Cut to the Corpse

by Lucy Lawrence

  “Oh, you know Jake,” she said. Her forehead creased with a line of maternal worry, probably deeper now than it had ever been before. “He’s the strong silent type, like his father. I’m trying to protect him as best I can, but it’s hard when they grow up.”

  “Has Chief Barker been to see him?” Brenna asked. Tenley shot her a look, but Brenna kept her eyes on Margie.

  “Several times,” Margie said. “It’s a bad business, Clue being found in bed with his fiancée, but both Mr. Haywood and I can vouch for Jake’s whereabouts. He was home with us all night.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Marie said as she joined their little group.

  “Everyone knows Jake would never harm a fly,” Ella said.

  Margie gave them a closed-lipped smile, and Brenna could tell that she was still worried about her son and would be until the murderer was caught.

  “If you need anything,” Tenley said, “you let us know.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Margie said. With a small wave she turned and followed in the wake of her son.

  “Poor thing,” Ella said. “The sun rises and sets on that boy of hers. This has got to be killing her and John.”

  Marie raised her eyebrows at her sister.

  “Oh, sorry, poor choice of words,” Ella said.

  “I’ll say,” Marie said. “You know who young Tara reminds me of?”

  “Who?” Ella asked.

  “Me,” Marie said in a voice that cracked with emotion. “In fact, her love for Jake is so very much like my love for John Henry.”

  Ella rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! John Henry thought you were me.”

  “He did not,” Marie argued. “We were tragic lovers like Romeo and Juliet. I . . .”

  Whatever Marie had been about to say was cut off by Ella shoving a piece of funnel cake in her mouth.

  “There,” Ella said. “That’s better.”

  Marie looked outraged as she furiously chewed. Brenna and Tenley had to turn away before they burst out laughing.

  “See you at the shop,” Brenna called, without waiting for an answer.

  The crowd had thinned. Most people were standing in clumps, catching up on each other’s lives while their children ran amuck.

  Brenna dodged a redheaded girl chasing the middle Page boy, recognizable as one of Lillian’s by his shock of unruly black hair and glasses. The girl giving chase was wearing a tiara and brandishing a wand with a sparkly star on the end.

  “I turned you into a frog!” she was yelling. “You have to stop and let me kiss you now.”

  The look the Page boy cast over his shoulder was one of sheer terror and he picked up his pace to a flat-out run. Brenna made a mental note to tell Lillian at their next decoupage class that as far as girls went, her boys, at least this one, were safely immune.

  Tenley nudged Brenna with her elbow and pointed across the street. Standing in front of Vintage Papers, having an intense discussion, were the Montgomerys and Chief Barker.

  “Oh!” Brenna glanced both ways and then dashed across the street with Tenley right behind her.

  They were just stepping onto the walk, when Mr. Montgomery started to yell. “We have been more than cooperative! Now I demand that you let us take our daughter back to Boston, where she won’t be forced to suffer such humiliation.”

  “I appreciate that this has been difficult,” Chief Barker said. His voice was low and soothing, his Massachusetts accent subdued, and Brenna suspected he was trying to calm Mr. Montgomery down. “But I’m afraid Tara is still a suspect, and until we can determine exactly what happened that night, she will need to remain in town.”

  “This is ludicrous!” Mr. Montgomery railed. “Her bridesmaids have all been allowed to leave. There’s no reason Tara should still be here. You’ll be hearing from my attorney in the morning, and if you don’t let us leave this godforsaken backwater, then I will sue you—in fact, I’ll sue this whole bloody town!”

  He took both Tara and Tiffany by their elbows and led them down the street toward the Morse Point Inn. A hush filled Main Street as people watched them go.

  “Well, that’s not going to make them any friends,” Tenley said, and Brenna could tell she was miffed on behalf of her town.

  “He’s upset,” Brenna said.

  “You think?” Chief Barker asked.

  She felt Chief Barker’s gaze upon her face and turned to face him. She wondered if this was where she got her “stop being a buttinsky” lecture.

  “Did Nate talk to you?” he asked. He ran his thumb and forefinger over his thick gray mustache in a manner-ism Brenna recognized as one he made when he was striving for patience.

  “Yes, he did,” she said.

  “And?”

  “And I understand completely,” she said. She wondered if she was being vague enough.

  Tenley was glancing between them as if she were trying to figure out what they were talking about but didn’t want to be rude by asking.

  “It’s for your own safety,” he said.

  “I know,” she said.

  “I’m glad we’ve reached this agreement.”

  He smiled at her and Brenna suddenly knew exactly what Mrs. Barker saw in him. His grin was engaging and a little bit mischievous.

  “Have a good night, ladies,” he said. He tipped the brim of his gray, wide-brimmed hat with the Morse Point police logo on the front and walked down the sidewalk toward the Haywood garage.

  As Tenley unlocked the front door to Vintage Papers, she frowned at Brenna and asked, “What was that all about?”

  “Me staying out of the murder case,” Brenna said.

  Tenley just looked at her.

  “Yeah, I know,” Brenna said. “You’ll notice I made no promises.”

  “Uh-huh,” Tenley said. “Very clever.”

  Brenna noted her sarcasm, but let it pass. “You know what I keep thinking about?”

  “I’m afraid to ask,” Tenley said. They locked the front door behind them and went into the break room at the back of the shop where they had stored their purses.

  Tenley opened the cupboard and pulled out both bags, handing Brenna hers and shouldering her own.

  “When Jake asked Tara why Clue was in her bed, she genuinely didn’t have a clue.”

  “Ugh. How long have you been waiting to say that?” Tenley asked her.

  “A couple of days,” Brenna admitted.

  “You have a dark side,” Tenley said, but she was smiling.

  “I know, forgive me,” she said as they stepped out the back door. They had parked behind the shop to give others more room to park on the street.

  “So, what is going through that brain of yours now?”

  “What if we could get Tara to remember what happened that night?”

  Tenley’s eyes went wide. “Don’t you think she’s tried?”

  “Yes, with no success. At the concert, I heard Tiffany and Tyler talking about hiring someone to put her through hypnosis.”

  “That might work,” Tenley said, but she sounded as dubious as Brenna felt.

  “What if she retraces her steps? We could take her back through the events of that night and maybe she’d remember a few details.”

  “You could be on to something,” Tenley said.

  “So,” Brenna said with a grin. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Going out with the girls, apparently.”

  Chapter 14

  Brenna called Tara and she eagerly agreed to give it a try. Brenna could tell by her tone of voice that she was desperate to remember what happened that night. They agreed to meet up at Vintage Papers that evening. In the meantime, Brenna had decided to pop in on Lisa Sutton’s family and see if they could tell her anything about the girl’s whereabouts. She knew it was a long shot, but maybe Lisa knew something about Clue that would help them out.

  The Sutton residence was in a planned community called Chestnut Hill on the west side of town. Built in the 1970s, this collection of raised r
anches was a mini neighborhood unto itself.

  In the center was Chestnut Hill Park, with a huge play-ground, basketball and tennis courts, and a field big enough for soccer games. The houses spread out from around the park in a circular pattern, and after driving around and doubling back a few times, Brenna found the Sutton home.

  It was white with green trim; neatly pruned hedges hemmed the house and an American flag flapped in the light breeze from its holder above the front door.

  Brenna parked her Jeep in the drive and made her way up the walkway toward the door. Three steps up and she rang the bell. She could hear it echo inside the house and a dog, small from the yappy sound of the bark, answered with a chorus of yips.

  “Hush, Jasmine,” a voice commanded. The dog kept barking.

  The large wooden door swung in and a gray-haired, middle-aged woman, wearing jeans and a cotton blouse, peered out at her. She had a little white dog, presumably Jasmine, tucked under her arm.

  “May I help you?” she asked. She didn’t smile.

  “Hi, I hope so. I’m Brenna Miller. I’m looking for Mrs. Sutton, Lisa’s mother.”

  The woman stiffened. “I’m her mother. Is there news? Have you seen her?”

  Brenna was taken aback by the desperation in the woman’s hazel eyes. Mrs. Sutton studied Brenna’s face, and then her shoulders slumped. “You’d think after three years, I’d give up hope, but I just can’t.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brenna said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m a friend of the girl who is accused of killing Clue Parker, and I just wondered if Lisa knew anything about Clue that might help solve his murder.”

  “I really couldn’t say,” Mrs. Sutton said. “As far as I know, no one has heard from her since she left. The rumor is that she went to be a chef in Boston, but why wouldn’t she tell us? My husband and I tried to find her. We even hired a private detective, but he didn’t find anything. It’s like she vanished into thin air.”

  Jasmine wiggled in her arms, trying to get to Brenna. Mrs. Sutton gestured for Brenna to follow her into the house. They stood on a tiled foyer with a short flight of stairs leading down and another leading up. Mrs. Sutton led the way up the stairs into a large sitting room, kept light by the bay window that looked out onto the front yard.

  “Can I get you anything?” Mrs. Sutton asked.

  “No, thank you,” Brenna said. A hutch stood against the far wall. It was covered in pictures of a pretty brunette girl, Lisa, from infancy to her early twenties. Her infectious smile was captured by the camera in almost every pose, except for one. It was black and white and sat on the far corner of the shelf. It was a profile picture of Lisa and she looked pensive as if she had just received terrible news and was trying to decide what to do.

  Brenna was drawn to the picture. She wanted to know what the young woman was thinking, what decision she was trying to make. She noticed Lisa was fingering a small angel pendant worked in a delicate gold.

  “That’s the last picture ever taken of her,” Mrs. Sutton said from behind her. “My son Tommy took it for his photography class at school. The next day Lisa was gone.”

  “Why?” Brenna asked. “Why did she leave and never return?”

  “The gossips say that she was in love with Jake and that he rejected her because of his friendship with Clue. People think she ran away because she was heartbroken, but I don’t believe that.”

  “No?”

  “I think Jake was in love with her, too,” Mrs. Sutton said. “What’s more, I think Jake would have left with her if she asked him.”

  Brenna sank down onto the burgundy sofa while Mrs. Sutton sat in the matching armchair across from her.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I overheard them together,” Mrs. Sutton said. “I walked in on them while they were out on our sunporch. They didn’t hear me, but I heard them. I saw the way Jake looked at her and I heard her ask him to leave Morse Point and run away with her where they could be together, away from Clue. When I asked her about it, she said it was just silly talk.”

  Brenna was stunned. She hadn’t seen this coming.

  “Did you ever ask Jake about it?”

  “Oh, yes, he was devastated. She left him her angel.” Mrs. Sutton motioned to the pendant Lisa held in the somber picture. “No note. No explanation. Just the angel.”

  “Mrs. Sutton, what do you think happened?” she asked.

  “I think Clue Parker found out what they were planning, and I think he chased her away. I never liked him. He was cruel, and he bragged about how no woman could resist him. He would have hated having Lisa dump him for his friend,” she said. Her lips trembled a bit. “That’s why I was hoping with him dead, maybe she would come home.”

  “Did you tell Chief Barker all of this?” Brenna asked.

  “Oh, yes, when she went missing, I told him everything,” Mrs. Sutton said. “He’s a good man and he questioned Clue mercilessly, but Clue denied knowing anything about Lisa’s whereabouts. And Jake, well, he had the angel. He was about as heartbroken as I was.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Sutton, I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to not know where she is,” Brenna said.

  Mrs. Sutton patted a stray gray hair back into place as if trying to restore order to her world. “Thank you. If you hear anything about Lisa, anything at all, will you let me know?”

  “Absolutely,” Brenna said. “I promise.”

  She left the Sutton house, after rubbing Jasmine’s tummy, and headed back to town. Mrs. Sutton’s story certainly checked out with what Marie Porter had said about Lisa loving Jake, but the endings were vastly different.

  Why had Lisa suddenly left Morse Point? Had Clue threatened her? Again, Brenna thought of the way Clue had looked at Tara on the night of the bachelorette party. It was certainly possible. Had he threatened others? If so, had someone finally had enough and murdered him? It was also a good possibility, but the question was who?

  “My mother thinks I’m working on a decoupage project with you,” Tara said.

  “So, you are,” Brenna said, and she pulled Tara over to the worktable where she was gluing on the last few squares of Betty Cartwright’s hope chest.

  She handed Tara a brayer and motioned for her to roll over the squares she had recently put on. Tara gently ran the brayer and then Brenna handed her a wet cloth to dab up the glue that was pushed out from under the papers.

  “You’re a natural,” Tenley said from the other side of the chest.

  Tara gave her a shy smile, and the three of them continued to work in silence until the last square was in place and Tara had rolled over it and dabbed up the excess glue.

  They all stood back and studied their work. Brenna had been dubious when she had first conceived the piece but now, she had to admit, it was spectacular.

  “Wow,” breathed Tara, endearing herself even more to the two women.

  “Let’s leave it to dry,” Brenna said, gathering her materials while Tenley did the same. They rinsed the brushes and washed the bowls and put the glue back in the break room.

  “Now I think all of that hard work deserves a nice glass of iced tea at the Fife and Drum, don’t you?” Brenna asked Tenley, who promptly excused herself to go freshen up.

  “I don’t know,” Tara said. “I’m nervous.”

  “Are you afraid people will be nasty and whisper about you?” Brenna asked.

  “No,” Tara said with a shake of her head. “I think I’m actually getting used to that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “What if we do all this and I still can’t remember?”

  “You’ll be no worse off than you are now,” Brenna said. “But I don’t want to pressure you; the decision is yours.”

  Tara bit her lip while she considered her options. “All right, let’s do it.”

  “ ’Atta girl,” Brenna cheered her, and she smiled.

  Twenty minutes later, the three women strolled into the Fife and Drum. The bar was crowded and the
faint sound of clattering plates and murmured dinner conversations could just be heard behind the doors to the restaurant beyond.

  The interior of the Fife and Drum was dark. Black wainscoting lined the lower walls, with a rich burgundy wallpaper, sporting black fleur-de-lis, was placed atop it. Candles were lit on every table and the waitstaff, which moved at a clip, wore white dress shirts with black vests over black pants.

  Matt was behind the bar, dressed in a white dress shirt but with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Tenley led the way there. She slid onto a stool and Tara took the one beside her. Brenna opted to stand.

  Matt looked at Tenley and his eyes glowed. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”

  Tenley beamed.

  “What can I get you ladies?”

  “Iced tea all around,” Brenna answered. “We need to keep our wits about us.”

  “Why would that be?” a low voice drawled from behind her.

  Brenna jumped and spun around to find Nate standing right behind her.

  “Ah!” She put her hand over her heart. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Brenna noticed his gray eyes looked amused and not one iota repentant.

  “Yeah, right,” she said.

  “So, what are you ladies up to tonight?” he asked.

  “We’re re-creating the night of the . . .” Tara began but Brenna interrupted with a fake cough.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Nate said and leaned closer to Tara.

  She gave Brenna a confused look and then said, “The night of the murder.”

  Nate turned back to Brenna, but this time there was no amusement in his glance.

  “Explain,” he said.

  Brenna looked to Tenley for help, but she and Matt were cozied up talking, while Tara was blinking at her with a wide-eyed innocence that indicated she had no idea what she had just done. Oy.

  “It’s really very simple,” Brenna said. “Tara can’t remember the events of that night, so we are retracing her steps and hoping to jog her memory.”

  “How is that butting out?” Nate asked. He ran a hand through his hair, which Brenna knew was not a good sign.