“Celebrity?” Betsy’s interest in Hope piqued again.
The woman cast a confused look at Betsy. “You don’t know who Hope Early is? Do you live under a rock?”
“Of course I know.” Betsy gave a nervous laugh.
“Betsy was just helping me with something, weren’t you?” Hope grinned widely because the bordering-on-rude real estate agent had to help her now.
“Right. I’m happy to help in any way I can. And if you don’t mind, Mrs. White, I just need a few moments to speak with Hope privately.”
“Sure. No problem. I’m going to finish looking around. I do love this place. Before I forget,” the woman dug into her quilted leather purse and pulled out a business card. “My husband is a dentist, and I’m sure you’ll love him. He does a lot of famous teeth.” She handed the card to Hope and then walked away.
“Thank you.” Hope shoved the card into her purse as her fan walked away.
“Now, what can I do for you, Ms. Early?” Betsy asked all sweet and nice now that she believed Hope was somebody important.
Hope hated to admit it, but the little bit of celebrity status that appearing on The Sweet Taste of Success gave her did help every now and then. And it helped with Betsy Callahan. The woman didn’t want to be bothered by Hope Early, one of Peaches’ friends, but when she realized she was talking to Hope Early, the celebrity, the woman was practically falling over herself to be helpful.
Hope shook off her irritation. “Do you know why Peaches left her successful business and moved to Jefferson to take a job at a small real estate office?”
Betsy shrugged. “No. She called me into her office one morning and told me she was closing her business. Just like that.”
“You had no idea?”
“I wish I had. That would have put me in a better position. I hate being blindsided. But I guess she decided there was more to life than making a deal.”
“Why do you say that?”
“About six months prior to her closing up shop and moving out to the country, she joined a gym and started going every day. I guess she got on some health kick that ballooned into a complete life change.”
“Going to the gym was out of the ordinary for her?”
“Yes. Peaches hated working out. I have no idea how she stayed so slim.” Betsy’s voice held a hint of envy. “You know, what was really strange was the gym she joined was so far from her condo and from her office. That didn’t make sense to me since there was a fitness center down the street from her building.”
Could Peaches’ move to Jefferson have been just what Betsy thought it was, a life change? Could it have been that simple and it had nothing to do with her mother’s fatal accident? Could the closure Peaches had experienced have been accepting that the driver of the car would never be identified?
“Is there anything else you can remember?” Hope asked.
Betsy shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” She leaned forward and in a low voice asked, “What show are you on?”
“Oh, she mistook me for someone else. Have a nice day.” Hope fought back a smile at the woman’s obvious disappointment. She spun around and swiftly exited the pricey apartment.
* * *
Flowers weren’t the only things springing up as the season changed. Signs for tag sales popped up all over the place. Hope loved tag sales and had a hard time passing one up. They were perfect for finding treasures that could be lovingly restored or used for props for photographs on her blog. She rarely left a tag sale empty-handed. Taking the back roads home to Jefferson, Hope could stop at any tag sale that looked like she could get a few good deals. Twenty minutes into her drive home, she spotted a series of handmade signs that led her to a raised-ranch house. She parked and got out. There was decent activity at the tag sale, especially over in the area where toys were grouped. Little ones tried out the toys, while their moms calculated how much they would offer. Negotiating at tag sales was an art.
Hope picked up a blue-and-white pitcher to check the price sticker on the bottom. Ten dollars. The pitcher wasn’t a traditional Blue Willow pattern and wasn’t necessarily old, but it would make a nice addition to her ever-growing collection of blue-and-white accessories. But ten dollars was too much for one item. She scanned the table, which was set lengthwise up the driveway, and she spotted some other pieces she was confident she could bundle together for a reasonable offer.
With her decision made to purchase the blue-and-white pitcher, four crystal candlestick holders, and a large tarnished copper pot, Hope made an offer to the home owner that was accepted without a counteroffer. While she loved finding diamonds in the rough, she really didn’t like haggling. The home owner was kind enough to wrap the candlestick holders, and Hope then packed up all the items in a collapsible crate she kept in the back of the car.
She opened the cargo area door and slid in the crate. She nestled it close to the two other filled crates from a few earlier stops. She scored some good deals.
Sifting through bins of kitchenware, searching through home accessories, and browsing through old books was a welcome distraction from her meetings with Matt Roydon and Betsy Callahan.
She couldn’t call either meeting a success. They were more like a waste of time. Though, she did have Roydon’s card in case she or Claire needed his services. He might not have been far off base with his offer, at least for her representation. Because if Detective Reid found out about her visits to Roydon and Callahan, he might very well consider her interfering with his investigation. Yes, it would be a good idea to keep the charming attorney’s number handy.
At a four-way-stop intersection, another tag sale sign was tacked to a utility pole. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. She smiled. There was time for one more stop. Flicking on her blinker, she made a turn and followed the signs to another nearby sale. As she drove by the house, there was still quite a bit of inventory out so she found a spot on the side of the road to pull over. Parked, she grabbed her purse and got out of her rental car.
Hope browsed, but at the first few tables nothing caught her eye. Unlike Matt Roydon. That realization brought Hope to a halt, and another realization hit her. Those butterflies in her stomach had nothing to do with the investigation but more to do with the fact Matt Roydon was a very good-looking man. Whoa.
“Are you looking for anything particular?”
The female voice jogged Hope out of her thoughts. She looked over in the direction of the voice and found a young redhead holding a baby and with a toddler clutched to her leg.
“No, I’m just browsing.”
“Take your time. Let me know if you have any questions.” The mom walked away with her children.
Hope had a lot of questions and none of them could be answered at the tag sale. The question that nagged at her now was what was going on with her? She had feelings for Ethan, feelings she believed was love, but she also found Matt very attractive. So attractive she had butterflies in her stomach like a silly teenage girl when she met him.
Just as she was about to turn around and head back to the car, something caught her eye. She made a beeline to a back table. A collection of rolling pins. One was a thick, mahogany rolling pin. She lifted it and felt the heft of its weight. Perfect. The others were of various shapes and condition. The mahogany rolling pin was the one she wanted. She decided to make an offer for all of them. Together they’d make a good photograph.
“You found something?” The young mom approached without her children in tow.
“How much for all of them?” Hope set the large rolling pin down.
“They were my grandma’s. She loved to bake. I just don’t have the time, you know? How does ten dollars sound for all of them?
Hope looked up and noticed dark circles around the young woman’s eyes. Hosting a tag sale wasn’t an easy task. There was a lot of prep work and then there was the cleanup. Add two kids under the age of three and it was a recipe for exhaustion. She wasn’t going to haggle with the woman. In fact, she w
as getting a bargain.
“Ten dollars sounds good.” Hope paid and then gathered up her new rolling pins. She placed them in the cargo area of her SUV. As she closed the cargo door, her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse and saw her brother-in-law’s name. She swiped the phone on. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Claire’s been arrested,” Andy said.
Her stomach plummeted. Her breath caught in her throat, as if she’d been punched right in the gut. “How . . . how can that be? She’s innocent.”
“I don’t know where you are, but you need to get back here now. I’m at the courthouse. We’re making bail now. And then I’m taking her home.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.” Hope swiped her phone off, got into her car and started the ignition. What the hell was Ethan thinking? How could he let Detective Reid do something so clearly wrong? The time they wasted arresting Claire meant they weren’t looking for the real killer. She’d go straight to Claire’s house and do her best to avoid Ethan because she didn’t want another murder in Jefferson.
* * *
Hope dropped her purse on her kitchen island, rested her hands on the countertop, and inhaled several deep breaths. How could Claire have been arrested? It was insane that people believed Claire murdered two women she barely knew, in cold blood. Insane that a judge set bail rather than toss the outrageous charges. Insane. Just insane.
Another deep breath.
Just as Hope had crossed the Jefferson town line, Andy had called her to let her know Claire had taken a sleeping pill and gone to bed. Disappointed she wouldn’t see her sister, Hope decided to continue to their house so she could see Andy and the kids. She wanted to hold them, let them know everything was going to be okay, despite the terrible mistake the police had made.
She made sure they had a good dinner before leaving. It wasn’t a surprise when the meal she prepared was barely eaten. Everyone was too worried to have an appetite. She pushed herself away from the island and filled the teakettle. She wanted something warm, comforting, but she didn’t need any caffeine. She figured it would be difficult enough to sleep without any added stimulation.
With the kettle filled, Hope set it on a stove burner and turned on the flame. While pulling out a mug from an upper cabinet, there was a knock on the back door, followed by the door opening. Ethan appeared.
The sight of him infuriated her, yet she had an urge to run into his arms. Rather than react, she pulled out another mug and set them both on the island.
“May I come in?” he asked with hesitation.
“Guess so.” She hoped her tone didn’t reveal either of her warring emotions.
“I’m probably the last person you want to see tonight, considering what happened today.” He closed the door behind him and cautiously approached the island.
What did he expect her to do to him? After all, he was the one wearing the gun. A quick glance to her left reminded her she had a fully stocked knife block at her disposal. Maybe he was worried about that.
“Detective Reid would be a close second,” Hope snapped.
“For what it’s worth, Claire has a very good attorney.”
She glared at him. “She wouldn’t need a good attorney if she hadn’t been arrested. I don’t understand why she was arrested. You said you believe she’s innocent.”
“I do. But my job isn’t about what I believe. It’s about where the evidence takes us during an investigation. And it’s taken us to Claire.”
The kettle whistled and Hope poured hot water into the mugs, then dropped a tea bag into each. “What evidence?”
“She and Ms. McCoy had a competitive relationship, Claire sent her threatening text messages, and Vanessa’s laptop was found in the trunk of Claire’s car.”
“What?” She set the kettle down on a trivet with a thump. “That’s not possible.”
“We found it there. Though the hard drive was missing.”
“Missing? So somebody stole the computer the night Vanessa was murdered and removed the hard drive, then planted it in Claire’s car?”
“Our working theory is Claire did that.”
“Please, Claire isn’t a computer geek. She couldn’t possibly remove a hard drive. She barely knows how to operate her refrigerator.” The remodel of Claire’s kitchen a year ago included a fancy refrigerator complete with a command center that allowed for home owners to create a shopping list, send photos, and listen to music. Claire barely knew how to work the ice machine in the freezer door. She’d never figure out how to remove a hard drive from a computer.
Ethan walked around the island to Hope. He reached out to her, but she pulled back. “I understand how you feel.”
Hope placed her hands on her hips. Since Andy’s call earlier, she’d felt helpless and out of sorts. Her sister was arrested, fingerprinted, and arraigned. It was surreal, like an out-of-body experience. A wave of emotion threated to undo her. But she wouldn’t surrender to the fear that penetrated every fiber of her body. That was what the killer wanted and she had no intention of accommodating him or her.
“You have no idea how I feel. My only sister was arrested for crimes she didn’t commit after you told me you believe she’s innocent.”
“Hope, you have to understand. I said that as your friend. But as the police chief, I have to—”
“Follow the evidence, I know.” On any other day, she would have found comfort in Ethan’s presence, but he now represented the cause of the pain that touched every part of her body. He couldn’t be her rock. Not that day.
“I think I should go.” Worry creased his forehead and regret flashed in his eyes.
“You should” was the only thing she could say in response.
He lowered his gaze and shook his head. He turned and walked out of her kitchen. An instant reflex to chase after him was tamped down by the heaviness of fear. More fear than she’d felt when she was forced off the road or when she was grabbed right there in her kitchen a few days earlier by an intruder. When she left New York to move back home, she believed she’d lost everything. She hadn’t. She still had her sister, who was an anchor for Hope. A fun-loving, shoe-buying, loyal, and loving anchor in the middle of Hope’s stormy love life and shattered career. If she couldn’t prove Claire was innocent, then she would lose everything that truly mattered in her life.
Chapter Twenty-six
“You do know I heard you need to register them. Something about protecting everyone from bird flu.” Gilbert Madison stood in the open doorway of the barn. He’d been out for his morning walk with Buddy when they stopped by for a visit.
“Yes, I heard.” Hope wiped her hands on a towel. She appreciated Gilbert’s diligence of keeping up with the legal aspects of owning chickens, but she wasn’t in the mood for the chitchat. Up at the crack of dawn, she wanted to finish her chores and get over to Claire’s house as soon as possible.
Helga and her peeps, yes—Hope knew it was a bad joke, but she couldn’t resist—were fed and watered. It was the fastest feeding she’d ever done. An urge to spend as much time with Claire as possible drove her to breaking all previous time records. She gave herself a mental shake because she needed to stop thinking like that. Claire wasn’t going anywhere.
Just like Gilbert, apparently. “Never thought we’d have to worry about bird flu.”
Buddy slid down into a relaxed position on the barn floor. Great, he wasn’t going anywhere, either.
“I’m sorry, Gilbert. I have to get going. I need to get over to Claire’s.” Hope started walking toward the barn door.
Gilbert shook his head. “I heard what happened yesterday. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Hope closed the chicken-coop door and pulled off her work gloves.
“If there’s anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to let us know. Give Claire our best.” Gilbert whistled and Buddy stood, and they both turned and headed to the road.
Hope followed them out of the barn, pulling closed the barn door behind her. Back i
n her house, she’d changed into a floral skirt and cardigan and slipped into a pair of ballet flats. She grabbed her purse and a canvas bag filled with ingredients for an egg casserole and a loaf of rustic white bread she had made the night before. Kneading the dough allowed her to get her frustrations out. She had a feeling she’d be baking a lot of bread in the coming days.
When Hope arrived at Claire’s, she entered through the back door and found Evelyn, the housekeeper, unloading the dishwasher. On the surface, it looked like any other morning she arrived at her sister’s home. She would exchange small talk with Evelyn as she passed through the kitchen to find Claire. But it wasn’t like any other morning. Yesterday her sister was arrested for murder and had to post bail. She shook her head in disbelief. She still couldn’t understand how that had happened.
Perhaps it was because Detective Reid was looking to close his case quickly. Arrest Claire, slap two murder cases closed, and head home for dinner. He probably had a good night’s sleep believing the murderer had been caught. She doubted he considered for one minute he was wrong.
“Good to see you, Hope.” Evelyn closed the dishwasher.
Hope dropped her purse and the canvas tote bag on the counter. “How is everyone?”
Evelyn shrugged. “The kids are really quiet. Your sister and Mr. Dixon are with the attorney.”
An attorney that made house calls? His retainer must cost a fortune. “I’m going to start breakfast.” Hope began unpacking the groceries and Evelyn made a quick exit to do laundry, allowing Hope to settle into the kitchen.
Cooking was Hope’s center. It was where she went when life got out of balance. The mixing, the stirring, the measuring, it all calmed her. A dash here, a pinch there kept her focused on the task at hand so her mind couldn’t replay over and over the problem she was trying to work through. Sometimes she veered off a recipe, sometimes she followed it exactly. Either way, what mattered was that when she was in the kitchen, she was in control and nothing could defeat her. By the time she was cleaning up, whatever her problem was usually seemed so much smaller and conquerable. Hope’s mind was clearer, she had a plan of action to attack the problem, and she had something to eat. Win, win.
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