I even thought I’d seen a sketch of some spring garden ideas. When I told Allison about the sketch, we decided not to question or push them to tell us their plans. They still had just enough hippie left in them that they might rebel against our wishes that they stick around. Rebellion would always be a familiar behavior pattern.
Jason and Polly Robins had probably experienced more than their two daughters ever could imagine. As parents they didn’t talk openly about all of those experiences, but frequently Allison and I would catch a look, a glance, a shared smile that tied them together, perhaps because the end result had been a short stint in jail, an adventure into something that was illegal, or at least skirted along the edge of legal.
Anyway, neither my sister nor I wanted the details. We were fine not knowing all of our parents’ secrets or even most of them.
Jason and Polly had changed since they’d left for their previous road trip about two and a half years earlier, though. They’d become more conservative in their dress and less vocal when it came to discussing issues that were important to them. They’d never been particularly argumentative, just firm in their beliefs—and firm that everyone else had a right to believe whatever they believed; live and let live. Now my parents just didn’t feel the need to talk about their causes as much.
Allison thought it had something to do with the fact that Mathis was, at the age of almost three, a sponge to the world and the people he loved and spent the most time with. He’d pick up a word or a mannerism so quickly that we all tried to be as well behaved as possible around him.
I disagreed with my sister on this point, though. I thought our parents were simply mellowing. They still cared fervently about their causes, but they preferred to spend their time baking bread, fixing the roof, or sketching plans for a spring garden rather than throwing themselves completely into causes.
And, despite the panicked nature that must have characterized Vivienne Norton’s plea for decorating help, I imagined my parents were thrilled to take on the task, even if it had required that my mother take extra doses of allergy medication. One of their biggest causes, their biggest loves, was their hometown of Monson. Being able to help make the Christmas parade a more enjoyable and better event was right up their collective alley.
I found them both on Main Street and both on ladders this time, but neither of the ladders was high or wobbly. They were placing poles with wide weighted bottoms next to each of the fully decorated trees. Then, they’d step up onto a short step ladder and thread a pennant onto the top part of the pole. Each pennant had been painstakingly drawn with the tree winner’s name.
“Did you paint all of these?” I asked Mom as I handed her the pennant she was reaching for.
“Your dad helped. It wasn’t too difficult.”
“Oh, Mom, I should be a better help to you.”
“My dear, you have a million things going on, and you’ve had to bake all those cookies. They’re delicious, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“Polly!” Dad called from a few trees down. He was standing next to a tree that was all silver and gold—tinsel, ornaments, miniature wreaths. At the moment, the entire tree was sparkling from a thin ray of sun, which had peeked through a slit in the gathering and darkening clouds.
“Yes, dear?”
“I don’t think I have the right winner. Who was highest bidder on this one?”
Mom reached into her back jeans pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Dell, the pharmacist.”
“Nope,” Dad said as he looked at the pennant, “this doesn’t say Dell.”
“Check the stack on the library steps.” Mom pointed behind him.
“Should I do it for him?” I asked.
“Don’t be silly. He’s right there, he’ll figure it out.”
“Is it really just the two of you doing this? There must be fifty trees this year.”
“Fifty-three, and no, Vivienne and a couple of the other officers helped with the other side. They had to leave. Sam called them in for something. They’ll be back if they have the time.”
I glanced down the street, past Dad and past the line of trees, to the building that housed the small police department. I wanted to run down and see what was going on, if Sam had any more news from Brenton, but I couldn’t have abandoned my mom even if she’d told me to.
I grabbed some poles and some pennants and followed along on her list as the three of us finished the task. Sam and I had bid on a few trees, but we hadn’t won any of them. The train tree went to someone I didn’t know from Smithfield.
After the pennants were set up, we brought out the tables and set them up in the middle of the street so that people could sit and visit or eat their treats, or just look at the trees. The tables had been stored inside the shoe store. Once we pulled them out, we taped holiday-decorated paper tablecloths onto them.
Neither rain nor snow was in the forecast, but the clouds made me wonder if we might end up with a little weather anyway. South Carolina didn’t see much snow, but we sometimes got a little in Monson. And, sometimes the white stuff would actually accumulate in the higher elevations. I’d even heard of a few incidents of blinding snow up toward the Ridgeway Farm. A light dusting would be a welcome addition to the evening’s event, but the paper tablecloths would quickly become soggy if there was too much moisture.
Mom, using her Mom superpower and her sometimes achy-with-a-storm-on-the-way knee, predicted that nothing would fall from the sky until at least the next day. I’d never known her to be wrong.
The setup duty from the day before had been the biggest chunk of work, so today’s labors were somewhat lighter, but I was glad I’d come along to help at least a little.
Once Mom okayed that we were done until the festivities began, or until a strong wind caused a disaster that we’d have to clean up, I convinced them to walk around the corner for a break at the local Maytabee’s Coffee Shop. My jams, preserves, and syrups had a good chunk of shelf space at the chain’s five South Carolina shops. The Monson location had just acquired a new manager and she didn’t know that I was one of their suppliers. I could shop them and my inventory anonymously. Today, I was startled to see that my product supply was low—I didn’t know if I’d missed an e-mail requesting more or if the new manager hadn’t figured out all the ins and outs of her job yet. I bought three coffees, and as I carried them to a table in the back I made a mental note to call or e-mail the owner for an update before Monday.
“We spoke with Allison briefly last night, but we haven’t had much time. Is she okay—I mean, after the terrible murder at Bailey’s?” Mom said after she took her first sip.
“I think she’s okay. It was bad, though,” I said.
“I can only imagine. Does Sam have any good leads?” Mom asked.
Both she and Dad had taken to Sam easily. They’d done the same with Ian and my two ex-husbands. Had they suspected I was facing something more challenging or dangerous than flakiness from my husbands, they would have jumped in and battled to defend me. And I was certain they felt a kindred connection to Ian, with his long hair and his seven tattoos, but they hadn’t squawked when he and I had parted romantic ways. They seemed to be very fond of Sam.
“I think he has a bunch of weak answers. Hopefully, something will lead somewhere.” I took a gulp of hot coffee. “You two have always been interested in the South Carolina political scene, right?”
“Sure,” they both said.
“Do you remember a state senator from the late eighties named Evelyn Rasmussen Stuckey?”
Mom and Dad both laughed.
“Of course,” Mom said. “We both worked on her campaign.”
I should have known that Mom and Dad would either have worked for a politician or against them. It hadn’t even occurred to me to ask them earlier. I needed to use my connections better.
“She was
married to the guy who was killed, Reggie Stuckey.”
“That’s right! It’s been so long that I forgot about all that,” Mom said.
Dad said, “Evelyn’s husband was so behind the scenes that he didn’t have much to do with her work. I don’t think I ever even met him, but I knew he had a Christmas tree farm. I think he supported her career aspirations just fine, but then after his alleged affair—well, things were bound to go south from there.”
I blinked. “So it was Reggie who had the . . . an affair?”
“Well, we think that’s what happened. It was the best conclusion we could come up with at the time. Reggie had an affair. Evelyn was so embarrassed and horrified by the infidelity that she just quit. She didn’t want her personal life to become public.”
“The best conclusion?” I said. “You don’t know for sure that that’s what happened?”
“No,” Dad said. “Times were different back then, Becca. Affairs and scandals are the common stuff of today’s politics, and even though the same things went on back then, it was truly cause for a politician’s ruin. Something happened that saddened Evelyn or humiliated her to the point that she gave up on her ambitions. We all suspected that there was an affair, and I think someone had some pictures or something. Do you remember, Polly?” Dad said.
“Kind of.”
I took a sip of coffee and pondered the fact that in today’s world, a politician or one of their family members could exhibit unacceptable behavior and still remain in politics. “Was she maybe being blackmailed with the pictures?”
“Uh, not sure I remember that,” Dad said.
“It’s terrible that her career was ruined because of her husband’s indiscretion,” I said.
“Yes. Now such circumstances would create a few news stories, some twittering, or whatever that’s called, and it would most likely blow over. The politician could easily continue to serve. Different times back then. Evelyn just didn’t want to deal with it, I guess,” Dad said.
“Do you know who was the affair with?” I said. I’d literally crossed my fingers around my coffee cup with the hope their answer would give me a big, more important piece of the puzzle.
Mom shrugged. “That’s probably the biggest reason Evelyn quit, so the press wouldn’t take a deeper, closer look at the details. I never knew who the affair was with. As far as I know, she mostly kept it to herself.”
“I would think the press would have looked more closely when she quit. They’d want to know why. They’d find out about the other person and report the details,” I said.
“Well, maybe, but her quitting probably had a different effect then than it would nowadays. Yes, there was some investigation, but journalism was different and journalists liked Evelyn. Maybe they just respected her privacy,” Mom said.
“And,” Dad said thoughtfully, “I really do remember something about some pictures, but not much happened with them.”
“I can’t help but think blackmail was involved then,” I said.
Mom tapped her finger on her lips. “No, I think she simply didn’t let it get that far. Again, if I remember correctly, she just quit. She might have actually wanted the pictures to surface once she stepped down. She was very bitter toward her husband, who became her ex-husband very soon after she left the public eye.”
“Excuse me a minute,” I said. I pulled out my cell phone. Sam answered on the first ring, though I could tell he was in a hurry. “Sam, Reggie was the one to have the affair.”
I explained to him my parents’ memories and then asked him if he’d learned anything new.
“No, I haven’t, but I’m having a hard time finding Brenton. I went to his house after you and I talked and he wasn’t there.”
“He must have left right after I did.”
“I’d like to find him. I will. I’ll let you know when I do.”
“What’s wrong?” Dad said after I ended the call.
“Sam appreciates the lead and he’s going to talk to Evelyn,” I said, not wanting to worry them with other details.
“Evelyn’s still around?” Mom sat up straight.
“Yes, she goes by Evie and she has an egg stall at the Smithfield Market.”
“We’ll have to go see her,” Dad said.
“She’s odd, probably very different than when you knew her,” I said.
“We’re kind of different, too,” Mom said. “I look forward to seeing her no matter what.”
I tried to help jog their memories about who Reggie might have had the affair with, but it didn’t help at all. I had my own suspicions, but I didn’t want to plant false seeds so I kept those thoughts to myself.
Finally, I sent them home to take a nap before the evening’s parade. I also went home to Hobbit. I still had cookies to bake, and even thought I doubted I’d be able to stop my mind from whirring enough to close my eyes, a nap might do us all some good.
Twenty-two
“That’s it, I’m installing cameras and maybe a safe room for Hobbit,” I muttered to myself as I pulled onto my driveway.
A car was parked at the bottom of the drive, close to the house. But Hobbit sauntered around the old, white sedan with her ears perked and her tail wagging; she wasn’t distressed by whoever was visiting.
I parked the truck at an angle that would accommodate both me hoisting Hobbit into the passenger side and then us making a quick getaway, if need be.
My visitor appeared from around the house and waved happily.
“Mamma!” I said as I got out of the truck. “I didn’t even know you had a car. I thought you just drove a truck.”
Mamma laughed. “Well, gas being the price it is, I got this old thing to help with mileage. Traveling back and forth between Monson and Smithfield was getting expensive.”
“Makes sense to me. Come on in. I’ll get us something to drink.”
“No, I can’t stay.” Mamma looked at her watch. “I’ve got to meet Carl. I thought I might see you tonight at the parade, but I wanted to talk to you as privately as possible. Sorry I didn’t call first.”
“No problem,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Well, I felt so awful about my thoughts about Evie that I tried to talk to her, be friendly, you know.”
“How’d that go?”
“At first she was pretty snippy, but I hung in there and soon enough we started chatting in a more civilized tone.” Mamma cringed but recovered quickly. “I kind of pride myself on being open-minded and friendly, Becca. It takes an open mind to look at me and not see a floozy, I know that. I look the way I want to look. I assume that other people do the same. But I think I forgot myself with Evie. She’s cantankerous and grumpy, but once we sat together and really talked, I realized that she’s probably just a lonely old woman who could use a friend or two. Well, anyway, enough of my shame.” Mamma sighed. “She actually started opening up about her past. I had to push her. I had Addy fill me in on what he knew and I . . . well, I asked her some direct questions.”
“I bet she either disliked or respected those direct questions.”
Mamma smiled and nodded. “She respected them, just not immediately.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Anyway, she divorced Reggie because he had an affair.”
I didn’t want to ruin her excitement by telling her I already had the news she thought was new so I just said, “I wondered. Did she tell you a name, by chance?”
Mamma shook her head. “It’s why she left politics, though. She was embarrassed and knew that Reggie’s indiscretion would be used against her, or she thought it would.”
“Back then it probably would have,” I said.
“Maybe, but I think there’s more. I think Evie, Evelyn, was proud of her position, proud of her marriage—maybe too proud. She couldn’t handle being seen as imperfect. I really think that had more to do with it,”
Mamma said. “It was all about her ego.”
I thought about it and then nodded. I wasn’t much for psychology, but Mamma’s words made sense. Lots of people in lots of different professions, politicians included, were frequently driven by ego.
“So,” Mamma continued, “here’s something else that surprised me. Evie said that before her ex-husband was killed, she and he had started talking again. He’d called her out of the blue and she’d wondered why. Well, he was friendly for a while, but then he told her that he’d recently started seeing the woman again, the woman he had the affair with all those years ago. Evie was under the impression that Reggie was seeking her approval.”
“Let me guess, she didn’t approve,” I said.
“Not at all.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“She said it . . . what was the word she used? Riled? Yes, it riled her feathers—not ruffled—something fierce. Even after all these years, it upset her. She didn’t like that it upset her.”
That was a long time to hold a grudge, but infidelity wasn’t ever easily forgiven.
“Did she get upset while she was talking to you?” I asked.
“Yes, and . . . well, this is rotten of me, but now I have to tell on her.”
“Tell on her?”
“Yes, the day you all found Reggie? Well, Evie didn’t come in to the market that entire day. She always comes in to the market. It’s what she does, all she does as far as I can tell. Addy was worried about her, I remember.”
“There could have been a good reason,” I said as I tried to imagine Evie stabbing Reggie with a tree spike. It wasn’t all that difficult to picture.
“Yes, there could have been, but she said one more thing that got my attention. She said that she’s ‘going back to Monson tonight, to visit the tree parade.’ She said ‘back,’ so I asked her when she’d last been to Monson, and she quit talking.”
5 Merry Market Murder Page 20