“You’re not closing the shop, are you?” she asked. He’d mentioned it every now and again. She couldn’t blame him if he decided to sell. He wasn’t a young man anymore, and business wasn’t always that good.
“No. No, nothing like that. It’s nothing to do with the shop. Well, not really.”
“What’s wrong?” Hope closed the small gap between them.
“I heard about Devon’s car accident. I can’t believe she’s dead.”
“You knew her?”
Zach nodded. “She came in here with her mother. Joyce loved the hunt. You know what I mean?”
Hope knew all too well what the adrenaline rush searching for hidden treasures to repurpose and give new life to felt like. It was addictive.
“Anyway, Joyce bought and sold here.” He pivoted and walked to the front of the store. Hope followed again. “Before she disappeared, she came in to consign these earrings.” Behind the sales counter, he bent over. When he reappeared, he held a small jewelry box. “She said they were a gift, but not her style.” He opened the box, revealing a pair of tarnished, filigree earrings.
“They’re pretty. They’d be even prettier if they were polished.” Hope reached out and took the box from Zach. “Why do you still have them after all these years?”
Zach shrugged. “I remember there was something about her the day she consigned the earrings.” He gripped the edge of the counter with his hands as his eyes took on a faraway look, like he was trying to access a memory. When he finally came back to Hope, he offered a weak smile.
“It didn’t feel like the other times she brought in merchandise. I’m sorry, I can’t explain it. Just a feeling she’d change her mind. That sometimes happens, especially with jewelry. I thought if they had a sentimental meaning, she’d regret selling them.”
Hope looked at the earrings. Were they a gift from her husband? Or someone else?
“That was very nice of you.”
His cheeks reddened at the compliment. “A few weeks after she left them here, we had the fire in the storeroom, and things got all moved around. I’ve never been good with recordkeeping, so I lost track of the earrings.”
“Until now?”
“I came across them a few years ago, when my sister was helping with the shop. Big mistake there. We fought all the time, and then she quit. I hadn’t seen the earrings since then. Sometimes my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
Hope couldn’t disagree with him there.
“Anyway, I found them again. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right to keep the earrings,” Zach said.
“Would you like me to give them to Felice?” Hope closed the box.
“Would you?” He looked relieved.
“I’d be happy to.” She slipped the box into her purse. “Do you remember anything else?
Maybe something Joyce said when she came in to sell these, or maybe on another day, that seemed out of character?”
“No, can’t say I do. Sorry, Hope.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. Let me pay for the sign.” Hope slipped her purse from her shoulder. “Will you have it delivered?”
“For my favorite customer, of course.” He shuffled over to the cash register. “How’s Iva working out? My niece has a few rough patches, but she’s a hard worker.”
“Yes, she is. She’s helped me tremendously. Does she ever consign things here?” Like a charm bracelet? Hope instantly regretted asking the question, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to know.
“No. She has nothing worth consigning.”
Hope cringed. That was harsh. Then again, Zach was family, and family could be brutally honest.
“Credit card or cash?” he asked.
Hope pulled out her wallet, but before she handed him the card, she made a counteroffer on the price. After a little back and forth, they settled on a number.
With her purchase paid for, she was back in her vehicle and texting Ethan that she was headed home. There were a few things to do before the blogging class. Then she had to deliver the earrings to Felice at some point. Perhaps she would recognize them and might know the story behind the jewelry.
Chapter Fourteen
The lower-level door slammed shut, startling Hope as she entered the library. She’d been jumpy since her encounter with Oliver earlier in the day. She scolded herself for the hundredth time. There was nothing to be nervous about. Oliver had to have known she’d tell Ethan what happened, and he’d be foolish to confront her again.
No, there was nothing to worry about.
She walked along the hallway to the elevator. The path was lit, but eerily quiet after hours. Her footsteps were the only sound as she passed by the children’s reading room and the locked storage room.
She arrived at the elevator and pressed the Up button. While she waited, she diverted her worrisome thoughts to one a little more pleasant.
On her drive over to the library, Elaine had called her to tell her she wouldn’t be attending class because something better came up—a date. She’d gushed about Mr. Money Manager and his summer house on Martha’s Vineyard. It looked like the widow wasn’t wasting time in finding husband number five. Hope had done her best to hide the fact that she wasn’t disappointed her last-minute student would be absent. But it was harder to keep irritation in check when Elaine said they’d have to get together and go over the lessons, so she didn’t miss out on anything. Then it was “Toodles,” and she was gone.
Hope wasn’t going to lie. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. The sound and door action snapped Hope out of her thoughts about her unpleasant run-in with Oliver and the earrings Zach had given her at the shop. She’d been distracted, so she was surprised to see someone in the elevator. That weight she felt earlier pressing on her shoulders was back, tenfold.
“Good evening, Maretta.” Hope stepped aside to allow the mayor to exit into the hall.
“Hardly.” Maretta exited with her perpetual scowl firmly in place. “I suppose you’re here for your blogging class.”
“Yes, it starts in fifteen minutes.” Hope entered the elevator. “Well, have a good night.”
“Easier said than done.”
Oh, boy.
“There is something I’d like you to do,” Maretta said.
“There is?” It was a question Hope dreaded an answer to, but she had to ask. Hope held the elevator door from closing.
“Tell your sister to control her son. He’s circulating a petition against my proposal to ban snowball throwing. It’s unsuitable for a child to get involved in adult matters.”
“For what it’s worth, I think it’s ludicrous to ban something like throwing snowballs. It seems to me Logan is acting more mature than you.” Hope pressed the lobby button.
Maretta was about to say something, but Hope cut her off as the door slid shut. “Toodles,” she said, giving a little wave.
Hope leaned back against the wall. Who knew channeling Elaine would feel so good?
She opened her eyes as the elevator stopped and the door slid open to the silent hall. The meeting room was a short walk past the new display of spring gardening books. Her mind drifted briefly to warmer days and shorter nights and blooming garden beds. When she entered the room and flicked on the lights, she had been in a dreamy mood. That ended abruptly.
Her mouth gaped open at the sight in front of her.
She inched into the room, closer to the whiteboard, to get a better look at the message written across it.
Coldness lodged in her belly, and her gaze darted around the room.
There was no one else there.
Only her and the warning.
Stay out of the past.
* * *
Hope had done her best to push past the distraction of the menacing message so she could continue with the class. Luckily, the topic for the evening was promotion and marketing. She easily lost herself in talking about likes, follows, reach, an
d content marketing. Before she knew it, class was over and she was headed home.
But now, in her quiet house, with no distractions, her mind churned with questions despite her best efforts to squelch them. The top question she continued to ruminate over was whether Oliver had sneaked into the library and written the message, or had Maretta? Oliver had motive, but Maretta had opportunity.
She had opted not to call Ethan to tell him about the warning on the whiteboard. What could he have possibly done other than delay the class and tell her to be careful?
But she had to tell him. And she would.
By the time she climbed into bed, it was well after midnight and she believed she was tired enough to fall asleep. She was wrong. All she could think about snuggled under her down comforter was Devon’s podcast and where she had been before the car accident.
Devon had visited the retired detective who handled her mother’s case twenty years ago. Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Hope made the decision to retrace Devon’s last known activity and that meant a trip to Milford to talk to the retired cop.
* * *
The next morning, Hope woke groggy from yet another poor night’s sleep. She resisted the temptation to pull the covers over her head and go back to sleep. But Bigelow would have no part in that. He nudged her to get up.
It never failed. As soon as he heard her alarm clock go off, he moved from the foot of the bed where he slept to her pillows so he’d be the first thing she saw when she woke.
“You know you’re pushy, right?” She patted the dog on the head and got a good morning kiss before she tossed off her covers. She yawned and stretched while Bigelow jumped off the bed. “Go on, I’ll be down in a minute.”
Bigelow seemed to understand and trotted out of the room, his toenails clicking on the hardwood floor. Traditional oak flooring ran throughout the second floor. And just like downstairs, it all needed to be refinished. A massive project for another day.
One more big stretch and then Hope stood. She slipped into her fuzzy slippers and wrapped herself in a fleece robe on her way into the bathroom. There was a lot on her to-do list for the day. She liked to set no more than three priorities. It was her way of making sure the most important things got done.
The number one priority for the day was to tell Ethan what happened last night at the library and of her plans to visit Detective Voight. Well, it was second to stopping at The Coffee Clique.
An hour later, she had a large black coffee in hand and was making her way to the police department. There she was quickly reminded that hindsight was twenty-twenty. Perhaps she should have called him last. Her gift of coffee was welcome until Ethan found out the reason for the unexpected visit.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call me last night. Actually, I can believe it.” Ethan broke eye contact over the brim of his coffee cup to take a long drink. “What were you thinking?”
Hope was thinking she didn’t want to get into the conversation they were having now last night. Though she was pretty confident that wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. She thought reporting the threat on the whiteboard would go easier with coffee. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Caffeinating him may not have been the best thing to do.
“There was nothing you could do. Besides, everyone showed up for class.” Except Elaine. Considering what happened, she was even more grateful for the no-show student. The message had unnerved her and she’d had difficulty concentrating for the class. Having Elaine there would have added to her stress.
Ethan set the cup on his desk and lifted her cell phone. He stared at the photo of the message. “Was there anyone in the building when you arrived?”
“I ran into Maretta. She was leaving.”
“What was she doing there?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Though she asked me to do something.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“She wants me to tell Claire to rein Logan in. Maretta’s not happy he’s circulating a petition against her.”
Ethan grinned. “I’m sure she’s not. Did you see anyone else?”
She shook her head. “There wasn’t anyone near the meeting room when I arrived. Do you think it was Maretta?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I think it’s more her style to say what she means to your face.”
“True.” Hope stood and walked around to Ethan. She took back her phone and leaned against the edge of the desk. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you last night.”
“Whoever wrote that on the board could have been waiting for you after class.” His tone softened, and concern clouded his eyes. “Look, I know you’re a big girl and you’ve been taking care of yourself your whole life, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about you.”
She reached out her hand and caressed his cheek. “I know. And I appreciate it. If it makes you feel any better, I made sure to leave with Gail and Phillip Rafferty.”
“Phil’s in your class? He wants to blog?”
Hope nodded and laughed. “He’s an amateur photographer.”
“What’s so funny?”
“When Elaine showed up, he went all googly-eyed. Come to think of it, he reminds me of Alec Graves. Do you remember him? Gail’s brother?”
Ethan nodded slowly, as if he had to recall the memory. “Kind of. He was a little off back then. I remember my sister saying he was a little creepy.”
“Really? I don’t think he was creepy. I think he wore his heart on his sleeve.”
“Mr. Sensitivity?”
“Exactly. So much has changed since high school.”
“Well, you’re still as curious as you were back then. And your instincts are still spot-on.”
“They are? What are my instincts right about?”
“I can’t say too much, but what I can tell you is, Devon’s death has been ruled a homicide due to the injuries she sustained that weren’t the result of the car crash.”
“What injuries?”
“Sorry, I can’t comment any further.”
She groaned. The man could be so frustrating with all his by-the-book procedures. He was going to leave her hanging with just a snippet of information that he had to know would make her even more curious.
“Now, tell me. Is there anything I can say to change your mind about going to Milford?”
“No. I’m not breaking any laws by talking to Voight.” She’d told him of her plan to drive to the shoreline city to visit the retired detective. Because all of Devon’s research was missing, she didn’t know what the detective had told her when she talked to him before she was murdered. Of course, Hope was certain Reid had already spoken to Voight as a part of the investigation. But she’d get nothing from Reid, so she decided to do her own interview.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“But Reid might.”
“True. And he’d be wrong. You’re well within your rights to talk to the retired detective. Even though I don’t think you should.”
She leaned forward and kissed Ethan. She intended it to be a quick kiss and off she’d go, but he had other ideas. The kiss lingered, and when Hope finally pulled back, her lips were still buzzing. He cleared his throat and regained his professional composure. Good thing his office door was closed.
“I should get going.” It was a weak effort, but it was all she could summon up. She’d much rather stay and kiss him some more.
“What do you hope to find out by talking to Voight?” Ethan held on to her wrist. He wasn’t letting her go just yet.
“I don’t know. I guess I want to know how someone not too different from me can be here one day and vanish the next.”
“Babe, he’s not going to give you an answer.”
She nodded. “Probably not. You need to get back to work. I promise I’ll keep you updated on where I am. So, don’t worry.”
* * *
Hope doubted Ethan wouldn’t worry about her and, given the fact that she’d once again stuck her nose into a murder investigation, he proba
bly had good reason to. But she was on her way to visit a retired police detective. Surely she’d be safe.
She looked over her shoulder as she merged onto the highway. In less than ninety minutes, she’d be in Milford, where Jim Voight had retired to ten years ago.
Her cell phone rang. It was Drew.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Don’t forget about what we discussed.”
“Drew, we talked an hour ago.” She merged into the middle lane.
“I know, but this isn’t like talking to one of your nosy neighbors. The guy is an ex-cop. He’ll be guarded and measured in what he says to you.”
“Like Detective Reid?”
“Right.”
Well, then, I got this.
She wasn’t sure if Jim Voight would tell her anything about Joyce’s cold case. She wasn’t a family member. She was simply a friend of Devon’s. So, she had little hope he would talk to her. He’d probably view her as a busybody—there was that word again—who should be snapping photographs of her lunch, not digging around a cold case she had no stake in.
He’d be wrong.
She did have a stake in it. She felt called to accomplish the goal Devon didn’t get to achieve: solving the mystery of her mother’s disappearance.
“Be sure to call me when you leave his place. I want all the details.” Drew had wanted to come along with Hope, but a fire out at the Travis Dairy Farm had him occupied.
“I will.” Hope disconnected the call and focused on her driving.
The navigation system came back up with the real-time map, and the voice command directed her off onto another route, getting closer to the shoreline city. It’d been years since she’d been in this part of the state.
Jim Voight’s house was located on a narrow street within walking distance of the beach. She had trouble finding a parking space, but finally found one half a block from the two-story blue Colonial.
His small patch of lawn was secured by a fence, and she unlatched the gate and walked along the brick path to the front door. Hope pressed the doorbell and waited.
She heard a yapping and a holler to be quiet before the door swung open.
The Corpse Who Knew Too Much Page 19