by Louise Lynn
“What the?” Hazel muttered and flipped through it. There were more photos of a young Maureen pre-Hart. Back when she was Maureen Leibowitz. Her and Roberta swimming in Lake Celeste in the summer. Pictures of them on a boat. Pictures of them on a camping trip. Pictures of them graduating from what looked like high school.
She saw all of the photos, laid out in that old dusty album, and yet her brain couldn’t quite fathom what it meant.
“You were friends with Roberta Martin?”
Her mother buried her nose in her coffee and took a long sip before she answered. “See. This is what I knew they’d do. Yes. Back before Roberta became what she became, we were dear friends. Best friends if you will.”
The next few sets of photos were of a wedding, Roberta’s own to the man Hazel had always known as her husband. Maureen stood as a maid of honor in a pink fluffy dress, while Roberta Martin looked impossibly young in her own bridal gown.
The caption under the photo read: Robbie’s wedding 1975.
The first letter from Joey W was dated 1977.
So, Hazel had been right. Roberta had been married at the time the affair started.
“This is a couple years before she started having that affair.”
Her mother nodded, and her father rubbed his wife’s back. “Yes. It is. And that’s the reason we had a falling out. She insisted on keeping it secret and claimed that if I was her best friend, I wouldn’t judge her about it. Well, you know what she acted like. Holier than thou Roberta, and yet she cheated on her husband for over ten years.”
With this new information, Hazel started looking at the puzzle again.
If Celia had married and then insisted Hazel keep quiet while she cheated on her husband, Hazel wasn’t sure what she would’ve done. But she didn’t think it would’ve been much different from what her mother had done. Even though she knew Cece would never do such a thing.
Still, keeping an affair secret was enough to flame that sort of vitriol for years?
“That was it? An affair?”
Her mother tapped her fingers on the knit tablecloth. “Well, it started out with me being sickly disappointed with her. And then, as the years went on, she got nastier. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized the reason why. You see, Roberta was talented as a musician, though not so much as the Ambrose Angel fellow claims to be,” her mother said and shuddered. “But she married so young that I think she blamed her husband for trapping her in Cedar Valley.”
Hazel snorted. “That’s not an excuse to have an affair. Or blackmail someone over it.”
Both her mother and father blinked at that.
“Blackmail?” her father said.
“Who?” her mother said at the same exact moment.
Hazel smiled. “You don’t know? I thought that was one of the reasons you were mad at her. You knew about the blackmail.”
Her mother shook her head and her eyes widened. “Oh. I suppose that does make sense. That’s why you think Joseph Warner killed her?”
Hazel stood up to pace. Anthony Ray wound himself around her ankles to get revenge for being shooed from her lap. “Yeah. She was blackmailing Joseph Warner for years. I think she was threatening to tell his wife about it. And he didn’t want that to happen.”
Her mother nodded.
Her father rubbed his beard. “That seems like a good enough motive for murder. Do we have any proof?”
Hazel sighed and sat back down. “Not if Joseph Warner isn’t talking.”
Her mother nodded. “Perhaps I can get him to say something. Though, I’m not sure if he’ll confess to a murder.”
Hazel was about to agree to this when a loud knock sounded at the door, and that knot that had slowly begun to untie, wound itself back up.
She answered it, and her breath stuck in her throat as she stared at the person she didn’t want to see. Or, maybe she did want to see him. That butterfly fluttered around, and her veins felt warm, but still. She knew why he was here.
And it wasn’t for her.
“Sheriff Cross. We were actually going to come down to the station to talk to you and—”
His expression looked serious. “Can I come in?”
She held the door open, and Anthony Ray took the chance to wind around his ankles.
He bent down and gave the cat a scratch under his chin before following Hazel deeper into the house. He still hadn’t said what this was about, but Hazel knew.
The letters.
He was going to take her mother down to the station for another chat, and probably accuse her of murder again.
“Oh, Sheriff Cross! Would you like some oatmeal? Maybe some coffee and orange juice?” her mother asked but went on before the sheriff could answer. “Is this about those letters? I can explain. It has nothing to do with murder, and everything to do with an old secret Roberta was keeping. And you see, it’s silly now, but we were such dear friends when she broke my trust like that, and then she was blackmailing Joseph Warner, you could see how the whole thing was a mistake, right?”
Hazel watched the sheriff’s eyebrows rise with each revelation, and at the end he shook his head. “You mean the anonymous ones? You wrote those? Figures. Actually, I’m not here because of the letters. I saw Hazel’s truck in your drive, and I’ve been trying to call her.”
Hazel started and shoved her hand in her pocket for her phone. The ringer was off. She forgot she turned it off when she went on walks, so it wouldn’t disturb her in the middle of a picture. She gave him a sheepish grin and turned it back on. Then her hands brushed against a pair of keys also in her pocket.
Oh no. Those were Bobby Martin’s keys to the house, and she hadn’t returned them the night before. They’d been so busy taking Joseph Warner to the station, and she’d been trying to figure out what to do about her mother’s letters, that it completely slipped her mind.
“What is this about,” her father asked and squeezed his wife’s shoulders.
Sheriff Cross drew in a long breath. “While all of this information is incriminating, we don’t think Joseph Warner is the one who killed Roberta Martin.”
Hazel frowned. “What? Why not? He has the perfect motive and—do you think it was Mrs. Jeffries?”
The sheriff frowned, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “She actually has a solid alibi for that morning. She was at an early morning dentist’s appointment, and the dentist and dental hygienist confirmed it. So did two other patients.”
Hazel’s heart fell to the floor. He might as well have stomped on it.
He was about to anyway, when he accused her mother of murder a second time.
“So why don’t you think Joseph Warner did it?” her mother asked and leaned across the table on her elbows.
Sheriff Cross finally looked at Hazel. “Because he’s dead.”
Chapter 15
Mrs. Jeffries had a solid alibi and Joseph Warner was dead, so Hazel was back at square.
What a way to start the day.
Sheriff Cross didn’t seem predisposed to talk about the details of Joseph Warner’s demise in front of Hazel’s parents, so she invited him to follow her to her studio, where she needed to finalize the pictures for Ambrose Angel and print them for his arrival.
Michael had already opened the studio by the time she arrived, and he stood in the foyer wringing his hands.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she removed her coat and hung it on the rack near the door.
Michael dropped his eyes to keep from meeting the sheriff’s gaze. “Well, some guy was here looking for you. And he said he’d be waiting at Celia’s.”
Some guy?
Oh. Right.
“It’s probably Bobby Martin. I’ll go give him his keys, and you can sit in my office with Anthony Ray,” Hazel said and handed the black cat to Sheriff Cross.
Anthony Ray gave the sheriff a look of smug superiority as the man carried him into Hazel’s office and shut the door.
“What’s going on?” Michael whispered as Hazel sl
ipped her coat back on.
“There’s been some complications in the Roberta Martin case.”
Michael blinked. “Does he still think your mom did it? Or did she really do it?”
Hazel frowned. “Of course not! But … never mind. Are Ambrose’s pictures ready?”
Michael nodded. “They’re on your computer waiting for your final okay. I emailed him the thumbnails, and he approved. Said he’d be by today to pick them up sometime before the concert.”
The concert was tonight too. With everything else going on, Hazel had completely forgotten.
She rushed back out into the cold and walked down to the café. The morning rush was starting to ebb, and Celia’s eyes lit up when she saw Hazel. “Long time no see, stranger. You want the usual?”
Hazel shook her head. “I had oatmeal at my mom’s. And about four cups of coffee already.” She felt her hands jittering.
Celia must have noticed as well because she got busy making tea. “I’ll make you something anyway. Nothing with caffeine. You have a visitor,” she said and nodded toward the corner of the café where Bobby Martin sat at a table.
He looked completely innocuous in the brown puffy jacket, and his eyes lit up when he noticed Hazel walking toward him.
She pulled the keys from her pocket and set them on the table. “Sorry about yesterday. I forgot to bring them back.”
“Not a problem,” Bobby Martin said and twirled the keys on his finger before pocketing them. “I hope you found everything you were looking for. Any clues on mom’s… you know?”
Hazel pinched her mouth shut and shook her head. Even if he was family, she shouldn’t be sharing leads in a murder investigation with him. Because he had as much of a motive to kill Roberta Martin. Didn’t he?
Sheriff Cross had no doubt questioned him, but Hazel could give it a shot too. Especially considering the two best suspects had been cleared.
Well, one was dead, but it amounted to the same thing.
“A few things. And I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, actually. How well did you know Joseph Warner?”
Bobby shrugged. “Alright I guess. He used to go fishing with me and my dad when I was a kid. But I don’t fish anymore. No time for that.” He tapped his fingers on the table. Either he had as much caffeine that morning as Hazel, or he was nervous about something.
“Did your mother ever talk about him?”
Bobby went suddenly still. “Why would she? They didn’t have anything in common, as far as I could tell. The only thing she was interested in was her music.”
Right.
Music again.
Which led to Ambrose Angel who came into town the day before Roberta was murdered. But what reason would Ambrose Angel have to kill Joseph Warner as well?
If the person who killed both of them was the same. She really needed to talk to Sheriff Cross about this.
“Talking about music, are you going to the concert tonight?” Hazel said and glanced at one of the flyers on the wall.
Bobby followed her line of sight and frowned. “His concert? Yeah. I actually think I am. He’s been trying to talk to me about the reading of my mother’s will on Sunday. The attorney says Ambrose doesn’t need to be there for it, but he won’t take no for an answer. Maybe I’ll be able to talk some sense into him tonight. Though, it’ll be lonely going alone,” he said and reached his hand across the table to cup Hazel’s.
She pulled her hand away before realizing what she was doing. “Oh. I actually had plans for tonight. At the concert. With someone else.”
Bobby’s brows furrowed. “You mind me asking who?”
“Sheriff Cross,” Hazel said and immediately regretted it.
Why didn’t she say Celia? Or Michael? Or her parents?
But she hadn’t, and now she forced herself to smile as sweetly as possible.
“Oh. Well.” Bobby balled his hand into a fist, and Hazel tried to think of something else to ask. Everyone claimed Bobby and Roberta hadn’t gotten along …
“I’m sorry to bring up so many questions, but how well did you get along with your mom? I saw the house. The instruments had a bigger room than you did.”
Bobby removed his hat and ran his fingers over his balding head. “Yeah. She loved her music. And those instruments. I wasn’t even allowed in that room when I was a kid. She didn’t want fingerprints on anything. But that was just her being obsessed.”
Hazel nodded. She knew about parents with obsessions, but never to the detriment of their children, though Esther might say differently.
“I’ve got to get to work.” Then Bobby stood up and swept out of the room before Hazel could ask another question.
She sucked in a breath and walked up to the counter where Celia was waiting with her tea.
“You’re going to the concert with Cross? When did this happen?”
Hazel cupped her hands around the paper and frowned heavily. “Just now. He doesn’t know yet.”
Celia chuckled. “Are you going to let him know?”
“I guess I have to. He’s at the studio with Anthony Ray and Michael.”
Celia’s smile widened. “So, I guess he forgave you for the other day? And you forgave him?”
She hadn’t heard the sheriff say her mother didn’t do it, so she wasn’t sure if she had forgiven him yet. All she knew was that this case was getting muddier by the minute. But there were two people who had the most to gain from killing Roberta.
Ambrose Angel and Bobby Martin.
Something in Hazel’s gut told her one of them did it.
But which one?
She needed to find out before Ambrose went back to New York.
And before somebody else died.
“It’s complicated. But I promise I’ll explain it when this is all over. Are you going to the concert with anyone?”
Celia rolled her eyes and the smile faded. “You’re fishing for answers on the Paul front, aren’t you? Well, no. I’m attending solo. He went ice fishing this weekend. Also solo.” Her voice was as chilly as the air outside.
Hazel couldn’t help laughing. “You’ll figure it out. Someday.”
Then she took the tea and another two cups that Celia had prepared in a little cardboard caddy back to the studio. One was for Michael, a hot cocoa, and the other a coffee for the sheriff. Being best friends with Celia had its perks, and one of those perks were free drinks.
She handed them out, and let Michael go about his business in one of the studios while she settled in her chair and felt that butterfly make a crazy flight around her stomach.
“So, how did Joseph Warner die. Natural causes or…”
“If it were natural causes I wouldn’t have bothered getting you involved.” The sheriff took a long sip of his coffee. “Warner kept insisting he had a solid alibi. Too solid to argue with.”
Anthony Ray jumped up and made a bed on her lap, and she absently petted him. “How solid? He was being blackmailed by Roberta for years.”
“I know that now. But he was out of town at a funeral the morning she died. He had a whole handful of people that could corroborate, so we let him go.”
Hazel’s mouth dried out. “How did he die?”
“Can’t you guess? Strangled with a piece of fishing string. In his shop. Deputy Simmons found him this morning. It’s a mess and we’re trying to keep it quiet, because I have no doubt these two murders are linked.”
Hazel didn’t have any doubt either, but she needed more information. The puzzle kept rearranging itself. She sipped her tea. “Was Roberta Martin broke?”
Sheriff Cross rubbed his chin in thought. “No. Actually, that stood out to me when I looked at her bank records. She must have been pinching pennies for years, or her husband had a pretty good retirement before he died. Or this blackmail you were talking about.”
Hazel nodded slowly. Then she’d lied to Ambrose Angel about being destitute. And he had loaned her money, though Hazel had no clue how much. Why was she pretending to be broke wh
en she wasn’t? No way to ask her about it now, but it did give Ambrose a solid motive for murder.
And she could ask him when he came to pick up the photos today, and maybe the sheriff could talk to Bobby Martin again.
She explained this to him, and for once, Sheriff Cross didn’t tell her not to get involved. Though, he did remind her that she wasn’t a detective.
“Even if you get something out of Ambrose on your own, I’ll still have to question him again.”
Hazel nodded. “I remember that much from the LAPD. Oh, and there might be something else.”
Sheriff Cross gave her that sardonic look he was so good at. “And what’s that, Ms. Hart?”
“The concert tonight. I sort of… well, the thing is Bobby Martin asked me to go with him, and I didn’t want to, so I said I already was going with someone else.”
Sheriff Cross nodded, and she swore that smirk was tugging at the corner of his lips. She wasn’t sure she could deal with it right now. “And who did you say you were going with?”
The word stuck in Hazel’s throat, and she found herself shrugging instead. Admitting his was the first name that came to her mind felt like conceding defeat to the hands of an enemy. Which was silly. But there it was.
“I didn’t specify, but Celia is going alone, so I’ll probably tag along with her and–”
The smirk worked at the corner of his lips. “Well, if the investigation is wrapped up by then, maybe we’ll run into each other. Thanks for the coffee,” he said and stood.
He left the room.
As soon as he was gone, Hazel took a deep breath and Anthony Ray meowed.
“Shut up. I can’t admit defeat yet. He hasn’t apologized for accusing mom.” She gave him a kiss on his fluffy head.
Anthony Ray meowed again, and this time, Hazel thought it was in agreement with her.
Chapter 16
Ambrose didn’t show up before lunch to pick of his photos, so Hazel left word with Michael to call her if he came and went to Esther’s bakery for lunch.