A Stoneybrook Mystery Collection

by Eryn Scott

  “Depends if the lady’s already crazy or not,” Tara deadpanned. “Or wait, was that crazy or just terrible?”

  This time, Hadley did look up. Tara’s face was twisted into a mock question as she held out Hadley’s receipt.

  “Well … it takes crazy to know crazy,” Hadley said, snatching the paper from Tara and grabbing her stuff before storming out of there.

  She waited until she was across the street and entering her kitchen through the back door before she let her head hang forward in defeat.

  “That bad?” Suze asked. She’d twisted her hair up into a loose bun, a paint-splattered stick holding it together.

  Hadley frowned. “Tara.”

  “Ugh. Say no more.”

  Tyler’s older sister had taken too much pleasure in pushing Hadley and Suzanne around even when they were younger. She’d never quite warmed up to Hadley, even when she and Tyler had tied the knot.

  “She turns me into a frustrated teenager all over again.” Hadley walked into the kitchen and set the cat supplies down on the floor outside the office. “I think I even called myself crazy at one point.”

  “Sorry.” Suze cringed, but Hadley could see her stifle a laugh.

  “This is not funny.”

  “Come on,” Suze said, trying to get a smile out of her. “It sorta is.”

  Hadley shrugged.

  “Well, over here in Adult World, the van is all ready to go.” Suze ran her shoulder into Hadley’s. “Get that cat set up so we can go.”

  After a few minutes Ansel was purring away as he ate his food. Hadley set a blanket on her chair for him, which was sitting in a lovely sunbeam during this time of the day. Not only did the little cat have food, water, and a proper bathroom, but Hadley suctioned the feather toy she’d bought to the window just in case he needed entertainment.

  Satisfied he was taken care of, Hadley closed the door to her office and headed out to the van. She and Suze drove the few minutes down to the park and pulled in next to the other vendors who had already started setting up. Almost every car, truck, or van sat open as people made trips back and forth to their designated spot in the lush, green grass.

  Half an hour later, Hadley stood in front of her table, straightening the sign Suze had painted for her last year that read Pretty Jam Good: Canned Creations by Hadley James. Then she fixed the stack of strawberry-rhubarb jam in the middle so they would match the cherry-merlot and almond-apricot stacks on either side. Even though Hadley sold over a dozen varieties of her jams at all times on her website, she tried to keep the ones she brought to the market as seasonally appropriate as she could. There wasn’t much demand for her pumpkin spiced rum butter during warm, sunny days like this one.

  Folding open her chair, Hadley sank into the seat, glad Paul had convinced her to come here to take her mind off Edith. The last thirty minutes had been wonderful, losing herself in her normal routine. But even though she’d left Ansel safe in her office, Hadley knew it was just a matter of time before people heard what had happened.

  Secrets were hard to keep in a small town like Stoneybrook. She knew from experience.

  In fact, the whispering and staring had already begun. Hadley felt they showed considerable restraint, waiting until there was only a quarter of an hour before the market opened to approach the jam table. Louise Stanton turned out to be the chosen representative.

  Suze was just rearranging a few piles of screen-printed T-shirts when she let out a two-toned whistle to alert Hadley, but she needn’t have; Hadley had seen the small woman approaching ever since she’d broken away from the knitting table across the grassy walkway. She wore her peppered-with-gray, brown hair twisted up into a tortoiseshell clip that matched her glasses.

  “Hadley, my dear.” Louise came right around Hadley’s table and pulled her into a tight hug. “We all heard. I want to say I’m surprised, but honestly, that woman was so unhappy I’m surprised it took this long for her to … you know.”

  It took Hadley a moment to register what she’d heard. She tipped her head to one side. “Wait, you think it was suicide?” Hadley whispered that last word, though she wasn’t sure why; if Louise was telling this to her, it meant she’d already told a dozen others.

  Louise shrugged. “Well, it would only make sense.”

  Hadley shouldn’t have been surprised by Louise’s statement; she knew the level of disregard at which most of Stoneybrook held Edith Butler. And Louise had even more reason to dislike Edith, being the one other person who worked at Main Street Skeins, Edith’s knitting shop. Hadley had heard all of the terrible things Edith had said to Louise over the years, had even witnessed Louise’s less-than-ideal working conditions on many occasions. But still, she’d expected a little more humility from her town in light of that morning’s events.

  “Please, let’s not be catty at a time like this.” Hadley leveled a disappointed stare at the woman.

  Louise patted Hadley’s hand. “You’re such a good girl. Yes, of course. Don’t speak ill of the dead and all that.” She took a step back. “Well, we just wanted you to know how proud we are that you decided to show up today, considering.” She turned to leave.

  Suze snorted in response from where she sat at her booth, but if Louise heard her, she didn’t let on.

  “Mrs. B wasn’t my favorite either, but gosh, you’d think they could at least wait a few days before bringing out the claws.” Suze walked over to stand next to Hadley as Louise left.

  “Tell me about it,” Hadley said, shaking her head.

  “At least it’s time for the market to open, so they’ll be stuck behind their booths for the next few hours.”

  “We can only hope.” Hadley shaded her eyes with her hand as a wave of tourists walked in through the park entrance.

  4

  Fortunately, Hadley had been right. The vendors were much too busy to come over and inquire about Edith’s passing once the market opened. Unfortunately, she had a list of items in her purse that she needed to pick up today and eventually had to venture out from behind her jam table.

  Suze and Hadley often watched each other’s booths during slow market times, allowing them to get some shopping done without losing out on potential sales.

  The spring sunshine blanketed Hadley as she walked through the market, making her want to roll up her long sleeves. Unlike summer and winter—which bowled into the Cascade Valley like an avalanche—spring and fall crept into the valley, tiptoeing in so unassumingly that Hadley was always pleasantly surprised by their arrival.

  She smiled and waved to Barry, sitting behind a table displaying rows of his local honey. Hadley didn’t need anything from him this weekend, having just purchased three jars of his wildflower honey last Saturday, but just looking at the rich, golden decadence made her crave a freshly baked scone with butter and a generous honey drizzle with some of her almond-apricot jam.

  “Afternoon, Miss James,” Barry said, taking his hat off and tipping his head forward in a small bow.

  The man’s crazy, white hair seemed like it was trying to escape with the way it sprung out in all directions when released from the confines of the floppy hat. Barry returned the hat to his head, smiling at Hadley through an equally white, messy—though endearing—beard.

  Hadley wished she could linger and chat with Barry, knowing the kind man was one of the few here who wouldn’t stoop to fanatical gossip. He was calm, quiet, and careful, having to be to keep his many bees from gettin’ him, as he called the infrequent times he was stung. And although Hadley was far larger and more complex than a bee, she had always felt the same soothing effect from his demeanor.

  Moving on, she stopped at the next booth, the local quilting club’s triple-table setup. With five of them creating everything from potholders to full quilts, they had a lot of merchandise to display and were one of the largest operations at the market, except for the produce and nursery booths. The local quilt club saved their larger scrap pieces for Hadley each week so she could use them as cute addi
tions to her jam lids after running a pair of pinking shears along the rough edges. As many times as Hadley had offered to pay for the fabric, the women refused to let her give them a dime.

  However, in addition to being incredibly generous, they were also unfailingly gossipy, so Hadley steeled her resolve as she stepped forward.

  “Shh, shh, shh.”

  “Hadley’s here.”

  “Ladies, look alive.”

  “Ida, Think about your word choice. Really.”

  Hadley had to suppress an eye roll. They were also painfully bad at hiding anything.

  “Hi, ladies.” Hadley clasped her hands in front of her as she waited for the inevitable questions.

  “Oh, Hadley, dear. We just simply cannot believe it.” Ida Mae Rogers rushed forward and enveloped Hadley in a tight hug.

  The older woman had to be a full foot shorter than Hadley’s five-foot-five height, and her thin arms wrapped around Hadley’s stomach, making her think twice about all of the scones she’d consumed through the winter months.

  “I know. It’s terrible, right?” Hadley pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “Completely,” June Dewer said from her seat behind Ida.

  A sniffling sound came from the end of the table. Hadley found Hazel Smith sitting there red-eyed and clutching a monogrammed handkerchief.

  “We’re—we’re—we’re just in … shock!” Hazel cried, stretching the last word out so long that it disappeared into her next wail.

  Ida Mae let go of Hadley and scuttled back behind the tables, but Hadley couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than Hazel. Remembering Louise’s insensitive declaration earlier, if Hadley had expected anyone else to share Louise’s feelings about Edith, it would’ve been Hazel.

  Last year, Edith Butler had hired Hazel’s son to manage some investments for her—he lived in the city and, according to Hazel, was the best around for growing an investment portfolio. After a few months, Edith’s money wasn’t performing like she wanted, and she began to look into what he’d been doing with it. Needless to say, things didn’t add up. Edith called the Better Business Bureau on him.

  They found that he’d not only been skimming money off his older clients’ portfolios, but had also invested in a few less-than-real holdings, figuring the AARP crowd wouldn’t notice. The guy had lost his license, and was also serving some time in prison. Hazel, unable to comprehend that her son was capable of such a terrible thing, blamed Edith exclusively for the whole mess, maintaining that Edith had set him up.

  Hazel was right next to Louise Stanton on the list of people who hated Edith Butler with a passion.

  Not about to come right out and say, Oh really, Hazel? I thought you would’ve been happy Edith is dead, Hadley nodded. “I know,” she said instead. “She had so much energy and spunk to just off and die in her sleep.”

  “And at such a young age,” Ida Mae said. “Edith was seven years younger than me.”

  “Twelve younger than me!” June chimed in.

  The other ladies murmured similar statements shaking their heads and patting their hands over their hearts.

  “She seemed to be on a lot of medication,” Hadley said, hoping to calm the older women, noticing they seemed worried they might be next.

  “I think she was just taking something for her high blood pressure,” Hazel said. The woman worked at the only pharmacy in town, so she knew what everyone was taking. It was less than ideal since she also was one of the town’s biggest gossips.

  “But so do I …” Frannie Bloom said, fear leaving the last word half strangled in her throat.

  “Me too.” June gasped.

  Ida Mae just nodded blankly, as if unable to find her voice.

  A happy spring bird trilled out a lovely tune in the awkward silence that followed.

  Hadley mentally kicked herself. Gah … way to make the entire quilting society worried they’re about to kick the bucket, she scolded herself.

  “I’m sure it was more than just that.” Hadley folded her arms across her chest, feeling the discomfort wrap around her like one of their award-winning quilts.

  “Well, enough talk of this.” Hazel stood up, swiping a tear from her eye as she shoved her shoulders back. “Hadley’s had a hard enough day.” She bent to pick up a grocery bag full of fabric scraps then handed it to Hadley over the table. “Here you go, dear.” Hazel’s hands clasped around Hadley’s for a moment before she let go of the bag. Her watery, brown eyes held on to Hadley’s too, almost just as palpably.

  A shiver ran down Hadley’s spine despite the warm sun shining down on the market. Between her dramatic reaction to Edith’s death and the intense way she was looking at Hadley, something felt off.

  But Hadley had already dealt with too much today to be in a place where she could solve the mystery that was Hazel Smith. She smiled, waved, and turned back toward the other vendors. Just as she did, Hadley caught sight of Dirk and Cathy Croft walking stiffly through the center thoroughfare.

  She paused, mouth hanging open. It wasn’t as if Dirk and Cathy never showed up at the weekly market—they’d come once or twice over the last decade—but Dirk especially was quite vocal about how much he disliked the institution, claiming it took business away from Stoneybrook’s brick-and-mortar stores.

  How anyone could ever argue that a farmers market was bad for small businesses, Hadley could never understand. The rest of the town seemed to agree, because people mostly wrote Dirk’s rants off as just part of his generally disgruntled attitude. And while Cathy wasn’t quite as much of a stranger to the market, from the whispers and stares directed at the couple, Hadley could tell she wasn’t the only one surprised to see them.

  “Here to get the scoop on Edith Butler, no doubt.”

  Hadley jumped at the voice coming from just over her shoulder. Thea Clark, the local librarian, had sidled up next to Hadley and narrowed her eyes at the Crofts as they walked past.

  “Probably,” Hadley said, nodding as her heart slowed from the surprise of being snuck up on. “He sure does look skittish.”

  Thea clicked her tongue in agreement. Cathy stopped to chat with Marie, the secretary for the local attorney, while Dirk glanced around, checking behind his back more than once.

  “Doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Thea said. “That man’s only ever had morals as long as they serve his wallet.”

  Harsh as the statement was, Hadley couldn’t disagree. Her own family had been subject to Dirk’s greedy ways. When she and Paul had been in high school, Dirk had told their dad he wasn’t going to continue his lease for his woodworking shop and storefront in town after two decades. Dirk had found out he could get more money by dividing the building up into three smaller offices and had decided to oust their father. While things had worked out for the better in the end—her father had finally built the shop he’d always wanted on their property—it had been a stressful time for their family, something for which Hadley had yet to find a reason to forgive Dirk.

  Thea reached out and latched on to Hadley’s forearm, pulling her attention away from the Crofts.

  “Sorry to hear you found her,” she said, forehead creased. “I know you were one of the few she let get close to her.”

  Hadley smiled sincerely at the woman. She’d always loved the librarian, who was just about the same age as her mother. Hadley had always looked up to Thea and admired her kindness and wisdom.

  “It’s hard feeling like I’m the only one who cares that she’s gone.” Hadley glanced down at the grass, surprised at the candid nature of her confession.

  Thea squeezed her arm once more before letting go. “Don’t worry, honey. You’re not. Sour as people seemed toward her, they’ll miss Edith, do miss her.”

  With that, Thea gave a small wave and kept on her way, back to the used-book sales table the library sponsored.

  Passing by the knitting booth, manned by Louise and crowded with locals no doubt asking about Edith’s passing, Hadley walked toward the Stoneybrook
Spirits booth. The local distillery was a favorite tourist destination, specializing in creative mixes to go along with their award winning liquors. Hadley needed another few bottles for her spring round of jams, knowing how popular the spirited recipes were last year.

  Luckily, Christine, the distiller and owner, lived far enough down the valley that she didn’t get involved much in the local drama. She stuck to chatting about business as she packed up Hadley’s order. After that, Hadley swung by the Cascade River Winery, where Tommy, a friend from high school and the tasting room manager, pulled a bag with a few bottles out from under the table and handed it to her. She had to squish to the very edge of the crowd to retrieve her bag. It was a popular booth between the smooth wine samplings and Tommy’s even smoother smile.

  “I’ll send you an invoice, Had.” He winked at her and then turned back to the group of women in front of him.

  Hadley waved then turned toward her last destination, the Fenton Farm booth. She needed to pick up her weekly bag of lemons—forever grateful for the Fenton’s greenhouse which produced the citrus year round—since the fruit was just about as important as sugar in her jams.

  But as the large booth that contained everything from fennel to free-range eggs came into view, Hadley stopped short. Her stomach felt like it dropped straight to the ground. She gripped the bags of her purchases so they wouldn’t follow.

  Luke Fenton stood behind his family’s booth.

  5

  Usually up on town goings-on, Hadley wondered why she hadn’t heard anything about Luke visiting from Seattle.

  Regardless of the reason for his visit, Hadley knew she wasn’t ready for a run-in with her ex-husband’s best friend. She would have to bike out to the farm Monday morning to pick up her order from Jolee, Luke’s sister. Luke would most likely be gone after the weekend.

  With a sigh, she turned back toward her booth.

  Hadley found Suzanne collecting money from a jam customer. Thanking the customer, Suze glanced up at Hadley, shading her eyes from the afternoon sun.