by Meg London
Emma was entering some deposits into her spreadsheet when her cell phone rang.
“Hello,” she said without thinking, as she continued to peruse the figures in front of her.
“Is this…” The voice hesitated. It sounded like a young man.
Emma glanced at the caller ID display, but she didn’t recognize the number. Was this some kind of prank caller?
“Is this Emma?”
“Yes.”
“You gave me your card and told me to call this number.”
“Oh?”
“You said you wanted to know if that woman who lived next door, Crystal, came back.”
Now Emma was all ears. She had a sudden vision of a young fellow with curly hair and gigantic Elton John–style glasses. She sat up straighter in her chair. “Yes, I did say that.”
“Good, because that’s why I’m calling. She’s come back.”
“Is she there now?”
“Let me check.”
There was silence then the sound of footsteps in the background retreating and then returning. “Yes, she’s here now. Saw her car outside. She’s taking stuff out of it and bringing it back in. I remember when she left it was packed to the roof.”
Emma glanced at her watch. The shop was quiet. If Arabella could spare her, she could run over there right now and catch Crystal before she disappeared again.
* * *
EMMA hated leaving Arabella alone when she was feeling so down. Hopefully tracking down Crystal Davis wouldn’t take more than an hour.
Emma pulled into the drive leading to the Sunny Farms town house condominiums. She passed the small clubhouse, the blue-tinted pond with a fountain spouting halfheartedly in the middle, and finally turned into the row where Crystal lived. A car was parked outside the center town house. Emma recognized Crystal’s bright blue door. Hopefully that was Crystal’s car.
She drove past the silver Ford Focus and pulled up to the curb beyond. The trunk of the car was open, and the front door of the town house was slightly ajar. It looked as if Crystal was in the process of unpacking.
Emma held her breath as she approached the right side of the Focus. She stood and stared for several long seconds. The right headlight was smashed, and the fender had a huge dent in it. Crystal had obviously hit something…or someone…with the car. Emma shuddered. She glanced toward the door to the condo, but there was no sign of Crystal. She jumped when a voice came toward her from behind the Focus, as Crystal backed away from the trunk, a large box in her hands.
“What are you doing?” Crystal demanded.
Emma was at a loss for words. She sent up a prayer for inspiration.
“I wanted to ask you some questions about Sunny Days.”
Crystal’s face puckered into a frown. “That’s all over with. We agreed. I left like I said I would.” She clutched the box in front of her protectively.
Emma struggled with her conscience. She hated upsetting people—she had been brought up not to—but being nice wasn’t going to get her the answers she was after.
“How did you get that dent in your fender?” She tilted her head toward Crystal’s front bumper.
Crystal’s face turned white, and she dropped the carton she was holding. Emma heard the sound of glass or china breaking as the box hit the ground.
“I didn’t do it. And you can’t say I did. That happened before.” She pointed at the front of her car.
“Why did you run away, then?”
“I knew the police were looking for a car that had been damaged, and I was afraid they wouldn’t believe me. I went to stay with my sister, but with her and Ray and the four boys living in a single-wide, she said I had to leave and take my chances, so I came home.”
“How did you get the dent, then?”
“I don’t know.”
Emma frowned in disbelief. “You don’t know?”
Crystal shook her head vehemently. “I come out to the parking lot after work, and what do I find? A big old dent in my front bumper that wasn’t there that morning. No note on the windshield or nothing.”
“Can you prove it happened before Gladys’s death?”
Crystal tossed her head. “I don’t see why I have to prove anything to you, but I don’t want you running around telling people I did it.” She pointed at the car. “It was the day I loaned it to Jessica. Her own car was in the shop, and she needed to run an errand at lunchtime. She swore up and down that the dent wasn’t there when she brought the car back.” Crystal snorted. “I didn’t believe her, but I couldn’t prove it, could I? Besides, she was my boss, and I didn’t know what she might do. She’d already made my life hell enough as it was.”
“Well, I don’t suppose I can ask Jessica to confirm that, can I?” Emma ran a hand through her hair in frustration.
“We had a big argument about it. You can ask anybody. I’m sure everyone in the place heard us. I was that mad.”
* * *
EMMA returned to Sweet Nothings and thought about what Crystal had said as she served the day’s customers. Arabella had left early saying she was tired. Emma was beginning to worry about her in earnest.
She had offered to volunteer at Sunny Days that evening, or she would have gone straight to Arabella’s to check on her. She gave Arabella a quick call before closing up the shop, and Arabella insisted she was fine and that all she really needed was an early night.
Emma didn’t really believe her, but she knew Arabella hated being fussed over. Besides, it was movie night at Sunny Days, and Emma had agreed to help make popcorn. They were showing an old movie, Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn, that she’d always wanted to see, so she planned to grab a seat in back and stay for the show.
The parking lot was nearly empty, and Emma scooted into a spot up front near the door. Clouds had rolled in, and she felt a few drops of rain splatter on her arms as she dashed into the building. The halls were quiet as Emma headed toward the activity room. The residents at Sunny Farms ate early and had finished dinner over an hour ago. They were probably resting prior to the evening’s program.
A woman was already fiddling with the popcorn machine in the activity room when Emma got there. Emma recognized her as one of Sunny Days’ longtime volunteers. She was tall and very slim with graying hair curled tightly to her head and a pair of reading glasses slipping down her nose.
“Do you know how this thing works?” she asked as Emma entered the room.
Emma peered into the depths of the popcorn machine.
“I’m Grace, by the way.” The woman gave Emma a sideways smile.
Emma spied a manual sticking out from under the machine and pulled it out. She read through the directions quickly.
“First, we need to briefly preheat the machine. No more than ten or fifteen seconds.” She located the heat switch and turned it on.
“Here’s the oil and the popcorn.” Grace handed Emma a packet and a pair of scissors.
Emma cut open one side of the packet and squeezed the coconut oil into the kettle. It began to melt almost on contact. Then she slit open the packets of popcorn and salt, added them and activated the motor that turned the agitator, which kept the kernels from sticking. Shortly thereafter the sound of popping filled the room. As soon as the popping slowed, Emma turned off the heat and dumped out the kettle. A heat lamp would keep the popcorn warm while they dished it out.
The low murmur of voices floated down the hall, followed shortly by footsteps.
“Brace yourself,” Grace said with a smile.
Within minutes the room was buzzing with seniors lining up to get their bag of popcorn. Emma and Grace took turns filling the small bags and handing them out. Emma helped a few residents in wheelchairs position themselves in the area that had been left open for them.
“Doing your good deed for the day, kid?” Sylvia came up behind Emma.
Emma smiled. Earl was right behind Sylvia, leaning heavily on his silver-headed walking stick.
“Nice to see a pretty, young face aroun
d here.” He patted Emma on the shoulder.
Sylvia slapped him on the arm playfully. “Let’s go find a seat. It looks like we’ve got a full house tonight.”
They moved off as the lights began to blink, signaling the start of the movie.
There was a short delay as first Missy Fanning and then a bearded young man with a strand of beads around his neck fiddled with the computer and projection equipment, but finally the credits to Roman Holiday were rolling on the screen. Emma edged her way around the assembled residents toward an empty row in the back. She settled into a seat just as the movie began.
Emma thought it was a charming movie, and she was glad she’d stayed. Gregory Peck was handsome enough to put today’s young actors to shame, and Audrey Hepburn was lyrical in her performance as the runaway princess. Emma watched, rapt, as Hepburn had her hair cut into the pixie style she made famous. Emma put a hand to the back of her neck. No wonder Arabella always said Emma’s hairdo reminded her of Hepburn.
Emma was thoroughly engrossed in the movie when she heard voices behind her. She swung around in annoyance. It was Missy Fanning talking to Grace in a loud whisper. Emma tried to turn her attention back to the movie, but their conversation kept intruding. Suddenly several words caught her ear, and she began to listen in earnest.
She leaned back in her chair slightly while pretending to watch the movie.
“She wasn’t doing things by the book, that’s for sure,” Missy said in a whiny voice. “I’ve had the surveyors breathing down my neck to fix half a dozen things Jessica should have taken care of a long time ago.”
Grace made soothing noises.
“I don’t know what she did all day. File her nails?”
Grace’s voice dropped even lower, but by leaning back, Emma was able to hear her.
“Well, I heard it was those long lunches with Jimmy Calhoun that were taking up her time.”
Emma could almost hear the smirk in her voice.
Missy made a gagging sound.
“The residents liked her, though.”
“Hmmmph.” Missy bristled. “I heard they were getting fed up with her for not doing anything about the stealing that was going on.”
The movie suddenly got louder, and Emma was afraid she would miss what Missy and Grace were saying. She quietly pushed her chair back as far as she dared.
“Do you know,” Missy continued, “that weeks ago Gladys Smit reported having seen Crystal come out of one of the resident rooms shortly before the resident reported some of their personal property having been stolen?”
“Really?”
“Yes. And Jessica didn’t do a thing about it. Too lazy, I expect.”
They moved away then, and Emma missed the rest of their conversation. But she’d already heard more than enough. If Crystal knew that Gladys Smit had reported her—and having access to all the administrative records in Jessica’s office, it was perfectly possible—then she had an excellent reason for running Gladys over.
Maybe that dent in Crystal’s car wasn’t so innocent after all.
ARABELLA looked as if she’d hardly slept when she arrived at Sweet Nothings the next morning. Emma was about to say something when she bit her tongue. She knew Arabella hated being fussed over.
“Still no news?” She tried to keep her tone neutral.
Arabella shook her head, and her bun slipped to one side. Emma had never known Arabella to take anything but the greatest care with her appearance. Now Emma was really getting worried. Perhaps she’d have a word with Sylvia later and get her opinion.
“Did you enjoy Roman Holiday?” Arabella asked as she poured water into the coffeemaker.
“Yes, but you won’t believe what I found out.”
Arabella paused with the carafe of water in her hand.
“Apparently Gladys Smit, our hit-and-run victim, had reported seeing Crystal come out of a resident’s room with something she’d stolen. She told Jessica, and Jessica made a note of it in Crystal’s file but didn’t do anything about it.”
“That’s not surprising, knowing Jessica. But it does give Crystal a motive for murder.”
“And with that suspicious dent in her car…”
“But wasn’t she out of town when you found that threatening note on your car?” Arabella pressed the start button, and coffee began gurgling out of the machine and into the pot. “Besides, Crystal doesn’t strike me as the type to own Tiffany stationery.”
“True.” Emma frowned. “But no one really knows where she went. She could have easily snuck back. And maybe she stole the stationery from one of the residents?”
“I’ll bet you’re right.” The coffee hadn’t quite stopped perking, but Arabella was already reaching for the half-empty pot and filling her mug.
She really must have had a bad night, Emma thought. She followed Arabella out to the showroom and began turning on lights. She hadn’t done her usual cleaning the night before, so she retrieved the glass cleaner from under the counter and began wiping down the glass. They would do it again halfway through the day. It was amazing how many fingerprints could be amassed in such a short time.
Arabella was quiet, sitting in the corner, mending a piece of black lace on a peignoir. The clock ticked over to ten a.m., and Emma went to flip the sign from closed to open. Just as she turned away, the door began to open.
The scent of masculine aftershave wafted into the store. It must have alerted Arabella, because she glanced up. Emma had her back to the door, and the look on Arabella’s face made her whirl around.
A tall man with dark hair tinged with white at the temples and a thick mustache entered the shop.
Arabella jumped to her feet, heedless of the negligee in her lap, which slipped to the floor.
“Francis.”
The man smiled and the dimples on either side of his mouth deepened.
For a moment, Arabella stood stunned, then she began to move forward. She buried her face in Francis’s chest, and he put his arm around her. Finally, Arabella tilted her head back. “Where…When…How did you?”
Francis laughed. “How about you pour me a glass of that famous sweet tea of yours, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Arabella bustled into the stockroom, her face and demeanor completely transformed.
Was this love? Emma thought with a shock. Would she and Brian someday have something similar?
“Is Arabella okay?” Francis asked as soon as Emma’s aunt had left the room.
Emma paused for a moment. How much should she tell him? “She’s been very worried.” Somewhat of an understatement, Emma thought ruefully.
Francis nodded. “That was my biggest concern the whole time. I hated to think of Arabella having a single bad moment.” He clenched his lips, and Emma could have sworn his eyes were wet with tears.
Arabella came back with the tea and poured each of them a glass. She held up her glass. “This is a wonderful moment.” She smiled at Emma and then, with a special glint in her eye, at Francis.
Francis took a big sip of his tea. “Best sweet tea in the South.” He smiled at Arabella, and it was as if they were the only ones in the room. Emma wondered if she ought to find some reason to leave the two of them alone.
“Now you must tell us what happened,” Arabella said firmly.
Francis ducked his head. “It really was nothing. I don’t know where to begin.”
“The beginning is always a good place,” Arabella said crisply.
Francis threw his head back and laughed. “Okay, the beginning it is. The dullest job on the face of the earth—security guard at a bank. I had to go to the drugstore and get some special insoles for my shoes because my feet were killing me making the rounds every night.” Arabella and Francis smiled at each other, and again Emma wondered if she ought to sneak off. She was feeling decidedly de trop.
“Then…”—Francis paused for a drink of his tea—“the robbers finally showed up.”
Arabella shivered, and Francis draped an arm over her shoulder
and squeezed her tight. Emma suddenly felt very much alone.
“I let them go about their business, watching carefully from outside. I’d alerted my colleagues, but their instructions were to keep their distance unless I told them otherwise.” Francis took a deep breath and continued. “One of them must have spotted me as they were leaving, because next thing I knew, they’d grabbed me and relieved me of my gun.” He shrugged apologetically. “I guess maybe I’d better retire soon. My reaction time isn’t what it used to be.”
Arabella gasped. “Was it…terrible?”
Francis shook his head. “They fed me, made sure I had water, and I bunked down on a couple of blankets on the floor. Not exactly the Hilton, but it wasn’t as bad as all that.” He smiled at Arabella as if to reassure her.
“But how did you get away?”
“Criminals are basically stupid, no matter how smart they think they are. Eventually they couldn’t resist the rewards of their spoils—drugs, alcohol. I waited until they were all either stoned or drunk, and I slipped out a window. They didn’t tie me up. They were too arrogant to think I might try to escape.” He gave a deprecating smile. “As far as they were concerned, I was an old copper, put out to pasture, and nothing they had to worry about.”
Arabella’s spine stiffened. “Little did they know!”
“Well, you should have heard my knees creaking when I sneaked out that window. Then my damn sciatica started acting up.” Francis put a hand to his back.
Arabella smiled a conspiratorial smile. “Sciatica is the worst.”
Emma decided this was the perfect opportunity for her to slip away. Neither Francis nor Arabella noticed when she picked up her glass of tea and sidled toward the stockroom.
Half an hour later, Emma was still working on some bookkeeping when a shadow fell across the desk. She looked up to find Sylvia standing there.
“How’s it going, kid?”
“Okay. Did you hear? Francis escaped the robbers.”
Sylvia grunted. “Arabella couldn’t take off fast enough after lover boy. I told her I’d take over for her for the afternoon.”
“It seems you have a boyfriend of your own.” Emma closed the lid of her computer and smiled up at Sylvia.