Maybe if I played it again, it wouldn’t sound as threatening. I reached to push play but accidentally hit delete. No one would believe me now. The number wasn’t listed on my caller ID. I had no proof that anyone had called.
The need to call Brandon resurfaced, and this time I gave in.
****
The next morning, I dressed in a soft yellow pantsuit. One of my favorites because it’s made of cotton and feels much like wearing pajamas but looks nicer. Today I’d need the comfort. I looked to the heavens and said a soft prayer. “Lord, be with me as I do what must be done today. I know Mitzi is in heaven now, but honestly, it hurts to know she is no longer here. Thank you, Father, for giving Your comfort now in my time of need.”
The sound of wheels on the drive halted my prayer. I didn’t have more to say anyway. God would have to offer the consolation I needed to get through this day. “Amen.”
Picking up my pocketbook, I opened the back door to a smiling Brandon. He’d offered to help move out Mitzi’s things and had even volunteered to pick up boxes for packing. I smiled at the man who was swiftly creating a place for himself in my heart. For now, I labeled the spot as friendship. But I had to admit, he looked mighty fine for a man who spent most of the night on the phone with me.
“Feeling any better this morning?” He asked as he took my elbow and helped me down the back steps.
I didn’t need the help but with his warm palm cradling my rough elbow, who was I to complain? Chivalry didn’t come by everyday. I made a mental note to add extra lotion to my nightly routine and elbows, just in case this became a habit of his.
“I’m much better, thank you.” I allowed him to guide us to his waiting pickup.
He held my door open and waited for me to settle onto the seat before he closed the door. Brandon hurried around the hood of the vehicle and pulled himself into the cab. His cologne filled the small space, and I inhaled deeply. Its woodsy scent filled me with warmth and a desire to think of this outing as a date. I silently chastised myself. This was not a date. I had Mitzi to think about.
Thoughts of Brandon filtered in. Stop Claire! I repeated the order to myself, while I tried to ignore the warmth that consumed me inside the cab of the pickup.
Once we were on the road toward Mitzi’s, I said. “I’ve been thinking about that call.”
He glanced in my direction. “And?”
“Now we know for sure Mitzi was murdered. I’d kind of hoped it was just a wild goose chase and that I’d find nothing but feathers at the end of the trail. But, now it’s real. Very real.” I clutched my hands together to hide their telltale shaking.
Brandon reached across and covered my hands with his. “I know.” He squeezed my fingers gently and then returned his hand to the steering wheel.
“Thanks for coming with me to Mitzi’s. I’m dreading the task ahead.”
He glanced across and smiled. “I can understand why you’d dread it. I’m glad I can be here to help. Together we should be able to do it quickly.”
I thought about Mitzi’s small apartment and knew he was right. A hallway led down to a living room, dining room, and kitchen that were one small room. A bedroom and bath sat off to one side and behind them. It shouldn’t take long.
He pulled into the driveway and shut off the motor. Then Brandon opened his door and hurried around the pickup to help me out. “I’m here, if you should need me.” He offered in a soft voice.
“I appreciate that,” I said, aware once more that he held my elbow in his palm.
We made our way inside and looked about. Furniture lined the walls of the living room and dining area. Brandon whistled low. “It might take longer than I thought.”
“Mitzi was a pack rat.” I muttered, looking at the shelves of knickknacks, picture frames, piles of books and papers and other assorted odds and ends.
“I’m going to go grab some boxes and be right back.” He left.
Emptiness and silence filled me. Where does one start to pack away someone else’s life? I moved into the kitchen area. It was clean, other than a couple of glasses.
I swallowed, closed my eyes and then turned to the dining table. I opened my eyes. Everything had been taken from the scene of the crime. Red specks marred the wall and grey carpet, but all else had vanished. For a brief moment I wondered if the police had cleaned up the scene or if Mitzi’s landlord had done so.
Brandon came through the hallway once more. “Here we are.” He lay several flat boxes down and then picked one up and began putting it together.
A pile of newspapers sat beside the door. Another gift from the landlord? Maybe. I moved to the first whatnot shelf and began wrapping the crystal figurines into the newspapers, each one represented a part of Mitzi’s life. I wondered briefly what had happened to the crystal salt and pepper shakers I’d given her as an apartment-warming gift when she’d moved in here. They should have been on this shelf. They probably had been knocked off and broke.
We worked for several hours. Mitzi’s collectibles filled the boxes, and the many shelves and curio cabinets were empty. Sorrow threatened to overcome me. I’d packed all her bank papers and other important documents into a box and labeled it “papers for her son to go through later.”
Brandon picked up two boxes and headed back down the hallway. I took the paper-filled box and carried it out, too. As I set it in the front seat, I thought about my own death and cleanup.
Death is nothing to fear. I just need to prepare for it. My thoughts moved to making a will. Even though Megan and Greg will inherit all my possessions it still needs to be put in writing, I thought, closing the door and following Brandon back inside.
He took two more boxes and I another. I also decided to hire a cleanup crew to pack my things. The thought of Megan having to do it tore at my heart. This job is hard enough for a lifelong friend; I couldn’t imagine Megan’s sorrow at having to do it for me.
My parents had been killed in a rafting accident when I was a little girl. My brother and I moved to my grandparents’. And then, when my grandparents died, I’d been with my husband, Frank, and we’d had no money to travel back for the funeral. So this was new to me.
Frank’s death had hit hard, and I’d gone through his things gradually. Not packed it all up at one time and moved it away never to be seen again. That sorrowful thought brought fresh tears to my eyes.
“Thanks Dan. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Brandon snapped his cell phone shut. “That’s the last of the boxes.” He offered turning to me.
I sat on the steps of Mitzi’s apartment. I felt drained of all energy. Brandon sat beside me. He leaned against one of the metal railings.
“You’ve been awful quiet.” He observed.
I offered a smile, knowing it was weak. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been very good company, have I?”
“Nope.” A smile touched his lips and a teasing light filled his eyes.
I laughed. His honesty was refreshing. Brandon Harvest didn’t give me the opportunity to wallow in my grief. For that I was grateful. “Come on, I’ll help you load the furniture.” I started to stand but his warm hand caught mine, and he gently tugged me back down.
“Dan Barton and a few of the men from church are on their way. We’ll get the rest of the stuff from the living room when they get here.”
“Bless their hearts. I’ll have to fix them all dinner sometime. Do you think they’ll mind grabbing the bed and dressers at the same time?”
Brandon smiled and nodded. “Sure we can do that. Speaking of food, do you still plan to attend the women’s meeting this evening at church?”
“I’d like to.” I’d forgotten all about the meeting. A glance at my watch told me it was almost lunchtime. If the men hurried, I could have the furniture in the storage building and start sorting the rest of the papers and packing the other stuff this afternoon. The weight of weariness bore down on my shoulders.
He nodded. “Good. I need to finish a couple of small projects this afternoon. Afte
r we finish up with this, how would you like to go grab some lunch?”
A lunch date. The thought thrilled me and refreshed my tired body. “I’d like that.” I stared into his eyes. They softened.
The sound of doors slamming drew our attention. Three men, including Dan, moved up the sidewalk toward us. I smiled at the trio. Dan was in his forties with blond hair and brown eyes. I’d say he was about five-ten.
His companions, Josh and Tony, looked to be his age or younger. I was happy to see those young men. They were brothers. With black hair and blue eyes, they looked to be twins.
Brandon stood and shook Dan’s hand. “I’m sure glad to see you boys.” His charming smile did things to my heart that shouldn’t happen to an older woman like me.
TITLE
Lethal Lasagna
Chapter 10
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Lori Haywood asked me. The pastor’s wife slipped into a chair to my right.
“Never. But I do enjoy it.” I placed two wiggly eyes on my potato, and then drew two lines at the bottom and two on the sides to make a stick man. I was working on “American Potato Salad,” and the recipe was one of my favorites.
Lori laughed. “That is just too cute. Care if I steal the idea?”
I added an American flag die cut to the top of the page. “Not at all.”
“Thanks.” She pulled a sheet of brown card stock toward her, and I watched as she cut out the body and then began creating black spots on the paper. While she worked, I tried to figure out how to bring up the subject of Mitzi.
Mrs. Williams sat on my left. She smiled over at Lori and me. “Lori, do her pages remind you of someone’s?”
My eyes moved back to the layout and then to Lori’s serious face.
A sad smile touched her lips. “Mitzi’s.”
“Really? I didn’t know Mitzi made recipe scrap book pages.” I swung my head back and forth to look at the two women.
“She joined us last year.” Lori offered sadly. She picked up a pair of scissors and cut out the potato outline.
It became obvious that Lori didn’t plan on adding more information. There were so many things I didn’t know about my best friend. Never had I imagined she liked doing scrap booking, of any kind. I turned to Mrs. Williams. “What happened to her pages?”
“Oh, they went into the book.” She waved her hand in dismissal and acted as if this information should be public knowledge.
I worked silently for a few moments as I thought about the things I hadn’t shared with my friend. Mitzi scrap-booked, took a creative writing class with handsome instructors, and was in a Rose Hat Club that I’d never joined. I wondered how much more there had been to her that I didn’t know or realize. I tried to pull myself away from the depressing thoughts. “Do you two know of anyone who would want to hurt Mitzi?”
Mrs. Williams huffed. “That sweet little thing? As far as I know, everyone loved her.”
“It’s true. Here Mitzi was loved by one and all.” Lori agreed.
I wanted to agree, but knew it wasn’t true. Someone had hated Mitzi enough to murder her.
Mrs. Williams handed me a bowl of chocolate candy with peanuts. I scooped out a handful and then passed it on to Lori. When I looked up, I saw that Margery Bryant stood in front of our table. Her green eyes sparkled with joy. I wondered if the woman ever felt sad. I’d been introduced to her earlier, and her expression had been the same—full of joy and happiness expression. She was a chubby woman with red hair. Did the color come from the bottle or had she never turned grey? I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter, she just made me feel happy and welcome to be in the same circle as she.
“How’s it going, Claire?”
I held up the recipe page. “What do you think?”
She laughed. “I like it.” Her gaze moved to Lori’s paper piecing. “I see the potato man is a hit.”
Lori grinned. “It sure is.”
“Claire, when you come to a stopping point, would you mind having a cup of tea with me?” Margery asked.
I looked at the recipe page. “I think it’s finished.” I stood and stretched. “I’m ready for a break now, if you are.”
“Great.”
Margery led the way to the church’s cozy kitchen. I enjoyed this room best. Its decorations provided a country cottage theme. The counters were scattered with cookies, cupcakes, and all types of snack mixes. Tea and coffee pots lined another table against the far wall. A row of Tupperware glasses sat beside two different flavored teas.
I stopped and filled two glasses with ice from a bowl that sat close by. Margery smiled and visited with another woman I’d not had the pleasure of meeting yet.
“I think this one is a raspberry blend.” A teenager indicated the teapot with tiny pink roses painted on its sides. “And this one is Lemon Twist.”
I smiled at her. “Why thank you. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Claire Parker.” I poured raspberry tea into one of the glasses.
“I’m Olivia.” Her cheeks filled with a soft cherry hue. Freckles blanketed her nose under her green eyes. Light strands of strawberry blond hair framed a heart shaped face.
“It’s nice to meet you, Olivia.”
She dropped her voice down to a whisper and glanced around. “A rumor is going around that you are here looking for Ms. Douglas’s killer.” Olivia looked over her shoulder.
I laughed and prayed it didn’t sound phony. Then I leaned forward and whispered back to her, “I’m here because I wanted to see what Mitzi’s church was like. This cookbook sounded so fun that I decided to attend today.”
Her face lost some of its animation. “Oh, so you aren’t looking for her killer?”
The desire to lie and say no grew strong but I knew it wouldn’t be right. “Oh yes, I am looking for her murderer. But, it’s not a matter of looking here. Mitzi was my best friend and I feel close to her here, among her friends. Plus, with her death I realized I wanted to get back into crafts. This cookbook is a way for me to ease back into them.”
A new grin lit up her freckles. “Good. I don’t know who killed Ms. Douglas but I would love to help you find out.” She clapped her hands drawing attention to us.
It was as if the child hadn’t heard a word I’d said. “Thanks, Olivia. I’ll call on you if I come across something I could use your help with.” I added a teaspoon of sugar to my tea.
Margery chose that moment to join us. She picked up the yellow glass I’d filled with ice and poured lemon tea. “I see you’ve met my granddaughter, Olivia.”
I took a sip of the sweet tea and nodded.
“Run along, Olivia. Claire and I will catch up with you later.”
Olivia hugged her grandmother. “Okay, Nana. I’ll see you ladies later.” She winked in my direction and hurried off.
Margery laughed. “That child is always up to something.” She looked to me. “And, I think you know what it is this time.”
“Yes, I do.” We walked to a small round table in the corner of the room and sat down. “She wants to help me uncover Mitzi’s murderer.”
The smile dropped from Margery’s face. “I don’t want my granddaughter involved in that. It isn’t safe.” Her voice had turned waspish, and I knew then and there that sweet, loveable Mrs. Bryant wasn’t a woman to be crossed.
I set my glass down. “I agree. All I’m doing is asking a few questions. I’ll leave the real work to the police.”
She studied my face for several moments. Satisfied, she smiled, “I’m sorry. I get a little protective of my family.”
“That is totally understandable.” I took another sip of the cold liquid and savored the sweet fruitiness of the drink.
Margery sipped her tea, too, and then asked. “Have you ever thought about joining a Rose Hat Club? We recently lost one of our members and your name has been brought to the membership drive committee as a possible replacement.”
“Honestly, I haven’t but now that Mitzi is gone I think I’d like to make new
friends. I know she loved her group.”
Margery’s face filled with sorrow. “Yes, it is hard to replace Mitzi. It’s a comfort to know that she loved us as much as we loved her.”
My heart ached. So this was Mitzi’s group and they wanted me to fill her hat so to speak. “What exactly are the requirements for joining the group?”
“It’s an undemanding group. Once a week we get together for an afternoon tea. We used to hold it at Mitzi’s, but now we have moved it to my house. Mostly we have a good time of dressing up in red and purples, and we go out to lunch once a month. Attend concerts, plays, craft shows, just all kinds of fun things together.”
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