Some Enchanted Murder

by Linda S. Reilly

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  From the journal of Frederic Dwardene, Wednesday, November 15, 1950:

  I have made some quiet inquiries. Dora lives with only her mother in a two-family home on Harris Street. Her father died years ago in an accident at the paper plant where he worked. Her mother never remarried, and works for a local beautician. As for my Dora, she works at the sweater factory in Manchester, and rides the bus to and from every day …

  Seriously late now, I practically flew back to the office.

  By the time I sailed through the front door, Heidi was coughing into a tissue so large it could have served quite adequately as a baby blanket. Her mascara had degraded into messy black clumps. She looked like someone in the final stages of bubonic plague. Even her plastic reindeer was looking unwell.

  She was obviously too ill to be working, which made me feel all the more terrible for getting back so late.

  “Why don’t you go home?” I said to her. “You need to get some rest and get rid of that bug. Vicki and I can listen for the phone.”

  “No, I’m okay,” she choked out. “If I go home, I’ll probably just have to clean more of my mom’s throw-up.” Poor thing. Heidi could be flaky at times, but she could also be sweet and considerate.

  “I’m not taking no for answer,” I said firmly. “Now go get your—”

  “Hey, everyone!”

  Celeste Frame stepped into the reception area, a bright green tote draped over one arm. Wearing a red wool cape, a chic white beret, and black velvet gloves, she made me think of a cheery elf.

  I greeted her and she gave me a quick hug. Heidi warded her off with a raised hand and a cough.

  “Heidi was just packing up to leave,” I explained. “She’s picked up a nasty bug.”

  “Poor girl,” Celeste said. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I’m giving all of you some of my nine-grain sweet buns with my special glaze to take home. They freeze very well, so you can save them for when you feel better.”

  Heidi eyed the green tote suspiciously. “They don’t have, like, bran in them or anything, do they? Bran does these really weird things to my colon.”

  Like make it work?

  Celeste looked at me, her smile frozen in place. She turned back to Heidi. “Well, no, they don’t have bran, exactly. I make them with unbleached all-purpose flour, milled flax seed, almond flour, and the most delectable Tahitian vanilla you’ve ever tasted. Trust me, you’ll love them!”

  Her complexion now slate gray, Heidi rose abruptly. “I gotta go,” she blurted as she raced for the bathroom. We heard the door slam shut.

  “Wow, she really is sick, isn’t she?” Celeste said.

  “Yeah, she is. She took care of her sick mom all weekend and now she’s got it. She needs to go home.”

  Celeste reached into the tote and pulled out a plastic container with a red bow and a green foil tag affixed to the top. The tag read To Heidi with appreciation. Celeste and Blake. She winked at me, then reached over the reception counter and placed it on Heidi’s desk. “She can look forward to these when she’s better.”

  “You’re a sweetheart, Celeste. How do you find time to do all this baking? Aren’t you moving in a few days? You must have a ton of packing to do!”

  Celeste grinned. “First of all, baking healthy, delicious foods is my life’s passion. As for the packing, we’ve rented out the condo furnished, so most of our things are staying put. And the moving company we hired is actually going to do the packing for us, so that’s a huge help. The loft in Tribeca won’t be ready for at least two months, but we’ve rented a furnished place for the interim. By the time the loft’s ready, Blake will have received the proceeds from the estate so we’ll be in good shape. Meanwhile, I’ll be busting my buns—pun intended—getting my bakery and catering service off to a start.” Excitement beamed in her lovely blue eyes. “The competition will be fierce, but I’m relishing the challenge.”

  “You and Blake must be so psyched.”

  “Oh, we are! Blake has worked so hard to get where he is, Apple. And it’s always been my dream to live in New York. We’re both thrilled about the move.”

  Celeste had grown up with her mother and grandmother in a tiny apartment over Hazleton’s only dry cleaning establishment. I could only guess how the stench of the chemicals must have permeated their living quarters. It was easy to imagine why she was so anxious to move into a spacious loft in tony Tribeca.

  “Are you getting married in New York?” I asked.

  “Yes. The ceremony will be small but extremely elegant.” Her expression clouded. “I only wish my gram had lived long enough to enjoy all this with me. I would have brought her to New York with us, taken her to Broadway plays. We could have seen all the sights together, eaten in some of the great restaurants …” She broke off, her eyes growing misty.

  “You and your grandmother must have been very close,” I said.

  “We were. Some days I miss her terribly. She was my rock.”

  Vicki came out of her office just then, one hand clamping a tissue over her nose and mouth, the other clutching a stack of papers. She tromped over to Heidi’s desk and dropped the stack into a wire basket marked FILING.

  Celeste smiled and gave her a little wave. “Hi, Vicki. Nice to see you again.”

  Vicki looked up sharply. When she saw Celeste, her cheeks burned pink. She muttered a quick “Hello” and then hustled back to her office.

  Celeste gave me a pained look, then quietly said, “I think I know what that was about. Can we chat privately for a few minutes? In your office?”

  “Sure.”

  Vicki’s door was open. She barely gave a nod when I asked if she’d listen for the phone. I escorted Celeste into my office and closed the door.

  “I feel so bad,” Celeste said in a soft voice, taking a seat opposite my cluttered desk. She set her bag on the floor. “Vicki was at the estate sale on Saturday. I think she left before you got there, but I’m not sure. Anyway, at one point I’d gone upstairs for something and I overheard her talking to Lou Marshall. She was trying to persuade him—no, it was more like begging him—to go bird-spotting with her. Poor Lou kept mumbling excuses, but Vicki wouldn’t let up. Oh, Apple, she sounded so desperate. My heart nearly broke for her. It was so obvious she’d had a huge crush on Lou. She must be devastated by his death.”

  Well, this was news.

  Over the years, Lou had been in our office a number of times.

  Had Vicki been admiring him from afar? Could she have fallen for him without anyone ever noticing?

  The more I considered it, the more I could envision the possibility. Vicki had always guarded her private life closely. She lived alone with two parakeets in the home she’d inherited when her mother died. No one from the office, as far as I knew, had ever been invited inside. If Vicki had developed feelings for Lou, she wouldn’t have shared it with any of her co-workers. Of that I was certain.

  “Do you think she knew you overheard her?” I said.

  Celeste sighed. “I do. I was standing right there when she came out of the study. When I saw her stricken expression, I felt so bad. I tried to play dumb by babbling about something innocuous—the weather or something—but she obviously knew I’d heard the whole exchange. And the look on her face …” Celeste shook her head. “If ever I saw unrequited love, that was it.”

  If Celeste’s observations were correct, then Vicki had to be suffering terribly right now. If she’d truly loved Lou, or even thought she’d loved him, she must feel shattered by his death.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to depress you,” Celeste said, a bit more cheerfully. “I brought packages of my holiday sweet rolls for everyone, including Vicki, because you’ve all helped Blake and me so much these past months.” She reached into her bag and drew out a large plastic container festooned with a forest green bow. The foil tag read To Apple. Thanks for Everything. Celeste and Blake. With a self-satisfied grin, she set it on my desk. “You get the biggest one, since
I know you’ll share with Tressa.”

  “Thanks, Celeste! I can’t wait to try them.”

  “I’ve got one for Sam, too. And Vicki. You can give Vicki’s to her later.”

  “What’s the Hazleton Food Mart going to do without all your delicious breads?” I teased.

  She laughed. “They’ll survive, but I promised the owner one more batch of my whole-grain breads before I leave for the big city, so I’ll be spending the rest of my day baking.”

  I wondered how she managed it all. The woman was a whirlwind.

  “Celeste, I don’t mean to change the subject, but before I forget—have you heard from your buyers lately? Do they know what happened at the mansion on Saturday?”

  Celeste leaned back in her chair. “Oh, believe me, they know. I spoke to them at length on the phone this morning.”

  “And?”

  “Apple, these people are doctors. They see death every day. Naturally they were upset that someone was murdered in the mansion, but it certainly didn’t kill the deal. Oops, sorry—bad choice of words. Anyway, they assured me that neither of them believes in ghosts or spirits or any of that woo-woo nonsense. They’re looking forward to moving in and turning it into their dream home. They have plans to do some major rehabbing with the place.”

  Well, that was a major relief. For all of us.

  Celeste shifted slightly in her chair. “Until Saturday, I never realized you knew Josh Baker so well. Has he always been a friend?”

  I shrugged. “Sort of. He’s about seven years younger than I am. When he was a kid, I used to sit for him whenever his mom had to go out.”

  Celeste chewed her lip thoughtfully. “This may sound strange, but … well, was he mean or nasty as a kid?”

  I frowned at the question. “Josh? No, not at all. He was overactive, that’s for sure. My aunt always called him a rascal. But I never saw him hurt anyone or anything.” I chuckled. “Except for Aunt Tressa’s treasured tulips.” I related the story of Josh pilfering the tulips to give to his mom for her birthday. “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just—oh, it wasn’t anything serious, really. This past spring I was at the mansion one day doing some cleanup. I went outside to dump a pile of newspapers in the trash, and found three dead baby birds in the barrel. Poor things had been sealed up tight in a clear plastic bag, nest and all.” She touched her abdomen lightly. “It was … nauseating.”

  I swallowed. Was she implying that Josh had killed the birds? Or worse, suffocated the live babies in a plastic bag? On purpose?

  “It was originally my idea,” she said, “to let Josh stay in the house until it was sold. Leaving the mansion empty would’ve made it a ripe target for intruders.” She sighed. “In retrospect, I’m not so sure it was a good idea. There’s something about that guy that … I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it. He gives me the willies.”

  “Does Blake feel the same way?”

  “More or less. From the beginning, Blake never trusted Josh. He couldn’t understand why a young guy like that would want to live with an old geezer like Edgar.”

  I shrugged, but the whole conversation was making me distinctly uncomfortable. “Cheap rent?” I offered. I saw no need to disclose what Josh had told me—that he’d viewed Edgar as somewhat of a father figure.

  “You could be right.” Celeste waved a gloved hand. “Anyway, it’s all water over the falls.” She rose and glanced around my disorganized office, her gaze landing on all the homey touches I’d added over the years. “You really love this job, don’t you, Apple?”

  “Actually, I do. Call me boring, but I get a lot of pleasure from helping people with their real estate transactions. And I love doing title searches. Each one is like its own little snippet of history.”

  “About seven years ago, when I was between jobs,” Celeste said, “I did some temping. I ended up working for the real estate partner at a law firm in Concord while his paralegal was out having a baby. He showed me how to do online title searches. I got very good at it, and he wanted me to stay on permanently, but all that attention to detail bored me silly.”

  I laughed. “Oddly, that’s the thing I love most—all those dastardly details. So when did you start working at The Grain Factor?”

  “It was April Fools’ Day, four years ago. I’d gone in there one day for some organic flour. Oh, if you could have seen how dismal and tacky the displays were! It was so disorganized—the whole place looked like something out of the Wild West. Ideas began sparking in my brain like firecrackers. I knew I could transform the store into something warm and welcoming, a place where everyone would want to shop. I introduced myself to the owner and asked him if I could design a new layout for the store, and show him ways he could expand his product line. A week later I was hired. Within two years we’d opened three more shops in New England.”

  “That’s a wonderful success story. So tell me, how did you and Blake, um, hook up?”

  Celeste smiled and her eyes lit up. “After The Factor expanded, we began carrying some high-end vitamins, and Blake came in one day with his product catalogs. I recognized him instantly. He hadn’t changed all that much since high school. When I told him who I was, his jaw nearly hit the floor. It was a comical moment.”

  I could well imagine. This stunning woman sitting before me was the polar opposite of the somber teenager with the frizzy hair and crooked teeth and thrift shop wardrobe she’d been in high school. “Celeste, I’m so happy for both of you. I wish you every success in New York. So who’s replacing you at the grain store?”

  She laughed. “You make it sound like a place to buy cattle feed.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t worry. I know what you meant. Actually, I’ve been grooming one of my sales clerks to step into my shoes when I leave. She’s a sharp cookie, a real go-getter. I have every faith she can handle the position.” Celeste looked at her watch. “Hey, look, I’ve got to scoot to the dry cleaner to pick up some things I left in storage. Would you see that Sam and Vicki get their presents?”

  With a promise to deliver her culinary gifts, and also to have documents ready for Blake to sign in the morning, I walked her out to the reception area. I was glad to see that Heidi had gone home to get some much-needed rest.

  It was only after Celeste was gone that I realized I’d never told her about Lillian being missing.

  Maybe it was just as well. With everything Celeste had to do to get ready for their big move, she didn’t need one more thing to worry about.

  I decided I should apologize to Sam for coming back late from lunch. Sam was always flexible about things like that, especially since I always made up the time. Still, it wasn’t fair for me to take advantage.

  Sam’s door was partway open, but his light was off. I peeked inside, but he wasn’t there. I set Celeste’s gift container on his desk and retreated.

  Vicki was in her office, keyboarding away at the speed of sound. A steaming mug of fragrant chamomile tea—the only beverage she ever drank—rested near her elbow. On the wall behind her, the great blue heron was still in glorious flight over the shimmering pond. I entered the room quietly and set the gaily wrapped container, this one with a gold bow, on the corner of her desk. The tag read: Happy Holidays, Vicki—Celeste and Blake. “For you,” I said.

  I scurried back to my office.

  Back at my desk, I dialed Lillian’s cell number again. Again, it went to voice mail.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon working on the Dwardene closing documents. Sam came back around three, slipped silently into his office, and closed the door.

  With Sam and Vicki both incommunicado, I felt as if I was working in a morgue. At five past five, I packed up and left. I didn’t even bother to let Sam know that I wouldn’t need to leave early after all.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  From the journal of Frederic Dwardene, Friday, November 17, 1950:

  Through a private source, I have learned that Dora’s shift at the factory ends
at 5:15. The stop where she waits for the bus to Hazleton is one block from Manchester’s bustling Elm Street. Today I parked my car across the street from the old brick factory. I watched the workers stream out a side door at the end of the long work day. They strode in groups or in pairs to catch a bus or trolley, or in some cases to walk home. But Dora, my Dora, walked alone …

  “Here’s our Apple!” Bernice Jessup beamed at me as I walked into the main dining room of the Hazleton Convalescent Home. “Six o’clock on the button.”

  I loved coming here every Monday evening to read to my group of seniors. The weekly reading club was made up of six women and one man. Not one was a minute under eighty. They were always so tickled to see me—it made me feel like a rock star or a famous writer.

  Minus the talent, of course.

  I’d been looking forward to this evening more than usual, mostly because I needed a mental break from the drama of the past two days. Aunt Tressa had been unusually tight-lipped when I drove her home after work. She’d fluffed off Paul Fenton’s visit to her that afternoon as “another silly goose chase” and refused to discuss it further. The more I prodded, the more she’d clammed up.

  My seniors were all seated at the far end of the room, adjacent to the Home’s industrial-sized kitchen. Their respective chairs— mostly wheelchairs—formed a semi-circle around the padded, straight-back chair reserved for me. After peeling off my coat and gloves and greeting each of them warmly, I sat down. In Bernice’s lap was a jumble of multicolored yarn, representing her latest knitting project.

  A young nurse’s aide came by and offered everyone fruit cups and wafer cookies. “No thanks, I’m fine,” I told her.

  “What chapter did we end on last week?” Irma Blakeley bleated after everyone had helped themselves to snacks. “Wasn’t it when that young guy with the fancy car choked on something?” She popped a grape into her mouth and crunched it between her dentures.

  For the past three Mondays, I’d been reading Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None to the group. So far it was a hit. Everyone was having fun tossing out guesses as to who the murderer was. Only Roger Landry, the group’s sole male member, had wanted me to read a romance this time around. But the women had clamored for a mystery and outvoted him six to one.