by J A Whiting
“Had you ever seen her before?”
“I don’t recall ever seeing her before that day.”
“I wonder who she was.” Claire looked across the room. “I wonder what she wanted.”
“I wish I knew.” The blond pushed at a lock of her hair and then turned back to Claire with wide eyes. “You don’t think that woman had something to do with Alicia’s murder, do you?”
Claire blinked. “No, no. I was only wondering why Alicia seemed to be so worried after talking with the woman.” Even though she denied concerns that the young woman who argued with Alicia in the salon could have had anything to do with the hairstylist’s death, Claire couldn’t let go of the worry that the visit from the woman could indeed have something to do with the events of the past days.
Two older men came over to join the women in front of Claire and the discussion of Alicia and the dark-haired visitor to the salon ended. A flurry of unease ran down Claire’s back as she thought over what she’d just learned. The description of the visitor sounded very much like Merritt Handley and Claire had a troubling feeling that Merritt was somehow involved.
The idea that Merritt could have had a hand in Alicia’s murder caused Claire’s heart to race and her stomach muscles to clench. Her thoughts swirled around in her head so fast that she had to shake herself when she discovered that she’d reached the front of the line. Standing in front of the urn that had been placed on a cherrywood table surrounded by flowers, Claire silently recited a prayer and as she turned to offer her condolences to the family members, she made a quiet promise to Alicia Fitchburg. I will find out who did this to you.
It was dark when Claire and Nicole stepped off the Silver Line bus onto the concourse outside the doors to the domestic departures lobby. Claire was furiously scribbling in a small notebook while Nicole, dragging her carry-on suitcase behind her, jabbered instructions. Nicole’s sister had been in a car accident and even though her injuries weren’t life-threatening, Nicole was flying to Washington, D.C. to be with her and she’d placed Claire in charge of the chocolate shop.
“Have I told you everything?” Nicole headed for the check-in kiosk.
Claire smiled. “You can always call me, you know. They do have cell service in DC.”
“Oh, I know.” Nicole removed her boarding pass from the kiosk’s metal tray. “I’ve never been away from the shop. It makes me nervous.”
Following Nicole to the security line, Claire reassured her friend. “We’ll take good care of everything. The recipes are in the safe and I know my way around a mixing bowl.”
Nicole chuckled. “I know you do.” She hugged Claire. “Thank you so much. I’ll be back in a few days. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“We’ll hold down the fort.” Claire gave a mock salute. “We won’t let you down.”
Nicole walked to the security line and into the roped off section to the screening checkpoint. She looked over her shoulder at Claire and mouthed, with a concerned look on her face, stay safe.
Claire nodded, waved, and headed to the escalator. She was starving and wanted to stop for a quick bite to eat at one of the fast-food places upstairs before taking public transportation home. She texted Tony to report that she’d be there shortly to pick up the dogs. Tony responded and Claire smiled when she read his message that he and the Corgis were curled up on the sofa watching a movie together and that she need not rush.
Reaching the upper floor of the airport, Claire walked along near the metal railing of the balcony glancing down to the first floor at the people bustling around from the airline counters to the security lines and she was glad she wasn’t the one flying that night. Air travel could be such a hassle, and Claire was feeling exhausted. All she wanted was to fill her grumbling stomach, pick up the dogs, and head home to crawl into bed. She’d have to rise earlier than usual in order to get to the chocolate shop to start the day’s prep on her own.
Stifling a yawn, Claire was about to leave the balcony section of the second floor and head to the counters of the food concourse when she stopped in her tracks. She sidled to the wall at the end of the balcony and peered around to look below. On the first floor, standing in a deserted corner behind a closed merchant cart, was Merritt Handley. Merritt, leaning forward, listened intently to a dark-haired young woman standing close to her. In obvious distress, the other woman’s cheeks looked flushed and she kept wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her uniform while shooting glances back over her shoulder. The woman handed something to Merritt that looked like a notebook and Merritt quickly stuffed it into her oversized bag.
Something about the scene caused Claire to feel panicky and beads of sweat rolled down her back. She reached into her small handbag, removed her phone, and not really knowing why she was doing it, lifted the phone slowly to take a photo of Merritt and the woman. Holding the phone tightly in her hand, Claire shuffled backwards away from the balcony and hurried to the food court where she sat down in one of the orange plastic chairs and pulled up the picture she’d taken.
She took a look around to be sure Merritt hadn’t come upstairs and then squinted at the photo. Leaning close to the phone screen, Claire used her fingers to enlarge the picture. The face of Merritt’s companion was clearly visible in the shot showing the tall, slender woman’s facial features and long dark hair covering her shoulders. The young woman looked vaguely familiar to Claire. Who is she?
14
Claire and the Corgis walked into Tony’s market and found him in the back store-room taking an inventory of the supplies on the shelf. When Claire had returned from the airport last night and stopped by Tony’s to pick up the dogs, the man insisted on walking Claire the few blocks home. When she assured him she would be fine and that she had the dogs for protection, Tony grunted.
“Don’t argue with me. It’s late and there have been a lot of unpleasant happenings recently and besides, two dogs can’t do much against a gun.”
Claire wondered what Tony thought he might do against someone with a gun, but his concern for her warmed her heart and she smiled and accepted his insistence to see her safely home.
Taking a seat on a stool, Claire watched the dogs wiggle around Tony as he stooped to pet them and when he straightened, she knew something was wrong.
“What?” Claire eyed the man closely. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Tony turned away to check the items on the shelves.
“What’s happened? Tell me.” Claire insisted.
Tony removed a few cans and placed them on the counter. “The building has gone up for sale.”
Claire cocked her head. “What does it mean?”
“It means that old Tony might get kicked out of the building where he’s had his shop for over fifty years.” The man’s shoulders slumped and worry creased his forehead.
“You don’t know that. The new owner would probably be happy to have such a well-established business renting the first floor.”
“That’s not how it usually works, Blondie.”
Claire could see the sadness on the man’s face. “Is there a buyer?”
“Not yet.”
“Then it will probably take a while for an offer to be accepted and a sale to go through. You have time. You can look around for another building in case the new owner doesn’t renew your lease.”
“I don’t want to move.” Tony sat down on a stool across from Claire. “I’ve been here forever. I’ll lose my customer base who also happen to be my friends. I’ll probably have to leave my apartment, too. The rents will go up. I can’t afford to pay higher rents for my apartment and for space in a new building. I don’t get a pension, you know. I have to be able to fund my retirement once I can’t work anymore.”
Claire and the dogs visited Tony at least once a day and she didn’t want him to have to move out of the neighborhood away from her. She knew that he must be in his mid-seventies and how awful it would be for Tony to leave behind everything he’d worked so hard to build. She let
out a sigh wondering why so many things seemed to be so wrong lately. “Wait and see. Maybe no one will buy the building for a long time. Maybe by the time it sells, you’ll be ready to stop working.”
A hint of a smile played at the corners of Tony’s mouth. “You’re right. Maybe they won’t sell it until I’m six feet under.”
Claire’s eyes bugged at the man’s words. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare leave me.”
Tony got up and headed for the front of the store. “We all have to say goodbye sometime, Blondie.”
“Just don’t do it any time soon,” Claire scolded and followed him to the front. Pouring a cup of tea, she sat at one of the small café tables squashed into the corner of the crowded store and took out her phone to check for messages. Nothing. She’d sent four texts to Merritt Handley over the course of the day and the young woman hadn’t responded. Claire let out a sigh and pushed the phone around on the tabletop in a slow circle, her mind working on the puzzle of why Merritt was at the airport talking to that young woman in what seemed to be a very private and upsetting conversation.
Claire sighed and looked up the phone number of the law firm where Merritt worked. She placed a call.
“Merritt Handley, please,” Claire said when the receptionist picked up.
“Ms. Handley is out of the office. Would you like her voicemail?”
“When do you expect her to return?” Claire asked.
“Ms. Handley should be in tomorrow. May I take your name?”
“No, thanks. I’ll try again in the morning.” Claire clicked off and lay the phone on the table as a cold shiver ran through her body. Where are you, Merritt? What are you up to?
Claire pulled the phone closer and as she pushed on the screen, she leaned down to get a better look. She’d brought up the photo of Merritt and the young woman at the airport. She made the photo bigger on the screen and lifted the phone closer to her eyes. Her nose was nearly touching the screen, when Tony walked by.
“You need glasses, Blondie?”
Something on the screen held Claire’s attention so strongly that she didn’t even hear what Tony had said to her as he passed by. Squinting, Claire was just able to make out the words embroidered on the patch over the pocket of the woman’s uniform shirt. Melody Booker.
Something pinged in Claire’s brain. She searched for the woman’s name on social media channels and found her on a professional site listing her as a ground crew operator for Fast Freight Airlines, part of a cargo service that delivered mail, packages, and small freight.
A wave of anxiety washed over Claire with such force that she had to hold on to the sides of her chair for a few moments and suck in some deep breaths. Each time she looked at the woman’s picture on her phone screen, the same sensation flooded her body. Claire recalled reading something about Melody Booker, but couldn’t remember what it was about. She pushed on the phone screen to close the page and then did an internet search for the woman’s address hoping it would be listed. “Bingo.”
“Tony, can the dogs stay here for a couple of hours? I need to go meet someone.” Claire was already up and carrying her paper cup to the trash bin.
“You bet they can.” Tony peeked around from behind a shelf with one eyebrow raised. “Is the man you’re meeting good-looking?” he teased.
“It’s not a man.” Claire hurried out the door of the market and jogged to Beacon Street to flag down a cab that took her to a gritty neighborhood of three-deckers on the outskirts of Boston. Striding down the sidewalk watching for the numbers on the buildings, Claire found the one she wanted and climbed the front porch steps to ring the doorbell. Two big pots of red geraniums stood on each side of the door. A minute passed and no one answered so Claire tried the bell again and got the same result. She pushed on the bell for the first floor apartment and just as she was about to give up, the door opened. A tiny, older woman wearing an apron stood looking at Claire with a questioning expression. “Yes?”
“Sorry to bother, but I’m trying to get in touch with Melody Booker.” Claire smiled trying to put the woman at ease. “This is her building, isn’t it?”
“She lives upstairs.” The older woman wiped her hands on her apron. “But she’s probably at work.”
“At the airport?”
The woman nodded. “She works different hours, but if she isn’t answering her doorbell then she must be at work.”
“Do you know Melody well?”
“Not very well. She’s a pleasant girl. We chat sometimes. She watered my plants when I went away.”
“Have you seen her today?” A growing sense of unease picked at Claire.
“Not today.”
“Did you happen to hear her come home last night? I know she was working at the airport last night.”
The woman placed her palm against her cheek. “Hmm. I don’t think so. I go to bed early. Melody gets home after I go to bed.”
“Do you have her telephone number?” Claire felt that something was wrong and a growing sense of desperation flooded her body.
“Oh, I don’t know, hon. I don’t think Melody would want me to give out her number.”
“You know her number, though?”
“I have it in the house.”
“Could you call her? Would you call her to see if she’s okay?”
The older woman’s eyebrows went up. “Why would you think Melody wasn’t okay?”
Claire quickly made something up. “I lost her number and I can’t reach her. I worried if she got home all right last night.”
The older woman stared at Claire for almost a full minute before saying, “I guess I could give her a ring.”
“Would you? Thank you so much. When you reach her would you ask if she’d talk to me for a minute?”
“What’s your name, dear?”
“Claire. Tell her I’m a friend of Merritt Handley.”
The woman hesitated. “I’ll go in and make the call. Why don’t you wait here on the porch? I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I’ll wait right here. Thank you.” Claire smiled at the woman and watched as she closed the door and went inside. Claire heard the door lock. She couldn’t blame the woman for not letting her into the apartment.
Claire paced on the porch and pushed her curls out of her eyes. Her heart was pounding and she wondered what she would say to Melody once the woman made the call. She stopped. What am I doing? What am I going to say to Melody? Am I losing it?
The door opened and the woman peeked out. “There wasn’t any answer. Melody must be busy at work.”
Claire’s heart sank. “Okay. Thank you for taking the time.” Walking along the sidewalk, Claire headed for the main street to find a cab to take her home. The feeling that had come over her was stifling and she couldn’t shake it off. Why won’t Merritt answer my texts?
Something is terribly wrong.
15
Riding in the back of the cab, Claire did an internet search on her phone to see if she could find Merritt’s address, but as she expected, nothing was listed. Claire thought it would probably be foolish for an attorney to list her address in case a disgruntled client wanted to find her. Letting out a sigh, she watched out the cab window at the people moving about the crowded sidewalks.
Trying to recall why Melody seemed familiar, Claire lifted her phone and did a search on the young woman to see if there was anything of interest about her besides the education and work history that Claire had seen on the professional site. Claire’s breath caught in her throat when she saw the articles that came up and her eyes flew over the words on her screen. How did I miss this? Now I remember.
News stories reported that six months ago, Melody Booker had applied for a ground crew supervisory position at Fast Freight Airlines, but was not chosen for the position in favor of a young man with less experience at the company. Melody filed a grievance with the airline’s union and after an investigation, it was found that the promotion had been inappropriately handled and she was awarded the
supervisory position.
Claire had a sinking feeling in her stomach believing that there could have been repercussions against Melody from some angry coworkers who disagreed with the union decision. Is that why Merritt and Melody were talking at the airport? Is Merritt representing Melody in a harassment suit against the airline? If she was, then why meet at the airport? Why not at the law firm offices? A pulsing pain had started in Claire’s temple and as she rubbed at it with her finger, her phone vibrated with an incoming text. She looked quickly at the screen hoping the text would be from Merritt, but when she saw the name on the incoming call, her mind was blank for a moment until it dawned on her who it was. Siobhan. The woman who took the bullet intended for Merritt outside of the Jasper Building. Can you come to the hospital? I need to talk to you. Now.
Claire’s shaking fingers flew over the screen to send her reply. I’m on my way.
There were only a few minutes left until visiting hours were over so Claire sprinted from the cab and dashed into the hospital lobby where she caught the elevator and hurried down the hall to Siobhan’s room. Siobhan was on the bed resting back against the pillow in the dimly lit room and her face was so pale and still that for a moment Claire thought she might be dead. Siobhan shifted her eyes to Claire and as pushed herself up a little straighter, a flicker of relief passed over the woman’s face.
“Thanks for coming.”
Claire took a seat near the bed. “Of course. Are you okay? Do you need something?”
“Maybe it’s just lying here all day without anything to do.”
“What is it?”
“I wanted to tell you something. Something that’s been bothering me for quite a while. I haven’t breathed a word of it to anyone. Maybe I’m being silly. I don’t know.”
Claire’s forehead creased in confusion and wished that Siobhan would tell her what she was going on about.
“About two weeks ago, maybe it was three weeks … I heard something at work.” Siobhan’s eyes darkened and her voice carried a slight tremor. “I heard something that Mr. Freeman was saying.” Siobhan made eye contact with Claire. “He was here the other day when you visited, Mr. Freeman, the partner at the firm.”