As Paige welcomed each element, or called quarters as she put it, Annie watched Cookie as much as she could without making her uncomfortable. Cookie’s spirituality had been so important to her before the accident. They were all hoping that going through this ritual struck a chord in her.
After Paige was done reciting, they all sat and ate a vegan feast prepared by her and Cookie.
“So do you remember anything?” Beatrice asked.
Cookie looked up at the women, who were all focused on her. “I can’t say that I remember specific details. But it felt familiar and comforting.”
“Well, that’s something,” Vera said. “That sounds like a good start.”
Everybody mumbled in agreement.
“I have to say, the first time we did the ritual, it felt that way to me as well,” Annie said. “I was surprised. I mean, I’m Jewish. Yet this felt comforting to me. From the first.”
“Well, it should be,” Beatrice said. “All of these rituals are based on ancient ways. These things, like the seashell, have symbolized the sacred feminine for generations. You sort of pick up on these things by osmosis.”
Cookie reached for the huge seashell on the table and held it in her hands.
Is she trying to remember again? Annie wondered.
“Oh Mama, you’re such a smarty-pants,” Vera said.
“Pshaw,” Beatrice said.
“False humility never got you anywhere, Bea,” Sheila pointed out.
“I still haven’t been able to figure out what happened to the Martelino sisters,” Beatrice said. It felt fitting to talk about them tonight, on this feast of the dead.
“Sad,” Vera said.
“We’re not very close to solving the cases,” Annie said.
DeeAnn cleared her throat. “That man from Hathaway cleared up a few things for me. I don’t think they had anything to do with it.”
“Humph,” Beatrice said. “What makes you say that?”
“He told me about the problems they were having and how they might go out of business. He said the company has gotten too big to police and some of the employers and sponsors are taking advantage,” DeeAnn said.
“That makes sense,” Annie said. “The articles I’ve been reading about arrests and things all back that up. It was the intermediaries who were lax.”
“In this case, that would be . . . ?” Vera questioned.
“Pamela or the Kraft Corporation,” DeeAnn finished.
The room sat in silence.
“They seem on the up and up,” Annie finally said. “I’ve looked into them. They seem squeaky clean on the face of things.”
“Heck. It’s a huge company. It could be someone that worksh for them that Pamela doeshn’t even know.” DeeAnn was sweating profusely and slurring her words a bit.
“Are you okay?” Annie asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re sweating and slurring your words.”
“That’s just the medicine,” DeeAnn said, waving her off. “I feel fine. I’m in no pain.”
Paige frowned. “DeeAnn—”
“Really?” DeeAnn said. “You’re going to ashk me about my medishine again? Haven’t I had enough drama for tonight, what with my idiot hushband punching Bryant in the nose?”
Paige held up her hand as if to say You’ll get nothing more from me.
“Well, on that note, I need to get going,” Annie said, standing up from the table.
“Early night?” Beatrice said.
“Not really,” Annie said. “I just have a little work to do.”
After everybody said their good-byes, she took off down the dark, empty street alone, her bag flung over her shoulder and her cell phone in her hand. She liked to keep her phone close when she traveled in the dark. Not all of the streets were well lit.
As she rounded the first corner, she felt as if someone were watching her. Strange. The Halloween festivities were over. Not many folks would be out or looking out their windows. A thump of a footfall sounded from somewhere behind her.
As Annie turned, things became a blur of color. The clown from the fire hall reached for her and pulled his face close to hers, opening his mouth. She twisted and kneed him in the crotch; he bent over, groaning, and she kneed him again in the head, ignoring the pain rippling through her knee. He went down.
“Help!” she yelled and saw Mrs. Green coming out of her house wielding a shotgun.
“Wait! Don’t shoot! Please, just call 9-1-1,” Annie said, feeling her chest nearly explode with the pounding of her heart and her knee reeling with pain.
“I done that already, missy,” Mrs. Green said. “Figured you needed backup until the police get here.” She was in her robe, with curlers in her hair.
“Well, thank you,” Annie said, trying to catch her breath.
The police were there momentarily and Annie found the strength to face her attacker, who the medics were trying to awaken. Vera and the others had come running down the street as soon as the sirens sounded. Cookie’s arm went around Annie as a police officer took off the clown mask.
“Jorge,” Annie said with a pang of disappointment traveling through her. “Oh Jorge, what have you done?”
Chapter 61
Twenty-six-year-old Jorge Mendez is currently being held on assault charges by the Cumberland Creek Police. Mendez, an assistant manager at Pamela’s Pie Palace, had recently been questioned about the murders of Marina and Esmeralda Martelino.
Mendez, an immigrant from Mexico, assaulted a Cumberland Creek woman on Halloween night while he was dressed in a clown costume.
“Freaky,” Beatrice said as she lowered the Sunday newspaper. “What was a grown man doing dressed up in a clown costume, anyway?”
Jon shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. It was Halloween. But going after Annie . . . that I don’t understand. What did he want?”
“He wanted to hurt her, maybe kill her, Jon. Just like he probably did to those other women,” Beatrice said.
“No, I meant, why Annie? I know he wanted to hurt her. But why her? Do you really think he’s the killer?”
“He’s got some problems,” Beatrice said. “Don’t you think?”
Jon shrugged. “It does seem that way. Some men . . . I don’t know . . . are quite macho. But it doesn’t mean they are killers. Look at Jacob.”
“Well, someone has needed to punch Bryant in the nose for years. I’m glad he was off duty so that he can’t bust Jacob for assaulting a police officer or something.”
“In France, it’s typical for an older man to be with a younger woman and vice versa. I don’t understand Americans’ view on this subject. I mean, look at us. I’m a lot younger than you. What is the big deal?”
Beatrice thought a moment. “I know what you’re saying is true. We have a fairly puritanical culture and it’s kind of ridiculous, given the fact that sex is everywhere these days. But I think Jacob was acting as a protective dad. I’m not sure it’s the age thing, the cop thing, or the ass thing . . .”
“Ass thing?”
“The fact that Bryant can be a real ass. As a dad, Jacob has every right to express his dislike. But I don’t agree with his methods. We can’t go around beating up people we don’t like.” Beatrice grinned. “Would that I could, I’d have beaten up well . . . just about everybody I know.”
“I know you better than that,” Jon said, leaning in to her.
“Yeah, you kinda do. How about some pie?”
“Oh, I think I can have a slice or two.”
“It’s the last of the pumpkin pie,” Bea said, handing him a slice.
“We can always make more,” Jon said with a hopeful note in his voice, taking a forkful.
Beatrice sat down with her own slice of pie and dug in. “Annie said that she thought Jorge was nice. She said she picked up on some tension between him and Irina but that he seemed nice. It worries Annie, I think, when she’s wrong.”
Jon chortled. “Like someone else I know.”
<
br /> “I’m wrong all the time,” Beatrice said with a grin.
The day stretched out before them and it left Bea wondering what it would hold. Who would have thought a man dressed as a clown would have attacked Annie on Halloween night? Poor thing.
Bea smacked her lips after her last bit of pie and wondered what would come next. Did they have a killer in Jorge Mendez? It had to be. If not, who else had killed those young women? None of it made sense—murder rarely did. But if Jorge had the kind of temper and personality to attack Annie on Halloween, he definitely might have an inclination toward murder.
Bea worried about Annie, who had said the murders would be her last story. Bea couldn’t imagine it, Annie without a story. It seemed unfathomable. In any case, it was the second time within a year that her life had been threatened. It pained Beatrice to admit, but maybe Mike was right. Maybe she should give up reporting.
Beatrice had always thought women could do anything. But when it came to her friend Annie risking her life . . . she didn’t like it. No story was worth that. It had taken Annie awhile to get over the last incident; it was what had led her to her initial thoughts of retiring. And then the murders happened. And the assault.
But Annie had handled herself. She took him down. Beatrice grinned.
“What are you smiling about?” Jon said.
“I’m thinking about Annie taking that big clown to the ground.”
“Yep. She’s a hell of a woman.”
Indeed.
Beatrice was still mulling over Annie, imagining her tackling Jorge, when the phone rang. It was Cookie.
“Oh, Beatrice. I’m suddenly remembering so much. The dead sisters, the ritual, all of it is shaking something loose in me. One thing I remembered tonight is how much I love you.”
Beatrice’s heart fluttered. She quickly got a grip on her emotions. “Now, Cookie, Let’s not get carried away.”
“You know what?”
Beatrice heard the joy in Cookie’s voice.
“That’s exactly what I expected you to say.”
Chapter 62
DeeAnn was excited. It was the first crop she had gone to outside her own house in weeks. The doctor thought it would be okay and on Monday, she’d finally start going back to work half days.
When she walked into Sheila’s basement scrapbooking headquarters, it felt like a second home. She was unprepared for the emotions that came bubbling forward.
“DeeAnn?” Sheila said. “Are you okay?”
All of the others were already at the table—Paige, Randy, Vera, Annie, and Cookie, who was looking livelier than she had felt in quite some time. They all looked up at DeeAnn.
She nodded. “I’m fine. Just happy to be here.”
DeeAnn took her place next to Paige, who was already at work on a heritage album. She and Randy were working on it together. They had been doing family research and decided to record it in albums, scrapbooking a family history. It made sense.
DeeAnn loved seeing them together—and loved seeing all three of them together. Earl had come a long way. Hell, they all had. If she had known five or ten years ago that she’d be at the scrapbooking table with a Jewish woman, a witch, and a gay man, she probably would never have believed it. Time did some awful things to people—but it also held some wonderful surprises.
“DeeAnn, you should eat some of Vera’s chocolates tonight,” Randy said. “They are divine. I told her if you didn’t sell them, we would. I’ll get her into the Pie Palace.”
Annie stiffened at the mention of the Pie Palace.
“Look, it’s where I work. Okay?” Randy rolled his eyes.
DeeAnn ignored him. “I told Vera that we would carry her chocolate when she was ready,” She bit into one. “Ohmigoodness. Very good!”
“Thanks,” Vera said. “I’m having a lot of fun with it. We can talk about selling it later, okay DeeAnn?”
DeeAnn nodded. Of all of the women at the table, Vera had probably changed the most. She’d been through hell and had come out stronger and happier—more centered than any of them, perhaps.
“Well, what’s going on with the whole Jorge thing?” DeeAnn said as she spread her pages out on the table.
“They’re still holding him for the assault,” Annie said.
“Really?” DeeAnn said. “It’s been a week. That’s odd.”
“They must have their reasons,” Paige said.
“I think he’s guilty as sin,” Vera said, looking up from her scrapbook. “I’m sure he killed the sisters and God knows who else.”
Sheila laughed. “You know what, Vera? If I had a dime for every time you’ve said that and have been wrong . . .”
“Well, now. I know that’s true,” Vera said, her blue eyes sparkling. She was a beautiful woman. Always had been, but these days, she positively glowed. “But this time? He attacked Annie. That’s all I need to know about the man.”
The room quieted.
“How are you, Annie?” Randy asked, reaching for her hand.
“I’m good. Really. That was nothing compared to being tied up in the B and B. I feel strong. I took care of myself. I’ve done it before. When I was a young investigative reporter, I used to get into some tight spots. But that was before I married Mike. And certainly before I had kids. Of course, my greatest fear is that my boys will grow up without me.”
It was unlike Annie to offer up so much personal information so they all listened intently as she continued talking.
“I worry that I’ll miss out on watching them grow up by doing something stupid. By chasing after a story for an editor who doesn’t really pay me enough and certainly doesn’t even really respect me. It’s just a job. So not worth the risk.”
After a few beats of silence, Cookie lifted her glass. “Hear, hear, Annie! Here’s to a new life. Renewal. Health. Happiness. All of it!”
They all cheered and toasted Annie then settled into their scrapbooking, eating, and chatting.
“Damn, the chocolate is gone,” Paige said. “What did you bring, DeeAnn?”
“Nothing to eat. Just brought my gorgeous self over here. I figured that was enough.” DeeAnn smiled.
“Next time, bring food, you old bat.” Paige laughed.
“It’s the price of admission,” Sheila said, grinning.
“Well, we’ll see what we can do.” DeeAnn felt proud as she realized her friends were missing her baked goods. Maybe, once she got on her feet completely, she’d continue working awhile longer. Maybe she’d retire next year. Or the year after. One thing having the back problem had taught her was that there was more to life than her bakery. She still ached to bake. Maybe the thing to do was to pull back, just a bit. Like Annie, DeeAnn was ready to make some changes.
“What fancy-schmancy scrapbooking thing are you working on?” DeeAnn said to Sheila.
“I’m writing my letter of resignation,” Sheila said.
“What?” It was a collective question.
She looked up at the table of croppers around her. They had all been so busy with events in their lives that maybe they hadn’t seen the circles beneath her eyes, the weight she’d lost, jagged nerves fraying.
“I can’t do it anymore,” Sheila said. “My Donna is not getting any better. It’s taking awhile to find the right medicine. I’m tired of trying to balance it all. It’s been a little crazy.”
“But this is your dream,” Vera said weakly.
“It used to be my dream,” Sheila said. “Now my dream is to have a healthy daughter.”
Chapter 63
Change was in the air at the Cumberland Creek scrapbooking crop. DeeAnn was going back to work on Monday. Sheila was quitting her dream job. Paige, Randy, and Earl were one big happy family. And Vera was thinking of starting a side business selling her chocolate.
Besides all that, Annie was giving up the only job she’d ever really wanted. She was ready, but she didn’t know what came next. “I’m going to call it a night, friends.”
“So early?” Sheila sa
id.
Annie nodded. She was tired. And worried. The murder cases still hadn’t been solved even though most of the community was already acting as if it were. Jorge had attacked her and that branded him as a violent man. A violent, foreign man. So it was easy for people to assume that he’d killed the Martelino sisters.
Annie wasn’t so sure.
“I’ll walk with you,” Cookie said. “I’m tired, too.”
They said their good-byes, grabbed their bags and headed out.
As they walked down the street, Annie sensed Cookie had something to say. Pockets of light came from the streetlights, followed by stretches of dark.
“I feel like we’re not alone.” Cookie stopped walking to look around.
“I don’t see anybody,” Annie said. “Are you okay?”
“I wish you’d stop asking me that. I’m fine. My memories are coming back so fast now that sometimes it gives me a headache.” Cookie grinned. “It turns out my doctor isn’t really a doctor. At least not in the way we thought.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell everybody this. Just you, Annie. You’re my best friend. And you know how to keep a secret. I know you can be trusted.”
“What is it?” Annie asked.
“The man you know as my doctor is a doctor, but he’s also my colleague. It turns out that I’m a kind of operative.” Cookie smiled like the Cheshire cat. “Imagine that.”
Annie was floored at first, but as she sifted through some memories, it started to make sense. “What kind of operative?”
“I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that it’s not CIA or FBI. It’s a special force, of a sort.”
“Does this mean you’ll leave us?” Annie said.
“Once I’m designated as completely healthy, I have no idea where they’ll send me. But there will be ways we can keep in touch. I promise.”
That settled Annie’s stomach. A bit. “What were you doing here? Who were you investigating?”
“I can’t go into specifics, but we were here because of the New Mountain Order and the way they were abusing the crystals on the mountain.” Cookie smiled again. “The mission was a success,” she added.
Scrapbook of the Dead Page 21