“You’ve got yourself a deal,” I replied. “One more thing. If you can, visit your grandmother this weekend. Go ahead.”
“Will do, Mom. Go ahead.”
“See you tomorrow at 6:00?” I asked. “Go ahead.”
“Okay, 6:00 it is.”
———
On the way to Vonnie’s I stopped by the church when I saw Pastor Kevin’s car in his parking place. I hoped he had some good news concerning Mandy Lambert Donahue. I pulled my car into a space nearby then grabbed my sweater, shoving my arms into the sleeves. When I got out of the car and locked it, I looked around at the work being done. The workers were still hard at it. Most of those outside were wearing long-sleeved flannel shirts and jeans, and a few had baseball caps on their heads.
I refocused my attention and went in the side door nearest Pastor Kevin’s office. His secretary was already gone for the day, but I found the door to his private study open. He sat at his desk, feet propped atop it and crossed at the ankles. He was reading a book and seemed to be completely engrossed in it, though I didn’t know how with all the hammering and buzzing going on around the building.
I tapped lightly on the door. He jumped a little, then swung around to face me. “Lizzie,” he said, “come on in.”
I took a few steps into the outer office. “I was just wondering if you’d heard anything else from the Lambert home.”
“I have, actually,” he said. “I talked with Lisa Leann about an hour ago. I’m surprised you haven’t.”
“I’ve been at work and I figured it would be best to go by there rather than call. When I saw your car I thought I’d stop here first.”
“Well, the good news is that Henry has seen Ray, and he’s holding his own. The bad news is that no one has seen or heard anything from Mandy.”
I sighed. “I don’t know how Lisa Leann is going to get through this.”
“‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,’” Pastor Kevin quoted from God’s Word.
“Well,” I said, “you know what I mean.”
“I do, and I’m calling Esther to start an update”—he looked at his watch—“in about ten minutes. She had a dentist appointment and called me earlier to tell me if there was any news not to call until after she got home.”
“Go back to your reading,” I said. “Though quite frankly I don’t know how you work in all this noise.”
“Coming from someone who works in a high school all day, I’d say that’s pretty funny.”
I laughed lightly, then turned toward the door. “You’ve got a point. Everything coming along okay here?”
“Right on target,” he said, walking beside me and out into the hallway. “I’ll just be glad when the sanctuary is back to normal and we can resume services in there. You’ve never seen such a mess in your life.”
“I remember when we renovated our kitchen. Four months of absolute torture.”
“If we have to endure four months of this, I really will go insane.”
I smiled up at him in wonder. His countenance was always peaceful, no matter what the circumstance. A year ago, when his wife passed away unexpectedly, his face expressed anguish. But, in the oddest way, a remnant of peace remained around the edges. “Well, you’re a strong man,” I said.
We reached the outer door, and he pushed it open for me. I stepped out to see one of the workers across the parking lot as he hopped onto the seat of a bike pointed toward the street. As he pedaled away I said, “Must be quitting time.” The door swung shut behind us.
“More or less. That’s Hoss. He’s leaving this job for his other job.”
“Oh?”
“He took Doreen’s old job at the tavern.”
“Oh.”
Kevin shoved his hands into the pockets of his chinos. “I’ve spent some time talking to him. Interesting fellow. He’s got a real knack for construction, knows a lot about the old churches around here. A lot about their history.”
“Really?”
“I found him in the sanctuary one day when no one else was there. Said he was just killing time during his lunch break. That’s when he started telling me some of the architectural facts about the church I thought I’d share next Friday night at the dinner. Really interesting facts about the stained glass windows. The old flooring. Were you aware—”
Before he could finish, my cell phone rang from inside my purse. “I’m sorry,” I said. I fished it out, saw it was from Summit Center, and said, “This is about my mother. It’s their daily update. I’m sorry.”
Kevin touched my shoulder briefly. “No worries. I’ll leave you to your call, then.”
“Hello?” I answered, then turned toward where my pastor had been standing to apologize again. But he had already gone back inside the church.
Vonnie
33
Deep-Fried Danger
It was Sunday night and I’d been lying in bed with Fred; his soft snores tried to lure me to sleep. But despite the temptation to roll onto my side and snooze with my husband, worry held my eyes wide open. I glanced at the glowing green digits of the bedside clock. It was already 11:20 p.m. and I once again began to rehearse my plan to sneak out to a midnight meeting with Chucky’s captor. I’d gone to bed wearing my black sweats for pajamas; all I’d have to do was step into my tennis shoes, grab my purse and jacket I’d stashed by the door, and slip into the night, then drive to the church, where I hoped I’d find my lost Chucky waiting for me.
When the clock’s digits read 11:30, I knew it was time to go. I slowly sat up, moved back the covers, and stepped barefoot onto the cushy carpet. I reached down and picked up my tennis shoes stuffed with clean socks and quietly pushed open my bedroom door. Once safely on the other side of the door, I bent down to slip my feet into my socks and tie my shoes before tiptoeing to the front door. I opened it to let in the night.
“Where are you going?” a voice from the dark living room asked.
I turned to see Lisa Leann sitting in my recliner, illuminated by the soft light of her cell phone.
I clutched my chest. “Oh! I didn’t see you there.”
“Sorry. Are you going somewhere?”
I shook my head so fast I could feel my jowls wiggle. “No, no, just checking the weather. Thought I heard some thunder.” I peered out, as if to prove my story, and then shut the door. I turned around awkwardly and stared back at Lisa Leann who appeared as though she’d been crying. I stepped toward her. “Have you heard from Henry? Is Mandy okay?”
Lisa Leann stood and walked toward me. “I just hung up from talking to him. Henry thinks he has a lead in finding Mandy.”
I turned and walked toward the kitchen as Lisa Leann followed me, trying not to glance at the clock above the refrigerator. “That’s wonderful,” I said as I opened the refrigerator. I pulled out what was left of my chocolate coconut meringue pie and held it toward Lisa Leann. “Care for a midnight snack as you tell me all about it?”
Lisa Leann shook her head no, and I slid the pie back into the refrigerator, untouched. I didn’t really have time to eat pie anyway.
“Well,” she said as she sat down at the table, “there’s been a report that a redheaded woman—a possible mugging victim—is at a women’s ward in a hospital across town from where Ray is a patient.”
I joined my friend at the table. “Is there any word on the woman’s condition?”
Lisa Leann looked glum. “Not really. In fact, Henry’s not sure if he can learn anything or not.”
“Why not?”
“The hospital ward in question is under quarantine.”
“For heaven’s sake, why?”
The baby cried out and Lisa Leann stood. “Swine flu, if you can believe it.”
“Oh no!” I said, rising with her.
“I’d better attend to Kyle,” she said, disappearing down the dark hallway. She paused at the door to her bedroom. “Maybe Henry will know something soon.”
I was relieved when she shut her bedroom door. I s
tole a peek at the kitchen clock. It was a quarter till midnight. Without further ado, I headed toward the door, grabbed my purse and my jacket, and slipped into the night.
I glided down the front steps, glad I’d parked my car on the curb instead of in the attached garage. That way I wouldn’t wake the house by powering open the door or turning on the ignition.
I knew my family and Donna would never approve of what I was up to. They’d flat-out forbid it. I myself had second thoughts about following through with this meeting, especially with what had happened to Doreen. I mean, what if this dognapper was somehow connected to her death? It was only the remembrance of Chucky’s innocent brown eyes that gave me the courage to go on.
As I drove through the dark streets, fear pattered my heart as I wondered what this dognapper could possibly want from me. Revenge? Information?
It was more likely he wanted some of the cash I’d won on The Great Party Showdown reality show earlier this year. That’s why I’d stuffed a couple of thousand in twenties in the bottom of my bag. “Insurance money” was what I was thinking.
I didn’t have much time to ponder the answers to these questions because I soon pulled into the church parking lot at five minutes to midnight.
I turned off the engine and killed the lights and tugged my arms into my jacket. I opened my heavy, beige leather purse, which was big enough to serve as a small duffle bag, and pulled out a large flashlight. Before I opened the door, I sat quietly and bowed my head. “Dear Lord, please go out into the dark with me. Keep me safe, and most of all protect my little dog, Chucky. Bring him back home to me, in the powerful name of Jesus.”
I pushed open the door and stepped into the parking lot. As I did, a cold breeze blew straight down the neck of my jacket, setting me into shivers. The overhead parking lot lights were turned off automatically at this hour, so I switched on my flashlight and began to shine it around the area. As far as I could tell, I was alone.
The dark shadows behind the church began to beckon me. I stepped toward them, as a tiny schoolgirl voice called from my senior-adult body. “Chucky?”
Silence.
The mountains that surrounded our valley shrouded all hope of illumination from the black sky, so I followed the beam of my flashlight that split the darkness at my feet. I called again. This time my voice was stronger, but with a wobble. “Chucky?”
The silence pulled me forward on my path of yellow light.
Just as I started to round the corner of the building, a truck roared into the parking lot. I turned to see glaring lights pointed in my direction. A door flew open, followed by a clamor of feet as Donna called, “Vonnie Westbrook, just what do you think you’re doing out here?”
Donna
34
Chewing Over a Clue
I felt sorry for Vonnie, I really did, and I could understand why she took the chance she had even though she had done so at great risk. I tried to explain that the next morning when I dropped by her house.
As she sat at the kitchen table with Lisa Leann, I held out a large white evidence bag. “Take a look,” I said.
I opened the mouth of the bag, and she looked down at a roll of duct tape and wad of skinny rope.
“What’s all this?” Vonnie asked, her eyes still puffy from her night of sobbing over Chucky.
“I found these behind the church this morning. I’m thinking they were meant for you. They were next to a shovel and a hole, which may have been planned as your shallow grave once you gave him whatever it was that he wanted.”
Vonnie gasped.
I turned and looked at Lisa Leann, who was holding baby Kyle. She stood and peered in the bag too before looking back at Vonnie. “Oh, Vonnie, you would have been killed. What if I hadn’t called Donna?”
I turned to my dear friend. “Vonnie, you have to call me if you get any more of these notes. Promise me.”
Vonnie nodded. Then asked, “But did you see any sign of Chucky?”
I shook my head. “I doubt he was even there.”
She hung her head, and I said, “Okay, then. I’m on duty today so I’ll check in later, all right?”
Vonnie nodded glumly, and Lisa Leann stood and walked me to the door. Lisa Leann looked over her shoulder at Vonnie then back at me. “I’ll take care of her,” she said. “Don’t you worry now.”
“I appreciate that. And call me if she does anything else suspicious.”
“I will,” Lisa Leann said as I skipped down the steps to my Bronco. Lisa Leann called after me, “Oh, and you’ll pick up the carrots and pineapple for the gelatin salad?”
“Sure thing. I’ll deliver it to the boutique and put it in the fridge for tomorrow’s work day.”
A few minutes later, I headed toward the nursing home to talk to the only person in town who was still on my list to interview.
I walked into the Summit Center to be greeted by a row of elderly women and a couple of men sitting in wheelchairs, lined from the front door to the nurse’s station. Some of the aged residents stared absently, lost in a world of their own, while others smiled and lifted a brown-speckled hand as they nodded a greeting. “Mornin’,
Deputy.”
It was the woman on the end who caught my eye, a frail woman with soft white curls and ancient eyes that still sparkled. As I approached, her gnarled hand reached for mine as she exclaimed, “Well, if it isn’t Deputy Donna. I’m so glad you dropped by to see me.”
A nurse wearing a dark rose uniform stood from behind the desk. “May I help you?”
“Actually,” I said, looking down on Mrs. Hirvela, “I’ve come to chat with an old friend.”
Mrs. Hirvela gave a playful laugh as I pushed her chair toward the parlor. “I’m not that old, Donna. I’ll only be ninety-four at Christmas, and a lot of folks around here are a lot older than that.” I positioned her to face me while I sat down on the hearth. Mrs. Hirvela said, “So what brings you in to visit your mother’s sixth-grade teacher?”
I took her hand. “You taught my mother? I didn’t know that.”
“Oh my, your mother was a live wire, you know.” She giggled. “For instance, there was the time I caught her kissing that little boy behind the school building. Vernon, was it?”
I nodded. “My dad.”
“He became our sheriff, didn’t he? But whatever happened to your mother?”
I blushed again and shook my head. “She recently passed away.”
Mrs. Hirvela patted my arm. “So sorry to hear that. I was really very fond of her.”
I blinked and cleared my throat. “Actually, I came because I wanted to ask you something about your old house.”
She frowned. “Is it all right? It didn’t burn down, did it?”
“It’s fine and beautiful as ever. It’s a wedding boutique these days, and the woman who owns it lavishes it with love.”
Mrs. Hirvela smiled. “That’s good to know.”
“That old house has a lot of secrets, doesn’t it?”
“Oh my, yes, it’s one of the original houses in Summit View, built in 1880 by my great-grandfather—he was a merchant, you know—came to town to keep an eye on his son-in-law, a gold miner who lived about twenty miles from here.”
“Who was your great-grandfather’s son-in-law?”
“My great-uncle Zeke. He was always claiming to have found the mother lode, and maybe he did. Tom’s Baby, that thirteen-pound gold nugget, was found not that far from here, you know.”
“Is that what you think? Old Zeke found the mother lode?”
Mrs. Hirvela shook her head. “From the way I heard it, one day, Uncle Zeke came home with Mildred, his pregnant wife, packed his bags, and left Mildred behind. He never returned. It all seemed suspicious to the family, especially with that stagecoach robbery over in Central City. Those suspicions weren’t eased when my great-grandmother happened to look in one of Uncle Zeke’s favorite hiding places, a loose floorboard in front of the fireplace.”
I leaned closer. “What did she find?”<
br />
“A gun, a letter, and some things my great-grandfather put in a safe place. But there was also what looked to be a treasure map—a crude hand drawing of our town. But the interesting thing was there was a big X where the church is. Old Zeke had been helping Father Dyer build it, you know.”
“Was there anything else on the map?”
“Some cryptic words, pirate-like talk, you know, like ‘X marks the spot.’”
I felt my eyebrows leap at that. “Does anyone beside you know about this map?”
Old Mrs. Hirvela smiled wistfully. “Not many of us left. But I do have this one nephew. Sings like an angel, you know, but I’m sorry to say that’s where the resemblance ends. He’s been in a lot of trouble with the law—in and out of jail more than a few times. He’s been to see me of late. In fact, he was here earlier this morning.”
I felt my pulse begin to race. “Who is your nephew, Mrs. Hirvela?”
The old woman looked stunned. “I should think you would know him, Donna. He was the choir director down at the church, you know. Horace Shelly. And . . .” She put her hand to her mouth, then spoke quietly. “Why, that’s right! He was once married to your mother.”
My jaw dropped. “Horace Shelly is in town?”
“Yes, dear, said he came for the Founders Day celebration. He’s been here a few weeks, I’d say.”
“What does he look like?”
“Don’t you remember him?”
“I think I was four when I saw him last.”
Mrs. Hirvela thoughtfully touched her chin. “That would be about right. That’s when he took off with your mother. Well, he’s changed a bit in these past thirty or so years. He’s still as strong as an ox, though he has a few wrinkles, you know. He’s balding, though he still has a bit of gray hair.” Mrs. Hirvela laughed. “In fact, now that I think of it, I’m not sure his own mother would recognize him, may her soul rest in peace.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a photograph, would you?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I smiled, trying to keep the conversation pleasant. “Do you know where he’s staying?”
Bake Until Golden: A Novel (The Potluck Catering Club) Page 26