by Ellery Adams
Molly was uncomfortable giving marital advice to someone she didn’t even know, but her heart went out to Alison. She could see she was struggling.
“Nothing will ever be the same, will it?”
“Probably not.”
Alison nodded. “No, probably not.” She looked at her. “Pamela told me about you and Nathan, how he left you and your mother when you were a baby. She also told me last night’s dinner didn’t go too well.”
“We’re going to try again tonight, at their house. Nathan is going to cook.”
“I know, Pamela told me.” It sounded to Molly like Pamela and Alison were very close. She thought that was nice, to be able to get along so well with your mother-in-law. Matt’s parents were in Ohio, and they didn’t see them often, which made it harder to get to know them. “I want to say, Molly, that I admire you. I think it takes courage to face your father after what he did. You’re a hero.”
“Being a hero requires doing something heroic. Meeting my father, who I’ve been estranged from my whole life, doesn’t even begin to qualify.”
Once again, Molly didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. It was starting to remind her of her first impression of Wyatt, that he was trying to avoid talking about Charlotte’s murder. But before she could ask a question, Alison said, “I think I’ve touched a raw nerve, and I’m sorry. Pamela has a tendency to overshare with me, because we’re close. I’ve known her most of my life. The Lymans used to live down the street, and Wyatt and I spent so much time together, his home always felt like my own. Pamela was very welcoming.”
“I didn’t realize Pamela lived in this neighborhood.”
“Oh, she doesn’t, not anymore. She sold the house after her husband died and bought a lovely home on Lake Champlain.”
Molly knew she had to get Alison on her track, or they’d spend the whole time talking about lake views and dinner parties. “I met with Janell and Theodore van Wegberg earlier this morning. I didn’t realize you knew Janell until he told me.”
Alison looked confused. “Well, yes, I know her. We were in nursing school together. Not that we’re best friends or anything, but sometimes we get together for lunch. What’s she got to do with anything?”
“When Charlotte lived here before, she rented a room from Gloria Wilcox, Janell’s mother. That’s how Janell met Theodore. She never told you?”
Alison shrugged. “If she did, I don’t remember.”
“Theodore met Charlotte through Rene Flores. Do you know her?”
Alison leaned deeper into the couch pillows. “Ah, no, I don’t think so. Who is she?”
“Charlotte’s business partner, and friend. Anyway, Theodore told me how he and Charlotte used to go to a nightclub called Katz to listen to the bands and dance. They were strictly friends, and he took on the role of protecting her from some of the men who hounded her. He told me Wyatt used to go to the club, and Charlotte liked him, thought he was a real gentleman.”
Alison’s eyes were stern. “A lot of our friends went to Katz. I was never a fan. I’m not into music the way Wyatt is.” She took a deep breath. “You’re wondering if I knew Charlotte liked Wyatt, going all the way back to those days, aren’t you?”
“I am, yes. Did you know about her?”
“There was nothing to know at the time. Wyatt was faithful to me. Then.”
It sounded to Molly like she did know about Charlotte, but she’d have to pin that down. “So you met her at Katz, on the rare occasion you went there.”
“I never said that.” Alison frowned. “I just know that Wyatt was faithful to me, that’s all. Whatever happened between him and Charlotte, it happened earlier this year, not before.” She picked up one of the throw pillows and held it to her chest. It had fringe on the ends, and she started pulling on it. “When Detective Lombardi was here, he made me feel the same way you’re making me feel, like I’m the criminal, like I killed Charlotte. I don’t like it one bit.” She stared at Molly. “I’ll be honest with you, okay? I’m also not sorry that witch is dead. Would you be, if she was trying to steal your husband?”
“This isn’t about me, Alison. It’s about you, and Wyatt, and Charlotte. Do you think it’s possible he was involved with her earlier than this year?”
“Does it matter, if he was?”
“It does, if you knew about it.”
Alison’s eyes flared, but only briefly. “Well, I didn’t know.” She was trying to find her footing, the right amount of anger, the right amount of angst. “I only found out yesterday, when Wyatt confessed. He only told me because Detective Lombardi had been to see him, and he knew he was on his way to talk to me.” She paused. “Wyatt swore he broke it off with her months ago. He cried on the phone to me, said he was sorry, and for a minute, I actually thought I might be able to forgive him.”
“Did he tell you about the land?”
Alison hesitated. “Yes, but he asked me not to say anything about it to anyone. He told you?”
“He did.” Molly waited to see if Alison would mention the ten thousand dollars as well, but she didn’t. It was bad enough Wyatt hadn’t told Lombardi, which she could almost understand, but not telling Alison meant he still wasn’t being completely honest with her.
Alison glanced at the mantel clock. Worried about her father coming home early? Or done talking to Molly? “Do you think Wyatt is in a lot of trouble?” she asked.
“He has motive, and he doesn’t have an alibi. Does he often work from home?”
“Not often, a few times a month.”
“Did you know he would be working from home on Monday?”
Alison shrugged. “He might have told me he was going to. I don’t remember.”
How convenient, Molly thought. She gave a good nonanswer. She was trying to figure Alison out, watching her body language, listening to her tone of voice. Plucking the fringe on the pillow was a sign that she was nervous, but that could be easily explained, since she was asking her disturbing questions, and she was, despite being angry at Wyatt, concerned that the police might arrest him. He was her husband, after all, and father to her children. But if Alison didn’t kill Charlotte, and Wyatt didn’t kill her, someone else did. She needed to be sure.
“Where were you Monday morning between seven and nine?”
“I already told Detective Lombardi, I dropped the girls off at school around eight, and then I drove home. The school is a thirty-minute drive from here. My mother confirmed it.”
Molly was glad to hear this. She really did feel sorry for Alison, and she hated to think of her as a cold-blooded killer.
“I mentioned Charlotte lived with Janell. During that time, the man who lived next door to them, Larry Pruett, was killed in a robbery. Do you recall it?”
Alison nodded. “How could I forget? It was on the news, and Janell and I were in nursing school together. She had a hard time concentrating on her studies. Not only was her mother ill, but then this man gets killed, and it was scary. I don’t know if I could have handled that much stress, I can tell you that.”
“Janell and Charlotte both said they were home that night watching a movie together. I wonder if Charlotte snuck out of the house after they went to bed.”
Alison tossed the pillow aside. “What are you going on about? Are you saying you think Charlotte killed that man?”
“I told you he was robbed, and it turns out some of the stolen goods were found in her possession. I think she could, at the very least, be involved.”
Alison burst out laughing. “Well, what do you know. She really was a horrible person.” She held up a hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but when Wyatt told me about the affair, I knew there had to be more on her, that she was bad news. People don’t just get murdered. She ticked someone off. And now you’re telling me she killed that poor man, and robbed him. Leave it to Wyatt to get involved with a loser like her.” She looked at her. “Oh, my gosh, Molly. What if Wyatt killed her? I mean, I can’t believe he did, because he can’t even
squash a bug, he always makes me do it, but if she was dangerous, maybe it was self-defense.” She touched her cheek. “No, it’s impossible. Despite everything he’s done to me, all the lies, he couldn’t have killed her. I was in a car accident this past August. You should have seen the way he dropped everything to be with me.” Her voice had turned wistful. “He was so loving, and caring.”
“He told me you swerved to avoid hitting a deer.”
“Yes, and instead, I ran the car into a tree. My purse was on the passenger seat, and it went flying. The metal buckle sliced my cheek open. The doctor I work for, Dr. Mayes, is a plastic surgeon, and she fixed it.”
“She did a great job. I don’t even see a scar.”
“It’s fading more every day. Some makeup covers it up for now.”
Molly thought she heard footsteps overhead. Her mother must have gotten up. “Wyatt told me he broke off the affair with Charlotte after you had your accident.”
Alison’s eyes swiveled to the ceiling. “Mother is awake.”
Molly pressed her. “Did you know about the affair before he told you yesterday?”
Alison frowned. “No, of course not.” She got up suddenly, and went out of the room again, only this time she went upstairs.
Molly had no idea if Alison was being honest with her. She thought if she had found out about the affair, weeks or months ago, she would never admit it.
When she came back downstairs, Alison didn’t come into the living room, but went to the hall closet to retrieve Molly’s jacket. She got the hint, and went into the foyer.
“I hope your mother feels better soon.”
“Thank you.” Alison opened the door, and a blast of cold air came in. At least it had stopped raining, but it was raw out. “I know Pamela loves Wyatt and wants to help him,” she said, “and even though I’m feeling very hurt and angry with him, I do want to give him my support as well.” Molly zipped her coat, and wondered how Alison wasn’t freezing standing there with the door open. “I told Detective Lombardi, I will stand by my husband. I thought you should know.”
Seeing her standing there in the cold, Molly realized she was tougher than anyone gave her credit for, including Pamela and Wyatt, and maybe even herself upon first meeting her. This was a woman who had a motive to kill Charlotte, and she had the strength. Molly could see it in her strong arms, the result of practicing yoga for years. And she had no doubt, Alison was strong enough to wield a heavy French urn into the back of Charlotte’s head.
Chapter 16
While Molly was meeting with Alison, her mother had left her a voice mail. After the previous night’s failed dinner attempt, Clara was worried about her. Instead of returning her mother’s call, Molly decided to see her in person. She drove downtown to the Treasure Trove.
The shop was located on Church Street, Burlington’s pedestrian brick-lined street loaded with shops and restaurants. Molly loved the store’s wide-plank oak floors, and delicate crystal chandeliers hanging from a wood-beamed ceiling. Her mother was behind the register counter, transferring bags of potpourri from a cardboard box into a decorative wicker basket. She stopped as soon as she saw Molly, and came around the counter to give her a hug.
“My darling girl.” She stood back and observed her. “You look pale.” She touched Molly’s cheek. “Are you all right? I’ve been so worried about you. I wanted to go straight to your house when we left the restaurant last night, but Sean said no, I should leave you be. Did I do the right thing? Or did you need your mother?”
Molly smiled. It didn’t matter what age she was, her mother would always think of her as a child who needed protecting. She supposed she would think of Tyler that way, too, when he was a grown man with a family of his own.
“I’m okay, Ma. In fact, I’m giving it another try tonight. Nathan invited us to their home for dinner. He’s going to cook.”
Clara looked relieved. “I’m so glad. I felt like it was all my fault, putting you in that position. You didn’t want to meet your father, and I encouraged you to.”
“Don’t feel bad. You told me to think about meeting him, and I did. It was my decision to make, no one else’s.” She paused. “Nathan told Matt that his father was cruel. Did you know?”
Clara nodded. “Yes, of course. Which is why, when I found out I was pregnant, I told Nathan I’d go to counseling with him, or he could go alone, to work through whatever fears he had that he wouldn’t be a good father. He didn’t want to.”
“He ran away, like I ran away last night,” Molly said, and it occurred to her that she might not be so different from her father after all. She sighed. She really didn’t want to spend any more time thinking about Nathan. She had other more important matters to discuss. “Is Sean here? I wanted to talk to you both about my investigation, and get your insights.”
“You just missed him,” Clara said. “He’s meeting with a family selling their late mother’s antiques. He’s going to take a look at what they have.” She smiled. “But I’m free right now, and I can fill him in later. Just let me finish unpacking the potpourri.”
“I love the scent. What is it?”
Clara took one of the bags out of the basket and read from the back. “Rosehips, spices, berries, pods, greens and sliced oranges scented with autumn spice. It’s fifteen ninety-nine a bag, if you’re interested.”
“I’ll buy one before I go.”
Clara laughed. “I was joking.” She handed her a bag. “It’s on the house.”
“Thanks, Ma.” Molly’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Oh, my gosh. I don’t know why I’m tearing up.”
“You’ve had an emotional few days, between finding Charlotte’s body and meeting your father. It’s normal to feel a little overwhelmed.” Clara hummed as she placed the remaining bags of potpourri into the basket, then carried it to a display table near the entrance. This would ensure that every customer walking in the door would be greeted by the fragrant scent, and if they were anything like Molly, they’d be leaving with one.
They went into the office, and Molly immediately noticed a new addition to the room, a nineteenth-century antique settee with a carved walnut back, curved armrests, and tapered legs that ended on the original casters. “This is a gorgeous piece.”
“Sean found it at an estate sale last week. He wanted to sell it, but the minute I saw it, I told him it was perfect for the office.” Molly wasn’t surprised that her mother had gotten her way. Sean would do anything for her. “Sit on the settee, and I’ll pull one of the visitor chairs over to the door so I can keep an eye out for customers.” The chair was an English Georgian Elm high-back Windsor armchair, and once she was seated, Clara crossed her legs and sighed deeply. In her lavender silk jacket, pewter-colored skirt, and perfectly coiffed hair, Molly thought she looked like a queen sitting on her throne. “It feels so good to sit down,” Clara said. “I’ve been on my feet all day. So, did you have a chance to talk to Rene Flores?”
“Yes. She drove up from Boston and I met her at the Hotel Vermont. She told me Pockets of Time is closing at the end of the year.”
“What a shame. Did she say why?”
“Sales were off the last few years. It got so bad, Charlotte was using her own savings to stay open. Rene was shocked when she told her she was opening A Checkered Past. She regrets that she didn’t try harder to stop her. But honestly, I don’t think she could have done anything about it. Charlotte sprang the news on her. She wasn’t asking for her opinion.”
“Does Rene have any idea who might have killed her?”
“No, but this wasn’t the first time they’d lived in Vermont.” Molly told her about how they’d met in foster care. “They moved here to save money. Charlotte got a job at an antiques store called Memory Lane, and Rene worked as a teller at Midtown Savings Bank. She gave me the impression they weren’t close to anyone in the area, so I wasn’t expecting to find many suspects in Charlotte’s death. But then Lombardi told me the gun we found was identified as one used in a robbery, w
hich ended in the death of the homeowner.” She went on to tell her mother about Charlotte’s living arrangement at the time with Gloria and Janell Wilcox, how Larry Pruett found the Civil War–era coins, and that there was still an emerald and diamond ring missing.
“On the face of it, it appears Charlotte could have committed the crime, and maybe she did. But if so, I can’t help wonder if she had an accomplice. Janell, for instance. They were living under the same roof. Did she really not hear Charlotte leave that night? Or was the alibi a lie, because she was involved? And then there’s Rene’s boyfriend, Quincy Clarke, the coin collector. Charlotte would have needed to find someone wealthy enough to buy the coins who she could trust to keep quiet about it.”
Clara looked at her. “Perhaps there’s another explanation for her having the gun and the coins. Could someone have given them to her?”
“I suppose it’s possible, but when would that have happened?” Molly sat back on the settee, thinking the cushions of original goose feathers or duck down had grown too hard over time and needed to be replaced. “When I walked away from my meeting with Rene, I really thought Lombardi was going to need a lot of luck finding Charlotte’s killer, since she and Charlotte knew so few people here. But now I’ve got a full plate of suspects, and it’s so convoluted. It seems like everyone who knew Charlotte when they were younger also knows everyone else connected to this case, and it’s hard keeping track of how they’re all connected.” She sighed. Some cases were harder to crack than others, and she knew this one was going to be challenging.
“Representing the women,” Molly went on, “I have Rene, the dutiful friend and business partner, and Janell, the alibi in a different murder who could be complicit. For the men, there’s Theodore van Wegberg—Charlotte’s platonic friend, Janell’s husband, and Rene’s former coworker at the bank—and Quincy Clarke, who Charlotte knew from work. Janell and Theodore aren’t admitting anything, of course, but there’s no way I’m crossing them off my list. As for Quincy Clarke, I left him a voice mail asking to meet. I told him I’m writing an article about Charlotte, without mentioning the coins. He still hasn’t gotten back to me. I’m beginning to think he’s avoiding me. Could you ask Sean if he knows him?”