Three Widows and a Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “I already had my blog in place when the show ended. I’m not sure I can give you advice about what you should do next,” Hope said.

  “I was thinking I could write a book about my betrayal and the hurt of being lied to by the man I loved. An autobiography,” Rona said.

  “You’d be writing a memoir, not an autobiography, which focuses on the chronology of your life.” Sally reached for the box of brownies. “Memoirs cover a specific aspect of your life, like being married to a bigamist.”

  Rona stared for a long moment. Hope guessed she was processing Sally’s explanation.

  “You know a lot about books.”

  Sally leveled her gaze at Rona and her lips pursed. “I’m a retired librarian. Perhaps you should visit the library to reacquaint yourself with books before you try to write one.” With the box of brownies, she crossed the hall into the dining room. “I’ll plate these,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Well, whatever, I’m sure I can find a ghostwriter. I’ve gotta make this sham of a marriage pay off somehow. I’ll email you if I have questions, Hope. Thanks!” Rona headed to the front door and disappeared outside.

  After the door closed, Jane leaned over the desk. “I didn’t hear you offer to help her.”

  “I didn’t,” Hope confirmed.

  “Is she gone?” Miranda appeared in the doorway of the living room. She looked more worn down than the last time Hope had seen her after she was released from the police department. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and not in a chic way. Her skin was splotchy and her dark brows were heavy. The recent events had definitely taken a toll on her.

  “Yes, she is,” Jane said.

  “I came in from the patio, but I heard her voice.” Miranda walked to the reception desk to join Hope and Jane. “She has some ghastly idea I’ll contribute to her autobiography. She hasn’t left me alone for a minute.”

  “Memoir,” Jane corrected.

  “Whatever it’s called, I want no part,” Miranda said.

  “She’s leaving today. How long are you staying?” Hope asked.

  “Indefinitely. I’m moving into Kitty’s apartment. I have to settle Lionel’s estate, and I want to stay for Kitty. I can’t believe she killed two people. Never in a million years would I have thought my baby was capable of such a thing. I’ve barely slept or eaten.” Miranda’s chin trembled as she reached into her pants pocket for a tissue. “I keep thinking about them. Especially the chef, Maurice. My heart aches for his family. Where did I go wrong?”

  “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.” Hope was speaking from experience. After she learned Kitty had eavesdropped on her call with Drew about Maurice seeing Lionel just before his murder, she’d gone into a funk. She’d taken on all the responsibility for Maurice’s murder. Luckily, as the days went on and her head cleared, she realized the person responsible for Maurice’s death was Kitty.

  “Ken and I should’ve told her the truth years ago.” Miranda dabbed her eyes with the tissue. “Excuse me.” She dashed around Hope and up the staircase.

  “That poor woman.” Jane walked out from behind the desk and linked her arm with Hope’s. “It’s sad what lies can do to a family, to a person.” She patted Hope’s hand and put on a smile. They both knew there wasn’t much to smile about, but it was a lot better than crying. “Let’s have a brownie.”

  “Good idea.”

  Jane and Hope headed to the dining room. “I suggest we focus on something positive and not all the sadness. We have so many wonderful things happening. I’ve heard Claire has staged a house for Kent and we have the parade coming up.”

  Hope patted Jane’s hand. “You’re right. We do have a lot of good things happening. I got to see the house Claire staged. She did an amazing job.”

  “I’ve been thinking it would be nice for Claire to donate her services for the holiday house tour auction.” Jane let go of Hope’s arm as they entered the dining room.

  Sally had plated the brownies and set out three glasses of milk.

  “Of course she’ll donate her services to the auction,” Sally said from the table. She’d already helped herself to a brownie. “Claire knows what important work the women’s club does every year.”

  “I’ll talk to her about it.” Hope sat across from Sally while Jane took the seat next to her sister-in-law. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to donate.” Hope bit into a brownie and savored the crunch of the sprinkles, the creaminess of the frosting, and the moistness of the cake.

  They fell into a conversation that had nothing to do with murder as they enjoyed their snack. Hope also enjoyed a second brownie.

  Hope’s visit to the inn ran longer than she’d expected and, from the number of voice mails on her phone, she’d missed a lot of calls. Including one from the editor of Cooking Now. They’d been playing phone tag, and Hope wanted to tell her she’d decided about the open position. She was about to call Anna but was sidetracked by a near run-in with Maretta as Hope exited the inn.

  “Everyone is looking at their phones rather than where they’re walking.” Maretta tilted her chin and her lips pinched. Her bright coral sheath dress with cap sleeves didn’t match the sour mood she seemed to be in.

  “My apologies. I’m in a hurry and trying to multitask.” Hope slipped her phone back into her purse. She’d call the editor later.

  “I guess it’s not a big deal.” Maretta’s lips eased into a relaxed line and her tone lost its sharpness.

  Hope wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Maretta wasn’t going to continue to reprimand her for not looking where she was going? Rather, she was being civil and understanding? Oh, no, was she ill?

  “I’m actually glad we’ve run into each other.” Maretta tucked a lock of her mousy brown hair behind her ear, revealing bow-shaped, silver-tone earrings. Since becoming mayor, she’d definitely broken out of her drab fashion rut.

  “You are?” Hope was really worried about Maretta. While they weren’t close, Hope had known the older woman since childhood and cared about her. How ill was Maretta? It had to be bad.

  “On behalf of the town, thank you for your help in bringing to justice the killer who had terrorized our beloved Jefferson.”

  Maretta was now scaring Hope. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Maretta’s lips pinched again. “I’m perfectly well. I’m carrying out my duty as Jefferson’s mayor and acknowledging your unrequired assistance in all this nasty business.” And the sharpness in her tone returned as well.

  “Thank you. I appreciate the recognition.” Though it came with an admonishment, Hope was still happy to have it. And she was happy Maretta wasn’t ill. Maybe there was hope for her as mayor after all.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting I have to get to. Running this town is a never-ending job. I assume I can count on you to volunteer for the back-to-school backpack drive?”

  “Yes. I’m meeting with the committee next week. I’m baking mini-apple pies for the event.” Hope planned to tie the annual event into a blog post about helping families in need of school supplies. She’d banded together a group of food bloggers last year to cross-promote their blogs to raise awareness. In the food blogging community, she’d found virtually the same type of community in which she lived. Another reason she loved her work so much.

  “I’m sure they’ll be a hit like your baking always is. I must get going.” Maretta took off, headed for Town Hall.

  Wow. A formal thank you and a compliment from Maretta. Maybe it was Hope who was dying and didn’t know it. She chuckled. No, she was perfectly fine. She was just surprised by a woman she really thought couldn’t surprise her.

  The drive from the inn to her house would only take a few minutes if she went directly home. But she didn’t. She made a last-minute decision as she pulled out of her parking space to take the long way home, past Elaine’s house. Traffic was light, a cool breeze blew, and her favorite eighties station was commercial free for the afternoon.

&nbs
p; She’d tried calling Elaine several times over the past week, but apparently, the woman was still in seclusion and not communicating with the outside world. Hope couldn’t blame her. Her life had been turned upside down, and she had legal issues to deal with. Halfway to the Whitcomb house, Hope’s phone rang, and she answered it through the hands-free program in her car.

  “How’s Long Island?”

  Drew had finally gotten away for his vacation out on New York’s Long Island with his college buddies.

  “Freakin’ amazing. You should see this house. I got lost twice. The place is so big, I think it has its own zip code.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Beyond. We’re about to head out on his family’s yacht. Not a boat. It’s a yacht.”

  “La-di-da. How fancy.” She laughed. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. You’ve earned it.”

  “Tell me about it. No deadlines, no Norrie Jennings, no murders. What’s going on back home?”

  “Not too much. Maretta thanked me for my assistance with the investigation.”

  “What the . . . Is she feeling okay?”

  Hope laughed again. “Yes, she’s fine. She informed me she was doing her duty as mayor by recognizing my assistance, which wasn’t asked for.”

  “Yeah, she’s okay.” Drew’s voice faded and came back. “Oh, on my way. Gotta go, Hope. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye,” she said, but the line had disconnected.

  Drew was gone. Off to the yacht. She tried not to be too envious. A day cruising on a yacht sounded really nice. So did her date night with Ethan. Yeah, that put a smile back on her face. He was coming over after work, which now ended at a reasonable time, thanks to the two solved murders.

  The turn to Elaine’s road was coming up, and she slowed down as she maneuvered her vehicle around the corner. Up ahead, she spotted the sign on the expansive lawn.

  For Sale.

  The sign wasn’t much of a shocker. Hope didn’t think Elaine would end up with much after Miranda successfully proved she and Lionel had never divorced. But still, it wasn’t a pleasant thing to see.

  Hope drove her car up the driveway and glimpsed Elaine standing on her front steps with a woman she didn’t recognize. After Hope had parked her car, she stepped out and waved to Elaine. The woman next to Elaine said something and then disappeared inside the house.

  “Hi, Hope.” Elaine started toward Hope, and they met halfway.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you. You haven’t answered my calls or texts.”

  “You’re worried about me.” Elaine held her arms wide open and embraced Hope. “I’m so fortunate to have such a good friend.”

  “Glad you’re doing okay.” Hope was overwhelmed by Elaine’s fruity perfume. Her eyes watered. She wriggled free and then wiped her eyes dry with her hand.

  “I’ve been so busy meeting with lawyers and real estate agents.” Elaine turned to face her house. Her makeup was flawless and she wore one of her signature wrap dresses with shimmery, metallic, high-heeled sandals. Having her life crash down around her hadn’t dampened her style.

  “I’m sorry you have to sell your house.”

  “Me too. But don’t worry, I’ve decided to stay in Jefferson.”

  Hope wasn’t sure how she felt about Elaine staying in town. A part of her believed under all the makeup and cosmetic enhancements there was a kind person. Another part of her believed Elaine was a self-absorbed, social-climbing opportunist who didn’t understand the concept of friendship. Talk about torn.

  “I’ll miss this house. It’s the first one I loved.” She cast a serious look on Hope. Maybe if she hadn’t had Botox regularly, she would have looked more melancholy.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s happening with Lionel’s estate?” Over the past few days, Hope had heard bits and pieces of speculation through various sources. It made her even more curious.

  “Miranda gets it all because she was still legally married to Lionel when he died. My lawyer says I can contest, but I don’t want a long, drawn-out legal battle. We settled amicably. I get half of this sale and I keep my car and all the personal items Lionel gave me.” She raised her right hand and wiggled her fingers, flashing a megasize diamond cocktail ring.

  “Wow. Good for you.”

  Elaine’s head bobbed up and down. “What about you? How are you doing? Almost getting killed and all. I kind of feel I’m partly to blame because I asked you to help.”

  Hope’s first instinct was to agree with Elaine, but the truth was, she could’ve easily turned Elaine down when she came to her. She had to admit that she loved a mystery and couldn’t stay out of them. She had to take responsibility for her part in the situation.

  “I’m doing fine. Though it was a little scary while it was happening.”

  “I know scary.” Elaine turned and took a long look around the front lawn. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been all on my own. Not even a housekeeper.” She sighed.

  Equating not having a housekeeper to having a crazed killer come at you with a knife wasn’t exactly the same thing. Not wanting to undo the progress in their relationship, though, Hope bit back her response.

  “I guess I’ll have to find work.” Elaine batted her eyelashes and placed a hand on her jutted-out hip.

  “Have you ever had a job?” Hope pressed her lips together. She probably shouldn’t have asked the question.

  “A few. Between husbands.” Elaine looked back at Hope. “You know, I think you’ve inspired me. I could start a fashion blog. Share my sense of style with the world. I mean, how hard can it be? I can strike a pose.”

  Hope glanced at her watch. She had nowhere to be other than home to write a blog post and prepare dinner, but her welfare check on Elaine had come to an end.

  “I should let you get back to your real estate agent.” She turned and hurried to her car.

  A dreadful feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. If Elaine stayed in Jefferson and started a blog, there’d be no getting rid of her. She’d be pestering Hope nonstop for advice. If Hope got lucky, Elaine would be like most people and give up blogging after a few weeks, either because they were bored or didn’t have the commitment to put in the hard work.

  Seated behind the wheel of her car, she grabbed the gearshift, ready to back out of the driveway, when a knocking at her window drew her attention. She lowered the window to see what Elaine wanted now.

  “Let’s do lunch next week. You can tell me everything I need to know about blogging. Okay?”

  “I’ll call you.” Hope wondered if Claire knew of a rich, eligible man who lived in another town far, far away. Maybe in another state. She’d have to ask.

  * * *

  Hope carried the platter of grilled-to-perfection burgers to the table. After the deadly events in town and having her life threatened by a murderer, she appreciated the normalcy of a quiet dinner at home with Ethan. It was a perfect date night.

  That was until Drew and Claire crashed it.

  With two extra place settings added, they gathered around the table to enjoy a simple meal of grilled burgers and homemade potato salad. She’d made the potato salad when she filmed the video earlier. The best thing about being a food blogger was that she always had food in the refrigerator for unexpected company.

  Over dinner, Hope filled everyone in on Elaine’s plans for the future and Drew shared his most excellent adventure on Long Island. He didn’t leave out one luxurious, over-the-top detail, from lounging poolside to yachting to a last-minute helicopter flight into New York City for a private party.

  “It was way too short,” he said, reaching for his water glass. “But we’ll get together again in the spring.” His smile stretched from ear to ear.

  Claire would not be outdone in the good news department. She told them how much the owner of the cottage loved her staging. She also mentioned she had a new client lined up.

  “And she roped me into helping her clean the shop.” Hope spooned out another helping
of the potato salad as silence descended around the table and she stared at her dinner companions in confusion. “What?”

  A hearty chorus of laughter broke the silence.

  “You want us to believe you would turn down scrubbing and cleaning something?” Ethan asked between bouts of laughter.

  Hope rolled her eyes and nodded. “Okay, okay. So I guess I didn’t get roped in to anything.”

  “You think?” Drew’s face was beet red from laughing so hard.

  “Go ahead, laugh.” Hope tried hard to keep a straight face, but it was pointless. She joined in, and it felt good. Really good. If it hadn’t been for her sister’s quick action, Hope wasn’t sure if she’d be sitting there right now.

  “Have you decided about the magazine?” Claire leaned into her chair after she signaled she was full by pushing away her plate and dropping her napkin on the table, leaving half her dinner uneaten.

  Hope nodded. “I declined the position.”

  Ethan’s brows drew together. “What about the attractive, steady paycheck?”

  “Been there, done that. It’s more important to do what I love. I’ve worked hard to build my blog and I don’t want to give it up.” What she didn’t share was that the temptation was almost overwhelming, so much so she’d come very close to accepting the job.

  “How did the editor take it?” Claire asked.

  “She was disappointed, but we discussed a collaboration for next spring. I’m very excited about it.”

  “I think you made the right decision.” Ethan raised his bottle of beer and smiled.

  “There’s more good news. Princess seems to be calming down.” Hope looked around for the cat, but she wasn’t in sight, while Bigelow was in view and occupied with a chew toy filled with peanut butter.

  Claire looked skeptical. “She’s not going to pounce anymore?”

  “She’s a cat, so she’ll probably continue to do that. But so far, she hasn’t knocked anything else off any surfaces. My Christmas ornaments might be safe.”