Cast Iron Alibi

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Cast Iron Alibi Page 15

by Victoria Hamilton


  “I only know what I’ve heard from Jaymie about you all,” Val said. She asked Courtney about her job, selling hospital equipment, and the woman launched into a detailed explanation of her day-to-day tasks. After, when there was silence, Val turned to Brandi. “I don’t know a thing about your husband. What’s his name again?”

  “Terry.”

  “Where is he from? And how did you two meet?”

  She shrugged. “We met at a bar. Where else do you meet guys?”

  “You live in Ohio, right? Is that where you met him?”

  “Sure.”

  “He was born and raised a buckeye, he always says,” Courtney added, glancing at her friend, then looking to Val. “I knew Terry before I knew Brandi.”

  Melody glanced between Val, Jaymie, Courtney and Brandi. With an innocent gaze, she said, “Do you and his folks get along, Brandi? That’s been a problem between Andrew and me. I can’t stand his mom and dad,” she said mendaciously. Andrew’s mom and dad both lived elsewhere and were not often present, if at all. “How are his parents, Terry’s mom and dad?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know his dad. His mom is okay. She’s pretty quiet, but she takes all the kids when I need her to.”

  “So his dad is alive? Dead? Absent?”

  “I’ve never met him,” she said. “Why the interest in Terry’s dad all of a sudden?”

  “No reason. Just making conversation,” Mel said.

  There was a noise behind them, above, on the laneway, and Hoppy stood, yipping once. Gabriela, shadowed closely by Tiffany, joined them at the fire. For someone who had spent the day with her husband and much-loved child, Gabriela did not seem cheerful, and kept shooting unhappy glances at her sister-in-law, who also looked gloomy.

  This was turning into the vacation from hell, Jaymie thought. But . . . it was her vacation from hell, so . . . tallyho. Pasting on a cheery smile, she said, “Hey, you two. How was your day? Gabriela, you must have been happy to see Logan and Fenix!”

  She smiled, the first genuine smile in a while. “It was nice to see Fenix. I miss her already, coming back here to the cottage. I wish I was with her.”

  Jaymie narrowed her eyes. Was her friend preparing the way to go stay with her husband, cutting her girls-only vacation short? “I miss my hubby and daughter too. I’d love to have Jakob and Jocie here with me. If you want to go back to the inn, to be with Logan and Fenix, you can go, Gabriela. I want you to do what makes you happy.”

  Tiffany sniffed and looked perturbed. “One out of two ain’t bad,” she muttered.

  Gabriela shot her a frightened look, and it looked like pleading in her eyes.

  What was going on? Jaymie, troubled, didn’t know what to say or where to go with the conversation.

  But Mel had no such qualms. “Tiffany, you and Gabriela have a fight? You seem peeved.”

  The woman bridled, and shot the writer a dirty look. “Gabriela and I have our differences. It’s private.”

  “Okay, so don’t scowl and mutter then,” Mel said. “Classic passive aggressive: act out, make people ask what’s wrong, and then refuse to discuss it.”

  “I am not passive aggressive,” Tiffany said, glaring at the writer. “I’ll have you know, I have no problem calling you out. In fact, let’s start with you; you’re full of crap. You think you’re hot because you’re some author of sickly sweet fantasy romance. I’ve seen your stuff online. It’s junk.”

  Oh, crap, Jaymie thought, eyeing her friend. Her work was the one thing Mel truly cared about.

  But she perked up, looking like she was enjoying herself. Her eyes gleamed in wicked joy. “You’ve never read a romance novel, I’ll bet. Certainly not one of mine.”

  “No, I read proper fiction.”

  “Proper fiction? What’s that?”

  The group had gone still, all watching the spat.

  “Literary fiction,” Tiffany sniffed. “You know, real writing.”

  “Like what?”

  Tiffany sputtered, opened her mouth, but then closed it.

  “No, come on; you said literary fiction,” Melody goaded. “So, who? Alice Walker? Cormac McCarthy? Toni Morrison? Ishiguro? Naipaul? Fowles? Who do you read?”

  Eyes wide, seething with anger, Tiffany was silent, her glare stony, but exhibiting uncertainty.

  “Like I thought, you don’t read at all,” Mel said, contempt in her curling lip. “But this isn’t about that; this isn’t about books, and certainly not about my books. This is about you casting your gloom over everything and then acting passive aggressive when you’re called on it. If you have a problem with Gabriela, why don’t you say it out loud?”

  “Melody, please,” Gabriela said, folding her hands in a prayerful gesture. “Don’t . . . just . . . don’t.” She choked back a sob. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed.” She jumped up and stomped off.

  Tiffany rose more slowly, and glared around at them all, the firelight gleaming on her bronzed face. It looked like she had a tanning session during the day, probably at the Queensville Inn. “You think you know Gabriela, but you don’t know anything at all. You have no idea what she’s capable of. Except for maybe you, Brandi.” She stomped off up to the cottage.

  Thirteen

  “What did that mean?” Rachel asked. “Brandi, you spend more time with Gabriela than the rest of us. What does that mean? And what is up Tiffany’s butt?”

  “She never liked Gabriela,” Brandi said, rolling her eyes and sighing. “Tiffany is a pill. She’s a self-righteous stooge. And she brags constantly. No one in town likes her. She’s petty. If you look at her the wrong way she will get back at you, find a way to blacken your name. Trust me, she’s tried with me, but luckily I have no name to blacken! It’s already coal.”

  They all laughed, and Jaymie appreciated the comic relief, but the encounter left her unsettled. “What do you think she meant, what she said about Gabriela? About one out of two ain’t bad, earlier? And that we don’t know what Gabriela is capable of?”

  Brandi shrugged and didn’t answer.

  “Brandi, Tiffany actually singled you out as someone who would know what Gabriela was capable of,” Jaymie said.

  Brandi shook her head and shrugged again. What had Gabriela done that was worthy of such disdain? Mel and Jaymie exchanged looks. Their friend, if she knew anything, was not about to divulge it. Maybe it was some cruel town gossip that she didn’t wish to spread.

  “Tomorrow evening is the dinner cruise, folks,” Jaymie said, standing and stretching. “An all-you-can-eat perch dinner, or chicken for those who don’t like fish, and entertainment. I bought tickets a couple of weeks ago, but I need to buy two extra tickets, for Tiffany and Courtney, at the Emporium tomorrow. Anyone want to go to Queensville with me and see the town, such as it is?”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I promised Tansy I’d work again tomorrow. But I’m on for the dinner cruise! I wouldn’t miss it; it sounds lovely,” Rachel said. She got out her cell phone. “I’m going to send you the money for the ticket, though. There is no way you should be on the hook for that.”

  “I appreciate it, Rach. And if you’re working for Tansy tomorrow that’s okay, sweetie. How about the rest of you?”

  They all agreed that Queensville sounded good, and turned in for the night.

  • • •

  The next morning they let Rachel shower first, as she had to dash to work, and the rest took turns. Tiffany, as before, took an inordinate amount of time showering, then even longer doing her hair, her makeup, and ironing her clothes.

  Ironing. Her clothes. While vacationing in a cottage. It was bizarre to Jaymie, but she reminded herself that not everyone has the same standards. Maybe she appeared slovenly to Tiffany, but vacation was a time for flip-flops, tank tops and shorts. Though she supposed she’d look a little more decent to go into Queensville, like . . . best walking shorts and a clean tank top.

  Fortunately, Tiffany’s extended toilette, while the others relaxed with their phones
or books, gave Jaymie time to have a face-to-face with Jakob and Jocie, where it was late afternoon. She retreated to a shady spot in front of the vintage trailer so she’d have a cute backdrop. “Hey, honey!” she said, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. “I miss you, my Jocie!”

  Jocie waved and laughed, and then chattered nonstop. She had been to a zoo, and saw her first camel, she petted a giraffe, and kissed a hippopotamus. She sang a snatch of “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas”—their favorite song to sing together—and then, in a solemn voice, told Jaymie that the zoo had been a hiding place for escaping Jews during the Second World War.

  Then, in the lightning-fast shift of childhood, she chattered more about her cousins. She was learning Polish, and taught Jaymie how to say What price is the Paçzki?

  “Now what is a Paçzki?” Jaymie asked.

  “It’s a doughnut!” Jocie said. “So good! We had an eating contest, but I didn’t win.” She named a boy cousin who won, Piotr, then made a face. “He can eat all day,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder. Then her sweet round face, framed in blonde curls, got serious. “I miss you, Mama. I cried last night. Daddy says we’ll be home soon, but it’s only been a few days. How am I going to stand it?”

  “You’ve got Daddy, and all your new cousins.”

  Jocie made a face, wrinkling her button nose. “I said I missed my mama, and my cousin Piotr said you weren’t my real mama,” she whispered. “That I only had one mom, and she was in heaven.”

  Jaymie took in a deep breath. How to handle this? “Sweetie, you tell your cousin that yes, your mom is in heaven, and you miss her, but that I asked if I could be your mama on earth so we could be happy together and I could take care of you. Okay?”

  She smiled, a radiant, happy expression, which then fell. “I still miss you. I wish you were here. Daddy misses you too.”

  Jaymie choked back a fit of weeping, her heart aching. It was just ten days; she had to remember that. And they had only been gone a few . . . less than a week! “My sweet girl, think of all you’ll have to tell me! Are you writing it all down in the diary I gave you?”

  Jocie nodded and sniffed. “I am.”

  “Then write, every day. Write it all down so you won’t forget it. Take pictures, too, and write about what’s in the pictures. Then you can tell me everything. We’ll come out here and stay in the trailer, just you and me, for a night. We’ll stay up all night talking.”

  Jocie nodded. “Okay. Daddy wants to talk now and make kissy noises at you,” she said, handing over the tablet with a giggle. She ran away, yelling at her cousin that she had talked to her mama, and had something to tell him.

  Jakob’s dear face appeared. A choking sob surprised her, and she touched the screen. “I miss you.”

  “I wish you were here. I miss talking to you every night. I miss holding and kissing you.”

  He looked tired. This must be taking an emotional toll on him, being with Jocie’s grandparents. Inevitably Inga’s sad life and fate would be the subject of much adult conversation. The pain would be fresh for the family. It was a lifetime for Jocie, but the passage of a very few years for them, having lost their daughter far too young. Jakob would be constantly trying to keep it light for Jocie, balancing letting her know that her mother loved her, and didn’t intend to leave her, with the truth: Inga’s life and death had not been easy.

  The conversation was over too soon. Jocie had one more thing to say; she reappeared on-screen and reminded Jaymie to enroll her in dance classes for September.

  After they all signed off, Jaymie shut down the tablet and set it aside. She closed her eyes, letting the emotion wash through her, walking through it, feeling it, missing her husband and daughter, but reminded herself they would be home soon. Missing them deeply meant she loved them deeply, and she was grateful for that. Ten days was nothing; military families all over the world had to bear separations of months, sometimes years. She was certainly strong enough to stand ten days.

  Right now she had more to think about. She realized she had not mentioned any of it to Jakob. Normally they would discuss it all in detail; he never asked her not to try to figure things out when it came to murder. He trusted her gut and her instincts and knew she would be careful. But this time he was far from home; he would worry, knowing he could not be there in a minute if she needed him. It had not been a conscious decision and she had not purposely withheld it from him, but still . . . she’d tell him all when he came home.

  “You ready, Jaymie?” Melody called from the back porch of the cottage.

  “I am,” she said, dashing away the last tears clinging to her eyelashes. “Let’s go.”

  It was another ferociously hot, humid day, the heat clinging and cloying, perspiration a constant film on Jaymie’s neck and forehead. It was worse the moment you emerged from the shade into the sun. They took the ferry, Hoppy on his harness, and ambled into the village. The Emporium was the first stop, since Jaymie had to buy two more spots for the dinner cruise. Val had to check in with the pharmacist who was taking her place, and then go home to spend some time with Denver, whose nose was out of joint from her absence. He was accustomed to Val’s full attention. She would meet them in a couple of hours at the Queensville Inn for lunch.

  The group visited Jewel’s Junk, and the Cottage Shoppe, and then finished at Queensville Fine Antiques, Jaymie’s sister and brother-in-law’s store. Becca and Kevin were not there; they were both in London, Ontario, at the moment, with Jaymie’s Grandma Leighton, taking her to visit family in a nearby town. Georgina, Kevin’s frosty sister, who didn’t much like Jaymie or anyone, it occasionally seemed, was looking after the shop alone.

  After dawdling, they walked to the Queensville Inn, a few streets away. They approached along the road, and Jaymie glanced up a grassy sloped lawn to the modern part of the inn, built to create more rooms and suites to fit more guests. Mrs. Stubbs’s son owned the inn and had created, for his mother, a ground-floor suite with a wheelchair-accessible bathroom, a kitchenette, and a patio that overlooked the street. The woman was sitting in her mobility chair in the open doorway, reading a book. Jaymie called out and waved. Mrs. Stubbs beckoned.

  “Come up and see Mrs. Stubbs,” Jaymie said, motioning to the rest of them.

  They scaled the yellowing grassy incline up to the patio block terrace. The elderly woman regarded them all, a flicker of recognition in her eyes when her gaze passed over Gabriela and Tiffany. Hoppy danced around at the feet of one of his favorite people, someone who always had a cookie to share.

  “You remember my friends, from the wedding?” she said to the woman.

  “Of course I remember,” she said. “Though I don’t remember your names, and some of you have different hair.” She squinted and frowned. “Mebbe I don’t remember you all.”

  It wasn’t surprising Mrs. Stubbs didn’t remember them. The wedding was a year and a half ago, and her friends didn’t mingle much, mostly sticking among themselves. After reintroducing them, she said, “Mrs. S., if you don’t mind, can Hoppy sit with you while we have our lunch in the restaurant? I didn’t think about it when I brought him along. If it’s trouble, I can take him back to be with Georgina at the antique store.”

  “Good lord, sentence him to time with Georgina Brevard?” Mrs. Stubbs said of Becca’s sister-in-law. “My little doggie friend is more than welcome to visit for an hour.”

  “I can leave him with you now, then,” Jaymie said. She unhooked his harness and set him inside with Mrs. Stubbs, and closed the screen door so he couldn’t dash back out. “I’ll be back in a little while to retrieve my fella.”

  Jaymie led the way as Tiffany, Courtney, Brandi, Gabriela and Melody trudged after her, an oddly assorted and discordant group. This vacation was going to be an endurance event; who could last the longest with sanity intact? Now that they had lost Rachel’s inevitably cheery outlook for most of the day, Melody’s sarcastic cynicism was the semi-bright spot.

  They entered the front door
s of the inn to the cool dim interior, and from the hall passed through the double doors of the restaurant. It had been redecorated a year ago to be clean, calm, and elegant. Jaymie was grateful for the air-conditioning. The hostess was leading them to a table by the big bay window overlooking the street when Tiffany said, pointing, “Oh, hey, Gabriela, there’s Logan and Fenix. Let’s sit with them.”

  The hostess paused and frowned, glancing over at the small table in the corner, where Gabriela’s husband and little girl were sitting. “I’m sorry. There’s not room for your whole party at that table.”

  “I’m sure Jaymie won’t mind if Gabriela and I sit with our family,” Tiffany said. She stalked away.

  “I’m sorry, Jaymie, I am,” Gabriela muttered. “But I ought to . . . I should . . . I’d better go sit with them.”

  “You do whatever you want,” Jaymie replied, forcing a cheery note into her tone.

  “It’s not what I want, but it’s what . . . I’ll see you later.”

  “I can come over and say hi to Logan and—”

  “No, it’s okay, Jaymie, just go have lunch.” She headed over to the table and picked up her little girl, kissing her face all over as the child giggled.

  “Aaaand . . . we’ve lost her,” Melody said, watching the family reunion. “But on the bright side, we lost Tiffany too. I count that a win.”

  The hostess seated them, and a waiter soon arrived with menus. Val texted that she’d be a while and not to wait for her. The pharmacy delivery driver was off sick, and so her replacement pharmacist wouldn’t be able to deliver until after hours, so she had volunteered to fill in for an hour. Jaymie texted back an okay. They took a few moments with the menus. Brandi ordered a Caesar drink and salad, saying she was going for a theme. Courtney ordered identically—of course—while Melody ordered the chicken tortellini salad and an iced tea. Jaymie, knowing the fish dinner on the cruise would be marvelous, ordered a green salad. The struggle to keep fitting into her summer shorts was real.

 

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