by Kate Young
“No, I know where I’m going. Thank you, sweetie.” The white-haired lady moseyed on her way.
“Heavens. Listen to me prattling on while your hands are full. Here, let me take the other box.” Harper made her way around the counter to help me.
“Thanks.”
As I walked beside Harper to the conference room, I could clearly read she struggled with discussing what had her so upset. Her eyes kept skating back to me. I set the box on the back table next to the one Harper had placed and began opening up the boxes and setting out the refreshments. I noticed she hadn’t yet left the room.
When her fourth glance lingered, I couldn’t help myself. “Harper, hon, I wish you’d talk to me. I hope you know that I’m your friend and you can trust me.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I really don’t want to impose, and the meeting’s about to start.”
“We have time.” I smiled and hoped for late arrivals. “Please. I’m all ears.”
“Um”—she put her fingers to her lips and closed the distance of a few feet between us—“I was wondering if I could ask for a little free advice.”
If by “free advice” she meant from my PI job, I was indeed all ears. I couldn’t commit to any work without my Uncle Calvin’s consent; being the boss and all, he had the final say on every case we took. “Sure. Have a seat and tell me how I can help.” I took one of the vacant seats, and she perched on the edge of the one next to me.
Harper leaned closer, her voice edging on a whisper. “If I wanted to find someone, is there somewhere you’d recommend I look? Websites, forums, or whatnot?”
“Are we talking about someone close to you?”
She nodded her head a little too forcefully, and a few strands of hair escaped her bun. “Yes. My aunt. I really need to find her.”
I studied her for a few moments, and she seemed a little jumpy. She always seemed like the nervous type, but this took it to a whole new level. The old adage Gran used to use, “ants in her pants,” came to mind. “How long have you been out of touch?”
“My God!” Laughter drifted into the room, and Mel breezed in with her arms loaded. “I’m so out of shape.” She paused when she noticed us. “Lyla, you left your trunk open.”
“Oh, I forgot about the coffee and tea.” I rose and glanced apologetically toward Harper, who’d hopped up at the same time I had. I mouthed, “One sec.”
“Don’t worry. Amelia is grabbing it. She got here right after me.” Melanie strode across the room. “I’m here bearing cookie confections and espresso fudge from that new little fudge shop on the square. I just can’t get enough of that stuff.” Melanie, my boisterous, chattering, never-at-a-loss-for-words best friend, brought immense energy to the room. We’d been inseparable since the first day of kindergarten. We’d been through everything together—first loves, first heartbreaks, major family issues, and her divorce. We always had each other’s backs, no matter what. Figuratively and quite literally. Not only was her business right next door to Cousins, but my townhouse also backed right up to hers. She got me like no one else.
“Oh, hi, Melanie,” Harper said, and took a step away from me. Her eyes kept skirting toward the door. “Rosa with you?” I wondered what that was about. Maybe she thought since Rosa worked for the police department, she could help too.
“No. Rosa has to work. How are you doing, Harper? You haven’t been to the shop in a while. I’ve missed seeing you,” Mel said while she began setting out the cookies she’d brought.
“I’ve been busy.” Harper glanced around as if she were looking for an escape. It was so unlike her. Sure, she was usually quieter than the rest of us, but she’d become more vocal as of late. It was almost like she was climbing back into her shell.
“This coffee smells amazing.” In strolled Amelia Klein, carrying the crate. She, Mel, and I were the core members of the group. We set every meeting and made sure our social media group remained active. Amelia and her lovely husband, Ethan, were transplants. Born and raised in Maryland, Amelia had been thrilled to find our little group a few years ago after her husband’s job brought them to the metro area. She had a tight, curly mix of silver and black hair she’d decided to never color, big chocolate-brown eyes, and a flawless copper-colored complexion.
“Thank you. I got caught up chatting with Harper and forgot I left the coffee and tea in the trunk.”
“No problem. I’ll have this coffee brewed in a second.”
I turned to the side, blocking the other’s view. I kept my tone low. “Sorry for the interruption.” Harper’s wariness made me more concerned about her situation. “Would you like to continue this discussion in the other room?”
“No.” Harper smoothed her hair back. “I better go finish up out front. Later, okay?
“Sure.” I leaned in, “Are you sure you don’t want to have a quick chat?”
“Yes. Quite.” Harper glanced down at her watch. “I need to leave a few minutes early, so I can run home and change, and I have a couple of things to button up first.” She pivoted around me and out the conference room door as if her hind end was on fire. Okay, guess she’s not ready to talk.
“Hey, I wanted to run an idea by y’all.” I informed my friends about a mini club meeting for Rosa and hoped it would draw attention away from Harper’s odd exit. They both agreed, but I could tell it hadn’t taken the spotlight off Harper. I busied myself, moving the refreshments around and tidying the table.
Mel furrowed her brow. “What was that about?”
I took a cookie from the box and nibbled it. A few crumbs fell, and I dusted them off my shirt and smoothed the front of my tan slacks. “I’m not quite sure. I wasn’t able to get all the facts.”
“She looked super stressed.” Melanie tucked a blonde curl behind her ear, her eyes full of concern.
Amelia kept glancing around, a dead giveaway that she indeed knew something.
“Well, what did she ask you?” Melanie asked directly.
I studied Amelia as I answered Mel. “She just wanted some advice on how to locate someone. I got the impression she’d lost touch with a relative.”
“Such a shame.” Amelia shook her head. Her comment sounded casual, but her face told us she knew more than she was letting on.
“Amelia,” Mel said. “What do you know?”
My curiosity had also been piqued. I glanced toward the door, hoping Harper wasn’t in earshot and thinking we were gossiping about her. “Maybe now’s not the time. Others should be arriving soon.”
Amelia also seemed concerned; she tiptoed to the door, glanced out, and came back. I supposed the coast was clear.
“Lyla’s right about the timing being wrong. And I honestly don’t know anything for certain.”
“But you know something.” Mel narrowed her cool blue eyes. “I can read it all over your face. Harper’s our friend. We need to know if something is up.”
Amelia pursed her lips. “Fine. Last week Harper asked me about property values in her neighborhood.”
Amelia had just recently gotten her real estate license for the state of Georgia. The previous license she’d operated under in Maryland had lapsed, not that she could use it here anyway. Six months ago, she’d decided to jump back in with both feet. She loved the work, and it suited her.
Melanie moved her head from side to side as if she were attempting to pull whatever Amelia was withholding from her mind. “And …?” She drew the word out.
Amelia relented. “And she asked me to contact her directly and not her husband, Leonard.” She waved her hands. “Then she visited our church a couple of times”—Amelia leaned in—“alone.”
I glanced curiously at Amelia. “You think there’s trouble in paradise? Maybe that’s why she wanted me to help her find the family she lost touch with. She’s thinking of moving.”
“I don’t think her marriage can ever be described as paradise.” Amelia rechecked the door. “Okay. This isn’t gossip. I’m concerned.” Mel and I nodded to show we knew.
Then Amelia continued with a sigh, “She stayed over at my house two weeks ago after church. She said Leonard was out of town, and she’d locked herself out of the house.”
“Okay.”
We all edged a little closer.
Amelia shook her head. “But I don’t think he was out of town.”
Melanie folded her arms, looking bothered for Harper. “You think they had a huge fight or something, and she didn’t want to go home?”
Amelia took a deep breath and nodded. “I didn’t at the time, but Ethan said he ran into Leonard at the hardware store and casually mentioned Harper staying over. Leonard had no idea what he was talking about. Ethan said he looked irate.”
“I wonder why she hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it. She knows I’ve been through a messy divorce and would be there for her.” Melanie looked even more bothered. “I thought we were closer than that.”
“She never said anything to me about any marital problems either. I just read between the lines. And you guys know I’m not one to gossip, but I am an excellent listener, and people just seem to open up to me.”
That was true.
“Well, that night, after Ethan went to bed, we had a cup of tea and watched Hallmark for a bit. That’s when she asked about what she might get for the property.” Amelia lowered her voice. “I told her I’d have to look up the comps in the area, and she’d need to have an appraisal.”
“That’s good of you, Amelia.” Melanie patted her shoulder. “I’m glad you were there for her.”
Amelia gave Mel a small smile. “While we watched the movie, I sort of got the impression that Leonard has some outlandish ideas.”
“Outlandish in what way?” I took another peek toward the door.
We all got impossibly closer, huddling in a little circle.
“Well, she casually mentioned how Leonard would never approve of the outfits the actresses wore.” We all shared a wide-eyed glance before Amelia continued. “I didn’t pry but simply said a woman should be able to wear whatever she wants. I didn’t want to upset her.”
Melanie and I nodded our understanding. You had to be careful when broaching sensitive subjects with friends who were struggling.
“I sort of let it drop after that, and things seemed okay. But when I mentioned coming by the property and doing a walkthrough, Harper nearly flipped her lid. She told me to forget she’d said anything, and begged me to not say a word to Leonard. Then it slipped out that Leonard likes to be the one to make those sorts of decisions, and she seemed really rattled and said she was tired and went to bed.”
“Poor Harper.” Melanie shook her head. I could tell she was disgusted with Leonard. “Now that you mention it, she did act oddly the other day when I asked if she wanted to go do some early Christmas shopping at the outlet mall in Woodstock with me. She said she mainly shopped online and Leonard liked to approve her clothing choices.” Mel pointed at me. “Remember, Lyla? I told you about it.”
“Yeah, I do, now that you mention it.” That did sound troubling. “And her home life is rather unconventional.” Harper told us during one of our meetings that Leonard’s sister-in-law from a previous marriage lived with them as well as his daughter. It struck us all as odd that his ex-sister-in-law would want to live with him, especially after he’d remarried. She also alluded to other relatives staying with them off and on. But we couldn’t get her to elaborate further.
“I don’t like the idea of Harper suffering in silence. Nobody has the right to put restrictions on another human. Especially based on their gender. It’s barbaric.” Melanie sounded affronted.
I nodded emphatically. “You’re not wrong,” I said quietly. “But still, we don’t know all the facts, and we wouldn’t want to upset Harper further.”
“Lyla’s right.” Amelia glanced toward the door before continuing. “And I’m not judging people’s choices either. Anyone is entitled to believe and live as they see fit. All I’m saying is we should keep our ears open. And be there for her when and if she reaches out.”
“Definitely,” we all agreed, and I glanced toward the door, hating the thought of Harper being trapped in a bad marriage.
“Maybe I should go find her before she leaves. Make sure she knows she can call me day or night.”
As if summoned, Harper peeked into the room. Mel, Amelia, I had shared a worried glance.
Harper’s face was flushed, and we feared she’d overheard us. “I’m leaving now. Do you all have everything you need?”
I smiled, wanting to convey that we only discussed her situation because we cared. “Yes, thank you. If you want to chat a little later, you have my number, right?”
Amelia went over to the table, took one of the cups, and filled it with coffee from the large urn. Mel followed suit, allowing Harper the freedom to give me a single nod.
Harper was an attractive young woman. I’d place her a little younger than my thirty-two years. Why she married a man who was old enough to be her father and with the temperament of an old mule was beyond me. But, like Amelia mentioned, who were we to judge? Perhaps we were way off base, and she was feeling homesick. At times, and since our heads were filled with mysteries and true crime, and all of us indulged our imaginations, we could get carried away with our theories.
What wasn’t a theory was that she’d requested my help, and I’d do my best for her. From previous experience with clients, I was aware of the precarious situation it placed the helper in. And if this was indeed a marital dispute, you had to tread lightly if the couple reconciled and suddenly they need someone to blame other than themselves.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” She smiled, a little nervously, I noticed. “Sorry about earlier. It’s been a day. I’ll call you.”
She waved to my fellow club members, who smiled and waved back. “Okay, well, I’m gone. I put the sign up on the desk to direct club members and visitors to this room.”
“You want a cup of coffee and a muffin to go?” Amelia held out a cup and a large pumpkin streusel muffin.
“Yes, you should definitely take one.” I was about to grab the muffin and cup of coffee from Amelia to pass to Harper when my bony little Gran, vigorously waving both hands, appeared in the doorway.
“Hey! It’s my fellow Jane Does!” She scooted by Harper, giving her a little pat on the shoulder in passing.
“What are you doing here?” Gran didn’t drive, and I glanced through the now empty doorway, searching for Mother or Daddy.
“Your daddy dropped me off on the way to pick up his dry cleaning.” She embraced me, and I bent down to hug her back. “Apparently they got his suit mixed up with someone else’s. I didn’t want to miss the club meeting.”
Gran technically was not a member of our book club, though she insisted she was since she’d attended a couple of times. Not that Gran ever read the club pick. She just enjoyed the wine, coffee, and snacks while pestering everyone with questions. Gran’s a real card, and my club loved her colorful personality.
“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Moody.” Amelia smiled and gave Gran a little hug. It warmed my heart that my group had adopted her as one of their own.
“Pfft. I told you gals to call me Daisy.” She gave Amelia a pat on the cheek. And waved at Mel. “Ooh! Melanie, I like your outfit. Those jeans with holes in it look cool.” Gran glanced down at her own outfit, knit gray pants and a peach sweater. “I’m going to take a pair of scissors to a couple pairs of jeans when I get home.” I imagined my Gran in stylish jeans with her bony knees sticking out of the holes in her pants. Mother would kill me, but I’d take her to buy her a pair.
“Rock on, Daisy!” Melanie flashed a wide smile.
“Yeah, rock on!” Gran pumped her fist. “I’ll go grab some snacks. You get us a good seat before everyone else arrives.”
Chapter Two
This month was my turn to lead the discussion. Not everyone wanted to be placed on the roster, which was fine by the rest of us. Crooked House had been my suggestion for our c
lassic month, and I was pleased to see not a single vacant seat. My opening went well, and the group embarked into lively discussion mode. I glanced around the room, full of smiling and engaged faces. Everyone took turns to eagerly share their opinions.
“What I want to know,” Melanie said, leaning forward, “and maybe I was a little jaded since I’d been babysitting my cousin’s twins while reading this novel—and for the record, the two are normally angels, but the experience taught me that children turn into demon spawn when they miss their naps.”
Laughter spread through the group, and there were a couple of nods from a few of the mothers in the group who understood the importance of naptime.
Melanie continued, gesticulating wildly. “But am I the only who thought when digitalis-laced hot cocoa was used as a murder weapon that the little brat is the killer?”
“I did!” A visitor to the group waved. “But then second guessed myself.”
“Who? What brat?” Gran glanced around the room as she devoured a giant chocolate chip muffin. Gran was a sweetaholic.
“I didn’t. I went in a different direction with it. And Edith doing what she did was way out there,” Amelia added. “She could have gotten the girl help or something. That would have been showing love, and I believed she did indeed love the child.”
Murmurs of agreement from the left side of the room drew attention.
“Yes, but from what I gathered—and this is a completely subjective opinion—the prevailing idea during the time Agatha Christie wrote the novel was that insanity was an inherited trait, and therefore it’s the dominating theme of Crooked House. I think the notes and journals provided evidence of the insanity, leading us to believe that perhaps Edith struggled with it herself. In her other works, Christie seems to use the theory that people are simply born, well, wrong.” I crossed my legs. “Obviously, times have progressed, and now it isn’t popular to subscribe to such notions.”
Amelia scratched her head as she considered. “Yes, you’re right. I can completely see that now. I was looking at it from a modern-day perspective.”