by Linda Reilly
Lara felt a lump setting up a roadblock in her throat. She choked it back. “No, I don’t think you’re crazy, Rose. I believe every word you’re saying.”
Aunt Fran looked over at Lara, her eyes misty. She ran her hand over Dolce’s soft fur. Was she beginning to understand?
“Was anyone else around, Rose?”
Rose shook her head dismally. “No. There were never enough aides, so the hallways were often empty. Oh, you must think I’m a beast for not trying to stop her.” She tapped a fist to her heart. “But I knew, deep in my heart, Mrs. Thryce was ready to go to the Lord. She told me many times she wanted it to end, that the pain was too much. I think that’s why she didn’t fight. I told myself, This way she won’t suffer anymore. I was so selfish, but also so afraid. If I told the authorities what I saw and they did tests on her body, they might find the amaro I’d given her. I had only been in this country for a year. I didn’t know how the police worked.”
“You were worried that you’d get blamed for her death,” Lara said.
Rose smiled through her tears. “You are exactly right. As for the money Alice kept sending me, I never wanted it,” she added. “Wait, let me go back. About three years ago, I wrote to her in New York. She wasn’t hard to find. I used Google. Anyway, I wrote and begged her to confess. Next thing I know, a packet of cash arrives. I told her to stop, but she kept sending more.”
“Rose, there’s one thing I don’t understand. The letter you wrote, how did it end up in the library book?”
She smiled. “That nice grandson, he left the book on Mrs. Thryce’s night table. He tried to cheer her up one day by showing her the book he borrowed so he could make treats for her cat. After Mrs. Thryce died, one of the nurses found it. When the nurse realized it was a library book, she was annoyed because someone would have to return it. She was glad when I offered to do it, and that’s when I thought of writing the letter.”
Lara sat back, absorbing everything Rose had told them. She couldn’t imagine living with a secret like Rose’s. No wonder it had eaten away at her until she finally decided to contact Alice.
When she looked over at Gideon, she saw Blue sitting beside him, her chin resting on the table. Blue stared at Rose. Was she remembering?
“I have to tell you one more thing,” Rose said, with a nervous glance at Gideon. “That awful night, Lara, when Alice tried to hurt us both, I had the strangest feeling that Mrs. Thryce’s cat was there. I can’t explain it, but the feeling was strong. At one point I thought she was keeping me warm.”
Lara’s heart felt lighter than a helium balloon. Rose understood. That meant everything.
“Rose, believe it or not, I sensed the same thing—that a furry angel was watching over us that night, trying to keep us both warm. Maybe Mrs. Thryce was looking down, sending help when she knew we needed it most.”
Gideon shot Lara a look, then smiled at her. Did he think she was humoring Rose? Oh, Gideon, wait till I tell you everything, and then see if you’re still smiling.
Blue had already faded, but she’d gotten her message across. Lara reached for her tea, but Snowball thwarted her by leaping onto her lap. Lara rubbed the cat’s head, then bent to kiss her.
“Oh, that is such a beautiful cat,” Rose said. “My mama had one like it. She had it nearly eighteen years.” She pushed aside her empty tea mug and ate the last bite of her pumpkin square. “Mrs. Clarkson, before Christmas I’m going to make you a panettone and bring it over to you and Lara.”
“Oh, I love panettone. Thank you, Rose,” Lara said. “And someday I hope to meet your family.”
Rose stood and winked at her. “I think you will. No, I’m sure of it.”
She hugged Lara again, thanked Fran for her hospitality, and left.
* * * *
After Gideon walked Rose out to her car, he came back into the kitchen.
“Now, are you up to hearing about Alice?” he asked Lara, slipping an arm around her.
“Totally,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for more information. I had the feeling you two were keeping things from me so that I’d rest.”
Aunt Fran looked anxious. Did she want Gideon to leave so they could talk alone?
“We weren’t keeping things from you,” Aunt Fran said. “We only wanted to give you a few days to get your bearings again. Let’s go into the large parlor. That way you can stretch out on the sofa.”
Lara didn’t fight it. She knew her aunt was worried about her, but the pampering had to end. “Okay, but after today I go back to my normal routine,” Lara insisted. “I feel fine, and my head is fine.”
“Agreed,” her aunt said, although she didn’t look thrilled.
Lara sat on the sofa, but instead of stretching out she sat cross-legged and took Snowball onto her lap.
Gideon lowered himself next to her and was immediately assaulted by a lovable orange ball of fur. “Hey, Munster, you’re getting to be my best bud, aren’t you?” Gideon rubbed the cat’s head and then sat back.
Aunt Fran sat in Lara’s favorite chair. “I heard part of the story from Jerry, but I think Gideon knows more.”
“I do. I’m going to try to summarize, but more details are coming out every day. Alice Gentry was adopted by Clifford and Diana Gentry in 1971. Nice folks, lived here in town all their lives. Cliff worked at one of the mills, and Diana was a bank teller. Never had any luck having kids, but everyone close to them knew they’d always wanted a child. Then one day, Eugenia Thryce approached them. A newborn girl, whose mother was unmarried and couldn’t keep the child, needed a loving home. Eugenia offered to pay for the private adoption, and the Gentrys eagerly took her up on it, no questions asked. All they wanted was a baby.”
“Did the Gentrys know who the mother and father were?”
Gideon ran his hand over Munster’s fur. “No one’s sure about that, but I don’t think they did, at least not initially.”
Lara suspected there was more to that thread. “So how did Alice end up with a brother?”
“After they adopted Alice, the Gentrys were so happy that they applied to adopt a baby boy. That time they went through the proper channels. It took a few years, but they ended up adopting Carl Gentry in 1975.”
So, Carl was the “baby bro” whose pickup truck and rifle Alice had commandeered.
“Going back to Alice,” Aunt Fran said, “Eugenia must have been apoplectic when she found out that her son had seduced Gladys Plouffe.”
“Exactly. According to what the police learned, Eugenia was very protective of Gladys. She tried to pressure Tate into marrying her, but instead he left town—permanently.”
“Coward,” Lara said.
“He was that, and more,” Gideon said darkly. “That’s why Eugenia got involved and quickly set up the adoption. She knew Gladys had endured a difficult home life, with an alcoholic mother. It was Eugenia who urged her to attend college. With an education, Gladys could put her sewing skills to good use, and end up with a pension after she retired. No one knows for sure, but we suspect Eugenia paid her tuition at UNH.”
“Eugenia was like a second mother to Gladys, wasn’t she?” Lara asked.
“She was. What Eugenia didn’t anticipate was that her grandson and Alice would meet and fall in love. She assumed that sending Todd away to private school would keep him away from ‘townies’ as she called them.”
“The best laid plans,” Aunt Fran said wryly. “No wonder she was so furious when she learned of their relationship. She knew their fathers were brothers.”
“At that point, Alice didn’t care. She loved Todd and would stop at nothing to keep him. He was her life, and her future.”
“I can’t help wondering,” Lara said, “what Todd would’ve done, all those years ago, if he’d known Alice was his cousin.”
Gideon sighed. “I guess only he can answer that.”
�
�When do you think Alice found out that Gladys Plouffe was her birth mother?” Aunt Fran asked him.
“No one knows, but it was probably Gladys herself who told her. Gladys’s shellfish allergy was legendary at the high school, so Alice obviously knew about it. Alice, by the way, took home ec from Gladys. Got two Cs and a D. That was before she knew who Gladys was.”
“Did the police ever find the lobster meat package?”
“They haven’t yet. Alice still maintains that she didn’t kill Gladys, but the district attorney is pressing ahead with the indictment. They located Gladys’s will, and it was most enlightening.”
Lara sat up straighter. “Did she leave anything to Alice?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “She left Alice exactly one dollar. The rest was bequeathed to a textile museum in Connecticut.”
Lara reached over and grabbed his arm. “Wait. Did you say one dollar?”
Gideon smiled. “Exactly. Under New Hampshire law, a child who isn’t named in a parent’s will still inherits his or her rightful share of the estate. The statute phrases it differently, but that’s the gist. By naming Alice and leaving her a pittance, it proves that Gladys was aware of the child but chose to leave her nothing.”
“Wow,” Lara said, shaking her head. “Gladys Plouffe was an enigma, wasn’t she? From everything I’ve heard, she did some charitable things, but she also hurt a lot of people. But Gid, assuming Alice killed Gladys, how would she have known the contents of her will? Doesn’t someone have to die before their will is probated?”
“You’re exactly right. The police think that Gladys either told Alice or showed her a copy of the will. They’re still investigating the extent to which the two corresponded. My hunch? They’ll find out that Gladys taunted Alice by telling her she’d inherit nothing. Alice fumed and found a way to get revenge on her birth mother. Gladys’s shellfish allergy was the perfect vehicle, so to speak.”
Lara rested her head on the back of the sofa. Maybe her brain did need more rest. She still struggled to make sense of Alice’s motive.
According to Todd, Alice made a fabulous salary. Plus, Alice was smart. No doubt she had some plump retirement accounts waiting to keep her comfy in her old age. Killing for money, unless Gladys had been a billionaire, didn’t ring true.
Then again, it might have been simple retaliation—payback for Gladys having given her up as an infant, for allowing her to be raised in a modest home when she should rightfully have shared the Thryce fortune.
“You’re probably right, Gid. Either way, the police will sort it out. I feel bad for Todd, though. I suspect he was blindsided by all this.”
“He’s pretty shaken,” Gideon said. “I didn’t talk to him, but Jerry did. He had no idea Alice was his first cousin. I think he’s still trying to absorb it all.”
“How is this all going to end?” Lara said, feeling the words lodge in her throat.
Gideon pulled Lara’s head gently onto his shoulder. “It’s too soon to tell, but at least the worst is over.” Munster snuggled up between them, but then suddenly the cat got up and trotted out of the room.
Gideon chuckled. “Where’s he going in such a hurry?”
Lara felt tears flowing down her cheeks, and she glanced down. Blue sat between her and Gideon, her chin resting on Gideon’s knee. The Ragdoll cat gazed up at Lara, her turquoise eyes shining. It’s time, she seemed to be saying. Time to tell them everything.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Gideon said, hugging her close.
Lara pulled away and sat up. She blotted her face with the back of her hand. “Aunt Fran, Gideon...you’d better fasten your seat belts. I have something to tell you that’s going to blow your minds clear out of the room.”
Chapter 32
Lara started with the first day she’d arrived at her aunt’s. That fateful October day that had changed her life forever.
She’d first noticed Blue sitting in the small parlor with Darryl Weston, Brooke’s younger brother, who’d struggled mightily with reading aloud. Though Aunt Fran had been tutoring him, the child’s progress had been plodding. When suddenly he began reading at the level of a high school student, Aunt Fran had been shocked. Lara tried to explain about the Ragdoll cat she’d seen reading over the child’s elbow, but her aunt had insisted that she’d never owned a Ragdoll cat.
That was the beginning.
After that, Blue showed up at odd times, usually when Lara needed her most. She’d pointed out things to Lara that had helped her nail murderers, and she’d been there to intervene when she was in dire trouble.
“I can’t explain what happened three nights ago,” Lara said. “Somehow, that tiny lever that controls the sound on my cell phone got turned off. If it hadn’t been for that, Alice would have heard it ring in my pocket.”
“Blue,” Aunt Fran said, almost in a whisper, her green eyes moist with tears.
Lara nodded. “That’s the only thing I can think of. One minute my phone was in my coat pocket, and the next it was lying in the snow. The moment Alice turned her back on me, Blue must have wrestled it out of my pocket.”
“Code Blue,” Gideon said, his face pale. “It was the perfect distress signal, wasn’t it?”
“It was, but at the time I couldn’t tell you why. You know what else I remember? That day Alice came here to deliver the company’s donation check, Blue appeared, and she was very agitated by Alice’s presence. I thought she was telling me that Alice was not a friend of felines, but I realize now that it was much more.”
Aunt Fran looked as if she’d shrunk into herself. Lara’s heart wrenched. “The other day, Lara, when you told me you sometimes sense things, I knew there had to be more. I wish you’d told me all of it.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you—either of you. I was afraid you’d think I was having delusions. The only other one who knows is Kayla. I told her when she was here on Friday. It was easier to tell her because she’s not as close to me as you both are.”
Gideon clasped her hand, then lifted it to kiss her fingers. “Lara, I would never have doubted you, not for a second. And I never would have said you were crazy, or delusional.”
She leaned into him, the feel of his arm warming her to the core. “Good to know,” she joked, “in case I ever have any real delusions in the future.” Lara looked off to the side, her gaze unfocused. “In my head, I keep going back to that night. I kept wondering why Blue didn’t go after Alice. After all, she was Eugenia’s killer...”
“Because Blue has to be Angelica,” Aunt Fran supplied, “Eugenia’s beloved Ragdoll.”
Lara nodded at her aunt. “But now that I’ve had time to turn it over in my head, I think I understand why. I think it takes a massive amount of energy for Blue to make her presence known. She never lingers for long, because she can’t.”
“And maybe, that night,” Gideon said, picking up the thread, “she had to choose between keeping you and Rose warm or going after Alice.” He squeezed Lara’s fingers and leaned over to kiss her temple. “She made the right choice.”
Lara laughed. “Thanks. I think so, too.”
Aunt Fran had regained a bit of her color. “Well, if you two will excuse me, I have crab cakes to make. Jerry’s birthday dinner is this evening, and I want everything to be just right.”
“Crab cakes. Wow. Lucky guy.” Gideon winked at Lara. “And that just gave me an idea. Lara, why don’t you come over to my place this evening so we can let Aunt Fran and her favorite dude have the place to themselves. I mean, to themselves and the cats.”
Lara grinned. “Counselor, I like the way you think.”
“Have to admit, I’m partial to it myself.” Gideon leaned over and kissed her nose, then leaned his forehead on hers. “Thank you for trusting me, Lara. I’m glad you told me about Blue.”
“I am too,” she said. “It was a secret I didn’t enjoy keeping from you, or from
Aunt Fran. I feel as if a tank has been lifted off my chest.”
He squeezed her hands in his. “I’m going to head back to the office to play catch-up. Pick you up later, okay?”
After Gideon left, Lara headed back to her bedroom while Aunt Fran puttered in the kitchen preparing the crab cakes. When she reached her bedroom doorway, Lara stopped short.
Nutmeg and Ballou were snuggled up together on her unmade bed, the tortie’s paw curved around Ballou’s neck. So far, they were unaware of Lara’s presence. She watched for a few minutes, then carefully backed away.
Very quietly, Lara descended the stairs. She went into her studio and closed the door all the way. The painting was waiting for her.
She set up her watercolor supplies and went to work.
* * * *
The watercolor was coming along magnificently. The shading, the expressions, and the details that made it unique were all working in tandem to create the emotion Lara wanted to capture.
When she glanced at her watch, she realized she’d been working for several hours. Aunt Fran, no doubt, thought she was upstairs resting. Sorry, Aunt Fran, but I had to paint.
She pushed back her chair about six feet and studied the painting from all angles. After sharing her secret with the two people she loved most, Lara felt her spirit uplifted. Their belief in her made all the difference.
She rolled her chair forward again. Grinning to herself, imagining the finished painting. Lara had just swabbed her brush over the sepia-toned paint when a crash from the kitchen made her jump. She threw her paintbrush onto her work table, vaulted off her chair, and shot into the kitchen.
In front of the counter, near the sink, Aunt Fran’s favorite bowl lay in pieces on the floor. Chunky shards of Pyrex were mingled with globs of crabmeat mixture.
“Aunt Fran, what happened?” Lara cried. “You didn’t cut yourself, did you?”
Her aunt threw up her arms. “No, I’m fine,” she said, surveying the mess. “Don’t come close. There’s broken glass. I’ll get it all with some paper towels.” She shook her head and chuckled. “I only left the kitchen for two minutes, but apparently she smelled it. Poor little girl, I think it scared her more than it did me when the bowl went crashing to the floor.”