Three Widows and a Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  She pulled open the glass door and stepped outside. Anna’s offer was tempting, and that scared her. She’d never thought she’d go back to editorial work. She stepped off the sidewalk and headed for her vehicle. When asked about appearing on the reality show, she liked to say she’d jumped at the chance to be on The Sweet Taste of Success because it sounded like fun, something out of the box, a rare moment of spontaneity in her life, but the truth was, she was burned out. Being a contestant on the show gave her an acceptable way to quit her job without having another position lined up. That was how stressed out she was back then.

  The show added a whole new level of stress onto her, which she wasn’t prepared for. Then there was Tim’s shenanigans and the divorce. By the time she was filling out address change cards for her move back to Jefferson, she’d reached off-the-charts stress levels.

  She unlocked the driver’s side door and climbed into her car. She looked out the window to the sprawling, two-story building.

  Being a magazine editor was her first love, but it had taken a toll on her and, unexpectedly, she had a new life path. Could she go back? Did she want to go back?

  On her way back to Jefferson, Hope made a detour to her favorite consignment shop. Her last visit had yielded blue-and-white vases and a worn picture frame she planned on turning into a mirror. She pushed open the door, and the muskiness of old leather greeted her. Her nose crinkled. To her right were two well-loved leather chairs angled together for a seating area.

  The shop owner waved to her as he finished up with a customer, and she stepped farther into the shop to browse, looking for any treasures perfect for either her house or for photography props.

  A silver-tone tray on top of a bureau piqued her curiosity.

  She lifted it up to get a closer look.

  Hefty.

  There were a few scratches and a bit of tarnish. Otherwise, it seemed in good shape. It had character and a low price. Two qualities she often sought.

  “Hope?”

  Hope looked to the direction from which her name had come. Jocelyn Donnelly stood there holding a shopping bag. Dressed in khaki pants and an untucked, striped white shirt and spectator flats, she looked unaffected by the warm weather. Hope was certain her own makeup had melted off. She really should’ve left the air conditioner on in the car.

  “I didn’t expect to run into you.”

  Hope set down the tray. “Neither did I.”

  Jocelyn was the last person she expected to find in a consignment shop.

  “Buying or selling?”

  “Buying. I found the most adorable heart-shaped porcelain jewelry box for our niece.” She lifted the bag. “Sometimes Zach has some fantastic merchandise.”

  “He does.”

  “I should get going. Have a great day, Hope.” Jocelyn passed her and stopped when Zach, the spry, seventysomething owner, reached the front door to open it for her.

  “I’ll let you know when I sell those lamps for you. Should be sold in no time.”

  Hope followed Jocelyn outside, dodging a confused look from Zach. “Jocelyn, wait up.” Hope reached Jocelyn at the edge of the small path in front of the shop. “Have you heard two people have confessed to Lionel’s murder?”

  “I did. I’m sure the police will have the whole matter sorted out soon.” Jocelyn turned and headed to her Mercedes.

  “Possibly. I can’t help but think each one confessed to protect the other.”

  Jocelyn looked back. Her dark hair swung as her head turned. “You think they’re both innocent?”

  “I don’t know for sure.”

  “Well, then, I think it’s best to leave the matter to the authorities.” Jocelyn fumbled with her key fob. “I know you’re trying to help Elaine, but she was his wife, and it’s usually the spouse in these types of crime.”

  Hope approached the car. “You’re right. Usually, the spouse has a strong motive. Like being cheated on.”

  “Elaine is flirtatious. I wouldn’t put it past her to cheat on her husband.”

  “I’m not talking about Elaine. There’s a rumor Lionel was the one cheating.”

  “It’s a police matter. You shouldn’t involve yourself.”

  Hope made a show of glancing at her watch. She lifted her gaze. “I’m getting a little hungry. I’m in the mood for Thai. Do you know a good restaurant?”

  Jocelyn blanched. Then she yanked open the car door. Her carefully coiffed facade was showing signs of cracking. “Check your phone. I’m sure there’s an app for that.” She ducked into her car and closed the door.

  On the surface, it appeared Hope had wasted her time, but Jocelyn’s face paling when Hope asked about a Thai restaurant led her to believe Billie’s observation—Jocelyn and Lionel had been involved.

  Jocelyn’s sedan peeled out of the parking lot, and Hope twisted around to see the car disappear down the road. Jocelyn definitely wanted to get away from Hope, and fast.

  Hope was still trying to wrap her head around Jocelyn choosing to have an affair with Lionel, of all people. Surely there were far better candidates at the country club Jocelyn had to be a member of. Women like her were always country club members.

  “Is there something wrong, Hope?” Zach called out from his shop’s front door.

  Hope dragged her gaze from the road back to the front of the shop. There was so much wrong. But nothing would get resolved there at the moment. She headed toward Zach and allowed him to usher her inside. She was there to shop.

  “Small world, isn’t it? You knowing Mrs. Donnelly.” Zach allowed the door to close behind him.

  “I’ve met her recently. Does she consign here often?” Hope drifted, but not too far away from Zach, and scanned a bookcase filled with knickknacks.

  “Only lately. She has some nice stuff, and it sells fast. Is there anything you’re interested in, or do you want to browse?”

  “Browse,” she replied.

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Zach made his way to the sales counter and busied himself with paperwork while Hope skimmed the shelves unenthusiastically. What piqued her interest was Jocelyn, and where she was the night Lionel was murdered.

  Hope left the consignment shop empty-handed, but she had a viable suspect for the murders. Though, with two people confessing, she doubted Reid would listen to her theories. He was on the fast track to closing his two cases.

  On her drive back to Jefferson, she got a phone call from an unfamiliar number, but the area code was Massachusetts.

  Hope accepted the call and said hello.

  “Miss Early? You don’t know me, but I’m Willa Hayes. I’ve just spoken with a reporter, Drew Adams.”

  No, Hope didn’t know Willa Hayes, but she was glad the woman had called her. It looked like the game of phone tag Drew and Willa had been playing had ended.

  “Great . . . I don’t mean . . . I’m sorry, you caught me off guard.” And unable to form a complete sentence.

  “Mr. Adams gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind. He asked me questions about Elaine Bass . . . wait, she has a different last name now. Whitcomb.” Willa’s voice was thick with a Boston accent, and she sounded apprehensive. And why wouldn’t she be? She was calling a stranger about a murder.

  “She does. Her fourth husband was murdered over a week ago. Someone brought it to our attention that she was a friend of yours.”

  “Mr. Adams asked about the relationship. I didn’t understand what it had to with Elaine’s husband’s murder. But he explained you’re dating the police chief and Elaine has befriended you.”

  Hope eased up on the accelerator as she approached a four-way stop. At the intersection, she stopped and looked for oncoming traffic in all directions. None was coming, so she continued through the intersection.

  “Did you know Elaine before Clive’s murder?”

  “We went to the same hair salon and nail place. She chatted occasionally. She really wasn’t friendly and was kind of shallow, like she was always looking for an opportunity to move up th
e social ladder. I was a cop’s wife.”

  It sounded like Elaine had changed little over the years. You’d think, with such a tragic event such as having your husband murdered, you’d be changed somehow. How could a life-altering event not change you? Hope hadn’t gone unscathed by the losses and failures she’d endured over the years. Then again, maybe Clive’s murder wasn’t a tragic loss for Elaine.

  Up ahead was a spot where Hope pulled off and parked while she talked to Willa. The convenience of taking calls in her car was nice. She couldn’t share her focus on the road with Willa. She wanted to give Willa her full attention.

  Safely situated on the side of the road, Hope continued the conversation. “But after her husband was killed, she became friendlier?”

  “A day after her husband’s murder, she was in the nail salon, and we both ended up leaving at the same time. She stopped and asked me to join her for coffee. She cried. I felt bad for her, so we went to the coffee shop. She said she’d kept her nail appointment because she believed if she kept her regular routine, the nightmare she was in wouldn’t be real.”

  A lump caught in Hope’s throat. She’d felt the same way when she received her divorce papers. Yes, she had been the one who contacted the lawyer first, because Tim didn’t seem to think there was a problem. As far as he was concerned, the marriage worked for him. But even though she was the instigator, having those documents in her hand had broken her heart. She remembered keeping with her regular workout routine, her blog posting, and her weekly nail appointment. Somehow, keeping the normalcy in her life would keep her from being sucked into the painful rabbit hole of hindsight and regret.

  “Did she say why she chose you to confide in when you two barely knew each other?”

  “She said I was always nice to her, and that she didn’t have any close female friends.”

  Hope had heard a similar plea. “Hope, you’re my only friend. I’m not sure what happened, but I realized I don’t have any friends except you.”

  “And from then on she was leaning on you for support?” Hope asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did she ever ask you about the police investigation because your husband was the first officer on the scene of her husband’s murder?” Hope looked out the passenger window. Up ahead, there was a pasture dotted with Jersey cows, and farther in the distance was a large red barn. This corner of the state was where she grew up, where it felt safe, and where she’d launched into the world to become the woman she was today. Never in a million years did she think she’d be talking to Willa Hayes, or that their lives would be so similar.

  “Not in so many words. I mean, she never came out and asked me directly. I’m sorry, I really can’t explain it. It got weird. The more she clung, the more uncomfortable I became, and the more my husband suggested I end the friendship, if that’s what you want to call it. Besides, I don’t think it looked good for him professionally for his wife to be involved with a murder suspect.”

  “Understandable.”

  “If you want my advice, I’d say end the relationship with Elaine. Clearly, a pattern is emerging, and I wouldn’t want to be any part of it. I believe she manipulates people to get what she wants and, to be honest, I have no idea how far she’d go to get what she wants.”

  A crying baby wailed in the background. “I have to go. Good luck, Hope.” The line went quiet while the voices screaming inside Hope’s head to get away from Elaine grew louder and louder. Elaine might not be a killer, just unlucky when it came to choosing husbands, but either way, she was toxic.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  According to an article Hope had read weeks ago, it was hard getting toxic people out of your life. It gave steps on how to give the toxic person the heave-ho for good. Too bad Hope had paid little attention to the article.

  The advice would have come in handy, because she’d just arrived at Elaine’s house.

  Yes, even though she’d gotten advice from Willa Hayes and her own internal warning system was throwing up red flags where Elaine was concerned, she still drove over to the Whitcomb house when Elaine called and asked her to come over. She was vague but sounded in a good mood.

  Consumed with what to say to Elaine kept Hope from enjoying the walk to the double-front door of the enormous house. The striking shades of white, pink, and red of the Oriental lilies were a blur as she walked along the herringbone-patterned path. Should she mention her run-in with Jocelyn or the conversation with Willa Hayes or her visit to the Horseshoe Tavern? There was so much to talk about, yet she didn’t want to discuss any of it.

  What she wanted was to get the widow out of her life for good. Wrap it up. Wish her well. Be done with her.

  With a fortifying inhale, she pressed the doorbell and waited. The door swung open and a perturbed Elaine appeared, dressed in a sleeveless denim jumpsuit and decked out in jewels from earlobes to toes. A diamond toe ring?

  “You took long enough to get here.”

  Not the greeting Hope had expected. Then again, she was dealing with Elaine, so any and all expectations should be lowered.

  “May I come in? Or should I go?”

  “No, no, don’t go.” Elaine opened the door wider for Hope to enter and, after closing the door, she led her guest to the living room. “Come. We’ll toast and then eat. I have food for our celebration. Wait until you see what I got for us.”

  The cavernous room took Hope’s breath away. She couldn’t even fathom the square footage or how long it took to build the floor-to-ceiling marble fireplace. Above her was a tasteful coffered ceiling and straight ahead the large windows offered a pristine view of the expansive, manicured lawn. She moved farther into the room and stopped at the sofa, placed opposite the fireplace and upholstered in a pale, golden damask fabric.

  “First, we need to clear up a few things.” Hope turned to face Elaine.

  “Don’t be a downer today. Two people have confessed to killing my Lionel. One of them has to be telling the truth, which means I’m in the clear.” Elaine strutted to the champagne bucket on the coffee table and pulled out the bottle. “You need a glass of bubbly.”

  “What I need is for you to be straight with me.”

  “Straight about what?” Elaine handled the champagne bottle expertly and, a moment later, the pop of the cork was accompanied by a “woot woot” and a little shimmy action. “Time to get this party started.” She poured two glasses and handed one to Hope. She raised her glass in a toasting gesture. “To freedom.”

  “How about to the truth? You lied about what made you late to the Scavenger Hunt. You didn’t have a problem with your lashes. I can’t believe I bought that excuse. You were late because you met Rupert Donnelly.”

  Elaine choked on the champagne. With a shaky hand, she set the glass on the table and dropped onto the sofa. “How do you know about my dinner with Rupert?”

  “Did you think you could keep it a secret? Elaine, the police can find out everything. Did you tell Matt about the dinner?”

  “No. I didn’t. I thought if I said anything about it, everyone would assume what you’re assuming.”

  “An affair?”

  “Exactly. We weren’t. I swear to God, we weren’t. We met to talk about Lionel and Jocelyn.”

  Hope went to set her glass on the mahogany wood end table, but there wasn’t a coaster. She looked around for one and then noticed Elaine had set hers on the table surface, no coaster. “Do you have coasters?”

  Elaine blinked. “What? Coasters? No. Just set it down.”

  “You’re not worried about rings? Marks?”

  Elaine tilted her head sideways. “I’ll buy a new end table. It’s no big deal.”

  Hope couldn’t set the glass down. Instead, she sat on the sofa, keeping the glass in her hand.

  “Don’t be silly.” Elaine snatched the glass out of Hope’s hand and set it on the coffee table next to hers. “It’ll be fine. Where were we?” Elaine leaned back and crossed her legs.

  “You were saying you me
t Rupert to talk about your spouses.”

  “Right. We suspected they were having an affair. We met and compared notes.”

  “What did you both come up with?”

  Elaine lowered her eyes. “Lionel was cheating on me with her.”

  “You realize you have a strong motive to have killed your husband.”

  “But I didn’t. Besides, two women have confessed.”

  “Elaine, just because they confessed doesn’t mean you’re in the clear. Have you talked to Matt recently?”

  Elaine waved her hand. “Pfft. He called before, but I was busy taking a bubble bath. I’ll talk to him later.”

  The doorbell rang and Elaine popped up. “Looks like there are more people coming to celebrate.” She dashed out of the living room.

  “Looks like you’ll need coasters,” Hope said.

  Moments later, voices drew closer to the living room, and she was surprised to see Detective Reid, followed by several uniformed officers, enter.

  “Miss Early, I didn’t expect to see you here.” He gave directions to the officers, who dispersed immediately.

  “What’s going on?” Hope rose from the sofa. “Are you searching her house?”

  “Yes, they are!” Elaine waved a document in her hand. “I’m going to call my lawyer.” She swiveled and stomped out.

  “You have two confessions already. Why are you searching this house now?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. Miss Early, your presence is not needed here while we conduct the search.”

  Elaine reappeared with her cell phone in hand. “Oh, no. She’s not going anywhere! I want a witness. My lawyer is on his way.”

  “Fine.” Reid propped his hands on his hips, brushing back his dark gray blazer and revealing a glimpse of his service weapon. “But neither one of you can interfere with this search. Where is your laundry room?”

  “It’s off the kitchen. Why?”

  “Thank you.” Reid turned to an officer who appeared and then directed him to leave.