Over the next hour, Hope wrote a blog post while Iva tackled painting the living room. She also wanted to use the time to muster the courage to finally talk to Iva about the missing bracelet, and now the missing mascara. First, she wanted to touch base with Drew. She texted him about Alec Graves, asking him to find out all he could about Gail’s brother. She had a feeling there was more to his banishment from Jefferson after high school than Gail or their father had let on over the years. Especially because he’d been arrested for harassment and was on wife number two. She slipped her phone into her back pocket and entered the living room, where Iva was folding a drop cloth.
The paint job was complete. After countless paint swatches, Hope had finally found one she loved and now, looking around the room, she felt reassured it was the right choice. The shade was perfect. Not too dark, not too light or dull or shiny. Just perfect.
She glanced around the rest of the room. So much more work needed to be done, but it was mostly cosmetic. The floor had already been refinished, the fireplace mantel and windows had been stripped and stained. Now she needed to bring in furniture. She had some pieces stored in the garage.
“What do you think?” Iva held the drop cloth in her arms. A paint-smattered flannel shirt covered distressed jeans. She topped her hair with a black baseball cap.
“It looks amazing.” Hope stepped farther into the room. “You did a great job.”
“Yeah, well, I had to learn how to do a good paint job, because paint is the cheapest way to freshen up a room.” Iva set the drop cloth on the card table. The makeshift workstation held the paint cans and trays.
“Are you sure you don’t want a cup of coffee?” No time like the present to discuss the missing items.
“I’m good. I’m gonna clean up and then head out.”
“Sounds good. By the way, would you happen to know of a snowplow driver I could hire for the remainder of the season?” Considering her recent interactions with Oliver, she wouldn’t be able to use his service any longer.
Iva placed her hand on her hip and gave Hope a hard stare. “Heard you and Oliver had a dustup the other day. Guess it serves you right for sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
The fact that Hope was writing Iva a weekly paycheck didn’t stop the woman from saying exactly what she was thinking.
“Devon was a friend.”
“Don’t matter. You don’t have the right to go around accusing people of crimes.”
“I didn’t. I simply asked a few questions.”
“Your questions are never simple. You should mind your own business and leave the investigating to the police.” Iva glanced at her watch. “I need to go.”
“Wait. There’s one more thing we need to discuss.” While her stomach was unsettled earlier at the thought of having this discussion, now, after Iva’s unsolicited lecture, Hope wasn’t feeling so apprehensive.
“Well, don’t you sound all ominous. Wait, don’t tell me, you want to question me about Joyce’s disappearance and Devon’s death.”
“No, I don’t. I want to talk to you about my missing charm bracelet and tube of mascara.”
Iva drew back, visibly offended. “Why? You think I took them?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that they are missing.”
“You think I took them! Yeah, you and your sister are definitely alike. She thought I stole one of her bracelets. I may be poor and I definitely have my share of troubles, but I’m not a thief. Here I thought you understood that. My bad.”
“I just want to find the bracelet and mascara. I don’t want to cause any problems for you.”
“Why, thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t be like that, Iva.”
A soft meow drew Hope’s attention to the doorway. Princess moseyed in and rubbed Hope’s leg as she passed by on her way to the sofa. There, she leaped up and settled on the back of the sofa to look out the window.
“I’m not a thief, but that cat could be!” Iva pointed to Princess.
“Are you serious? You’re blaming my cat?” Hope couldn’t help but sound incredulous.
Iva nodded. “Cats steal things all the time.”
“I think you should go now.” How someone could blame a cat for stealing items baffled Hope. She wanted Iva to leave before she said something she’d regret.
“Happy to.” Iva stormed past Hope, and within a few moments, the app on Hope’s phone chimed, signaling Iva had left the house.
Hope pulled her phone out of her back pocket and did an online search for videos of cats stealing things. All the while typing her search criteria, she hadn’t expected to find any videos, so when a long list of videos came up she was shocked. She pressed Play on one of them and saw a cat snagging a sandwich, and then another cat sneaking off with a pen, and then another cat scurrying away with a pancake. She looked up at Princess.
“Are you the thief?”
Princess leveled a cool look at Hope.
“What am I thinking? You’re a cat.” Hope turned and walked back to the kitchen. She wondered how many more people she could alienate. Later, she had the blogging class, so there were more opportunities. And that reminded her: she had to prepare for class. Her cell phone chirped a notification.
She’d contacted Felice after getting the earrings from Zach and asked to meet her. In the text, Felice apologized for the delay and said she was on her way to the funeral parlor. She suggested they meet there, because the remainder of the day she’d be meeting with an attorney.
Hope replied back that she could meet at the funeral parlor and then headed to the mudroom to grab her purse and bundle up before heading out.
* * *
The funeral parlor receptionist opened the door to the interior office, where Felice was seated on the leather sofa. The black dress she wore seemed to swallow her up and her gray hair aged rather than flattered her. Hope’s heart broke for her friend. Over her shoulder, Hope thanked the receptionist and stepped into the room. She heard the door close behind her.
“I can’t believe this is happening. Detective Reid said they’re now investigating Devon’s case as a homicide.” Felice’s chin trembled, and she wiped her swollen, red eyes with a tissue. “I’m relieved they’re investigating.” Her eyes widened with terror. “Was Devon right about the person still being here in town?”
Hope joined Felice on the sofa. She’d left her coat out in the reception area but kept her purse. Inside was the jewelry box for Felice.
“What if I’m next? What if the killer thinks Devon told me something?” Felice’s head dipped again and she sobbed.
Hope rubbed Felice’s back to comfort her. What was she supposed to say? The fear was reasonable.
“Did she tell you anything? Her suspicions? Theories?”
Felice shook her head and then stood. She walked to the desk, an impressive antique that anchored the room. Behind the desk were two large, curtained windows looking out over a frozen pond. The funeral parlor was situated on a tranquil piece of property north of Main Street. Felice plucked a tissue out of its container. She wiped her face and blew her nose before tossing the tissue in the wastebasket.
“I need to pull myself together and stop thinking these crazy thoughts.” Felice scrubbed her hands over her face.
“They’re not crazy thoughts.”
Felice gave a half smile. “I’m not surprised to hear you say that.” She reached for her purse on the sofa.
Her tone seemed off, and it struck Hope as odd and had her squaring her shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hope, I know you want to help. I even asked for your help. Now, looking back, I shouldn’t have. We need to let the police handle this. I want the person responsible for my sister’s death to be held accountable, and the last thing I want is for something or someone to jeopardize that outcome.”
“I completely understand. I’d never want that to happen.”
“Good. Then please stay out of this matter and allow the police
to do their job. Maybe they can get it right this time.”
The office door opened, and the receptionist poked her head in. “Felice, are you ready to continue with the planning?”
Felice nodded and then looked back to Hope. “Thank you for coming, and know I’m grateful for your help.”
“I know you are. This may not be the right time to tell you this, but it’s important.”
“I’ll be right there,” Felice said to the receptionist. “What is it?” she asked, sounding irritated.
“Devon was right about your father having an affair at the time of your mother’s disappearance. The other woman was Shirley Phelan. She told me earlier today.”
Felice fidgeted with her necklace. “I can’t believe it. She and my mother were good friends.”
“I’m sorry I had to tell you now, but I’ve shared the information with Ethan and I don’t know what will come of it. I didn’t want you blindsided.”
Felice shrugged. “I guess that explains why things got weird between Mom and Mrs. Phelan.”
Hope had heard the same thing from Amy.
“My mom and Shirley spent so much time together, and then Shirley stopped spending time with her. Mom seemed upset by it. She didn’t know why her friend didn’t like her anymore. I guess we never outgrow that feeling.”
“Probably not.”
“I appreciate you telling me. I really need to go.” Felice gave Hope a quick hug and then left the room.
Hope grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. Shoot! She’d forgotten to give Felice the earrings. Now, thinking about it, maybe it would be better to give the jewelry to her after the funeral.
She walked out to the reception area, as nicely appointed as the interior office, only with a lighter feel, thanks to lighter wood tones and beautiful floral arrangements. Hope retrieved her coat from the closet and slipped into it. Felice was right to be worried about the case and skeptical about the police bringing the culprit to justice. The police had let her family down twenty years ago. But Hope had let Devon down now too by not being able to find answers that her friend had died trying to uncover.
She pulled open the heavy wood door and stepped outside. She accepted that the police were more equipped to investigate. They were the professionals. As Reid had told her on more than one occasion, she wasn’t a detective.
She hurried to her vehicle and got in. She should honor Felice’s request and step aside to let the police do their job. She should also let herself off the hook for Devon’s death.
Easier said than done.
She glanced at the funeral parlor one last time before driving out of the parking lot. She needed to respect Felice’s wishes. Especially because, so far, Hope had only managed to upset people rather than actually help the police.
No, it was time for her to shift her focus back to her blog, her class, and her upcoming ski trip with Ethan. It was only days before they’d be heading up north for four blissful days of skiing and snuggling by a fire with nobody else around. She turned on the radio and set it to her favorite news station.
“Get ready, you folks in the northwest corner of the state. We got another wallop of a storm heading our way.” The forecaster’s voice was far too cheerful about another snowstorm, one that sounded like it could derail her getaway with Ethan. “We might even be bracing for a blizzard.”
* * *
On her way back home, Hope stopped at her sister’s shop for a quick visit. She needed to arrange to pick up the ski clothing Claire said she’d loan her. She hadn’t bargained on a lecture.
“Don’t you have enough on your plate right now? The other day you mentioned actually creating the online blogging class.” Claire was busy multitasking: rearranging a display of pricey crystal knickknacks and lecturing Hope. She didn’t miss a beat on either task. “Then there’s the Mama Mia Pasta deal. Don’t you have some macaroni to cook?”
Hope chewed on her lower lip. Her sister had valid points that were hard to argue against. So why had she told Claire about her talk with Felice? Glutton for punishment?
“I have Josie now. Which means I have extra time.” Ah-ha! Point for Hope.
Claire stopped fussing with the miniature crystal collectibles and propped a hand on her slim hip. “Extra time you should be devoting to your business. Do you see me running all over town trying to solve a murder? No! I’m right where I belong, running my business. And because I was where I was supposed to be, I met a new staging client. She came in to browse and we got to talking. I’m meeting with her next week.”
Point for Claire. Hope sighed.
The front door swung open with force and Amy barged in, her sights set on Hope.
“How could you? She’s my mother! She was in tears!” Amy jabbed a finger in the air toward Hope.
Claire stepped away from the display table and stood by Hope’s side. “Amy, calm down. What’s the matter?”
Amy’s nostrils flared and she looked at Claire. “I’ll tell you what’s the matter. Your nosy sister made my mother divulge a secret she’s been carrying for decades. Now she’ll be a murder suspect.”
Claire’s shocked gaze landed heavy on her sister, and Hope felt her insides twist, leaving her speechless. But she had to say something to defend herself.
“I didn’t force her to reveal anything. Actually, it seemed she wanted to unburden herself.”
“What did you do now?” Claire asked.
“Do you have any idea how bad my mother feels about her stupid mistake? Do you know how embarrassing it was for her to have to tell me she had an affair with Mr. Markham? My friend’s father? No. You. Don’t.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her—”
“No! You don’t get to defend yourself. What you did is indefensible. I bet you wasted no time in telling your boyfriend all the sordid details about my mother’s lapse in judgment.” Amy was crying. The flood of tears dragged her heavily applied mascara down her cheeks.
“The police need all the information that’s pertinent to Joyce’s disappearance and Devon’s murder.” Hope doubted the police wanted details of Donna’s death revealed, so she kept quiet about that crime.
“Do you hear yourself? You think my mother had something to do with those two things? Wow. I thought we were friends. Looks like I was wrong.” Amy pivoted and stormed out of the shop.
Claire followed Amy to the door. When the door shut, she turned and faced Hope. “Whatever you think you’re doing, I hope for your sake it’s worth losing friends over.” She marched past her sister and disappeared into her office.
Hope dropped onto the chair beside the round table. She reached out and moved one of the crystal figurines a smidge, and then moved the one behind it. She wanted to be angry with Amy for her outburst, for insinuating she’d interrogated her mother under a hot light for endless hours to get her to confess her sins, for not letting her speak, but she wasn’t. Amy was in protective mode over her mom and Hope couldn’t blame her for that. She would have done the same thing.
But Claire?
Hope eyed the doorway to her sister’s office. Wasn’t her sister supposed to stand by her? Defend her? Understand why finding whoever killed Devon and Donna was important to her?
The front door opened, and an older woman in a puffy coat entered, her gaze drifting around the shop.
“Hello,” the woman said, smiling.
“Good afternoon.” Hope stood and looked over her shoulder. “Claire, you have a customer,” she called out before leaving the shop. Outside, she lingered and watched through the window as her sister approached the customer with a smile. She lowered her head and walked away. How badly had she messed things up?
Chapter Seventeen
All Hope wanted to do when she got home from Claire’s shop was dive into her bed and pull the covers over her head. She’d made a mess of things, and now it looked like she’d lost a friend because of her snooping. She didn’t even want to think about the rift between her and Claire.
&nb
sp; A deep woof dragged Hope from her pity party of one at the kitchen table, where she had work spread out, yet she failed to do any of it because she couldn’t focus.
Looking up from the grocery list she was attempting to write for her next video shoot, she found Bigelow seated beside her with his head tilted and his eyes eager. She knew the look, and her own eyes widened with alarm. Had it gotten that late already?
Bigelow barked again.
She reached out and stroked his head. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
A bing from her cell phone drew Hope’s attention away from Bigelow to her emails. There was a new one from Corey.
He’d forwarded an invite to speak at the Southwestern Food Bloggers Conference in the fall. Maybe getting away from Jefferson for more than a few days would be a good idea. Though the date was far off. She could really use an escape now.
Maybe Elaine would want to return to Bali with her best friend.
Whoa! Hope’s situation wasn’t that bad. Surely she and Amy would make up once Shirley moved on from the embarrassment of a mistake she’d made twenty years ago.
A meow had her glancing to the spot in the kitchen where she fed Princess. It looked like her cat wanted a meal too.
Before she did anything, she replied to Corey with a firm yes to attending the conference. Another meow reminded her that she was slacking. Her pets wanted their dinners.
Where had the day gone?
She shook her head. She knew exactly where the day had gone, and it was all her fault. A paw on her knee prompted Hope to get her behind up off the chair and over to the island. As Hope dished out the food into two bowls, she considered making herself a light dinner. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast because she’d been too busy sticking her nose where it hadn’t belonged to stop for lunch.
After her pets were fed, Hope took Bigelow for a walk even though she barely had an ounce of energy left in her. When they returned home, Hope felt her mood brightening. Maybe it had been the fresh air or Bigelow’s gusto. She shrugged. It really didn’t matter. She was just glad she was feeling better.
The Corpse Who Knew Too Much Page 23