When No One Was Looking (Sophie McGuire Mysteries)

by Jenny Rebecca Keech

  “Of course, if Judge Harrington thought whoever it was might not be intending good things for Daniel—”

  Effie Rae shrugged. “She’d have run that girl out of town quicker than a hare through a thicket.”

  “Which is what Rebekah claimed her mother said happened.” I could have yanked my tongue out the moment the words slipped out.

  “Really.”

  It’s amazing the amount of conversation Effie Rae can put into one word. Mentally I groaned. I could see the intrigue peeking out from within the depths of those big brown eyes.

  “I had no clue you’d spoken to Rebekah before she died.”

  What could I say? “I didn’t,” I sputtered.

  Effie Rae gave a slow nod. “Ah, Johanna.”

  “Well,” I paused before continuing slowly. I was feeling my way. “She didn’t actually speak to Rebekah either.”

  Her brow frowned. “Then why did she wallop on the woman?”

  I groaned and released a sigh, “Because she did speak to Rebekah’s lawyer.”

  “Really.”

  There it was again. “Yes, really. But I can’t have you telling this to everyone, Effie.”

  She rolled her honey brown eyes. “People aren’t stupid, Soph. It doesn’t take much to put one and one together and get that Cindy plus Rebekah equals related.”

  Arrgghh. “You only remember because of your mama’s quilting meetings,” I stated, irritated.

  “Hmmph,” Effie Rae spoke with a sniff, “And for your information, I’m not the only one with a long memory.”

  “Right now, you’re the only one who I’ve heard put one and one together. I was hoping you’d show the dignity not to mention it in front of God and everyone.”

  “Sugar, God already knows and everyone else isn’t far behind.”

  “Well just think about how people might view Johanna before you utter one word. If this thing goes to trial, these are the people who’ll be judging her.”

  She kicked up an eyebrow. “I hadn’t thought of that. Of course, she is a Butterfield and –”

  I slapped my hand on the counter. “Focus, Effie. Let’s get back to what you heard at those meetings. Was there anyone else associated with Cindy?”

  “Associated.” Her smile was soft as she continued, “I like how you say that. Hmmm, no, nothing concrete. There was just Daniel.”

  Well, at least it was a start. I stood and stretched. “Thanks, Effie Rae.”

  She nodded. “Oh, and don’t worry about Johanna. I’m not like those old biddies sewing around that quilt. I just like to be kept informed. Remember that. If you figure something out, keep me in the loop.”

  I gave an absentminded wave of my hand as I stepped out and made my way down the steps. Daniel Wolfe. Interesting. Wait till Jane heard about that. She’s dated him on and off over the past few years. I think she does it with the forlorn hope of making Thomas jealous. Again, I don’t know where she gets these ideas. I’ve always thought Daniel was a nice guy, though kind of quiet.

  I stopped at Annie’s on the way back. Annie had stepped out but Paul greeted and waved me to take a seat. I slid atop a stool next to the counter. I fought the urge for a lunch special of chicken and pastry and opted instead for chicken salad with lite mayo atop toasted rye bread.

  The shop was quiet by the time I returned. I popped my head into the kitchen. No Jane. Interesting. The sound of clicking came to my ears and I followed the noise farther down the hall to the small office where I maintained the books. Jane was bent over the keyboard, typing with intent.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re doing the books,” I chuckled.

  Jane’s head snapped up. “Sophie!” She grabbed her chest. “Don’t do that to me.”

  I swear that girl’s far too focused. One of these days she’s gonna find herself knocked in the head by some killer and I’ll have to go to the trouble to find a new cook.

  She shook her head and bent her head, typing once more. “Hey, you just missed Kate.”

  “Too bad. Maybe next time.”

  Jane tried to hide her grin.

  “Anyhow,” I continued, “how’s business? You just leave a bowl out front for people to drop in money?”

  “I can hear the door ding,” she muttered with a frown.

  I let slide the fact I’d nearly scared her out of her skin.

  Jane was quick to change the subject. “What about Johanna?”

  “Not much to add on that front. However, I did take your advice and talk to Effie Rae.”

  She looked up with a blank stare. “I told you to talk to Effie Rae? When? Why?”

  I chuckled. “No. You told me to talk to someone who might remember Cindy Peterson. I figured if Effie Rae didn’t know anything, at least she might be able to point me in the right direction.”

  “And?”

  “Daniel Wolfe.”

  She stopped typing. I had her attention.

  “What’s Daniel got to do with this?”

  “According to Effie Rae, who had it on good reference from all the busybodies at the time, Daniel’s name was linked to Cindy Peterson when she worked for the Butterfields.”

  “Daniel? Wow.” Jane leaned back. “Effie mention anyone else?”

  “There was no one that she could directly recall people talking about, but she did say that Cindy like male companionship. Rumors floated around that there were others. We’re just going to have to dig deeper if we want to add anyone to that list.”

  I heard a distinctive rumble and Jane sheepishly rubbed her stomach. “Sorry. I grabbed an early breakfast sandwich from Annie’s and I haven’t had lunch.” She turned and signed off from the internet, then stood and stretched. “Do you mind if I step out for a bit?”

  I shrugged. “Go ahead. I want to catch up on the books and work on the website. Besides, we can talk about Johanna’s problem when you get back. Hey! Think of anyone you know who might remember Cindy.” Jane gave a nod. I heard her whistling as she went down the hall.

  “Listen for the ding,” I heard her holler. I smiled and slipped into her vacant seat. It was actually good to see her go. She spends way too much time at this place as it is. I noticed Jane hadn’t made much of a comment upon hearing the news about Daniel. I had been curious about her response but decided to let her stew on it for a while. I slid into the cushioned chair and logged on to the computer.

  I googled Daniel’s name and clicked on a site. I don’t know what I was expecting; maybe a little side note on his life, past and present. Instead, the Wolfe Farms logo popped up with an insert stating that strawberries were ready for local picking and national shipment. I clicked on several windows before I clicked out and went to work.

  I had finally convinced Jane that we could add to our customer base through the internet. It had only taken about six months of intense, nonstop irritation. She says I’m a gnat at times. I say takes one to know one.

  The website I originally designed left a lot to be desired according to my daughter. But hey, I never claimed to be a computer whiz. It’s been kind of a trial and error thing but over the past two months I’ve been trying to update it with new graphics and images of mouthwatering chocolate delights and I have to admit it’s helped. Chocolate orders are up. Now Jane has me designing our Chocolate Drop logo and ordering new packaging materials.

  I sighed, stared at the screen, tapping a finger repeatedly on one key. An option wouldn’t pop up. I groaned. Jane. She likes to put a new recipe on the website once a week, adding her own secrets to help make the cooking easier on the average individual. Jane is also not computer literate. Okay, to be honest, she’s much worse than me. She, however, refuses to admit it and I’m always afraid every time she adds her recipe that she’s going to mess up something on the screen. Like what appeared to have happened.

  I can usually fix the problem. It’s not completely professional. I just keep tapping or clicking on little buttons. I leaned forward, glared at the screen and tapped the unresponsive key severa
l more times.

  The front door dinged. I gave the computer another frown, then moved out toward the front counter. Lily Knoell stood just inside the entrance looking.

  “Lily,” I said with a quick, genuine smile, “How are you doing today?”

  She beamed. Today her short, curly, graying brown hair was tucked under a navy hat with a small brim. She was dressed impeccable as always in a navy shirtdress with a wide belt, pearls around her neck and an umbrella that was a constant tucked under her arm. I didn’t mention there was no call for rain. Lily would just have replied, ‘well, you never know’. She was a woman who liked to be prepared and never left her house looking less than prepared. I smiled. “What can I do for you?”

  Lily looked around. “I was thinking Harry might like some chocolate desert tonight with his meal.”

  Harry Knoell has been dead for ten years. Not that Lily would admit it. She’s talked about him every day since then as if he’s still in the land of the living. It’s not like she talks to him in front of us; it’s more like he’s always somewhere else and we’ve just missed him. Everyone that knows Lily has come to accept her point of view. Most of us just can’t imagine hurting her feelings by not going along with her view of the world. There’s no harm in it and Lily’s happy with her version of Harry.

  I nodded. “What do you think he would like?”

  Lily took in all the cases. “You have so much to choose from.” She glanced back at me. “Do you mind if I look around?” she asked timidly.

  “Of course not,” I answered with a smile and a wave of my hand. “Go ahead.”

  Lily was still looking forty-five minutes later when Jane stepped back in the shop. I’d already sold to several customers by then.

  Jane’s eyes went wide at the sight of Lily. She hustled to where I stood and leaned close. “How long’s she been here?” she whispered.

  I smiled, shrugged, and lied, “Oh, quarter of an hour.”

  While I did say that everyone allows Lily her romantic version of her life with Harry to continue, I never said everyone was comfortable with it. Jane fit that bill, which doesn’t really make sense to me; with all of her conspiracy theories floating around you would think she’d be right at home with the oddness that is Lily Knoell.

  Jane watched the proceedings like a cat trapped in a room full of rocking chairs. Poor Lily. She was on her third trip around the cases. Did I forget to mention that Lily’s slightly absentminded? By the time she views everything in all the cases, she’s forgotten half of what she viewed. I smiled at Jane’s look of desperation. She’s the kind of person who makes split-second decisions with a ‘to heck with the consequences’ attitude. For her, conducting conversation with Lily was like pulling gum out of your hair: slow and painful.

  Jane turned and spoke low, “I’ll be in the back. Come back when you get a chance. Hopefully before the afternoon’s over.” Jane darted down the hallway toward the kitchen like a shadow.

  I walked over to the display case she presently perused. “What do you think, Lily?”

  She looked up and blinked. “There are so many to choose from,” she accused.

  I tried to hide my smile. “Well, maybe if you told me what kind of chocolate desert Harry normally likes, I could show you a few possible selections to help narrow the choice down.”

  Lily pursed her lips. “Hmmm. Harry likes chewy chocolates. And nuts. Yes, most definitely nuts.”

  I looked over the assortment before me. “We have several varieties of turtles that have chocolate and caramel and the options of different nuts. What nut is his favorite?”

  “Walnuts.”

  I grinned in relief. “Good choice.”

  “Course I’m allergic to them but Harry loves the taste of walnuts.”

  Uh, oh. Bad choice. I could just envision Lily forgetting the desserts were walnuts. I knew I couldn’t sell them to her. I tried another angle. “I’m certain that Harry would want you to get something that you could enjoy too.”

  Lily reached over and patted my hand, innocent smile spread wide, “Oh no, dear. This is for Harry and I do so enjoy getting Harry things he likes. I’ll take six, please. He can enjoy them the rest of the week”

  Great. “Six turtles coming up,” I spoke weakly. Then brightened. “Why don’t you look around while I wrap this for you?” I turned away, only to glance back. “Uh, Lily, you’re not allergic to other nuts are you?”

  She smiled and shook her head, then continued her meanderings. I breathed a sigh of relief, pulled a box with our motif from a drawer and proceeded to open the display case. I hoped that Lily wouldn’t look too closely at her treats as I reached in past the walnut turtles to the pecan ones. I placed six in the box and closed it and display case up.

  I was just about to ask Lily if she wanted anything else when a thought hit me. I wasn’t certain of a profitable return. Still, I asked. “Lily?”

  Lily glanced up.

  I hesitated. “I was curious. Do you ever remember a woman named Cindy Peterson who worked for the Butterfields?”

  “Wasn’t she just found murdered?” Lily asked, baffled.

  “Uh, no,” I said, “That was her daughter. This would have been about twenty years earlier.”

  Lily rounded her mouth. “Well, I’m just not really good with dates.” She turned and looked back at a window display.

  Oh well. I motioned with my hand. “Lily, here’s your order.”

  Lily made her way to the counter. She pulled out her wallet and paid and then placed it and the box of chocolates into her purse. She picked up her umbrella and turned to go. At the door, Lily turned and gave me a frown. “Odd woman, she was. Sneaking around late at night, meeting men in the dark. A very strange woman.” Lily blinked and promptly went out.

  She surprised me with her declaration. I raised my hand to halt her but put it down with a sigh. What good would it do? If I caught up with her, Lily’s mind would probably already be somewhere else and she’d simply say she had no idea what I wanted. Besides, she volunteered at the library. Maybe I could catch up with her later. There was something there about Cindy Peterson. I just had to figure out how to bring about the recollection.

  I wandered back into the kitchen. “Just so you know, Lily is allergic to walnuts. If she comes for some more walnut turtles because they’re ‘Harry’s favorite’, please give her the pecan ones instead.”

  Jane sat munching on chips, the discarded remains of a sandwich on paper laid out on the counter. She simply nodded at my words.

  I slid out a stool and hopped up. “Thought you went out for lunch? You were gone long enough.”

  Jane gave pause to her chip chewing. “A thought came up and I went to investigate.” She bit her lip. “Maybe I’m in the wrong line of work. Could you picture me as an investigator?” She smiled, wistful, “you know, maybe like Ms. Marple.” She flicked another chip into her mouth.

  Someone had gotten lost in the mystery section of the library again. Jane loves mystery books, along with conspiracy theories and chocolate? I shook my head. “She wasn’t that type of investigator. She worked for free. Hard to pay the mortgage like that.”

  Jane frowned, her mouth too full of chips to answer.

  I plowed ahead. “The thought you had?”

  She finished chewing. “I thought of someone who might remember Cindy Peterson.”

  “Who?” I asked quickly.

  “The Dubé sisters,” Jane replied with a satisfied smile.

  I had to give her credit. She had a point. Viola and Verna had lived in Merry Hill all their single lives, which made them far more attentive than the casual observer. If anyone might know something, it would be them. “Good point. And?”

  She pointed a chip at me. “You were right. The first name that popped up was Daniel’s.”

  Jane had me intrigued. I reached for a chip but her fingers shoed me away.

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “And maybe a few others.”

  I tried to hid
e my frustration. It only seems to goad her. “And?”

  Jane grinned. “Like George Wilkins.”

  My mouth dropped open. “George Wilkins the grocer?” A picture of dull and uninteresting George popped into my mind.

  Jane nodded. I watched as she grabbed the last chip. “Richard Moya and Michael Kirkwood were also brought up. Viola and Verna said that Cindy talked occasionally about some man she was meeting on the side – spoke of meeting someone out behind the cistern,” Jane shrugged, “whatever that means.”

  “Any details?”

  Jane grabbed up her trash and tossed it in the bin. “Not much. Cindy apparently wasn’t into details. Most of what they gave me was observations and floating gossip at the time.”

  Cisterns? That wasn’t a big help. Cisterns abound plenty around many of the old houses in the area, even today. The names were helpful, though. Richard Moya, the manager of the Butterfield Field Operations, along with his wife, Ramona, have worked for the Butterfields for over twenty-five years. And Charlene’s husband, Michael. I knew it was very likely that Charlene was not privy to this information. I knew this because Michael and she had been a steady couple twenty years ago. If Charlene had known, there would have been a murder in this town years earlier.

  I must have looked stunned. Jane nodded. “I know. Charlene would be mortified.”

  I tapped the counter. “Just before Lily left, she said something strange.”

  Jane frowned. “And this is out of the ordinary because—”

  “Because I asked her about Cindy Peterson.”

  Jane laughed. “You asked Lily about Cindy.” She snickered again. “Come on, Sophie. I’d say my questions were more productive.”

  I frowned. “She did say something interesting. Lily mentioned something about Cindy meeting a man in the dark of the night.”

  “It looks like ‘men’ might be a more correct term,” Jane added dryly. “With work, when did she have the time?”

  That was an interesting thought. Cindy appeared to have been a woman on a mission.