by C A Phipps
“How’d he take that?”
“Not so well. I was married by then, and my husband, Jimmy, wasn’t interested in having a free-loader or the drama. Saul’s quite a bit younger than me, so the age gap began to show when I was in my thirties, and he was still in his twenties. I should say he’s my half-brother, but it wasn’t that way when we were kids. We were as close as two peas in a pod, and at first, he and Jimmy were good friends,” she rambled as if the memories were blending like paper on a maypole.
The look on her face touched Scarlett deeply. “It’s a shame things can’t stay the same for some things.”
Betty nodded several times sympathetically as if she understood that Scarlett was referring to a rather idyllic childhood that was shattered by the deaths of her parents.
“You don’t have to be wealthy to have a rich life. Our mom was the best, and my step-father treated me like his own. As it happened, Saul was spoilt by all of us, and I’m as much to blame that he turned out so bad. It was so wonderful not to be an only child that I gave him everything he wanted and more.” Betty smiled wistfully. “He was such a cute kid.”
“What made him go bad?” Scarlett asked over the sound of the mixers.
“Giving everything to a person means they never have to work hard. They don’t learn to scrimp and save to get what they need. With no idea what he wanted to do with his life—he did nothing. Occasionally, a friend would offer him work, but once he got it, he never really tried to keep a job. Our parents were devastated over his behavior, and to be honest, he treated them badly. I swear it drove them to their graves.”
Scarlett was astonished as Betty continued to share her story in a way that was neither self-pitying nor angry.
“Tough love wasn’t a thing back then, but I certainly tried it. In a way, I became his mother and tried to tell him what to do with less and less success. I pushed him to study, drove him to classes, and when he dropped out, I looked for jobs he was capable of doing. Saul never lasted more than a couple of days. Eventually, when I couldn’t take his attitude anymore, I moved away. The best and hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“And your husband came with you?” Scarlett had never met Betty’s husband or heard her talk about him, but she still wore a ring.
“No, Jimmy never stepped foot in Cozy Hollow. I met my husband in Portland, and that’s where we lived for the remainder of our marriage.”
“Did he pass away before you came here?” Scarlett asked gently.
Betty snorted. “You’d think I would have picked the opposite type of man to my brother. It turned out that they were from the same school of selfishness. Jimmy took me for every penny he could get his lying hands on, then ran off with a woman a decade younger. It’s such a cliche, but she was also my best friend. Anyway, last time I heard, he’s very much alive, and they’re still a couple—poor girl.”
Scarlett couldn’t believe her ears. “You feel sorry for her?”
“I sure do. She had a little money, but once that’s gone, he’ll be off like a rocket. Probably in the same way he left me—with another woman in tow.”
“Ouch,” was the only thing Scarlett could think to add while her brain tried to digest this sorrowful tale.
“The reason I know this, in case you’re wondering, is that he’d already run-off a couple of times. He always came back once the money was gone.”
Scarlett gasped. “You took him back? More than once?”
Betty lay pastry in cases for the pies, while Scarlett put all the dough in the corner of the counter to rise.
“I believed in marriage.” Betty sighed. “Who am I kidding? I loved that son of a gun despite his philandering. I guess you already know; I have money from my mom. Nothing to speak of now, but it’s kept me going. Jimmy knew about the money, and while I didn’t let him anywhere near my bank account, I provided a place for him to start over.” Betty shrugged. “Plus, I have to admit that I got lonely.”
Scarlett slowly mixed batter for a cake. “Would you take him back again?”
“Nope, three strikes and he’s out.” Aggressively, Betty made the universal baseball signal. “Along with my friend, who incidentally had been telling me for years that I should leave Jimmy.”
Scarlett could only speculate on Betty’s attitude—positive that she couldn’t be as forgiving in giving a cheater one more chance, let alone three. Violet certainly wouldn’t, but she wasn’t sure about Ruby. Scarlett hoped they never had to find that out.
Lost in thoughts, she almost jumped out of her skin when a knock on the back door sounded, and Betty dropped a pan which clanged, but was luckily empty.
Sam and Nate didn’t wait for an answer and came into the kitchen, looking full of purpose. At first, amused at seeing them side-by-side again, when Scarlett barely received a good morning, it sunk in that she knew that look on their faces.
“What’s wrong now?” She demanded, heart pounding.
Nate shot her a glance before turning to Betty. “We know who the dead man is.”
The air felt suddenly heavy.
“Someone, we know?” Betty paled, her voice sounded strangled.
Nate placed his hat on the table and then pulled out a chair for her. “I’m sorry to say that it’s your brother, Saul Redman.”
The softness of his voice didn’t make it any less horrible, and Betty crumpled onto the chair.
“We were just talking about him,” Scarlett whispered to Sam.
He winced. “That’s bad timing. I was at the police station on another matter when Nate got the news. He asked me to come in case Betty took it badly.”
Scarlett couldn’t imagine anyone taking the death of a loved one well, but appreciated the sentiment.
Betty sniffed into the tissue she pulled from her apron pocket. “Do you know the cause of death?”
“We do,” Nate lowered his voice. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t natural causes, so we’re keeping the details quiet for a while longer.”
Betty blinked several times. “Did he suffer?”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Nate said steadily.
The lack of inflection caused Scarlett to disbelieve him.
“Do you need me to identify Saul?” Betty sniffed again.
Nate nodded. “Sam and I will take you to the hospital now if that’s okay?”
Betty stood and backed away. “Could we do it a little later? We’re swamped at the moment.”
“No, you should go. I can manage here,” Scarlett insisted, touched that Betty already felt so responsible for the café.
“If he’s dead, seeing him now or in a couple of hours won’t change that,” Betty said reasonably, turning back to Nate. “I assume you got his DNA because he served time in jail, and that’s how you’re convinced it’s him?”
“That’s right,” Nate agreed. “I would have brought you a photo, but as I need to ask you a few questions as well, I thought you could do it in person and say your goodbyes.”
“I understand, and thank you for being so kind.” Betty ran a hand over her face. “Scarlett does need me right now—at least until the shop opens.”
Nate hesitated for a second or two. “Then I’ll come back and get you at 9 a.m.”
He sounded determined, and Betty nodded.
“I’ll be ready, sheriff.”
Nate collected his hat, and Sam made to leave too. As he passed by, he leaned in to whisper, “If you or Betty need me, just call. Otherwise, I’ll call by later if you don’t mind a visitor?”
She nodded. Sam came for supper regularly, and it would be a relief to have another person at their table to discuss these horrible events that seemed to be snow-balling.
When they were alone, Scarlett went to Betty, who was already back to her baking and placed a hand on her shoulder, “I’m so very sorry about your brother.”
Betty looked up. “Thanks. He was bad, but he was my kin. I do take a little comfort that he won’t be in pain anymore.”
Scarlett stilled. “Pain?�
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“He did terrible things and expected people to accept it. When I joined the rest of his friends who’d stopped doing that, he grew angrier by the day.” Betty made a rude noise. “I lost my last job because my brother rang them and said I was stealing from them.”
“No!”
“It was paying me back for not giving him more money.” Betty’s eyes filled. “I don’t know what more I could have done, but I wish I’d tried harder. Maybe he’d still be alive.”
Scarlett wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sure you did everything you could. Now, why don’t you go home? It’ll be too tough to carry on as if nothing happened.”
Betty pulled away and wiped her face. “I’d rather work. I’ve always preferred to do that when things went bad. Being busy will help take my mind of Saul.”
Scarlett could appreciate that. When her mom died, work kept her from wallowing in self-pity and curbed the desire to cry or curl up into a ball and stare at nothing.
“Alright, please take a break whenever you need to. And after you go see the sheriff, go home if it gets too much.”
Betty nodded her thanks and went back to filling the pies.
Scarlett would do her best to serve all the customers herself. Once the town heard about this, people would stop by to glean details, and she knew how hard that was to deal with when your heart was broken.
Never again would she assume that other people were doing okay based on appearances.
Chapter Seven
Just as Scarlett feared, word had gotten out about Betty’s loss. For the last couple of hours, customers came and stayed much longer. With Betty at the station, Scarlett struggled to keep up.
Wanting to chat about the death, they didn’t care too much that Scarlett had no information, or that Betty wasn’t here. Fortunately, no one was particularly bothered by the slow service as they gossiped amongst themselves.
Olivia came in just before noon, and hearing that Betty wasn’t back from the sheriff’s yet, she offered to stay and help over the lunch-time rush.
“What about Cozy Crafts?” Scarlett protested.
“My business won’t suffer if I’m closed for a couple of hours, but yours will if you can’t feed and water this lot.”
Scarlett smiled for the first time since the news. She blew Olivia a kiss, pouring coffee and clearing tables, while Olivia took orders and handled the register.
When the café eventually quieted down, Scarlett made them both fresh coffee and a sandwich. Her eyes caught on the container of fudge. “I think we both deserve a treat, don’t you.”
Olivia peered over her shoulder. She loved anything new, especially if it was sweet. “What do you have there?”
Scarlett lifted the lid with a flourish. “Betty makes fudge. Doesn’t it look good?”
“Goodness. I did hear a rumor that she was particularly good at it, but I’ve never managed to get my hands on any.”
They took a piece of the glossy richness and bit into it simultaneously.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Oh. My.”
“This is a little slice of heaven, and I suspect my new kryptonite.” Scarlett licked the silky residue from her fingers, eyeing the rest of the uniform squares.
“How can we stop at one?” Olivia’s fingers twitched above the fudge.
Smacking her lips, Scarlett didn’t need a great deal of persuading. “We’ll have another, and then I’m putting the lid on.”
“Spoilsport.”
Scarlett quickly pulled the container away. “Actually, with your sweet tooth, I shouldn’t leave them anywhere near you.”
Olivia huffed. “I eat sensibly ninety-nine percent of the time, and I wouldn’t help myself.”
Scarlett raised an eyebrow, merely pushing the fudge closer. After all, Olivia was old enough to be her mother and could make the decision herself whether to indulge or not.
Red-eyed and sad, Betty arrived back just as they were savoring the second piece. Scarlett covered her mouth guiltily, while Olivia rushed forward to hug Betty, the fudge making it impossible to speak for a moment.
“Are you sure you want to be here this afternoon?” Scarlett finally managed.
When Betty shook her head, a large teardrop spilled down her pale cheek. “The alternative is being alone, and that means thinking.”
Scarlett honestly hadn’t expected Betty back today. When her mother passed away, she and her sisters had taken a couple of days to grieve before throwing themselves back into work. Betty was hurting, but she didn’t have a family to console her.
“Would you like to stay out the back and bake something instead of waiting on customers?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.” Betty tried a grin that fell short. “This face is hardly an encouragement to your customers.”
When Olivia released her, Betty went to the counter and pulled out the next recipe from underneath. “I can manage this and clean up the kitchen.”
“That would be great. “Scarlett smiled, then beckoned Olivia out to the café. Colleen Smith, along with Reba Fuller from the knitting club, remained in a corner chatting as their needles clicked, so Scarlett spoke softly.
“I’ll make sure she gets home, okay, but I wonder, could we get some of Betty’s friends to call in on her over the next few evenings and on the weekend?”
“Leave it with me.” Olivia kissed her cheek and waved to the ladies. “Stop by and see me later, Colleen. I have some lovely new wool just in. The color would suit you perfectly.”
Colleen laughed. “You say that every time.”
“And it’s always true.” Olivia winked on her way out.
Scarlett almost laughed, but for another reason. By inviting Colleen to her store, Olivia had already set the wheels in motion to take care of Betty by spreading the word via one of the town’s biggest gossips.
This was the magic of Cozy Hollow—taking care of its own.
Chapter Eight
When Scarlett got home after picking up Ruby, George, and the dog, Sam’s black pick-up was in the drive. He jumped out and hurried to open their doors.
George leaped from the van, startling the paramedic before the cat scurried up the front steps to wait at the door.
Sam shook his head in amusement before asking. “How’s Betty?”
Ruby came around the van with the dog. “What’s wrong with Betty?”
Scarlett should have told her sister, but since Ruby had chatted non-stop about her day at the library and the pet’s antics, Scarlett welcomed the opportunity to disappear into her thoughts.
“How on earth do you not know?” Sam was astonished.
“Know what? The library was pretty quiet today, which I did think was unusual.” Ruby twisted the dog’s rope in her hands. “Don’t stand there looking at each other, tell me everything.”
“I’m sorry not to mention this before, but Betty’s brother is the man we found yesterday,” Scarlett explained.
Ruby put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no, poor Betty. She was so sympathetic that we’d found a body and obviously had no idea who it was. How is she coping with the news?”
“Naturally, it took her completely by surprise, and it’s a terrible shock. Bizarrely she and I had just been talking about her brother.” Scarlett shivered. “Imagine how horrible it must have been to identify him.”
“A photo might have been better,” Sam agreed.
“What do you mean?” Ruby asked as they walked up the path to the front door.
He paused behind them. “It’s something the law prefers to do in certain cases when it’s the family identifying the dead. It’s proved kinder than having to do it personally.”
Scarlett nodded. Sam had mentioned this a while back, but it was news to Ruby.
“What kind of cases?” she asked fearfully.
“It depends on how the death occurred.” Sam shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Nate could explain how they differ much better than me.”
Sam avoided their gaze, and Ruby shrugged before going inside.
Scarlett stepped closer, keeping her voice low. “Why is it better if Betty saw a photo instead of her brother?”
Sam grunted. “Nate will kill me if I say more.”
“I promise not to tell him.” Scarlett smiled sweetly.
Although he fought it, a grin stole across his handsome features. “You are a bad influence.”
“So I’ve been told.” She grinned back, liking the way small lines creased his eyes. It certainly was handy that Sam was friends with the sheriff.
“You needn’t look so smug.”
“I’m trying not to.” Scarlett was pleased with herself, as well as intrigued, and a little mortified by the person she’d become.
Somehow, the recent mysteries fascinated her. There was also this need to protect the people she knew, and it didn’t hurt that two of the people most able to help her do that were excellent friends. “Now tell me why it would have been better for Betty not to see her brother because she didn’t say anything bad about it.”
Sam made sure that Ruby was far enough away—they could see her unloading a backpack on the table at the end of the hall.
He lowered his voice. “The deceased was stabbed—several times. He would have certainly died from loss of blood.”
Scarlett digested this, then frowned. “I didn’t notice any wounds yesterday.”
“The scarf he was wearing hid the one in his neck.” Sam grimaced. “The others were lower.”
“But that makes no sense. There was no blood—on or around the body. At least, none I could see. Surely that many wounds would mean a great deal of blood.”
Her mind whirred until she remembered something important. Before Sam could reply, she began to pace the small verandah. “Saul was dumped in the long grass of the verge. Perhaps the killer assumed it would take longer to find the body. If the murder were committed a day or two ago, the blood would have stopped flowing by the time he was placed there. There was no blood on the grass around him. Therefore he wasn’t killed there either.”
Sam gave her an impressed look. “That’s what Nate thinks. The shirt the deceased wore was almost clean.”