“What did you tell him?” I had maneuvered her around so that her back was toward the brook. I was in no mood for her foolishness today.
She must have seen it in my eyes. “I’ve said too much already.” As she started back to her shop, I moved toward her, cutting off her retreat.
“Kendra, don’t do this.”
“You’re scaring me,” she whined. “Get out of my way.”
I could see real fear in her eyes. I stepped to the side. “I’m sorry. I’m just so upset.”
Kendra bolted past me into her antique shop. It wouldn’t have surprised me at all if she locked the door behind her. Wonderful. Now I’d harassed the gossip queen of Maple Ridge out on our brook walk, in broad daylight. How long would it take her to call Sheriff Hodges to file a complaint? Surely I’d be in his lockup by nightfall.
I wasn’t much in the mood for lunch anymore, or to be around people, for that matter. I started back to Fire at Will and was surprised to see Jenna Blake approaching me.
“Carolyn, have you lost your mind?” she snapped at me.
“That’s the question, isn’t it? I’m guessing you saw what just happened.”
“You mean you accosting Kendra Williams in broad daylight? The whole town probably saw it. You need to get control of that temper of yours.”
“It wasn’t what it looked like,” I said in my defense. “Okay, maybe it was, but she deserved it. That woman has a way of driving me crazy.”
“Like Betty Wickline did?”
I studied her dour expression. “Maybe Butch was right to question your loyalties. Whose side are you on?”
“You don’t have to ask, you know that. But don’t make things any harder on yourself than you have to.”
I was in no mood to be lectured. “Thanks for the legal advice. Feel free to send me a bill.”
I wasn’t sure how she would react, but her laughter startled me. I asked, “What’s so funny, Jenna?”
“You are determined to thumb your nose at the world right now, aren’t you?”
I wasn’t all that amused by her question. “I’m willing to admit that when I’m pushed, I have a tendency to push back.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ve got some information for you, but I’m not sure you’re in any mood to receive it. Perhaps we’ll talk later.”
As she started to walk away, I said, “Wait a second. I’m sorry. Maybe my blood sugar’s down. Do you have time to get something to eat? Something to go? We could go over to Shelly’s.”
I still didn’t want to be around people, but Jenna was different. In an odd little way, the Firing Squad was a surrogate family for all of us. We’d helped each other through sickness, divorce, and other heartaches in the five years the club had been together. Even death. One of our charter members, Julie Price, had died in a car accident on her way to one of our regular meetings. I still kept the last pot she’d thrown in my office as a reminder that life is fleeting and that you have to grab every chance you get.
“Lunch sounds good, but I don’t have time to go to Shelly’s,” Jenna said. “Why don’t I grab something for us at In the Grounds? Would you like a coffee with your sandwich?”
“Better make it bottled water. I’m jumpy enough as it is without adding caffeine to the mix.” I reached into my purse for some money, but Jenna said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s my treat.”
I wasn’t about to say no. I didn’t want to offend her, and I knew Jenna could easily afford it.
I found a bench by the water, and she soon returned with our sandwiches.
“I appreciate you doing this,” I said.
“It’s my pleasure. I had to eat anyway,” she added with a grin.
“I mean helping me with this impromptu investigation. I hate to get all of you involved in my problems.”
“Your problems are ours. Remember what brought me to Fire at Will the first time?”
“I’m not likely to forget. You were a little lost.”
Jenna laughed heartily. “That’s a vast understatement, and you know it. I was floundering. After Eric died and I took early retirement, I just about lost my reason for living. You and the Firing Squad helped me recapture it. You’re all the family I really have now.”
It all came back so vividly. Jenna had been widowed six years before, and her late husband had left her extremely well off. The law had lost its appeal with his demise, and she’d opted for early retirement from the bench. Jenna had walked into the shop searching for something a year later, and she’d apparently found it with our little group.
“That’s just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say,” I said.
“Then Bill’s in trouble. He’s not exactly a ‘roses and poetry’ kind of fellow, is he?”
“No, but I love him just the same.” I took a bite of my sandwich, tacked on a sip of water, then said, “If you’re ready to tell me your news, I’m fine now.”
Jenna stared at the brook a minute before answering. “I hesitate to mention this, because it’s really nothing more than a courthouse rumor. Still, it might give you some insight into Betty’s killer, and I truly do want to help. It’s just that I abhor gossip.”
“Don’t think of it that way, then. You’re just sharing information.”
“I suppose,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you happen to know Tamra Gentry?”
“Who doesn’t? I don’t mean I know her personally, but I do know that she has more money than the bank, and she got away with murder, too, didn’t she?” Rumor had it that Tamra Gentry was wealthy beyond all dreams of avarice. Unfortunately, she also had a penchant for nineteen-year-old men. That wasn’t necessarily a problem when she was twenty, but she’d been fifty-seven when she’d chosen her last one, and he was a bad sort, at that. There were rumors that Tamra had tried and failed to fully hide unexplained bruises on her arms and face more than once before her latest paramour turned up murdered. The newspaper had tried and convicted her with their reporting of the homicide—discounting the apparent batterings—but a jury had deadlocked on the case. With no verdict one way or the other and no retrial likely because of the expense involved, Tamra had walked away a free woman.
“She wasn’t convicted, but she wasn’t found innocent, either. The problem is, I shouldn’t know this, but one of the bailiffs at the courthouse accidentally overheard something he shouldn’t have. Betty Wickline served as forewoman on that jury, and ironically enough, she had the one ‘not guilty’ vote of the twelve that locked them in a hopeless mess.”
I could see Betty opposing the majority out of pure cussedness, and I didn’t doubt she’d stepped into the forewoman’s position by simply volunteering. I’d served on a few juries myself, and I’d even been talked into leading the jury room’s discussions once. I hadn’t served on a murder case, though. Mine had been an inflated charge of conveying threats, and it was so obvious who was lying and who was telling the truth, one witness would have made Pinocchio’s nose proud.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, does it? You knew Betty. She could be as stubborn as anyone when it came to her opinion.”
“That’s not all. The bailiff—and I’m not going to tell you his name, so don’t ask—saw something suspicious, though he could never prove it. After the jury was dismissed, he was in the parking lot sneaking a cigarette before the next case. He was behind some bushes, since he’s not supposed to be seen smoking on the grounds, and he saw Tamra’s attorney say something to Betty at her car.”
“What could he have said?”
“My friend braced the attorney on it, but he claimed he was just warning her about a tire that was nearly flat. When Betty corroborated the story, there was nothing he could do about it, but he’s wondered about it ever since.”
“Is there any chance it was as innocent as they both claimed?”
Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Not likely. You might want to look into Betty’s bank accounts, if there’s any way you can manage that without a court order. I’d
be interested to see if there were any large deposits made right after the case. Jury tampering is an ugly thing, but I know it happens.”
“It’s too late to prove it now, isn’t it?”
“They might not be able to prosecute now that their star witness is dead, but I’d love to put some pressure on that lawyer, Joe McGrath. He argued a few cases before me, and I never trusted him.” She finished her sandwich. “It might not be anything, but I thought you should know.”
“Thanks. As a matter of fact, Sandy discovered that Betty was living way beyond her means. A little blackmail might just explain her inflated income.”
Jenna shook her head. “I wonder if most people realize just how dangerous the Internet is in the hands of a skilled reference librarian.”
“They probably wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if they did,” I said. I finished my sandwich as well. “Thanks for lunch, and for the information. I hope you didn’t bend your ethics for me.”
“I wouldn’t do that, and you know it, but I’m willing to help any way I can.”
“I appreciate that,” I said.
I had some new information, and an increased respect and affection for Jenna. I knew how seriously she took the law, and she’d not only managed to refrain from lecturing me on letting the sheriff handle the investigation himself, but she’d also actively gone out in search of information to help me. It was wonderful having friends like her.
Back at the shop, David handed me a note on his way out the door for a quick bite of his own. I didn’t even glance at it as I asked, “Were you busy while I was gone?”
He shook his head. “We might as well have locked up and gone together. The only thing I did was take that phone message. Well, that’s not strictly true. I did clean up some in back, but we didn’t have any customers. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, David. They’ll come back. Just give them a little time.” It was a fake batch of courage I was trying to sell. The drastic drop in business was worrying me. Did folks around town actually believe I could have had something to do with Betty’s death? Why else would they stay away in droves? Or was it just a seasonal lull, one I normally embraced? Either way, I couldn’t be sure.
After David was gone, I glanced at the note. It was from Martha. With five children—three of them still too young for school—I marveled that she had any time or energy for anything else, let alone snooping around for me.
I called her right back. “Hi, Martha, I just got your message.”
“Hey, Carolyn. Could you give me a few minutes here? The twins are refusing to eat their lunch, and I’m about to give up and just let them go hungry.” Martha was the most caring and nurturing soul I knew. She loved her children more than life itself, but even a saint’s patience can wear thin on occasion.
“I’ll be here for the rest of the afternoon,” I said. “Call me back when you can.”
In the background, I heard one of the twins shouting, “I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.” A second later, her fraternal twin chimed in, and Martha hung up without saying good-bye. I’d always dreamed of having twins, but when the time came, I was thankful my boys came one at a time. I didn’t know how she managed it.
I was refilling some of the squeeze bottles with glaze when the telephone rang. “Fire at Will,” I said as I re-capped one.
“Sorry about that,” Martha said, her voice much calmer than it had been before.
“Hey, you’ve got a lot going on there, no need to apologize,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I heard something kind of tawdry that might help you.”
“Even if it doesn’t, I’m always in the mood for tawdry. Where’d you pick up this juicy little item?”
“I was asking some innocent questions at Mommy Time. You wouldn’t believe some of things I heard about Betty Wickline.” Mommy Time was Maple Ridge’s gathering place for the most diverse group of mothers, and some fathers, too. While they played together with their children, the parents covered topics from A to Z. I wished they would have had something like that when I was home alone raising the boys. Being a stay-at-home mom was the most isolating experience of my life, and while I loved my sons, I leapt for joy when my youngest went to preschool. There was no separation anxiety there. I was ready to get out in the world again.
“Tell me,” I said.
“It seems Betty had a new man in her life. The other night, Ryan Glade was out jogging and found Betty in her car with the windows steamed up. Only she wasn’t alone.”
“She had a house of her own. Why on earth would she carry on like a teenager in a parked car?”
“I asked that myself,” Martha said. “Apparently, Ryan mentioned spotting her the next day, and Betty panicked until she realized that Ryan hadn’t seen her partner. That’s when Betty hinted smugly that the man in question wouldn’t want to be seen with her in public. The only reason I can think of is that he might be married to someone else. Do you think that could have some bearing on the case?”
“It’s certainly worth looking into. Thanks, Martha, I appreciate this.”
“Always glad to help.” In the background, I heard a sudden burst of crying, coming through the telephone like it was in stereo. “I’ve got to go,” she said abruptly.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“It’s the twins. I don’t see any blood, so at least that’s something.”
She hung up before I could get any more information out of her. I wouldn’t have traded my life for Martha’s if there were a million-dollar bonus attached.
I couldn’t exactly wait on customers I didn’t have, and I didn’t feel like doing any pottery work myself, so I grabbed my sketch notebook from my office and turned to a fresh page. Maybe writing down my thoughts would help. So far, I’d found out that Betty had more money than she should have, had an ex who wanted her off his payroll, may have taken a bribe or was blackmailing the richest woman in our county, and was having an affair with a possibly very married man. The woman led a more active life in the last six months than I had in fifty-odd years.
The problem, as I saw it now, was to find out who in Maple Ridge didn’t have a reason to kill Betty Wickline.
Chapter 4
“I can see you’re just buried in work. Should I take the rest of the day off to save you some money?” David, back from his own late lunch, was earnest in his request, and for a second, I thought about taking him up on his offer. But then I suddenly had a better idea.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t you stay here and keep the shop open, and I’ll see what I can come up with on Betty Wickline’s murder?”
“Should you be doing that alone? We can lock the shop, and I’ll come with you.”
“I appreciate that, but I can’t afford to lose the income, just in case someone comes by.” That was true enough, but I also didn’t want to have to explain to Hannah how I’d managed to drag her son into the murder investigation. I couldn’t afford to lose my best friend over this. If it came to that, I’d rather lose my business.
He looked duly disappointed, so I had to throw him some kind of bone. “Why don’t you experiment with that new glaze you’ve been trying to develop?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Be my guest. Just remember, write down everything you do, and make small batches. Those custom glazes and pigments you’re playing with can get expensive.”
“I will. I promise.” David had been trying for months to come up with a signature color for his work, a new shade or hue he could call his own. I understood Hannah’s desire to see her only child get a degree in something he could use, but David was a born potter and glazer, and it would be a shame if those talents had to take a backseat to a career he didn’t want. But, as I told myself a thousand times, I’d raised my boys, and I wasn’t about to take on David as well. He and his mother were going to have to work it out between them without any interference from me. At least not much. Honestly, I was trying to stay out of it,
but really, who can stand idly by when they see someone they care about making a mistake? No, I knew I could really muck things up, despite my good intentions, and if it had been January, I would have made it a New Year’s resolution to butt out of their affairs. At least I was going to try.
Now I had a free afternoon to investigate. It was time to determine which of the leads the Firing Squad had given me might point me toward Betty Wickline’s murderer.
As I walked around town, I ran into Herman Meadows coming out of Rose Colored Glasses. “Shouldn’t you be working?” he said. “You didn’t shut down the pottery shop, did you?”
“David’s watching the store. Is this one of yours, too?” I asked as I gestured to the stained-glass shop.
“Sure is. I’ve got Hattie’s Attic, this place, yours, and In the Grounds. That’s just in this part of Vermont. I’ve also got some property in North Carolina.”
“Did you inherit that as well?”
He drew himself up to his full five-and-a-half-foot height. “I’ll have you know that I’ve done more with my life than just sit around collecting rent. I’ve got dreams, Carolyn, and I’m making them happen.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
He frowned, then it abruptly turned into a grin. “That’s okay. I guess I’m still a little touchy. My aunt called me up this morning and chewed me out. She said I wasn’t ambitious enough, and I guess she kind of pushed my buttons. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“I don’t mind,” I said.
“Well, I gotta go. I’ve got a ton of stuff to do today.”
I wished I could say the same thing, but if I did, I’d be lying.
As far as the murder investigation was concerned, the afternoon was a total failure. I’d tried to strike up conversations with a dozen different folks I knew, but all I got for my trouble was a handful of rushed good-byes and a few outright snubs. Did these people actually think I could have killed Betty Wickline? Their reactions frustrated me on so many levels. I’d been born and raised in Maple Ridge, I’d raised two sons and owned my own business for years, yet I was being treated like an outcast. I wasn’t used to being a pariah in my own hometown. Still, if anything, my new status only fueled my drive to find out who really had killed Betty.
A Murderous Glaze Page 5