“No, I’m sorry, young lady, but you must have the wrong number. There’s no Annie Dawson here.”
“No, ma’am, my name is Annie Dawson. Are you Mrs. Mayberry?”
“Why, yes, I am.” Annie could hear the smile in the old woman’s voice. “Did Carol Ann ask you to call me?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t know Carol Ann. But I was wondering if you could answer a question for me.”
“I’m not going to give you my Social Security number.”
Annie had to force herself not to laugh at the sudden fierce determination she heard.
“No, ma’am. You shouldn’t ever give that out to anyone. I’m just trying to find out about someone who used to live at your house a long time ago. I’m trying to find a friend of mine, and this lady was her aunt. Would you mind telling me how long you’ve lived there?”
“Let’s see, it was November of 1988. I remember because it was Carol Ann’s thirty-fifth birthday.”
“You don’t happen to remember who lived there before you, do you?”
Mrs. Mayberry laughed softly. “I let my husband take care of all the details. All I remember is we got the place because the lady who lived here had just passed away. Her name was Monroe or Morrison or something like that. I know it started with an M, because it was the same as our last name.”
“Could it have been Morris?”
“Oh goodness, honey, it’s been more than twenty years now. I couldn’t say for sure.”
“But you say the previous tenant had passed away back in ’88?”
“That’s what we were told. I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help to you.”
“No, Mrs. Mayberry, you’ve been a lot of help. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
“You didn’t disturb me at all, honey. You call back anytime.”
Annie thanked her and hung up the phone. So much for finding Kimberly Morris there. Had she been the tenant who passed away in 1988? It was certainly possible.
After consulting with Grace once again, she spent a considerable amount of time trying to navigate the death records for the state of New York. Finally, she found a site used by genealogical researchers that claimed to have New York obituaries from 1988 forward. She typed “Kimberly Morris, 1988, New York City.” That brought up forty-six different records, so she added “Jack” and “Ellen” to the search.
“Bingo.”
There was a notice in the October 7, 1988, issue of the New York Times.
MORRIS — Kimberly Denise, 53. Staff Artist, Plus du Monde Chic. Died of complications of pneumonia at Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center on October 5, 1988. Survived by brother, Jack Morris; sister-in-law, Ellen Morris; and niece Susan Morris, all of Stony Point, Maine. She will be missed.
Poor Susan. Another loss. Annie knit her brows and tried to remember some of her high school French. Plus du Monde Chic. “More of the Fashionable World”? That sounded close enough. Aunt Kim must have worked for a small fashion magazine. What fun Susan must have had living with her while she went to high school.
Annie printed out a copy of the obituary. How terrible it must have been for Susan to lose her and then her parents so soon after.
“I wish you had let me know, Sooz. I’d have been there for you. I’d like to be there for you now.”
“Fall down a rabbit hole?”
Annie started. “Grace. I didn’t see you. My goodness, what time is it?”
“Almost two o’clock. I’ve been to lunch and back. You ought to take a break before you waste away back here.”
“Maybe you’re right. I still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but thanks to you, I’m inching closer.”
“Go get some lunch and a breath of fresh air. We’ll still be here when you’re ready to start looking again.”
Air was exactly what Annie needed, the brisk October air out on Main Street. She stepped out of the library door, took a deep breath, and then scurried across Oak Lane to The Cup & Saucer. The lunch crowd was gone, and Annie was glad to see that her favorite corner table was empty.
Peggy looked up from the counter where she was refilling salt shakers. “Hi, Annie. What’ll it be?”
“Coffee to start with. I don’t know what I want to eat yet, but I’m starved.”
It took just a minute for Peggy to bring her a steaming cup.
“Everything OK?”
“Yeah. It is.” Annie sighed. “Some people just have it rough, you know.”
“Sometimes you’re the windshield; sometimes you’re the bug.”
Peggy gave her a menu and a wry grin, and Annie answered with one of her own.
“I know, but some people get a lot of trouble all at once.”
“Anybody I know?”
“Susan Morris, the one we were talking about at the club meeting. I’ve been over at the library doing some research. Mary Beth was right about her parents being killed in a car wreck, and I found out that the aunt she was living with in New York died not very long before that.”
“That’s too bad.” Peggy leaned against the other side of the booth. “And she was just out of college then? What a shame. What about that rich guy? Did you find out anything about him?”
“I haven’t found any marriage records for Susan yet. So far, Prince Charming is still a complete mystery.”
“Did somebody say Prince Charming?” A lanky guy in a policeman’s uniform got up from his stool at the lunch counter and sauntered over to Annie’s table. “Are you looking for me, ma’am?”
Peggy pursed her lips. “Oh, go sit down and drink your coffee, Roy, and let the adults talk.”
“Now, that’s no way to treat your elders, Peg. Why don’t you introduce me to your friend here? Not that everybody in Stony Point hasn’t heard of pretty Annie Dawson.”
Annie didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. She settled for skeptical. “Have they?”
“Yes, indeed.”
Peggy snorted. “This is Roy Hamilton. Obviously one of Stony Point’s finest.”
“I haven’t seen you around town,” Annie admitted, shaking the hand he offered. “Are you new here?”
“Just hired on by Chief Edwards when Callahan retired. I was working in Newcastle until a little while ago, but I heard Stony Point was a pretty attractive place to hire on.” He grinned at Annie. “Very attractive, if you ask me.”
Annie refrained from rolling her eyes. “Do you live here in town?”
“I’m renting a beach house on Ocean, just north of Elm.” His grin widened. “I guess that makes us neighbors.”
“You must be at Mr. Cruz’s. The little house with white trim and a porch swing?”
“That’s the one. And, of course, everybody knows about Grey Gables. That’s a big place for one little lady by herself.”
“I don’t live alone.” Annie pretended not to notice the smirk on Peggy’s face.
“You don’t?” Roy’s sandy eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead. “I heard you were a widow.”
Annie smiled sweetly. “I am.”
“And all your family lives back in Texas, right?”
“They do.”
Roy chuckled. “You’ve got a dog.”
“A cat,” Annie admitted. “But she’s the jealous type.”
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll have to try to win her over with some fresh salmon. We lawmen aren’t allowed to accept bribes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t offer a few.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll leave that between you and Boots.”
“Of course, if you’d like to …” A beep from the cell phone hooked to his belt drew his attention. “Excuse me a second.”
He walked back over to the counter to take his call, and Peggy shook her head.
“Sorry about that, Annie. He’s not one to take a hint.”
“Poor guy’s probably just lonely. It’s hard when you’re new in town. I know.”
“I beg your pardon, ladies.” Roy came back to Annie’s table. “I’ve got business t
o see to, Annie, but I hope, now that we’ve been properly introduced, that I’ll see you again.”
“Stony Point’s a small place.” Annie kept her voice light and impersonal. “So that’s pretty likely.”
“Us being neighbors and all.” Roy took his mirrored sunglasses from his shirt pocket. “If you ever need anything, you come see me. Thanks for the coffee, Peg.”
He handed Peggy a folded bill and went out the front door. Annie watched as he took long strides across Main Street toward the town hall.
“Well, he’s not shy.”
“Just a nuisance more than anything else.” Peggy made a sour face. “He’s always asking for his ‘police discount.’ Hardy-har-har.” Peggy unfolded the bill, brightening when she saw it was a five. “But he does tip well.”
Annie chuckled, and Peggy pocketed the money.
“Anyway, back to what we were talking about earlier: I’ve been asking just about everybody I’ve seen if they know anything about Susan Morris, but nobody seems to remember much about her. Sorry. I really would have thought you’d find something about her marriage.”
Annie sighed. “That’s where I hit a brick wall. Nothing on any Susan Morris getting married to anyone anywhere in the state of Maine anytime between 1985 and 2005. Absolutely nothing.”
“Hmm. I guess it’s possible she was married somewhere out of state.”
“I guess so.” Annie took a sip of coffee. “That proverbial haystack just got a lot bigger. Are you sure you never heard anything about this man she was supposed to be married to?”
“Me? I was way too young to pay any attention to that kind of thing back then. Maybe Mary Beth will have thought of his name by the time you see her next.”
“Or that shoe company he had. It was shoes, right?”
“That’s what she said.”
Annie bit her lip. “I guess I could search for Maine shoe manufacturers and see what I come up with.”
“But if she wasn’t married in the state, maybe he didn’t live here either. His company could have been in Virginia or New York or Timbuktu.”
Annie propped her chin on her hand. “Yeah, I know.”
“Hey, I forgot.” Peggy tapped the tabletop with one bright pink fingernail. “I have some good news for you. I asked Wally about the other guy, the handyman. His name is Tom Maxwell, and Wally says he’d do you a good job if you’re in a hurry to start on your bathroom.”
“Actually, I’d really rather have Wally do it. I know the kind of work he does, and that way it helps you out too. But Mary Beth sounds like she doesn’t want to wait much longer to get her basement organized. I’m sure she’d like the referral.”
“I appreciate your wanting to hire Wally. I would like to see us get a little ahead for once.”
“It’s pure selfishness on my part. He did such a nice job on my kitchen, I don’t want to use anyone else.” Smiling, Annie handed the menu back to Peggy. “I hope you still have that shrimp chowder you had as your special today. I need something to warm me up.”
“Coming right up.”
5
The chowder was delicious, a hearty cream base packed with shrimp, bacon, and potatoes, and things looked a little bit brighter by the time Annie pulled up in front of Grey Gables.
Alice waved from the front porch of the carriage house and then scurried over to the car. “Find out anything?”
“You’re just as bad as Peggy. Come in out of the cold, and I’ll tell you about it.” Annie unlocked her front door and picked up the stack of mail lying just inside. “I have some chicken and veggies in the slow cooker if you want to eat later on.”
“That sounds a lot better than the leftover pasta I was going to have. Don’t mind if I do.”
There was a patter of paws on the stairs, and then Boots hurried into the room, rubbing against Annie’s legs, demanding attention.
“All right. All right. You first.” Annie handed Alice the obituary about Susan’s aunt. “That’s all I found out. Pretty much the end of the story as far as tracking Susan through her. Be right back.”
When she returned from feeding the cat, Alice returned the article to her.
“End of story all right. I’m sorry.”
“Now I just have to figure out how to track Susan down through her marriage in 49 other states.”
“Don’t forget the territories, the District of Columbia, and all the foreign countries in the world.”
“Great. Thanks.” Annie sat on the couch beside Alice and started shuffling through the mail. “Bills, bills, and bills, it looks like. What did you decide about the harvest banquet?”
“It’s the pumpkin bread again.” Alice sighed dramatically. “My public demands it.”
“You know you could always …” Annie frowned at the envelope she held. “I wonder what this is. It couldn’t have come in the mail. There isn’t an address.”
Alice shrugged. “Maybe somebody brought it by. What’s in it?”
“Let’s see.”
Annie slit open the envelope and took out the single sheet of paper, half smiling as she looked at it. The letters were cut from the newspaper the way they did in old gangster movies. It had to be a joke, right?
Alice’s eyes showed her concern. “What is it?”
Annie let her read the message for herself.
FORGET ABOUT SUSAN AND MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.
****
“Mayor Butler’s office. May I help you?” Silver-haired Mrs. Nash waved at Annie and then spoke into the telephone receiver attached to her ear. “Yes, Mr. Price. Can you hold, please?”
She touched a button on the telephone on the desk and then smiled.
“Good morning, Mrs. Dawson. What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping to see the mayor.” Annie cringed inwardly. This whole thing seemed so silly now. “I—I don’t know whether it’s important, but I’d sure like to talk to him about something.”
“Hold on a minute.” Mrs. Nash touched another button on the telephone. “Mr. Butler, Mr. Price is on line 1, and Mrs. Dawson is here to see you.” She paused a moment. “Yes, sir, I’ll tell her.”
“I can come back if this is a bad time,” Annie offered. “It looks like he’s pretty busy.”
“He wants you to go right in.” Mrs. Nash gestured toward the door to the mayor’s office and then returned to the call she had placed on hold. “Mr. Price? The mayor would like to know if he can return your call in a few minutes.”
Ian opened the door before Annie could reach it, enveloping her hand in both of his.
“Come in, come in. Have a seat.” He closed the door after her and then rolled a padded leather chair up to the desk and offered it to her, his dark eyes warm. “Nothing like starting the morning with a visit from a pretty lady.”
She sat down, managing a little bit of a smile. “I’m really sorry to bother you with something so silly, but I just wasn’t sure if this was something the police should see.”
She handed him the anonymous note and waited for him to look it over.
He narrowed his eyes. “When did you get this?”
“It must have been pushed through my mail slot sometime yesterday. I don’t know when. I was in town most of the day.”
“Looking for information on this Susan, right?”
“You’ve been at The Cup & Saucer.”
“Word does get around.” Ian put the note down on his desk. “Who touched this after you opened it?”
“Just Alice. And you, of course. That’s all. I suppose I should have put it in a plastic bag or something to protect any fingerprints that were on it. It … well, it’s kind of hokey looking, don’t you think? I’m not sure if it isn’t somebody’s idea of a joke. As you said, word does get around. I have to admit, though, it creeped me out a bit to be all alone in the middle of the night.”
“That’s understandable. Where was it in the mail you picked up? On the top or the bottom?”
Annie shrugged. “I don’t remember. I was shuffl
ing through all the letters and telling Alice about the stuff I got on Susan from the library and didn’t pay attention. Does it matter?”
“Maybe not. I just thought that it might give us an idea about whether it came before or after the regular mail delivery. What exactly did you find out about this woman, anyway?”
“Not much, really. Her parents and her aunt are the only relatives I know of, and they all died back in the late ’80s. I’m still trying to find out who Susan married back then, but so far that’s it.”
“Nothing strange about the deaths?”
“Not at all. Her parents were in a car accident, and her aunt died of pneumonia. It’s tragic, especially for a young girl suddenly left alone, but not mysterious. Now, though, I’m wondering why someone would take the trouble to leave me that message, and whether there’s more to the story.”
Ian looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t like it.”
“Do you think there’s really anything to worry about? The note doesn’t include any actual threat.”
“No, I suppose not, but it just doesn’t seem like something one of our people would do as a joke.” He reached across the desk for her hand. “I want you to let me talk to the police chief about this.”
She hoped he didn’t feel the little shiver that ran through her. “You—you don’t think it’s that serious, do you?”
Laughing, he patted her hand and then released it. “Not serious enough for you to get worried about, OK? I just want to see what he says. Doesn’t have to be anything official. If it’s somebody we know who suddenly thinks he’s a comedian or something, we can quietly put a stop to it. How’s that?”
“Yeah, I suppose that would be the best way to handle it. Do you know someone who could look into it without making it a federal case?”
“Do I know someone? I’m a politician, remember?”
Annie beamed at him. “You’re a good friend too. Thank you.”
“Chief Edwards is just down the hall. I’ll ask him about it and let you know.” He raised one eyebrow. “You and Alice might have to have your fingerprints taken.”
“That really would give folks something to talk about.”
She stood up, and he followed suit.
Letters in the Attic Page 4