by Krista Davis
“It’s a boring story. Life sometimes twists in directions that you don’t expect, and you can’t do anything but go along.”
“Don’t you have any family who could help you?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”
I tried to prod him a little bit. Surely there was someone who cared about this man. “Are you married?”
He massaged his ring finger. “She passed.”
“I’m sorry.” Why wasn’t Bob here? He would know how to coax information out of Jim. “What was her name?”
“Sue. We met in high school. She used to say that we were meant to be together. We weren’t anybody special, but ours was a true love affair.”
I believed him. Even his voice became gentle when he spoke about her. “What happened to Sue?”
“Early onset Alzheimer’s disease. I lost a little bit of her every day.” He closed his eyes as if the mere memory of it was still fresh and raw.
“Jim, I’m sure she wouldn’t want to see you living this way.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She would be horrified. We had good jobs. Sue was a registered nurse and after a stint in the army, I went to work as a recreation director. But as she declined, I had to stay home and take care of her. People told me to send her to a facility, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that to her. And they’re very pricey, too. I sold the house and that kept us afloat for a while. Then the car”—he looked down at his hand—“and then our wedding rings.”
“Didn’t you have friends who could help you?”
He examined my face. “Folks have their own lives to lead. They start off being wonderful, but after a while they taper off, and you’re all by yourself. All alone with the most precious person in the world to you.”
I heard sniffling and turned around. I hadn’t realized that Veronica was listening.
She wiped her eyes with her fingers. “That’s such a sad story. We’ll help you, Jim. Won’t we, Florrie?”
“Jim,” I said gently, “would you like a job?”
Jim patted my hand. “Nobody would hire me. I’ve asked for jobs sweeping stores and bagging groceries. Nobody wants a ragged fellow like me hanging around.”
Veronica hugged Jim. “We’ll help you. For Sue.”
Jim and Veronica bawled, and my eyes grew misty.
Jonquille showed up just then. “What’s going on? Why is everyone crying?”
“It’s true love,” wailed Veronica.
Joquille was thoroughly confused. “This ought to cheer you up. Ms. Strickland must have pulled every string she had at her disposal because the professor is about to be sprung.”
At three in the morning, Professor John Maxwell walked out of jail. We were all waiting for him. Everyone except Jacquie.
A cheer went up along with applause. He had been sorely missed. Much to my surprise, he looked pretty good in spite of being incarcerated.
He hugged me to him. “I knew I could count on you, Florrie.”
“Don’t give me too much credit. A lot of people were involved.”
“Jailhouse rumor has it that you’re dating a cop now. Will I like him?”
“You would believe a jailhouse rumor like that?”
“He’d better be very special for my Florrie.”
* * *
None of us got any sleep that night. In the morning, Veronica and I went to work as though nothing had happened. We were dog-tired, but still wired from what had happened to us.
I brought the last piece of strawberry cream torte to Jim for breakfast. He sat on his bench entertaining an audience of reporters. I handed him the torte.
“Cake for breakfast?” he asked.
“Sponge cake. It has a lot of eggs in it.”
He laughed and said, “Thanks, Florrie.”
Unfortunately, the mere mention of my name turned the attention of the reporters to me.
To escape them, Veronica and I hurried to the bookstore, where Bob waited at the door.
“Are you ever going to tell me the alarm code?” he asked.
“FreeMaxwell,” I said.
“I should have guessed.”
There was a long awkward moment when Helen arrived. She and Veronica stared at each other, and we all froze in place.
Finally, Veronica said, “I’m glad you told Scott off last night. If I’d had any sense, I would have dumped him on the spot. I should have realized that you and Florrie weren’t lying.”
Helen held out her arms to Veronica for a hug. “I’m just glad that you survived. How could two smart women like us have fallen for such a terrible man?”
Bob sagged with relief and gave me a thumbs-up.
The bookstore was swamped from the moment we opened for business. Veronica kept the social media buzz going. Who’d have thought a murder would be good for business?
Mom and Dad showed up at ten minutes past ten.
“Why must we always hear about our daughters’ exploits from the Spratts?” demanded Mom. “Mrs. Spratt phoned an hour ago to inform me that Norman is not allowed to play with my girls anymore because they are indecorous and risqué and put her Norman in mortal danger. Apparently Norman called his parents from the police station in the wee hours of the morning! Then your poor father nearly had heart failure when he opened the newspaper this morning and learned that Veronica was dating a murderer whom she brought to our home yesterday!”
I was a little ashamed by the way Veronica and I laughed when our parents were so serious. But I was very relieved to be done with Norman, even if it was a little embarrassing that his mommy thought I was a wild woman.
Each of us took a quick coffee break to chat with Mom and Dad and assure them that all was well with us.
Maxwell walked in around eleven followed by members of the press.
It did not escape my attention that Helen had her eye on a particular reporter who bore a striking resemblance to Scott.
I nudged Veronica. “Leave the Scott lookalike alone.”
She glanced up from her work and spotted him in the crowd. “I could never date anyone who resembled Scott. I’d fear for my life the whole time. No thanks. I’m done with that type. I’m looking for someone totally passive and boring.”
“There’s always Norman,” I said, “but we’ve been banned from playing with him.”
That set us off in fits of uncontrollable laughter.
Maxwell held court in the parlor. He smiled, posed for pictures, and regaled reporters and shoppers with tales of his incarceration, which began to sound more like a trip to a concrete jungle than the misery that it probably was. His buddies Zsazsa, Goldblum, and Bankhouse hovered nearby, drinking it all in.
Jonquille stopped by to say hi. He looked bushed and was on his way home for much needed sleep. I hated to admit to myself that I would miss seeing him every day.
I worked until ten that night, ate leftovers from Mom’s cookout, and fell asleep with Peaches next to me.
Even though the sun streamed through the windows when I rose the next day, morning didn’t seem as sunny without Jonquille.
In the hope that he might feel the same way, I showered in a hurry and dressed in a delicate blouse and a flared melon-colored skirt that always made me feel very feminine.
I was making coffee when someone knocked on my door. I grinned. Hoping it would be Jonquille, I threw the door open wide.
Jacquie walked in.
“What? You’re using a door like a regular person? Have you come out of hiding?”
“Almost.” She pointed outside. “I have my own bodyguard now. For the time being at least.”
I looked out the door, and Felipe waved at me.
“That’s probably a good move.” I fetched my purse and returned her two hundred dollars. “I assumed you didn’t need the disposable phone anymore. If anyone were listening in, you would want them to know the bounty was off your head. It is, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Maxwell took care of that for me righ
t away. Isn’t that just like him? He wasn’t even home twelve hours before he started taking care of me when he’s the one who ought to be pampered.”
“Does that mean you two might reconcile?” I asked.
“Could be. We’ll have to give it some time.”
“I guess you’d like your carriage house back to work in. I can look around for another apartment,” I said reluctantly.
“Maxwell and I want you to stay. I always thought Caroline might live out here when she was about your age. She never got the chance, but your presence here brings me joy. If things work out between Maxwell and me and I move in, I’ll renovate something to suit me. Maybe the third floor of the mansion. I always dreamed of writing in a cozy French-type garret with huge windows on a slant in the roof and a little balcony with French doors.”
“I didn’t know how to reach you yesterday, Jacquie. I want to thank you for saving Veronica and me. I honestly think one of us would be dead if you hadn’t pulled us into hiding. I intended to run out to the garden, but Scott would have caught one of us for sure.”
Instead of being happy, she wiped tears from her eyes. “I wasn’t able to save my own child, so it means a lot to me to have been able to save someone else’s.”
I hugged her. “I’m so sorry. You would have been a very cool mom.”
“Thank you, Florrie.” She sniffled. “So the real reason I came over here was to invite you, Veronica, Sergeant Jonquille, Norman, and Jim to a party for Maxwell tomorrow night. I hope you’ll come.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Wonderful. Can you invite Jim? I’m not sure where to find him.”
“I would love to. Jacquie, does your husband own the building where Sugar Dreams Cupcakes used to be?”
She seemed surprised. “How did you know? I guess he doesn’t own it anymore. The last I heard, the bank was taking it over.”
She left with Felipe.
I sipped my coffee and realized that clues to Scott’s desperation had been there from the very beginning. I just hadn’t made the right connections.
* * *
The following evening, we gathered around the pool of the Maxwell mansion. Mr. DuBois was still in a wheelchair, but he was back in his element, bossing the caterers around.
Zsazsa wore dramatic eyeliner and an eye-catching low-cut dress. Goldblum was his jolly self. Bankhouse admitted to everyone that he had feared Helen might be involved.
Jonquille came with his friend, Cody, who could hardly take his eyes off Veronica. At least we knew Cody was a decent and law-abiding sort.
Jacquie was resplendent in a puffy white button-down blouse with the collar turned up in back and a pair of cropped pants that looked satiny. Her hair had been cut and colored, and she looked like the photo of her in the back of her books.
I knew Jacquie and Maxwell would be a couple again from the way they looked at each other. She would gaze at him from across the pool, their eyes would meet, and there was no mistaking the love between them.
Jim parked his belongings at the carriage house so no one would steal them. I had arranged for a visit to a barbershop, and Veronica had gone shopping for him on her lunch hour. He wore his new khaki trousers and a blue shirt, and mingled with the others comfortably. If I hadn’t known, I never would have suspected that he lived on the street.
Norman followed me like a baby duck follows its mother. I began to worry that his mom’s warnings about my wicked behavior had actually attracted him to me more.
Jacquie had also invited my parents. I inched toward Dad when I saw him speaking with Jim.
“Florrie and Veronica told me what happened to you,” Dad said. “I’m very sorry for the loss of your wife. At the request of my meddling daughters, I have asked around a bit, and found that a friend of mine has been looking for a dependable person to help out at his roller skating rink. If you’re interested, I can pick you up and drive you to the interview tomorrow.”
Jim hugged my dad like he was the best person in the world. I wasn’t the only champion of lost causes in my family. I learned it from my parents.
In spite of the interesting company and the incredible buffet, talk turned to Scott and Delbert.
“There are a few things that I still don’t understand,” I said. “For starters, if Scott and his dad didn’t hire a private detective to find Jacquie, then who hired the man who came here looking for her?”
Maxwell put his arm around my shoulders and whispered, “Follow the money.”
“The insurance money?”
“Jacquie is worth a lot to someone else, too,” he said.
“Her agent?” I guessed.
“When I disappeared,” said Jacquie, “I missed a couple of appearances, which worried my agent, who is a dear friend. She knew that I was having problems with my husband. When I didn’t respond to her calls, and my husband didn’t have any answers about what might have happened to me, my agent hired that private investigator to find me.”
“Scott said he found you by using Find My iPhone. But you were being so careful. You didn’t make any calls so they wouldn’t find you.”
“I don’t understand that, either,” said Jackie.
Jonquille stepped up beside me. “He found your password. I tried it out on my own phone last night. A map popped up right away and showed me where I was. Scott located you in seconds.”
I eyed my sister. “So you were at Club Neon the night of Delbert’s death. With Scott?”
“Right. He was distracted and in the end we didn’t stay long.”
“That was the night your pearls broke?”
“So embarrassing. They rolled all over the floor.”
“Scott helped you collect them?”
Veronica frowned. “He was very much a gentleman about it.”
“He must have had one in his pocket that fell out when he was covering up the hatch in the floor,” I mused.
Veronica addressed the professor. “What I want to know is what happened to the emerald and diamond necklace? If Delbert didn’t have it on him, and Scott didn’t find it, then what happened to it?”
Maxwell sighed. “One of them must have discovered it. I never keep it in the safe because that’s the first place everyone would look. It’s always in a carved-out book on the shelf in my bedroom. It’s gone, so Scott must have found it the night he broke into the mansion.”
“Oh please.” Jacquie laughed. “Did you think I would let some burglar walk off with that necklace?” She gently parted the top of her blouse to reveal it on her neck. Large round emeralds were surrounded by diamonds, and a giant pear-shaped emerald hung from the middle. The diamonds that surrounded it sparkled under the evening sun.
“Have you been wearing that the whole time?” I asked.
Jacquie grinned. “You’ve heard the expression over my dead body? The burglar was going to have to kill me to get it. No two-bit con was going to get this away from me and divide it into unrecognizable pieces! It’s a historical work of art. The necklace belongs here at the Maxwell estate.”
Jonquille slid his hand into mine and drew me away while all eyes were on Jacquie and the necklace.
He whispered in my ear, “Run!”
Still holding hands, we sprinted across the grass and dodged behind a cluster of rhododendrons and azaleas.
“I thought I’d never get you away from Norman. That guy ought to be a private investigator. Here he comes. There’s no shaking him.”
Still holding my hand, he leaned in and kissed me on the lips. “I’ve missed you, Florrie.”
My heart beat so hard I was afraid he could feel it. And I was fairly certain that my toes tingled. But I could hear Norman nearing as he called, “Florrie! Florrie! Where did you go?”
“Where’s a secret passage when you need one?” I joked. “Breakfast tomorrow?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Jonquille kissed me again and this time I definitely tingled all the way down to my toes.
When w
e walked back, Norman fell in step with us and told us all about the grass in the professor’s yard.
* * *
Jim took the job at the skating rink. My mother found him an affordable apartment nearby, and Maxwell paid the rent for the first year to help Jim get back on his feet. I missed seeing Jim every morning, but there was someone else who brightened my days.
Jacquie dedicated her next book to me. It was the one she wrote longhand while in hiding and featured a coloring book artist who had to go into hiding because her husband held a five-million-dollar insurance policy on her. She called it Color Me Murder.
RECIPES
Blackberry Breakfast Muffins
(makes 12 muffins)
Butter for greasing muffin tin
1½ cups flour
½ cup sugar
1½ teaspoons baking powder
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
teaspoon salt
1 egg
½ cup 2% milk
⅓ cup butter, melted
1 cup fresh blackberries
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ cup sugar
¼ cup butter, melted
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease muffin wells in the muffin pan. Combine the flour, ½ cup sugar, baking powder, nutmeg, and salt in a bowl. Mix well with a fork, and make a well in the middle. In another bowl, whisk the egg with a fork, pour in the milk, and combine, then whisk in the ⅓ cup melted butter. Add the egg mixture to the flour mixture and stir until just combined. It should be lumpy. Do not overmix! Add the blackberries and turn gently to distribute. Spoon into muffin pan, dividing evenly, filling each well about ½ full. Bake at 350 for 10 to 20 minutes. Meanwhile, stir the cinnamon with the ¼ cup sugar. Melt the ¼ cup butter in a small bowl. Remove the baked muffins from oven. While still hot, remove each muffin from the pan, dip into the melted butter, and then dip into the sugar.
Raspberry Quick Bread with Vanilla Glaze
1 teaspoon vinegar
1 cup milk
2¼ cups flour
1½ teaspoons baking powder