by Mary Angela
“If that slob did something to her, he’ll have to answer to me.” Nikki crossed her arms. “I know he’s Emily’s father, but I never liked him.”
“Emily told me he is Marianne’s sole beneficiary,” said Zo. “He’ll inherit everything, including her book advance.”
Nikki was silent for a moment, digesting the implication. A patron called to her from across the lobby, and her face changed with a smile. She waved before returning to the conversation. “If you’re asking me if he would have killed her for the money, my answer is absolutely,” said Nikki. “He would do anything for a handout.” She pulled down her suit jacket. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to see a couple people before they leave. But please catch me again before you go.”
Nikki turned, a black streak walking in the opposite direction.
Zo looked at Max. “It sounds as if she really hates Marianne’s ex-husband.”
Max shrugged. “With good reason, maybe. I’ll be right back.”
While Max used the restroom, Zo perused the memorabilia in the next room. She loved history, anything old, really. She was fascinated with Spirit Canyon’s past, and the opera house was finally clearing out. She could get to the display cases along the wall, filled with treasures recovered during the remodel.
Stopping at a display of sheet music, she perused the musical numbers, happy that Nikki had brought back not only the theater, but also the orchestra. The ensemble was a luxury in a small town like Spirit Canyon.
With Max still gone, she moved on to another display case of costume jewelry, hairpins, and makeup. Zo moved closer, her face near the case. Not all the jewelry was costume. Some was gold or silver, albeit tarnished. She squinted at a necklace that resembled her own. She blinked. It had the same intricate silver inlay and same chain but was shaped like a sun. Zo’s hand flew to her throat. Sun and moon. Could it be a matching set?
Max said her name, and she jumped.
“Sorry,” Max apologized. “Did I startle you?” His smile vanished. “What’s wrong?”
Zo swallowed. She didn’t know if she could tell him what she saw in the case. What if it turned out to me nothing? She was thirty-three years old. She wasn’t a kid anymore. But suddenly she felt like one, vulnerable and shy.
Max was looking at the case. He tapped the glass. “It’s your necklace. The one you always wear.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m going to get someone to open the case.” It wasn’t a question. He was gone before she could she could answer yes or no.
After a few minutes, Nikki returned with a puzzled look on her face. She had a key in her hand. “Max says a piece of jewelry in here belongs to you.”
“I don’t know.” Zo felt like a broken record. Confronted with the match, she couldn’t allow herself to hope it was hers. She’d wished for a clue for so many years. Now one was here, and she was afraid.
Nikki opened the case and took out the necklace. “It’s beautiful.” She turned it over in her hands, reading the engraving on the back. “Elle. What does that mean?”
Zo took the necklace and shakily placed it next to her own. The crescent moon fit perfectly around the sun, the “Zo” and “elle” making one word. “I think it’s the other half of my name.”
Chapter Seven
To find out her name was not her name was surreal. She’d always wondered about the spelling. She assumed whoever had given her the necklace didn’t want Zo pronounced with the long e. She’d always felt as if a part of her was missing; now she realized it wasn’t just her parents. It was her name.
“Zoelle,” said Max. “That’s pretty.”
They locked eyes. It was the first time she’d heard her full name, and in his voice, she liked the way it sounded. How it rhymed with Noël. She was glad he was there to share the news with her.
Zo explained to Nikki, who was confused by the revelation. “I was given away. This necklace was the only possession I had on me when the police found me at the station.”
“Keep it, of course.” Nikki nodded to the jewelry. “It’s obviously yours.”
Or Zo’s mother’s. There were two chains, two necklaces. Two people were meant to wear them. Why was this one in the opera house? Zo asked Nikki.
“I don’t know the details,” said Nikki. “You could ask the construction workers where they found it. Would that help? A few will be here tomorrow and more on Monday. They’re just finishing up the balcony.”
Zo appreciated Nikki’s cooperative attitude. Nikki could’ve made her jump through hoops to get the necklace back, but she didn’t. It made a big difference. “That’s a great idea. I’ll do that. Thank you.”
An actor drew closer, waiting to talk to Nikki. She gave him a nod of acknowledgment. “Let me know if you need anything else, and Max? Will you let me know if you find out anything about Marianne?”
Max agreed before leading them to the coat check, where he retrieved their jackets and tipped the employee. Zo moved in a fog, thinking about the possibilities. Her mother—or father—had worked in or attended the theater. Did they live in Spirit Canyon? Impossible. The couple who adopted her kept the name Zo. Even when she was put in foster care, it would have been easy to find her.
The old doubt started creeping in, a rip in an umbrella of hope. Maybe they didn’t want to be found. Even after all these years, they might not need the headache. Which was fine. She didn’t begrudge them. She had a good life, a nice home, and a thriving business. She was grateful to have been raised in Spirit Canyon and loved the Black Hills. Growing up as she did made her resilient. She wouldn’t change the past even if she could.
Max held open the door, and the blast of cool wind brought her back to the present moment. It was fall, and the nights were growing darker earlier. Soon the snow boots would come out and remain a staple for the winter, when the Black Hills received five to fifteen inches of snow a month.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Max.
“Snow,” said Zo.
He paused on the sidewalk. “What are you really thinking about?”
“Snow,” she said with a laugh. “And everything else. It’s a lot to take in.”
“I bet,” said Max. “Where do you think the necklace came from?”
They were standing in front of the wine bar, Canyon Vines. The tables were lighted with candles that made a happy glow against the dark night. It was the perfect atmosphere for a private conversation. “Do you want to go in for a glass of wine?” she asked.
“That’s a good idea,” said Max. “I want to hear your thoughts on what Nikki said.”
They chose a table near the crackling stone fireplace. The two facing couches in front of it were already taken. However, the chairs were plush and comfortable, and the entire room was cozy, designed to look like a wine cellar, with bottles lining the walls.
When the waiter came, they ordered glasses of pinot noir and a cheese plate. He returned with the wine, and Zo admired the canyon etched on the bowl of the goblet, appreciating the small detail. She took a sip of wine, the liquid warming her insides while the fire warmed her outsides. Glad for the detour, she was too edgy to think about sleep.
“Zoelle is a unique name.” Max took a large drink of his wine, swigging it like a beer. “I wonder if you’re named after someone.”
“Like a famous person?” The thought had also crossed her mind.
“Right,” said Max. “Unless it’s French or something.” He tilted his head. “Are the French stubborn? Maybe that’s where you get it.”
She smiled, despite his remark. Max made it easy to talk about her name. She didn’t know how, but he was making it seem normal.
“Ask Hattie,” Max suggested. “If there’s a Zoelle out there, she’ll find her.”
It was a good idea. Hattie Fines was the town librarian and a very dear friend. She knew everything, and if
she didn’t know something, she knew how to find it. “I will. I’m also going to ask the construction crew where they found the necklace. Maybe that will give me a place to start.”
The cheese plate came, and Max stabbed a piece of Gouda with his toothpick, holding it mid-air. “Have you ever searched for your birth parents before?”
Zo spread a cracker with hummus. “Vaguely, when I was eighteen. It was the early internet days, though, and I wasn’t successful.”
“You should have your DNA tested.” Max pointed the now-empty toothpick at her. “A lot of cases have been cracked with those ancestry sites.”
“True,” agreed Zo. “But I don’t want to waste time yearning for something I might never have. I wasted a lot of time that way in my twenties. I told myself I’d never go there again.”
“You might be right,” said Max. “Even if you did find them, it might not be the reunion you’d hoped for.”
“Thanks for your encouragement.” Zo selected a piece of cheese.
“Seriously, though. Reunions can be disappointing.”
Zo had a feeling he wasn’t talking about her anymore. “I know you went to college in Montana, but did you grow up there?”
He took a sip of his wine before answering. “Born and raised, which is probably why I love the mountains so much.”
“Theirs are much bigger than ours.”
“But the company here is better.” His lips twitched with a smile.
A piece of her melted. She, too, loved her little mountain town. It had a thriving downtown, arts community, and picturesque canyon, not to mention nearby waterfalls, streams, and lakes. It didn’t have the jagged peaks of the Rockies, but it didn’t need them either. “Do you get home often?”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing a shoe over his knee. It was shiny black from rare use. “Sometimes I forget you were a journalist. I could tell you my life story without realizing it. But yes, I do go home, quite a bit. It was one of the reasons Spirit Canyon worked. It’s not too far away.”
She took in the information. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
“And investigator,” added Max. “What did you make of Nikki’s comments about Jake Morgan?”
“Marianne’s ex-husband?” asked Zo. “I think Nikki’s right. Emily loves her dad, but she admitted he was out of work. If someone killed Marianne for money, it was probably him.”
“It would have been his last chance to cash in before she changed her will,” said Max.
“And she had a check in her hand.” Zo took out her phone and pulled up the picture. “At least I think it’s a check. Which would also imply money.”
They studied the picture, their heads together.
“Can you zoom in any closer?” asked Max.
“This is as far as it goes without getting blurry,” said Zo.
“It looks like a check to me, but it’s hard to say.” Max drew back from the phone. “Did you tell Brady about Marianne’s appointment with her lawyer?”
Zo raised her eyebrows. “What do you think?”
“Brady cares about getting justice for Marianne as much as we do,” argued Max. “He just goes about it a different way. You need to tell him.”
“I know, but the guy drives me crazy.” She popped a grape in her mouth, reviewing all the ways Brady drove her mad. First was their history. She hadn’t been the most obedient kid in Spirit Canyon, and he was always there to remind her. Second was his brother Patrick. He wouldn’t renew the lease on her original store, sending her packing after one year of business so that he could open up his own sporting goods store. She had to start over at her new location, which wouldn’t have been so bad except she hated moving. She’d done too much of it as a kid. Third was his attitude, righteous and stubborn. He’d been a pain in the neck when a murder occurred last summer at her friend Beth’s lodge. Finally, there was his last name, Merrigan. It was all over everything. Their family practically owned the town, and his father had been the police chief before him. But Max was right. It was probably one of the reasons Brady cared so much.
“When we talked the night of the murder, he brought up Marianne being a witch,” Zo recalled. “Do you think that makes him superstitious?”
“The entire town is superstitious,” said Max. “This time of year, it’s even worse.”
“With good reason,” said Zo. “I swear Marianne’s been giving me signals, clues. First the check. Then her planner shows up on my counter, out of nowhere.”
“What? Like haunting you?”
“Like giving me signs.”
“If only it were that easy.” Max pointed with his finger. “This way to catch a killer.”
“This way to stay out of jail,” Zo added.
“Brady isn’t going to put you in jail,” promised Max.
“I hope not,” said Zo. “Finding Marianne near Happy Camper was bad luck for me.”
“Or good luck for Marianne,” said Max.
Zo liked his way of thinking better.
Chapter Eight
Zo slept poorly, partly because of the necklace and partly because of her cat. She and George were used to sleeping alone, which meant when they invaded each other’s space, a proper rumpus followed. She wasn’t complaining, but George was big—twenty pounds big. When he turned, she felt it.
She reached around him for the clock on her nightstand. It was a little after seven. George moved to the end of the bed, circling once before going back to sleep. He might not be a morning cat, but she had lots to do before opening Happy Camper. Today was Halloween, which meant the Spirit Canyon Pumpkin-Carving Contest, not to mention her costume party. The shops in Spirit Canyon were carving jack-o-lanterns to enter into the contest, and the winner would be announced by the mayor before tonight’s parade. This year, a customer had given Zo an enormous pumpkin to carve. Standing three feet tall and weighing a hundred pounds, the pumpkin was prize worthy. She and Harley would be carving it together, but Zo needed to gut it this morning. Throwing on a sweatshirt and sweatpants, she wasn’t looking forward to the sticky work, but it would be worth it if they won. The winning entry received five hundred dollars and a free ad in a popular visitor’s guide.
She opened the deck door, coffee mug in hand, and George shot out of bed like an orange bullet. He wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to get outside for the remaining days of nice weather. Gazing at the canyon, a blaze of red, orange, and gold, she shared his enthusiasm. She would miss the campfires and crisp perfume of fall, yet the changing of seasons meant new adventures. Winter brought snow, skiers, and hot cocoa. Terry Peak was a popular skiing destination in the Black Hills and just thirty miles away. Life was never dull in a tourist town like Spirit Canyon.
Spotting Cunningham on his deck, Zo waved. His shoulders were perpetually hunched, as if always in the middle of reading a book, and he was gazing over his railing, his hair a white bush atop his head. He hadn’t noticed her, which was odd. With their side-by-side lawns, it was impossible not to hear what the other was doing.
“Morning, Cunningham,” she called. “You’re up early.”
It was all the encouragement he needed to pad down the steps in his worn moccasins. Over his flannel pajamas, he wore a tightly tied knit robe with the monogram RMC. They met on her lawn. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Again?”
“Again,” he repeated.
“You need to take a sleeping pill.” Zo set down her coffee, knife, and trowel on the picnic table. Beside it, the extra-large pumpkin waited to be carved.
“I’d take a sleeping pill, but I’d rather not raid the refrigerator while I’m asleep, thank you very much. That’s one of the side effects, you know.”
“It’s starting to sound like the safer alternative, if you ask me.” Zo knew how he felt about pills. He didn’t trust them, but he needed rest. She pointed to the initials on
his robe. “What does the M stand for?”
“Meriwether,” answered Cunningham. “My mother wanted me to be an explorer. Unfortunately, reading Moby-Dick was as close as I ever got.”
“That’s interesting,” said Zo. “My birth parents wanted me to be Zoelle.” She picked up the second necklace, still around her neck, and flipped it over to show him the inscription. “We came across this last night at the theater. It was found during the renovation.”
Without his reading glasses, he had to squint to read the engravings. “Sun and moon. It explains your fascination for astronomy—and astrology.”
At the Zodiac Club, a hobby group made up of amateurs and astronomy professor Dr. Linwood, Zo learned the sun and moon were powerful forces. The sun indicates personality, and the moon represents emotions. Together they determine mood and outlook.
Cunningham let go of the necklaces. “They’re a perfect fit, a clue.”
“After all these years looking, I finally found one.” She grabbed the knife.
“What are you going to do?”
She stabbed the pumpkin. “About the necklace? I’m going to stop by the theater, ask the renovation crew if they remember where they found it.”
“Once an investigator, always an investigator.”
She couldn’t deny it. She loved the thrill of chasing a lead and getting to the truth behind a story. “I need to check on the theater’s holiday plans anyway, for my column. With all the commotion, I forgot to ask Nikki last night.”
“Right, for your column.”
They’d talked enough about her for one morning. She turned the questions on him. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
He let out a breath. “My students’ papers, of course. Their errors always keep me up.”
He averted his eyes, and she knew there was something else. “And…”
“And I worry my classes aren’t useful anymore,” he added reluctantly.
“Of course they are,” said Zo. “I’ve learned a lot just living next door to you. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in one of your classes.”