Murder of a Hermit, page 8
‘The other Bailey. Hope.’
He hissed her name as though it was bitter poison dripping from his tongue. Hope was stunned. It had never occurred to her that she might be the object of his rage. For the man to have such a vicious hatred of her, there must be some concrete reason behind it, but as hard as Hope tried, she couldn’t remember ever having had any previous encounters with Austin Berg. Although she certainly might have passed by him once on the sidewalk or in an aisle at the grocery store without realizing it, such a trivial event couldn’t possibly create such strong emotions. The only other explanation that Hope could think of was that Austin had confused her with someone else.
Summer must have had the same idea, because she said to Austin, ‘Are you sure that Hope is who you’re looking for?’
‘Of course I’m sure!’ he snapped. ‘Is she here?’ His bloodshot eyes traveled around the shop. ‘Which one is she?’
Neither Summer nor Megan answered him. Summer busied herself with covering a pair of teapots with crocheted cozies, while Megan straightened a stack of cocktail napkins. Industriously brushing cracker crumbs from the table, Rosemarie didn’t reveal Hope’s identity, either. But the rest of the group did. Almost in unison, the head of every lady remaining in the boutique turned toward Hope.
Austin’s gaze instantly followed. For a long minute, he didn’t speak. He just looked at her. He didn’t appear to recognize her any more than she did him, which made Hope think that her guess had been correct, and he was indeed confusing her with someone else. A moment later, however, she learned that she was wrong. A gurgling emanated from Austin’s throat. His neck flushed with deep red streaks, and his nostrils flared wide. Then the floodgates burst open, and a wave of wrath poured forth.
‘You witch! You bloody witch!’ Austin roared. ‘What the hell did you tell my wife?’
There was such ferocity in his voice that everyone instinctively took a step backwards, as though trying to increase their distance from the man. Even Megan slipped lower in her seat, and she reached a protective hand toward Percy. Summer glanced anxiously at the row of windows that faced the street and then looked meaningfully at her sister. Hope responded with a slight nod. Nate would be there soon, and they needed to do whatever they could to keep the situation under some semblance of control until he arrived.
Hope took a breath to steady herself. ‘Your wife?’ she said to Austin with as much composure as she could muster. ‘I’m not sure that I know who—’
‘Stop pretending!’ he barked. ‘Stop lying! Do you think that I’m stupid? Do you think that if you keep acting as though you haven’t a clue, I’ll just walk away and all will be forgotten? Well, it won’t be! I can promise you that. If it comes down to a battle of wills between us, then you’ll be the one to flinch first, not me. I won’t let anybody interfere with my…’
She didn’t hear the conclusion of the sentence. At the word flinch, Hope was reminded of Gina and her wincing reaction to Austin when he had first arrived at the boutique. Maybe Gina really did know him. Perhaps she was even his wife! Hope looked hastily around the shop, but Gina was nowhere to be found. When had she left? Hope hadn’t noticed her departure. For that matter, she couldn’t recall when exactly she had last seen her.
Uncertain how best to proceed, Hope hesitated before interrupting Austin’s continuing tirade. ‘Is Gina your wife?’ she said.
‘Gina?’ Austin squinted at her. ‘No, she isn’t, you miserable shrew! My wife’s name is Jill!’
There was a brief hush, and then the whispering began. It wasn’t in response to Austin calling Hope a miserable shrew. The few ladies who were still lingering from the tea – no doubt due to an irresistible curiosity to find out what would happen next – had started inquiring amongst themselves whether they knew a woman named Jill. None of them seemed to think of anyone immediately, but Hope did. And she realized why Austin’s name had sounded familiar to her. Her palm-reading appointment that morning had been with Jill Berg.
‘Your wife is Jill Berg?’ she asked him, although she had little doubt of the answer.
He nodded and sneered. ‘Didn’t I say that you’d flinch first? I was right!’
Hope quickly thought back to the appointment. Jill had wanted to know how much her heart line showed regarding love affairs and dalliances. She had specifically asked what another person such as her husband would be able to see by looking at her hand. Summer had joked afterwards that if Jill wanted to keep her liaisons secret, she should be more concerned with her husband reading her text messages and email than her palm. But it turned out that Austin Berg didn’t need to read anything. Based on the fact that he was standing before them now, Jill had apparently run home and babbled about the appointment. The only question was what exactly she had shared with him.
Austin sneered some more. ‘So now you’re willing to admit it? You’ll admit to what you told my wife?’
‘No,’ Hope replied.
The brevity of her answer seemed to surprise him. ‘No?’ he questioned, with a sharpness that showed he was not accustomed to being gainsaid.
‘No,’ she repeated firmly. ‘As of this morning, Jill is one of my clients. Unless a client shows some indication of intending to harm themself or someone else, all of my appointments with that client are confidential. So, no, I will not break the confidence and admit to telling Jill anything.’
It wasn’t strictly true, of course. The confidence wasn’t absolute. Summer had been present during Jill’s reading and had overheard a substantial portion of it. And the sisters had told Megan about the part that related to the lights flickering in the shop. They also occasionally spoke to their grandmother about a client if they thought that she could offer some beneficial advice in a specific instance. But they never shared any intimate details with anyone outside of their little group. People came to the boutique in search of help and guidance. Hope had never violated their trust in the past, and she was not about to start now.
The red streaks reappeared on Austin’s neck. They were joined by heavy beads of perspiration on his forehead. ‘How dare you!’ he spat. ‘Jill is my wife!’
Hope didn’t respond. The man’s bluster was beginning to wear on her nerves. If she hadn’t been so annoyed with Jill for being loose-lipped regarding the appointment – which had resulted in Austin storming into the boutique and ruining Summer’s Wednesday afternoon tea – Hope would have felt sorry for her. Austin was obviously a bully, and it surely wasn’t enjoyable to be married to a bully.
Her silence only provoked him further. ‘My wife is having an affair because of you! It’s your fault! You are responsible for—’
Hope cut him short. ‘I met Jill for the first time this morning, so I hardly think that I could be responsible for anything she decided to do before then.’
Although it was accurate, she probably shouldn’t have said it. Austin was clearly looking for someone to blame for his marital difficulties, and Hope was a much easier and more convenient target than holding himself or his wife accountable for their own behavior.
Hope saw her sister glance toward the front windows with increasing urgency. She shared Summer’s impatience. Why was it taking Nate so long to arrive? Austin’s anger and resentment were growing by the minute. His hands had curled into fists, and his inflamed eyes were bulging from their sockets.
‘I’ll get you for this, you bloody witch!’ he thundered. ‘I’ll get you, and you’ll be damn sorry for what you—’
The threat was left unfinished as all of the lights in the shop abruptly shut off. There was solid darkness and not a peep of sound. A moment later, the lights turned back on. Everybody – Austin included – looked around questioningly. Hope raised her gaze to the ceiling. Had the power failure been courtesy of the occupants of the attic?
The lights shut off again, and this time, they remained off. For several long seconds, it seemed impenetrably black. Then Hope’s vision started to adjust. Although not sunny outside, the windows along the sidewalk allowed enough late afternoon light to filter into the boutique to turn the interior shadowy grey.
‘Is everyone all right?’ Hope asked, when she could begin to distinguish the outline of the people and objects around her.
There was an affirmative murmur from the group.
‘I’ll open the door,’ Summer said, heading toward the front of the shop. ‘We’ll get more light inside that way.’
‘Your poor neighbors.’ Rosemarie clucked her tongue sympathetically. ‘That construction of theirs is causing them some terrible electrical troubles.’
‘It’s not just the neighbors any more,’ Megan replied with a touch of dryness. ‘The troubles have apparently spread to us now also.’
‘Oh, yes, I suppose that’s true.’ Rosemarie clucked her tongue again.
The wind chimes jingled as Summer propped open the front door. The boutique brightened perceptibly.
‘That was a good idea, Summer,’ Megan complimented her. ‘I can see a lot better. Can you see better, too, Percy?’
Percy had lifted his head from its former resting position on Megan’s cast. He sniffed the air demonstratively.
‘Do you smell something?’ Megan asked him. She gave a little sniff herself. ‘I don’t smell anything.’
‘I don’t, either,’ Rosemarie agreed.
‘But Percy sure does. Look at how alert he’s gotten all of a sudden.’
The pug had risen to his feet and was standing on the edge of the chair. His nose was up, his ears were pricked, and his back was rigid.
‘What are you sensing?’ Hope said, genuinely curious. Percy spent a good deal of time at the boutique, and it mostly involved either eating or sleeping. He rarely showed any interest in the ebb and flow of customers or what might be happening in the street outside.
Percy cocked his head, as though listening closely to a noise that none of the rest of them could hear. He sniffed once more. Then in one swift motion, he jumped down from the chair and dashed toward the open door.
‘Percy?’ Rosemarie called after him. ‘Wait, Percy.’
He paid no attention to her. After a slight pause on the threshold of the shop, he raced out to the sidewalk and disappeared from view.
‘No, Percy, no!’ Rosemarie cried. ‘Stop! Come back!’
Not heeding her commands, Percy neither halted nor returned.
Rosemarie was instantly panicked. ‘He’ll get lost!’ she wailed. ‘He’ll get hit by a car! His cold will turn into pneumonia!’
Megan shook her head. ‘None of that will happen, Rosemarie. Don’t worry. Percy knows his way around this place and won’t run far away. He was on the side lawn with us yesterday, remember?’
‘The side lawn and the pool are where he caught his cold to begin with,’ Rosemarie responded, not the least bit comforted. And she promptly hurried out of the boutique after her darling pug.
Hope, Summer and Megan all exchanged a look – and a sigh.
‘I can’t move fast,’ Megan reminded them, motioning toward her leg.
Hope nodded at her, then she turned to Summer. ‘You stay here with the remainder of our guests. I’ll follow Rosemarie and help her find Percy.’
‘I doubt that you’ll have to go any great distance,’ Megan remarked with a little chortle. ‘Percy isn’t exactly an endurance athlete. He probably petered out of gas at the corner of the brownstone and is currently begging for a treat from whomever happens to be passing by on the sidewalk.’
‘Fingers crossed that you’re right,’ Summer said. ‘Because Nate will be arriving at any second, and I don’t think that he’ll be very pleased if Rosemarie asks him to initiate a formal dog search.’
There was another little chortle from Megan.
As Hope started toward the door, she noticed that Austin was once again glaring at her. She debated whether to respond or simply ignore him. The decision was made for her a moment later when there came an ear-splitting scream.
NINE
The scream belonged to Rosemarie. There was no doubt about that. Hope did, however, have some doubt as to the urgency of the matter. Rosemarie had a tendency to overreact, and she occasionally indulged in a bit of histrionics. If, for example, she saw Percy approach a substantially larger dog in the park, she would shout in fear that the larger dog might suddenly attack, even though there had been no indication of aggression. Or if Rosemarie happened to catch sight of an old acquaintance in a café who she hadn’t spoken to in a long time, she would give a great cry of excitement. So when her solitary scream wasn’t followed by any further sound of alarm or distress, Hope wasn’t immediately worried, and she didn’t break into an automatic sprint to provide assistance.
Hope walked out of the boutique and looked down the sidewalk. No Rosemarie and no Percy. She checked the opposite direction. It was similarly empty. The street was quiet. A delivery van turned at the nearby intersection. In the next block, two men adjusted the yellow-striped awning above the door of a beauty salon. Nothing appeared at all out of the ordinary. Except there was still no sign of Rosemarie. For a minute, Hope was puzzled, because Rosemarie in her ubiquitous strappy sandals didn’t typically move fast enough to disappear without a trace, but then it occurred to her where Rosemarie had most likely gone and what her scream most likely meant. Percy had probably run to the side lawn and jumped into the retention pool for another bracing swim, and Rosemarie had shrieked in terror, fearing that his cold would develop into pneumonia.
As she headed toward the side of the brownstone, Hope glanced through the front windows of the boutique. The interior remained dark, which meant that the power hadn’t yet switched back on. She grumbled to herself. Although she knew that the Larsons weren’t at fault for the ongoing seepage in their cellar, she couldn’t help feeling increasingly frustrated that Miranda and Paul’s problems had moved next door to her and Summer and the shop. There was the continual construction noise, the burning smell from the generator, the smothered grass and flattened shrubbery, and now the electrical outages. And if Percy really did come down with a bad cold from paddling around in the dirty drainage water, Rosemarie would be so distressed that she might end up making herself sick.
Still grumbling, Hope turned the corner to the lawn. As she had expected, Rosemarie was there. She was standing in front of the retention pool that was encircled by a tangle of rubber hoses like monstrous tentacles throttling its prey.
‘Hi there,’ Hope greeted her, making an effort to sound cheerful.
Rosemarie didn’t glance around.
‘Did you find Percy?’ Hope asked, walking toward her.
She didn’t respond.
Hope frowned. It was usually much more difficult to get Rosemarie to stop talking than to make her start. ‘That yell a minute ago was from you, wasn’t it? Is everything all right?’
Rosemarie neither moved nor spoke. There was no indication that she even knew Hope was behind her.
‘What’s going on, Rosemarie? Are you…’
The sentence trailed away as Hope drew nearer and heard Rosemarie sobbing softly. Her shoulders were shaking, and her normally rosy face had paled to a stony white. And then Hope saw what had transfixed Rosemarie in horror.
The body lay motionless, face down. Its middle was draped over the edge of the retention pool, so that the bottom half stretched across the denuded ground and the top half was submerged in the cloudy water.
‘Is he…’ Rosemarie asked almost inaudibly. ‘I think he must be…’
Although she didn’t use the word dead, Hope knew it was what Rosemarie meant. For her part, Hope could do no more than nod in confirmation. The sudden shock of the scene had taken away her voice.
‘But why?’ Rosemarie whispered. ‘How could – I don’t understand… It doesn’t make sense.’
She was right. It didn’t make sense, and Hope didn’t understand, either.
‘Hey! You!’
In a slow-motion daze, Hope raised her head toward the shouts. A man was approaching them from the opposite end of the pool, walking purposefully with long strides. He was carrying something under his arm. To Hope’s blurry vision, it looked like a mottled sack of potatoes.
‘This is yours, isn’t it?’ the man demanded, holding out the sack.
Hope recognized the booming baritone, although she had never before heard him speak in such a caustic manner. She blinked, and the blurriness cleared. The man was Paul Larson, and the mottled sack of potatoes was Percy.
There was a joyous cry from Rosemarie. ‘Oh, my baby!’ She rushed to collect Percy from Paul and clutched him to her bosom. ‘My poor, darling baby!’
Percy neither yipped in remonstrance at the snug hug nor struggled to free himself. On the contrary, he appeared rather relieved to be secure in Rosemarie’s arms.
‘That dog,’ Paul said, ‘is a nuisance.’
Rosemarie stared at him.
‘A nuisance and a menace,’ he declared.
While not nearly as staggered as Rosemarie, Hope was surprised by the remark. Certainly, some people had a greater affinity for dogs than others. And there were plenty of legitimate disagreements over breed preferences and suitability. But it was a considerable stretch for pug Percy to be deemed a menace. As far as Hope was aware, he had never bitten or nipped anyone. He barely ever even growled.
‘If you can’t control him,’ Paul informed Rosemarie brusquely, ‘I will be forced to contact Animal Control, and they will take possession of him.’
Rosemarie gasped and held Percy even tighter. ‘They can’t do that!’ she protested. She turned to Hope. ‘They can’t do that, can they?’
Hope didn’t know whether they could or not. The bigger question for her was why Paul wanted to contact Animal Control to begin with. ‘I must have missed something,’ she said to him. ‘What has Percy done that would make you think he’s a menace?’
