by B. T. Lord
Rick waited until they were back in the Explorer before dialing Rodney Novak. The phone rang, but there was no answer. Rick tried several more times, but with the same result. He left his name and number and urged Novak to call them as soon as he received the message.
“He sure did have it bad for Poppie,” Rick remarked after slipping his cell back into his pocket. “I thought he was going to break down bawling as he talked about her.”
“Sadly, it seems his feelings were never going to be reciprocated.”
“You never know. Maybe in time, he would have worn her down. Or her loneliness would have become too much for her to handle.”
Cammie remained silent. Despite Rick’s optimism, she knew Poppie would never have involved herself with Kevin. Or with any other man. There was no male on the face of the earth who could have competed with the shrine to Hannah. That was the focal point of Poppie’s life. There was no room for anything, or anyone else.
They made a quick stop to the library who confirmed Meredith had retired six months before. There was no visible change to her demeanor; she was as quietly efficient as she always was right up to her final hours as Mategwas’ senior librarian.
It had been a long day. The two discussed the merits of the case, throwing theories back and forth on the two hour ride home. They didn’t reach any definitive conclusions, but it did help pass the time.
“Tonight is a meeting with the Night Hawks team, so Jace is going to be tied up until around nine. I’m going to head over to Zee’s and grab a bite to eat. You’re more than welcome to join me,” Cammie said as she pulled up to the front of HQ.
“To be honest with you, I’m too tired to eat. I’m just going to go in, check up on any messages and call it a night.”
“See you tomorrow then.”
Rick climbed out of the Explorer and entered HQ as Cammie continued down the street towards Zee’s.
Emmy was on her way out when she saw Rick coming in. “You look exhausted. Was it worth the trip?” she asked.
“Actually, it was. We found out that Meredith and Aubrey--” To his surprise, she cut him off.
“Sorry Rick, but I’m meeting a friend. I’ve got to run. You can tell me all about it tomorrow.”
And with that she was gone.
He stood in the middle of the foyer, stunned by her behavior. Emmy loved being a part of their investigations. She thought of herself as an integral part to what made their team so successful. She’d never turned her back on listening to information that could be relevant to a case. Yet, she’d walked out the door, her appointment with this friend much more important than finding out what they’d discovered that day. She’d either been taken over by aliens or her friend was a guy. A guy she was interested in. A guy she was very interested in.
Rick felt that familiar ache in his stomach. The difference this time was that the ache soon smoldered into an anger that threatened to erupt.
“This is bullshit,” he yelled to no one in particular.
The anger was starting to ignite. He turned and spied Emmy’s Halloween tree that she’d started putting up that day.
Emmy had small plastic trees and ornaments for every major holiday that she always put up in HQ’s front window. It was a tradition that he considered weirdly endearing. Now, however, he wanted nothing more than to stomp over to the Halloween tree and sweep it away with a swing of his arm. At the last moment, he pulled back. Smashing the tree wasn’t going to solve anything. It would only make matters worse.
He had to do something to quench this anger. Whipping out his cell phone, he called the first name on his contacts list. “Wendy, this is Rick. You busy tonight?”
Zee’s was hopping with the dinner crowd when Cammie arrived. An old Beatles tune was playing on the jukebox as she managed to grab the last available seat at the bar. She ordered a cobb salad with salmon with her usual ginger ale.
“How’s the investigation going?” Zee asked as he deposited the food and soda in front of her.
“It’s going. Still pulling in the pieces.”
“Listen, I hate to ask, but I was hoping you’d do me a favor.”
“Of course Zee, whatever you need.”
“Harry’s truck broke down this afternoon. Jace had to tow it back to the garage and dropped him off here. If I take him home, he’ll have to wait around until at least eleven pm when I close up shop. Do you mind driving him home?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Thanks. I’ll let him know.”
Harry lived in a small three room house in the woods about twenty minutes outside Twin Ponds. The structure was a bit decrepit, but the roof didn’t leak, the cold air didn’t seep in, and it suited him perfectly.
When Harry showed up in town, Cammie convinced the owner to rent it out to him instead of tearing it down. Although the rent wasn’t much, it was more than he would have gotten by simply bulldozing the building down.
He kept her entertained with snippets of poetry on their short drive to his home. When they arrived, he opened the door, stepped outside and bowed to her. “You are truly an angel in disguise,” he smiled.
“You’d do the same for me,” she smiled back. She pulled away and was halfway down the road when she noticed his wallet sitting on the passenger seat. Guessing it must have slipped out of his baggy trousers, she had no choice but to turn around and head back.
There was no answer when she knocked on the front door. Thinking that he may have stepped into the bathroom, she opened the door and let herself in.
“Harry!” she called out.
“I’ll be right there,” he answered. From the direction of his voice, she saw that he was indeed in the bathroom.
“You left your wallet in the Explorer. I’m just going to leave it on your desk.”
Despite Harry’s disheveled appearance, his house was not messy. There were books here and there, as well as a shelf above his writing desk that was stacked with all sorts of poetry books and essays, but they were always dusted and kept in neat piles.
She put the wallet on the desk and was about to turn away when what looked like a scrapbook laid out in the center of the blotter caught her eye. On one side there were a series of photographs glued onto the paper. On the other side was what appeared to be a letter also glued onto the paper. Leaning over for a better look, she caught her breath.
The photographs were all of her mother and seemed to have been taken on the same day. She stood in the woods wearing the light tanned coat Cammie remembered so well and the cream colored hat she’d knitted herself. Each photo had a different pose, but what struck Cammie was the smile in every shot. A wide, happy smile that Cammie hadn’t seen in a very long time.
Her mother was younger in the pictures. She couldn’t tell if she’d been born yet, but when she turned the page over, she saw a photograph of herself in her mother’s arms. She looked to be around two years old. Again, her mother had that wide, deliriously happy grin Cammie almost didn’t recognize.
She turned the page back and looked at the letter. A little voice inside screamed at her not to read it. To ignore it. To turn and leave and forget she’d ever seen the scrapbook. But it was too late. With her heart hammering loudly in her ears, and her palms moist with fear, she read the words in her mother’s tiny handwriting.
What would I ever do without you? It sounds so melodramatic to write this, or even to say it aloud. But you truly are my rock. I hope you know that. And I hope that you’ll always be my rock, no matter what happens.
Cammie didn’t know what to think. With shaking hands she turned the yellowed pages of the scrapbook, only to find more pictures of her mother, more letters expressing her love and devotion. To Adam McIntyre – the dead man who’d been resurrected as Dancing Harry.
Her stomach turned sour. She couldn’t breathe. It seemed everywhere she looked, she saw her mother’s face smiling back at her. Smiling in a way that left her reeling. Smiling as though she was happy to be alive. Smiling as though she were i
n love.
I have to get out of here. I can’t take this anymore.
Cammie turned to leave. And walked straight into Harry.
He had a look on his face that she’d never seen before. There was a deep sadness and a regret so poignant that it left her more confused. And cold. As if her mother were reaching out from beyond the grave and wrapping her fingers around Cammie’s heart. They stared at each other for a long moment before she pushed past him and hurried out the door.
CHAPTER NINE
Cammie got about a mile from Harry’s house before she had to pull over. Scrambling out of the Explorer, she just made it to the woods before she threw up her salad. She then sat on the cold ground, unable to fully comprehend what she’d just seen. And what its implications were.
Her mother had always been a quiet, self contained woman. She’d tried her best to be there for Cammie, but her emotions had always been elsewhere. Attached to the man who had been Cammie’s father. Caitlin Farnsworth had loved him fiercely, despite his emotional distance, not only from her, but from his daughter as well.
Cammie knew he’d come back changed from the Vietnam War. He’d seen enough death and atrocities to last him two lifetimes. He’d coped by drinking, which only increased his reclusive nature. When she was ten, he built the cabin Cammie lived in now on the pretense of having a place where he could go to fish. But Cammie and her mother knew it was his way of escaping to the only place he felt safe from a world he no longer trusted in.
As Cammie pondered this, questions slammed into her that she couldn’t answer – didn’t want to answer. Her parents were a painful subject she preferred to keep locked away, but the discovery of the scrapbook made that impossible. It was making her look at things – one particular thing, in fact -- she didn’t want to look at. That she wasn’t ready to face.
She took out a tissue from her pocket and wiped her mouth with a trembling hand. She climbed unsteadily to her feet and walked back to the Explorer, her knees weak, her heart and stomach in turmoil. As she drove away, she made the conscious decision that this matter would have to be put aside for now. She had a murder investigation to conduct. She had no time for ghosts from the past popping up to disrupt her concentration.
“You’re going to stay buried,” she muttered aloud to herself as she headed towards home. “And you’ll stay buried until I decide to let you out.”
However, as much as she tried to forget about it, the image of the scrapbook and the words in the letters tortured her throughout the evening. She fell into a silence that immediately alerted Jace. Rick had already spoken to him about his concerns regarding Cammie and this murder case, and that was the first thing he thought of when he saw her sitting on the couch, ignoring the program on TV, cocooned behind a wall of silent preoccupation. In the past, she’d usually opened up to him about what was going on, but he saw that tonight he was going to have to make the first move. He sat down on the couch next to her and slipped his arm around her shoulder.
“Everything okay? You don’t seem yourself tonight.”
Cammie knew Jace would be the perfect sounding board. He loved her deeply and was an excellent listener who always offered sage advice.
Unfortunately, her father’s legacy was a deep distaste to spew forth all the emotional turmoil she was feeling. She’d done a great deal of healing the part of herself that didn’t trust anyone, especially men. Through his example, her father had taught her that once you allowed yourself to become vulnerable, they turned their backs on you. Jace was different and she knew that. He’d never be cold and emotionally distant as her father had been. But the truth was, she didn’t even know where to start. Or to give voice to a fear deep in her soul that was beginning to climb out of the depths of her psyche and demand to be heard. She’d spent the evening fighting to tamp it down, but it refused to surrender.
She felt Jace looking at her. She had to say something. “It’s been a long couple of days,” she finally said.
“Trying to unravel the Poppie Beresford murder?”
“Yes. Every time I turn around, something else pops up that takes this case into another direction.”
Hoping to derail any further questions about what was really going on with her, she shared what she and Rick had learned that day up in Mategwas.
“How does all that figure into Poppie’s murder?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. My gut tells me it is connected. I just have to figure out how.”
He leaned over and kissed her temple. “And you will. You always do.” He leaned over and picked up the remote. “What you need, my love, is to forget about Poppie Beresford for the evening. And I know just the thing to help you chill.”
She raised an eyebrow. How could she tell him that the last thing she wanted to do that night was to make love? Before she could formulate a refusal, Jace added, “In honor of Halloween being just around the corner, there’s a marathon of horror movies on one of the channels. First one up is The Exorcist.”
Cammie almost burst out laughing. “Sounds good,” she said as they cuddled on the couch. As the familiar music came up over the title, she knew she was going to have to get a handle on her fear, or else she’d be dealing with an overly concerned Jace. Who could be very persuasive when he wanted to find out something, especially when it had to do with her.
The next morning, Cammie called Veronica and asked her to come down to HQ. If Aubrey was right and he was working on his next novel, he’d be home. She wanted to speak with his wife alone.
When she arrived, she looked nervous. Cammie led her down to the interrogation room where she told her their interview was being taped. Veronica’s nervousness increased.
“How well did you know Poppie Beresford?” Cammie asked.
“I’d only met her once or twice around town. I knew of her because of the bird watching group she and Aubrey belonged to.”
“What did you think of her?”
Veronica shrugged. “I honestly didn’t know her well enough to form an opinion.”
“It didn’t strike you as odd that a woman of Poppie’s gentility would be living in a backwater like Mategwas?”
“How could I fault her for that when I was doing the exact same thing?”
Cammie smiled. “Records show that you and Aubrey moved around quite a bit before you settled down in Mategwas. Why was that?” Veronica didn’t answer right away. “Was it because you were having financial difficulties?”
Veronica looked down at her hands. “That’s a very distressing part of my life that I don’t like thinking about.”
“Why Mategwas? Did you hope you’d be so far out in the middle of nowhere that you’d be safe from the bill collectors? At least for a little while?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
“How long have you and Aubrey been married?”
“For twelve years.”
“You must have been elated when the Magic Calico books took off.”
“Oh I was. That cat saved us from financial ruin.”
“Did you know Meredith Quigley well?”
“I knew her better than I knew Poppie. She worked in the local library. I’m a voracious reader and she was always able to find me books that I’d find interesting to read. She is a very sweet woman. Shy and quiet, but sweet.”
“Veronica, after you moved to Mategwas, what did you do on Tuesday and Thursday nights?”
She looked slightly surprised at the question. “Those were my nights out with my friends. Tuesday we’d play cards at Simone Bernat’s home. Thursdays we alternated between our book and knitting clubs which were held at the library.”
“Did Meredith work on those nights?”
“No. She only worked days.”
Cammie wasn’t quite ready to tell Veronica about Aubrey’s visits to Meredith’s house on those two nights. Not until either of the two admitted to it.
“How would you characterize Aubrey’s relationship with Poppie and Meredith?”
“I w
ouldn’t go so far as to call it a relationship. They were more acquaintances who shared the same love of birdwatching. We certainly never saw either of them socially.”
Cammie stood up. “Thank you for coming down here.”
“That’s it?” Veronica asked.
“For now, anyway.”
Once Veronica left, she called Tom and asked him to bring Meredith down to HQ.
Cammie hadn’t thought it possible that Meredith could look worse than she did the last time she’d come down to HQ. But the woman who sat before her looked as though she were teetering on the edge. She’d lost weight, there were dark smudges under her eyes and she seemed unable to look at Cammie. Her gut told her to hold off on questioning Meredith – she didn’t look well. But she needed to get to the bottom of what went on between her and Aubrey. And whether Poppie was a part of it. She therefore ignored her instincts and went ahead with the interrogation.
“A couple of things have come up that I need to ask you about,” she said. She was instantly reminded of a rabbit frantically trying to flee a predator. Meredith was visibly shaking and she looked ready to faint.
“Why were you so insistent on returning home when I asked you to stay in Twin Ponds?”
“I – I’m not comfortable being away for so long. I’ve always been that way.”
“So it had nothing to do with the bags of garbage outside your home?”
Meredith jerked her head up and stared at Cammie. “You went through my garbage?”
“Once it’s on the sidewalk, it’s public property.” Meredith closed her eyes and took a long, halting breath. “I think you know what my next question is going to be.”
“You had no right to do that,” she whispered.
“I will do what I need to do to find Poppie’s killer. I would think that’s what you’d want me from me.”
“I do!”
“Then why did you destroy the Magic Calico books?” Meredith fell into an uneasy silence. “I’m going to find out sooner or later, Meredith.” Still, she remained silent. “Is it because Aubrey ended your affair?” Meredith’s face turned ashen as she brought her hand up to her mouth. “We know he was going to your home several times a month for at least six years. Did Poppie know about the affair? Did she threaten to tell Veronica? Is that why she was killed?”