Scrapbook of the Dead

by Mollie Cox Bryan

  “Hmmm?” A startled Jon awakened.

  “Not you. I’m talking to Junie Bee,” she said and elbowed him. “Good morning, Jon.”

  He pulled the covers up around him and muttered a good morning.

  Beatrice ran her hand down the length of the cat and Junie Bee seemed to smile at her. She couldn’t remember why she’d never let Vera have a cat when she was a kid. They were wonderful.

  Beatrice sat up and the cat hopped out of the bed. Bea untangled herself from the quilts and slid her feet into her slippers. Her bones were aching a bit—but she knew movement was the best thing for them. Got to keep moving.

  She walked down the hallway and peeked in on Elizabeth, still sleeping. Precious girl. Bea loved her Saturday nights and Sunday mornings with Elizabeth. But every other weekend was not enough, even with the cat tagging along. It sure was hard to get used to modern family life, with everybody divorced two or three times over and schlepping the children from pillar to post. Still, Elizabeth knew she was loved. Her dad Bill had finally settled down alone in a house between Cumberland Creek and Charlottesville. He had a part-time law practice along with working as a law professor at the University of Virginia. He said he didn’t have time to date. Thank the universe for that. He’d made a bloody fool of himself over the past few years. Mid-life crisis, my ass.

  Bea padded down the steps—and clutched her chest when she saw Cookie Crandall lying on the floor. “Cookie?”

  Junie Bee sniffed Cookie and walked past her. The cat had only food on her mind.

  Beatrice crouched over Cookie. “Are you okay?”

  Cookie stirred and lifted her eyes. “Beatrice?”

  “Well now, don’t Beatrice me. What are you doing lying in the middle of my floor? Get up from there.”

  The young woman was one of the strangest people Beatrice had ever met—and that was even before she’d been struck by lightning. Since she’d found her way back to Cumberland Creek and was trying to make sense of the world, she’d gotten even stranger.

  Beatrice yanked gently on her arm and helped Cookie rise from the floor.

  “Sorry Bea. I forgot to tell you she stopped by last night,” Jon said as he came down the stairs.

  Beatrice’s eyebrows lifted as she shot daggers with her eyes at her new husband. “Why yes, Jon, I reckon you did.”

  Cookie was standing up. “Sorry Beatrice. Last night, I just had this feeling that I wanted to be near you.”

  Land’s sakes. Sometimes, Cookie comes up with the strangest things.

  For some reason her words reached in and grabbed Beatrice by the heart. Damn her.

  “Whatever for?” Beatrice said. “Am I going to die soon? Did you have a freaky premonition? Is that what this is about?”

  Cookie’s eyes widened. “How would I know something like that, Beatrice? I just missed you. I’m so hungry. Let me make everybody breakfast.”

  Just a minute ago, she had been lying on the floor and now she wanted to make breakfast. Just like that.

  Jon moved past them both, muttering something about coffee.

  Beatrice was trying to regain her bearings as Elizabeth came bounding down the stairs. “Granny! Cookie? Cookie!” She ran into the odd woman’s arms.

  Beatrice stood back and watched. The two of them got on very well.

  “I’ll make breakfast,” Beatrice said. “Chocolate chip pancakes?”

  “Yay!” Cookie and Elizabeth cheered.

  When Beatrice entered her kitchen, the scent of brewing coffee greeted her, along with fishy cat food. The refrigerator door was open and Jon was pulling out the eggs, butter, and milk.

  “Sorry Bea,” he said quietly. “I did not want to wake you. I made up a bed for her on the couch. I don’t know why she was on the floor.”

  Cookie was popping up in the strangest places. Beatrice thought she was trying to get rid of the doctor who was always tailing her. Must be nerve-racking.

  “Well, I just about had a heart attack,” Beatrice said, reaching into the cupboard to get the chocolate chips.

  Jon reached over and kissed her. “I am so glad you did not have a heart attack, ma chere.” He reached into the bottom cabinet for the mixing bowl.

  Cookie and Elizabeth giggled in the next room.

  “Let’s be sure to make enough for Vera and Eric,” Beatrice said.

  “Will they be joining us?” Jon asked with a knowing look.

  “It’s not official, but they always seem to pop over about this time,” Beatrice said and smiled. “Now, let me at the coffee.”

  By the time Beatrice was downing her second cup of coffee and the world was becoming a little less murky, Vera and Eric had joined Cookie and Elizabeth in the living room.

  After breakfast, Eric took Elizabeth to the park and Vera, who was feeling a little under the weather, stayed behind with Cookie to help Bea clean up the kitchen.

  “How’s Randy?” Beatrice asked as she handed Vera a rinsed off plate to put in the dishwasher.

  “I have no idea,” Vera said. “He didn’t show up last night. Neither did Paige.”

  “That’s a first,” Beatrice said.

  “I think she’s missed once or twice before—when Randy was little and sick,” Vera said. “But you’re right, she rarely misses a Saturday night crop. I mean Randy comes and goes. Not Paige.”

  “I hope she’s okay,” Cookie said as she wiped off the table.

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Vera said. “It’s Randy I’m worried about. Imagine opening the freezer door and finding a frozen dead body inside. Troubling.”

  Beatrice leaned back on the counter. “It is, but I’d think he’d need to keep busy. At least, that’s the way I think I’d handle it. If you sit around too long, that’s all you think about. It could be bad. And to happen to Randy, of all people, who just came back home from New York.”

  “Annie saw the body, too,” Cookie said, looking up from her task.

  “Yes, but she wasn’t surprised. She knew it was there. I think the shock is . . . you know . . . opening the door and finding something like that.” Vera folded a towel and patted it flat.

  “I have to wonder about her family,” Cookie said. “Imagine being in Mexico and receiving word about your daughter.” She smoothed over a placemat and set the sugar bowl in the center of the table.

  Beatrice had already thought about that. Each time she did, a feeling of dread overcame her. Losing your child to murder in a distant land would be a living nightmare—more horrible than she could imagine.

  Chapter 6

  DeeAnn rarely left the house on Sundays as it was her day to relax. Sometimes her daughter Karen would come over for Sunday dinner. She was living in Charlottesville. It wasn’t Cumberland Creek, but it was better than Texas.

  Instead of relaxing, DeeAnn baked a coffee cake for Randy, thinking he’d appreciate it, poor guy.

  As she stood on the front doorstep of Elsie’s B and B, the door opened.

  “Why, DeeAnn, how lovely to see you,” Elsie said.

  “Thanks, nice to see you, too. Is Randy here?”

  Elsie shook her head. “I’m afraid not. He’s at his folks’ place.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll catch you later,” DeeAnn said and turned to leave.

  One good thing about Cumberland Creek was most of it was so close together a person could walk almost anywhere. The town proper was only six blocks long. DeeAnn’s bakery was right in the center, along with all of the other businesses. The neighborhoods were built around it, with the park traveling the length of town along the river.

  DeeAnn stood a moment and looked over at the mountains. The fall colors were even deeper and richer than usual. Seeing the crimson, golds, and fiery oranges against the blue sky made her stop, take a deep breath, and take it all in. She wasn’t originally from Cumberland Creek; she was from Minnesota. When she’d met Jacob and they married, she’d moved to Cumberland Creek with him and never looked back, much to her family’s chagrin.

  She spo
tted Paige’s home with the brick chimney spouting smoke. DeeAnn was cheered at the thought of a roaring fire as she walked up the sidewalk and knocked at the front door. The coffee cake was getting heavy in her arms.

  “Why, hello there,” Paige said as she opened the door. “Come on in.”

  DeeAnn never liked Paige’s country-themed décor, but she kept her mouth shut about it. It was not her place. This morning, it nearly smacked her over the head with its tackiness. Teddy bears and hearts and pictures of barns and quilts were everywhere. Not to mention the funky-colored afghans over all the chairs and the sofa.

  “I’m not staying,” DeeAnn said, “but I stopped by the B and B to give Randy this and Elsie said he was here.” She handed the coffee cake to Paige.

  “He stayed here last night. Fell asleep in front of the TV, just like old times.” Paige’s eyes were bright. Her boy was home—and DeeAnn knew it was all Paige could do to keep from shouting it from the rooftops. “I know you said you’ve got to go, but can you stay for just one cup of coffee? Randy just made some really good stuff.”

  Suddenly, DeeAnn wondered if Randy, the gourmet, would appreciate her silly coffee cake. “Well, okay,” she said after a moment and followed Paige into the kitchen where Earl and Randy were sitting at the table drinking coffee, which smelled downright heavenly.

  “Oh hey, DeeAnn. What do you have there?” Randy asked.

  “Just a coffee cake,” she said. “I thought you could use a little something from the oven this morning.”

  “How sweet!” He rose from the table, took the cake from her, and gave her a hug. “Mama, get a knife. Have a seat, DeeAnn.”

  DeeAnn sat down and marveled at him. He seemed fine. She wasn’t so certain she’d be. But he seemed to have bounced right back.

  Paige set a cup of coffee in front of DeeAnn and Randy set a slice of her own cake in front of her.

  “How do you like staying at Elsie’s?” she asked.

  “It’s fine. I just can’t wait for my own place, though. I’m going to see some houses this afternoon.”

  “So you’re staying?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I don’t scare off that easily.”

  “You’re feeling better?” DeeAnn took a sip of the best coffee she’d ever had in her life.

  “I’m getting there. I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. I need to keep busy to keep my mind off it, you know?”

  “Good way of looking at it,” DeeAnn said.

  Randy took a bite of her coffee cake and rolled his eyes with pleasure. “Ahh. DeeAnn, my culinary professors have nothing on you, woman. I’ve always said you’re the best baker I know.”

  DeeAnn beamed. Maybe she wouldn’t retire. Not quite yet. “Why, thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  “Not at all.”

  Just then, the doorbell rang, and Paige wandered off to see who it was.

  “Detective Bryant?” DeeAnn heard Paige say. “Please come in. We’re all in the kitchen.”

  As the detective entered the room, DeeAnn caught her breath. He was such a handsome man, so confident. He walked with an interesting little swagger. And he was built like a brick house. A moving, hard-flesh one.

  “Hello,” he said as he entered the room.

  “Well, what are you doing here?” Earl said and started to get up from the table.

  Bryant made a gesture for him to sit. “Unfortunately, I’m here on business,” he said, looking at Randy.

  Randy’s brows knitted. “Are you here about Marina?”

  “In a roundabout way.”

  “Please sit down,” Paige said. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Normally, I’d say no, but it smells so good, I can’t resist,” Bryant said.

  Who is he kidding? The man never could resist a treat. DeeAnn grinned.

  “It’s great having Randy around. He insists on grinding his own coffee and using a French press. It makes such a difference,” Paige said, as she poured the detective a cup of the brew.

  “So Randy, are you squared away with the sheriff?” Bryant asked.

  “Yes, I told him everything I know. Exactly what happened.”

  “Pamela closed the place yesterday?”

  Randy nodded.

  Why is Bryant here? The Pie Palace isn’t his jurisdiction at all. DeeAnn started to get a bad feeling. When Bryant was on the scene, it meant bad news. True, he was eye-candy, but still bad news.

  “So what did you do with your day afterward?” Bryant asked.

  “I spent it with my mom and dad,” Randy said. “I know, for you it might not be a big deal to see something like that. But for me . . . I just—”

  “Oh, I completely understand,” the detective interrupted. “But here’s the thing. Last night, another dead body was found. Marina’s sister.”

  The room silenced.

  “I didn’t even know she had a sister,” Randy said after a minute. “How awful.” He said it as if his lack of knowledge was a sin.

  “She cleaned houses for a living. Name was Esmeralda,” Bryant said.

  Randy paled and sucked in air. “I did know her! She worked for Elsie. They were sisters?”

  The detective nodded. “They were sisters and they both knew you. So, you see why I’m here.”

  “Now just hold on here,” Earl said, then cleared his throat and started to rise again from the kitchen table.

  Bryant held up his hand. “Randy is not a suspect. I’m just hoping he can answer a few questions and shed some light on these young women.”

  “I didn’t know them that well,” Randy said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I can help.”

  “Mmm. This is the best coffee I’ve ever had,” Bryant said, abruptly changing subjects.

  “Thanks,” Randy said.

  “You put cinnamon or something in it?” Bryant asked.

  Randy nodded. “Along with some other spices. Do you want a slice of coffee cake? DeeAnn made it.”

  Bryant looked over at DeeAnn. “How could I resist a slice of cake from the town’s best baker?”

  He was being such a charmer—which was thoroughly unlike him.

  “If you’re on this case, it means Esmeralda was found somewhere in Cumberland Creek,” Paige said, setting a piece of coffee cake on a plate in front of him.

  Bryant nodded. “Down by the river.”

  DeeAnn shivered. Another murder in Cumberland Creek.

  Chapter 7

  Annie got to the second crime scene a bit late. Bryant had already been there and gone, but she was in time to see the body before they had disturbed it. The victim’s face had a ribbon tied around it and a bow over her mouth. The ribbon was bright orange with black pumpkins printed across it.

  It chilled Annie. How strange. Why would someone decorate a body like that?

  It was so deranged.

  “Esmeralda Martelino,” the cop told her.

  “Martelino? Same last name as Marina?”

  The cop nodded. “Sisters.” He looked over at the mountains. “Foreign.”

  “She’s not a drowning vic,” Annie said almost to herself. “How did she die?”

  “Don’t know yet,” Ruth the ME said as she walked over.

  “You again,” Annie said.

  Ruth nodded.

  “Have you gotten any more medical results back for Marina?” Annie asked, but she already knew the answer. It was Sunday. Hardly anybody in Cumberland Creek worked on Sunday and even the rest of the state moved at a slower pace.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Ruth said. “Call me tomorrow afternoon. Might have something on the first one by then.”

  “What do you make of it?” Annie asked.

  “I’m just the medical examiner. I don’t know anything about these young women besides the stories their bodies will tell me.”

  It was an interesting way of putting it.

  Ruth shrugged, then nodded toward Esmeralda. “I can tell you her sister was a healthy specimen. She was thin, but not malnour
ished, had good teeth and so on.”

  “No guess on cause of death for this one?” Annie asked.

  “None. I think it’s fair to say she didn’t drown. But other than that, I have no way of knowing at this point.”

  Annie nodded.

  Ruth walked off, carrying her medical bag with her.

  Annie zipped up her coat and pulled her scarf in closer around her neck. It was getting cold. The sky was so blue it was almost painful to look at and the fall leaves looked like colorful, fluffy blankets spread over the mountains. She turned to look at a police officer as he was filling out some papers. “Who found her?”

  He pointed. “The guy over there. Sitting on the bench. He was out for an early morning walk and there she was, lying on the ground near the water. Great way to start the day, huh?”

  “Can I talk to him?” Annie asked.

  “He’s in shock. I’d wait awhile,” the officer said. “He’s not making much sense. We’ve been trying to take him to the hospital, but he won’t go.”

  “No insurance?”

  “Look at him. What do you think?”

  Annie took a good look at him. Maybe he was Mexican, as well. He was dark, and he had hooded, almost black eyes. But maybe not. Only one way to find out.

  A female officer was sitting next to him, writing in her tablet.

  “Excuse me,” Annie said as she wandered up to the bench. “I’m Annie Chamovitz, a reporter for the Washington Herald.”

  The man looked up at her, but his eyes were vacant.

  Annie looked at the cop, who shook her head. “I’d leave him alone for now,” she said.

  “Can I have his name?” Annie asked.

  “Juan Mendez,” the officer said. “Let me write down his contact information for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  A medic brought the man a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders.

  “He seemed fine at first,” the officer said. “But then . . .”

  “We all react differently,” Annie said, thinking of Randy, so pale and shivering head to toe, just yesterday. “It’s perfectly normal to be spooked.”

  The officer nodded and handed Annie a slip of paper with the man’s phone number and address on it.