Yeast of Eden

by Sarah Fox

  Brett stopped stirring the veggies he was sautéing and fetched his phone from the kitchen table. “I’ll send Ray a text to let him know she has it.”

  “Good idea.”

  He returned to the stove once the text was sent.

  “I’m worried about Sienna,” I said after a moment.

  “Because she’s turning into an amateur sleuth?”

  I nodded. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”

  Brett pulled me close and kissed the top my head. “Now you know how I feel.”

  He was grinning, but at the same time I knew he was serious.

  “But Sienna’s sixteen.”

  “True, but you said she agreed to no more snooping.”

  “She did.”

  I just hoped that was an agreement she’d stick to.

  * * * *

  Later that evening, I curled up on the couch with Camelia’s diaries while Brett watched a movie on the television. I started with the earliest diary, reading every entry, searching for even the tiniest of clues that might point to Camelia and Grace’s secret hiding place. I was more than halfway through the second diary before a surge of excitement zipped through my bloodstream.

  I sat up straight and snapped the diary shut.

  “Did you find a clue?” Brett asked. I’d filled him in earlier on what I was doing.

  “The secret hiding spot’s in the house, like I was hoping. Upstairs.” I was already off the couch.

  Flapjack didn’t move from his spot on the back of the couch, but Brett and Bentley followed close behind me. I hurried up the stairs to the second floor tower room. When I’d inherited the house, the hexagonal room was being used for storage, full of broken furniture and odds and ends. I’d since cleaned it out and turned it into a library, leaving only an antique chair and the bookshelves that stood against the walls without windows or doors. At this hour, the windows showed nothing but darkness, and I had to flip on the overhead light to see where I was going.

  I decided to start by checking the floorboards. When Brett realized what I was doing, he joined in, and soon we’d tested every board. Not a single one was loose.

  “Maybe there’s a secret door or something?” I said, determined not to give up.

  We moved around the room, tapping and pressing different parts of the walls. Again we had no luck.

  “Are you sure the hiding spot’s in this room?” Brett asked.

  “The diary said the upstairs tower room.”

  Almost hidden by the room’s open door was a small closet. I opened it, excitement still humming through my bloodstream. I tugged on the string hanging from the ceiling and the single bare bulb in the closet flicked on. I’d removed the dusty old clothes I’d found in the closet when I moved in and had donated them to charity. I hadn’t yet put anything in their place so I had easy access to the back of the closet.

  Inside the small space, narrow slats of weathered wood paneling covered the walls. I ducked beneath the single shelf that ran the width of the upper part of the closet so I could reach the back wall. Starting from the right, I tapped each of the wooden slats, searching for any that might be loose. It only took me four tries to find one.

  I pried the slat away from the wall with my fingernails until the top half was bending slightly away from the wall, far enough that I could see behind it.

  “Anything?” Brett asked from over my shoulder.

  “I found a loose panel, but there doesn’t seem to be anything behind it.” I couldn’t keep my disappointment from creeping into my voice.

  “Let’s remove it completely.”

  I moved aside so he could duck under the shelf and pull at the slat. It didn’t take much for the entire panel to break away from the wall.

  I crouched down to check near the baseboard, but there was nothing hidden there. I jiggled the neighboring panels, but they held fast. Not wanting to give up, I tried every other piece of paneling and every floorboard in the closet. None of them was the least bit loose.

  Backing out of the closet, I wiped my dusty hands on my jeans, my spirits plummeting. “I was sure we’d find the letter.” I sounded as glum as I felt.

  Brett put an arm around me. “Maybe it’s not here to find. Jimmy lived here for decades. Could he have found it at some point?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m sure he would have mentioned it if he had.”

  Returning to the closet, I ran my fingers along the edges of the panels neighboring the vacant spot. I hoped desperately that my fingers would touch paper, but I had no more luck than the first time. My nose twitched, tickled by the dust in the closet, so I left the enclosed space before I started sneezing.

  “I’m sorry, Marley,” Brett said. “I know you really wanted to find the letter.”

  I nodded, but didn’t know what to say.

  As I switched off the light in the closet, the doorbell rang. I looked to Brett, surprised.

  “Not expecting anyone?” he guessed.

  “No.” I didn’t usually have visitors this late.

  We headed downstairs, Bentley racing to the foyer ahead of us. I opened the front door to find Lisa on the porch, huddled inside her jacket, her breath forming little clouds in front of her face.

  “Lisa, come on in.” I quickly shut the door behind her to stop the icy draft that was wafting into the house.

  “Hi, guys.” She gave Bentley a pat while he wagged his tail and licked her hand.

  “What is it?” I asked, noting how anxious she looked.

  “I just…can’t sleep. I keep thinking the sheriff’s going to turn up at any moment to arrest me.” She glanced at Brett. “Sorry, I don’t mean anything against him, but I’m not in a good situation.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he assured her. “Come on in and sit down.”

  “I was really sorry to hear about your dad,” Lisa said to Brett as we led her to the family room. “How’s he doing now?”

  “He’s home and on the mend.”

  “I’m so glad to hear it.”

  When we reached the family room, Flapjack stood up on the couch and stretched, arching his back with his front paws outstretched. Lisa sat down and he immediately claimed her lap, purring as she ran a hand over his fur.

  “Do you want to stay the night?” I asked her.

  “Could I? I know it’s terrible of me to impose…”

  “You’re not imposing at all. Of course you can stay.”

  “Thank you, Marley.” She closed her eyes. “I just want all of this to be over.”

  “It will be soon,” I said.

  I hoped desperately that I’d told her the truth.

  Chapter 26

  Clouds moved in during the night, nudging up the temperature and bringing a rain shower or two. By the time I reached the pancake house in the morning, the clouds were scudding away, revealing more and more blue sky. I got off to a slower start than usual, spending some time with Lisa in the morning before she’d headed home to get ready for work. She’d managed a few hours of sleep, but she still had dark rings under her eyes, and I knew that likely wouldn’t change until she could stop worrying.

  She was still afraid that Ray would appear at any moment to snap handcuffs on her, or to demand a sample of her DNA, backed by a warrant, so he could prove the bracelet found in Chester’s apartment belonged to her. I wished I could tell her that wouldn’t happen, but I knew as well as she did that it was a real possibility.

  Brett was working at a new job site, renovating a kitchen and bathroom for Mr. and Mrs. Jepson, who owned one of the beachfront houses farther along the cove. He’d told me before setting off that he was going to stop by his house after work to pack up more of his clothes.

  That left me with a smile on my face, despite my concerns for Lisa. I’d known he was moving in, of course, since he’d accepted my
offer, but somehow transferring more of his belongings made it seem more real.

  I’d worried momentarily about Chloe, since she lived at his house, but Brett assured me that he wasn’t going to force her to move anytime soon. If she wanted to get a roommate, Brett would be fine with that. If he decided to sell the house, it wouldn’t be for a while yet.

  During a lull at the pancake house later that morning, I fingered the seahorse pendant around my neck, knowing how lucky I was to have a man like Brett in my life. Thinking about my necklace reminded me of the one Chester had given Vicky. I cast my mind back to the previous afternoon, trying to remember the details of my visit to the waffle house. I was fairly certain that Vicky had still been wearing the necklace. If she’d killed Chester, would she have kept that reminder of him hanging around her neck?

  I carried a plate of gingerbread crêpes and a serving of pumpkin waffles to a waiting couple, and cleared dishes from a recently vacated table. As I worked, my thoughts returned to Vicky.

  As I’d told Sienna, it was possible that Vicky had killed Chester after conspiring with him to kill Wally, but I was still having a hard time accepting that theory. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Vicky’s grief was sincere. But she was the one who’d inherited Wally’s money, and—as far as I knew—the only person who could have expected to inherit it. So who else would Juicy Mama be?

  I wished the email had contained more clues as to the sender’s identity. If Chester was in love with Vicky, why would he have planned to take off to Costa Rica with another woman?

  I smiled at a group of customers as they left The Flip Side, relieved that the workday was nearing its end. I loved working at the pancake house and chatting with customers, but today I was so distracted that keeping my mind on food orders was a struggle.

  When the last diner had left, I went through my usual afternoon routine of tidying up the dining area and taking care of a few office tasks. I checked my phone as I was getting ready to leave and noticed that Sienna had sent me a series of text messages.

  Talked to Bailey. Her dad was home all evening the night Wally died.

  So Forrest Hansfield had an alibi.

  Not snooping! Sienna’s next message read. Just asked a few questions.

  She’d followed that text with another.

  Uh-oh! Bailey thinks her mom’s cousin killed Wally and she’s freaking out. She wants to confront her. Not good! Going with her.

  I grabbed my jacket, pulling it on before tapping out a rushed message.

  Try to stop her! I’ll meet you if you tell me where.

  By the time I grabbed my tote bag, Sienna had already replied.

  We’re heading for River Drive. More soon.

  I hurried out the door, locking the pancake house behind me. I wished I’d brought my car to work that morning so I could get to Sienna and Bailey faster, but I hadn’t so I’d have to make do on foot. Setting off at a jog, I passed through the center of town and into Wildwood Cove’s southern residential neighborhoods. I rushed by Leigh’s house without slowing my pace, continuing on for another two blocks before switching to a walk.

  Sienna had sent me another text message with Jill’s address.

  Come around back. Bailey’s going in!

  I was on the right street now, and within seconds I identified Jill’s house. I let myself into the yard through a squeaky wooden gate and followed a path around to the back of the house. The grass was neatly tended but beyond that I didn’t notice anything about the yard. As soon as I was behind the house, I saw Sienna waving to me through a large window. I hurried up the steps to the back porch and Sienna met me at the door, taking my arm and practically pulling me inside.

  “Bailey’s freaking out,” she whispered as she shut the door behind me.

  Sounds of someone moving about came from deeper in the house.

  “Where’s Jill?” I asked, not hearing any voices aside from our own.

  “She’s not here.”

  “Then how did you two get in?”

  “Bailey knows where Jill hides her spare key.”

  So technically we weren’t breaking and entering, but we were still in Jill’s house without her permission. Getting caught wouldn’t be a good idea.

  Sienna led me down a hallway to a room that apparently doubled as an office and exercise room. Barbells and free weights took up most of the space, and a desk sat against one wall. Bailey was seated before the desk, shuffling through the contents of an open drawer.

  “Bailey, this is Marley,” Sienna said.

  Bailey barely glanced up from what she was doing. She shoved the drawer shut and moved on to the one below it.

  “I told Bailey you’ve been looking into the murders.”

  Bailey finally paused and focused her attention on me. “Do you have any proof?”

  “No,” I replied. “I’m not even sure yet who committed the crimes.”

  “I am.”

  She returned to her investigation of the drawer’s contents. It appeared to hold mostly papers, thumb drives, and miscellaneous office supplies.

  “What makes you so sure Jill was involved?” I asked.

  Bailey flipped through a sheaf of papers before stuffing them back in the drawer. “My parents have been keeping secrets lately. I know my mom did something she doesn’t want anyone to know about. She hated Wally. He killed my aunt years ago and she can’t—couldn’t—stand the sight of him. You suspect my mom too,” she said almost accusingly, her blue eyes on me.

  “That’s true,” I conceded, “but she’s not tall enough to have killed Wally on her own.”

  “That’s what Sienna told me. So you thought maybe my dad helped her. Only he was home that night with me. So if my mom had help, it must have been from Jill.” She slammed the drawer shut and turned on the desktop computer with a jab of the power button. “Jill’s tall enough and strong enough.” She pointed at all the weights in the room. “She’s a freaking bodybuilder. She could probably kill just about anyone with her bare hands.”

  “That doesn’t mean she would,” I said.

  I didn’t disagree with anything Bailey was saying, but I didn’t want to feed the furor that had apparently taken over her.

  “Except she hated Wally too,” Sienna said from beside me.

  “Exactly.” Bailey glared at the computer, probably because it was taking its time booting up. “Jill and my mom have always been close. Jill was seriously mad when Wally Fowler moved back to town, and she’d do anything to protect my mom.”

  Maybe Jill really did belong at the top of the suspect list.

  “What are you hoping to find?” I asked as Bailey manipulated the mouse, opening the computer’s web browser.

  Sienna was the one to answer. “More evidence that Jill’s the one who sent the email to Chester about going to Costa Rica.”

  “More evidence?”

  Sienna gestured for me to follow her out into the hall. I did so, and she pointed to the foyer. I took only a few steps before I saw what she wanted to show me. Sitting off to the side of the front door was a suitcase. I tested its weight. It definitely wasn’t empty.

  I set the suitcase down. “Okay, so it looks like Jill’s going on a trip. Do we know where to?”

  “We will if Bailey finds airline ticket receipts,” Sienna said as we returned to the combination study and weight room.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I said to both girls. “If Jill comes home and finds us all here…”

  Bailey didn’t budge. “I’m not leaving until I find the evidence.”

  “We don’t know that there will be evidence,” I pointed out.

  Bailey ignored me and Sienna appeared unconvinced.

  “Jill has a daughter who’s away at college,” Sienna said. “So she’s a mother. Plus, her last name is McDonald.”

  It took only a
second for me to realize the significance of that. “So her initials are JM. You think that’s where the nickname Juicy Mama came from?”

  Sienna shrugged, but I could tell she did believe that.

  Maybe it was true. I had to agree that plenty of evidence was pointing at Jill, although all of the puzzle pieces still didn’t quite fit together in my mind. If she’d wanted revenge on Wally, would she have dated and killed Chester?

  And guilty or not, I didn’t want to know what would happen if Jill found us in her house. Bailey might be related to her and she might have used a key, but that didn’t mean Jill would be pleased to know we were in her house, going through her papers and computer.

  Bailey released a sound of frustration. “I’m trying to get into the Juicy Mama Gmail account, but I can’t figure out the password.”

  “Did you try her birthdate?” Sienna asked.

  “I don’t know her birthdate, other than the month.” She yanked open one of the desk drawers and rifled through it again. “I bet I can find it.”

  I tried to think of other connections between Jill and the crimes. “Was Jill ever seen with Chester that you know of, Bailey?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t seeing him.”

  I remembered Chester’s visit to the antiques shop. “Does she have pierced ears?”

  “Yes.” Bailey paused in her search. “Does that mean something?”

  “Possibly. I saw Chester buying a necklace and a set of earrings at the antiques shop. He gave the necklace to Vicky, but she doesn’t have pierced ears. Maybe he didn’t realize that at the time and returned the earrings.”

  Sienna picked up my train of thought. “Or he gave them to the other woman he was seeing—Jill.”

  To my surprise, Bailey’s face crumpled. She scrunched her eyes shut as tears leaked out and rolled down her cheeks. “She did it, didn’t she? And my mom was in on it. My mom’s an accessory to murder.” Sobs shook her whole body.

  Sienna hugged her. I patted Bailey’s back, a rush of sympathy for the teenager almost bringing tears to my eyes too.

  “We don’t know that for sure,” I told her.