She wondered which type he had preferred.
“There you are, dear.” Jane ambled toward Hope from the living room. She must’ve been out on the patio with their other guests because Hope caught a glimpse of the patio door closing behind her. “So glad you were able to get out. How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad. I promised Ethan I’d take it easy today.” Though Hope doubted he would consider her going to the inn as taking it easy.
“Good to see you’re listening.” Sally didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm.
“You know, dear, I wouldn’t have called and asked you to come over if it wasn’t important. You can see things are getting out of hand.” Jane’s thin eyebrows drew together and she wrung her hands.
“Because you two are so interested in Whitcomb’s widows, you both can clean up this mess. And I expect you’ll do it quickly. We have other guests.” Sally marched away after making her expectations clear.
Hope and Jane looked at each other. Hope considered rock, paper, scissors but didn’t think Jane would go for it. So, she sucked in a breath and limped toward the three widows. “Good morning,” she said in her perkiest tone and received three glares in return.
So much for perky.
“This is a waste of time. You two can battle it out for whatever may be available after the estate is settled. Though I can’t imagine me not inheriting everything.” Miranda tilted her head back and smirked. Her confidence was high.
“We’ll see about that!” Elaine spun around and marched out of the inn without so much as a goodbye to Hope.
“I’m not leaving empty-handed. Not this time.” Rona stalked up the staircase and disappeared down the hallway.
“Quite a scene, wasn’t it? To be honest, I’m exhausted from all this nonsense.” Miranda dug into her purse for her compact and checked her makeup.
“This is a serious matter. Lionel was a bigamist, and he’s left a big mess.” Hope tried to understand Miranda’s perspective, but it was hard. She was still legally married to the man, but they’d been living as a divorced couple all these years, so did she really deserve the entire estate?
“I’m aware of how serious this is and how much it’s costing me. Lawyers aren’t cheap.” Miranda snapped shut the compact.
“There’s no chance the three of you can work out a compromise? Maybe mediation?” Hope asked.
Miranda scoffed. “And give those two bimbos money? Not a chance.”
“If you did, then there’d be less money for you and your daughter, Katherine.”
Miranda’s face shifted from triumphant to stunned in a matter of moments. Her eyes clouded with worry and she chewed on her lower lip.
“How do you know about Katherine?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“Is she Lionel’s daughter?”
“How dare you stick your nose into my private business?” Miranda breezed by Hope and headed to the living room. Her stride was quick and purposeful. She wanted distance from Hope.
Hope followed. Limping, she took longer than she normally would to catch up with Miranda. “I’m trying to help. Is Katherine, or Kitty, his daughter?”
Miranda wobbled and stretched out her hand to the wingback chair to steady herself. “Kitty. How do you know that’s what we call her?”
“I’ve been working with her at Cooking Now magazine.”
Miranda dropped onto the chair. Her bravado vanished. In its place was panic. She set her purse on her lap and fussed with its strap.
“I’m guessing I’m right. Kitty is Lionel’s daughter.”
“You have to understand. Kitty grew up believing Ken was her father. She only learned the truth last year, when he died. She’d gone through some papers and came to me with questions.” Miranda lowered her eyelids. “I told her about my marriage and divorce from Lionel and she figured out the truth.”
“How did she take it?”
Miranda chewed on her lower lip. Hope suspected she was trying to decide how much to share.
“Not well. She was angry at Ken, and at me. I couldn’t blame her.” Miranda paused. “This isn’t easy for me. Lionel had left. There was no explanation, and then I found out I was pregnant. Ken came along, and he was the type of man who wouldn’t walk out on us. I wanted her to have the stability of parents who would be there, no matter what.”
Hope’s ankle throbbed. She’d been on it too long. She eased down on the ottoman in front of Miranda. Perhaps being at eye level might make their conversation less adversarial. “You did what you needed to do for Kitty’s best interest.”
“She didn’t see it that way. We both lied to her. But we had no idea where Lionel was, and Kitty didn’t want to see him either. She was angry with him.”
“Angry enough to confront him?”
Miranda sucked in a breath at the insinuation.
“Do you think Kitty could’ve confronted him?” Hope asked.
“She’s not a killer.”
“A witness saw Lionel talking to someone before he was murdered. Was it you?”
“No. And I assure you it wasn’t Kitty either.” Miranda jutted out her chin. “I think I’ve said too much to you about this. I expect what I’ve shared with you will remain between us.”
“’There have been two murders. The police need to know everything.”
“I forbid you to repeat what I’ve just said.” Miranda rose to her feet, her purse tumbling, but she caught it before it landed on the floor.
“What we talked about isn’t privileged information.”
“If you’re acting as an agent of the police, nothing I said can be used against me.”
“Acting as what?”
“It’s not true you’re dating the chief of police?” Miranda challenged.
Hope gasped. “What?”
“You have my word. I’ll make your life a living hell.” Miranda stormed out of the room.
Hope’s gaze followed the woman as she disappeared up the staircase.
Jane shuffled into the room with a pensive look on her face. “She doesn’t look happy. What did she say?”
Hope stood and adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. “Lionel was Kitty’s father and she threatened me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Claire arrived back at the inn to pick up her sister and Hope requested a stop at The Coffee Clique before heading home. Claire obliged and, with a short drive along Main Street, they were in line to place their orders.
“Any luck finding out what’s going on with all those new followers?” Claire asked before taking a drink of her iced vanilla latte and scoping out the coffee shop for a table, which was busy for late morning.
Hope shook her head. While checking her social media accounts after Drew deposited her on the sofa, she had discovered dozens of angry comments. They all accused her of buying followers and likes.
“Not yet. So far, it doesn’t look like anyone tagged me, so I don’t understand where they all came from.”
While it could raise a blogger’s profile among brands to have hundreds of thousands of followers, when they’d been bought, they were pretty much useless. The best way, and, admittedly, the hardest way, to gain followers was to build a community one person at a time.
Claire walked away from the counter toward a table by the window.
“I’ve worked too hard to risk alienating my followers and the brands I work with to buy follows. I’m having a hard time with people thinking I’d do such a thing.” Hope walked, at a much slower pace than normal, to the table her sister had claimed.
“See, that’s your problem. You want everyone to like you.” Claire dropped her satchel and sat.
“Do not.”
“Thou protest too much.”
Hope sat and was glad she had. She definitely was overdoing it. She lifted the lid from her cup and sipped her coffee. Her sister was right. She was a people pleaser. It was in her DNA. In their mother’s DNA, and their grandmother’s too. Somehow, Claire hadn’t inherited the gene.
> “Did a bigger blogger or brand tag you in a post?”
Hope shook her head. “Not that I can find.”
“Maybe it was organic. Maybe you’re hitting the big time, Sis.”
“Here I thought you were already a big-time food blogger.” Detective Reid approached their table.
Claire groaned while Hope swung up her head. Most times she wasn’t happy to see him, like her sister, but he was saving her a trip to the police department.
“Detective, good to see you. Please join us.” Hope pasted on a smile to keep the mood light and friendly, despite her sister’s obvious displeasure with Reid’s appearance.
“Good morning, Mrs. Dixon.” Reid pulled out a chair and set his cup on the table. “I’ve spoken with the chief, and he filled me in on Katherine Ellis. Have you really been working with her, Miss Early?”
“Can you believe it?” Claire asked between sips of her latte and blatant dirty looks at the detective.
Reid leveled an unreadable look on Claire. He’d perfected the neutral expression, so Hope couldn’t tell if he was offended or amused by her sister’s behavior. Either way, she wished Claire would knock it off.
“Yes, on my first day at the magazine, she asked if I knew Lionel. With his legal problems all over the news, I didn’t think it was odd. You’ll look in to it, won’t you?” Hope asked.
“The question I have is, will you be looking in to it?” Reid wrapped his tapered fingers around his cup.
“No, she won’t. She’s not a detective.” Claire reached out and covered Hope’s hand and squeezed.
Hope looked at her sister, the traitor. “Thanks for the reminder.” She yanked her hand from Claire’s hold and shook it. The woman had a death grip.
Reid looked at Hope over the rim of his cup. “I think where you’re concerned, it’s a good idea to remind you of your occupation. I appreciate you’ve shared this information. And I’m in contact with the detective in charge of your incident last night. I’ll keep you informed when I get any updates.”
“Look at this two-way street we’ve got going on,” Hope said with a sincere smile. “I share info with you, you share info with me.”
He chuckled as he stood. “Have a nice day, ladies.”
He strode to the exit and Claire heaved a sigh. “I thought he’d never leave.”
“I’m surprised he stayed as long as he did with you staring daggers at him.”
Claire waved her hand. “Hello. Remember, he arrested me?”
“You need to move past the incident.” Hope immediately drew back from the table. She probably shouldn’t have said that, because her sister was now staring daggers at her. “Ready to go home?” she asked sheepishly.
“I am. Let’s get going. I have to pick up Hannah from her friend’s house and then chauffeur three girls to the movies.” Claire stood and swiped up her cup.
“Remember Mom taking us to the movies?”
“I remember the time Meg went with us. Mom had to separate you two.” Claire opened the door and held it for Hope. “You two always bickered. You’re still bickering.”
“Guess some things don’t change.”
* * *
Hope waved goodbye to Claire as she pulled her car out of the driveway. Now back at home, Hope’s plan for the rest of the day was to ice her ankle and take two aspirins. She didn’t want to be forced to lay low, but she had no choice but to admit she’d overdone it. She’d pushed her injured ankle too far.
“Looks like you’re getting around.” Gilbert Madison stopped at the end of Hope’s driveway with his golden retriever beside him. He and his wife lived down the street in a gray Colonial. Nearing eighty, he kept fit and active, thanks to Buddy’s regular walking routine, come rain or shine. Donning a baseball cap, with a cooling towel draped around his neck, he was all prepared for a stroll with Buddy. When he’d purchased the cooling towel, a set of two he got from a shopping channel, he showed Hope how it worked. He wetted the towel and snapped it, and instantly it was cold. It was like a magic trick.
She spotted Bigelow in the living room window, the spot he always went when Gilbert and Buddy passed by the house. He looked alert and eager and wistful. He wanted to come out and play with Buddy, his best friend.
“It’s only twisted.” She turned back to Gilbert.
“Good to hear. We’re going for a walk. I’m happy to take Bigelow along with us.”
“That’ll be a great help.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to take them to the dog park.”
“Bigelow will love it. Let me get him leashed up. I’ll bring him out the back.” Hope hobbled toward the porch too fast and her ankle faltered, sending a shooting pain up her leg. She inhaled a deep breath and chided herself for not taking sound advice and staying put.
An impatient woof came from inside the house. With more caution, she climbed the porch steps, and Bigelow was a whir of energy when she opened the door. She managed to get him focused and to follow her to the mudroom. His excitement made slipping on his harness challenging. When he was all ready to go, she unlocked the door and found Gilbert waiting with Buddy. The dogs greeted each other, and Hope swore she saw them smile.
“We won’t be too long. Come on, boys.” Gilbert left with both dogs. He definitely had his hands full, but he loved being outside and meeting people. Hope guessed he went to the dog park more for his own enjoyment than Buddy’s.
She waved goodbye and then returned inside. With Bigelow out for a little playtime, Hope searched for Princess. She found the cat seated on the arm of the sofa in the family room, striking a regal pose.
“Interested in some girl time while Bigelow is out?” Hope stroked the cat’s head and held her breath, waiting for the cat’s response. Princess pressed her head into Hope’s hand and purred. Hope melted. It seemed the cat had two personalities—sweet and wild child. “Girl time it is.”
She collapsed onto a cushion. Princess stepped off the arm of the sofa and stretched. Hope envied that long, deep stretch. When Princess was done, she butted Hope’s arm. Hope melted some more and responded with pats.
Princess’s purring, gentle, rhythmic vibrations, and her snuggling, lulled Hope to sleep. After another night’s lost sleep and battling pain all day, the heat had gotten the better of Hope, and her eyelids closed and she rested her head back on the cushion and drifted off.
Sleep came quickly and peacefully until fragments of the past days flashed in her mind’s eye. A bloodied white shirt. A body bag. Hysterical sobs amplifying, chasing Hope along a dark stretch of pavement until she reached the end and what lay before her was a plunging hole in the ground the depth of the Grand Canyon. Her heartbeat raced, her breathing shallowed, and she looked over her shoulder as a figure cloaked in black reached out its hands and cackled as it gave a hard shove, sending Hope over the edge.
Hope woke with a start, propelling her upright, jostling Princess and earning her a dirty look as the cat stood, turned, and flicked her tail at Hope before jumping off the sofa.
“Sorry,” Hope muttered as she willed her heartbeat to return to normal. She leaned back and took deep breaths to help calm herself. The doorbell rang and she sighed. She tossed a look in the direction of the hall. Maybe the person would go away. Hoping for that outcome, she didn’t move.
The doorbell rang again.
Hope frowned. She looked at Princess, who sat on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. “There better not be a widow on the front porch,” she said to the cat.
Princess tilted her head and yawned, signaling to Hope that if there was a widow out there, she was on her own. The doorbell rang again. Hope stood and limped to the foyer. The doorbell chimed again. Whoever it was needed to practice a little patience because she was walking as fast as she could.
Definitely not a widow standing on her welcome mat. She opened the door.
“Kitty. What are you doing here?”
The young woman’s downturned mouth and dark look gave Hope a hint
the visit wasn’t a simple social call.
“I can’t believe you went to my mother and asked about me. Was it you who told the police I’m Lionel’s daughter?” Kitty’s arms were crossed over her chest and her tone was disgruntled.
“No, I didn’t tell the police. Did you really think no one would find out?”
“What does it matter? He could have a bunch of kids. Who cares?”
“The police care about everything. They’re investigating two murders.”
“I spoke with my mother. The detective wants to interview her again.”
Hope shouldn’t have been surprised Reid had wasted no time in contacting Miranda. She expected their next chat would be held at the police department, and probably in the same interrogation room where she and Claire had both been previously. “Come in and let’s talk.” Hope reached out and guided Kitty inside the house. It would be easy to be angry, but what Kitty needed at the moment was someone to listen to her.
“I can’t believe my mother is a suspect.”
“It seems everyone connected to Lionel has been under some level of suspicion. Your mother was present at the restaurant the night your father was killed.” Hope closed the door and gestured for Kitty to walk ahead.
“Don’t call him that. He was nothing more than a sperm donor.” Kitty’s posture was stiff, her shoulders were squared, and her footsteps were heavy. Definitely not a social call.
When they reached the kitchen, Kitty took off her leather backpack and set it down on the island while Hope filled the teakettle. “Ken was my father.”
Hope nodded. “He raised you, loved you, and was there for every high or low point.” Hope set the kettle on a stove burner. “Lionel was a stranger.”
“Exactly. He meant nothing to me.”
“What about to your mother?” Hope took out two mugs from an upper cabinet. One was her Favorite Aunt mug, a gift from her nephew Logan. The other was her I’ll Blog About This mug she got at a blogger conference. She thought it was funny when she purchased it, but there wasn’t anything to laugh about now. Two people were dead and she had a very unhappy person standing in her kitchen.
Three Widows and a Corpse Page 18