If she still counted.
“People got offended,” Sharon said, “because the pics were taken the night Ren died at Corey Lake.”
Missy’s jaw dropped. “What? Why would Olivia put them up?”
She couldn’t believe Olivia would do something that insensitive.
Sharon sighed. “She didn’t know they were from that night.”
This didn’t add up. “How could she forget something like that?”
“Easy.” Sharon pushed away from the tree. Missy wondered where she’d gotten her beer from and whether she was searching for another. “Olivia told me how it happened. She’d taken those pictures, then we found Ren’s body, and all hell broke loose. She put the camera away after that, she didn’t even want to get them developed. Just recently, her mom was cleaning out her closet and found the camera. Mrs. Oakley had no idea when the pictures were from. She just thought they looked nice. She gave them to Olivia who didn’t put two and two together till she posted them on Facebook.”
Missy hadn’t read all the comments, but she remembered Sharon’s. “You knew right away, didn’t you?”
Sharon nodded. “Yeah. I have a pretty good memory, especially of that night.”
“It must have been terrible.”
“I wasn’t there when it happened,” Sharon said. “Kevin and I were late. We were…anyway, Ren was already dead by the time we arrived.”
Missy picked up on what Sharon had left out of the story. And recalling Kevin’s comments from earlier, she put two and two together: Sharon and Kevin had been together that night, before they came out to Corey Lake. Missy couldn’t help but find that odd, because the main attraction of Corey Lake was its seclusion. People went there to make out.
Then again, passion rarely adhered to anybody’s schedule, especially teenage passion. So it wasn’t that strange Kevin and Sharon had necked before going to Corey Lake.
Missy smiled sadly. “Still, it must have been awful.”
Sharon nodded. “It still is.”
Without another word or even a goodbye, Sharon wandered away. Missy couldn’t tell if she was headed back to the funeral parlor or her car in the parking lot or just out into the street. An odd thought occurred to her, but Missy quickly dismissed it. Sharon hadn’t killed Olivia. The woman was completely distraught because she’d lost her best friend, not because she was guilty of the crime.
The Babysitter Instinct kicked in and Missy wanted to offer Sharon a ride, but that would have been seriously overstepping again. Instead she let the woman wander away, but Missy couldn’t shake the feeling that Sharon was holding something back.
Missy walked back to the car and found Mom asleep in the passenger seat, with the heat blasting. As she got in, she remembered Vinnie had given her his business card after writing his prime suspect’s name on the back. She fished it out of her purse and flipped it over:
Don’t know. But you can always call me on my cell to discuss.
***
Back at the house, Missy’s Irish setter Cody greeted them at the front door excitedly. A few months ago, Mom had bought an emergency pack of dog biscuits for those times Missy brought Cody over. Missy raided the tin where they were kept now and dropped three on the kitchen floor. Of course Cody carried them one-by-one over to the carpet in the living room.
Mom went straight to bed.
Missy had planned on going home and getting up early to pick up Mom before she went to the bookstore. Her scrapbooking spread for the competition needed finishing. But she just didn’t have it in her tonight.
So Missy got comfy on the couch and turned on the TV. Cody curled up on the floor by Missy’s feet. She channel-surfed for awhile finding it hard to settle on any one thing. Finally she just gave up trying to find something and instead watched reruns on TruTV.
She must have fallen asleep because next thing she knew, Mom was rubbing her shoulder. Missy snapped awake, momentarily confused by where she was. Then she remembered she was in Mom’s living room, her old living room.
“What time is it?” she asked groggily.
“After midnight,” Mom said. “You should go up.”
Missy couldn’t argue with that. But as she got up she noticed some old photos spread out on the coffee table in front of her.
“What are these?”
Mom smiled. “Some old pictures I thought you’d like.”
Missy was really tired, but the photos had her perked up. There were a couple of Missy and Noreen, at most ten years old, at what appeared to be a kid’s birthday party. Missy and Noreen were wearing those cheap party hats and had smashed vanilla cake in each other’s faces. Both girls were all smiles.
Missy’s natural thought was to bring the picture to work tomorrow to show Noreen. But she decided against it. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But right now, it would have felt like she was trying too hard, or trying to force a moment. It felt weird to Missy. She’d never had to put a filter on or think about her actions when it came to Noreen.
Until now.
“What’s the matter, Miss?” Mom asked.
“Nothing.”
She looked through the rest of the pictures. There was a really nice one of her and Mom she didn’t remember ever seeing before. Missy was in cap and gown but looked really young—it must have been from her graduation ceremony from middle school.
The last picture, though, made Missy’s breath catch in her throat.
She was fifteen or sixteen, definitely in high school, and standing in a doorway with her arm around Olivia’s tiny shoulders. Missy was smiling at the camera, but little Olivia was peering up at her with eyes wider than saucers.
“I thought you might like that one,” Mom said.
“Thanks.”
On tired legs, Missy went upstairs to her old room. It was both comforting and strange sleeping in her old bed, which Mom had never taken down. It seemed so much smaller than she remembered, just like the room itself which seemed half as big as it was in her memory.
***
Missy got to work by eleven. Noreen was at the front desk by herself. Today, at least, she looked up from her phone to say hello.
Missy went through to the back, changing out of the dress she’d worn to the funeral into a pair of jeans and a black blouse. She checked her face again. After the funeral she’d had to redo her makeup, courtesy of all the tears she’d shed.
Missy went back out onto the floor. Again the shelves were messy.
Noreen put her phone down. “How was it?”
“Tough.” Missy smiled and came over to the front desk. Noreen sat up.
“So was the viewing, from what I hear.”
You should have been there, Missy thought. “Olivia’s friends are taking it hard.”
Noreen nodded. Neither woman said anything for awhile. Missy was just about to start tidying up the shelves when Noreen spoke again.
“Back room is pretty bare.”
Missy hadn’t noticed when she’d gone back there to get changed and drop her bag off. But a low inventory didn’t bode well. It might have meant that Brett had stopped restocking…
Noreen arched her eyebrows. “Our days are numbered.”
Missy frowned. “Brett would have told us.”
“He’s been telling us for awhile.”
Missy didn’t feel like arguing. Besides, part of her thought Noreen was right. Without another word, she walked into the back.
Noreen hadn’t been exaggerating.
Brett hadn’t utilized any sophisticated storage method for back room inventory. He kept books in cardboard boxes, on shelves, on desks, and very often just right on the floor. Normally, you couldn’t see the far wall because the shelves in front of it were usually fully stocked and you couldn’t walk from one side of the room the other in a straight line because of all the inventory.
But today the floor was unusually clear and the shelves along the far wall were pretty bare.
When Missy e
merged, Noreen was back on her phone. Without looking up, her friend said:
“See what I mean?”
Missy didn’t want to agree. Or disagree. What she wanted was to keep living in her current state of conscious denial, where on one level she knew the store could close at any moment and on another level she continued on, blissful in the one job she’d had since graduation.
***
After work, Missy stopped home to pick up her scrapbooking supplies and brought them over to Mom’s house. She really needed to start the daunting process of buying a car, but she was stalling and not only because she didn’t have the money. She was stalling for reasons that were unknown even to her.
“How are the pages coming?” Mom asked.
Missy opened her book.
Mom came over to the dining room table and stood beside her. Her eyes drifted down and scanned the four page spread Missy was still finalizing. The theme was mother and daughter, so all the pictures featured some facet of their relationship.
Mom rubbed under her eyes and Missy realized she was getting choked up. She put an arm around her mother, feeling how slight she was, how anymore she felt like just skin and bone.
“It’s nice to have you home again,” Mom said.
“It is nice,” Missy said. “But I’ll get a car as soon as I can. Maybe we can start looking on Sunday?”
Mom smiled. “It’s no rush. You can stay as long as you want.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Missy didn’t want to impose. She knew she needed to just bite the bullet and spend money on a new (or more likely, used) car. It was money she didn’t really have, which was the problem. She’d just have to tighten her belt for a few months to absorb the costs…but would she even have her job in a few months?
Probably not. Missy needed to start looking for a new one.
If she won the amateur competition at the Scrapbooking Convention, that would put a little extra, now much-needed cash in her pocket. It wasn’t a game-changer, but it would help.
She should really leave the investigation to the police. What more could she do about it? Vinnie as far as she could tell was a good detective and Tyler would probably come back soon anyway, so Vinnie would get all the help he needed. As much as she wanted to, Missy didn’t know if she even was being helpful. At this point, Vinnie knew what she did and probably more. He knew that Sharon suspected Meghan and had heard about her outburst at the funeral home. He could—
“Missy.”
Mom’s voice pulled her back to the present moment. “What is it?”
Mom had turned to face her and now put her hands on Missy’s shoulders. “Everything will be fine.”
“I know.” As always, Missy was amazed at how well Mom could read her.
“You’ll figure it out.” Mom smiled. “You always do.”
Missy smiled back. “I don’t know what I’m doing right now.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Mom repeated. “I believe in you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“If it’s going to bring you peace of mind, then take the time you need to help the police.”
Until Mom had said it, Missy hadn’t thought of it that way. “I think it might.”
Chapter Thirteen
M issy pulled up in front of the townhouse she’d spent many nights in during high school. They had put up new siding sometime recently and had replaced the stone garden in the front yard with grass. The dogwood tree was still there and in bloom.
Missy hadn’t called ahead but it was only eight o’clock, and she figured that the Oakleys would be happy for some company after the last few days.
Plenty of cars were parked near the townhouse but Missy had figured they belonged to the neighbors. The cul-de-sac the Oakleys lived on had plenty of homes and few parking spaces. But as Missy stepped onto the front walk and approached the house, she realized that many of the cars belonged to the family and friends that had gone to the Oakleys after the funeral.
Their front door was cracked and inside Missy could hear the hum of conversation. She thought about turning around and going home. After all, she hadn’t been invited. She was about to turn, but the door opened wide and Mrs. Oakley stared out at her through the screen door.
“Missy?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have realized you would have company.”
Mrs. Oakley beamed a grateful smile at her. “Please come in.”
Missy wasn’t really dressed for the event in her ripped jeans and old t-shirt but she couldn’t refuse at this point. Stepping inside, she found the place packed. There was conversation but it was kept at a polite volume. In the den, the men were drinking and absently watching a muted TV, while in the dining room, the women sat around a table laden with food, flowers, and alcohol. Missy recognized many of the faces she’d seen at the funeral, but she didn’t know anybody here that well. She’d been hoping to talk to Mrs. Oakley about Meghan to see if she could tease out more details about her strained friendship with Olivia, but it looked like that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Mrs. Oakley smiled at her then left the room.
She couldn’t just leave, though, so she smiled and said hello to everybody else there and poured herself a white wine. The women were talking about the police and one in particular was voicing her grave concerns with how little they’d turned up. Missy couldn’t help but take offense. She knew the police were working hard, like they always did in Grove City, to bring the killer to justice. And going off her own personal experience, catching a killer was hard work and sometimes involved a little bit of luck.
“Can you believe they haven’t ruled out robbery yet?” one woman said.
“I think it was a hate crime,” another woman said.
Missy just shook her head. Who would have purposely gone to the elementary school on a Saturday morning of all days to commit a robbery? And who in their right mind would have gone to commit a hate crime against a young white woman?
She sensed someone else entering the room and when she looked over saw Sharon standing in the threshold.
It was like someone had flipped a switch. Upon seeing Olivia’s best friend in the dining room, everyone stopped talking and grew teary-eyed.
The nearest woman got up and embraced Sharon, who absently hugged her back. The whole time, Sharon’s eyes were on Missy, like she was wondering what Missy was doing there.
There was a seat open next to Missy and Sharon took it after pouring herself a healthy glass of wine.
They clinked glasses and Missy sipped while Sharon gulped. Missy couldn’t help but think about how Sharon had gotten rip-roaring, out-of-her-mind drunk the last three days.
Sharon was busy pouring herself a second glass of white wine when she spoke suddenly, her voice low enough so only Missy could hear.
“They were nice to me.”
Missy put her glass down on the table, not really wanting to drink anymore. She hadn’t been on the scale recently and all the added stress of the last few days wasn’t going to help either.
“I’m sorry?” Missy said.
Sharon’s shoulders were slumped as she gulped more wine. Missy caught one of the other women sneaking glances at Sharon.
“Work.” Sharon smiled with one corner of her mouth. “They didn’t make me take personal time or anything. They just said take the week.”
“That was really nice of them.” Missy smiled. “Was the rest of the gang here earlier?”
“Just Kevin. He lives in the next cul-de-sac.” Her voice had a toneless, almost alien quality to it. “Number four-three-seven.”
Missy sat back. Sharon seemed to be in another world. Maybe she had to be. Maybe the pain was just too much right now. Around them, the conversation continued in hushed tones. The other women in the room were purposely not looking at Sharon, making things awkward.
Sharon suddenly spoke: “Meghan did it.”
Everyone else in the room stopped talking. Sharon had said it half under her breath, but obviously everyone had been listen
ing to her carefully enough to catch this.
When Sharon didn’t say anything, all those eyes shifted over to Missy like she was supposed to say something.
Except she had no idea what to say.
Eventually the conversation resumed as if nothing had happened. Missy grabbed her wine and gulped, hoping it would take some of the edge off.
Missy made polite conversation with the other women for a few minutes and also tried to engage Sharon but to no avail. After twenty minutes she figured she’d been polite enough so she got up to find Mrs. Oakley.
Missy left the dining room and peeked into the den to see if Mrs. Oakley was with her husband, who had been sitting quietly in the corner on the recliner. He was still there, one hand wrapped around a beer bottle while he kind of stared at nothing. The other men in the room were still quiet, all locked onto the TV.
Missy turned and headed into the kitchen and literally walked into Vinnie Carmine.
“Hey there.” His smile was really nice.
“Hi.” His proximity made her anxious. She realized he’d grabbed her arm so she didn’t fall.
Vinnie said, “I’m letting go now, not that I want to. Are you going to fall?”
Missy laughed. “I’m fine.”
He let go but didn’t move away. Only a foot separated them.
“How’s the investigation going?” Missy asked.
He motioned for her to follow. Vinnie led her through the living room and out the back door onto a concrete patio. Nobody else was outside. The darkness deepened.
“The killer went through Olivia’s purse and took what little cash she had on her but left the plastic,” Vinnie said.
Missy frowned. “You’re saying this was a robbery? I don’t believe it.”
“It explains why the photos were spilled on the floor. According to Sharon that was where Olivia had put those when she was transporting them to the—what do you call it again?”
Missy DeMeanor Cozy Mysteries Boxset Page 49