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When No One Was Looking (Sophie McGuire Mysteries)

Page 12

by Jenny Rebecca Keech


  “Lily add anything else?”

  I shook my head. “You know Lily. Answers come in flashes for her. But wouldn’t it be interesting if she could enlighten us about Cindy’s mystery man?”

  Jane snorted. “Good luck on that.”

  I tried not to let Jane’s discouragement follow me into the afternoon. Something about the way Lily had spoken had struck a nerve. There was something more to be discovered. I was still dwelling on this fact later that afternoon when Jane popped out of the kitchen. She held several trays.

  “Here. Something new to place.” Jane set them on the counter and waved her hand over the contents. “Instead of truffles, I decided to try this new fruit and nut mixture rolled in sweet dark chocolate. Oh, and I’ve already packed and put the Triple Mouse Delight Selene Butterfield ordered for her mother’s ladies’ meeting in the cooler.”

  I tried one of the dark, shiny balls. I chewed softly, letting the taste unravel in my mouth. “Not bad.” I reached for another. “Maybe I can talk Selene into a box of these to take with her; you know, introduce them to the women at the meeting.”

  Jane smacked my hand. “Stop that. For paying guests only,” she admonished.

  I grinned and ignored her. “Consider this sample testing. Besides, I bet you left a few in these in the kitchen.”

  “Can I help it if they wouldn’t all fit on that specific tray?” Jane grumbled.

  I noticed that she kept silent about the second ball of chocolate I popped into my mouth. Definitely worth mentioning to Selene, I thought.

  Jane glanced around. “How come I don’t hear the patter of little feet?”

  I slid the tray away before I grabbed another. “Paige is watching them in the afternoon for the rest of the week.”

  “Oh,” she said in surprise, “that’s nice of her.”

  “Not really,” I said, eyeing the tray of treats now just out of reach. “She’s being punished for coming in late on a school night.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “Paige? That’s not like her.”

  “Well, two words. Greg Briarcliff.”

  Jane held up her hands. “Say no more. That explains a lot.” She gave a chuckle. “Boy that brings back memories.”

  I smiled in agreement. “True.”

  The door dinged and who should walk in but Elizabeth Sauls, followed by her nine year old daughter, Holly. When one sees Elizabeth for the first time, newspaper reporter and editor aren’t really what come to mind. She’s beautiful, with long curly blonde hair that falls past her shoulders and vivid pale blue eyes. The eyes are the clue to her true nature. They’re intelligent and intent on whatever they come into contact with.

  Elizabeth graduated a few years after me. Her big dreams and plans pulled her away from Merry Hill right after high school, until about four years ago when she suddenly showed up with her daughter in tow. That would be Holly, who is already her mother’s younger image. And she still has the Sauls name, which caused ever so slightly a little tongue wagging when she returned to work for her father, Caleb at the paper. Caleb Sauls died three years ago. Elizabeth has run the paper ever since.

  Holly automatically went to stare through the glass of the displays. Completely normal – done by every child who enters through our doors. I’d worry about them if they didn’t. They leave these adorable nose prints along with finger smudges. Jane occasionally grumbles but this has never bothered me. Adults – now that’s another story. As I watched Holly’s intense observation of my chocolates out of the corner of my eye, Elizabeth strolled nonchalantly up to the counter. I gave a nod and attempted a pleasant smile. “Elizabeth.”

  Jane watched silently, her eyes flickering between Elizabeth and me. She was more than likely uncertain about how I felt about Elizabeth ever since the news article. She needn’t have worried. I was a rationale person capable of recognizing that Elizabeth had a job to do and that if someone had to print what had happened on Monday night, it might as well be her. At least the words spoken had been the truth with no speculation. I couldn’t help if the truth looked so bad on Johanna.

  Elizabeth returned the smile. “Holly wanted a treat. I gave her the option of Confections or here.”

  Jane grinned. She peered over the counter and winked at Holly. “I always knew your daughter had taste.”

  Holly looked up from the display case. “Uhmmm, chocolate,” she giggled with a wide grin.

  Elizabeth shrugged. “You’re in luck. She’s in the mood for chocolate.”

  Jane walked over to the case Holly was near and bent down to advise her on a selection. I noticed she was wiping the glass with her apron as she and Holly moved down the line and smothered a snicker. A motion of cloth reminded me of my customer. I tapped my finger on the counter. “So how’s work going?”

  Elizabeth laughed softly. “Oh come off it. I’m not searching a story. If I was, I’d let you know and not use my daughter.”

  “It’s good to know you have your limits.”

  She sighed. “So you are angry about the story on Tuesday?”

  I opened my mouth. Then closed it. I tried again. “No, I’m not. Not really, just frustrated that a good friend of mine appears so guilty in front of everyone and that even though you printed the truth, it has probably helped solidify how people feel.”

  There. It was out. Maybe Elizabeth was right. Maybe I did feel out of sorts.

  “Sophie, I’m not trying to injure Johanna. I’m just doing my job. There was no malicious intent.”

  I leaned close and lowered my voice. “Well, right now your job sucks.” Jane gave us a quizzical glance. I raised my head back up and smiled back. “Find what you want, Holly?” Jane glared but went back to helping Holly. She does hate missing out.

  “If it makes you feel better, you’re not the only one who has a hard time believing Johanna guilty of murder. It really isn’t like her. Besides I can’t picture Johanna being cold-blooded enough to take you back to the scene of the crime so that you could help her discover the body.”

  “Then why don’t you print something about it so people might start looking elsewhere?” I whispered angrily.

  “People, or Gabe?” Elizabeth shrugged. “The problem is that I have no proof there is anyone else. Tell me, Sophie, whose head would you like me to lay on the chopping block?” Her eyes narrowed. “Now you’re starting to sound like the Butterfields. And I’ve heard enough from them over the last day to last a lifetime.”

  I was frustrated. She was right. As much as I hated seeing Johanna’s name in print, I had no proof to connect anyone directly to Rebekah’s death. Her mother’s possible boyfriends weren’t concrete enough. They were just rumor and innuendo. “I take it the Butterfields are causing a stir.”

  “The Butterfields? A stir?” The sarcasm was thick as undiluted chocolate.

  Holly rose from her squatted position and pointed. “That one.”

  Jane followed the finger’s angle. “Good choice. One chunky chocolate brownie with frosting coming up.”

  Elizabeth winced at the words. At least she didn’t mind Holly enjoying life as a kid should – chocolate, candy and all. Holly accepted her wrapped goodie. Her mother pulled out several dollars and laid them on the counter.

  I opened the drawer and gave her change.

  Elizabeth brushed her hand tenderly across her daughter’s hair. “Let’s go, muffin.”

  Holly grinned upwards. “I’m not a muffin. I’m a brownie,” she said, holding her bag high.

  “Of course, little brownie. Just remember the rule: only after you eat a good and healthy supper tonight. Clear?”

  Holly gave a nod and pranced in front of her mother to the door. Elizabeth opened it but turned back, “Let me know if you hear anything, Sophie. If it’s factual, I’ll print it.” The door swung shut behind her.

  Jane leaned on the counter. “What was that about?”

  “She stopped by to see if I was angry about the article.”

  “And?”

  I groaned and
let my face drop into waiting hands propped upon the counter. “And to let me know she’d print anything factual that countered the damning information.” I looked up and motioned toward the door. “You heard her. She emphasized the word ‘factual’.

  Jane drummed her fingers across the counter with a suspiciously concentrated look upon her face. I narrowed my eyes. “What are you thinking about Jane Thompson?” I pointed one finger with intensity. “And don’t tell me, nothing. I’ve seen that look before.”

  She stopped her fingers, her look thoughtful. “Well, you heard what Elizabeth said.”

  “Huh.”

  Jane rolled her eyes as if she was dealing with a simpleton. “If she has factual information about another possible suspect, she’ll print it. That’s what she just said.”

  “I heard her,” I ground out in exasperation, “Jane—”

  “And it would help draw the heat off Johanna—”

  “Jane,” I stated tightly, “What do you have planned?”

  The innocent smile she shot me did nothing to dispel my disquiet. “Finding some factual evidence, of course.” She shrugged. “Unless you’d rather Johanna rot in jail for something she didn’t do. I mean, you know Jo and I aren’t friends. My concerns were more for you than her.” Jane stared at me with a blank look and blinked.

  Right. I know when I’m being set up. However in this instance, she was right. We had to do something to help prove Johanna innocent. I just had this rising certainty that I was in no way going to like her next words. Still, when your choices were narrowed down to either bad or worse, bad was good, right?

  “Let’s hear it,” I muttered, grimacing.

  She grinned. “Why don’t we make certain that Gabe didn’t miss anything? You know,” her voice lowered, “check out the scene of the crime.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious,” I stated incredulously.

  “Of course I’m serious.” Jane actually looked perplexed by my reaction. “I overheard Charlene at Annie’s when I stopped to grab my sandwich. Charlene said how grateful she was that they were coming to box that dreadful woman’s stuff up so she could finally get in the room.”

  I blinked. “They haven’t let her back in yet?”

  “Well it hasn’t been quite two days yet but that’s not the point. We can go and look over the room.”

  “A room that Gabe has already looked over,” I grated.

  Jane raised a finger in point, “But Gabe was leaning in Johanna’s direction when he did the search. We are looking for another killer.”

  “You think they’re still hiding under the bed or something?” I asked. My eyes widened. “Oh! Maybe Gabe forgot to look in the bathtub.”

  My words hadn’t even dented. I could tell immediately. Encouragement was not what Jane needed at this moment. It would take little to send her off on this crazy idea. “I don’t see where any of this matters. We can’t get into the room. It’s locked and I’m certain that the Sheriff’s department is the only one with the key by now.”

  Jane chuckled. “No problem. I’ll pick the lock.”

  We had now left reality. “You want to what?” I asked in shock. Jane had finally lost her mind. “Just how do you propose to do that and with what?” My voice rose, “And when did you learn to pick a lock?”

  She bit her lip and started the tapping motion again.

  “Jane,” I said threateningly.

  Jane grimaced. “Uh, Kate taught me and I bought a set off the internet.” She said this in an ever lowering tone that ended in a near whisper.

  It was apparent I needed to set limits for someone’s access to the outside world. If I didn’t, it wouldn’t be long before a trench coat and sunglasses joined the fray. Still, my curiosity won out. “How and where did Kate Walden learn to pick a lock?”

  Jane must have seen I was about to blow. She answered quickly. “Pete taught her when they were on a date.” She also said it as simply as if Kate had suddenly learned to tie her shoelaces.

  I blinked again. The surprises kept coming. “Let me get this straight. Pete teaches his dates how to break into locked rooms?” I tilted my head. “You think there might be a moral issue here: a deputy teaching someone how to break and enter?”

  “I think he just wanted to impress her.”

  “That impresses her?” I asked, amazed.

  She shrugged again. “It would Kate. I mean, it did Kate, She’s gone out with him three times now.”

  I laughed. “You’re right, a record for Kate.” I held up my hands. “And please don’t tell me what she learned on the other dates. I’m honestly afraid to ask.”

  “So,” Jane asked? “How about tonight?”

  “You’re serious?”

  Jane gave me a serious glare. “Come on, Sophie, for Johanna.”

  For Johanna. The words reverberated in my skull. I tried to ignore them. I was the steady one. I didn’t do stupid, quick thinking actions. I thought things out. I let rationale rule the day, except rationale was saying that Johanna was going to go to jail if nothing new turned up. For once, I decided to forget rationale. I looked straight at Jane. “You’re on.”

  7

  By ten that night, I had started to question the intelligence behind this cock-eyed plan of Jane’s. The itch between my shoulder blades wouldn’t go away. I had this feeling that somehow he knew. I could feet Gabe’s eyes staring down my back. I could just picture him asking in that quiet voice of his, what exactly did you think you were doing? And he had a point. Well, he would have a point. Still, here I was, committed to the plan. On second thought, perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of wording. It sounded like something Judge Harrington might say if I tried to explain this set of circumstances in which I now found myself.

  When Jane walked through the front door of A Stone’s Throw to talk to Charlene at the front desk I felt a wave of lightheadedness. It was very obvious I lacked the substance of Sam Spade. Standing, shivering on the side porch, I watched through the window as Charlene and Jane talked. Several seconds later, Charlene and Jane went out of the room and into the office.

  My cue. I took a steadying breath, opened the door and slid inside. A murmur of muted voices came from the den but there was no one in the foyer. I tried for casual as I made for the stairs, taking the carpeted treads two at a time. At the top I stopped and took a ragged breath. Everything was quiet.

  The walk down the hall reminded me of Monday night. I shivered again, waited for someone to open a door and ask me what I was doing. But it was late enough that most people had settled in, everything being closed and all. Only during the holidays and special festivals, like the Sweethearts Walk, did Merry Hill have what one might term nightlife. I stopped by the exit door at the end of the hall and shivered nervously. I couldn’t seem to get rid of the cold.

  Jane had been picked to talk to Charlene because Jane being mobile at ten p.m. was nothing new, unlike me. Besides, I doubted that I was a face Charlene wanted to see anytime soon. It was Jane’s designated job to draw Charlene’s attention away from my presence by getting her into the back office on the pretense of delivering an invoice for her daughter, Melissa’s, upcoming birthday party.

  My eyes flickered to the door to the left, vivid yellow tape still stretched tight, before I glanced to the door to the right. I doubted that Charlene would have wanted to put someone in a room close to a murder scene. The yellow tape wasn’t pretty. It was a reputation A Stone’s Throw wanted to avoid. I had, more than once, heard Charlene declare her bed and breakfast would not be known for some famous person dying in one of its beds. I’m sure she was including infamous and anonymous individuals in that group when she spoke. I placed my hand on the knob and turned it slowly, at the same time hoping I might explain away my presence as maid service if there was an occupant.

  The door swung open with a swish from wood on carpet. Nothing. No one. I breathed a sigh of relief, slipped inside and waited. After twenty minutes of pure adrenaline and rising ire, I was abo
ut to take to the back stairs when a slight tapping noise came to my ears. I opened the door I’d kept slightly cracked and in my haste, pushed hard on the outer exit door.

  Jane must have been pulling on it. The door shot open and Jane stumbled back. There was a thud as she hit the back railing. I winced. We both froze in anticipation of discovery. After a moment of holding my breath, I slowly released it when no one appeared in the hall. Jane slipped in, patted my arm and eased the door close. She turned to me and grinned with two thumbs up. Unbelievable. For some odd reason, an image of Lucy and Ethel popped into my head. I hustled her into the room.

  “Where have you been?” I hissed.

  Jane gave a shrug. “How was I supposed to know Charlene would want to add to her order?”

  “You were taking an order?” I whispered, aghast.

  “Well, it would have looked a little strange if, after I gave her the bill and asked about additions, I just up and left for no reason.” She smiled in glowing excitement. “Besides, it was a good order.”

  My smile was frozen. “Great. Maybe Gabe will let you fill it from jail.”

  Jane apparently was just discovering my annoyance. She frowned and sniffed. “There’s no reason to be in a snit. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Sure, only after you’ve about given me a heart attack with the wait. You weren’t the one who would have to explain her presence.”

  “Do you want to do this or not?” She muttered.

  I pointed across the hall and pushed at her shoulder. “Just go.”

  Jane stuck her head out into the hall. Satisfied, she dashed across the short space like a scurrying rat. Make that a crab walking scurrying rat. She pulled out a small package and went to work. Five minutes later, just when I was about to grab her by the back of her collar and drag her through the exit door, I heard an audible click.

  Jane’s head shot up. “I did it,” she exclaimed in surprise as she stared at the knob in front of her face with a look of awe.

  I raised one brow. “Jane,” I slid out slowly, “Why do you sound surprised?” I narrowed my eyes at her as a particularly nasty thought crept in.

 

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