When No One Was Looking (Sophie McGuire Mysteries)

by Jenny Rebecca Keech

  ‘He knows’ flickered through my brain. I shoved it aside. Of course he didn’t. I shrugged. “Not much. The same old, same old.” I swallowed hard and smiled. Was it my imagination or did his dark eyes narrow slightly?

  “Sure,” he said slowly.

  “Well, I better be getting back,” I said quickly. “Jane will be wondering what happened to me. But you’re right. I’ll be stopping by soon. I’ve got to stay informed.” I patted his arm and slid by, “Bye, Gabe.”

  I made myself wait till I turned the corner before I glanced back. Gabe was still in front of Annie’s, watching me. Crap. I smiled again and waved, then scooted around the corner and out of sight of his far too curious eyes.

  *

  “Jane, have you ever heard of the word, Marabou, in connection with anyone in town?”

  Jane popped her head up from the counter where she was working on mendicants – thin, satiny rounds of crisp perfectly tempered chocolate. She was in the process of garnishing them with candied fruit or blanched almonds. Jane tilted her head, “Isn’t it an animal?”

  “I think you’re thinking about caribou.”

  She looked at me and nodded. “Maybe so. Then I’m afraid that I don’t know. Marabou,” she rounded out slowly, then shook her head. “Nope. Why? Where did you hear it?”

  “It’s not as much where I heard it as it is where I read it.”

  Jane bent back over her task. “What do you mean?”

  “Well.” I slid on a stool and watched her work. “When I went to the grocery, George wasn’t there and Susan had me follow her back to the office. Anyway, you’ll never guess what I found when I looked through George’s top desk drawer.”

  Jane looked at me strangely. “Why were you rummaging through George’s desk and why didn’t Susan have a problem with it?”

  I waved my hand in the air. “She had to go check on something on the list I gave her.”

  “And then you decided to rifle through George’s stuff?” Jane tilted her head. “And for what reason exactly?”

  “I was looking for a pen,” I said in exasperation.

  “Oh, the old ‘I was looking for a pen’ excuse.” Jane frowned. “When did we start suspecting George?”

  “I remembered a few things I needed to add to the list. I didn’t suspect George of anything,” I replied, annoyed for feeling defensive.

  Jane bent back over her work. “Uh, uh.”

  “But I did find something,” I stated softly.

  I had Jane’s attention. She held up one hand, “Hold that thought.” And then quickly finished the tray before her. Finished, she placed the bowl aside, wiped her hands on her apron and came and sat down on a stool beside me.

  “Okay, let’s have it.”

  “I found a note card that looks similar to some that I saw on Rebekah’s writing desk back at the B&B. I thought that was odd so I pulled out the card and read it. The writing inside said something about claiming what was rightfully theirs and was signed, CP. It was written to ‘Marabou’.”

  “But the letter went to George,” Jane asked softly.

  “He had the letter. And it was mailed about a week before Rebekah arrived in Merry Hill.”

  Jane shrugged. “Then George either has to be Marabou or it has to have some connection to him. If you find out what the word means, it will help us figure out if it has a correlation to the letters in the journal. George might be ‘M’. If he is, then the significance of what marabou means might help us figure out who the other letters represent.”

  “And why Rebekah was targeting these people.”

  “And making herself a target at the same time,” Jane interjected. She sighed, “I just have trouble thinking of George Wilkins as a possible murderer.”

  I nodded. “I wish the journal had at least clarified which letter was Rebekah’s father.”

  “It had to be more than finding out about who her father was. I mean, she was grown. Why try now? And to sound so vindictive – signing the notes with her mother’s initials. That was bound to spook out anyone.”

  “You know,” I mused, “if Rebekah had one address to mail a notecard to, she might have had more.”

  “There’s a thought,” Jane said with a wicked smile. “Now we just have to run around town and look for little note cards littering desks.”

  I glared at the sarcasm, even as my eyes caught the clock on the wall. “Oh, darn,” I snapped.

  Jane looked around. “What now?”

  I threw up my hands and pointed toward the clock. “It’s nearly one. I haven’t even started to cook here, much less bake something to drop off at Marissa’s.”

  “She’s a wealthy woman. I really don’t think she’ll starve.” Jane laughed at my look. “Just kidding. Look, go ahead and take off. Head home. I’ve got everything covered on this end.”

  “What about your date?” I asked pointedly.

  “So I close an hour earlier than planned,” Jane said with a shrug. “All I ask from you is one thing.’

  “What?”

  Jane smiled in a pleading manner. “Drop my food off for me, please.”

  “Jane,” I stated emphatically, “I can’t do that. Why can’t you?”

  “Because I don’t have time to do it myself this afternoon and you’re going over there anyway,” Jane stressed with a snort as she turned and picked up the tray of finished mendicants. “It’s not like Marissa and I are best friends or anything. And, you know, it really is the thought that counts.”

  I sighed. “Fine. What am I bringing?”

  Jane grinned and marched across the tiled floor to the huge refrigerators lining one wall. Out of one, she took a medium sized rectangular cake. She quickly wrapped it to go.

  “What is it?”

  She glanced up. “I thought it fitting. It’s a Bittersweet Pavé cake. It’s got this intense sweet whipped cream between layers of dark cake and the coating is a dark bittersweet chocolate. What do you think?”

  I was actually wondering if one could show up to an event like this with one slice missing. But, I didn’t mention that idea to Jane. I just nodded in agreement and took the delicious looking dessert, grateful it was wrapped. It might allow me some decorum in getting it to Marissa’s in one piece.

  Getting to the house proved interesting. I ran back by the grocery and grabbed a few items before walking home with four plastic bags, a purse and a cake. Balance was everything. However, by the time I made the front door, my arms ached from the strain and I debated the use of my head as a banger for the door. Luckily the door was opened by Steven who must have seen me coming. In the background I could hear Paige yelling at Simon to get off a chair before he hurt himself. I looked down a Steven. “Long day?”

  Blue eyes wide, he nodded. “Simon wants to help Paige decide what we’re having for supper,” he whispered in such a serious manner, I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Let’s go help them decide,” I suggested with a wink.

  We both walked into the kitchen. Simon had a chair pushed next to the countertop and an open cabinet. Paige had the frazzled look a teen gets after spending too much time with those younger than they are. Simon was in the process of climbing onto the counter. The dogs sat in expectation close by. They can sense when food is being discussed.

  “Simon,” I stated with quiet authority, “Get off that chair. Dude, Comet, out!”

  The dogs slumped out as Simon hopped down. He landed with a thud on the wood floors. I winced.

  Paige slumped. “Mom, am I glad to see you.”

  I stared at all three and shook my head as I finally managed to set my bundles down and stretch my throbbing shoulders. I rested against the counter and crossed my arms. “Let’s hear it.”

  “I was trying to decide what to fix the little rats for supper. They’re not being cooperative,” Paige said.

  I shrugged. “They’re seven year old boys, Paige. What were you expecting?”

  “How about the slightest help?”

  I chuc
kled. I couldn’t help it. “With what?”

  Paige pointed to Simon. “This one wants hotdogs.” She pointed to Steven. “This one wants chicken fingers. And neither wants to compromise today.”

  “Mom, what’s compromise?” Steven asked quietly.

  “Working together as a team, sweetheart,” I admonished him softly. I turned back to Paige. “There are fish sticks in the freezer.”

  “Fish sticks,” both boys chorused. Paige jumped back a foot.

  “And it’s something they both like. I’d say it’s a win, win situation.” I glanced down at my watch. “You’re not fixing their supper this early are you?”

  Paige glared at the twins. “It started out simply as a discussion till someone had to start trying to climb up chairs.”

  I nodded. “Well, good. Cause it can wait. I need to bake something to take over to Marissa Sutherland’s house.” I glanced at Paige. “I take it that you heard about Seth Sutherland?”

  She nodded. “Some of the teachers were talking about it at school.”

  “Okay. Oh, and Paige?”

  Paige had begun to herd the twins toward the den. She glanced back, “Yeah?”

  “Fix broccoli with the fish, please. There’s some in the freezer.”

  “Oh, mom!” The twins called out.

  Simon the oldest, assumed command of the situation. “How about french fries, mom? They’re good.”

  “Hmmm,” I stated quietly with a raised brow, “You know, last time I saw her in the grocery store, Ms. Butler from the cafeteria told me that most of the time you two pick up pizza and french fries. You’re lucky I haven’t made both of you start carrying your lunch. Bottom line: no fries. Broccoli. It’s good for you.”

  I turned and started pulling groceries out of bags.

  Steven’s voice piped up, “Can we have it with cheese?”

  I swiveled and narrowed my glance in their direction before looking at Paige. “A ‘little’ cheese, got it?”

  Paige nodded with a smile. I turned, surveyed the items on the counter and sighed. “Better get to work, girl.”

  9

  By five o’clock, the food was ready but I was not. I had told my mom I’d be at Marissa’s by five forty-five. I could only imagine the sight I made rushing madly back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom. I finally wound down the hallway by the stairs, slipping an earring in my left ear and a shoe on my right foot while precariously hopping on my left and dodging Comet, who had decided now at all times to wake up and get underfoot.

  I reached down and fondled his ears for comfort. I could hear Paige in the kitchen telling Simon that no, he could not take the fish sticks out of the oven. I shook my head. Not my problem. This mom had all but left the house. As I went by the stairs, the phone rang.

  “I got it,” I yelled. The kids were still so busy arguing I questioned whether they even heard the ring. I picked up the handle. “Hello.”

  “Sophie. Good. I was afraid I’d missed you.”

  “Jane,” I said in surprise. “I thought you’d be getting ready for your date with Daniel.”

  “Well. I got to thinking about it and realized that you were right. I should probably go to Marissa’s with you.”

  I blinked and stared at the phone. I weighed the possibilities. Jane skipping out on a date to come to a visitation. The odds were not in her favor.

  “Either you’re having a fit of guilt, which is unlikely, or Daniel cancelled your date.”

  “Well. I did feel bad about you driving out there all by yourself.”

  “Oh my goodness,” I whispered aghast. “Daniel really did cancel your date.”

  “You don’t have to say it like that. You make it sound horrible,” Jane stated crossly. “He had something come up out on the farm that required his assistance.” I heard a groan. “I hate dedicated farmers.”

  “Could be worse,” I said with a chuckle. “He grows vegetables. He could raise pigs. Or even more fun, turkeys. At least vegetables smell nice.”

  “You’re so funny.”

  “Stop being grumpy. You’re more than welcome to come with me, if you really want.”

  “I’ll be over in five minutes,” she grumbled. “I spent an hour getting ready. I’m in a mood to get out of the house.”

  “Just get over here before I leave you.” I hung up before she could start in on something else. She must be bored silly if she thought going to a country visitation was in the line of fun.

  Of course there had been that funeral for old man Hawkins two years ago. His family’s sort of old fashioned, meaning they don’t believe in embalming. Just sitting up with the dead and putting them in the ground the next day. It happened to be a good thing for the old man. He woke up mid-visitation and almost sent several others to the great beyond in doing so. He’s still sits up with the other men along the waterfront watching them play checkers. I bet with everyone’s hesitation, he’ll probably be dead several days before anyone decides to check it out.

  *

  Jane arrived and we headed out. The ride to Marissa’s was uneventful, with the exception that I heard the full rendition of the conversation between her and Daniel, and then her interpretation on everything he said and how he said it. All of this boiled down to a miserable ride.

  Don’t get me started on Jane and dating. I personally think she’s too picky. It’s not that she won’t date, it’s more that she picks apart the men she does date. I’d talk to her about it but I’m afraid it’ll only open the Thomas Butterfield can of worms. My only reply to her questions about Daniel’s cancellation was that there was every chance that Daniel simply had a problem in the fields that required his expertise. From her expression, because of my words I was now viewed as being on Daniel’s side.

  By the time my car pulled into the gravel road leading up to Marissa’s, it was ten to six and I was all but ready to throw Jane out of the car if she asked me one more time what I thought Daniel meant about anything. I rolled down my window and took a deep breath as I made my way past a line of trimmed Myrtle bushes. The air was fragrant with their fresh cut aroma.

  The Sutherland house truly is beautiful, especially in the evening when it’s lit up. It’s set against the backdrop of the sound and was designed with a feel for the water. There’s a wide veranda on the front and a tall columned porch below it. The windows all have Bermuda shutters that pull out from the bottom for added shade in the heat and protection from the occasional tropical storms.

  It’s a massive house with several wings that jut out from the sides. As we parked off to the side under a myrtle tree, I saw my mom get out of her car parked to the side of us. The spaces in front of the house were full. We climbed out, balancing food in our hands as we went up the walk and were met along the way by my mom carrying her famous fried chicken.

  “Hey, girls.” My mom looked good. She wears elegant casual to perfection and she was dressed in a simple navy knit dress that came to her calves. Pearls wrapped in gold dotted her ears. My mom glanced at Jane with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you, Jane. Sophie said you couldn’t make it. I’m glad to see she was wrong.”

  “Me too,” Jane said with a grin. “Your chicken looks delicious as ever, Ms. Sarah.”

  “Why, thank you, Jane,” my mom replied with a deep southern smile. “If that’s a wiggle for an invitation, I’ll give you a call the next Sunday I’m having it again.”

  “How about this Sunday?” Her chicken was looking good. I slid my chicken pot pie down low, grateful I’d covered it with a nicely embroidered dishcloth. As my mother had always informed me—if you can’t make a good looking dish, at least conceal it with something nice to cover your sin. Next to mom’s and Jane’s dishes, I felt like the ugly duckling.

  My mom shook her head. “I just spent the afternoon frying two birds. You know your dad. He saw me making some for Marissa’s and just had to have some.” She sighed. “I knew I started cooking too late. I should have fried it earlier while he was still in the field.”<
br />
  I laughed. “Sounds like dad. And you would have still had to fry him some. The smell would have been all over the house.”

  When we reached the door, Jane leaned over and rang the bell. A moment later, the Sutherland’s housekeeper Martha opened the door.

  “Come in, ladies,” she said with a soft smile. “Foods off to the first left. Mrs. Sutherland is in the room on the second right with the others.”

  I stepped inside. It’s a gorgeous place. Plenty of gleaming mahogany walls and a glassed ceiling right in the foyer. I followed mom into the room on the left. A table had been set up. It already held a feast. Jane was right. Marissa wouldn’t starve anytime soon. But traditions are traditions and southern ones are paramount. Besides, it would help feed any visiting relatives or grievers. I set my baking plate down and watched as Jane and mom settled theirs among the other wares.

  As we looked over the spread, Effie Rae popped her head through the door. “Hey, ladies, I thought I saw you come in a moment ago.”

  My mom greeted her warmly with a hug. “Effie Rae, it’s good to see you. You been here long?”

  Effie Rae shrugged. “Just long enough to set down food. I was just about to offer my condolences when I saw you arrive.” She grinned at the piled table. “All this good cooking makes me wish this was a church social. It looks too good to just leave it here sitting. I swear it’s a crime.”

  We chuckled at her expression. Mom slipped out to say some words to Marissa and I noticed that Jane was bent over studying a cake on the table. The woman can decipher a dessert with a glance, and the occasional taste. This was not the time for that. Unfortunately, Jane doesn’t always see it that way. I kept my eye on her as I made my way around the table to Effie Rae’s side. A thought had just occurred to me. I had the town book of knowledge right here in front of me. It would be a shame to waste an opportunity. “Effie Rae?”

  Effie, too, was watching Jane’s close attention in regards to the dessert. When I spoke, she turned and gave me a smile. “Yes?”