The Corpse Who Knew Too Much

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The Corpse Who Knew Too Much Page 5

by Debra Sennefelder


  Dropping out of high school thanks to an unplanned pregnancy, Iva had few job options, and when she lost her housekeeping job last summer, it hit her family hard. Hope needed help with the chickens and offered Iva a few hours a week. The work expanded to the gardens, which had been neglected by the last homeowner. During the early part of the fall, Iva worked on the long-dormant vegetable garden, preparing it for spring planting. With her help, Hope was optimistic she’d have a bountiful garden in the summer.

  Things had certainly changed since high school. Seeing Devon the day before had stirred up memories about those four foundational years. The highs, the lows, the drama, the victories. Between her and her sister, she wondered how her mother survived those years. A small smile touched her lips. Soon, Claire would be the mom with high schoolers.

  “Morning, Hope!” Iva waved from the barn door. She was dressed in her usual work outfit of a flannel-lined denim jacket and matching jeans. Her dark hair was covered by the jacket’s hood, tied tightly under her chin to keep her neck warm.

  “Good morning, Iva!” Hope waved back. She spotted several chickens inside the pen. She guessed they were deciding whether to free range today. After every snowstorm, Iva cleared a large section for the hens so they could move around.

  Hope continued to the garage and pushed open the door. She aimed her key fob at her Explorer and unlocked the driver’s side door as she hurried around the front of the vehicle. She wanted to sink into the heated seat and get a proper warm-up. Making her way around the car, she passed the floor-to-ceiling shelves erected along the back wall. Hope had turned lose her inner organizer when she designed the unit because she’d seen one too many garages become dumping grounds for all of life’s must-haves, from fitness equipment to kitchen gadgets to outdated technology. She’d have no part of it in her garage.

  Everything in its place, that was her motto.

  “Hey, Hope, got a second?” Iva appeared at the door. Her face was barely visible beneath her hood and scarf. Her jacket was zipped up, and chunky socks peeked from the top of her well-worn work boots.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “After I’m done in the barn, I’ll get the first coat of paint done in the living room. You got the delivery of Shades of Greige, right?”

  When the colder weather hit and Iva still needed a paycheck, Hope had asked if she’d be interested in painting. The downstairs powder room needed a fresh coat of paint, and Iva did a great job. Now she was tasked with painting the living room.

  “I did.” Hope set her purse onto the front passenger seat. She’d gone through countless shades of paint for the living room. She’d last settled on a crisp white, but it looked too stark against the medium shade of gray she’d painted the fireplace wall. Frye-Lily, a paint company she’d partnered with to write sponsored posts, sent her a can of Shades of Greige, and it was perfect. Finally! The soft tones of gray and beige blended together fit the image in her mind of how the finished room would look.

  “Good. Hopefully, the animals will stay out of my way. The cat nearly knocked over the paint tray when I was working in the bathroom.”

  “A cat will be a cat.” When Hope adopted Princess, she’d expected a mild-mannered feline. After all, she’d lived with an elderly woman. How much trouble could she be? Apparently, appearances were deceiving, because Princess was a wild thing. She regularly tore through the house, knocking objects off surfaces on a whim and scratching furniture. Even with her challenging behavior, late at night she’d curl up with Hope on the sofa and purr as she slept. How could Hope not love the cat?

  Iva sighed. “She should live out in the barn.” Shaking her head, Iva turned and stomped outside.

  Hope doubted her spoiled yet loving cat would allow someone to move her to the barn. An image of hissing, swiping with claws extended, and tiny sharp teeth flashed in her mind. She wanted no part of it. What she wanted a part of was surprising Ethan. A quick visit would help keep her mind from worrying about her class later that evening.

  She slipped in behind the steering wheel and started the ignition. Her first stop was going to be The Coffee Clique.

  * * *

  Hope opened the door of The Coffee Clique and entered. A din of clipped conversations as the morning rush of caffeine-depleted people came and went greeted her. It took all of thirty seconds for her nose to wriggle at the sweet aroma of the coffee shop’s most popular pastry, cinnamon buns. Her eyes zeroed in on the tray in the display case with precision. She had a flashback to the iconic scene in Sex and the City, when Carrie stared longingly into a store’s window at a pair of fabulous shoes, and Carrie’s words repeated in her head.

  “Good morning, Hope!”

  Those weren’t the words Carrie had said. But they kept Hope from dashing to the display counter and pressing her face against the glass.

  Hope’s head turned toward the voice from the counter.

  Laila Miller waved her over to the order station. From her cheerful voice and big smile, it was a good bet Laila had had her caffeine fix a couple of times over.

  “Hi, Laila. Good to see you.” Hope opened her purse and pulled out her wallet. “Two large. One hazelnut with milk and one regular black.”

  She glanced at the cinnamon buns again. The most perfect pastry. And her kryptonite. She chewed on her lower lip. One little cinnamon bun wouldn’t hurt. No. She needed to be strong. She’d had a holiday season full of baking cookies and cakes, and now she was testing recipes for a new, digital cookbook of quick breads. She didn’t need the extra calories the yummy pastry was packed with. She’d stay strong. No matter how much it hurt.

  And it hurt a lot.

  “You got it.” Laila plucked two cups from the cup dispenser and filled them. Her moves were precise and efficient, a testament to her years of experience behind the counter. She’d pulled her shoulder-length, coppery-brown hair into a high ponytail, and her face was bare of makeup. Laila always had the natural, girl-next-door kind of beauty. She never had to work at it. “I’m looking forward to class tonight.”

  “Me too. I’m both thrilled and terrified. The class registration is full.” Hope removed a debit card from her wallet.

  “You have nothing to be terrified about. Me? I fluctuate between excited about starting a blog and dreading it. I guess it’s a normal feeling? But I’ve seen how successful some crafters are when they blog. There’s this one knitter who has created an online knitting course, and she’s making six figures a year!” Laila set the filled cups on the counter and placed lids on each. “Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy working here, but I’d love to do something that has more meaning to me. Like sharing the joy of a hobby I learned from my grandmother.”

  “The opportunities are endless, and you’re such a talented crocheter. It’ll be a lot of hard work, but I think you can be very successful.” Hope handed Laila her credit card and waited for her receipt.

  “Gail was in here a few minutes ago for her latte. She told me Devon is back in town. And reminded me it’s coming up to twenty years since Mrs. Markham disappeared. I can’t believe it’s been so long.” Laila handed Hope her card back, along with the receipt.

  “News definitely travels fast, doesn’t it?”

  Laila nodded. “Who needs the Gazette? Gail wonders if Devon and her sister are planning a memorial of some sort for their mother. Wouldn’t that be nice? For us all to be together again and remember what a great lady Mrs. Markham was? Maybe Alec would come back for it.” The hint of hopefulness in her voice reminded Hope of the wicked crush she’d had on Gail’s brother in high school.

  Hormones ran amuck back then, and it seemed Laila still carried a torch for Alec Graves.

  The opening of the front door drew Laila’s attention to the group of women entering the shop. “Have a good day. See you tonight.”

  Hope took her cue to leave. Outside, the temperature seemed a little warmer and the wind from yesterday had diminished.

  It wasn’t too frigid to walk, so she decided to le
ave her Explorer parked at the curb and continued on foot to the police department. Back in New York City, she had walked everywhere regardless of the weather, and since returning to Jefferson, she’d found herself too comfortably settling into driving everywhere.

  The sidewalk had been shoveled by the shop owners, leaving a clear path for her to stroll along. Signs of life started to show. Interior lights were on, “Open” signs were visible, and up ahead, Nathan was dusting the section of sidewalk outside his antique shop with granules she expected were some type of sand mixture.

  As she passed by the florist, she paused to take in the lovely display of flowers for Valentine’s Day. Next door, the clothing boutique had a love theme in their window, and The Bark Boutique, the place where Hope got her supplies for Bigelow and Princess, also had a love theme. The window display was filled with stuffed toys, heart-shaped beds, bowls, and the cutest sweaters. She wondered if they had Bigelow’s size. She’d have to check later.

  She followed the path leading to the main entrance of the police department and entered the reception area.

  There was a small seating area to her right. Along the opposite wall was a brochure rack filled with information, from over-the-counter drug disposal to how to report scam telemarketers. She approached the partitioned-off dispatch center. Doug was on shift, operating the communication system, and was just finishing a call.

  The small but efficient dispatch center opened to the back section of the main office, and she spied several empty desks and Ethan’s office. The office door opened, and out walked a tall blonde wearing a black wrap dress that hugged her hourglass figure and showed off her long, tanned legs.

  Hope’s mouth fell open, and she inched closer to the glass partition.

  What on earth was she doing there?

  Chapter Four

  Elaine Whitcomb was supposed to be in Bali. But there she was, standing in the doorway of Ethan’s office, giggling, fussing with her bleached blond hair, and handing her coat to Ethan. Hope’s mouth gaped open when he obligingly helped the young widow into the coat. She leaned closer to the partition when Elaine patted Ethan’s hand after she’d slipped into her coat.

  “He’ll be right out.” Doug glanced over his shoulder. “He’s just wrapping something up.”

  “I can see that.” Hope stepped back from the counter and moved closer to the door from which Ethan and Elaine would emerge in a few seconds. Any. Second. Now.

  Ethan appeared first from the opened door, followed by Elaine, who was still giggling.

  What on earth was so funny?

  “Hey, Hope. This is a surprise.” Ethan made sure the door was secure before leaning in for a quick kiss. She inhaled his clean and energizing, tangy scent. He had used the body wash and aftershave conditioner set she gave him for Christmas. The notes of citrus gave him a fresh-out-of-the-shower scent she adored. But because they were standing in the public reception area of the police department, she had to control her adoration.

  “I’m sure it is.” She slid a quick glance at Elaine. “I’ve brought coffee.” She handed the black coffee to him.

  “How thoughtful of you. Thank you, Hope.” Elaine reached for the remaining cup in Hope’s hand. “You’re such a good friend. How did you know I was here?” She took a sip and then made a face. “Oh, honey, this is hazelnut, isn’t it? You know it’s not my favorite.”

  She handed back the cup.

  “It’s my favorite.” Hope looked at the red lipstick mark on the cup. A perfectly good coffee, ruined. “Why are you here? I thought you were in Bali.”

  “I was. It’s beautiful and warm. You should go there sometime. I can recommend the perfect hotel.”

  “Thanks for the suggestion.” Hope doubted she’d ever be able to afford a trip to the tropical paradise, much less afford any hotel Elaine stayed in. The trophy wife, she’d gone from amateur status to pro by having four marriages under her Gucci belt, lived a lifestyle Hope couldn’t fathom. Each of her husbands was a financial step up. Except for the last one. He’d left her finances a little murky. “What are you doing here?”

  “My lawyer called and said there were matters I needed to take care of ASAP.” Elaine shook her head and sighed, as if legal matters were a boring nuisance. After all, vacationing in the lap of luxury was so far more important than anything else.

  “Sometimes you need to be present to deal with certain issues.” Hope knew from experience. From her divorce to the sale of her condo to the purchase of her home, there were a lot of lawyer meetings. She was thankful that phase of her life was behind her, and now she only consulted with a lawyer about her business.

  Elaine looked point-blank at Hope. “I reminded him that’s why I have him on retainer. To take care of those matters. But I had to cut my vacation short and come back to the brutal cold.”

  “Elaine came in to register the new alarm system at her house.” Ethan moved closer to Hope and sipped his coffee.

  “All this paperwork. Who knew? I guess now being an independent woman, I have to learn all sorts of things.” Elaine paused for a beat and then reached out her perfectly manicured hand and rested it on Ethan’s arm. “Good thing I’ve found a great teacher.” Her gaze flickered to Hope as she took back her hand. “He helped me fill out the form.”

  “I’m sure he did.” Found a great teacher. Hope wanted to gag.

  “You’re lucky to have such a good man. Smart. Handsome. You’d better be careful, or some other lady might swoop in and snatch him up.” She wagged a finger at Hope. “I’d better get going. I have a full-body massage in twenty minutes.” She made a Vanna White move to emphasize the word “body.” “Hope, we need to catch up. I’ll call you.”

  “Great.” Hope wasn’t sorry to see Elaine leave. She couldn’t believe the woman had the gall to be so overt about Ethan right in front of her. The giggling, the touching, the warning. She’d have to Google the price of a one-way ticket to Bali and buy one for Elaine.

  “Toodles.” Elaine waved her fingers and sashayed out of the building. Even beneath the coat, the swaying of her hips was noticeable.

  Hope caught Ethan watching Elaine walk out the exit, and she whacked him in the stomach with the back of her hand.

  “Ouch.”

  “You deserve it.”

  “You’ve just assaulted a police officer.”

  “If you keep looking at her that way, I’ll really assault you.”

  A slow grin formed on his lips and he wrapped his free arm around her waist, drawing Hope closer to his solid chest. “How rough are we talking?”

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’m being serious. You know what she’s like.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “No. Of course not. Now that she’s single, she’s on the prowl for a new husband.”

  “Don’t worry. I know what kind of woman Elaine is. I also think she’ll be looking for someone who earns substantially more than I do as Jefferson’s police chief.”

  “But you’re smart and handsome . . .” Hope tried to keep her voice light and playful, but she was anything but. Elaine had no boundaries when it came to flirting, and she didn’t know her well enough to know how far Elaine would take the ordinarily innocent activity.

  Ethan released Hope. “Thank you for the coffee. Sorry about yours.”

  Hope glanced at the cup. “How could she even think I brought her a coffee? Like I knew she was here?” She stepped over to the trash can and dumped the cup. She’d pick up a new one on the way home. “How late did you work last night?”

  “After midnight. Now I have a meeting with Maretta to update her on it, and see what funding we can get for them.” Ethan had been away at a training workshop for the use of body cameras. And yesterday he’d spent all day catching up and preparing the proposal for those cameras.

  Hope felt sorry for him. First Elaine and then Maretta Kingston. Not exactly the most pleasant way to start the day.

  “Are they expensive?”

  Ethan took a
gulp of his coffee. “It’s the data storage fees that are the financial concern.”

  “I never really thought about storing the video. I know what I pay to store my content in the cloud. Wow, it’s going to cost a fortune, isn’t it?”

  Ethan nodded as he took another drink of his coffee. While he smelled all fresh and rejuvenated, his eyes told another story. Up close, they looked fatigued.

  “It’s not going to be an easy sell to Maretta or the Town Council.”

  “If anyone can convince them, it’s you.”

  He broke out in laughter. “Thanks for your vote of confidence. Sorry, but I need to get back to my office to finish getting my notes together. How about dinner tonight?”

  Hope frowned. “I have the blogging class. But there will be food to reheat, so if you want to stop by, you could also let Bigelow out.”

  “You had me at food to reheat. I’ll stop over. Don’t worry about Bigelow.”

  “Oh, you won’t believe what happened yesterday. Devon Markham is back in town.”

  Ethan’s head drew back in surprise. “I didn’t think she’d ever come back. Didn’t she miss her sister’s wedding?”

  “Good memory.”

  “I’m a cop. I remember everything. Sorry, but I gotta go.” He kissed Hope on the forehead before returning to the office door. Doug buzzed him in.

  Hope zipped her coat and then waved goodbye to the dispatcher as she left the police department. Her next stop was the library to check on the room where her class would be held. She followed the path back to Main Street. The sun was brighter, and it warmed her cheeks.

  Her cell phone chimed, alerting her to an incoming text message. She reached into her purse, but of course the phone wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Her fingers fumbled. Finally, she had to look down into the cavernous black hole, and because of that she didn’t see the person approaching until it was too late.

  “For goodness’ sakes, you really should watch where you’re walking!” Maretta Kingston glared at Hope from under her black fedora hat.

  Hope sighed. Of all the people to run into. But on the bright side, she found her phone and pulled it out of her purse.

 

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