Old Bones: a Hetty Fox Cozy Mystery (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by Anna Drake

  “It was.”

  “But what happened? I liked her so well and she just disappeared. It was weird.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t really know much. Basically, she grew up here. Didn’t apparently have a lot of friends. Then, after graduating college she went on and earned a law degree. She was apparently murdered shortly before your filed the missing person report. She had come down to attend her brother’s funeral. Did you know about that?”

  “No, Eva never said one word. Actually, she almost never talked about her past or family ties. She was a go getter, concerned mostly with her work.”

  “Tell me, had she made any enemies maybe through her job? I mean not everyone likes attorneys.”

  Beverly chuckled. “They can be a rare breed. But as far as Eva went, I can’t think of anyone who she might have been angry enough to kill her. Sorry, I’d like to be more helpful.”

  “That’s okay. This call was a long shot. If her body was found here, I assume she was killed here. I suppose it’s possible someone followed her down from Chicago to kill her, but it seems unlikely. I’d just hoped I might be wrong or that you could offer a possible explanation for her death.”

  “Do the police have any suspects?”

  “Yes, unfortunately, her nephew. He’s also my son-in-law, so I’m hoping the police are looking at the wrong man.”

  “For your sake, I’ll hope that as well. I must tell you, though, I want her killer caught. I want whoever did this to pay for their crime, whether it was your son-in-law or not.”

  “You liked her?”

  “I did.”

  “I’m so glad to hear it. So many people down here didn’t seem to think very highly of her.”

  “She was a go getter. You have to be one in legal circles. But underneath all that, she was a special woman.”

  “Good, I’ll let my son-in-law know that. He never knew much about his aunt.”

  “Either way,” Beverly said, “you’ll let me know the outcome?”

  “Yes. I’ll do that. And I thank you for taking the time to answer my questions.”

  “I’m only too glad to do anything that would help track down that dear woman’s killer.”

  ***

  After disconnecting with Beverly, Andrew pumped me for information, and I had to admit the phone call had provided little darn little of it.

  “Then what’s next?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what you intend to do, but I’m going to take advantage of this glorious day to get some yardwork done.” I’d been putting my efforts at gardening off for far too long.

  I donned gardening gloves and a gardening apron. The thing had flowers printed all over it and three deep pockets. They were crammed full of various tools I’d been told gardeners couldn’t live without. I might not know much about what I doing, but I was as prepared as I knew how to be to wage are on weeds.

  The sun shone. Birds chirped. The man who did my mowing had come and performed his magic yesterday, so the grass was nicely trimmed. That left only the flower beds to be put to rights, and I shifted into a woman on a serious mission.

  Reaching out to deadhead the first of my fading daisy blooms, I was brought up short when a female voice behind me interrupted me mid-snip. “Are you Hetty Fox?” she demanded.

  I turned around to find myself facing a woman who was probably about my age, but was considerably shorter than I. “Yes.”

  “I’m Willa Hillman,” she said. She had yellow hair, blue eyes, and remarkably smooth skin. “You met with my husband last night for coffee.”

  I straightened and tucked the gardening scissors into one of the pockets. “You are correct. I met with Sam.”

  “And what did you want with him?”

  “Have you tried asking him?”

  “You’ve no reason to get smart with me. I don’t want to upset him. That’s all. He has heart problems. It’s my job to protect him.”

  I glanced up and down the street and thought about the town’s healthy rumor mill. “Won’t you come inside? I can offer you a tall glass of sweet tea or some coffee?”

  “Please understand this,” she replied, stoney faced. “I don’t want a thing from you. All you need to do is tell me what you wanted with Sam.”

  “Look, this is getting us nowhere. If you don’t want to come inside, why don’t we sit at my table.” I waved a hand toward the porch. “It’s getting hot out here. It’s shaded up there. We don’t need to stand out in the hot sun.”

  She hesitated a moment.

  I could see it cost her a lot to yield to me. “Come on. I’ll tell you what I can.”

  A short time later, I settled her in a chair and headed for the kitchen. When I returned, I carried a tray with two tall glasses of sweet tea and a small platter bearing some peanut butter cookies. I placed a tumbler of tea in front of Willa. She thanked me, then said, “I want you to know this doesn’t change a thing. I saw you with my Sam, and I want to know what you discussed. He’s my husband. I’m entitled to know where he goes. What he says.”

  “We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

  She leaned forward. “Listen, I know who you are. You’re related to that tramp.”

  “What tramp?”

  “Don’t play dumb. That Eva. That mummy.”

  I couldn’t believe this woman’s nerve. “Are you referring to the woman who was murdered and left to lie forgotten in an attic all these years?”

  “She’s no victim from where I sit.”

  I felt my cheeks grow warm. “No matter what else you might think of her, she is a murder victim. Someone robbed her of her life.”

  “And good riddance, too.”

  My felt my pulse pound in my ears. “How dare you?’

  “That greedy woman wanted my husband. She came here to take him away from me.”

  “So you killed her. Is that right?”

  She sat upright and glared at me. “I did no such thing. Not that I didn’t want to, but for you information, I didn’t do it.”

  “Then why are you here? Why do you need to know what Sam and I talked about? And if you know any part of Eva’s story, you’d better tell it to me now, or I’ll call Detective Oberton and sic him onto your case.”

  She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “I love my husband.”

  “So I’ve heard. From where I sit all that does is give you one very grand motive to have killed Eva.”

  She issued forth a short bark of laughter. “What do you know about me and Sam? Did you sit beside him during his bypass surgery? Did you wait up with his children when they were sick? There are things between a husband and a wife that only they know. There are knots so densely tied that they should never be undone.”

  I leaned forward. “But we can’t tie the people to us. We can only show them our love and hope it’s enough to hold them.”

  “And if someone tries to tear our love apart? What? We can’t do anything about it? Is that what you think?”

  “Is that what Eva did? Try to tear your life apart?”

  Willa nodded and tears began to fall. “She called Sam when she came down for her brother’s funeral. I knew she would. I kept watch and waited for it to happen. So when the call came, I listened in on an extension.”

  “And they met?”

  “Yes. Out in the woods behind the house. After dark, when they thought I was asleep. The met down by a big oak tree. Apparently they used to meet there when they were in high school. But I arrived first. I hid myself. I was waiting for them.” She stared off into the distance, apparently reliving what must have been, for her, an unpleasant memory.

  “What happened?”

  Her gaze dropped to the floor. “They wrapped their arms tightly about each other. They cried. They kissed each other.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “Nothing at first.”

  “What did Sam do?”

  She choked back a sob. “After they separated, he just stood there, like a deer caught in a headlight,
not knowing which way to turn. I’d born his sons for him. I’d washed his socks, and cooked his meals… and he just stood there listening to her.”

  Willa batted her tears aside with the back of her hands. I fetched a box of tissues. “And what did Eva do?” I asked when I returned to the table.

  Willa grabbed a ragged breath. “She put out her hand. Closed it over his. And she led him… away.”

  “He went with her?”

  “He did.” Her head drooped and she studied her hands.

  “Are telling me that he killed her?”

  Her head jerked up. “Of course not. Sam would never kill anyone.”

  “But you can’t know that. Nobody can. It also means Sam was probably the last person to see Eva alive.”

  “Except for the killer,” Willa said through clenched teeth.

  “But he came back to you?”

  She moaned tears from her cheeks and nodded. “I don’t know why. But the next morning, there he was, standing in the kitchen, boots on, pretending for all the world as though nothing had happened the night before.”

  “There had to be a reason he returned,” I insisted. “He and Eva must have had a falling out. He probably killed her. That’s why he came back to you the next day.”

  She shook her head emphatically. “Not my Sam. He’s a gentleman at all times. He’s never so much as raised his voice to me in all these years. And why would he? He had her. She was his for the taking.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Monday morning arrived with a another wrinkle for the knitting group. Betty Clyde was scheduled to host the event, and she’d asked decided to have it in the morning rather than the afternoon as we usually did. Apparently her grandson was playing in a championship baseball game later that day, and she wanted her afternoon free so she could cheer him on.

  I’d called her and offered to hold the affair at my house, but she’d declined my offer. She said liked to honor her obligations — apparently no matter how many plans that upset for her guests. Coming as it did in the midst of the larger controversy raised by Valerie Jarrett, I feared she might encounter some blowback.

  So when I reached her home, I was glad to find our little group in reasonably good spirits. My fellow knitters seemed to have taken the shift in stride. Conversation only turned heated when the suggestion for shifting our sessions to Saturdays came up.

  “I can’t see the point of it,” one of the elderly members groused. “We’ve been meeting on Mondays since time dawned.”

  “The point is that meeting on a weekday excludes a most working women,” Laura Day said. Leave it to Laura, I thought, to try reason.

  Pauline Carn looked up from her project and objected. “I’m not about to change my life just to accommodate them.”

  “Why don’t they just form their own group?” another member asked.

  Laura shrugged. “Why don’t we ask them?”

  “I can’t believe Valerie didn’t come today,” another member groused. “ Where is she anyway? She started this whole mess.”

  “She’s out of town,” I said.

  Pauline scowled. “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve been calling her,” I replied

  Laura jumped into the conversation. “I’ve asked Hetty to meet with Valerie. I’m hoping the two of them can work out a compromise.”

  Pauline glared at me. “Well, you’d better not expect to ram whatever you decide down our throats.”

  Laura stood and raised her hands in a calming-the-waters sort of way. “No one is going to shove anything down anyone’s throat. There will be a full vote on whatever Hetty and Valerie propose.” She shrugged. “If they can’t come up with any alternatives, the suggestion to shift meeting to Saturdays will automatically die for lack of a second.”

  Pauline relented. “Well, at least that’s as it should be.”

  Laura continued, “And don’t resent Valerie. She is only trying to be helpful.”

  “Helpful to whom?” Pauline asked scornfully.

  “To a group of women who feel left out.” Laura replied.

  “I don’t want to meet on Saturdays. I like to keep my weekends free.” It was Cora Butler, another member who didn’t hesitate to throw her weight around when necessary. “What kind of compromise can they come up with? We either keep meeting on Mondays or we meet Saturdays. That’s the only question I can see on the table.”

  “That’s only because we haven’t explored other options,” Laura shot back.

  “What? Maybe we could only once a year on Thanksgiving Day, then everyone would fail to show up,” someone quipped. Laughter broke out across the room.

  “Why Hetty? Why have her do the negotiating?”

  “I thought we should use a neutral member. Someone who hasn’t been with us long enough to be set in her ways.”

  There was a quiet moment. “I think you’re very brave to take this on, Mrs. Fox,” Becky Stiles said. She had accompanied her aunt to today’s session.

  I wagged my finger at her. “Please, call me Hetty,” I reminded her. She blushed and nodded.

  I smiled. “I hope you’re well today. You seemed a little upset when we last met.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m tons better.”

  “I take it you’ve made peace with your boyfriend, then?”

  Her head jerked up. “How did you know about that?”

  “My dear. I’m a woman. Man troubles are as old as the hills. They’re usually written all over or faces. But please remember this, too: most of us have gone a round or two with a man we adore, and most of us are still here to tell the tale.”

  She grinned. “Everything is fine now. We’ve worked it out. Everything is just as it should be.”

  Ah, certainty of youth. “Does this fellow have a name?”

  “Gordon White,” she replied.

  “And what’s he like?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and smiled to herself. And when she opened them, she stared me right in the eye. “He’s everything I’m not. Bright… charming… good looking.” Her face took on a faraway look.

  I leaned forward, “My dear, I haven’t known you long, but I’d say you’re all those things, too.”

  Her gaze shifted to me. She looked utterly shocked. “Oh, mercy not me. I’m shy and not at all bright. Laura had to call me twenty times to get me to come with her today.”

  I finished up the last stitch in the row and turned my needle. “What do you do when you’re not mooning over your gentleman friend?”

  “I work in the hospital over in Weaverton. I’m a clerk there. I have Monday’s off. That’s why Laura wanted me to come with her today.”

  I glanced at her knitting. “It looks like you do good work.”

  “Thanks. I enjoy handwork. It calms me.”

  I nodded. “That’s true for me, too.”

  “So what are you two doing with your heads huddled together?” Laura asked.

  “Tending to our knitting,” I responded.

  Becky chuckled and Laura grinned

  “Where’s Toby?” I asked.

  “She’s sick,” Laura answered.

  I made a mental note to take her a get-well gift. I needed that woman on my good side if my negotiations were to have a ghost of a chance at succeeding.

  Tabitha Cummings came and sat down next to me. She stared at me through a pair of spectacles, which were perched on the very tip of her nose. “How’s your son-in-law holding up? It’s such a shame about his aunt lying dead in an attic like that for all those years.”

  I slipped my free needle into a loop and wound a strand of yarn around it. “He’s more than a little concerned. Like the rest of us, he never dreamed she was dead. Did you know Eva?”

  “Not really. She was younger than me by a more than a few years. I’d seen her around, and, of course… well, being a Langdon… just about everyone would know her, wouldn’t they?” She glanced around for confirmation, and several heads nodded.

  I set my knitting down in my lap. “W
as the family that important?”

  “Oh goodness, her father thought he ran the town.”

  “And did he?”

  Tabitha glanced over at me. “Pretty much. He was a man extremely fond of his own opinions.”

  “Who’s that?” Dolly Wright asked. She was a young woman with curly blonde hair and a dimpled smile. She sat opposite Tabitha and was hard at work on a gaily colored lap rug.

  “Eva Landon’s dad,” Valerie said.

  “Oh my, isn’t that something?” Dolly asked. “A mummy, right here in Hendricksville.”

  Laura scowled at the woman. “And as it turns out, she was related to our dear Hetty. Hetty is Damon Langdon’s mother-in-law in case you don’t know.

  Dolly’s head swivelled my way. “Oh, I… I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I didn’t know.”

  “No need to apologize.”

  “You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe the mummy isn’t our problem,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Tabitha asked.

  “Maybe the mummy belonged to Ellen Lockett after all, and she’s trying to say it was already inside her attic when she moved here.”

  I felt my brow furrow. “That doesn’t make sense. Eva had ties here. She knew people here. She must have been killed here.”

  “Maybe,” Dolly replied. “Or maybe she had ties to wherever it was that Ellen came from. Where was that again?”

  I expelled a deep breath. “Denver. The Locketts moved here from Denver.”

  “There you go then. Maybe that’s where she was killed.”

  Well, I doubted that was the way it had happened, but I held my peace. Dolly had meant well. There was no need to crush her suggestion — nor was there any need to give it more weight than it deserved.

  Pauline pulled more yarn free from her skein. “Well, no matter where this trouble is from, I imagine news of Eva’s death came as a shock to Sam Hillman.”

  “I’ve heard they may have dated a few times in high school,” I said.

  Pauline paused to count stitches. “They did. Made a handsome couple, too. I was surprised when they didn’t end up married.”

  Dolly snorted. “Don’t say that around Willa. She’ll skin you alive.”