“Randy? This is Callie Reed. I’m—”
She was ready to explain further, but Randy quickly broke in with “Hi, Callie. How’s Hank?” He knew who she was and was eager to talk.
“Well enough,” she said, “all things considered. But pretty unhappy.”
“Gosh, I can imagine. It tore me up having to leave, tore us all up. But we just plain couldn’t afford to hang around. You know how it goes. You back out of a gig at the last minute and the chances of getting another one there are zero. And word spreads.”
“Right. I’m sure Hank understands. Listen, Randy, I’m hoping you can help me with something.”
“Sure. Whatever I can do.”
“I believe Hank is innocent”—Callie heard an encouraging “absolutely” from the other end—“and I’m trying hard to find out what really happened. I need to know a lot more about Bobby. For starters, did he ever mention a connection to Krystal Cobb or Rhonda Furman?”
“Not to me.”
“What about the town of Baldwin? It’s near Pittsburgh.”
“Baldwin,” Randy repeated. “That rings a bell. I think Bobby used to live there. I remember Baldwin because of, you know, the piano thing.”
Callie let that irrelevant error go by. “Do you know when?”
“Back when he was in school. College.”
“Really.” Bobby hadn’t struck her as the college type.
“Uh-huh. I’m pretty sure he didn’t finish. He used to laugh about all the classes he missed from oversleeping.”
“Do you know which school?” When she heard a long “Ummm …,” Callie said, “Hold on. I’ll pull up names of colleges near Baldwin. Maybe that’ll help.” She woke up her laptop and typed rapidly. A long list came up. Since it was barely outside of Pittsburgh, Baldwin was loaded with colleges and universities. But as she read the names, none struck a chord for Randy.
“Sorry. Can’t help you there.”
“That’s all right. Is there anything else you can tell me about Bobby?”
“Oh, gosh. He could talk your arm off, sometimes, but a lot of it went right outa my head. Let me think. You know about his drinking problem, right?”
“Yes. Hank thought Bobby had it under control but apparently was wrong about that.”
“Yeah, we all were. Bobby swore up and down he was off the hard stuff. He had us all fooled. But it caused him his own trouble, money problems, job problems, you name it.”
“Yes, I heard he’d been in and out of the music business. Did he talk about any other work he did?” Callie heard a loud exhale and took it to mean Randy was thinking hard.
“I can’t come up with anything right now,” he said. “But I’ll work on it, okay? And I’ll ask the guys. Maybe they’ll know.”
“That’d be great.”
Callie was considering what to ask next when Randy said, “I’m really sorry, but I gotta go now. Heading to our next job. A little place in Ohio. I promise I’ll get back to you if we come up with anything, okay?”
“Thanks, Randy. I’d appreciate it.”
They disconnected, and Callie stared at the computer screen before her with its list of Pittsburgh-area colleges. Randy had at least placed Bobby in Baldwin, which could be important. It didn’t automatically connect him to Rhonda or Krystal, but it was too much of a coincidence not to mean something.
As she thought about that, she heard the soft ding that signaled an email had arrived and automatically reached for her mouse to click over. The email was from her mother, something that didn’t come every day, and Callie opened it.
I’d like to call tonight, it said. Let me know the best time.
Callie’s mother, Elizabeth Reed Jablonski, lived on the West Coast, so calling was often tricky with the time difference. Which was why they emailed each other much more often. Long, chatty emails. This short, text-like email was unusual. What was up?
Callie quickly typed, Sure, Mom. Any time after 6:00 my time works for me. If it’s not urgent, 7:00 gives me time to grab a bite first. OK? She hit send, then wished she’d asked more questions, like, what the call was about. But she’d find out soon enough. She heard more voices coming from the shop and thought Tabitha might need help, so she put her laptop back to sleep and went to join her.
Callie had just carried her end-of-meal mug of tea into the living room when her phone rang. She didn’t have to look at the screen to know it was her mother, and she set her mug down and got comfortable.
“Hi, Mom!”
“Hi, darling. How are you?”
A loaded question that Callie didn’t want to go into, so she said, “fine” and mentioned the great spring weather they’d been having. She was more concerned about why her mother was suddenly calling. “How are you? Everything okay?”
“I know about the murder there, Callie,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh!” Darn the 24/7 news programing, desperate for anything to fill its time, even murders of obscure people hundreds of miles away. Or social media, or whichever way her mother had stumbled on it from as far away as Oregon.
“And I know about Hank being arrested for it.” Elizabeth had never been happy about Callie’s relationship with Hank, and Callie was sure she’d been over the moon when it ended, though she’d never actually said so.
“He didn’t do it, Mom. I’m absolutely sure of that.”
“Does he have a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Then he should be okay. I’m sorry, of course, for him, but …” Elizabeth paused. “I know you, Callie, and I know how you want to make things right for everyone. But that so often comes with great sacrifice on your part. I’d hate to see that happen again.”
Callie had never told her mother about the two highly serious situations she’d gotten herself into, either of which could have cost her her life, so Elizabeth didn’t know the half of it. But nothing like that—nothing life-threatening—was going to happen this time.
“Mom, Hank doesn’t have anyone else close by who really knows him. I can’t just abandon him.”
“I’m not suggesting that you abandon him, dear. Certainly check in by phone now and then. Keep his spirits up. But …” Elizabeth paused again, this time longer. “It happens, sweetheart, that I could use your help right now.”
“What? What for? Is something wrong?”
“Well, I’m going to have a little surgery. It’s nothing. They’re going to fix my knee, the left one that’s been giving me so much trouble. You know how I’ve always loved hiking, but I haven’t been able to do much of it at all, lately. Not the kind I’d like to do.”
Callie knew that had always been her mother’s favorite activity. She and Callie’s dad had gone on multiple hiking trips when he was still healthy, and Elizabeth and Frank, her new husband, had met through a hiking club.
“I didn’t realize your knee problem was that serious, Mom. Gosh, surgery.”
Elizabeth laughed a bit nervously. “It shouldn’t be a big deal, sweetie. Every other person my age seems to get it done. But you know me and surgery.”
Callie did know. Her mother, a rock in every other way, turned to mush at the thought of needles and incisions. Callie’s father had been the one who’d accompanied her when Callie needed a root canal as a teen. “I’d just be a wreck thinking about it in the waiting room,” her mother had explained at the time.
“Frank, it turns out, is just as bad as me,” Elizabeth continued. “Maybe worse. I wish you could just come to be with me for the few days up to the surgery. It would help me so much.”
“Of course, Mom. If I can. When is it?”
Callie expected to hear a date a month or two away. She was startled when her mother said, “The day after Mother’s Day.”
“So soon!” That was twelve days away.
“Well, it got moved up. Will that be a problem for y
ou?”
Callie thought rapidly. With luck she could get Tabitha to open the shop for at least part of a couple of the days she was away. And, if necessary, closing for a day or so wouldn’t cause a financial crisis. Business had been slow lately anyway. But how could she look into Bobby’s murder from three thousand miles away? It would be impossible.
“It would be … complicated, Mom.”
“I realize that, and I hate to ask it of you. I’ll pay for your plane ticket, of course, once you say the word. Just think about it, will you?”
“Of course, Mom.”
“Sometimes I wish Melodie hadn’t left you that music box shop. I know, that’s selfish of me. But it’s tied you there, so far away, when always hoped … well, that’s neither here nor there.”
Callie knew her mother had always hoped she would split from Hank and return home. But it was inheriting House of Melody that had finally pushed Callie to do what she’d been dragging her feet on doing, because of the sudden opportunity to start a new life. In that way, Elizabeth had gotten at least half of her wish. At the time, Callie hadn’t thought much about the fact that she was settling in the East instead of back in Portland. Her mother was happy in her second marriage and busy with travels to exotic places and other interests. Callie hadn’t felt needed. Until now.
Now that her mother was facing what, for her, would be a difficult time and asking for emotional support, Callie couldn’t simply run over for a few hours each day. Traveling across the country would definitely be disruptive and difficult, but not impossible, and at any other time she wouldn’t have hesitated. But leaving Keepsake Cove now, when Hank was in such trouble and when she might be the only person who cared enough to get him out of it, was a whole different thing.
Sixteen
Callie woke the next morning feeling undecided and torn. Her strong sense not just of duty but of doing what was right called for her to be in two places at once. One minute, traveling to be with her mother won out, the next, Hank’s grim situation pulled at her. Her only solution was to put the decision on hold for the time being and continue to do what she could on Hank’s behalf. But how effective that would be was another worry.
As she walked from her cottage toward the shop to start her day, movement to her right caught her eye. She spotted a figure through the greenery between their yards and at first thought it must be Delia. Looking harder, she realized it was Jill.
“Good morning!” Callie called.
Jill turned, then walked over to a narrow opening in the bushes. “Hi. I guess you’re heading over to open your shop now, huh? Delia’s already in hers. She’s going to show me the ropes a little later. Enough to help out.”
“That’ll be great,” Callie said, stepping closer. “It’ll give Delia a chance to take a break once in a while.”
Jill nodded. “But she insists I spend most of my time working on finding a new job. I was just about to go back into the house and do that.”
“Any nibbles?”
Jill grimaced. “So far just part-time things. I need more than that.”
“Are you looking here or back home?” Callie realized she didn’t know where Jill had lived.
“Definitely back in Portis.”
“Portis?”
“It’s in western Pennsylvania.”
“Oh! Near Pittsburgh?”
“That’s right. I love it there. My hope—my dream!—is to be able to save enough to set up my own photography studio in Portis. I came close to starting my own business once, a while ago. I really want to try for it again.”
Knowing what she did about Jill’s personality, Callie figured the photographer working for herself was probably best. Then again, she’d need to get along well with her clients. “Best of luck,” she said. She wanted to ask more about Jill’s hometown, but then the woman’s cell phone rang.
Jill made an apologetic gesture and turned away to answer it. “Hello! Yes, hi! Sure, I can definitely send you that information.” She trotted hurriedly toward Delia’s cottage, still talking into her phone.
Callie hoped it was something good working out for her and continued on to House of Melody. As she unlocked the back door and flicked on the lights, she mulled over the coincidence of three women she’d recently spoken with all hailing from the same general area. Wasn’t there a detective—was it Lyssa’s hero, Hercule Poirot?—who claimed not to believe in coincidence? People did move around a lot, many of them drawn to the Baltimore-Washington area for job opportunities. But Keepsake Cove was a very small spot for all three to land in. She opened up the laptop in her office, intending to learn what she could about the Pittsburgh area.
Leaving it to wake up, Callie went into the main part of the shop, the sight of all the beautiful music boxes, as always, bringing a smile to her face. She paused below the shelf that held Grandpa Reed’s music box. She’d encased it in the protective Plexiglas after learning it had historic value that went far beyond family sentiment. The box had been relatively silent lately.
Not that she minded, but after being startled by it as often as she was those first few weeks after Aunt Mel’s death, it was surprising. Callie had halfway expected to hear chimes of disapproval when she’d accepted Hank’s call from the detention center, but there’d been nothing. Either Aunt Mel agreed with Callie that Hank should be cleared, or her aunt had moved on, perhaps deciding that Callie no longer needed her. If that were the case—pure conjecture, Callie admitted—it brought about mixed feelings. It was good to think that her aunt might now be fully at rest. But it was a little sad, too, to completely lose her.
Sharp raps at her window shook Callie out of her reverie. An older woman who brought to mind one of her particularly strict elementary school teachers pointed to the closed sign on the shop’s door, then several times to her wrist watch. It was five minutes after nine, she was impatiently signaling, and past time to open up! Callie hurried over to let her in.
“I came to pick up my order,” the woman said, rushing inside. “Your clerk told me yesterday that it arrived. I have to wrap it up and get it over to my sister’s!”
Callie got the woman’s name and quickly located her music box, a particularly pretty heart-shaped piece with porcelain roses on its lid. Callie’s admiring comments softened the customer’s irritation, and she explained, as Callie began to pack it up, that it was to be a gift to her niece.
“Allison just got engaged. She’s my goddaughter.” The lines in the woman’s face seemed to smooth as she gazed fondly at the music box, which clearly expressed the feelings she had for her niece. “She’s always loved roses. And the music is Schubert’s ‘Little Rose of the Field.’”
Callie smiled, having heard similar tales from customers who found symbolism in her music boxes that meant so much more to them than their physical beauty. By the time the woman was ready to leave, she’d been chatting away, all signs of her earlier prickliness gone as she promised to return again soon.
The pleasantness of the sale lifted Callie’s spirits away from the worry that had started her day, and she went back to her laptop with energy to begin the research on western Pennsylvania.
Portis, she found, was a town that appeared to have a lot of things going for it. The median income of its residents was higher than average, as well as the number of fine dining restaurants. Wedding venues seemed plentiful, too, which might help Jill find work as a photographer. In fact, the place looked to Callie like a shoo-in for someone with Jill’s experience.
Why, then, had her last job been as a lower-paid, run-of-the-mill department store photographer? It seemed safe to assume that Jill had burned a few bridges. If that were the case, Callie could understand her current struggle to find something full time. But then why was she still focusing on Portis? Stubbornness?
Callie looked at the map she’d pulled up of the area. Along with Pittsburgh, there were several small towns dotted ne
ar it. The one that stood out for her was Baldwin, the town that Krystal, Rhonda, and Bobby all had a connection to. And Baldwin was a mere fifteen miles from Portis. Practically walking distance.
As she mulled this over, Callie’s phone rang. It was Lyssa.
“Hi! How’s it going? Anything new?” the author asked.
“Actually, yes.” Callie told about Randy having placed Bobby Linville in the same small town Krystal and Rhonda had come from. “And I just found out that Delia’s photographer friend, Jill, hails from another town that’s very close by.”
“Really! That’s interesting! Can we connect any of the women to Bobby?”
“Not so far. But I’m working on it. Randy didn’t know what Bobby actually did when he was in Baldwin. If I can find that out, it might tell us a lot.”
“Have you tried Hank?”
“I haven’t talked to him for a couple of days. I’m hoping he’ll call soon.”
“Okay. On another note, my new landscaper is hard at work as we speak.”
“The one Krystal told you about? Gavin Holder? That was fast.”
“Yeah. I think the guy’s a little desperate for work. Which works for me!” Lyssa cackled. “As long as he does a decent job, of course. But he struck me as knowing his stuff. He said he’s been doing this for over twenty years. Turns out he was working as the groundskeeper at the festival. I’m going to question him about what he might have seen as soon as I get the chance.”
“Groundskeeper? That doesn’t sound like landscaping work. It’s more like maintenance work, isn’t it?”
“It probably is. As I said, he was a little desperate. He seems happy to be back into planting. Anyway, I’ll let you know if he’s any help with the murder.”
“I sure hope he knows something. Nothing really major has shown up so far.”
Callie was about to mention her mother’s request for a visit when Lyssa said, “I know, and I won’t be around too much longer to help out.”
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