by Wendy Tyson
“You really think you have the right person?” Megan asked.
Bobby’s eyes searched hers, but only for a moment. He opened the door and disappeared back out into the café.
It was nearly eight before Megan arrived home. By then she’d gotten word that Becca had been arrested for Paul’s death. Megan’s head was pounding. It felt as though the entire town was going mad. Merry still wasn’t taking her calls, and Luke was actively petitioning for his sister’s release. Even Bibi was charged up. She met Megan at the door with a string of complaints regarding how the young police chief was handling the situation.
“He’s caving to pressure from that commissioner,” Bibi said. She was wearing her “Welcome to Winsome” sweatshirt, and she’d tucked her hair under a bright red beret.
“Where are you going?”
“Bridge.”
“It’s eight o’clock.”
“We have an emergency meeting.”
Megan hung her coat on the hook by the door. “An emergency meeting of bridge? I didn’t think there was such a thing.”
Bibi buttoned her own coat. She added a red scarf and red mittens. She looked adorable, and Megan resisted the urge to hug her.
“It may be our holiday party, Megan, but we’re using it as an emergency meeting to talk about what’s been happening in Winsome.”
“What do you think that will accomplish?”
Bibi held her keys in one hand, sharp key up between two fingers, the way she learned in self-defense class at the senior center. She paused at the door. “We’re all worried. We’re worried about our safety, and we’re worried about Merry.”
Megan could understand. Only she was worried about her eighty-four-year-old grandmother driving around at night. “How about if I drive you?”
Bibi smiled. “I know you’re worried about me. I’ll call when I get there, and I’ll call when I’m on my way home.”
When Megan didn’t say anything, Bibi opened the door. “If I can’t do something as basic as bridge, then I’ve really lost my freedom.”
Megan nodded. She was right, of course. “Just call me.”
Once Bibi had pulled safely out of the driveway, Megan set up her laptop in the kitchen. She started poking around the internet, searching for anything related to Paul Fox. Specifically, she was looking for financial information. But after an hour’s worth of searching, she still hadn’t found anything new.
Frustrated, she decided to look around his family’s social media sites again. Becca’s business had a Twitter account dedicated to The Love Chemist. She had almost twelve thousand followers and what looked like many ardent fans, but Megan couldn’t find anything personal or telling on the site. Luke had that Facebook account, but all she’d found were innocuous photos. Only Sherry Lynn’s account had any real accessibility—and that was limited too.
Nevertheless, Megan returned to Sherry Lynn’s site. She paged through selfie after selfie of the fifty-something-year-old woman, searching for anything that might provide a clue. Megan’s brain searched sideways, looking at pictures and seeking connections.
Nothing clicked.
And then one photo caught Megan’s eye. It was of Sherry Lynn. She was sitting on a dock, the sun was setting behind her, and across a narrow band of water sat a pink two-story house, unremarkable except for its color and the American flag that flew above the first floor. Sherry Lynn wore a black bikini top, a pair of terry cloth shorts, and sunglasses, the mirrored lenses of which reflected the edge of the dock, the sun-dappled waves, and the woman holding the camera.
Megan’s heart pounded. She recognized the location. And she recognized the woman taking the photo.
Bibi was home by twenty after ten. She came into the house bearing two shopping bags’ worth of gifts. She placed the bags on the table with a huff. “Two hats, three scarves, one Christmas stocking pin, and a mug full of Hershey Kisses from the new teacher at the elementary school. I’m pretty sure she re-gifted.” Bibi started pulling things out of the shopping bags. “And enough cookies to feed Cookie Monster for a year.”
“How did the emergency meeting go?”
Bibi paused while putting away the shopping bags. “Everyone is on edge, as you would imagine.”
“Did you glean anything? Any insights?”
“Only that Merry is a mess. We all think she’s simply hiding out at this point. Ashamed and worried. And everyone seemed relieved that Bobby made an arrest.”
Megan studied her grandmother. “You don’t look so relieved.”
“I think Bobby is young. Like I said earlier, he’s caving under pressure.”
Sadie rubbed up against Megan’s leg and Megan reached down to pat her. “You don’t think Becca is guilty?”
“She may be. That’s not for me to decide.” Bibi placed the mug of candy in her special treat cabinet with a furtive glance at Megan. “But I would feel better if I thought Bobby was considering all of the facts. Not looking at them selectively.”
Megan nodded her agreement. “Are you up for a road trip tomorrow?”
“You know I’m always up for a road trip, Megan.”
“Back to see Sherry Lynn Booker.”
“Oh?” Bibi questioned her with her eyes.
“We need clarification on a few things. Thought you might enjoy donning your beige skirt again.”
Bibi laughed. “Don’t forget my cane. And it doubles as a weapon.”
Thirty-Three
Wednesday morning was dark and overcast with wind chills in the teens. It was the kind of morning that invited hot coffee, warm baths, and created the aching desire to stay tucked under layers of blankets. But after finishing their morning chores, Megan and Bibi made their way across the Pennsylvania border and into New Jersey, driving northeast until they reached Sherry Lynn’s green one-story. As with the last time they arrived, Sherry Lynn was home, her Honda parked in the driveway. The car was running and the lights were on.
Bibi started to open her door. Megan stopped her.
“Let’s wait and catch her when she comes out. Now that she knows Paul died, she may realize we weren’t honest with her last time and she may refuse to see us.”
Bibi nodded. “Good idea. You should back up then. Stay out of sight.”
Megan re-parked the truck and they waited. Two minutes later, Sherry Lynn came out of her house. She was wearing a black full-length parka with puffy horizontal sections and carrying an overnight bag and a purse.
“She looks like the Michelin Man,” Bibi whispered.
Megan had to agree. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
Sherry Lynn was hidden behind the open trunk, putting away her bags, so Megan took advantage of the opportunity and approached while the woman was unaware. “Be careful,” Megan whispered to Bibi. “There’s ice on the sidewalk.”
“I’m only pretending to be old and unworldly. I can still see, Megan.”
Megan left Bibi to walk down the sidewalk on her own. She skipped ahead and was waiting behind the trunk when Sherry Lynn closed it. Sherry Lynn stared at her, recognition slowly dawning in her eyes.
“What do you want?”
“To talk to you.”
Sherry Lynn’s gaze wandered to Bibi, coming down the road with her cane out in front of her. Sherry Lynn rolled her eyes. She walked around to the driver’s seat and opened the door. Megan stuck her foot on the runner. The two women stared at one another.
Sherry Lynn looked good. Her skin was clear, her cheeks flushed. She’d carefully applied makeup to her face, and her blonde hair had been touched up and blown straight around her shoulders. Other than the giant coat, her bearing seemed more regal, her posture straight. In short, Sherry Lynn hardly seemed the same forlorn woman they’d talked to just days ago.
And she hardly seemed to be a woman in mourning.
“
I’m not talking to you,” she said. “No way. Paul is dead. You must have known that.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Megan said. “But we really are trying to help Becca.”
“Why?” Sherry Lynn’s stare challenged her. “She’s a spoiled brat who will finally get what she deserves.”
“A life in prison?” Bibi asked. She moved closer to the car so that she was standing directly in front of Sherry Lynn. She’d dropped the granny pretense and was holding the cane across her front with two hands—a senior citizen Charlie’s Angel. “You were friends with Becca’s mother once. Surely you want better for Blanche’s daughter.”
Sherry Lynn grabbed the car door and pulled. She stared at Megan’s leg, which continued to block her entry. “Move, or I’ll call the police.”
Megan shifted her weight to get better balance against the car. “Tell us about Paul’s financial issues and we’ll go.”
Sherry Lynn stared at her in surprise. “What financial issues?”
“Insolvency? Debt? Why was Paul trying to borrow funds?”
Sherry Lynn’s face scrunched in what looked to Megan like genuine confusion. “Paul was a wealthy man. We’d just purchased the shore house, he said his business was taking off. He was in the best financial shape of his life. There were no issues.”
“And who stands to inherit that now?” Bibi asked.
“Are you insinuating that I harmed Paul?”
“I’m simply asking you who stands to inherit his money?”
“How the hell would I know?” Sherry Lynn’s voice screeched, her eyes fluttered closed with each syllable. “I just found out he was dead a few days ago, remember? I have no idea who he left his money to.”
“I do,” Megan said. “You.”
Sherry Lynn stood dead still. “Me?”
Megan nodded. “You didn’t know that?”
“We never discussed it. I assumed it was his kids.”
Sherry Lynn pulled her sunglasses out of her leather bag. With a glance toward the gray sky, she put them on. They were the same mirrored glasses she’d worn at the beach. Which brought Megan to her second topic.
“Merry joined you at your beach house last summer.”
“Please move your foot.”
“Why was Merry there?”
Sherry Lynn frowned. “Because she’s family. Why else?”
“I didn’t think she and Paul were that close,” Bibi said.
Sherry Lynn let out a cross between a sigh and a snort. “She adored Paul. I think she would have moved in with him had he shown the least inclination to let her do so.”
It was Megan’s turn to feel confused. She glanced at Bibi, who looked equally perplexed. “She knew about you two?”
“Of course.” Sherry Lynn looked back and forth between Megan and Bibi. “Don’t kid yourself into thinking Paul was ever faithful to Blanche. If it hadn’t been me it would have been someone else. Maybe even Blanche’s own sister.” Sherry Lynn pushed at Megan’s booted foot with her own. “Please. Leave.”
Megan backed away. Sherry Lynn pushed past her, slamming Megan into the closed back door of the sedan.
“Hey—” Bibi repositioned her cane so that she was holding one end up.
“It’s okay, Bibi,” Megan said. As Sherry Lynn climbed into the passenger seat, Megan straightened up. She was moving away from the car when something in the back caught her eye. A large black leather computer case lay on the seat, its zipper side up. A stack of papers and a book stuck out from the opened compartment. Megan could make out what looked like a lease. And on top of it, a book. The title was unreadable, but Megan could see the distinctive scroll that signified its famous author.
Sarah Estelle.
As Sherry Lynn pulled out of her driveway, she stared angrily at Megan and Bibi. She rolled the window down before she drove away and yelled, “Next time you come here, I will call the police and request a restraining order.”
Megan watched her leave, still thinking of the book.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Bibi said.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Megan responded. “This trip may have been just the thing we needed.”
Megan called Bobby on their way home on the truck’s speakerphone. “Sherry Lynn was reading Sarah’s book.”
“Did you go see Sherry Lynn Booker again, Megan?”
“Bibi and I went. We wanted to ask her a few more questions about—”
King cut her off. “Megan, we’ve made an arrest. We have our person. Leave it alone.”
Megan merged onto the highway. A silver Audi tried to cut her off and Bibi reached over and slammed on the horn. Megan said, “Did Becca confess?”
“You know I can’t talk about that.”
“This is Bonnie, Bobby King,” Bibi shouted into the speaker. Megan smiled to herself. Her grandmother had never quite gotten the hang of speakerphones. “Did Becca confess or not?”
“You don’t need to yell, Bonnie. I can hear you just fine.” King’s tone softened. “She hasn’t. In fact, she won’t talk at all.”
“Not even with her lawyer?”
“I don’t know what’s been said between them, but I imagine it’s much the same. She’s been transferred to the psych ward. She just sits there, staring, and won’t speak. It’s not like she’s not coherent. She looks at us, is alert. Just…silent.”
Megan and Bibi exchanged a look. “I’m not so sure you have your killer, Bobby.”
“The book in Sherry Lynn’s car?”
“The book. The way Sherry Lynn acted—not at all like someone overcome with grief. And Merry.”
“Merry?”
“I was on Sherry Lynn’s Facebook page last night. I saw a photo from last summer. Merry wasn’t in it exactly, but Sherry Lynn wore aviator glasses with mirrored lenses. Merry was the photographer. I confirmed that with Sherry Lynn today.”
“I’m sorry but I don’t see the significance, Megan.”
It started to flurry. Megan put her wipers on. “Merry was at Paul’s shore house with Paul and his girlfriend, a woman who was his mistress before Blanche died. Blanche’s former best friend. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
King sighed. “Maybe she didn’t know about Sherry Lynn. Are you trying to say Merry is Paul’s killer?”
“I think she’s trying to say there’s more here than meets the eye,” Bibi shouted. “Merry never mentioned spending time with Paul last summer, and God knows that woman brags about everything. Is she ashamed? And where is she now? A stomach flu? Seems awfully convenient.”
“Has she been to see Becca?” Megan asked.
“Come to think of it, no. I called her, of course, to let her know what was going on. She sounded upset, as I would expect.”
“But you haven’t seen her there?”
“No. But she may just be ill and depressed. Blaming herself.”
“Exactly,” Bibi said. “Guilt. But for what?”
“Your imagination is working overtime, ladies. I have to go. I’m finally going to be off duty for a few hours, and Clover is making me what promises to be a downright awful meatloaf. But I’m going to enjoy it and her company and not think about the crazy Fox family for a few hours.”
Megan didn’t want to let King off the phone. She knew he deserved some downtime, but he was feeling pressured and exhausted and not looking at the big picture. “The book, Bobby. Sherry Lynn had Sarah’s book.”
“Which one?”
Megan hesitated. “I don’t know. I couldn’t make out the title.”
“So she could just be a fan of Sarah Estelle’s novels. Again, your imaginations are working overtime. Becca killed her father and attacked Eloise. Case closed.”
King hung up. Neither Bibi nor Megan spoke for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Bibi said, “You’re not d
one with this, are you?”
“Not by a long shot. You?”
Bibi shook her head. She picked up the cane and placed it closer to her lap. “One thing I’ve learned in my four score plus years is to pay attention when people act oddly. Merry is acting oddly. That woman Sherry Lynn acted oddly. And Becca Fox?” Bibi slapped the cane for effect. “Oddest of all.”
Megan arched her eyebrows. “Something wicked this way cometh?”
“It’s cometh all right. But I’m not so sure it’s going anytime soon.”
Thirty-Four
Megan lay in Denver’s arms in the glow of the tipi’s small heater. She snuggled in closer, enjoying the warmth and the scent of his musky aftershave. Her shoulders were bare, as were his, and the feel of skin against skin felt intoxicating.
Denver shifted, looking down at her. “I feel like a teenager sneaking away from the parents to have a feel with a bonnie lassie.” He smiled. “And ye do look bonnie, Megs.”
Megan hugged him tighter, not wanting to let go. She needed to leave, and he needed to get down to the hospital in Philly to see his aunt. They’d stolen an hour in the tipi in the early evening, rushing across the snow like two children. Megan supposed as silly as it seemed, the tipi felt like neutral ground. Somewhere safe from the demands of the farm, his busy practice, and the events taking place in Winsome. Their own little escape. Denver had even set up a tiny Christmas tree near where the dogs liked to lay, and its white lights twinkled in the dim light.
“Eloise still has no memory of what happened?” Megan asked.
“No, nothing, I’m afraid. She’s still a bit out of it. I dinnae when she’ll be one hundred percent. The doctors don’t either.”
Megan sat up. She reached for her clothes, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “You should go to her.”
“And where are you going?”
“To see Anita Becker.”
“Roger’s wife? Why?”
“Because she knew Blanche Fox.”
“Still looking for patterns, Megs? I guess you don’t agree with Bobby that Becca is the culprit?”