by Kate Bell
Richard was at the door before we could knock. He and Hilda must spend a lot of time at the window.
“Good morning, Richard,” Alec said.
“Good morning, come in,” he said and held the door open for us. We followed him to the living room and took a seat across from him. I wanted Alec to let him have it over him seeing Janice Cross, but I didn’t know whose side Alec was on right at that moment.
“So, did you talk to her?” Richard asked, with a smile.
I wanted to knock that smug look off his face.
“I did. I told her if she agreed not to harass you, you would let her stay until she could find a new place to live, for a limited time, of course. You need to decide on that time frame so I can relay that to her,” Alec said. His mood was somber and so was mine. No one had a right to destroy someone, especially someone that was grieving.
“Great, I appreciate the help. It’ll save me some money too, if I don’t have to evict her,” Richard said.
“She said you were seeing Janice Cross,” Alec said, pausing to see what Richard’s reaction would be.
He didn’t have to wait long as the smile slid right off of Richard’s face. “I am not seeing her. That’s long over.”
“It’s your business if you are,” Alec said.
“I can’t believe she told you that! I merely gave Janice a ride home when her car wouldn’t start the other day. I happened to stop by the elementary school to speak to the principal. That’s all it was,” he said. I didn’t believe him. There was something about him that said he was lying.
“Like I said, it’s your business. The investigation into your wife’s death is ongoing,” Alec reminded him.
Richard sighed tiredly and pulled himself together. “I appreciate that. I want to see her murderer put behind bars as soon as possible.”
“Did you find the journal?” I asked. I had sat quietly for too long and the tension between Alec and Hilda and now Alec and Richard was getting to me. I just wanted to go home and bake something.
“I did,” he said and got up and picked up a book off the fireplace mantel. He walked back over and handed it to me.
The book had bright sunflowers on the covers and when I opened it up, Iris’s neat handwriting filled the pages. I swallowed back the lump in my throat. This book was from a time when Iris had been young and hopeful of all the possibilities that life and a new teaching career possessed.
“Thank you,” I said.
“We appreciate your cooperation,” Alec said and we got to our feet. “We’ll be in touch.”
We headed out the door and got into my car with Alec driving. I flipped through the pages, wondering if this book held any clues to her murder, but also knowing it would mention Jennifer from time to time. My heart sometimes ached with the fact that my children were grown. If only I could recapture just a day or two of their young lives. I blinked back the tears.
This journal held a chance for me to relive my daughter’s early years.
--19--
“Ta da!” I said, pushing a bowl of snow cream in front of Alec.
He looked up from the book he was studying. “What’s this?”
“Snow cream. It snowed last night so I caught some of it. Guaranteed pest, critter, and uh, dead body free snow,” I said proudly.
He looked at me. “It’s not the same.”
“It is the same. I used snow, cream, sugar, and vanilla extract. Trust me. It’s the same. Oh, and I have some chocolate syrup to pour over it. I might even have some maraschino cherries in the fridge.” I gave him a big smile.
“Wild caught snow is better,” he said.
The smile left my face. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Alec Blanchard, if you don’t at least taste this snow cream that I slaved over a hot stove to make, you are in big trouble,” I said.
“A hot stove?”
“Whatever. A cold bowl. Taste it.”
“Okay, fine,” he said and picked up the spoon in the bowl. He scooped up a small bite sized amount and tasted it. He smiled. “I guess it is pretty good.”
“Told ya so,” I said, and went and scooped a bowl for myself. “It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”
“Mmm,” he said, taking a bigger bite.
“I want to go to Kohl’s,” I said.
“Why, pray tell?” he asked.
“I might need some baking stuff,” I said. I poured chocolate syrup over my snow cream.
He sighed. “It seems like you have more than enough baking stuff.”
“I might need more mixing bowls. Or something.”
“Fine, we’ll go. But one of these days I want to make snow cream with wild caught snow.”
***
When we pulled up at Kohl’s, I spotted Josh walking across the parking lot. “Hey, Alec,” I said and pointed Josh out.
Alec nodded at me. “Let’s go before he gets in his car.”
We hurried across the parking lot and managed to get in position to be passing him as he headed toward the far side of the parking lot.
“Oh hi, Josh,” I called out when we got close.
He stopped in his tracks and stared at us. I wondered if he had forgotten who we were.
He forced himself to smile at us. “Hi,” he said quietly.
“How are you doing, Josh?” I asked. He held a small shopping bag in his hand and his face looked more broken out than it had before.
“I’m-I’m okay,” he said, looking away.
“Hi, Josh,” Alec said. “I’ve been meaning to check on you. Just to see how you’re doing.”
Josh’s face turned a darker red. “I’m fine.”
“Josh, we know how important Mrs. Rose was to you and we wanted you to know if there’s anything you need, you should feel free to ask,” I said gently.
He looked at me, making eye contact. “Thanks. That’s nice. It’s still hard to believe she’s gone.”
“Losing someone that’s important to you is hard,” Alec said.
“Sometimes I think Mrs. Rose is the only person that made me feel like I could make something of myself.”
That made me feel bad. It was hard for shy kids to feel confident, but at least he had had Iris.
“I’ve heard nothing but good things about Mrs. Rose as a teacher,” Alec said.
“Have you found out who killed her yet?” Josh asked, looking at Alec. He was shifting from one foot to the other and seemed to have difficulty making and holding eye contact.
Alec shook his head. “No, not yet. We’re hoping to have a break in the case soon. Have you heard anything around town?”
“What? What do you mean?” Josh asked, shifting a little faster now.
Alec shrugged. “Sometimes in small towns, things get said. I just wondered if you’d heard anyone say anything about the case.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding his head. “No, I haven’t heard a thing. I’ve been home taking care of my mother. I have to go now, she’s expecting me.”
“Okay, well, you let us know if you hear anything,” Alec said as Josh hurried off.
I looked at Alec. “He has to take care of his mom?”
“And he sure seemed nervous,” he said.
“That he did,” I said and we headed to the store entrance.
“I wonder what he would have done if we had told him we knew his mother wasn’t sick?” Alec asked me.
“Probably cried. I think if he knew that we knew he had flunked out of college, he would fall apart,” I said.
“If he had, you would have had to take care of him. I handled the funeral scene, after all,” he said with a chuckle.
“I think all of our suspects are due for another round of questioning,” I told him.
“That could be. And hopefully Sam has more information from his side of the investigation.
--20--
“Give me a kiss before you go,” I said, leaning in toward Alec.
He kissed me and pulled me to hi
m. “I’m only going to be gone a few hours,” he assured me.
I giggled. “I know, I know. I just wish you were going to be here when the inspector comes.”
“You’ll be fine. You and Jennifer have been scrubbing and cleaning for days. That kitchen is shining. The whole house is shining. No way will you not pass,” he assured me.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said. “I shouldn’t worry.”
He let me go. “And if you don’t pass, we’ll just make whatever changes need to be made and there’ll be another inspection. Easy as can be.”
“You’re right. We can do that.”
“All right. I’m leaving now so I won’t be late,” he said, and headed to my car parked out front.
“Good luck!” I called.
He waved at me and got into the car. I watched until he drove out of sight. I knew he didn’t need luck. He knew all he needed to know about the law and getting his PI license.
I went back into the house and took another look at the kitchen. Alec was right. It was sparkling clean. I went back into the living room and picked up Iris’s journal and sat on the sofa.
I turned to the first page and read the entry.
August 19
I cannot wait to start the school year. Next week I have to report to the school for meetings. Then I get my classroom and can decorate! I’ve wanted to decorate my own classroom for forever, and I can’t wait to meet my kids. My kids. I love the sound of that.
Iris was so young and sweet, it broke my heart. So full of hope and potential.
September 3
I made it through my first day. I was so nervous! The kids are so cute and I can’t wait to get to know each one.
She had made a list of each child’s name and a comment with her first impressions. I skipped down to Jennifer’s name.
Jennifer McSwain -- Sweet little girl. She has pretty strawberry blond hair and a bright smile. I’m looking forward to teaching her.
My heart swelled with pride. Jennifer had been one of the sweetest little girls. I sometimes felt sorry for other mothers because they didn’t have her. I skipped down to Josh Stine’s name.
Joshua Stine -- quiet, shy boy. He seems a little immature compared to the other children, but very bright.
I started skimming the journal, looking for pages mentioning either Jennifer or Josh. There was an entry where Jennifer had been a big help with passing out art supplies. Another where she had been kind and shared her lunch with a child that had forgotten hers at home. That was my little Jennifer. Always a helper. I decided I was going to make copies of the pages that mentioned Jennifer. She would love to have a copy of them, and I wanted a copy for myself.
I found an entry about Josh where she went into more detail about his personality.
I’m a little concerned about Josh Stine, but I don’t know if I should bring it up with someone or not. He seems very immature compared to the other students. He has trouble socializing with the other children and he frequently has outbursts. On the other hand, he’s very smart. He catches on to everything much faster than the other children, but this seems to ostracize him from the others. I am trying to encourage him to help me teach the other children with their math. This makes him very happy. But it doesn’t take much for him to become angry. He frequently has tantrums. I just don’t know if I should mention all this to someone or not. What if it’s nothing and I’m blowing this out of proportion? I can’t wait for the day when I’m experienced enough to know how to handle these types of things.
I smiled. Poor Iris. I could imagine it being difficult to know how to handle kids with problems in the beginning of her teaching career.
And then on the last day of school:
Today was harder than I expected. I will miss my kids. They are all so wonderful in their own way. If I had a favorite, it would have to be Jennifer McSwain, although I would never tell anyone that. I’ve met her father several times and I’m sure she must take after him. He seems so kind and helpful. I’ll miss Jennifer the most, I think. We both cried when she had to leave.
Hey, wait a minute. Why did she assume Jennifer took after Thaddeus? She had spent more time around me than she had Thaddeus. I had volunteered to help at the Valentine’s day party and the Christmas party and just about anything else that had come up. Oh well. Jennifer would enjoy reading what Iris had to say about her.
Then I read the entry about Josh:
I’m concerned about Joshua Stine. He’s been struggling this last week with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be in my class anymore. He was inconsolable this last day. Although I enjoyed having him in my class, he was exhausting at times. I made a request that he get some help before he goes into third grade. His mother was not receptive. She insists he doesn’t have any issues, but I spoke with the school psychologist and she agreed with me. We could not get his mother to agree to counseling.
Hmm. Iris didn’t go into more detail about exactly what her concerns were regarding Josh, but his mother had been made aware. When Lucy and I spoke to her several days earlier, she had suggested her son needed some therapy, so obviously she was no longer in denial. He had been an overly emotional child and it looked like not much had changed. I would have to go back over the journal more carefully to see if I had missed what Iris thought the root of the problem was.
The doorbell rang and I put the journal down and went to answer it.
“Good morning, Allie McSwain?” the man standing at the door asked. “I’m Ken Matson and I’m with the health department.”
“Yes, please come in,” I said, and took a step back.
“Thank you,” he said, stepping into the living room.
“Follow me and I’ll show you to the kitchen,” I said and led the way. “I’ve never had an inspection like this before. I hope everything’s going to be okay.”
“It’ll be quick,” he said. “I just need to take a look around.”
“Please, go ahead,” I said, and leaned back against the wall. I crossed my fingers as he went about his job.
He opened cupboards and looked into the stove. I half expected him to be wearing a pair of white cotton gloves and for him to swipe his index finger across the stovetop. Instead, he just looked at everything.
“Is this the refrigerator you’re going to use?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”
“You might want to consider getting a second one that’s just for the food you’re cooking that’s for sale. It makes it easier to keep things separate and also for inspections. You don’t have to, but you might consider it,” he said and took a thermometer out of his briefcase and stuck it into the refrigerator and closed the door. “We need to make sure it’s the correct temperature.”
“Oh, I hadn’t even thought of that,” I said.
“Will you be selling hot food?” he asked.
“Not really,” I said. “I mean, apple pie’s better when it’s a little bit warm, but I don’t need to serve it warm.”
“Okay, sounds good. If you were going to sell it hot, there are heat temperature requirements,” he said, filling out a form. After a few minutes, he reached back into the refrigerator and looked at the thermometer and then put it back in his briefcase.
“Is it okay?” I asked.
“Here you go,” he said, handing me a copy of the form he was filling out.
“Good luck on your new business venture, Mrs. McSwain,” he said and headed for the front door.
“What? That’s it?” I said, following him. “I passed?”
“With flying colors,” he said over his shoulder. “Consider that second refrigerator and you are subject to inspection at any time.”
“Oh, thank you!” I said and he was gone. I had done it. I had passed the inspection and I was ready to start my business. I could hardly believe it.
I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and texted Alec.
I did it! I passed! Yippee!!
He was probably still taking the PI test o
r maybe he was driving home now, so I would have to wait to talk to him. I sat back on the sofa and smiled to myself. This was going to be awesome. I was sure of it.
--21--
Alec was true to his word and took me out to a fancy restaurant. Fancy for Sandy Harbor, anyway. I had bought a new black dress at a local dress shop just for this occasion. I’d also worn my simple strand of pearls. Sandy Harbor needed more dress up restaurants so I could feel like a girly girl more often.
We went to Le Chemise, a new French restaurant that had recently opened in town. The place was packed and the décor had old world charm. Two white candles and a bunch of fresh grapes and grapevine made up the table centerpiece. The display sat on a gold charger was heavy and rustic looking and reminded me of something that would have been made in the eighteenth century. Whoever had opened this restaurant knew what they were doing with the décor.
I was eyeing their dessert menu and was impressed with their offerings and wondered who was making them. I couldn’t think of anyone in town that baked French style pastries. I was going to have to investigate this more fully.
“Do you see anything that looks good to you?” Alec asked me.
“I’ve got my eye on the Lamb Navarin. What about you?” I asked. I hadn’t had a nice lamb stew in a long time. Thaddeus and I had vacationed in Normandy before the children were born and I had fallen in love with the lamb stew we’d had.
“Lamb is always a good choice. I’m thinking a classic coq au vin. I haven’t had that in what seems like years,” he said, still looking over the menu. “And how about a nice red wine?”
“Sounds good. I wonder if it’s an authentic French wine?” I asked, still eyeing the dessert menu.
“Let’s hope so,” he said. “And what on that dessert menu has caught your attention? I know something must have.”