A Murder in Helvetica Bold

by Jessa Archer

  Wren pointed to the gutter that ran down to the ground. It was bone white, shining in the moonlight. I sighed in dismay.

  “Fine. Let’s do this.”

  Getting over the edge was the worst part. I almost fell twice. Once I locked my feet around the flimsy-feeling aluminum, I let go of the roof and tried to shimmy the rest of the way. Halfway down, though, I lost my grip and smacked into the mud below.

  I opened my eyes. My back was soaking wet, but I didn’t think anything was broken.

  “Ruth,” Wren whispered from the roof. “Are you alive?”

  I raised one arm and gave her a thumbs-up.

  Wren had a much easier time than I did, but then she’s always been a bit more athletic. She handled the descent like a professional cat burglar, sliding down lightly and landing squarely on her feet as if she did this every day of the week and twice on Sundays. Wren for the win…again.

  We gathered our shoes and hobbled over to Wren’s yard with them in our hands. No point in putting them back on. Our socks were soaked through. I just wanted to get back to the safety and warmth of the funeral home. And, yes, it might be the first time anyone has ever thought that.

  The full impact of the cold didn’t hit me until we were upstairs. I started to shiver at once.

  “Let me find you some dry clothes,” Wren said. “You can’t go home like that. Hate for you to live through that ordeal only to die of pneumonia.”

  She got no argument from me, even though I knew I’d have to roll the sleeves and legs up two or three times. I pulled off my muddy socks and paced barefoot while I waited, trying to warm up. Clarence hadn’t been at the cabin, but his truck was. That meant Elaine must have picked him up, but where was her car? I would have bet the entirety of my bank account that if I drove around for a couple of blocks, I’d find her Kia.

  I sent a text to Ed telling him we were back and safe, but also noting that Clarence and Elaine had been in the house. Maybe one day I’d tell him and Cassie about the roof escape. I didn’t even want to think about it right then.

  He texted back immediately, repeating that there were lights on at the cabin, along with Clarence’s truck. But maybe they were just a decoy.

  What I didn’t understand was why Elaine and Clarence would have their rendezvous at Edith’s house. Why not at the cabin, if they were still determined to sneak around? It was much more secluded up on the mountain. For that matter, why not at Elaine’s house, wherever that was, if she was no longer married? It didn’t make sense.

  “Something just occurred to me,” Wren said as she handed me a bundle of clothes. “The door wasn’t open the other day. Elaine probably had a key, too. Clarence could have given her one.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Oddly enough, though, I didn’t get the sense that Elaine was lying about that part. I asked her directly about the door when she was at my office, and she insisted that it was open. She’s not a very good liar.”

  “Do you think maybe Clarence was there, too?” Wren asked. “The morning Edith died, I mean. Maybe he faked going up to the cabin, and he’s the one who let Elaine in.”

  “It’s possible. They both had a pretty solid motive for killing her,” I said. “Not just the money, but…frustration.”

  She snorted.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, woman. Not that sort of frustration. At Clarence’s age, they likely do more snuggling than anything else. But if Edith has been refusing to give Clarence his fair share of his father’s money all these years, refusing to let him have a life, really…”

  “He could have left town again,” Wren pointed out. “Gotten a job. He had a college degree.”

  “True,” I said. “Although at some point, I would imagine that having a college degree with little to no employment history starts to work against you. And I just don’t know what to make of his conversation with Elaine. Who would be holding something over him?”

  “Maybe someone who knows he killed his mother?” Wren suggested.

  “I guess. But Elaine said he didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t know we were listening. Unless he killed Edith and Elaine doesn’t know it…”

  “Yeah,” Wren said. “And that bit about digging up the backyard. Do you think maybe Edith hid some money there? Like a buried treasure?”

  “No clue. Either way, we can’t do a darn thing with that information, because we can’t say how we overheard it.”

  I changed clothes in Wren’s bathroom, splashing warm water on my face for several minutes. The shirt she loaned me was something she’d been given at a morticians’ convention, and the logo of an embalming-fluid supplier was now sprawled across my chest.

  “That shirt looks good on you,” Wren said with a mischievous smile after I joined her in the kitchen. “You can keep it. Consider it another little birthday gift.”

  “I like the hat you gave me a lot better.”

  When I left Wren’s, I drove down James Street. Just as I’d suspected, Elaine’s Kia was parked near a stop sign two blocks down. On a whim, I pulled off to the curb, grabbed the notepad I usually keep in my purse, and scribbled out a note.

  I know you didn’t do it, but I think you know who did.

  When you’re ready to talk, let me know.

  I didn’t sign it, since I was pretty sure that last bit would identify me. Once the note was tucked under her windshield wiper, I drove through the now-empty town, carefully sticking to the speed limit. If Blevins or one of his deputies stopped me, I was afraid I might spill the entire story. The only thing I could hope to win from that was a free stay at the county jail for sneaking into Clarence’s house. I had yet to set foot in a jail cell, and I wasn’t keen on starting now. Besides, Wren’s embalming T-shirt would look absolutely tragic in a mug shot.

  Ed and Cassie were already at the house, and it was nice to see my little cabin on the hill, cheerily lit up and waiting on me. It looked like home. I parked next to Ed’s truck, casting a wary eye toward the tree line.

  Ed met me on the porch.

  “Different clothes,” he noted. “What happened?”

  “I fell in the mud.”

  He looked amused. “Again?”

  “Yes. It seems to be a theme for the day.”

  Ed gave me a quick one-armed hug, and we stepped inside. The kettle was already screaming from the kitchen, and Cassie was placing tea bags in the mugs. She’d practically read my mind.

  “One thing’s for sure,” Ed said gravely, “that won’t be happening again. Even when I still thought that Clarence was up in his cabin, I was on edge. And when we found out he was inside the house…” He shook his head.

  I thought of Wren and me inching sideways across Edith’s roof in the full moon and gave him a grim smile. “You’re right. No more not-exactly breaking and entering for me.”

  When I went into the kitchen to help Cassie with the tea, I could see that she’d been crying. I put my arms around her. “Oh, hon, what’s wrong?”

  “I was just so worried. If something had happened to you, it would have been my fault. I shouldn’t have taken the diary.”

  “Actually, I’m glad you took it,” I said, a little surprised to realize that it was true. Not that I’d enjoyed replacing it, but if she hadn’t taken the diary, I wouldn’t have overheard Clarence and Elaine. I had absolutely no clue what their conversation meant, but I was at least fairly certain now that Elaine Huckabee had nothing to do with the murder. She’d sounded far too sincere, far too worried about Clarence.

  But Clarence himself? I didn’t know. My uncertainty on that point was doubled by the knowledge that the shape in the woods today could very easily have been him. Admittedly, Clarence wasn’t exactly a menacing-looking guy. He was in his midsixties, and while he seemed fairly spry for his age, I thought I could outrun him. But he could easily be armed, and no one is fast enough to outrun a bullet. I’m not a big believer in coincidences, so I couldn’t shake the feeling that whoever killed Edith was also the person who’d been watching m
e on the deck this morning.

  The dining room light was on above the table, and I felt completely exposed in front of the glass door. All I could see in its shining surface were our own reflections, sipping tea. Anyone could be standing on the other side watching. Probably not, since it was after two in the morning, but I still felt nervous.

  “We need to drive into Maryville tomorrow and pick out some blinds,” I said to Cassie. Thinking about it made me a little angry. Not the expense but losing the view. In the past, I’d always thought of the woods as my curtains, my protective shield around the cabin.

  I gave Ed and Cassie the abbreviated version of Wren and Ruth’s Midnight Caper, emphasizing the funny bits and leaving out the high-wire act. When I reached the end, I said, “So, I’m left with three major questions. Well, four, I guess, since we still don’t know who killed Edith.”

  “Or even if she was killed,” Ed said. “Could still be an accident, Ruth.”

  “Could,” I admitted. “But I’m not buying it. Anyway, back to my questions. Why would Clarence and Elaine choose to sneak around at Edith’s when they could have spent a peaceful night at the cabin? I thought at first that it might just be an in-search-of-a-thrill sort of thing, but…”

  “What sort of thrill?” Ed asked, then cracked up when I launched into an awkward explanation. “I’m joking. You have no idea how many long-married couples I’ve caught in backseats or in the bushes at the park. Variety is the spice of life.”

  “So, you don’t think that was it?” Cassie asked. “I mean, with Edith out of the picture, maybe they were sort of celebrating their freedom. Like having a house party when your parents are away.”

  “Is there something you’d like to confess?” I joked. “But no. They didn’t seem to be celebrating at all. They were worried.”

  “I think Cassie and I might be able to answer the question of why they weren’t at the cabin,” Ed said. “After you texted that they were in town, we drove up closer. When we checked around back, the heating unit was completely torn apart. Looked like Clarence had been trying to work on it and then realized it was too much for him to handle.”

  “Oh. That’s right,” I said. “With everything else, I’d forgotten Elaine saying something about the house being almost as cold as the cabin.” I glanced over at my fireplace in the living room. “Couldn’t they have just built a fire?”

  Ed shook his head. “Clarence called it his cabin, but it’s just an ancient trailer that he built a porch onto. Very basic, very small. And since the lights were on, Cassie…um…took the liberty of peeking inside the window over the door. It’s a dump, but someone has tried to fix it up. Make it homey. And since I doubt that would be Clarence, I’m pretty sure Elaine has been living there. When I got to thinking about it, I’m pretty sure Elaine worked for her sister-in-law, Gail, over at Rapid River. You know, the tubing and rafting place? Managed the books, I think. Gail and Gary were always close, so I’m guessing that when Elaine’s marriage ended, her job ended, too. So Clarence has probably been spending his allowance for the past two years—which, knowing Edith, wasn’t much—keeping Elaine clothed and fed, unless she managed to find another job.”

  “So what were your other two questions?” Cassie asked.

  “Who’s the person holding something over Clarence, as Elaine put it? It sounds like he’s being blackmailed.”

  “But apparently not for killing Edith,” Ed added, “since that’s not something that happened when he was a little kid. That means it probably has something to do with whatever it is he thinks might be buried in his backyard.”

  “But what could that be?” Cassie asked.

  I gave her a nod of acknowledgment. “And…that was my final question.”

  “So let me guess,” Ed said. “You and Wren are planning to sneak over there tomorrow night and start digging up the yard.”

  “Oh, no. I think we’re done with that sort of adventure. But we do have an approximate time frame—about sixty years ago, since Clarence was still a kindergartner. And since his father had already left town, whatever happened must be connected to Edith. So, I am going to start digging, but for information. And I’m going to enlist the help of my lovely and talented daughter.”

  “I doubt we’re going to find much on Google,” Cassie said. “Not from that far back.”

  “You’re right. But even before Google, we had these things called newspapers. I actually own one, come to think of it. And newspapers have archives. Think of it as a treasure hunt.”

  She groaned. “Are they even indexed?”

  “Nope. Where’s the fun in that?”

  ✰ Chapter Seventeen ✰

  The next morning came much sooner than I’d have liked, given that it was getting close to dawn when we finally made it to bed. I opened my eyes to bright sunlight spilling in through my bedroom window and the sounds of someone, Cassie probably, moving around in the bathroom next door. Someone was definitely up already, because I smelled coffee.

  I sat up slowly, fully expecting my body to cry out with all kinds of twinges and pains from the night before. Even though I’d felt fine when I went to bed, it sometimes takes a night’s rest to uncover the damage done to your body the day before. But there was nothing more than a touch of stiffness, and that sometimes hit me just from moving things around down at the office. I stood up and stretched. Time to get the day started.

  Opening my bedroom door, I almost collided into Cassie, who was already dressed in jeans and a sweater. Her hair was still damp, but I noticed she had applied a little makeup.

  “You’re up early,” I said. “Are you heading out?”

  “Yes. I’m going to breakfast with Nick Winters. He texted me last night and said he was heading out of town this afternoon. He’ll be gone for a few days, so I’ll probably be in Nashville by the time he gets back. I figured, why not? It’s just breakfast. I’ll meet you at the Star afterward, and we can get started on our treasure hunt.”

  I laughed, because I could tell from her expression exactly how much she was looking forward to it. “Hey, it will be fun. We can laugh at all of the crazy hairstyles and advertisements.”

  “True. I hadn’t thought about that. It might be fun. Oh, and by the way?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Ed is a keeper. He really cares about you. You should’ve seen him last night. He was worried sick. And he also makes good coffee. I’m going to be late, though. Bye!” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, yelled a goodbye to Ed, then grabbed her keys and her bag.

  None of us had slept long enough, but the dark circles under Ed’s eyes told me that he hadn’t slept well at all. The mattress in the guest room has seen better days, and I’d offered to let him swap with me or Cassie. But he’d insisted that he’d be fine. I suspected he was regretting that.

  “You look tired.”

  “It was a late night,” he said. “For all of us.”

  Cronkite hopped down from the sofa and started doing figure eights around my legs as I poured myself a cup of the coffee. Then he meowed and parked himself by his bowl.

  “That cat is a dirty liar,” Ed said, laughing. “I fed him when I woke up. He pulled the same stunt on Cassie when she came down a few minutes ago.”

  Cronk gave him an indignant look and stalked back to the living room, so I’m pretty sure he followed the gist of what Ed was saying. I offered to make us some breakfast, but Ed said he usually stuck to coffee until later in the morning. Something else we had in common, I thought.

  “You should go home,” I told him as I took a seat at the table next to him. “See if you can get some rest. I don’t think there are any watchers in the woods waiting to storm the castle, and I’m going in to the office anyway.”

  “This is my second cup,” he said, “so I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. But I do need to go home for a bit. Get a little writing done.”

  “I’m sorry. This is keeping you from your work, and you’ve got a deadline coming up.”

  He leaned across the c
orner of the table and put his hands on my shoulders.

  “You’re a smart woman, Ruth,” Ed said softly, his voice sending a warm shiver through me. “Don’t say dumb things. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  And then he leaned forward and kissed me. A quick, gentle kiss, followed by a smile that spread slowly, lighting up his eyes.

  “So,” he said, shifting topics like that hadn’t just happened, “you’re doing research today?”

  “Yes. We have copies of the paper in the morgue that go back to its founding.” I started to explain that I meant the newspaper’s morgue, which is the name for the collection of past issues that are housed on shelves down in the basement. But Ed was nodding, so he must have been familiar with that somewhat arcane term.

  “I was just thinking,” he said, “that you might also want to check with some of the women at the Women’s Club. Edith was one of the older members, but there are a few others still alive who used to work out at the factory. Teresa Grimes, Patsy’s mom, worked there before she married Pat and they opened the diner. She’ll probably know if there are any others still around.” He finished off the last of his coffee. “You’re not thinking about confronting Elaine or Clarence, are you?”

  I thought for a moment. “I’m thinking about it. Not Clarence, even though I’m skeptical that he killed Edith now. But Elaine was clearly wanting to tell me something the other day when she stopped by the office. I pushed too hard, and she backed off, saying Mr. Dealey was wrong. That I wasn’t a nice person.”

  “I’m going to have to beg to differ with her on that point.”

  I smiled at him. “Thank you. But she was kind of right. I was being a little snotty about the whole thing with her saying the door was unlocked, after Dean had said the opposite. Do you know how well Elaine knew Mr. Dealey?”

  “She worked for him for a couple of years. Part-time, back before Gail opened Rapid River. Gary was a CPA, plus he did taxes on the side, and she helped out with that. I think it was more a hobby than anything else. Elaine liked telling everyone she was a reporter for the Star, although I don’t think she actually did any of the writing. I could be wrong, though.”