Wed, Read & Dead

by V. M. Burns

  “What’s going on?” Nana Jo asked. “Can I get in on some of this hugging action?”

  Angelo ran and flung himself into her arms.

  Nana Jo braced herself and caught him and gave him a fierce bear hug. “You give really good hugs.” She looked at me. “Now, why are we hugging?”

  “Sam says we can stay to the holly days,” Angelo said.

  Nana Jo looked at me.

  I smiled. “Jenna worked it out with the caseworker.”

  Lexi wiped her eyes with her sleeve and picked up her dress. “And, we get to go to the wedding.” She held up the dress.

  “Maybe you should try it on.” Nana Jo smiled.

  Lexi grabbed her clothes. “We’ll have a fashion show.”

  Angelo wasn’t as inhibited and allowed me to change his clothes in the living room. The pants fit but were a little long. Nana Jo got some pins and promised to take them up. The vest was big, but she pinned it too.

  “I forgot about dress shoes,” I said.

  Nana Jo removed the clothes, careful of the pins. “I’ll get the dress shoes.” She looked at Angelo. “Do you want to go shopping and buy some new shoes?”

  “Yay! Shoes!” Angelo jumped in a circle.

  I smiled. His enthusiasm reminded me of Oreo in his puppy days. Now, he barely glanced at Angelo.

  The other clothes were casual things he could wear every day, sweatpants, T-shirts, socks, and underwear. No need to alter those things. If they were too big, he would soon grow into them.

  Lexi came out in her burgundy dress, which fit her perfectly. She strutted like a model down a runway, with one arm on her hip. She stopped and posed several times before turning around and strutting out.

  We applauded.

  She tried on all of the outfits and walked with exaggerated steps and flair each time. Dawson joined the show and whistled and clapped, which caused Lexi to blush as she rushed away to change outfits.

  “Hey, Jillian is performing in the Nutcracker at MISU tonight. She told me to ask if it would be okay if Lexi came along.” He paused. “If she wants to.”

  Angelo bounced up and down. “What about me?”

  I looked from Dawson to Angelo. “I think you might be a little young for the Nutcracker.”

  He poked out his lip. “I’m not too young for nuts. I like cracking nuts.”

  “I thought we had a date to go shopping?” Nana Jo poked out her lip. “We can get ice cream if you’re good.”

  Angelo’s face quickly changed to utter elation and he jumped up and down. “Ice cream. Ice cream. Yay!”

  Lexi was ecstatic over the idea of going to her first ballet performance. She then spent thirty minutes debating what to wear. Ultimately, she decided on a plaid skirt and sweater I bought at the last minute. It was dressier than the other items, and I wasn’t sure if she would ever have an occasion to wear it. I’d even bought a pair of cowboy boots that were on clearance and just happened to be in her size.

  When the fashion show was over, Lexi and Angelo went downstairs to pilfer some of the Christmas cookies Dawson had baked earlier.

  I’d spent so little time in the bookstore lately that I found myself missing the energy as well as the routine. Nana Jo and I went downstairs and worked the afternoon shift to give the twins a much-needed break.

  Lexi was a big help shelving books and made herself useful sweeping, dusting, and helping out wherever needed.

  By the end of the day, we were all tired.

  I looked at my watch. “I’ve got to get showered. I have a date tonight.”

  Nana Jo’s boyfriend, Freddie, picked them up early. Having spent hours at the shopping center earlier, I was grateful to pass along the shoe shopping.

  Next was Lexi, who dressed quickly but then ran into fits about how to fix her hair for the ballet. She obsessed and lamented for so long that she finally agreed to a single ponytail at the nape of her neck with a bow made from a ribbon belt to one of my dresses. She looked sophisticated, but still twelve.

  She was beaming when Dawson came up to get her.

  At last, the house was empty, except for the poodles, who appeared to be exhausted from all of the activity and were laying in a dog bed, staring at me. Clearly, keeping up with two extra guests was arduous.

  A glance at the time and I realized I needed to get a move on. I took a quick shower and hurriedly dressed for my date.

  * * *

  Frank Patterson, not surprisingly, was a bit of a food snob. He liked good cuisine. Normally, when we went out to eat, we hit restaurants with great ambiance, impeccable service, and outstanding wine cellars. However, when he asked where I wanted to go, I mentioned a place which wasn’t known for any of those things. Dittos called their cuisine Asian Fusion. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was delicious and I had a taste for it. Not surprisingly, Frank had never been to Dittos, but he was willing to give it a try. Even though I was a native and Frank had only moved to North Harbor two years ago, it was rare that I got to introduce him to a new culinary experience.

  Dittos was a small restaurant in South Harbor that was a combination self-serve buffet and stir fry. When we sat down at the tiny bistro table, the server took our beverage order and handed us wooden sticks with the table number stamped on it and an ink pen. We were instructed to write our names on the stick and then go up to the first buffet area and fill a bowl with vegetables. The next stop was the sauce station, where we ladled our sauce of choice onto the vegetables. The sauces ran from a mild peanut sauce to something called Diablo, which topped out the spice rating of five. There were small cups for sampling and Frank spent a lot of time trying the various sauces and experimenting with combinations. Once he’d gotten his sauce mixture just right, we moved on to the next stop, the meat station. Here, we got a smaller bowl and filled it with whatever meat we wanted. Our options included duck, beef, pork, and chicken. The final station consisted of various colored plastic sticks, which instructed the cook to add shrimp, scallops, or flat bread to the order. When we were done, we put our wooden sticks in the bowls and left them at the end of the bar for the chef to cook on a giant Mongolian flattop grill. Frank was engrossed in watching the chef fry our food and even went up and asked questions.

  When the food was done, our server delivered the bowls with a bowl of rice, which we shared. I watched Frank’s face as he tasted the creation and felt elated by the look of pure joy that crossed his face.

  “This is fantastic. I can’t believe I haven’t been here before.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I think my favorite thing about eating here is that as many times as I’ve been here, I never feel like it gets monotonous because I can never remember what sauces I used the last time, so it’s different every time.”

  He looked at my plate with a longing that made me smile.

  “Would you like to taste mine?”

  I shoved my bowl closer and he tasted it.

  “That’s great.” He pushed his bowl in my direction. “Would you like to taste mine?”

  “No thank you.” I shook my head. “I avoid the sauces with ratings above a two and saw you ladling that Diablo sauce on yours.”

  We savored our food. Dittos was too small of a restaurant for lingering, so, when we were done, we left. South Harbor was decked out for the holidays, and we spent a few minutes admiring the decorations when a horse-drawn carriage went by. Frank flagged down the driver and we took a carriage ride through the cobblestoned streets of South Harbor. Snuggled together under a blanket, with a thermos of hot chocolate provided by the driver, we admired the light displays along the bluffs overlooking the Lake Michigan shoreline. It was a very romantic experience. When the carriage driver brought us back, we stopped across the street from Dittos at the River Bend Chocolate Factory. I was stuffed, but a cup of coffee sounded lovely.

  “That was a lovely evening.” I sipped my coffee. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for introducing me to Dittos.”

  We hadn’t seen much of
each other lately, so we sat and got caught up. Frank updated me on his plans for the food for the reception. Even though the location was moved, Frank was still catering the food. I updated him on the investigation.

  “So, you think Margaret is April’s mother?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. Jones is a common name. It could just be a coincidence.”

  He frowned. “I don’t believe in coincidences usually, but Jones is very common.”

  “I know. We really need to talk to Margaret. Maybe we can ask her.”

  “You’re just going to come out and ask her if April is her daughter?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. What I need to find out is if Lydia was blackmailing her.”

  “I might be able to help you with that.”

  I must have looked puzzled, because Frank smiled. “I can ask my sources to check bank accounts and look for deposits. If Margaret withdrew a large sum of money and Lydia deposited that same amount shortly afterward, it would show a pattern.”

  “You can do that?”

  He grinned. “Let’s just say I know a guy.”

  “That would be great.” I hesitated.

  “What?”

  “Well, since your guy is already checking, maybe he could check for Rudy Blackmore, Felicity Abrams, and Maxwell Dubois.” I smiled.

  Frank shook his head. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

  I also shared what I’d learned about Lexi and Angelo and that Jenna had arranged for them to stay through the holidays.

  “Then what?”

  I shrugged. “No idea. I’m not excited about the idea of them going back to the Hoopers. Jenna reported the accusation of abuse and is looking into what happened to Lexi’s friend, Veronica, but”—I shook my head—“she thinks the girl will deny the abuse. But at least they’ll have to investigate it. So”—I shrugged—“we’ll see.”

  Frank reached over and took my hand. “I’m sure you want to keep them, but you can’t take in every stray kid you find hiding out in your bathroom or in my back storage room.” He squeezed my hand gently.

  “I know. I just wish I could help.”

  “You are helping.”

  We talked until the smell of chocolate was so overwhelming I could no longer resist its allure. I purchased two pounds of chocolate-covered raisins and two giant chocolate-caramel cashew turtles.

  Frank stared at me with a puzzled expression and finally asked, “What’s with the chocolate-covered raisins? I thought you only liked chocolate with nuts?”

  I smiled. “I do. These are for Nana Jo and the kids. This is how I keep myself from eating all of the Halloween candy. I only buy candy I don’t particularly like.” I held up the cashew turtles. “These are for me.”

  He laughed.

  When I got home, Jillian was demonstrating various ballet positions, and Lexi was excitedly dancing around the room and regaling Nana Jo with the details of the Nutcracker while Angelo ran from one side of the room to the other in his brand-new shoes.

  Dawson had changed back into sweats, and Nana Jo looked tuckered out.

  I left the younger folks with the bag of chocolate-covered raisins and went into my bedroom with my smaller bag and a cup of hot tea.

  Once I was comfortable, I pulled out my laptop and typed the notes I’d made earlier into the computer. My mom’s wedding was one week away, and I still didn’t know who killed Lydia Lighthouse. I tried not to think about my mom standing alone at the altar while Stinky Pitt escorted Harold out of the church. I needed to clear my mind so I could put the pieces together and figure out who killed her. Nana Jo had told me writing helped me free my subconscious to figure out the solution. I prayed she was right.

  Everyone rose to leave the parlor.

  “I wondered if I could have a word.” Lady Elizabeth turned from Detective Inspector Covington to Lord James Browning.

  Both men nodded and stayed back while the others left the room. When the last person filed out, Lady Elizabeth turned to the duke.

  Lady Elizabeth set aside her knitting and looked at James. “We’ve never talked about what you do, and I’m sure you probably can’t talk about it. However, I wondered if you might have a way to look into Philippe Claiborne’s bank account.”

  James stared at Lady Elizabeth with a puzzled expression. “Possibly, but it would help if I knew what we were looking for.”

  She sighed. “I have my suspicions about Philippe Claiborne.” She turned to the detective. “Which I think would involve the two of you.”

  “Yes, milady,” Detective Inspector Covington said.

  “I wondered if the two of you could look into Philippe Claiborne’s background.” She sighed and looked up. “Specifically, I’m interested in knowing if you”—she turned to the detective—“have a way to cross-check burglaries with events where Philippe Claiborne was involved.”

  Detective Inspector Covington looked shocked. “You think he was a thief?”

  Lady Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t know what I think, but I remember hearing about the incident with Mary Waddington, and I also recall Lady Catherine du Long’s diamond tiara was stolen around that same time.” She picked up her knitting. “Mrs. McDuffy said she found Claiborne coming out of the library.” She shook her head. “There’s really no reason why he should have ever been in that room.” She knitted a few stitches. “Thompkins said he’d been going through the silver.” She paused. “I suppose he could have been looking to see what was needed, but honestly, that’s Thompkins’s responsibility.”

  James flexed his hand into a fist and jutted out his chin. “Why the swine. If I’d known, I’d have wrung his bloody neck.”

  “I think someone beat you to it, dear,” Lady Elizabeth said.

  Chapter 13

  If writing helped my subconscious mind, it certainly hadn’t made the leap over to my conscious. My next option was sleep.

  The next morning, I still hadn’t solved the murder, but I awoke with a plan. I missed time in the bookstore, so I fed my soul by spending a few hours surrounded by books and talking mysteries to customers. Since opening the bookstore, I hadn’t had as much time to read, but many of these authors were like old friends.

  Dawson baked, decorated, and kept an eye on Angelo, who was engrossed in cartoons. Lexi lounged and read. Nana Jo left early. She said she had research to do. I wasn’t sure if her research involved her current boyfriend, Freddie, whose son was a Michigan State Trooper, or if her research involved a trip to see her old boyfriend, who was a reference librarian. Regardless, she would get information and be ready to share.

  Time in the bookstore went by quickly and, within a short period of time, I felt more like myself. The girls and I had agreed to meet for lunch at Frank’s restaurant. I hadn’t done any sleuthing, but the beginnings of an idea had started to take shape.

  At noon, I walked the short distance to Frank’s restaurant. He was busy behind the bar, as usual, but took time to wink as he mixed drinks and helped customers. The girls had taken a shuttle from the retirement village to downtown. I agreed to make sure they all made it home safely.

  Nana Jo was the last to arrive and she flew in like a winter squall, with her scarf flapping behind her as she trudged toward our table. She flopped down in a chair. “Brrr . . . it’s cold out there.”

  The waitress came by to get drink orders and Nana Jo ordered a hot cup of coffee. Before she could return, Frank came to the table with a carafe of coffee and a pitcher of ice water. He put the pitcher of ice water with lemons on the table in front of me.

  “Somebody’s getting special treatment,” Dorothy teased.

  Frank smiled and held up the carafe of coffee.

  “Bless you!” Nana Jo held up her coffee mug. When her cup was full, she took a long drink and then pulled out her iPad. “Let’s get started.” She took off her coat.

  “You’re in a hurry,” Irma said.

  “Must have found out something,” Ruby Mae said.

  “As it
turns out, I did find out some information, but I can wait my turn if someone else wants to go first.” Nana Jo looked around.

  We all looked at each other and either shook our head or shrugged in response.

  “Great. Then, I’ll start.” Nana Jo swiped on her iPad screen a few times. “I had lunch with Freddie. His son, Mark, had been on vacation, so he hadn’t been able to get much information before. Now, Mark’s back and he ran the names of our suspects through the police database. It turns out Bufford Jones isn’t the only person we know who has spent time in the Polk County Jail.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Rudy Blakemore, Maxwell Dubois, and Rubin Abrams, husband to Felicity Abrams, all served time in the Polk County Jail.” Nana Jo looked up from her screen.

  “Why were they in jail?” I asked.

  Nana Jo looked at her device again. “Let me see. Rudy served time for failure to pay child support.”

  “Poor April.” I shook my head. She can’t catch a break.

  Nana Jo shrugged. “Well, the poor girl is so homely, she was probably happy to have anyone show her some attention. Maxwell Dubois served time for bank robbery and later for possession of marijuana.”

  “They say it does wonders for glaucoma,” Ruby Mae said.

  “Rubin Abrams is married to Felicity. He’s the only one still locked up. He was convicted of murder.”

  “Who did he kill?” Dorothy asked.

  “His business partner, Gerald Lighthouse.”

  “Lighthouse?” I realized my mouth was open and quickly closed it. “Any relation to Lydia?” I frowned. “But, wait. How can it be? Lydia’s real name wasn’t Lighthouse, it was Jones.”

  Nana Jo nodded. “Common law husband. They never actually got married.”

  “Maybe that’s why she became a wedding planner, because she never had one,” Irma said.

  “Maybe.” Nana Jo shrugged.

  “So, Rudy Blakemore, Maxwell Dubois, and Felicity Abrams all have ties to Polk County Jail, where Lydia’s brother is incarcerated.”

  “Yep.” Nana Jo nodded. “So, any one of them could have a strong motive for killing her.”