George looked quickly back toward the store. “Uh, I’m kind of busy right now, Sophie.”
The street was empty and I didn’t see much movement in the store. I was curious if George was more concerned with other people hearing this conversation or his wife? I reached out and touched his arm. “George, I’m just trying to help Johanna. I think part of doing that is trying to understand why Rebekah was here and that seems to lead back to her mother Cindy.”
George took a deep breath and looked around. “Sophie, I think what you’re looking for is over here,” he said loudly as he took my arm and lead me away from the door and around the corner to a bin of tomatoes. He slowly picked one up, wiped it off and looked it over.
George spoke low, “Look Sophie. Susan doesn’t know anything about Cindy. I’d just as soon she not find out,” he muttered. George set one tomato into a paper bag and looked for another.
I looked around casually and bent over the bin. “I don’t plan on telling Susan anything, George. Anything you tell me will just be between us.” I picked up a tomato and handed it to him.
He looked it over, then shook his head and put it down. “Not ready.” George picked up another. “Sophie, I didn’t find Cindy. Cindy found me. She just suddenly showed interest one day. I was helping out at the store, and there she was.” George paused, “She was beautiful, you know. Short blonde hair, golden-brown eyes and dressed to the nines.” He shook his head. “We met several times.” George put the second tomato in the bag.
“Where?”
He motioned wide with his arm behind me. “Where the park area is now, behind the parsonage. It was more wooded back then.”
I nodded and passed him another tomato. “What happened?”
George sighed and shrugged. “We met off and on there for a couple of months. Then, all of a sudden, she dropped me. It was like we’d never met. It was a little strange when I thought about it later. At the time, I was just confused and hurt.”
“Why don’t you want Susan to know?” I asked curiously. “Old girlfriends are just that – old girlfriends.”
George scratched his head. “Because she wasn’t really an old girlfriend.” He leaned closer, “I happened to be dating Susan at the same time.” George shrugged at my wide eyes. “Yeah. Later on she heard a rumor about Cindy and me but she never believed them. I mean, why would a girl like Cindy go out with guy like me?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a couple of bills. “Well. She won’t hear anything different from me.” I handed him the money and grabbed the paper bag.
“Let me get you some change.”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. And George?” I said as I placed the bag in my large purse, “Thanks.”
He shrugged. “I hope you can find something that will help Johanna.”
I nodded as I walked away. When I glanced back, George was still at the tomato bin, staring down. Poor guy. I felt sorry for him. I found myself fighting a growing animosity for Cindy Peterson, a woman who apparently hadn’t minded trampling on people to get what she wanted. The question of the moment: what had she wanted?
A walk down beside the harbor led me by the Dubé sisters’ charter boat office which was closed. Verna and Viola must have had an early boat go out for fishing. I stopped by Robert’s seafood market. The smell of fresh fish wafted on the air. I’ve never minded the odor of the place. It’s always reminded me of the sea and Merry Hill.
Robert was in back, bent over the edge of a pier, cleaning out a crab cage. I’ve always like Robert. He too understands loss. His wife Tina left him two years ago and moved to Raleigh without so much as a word of why. The only clue she left was a note stating she’d suddenly come to the realization that her life wasn’t what she’d envisioned.
The divorce hit Robert hard. The fact that Tina never wants to come see Beth or C.C., her own children, is even harder for him to swallow. Tina married again recently and to a wealthy man with no children. It wasn’t that big of a surprise. All of us received an invitation, but none of us went. We have yet to figure out what makes a mother do that to her own children, much less a good man like Robert.
Robert, in many ways, reminds me of David. He has the same physique and height, but while David’s hair was dirty blond, always in need of a cut, Robert has dark brown hair that seems to remain perpetually short. I have a feeling that his mother Laura cut’s it. She’s the one who taught me to trim David’s hair, when I could get him to stay still long enough.
I stepped out onto the pier. “Robert.”
He looked up and grinned, all the while, his hands kept busy at work. “Sophie. How’s it going?”
I matched the look. “Great. How are the girls?”
Robert sighed. “Into everything. Beth has a boyfriend now,” he stated with a dour look.
Beth’s seven years old, like my twins. I raised an eyebrow. “Really? How about C.C.?”
Robert laughed. “Thankfully, C.C. would still rather punch the little guys than kiss them.”
That’s C.C. My niece is nine. She takes after her father more and loves being a tomboy. She spends all her free time on the boat with him. Beth however, the picture of Tina, prances around in fancy dresses and bows, things C.C. looks at in horror.
I chuckled. “Look, I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking the boys to Reeve’s Field this year and if you get the chance, mention that to your mom. It would be nice if we could share the day, let all the grandparents moon over our children.”
“Glad to know that I’m not the only one getting flak about visits with the grandkids.” Robert nodded. “Yeah, I’ll let her and Katie know. I’m sure they’ll want to make plans to see the boys. That way, our kids can get together to play.”
I drew back in mock seriousness. “Am I getting flak?”
Robert set the crab cage he’d just pulled up on top of several others and turned to look at me. “Nah,” he said with a grin. “Trust me. If anyone knows how quickly time passes during the day, it’s me.” He gave me a half-grin. “Did I just hear you say you’re taking the boys to Reeve’s Field? You flying the kite, Sophie?”
I sighed, “Not you too.”
Robert chuckled and held up his hands. “Not another word. I promise.”
I gave him a narrowed glance but bit my tongue as I waved goodbye and headed back toward the street. I could have sworn I heard him chuckle and gritted my teeth. Apparently there was a good chance that the entire town was going to show up to see the affair of my kite flying debacle.
The pier was lively. People were fishing or leaning over to look into the water. Some just sat out for the sun and breeze. There was a covered brick walkway where the storefronts began that overlooked the waterfront, providing shade for people sitting in the benches and chairs littering the area.
Through one of the large windows of Confections, I watched Adrienne Gaspari serve a customer. Adrienne and her husband Julian moved here from Louisiana about five years ago. He’s a contractor and has done a lot of work for the Merryweather Corporation out at SeaWatch. Julian also does small jobs for individuals. Adrienne loves desserts such as pastries and cakes like Jane and I like chocolate. Her shop is set up more along the lines of seating and serving customers with the addition of various teas and strong coffees. There’s even a door in the back that connects it to Briars and Brambles, the bookstore run by Leah and Neely Briarcliff.
Right past her is the Merino Café, owned by Victor and Olivia Merino, who moved to Merry Hill about three years ago from upstate New York. They brought the old Butler place at the end of my street and renovated it completely. It’s a gorgeous place now. Especially around the holidays, as Olivia likes to decorate.
The Merino Café is a fine dining establishment that’s done well with the locals and tourists alike. Between the café and our shop is what used to be an old alley that ran between the two big buildings housing all the shops. Merryweather saw to it that the alley was converted as part of a renovation plan. The c
oncrete was torn up and dirt put in, along with plants and sod. It’s now a mass of green with ivy along the walls, plants and statues, and lights at night. It actually turned out quite beautiful.
Not that I don’t still think Merryweather is up to something. However, one investigation is all I can keep on my plate at a time so I hurried down the street to the store.
I had opted out on a visit to Johanna’s this morning. She didn’t need to know what Jane and I had done; at least until I had something more concrete to show, like Rebekah not being a Butterfield. Jane was at the front counter when I came in. I blinked in surprise, “Wow. What gives?”
She shot me a sour look. “There are these people called customers.”
I ignored her sarcasm. “Well, I’m glad to see your morning was productive. So was mine.”
Jane’s grim look vanished and her green eyes brightened. “Really?” She closed the register with a bang and leaned on the counter. “What did you find out? Who’s Rebekah’s father?”
“It wasn’t that productive,” I stated with a dark look.
“Oh, well.”
I slid my purse off my shoulder and set it on the counter. “Well, to start with…”
*
I could see the excitement growing in Jane as I finished telling her everything about the morning.
“So the ‘M’ in the journal isn’t Richard. Does that mean it stands for Michael Kirkwood?”
We were back in the kitchen for privacy, eating chocolate tarts and sipping coffee that appeared would have to suffice for lunch. “Well,” I argued, “If we go with that theory, then the ‘B’ wouldn’t stand for Tom Butterfield.”
“True,” Jane said with a nod, “But remember, everyone you talked to seemed to think that there was no way that Tom could be the father.”
“‘Everyone’ includes Richard Moya and Johanna Butterfield. Both of which have strong alliances with the Butterfields. I’m not certain how much their word can be trusted.”
She persisted. “So, you think they’re wrong and the ‘B’ does stand for Tom. Doesn’t that kind of mess with the ‘M’ theory?”
“Arrgh.” I stood and stretched. “These new clues only tell us the puzzle is bigger than we thought and the picture is still undecipherable.” I rubbed my eyes. “It’s like finding out you bought a thousand piece puzzle instead of a hundred piece one and nothing seems to fit together.”
“Except Cindy was a tart,” Jane said with a waggle of her brows as she bit deep into said item. “Maybe we just need to have all the puzzle pieces so we can see what it has the possibility of making,” she spoke while chewing. “I wonder if Kate has heard anything,” she mused.
“Jane Thompson,” I spoke up sharply, “You heard what I told George Wilkins. You tell Kate anything and so help me, I’ll tell Johanna that you’re the one who wrote Thomas’ phone number in black marker all over the girl’s bathroom in twelfth grade.”
Jane drew back and narrowed her eyes, “You wouldn’t dare.”
I crossed my arms. “You tell Kate anything about what we’re doing and I will. Besides, the less people that know what we’re doing, the better.”
Jane’s lips flattened. She threw up her hands. “Fine. But she’s good at theories.”
I groaned aloud. “Please, don’t start.” I gave Jane a straight stare. “We’ll figure this out. We may just have to do a little more digging, that’s all.”
“Digging? Who’s next on your list?”
“I was thinking about Daniel Wolfe,” I said slowly.
Jane frowned. “Do we have to start with Daniel?”
“What’s wrong with Daniel?” I asked.
She suddenly twisted anxiously on her stool. “It’s just that we have a date for tonight. I don’t know. Asking him about his past might kind of ruin it and put him in a bad mood.”
“Jane, the man might be Rebekah’s father. He could be a killer!”
Jane squirmed more, “Yeah, but couldn’t we wait till tomorrow to find that out?”
I thought about pounding my head into the countertop but it seemed counterproductive. Unbelievable. “Jane, Jane, Jane. What am I going to do with you?” I sighed. “Fine. Go out with Daniel.” I pointed a finger in her direction, “But just as long as you know, he’s not off our potential suspect list.”
Jane held up her hands. “I have no problem with that, just as long as we continue that line of thought another day.” Her look turned thoughtful. “Hey, you mentioned George Wilkins. That reminds me: the company called and said our supplies were going to be a day late. They won’t be here till tomorrow. I’m going to need a few things to tide me over till then. Can you run to the grocery and pick them up for me?” She shrugged. “I had planned to do it but I’d just as soon stay here and work.” Jane grinned, “I’ll even man the register.”
That is how I found myself out on the street, headed for the grocery. I kept my head down as I tiptoed by Southern Comfort. When I walked into the grocery however, it wasn’t George I ran into, it was Susan.
“Sophie, good afternoon.”
I returned the smile she gave me. “Hey, Susan. Jane and I have a small order we were hoping you could fill. Our truck’s running a little late. It won’t be here till tomorrow.”
Susan nodded quickly. She turned and waved for me to follow. “Let’s go in George’s office. He had to run out for a second. I’ll get a pad to write everything down.”
I followed her in, all the while rummaging in my purse for the list. “Actually, if you can read Jane’s writing, you can use this.” I passed the list over.
Susan perused the crinkled paper I handed her. She frowned and tapped it. “Let me see about the eggs and sugar quantity. I want to make certain that I can fill it without completely depleting our supply before our own truck comes in.”
“No problem.”
Susan waved to a chair. “Sit. I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.” She walked out, leaving me alone.
I looked over the office. It was small but ordered, for the most part. I was about to sit when I remembered another few extra items I hadn’t written down. I looked over the desk for a pad. I didn’t see a pen so I slid open the top drawer to look. A familiar glint of blue caught my attention.
I set the pad down on the desk and reached into the drawer, pulling out by one corner what appeared to be a note card. It was covered with the print of a blue hydrangea and a dark swirled pattern along the edge. Where had I seen such a pattern?
An image of Rebekah’s motel room flashed in my mind. The desk. Rebekah had note cards similar to this one on the writing desk. There had been several missing from the pack on the desk. It seemed too coincidental that George would have a similar note card. It had to be relevant.
I hesitated. It was someone’s personal correspondence. Then I thought of the person framing Johanna, and flipped it open. There wasn’t much. It read, ‘I’m coming back to claim what’s rightfully mine, Marabou. You’ll see soon enough.’ It was signed, ‘CP’. I reached back into the desk and pulled out the white envelope the card had come in. George’s address was written in bold print and there was postage across the top corner. According to the date, it had been mailed about a week before Rebekah showed up.
I tapped the letter against my temple and thought. Marabou? What was Marabou? A light clicked on. Was this the ‘M’ in the journal? I sighed. What kind of game had Rebekah been playing? It still didn’t make sense; just shed light on even more things to complicate the issue.
It meant that other people beside Johanna had known something was up even before Rebekah had showed up that Monday morning at Annie’s. I reached for the pad and copied the wording down exactly, then slid the card and envelope back into the drawer. It wouldn’t do for George to find it missing. This was information he hadn’t wanted me to know. Suddenly, George was back firm on the suspect list.
I heard the sound of shoes returning and tucked the notes I had taken in my pants’ front pocket. When Susan came through
the door, I was in the process of writing several items down. “Susan, I just remembered these,” I said as I passed the second list over.
Susan glanced down, then nodded. “These shouldn’t be a problem. And neither should the amount of eggs and sugar you need.”
“Do what you can for us. You know we appreciate it. When can you have the materials ready?”
Susan pursed her lips. “Tell Jane I can probably have it over there in about…umm, an hour, I think. We’re closing early to go over and see Marissa but none of this should be a problem.”
I nodded and slung my purse over a shoulder. “Perfect. I’ll let her know. And thanks, Susan.”
“No problem.”
Susan followed me out to the front. As I left the store, I was in such deep thought I nearly collided with Gabe as he exited Annie’s.
“Whoa. Earth to Sophie.”
I blinked and looked up at him in surprise. “Oh, hello, Gabe.”
He gave me a strange look. “You okay?”
Sure. My best friend’s been framed for murder and now I find that people in this town are hiding secrets; people I never would have suspected. For a second I thought about spilling my guts. I had more than I’d had Monday morning after Rebekah’s death. But was it enough? I knew what Gabe would say: stay away, let him deal with it. But this was Johanna’s life that hung in the balance. I couldn’t stay away.
And that meant, for now, leaving Gabe in the dark. “I’m fine. Sorry about that.” I grinned sheepishly. “I was putting a list together and maybe that’s not the best thing to do while walking down the street.”
Gabe’s stare was watchful. “I was surprised. You haven’t been by the station. With the trouble that Johanna’s in, I would have thought you’d been in for daily updates.” He tilted his head. “What have you been up to?”
When No One Was Looking (Sophie McGuire Mysteries) Page 15