Claire pulled back her narrow shoulders in her lilac cardigan. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to explain to my friends that my daughter is going to work for that man.”
So that was why her mother had been so reluctant to accept her homecoming as good news. Not only because she was afraid of a retirement home, but also because she had suspected Vicky wanted to work with Michael Danning. The Houdini among bachelors as Claire had called him, before Celine had vanished. After that, Claire had been convinced Michael was to blame. He was the last person alive she wanted associated with her only daughter.
Cheerful chimes wafted over to them on the breeze. The church tower’s melody for the quarter of an hour. A quarter to ten.
Vicky started, dropping the paper in the grass. It was a good ten-minute walk, and she didn’t want to arrive in a sweat from rushing. If only she had brought her bike to her mother’s. But she had figured it would be nice to walk into town, the old route she had taken countless times, and see if much had changed. It had seemed nostalgic and fun. Right now, however, she was shaken to the core by the news of Michael’s return and the possibility the old disappearance case would be reopened.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I have to go. And no, not to see Michael Danning. You kept that hidden from me very cleverly. Too bad really. If I had known Michael was back in town and this whole thing was about to unfold…I might have decided to stay away until it was over.”
Chapter Two
Vicky stepped out of the garden gate, Claire hot on her heels with the dogs.
“How do you mean stay away until it was over?” Claire asked in a small voice.
Vicky clenched her hands into fists by her sides. Her overeager mother had drawn all the wrong conclusions and thereby achieved the exact opposite of what she tried to accomplish: dragging her daughter into a situation Vicky herself would have preferred to stay away from.
She sighed before saying, “You could at least have given me a choice. I considered it all when I wanted to come back: giving up my job, my friends, moving into a small town where all eyes would be on me. To some people here I never grew up. They will treat me again like I’m still a teen. But I didn’t consider this whole Celine business of old. Diane back in town, the case about to be reopened. And Michael even stirring up this hornets’ nest. I can’t believe it. Why would he do that?”
“You still care for him,” Claire groused. “Why else would you respond like that? It does matter to you.”
Vicky snapped her face toward her mother. “Of course it matters. Michael left like…a man on the run. Everybody believed he was guilty. Not of some minor thing but of a horrible crime, a premeditated cold-blooded killing.”
Claire blinked in confusion. “Nobody said it had to be premeditated. He could have killed her in a fit of rage.”
“But nobody saw them together that night. Michael’s car was clean. The body never found. If you kill someone in a fit of rage, you have not prepared your actions so you make mistakes and there are traces. Even eyewitnesses. Something that points back at you. I worked in the newspaper world long enough to know about such things. If Michael really killed Celine without anybody finding out about it, he would have had to prepare every step of the way. So when people accuse him, they actually say that Michael planned the murder of his own girlfriend, way ahead and into enough detail that he left no traces and could get away with it.”
Vicky shivered as she put the conclusion into words. “Now why would he come back here and face all of those evil allegations again?”
Vicky’s heart cringed for Michael Danning’s position, and she had to take a few steadying breaths. She shouldn’t become so emotional about it all. That was not the way to convince her mother she didn’t care.
As if she sensed that feeling, Claire held her head down and pushed ahead, satisfied to let the charged silence speak for itself.
Wanting to know so many things, Vicky could just scream that her mother wasn’t giving her anything more. Her quiet morning devoted to finding the perfect space for her gift shop had spiraled out of control, dragging her back into the whirlpool of the past. The one big event that had rocked Glen Cove and had never completely left public memory. It had left an invisible scar on the idyllic town, a scar that the many tourists might not see but that the long-time inhabitants felt itching from time to time.
The sheriff who had not been able to solve the disappearance.
Friends who had been questioned and played against each other.
The rumors about anonymous tips smearing people, just because the caller thought the occasion was best used to get even for an old insult.
Like a stone in a pond, the disappearance of one girl had rippled into so many lives, changing them forever. Even after two decades had passed, it was not over.
With the ocean at their backs, they were walking toward the church’s tower that protruded over the center of the town. Houses were scattered in groups with generous green among them. Gardens had signs announcing they were competing in the annual competition for best garden in town. Claire had mentioned in passing that for her record of winning three times in a row she had been made an honorary member of the jury.
This realization washed Vicky’s anger away. Her mother’s behavior had its reasons. As a lifelong inhabitant, Claire cared so much for her reputation in town. It was logical she had been upset by her own impromptu conclusion that Vicky was moving back here to go work for Michael Danning. A murder suspect who had never managed to clear his name.
Perhaps her return did look somewhat odd now that Michael was back here, and Diane. Like they had planned it between them. After all, Vicky was a reporter as well. Someone who had made a name for herself digging into the past of idyllic country seats and lovely wedding locations, but the essence of digging was always the same. Vicky couldn’t deny that Celine’s disappearance raised tantalizing questions that could cause someone to become obsessed.
Especially someone who had been personally involved.
“Everybody knows he killed Celine.” Claire could contain herself no longer. “And don’t you forget it.” She wagged a finger at Vicky. “Danning might have persuaded Diane to claim now that there is proof that says differently but…if the police found nothing at the time, there can’t be any now. Where would it have come from all of a sudden?”
That was a very good question. With all her journalistic experience Vicky had no answer to it.
She wished she had taken the newspaper along so she could study the article in more detail. Could she go buy one at Jones General Store after she had talked to the real estate agent? The headline would certainly be an ideal conversation starter, and Mrs. Jones liked to talk. Vicky might hear some interesting tidbit that her mother, with her antipathy toward Michael Danning, conveniently ignored.
“They have nothing,” Claire said with conviction. “They are only kicking up dust. Probably to boost the Gazette’s sales. When Danning took over, he claimed he could revive the paper. But his way of making good on that promise is less than tasteful, I say—”
Vicky had raised a hand to stop her mother mid-sentence. “Michael has taken over the Gazette? It’s not just a temporary position?”
“Of course not.” Claire huffed. “Why else would I be worried you will go and work there? He is editor-in-chief now. Can do what he wants. Write what he wants. Print what he wants.”
Claire waved both hands in the air. “He is like a dictator now. Can steer public opinion.”
Annoyed at her mother’s gross exaggeration, Vicky pursed her lips and pretended to be distracted by the activity in the old harbor to their left. A new marina had been built away from the town where tourists could moor their yachts, but this old harbor was still the place where fishermen worked day by day to bring in fresh catch for the diner, some hotels outside of town and the local fish dealer. Just the smell of real clam chowder was something Vicky had missed abroad. Here she could make it herself, or go to the diner where they served it
fresh, with thin slices of homemade rye bread.
Maybe there would be time for lunch after her appointment? It was tempting to know Michael was at the Gazette’s building. Today’s headline was a shocker so why couldn’t she drop by and have a chat? The reporter inside of her was desperate to know what clue Michael and Diane were holding that had given them the confidence to take this bold step. It had to be something substantial, for Vicky couldn’t believe it was just a move for publicity, like her mother claimed, to boost the Gazette’s sales. That would be so…cold and mercenary. This news of a possible reopening of the case could have reporters descending on the town to pick apart any bit of the story they could get their hands on. People could be implicated all over again.
Or was that Michael’s ultimate objective?
Making others go through the same thing he had gone through at the time?
Taking revenge on the town that way?
She hadn’t been in touch with him since he had left, under suspicion, like a man on the run. She had no idea how bitter he might be.
“They must be lying about having anything,” Claire said, with a prim little tilt of her chin.
“You don’t know that,” Vicky protested, also to stem her unpleasant suspicions about Michael’s possible motives. “Cold cases get reopened all the time. The police might be able to use a vague DNA sample that they couldn’t use before because the technology needed wasn’t available at the time. Or maybe they arrested a man for another crime and Diane believes this man is also her sister’s abductor.”
Claire shook her head. “Diane is a wife and mother, not a detective.” She paused for emphasis.
Knowing Claire had also wanted to see her daughter married and with kids by now, Vicky didn’t respond to the challenge.
Claire continued, “Danning printed false allegations before, you know, forcing Gwenda Gill out of business.”
Vicky frowned. “Gwenda Gill? The lady who ran the beauty parlor on Main Street? But… You wrote to me that she lost customers because of another beauty center or spa thing opening nearby.”
“Yes, that’s right. It has a Greek name that I can’t pronounce. It took away all Gwenda’s customers, in just a few months. But the allegations in the Gazette were the final blow. Saying something like her revitalizing spray really being tap water.”
“That’s a serious allegation. I mean, if it were true, it would amount to product doctoring. Defrauding her customers who believed they were buying a quality product.”
Claire nodded. “It ruined Gwenda’s reputation. People even came to the parlor with half-used bottles asking for their money back. And someone wrote ‘cheat’ on her window. All because of that article in the Gazette based on an anonymous source.” Claire grimaced. “It showed off Danning’s character to perfection. He’s a predator.”
Vicky stared ahead. This news was a different kind of blow. She planned on renting the former beauty parlor. It seemed like a perfect place for her store concept. But if there had been some sort of campaign to ruin the parlor and its owner—allegations of fraud, threats left on the window—she might be the next target. That only made her more nervous about her business plans.
To steer conversation away from the unfortunate Gwenda Gill, Vicky glanced at her mother. “How does Sheriff Perkins feel now that Michael is back in town pursuing the old case? He never could accept he hadn’t solved it.”
Claire sighed. “Sure, it still stung, he did mention that once in a while, but he had to accept it. No officer can ever solve all of his cases, right? And this is but a small town. He had never dealt with something so big before, nor did he have to afterward. I doubt he will let Danning look at his old files. Diane’s appearance won’t change that.”
“What old files?” Vicky pressed. Her reporter blood was positively churning now.
“On the disappearance case of course.” Claire sighed in impatience. “Seems that when Perkins retired as sheriff, he took some old cases with him. Things that were still puzzling him, or frustrating him—who can tell? Keeps them in his barn. For his own personal use of course, not to have people snooping around in them. Least of all Michael Danning, the prime suspect at the time.” Claire shook her head.
Vicky queried, “How do you mean ‘when he retired’? Perkins is no longer sheriff? You didn’t tell me that either.”
“Well, our new sheriff is not competent. That’s all I’m going to say about it.” Claire gave a determined nod. “Hopefully he’ll shoot himself in the leg soon enough and he will be forced to step down. End of discussion.”
Vicky’s mind was scrambling to make sense of it all. A new sheriff, Michael in charge of the local paper, running a story about Diane and the old disappearance case.
Just as she was back, full of plans and hopes, this whole thing had resurfaced, filling her head with questions and feelings she didn’t want to feel. Back then Celine had vanished without a trace. Some people wanted to believe it had been the work of an outsider, the mystery man who had supposedly been dating Celine. But what if the perpetrator had been a local? What if he or she was still living here?
Had Vicky actually returned to a town where a murderer lived among them, smiling at people, acting like a normal person? While in reality…
What if Michael suspected that and had started this campaign with Diane to…
Smoke out this killer of old?
That could be pretty risky.
They had to be desperate to know the truth. And bring this person to justice.
Claire kept her eyes on Vicky as she asked, “You’re not going to work for Michael Danning, are you?”
Vicky saw real anxiety in her mother’s eyes—deep concern. Had Claire drawn the same conclusion as she herself had, about the dangers involved in rekindling the old case?
Was she worried Vicky would somehow end up entangled in the investigation and run a risk of getting hurt?Feeling a little milder about her mother’s never-ending meddling, Vicky reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand. “No, not at all. If you have to know the truth, I’m meeting Everett to discuss a special plan. I want to open a store, to make myself a living.”
She cringed in expectation of an earful about the financial risks, but the mention of Everett cheered Claire up at once. She smiled and clutched the dogs’ leashes tighter. “Wonderful. You must ask Everett to come to dinner later this week.”
Vicky’s jaw dropped that her mother wasn’t fuming about the disasters looming when one wanted to open a store in Glen Cove. Quickly she said, “Sure, I’ll ask him, but I doubt that he has the time for it.”
“He needs a decent meal once in a while,” Claire said. “Since his mother died, I doubt he cooks for himself. Must all be microwave food.” She made a face. “It’s just the neighborly thing to invite him over.”
Of course. Vicky suppressed a cynical laugh. Claire would study them all during dinner to see if sparks flew. She had always liked Everett Baker because he was a chess champion like Vicky’s dad had been and because his real estate business was expanding all the time. Such a man could support a family, unlike the drifter type that Michael Danning was supposed to be in her mother’s opinion.
Vicky would rather avoid Everett’s lectures about his latest sales, but Claire would be excited about the dinner and might not mind the whole store idea so much. Maybe Vicky could even ask Everett to put in a good word for her. If he told Claire that a new store concept was just what Glen Cove needed, Claire would believe him right away. It would make things much easier.
Deep in thought Vicky bumped into a blackboard on the sidewalk. It advertised honey, wax candles and a special Keep the Bees Buzzzy bread.
“Our new baker is also a beekeeper,” Claire explained. “The bread is sold to support his hobby. I have no idea if anybody ever buys it. Every store in this town is struggling, you know.”
She cast Vicky a sharp look. “Especially in the winter months when the tourists aren’t showing themselves here. Lots of people have started a ne
w initiative during the summer and things looked bright, only to find they couldn’t make it through November. I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself.”
“The Joneses are still here,” Vicky said in defense, nodding at the general store on the other side of the street.
“Of course they are. All the locals feel obliged to buy from them. They’re an institution around here. I’m talking about newcomers. Like Gwenda and her beauty parlor.”
Vicky clenched her jaw. With Gwenda’s bankruptcy fresh in people’s minds, the scrutiny would be intense. Was she entirely sure that she wanted to try this? It would be terrible to see it go awry in front of all the people who knew her.
In front of Michael Danning even.
Claire said, “Gwenda still does her dog shows, you know. I wonder if that makes her money. She’s always complaining her no good ex-husband is paying her nothing for alimony. Mortimer is a handyman so I suppose he can’t afford much. But Gwenda keeps insisting he has some secret stash of money somewhere. Now I’m asking you: where would he have got money? I do hear he overcharges but that’s hardly a crime. People should negotiate before they accept a price, right?”
Vicky nodded vaguely, looking ahead to where the parlor had sat. The parking spaces on the other side of the street were ideal for customers. It really was a first-rate location.
Which probably came at a matching price, and Everett Baker would squeeze her for every dime he could get.
Dead to Begin With (A Country Gift Shop Cozy Mystery series, Book 1) Page 2