by Elaine Macko
They lowered the casket as the weather worsened. Later, the mourners made their way back to their cars, I took Mrs. Haddock aside. “Mrs. Haddock, do you recognize anyone today?”
“No. I don’t think so. Elvira didn’t socialize with anyone from work.”
“No, what I meant is do you recognize any of them as the person you saw standing out in front of Mrs. Scott’s home?”
“Oh! Well, let me think.” Mrs. Haddock watched the mourners drifting away from the graveside. “I’m sorry, Alex. No one looks familiar.”
I patted her hand. “Not to worry, Mrs. Haddock. They’ll catch whoever is responsible. Oh, one more thing. Did either Mrs. Scott or her husband ever mention a son to you?”
“A son?”
“Yes. I heard somewhere Irwin had a son in California.”
Mrs. Haddock looked shocked. “No. Elvira never told me about that.”
I decided to drop it. I only had my mother’s story to go on.
Sam had an appointment back at the office and my mother wanted to spend the afternoon with Meme. I told Mom about getting Meme and Mrs. Haddock together and my mom took Mrs. Haddock with her. After they drove away I went over to the Poupée residence.
The old house, situated on a large, wooded lot, and grand in size, felt warm and inviting inside. Good quality furnishings had a used, lived-in feel. I stared out the French doors at the lilac hedge that had served many years ago as a fort against the advancing army, which usually consisted of Sam. I only came to the house to play on special occasions, but when I did, I played the Indian and Sam the U.S. Cavalry.
Inside, with the house lavishly decorated for Christmas, the gathering took on more of a party atmosphere than that of a funeral. A simple buffet of rolls, Danish pastries, muffins, and fruit covered the dining room table.
I got something warm to drink and wandered into the living room where the large fireplace kept everyone warm. Richard and his wife stood in a corner talking with another couple. Monica and Sandy had just arrived. Emmanuelle sat alone.
“What a lovely ceremony.”
Emmanuelle looked up from where she stared into the blaze. “Yes. Simple but nicely done.” Her husky voice took on a soft tone, rather than its usual snotty one, and she said her words without scorn. And then she said something that really took me by surprise. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been very helpful to you. I have a lot going on, but that aside, I know I’ve been rude. I’m not saying I like answering your questions, but William probably put you on the spot.” She turned back to the fire and stirred the embers with an iron poker. “So. Have you come to any conclusions?”
“No. Nothing.”
This sudden change in Emmanuelle made my defenses perk up. I didn’t know if the funeral truly upset the woman or if it a ploy on her part to garner information.
She went back to staring into the fire. Her ink-black hair fell gently around her face, framing cheekbones the same as those that had launched many a successful modeling career. Everything about her face screamed perfection. If ever the term “life isn’t fair” applied, it was now, I thought with envy wondering how come Emmanuelle got all of it: the hair, the eyes, and the perfect, cream-colored, smooth-textured, wrinkle-free skin. She even possessed an artistic hand where makeup application applied.
She put the poker down and rested her elbows on her knees. “My mother died when I was twelve.” She looked at me and her eyes misted. “I really loved her a lot though I hated her for a long time after because she abandoned me.”
“Do you have sisters and brothers?”
“A younger sister. Just a baby when Mom died. I had to take care of her.”
“What about your father?”
“What about him? I never knew him. He left. We lived with my mother’s brother and his wife until my mom died, and then went to live with my grandmother.” She reached up and pushed a piece of hair over her ears. “My mother never married the man who fathered my sister. Caused quite a scandal.”
“Where’s your sister now?”
Emmanuelle scrunched up her shoulders. “Don’t know. Being so much older I didn’t have much in common with her.”
“I’m sorry. It sounds like you had a very difficult time.”
“Yeah, but we managed.” Emmanuelle shrugged again and gave me a little smile before she stood and walked away.
I was right; life wasn’t fair.
A loud grumble in the pit of my stomach sent me on a search for something to eat. I found Detective Van der Burg over by the corner of the table getting a cup of coffee.
“Hi, Alex. Or is it LT? It fits you.”
I shot him a murderous gaze.
“I really enjoyed skating yesterday and meeting your family. They seem like a fun group.”
I lowered my eyes. “Yes, they’re great. I’m very lucky.” My conversation with Emmanuelle made me feel blessed for having all of them. I looked up at John again. “I wanted to mention something I forgot yesterday.”
“Can I get you another cup of—”
“Tea. No, I’ve still got a bit left.”
“What did you want to tell me?”
The gray eyes stared into mine and I felt my face flush.
“Did you know Richard Sheridan lied about his whereabouts on the night of the murder?” I said in a hushed tone.
Detective Van der Burg took a step closer. “How so?”
“Well, he told me he went shopping. He told his wife—” I stopped speaking for a moment while a young woman stood near us to get a muffin. When she left, I continued, “That he went to the office.”
John nodded his head. “Did he now? Well, I’m ashamed to say you’ve caught me unaware. Tell me, did you go over and interview the wife? Maybe we need to put you on the force.” He smiled, a nice change from the scowl I usually received when imparting information I probably shouldn’t have.
“I’m afraid I can’t take the credit. It just kind of fell in my lap.” At the quizzical expression on John’s face, I explained about Mrs. Sheridan and her daughter coming into Always Prepared. “Are you going to question him again?”
“You can count on it.” He hesitated a second before speaking. “I don’t suppose you would like—”
“Excuse me, Detective, there’s a phone call for you. They said they’ve been trying your cell. You can take it in there.” Mr. Poupée pointed to the study across from the dining room.
“I left my cell in the car,” John said when Mr. Poupée left. “I didn’t want to disturb the service. I’ll be right back.”
I watched him walk away and then let out a sigh of relief, certain he wanted to ask me out. What would I have said? He did occupy my thoughts lately, but I hadn’t taken it to the next level—a date. After a few minutes on the phone, I saw John say good-bye to Mr. Poupée and then he left.
CHAPTER FORTY
“What are you doing here?” my sister asked a while later when I walked into her office.
“There’s not much point in going to the factory. Mr. Poupée is staying home. The funeral took its toll; he’s very upset. I thought I might be able to get some work done around here.” I walked over to the window and turned to face Sam. “I think he wants to ask me out.”
“Who? No, wait.” Sam held up her hand. “You don’t have to tell me. Anyone who saw the way he watched you yesterday would know the answer to that one. Come sit down and tell me all about it.”
I sat in the chair opposite my sister and crossed my legs letting the top one swing back and forth in a nervous habit. “A few days ago I thought he was an arrogant jerk who couldn’t do his job right, coming after me over a shovel, and now, well, the more I talk with him the more I like him. I think I could really like John.”
“So now it’s John.”
“John. I even like the name.”
“I’m not sure I understand your problem. You’re free—unless you’ve met Mr. Right on that Internet thing.”
I moaned. “Not a chance.”
“So?”
>
“Well, for one thing, do I want to get mixed up with a cop?”
“He’s a detective. The job’s probably not as dangerous,” Sam said encouragingly, always the supportive big sister.
“It’s not just that.” I got up and walked toward the window again and leaned against the windowsill. “None of my relationships seem to work. Take Peter. We went out for years. Years!”
“A year and a half,” Sam corrected.
“And we broke up. Before that came Ryan. And before that, oh, I forget his name.”
“So?”
“So. I think I’m probably meant to be alone.”
Sam shook her head and smiled. “Alex. You are not meant to be alone. You’re thirty-six, for goodness sakes. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Go out. Sow your wild oats. Take a look at what’s around.”
“You make me sound like a guy. You got married to like the first man you dated,” I said with awe. “Do you ever regret it?”
“The truth? No. All I can say is I love Michael with all my heart. I know that sounds corny and heaven knows he drives me absolutely mad at times, but that’s what marriage is.” She looked lost in thought for a moment and then looked at me again. “Sometimes I don’t want to be with Michael, but never because I wanted someone else. Just because you didn’t feel that with Peter or Ryan or what’s his name, doesn’t mean something good might not come out of starting something with John. Take a chance. He’s nice and kind of easy on the eyes, too.”
“You always knew you wanted to be married and have children, didn’t you?” I asked.
Sam laughed. “Yeah. The married part, anyway. As long as the doctors could assure me they did indeed have epidurals strong enough to bring down a stampeding elephant, then I thought kids would be okay, too. Listen, you’re going through a lot right now. Finding a dead body, well, that’s got to be affecting you. The downturn in our business has us both worried, and then of course, seeing Grandpa Harris naked has probably traumatized you in ways that even Freud couldn’t unravel.”
I scrunched up my face. “That’s true.”
Sam walked over to me and said, “Stop worrying about being alone for the rest of your life. He’s out there. Closer than you think.” She nudged me in the arm.
“You’re right.” I pushed away from the sill and walked to the door.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I looked around. “No, I don’t think so.”
“That’ll be two hundred bucks. My advice doesn’t come cheap, you know. Pay the receptionist on your way out.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“Alex, where’ve you been?” a ruffled Mr. Poupée shouted at me as I walked into the office.
“I’m sorry. I overslept.”
Mr. Poupée waved his hand. “Don’t be foolish. You didn’t overstep anything.”
I tapped my ear several times. “Overslept,” I shouted as he adjusted his hearing aid.
Tuesday morning and the sun, filtered through the damp winter air, streamed into my room and landed on my cheek. I had slept through the early morning hours without a stir—finally—and had decided not to rush to the factory but to have a leisurely morning with an actual breakfast. I think the fact I finally admitted some of my budding feelings for John to my sister made me feel unburdened and I wanted to take advantage of the good feeling—at least for a few hours.
Mr. Poupée touched my shoulder giving me a pang of guilt. “Well, don’t worry about it. The funeral upset all of us. And in case I haven’t mentioned it, I just wanted to say I appreciate all your help. I don’t know how I would have managed these last few days. Having you here made a tremendous difference. I tend to forget you’re the one who found Elvira. I feel as if I’ve taken advantage and I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need for any apologies.” I gave him a hug. “After what happened I wanted to get to the bottom of this as much as anyone.” I looked into the old man’s eyes and hoped with all my heart my searching would not lead back to him…or Dolly. “Now,” I stepped back from Mr. Poupée, “what did you find out from Mr. Absher? Oh damn! I never told the police about the card.”
Mr. Poupée settled himself behind his large desk and steepled his fingers over and over. “I mentioned it to Detective Van der Burg yesterday. I’m very anxious about this call, Alex. It might clear everything up. Of course, I need to tell Oliver the terrible news and I’m not looking forward to that. Detective Van der Burg said he would come by so I’m waiting for him before I make the call.”
John, coming here? Something fluttered deep inside. Something I hadn’t felt in quite some time.
“I hate to ask you, Alex, but Joanne is out today and I need some letters typed up. I could ask Ruth but she’s always being interrupted by the phones. Would you mind?”
“Not at all. As a matter of fact I’d welcome some busy work. Where’s Joanne?”
“Ruth said she called in sick again. Her back gives her more problems.”
I had only typed the first paragraph of the first letter when Detective Van der Burg entered.
“Ah, Detective, you’re here,” Mr. Poupée said, as he appeared in the outer office. “Good. I’m anxious to make the call. Please, come into my office. You too, Alex.” He looked at Detective Van der Burg as if to ask his permission.
John nodded and I joined them. Maybe being on the good side of a cop had its perks.
“I’ve got the number on my speed dial. It will just take a minute. Good morning. I’d like to speak with Oliver Absher please.” We waited for Mr. Poupée to be connected. “Hello. Is that Joyce? This is William Poupée. I called on Friday to speak with Mr. Absher. Is he available?” Mr. Poupée sat perfectly straight, the phone clutched tightly in his hand. “He’s on his way here? I don’t understand. You mean he’s coming to Connecticut? Yes, yes. What time? Well, yes, I imagine he should be arriving shortly. Thank you, Joyce.” Mr. Poupée hung up with a perplexed expression on his face. “She said he’s on his way here. Left this morning on an early flight.”
“Did she say why?” I asked.
“No. Evidently he arrived back from the West Coast yesterday afternoon and asked her to book him a flight as early as possible this morning. She booked him a car, too. Well, I’m very confused.” Mr. Poupée shook his head. “I don’t think he knows about Elvira. I didn’t mention it to Joyce on Friday as I thought I should be the one to break the news.”
“When is he due in?” Detective Van der Burg asked.
“He took an early flight so I guess he should be here in,” Mr. Poupée glanced at his watch, “about forty-five minutes to an hour. That should give me just enough time to make a few calls.”
We took the hint and left Mr. Poupée’s office closing the door behind us.
“Would it be too much trouble to ask for a cup of coffee?” John asked.
I went across the hall to get it for him along with a cup of tea for me.
“I think I’ll just sit in here and wait if you don’t mind.” He took the cup from my hand. “I drink entirely too much of this stuff.”
“I know what you mean. I drink gallons of tea.” I returned to the terminal and picked up where I had left off, keenly aware that John had his eyes on me.
“You look different today.”
I stopped typing. “I do? How so?”
He cocked his head from side to side. Adorable.
“Rested. And no mascara smudges.”
I laughed. “I got a good night’s sleep. I think Mr. Absher is going to be able to turn this whole thing around for us.” I reached into my purse and pulled out mini bags of M&M’s tossing one to John.
He placed the cup of coffee on a side table and popped several M&M’s into his mouth. “Yeah, you may be right. He just might be able to wrap it up completely.”
I picked out three blue ones and placed them on the edge of the desk where John took them and popped them into his mouth. Okay. The man ate my castoffs. Waste not, want not. “Do you think that’s a possibility
?”
“We won’t know until we speak with him, but from the reference in the card it seems like he might have some knowledge about whatever bothered Mrs. Scott. At this point I’m assuming the two are connected.”
“Hmm.”
“Alex. Yesterday at the funeral I wanted to ask you something.” John leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner. I’m just not sure of the timing.”
I started to tell him I would love to have dinner and would tonight be too soon, when the phone rang. I reached for it trying to keep the agitation out of my voice.
“Thanks, Ruth. Send him in.” I turned to John and shrugged. “Mr. Absher is here.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“I can’t believe it. I talked with Elvira shortly before I left for Oregon. You’ll have to excuse me for a minute.”
Mr. Poupée directed Oliver Absher toward the men’s room and a few minutes later he returned.
“Oliver, why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
Mr. Absher loosened his tie. “Do you mind?” he gestured to Mr. Poupée as he gave up and pulled it from around his neck.
He bunched it up and shoved it into his jacket pocket. I saw what Mrs. Scott found so attractive. His skin was lightly tanned and his eyes, while surrounded by lines still had a brightness to them. Of medium height and build I could picture them together. I coughed, trying to hide the tears I felt coming for this man and a future he would never have with Mrs. Scott. Life is short. I needed to grab it with all my might and take a chance.
Oliver Absher reached for a glass of water Mr. Poupée had poured. “When I returned to the office yesterday, I found a package waiting for me from Elvira. I tried calling her several times with no luck so I asked Joyce to book me a flight.”
“We closed early yesterday for the funeral. I’m sorry. We should have waited for you.”