only I could see Melinda, Charla, and Emily in their past, in black and white, untainted by people’s opinions and hearsay—and in the case of Sadie’s nana, impaired memory.
My daddy always said if you wanted to learn about something, you could find it in a book. Of course, this was before the Internet. I decided to take his advice, close the store for the afternoon, and head to Greenburg’s public library. They probably carried back editions of Greenburg High’s yearbooks. Daddy also said the past often dictates the future, and if these three women’s pasts converged somehow, maybe looking at their younger selves would shed some light on them.
Yet Ben’s admonition to mind my own business rang in my ears, and I almost decided to give up the idea about Charla’s death being more than an accident. Almost.
However, my inner radar blipped louder than Ben’s words, so I jumped in my Jeep and went to the library. After securing six years’ worth of yearbooks dating from the year that Charla started high school until Melinda graduated, I settled down at a table, then opened my notepad.
Echoing whispers and shushes made me look up to see Di and my nephews heading in my direction. She grinned.
“Hey there. Just getting the boys from Young Readers Camp. I think they’re ready to explode from all their pent-up energy. Wish I could bottle it. Sherri Martin invited them for ice cream with her kids.”
“Wow, I can see they’re excited.” Stevie darted around the corner of a bookshelf after his younger brother.
“Sherri’s meeting me out front to pick them up.” Her gaze fell on the yearbooks. “What’s that?”
“Greenburg High’s yearbooks.” I tapped the cover of the nearest volume. “I’m doing some sleuthing.”
Stevie returned with Taylor in tow, and Di reached for Taylor’s hand. “Thanks, Stevie, for snagging him for me. Taylor, don’t you run off like that again. I tell ya, they love stories, but once it’s time to go… Can I give you a hand?”
“Of course. I need another brain to pick besides mine.”
“I’ll be right back.” Di marched off with the boys to the front of the library, leaving me with a stack of high school memories on the desk in front of me.
Without waiting for Di to return, I flipped open the volume from Charla’s freshman year and checked the index. As I expected, Charla had at least half a dozen appearances in that first year’s edition.
I jotted down which clubs she belonged to and who she appeared with in candid shots. Charla was all smiles, looking forward to a future bright with promise. A lump swelled in my throat. She had no idea then that she had only eleven years left to live.
Sometimes Daddy says I’m too philosophical for my own good, but I suppose I get that from Momma. Would I have lived the past eleven years of my life differently if I would have known the future? Trouble is, none of us do, which is why we either spend our lives at the edge of the cliff being scared to jump, or else we grab on to the hang glider and fly. Charla flew. Like her or not, a person couldn’t say she didn’t. And what had I done?
I’d skittered at the edge and watched others do what I didn’t dare. Not finishing college. Not sticking with a business. Ben and Di both pegged me on that one.
Lord, I’m sorry for wasting time. And now look at me… . I’d treated Ben so callously, thinking of my own self before him. Love was supposed to be the most selfless, the most patient, the most kind. I stopped my train of thought. It wasn’t the time to mull over my life and my choices. My quiet time would come later. I found myself looking forward to those moments of listening for guidance and wisdom in my life.
Charla’s smile beckoned to me from the pages. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, no matter how people felt about her. Whoever sabotaged that scrub still walked around, free and alive with a future ahead of them. The question was, where did that murderer lurk?
Chapter Thirteen
So, what’d you find out?” Di slid onto the chair across from me. She looked worn to a frazzle, and I suspected she needed this break.
“Nothing new, really.” I pushed away somber thoughts about my personal life. “I’m making a list, year by year of Charla’s time in high school—and Melinda’s and Emily’s—to see what activities they participated in, who their friends were, and maybe find some foes.”
Di’s gazed probed my face, and she frowned. “You okay?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I’m just realizing some things about myself. But I don’t want to talk about that right now. We need to get through these yearbooks and get as much information as we can.”
“Okay.” Surprisingly, Di decided not to push me by asking any more questions. I did fill her in, though, on why I was concentrating on Emily, as well.
“Who’d have thought? Robert cheating on Charla?” Di shook her head.
“I…didn’t say that…for a fact,” I stammered. My face grew hot. Here I was, sounding like a biddy in a beauty shop, clucking about the latest news. “It’s a theory I have, but nothing for sure. Why else would Emily meet him out there? Plus, remember that get-together after Charla’s funeral? That woman named Kaitlyn still cared for Robert.”
“So Robert’s not squeaky-clean either… .”
“No, nobody is actually. But that doesn’t make him a murderer, either.”
“Okay. We’ll stick with the innocent-until-proven-guilty idea.” Di reached for a yearbook. “What am I looking for again?”
“Any pictures of Charla, Melinda, or Emily.” I opened the next album in front of me. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for, exactly. I’ll know it when I see it. Especially look at any candid shots. Those might not be labeled with captions, but usually that’s when someone’s guard is down.”
“You got it.” Di saluted. She turned a few pages, then paused. “Would you look at that hair? I can’t believe we did our hair that way.”
“Ha. At least you didn’t have the early ’90s hair like I did.” I cringed at the memory. “Sometimes I wish Momma would burn those pictures from junior high.”
We chased ideas round and round, and through our digging in the yearbooks, we discovered that Emily, Charla, and Melinda seemed to be quite popular. Charla’s senior yearbook was the most vivid. National Honor Society, Historians Club. Added to that, she performed the coveted role of the Greenburg Hornets mascot, besides making the homecoming court. She’d already scored a coup her junior year by being crowned homecoming queen.
The other two girls had done well, too. Emily had been nominated one of the class clowns, but she stood out in her own right. Even sophomore Melinda shone as the lead for the Drama Club’s fall and spring plays. She also excelled as one of the youngest ever varsity drum majors in the marching band.
Then I saw a picture that made me gasp.
A candid shot of Melinda and Charla walking arm in arm down a crowded hallway. Charla’s now-familiar smile, wide and bright. Melinda’s expression of adoration for her older sister. What got my attention was another individual who didn’t know she’d been captured on film.
Emily leaned against a locker in the background. The black and white shot made empty black holes of her pupils as she stared at the passing sisters. A shiver plucked my spine.
And Sadie’s grandmother had spoken of everyone living in someone’s shadow. Maybe Nana had been on to something, only she couldn’t have known she spoke of Emily.
“Di.” My voice croaked. “Look at this.” I swung the book around so she could see the picture, tucked in a lower corner of the page in a collage of photos.
“Now that’s downright creepy. She looks ready to rip someone’s face off.”
“You can’t mistake that kind of expression.” I wished I could somehow enter the photo and hear the conversations swirling through the hallway.
“A hot glare doth not a murderer make.” Di spun the yearbook back, and I studied the picture some more.
“Right, I agree. But think about it. She didn’t know anyone was taking that picture. Probably thought she wasn’t even framed in the shot.” The image of Melinda and Charla niggled at me, too. “I feel like we’re looking at something, but we don’t know exactly what just yet.”
Di closed the final yearbook and looked at me thoughtfully. “You did say something about Emily having a mean streak?”
I nodded. “The day Charla died, Melinda mentioned a prank that Emily pulled, giving Charla some candy that caused a mild allergic reaction as revenge for borrowing a sweater. Sounds petty to me.”
“What if, though, something had gone on between Emily and Robert, and Emily just wanted to hurt Charla for going through with the wedding?” Di drew a design on the notepad between us. “What if Emily planned this elaborate prank, only it backfired?”
“So she freaked when Charla died and didn’t say anything about what she did, figuring it would fall back on me and look like an unfortunate accident.” I rested my chin on my hands.
“You know, you might be on to something.” Di looked thoughtful.
“Except I can’t go blazing into Jerry’s office pointing fingers at Emily, or Melinda either, for that matter.” I stacked the yearbooks in a pile. “He said he’d think about someone tampering with the scrub, but I still have no evidence.”
“We need to dig deeper on Emily…and Melinda, too.”
I smiled at Di. “I’ll find a way. Melinda seemed warm enough the last time we spoke. I think now would be an appropriate time for me to call and at least see how she’s doing.”
Di asked, “What about Emily?”
“I’ll figure out a way to talk to her, too.”
On Thursday morning, I called Melinda’s cell phone and left a breezy message, asking how she was and telling her that I’d thought of her. Which I had. And if Melinda crossed the bridge I’d built between us, maybe I could find out more about her and Charla. Talking to her, though, wasn’t like barging into Robert’s law office. Also, I cared about Melinda’s well-being. The memory of her and Charla’s happy faces as they walked down the hall had kept me awake.
Momma always called me the sensitive one, and about 3:00 a.m. I hated that “gift” she said I’d been given. Sometimes being empathetic caused me to interpret people’s feelings the wrong way. I’m only human. So I prayed until I fell asleep—about Charla’s murder, about the store, and about Ben and me. I prayed for his safety, too, as he was out on another trip.
I was still in a mental fog while I went about my morning routine at the store. A few tourists stopped and bought a basketful of products and gathered business cards to give to their friends. The thought of repeat orders made my heart sing.
When the bell above the door clanged, I looked up and froze. I hoped my expression didn’t look as shocked as I felt. Seth Mitchell stood in the doorway like a deer in the middle of the road looking at oncoming high beams. The summer brightness outside backlit him in a silhouette.
“Um. Miss Clark. Hi.” He tugged at the waistband of his baggy jeans.
“Hi, Seth.” I stayed where I was behind the counter. “How are you today? Were you looking for a gift? For your mom? Or someone special?”
Oops. Not quite the right thing to say. A red flush tinted Seth’s neck and spread to his ears. “Um, no. Not exactly.”
“Well…”
“I’m looking for a job,” Seth blurted. “I could help you make soap, or sweep floors, or take care of the outside of the building, or paint or something.”
The poor guy. Here it was, on the brink of Fourth of July weekend, and any jobs for teenagers to be had were already taken. I wondered what made Seth choose my business.
A car pulling into the parking lot outside made him turn to face the front window, and I looked to see who’d driven up, as well. Melinda Thacker. This was very convenient for me. Ever since Di and I had looked through those yearbooks yesterday, I felt like I’d had a glimpse inside Melinda. What she still must be going through. The very thought of losing Di almost made me sick to my stomach.
Seth’s face went from blush pink to ghostly pale when Melinda entered. “Hi, Mel.”
“Hey there.” She stopped and stared at her cousin. “What brings you here?”
“Looking for a job.” He started digging at the floor with the toe of his sneaker. “Thanks anyway, Miss Clark.” Seth left the store without another look at Melinda, almost as if he were being chased.
I realized then that I hadn’t turned him down, or even talked to him about a job. Not like I was in a position to hire anyone.
Melinda turned back around from watching him leave. Her eyes looked unusually bright this morning. “What’s with him?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “He said he was looking for a job.”
Her laugh sounded shrill, and her hands trembled as she grasped her purse. “Well, I’m glad you called me. That was nice of you. People aren’t calling a lot anymore. It’s like Charla’s just gone, and no one understands what a big hole she’s left.”
At that, I nodded. “My aunt Jewel ran off and left without a word when I was little. She and my momma were best friends. I was only five, but I still remember momma crying. It was almost as if my aunt had died.”
“That’s not quite the same, but losing someone suddenly…” Melinda swallowed hard and fumbled with a sample bar of soap at the counter. “You just do
n’t think about how it will be, trying to get used to life without them. The out-of-town guests leave, grass starts growing over Charla’s grave, and people stop asking about her.
It’s like they all know she’s gone…and it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“If it helps to know, I’ve been praying for you and your family.”
Melinda shrugged. “Thanks. God doesn’t seem very close right now. Not for a long time, really. Not since youth group in high school.”
“All you have to do is talk to Him.” Churchgoing is part of the Greenburg way of life. Knowing God and talking to Him? Let’s just say some of us are still trying to figure that out, and I could see Melinda was no different than a lot of us.
“Emily’s been super, though.” Melinda gave a slow smile, and my senses snapped to attention. “She’s been there at every turn. I never realized what a good friend she was to both of us.”
Melinda fell silent, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and as she looked around the store, it dawned on me that Melinda hadn’t come to Tennessee River Soaps since her sister died. Here she stood in the very room where Charla had breathed her last.
“Do you want some coffee? Or maybe we could go somewhere else? I can close for lunch.” I’d need to start finding an assistant to run the store if I kept closing like this.
“That sounds like a good idea.” Melinda’s face grew as ashen as Seth’s had when he saw her enter the store. “I didn’t think it would be so hard to come here. Nothing personal, you know. Your store looks and smells beautiful.”
“No offense taken. It took a lot for you to come here, but I’m glad you did.” I smiled at her, trying to put my finger on her demeanor. More than grieving over Charla, it seemed like a fresh pain, a new worry had come over her. Was it just the fact that she was getting used to life without Charla? I hoped to find out over lunch. Maybe this unexpected encounter with Melinda was an answer to prayer.
Chapter Fourteen
I saved Charla’s life once.” Melinda took a sip of her sweet tea and set her glass back onto the same water ring on the table. The lunchtime noises at Honey’s battled for my attention, and I had to lean forward in the booth to catch her words.
A Suspicion of Strawberries (Scents of Murder Book 1) Page 11