Three Widows and a Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “I have to go,” Rupert said into the phone and gave Hope a dark look.

  “No, nothing, Detective Reid.” Hope turned and proceeded along the hallway and walked to the restaurant’s main entrance, where the hostess stood with a group of scavenger hunters.

  The topic of their conversation was Lionel’s murder. No surprise there. Hope ducked around them to avoid being dragged into the discussion. On her way to the exit, she spotted her neighbors Leila Manchester and Dorie Baxter seated at a table in the dining room. The jovial mood they’d exuded earlier about the hunt had diminished, replaced by a somberness. The evening had taken a morbid turn.

  A dead body wasn’t on the Scavenger Hunt list.

  Hope worried the murder would forever mar the event. Then she chided herself for thinking about the event while a life had been snuffed out. Though many would argue the victim wasn’t the most liked person in Jefferson.

  Lost in her thoughts of the deadly turn of events, she wasn’t watching where she was walking and slammed right into Matt Roydon’s chest.

  “Hey. You okay?” He looked down on her with concern as he steadied her with his hands. Now a weekender, he split his time between his law practice in the city and his new home in town. This was his first Scavenger Hunt in Jefferson. Finding a dead body during the hunt wasn’t the best first impression.

  She drew back and offered a weak smile that only made him look more concerned. She sighed. She hated having people worry about her.

  “I’m fine . . . I think.” She extricated herself from Matt’s hold.

  “Sorry to have to tell you this, but you don’t look fine. Let me drive you home and we can pick up your car tomorrow.” Matt reached out his hand and stroked Hope’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  She worked her lower lip between her teeth, wishing Ethan were there. She’d glimpsed him on her way to talk with Reid. Where was he now?

  “I can’t believe this happened tonight. Of all nights. The Scavenger Hunt has been a tradition for years, and now it will be remembered for Lionel Whitcomb’s murder.”

  “Sad to say, but you may be right. I can’t believe you stumbled upon another dead body. A murder, no less.” Matt gave a wry smile, softening his strong, angular face.

  Hope rolled her eyes and regretted it. The stress of the evening, compounded with exhaustion, made her irritable. “It’s not like I went looking for a murder victim.”

  “Really? I heard you broke away from your team to go to the car.”

  “Everyone’s making a bigger deal of this than it actually is. I saw something I thought was odd, and I went to check it out. And there he was. Dead.”

  “You’re making light of the situation.”

  “I guess I am. I just found a man shot to death and had to deal with those three hysterical women. You saw, there was almost another crime scene between them.” She exhaled a breath. “I need a drink.”

  “Wine?”

  “I thought you knew me. A latte with an extra shot.”

  “The Coffee Clique?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Matt extended his hand and guided Hope to the exit. Outside, the night was heavy with humidity and lit up by strobe lights. For sure, not an average night in Jefferson. Hope took in the whole messy scene. Then she caught sight of two technicians wheeling a gurney toward the Jaguar.

  They’d come for Lionel’s body.

  Hope shuddered. She’d barely had time to mentally regroup when Norrie Jennings blindsided her and Matt. Norrie came out of nowhere with her cell phone poised, ready to record Hope’s official comment.

  Weren’t the police keeping the press back?

  “Hope, what was it like finding Lionel Whitcomb’s body?” Norrie fell into pace alongside Hope and Matt.

  “Miss Early has no comment,” Matt said.

  “Are you her legal counsel?” Norrie asked.

  “No comment,” Matt said again.

  Drew bustled over, putting up a protective hand. “It’s been a traumatic night for her. Leave her alone.”

  Norrie dropped her hands to her side. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’m a reporter. I’ll talk to whoever I want to.”

  “Not my friend you won’t.”

  “Let’s break this up. Hope has nothing to say. This is an ongoing investigation, and she’s not at liberty to discuss what happened with the press.” Ethan had swooped in and put himself between Hope and Norrie.

  Hope exhaled a whoosh of air. Ethan’s presence was a lifeline she hadn’t realized she needed. Her head was jumbled with thoughts of the event, the screams, Reid’s questions, and her answers. Did she say the right things? Did she tell him everything she knew? Why was she second-guessing herself? Why did she have to check out Lionel’s car? She wanted to reach out and grab Ethan to steady herself. But she couldn’t. He was on duty. She forced herself to maintain her composure and not crack.

  At least not yet.

  “Do you have any viable leads?” Norrie shifted from Hope to Ethan in a blink of an eye, making Hope feel like yesterday’s news and relieved at the same time.

  “Please be respectful to the witnesses. Discovering a dead body is upsetting, and no one needs your hounding,” Ethan said. Norrie opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. “I’m serious, Miss Jennings. Leave the witnesses alone.”

  “Fine. For now.” Norrie relented, after flashing a dark look at Ethan.

  Ethan nodded. “We’ll have a statement ready in an hour.”

  “I hope you’ll have something to say other than ‘no comment.’” Norrie huffed, then turned. “It’s not like it’s the first body she’s ever found.” She tramped away.

  Drew smiled. “She’s so pushy.”

  Ethan shifted his attention to Drew. “I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

  Drew’s face dropped and his mouth gaped open, while his gaze shot back and forth between Hope and Ethan. “What? Hope and I are friends.”

  “Drew, I’m tired and I want to go home.” Hope looked at Matt. “Can I have a rain check for the latte? And I can drive myself home. I’m okay. Really.”

  “Text me if you change your mind. Good night, Ethan.” Matt gave Hope a quick hug and then walked back to the restaurant. She suspected he was going to check on the rest of his team.

  “I’ll write up what I have so far. See you in an hour, Ethan.” Drew shoved his hands into his pants pockets and followed Matt. To his credit, he seemed to take the news Hope was off-limits in stride. But she had a feeling he’d be showing up at her house later for a little visit.

  “You holding up okay?” Ethan reached out for Hope’s arm.

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “I seem to remember you saying nothing ever happens at the Scavenger Hunt.”

  “Looks like I was wrong. You gonna arrest me?”

  “Only if you interfere with the investigation.”

  Hope half-smiled. “Reid has made it clear I’m to stay out of it completely. I assured him I would. After all, it’s not like Elaine and I are friends. But I am curious about Miranda and Rona. I told Reid everything I know about them and about the conversations I had with them.”

  “Conversations? When did you talk to them?”

  “Miranda, yesterday. You don’t remember me telling you when I got home with the cinnamon bun and before I told you I’d grill a steak?”

  Ethan nodded, and a flicker in his eyes told Hope he recalled their conversation. Or he only remembered the food. She wasn’t sure.

  “Anyway, this morning I had the chance to talk to Rona. I wonder why they both came to Jefferson now. And I just saw Rupert Donnelly in the restaurant. Elaine said he’d threatened to kill Lionel. Do you think it’s a coincidence he’s here tonight?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “I know, I know. As curious as I am, I’m happy to leave this whole mess to Reid and your department. Because it’s going to be ugly with those women claiming to be Lionel’s wives.”


  “Thanks.” Ethan’s lips set in a grim line.

  Hope didn’t envy him. He’d not only be investigating the murder, but he’d have to sort out the status of those three women’s relationship to Lionel and handle the new mayor. Maretta Kingston had zero experience dealing with a serious crime like murder. “Reid interviewed Claire and Jane, so you can take them home.”

  “We first have to go to the Community Center. Not every team is involved in this mess. We still have to award the winning team.”

  Ethan pulled Hope in for a hug. “It’s not your team this year.”

  “Nope. I guess our winning streak had to end at some point.” She molded into his embrace.

  His arms wrapped her in safety and security. Her face pressed against his broad chest, his heartbeat calming.

  “Chief!” an officer called out from the main entrance of the restaurant.

  Hope silently cursed as Ethan’s embrace lightened and he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry. I have to go. I’ll call you later.” With the promise made, he jogged off to join the other officer and they headed back to Lionel’s car.

  Hope adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and walked toward her vehicle. She paused and looked back at the crime scene. She wasn’t a fan of Lionel Whitcomb, but he didn’t deserve to die the way he had. Shot down in an empty parking lot and left to bleed out. Someone hated him enough to lure him there and take his life. Hope guessed that was what happened when you built a life on deceit and bribery.

  Chapter Five

  Hope yawned again, interrupting the cracking of the second egg for her Double Chocolate and Walnut Muffin recipe. Her sleep had been disturbed every hour on the hour. Okay, maybe it wasn’t every hour, but, standing there in the middle of her kitchen with heavy eyelids, it sure felt like it’d been every hour. Each time she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, the sound of Claire’s screams and flashes of Lionel’s body popped into her head.

  With the egg cracked into a small glass prep bowl, she was ready to add both eggs into her muffin batter. Baking helped clear her head, and she desperately needed that.

  She added one egg at a time, mixing after each one to incorporate, but being careful not to overmix because she didn’t want tough muffins.

  With her spoon, she beat in the eggs. To make muffin batter, she preferred to mix by hand rather than using one of her three high-end electric mixers. For most people, having three mixers would be overkill, but because she worked on multiple recipes a day to keep up with her blog schedule, she needed more than one. Besides, she’d received one from the manufacturer when they sponsored her fall baking guide last year, complete with a giveaway. One of her readers won a limited-edition mixer in time for the holiday baking season.

  Hope focused on the pretty design of the mixer to keep her mind from drifting back to last night and what had caused her to toss and turn.

  She yawned again. When she’d checked her alarm clock at half past four, she realized it was a losing battle to try to fall back to sleep. She slipped out of bed, leaving Bigelow curled up at the foot of the bed, and went downstairs. She brewed an extra-strong pot of coffee. With a filled cup, she searched the internet for stories on Lionel.

  Not exactly an ideal way to start the day.

  The stories about his untimely death recapped the criminal charges he’d been facing and his long history of developing controversial properties. Those projects were mostly residential, and most of the opposition came from local organizations charged with protecting open space in their communities. Though Lionel always got the okay to develop. Just like he had in Jefferson.

  Maybe his death hadn’t been connected to his legal problems. Maybe somebody had enacted revenge for a past deed. Whatever the reason for his death, Hope promised she wouldn’t become involved, but there was no reason she couldn’t be curious about the murder just like everybody else in town.

  She opened the container the chocolate chips were in and reached for a cup measure. After she scooped out the chips, she tossed them into the mixing bowl. She considered for a moment: was that really enough chocolate chips? She shook her head. No, it wasn’t. She reached her hand into the container and sprinkled in a handful of the morsels. The spontaneous addition was because she believed deep in her heart chocolate made everything better.

  Next, she added a heaping amount of chopped walnuts. She combined the new additions into the batter with her spatula. The thick, rich, packed-full-of-chocolatly-goodness came together, and her mind let go of the horrible event of the night before.

  After dividing the batter into muffin tins with an ice cream scoop, Hope set them in the top oven to bake for twenty-three minutes and busied herself with cleaning up. Within a matter of minutes, the soothing smell of chocolate filled the kitchen and her mood started to brighten.

  See, chocolate made everything better.

  The clock on the oven’s control panel showed Hope the muffins would be ready just as her neighbors Leila Manchester and Dorie Baxter would be passing by her house on their three-mile walk.

  Every morning, the senior ladies headed out for their walk, come rain or shine or nor’easter. Whether bundled up in layers or stripped down to shorts and sleeveless performance tops, they got in their steps. Hope didn’t doubt the events of last night would deter them from their walk, but it probably would be a somber outing because both ladies were present when Lionel’s body was found.

  Another image Hope couldn’t shake was the look on their faces while they sat in the restaurant’s dining room. Horrified and grief-stricken, like everyone else last night. While they enjoyed gossip a little too much, they were sweet women who shouldn’t have had to come so close to murder.

  With the muffins baking, Hope started a fresh pot of coffee.

  By the time the coffee was brewed, the muffins were out of the oven and on a cooling rack. Another glance at the oven’s clock showed she had just minutes to spare. In a blur of activity, thanks to an unexpected burst of energy, Hope filled a carafe with the coffee and set it, along with cups and a pitcher of milk, on a tray. Next, she filled a cloth-lined basket with the muffins. When she reached the French doors to the patio, Bigelow was awake and sniffing around for a treat.

  His nose pointed up to the tray and his brown eyes were laser-focused on the basket of muffins, but, considering their main ingredient was chocolate, he wouldn’t be getting any. She dashed out to the patio and set the tray down on the table, then hurried back inside to grab two peanut butter biscuits for Bigelow. She used them to lure him outside so she could keep a lookout for her neighbors.

  Right on time. Hope spotted the women approaching her house. Bigelow was busy devouring a biscuit and not interested in visitors, leaving Hope to walk alone to her front yard and wave the women down.

  “Good morning, ladies.” She shielded her eyes from the bright sun. “How was your walk?”

  “It’s good to get out and get some fresh air.” Leila came to a stop. She looked bright and crisp in a pair of aqua-colored Bermuda shorts and a coordinating striped top. A white visor topped her head of silver hair and shielded her eyes from the sun.

  “I’ve just taken a batch of Double Chocolate and Walnut Muffins out of the oven. And I have a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like to join me?”

  “Absolutely.” Dorie came to a halt beside Leila and checked her fitness tracker. Dressed in a similar outfit, she’d chosen a headband to keep her silver hair off her face. She was the model for senior fitness. When she wasn’t walking the neighborhood, she swam at the gym and took yoga classes at the Community Center.

  “Good thing we did our walk.” Leila followed Hope, along with Dorie, around the side of the house to the patio.

  Finished with his biscuit, Bigelow looked up and, when he saw Leila and Dorie, popped up and trotted over with his tail wagging to greet the ladies. Both women obliged before they took their seats at the table, and Hope filled the three coffee cups.

  “This is a nice treat.” Leila plucked
a muffin from the basket and pulled back its wrapper.

  “I think after what happened last night, we need a little pick-me-up.” Hope stirred a dash of milk into her coffee. She wasn’t sure what cup number it was, but she was certain the caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet.

  “It was a horrible way to end the Scavenger Hunt for all of us, but I can’t imagine what it was like for you, Hope. After all, you found Lionel’s body.” Dorie took a drink of her coffee and then helped herself to a muffin. She glanced at Bigelow, who sat between her and Leila, and gave her sad, puppy dog eyes as if he hadn’t eaten in days. “Chocolate isn’t good for pups.”

  “Bigelow, come.” Hope patted her thigh, and Bigelow gave her a concerned look, as if he was worried he’d miss out on a falling piece of muffin. He had a bad case of FOMO: fear of missing out. But she guessed most dogs did, while Princess couldn’t have cared less. She made an appearance briefly for breakfast and then took off to one of her hiding spaces for her morning nap. Hope patted her thigh again, and Bigelow snuffled as he stood and walked toward her. Clearly, he would have the last word. When he reached Hope, he sat next to her chair and slid down to relax on the stone patio, but he didn’t take his eyes off the table. Just in case.

  “I heard Maretta lost it when she was informed about the murder.” Leila took another bite of her muffin. She set it on a napkin and chewed as she leaned in to her chair.

  Dorie nodded as she wiped her hands free of crumbs. “I heard she whined about the selfies with the mayor. Apparently, she was overwhelmed by the volume of people.”

  “Milo never complained,” Leila said.

  Dorie shaded her eyes against the sun with her hand and gave her friend an irritated glance. Hope had seen the look before between the two women. Friends for decades, they bickered like an old married couple.

  Leila straightened, lifted her cup, and propped both elbows on the table. “Don’t look at me like that. Milo was a good mayor.”

  Dorie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  Leila shrugged after finishing her drink. “Poor Elaine. The shock of seeing her husband and those two women claiming to be married to Lionel. How on earth is it possible? You can’t be married to more than one person at a time.”