by J A Whiting
“Had you talked to Meg before she died?” Shelly asked.
“We talked on the phone the week before it happened.”
“How did she sound? Was she worried about anything?”
Maria gave a shrug. “If she was, she probably wouldn’t have confided in me. We didn’t share things like that. It was always just superficial chat.”
“So you didn’t pick up on anything in her tone or in what she said?”
“No.”
“Where did you find the note?”
“In Meg’s files. It was in a folder with a bunch of bills.”
“Was there an envelope with it?” Shelly hoped there was an envelope since it would give information about where and when the letter was mailed.
“No.”
“Then it could have been in there for some time. It could even have been written by your sister.”
Maria’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a possibility.” Shelly thought of something else. “The police must have gone through your sister’s things after she died. They must have missed seeing that note.”
“It was stuffed in with all the bills. They would have had to go through the papers one by one. They mustn’t have done that.”
Shelly asked, “Did your sister know anyone who lived here in town? Is that one of the reasons she moved here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Meg know the other woman who was found in the woods? Jill Murray?”
Something seemed to pass over Maria’s face, but it was gone in a flash. “I don’t know.” Rubbing her forehead, she said, “I think I’ll go back to the hotel now. I’m so tired.”
“Do you have a car?”
“I’ll call a cab.” Maria stood up and glanced at a milk crate full of files. “Would you mind taking this crate to your house? It’s full of the last six months of Meg’s real estate files from Eastborough and I don’t know if it’s necessary to keep them. I can pick them up from you another day. I don’t want to lug them in the cab with me.”
“Sure, I’d be glad to.” Shelly picked up the container.
“Thank you for your help,” Maria said. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Come by anytime.” Shelly gave a smile. “You know where I live.”
She left the bungalow and walked to her house. The calico was waiting at the door when she opened it. Shelly gave the cat a pat and then stepped back. “Do you want to go out? Do you want to go back to your home?”
The cat turned around and headed for Shelly’s bedroom where she leapt up onto the bed, settled, and began to press her front paws alternately against the pillow. Her purrs filled the air.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Shelly chuckled, put the crate by the bookcase in her room, got ready for bed, and crawled under the covers with her new pet leaning against her back. The deep rhythmic purring relaxed the young woman and in a matter of minutes, she drifted off to sleep.
Justice mewed right next to the young woman’s face. Half-asleep, Shelly opened one eye. “It’s too early. Go back to sleep, kitty.”
Rolling onto her other side, Shelly sensed lights moving across the wall of her bedroom and both of her eyes flew open. Blue lights pulsed rhythmically from the window, but there was another, different type of light coming from outside – reddish, flickering. The scent of something floated in through the window screen.
Justice let out a howl and Shelly sat up to attention.
Fire.
Dashing out of bed, she peered outside. Flames shot through the roof of one of the houses on the street. Shelly slipped into shoes and ran for the front door, her heart pounding. When she stepped onto the porch, Juliet ran up the steps.
“I was going to wake you,” Juliet was breathless. She pointed. “The house. It’s on fire.”
Its siren screaming, a fire truck roared around the corner from Main Street and tore down the road.
Shelly leaned over the porch railing to see better and her heart dropped. “Meg Stores’s house?”
Juliet nodded and stood next to Shelly, her eyes trained on the roaring, crackling fire. Sitting on the rail, Justice flicked her tail back and forth as she watched the flames against the inky sky. The red-orange inferno cast an eerie glow over the neighborhood and the smell of burning materials made Shelly’s nostrils sting.
“I was just in that house several hours ago.”
Juliet turned with her mouth open. “Why?”
For the next few minutes, Shelly gave an account of her evening from the time Juliet left her to when she awoke just now to the sight of the blaze.
“Maria said she was going back to the hotel. She said she’d call a cab.” Shelly’s face clouded. “Did she leave the house or did she stay there? Is she inside? Did someone set the fire with her in there?”
“Maybe another question might be … did she set it herself?” Juliet asked.
Shelly moved her hand to the side of her face. “I didn’t think of that. But, why would she set the house on fire?”
Juliet looked back down the street. “Maybe there’s something in there she doesn’t want anyone to find.”
“I wonder,” Shelly said. “The police supposedly went through Meg’s things. They could have overlooked something important. They overlooked the note.”
“Or did they?” One of Juliet’s eyebrows went up.
Nervousness zipped through Shelly’s body. “Do you think Maria could have written that note herself? Do you think she made up the story of finding it in the files?”
“Things get more complicated by the day, don’t they,” Juliet noted with a frown.
For the next hour, the two women and the cat watched the firefighters battle the blaze.
What next? Shelly wondered with a nervous shiver. What next?
7
Unable to return to sleep, Shelly arrived at the diner early to start the day’s baking. She and Juliet made plans to meet for dinner with hopes of sharing some news they might discover from talking to people about the fire at Meg Stores’s rented house.
Before going to the diner, Shelly stopped at the resort hotel to inquire about Maria Stores and the desk clerk informed her that Ms. Stores had checked out late last night, after midnight. Although surprised by the news, Shelly was relieved that Maria was not a victim of the fire, but nagging questions about the woman swirled in her head and she could not push away the idea that Maria might have fabricated the story about the note. Shelly hoped that Juliet would learn some details about the fire and the note from her sister, Jay.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Henry called when Shelly entered the diner.
Henry’s wife, Melody, a short, silver-haired woman in her sixties with bright blue eyes, was setting up the coffee maker and her expression was filled with concern. “We heard about the fire. You must have been awake half the night.”
“I was.” Shelly pulled an apron over her head. “It was an awful sight to see that house on fire. It didn’t seem real.”
“Henry and I have been talking about it since we got up.” Melody filled the sugar containers and placed them on the tables. “We think it has to be connected to that poor woman’s murder. But, why would the killer set her house on fire?”
Shelly had been thinking the same thing, but also wondered, if it was the killer who set the fire, why wait to do it? Why not burn it down right after committing the crime?
Henry carried cartons of eggs to set next to the kitchen grill. “It may not be arson at all. It could be a faulty electrical system that caused the fire to start. We can’t jump to conclusions. Anyway, I heard the sister of the murdered girl was here cleaning out the house. Maybe she left a stove burner on or maybe she put a cigarette in the trash.”
Shelly told the couple about running into Maria last night, the call to the police because of the suspected break-in attempt, and the note Maria claimed to have found in her sister’s files.
Melody and Henry
stared at Shelly.
“Good grief,” Melody said softly, her face screwed up with worry. “The killer really came to the house?”
“The police thought it might be kids trying to break in for a lark.” Shelly took flour and sugar from the cabinet.
“Then the house gets set on fire?” Henry shook his head as he flipped over some hash browns on the grill. “That wasn’t kids that did it. No way.”
“What do you think is going on?” Shelly asked.
“I’m not a cop. I have no idea.” Henry salted the hash browns spread over the grill. “But now I bet its more than just a house fire. It has to have some connection to the murder.”
“Maybe something was in the house that someone didn’t want discovered.” Shelly looked up to see Melody and Henry looking at her with troubled expressions.
“Why can’t this be solved?” Melody asked. “It’s going on too long, more terrible things have happened. Where will it end?”
“The police will figure it out.” Henry tried to be comforting, but Shelly could see deep worry lines pressed into the man’s forehead.
“Did you know Meg Stores?” she asked.
Melody wiped her hands on a dish towel. “She used to come in for breakfast a few times a week. We’d chat. Henry would banter with her.”
Henry seemed to wince at the memory of the young woman.
“Did Meg seem worried or upset before she went missing?”
Melody said, “We didn’t notice at the time, but when we looked back on it, we thought she’d been quieter than usual.”
“Did she ever talk about the town she moved away from?” Shelly took some butter from the refrigerator. “Did she ever mention anything that was bothering her like breaking up with a boyfriend or having a run-in with someone?”
“I don’t recall anything like that.” Melody put the cash drawer into the register. “We didn’t get into anything deep. It was only friendly chit chat.” The woman stopped what she was doing and looked off out of the window. “I can’t believe what’s happened. I can’t believe that poor girl was killed.”
“What about Meg’s sister, Maria? Did she ever come into the diner while she was here?”
“A few times.” Melody made a face. “She was the opposite of Meg. There was something hard or distant about her. She had no interest in conversation. She had no interest in interaction at all. The woman was downright rude.”
“The woman had suffered a loss.” Henry spoke through the serving window. “She was probably afraid that conversing would lead to questions about her sister.”
As Shelly was returning to the back room, she said, “Maria checked out of the resort after midnight last night.”
“Hmm.” Henry’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What was her rush? Leaving so late? Why not wait until the next morning?”
“Good question.” Shelly mixed the softened butter into the batter.
Melody came into the back room and forced a chuckle, but her eyes looked tired and worried. “Did the sister set the fire and then take off?”
“I’ve been wondering that very thing,” Shelly said with a serious face.
Melody’s eyes widened at Shelly’s comment, but then turned quickly to check the wall clock like she needed a distraction from the speculation. “Almost time to open.” She let out a sigh. “Now I look at everyone who comes into the diner with suspicion. Are you the killer? Am I serving a murderer? That’s what I think. I don’t like being distrustful of people, but I just can’t help it.” On her way out of the work room to unlock the front door for the customers, Melody said, “I have to push it all from mind. I can’t allow myself to dwell on it.”
Shelly didn’t seem to be able to do that. The images of finding Jill Murray’s dead body on the mountainside kept flashing in her mind. Her interaction with Maria Stores played over and over in her head. The hiss and roar of the fire tearing away at the neighborhood house echoed in her ears.
To distract herself from the mysteries, Shelly threw herself into the baking, visited the bakery manager on the other side of the kitchen to discuss what they would need over the next few days, and carried platters of fresh sweets to the glass cases in the diner.
The morning passed quickly and it was nearly 2pm when the day’s baking tasks had been completed … which happened to coincide with the wave of fatigue that hit Shelly as she was putting the clean cookie sheets away. “I’m worn out. I need a nap.”
Melody stuck her head into the work room. “Shelly? There’s someone out here who wants to talk to you.”
Anxiety rushed through Shelly’s veins. “Who is it?”
“A detective,” Melody said in a hushed tone. “He said his name is Andrew Walton.”
Hesitating for a moment, Shelly took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Okay.” There were only a few people in the diner when she walked out of the back room to meet the detective and she spotted him right away. Sitting at a table in the corner, he was tall and slim with dark blond hair, about thirty years old, and wore chinos, a pale blue buttoned-down shirt, and a dark blue tie. He stood up when Shelly approached.
“I’m Shelly Taylor.” She shook hands with the man and sat down.
“Andrew Walton. Thanks for talking with me.”
Feeling unsettled and nervous, Shelly swallowed to clear her throat and folded her hands in her lap.
“I’d like to ask some questions about last night.”
“Okay.”
“Could you give me a rundown of your evening?”
Giving a nod, Shelly provided a detailed account of what she’d done the previous afternoon and night starting with her arrival home from finding the body in the woods to waking up to the house fire. “It was an eventful eighteen hours.”
Detective Walton kept an expressionless face. “Where did you live before coming to Paxton Park?”
Shelly thought the detective must know quite a bit about her since she’d spent two hours the previous day at the police station with another detective going over what had happened in the woods and how she and Juliet had come upon the body. “Boston.”
“What made you leave the city?”
Shelly stiffened. “I needed a change.”
“I understand you and your sister were in a car accident.”
“And Lauren’s boyfriend … yes.”
The detective offered his condolences and then made eye contact with Shelly. “You’ve been involved in several unusual circumstances recently.”
Shelly tilted her head in question.
“The fatal car accident, discovering the body of Ms. Murray yesterday, and the fire last night.”
Her cheeks flushed red as a surge of anger filled Shelly’s chest. Was the detective insinuating that she’d had something to do with the three events? “What is that supposed to mean?” She forced her tone to remain even.
“I’m just pointing out that you’ve been involved in some unfortunate happenings, that’s all.”
“I’m fully aware of what I’ve had to deal with.” Shelly sat up straight keeping her eyes locked on the detective. “I don’t need any reminders.”
“I apologize. What time did you leave Maria Stores last night?”
“It was around 11:30, maybe closer to midnight.”
“She checked out of the hotel shortly after that.”
Shelly waited.
“We haven’t been able to locate Ms. Stores.”
“You called her at home?” Shelly asked. “Her cell number?”
“We did. Do you happen to have a contact number for her? Maybe she has multiple phones.”
“We exchanged cell numbers.” Shelly got up to get her phone and returned to the detective’s table. “Here it is.” She read the numbers from her contact list.
The detective thanked her. “We’ve been in contact with the police in New York. They went to her apartment, but no one was at home.”
“Maybe she’s staying with a friend.”
“You haven’t heard from her?�
� the detective asked.
Shelly’s eyes widened. “No.”
“Did she tell you where she might be headed?”
“No.” Shelly shook her head. “I didn’t even know Maria was leaving town. She didn’t say a word about it. I thought she’d be staying here for a while longer since she still had things to clear out of the house.”
“Well, thanks for your time.” The detective reached across the table to shake hands. “I’m sure Ms. Stores will show up.” He smiled, nodded, and left the diner.
Shelly’s throat tightened. Ms. Stores will show up? Are they worried something has happened to Maria? What’s going on?
8
As Shelly put the tacos in the oven, Justice ran to the living room when she heard Juliet knock and enter the house. Carrying a big bowl of salad, Juliet greeted the cat and headed to the kitchen. “Smells great in here.”
“It’s beef and vegetable tacos. They’ll be ready in a few minutes. I made a coconut cake for dessert.”
“I think I just died and went to Heaven.” Juliet gazed at the luscious three-layer cake and licked her lips.
“How’s this kitty cat?” Juliet bent to scratch the cheeks of the calico as it wound around her legs.
“I called the town vet and she had no recollection of such an animal in her practice. I tried some of the neighboring animal rescue places to see if someone reported a missing cat, but Justice didn’t match any descriptions.”
“So it seems you have a new friend.” The cat trilled at the words and Juliet smiled. “And she seems very happy about it.”
Shelly placed napkins at the place settings. “I wasn’t planning on having a pet, but I guess a small, calico feline had other ideas.”
The kitchen table was set in front of sliding glass doors that looked out over the compact, grassy backyard. A tall Maple tree provided shade on hot summer days and flowering hydrangeas ringed the edge of the small property. The setting sun painted the sky with streaks of dark blue, pink, and violet.