“Okay,” I said. “But how?”
Wrinkles formed under his blond bangs. “Anytime you’re uneasy, call us. One of us will come. You never have to be alone. That’s a start.”
I thought about that. Not very practical, but I didn’t want to break this moment. It was nice having Brent be so concerned about me.
“So can I tell Tara?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said.
“But you’ll have to do your part and call us,” he said.
“I know.” I leaned back in the seat. “Don’t forget I have Ollie too. That’s one of the reasons they gave him to me.”
Brent watched me carefully. “For protection?”
I shrugged. “And for company. It’s lonely being the only kid of a convicted felon.” I knew that sounded harsh. But it was the bitter truth.
“Shit,” said Brent again.
We parted soon after that. Brent headed off home with a promise to see me “later tonight.” I wondered about that. We were going fishing on Sunday. What was up tonight?
I made my way back inside. Aunt Stella was waiting for me in the kitchen.
“Penny, we’ve got news. Bob’s mother phoned. The DNA isn’t Earl’s.”
Bob should really do something about his mother, I thought. But what I said was, “That was a quick turnaround.”
“Actually, Janet Summerfied’s daughter, Lacey, works in the lab now and fast-tracked it when she saw it was from Mudville,” said Aunt Stella. “Her hometown.”
“Always helps to have a local connection,” said Vern, nodding.
Did every small town work this way?
“So the body is someone else’s,” I said.
“Seems that way,” said Vern.
I didn’t know what to think about that. It was a setback. With this news, clearly we would have to start over.
“Oh, and good news, Penny. The police said we can open tonight,” said my aunt. “I’ll need your help in the kitchen. It’s karaoke night. Everyone will be here. We’ll get quite a crowd.”
So that’s why Brent said he’d see me tonight!
Vern smacked his hand to his head. “Damn near forgot.” He groaned. “Tell me it’s not country-and-western night, Stella. Don’t think I could take country music again.”
“What’s wrong with country music?” I asked.
“All those lonely men grabbing the mic and wailing hurtin’ and cheatin’ songs.” Vern’s face twisted into a grimace.
“What’re you talking about?” Aunt Stella winked at me. “Didn’t you like ‘She Done Me Wrong, so I Did Her In’?”
“Sung by the local butcher, no less,” said Vern. “Whiny and creepy.”
“Hurt his sausage business something awful,” said my aunt.
“It wasn’t all bad. My favorite was ‘You’re Roadkill on My Highway of Life,’” said Vern.
“Now that’s clever!” I said.
“Thing is, it’s good for business,” said my aunt. “People drink a lot when they have to listen to bad singing.”
“And the more they drink, the badder it gets.” Vern chuckled.
“Exactly,” said Stella brightly. “But no worries. It’s fifties night.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” said Vern. He leaned back on the bench.
“You won’t want to miss this,” said Aunt Stella. She glanced over to Vern, and they both smiled.
“Why?” Frankly, small-town karaoke was exactly the sort of thing I might plan to miss.
“Just wait,” said Vern. “You’re in for a surprise.” There was a twinkle in his eye. Then he laughed.
Chapter Twelve
Who would have guessed there could be so many vintage clothes in Mudville?
It was nine o’clock, and the place was hopping. I had been busy in the kitchen with Aunt Stella until now, but the food orders were mostly done now. Karaoke was about to start.
I made my way over to the table where Brent and Tara were sitting. Brent gave me a big smile. He patted the chair next to him, and I sat.
“You heard?” I said. “About Harry not being Earl?”
Brent nodded. He had slicked back his hair and was dressed like a fifties bad boy.
“Guess we didn’t tell you,” Tara said, leaning over. “Most people like to dress the part when we have one of these nights.”
“You look terrific!” I said. Tara had on a pink fluffy sweater and a round circle skirt. And I had to admit, Brent, in jeans and a white T-shirt with the sleeve rolled up on one side to hold a pack of cigarettes, looked hotter than ever.
“Where’s Simon?” I asked.
“He’ll be here soon,” said Brent. “He likes to make an entrance.”
“Just wait,” said Tara. She and Brent exchanged grins.
Most of the Big Dill customers were doing their best to channel the early days of rock and roll. But not Vern. He was wearing his usual getup. He came over and joined our table. Aunt Stella followed him and sat down.
“Looks like a casting call for Happy Days,” Vern said.
“You’re just an old grump,” said my aunt. “Everyone else is dressed the part.”
“Now Stella,” said Vern, “you know I don’t go in for this primping crap.” He looked embarrassed.
“Where are Jean and Dotty Dot?” Aunt Stella glanced toward the back door. “They always go in for fifties night in a big way.”
“You’re right. Isn’t like them to be late,” said Vern.
“Here we go,” said my aunt. Karaoke was about to start.
“Oh no,” said Vern, looking at the makeshift stage. “It’s Larry. I need cheese.”
“Cheese?” I said.
“Makes good earplugs.”
A bald man in unfortunately tight jeans had taken the mic and was squeaking along to “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” I was a big girl, and I wanted to cry. Maybe I should take out the garbage. I quietly rose from the table and tiptoed to the kitchen.
It was a clear night, a glorious night. The quarter moon looked like it had been painted onto a coal-black satin sky. I plunked the bag down into the garbage can and secured the top. Then I stepped back to breathe in the fresh air.
Already I was feeling at home here. I had made friends. I’d met a guy who made my blood race. I missed Mom, but she would be here soon. It was totally unexpected, this good feeling I had about Mudville.
The song ended, thankfully. I could hear polite applause. It was safe to return. I grabbed the handle of the old wooden door and pulled it open.
That’s when something amazing happened. A voice came over the sound system. A one-in-a-million voice. Was Elvis alive? Or had his ghost dropped into the Dilly tonight?
I stepped out from the kitchen to see who was crooning “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
It was Simon.
Hair slicked back, eyes closed, both hands hugging the mic, Simon swayed back and forth on the stage. His golden voice filled the room. Everyone was spellbound.
At the end of the song, applause exploded. Someone yelled, “Do ‘Hound Dog’!”
Simon smiled like an angel. And then he started to sing again. One arm shot to the air. I watched, astonished, as his normally gawky body transformed into that of a one sexy dance king. Who knew?
I sat down beside Brent. “Fantastic, isn’t he?” said Brent.
I nodded.
“I can’t believe Dotty is missing this!” Aunt Stella whispered. “Hope nothing’s wrong.”
Applause shook the room when Simon finished his encore. People were on their feet, hollering for more.
I was closest to the back door and saw it edge open.
Jean stumbled in. She was dressed like Tara was, in a full skirt and fluffy sweater. But the look on her face made the costume seem like a horrid joke.
Her eyes found Aunt Stella and focused. Her mouth opened. For a moment I thought she was going to collapse.
The room fell silent.
“What is it?” asked my aunt, rising from the chair.
“It’s Dotty,” said Jean, her voice a frog’s croak. “She fell down the basement stairs. I think she’s dead.”
Chapter Thirteen
I learned something that night. In small communities, people come together. They cry together. They mourn together. They hold you when you need to be held.
I became a part of the community that night. It felt good, in a sad, sad way.
When I finally got back to my room, I wrote an email to Dad. I told him everything. About finding the bones. About investigating with my friends. About the police eliminating Earl based on his DNA. About Dotty falling down the stairs. Before I saved it to Drafts, I signed off by saying I loved him.
You never know when you’re going to lose someone.
Dad must have written back immediately. I picked it up the next morning.
This is serious, Penny. I don’t think you realize the danger. A body has been discovered. The killer is still at large. After all these years, he thinks he’s safe. And now there has been another death. Think about it. Trust me. I know about these things. Don’t get involved. You hear me? Take protection wherever you go.
I was a little shook up. What was he talking about? Another death? He must mean Dotty. But that was just an accident. Wasn’t it?
I thought about my dad’s words while getting ready to meet Tara. And about what he had said about taking protection. Ollie couldn’t come with me today. Instead, I would take Ollie’s bag.
It was nearly ten when Tara pulled into the parking lot. Tara had borrowed Brent’s car for the shopping trip. We were going to buy clothes for Dotty’s funeral. I had nothing suitable. And I wanted to show respect. If there is one thing a mob connection teaches you, it’s the importance of showing respect.
“I left Wolfgang at home,” she said as I stepped out of the pub. “He’s not impressed.”
“Tara, what are you wearing?”
She looked down at the ratty brown cardigan she had on. “What? I got chilly. It was in the backseat. I think it’s Brent’s.”
I shook my head. “Brent would never wear anything that nasty.”
“Then it’s probably Dad’s,” she said, not seeming to care.
I rolled my eyes. Wearing that old thing? How could she not care? It had holes in it! So not cool. I was going to have to lend her something of mine. A sweatshirt maybe. Or a jacket.
A jacket. Wait a minute…
My mouth went dry. My forehead felt prickly.
“Holy crap, Tara.” I paused, as the jigsaw puzzles came into place in my mind. “I just thought of something important.”
Tara waited without speaking. She could probably tell that my mind was working triple-time. Yes. It could be. I needed to talk to—
“Simon’s uncle, the cop. Bob? I need to talk to him. Can you text Simon?”
Tara handed me her phone. “You can do it.”
I quickly fired off a text.
It’s Penny. Ask Bob asap. Did he ever take Jean’s DNA?
Simon replied immediately. Will do. Why?
I didn’t wait to respond.
“Tara, we’ve got to get to Jean’s house.” I grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the sidewalk. It would be faster to go on foot.
“Okay, but will you tell me what’s going on?” she said.
“We learned it in school last year. Family members have a lot of the same DNA. It can show if people are related.”
“Yeah. So?”
I felt out of breath, but I got it out. “The DNA on the jacket Jean gave the police didn’t match the DNA of the corpse. So we all ruled out Earl as the victim.”
She was running to keep up with me now.
“Remember what Aunt Stella said? Nobody ever throws out things in this town.”
“I’m still not quite following you. Why did you ask about Jean’s DNA?”
I was at Jean’s door now. I rang the doorbell. I couldn’t hear anything inside. I tried the door. It opened.
“Nobody ever locks doors in this town either,” muttered Tara.
My right hand reached into Ollie’s bag for the handgun. I heard Tara gasp. I walked into the house. It was dead quiet inside. “Jean?” I called out. No answer.
“Penny, is this smart?” asked Tara nervously. “Shouldn’t we leave this to the cops?”
I looked around for something of Jean’s to swipe for a DNA test. Nothing was in the front hall. I peered into the front room where we had sat having tea. No one was there.
I carried on to the kitchen at the back, hoping to find a used teacup or spoon. The kitchen was old and worn, but clean. Very clean—almost eerie. Nothing on the counters. Everything put away in cupboards. Like Jean had gone away.
A single envelope was propped up on the old wooden table.
Please give to the authorities, said the note written on it.
My heart was in my throat. I put the gun down on the table and snatched up the envelope. I ripped it open.
I only had to read a few lines. “Oh man. I was right,” I said to Tara. “Listen to this.”
I read the letter out loud.
“I expect you’ve guessed by now. Or maybe not.
“I want to say that none of this was intended. It wasn’t planned or anything. I’m very, very sorry for everything. If I have any defense, it would be that things were so different back then. There were some things you just couldn’t be honest about.
“Sally and Earl weren’t having an affair.
“Here’s what really happened:
“Earl was away on one of his many fishing trips. I thought the coast was clear. So I made plans to stay overnight with Sally at the Dilly. It wasn’t the first time.
“It was simply bad luck that Earl came back early. When I didn’t come home that night, he went searching for me. He came to the pub. Earl saw me coming out of Sally’s bedroom to go to the washroom. I wasn’t wearing any clothes.
“Earl went berserk. He called me all sorts of horrible names and started hitting me. He knocked me to the floor. That’s when Sally came up behind him and hit him with a baseball bat. I’m pretty sure he would have killed me if she hadn’t.
“Sally was marvelous. Like one of the furies. He was so heavy, there was no way we could get him to the lake. She suggested we bury him right in the backyard.”
I stopped reading for a minute to catch my breath. “Call the police,” I said to Tara. She nodded and pulled out her cell phone.
I continued reading to myself.
We stripped Earl and put all his belongings into a duffel bag. Sally left town with the bag. I was the one who spread the rumor that Sally and Earl had run off together.
It looked like everything would be fine. And for years it was. Then that dog dug up the body.
I honestly don’t know what happened to me then. When Dotty started to prattle on, I panicked.
Dotty. Dear Dotty Dot. She was so dear to me. But I couldn’t trust her anymore. She’d suddenly remember something and blurt it right out. When she starting asking people if it was Earl, I nearly died.
You’ve got to believe I didn’t plan it. It must have been a kind of insanity. I can’t believe I pushed her down the stairs. A split-second decision that I regretted instantly.
I’m going to the cabin. Stella knows where it is. But by the time you find this, the pills will have done their job. Please tell everyone how sorry I am.
Jean
Chapter Fourteen
Hours later, we were all hanging out at the Dilly.
“And you figured this out how?” asked Brent. I liked how he looked at me. It felt good to be admired.
“She was amazing,” said Tara. I gave her a quick smile.
“Tara gave me the clue,” I said. “It was the ratty old sweater she was wearing.”
“Still is, actually,” said Simon, poking her in the arm. I glanced at the two of them. Definitely something going on between them.
“Tara said it was her dad’s sweater. Then I remembered what Aunt Stella had said
. That people never throw things out in this town. For some reason I thought of Jean. She had given the police a jacket so they could check for Earl’s DNA. An old hunting jacket. But what if it wasn’t Earl’s jacket? What if it was her dad’s?”
“So…the DNA on it wouldn’t match the bones,” said Brent, catching on quickly.
“That is really clever,” said Simon. I didn’t know if he meant me or Jean.
“So then I thought, why would Jean deliberately mislead the police?”
“So you figured out she was having an affair with Sally Hooke?” Brent asked.
“Not at first. I was going on the assumption that Earl was, like everyone else thought. And that that’s why Jean killed him,” I paused. “And then I remembered what Sally Hooke’s niece said.”
They all looked at me. “Don’t you remember, Tara? She said she couldn’t imagine Aunt Sally running off with this guy,” I said. “That she had never cared much about men.”
“Oh, right,” said Tara, groaning. “That slipped right by me.”
“I know she was a murderer, but I do feel sorry for Jean. It must have been awful to hide who she truly was,” said Simon. He was right. I had been so excited about solving the mystery. But now I could imagine the pain Jean must have endured. I knew a thing or two about secrets and how heavy a burden they can be.
None of us spoke for a while.
Finally Brent broke the silence. “So you were going to confront Jean? That’s pretty brave.”
“No,” I said. “I just wanted to get something of Jean’s so they could compare her DNA to what they got from the jacket. My makeshift plan was to make up an excuse for the visit and then pocket something when she wasn’t looking. Gloves, a scarf—anything with her DNA on it. If Jean gave them her dad’s jacket instead of Earl’s, the police would have been able to tell.”
“Wow,” said Brent again. “You’re really good at this.”
“Everyone helped,” I said. “If Tara hadn’t worn that jacket…if you hadn’t been able to trace Sally Hooke…”
“Even the dogs,” said Simon. “If Ollie and Wolfgang hadn’t dug up that bone…”
The Crime Club Page 5