Once we covered all the major topics and finished our meal, I asked Fern about the Alpha Iota Omega sorority. Fern had worked at Braxton for over twenty years and advised all the Greek societies on campus. If there were any secrets to discover about the sorority's connection to the jewelry thefts, she'd know them. “What can you tell me about the current state of the Alpha Iota Omegas?”
Fern laughed. “Oh, that's easy. I shut down that sorority years ago. They were one of the infamous ones who liked to push my boundaries way too many times. I used to challenge you about some of your fraternity's initiation practices, but these girls were monsters.”
“What do you mean? Did they do something illegal?”
“Hazing itself wasn't illegal then, but I've always believed it was highly unethical and hazardous. I was at the forefront of Pennsylvania's commitment to institute anti-bullying and hazing laws. Although I couldn't prove it all, there were rumors about excessive drinking, violence, and dangerous pranks with those girls.” Fern asked the server for a cup of coffee when he passed by.
“How about jewelry theft? Did that ever come up?” I shared a little with Fern about what Helena had told me, knowing it wouldn't go any further, especially with the dismantling of the sorority.
Fern shook her head. “Not that I'm aware of. Most of my information came from witnesses who saw things happening on campus or girls who complained when they were treated unfairly. If you're referring to all those burglaries from years ago, no, I don't know anything.”
“That's disappointing,” I said, feeling disheartened that I hadn't learned anything new from my discussion with Fern. “I hoped you might offer some missing clue. Between those calla lilies showing up and the repetition of the original crimes happening this year, I'm baffled.”
“Calla lilies? You know that's the official flower of the Alpha Iota Omega sorority, right? It's tradition for the house mother and big sister to present a white calla lily to each new inductee when she becomes a full member.” Fern leaned in closer to me and whispered, “It was designed to mimic something special that the original founding families used to do when a daughter revealed which boy she was sweet on. A mother would send a white calla lily from her daughter to the boy for nine days in a row. It was a sign that he was welcome to ask her daughter on a date. If he was interested, he'd show up with a bouquet of white calla lilies on the tenth evening. If he was not, he'd send back a single black calla lily to the mother as his notice of rejection.” Fern explained that in the Book of Revelations, Alpha and Omega meant the beginning and the end of life. Iota was also the ninth letter in the Greek alphabet, and it had a special meaning to the sisterhood in terms of the calla lily presentation.
“You've got to be joking me!” Fern had just filled in an important piece of the riddle. If the thief was leaving a black calla lily every nine days, was he or she trying to show his rejection for something? The puzzle was starting to fit together, but I needed more information. Unfortunately, Fern couldn't share anything else of value. Somebody in that sorority knew what was going on, or at the very least had shared the history of the calla lily being used to tell someone that you were or weren't interested in dating them. Now, I just needed to figure out exactly what the thief's symbols meant and whether we could prevent the next robbery from happening in a few days. It might also reveal Quint's probable killer.
Chapter 11
“Gabriel won't be here for lunch today. He took off late last night to do some soul-searching. He left a note indicating he'd gone camping with Sam up in the mountains,” Nana D said as we fed the horses on Sunday morning while waiting for my parents to arrive from church. Although she was prepared to turn over the entire farm to her right-hand man, my nana wanted to cherish the last few days before getting bogged down with all the mayoral responsibilities she was about to absorb.
“He left because I confronted him yesterday. I didn't get a clear answer either.” I never expected him to confess everything he'd done while he was away from Braxton, but his explanations left more open holes than Nana D's favorite pair of worn overalls—and that was saying a lot, not to mention scarier than all get-out! “Did he tell you anything else?”
Emma held the bucket while her favorite horse gobbled his morning oats. One of her friends' mothers had picked them up this morning from the sleepover and dropped Emma off at Danby Landing for me. “Uncle Gabriel isn't gone for good, is he?”
“No, honey. He just needed to cool his jets,” Nana D said, comforting my daughter and looking at me. “He's clearing his head before talking to some important people.” Nana D grabbed Emma's hand and began walking back to the farmhouse.
By important people, Nana D had meant the sheriff's office. Although the police did not officially want Gabriel, he would need to discuss everything he'd known about the jewelry thefts now that Connor had found his name on the San Francisco pawn shop's reports. “Has Marcus finally conceded to you? Or is he just ignoring your inauguration?”
“He called yesterday to acknowledge I beat him. I also forced Marcus to explain why he'd been meeting with Imogene at the diner last week. Apparently, she requested the discussion to warn him that if his daughter continued to cause trouble for her fiancé as he was beginning his new role in Braxton, she'd sue Krissy for slander. Paul must've told her what Krissy had said in the park the night of my birthday party about Imogene cheating on him with Quint.”
Nana D tickled Emma as we crossed through a flower garden, then chased her for several feet before finally throwing her arms in the air announcing defeat. The flowers reminded me of the news Fern had shared the previous night about the calla lily's role in the historical courting processes of the Alpha Iota Omega sorority. I still couldn't figure out the connection between the flowers and the jewelry thefts or with Quint's death. If Imogene had cheated on Paul with Quint, maybe Paul was angry about being cuckolded and killed Quint in retaliation. Had Paul left behind a bouquet of calla lilies to get even with his friend for backstabbing him? Nonetheless, I still wasn't certain Imogene had cheated on Paul.
Nana D explained that Marcus had only told her because he'd gotten drunk in order to find the wherewithal to admit defeat. “Marcus did blame the election loss on someone else, of course.”
On the return path, Eleanor joined us. She was only able to visit for an hour before needing to attend to the lunch crowd at the Pick-Me-Up Diner, but she wanted to spend some time with the rest of the family. “Let me guess, he blamed Kellan?”
Go Eleanor! I assumed that man was going to cause trouble at some point. “Probably.”
“Nope, Quint Crawford. Apparently, Quint had done some work on Marcus's house next door, and Marcus never paid him. I heard from a couple of folks that Quint was starting to tell people about it,” Nana D indicated, then suggested I should find out if there was any truth to the rumor. As we meandered up the path by the orchard, Aunt Deirdre and Timothy Paddington pulled into the driveway.
A few minutes later, we sat in the living room and caught up on everything going on between them. Once Timothy had finished his three-month program at Second Chance Reflections, he'd moved back into the Paddington family estate. Aunt Deirdre had been staying with Nana D at Danby Landing, but she'd relocated to Timothy's after a separate room was prepared for her. An old-fashioned gal, she didn't want to share his bedroom until their wedding night, but she also acknowledged that it would be beneficial for them to spend as much time together as possible. Most of their relationship had developed via electronic communications while she'd lived in England and he'd been in recovery.
“Facebook brought us back together. We dated years ago, but a lot happened in the eighties that we both care to forget,” Aunt Deirdre explained with a narrowed gaze at Timothy. My lovely aunt's shoulder-length, dark-blonde hair was tied back with a pink ribbon, highlighting the sleek curve of her neckline. It'd also been adorned with a silver and diamond necklace, courtesy of her wealthy fiancé.
“Exactly, pumpkin. Second Chance Reflecti
ons offered me a new lease on life, and now we need to take advantage of it.” Timothy squeezed her hand and kissed her nose. His time in recovery had reversed many of the physical impacts of his addiction to alcohol, drugs, and gambling, but his hair continued to gray further at his temples and above his ears. He was a prime example of why people said men were distinguished as they aged. “I just adore this magnificent peach of a woman.”
Nana D walked behind the couch, where only Emma and I could see her. She pretended to stick two fingers down her throat and expel whatever thoughts had gotten trapped inside her body. By the time she came into everyone else's view, she said, “Oh, aren't you two precious! Tell us about your simply divine post-wedding plans.” It was such a blessing not to be on the receiving end of her sarcasm, yet I knew my time would come soon enough.
“Thank you, Mother,” Aunt Deirdre said with a slight but noticeable twitch in a vein at the side of her neck. Evidence of her British accent slipping away as she drank, or grew frustrated and angry, was becoming clearer as she spoke. “Timothy is taking me to the Maldives for nine days, and then we're going to stop in England for a celebration with all my friends back home.”
“Where are you planning to live after the wedding? Are you leaving Braxton that quickly?”
Timothy wrapped his arm around my aunt's shoulder. “We'll only be gone for a few weeks while I get up to speed on what's been happening at Paddington Enterprises. We'll return at the end of July when I can assume control and let Uncle Millard go back into retirement.”
“Timothy and I plan to split where we reside. My London flat is large enough to accommodate a remote office for him as well as an extra bedroom or two for when we have little ones,” Aunt Deirdre explained, resulting in an uncontrollable gasp from my grandmother. Seconds later, Nana D kicked the coffee table leg and casually blamed her outburst on an unexpected, painful leg cramp.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the strangest glare form when Eleanor realized Aunt Deirdre was hoping to get pregnant with Timothy's baby. My sister had been considering artificial insemination the last few months because she hadn't found her own husband. Aunt Deirdre was every bit of fifty, and while modern science had made gigantic advances, this was quite a leap for the family to accept.
“While we're here in Braxton, we'll run the Paddington estate. Aunt Eustacia is moving back to Willow Trees to resume her own life, but my sisters will remain in the mansion with us. There are plenty of wings to give us all the privacy we need,” Timothy added.
“Do you really think you two need to have a child at your ages when—” Nana D was interrupted when the front door opened, and my parents walked in carrying a box from a local bakery and a small gift for Emma. My mother spoiled my daughter, and there was little I could do to stop it.
As Aunt Deirdre sneered and whispered something to Timothy, Emma jumped up from her seat and ran toward my father. After we all exchanged greetings, I grabbed the box from my mother and walked with her into the kitchen. My father chatted with Emma about Baxter's latest trick. I'd find time to corner him later about his and Gabriel's dirty little secret.
“You look wonderful today, Mom. I miss seeing you all the time. We should arrange a weekly lunch. We both work on the same campus, right?” She'd been the director of admissions as long as I could remember, yet we rarely made the effort to meet around my teaching schedule.
“I'd love that, Kellan. At church this morning, Father O'Malley talked about the importance of family. I'm so grateful you and Gabriel are back in Braxton, and Hampton will be here at the end of the summer. Even my sister's come home again.” She hugged me like I was a small child and gleefully flitted around the kitchen. “I convinced Nana D not to make dessert today. I wanted to bring those éclairs you love from that cute little bakery on Main Street. They are simply divine!”
“Thanks, Mom. I'll check my schedule and suggest a few days for lunch. Is Siobhan managing your calendar now that she's working in the admissions office?” I asked as she plated the éclairs.
“Your department's loss is my gain. Siobhan's very efficient, even when she's stuck at home with a sick baby. I adore my grandchildren, but I'm relieved those days are behind me.” My mother might kvetch—a Jewish word April had taught me—about once being thirtyish and raising children, but her exceptionally youthful beauty and unparalleled attention to new products revealed her fear of aging.
“Are you two close? I know Siobhan had been relying on Bertha Crawford's help with babysitting, but after Bertha got sick and her son died last week, it hasn't been easy.” I was curious whether my mother knew of any ill feelings between Quint and Siobhan, based on what Bertha had mentioned at the funeral parlor.
“That poor boy! I must admit, I never much cared for your brother's friend. Quint always seemed to find trouble, and I've seen him get too forward with women. He and Siobhan had a quarrel recently, and I didn't like the way he was behaving. Not very gentlemanly.” My mother tut-tutted as we walked into the dining room and placed the tray on the table.
I asked my mother to give me an example, and she revealed what'd happened between Siobhan and Quint the previous month. When Siobhan had dropped the twins off at the Crawford house, Bertha asked her for a favor—to deliver Quint's lunch on the way back to campus. After Siobhan met Quint, chemistry sparked between the two of them. Quint must've convinced Siobhan to spend the night with him one evening while his mother watched the babies. “Siobhan thought he was genuinely interested in her. When she tried to get more serious with him, he backed away, claiming his heart belonged to another woman. She was terribly angry, and I don't blame her. I don't think Quint meant any harm, but it truly upset Siobhan. She wanted to teach him a lesson, but I kept telling her to let it go, that American boys can be foolish. That poor girl still gets bothered whenever I mention his name. Quint always thought he was God's gift to women, but unfortunately, he won't be able to redeem himself now that he's gone. It's positively disheartening when someone young dies from an accident like that.” She fussed with a strand of auburn hair that wouldn't properly tuck behind her ear.
“Has he done things like that before? Or was it a one-time occurrence?” I asked, surprised at learning about this side of him. He could be persistent, but I thought he was a decent guy who knew how to treat a woman. Helena and Tiffany never mentioned anything negative that would lead me to believe otherwise. Imogene wouldn't have dated him if he'd been that callous. Could he have changed?
“I'm really not sure, but it'd gotten bad enough that Siobhan considered telling Bertha what her son had done. She didn't have the courage to break the woman's heart, especially during chemotherapy, with tales of her son's ill-mannered behavior. Instead, she searched for a new nanny.”
“Do you think Siobhan tried to get revenge against Quint?” She was a strong woman and could strangle someone, especially if he'd been inebriated and unable to fight back. I needed Connor to confirm whether Quint had been drunk the day he died. I didn't recall smelling any alcohol in the cable car, yet Siobhan definitely had the right-sized hands based on the coroner's description.
“Siobhan has a temper, but she's a smart girl and wouldn't get into that kind of trouble.” My mother shook her head and waggled her nose for emphasis on her point.
“Was she in the office the day Quint died?” I thought back to how Siobhan had acted in class the day before and the day after Quint's murder, but no alarms stood out.
“I'll have to check. I don't remember and will look at my calendar when I get to work tomorrow,” my mother replied as Nana D entered the dining room.
“Let's get our meal out of the oven. Your dullard husband's getting crabby in the other room, Violet. I can't stand that man's voice sometimes,” Nana D groused as she walked by us and then yelled back to the living room. “Get your butts in here, everyone. We've gotta eat before King Wesley bores us all to death with his oh-so-wonderful stories about himself.”
“No need to shout, Your Honor, we all followed you
into the dining room in case you accidentally tripped and fell over your ego. We wouldn't want you to break a hip, now would we?” my father announced while taking his seat at the head of the table. Even in Nana D's house, he assumed what he felt was his rightful place once Grandpop had passed away. Their battles for control had been epic over the years, and often I'd just sit back and listen to the wild accusations and hidden undertones flying by me.
Once the meal finished, Eleanor left for work. Timothy offered to wash dishes with Aunt Deirdre as part of their continued relationship growth exercises. “Those who clean together always shine together, right, Mom?” he said upon turning to Nana D. Calling her that wasn't going over well!
Nana D and I both turned away to make fake gagging sounds this round. Timothy's time in the recovery program had converted him into an overly sappy human being. I couldn't wait to see how things transpired once he returned to Paddington Enterprises, a corporation known for being as cutthroat as any of the major international companies it did business with. I grabbed two tumblers and the bottle of whiskey from Nana D's cupboard and nodded at my father to join me on the porch. Emma was playing fetch with Baxter while my mother discussed her sister's wedding plans with Nana D.
“Excellent idea, son. You know exactly how to turn the afternoon around,” my father cheered while patting me on the back as we stepped outside. A gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh fruit from the orchard. I was tempted to take a walk but had urgent business with my father.
“Don't get too excited yet, Dad. I have an ulterior motive.” I waited for him to sit on a wicker chair before pouring and handing him the whiskey. “We need to have a discussion about Gabriel.”
“I see. Would you be buttering me up prior to dropping a bombshell on me? You definitely take after your mother more than me, son.” He chugged half the tumbler and cleared his throat with a loud, raspy groan. “I'm ready. What are you two boys up to, and what do you need from me to get started?”
Mistaken Identity Crisis: Death On The Cable Car (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 4) Page 15