Yeast of Eden

by Sarah Fox

  The mystery had intrigued me the moment I’d found the journals and albums in the old trunk, but now it had its claws in my skin, sinking ever deeper. I wanted to know what had happened to Camelia and Tassy to satisfy my own curiosity and because it seemed so wrong for the two young women to have no real ending to their stories, to have no justice, if any was called for.

  If I’d brought the album of newspaper clippings with me to the pancake house, I would have buried my nose in it right then and there to check for any information I might have missed when I’d skimmed through the articles. I’d left the album on the coffee table along with Camelia’s earlier diaries, though, and maybe that was for the best. The lunch rush would be underway soon. Leigh and Sienna could probably handle all of the customers, but I still wanted to check in and see how things were going.

  As I got up from my seat, my phone buzzed and I snatched it up off the desk.

  Brett had replied to my message.

  I miss your voice too. I’m sitting with my dad while my mom and Chloe get some sleep. I’ll call when they get back to the hospital.

  I sent a quick reply before heading down the hall to check on things out front. I wished time would go by faster so I could talk to Brett sooner, but the minutes ticked by sluggishly.

  Lisa showed up shortly after closing time, distracting me from my thoughts of Brett and Camelia. I waved goodbye to Leigh and Sienna as they left, locking the door behind them.

  “How are you doing today?” I asked Lisa.

  She rubbed her arms and shivered. “I’m worried about Ivan.”

  “Ivan?” I led her over to the large stone fireplace. I’d let the flames die down to glowing embers, but it was still warmer over there than by the door. “Because of Wally’s murder?”

  Lisa pulled a chair out from beneath the nearest table and sank into it. “Deputy Mendoza came by my house this morning.”

  “You were questioned again?” I pulled out a chair for myself.

  She nodded and twisted the silver ring she wore on her right hand. “This time mostly about Ivan. How close we are, whether he knew about me blaming Wally for getting Carlos hooked on drugs, how protective he is, how insulted he was by the things Wally said here at the pancake house.”

  That didn’t sound good. “So he’s on the suspect list,” I said as my stomach sank.

  “He must be.” She hesitated before she said anything more. “I shouldn’t even be asking you this, but can you think of some way to clear his name? You’re good at finding out the truth.”

  “Why shouldn’t you be asking me? I care about Ivan too.”

  “I know, but you’ve got so much else going on lately. How are Brett and his dad doing?”

  “His dad made it through surgery, so that’s a major relief. As for Brett… I’m going to talk to him later.”

  “I should have asked as soon as I got here. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You’ve got a lot on your mind too.” I stared at the dying embers in the fireplace for a moment. “Let me think about what we can do for Ivan. There must be something.”

  I’d told Sheriff Georgeson that I had no plans to launch my own investigation, but with Ivan on the suspect list—maybe even at the top of it—I couldn’t help but change those plans. Lisa could be in trouble, too, considering the questions Ray had asked us both the other day.

  “Thanks, Marley.” Lisa glanced toward the kitchen. “Is it all right if I go say hi to Ivan and Tommy?”

  “Of course.” I put a hand on her arm to stop her from getting up. “But you can’t keep me in the dark. What exactly is going on with you and Ivan?”

  The worry lines across Lisa’s forehead smoothed out and she smiled. “I’m not entirely sure myself, but we’ve been spending more and more time together.”

  “Have you kissed?”

  “Not yet.” Her eyes sparkled. “But I won’t let much more time pass without that happening.”

  I jumped up and hugged her as she got to her feet. “I’m excited for both of you.”

  “Thanks.” She returned my hug, still smiling. “I’m heading over to the craft fair at the elementary school in a bit. Do you want to come with me?”

  “I’d forgotten about that,” I said. I’d seen a notice about the fair in the last issue of the local newspaper, but I hadn’t given it a single thought since then.

  “It’s a great chance to get some early Christmas shopping done.”

  “That sounds good. I just need a few minutes to finish up around here.”

  “I’ll go say hi to the guys and then I’ll give you a hand.”

  Lisa was true to her word, spending only a minute or two in the kitchen before helping me tidy up the dining area. Once that was done, we headed to the bank, where I needed to make a quick stop before we moved on to the craft fair. When we reached the school, handmade signs directed us to the gymnasium. Tables filled the large room, laden with all sorts of goods for sale.

  I spotted Patricia Murray seated at a table at the far end of the room, her driftwood carvings on display. Her wares had several people interested at the moment, so I decided to work my way over to her slowly instead of heading over to say hi right away. As Lisa and I moved from table to table, I kept my phone in one hand, not wanting to miss any call that might come from Brett. We’d stopped in front of a display of handmade soaps when my phone buzzed and Brett’s picture popped up on the screen.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I said to Lisa, holding up my phone so she’d know why I was leaving. I made my way through the crowd, tapping the screen of my phone as I went.

  “Hey, I’m glad you called,” I said, pushing my way out the door.

  “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  My heart ached at the exhaustion underscoring his words. “Same here. How are you holding up?”

  Brett let out a huff of air and I could picture him scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’m all right.”

  “Really?” I rounded a corner and leaned against the side of the building, stuffing my free hand deep into the pocket of my jeans, trying to keep it warm.

  “Tired, of course, and worried. But a weight has lifted off my chest now that Dad’s made it through surgery.”

  “That’s a huge relief,” I agreed. “How’s he doing today?”

  “The doctors are happy with his progress, but he’s mostly been sleeping. I guess that’s for the best.”

  “Probably. Chloe and your mom are back at the hospital now?”

  “They got back a few minutes ago. Your mom’s been great, by the way. They got some sleep and she cooked them a hot meal.”

  “What about you?” I asked. “Have you eaten today?”

  “I had a muffin from the cafeteria this morning. I haven’t been all that hungry.”

  I huddled deeper into my jacket, wishing I could magically transport myself to his side. “You’re going to my mom’s place now, right? You need to get some sleep and eat some real food.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Brett?”

  He sighed on the other end of the line. “I miss you, Marley.”

  The emotion and fatigue in his voice brought tears to my eyes. “I miss you too. So much. Please take care of yourself, Brett. You need to sleep.”

  “All right. I’ll go to your mom’s place for a few hours.”

  Some of the pressure that had been building in my chest fizzled away. “But don’t drive. Take a cab or ask my mom if she can pick you up.”

  “That’s okay, Marley. I can drive.”

  “You’re so exhausted I’m guessing you can’t even see straight. Please, don’t drive.”

  I’ve lost too many people to car accidents, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get the words out.

  “Okay,” he said gently, and I suspected he knew what I’d left unsaid. “I’ll take a cab.”

/>   A siren blared to life on his end of the line, fading seconds later.

  “Sorry. I’m standing outside the hospital.”

  “Then you must be cold.”

  “It’s not too bad. The fresh air’s actually nice after being inside the hospital for so long.” He fell silent for a second or two before speaking again. “I wish you were here.”

  “So do I.” My heart was on the verge of bursting beneath the renewed pressure constricting my chest. “And I could be. The Flip Side’s closed for the next two days. I could be there tonight. I’m sure Lisa or Patricia would look after Bentley and Flapjack.”

  “Don’t leave yet. I don’t know if Chloe’s planning on going back to work tomorrow or if she’s taking time off. We’ve only got one car here, so I might need to drive her back.”

  “Not until you’ve had some sleep,” I reminded him.

  “No. I’ll go get some sleep now. How about I call you tonight?”

  “That sounds good. Let your dad know that I send my love?”

  “I will. I really love you, Marley. And I miss you like crazy.”

  “Right back at you,” I whispered, my throat tight.

  When I disconnected the call, I had to take a moment to breathe deeply and allow the threat of tears to subside. Once I’d regained control of my emotions, I pushed off from the building, ready to go back inside and meet up with Lisa.

  “I told you I’d take care of it,” I heard a woman say in a low, angry voice.

  “Like you did with Fowler?” a man’s voiced snapped.

  Instead of turning the corner, I paused.

  “What were you thinking?” the man asked. “What if someone finds out…” His voice faded, as if he were moving farther away.

  I peered around the corner. Glo Hansfield—the woman I’d seen slipping into the hardware store through the back entrance—was entering the gymnasium, a tall man in a dark overcoat at her side.

  They were inside the building now, so I headed for the door myself and sought out the warmth of the school gymnasium. But as I left the cold air behind me, a frosty shiver danced its way along my spine.

  Chapter 11

  I wound my way around clusters of shoppers to reach Lisa’s side. She’d mentioned Glo Hansfield’s name to Ray Georgeson the other day, as someone who might have held a grudge against Wally Fowler. Although eager to ask Lisa about the connection between the two, I forced myself to wait. With so many people around, someone was bound to overhear us and I didn’t want to start any wild rumors.

  By the time we reached Patricia’s table, I’d bought some handmade soap and candles, two bags full of holiday decorations for The Flip Side, and a paper plate of chocolate fudge brownies that had made my mouth water as soon as I spotted them. When Lisa and I greeted Patricia, a sculpture of a majestic eagle in flight caught my eye. I’d admired a similar one on display at Patricia’s home and I loved this one even more. On a whim, I decided to buy it. The fireplace mantel at The Flip Side would be the perfect place for it.

  While Patricia carefully wrapped up the driftwood sculpture for me, I asked her and Lisa about the possibility of pet sitting for me and Brett if I went to Seattle. They both assured me they’d be happy to help, and that put my mind at ease. Now I just had to wait to hear back from Brett.

  As I handed Patricia the money for the sculpture, Sienna appeared out of the crowd and plopped down in the empty chair next to her mom.

  “Is that Bailey Hansfield you were talking to?” Patricia asked her once Sienna had said hello to me and Lisa.

  I glanced over my shoulder to follow Patricia’s gaze and noticed the blond girl Sienna had spoken to at the hardware store.

  When Sienna answered in the affirmative, Patricia commented, “She doesn’t look very happy.”

  It only took a quick glimpse of the girl to see that Patricia was right. Bailey stood on her own, leaning her back against the wall, her head down as she picked at the polish on her fingernails.

  “She’s been like that for the last few days,” Sienna said. “I asked her what’s wrong, but she wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Did you say Hansfield?” I said to Patricia. “Is Glo Hansfield her mother?”

  “That’s right,” Patricia replied. “Do you know Glo?”

  “No, but I’ve seen her around.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if things haven’t been too happy at the Hansfield home lately.” Patricia lowered her voice before adding, “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for Glo when Wally Fowler returned to town.”

  More than ever, I wanted to ask about the woman’s connection to Wally, but several other shoppers approached the table then and Lisa and I moved on after saying goodbye to Patricia and Sienna.

  “Do you want to look at anything else?” Lisa asked as we surveyed the last few tables we hadn’t yet visited.

  “I’m ready to go if you are,” I said.

  The other vendors were selling handmade baby clothes, knitted scarves and hats, and hair accessories—nothing I needed.

  Lisa zipped up her jacket as we stepped outside. “Want to grab a bite to eat?”

  I did up my own coat. “Sure, but I might get a call from Brett at some point.”

  “No worries. What do you feel like?”

  I thought for a second. “Seafood?”

  “Yum. Good idea. How about CJ’s?”

  “Sounds good.”

  We drove to CJ’s Seafood House in my car and were soon settled on opposite sides of a table in a corner of the restaurant. Darkness had fallen by then, obscuring what otherwise would have been a gorgeous view of the water. After the waiter had brought us drinks and had taken our orders, I couldn’t keep my curiosity at bay any longer.

  I leaned forward and kept my voice low. “What’s the story about Glo Hansfield and Wally Fowler?”

  “Ah.” Lisa took a sip of her daiquiri. “That’s a sad one. Remember how I told you about Lizzie Van Amstel?”

  “The girl who died when Wally crashed his car?”

  She nodded. “Lizzie was Glo’s younger sister.”

  “That’s terrible. Poor Glo.”

  Lisa was about to take another sip of her drink, but she set down her glass, a spark of anger flashing in her eyes. “Ruining lives was Wally’s specialty.”

  “It must have been awful for Glo when Wally came back to town.”

  Lisa frowned into her daiquiri. “It was bad enough for me, and Carlos is still alive. It wouldn’t surprise me if Glo’s happy that Wally’s dead. I’d never wish for anyone to be murdered, but I’m not exactly torn up about him being gone.”

  “Do you think—” I cut off the thought before I voiced it.

  Lisa’s eyes met mine. “That Glo might have killed him?”

  Speaking barely above a whisper, I told her about the conversation I’d overheard between Glo and the man I was assuming was her husband. Lisa’s eyes grew wider as I spoke.

  “I wonder if she has an alibi,” she said when I’d finished.

  “Maybe we can find out.”

  “It would be the first step toward clearing me and Ivan of any suspicion.”

  “You know,” I said, thinking back, “Glo was at the hardware store for the ladies’ night event.”

  The hope that had appeared on Lisa’s face faded away. “So she does have an alibi.”

  “Maybe not. Right after I arrived, I saw her sneaking in through the back door, like she didn’t want anyone to notice her. She wasn’t wearing a coat, so maybe she’d already been at the event and slipped away for a while.”

  “Long enough to kill Wally?”

  “Possibly. Do you know if she smokes?” I asked, wondering if that could explain why she’d gone outside that night.

  “She doesn’t, unless she does it in secret.”

  “Hmm. I wonder if the hardware store has s
ecurity cameras outside the building.”

  “Even if it does, how would we get to see the footage? I doubt Sheriff Georgeson would look into it just because we suspect Glo of possibly being involved in Wally’s death.”

  “Let me work on that,” I said as the waiter arrived with our meals.

  I breathed in the aroma of the marinated jumbo shrimp and rice pilaf the waiter had placed in front of me. My stomach grumbled, urging me to get eating, so I dug in while Lisa sampled her braised trout.

  As we ate, I told Lisa about the trunk and diaries I’d found in the attic.

  “That’s so sad,” she said once I’d related the story of the unsolved disappearances of Camelia Winslow and Tassy James. “But also fascinating.”

  “Right? I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m going to have a closer look at all the newspaper clippings in the album, as soon as I get a chance.”

  “If you want to find more information about the Winslow and James families, or what was happening in town at the time, you should ask Nancy Welch at the Wildwood Cove Museum and Archives.”

  “Welch? Is she related to Justine?”

  “She’s Justine’s stepmother.” Lisa swallowed a bite of trout. “No one knows this town’s history better than Nancy.”

  “Talking to her is a good idea. I might do that after I’ve read over everything I’ve already got.”

  “Keep me posted? I’d love to hear more about both girls.”

  I promised I’d let her know about any information I came across.

  When the waiter brought our check later that evening, Lisa snatched it up off the table before I had a chance to look at it.

  “My treat tonight,” she said as she dug around in her purse for her wallet.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I protested.

  “Consider it an early birthday dinner. If you go to Seattle I might not see you again until after your birthday.”

  “True. Thanks, Lisa.”

  “Do you have any special birthday plans?” she asked after she’d paid the bill and we were getting into our coats.