Murder of a Hermit, page 18
‘The peas have been excellent this year,’ the woman told them. ‘This is the second crop, and it’s even better than the first, which was quite good. Typically, it’s somewhat of a gamble whether the second sowing will mature before the autumn frost hits at this elevation, but the conditions have been ideal this month. Warm, but not blistering hot. Rain, but not so much as to keep the ground soggy. And lots of sun, although the last couple of days were a bit too gray and drab for my liking.’
‘We didn’t care for them, either,’ Hope agreed politely. She didn’t add that her and Summer’s dislike of the last forty-eight hours was only slightly based on the gloomy weather. The majority was due to Carter drowning in the retention pool on their side lawn.
‘I can see that you’re debating whether to shell them,’ the woman said to Hope. ‘But shelling isn’t necessary. They’re snap peas, not sweet peas. The entire pod – even with the biggest, roundest peas inside – is edible.’ And to prove the point, she promptly popped a trio of peapods into her mouth and crunched down on them with vigor.
Hope followed suit with her single pod. It was crisp and tender and tasted exactly like a peapod straight from the vine ought to. ‘My compliments. That really is an excellent crop you have.’
The woman smiled with pleasure. ‘Take another. Take a whole handful! You can bring an entire bag of them home with you. There’s no shortage. The plants are bearing more than I could ever possibly eat myself.’
In response, Hope selected a modest number from the willow basket. They were genuinely good, but she didn’t want to appear greedy, and it was a very odd situation. She was standing in the middle of a memorial garden talking to a woman who she didn’t know while munching on her peapods, which presumably came from the fenced vegetable garden on the other side of Carter’s log cabin.
Again, the woman offered the basket to Summer. ‘I could see that she’ – she indicated Hope – ‘wasn’t sure about the shelling. And I can see that you need to eat something to soothe your stomach. You’re not as green as these peas, but you’ve definitely got a funny tint around the gills. I would guess that you’re prone to motion sickness. Am I correct?’
‘You’re correct,’ Summer admitted with some hesitation.
The woman nodded sympathetically. ‘When I first moved to the mountain, it took me almost a year to get used to it. I was woozy and nauseous whenever I drove up or down, regardless of how short or far I went.’
Summer frowned at her. ‘You lived here voluntarily for an entire year even though you were sick every time you got into a vehicle? Why on earth would you do that?’
‘For the peas,’ she answered. ‘You can’t get peas – or for that matter, most of the other veggies I grow – like this in the city, even at the farmers’ market.’
There was a degree of truth to it, which the sisters couldn’t dispute. The peas in the brownstone’s little garden were never especially plentiful or flavorsome. And unless you were lucky to develop a relationship with a particular vendor, the produce at the farmers’ market could be somewhat hit-or-miss. Summer’s frown remained, however.
The woman nodded once more. ‘I know it’s hard to understand, but there’s something special about this place. You can’t quite put your finger on it. At first you think it’s just like any other spot in the world, and then after a while you realize it’s different. The air smells sweeter. The breeze feels silkier on your skin. Nature all around you is happier. And that makes you happier.’
It was impossible to argue with being happy.
‘Although,’ the woman continued after a moment in a more wistful tone, ‘happiness can be fleeting.’ She looked down at the remembrance stones that Hope had discovered next to the flopping sage, and she sighed. ‘There used to be so much happiness here, and in an instant, it was all gone.’
‘My condolences,’ Hope said. She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, because she still didn’t know who the woman was or what her relationship to those named on the stones might be, but she felt that something was required under the circumstances.
The woman must have noticed the uncertainty in Hope’s tone, because she explained, ‘We weren’t family. We were neighbors. My house is only a short distance beyond the pines over there.’ She pointed in the opposite corner of the clearing from where they were standing, and then she suddenly began to sway as if a strong gust had caught her unawares, even though there was no more than a hint of wind around them.
Hope moved toward her quickly, alarmed that she might fall over. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
Drawing a deep breath, the woman held it in concentration for several long seconds until she grew visibly steadier and her feet firmed beneath her. ‘It’s kind of you to be concerned, but I’m fine now. It happens to me on occasion. Along with the sweeter air and the silkier breeze, the sun is also stronger at this elevation. It’s certainly beneficial for the peas, but it isn’t as beneficial for me. I may have conquered the motion sickness, but the vertigo will unfortunately remain with me until the end of my days.’
The woman took another long breath, and then she gave a little laugh. ‘It usually passes quickly enough, as it did just then. But there was one sweltering day this past July when Carter found me in the middle of the vegetable garden spinning like a top. I tumbled straight on to my face, splat in the patty pan squash.’ She laughed harder and pulled the sun-bleached straw hat that she was wearing lower on her head. ‘The hat helps somewhat, but a comfortable seat in the shade would be better. Will you join me?’
Waving for them to follow, she turned and headed toward the log cabin. Hope and Summer didn’t need to deliberate, and they immediately hurried after her. They no longer needed to worry about someone appearing at the front door or on the porches with a double-barreled shotgun aimed at them. They were now in the company of a neighbor who had apparently been close enough to the Dalton family to tend the property’s vegetable garden.
The woman climbed the short set of stairs to the cabin’s lower wrap-around porch, on which stood a long row of woven willow rocking chairs that matched the basket containing the peapods. Depositing the basket on the first chair in the line, the woman took a seat on the second chair. She pulled off her straw hat and tossed it on top of the basket, after which she fluffed her pepper-and-salt hair, although it made little difference with her pixie cut. She smiled at the sisters warmly and introduced herself.
‘I’m Harriet. Harriet Lipscomb.’
When Hope and Summer introduced themselves in turn, there was no change in Harriet’s expression. Their names didn’t appear to mean anything to her, which Hope took as a sign that however Harriet had learned of Carter’s death, she had not been informed that it took place on the Baileys’ side lawn.
As though reading the direction of Hope’s thoughts, Harriet asked, ‘How were you acquainted with the Daltons?’
There was an awkward silence. In an effort to think through an appropriate reply, Hope took her time moving a chair so that it partly faced Harriet’s. She didn’t know how forthright she should be with her. After all, their goal was to gather information about Carter, not to supply it, and they didn’t know if a lack of a personal relationship with the Daltons would alter Harriet’s friendliness toward them. When Hope glanced at her sister – who also delayed by adjusting a chair – Summer provided no more than a slight shake of her head, indicating that she wasn’t sure of the best course, either.
‘We didn’t know the family,’ Hope confessed at last.
‘You didn’t?’ Harriet blinked at her. ‘But you’ – she motioned toward Summer – ‘said by the flowers that you thought Carter was in mourning. You must have known him to some extent to be aware of that.’
Summer shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Our contact with Carter was only very recent.’
Hope shifted uncomfortably, too. Although it was technically the truth, it was somewhat misleading.
Harriet blinked again, but she didn’t appear especially troubled by their admission. ‘I also heard you say that you didn’t think Carter was having an affair. You were right about that, as well. Carter never would have done such a thing under any circumstance. Kay and Bonnie Jean were his entire world. It didn’t matter in the least whether Kay was physically here or not. She had a permanent hold on Carter’s heart. He wouldn’t have looked at another woman with the remotest interest for even half a second. He was absolutely devoted to his wife – and his little girl.’
That answered one of Hope’s questions, namely the relationship between the remembrance stones in the memorial garden. It did not, however, explain why Austin had falsely claimed that Jill was having an affair with Carter. Nor did it explain why Carter had supposedly been running after Gina, and constantly calling her, and skulking around her house at odd hours. It was possible that Miranda had fabricated or exaggerated the incidents, but that seemed unlikely to Hope. When Miranda had told Nate about Carter’s behavior, she hadn’t given the impression of being eager to spread lurid gossip. On the contrary, she had hesitated and lowered her voice and specifically said that she couldn’t confirm whether or not there had ever been an actual romance between Gina and Carter.
‘If I may ask and it isn’t too painful for you to discuss,’ Summer inquired tactfully, ‘when did Kay and Bonnie Jean pass away?’
‘It will be one year this October.’ In response to the unspoken question, Harriet explained, ‘Their car collided with a buck on the mountain. Sadly, that’s not uncommon up here. The headlamps blind the deer while they’re feeding at dawn or dusk, and they’re so startled that they jump straight into you. Usually the vehicle bears the brunt of the damage, but in this case, Kay swerved hard to avoid the animal, and she hit the guard rail at full speed. The rail didn’t hold. The subsequent investigation found that it had been weakened by a mudslide during the previous spring. The car went over the edge into a deep ravine. Kay and Bonnie Jean died on impact. Small mercies, at least.’
‘Small mercies,’ Hope agreed quietly.
‘I miss Kay,’ Harriet said, in a tone that showed she was reminiscing more for herself than sharing information with the sisters. ‘We had an instant connection. It was the kind of friendship where you meet someone, share one laugh with them, and know that you’ll always get along well. Kay enjoyed gardening the same as I do, and when she learned that I have too much shade around my house for successful planting, she suggested that we enlarge her garden for the both of us. It worked wonderfully! Splitting the chores made them a good deal lighter and more enjoyable. And if one person traveled for a few days or was feeling under the weather, the other person could take care of whatever needed to be done in their absence. We continued like that for many years, until the accident. I was hesitant to carry on at first, afraid that it might seem disrespectful somehow, but Carter insisted that the garden be planted exactly as it had been previously. The psychologists would probably say that it was his way of keeping Kay alive. That’s also why Carter planted the flowers on the other side of the cabin. Kay loved flowers, especially the natives that support the pollinators.’
Harriet turned toward the memorial garden and gazed at it reflectively. ‘I don’t know what will happen to the flowers now. I’ll do my best to tend them, and the vegetable garden, until the end of the season. But next year? The land doesn’t belong to me, of course. I have no idea who has a claim to it. The police asked me about possible kin when they telephoned yesterday evening. I had apparently been listed on some form from Kay and Bonnie Jean’s deaths, and that was why I was notified of Carter’s death. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even know about it. I would have been weeding around the beets this morning and wondering why Carter didn’t come home the night before. The police said that someone would drive up and speak with me in person today. When your car first pulled into the clearing, I thought that you might be them. But then you went to admire the goldenrod. In my experience, people in positions of authority don’t usually take much interest in such pleasant things as goldenrod—’
Interrupting herself with a little start, Harriet turned back to the sisters abruptly. ‘Are you kin of the Daltons? I realize that you said you didn’t know the family and your contact with Carter was only very recent, but plenty of distant relatives are barely acquainted. Did you come because you’ll inherit the property?’ She looked at them hopefully, no doubt because a new neighbor who admired the goldenrod and complimented her peapods was far better than many of the other potential alternatives.
Hope was sorry to disappoint her. ‘No, we’re not related to the Daltons. We came to the property because we wanted to pay our respects to Carter. As brief as our contact with him was, we were nonetheless saddened by his death.’
‘Oh, but you shouldn’t be sad. I told you that before. Carter and Kay and Bonnie Jean are a family again. They’re finally at peace. Be glad for it.’
Harriet Lipscomb had an amazing way of making murder sound almost as though it was a good thing. But then it occurred to Hope that Harriet might not know it was murder. Considering that she was merely a neighbor and not the Dalton’s next-of-kin or someone else with explicit legal standing to handle their affairs, the police may have simply informed her of Carter’s passing without providing any additional details. Harriet didn’t recognize the Bailey name, so she clearly hadn’t been told the specifics as to the location of Carter’s death. In the same vein, she probably also hadn’t been told about the manner of his death. And Hope instantly decided that there was no reason that she should be told, at least not by her and Summer. It would serve no purpose other than to horrify Harriet, as it had everyone who had seen Carter’s body lying entangled in the hoses in the pool.
‘Be glad for it,’ Harriet repeated. ‘Kay and Bonnie Jean went quickly – and together. They didn’t suffer, but Carter suffered terribly when they died. For days he wouldn’t eat and couldn’t sleep. It took weeks before he bathed and dressed himself properly. I don’t think that he came out of the cabin at all for the first month after the accident. Then it was another month or two until he got into a car and drove somewhere. And this spring, he finally began to recover. He would never forget, of course, but he started to live again, bit by bit. He planted the garden for Kay. He had the stones inscribed for her and Bonnie Jean. He became a sponsor of an elephant orphanage in Tanzania, because elephants had been Bonnie Jean’s favorite animal. Once in a while, Carter would smile. He even laughed in July when I fell into the squash. He knew that he wouldn’t ever feel the same joy as before, but he tried to focus on the happy memories and create positive habits, ones that he thought Kay would approve of. He participated in a book group. He volunteered at those river and stream clean-ups where they collect the trash that’s washed up on the banks. He attended grief support meetings for those who have lost loved ones. And that was when it went all wrong.’
Hope and Summer waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. Harriet sat stiffly in her willow rocker, her formerly cheerful expression clouded.
‘When exactly did it go wrong?’ Summer asked her.
‘At the grief support meetings. That’s where Carter met that wretched man.’
The sisters exchanged a glance. The mention of a wretched man when things went all wrong for Carter was too coincidental to ignore. Could the man have some connection to why Carter stole the books from the brownstone’s library, or how Carter ended up dead in the retention pool?
‘What man?’ Summer prompted Harriet.
She pursed her lips. For a moment, it almost looked as though she was about to spit on the ground as she spoke the man’s name, but she didn’t. ‘Austin,’ Harriet said with contempt. ‘Austin Berg.’
TWENTY
A hawk cried in the distance. A squirrel chattered from a nearby fence post. Hope and Summer looked at each other, wide-eyed.
‘Austin Berg?’ Summer said to Harriet. ‘You’re certain?’
‘Do you know him?’ she questioned in reply.
For the first time since they had met her, Harriet narrowed her gaze at the sisters warily, as though, if they knew Austin, then they by association might be as wretched as he was.
‘We’re only slightly acquainted with him,’ Summer answered quickly.
‘Yesterday was our first encounter with him,’ Hope further clarified. ‘And we don’t like him.’
‘We really don’t like him,’ Summer added with emphasis.
Harriet’s gaze relaxed. Her body, however, remained stiff in her chair. ‘I don’t like him, either. He’s deceitful and disreputable. That wife of his is just as bad.’
The sisters looked at each other again.
‘Jill?’ Hope asked Harriet.
‘Yes. Did you have the misfortune of encountering her yesterday, too?’
As Hope nodded in the affirmative, she thought back to the palm reading from the previous morning. Although Jill’s reading had been reasonably simple and straightforward, it hadn’t felt entirely natural. Usually people went to great lengths to conceal their extramarital activities, not draw attention to them. But Jill had belabored the subject, even gasping dramatically when the lights in the shop had flickered and announcing that it was a message intended for her. At the time, Hope had been more amused than troubled. But now that she knew for certain there had been no affair between Jill and Carter – and Harriet described Jill as being as deceitful and disreputable as Austin – she was beginning to wonder if something had been wrong with the palm reading, after all. Maybe it wasn’t so simple and straightforward as it had originally appeared.
‘Those Bergs are a nasty, grasping pair,’ Harriet said. ‘Downright evil, my mother – if she were still with us – would have called them. Bless my mother’s heart, she could always tell when someone was up to no good. And the Bergs were certainly up to no good when it came to Carter. I had my doubts about them from the very beginning. They claimed to be attending the grief support meetings because they had lost a child. But as soon as I looked at them, I knew that it was a lie. They visited the cabin while I was working in the garden, and I saw it in their eyes. Anyone who has truly lost a child has a deep well of sadness inside that can’t ever be filled. But the Bergs had nothing. There was no genuine sorrow beneath their fake tears and phony sobs. Jill and Austin hadn’t lost anything but their own souls.’
