“I’ll let you know what I find out. You, um … I was thinking of going over to the Fish House for lunch in a little while. You want to come?”
That guileless charm was hard to resist, especially when combined with those rugged good looks. No wonder the voters loved him.
She squeezed his hand. “Give me a rain check, will you? I have a million things to do today. I have to go over to Malone’s to pick out some paint colors first of all.”
“More remodeling?”
“I want Wally Carson to work on my upstairs bathroom when he gets a chance. Though I guess I could get that other guy, Tom Maxwell, but I don’t know anything about him.”
“I’ve met Tom a time or two. Seems all right to me. He and his wife Sandy keep to themselves pretty much though, and I think most of the work he gets is outside town. Come to think of it, the Maxwells live in the old Morris house. Just for the past few years, though, so I’m afraid they couldn’t help you out about Susan.”
“I may just go out there and have a look around, anyway. For old times’ sake.”
“If you have to, but keep your eyes open when you’re out and about. If you think anybody’s acting strange around you, let me know or go straight to the police. OK?”
Annie glanced at the unevenly pasted letters on the note that lay open on Ian’s desk. It was just a piece of paper. She wasn’t going to let it become more than that.
“I’ll be fine, Ian. Thanks.”
****
The old Morris house was mostly the way Annie remembered it, even down to the fan-shaped window above the front door, but it was much smaller than she recalled from her girlhood. Still, it was a lovely old place set back in the trees, crisp and white against the brilliant reds and yellows of the maples. Susan had told her once that the house was nearly 200 years old. It had seen a lot of living. No wonder Susan had loved it.
Annie stopped at the end of the long gravel driveway and got out of the car, content to just look. She noticed that the door, like the shutters, was painted a very dark green, not the black she remembered from Susan’s days, but the paint was fresh and neat, and the yard, apart from the wilder part that stretched back into the forest, was well kept. Maybe the Maxwells loved the house too.
She walked a little farther down the drive, lost in the memories of girlhood, remembering where she and Susan had played and giggled and whispered. She wandered up to the big oak at the corner of the house that had once held a tire swing. The swing itself was gone now, but the hooks that had supported the chains were still buried in place. And there were still some weathered strips of wood fastened to the tree trunk with long-rusted nails. She was sure they were the remains of the ladder Susan’s dad had made to help them get up into the lower branches of the tree.
She and Susan had always pretended they were far above the earth, playing in the clouds like …
“Did you want something?”
Annie sucked in a startled breath and turned. The man standing there in jeans and a rumpled flannel shirt open over a V-neck undershirt was perhaps in his late forties. His tangled mop of dark hair and serious stubble of beard told Annie that he had just wakened.
“I—I’m sorry. I was just—” She smiled weakly. “There used to be a swing in this tree.”
He glanced up at the empty branches and then looked back at her, his eyes skeptical, suspicious. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Are you Tom Maxwell?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
She blinked at his bluntness. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
He raked one hand through his hair. “It’s no big deal. Did you want something?”
She tried the smile again. “My name is Annie Dawson. It sounds a little bit silly now that I’m here, but a friend of mine and her family used to live in this house about twenty years ago. I’ve been trying to find some information about her for a while now. Susan Morris.”
“I don’t know anything about twenty years ago. I bought the place from some people called Blanchard in 2000.”
“Yes, I realize that, but—”
His dark eyes narrowed. “How would you know who I bought my house from?”
“Well, I didn’t really know who you got it from, but I did find out that my friend sold it to the Blanchards back in 1989, so I just assumed …”
Annie let the words trail off. Clearly Mr. Maxwell was not impressed by her sleuthing abilities. She tried again.
“Don’t you do handyman work in the area?”
“Yeah. Do you have something you need done?”
“I might. I’m thinking of redoing my bathroom, but I just can’t decide exactly how. This is a great old house. Have you done any remodeling since you’ve been here?”
His suspicious expression did not change. “Some.”
“I hope you didn’t do very much. It’s such a lovely old place.”
“Not much.”
“I guess Mrs. Maxwell likes having her own live-in handyman.”
He shrugged. “When she doesn’t have to wait for one of my other jobs to get done. How do you know about my wife?”
“I was just talking with Ian Butler. He said he’d met you before, and that you and your wife live out here.”
His eyes narrowed again. “Why?”
“It was just small talk. We were discussing my friend and this house. It wasn’t really about you and Mrs. Maxwell.”
“I didn’t think the mayor knew that much about us.”
“Oh, Ian knows everybody in and around town. You’d like him if you got to know him. I think you’d like most everybody in Stony Point. Pastor Wallace always says—Have you met Pastor Wallace?”
“A time or two. Nice guy.”
“Anyway, he always says that our neighbors are like—”
“Look, Mrs. Dawson, we pretty much think that a good neighbor is one who stays out of everybody else’s way. Your friend sold this house years before I ever moved here, and I don’t know all that much about the place anyway. It’s a good solid house, and that’s all that matters to me. I just can’t help you with anything else.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked pointedly in the direction of her car.
“Do you think your wife—?”
“I think my wife can’t help you either. We’re both pretty busy. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Obviously, the conversation was over. Shoulders sagging, Annie thanked the man and got back into her car. She backed up a little bit so she could turn around in the drive. As she did so, she took one more look at the house.
A woman peered out of the window and then disappeared, perhaps when she realized Annie had seen her. Despite Mr. Maxwell’s flinty expression, Annie waited a moment more, but didn’t see anyone else. Finally, she pulled away from the house and headed for home.
Obviously the woman was Mrs. Maxwell, but why hadn’t she come outside?
And why didn’t she ever come into town?
6
“Hey, it’s Alice. Call me when you get home. I want to ask your opinion about something.”
Annie deleted the message and immediately returned Alice’s call.
“What’s up?”
“Hi. I just got my new Divine Décor catalog, and it has some darling little cornucopia centerpieces that might work great for the harvest banquet. Want to come look?”
“I might in a little while. I have to call LeeAnn back. She wants some ideas about what to get her husband for his birthday. And of course, Boots is demanding her dinner.”
The cat was already rubbing against Annie’s ankles, making assorted purrs and meows to entice her to come into the kitchen.
Alice laughed. “Naturally, the queen must be appeased. You sound tired. Everything OK?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I went out to Susan’s old house, out on Elm, and met Tom Maxwell.”
“Really? Did you find out anything?”
“Only that he doesn’t much care for nosy strang
ers poking around asking questions.”
“No. He didn’t actually say that, did he?”
“Not in words. But it was the weirdest thing. I’m sure his wife was looking out the window at me, but as soon as I saw her, she disappeared. I wonder why.”
“Maybe she wasn’t dressed for company or something.”
Annie considered that. “I suppose that might be the case. He was all rumpled and everything, as if he’d been asleep. Maybe she had been too. Still, I wish I could have talked to her. Don’t you think it’s weird that nobody in town really knows her? Does anybody ever even see her around?”
There was a shrug in Alice’s voice. “I know I never have. But he doesn’t seem to know anybody outside of his handyman work, either.”
“Ian says he’s met Tom before, and Tom said he knew Pastor Wallace, but what about his wife?”
“Did you ask him about Susan?”
“No, but I didn’t expect him to know anything about her. She was gone long before he bought the house. But now I’m wondering what’s going on with Mrs. Maxwell.”
“Isn’t one mystery enough for you? Or have you given up on the Susan thing?”
“Not hardly. I still want to find her.” Annie nudged Boots out of the way and sat on the couch. “And I’d still like to know who put that note through my mail slot.”
“What did Ian say about it?”
“He’s going to ask Chief Edwards about it unofficially. It’s probably not a big deal.”
“Well, I’d say you had enough on your hands without stirring up things out at Tom Maxwell’s.”
“Still, I’d sure like to talk to Mrs. Maxwell myself. There’s something strange about those two.”
“You don’t think he’s one of those guys who doesn’t want his wife having any friends, do you, Annie?”
“I don’t know. I’d go back out there and find out if I was sure he wasn’t going to be home.”
“I suppose if you knew somebody he was doing a job for, they could tell you when he was going to be working. But I don’t know who.”
“Alice, you’re a genius! Peggy’s already given his phone number to Mary Beth. She can arrange for him to install her cabinets, and while he’s there, I can go make sure his wife is OK.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. That’s a pretty big conclusion to jump to just because a woman doesn’t feel like meeting a total stranger who showed up on her property uninvited. And if there is something going on, don’t you think you should let the police handle it?”
“They already think I’m crazy. Besides, I don’t think he’s holding her hostage or something like that. I just want to talk to her without worrying about him being around. It’s not that scary.”
“But, Annie—”
“I’m going to try to catch Mary Beth before the shop closes. Call you back in a minute.”
She clicked off the phone and clicked it back on again. When she heard the dial tone, she punched in Mary Beth’s number.
“A Stitch in Time. This is Mary Beth. How can I help you?”
“Hey there. It’s Annie Dawson. I’m glad I caught you.”
“Hello, Annie. What can I do for you?”
“Did you ever get your cabinets in?”
“As a matter of fact, they came today. The right model, the right color, and the right amount. It’s a miracle.”
Annie smiled to hear the relief in Mary Beth’s voice.
“That’s great. Do you have somebody to put them in for you yet?”
“I suppose I’ll try that Tom Maxwell Peggy was telling me about since Wally’s going to be busy for a while. Why? Do you know of somebody else?”
“No, actually I was hoping you were going to hire Tom. Um, it’s kind of a weird situation …”
Mary Beth laughed. “It’s not more about Susan Morris, is it?”
“No. Well, not entirely. Remember Peggy said she thought the Maxwells were living in Susan’s old house?”
“Yeah. And?”
“I found out that she was right. I went out there, just for old times’ sake more than anything else, and met Mr. Maxwell.”
“What’s he like?”
“He wasn’t too happy to see me, I’m afraid. I don’t think it was anything personal, but I think he had been napping when I showed up, and he was pretty grouchy.”
Again Mary Beth laughed. “I don’t blame him.”
“Anyway, he wasn’t going to introduce me to his wife, and he was pretty reluctant to say much of anything except that neither of them socializes much. I thought it sounded a little strange, and then, when I was driving off, I’m sure I saw her looking out the window.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I guess. Maybe I’m looking for a mystery where there isn’t one, but I would really like to talk to her when he’s not around. I thought maybe you could hire him to do your cabinets, and while he was over there, I could go introduce myself to her. Even if she doesn’t feel like making a new friend, at least I could talk to her and make her feel welcomed.”
“And you want me to hire this monster to work in my shop?” Mary Beth teased.
“I think he’s probably all right. I mean, he’s worked in the area for a long time according to Wally. I don’t think Wally would recommend the guy if he was trouble, do you?”
“No, I think it’s OK. Besides, it’s just some cabinets, not a whole new kitchen or something, right? I’ll give him a call to see when he can come out, and I’ll let you know. And I hope there’s nothing going on with Mrs. Maxwell that shouldn’t be.”
“Me too. Thanks, Mary Beth.”
Boots was considerate enough to wait until Annie had hung up before she began demanding dinner again. This time Annie was sure she couldn’t put her off.
“All right, come on. Anything to quiet you down, pest.”
Annie scooped her up, snuggling her close until they got to the kitchen. Then, with Boots occupied with “a hearty seafood blend,” Annie went back to the telephone and called Alice.
“We’re set.”
“You don’t mean Mary Beth is in on this, do you?”
“Sure. Why not? She’s going to call him up and see when he can come do her cabinets, and then she’ll let me know. It’s a perfect plan.”
Alice made a little huffing sound. “You know, as much as there’s probably nothing out of the ordinary going on over there, this whole thing is making me nervous.”
“Don’t make it into a big deal. I’ll just go over and have a friendly chat with Mrs. Maxwell. If she’s all right, that’ll be the end of it. Maybe she’ll even want to be friends. And if she does need help, I’d hate to think we all stood by and did nothing, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Once Mary Beth tells you when Tom’s going to be at her place, let me know, and we’ll go over to see his wife.”
“We?”
“Yes, we.” There was unshakable determination in Alice’s voice. “You didn’t think I was going to let you go over there by yourself, did you?”
“I don’t think we both need to—”
“No arguments now. Either I go with you, or I call up Tom Maxwell and tell him everything.”
“You wouldn’t.” Annie bit her lip. “Would you?”
“Absolutely. If your snooping gets you into trouble, it will be up to me to get you out of it. Or at least be right there in the middle of it with you.”
“All right, you can come. But we’re not going to make it a big deal. I just want to have a friendly chat with Mrs. Maxwell. Some people need a little extra encouragement, as Gram used to say. Then I will have done what I’m supposed to. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough. You let me know what Mary Beth says.”
“All right. Have a good night.”
Annie hung up the phone and was about to go fix herself a sandwich when the phone rang.
“Hey, Annie. This is Ian Butler.”
“Hi, there. What’s going on?”
“Just wanted t
o let you know that I talked to Chief Edwards about that note you got. He had Officer Hamilton take a look. Evidently there are two different sets of distinct prints on it and some partials of a third. You and Alice both need to go see him so they can rule you out.”
“All right.”
“Of course, there’s a good chance that those two sets of prints belong to you ladies, but we’ll see. Maybe we’ll get lucky anyway.”
“Do I need to make an appointment with him?”
“No, he said just come by whenever you’re in town. They’ll take your prints, and then take it from there.”
“OK.” Annie hesitated for a second, thinking she’d tell him about her visit with Tom Maxwell, but she decided not to risk another lecture. “Thanks for talking to Chief Edwards for me, Ian.”
“Anytime, Annie. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
Annie smiled as she hung up the phone. It was nice to have someone looking out for her.
****
Alice was busy all the next day, but Annie coaxed her into coming into town with her the day after that, promising to help her look for a new outfit at Dress to Impress, and then to treat her to a cup of coffee after they had gone to see the chief of police.
“I want something to go with that new line of faux opals and diamonds I just got in,” Alice said as they pulled up to the town hall in her little red Mustang. “Something pastel, I think.”
“That’d be pretty. Maybe a lavender or a baby blue.” Annie smoothed her hair in the passenger-side mirror and got out of the car. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. I hope it won’t take too much time.”
“Not a problem. If there’s a weirdo in town, I want to know who it is. Besides, it’s kind of exciting having your fingerprints taken and being part of an investigation.”
Reed Edwards looked more like a lumberjack than a police chief. The thought had crossed Annie’s mind the first time she had met him, while he was coaching the softball team at the church picnic last summer. Now, when he stood up from behind his desk, towering over her as he swallowed up her hand in both of his, she couldn’t help thinking it again. He was definitely the rugged, outdoor type, with a deep tan and sun-bleached hair to show for it.
“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Dawson.”
Letters in the Attic Page 5