by Louise Lynn
Hazel felt a scowl slip over her lips. “That is completely different, and you know it. I’m not going to talk about this now. I’m hungry, and in case you forgot, I found a dead body this morning.”
That had the desired effect. Esther frowned and patted Hazel’s back. “Fine. I’ll drop it. But don’t act like I should forgive him for things because you did.”
“Deal. As long as you guys stop giving me grief about Sheriff Cross. I’ll stop giving you grief about dad,” she said with a grin.
“That sounds suspiciously like blackmail.” Esther’s voice was low enough that Ruth couldn’t hear.
Hazel shrugged. “It is what it is. Do you agree?”
“Fine,” Esther grumbled.
Ruth was too busy playing with Anthony Ray to even pay attention to their sisterly spat. “Can I carry him out to the car?” Ruth asked, bundling the black cat to her chest.
“As long as you keep the leash tied around your arm. And don’t let go,” Hazel said and walked out with her.
Their parent’s house was on the opposite side of town from Hazel’s own, and it stood right at Lake Celeste’s edge.
In the back, there was a porch with a pier that led to the lake. Though, none of them had used the pier for anything more than lazy summer afternoons. They didn’t actually own a boat, not since Hazel had been quite young, so it was more for aesthetic purposes than anything else.
She got the same sensation she always did as she pulled up to the large two-story house. The dark wood stood out starkly against the snow that surrounded it, but one of the neighbor boys had come over and shoveled the sidewalk that led to the front door. Their mother had a habit of falling on ice. Though, if she was clumsy or didn’t like shoveling snow, Hazel didn’t know. She was willing to bet it might be the latter.
Esther hesitated outside for a moment, while Ruth charged into the house, Anthony Ray gripped in her arms.
Hazel stood with her sister on the stoop and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You can do this. Just –”
“Just try not to ruin you and mom and Ruthie’s excitement?” Esther finished.
It wasn’t exactly what Hazel was going to say, but the sentiment was the same.
The warmth of home flooded over her as she stepped inside, and Hazel realized, as she always did, that she didn’t come to visit often enough. She usually saw her mother at the bakery, her mother’s shop, or the studio. So, driving to her childhood home seemed redundant. But she still missed it.
The house already smelled like pizza, garlic, cheese, sauce, and all the wonderful ingredients from their local place.
She heard her dad before she saw him, his deep grumbly voice as he spoke to Ruth and Anthony Ray in the kitchen.
Hazel hardly realized how quickly she was unbuttoning her coat until she noticed Esther’s raised eyebrows.
“Go on. I’m fine alone,” Esther said, and Hazel wasn’t sure if she meant it or not.
But she also knew she wouldn’t be able to fix the rift between Esther and her dad no matter what she did. That was something they’d have to fix amongst themselves.
Meddling made Esther angrier.
The house was still virtually the same as it was when she was a child, though the living room furniture had been updated since then. A new couch and chairs replaced the old stained ones, and Hazel only remembered sitting on the new ones a few times at Christmas.
The pictures and knickknacks were always growing. Their father sent home boxes of things from his travels, and their mom went to great pains to find a place for all of them. Walls were covered with masks from various African countries, and other interesting artifacts.
Not to mention the pictures.
These weren’t the pictures her father had taken for National Geographic. Instead, they were family photos. Her and Esther as children. Their mom when she was younger.
Hazel’s eyes snagged on each of them as she padded into the kitchen.
“And here’s Hazy,” her mother said and beamed from her spot at the kitchen table. It was already set with the good China—not really needed for pizza—but it was a special occasion.
Her dad’s eyes sparkled when they caught on hers, and Hazel found herself wrapped in a tight hug, his beard rough and scratchy against her cheek. She squeezed him, tightly, and he grumbled, “My little Hazel. Did you grow taller or is it Ruth?”
Hazel shook her head. “I think I stopped growing a few years ago, dad. Just Ruth now.” She smiled at her niece.
Ruth held some sort of intricate toy in her hands and dangled it in front of Anthony Ray, who batted at it slowly, though his eyes were much sharper than his paws let on. If she wasn’t careful, it would be Anthony Ray’s toy before the night was done.
“Sit! We’re all starving. It took ages to get him settled in,” Mom said and motioned for everyone to take their seats at the table.
Hazel didn’t need to be told twice.
Even Esther eventually joined them. She wouldn’t meet their father’s eyes, but she did smile at Ruth and her new toy.
The sort of electric excitement fizzled in the air the way it always did whenever their father came home. Hazel was ready for all the stories he had to tell of his travels. The mishaps that happened along the way. Those were the best part, she always thought. A trip that went far too smoothly was never as interesting.
“Did you go up Mt. Rose?” she asked and dug into her first slice of pizza.
Her father shook his head. “Didn’t want to put the strain on Esther’s SUV,” he said and smiled at his youngest daughter.
Esther did her best to ignore it, which she’d grown remarkably good at in the last twenty years.
Hazel smiled even wider to make up for it. “So? Tell us everything. Indonesia. Has it changed much?”
Her father laughed and dug into his own meal. “Probably. More tourists than there used to be. But we can talk about that later. These ladies don’t want to get bogged down with all my stories. How about you tell me what’s been going on around here?”
Hazel blinked and finished her slice.
Her mom didn’t take long to fill the silence with stories of town gossip, and Hazel happily settled back to listen to them. Even if she knew most of them were reaching in some way or another. Especially when her mother got into complaining about certain bad vibes affecting people around town. “I especially don’t like this violin fellow. What’s his name? Devil something?”
“Ambrose Angel, mom. The opposite of the devil,” Esther said and her voice sounded remarkably normal.
“Yeah I had a shoot with him today. It was interesting,” Hazel said and ripped her pizza crust in two.
Ruth, like usual, didn’t eat the crust, but her mother snagged it.
Hazel smiled.
“Well you might want to steer clear of him. His name might be Angel, but there’s something about him I don’t like,” her mom said and shook her head. “I might have to come sage your studio if he’s been there.”
Hazel groaned, but knew from years of experience that saying no would make her mom more persistent. If she changed the subject, there was a chance she might forget about the sage.
“Are you going to photograph the concert?” her father asked, and Hazel started.
She swallowed the lump of bread in her throat and took a long sip of water to clear it. “I haven’t been hired to yet. And after Ambrose left today without paying, I’m not sure I would want to,” Hazel admitted.
Her father shook his head and wagged his finger. “There are all sorts of clients out there who will try to get away with making you work for free. Remember what I told you?”
“It’s a business, not a charity,” Hazel said with a smile.
Esther grumbled something under her breath, and her mother shot her sister a withering look.
“Speaking of people with terrible energy. I had to tell your father about that nasty old Roberta Martin. I can’t believe the nerve of her. Yesterday, she refused to let Hazel phot
ograph her because of the cat. Scared of cats, can you believe that? She’ll do anything to sabotage my family!”
Her father reached across the table and patted their mother’s arm, his calloused fingers running over her skin in small circles. “Getting worked up about it won’t change anything.”
“Oh, I learned that years ago, but seeing her makes me want to scream.”
Esther cast Hazel a glance, eyes wide.
It sounded as if their mother hadn’t heard the news, and since she’d been in Reno picking up their father from the airport, that was entirely possible.
Which meant, for the second time that day, Hazel herself would have to break it to someone. Though, she knew her mother wouldn’t shriek the way Ambrose had.
Still.
Not a fun proposition.
It turned out she was spared the discomfort because Ruth, her face covered in tomato sauce, sat up straight in her chair. “You mean Mrs. Martin the music teacher? She’s dead. Someone killed her.”
“Ruth!” both Esther and their mom said it once.
Hazel let out a snort of uncomfortable laughter.
“We might not like Roberta Martin, but don’t say she’s dead. Not yet—” their mother added tartly.
Esther frowned. “No, it’s true. Roberta Martin was murdered. Hazel found the body.”
“Oh dear,” their mother said and put her hand to her mouth. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to get a reputation.”
Hazel sat up straight, indignant as Anthony Ray when he got wet. “It’s not like I do it on purpose. The body happened to be there, and I saw it first.”
Their mother waved her hand. “Oh, I know, dear. But Roberta Martin—murdered? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Hazel wasn’t sure she agreed with that, but she decided to focus on her pizza instead.
That was, until the doorbell rang a few minutes later.
“Are we expecting guests?” her father asked and wiped his hands on his napkin.
Her mother shook her head. “Not that I know of. I hope something didn’t happen at the shop. If it’s Tess, let her in.”
Her father nodded and moved toward the front door at the other end of the house, and Hazel felt as if Esther’s tension infected her. The sound of grumbling voices at the door didn’t calm her nerves any.
“I don’t know who you think you are but—” her father said.
“I need to speak with Mrs. Hart. If she won’t come to the station …”
Hazel jumped to her feet. The voice was all too familiar, and her heart throbbed against her ribs. She charged around the corner in time to see Sheriff Cross stepping into the house. He was taller than her father by a few inches, and her father wasn’t a short man. It reminded Hazel that, yes, her father was getting older. He’d always looked so youthful, even with the beard.
Now, she realized, he was aging.
“What’s going on? Do you need to see me?” she said and stared at the sheriff.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “No, not presently. I need to talk to your mother, Maureen Hart. I have reason to believe she may have had something to do with Roberta Martin’s murder.”
Chapter 7
“Is this some kind of joke?” Hazel said and put her hands on her hips. Even though she knew this wasn’t Sheriff Cross’s sense of humor. If he had a sense of humor that didn’t involve teasing her.
“Some information has come to light, and I need to speak with Maureen Hart. No joke,” Sheriff Cross said and his eyes finally flicked to hers, sharp and serious. Though, behind them Hazel swore something else lingered.
She wasn’t sure what it meant. Especially if he didn’t say it out loud.
“Oh, I’m sure this is some silly misunderstanding. I’ll go with the sheriff. You girls stay here and finish up,” her mom said as she bustled out of the kitchen.
She didn’t seem overly concerned, but then, she hardly seemed concerned about anything.
“I’ll drive you,” her father said, voice gruff and gravelly.
With a shuffle of bodies, coats, and car keys, Hazel’s parents slipped out the door. Sheriff Cross gave her the barest hint of a nod before walking after them.
Hazel stood, breathless, as she watched them go. After the headlights faded, she finally shut the door and leaned against it.
Esther stood there, holding Ruth by the shoulders, and Ruth held Anthony Ray to her chest. His belly hung low and exposed, but he didn’t wiggle in her grasp.
“What was that about?” Esther said.
Hazel shrugged. She tried to think if her mother had done anything suspicious recently.
And—yes.
Yes, she had.
“She got into a fight with Roberta the day before she died. I’m sure someone at the school heard and told the sheriff. But it’s nothing,” Hazel said and stomped back into the kitchen.
So, the sheriff had ruined their welcome home dinner. That didn’t mean the pizza had to go to waste.
Esther smiled, though it seemed as fragile as glass. “You’re right. Just a misunderstanding. Mom and Roberta have been at each other’s throats for years and she hasn’t done anything. Why would she start now?” She picked up what Hazel swore was her first slice.
“Is grandma gonna go to jail?” Ruth asked and picked the olives from her own slice.
“No, sweetie. And eat your olives. The police need to have a word with her, but she didn’t do anything wrong.”
Hazel smiled as reassuringly as she could. Though, it felt as fragile as Esther’s own smile.
After all, she’d been in a somewhat similar position before. Although, in her case, the sheriff hadn’t asked her to come in for questioning at the station. And why he did that now, she didn’t know. Probably a procedural thing. She didn’t need to worry about it.
She repeated that to herself ad nauseam over the rest of the evening. After the pizza was done and Ruth started yawning, Esther and Hazel let themselves out and locked up.
Whatever had happened, they’d have to find out the following day.
No use losing sleep over it.
The next morning, Hazel got up earlier than she would have liked, and for once it wasn’t Anthony Ray’s fault. The light had barely turned from black to gray when her eyes popped open. The same lead in her gut from the day before rested there, and she sat up and pushed her hair from her face.
Anthony Ray yawned and blinked at her, his pale green eyes catching the hint of early light from the window near her bed.
“I know. It’s too early to get up, but I can’t sleep.”
With that, she got out of bed and trotted down the stairs of the loft.
It took him a few minutes to follow her, which was saying something. Usually as soon as she got up he did too because the prospect of being fed loomed ever closer. And Anthony Ray was never one to say no to food.
Hazel peered out the French doors that led to her back porch and looked at the snowy predawn morning. Through the trees, she could see the glorious blue waters of Lake Celeste, but it didn’t lighten her heart the way it usually did.
Silly of her to worry. Like Esther said the day before, it had to be a misunderstanding. But she wasn’t going to feel at ease until she talked to her mom about it. Possibly Sheriff Cross too. Though the latter was distinctly more uncomfortable than the former.
Anthony Ray rubbed against her shins and yowled his hungry meow.
“I know. Let’s get you fed.”
As Anthony Ray feasted on his turkey breakfast, Hazel gulped her first cup of coffee. She needed to make it to Celia’s for the second. And possibly the third.
She could always call her mom and ask what had happened, but her parents usually didn’t get up this early. Well, her mother didn’t. And after the evening they’d had, she let them both sleep in.
Hazel looked at her calendar to double-check her appointments. Nothing for that day. Which meant she had plenty of time to track down Ambrose Angel for his payment, and work on Photoshoppi
ng his pictures to perfection.
So, Hazel got dressed—black skinny jeans that Celia insisted she buy the last time they went to Reno. A blue oxford shirt, and a gray oversized sweater thrown on top. The oversized sweater had a revealing V-neck that would’ve looked fine on Celia but made Hazel uncomfortable without wearing something underneath.
She opted for the mustard hat. The one that Sheriff Cross had given her grief about the first time they met. Maybe, if she had to speak to him, it would lessen the tension between them.
Her coat and boots came last.
Anthony Ray looked at her imploringly and licked his chops. “That’s all you get for breakfast. And I’m running errands all day, so you’ll have to stay here,” she explained and dropped down to give him a scratch under the chin.
He accepted, turned, and stalked to the back door to look outside.
With a sigh, Hazel left.
The sun was only coming over the mountains to the east when she reached CATfeinated. Thankfully, the café opened early, because she didn’t want to have to wait for her best friend. Or breakfast. Though, in truth, she could’ve eaten at home.
But that would’ve involved cooking, something Esther excelled at, but Hazel didn’t. Her idea of cooking was putting something in the microwave or pouring something into a bowl and putting milk on top. This morning was not much of a ‘something in a bowl and milk on top’ morning.
Paul, the gentleman who owned the kayak and ski shop next door, was already there when Hazel entered. He leaned against the counter, chatting up Celia in his usual way. His eyes sparkled, and he wore a knit beanie over his closely shorn hair. He had crow’s feet around his eyes, similar to Sheriff Cross, but his good looks were more boyish than handsome.
“It’s really not as bad as it sounds. And there are plenty of opportunities for snuggling,” Paul said.
Celia promptly rolled her eyes. “I can snuggle under blankets at home. I don’t need to sit on the ice to do that.” Then she spotted Hazel and her smile lit up. “Got a new customer, Paul.”
Paul frowned and slunk away like a puppy who’d been scolded.
Hazel gave him a tight smile as he slipped past her.