All The Deadly Secrets

by Carol Schaal

D.J. ducked under the tape, turned, and waved. “You’d make a profit if you decided to sell,” he said. “I know a few people who probably still want this place.”

  Sarah walked up to the front entry, just in time to hear his parting words. D.J. gave her a quick hug and walked away, shoulders slumped, head down. “Are you, do you plan on selling?” she asked, looking across the street where two women were window shopping at the boutique. “Because if you are, you, you should sell to an outsider. Too much inbreeding in this town.”

  I smiled. “Nope.” I checked the time. “We have thirty minutes until that first guy shows up to give us a bid. Let’s go to the coffee shop. I need some fresh air.”

  When we returned, Sarah and I, unwilling to sit in the smelly, cold shop, waited in her car. Somehow, she’d managed to get a space right behind mine. A few minutes later, the renovator tapped on the car window. “Are you the owners?” he asked, pointing at the store. We both nodded. “It’s open,” Sarah said. “Got it,” he said. “I need to go in and take some measurements, look around. Be back out soon.”

  Sarah kept the car heater running, and we sat quietly for a few minutes, watching some stalwart winter souls making the rounds of nearby open stores. Sarah sighed.

  “I knew all along Mom wouldn’t leave me the store,” she said, broaching a subject I’d never had the guts to ask her about. “She, she always wanted me to find my own way. And she was afraid I’d drive the shop to bankruptcy. Kind of, a little funny, right?”

  I turned slightly in the passenger seat so I could look at her directly. “Funny?” I asked.

  “Oh, she, she was the one who would drive it to bankruptcy. Never wanted to upgrade, make any changes.”

  Sarah took a sip of coffee, made a face.

  “You, you think I don’t know people called her the Dragon Lady, but, but I did. Couldn’t blame them. She was always so nosy, poking around in everybody’s affairs.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I loved her. But I, I can’t help but wonder if her busybody ways are what got her killed.”

  You and Maccini both, I thought but did not say.

  The renovator’s knock on the window ended our dark conversation. He glanced at a small notepad in his hand. “I’ll get you and your insurance company the bid by next Tuesday,” he said. “And I’ll do what you wanted and include a separate bid for a spray-tan booth. Fair warning, fixing this won’t be cheap.”

  “Do you have an idea of the time element?” I asked.

  “I’m thinking four or five weeks,” he said. “Your insurance company will set a deadline with penalties if we don’t meet a timetable.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “Enjoy your day.”

  “Penalties sound good,” I said after he left.

  “Me like, too,” Sarah said with a grin. “But, but we need to make sure insurance pays for clean-up. Drywall is the worst.”

  The second contractor was due in thirty minutes. Sarah turned up the heat in the car and gave me a big smile, her mood apparently lightened by the contractor’s mention of the spray-tan booth, her plan approaching reality. “I have some great news to share,” she said. “Remember the stakes, those markers in the yard you asked me about?”

  I nodded, smiled, hoped I could look surprised at the news she was sharing.

  “Well I, I can tell you the secret now! I rented that space, part of a parcel my dad had deeded to me when he died, to a cell tower company. They’ll put up a tower in a few weeks and, and my house and the area around it will finally have cell service. I’ll get a nice monthly check, too.”

  “Wow, that is great news. But why was it such a secret?”

  “I felt so bad having to lie when, when you asked about it, but the company insisted. They were afraid another tower company might learn their plans, make a deal with one of my neighbors, and, and beat them to the installation.”

  I glanced away, Sarah’s apology filling me with remorse.

  When the second contractor showed up, Sarah and I remained in her car while he took his measurements and photos of the shop. He gave us the same timeline as the first guy, said he’d be in touch with details, and took off.

  I got out of Sarah’s car, went back inside, closed and locked the badly singed back door, did the same to the front door, and exited the shop. Sarah rolled her window down.

  “A March opening isn’t such a bad thing, because, because a hint of spring will bring out more shoppers, anxious for summer. We’ll be okay.”

  Her determined optimism made me smile.

  “Spring?” I said. “Who needs spring when we have such a refreshing, invigorating, cleansing wintry breeze to keep our spirits high?” I shivered, Sarah laughed, and the day suddenly seemed brighter.

  36

  I made it to the dry cleaners before their 6 p.m. closing. They told me they would have to run my jacket through twice to get out the smell. Not a problem, except that it was 19 degrees out and Florida me didn’t have a full complement of winter gear. A couple Alleton shops sold winter coats, but I didn’t want anything expensive. Any clothes I wore to the store would be ruined.

  Which meant I’d have to take a trip to a big box store in a nearby town. In the meantime, I’d have to settle for being chilly and miserable in a sweatshirt and hoodie.

  * * *

  Saturday dawned cold and damp, and the frozen shoreline was free of even the die-hard walkers. I settled into the recliner, warmed by a cup of hot tea and serenaded by the raucous calls of gulls and occasional twitter of chickadees.

  My tranquility was interrupted by the vibrating phone skittering on the table. The name on the caller ID made my heart jump. Greg, returning my call, the answer to a Saturday morning prayer.

  “Egg! Good morning!” I said, my finger crossed.

  “You never cease to amaze me, Vic,” he said. “Two people are murdered. Your store burns. You need to come home before things get worse.”

  I wanted to sing with happiness. And I was not about to tell him that I thought my freedom was in danger. That would bring out the implacable older brother, and he would probably drive up to Michigan, throw me in his car, and take me kicking and screaming back to Florida. Which sounded like the better of two possible scenarios.

  Still, as much as I longed for my family and the Tampa heat, I was not going to take off. Maccini would probably see that as a guilty person running away, and I didn’t need him on my case more than he already was.

  “I will come home, at least for a few days. Just tell me what works best in the next couple of weeks for you and Carmen.” It hurt to add her name, but this was an attempt to repair a rift.

  “Let me check. I’ll call you soon with some dates. And, um, did you want to stay with us?”

  Bless him, but reality had to intrude sometime. We were not going to be a magical, perfect family for a long time. “Appreciate the offer,” I said, knowing one had not been forthcoming, “but I need to stay in the downtown area, meet with my business attorney and some retailers. This will be a part-fun, part-work trip.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. And Sis, I can’t wait to see you. It’s been too long.”

  I disconnected the call, tossed the phone on the chair, threw open the slider, and sprang out onto the balcony. I lifted my arms skyward and did a little circle dance. The biting wind drove me back inside, but I came in refreshed, light, free of the weight of guilt and bad decisions.

  With no work to be done at Bathing Beauty, I spent part of the day laboring over the shop’s financial affairs. Finally, restless with inactivity, I decided retail therapy was called for. I piled on layers and headed to one of the big box department stores in Holland, a quick drive up the interstate from Alleton.

  The store had already started replacing winter merchandise with spring items, but I was able to find an inexpensive winter jacket I could wear when checking on renovation progress at Bathing Beauty, where the sooty smell of smoke and the drifting drywall would wreck it.

  I was more excited by my last-minute
impulse buy, an amaryllis gift set with a rustic vase that would fit perfectly with Sarah’s country decor. For the next few weeks, she could watch the flower grow as we waited for the store to be ready.

  Before anyone else could tell her my idea, I needed to ask Sarah if she wanted to be part-owner of the store. I’d just worked out what I considered to be a decent financial arrangement, and if she agreed, it might end her search for a franchise in Tennessee. That was a plan that I, of course, could never let on that I knew about.

  I threw my packages in my car and glanced at my phone, 6:30 p.m., full dark approaching and snow beginning to fall. If I added a stop to relieve my hunger pangs, I could be at her place in an hour.

  Sarah answered her landline on the third ring. “I’m in Holland, finishing some shopping,” I told her. “Can I stop by your place on my way home? It’s okay if you say no, this is really last-minute.”

  “I could use some company,” she said. “All this early evening darkness always gets me down. How about if I, I could make some hot chocolate or coffee, and we could add a little Irish cream.”

  “A sweet deal! I’ll be there in about an hour.”

  I took my time with my soup and salad dinner at a chain restaurant, again going over the details of what I wanted to present to Sarah. If she had no available cash, she could trade her work hours and small monthly payments for a stake. But if Bernice had left her a nice legacy, Sarah might want to put down a big payment and pay off the rest monthly. I’d have my Florida attorney work up the contract, and she could choose her own attorney to check the details and make sure she was getting a fair deal.

  The idea put me in a good mood, even though my continual flipflop of emotions left me a bit on edge. I could not forget about Maccini’s suspicions or about the possible danger any of the Alleton merchants were in with a murderous villain still unidentified. But so far, the killer had gone the poison route, and I would be ultra-careful about what I ate at get-togethers from now on. If I was ever invited to another one.

  I turned down the waiter’s offer of more tea, paid, and headed out the car, where I put on my new black polyester fleece coat, then climbed into the driver’s seat. I despaired of ever surviving a northern winter, and my pleas to my car to heat up faster had little effect. A thin layer of snow covered the car’s hood, and the flakes were starting to come down harder by the time I was five miles down the highway.

  Maybe a stop at Sarah’s wasn’t such a great idea, but I would pass on the alcohol and not stay too late. And if she agreed to my plan, I knew it would leave me with a warm feeling.

  37

  Lights showed in the old farmhouse, but the place and its association with death still made me shiver. Sarah now parked inside the garage, since she’d sold Bernice’s old Chevy, and a car I didn’t recognize was parked in the driveway, so I pulled to the side of it. Whoever Sarah’s unexpected visitor might be, they put a crimp in my plan to discuss business.

  I picked up the amaryllis, which I could pass off as simply a thinking-of-you gift, and knocked on the side door. A minute later, the door opened, and Eliot peeked out at the new visitor.

  “Lauren! Sarah said you were dropping by. Come on in.” Kylie, bypassing vintage wear for warm black trousers and a dark pink and maroon cable knit sweater, stepped back, shooing Eliot out of the way. “I came by to share some good news and deliver a coffeepot she had ordered from me, but it seems I’m serving as temporary hostess.”

  I placed the amaryllis gift set on the kitchen table and dropped my purse and new coat on a chair. Kylie motioned me through to the living room, where I sat on one of the dingy, overstuffed chairs. The low sound of some country music ballad trickled through the radio in the corner.

  “This is weird,” Kylie said, “because I am so excited about my good news and now Sarah has bad news.”

  I reached down to pet Eliot and raised my eyebrows at Kylie. “Let’s do bad news first, then good,” I said. “Always best to have something to look forward to.”

  “The bad news is that Sarah’s elderly aunt died. She’s on the phone upstairs, talking to her cousin. Rose, I think her name is. The death was not unexpected, Sarah told me, but Rose needs help planning the funeral.

  “Sad, right? But she’ll get through it.” Kylie jumped up from her seat. “Let me get us some coffee first, Sarah has a pot ready. Then I’ll tell you the good news.”

  “Oh, two funerals in a short time, poor Sarah,” I said, hoping my voice sounded normal, as Kylie walked by me, headed for the kitchen. “But hold up with the good news. I need to hit the bathroom.”

  Inside the bathroom, which was off the hallway leading to the downstairs bedroom, I stared in the mirror, my mind returning to Bernice’s funeral. That’s when Sarah had told me that her only remaining living relative was a distant male cousin, one she rarely spoke to. Other memories resurfaced. Gus the book guy talking about a “young hopeful” who wanted to buy Bathing Beauty. Kylie’s expensive furniture and clothes, her frequent trips to Chicago, her constant phone calls. Justin’s look her way when he talked about being worried that the police might search his and Frank’s apartment.

  Money to burn, even though Christie told me Kylie’s business had taken a hit when she lost a big client.

  I didn’t have time to think it through carefully, but only one thing made sense. Kylie was a drug dealer.

  Had Kylie murdered Bernice and Dennis? What was happening with Sarah? And was I next on the list of people who stood in the way of whatever it was Kylie wanted?

  I clutched the edge of the bathroom countertop and took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself. This was no longer an intellectual game of name-the-killer. I had to check on Sarah. And if what seemed an impossible idea was true, if Kylie was a killer, that might mean I would have to disable her.

  Advice from the teacher of the self-defense class I took when the rumors about my involvement in Drew’s death started to get nasty came back to me. “If you truly are fighting for your life,” the instructor, a burly man with close-cropped hair, told the class repeatedly, “you can’t hold back. You need to use force, cause some damage.”

  I reached over and flushed the toilet, ran some water in the sink. “Be strong,” I whispered to my reflection.

  I exited the bathroom and walked the two steps to the door leading to Sarah’s living area. I could hear the clatter of dishware in the kitchen. I opened the door and walked up a couple steps. The upstairs was deathly quiet. I stepped back down, closed the door, and returned to the living room, where I perched on one of the overstuffed chairs.

  “You want some booze with this?” Kylie yelled from the kitchen.

  “Plain is fine,” I called back, “I’m a little worried about the drive home.”

  When Kylie returned with two mugs, she handed me one with an apologetic smile on her face. “I gave you a bit anyway,” she said. “Take a sip, see what you think. And you can follow me back to Alleton. I promise to drive slow.”

  Steam was rising from the mug, and I clasped it in my cold hands. “A bit won’t hurt, I guess. So, tell me the good news.”

  Kylie, still standing, took a swallow from her mug, set it on a side table and raised her face to me. “Evie has a donor match! Not from Alleton, but one of those Asian-American groups I contacted in the Detroit area. A lot of tests need to be done, but if it works out, the donor agreed to go through the procedure.”

  I set the mug down on the other side table, jumped up, and gave her a hug. “Kylie, that is fabulous. All your work paid off. I am so happy!”

  A tear was rolling down Kylie’s face. “Tell me more,” I said as I backed away from Kylie. “What happens next? How long will it take?”

  “I’m going to think positive thoughts,” she said. “And I don’t know all the details but I’m talking to the donor match board tomorrow and they’ll fill me in.”

  She reached down and lifted her mug. “Grab your coffee. Let’s toast to Evie.”

  I lifted my mug, cli
nked it with Kylie’s, took a pretend sip. I didn’t know if Kylie had drugged my coffee but wasn’t about to take chances.

  “Why don’t you go check on Sarah?” I said. “See if she can join us. She needs to hear some good news, too.”

  “Great idea,” Kylie said, then headed for the upstairs door, carrying her coffee mug. My brilliant idea of switching coffee cups went with her.

  Once Kylie disappeared, I hightailed it to the kitchen, dumped my coffee in the sink, and refilled the cup about a third of the way from the pot on the counter. Then I reached over and picked up the landline phone. No dial tone. That was all the evidence I needed. Kylie was lying to me about Sarah.

  I was back in the living room, sitting in the lumpy green chair, the coffee cup next to me on the side table, planning what I had to do, when Kylie returned.

  “Sarah coming down?” I asked, then took a sip of coffee.

  “She’s still on the phone,” Kylie said. She walked by the chair I was in, and I saw her glance down at my coffee cup. “She said she’d be another 10 minutes or so. How about I get us some more coffee?”

  “I’m good,” I said. I pointed at Eliot, who had been rubbing against my ankles. “Did you hear the news, Eliot?” I said, “Evie has a chance to get better!” Eliot performed a little leap into the air.

  I stood, picked up my coffee cup, and walked over to the window, lifting the curtains to peer outside. Moonlight revealed snow falling at a steady rate. I stepped back, staggered a bit, then caught my balance.

  “You okay?” Kylie asked.

  I looked back at her and blinked. “I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m feeling dizzy.”

  Kylie gazed at me, and I thought I saw a small smile cross her lips. “You don’t look so good,” she said. “Maybe you should ride with me back to Alleton. We can come back and get your car tomorrow.”

  I nodded, breathing in short gasps. “Can you tell Sarah?”

  “No problem,” Kylie said. She turned and moved back to the stairway. I dumped the rest of my coffee in a nearby potted plant and remained standing by the window while a guy on the radio sang about a broken heart. “Sarah sends her apologies, said she’ll call you tomorrow,” Kylie said when she returned. She walked to the sofa. “You want to stretch out on here for a minute? You really don’t look well.”