She reached the island and set down the bags and dropped her purse on the countertop. Bigelow wasn’t patient. He wanted affection ASAP. She obliged by swooping down and lavishing her pup with kisses and pats. His eyes warmed with contentment.
With a final scratch on his head, Hope stood up and walked over to the coffee maker. Bigelow busied himself inspecting the bags by sticking his head in each one and sniffing.
“Hey, you’re being rude.” She darted back and shooed him from her purchases. The dog backed away, then slid down, resting his head on his front legs and giving Hope sad-dog eyes. She melted, as usual. “You’re curious. I know the feeling.” She returned to the coffee maker and prepared a pot of hazelnut coffee.
With the coffee brewing, she opened the refrigerator. She was starving, despite having lunch at the mall. Shopping for most of the day worked up an appetite and, lucky for her, being a food blogger meant there was always something to eat. At eye level was an apple pie.
She grabbed hold of the pie plate and pulled it out.
She’d been working on apple recipes, and her trip to a local orchard a few days earlier had yielded her dozens of apples to make into all kinds of recipes—sweet and savory.
She set the pie on the island. She moved to an upper cabinet to pull out a mug and then retrieved a knife to cut into the pie. When the coffee maker beeped, she filled her cup and savored a drink. She was now fortified for what the rest of the day brought.
There were emails to read, ads to create for her blog, and recipes to proofread for The Sweet Taste of Success cookbook.
The reality show had announced it would publish a cookbook featuring recipes from its season one competitors. She’d hesitated in rekindling her relationship with the show because she was all about moving forward and not looking back, but she was contractually obligated to take part. A bonus was that the book’s release could help promote her blog.
Before she could take another sip, the doorbell rang, sending Bigelow into excitable-greeter mode and tearing out of the family room. Hope’s mug landed on the island with a thump, coffee sloshing over the brim, and she raced after her dog. She nabbed him by the collar a nanosecond before he jumped and scratched the front door.
“Sit!” she commanded, but Bigelow barked and tugged forward. “Sit!” Her second command got his attention, and the doorbell rang again. She looked over her shoulder at the door. “Just a moment!” She turned back to Bigelow. “Sit!”
Bigelow finally settled into a proper sit.
“Good boy,” she praised.
The doorbell rang again.
“Just a moment!” With Bigelow situated, she pulled open the door, curious to see who the impatient person on her porch was.
It had better not be another window salesman.
Once the warm weather came, an army of door-to-door salesmen headed out to sell new windows to homeowners in her area. Every week brought a new one. What irked her the most was, not one of them noticed she’d already replaced all the old windows with new, energy-efficient ones.
“What took you so long? I’ve been standing out here forever.” Elaine propped on her hip and pursed her lips.
Hope would’ve preferred the window salesman. “What are you doing here?”
“You won’t believe what’s going on. Lionel’s death. It’s a nightmare.” Elaine entered the house without an invitation and continued straight through to the family room. Having been in the house only one time before, Hope was surprised she remembered the layout.
Hope closed the door and then released Bigelow from his sit position. It impressed her that he hadn’t jumped all over Elaine, though she wouldn’t have been too harsh on him if he had.
She caught up with her unexpected guest in the family room.
“Do I smell hazelnut coffee? I’d love a cup. It’s been one of those days.”
Hope offered an obliging smile. “Coming right up.” Before she prepared the coffee for Elaine, she wiped up the spill she’d made moments before on the island. “Would you like something to eat? I have an apple pie and scones.”
Hope was obsessed with feeding people, even guests who showed up unexpectedly. It was the way she was wired, like Claire calculating square footage when she entered a home. When she was a little girl, her dolls had the best tea parties, and when she got older and was able to help her mother in the kitchen, she’d gladly prepared a plate of cookies or brownies to serve to visitors.
Elaine raised a hand. “Too much sugar. I have to watch what I eat.”
“You have amazing willpower.” Hope’s willpower was pretty much nonexistent and the reason for her daily runs. She glanced at the apple pie on the counter and sighed. No pie for her. At least not until Elaine left. She lifted both mugs and carried them to the pedestal table, then gestured for Elaine to join her.
Elaine took a step forward and stopped short when a whirling ball of fur came barreling into the room at full speed. Princess. Her long, silky white hair blew in the breeze she created. She took a sharp turn around Elaine’s feet, which had Elaine teetering on her four-inch stilettos. Princess leaped onto the narrow table behind the sofa, just grazing a decorative orb with her fluffy body. She jumped onto the sofa while Elaine regained her balance.
Hope lowered her gaze and suppressed a laugh.
“You let your animals on the furniture?” Elaine gave a disapproving look at Princess, who wasn’t the least bit interested in company or the visitor’s opinion.
“They’re family.” Hope sipped her coffee.
Bigelow joined her and sat pressed against her leg.
Elaine shook her head. “If you say so. I’ve heard you also own chickens. Why?” Elaine walked to the table, her off-the-shoulder red dress flouncing with every step. She sat across from Hope and laid her nude patent clutch on the table.
“For the eggs. But I don’t think you came here to talk about my animals or where they sleep. What’s going on, Elaine?”
Hope had learned to be direct with Elaine. The woman’s over-the-top tendencies and skilled, backhanded compliments made it difficult, if not impossible, to have a friendship with her. The woman had trust issues.
Elaine’s bare shoulders sagged, and she exhaled a sad breath. “I need someone to talk to. Hope, you’re my only friend. I’m not sure what happened, but I realized I don’t have any friends except you.”
Hope remained silent for a moment, not sure what to say to her guest. In Elaine’s mind, she considered them friends. Hope wasn’t sure how Elaine came to that conclusion. A few months ago, she’d unfriended, unfollowed, and unliked Hope on all social media and had even threatened to hashtag Hope as a busybody.
Maybe their visit to The Coffee Clique at the start of the summer had forged the friendship, though Elaine had stuck Hope with the bill.
“What about friends from college?”
Elaine shook her head. “No. I wasn’t a part of any sororities.”
“Neighbors?”
Elaine shook her head again. “No. I don’t know them. Hope, it’s all a mess.” She laced her fingers around the mug and lifted it to her lips. She took a long drink.
Hearing Elaine had no friends wasn’t a shock. She’d seen other women just like her who woke up one day with no one they could call a friend, a confidant, or an ally. When a person put ambition and greed and selfishness above all other things, life could become lonely.
“Miranda and Rona are claiming to still be married to Lionel. How could it be possible? He married me. I have the license.” Elaine looked at Hope with wide eyes full of worry.
“I don’t pretend to understand all the legal stuff, but it sounds like the divorces weren’t completed. I have the legal documents from my divorce, so I’m certain my marriage is dissolved.”
Elaine nodded. “I have mine too.”
“Did you ever see Lionel’s divorce paperwork?”
“No. He never showed me. He kept all those types of papers locked up in his safe.”
“Do you have
the combination?”
“No. He said I had no reason to go in there. Do you think he knew all along he wasn’t legally divorced?”
Hope shrugged. “It’s possible.” She sipped her coffee.
Being seated across from Elaine wasn’t the most comfortable feeling, considering their history, but there was a sadness reverberating off her, and it tugged at Hope’s heart. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, Hope had found Elaine’s husband shot to death. Hope couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her. One moment you’re taking part in a silly activity and the next, you see your husband with a fatal gunshot wound. Hope blinked hard to erase the image she had of Lionel’s body.
“From the questions Detective Reid asked, I think he suspects me of killing Lionel.” Elaine’s hands shook as she lifted her mug to take another sip of coffee. “I could never do such a thing.”
“He’s doing his job. He has to ask a lot of hard questions to find the truth and the killer. You were late last night to join your team.”
“I was . . . wait, do you think I murdered Lionel?”
“I didn’t say that. But I’m sure Reid asked you why you were late.” Hope would bet money someone had let slip that Elaine hadn’t been on time to join her team.
“He did. Someone told him I was late.”
Cha-ching. If only she’d actually bet money. “What did you tell him?” Hope pushed. She wanted to hear Elaine’s explanation.
Elaine huffed. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“No, you don’t. But friends talk to each other, and sometimes they ask hard questions.” Was it right to appeal to Elaine’s vulnerabilities to get information out of her? Hope wasn’t sure, but she reasoned any information Elaine shared she’d turn over to the police to aid in finding the killer.
“Fine. I was late to meet up with my team because I lost track of time. It happens every now and again when I’m getting ready. My lashes gave me a hard time.”
“Your lashes?”
“You have no idea how long it takes to look this good. It’s a lot of work.” Elaine batted her lashes to drive home the point. “The police are wasting their time looking at me as a suspect. I loved Lionel and would never hurt him. But he had a lot of enemies. The former mayor and his wife are two. Also, Miranda and Rona. If it’s true Lionel abandoned them, they’d have a motive for murder.” Elaine leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly satisfied with casting aspersions on other people.
Before Hope could respond, the doorbell rang, and she excused herself. Bigelow followed her to the front door, but for this next visitor, he played it cool.
Hope still made him sit before she opened the door. “Good boy.” With Bigelow situated, Hope pulled the door open.
Good grief.
“I’m sorry to show up without calling, but I had the most horrible experience, and I needed someone to talk to. You said I could talk to you.” Rona wrung her hands.
“What happened?” Hope looked over her shoulder. The last thing she needed was for Elaine to find Rona on the porch.
“Miranda and I had an awful fight at the inn. She’s being unreasonable. I’m all alone there with no friends or family, and my husband is dead.” Rona’s eyes misted and she sniffled.
“My husband is dead!” Elaine thundered toward the door and yanked it open wider, giving Bigelow enough space to dart out.
Smart dog.
Hope wanted to follow him but was caught between the angry widows, and leaving them alone didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Please, calm down. There’s no reason to raise our voices.” Hope directed her comment to Elaine.
“There are plenty of reasons to raise my voice,” Elaine countered.
“I’m not looking for trouble,” Rona said.
“Well, too late! I don’t know what kind of scam you’re running, but if you’re looking to get money from my late husband’s estate, you’re out of luck.” Elaine stepped in front of Hope and positioned herself right in front of Rona. “Maybe you killed Lionel because he wouldn’t give you any money.”
“You’re crazy. I hadn’t seen Lionel, well, not until last night after someone killed him. Maybe you found out he was still married to me and, in a rage like the one you’re in right now, you killed him.” Rona wasn’t backing down. She’d lifted her chin and leveled a death glare worthy of Hope’s mother.
Setting aside her admiration, Hope needed to rein in both women or else . . . well, she didn’t want to think about what could transpire between them.
“Elaine, Rona, you both need to calm down. This is my house and I can’t have you two arguing like this.” Hope stepped out from behind Elaine.
“I’m not the one who started this,” Rona said.
“Well, I will be the one who ends it.” Elaine jabbed her finger in the air, her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. But she had nothing on Rona’s glare.
An approaching vehicle prompted Hope to turn her attention to the road. A Jefferson PD vehicle pulled into her driveway. Ethan was behind the steering wheel.
She let out a relieved breath. Reinforcement.
Rona looked over her shoulder. “The police? Who called the police?”
Elaine smirked. “Looks like you’ll be booted from Hope’s property because you’re trespassing.”
Bigelow greeted Ethan after he climbed out of the SUV. Ethan gave the pup a quick pat and then pivoted to assess the situation on the porch. He grinned.
He grinned. Seriously?
Hope’s mouth gaped open in disbelief.
“What’s going on?” Ethan climbed the porch steps, and his grin deepened.
“She’s trespassing,” Elaine answered.
Ethan’s gaze traveled from Elaine to Rona to Hope. “Hope? Are either of these women trespassing?”
“No. They both came over to talk.” She’d become the sounding board for grieving widows in Jefferson.
Rona backed away from the front door. Her eyes watered again. “I’ve caused a problem here and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset Elaine. I didn’t know she’d be here. Detective Reid informed me that I can’t leave town right now, so I’ll just go back to the inn.” Rona turned and rushed down the steps.
“Wait,” Hope called out. She jogged after Rona. “You’re welcome here. Though now isn’t a good time, with Elaine here. Please, do call me.”
Rona dug into her purse for a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “You’re very kind.” She offered a quivery smile before following along the path to the street and then heading in the direction of Main Street.
Hope returned to the porch. “You can stop grinning now,” she said to Ethan.
“Elaine’s the last person I thought I’d find in your house.” Ethan tossed a look to the front door.
Elaine had disappeared from the doorway. With any luck, she was inside, grabbing her clutch and getting ready to leave.
“Tell me about it.”
“This is what you get for sticking your nose into our investigation.”
“Hold on, Chief Cahill. I’m doing no such thing. Elaine came because she wanted to talk to a friend. And Rona showed up because Miranda was mean to her.”
“Wait, you and Elaine are friends? Since when?”
“I’m not sure.” Hope walked to her front door. “Why did you come over?”
“I was patrolling and saw the scene on your front porch.”
“Hope!” Elaine bellowed from inside.
“Sounds like your friend needs you.” Ethan wiggled an eyebrow.
“Guess I can’t convince you to come in and join us?”
“Absolutely not.” Ethan leaned forward and was a breath away from Hope’s lips. His dark eyes turned devilish. “But, you know, I kinda like it when you call me Chief Cahill. Maybe I can frisk you later and you can call me Chief again.” He flashed a wicked smile before he gave Hope a quick kiss and then jogged down the porch steps. He climbed back into his SUV and pulled out of the driveway.
T
he man was incorrigible.
A scream from inside her house startled Hope. She spun around and dashed inside.
What on earth had happened now?
She came to an abrupt halt when she reached the family room and took a breath. Nothing was wrong.
Elaine stood by the French door that opened to the patio and pointed at the chicken on the other side of the glass door.
“Why is it peeping in the house?”
“Her name is Poppy.”
Hope walked past Elaine to open the patio door. Poppy liked hanging out on the patio and often perched on a chair during the day while the other chickens foraged on the property. Hope scooped up the Rhode Island Red hen. The rust-colored bird had the trademark red-orange eyes and reddish-brown beak, with yellow feet and legs of the breed. She also had the sweet disposition and hardiness that made Reds a favorite with chicken owners.
Elaine approached Hope and the bird with hesitant steps.
“She doesn’t bite.”
“What about salmonella? Should you be handling her without gloves? Never mind. I have to go. I need to soak in a tub. I need to relax. Destress.” Elaine strutted back to the table and picked up her clutch.
“A bath sounds like a lovely idea.” Hope set Poppy down on the patio and closed the door behind her and walked to the table. She swiped up Elaine’s mug and placed it in the dishwasher.
“I have to make funeral arrangements for Lionel. I should’ve asked Chief Cahill when my husband’s body will be released.” Elaine walked out of the family room, toward the front door, and Hope followed, happy to show her guest out. “Be a dear and ask him for me the next time you see him. Thanks so much for your help.”
Elaine wiggled her fingers in a wave and opened the front door. She descended the porch steps. Her hips swayed as she walked to her luxury sedan.
Be a dear? Hope closed the door and locked it. She returned to the kitchen and refilled her mug and then sliced the apple pie. She slipped a generous wedge onto a plate and carried the plate to the table. After she settled, she pulled her tablet toward her and searched the internet. She came across another story about Lionel’s death and the three women claiming to be his wives, yadda, yadda, yadda. Hope skipped that section. She scrolled down to a paragraph about Jefferson’s former mayor and the charges he faced because of his connection to Lionel.
Three Widows and a Corpse Page 8