Soon, Henry was clanging open the tin just as my email account chimed. I switched windows to see who had contributed to my inbox.
[email protected].
I clicked open the email, already knowing what Clay wanted. I read: “Need your latest Aunt Ellen column for next week’s paper. Got it? Your Editor, Clay.”
I loved writing my weekly relationship advice column for the local paper, unless my life blew apart, like it had this week. I typed back “Patience is a virtue,” then hit send.
The phone rang almost immediately. I picked up on the first ring so as not to wake the baby.
Clay said, “A virtue? Not so much in the newspaper business.”
“That was fast,” I said. “And hello-how-are-you?”
“This isn’t like you, Lisa Leann. You’re always so punctual with your columns. Is everything all right?”
“You mean besides the fact that Goldie’s husband just died and Evie’s under suspicion of murder?”
“Well, there is that.”
“Then to answer your question, no. Besides all the other troubles, things are, well, ah, difficult here.”
“You mean with Henry?”
“No, no. It’s Ray.”
Clay, always on the lookout for a good story, perked at that. “Didn’t you say he went to Egypt on company business?”
“Yes, but he’s still there. He was in an accident.”
“Say, I’m in your neighborhood. Mind if I stop by?”
“You emailed me from my own neighborhood?”
“Sure, with my smart phone. Just dropped Britney off; I’m still in her driveway a few doors down.”
“As long as you don’t ring the doorbell. I just got Kyle to sleep.”
“Baby?”
“My grandbaby, Kyle. We’re watching him while Ray and Mandy are out of the country.”
“I see. No doorbells then, got it. See you soon.”
Moments later, there was a faint tap on the door. Henry, who was still holding the tin of candy, opened the door. “Hello, Clay.” He held out the tin. “Want to try some of Lisa Leann’s almond bark?”
“Britney has me watching my weight, but one little piece won’t hurt, I guess,” Clay said, reaching for a slab of almond-filled white chocolate. He bit into the delicacy. “Mmm. So, Henry, what’s this about your son-in-law? Ray, is it?”
Henry finished chewing his candy and nodded, gesturing for Clay to join him on the couch while I waved from the nearby table. I’d switched out of the poster program and into my Aunt Ellen file, reading a few of the lovelorn emails I’d received of late.
Clay spied me working on my column and waved back. “Don’t mind us, Lisa Leann. I’ll just chat with Henry for a moment.”
While Henry explained—off the record—the situation with Ray and the article we’d found on the Internet, Clay asked, “Mind if I take some notes? I’d like to check in with my sources at the paper, to see what I can find out for you.”
“Go for it,” I said, looking up from my work.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d written a snappy Aunt Ellen reply in answer to a query about the etiquette for dating more than one guy at a time. I attached the column to an email to Clay and hit send.
I closed my laptop and joined the boys on the sofa. “Clay, my column will be in your inbox before you get home.”
Clay checked his phone. “Got it already.”
He opened the attachment, scanned my column, and laughed. “Good one. Aunt Ellen does it again. Thanks, Lisa Leann.”
I smiled, glad he enjoyed my work, but before I could get him to continue his congratulatory remarks, he asked, “So, Lisa Leann, what’s your take on Doreen’s murder?”
I glanced at Henry then back at Clay. “It’s downright horrible.”
“But you don’t believe Evie did it, do you?”
I shook my head. “Well, no.”
“Not even by accident?”
I leaned my head against the sofa and contemplated the idea for a second before looking back at Clay. “Nope, I just can’t see it.”
“Well, then, Lisa Leann, who do you suspect?”
Henry answered for me. “If Doreen was drinking like they say, she probably fell and hit her head all by herself.”
Clay nodded thoughtfully. “I thought about that, but I was at the scene, you know, photographing it for the sheriff’s department. And honestly, I think there was a struggle. A lamp was smashed on the floor, the curtains were ripped off the rod, and . . . well . . . even some of the pictures were knocked off the walls.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” Henry said.
I crossed my legs. “Well, who besides Evie is being investigated?”
Clay’s eye sparked. “No one. Which is why I’m here. I, too, think Evie is probably innocent. She doesn’t strike me as the violent type, and what went down in that trailer was, well, violent. So, I’m trying to put together a list of other potential suspects.”
I looked at my husband. “Well, it wasn’t us. We were just getting in from DIA that night, with the baby.”
Clay smiled. “Don’t worry, you’re not on my list.”
“Then who is?” Henry asked.
Clay sighed. “It’s really a process of elimination. The other two people closest to the scene of the crime were Wade and Velvet.”
“You don’t suspect them?” I asked.
“No, no. They’ve got good alibis.”
I blew out a puff of air. “Good. Then that leaves . . .”
Clay shrugged. “A stranger, maybe? Have you heard anything about anyone new in town who could be trouble?”
“We do have a lot of construction workers in town, working on the church and at a few other properties in the area. Maybe it could have been someone like that? Dee Dee worked as a barmaid—maybe she met her killer at the bar.”
Clay made a note. “Good thought. I’ll go to the tavern and ask a few questions. Say, has anyone noticed strange happenings at the church during all your construction?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m on the building committee and there was some talk—talk about a missing shovel and a series of strange holes dug behind the sanctuary.”
“A missing shovel is not so unusual at a construction site,” Henry said. “But the holes? That is strange.”
“What kind of holes?” Clay asked.
“There were about three of them, each about four feet deep. They showed up sometime last weekend.”
Clay looked up from his writing. “Are they still there?”
“Oh no, we had them filled in. Didn’t want anyone to fall in and hurt themselves, you know.”
“Have you heard any reports about other strange occurrences in town?”
“You mean other than someone stealing Vonnie’s dog at the Gold Rush Grocery parking lot?”
Clay wiggled his pen between his fingers and scowled. “Yeah, I heard about that. Do you really think he was stolen?”
Before I could answer, the phone rang. I sprang up. “I bet that’s Mandy.” Within seconds I held the receiver to my ear, breathless. “Hello?”
A female voice said, “This is dispatch calling to let you know the security alarm has been activated at your wedding shop.”
“What!”
“We have someone at the scene, and they’ve found your back door standing wide open. Could you come down to see if there’s anything missing?”
“Um, certainly.”
When I shared the news, Henry and Clay stood. Henry said, “Lisa Leann, you stay here with Kyle, I’ll go check on things.”
Clay asked my husband, “Mind if I go with you?”
“Come on,” Henry said, grabbing a light denim jacket out of the hall closet.
I walked to the front window and watched the headlights of Henry’s truck and Clay’s car disappear over the hill as they drove toward town. I felt fear tingle down my spine. A break-in?
The shop wasn’t far from home, about five minutes, and Henry had promised to call me on his
cell as soon as he could.
I walked back to the guest bedroom and looked down at the sleeping baby before carefully scooping him in my arms so as not to disturb him. He stirred but continued to sleep as I carried him back to the picture window that overlooked the road in front of our condo. The moonlight reflected on Gold Lake creating a shimmering moonbeam path. I looked down at baby Kyle, and though I was almost shaking with worry, the love I felt for him calmed my very soul.
A movement on the dark road caught my eye as a lone bicycle rider crested the hill. It was late for a ride, I decided as I watched as the rider approached our cluster of condos. Just as he neared my apartment, he stopped and slipped off his bike. Was he staring up at me?
The darkness wouldn’t reveal his features so I quickly shut the drapes, then checked the door to make sure it was locked.
My heart had started a wild thumping, so when the phone rang I let out a cry of alarm that startled the baby into a fuss. “Shhh, shhh, shhh, little one,” I said as I jostled him. I shifted the baby to one arm then grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
“Mom, is that Kyle? Is he all right?”
Kyle settled down with my swaying. “He’s fine, Mandy, just misses you, as we all do. How’s Ray?”
“That’s why I called. He’s still in and out of consciousness. The police were here a few minutes ago. They want to take him down to the station for questioning.”
“What? Are you kidding?”
“We’re not in America, you know, they do things differently here. I finally convinced them to wait, at least for now.”
I walked back to the front window and looked outside. The bike leaned against the condo gate, silhouetted against the moonlight. But the rider? He was nowhere to be seen. How odd. He wasn’t on the property, was he? I looked down toward the bushes near my front steps. Was that movement?
I shut the curtain again as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, a feeling that pattered my heart to a faster beat. Could the break-in at the shop simply have been a ruse to get Henry and me out of the house?
I turned my attention back to Mandy as I half-whispered, “Oh, how frightening this must be for you.”
I could hear muffled sobs from the other end of the line. “You have no idea.”
I was now on full alert, trying to think what to do. I mean, I didn’t want to end this call with Mandy; I had questions she’d yet to answer. But if there was a prowler outside, then I needed to call for help without alarming my daughter. Still holding the phone, I carefully put the baby on the couch, in his Boppy. Then I slipped to the front hall closet to retrieve my purse. I pulled out my cell phone, and, still holding the house phone to one ear, I managed to text Henry’s cell phone. Plz com bk. Prowler outside.
Just as I hit send, I glanced at the front door. The doorknob slowly turned.
I must have gasped because Mandy said, “Mom, are you there? Is everything okay?”
“I gotta go, sweetheart. Someone’s at the door. Call me back in an hour if you can,” I whispered and clicked out of the call.
“Hello? Who’s out there?” I called.
When no one answered I played a bluff and bellowed, “I’m from Texas and I know how to use this snubnose .38 I’m pointing right at you.”
Seconds later, I heard the patter of feet running across the condo grounds. I walked to the window and pulled back a corner of the curtain. The bike was no longer leaning against the gate. It and its rider had vanished into the night.
Donna
24
Scorched Heart
Last night I dreamed of my mother. The way she had been when I was a child. Her lovely voice sang each of the haunting verses of the Elton John song “Candle in the Wind” while glowing candles illuminated her beauty. As her song faded, a breeze blew through her hair and the candles flickered. She whispered, You never knew me, you never knew me.
Her beauty diminished into shadows as each candle gave way to the darkness. For an instant, her wrinkled face reappeared in a final flicker of light. Her eyes, grayed in death, opened and her pale lips quivered as she spoke, directly to me . . . You never knew me.
I awoke, my heart pounding, seconds before my alarm radio activated to Elton singing the same song. I sat up, then I pulled my knees to my chest in a hug that wrapped around my legs and allowed me to rub the goose bumps from my arms.
I got up and splashed my face with cold water before looking in the mirror, only to see how my mother looked some thirty years ago.
Blinking away the cobwebs, I readied myself for my Sunday day shift, glad I’d at least had Saturday off, and glad I’d actually taken the time to make my mother’s chicken and rice casserole the night before. It was a recipe I’d found on one of the handwritten cards Vonnie had given me. In fact, I had enough of the dish left to eat it again for breakfast.
Once at work, I was more than a bit surprised by the report that Jerry had left for me. He’d had a busy night with the break-in at Lisa Leann’s bridal shop as well as this business about a prowler at her house.
This news got me to thinking. With all these strange occurrences, what if Evie was telling the truth? What if someone else had been with my mother the night she died? But how would these events fit into the puzzle? Could the break-in and prowler be connected to my mother’s death? I rubbed my forehead as I considered the possibility, or even the possibility of Vonnie’s dog’s disappearance playing a part in the crime. So help me if I didn’t smile as I tried to imagine Chucky with a dangerous secret. I let my smile dissolve. None of this made sense. Unless, of course, my mother, Lisa Leann, or even Vonnie or her dog had something the killer wanted. But what?
I decided to start my morning patrol by swinging by the church. I drove slowly toward the parking lot, wishing I could be in worship today. But after the murder and all the things that went along with it, the department was more than a little short staffed. Besides, someone had to be on duty in case there were any more strange happenings. I hoped that by the time Nate Sawyer returned from his weekend off, I’d have some new leads we could discuss.
I noted that David’s black Mazda sat next to Vonnie’s Taurus. Well, at least he wasn’t still in Aspen with his redheaded Barbie. I felt my brows pinch together. Just what was up with that? Not only did the man hide the fact that his friend was female, he’d failed to mention they’d once been engaged. Of course, as I was not returning his calls, I might never know what was going on with him.
I looked at my watch, realizing the morning service was already in progress. I decided to pull into the parking lot and walk around to look at the construction site. As I’d only just heard about the missing shovel and mysterious holes, I wanted to take a look to make sure there were no dead bodies buried out there.
I hopped out of my Bronco and walked around to where the new youth wing was going up. The construction site was the perfect picture of concrete and mud. I was glad to see that the foundation had already been poured and the steel structural framework, as well as the electrical wiring, was in place. It wouldn’t be much longer before this framework had walls and a roof, which was a good thing, since it was almost snow season.
I decided to venture beyond the construction zone, to behind the church sanctuary. The good people inside wouldn’t be able to see me from this angle, and I’d wanted to follow up on the report about the holes that had been dug back there. Sure enough, I saw the grassy area with three circles of packed, fresh dirt. What in the world?
I walked over and squatted down on one knee to get a better look, touching the earth before me. There were large boot prints around, probably belonging to the workmen who’d filled in the holes, but there were also a couple of bicycle tracks. No doubt belonging to some of the local kids who used this strip of land as a shortcut through the neighborhood.
“Donna!”
I was surprised to see David striding across the grass toward me. “I was in the foyer when you pulled in,” he said when he’d closed the gap between us. David wa
s dressed in high country church casual: khakis and a black golf shirt. His hands were in his pockets and the look on his face was mingled with both fear and hope. “What are you doing back here?”
I folded my arms. “Just snooping. Heard someone was digging around back here.”
David’s chuckle was low as I stood up. “Yeah, I heard something about that.” He squinted at me. “So any theories?”
I nodded slowly and crossed my arms. “About the holes or my love life?”
David let a smile play on his lips. “I guess I’d be more interested in your love life.”
“Well,” I said, “I thought things were good, you know, with the guy I was dating. But . . .”
David braved another step closer. “But you’re thinking he might really be a jerk? Right?”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, what if he had a good explanation for the things he did? What if . . .” David pulled his hands out of his pockets and gestured with his palms up.
I held up a hand as if I was stopping traffic. “What kind of explanation could, let’s say, a non-jerk have for failing to report he was spending time with an old flame?”
“You saw her, Donna. And you had to have noticed, she’s artificial.”
I crossed my arms. “What are you talking about? Her bustline or her veneers?”
“I’m talking about Bobbie Ann Jackson. Bobbie’s real name is Roberta Anita Swartz, that is, until she changed it.”
“You mean she remade herself, with a new name and a bit of plastic surgery?”
David narrowed his eyes. “Well, yeah, that and her shrink who’s been busy reprogramming her head. You could say she’s a whole new person. Not much like the woman I first met.”
“Are you saying there’s something wrong with trying to better yourself?”
“Well, no, if your goal is to be a better person. But it’s like all of Bobbie’s beauty treatments made her lose sight of her true self.”
“Or else her true self was finally released.”
David smiled and reached out as if he wanted to take my hand. “You’re getting the picture.”
Bake Until Golden: A Novel (The Potluck Catering Club) Page 18