Three Widows and a Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “This is disgraceful. How dare you people go through my stuff?” Elaine walked farther into the living room and stood next to Hope. “I’m so grateful you’re here. Looks like our little celebration is over.”

  “What were you two celebrating?” Reid asked.

  Elaine opened her mouth to answer, but Hope grabbed her arm. “Maybe you shouldn’t say anything more until Matt gets here.”

  “I have nothing to hide. I didn’t kill anyone.” Elaine sounded defiant.

  “Detective,” an officer from the doorway called out. In his hand, he held an evidence bag with a gun inside.

  Hope’s eyes widened with shock as Elaine’s confidence slipped away.

  “Is that a real gun?” she whispered as she gripped Hope’s arm and squeezed.

  “It looks real from here.”

  “Is this your weapon, Mrs. Whitcomb?” Reid turned back to face both women.

  “I’ve never seen it before,” Elaine said.

  “Elaine, I think you should wait until Matt gets here before you answer any more questions.”

  “It appears to be the same caliber used to shoot Mr. Whitcomb. Mrs. Whitcomb, do you own a compact SUV?” Reid asked.

  Why was he asking about a compact SUV? Unless it was the vehicle that ran down Maurice. The tire tracks at the scene must’ve identified the vehicle, and maybe the one eyewitness remembered more than she thought at first.

  Elaine went to say something, but Hope tugged at her.

  “Wait until Matt gets here before you say anything else.” Hope was sounding like a broken record. When was it going to sink into Elaine’s head that she should be quiet?

  Reid’s lip curved upward, and he shook his head. “Haven’t I warned you about interfering with my investigation?”

  “I’m not interfering. I’m helping a friend.” Hope held her ground, though her pulse had kicked up and beads of sweat formed on her temple. She was on shaky ground with the detective. She could easily be arrested.

  “You may have a warrant, but this is still my house, and I demand to know where you found that weapon. Or rather, where you planted it.” Elaine wasn’t taking direction well.

  Reid walked toward Elaine. “Mrs. Whitcomb, you’re under the arrest for the possession of an illegal firearm. You have the right to remain silent—”

  “Hope! Do something!” Elaine pleaded as Reid turned her around and handcuffed her.

  “Detective, do you really need to cuff her?” Hope asked.

  “Miss Early, stay out of this or I’ll arrest you too.” His tone was firm. “Tell her lawyer to meet us at the PD.” Reid guided Elaine out of the room and disappeared with the officer who had the evidence bag.

  Hope followed them, but they were already outside the door, and an officer pulled the door shut behind them.

  She stood in the foyer, staring at the custom-designed oak door. Her eyes fixated on the panels of intricate carving as her mind processed what had happened. How did the police know to search the laundry room? A tip. Of course. Someone had to have told them where the gun was. Who? And why now? Why not right after Lionel was shot?

  The doorbell chimed, jolting her out of her thoughts. She lunged for the door and yanked it open. Thank goodness, Matt had arrived.

  “She was arrested!”

  “What happened?” He breezed past Hope. Dressed in torn jeans and a graphic T-shirt, he looked like he’d been enjoying some downtime.

  Hope recapped the events for Matt as she paced the foyer, from Elaine’s insistence she was in the clear to her being handcuffed.

  “Please tell me she said nothing.” He pressed his hands together as if he was praying.

  “She denied knowing about the gun. They didn’t search the whole house, only the laundry room. It feels like someone tipped them off.”

  Matt rested his hands on his hips. “Could be. But who? No one else lives here now.”

  “Iva Johnson cleans the house.” And Hope wouldn’t put it past her to go to the police and tattle on her employer.

  “I need to get to the police department. I hope Elaine has maintained her right to be silent.” Matt headed to the door and Hope followed.

  “You’d better get over there fast.” Hope doubted Elaine would remain silent. She followed Matt outside, pulling the door shut behind her.

  “So much for my day off for finishing some projects around the house.” He reached into his pants pocket for his car key on his way to his vehicle parked in the driveway.

  “Good thing you’re in town today.” Hope stopped walking and looked at Matt. Normally, his poker face shielded her from any insights of what he was thinking, but not at that moment. He looked concerned and, considering the police had found the probable murder weapon in his client’s home, he should be concerned.

  “If Elaine is telling the truth about the gun, how did it get into her house?”

  “You don’t have to worry about it.” He cocked his head to the side and his mask of concern disappeared. “I mean it, Hope. She’s my client. I’ll worry about whether someone planted the gun to frame her. Am I clear?”

  Hope nodded. “Crystal.”

  “Good.” Matt continued to his car, while Hope stood and considered her options. She could do what he said, and everyone would be happy—him, Ethan, Reid, and Claire. Or she could do what she thought was the right thing. Besides, she didn’t appreciate anyone telling her what to do.

  Hope took the long way home from Elaine’s house and ended up on Bennett Drive and parked in front of a shabby, ranch-style house. The front door opened, and a young man bolted out. She guessed he was Iva’s son. Dressed in baggy jeans and a dark T-shirt, his brown hair was uncombed and he was holding a cigarette.

  Hope drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and wondered if she’d made the right decision to stop by the Johnson home.

  Iva appeared next. She shouted to her son not to stay out late. He gave a dismissive wave as he climbed into a waiting car in their driveway.

  Iva watched the car back out, and that was when she noticed Hope’s SUV parked on the street. Whether it was a good idea or not, there wasn’t any going back for Hope. She grabbed her purse and exited her vehicle.

  “What are you doing here?” Iva called out. Dressed in skinny jeans and a loose shirt, she was barefoot, and her hair was tamed into a ponytail. Deep lines creased around her eyes, and her face was haggard. She took a drag of her cigarette.

  “I wanted to talk to you about your new part-time job.”

  Matt and the police would disapprove of her talking to a witness, but technically, Hope was there to talk to her employee. As she walked along the sidewalk, she was also bordering on the fine line between being helpful and interfering. She reached the small patch of front lawn.

  “Do you have time?”

  “Sure. But not too long. I have to take some food over to my mother.” Iva turned and entered her house. “Sorry for the mess. My days have been hectic.”

  “How’s your mother feeling?” Other than a few piles of papers and magazines, Hope didn’t see any messiness.

  “She has good days and bad days.” Iva dropped to a plaid upholstered chair.

  “Being a caregiver takes a lot out of a person.” Hope settled on the microfiber-covered sofa. The sofa, along with the two coordinating armchairs, appeared to be new and in good condition.

  “It is what it is. Now, what about the job did you want to discuss? I’m feeding the chickens and helping you with planting. Not exactly rocket science.”

  Iva’s flippant remark had Hope bristling. “No, it’s not rocket science, but it’s important. Aside from providing fresh water and feeding the chickens, you’ll collect eggs and look at each chicken every morning.”

  “Look at each chicken?” Iva rested her cigarette in the ashtray on the end table beside the chair.

  “We need to make sure they’re healthy. You want to see bright eyes, smooth feathers, and no indication they’re becoming ill. We need to be sure they’re active
and alert. Then you need to be sure they have clean droppings and make sure their bedding is adequate, freshen up their nest boxes, and clean and sanitize the watering cans. In addition, there are tasks that involve sanitizing the whole coop.”

  “Whoa. Lot of work goes into taking care of a few chicks.” Iva crossed her legs.

  “Do you still want the job?”

  “Sure. I’ll get the hang of it.”

  And Hope would have to supervise closely. “I’ll make up a document with all the chores and a schedule, plus a list of projects for the garden. I noticed you don’t have many plantings outside.”

  “Nope. Too busy working. A few years ago, I had a vegetable garden. Nothing like a fresh tomato off the vine.”

  Hope couldn’t agree more. “Great. It seems like we’re all set.”

  “We are? You don’t want to ask me about what I told the police?” Iva took a final inhale of her cigarette and then extinguished it. “People may think I’m trash, but I’m not stupid. You could’ve called me with the bird information. You want to know what happened at the Whitcomb house.”

  “First, let’s be clear. I never thought of you as trash. I’ve found you to be a difficult person to get to know, which made it impossible for us to be friends. Second, I’m sorry people have said you were trash. They shouldn’t have.”

  Iva remained silent for a few moments. She looked away for a beat and then looked back at Hope. “I can be difficult. I made a lot of bad choices over the years. Sometimes I blame others when I shouldn’t. Maybe this new gig at your place will help me do things better.”

  “Maybe. You discovered the gun, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I was there earlier today. I had laundry to do, nothing unusual. But when I went to get a pair of scissors from a drawer, I found the gun.” Iva uncrossed her legs. “I don’t know if it belonged to Mr. Whitcomb. But I knew for sure it didn’t belong in the drawer. So, I called the police.”

  “You didn’t ask Elaine about it?”

  “No. If it was the murder weapon, she’d just lie and maybe kill me too. You know, two people are already dead.”

  It sounded like Iva had done the right thing. Hope couldn’t fault her for being concerned for her own safety.

  “I still have the job?” Iva asked.

  “Yes, you do. As long as you follow my directions and don’t smoke in the barn or in my house.”

  Iva’s smile was genuine and lit up her face. “No problem. Thank you. You won’t regret it. I promise.”

  Hope left Iva’s home with reassurance she’d made the right decision. Now she had to tell her sister Iva would be working for her. A part of her would rather tell Detective Reid she’d questioned his witness.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hope bounded down the stairs feeling refreshed and energized. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the beautiful day that was shaping up or the fact that Claire had texted her last night asking to meet at the real estate office in the morning. She was thrilled her sister was getting back to work. Bigelow trotted after Hope, and when they arrived in the kitchen, they found Princess perched on the center island, rubbing her face with her paw.

  “Oh, no, no, no. There are rules in this house that are not negotiable. There’s no jumping on kitchen counters, missy.” Hope swooped up the cat and set her on the floor. She then reached into a drawer and pulled out disinfectant and sanitized the whole island. “How long have you been doing this?” She looked at the cat, who yawned before strutting away.

  Hope looked at Bigelow. “Do you know how long she’s been doing this?”

  Bigelow tilted his head sideways and gave her his best puppy-dog eyes. He wasn’t snitching on the cat.

  Hope put away her cleaning supplies and was ready to go out to the barn when she got a text from Drew.

  Elaine out on bail last night. In seclusion per Matt.

  Seclusion? Not a bad idea for Elaine.

  She texted him back.

  Thanks for update. Talk soon.

  A woof reminded her she had been on her way outside with Bigelow. She tapped her leg and he sprinted to the back door. After she pulled the door closed behind them, she noticed Iva’s beat-up old car in her driveway.

  Not seeing her new employee, Hope led Bigelow to the barn, and when they reached the open barn door, she stopped because she heard Iva talking.

  “Good morning, ladies. How’s everything going?” Iva’s voice sounded soft and kind. “I got you a special treat.”

  Alarm raised in Hope. What was Iva doing?

  “Sweet corn. We used to give our chickens corn on the cob. You know it’s good for your vision. And since you free-range, you need good eyesight.”

  Hope entered the barn. The hens had gathered around a galvanized pan and pecked at the ears of corn.

  “Good morning.”

  Iva turned around, and her broad smile stopped Hope in her tracks. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen Iva looking so happy.

  “Good morning.”

  “They’re enjoying the corn.” Hope moved farther into the barn with Bigelow beside her. Up close, she noticed a shine of lipstick and a sweep of blush on Iva’s oval face. The haggard look that had plagued her yesterday had diminished. “Since you’re here, why don’t you shadow me and get the girls outside.”

  “Sounds good.”

  For an hour, Iva worked alongside Hope and learned everything she needed to know about taking care of the chickens. She took direction well and appeared eager to do each task. By the time the hens were let out to free-range, Hope was confident her new employee would work out just fine. As long as boundaries were set and adhered to.

  “They don’t go far, do they?” Iva followed the birds and watched them walk around, pecking at bugs and meandering through flower beds. “The barn is big. Are you planning on getting any more animals?”

  “I’d like to, but I have a lot of work to do still in the house.”

  “Makes sense. I should go, unless you have other work for me?”

  “Not today. I have a question about what happened yesterday at Elaine’s house.” Hope walked with Iva toward the driveway. “When was the last time you did laundry?”

  Iva stopped at the driver’s side door. “Right after the funeral reception. Why?”

  Hope shrugged. “Just curious. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Sure will.” Iva walked back to her car and drove away.

  Hope pulled her cell phone from her back pants pocket and texted Drew. He’d given her an update on Elaine, but what about Miranda and Kitty? Were mother and daughter still being held? Or had they been released?

  Bigelow raced by her toward the mudroom. It was breakfast time, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t forget. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and picked up her pace to the house. She opened the door and Bigelow zipped by her, hurrying to his placement. He wasn’t very subtle.

  “I know. I know.” She dished out his kibble while she waited for Drew’s reply. “Here you go, boy.” She set down the stainless-steel bowl in front of him and then checked her phone again. A new text. But it was from Claire.

  See you soon.

  Claire added a smiley face.

  Hope was even more excited to find out what Claire was working on, because her sister didn’t do smiley faces.

  * * *

  Jefferson was being treated to a sneak peek of fall, thanks to a canopy of low clouds and a temperature hovering around seventy. Hope welcomed the cool weather and the opportunity to pull on a cardigan. She walked to Main Street and found Claire waiting in front of the real estate office.

  “Where have you been?” Claire uncrossed her arms and began walking. In place of her usual real estate agent clothing, she wore jeans, a tank top, and her favorite jeweled flip-flops.

  “I ran a little late this morning.” She dashed to catch up with her sister. Where were they going? “I was training a new employee.”

  “It’s about time you hired an assistant again.” />
  “Not exactly an assistant. She’s helping me with the chickens in the morning, and with the gardening.”

  “Who did you hire?” Claire asked.

  “Iva Johnson.”

  Claire halted and gave Hope a look that should have had her running for cover. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Well, make sure you keep your front door locked.” Claire continued walking. “I don’t understand why you keep taking in strays. You can’t save everyone, Hope.”

  “I’m not trying to save her. Did you know her mother is ill?”

  “A lot of people have sad stories. You remember she stole from me?”

  “You couldn’t prove it. You didn’t report it to the police.”

  “Because it was a fake diamond bracelet.”

  “Fake?”

  “The real one is in a safe. I purchased the fake one to take on the cruise.” Claire stopped again, this time in front of a storefront that had been vacant since the beginning of the summer.

  “Here we are.” Claire unlocked the door and entered. “Come on in.”

  “What’s going on? I don’t need a retail shop.” Though maybe having a boutique wasn’t a bad idea. She could sell dishes, cookware, and her cookbooks. She could hold cooking demonstrations. All the content she could produce raced through her mind.

  “No. This space isn’t for you. It’s for me.” Claire stepped farther into the empty retail space. Charmingly small, it’d been an antique shop for as long as Hope could remember. The name had changed dozens of times. Now, empty of inventory and shelving, all that remained was its warped oak floor and ancient sales counter.

  “For you? What are you talking about? Are you opening your own real estate agency?”

  “No. Though I am starting my own business.” Claire walked to the counter. A layer of dust covered the distressed wood top. “I’m going to be a home stager. I’ve had requests from clients over the years, but I always had to say no because I didn’t have time. Now I’m going to make the time.”

  “That’s wonderful!”