The Battered Body, page 10
“I’ll fix you both a plate, Pop.” James shooed his father out of the kitchen and microwaved a turkey tetrazzini casserole with a side of green beans mixed with butter and pecans. Carrying two plates into the den, he motioned for Jackson to unfold the TV trays.
After serving Milla and his father, James watched Milla push the food around on her plate.
“I wish those deputies would come so we could get this over with!” she suddenly exclaimed.
James studied her. “Are you nervous about what you might have to tell them?”
When Milla didn’t answer, Jackson stopped chewing and looked at his future bride. “It’s those kids of hers, ain’t it? You acted funny after you saw them. I reckon things got nasty.”
“Have you met them yet?” James asked his father.
Jackson shook his head. “Nope. Thought I’d let them do their family thing first, seein’ as it’s been ages since they’ve been together.”
Milla’s expression was pained as she glanced at James. “You’ll see them later today. We’re meeting Chase, Chloe, and Wheezie for dinner at Dolly’s.”
The doorbell rang and Milla started in her chair, causing her ball of yarn to fall onto the floor and unravel across the braided rug. James rose, rewound the ball, and placed it on Milla’s palm. “Just tell the truth, even if it makes someone look bad,” he cautioned. “Lucy won’t rest until she discovers what happened to your sister.”
Both Lucy and Donovan were at the door, bundled up in their brown sheriff’s department parkas. After politely greeting them, James led the deputies into the den. He carried in the chairs from the kitchen table and positioned them on either side of Milla. Jackson vacated his recliner to sit on Milla’s right. With James on her left, the Henry men bookended the woman they loved.
Lucy removed a mini recorder from her pocket and said that she and her partner were gathering information. “Can you tell me what Paulette did yesterday, Friday, December nineteenth?”
Milla seemed relieved by the simplicity of the first question. “I don’t know when she got up or anything, but she was here for breakfast by eight thirty.”
“What did you eat?” Donovan asked.
“Scrambled eggs and fried tomatoes.”
“Is that all?” he prompted.
Milla shrugged. “We had coffee and eggnog to drink.”
Lucy wrote something in her notebook. “What did you do after breakfast?”
“We went over the menu for the wedding supper. My sister is, was . . .” She stopped and reached for the tissue dispenser. “Paulette was going to bake onion rolls as well as our wedding cake. After breakfast, we picked up my sister’s assistant, Willow, ran a few errands, and then met our family at the Apple Orchard truck stop for lunch.”
“State the names of the family members, please,” Donovan said.
“Chase Martin is Paulette’s son, Chloe Martin-Hicks is her daughter, and Louise Rowe is the eldest of us three sisters. My maiden name is Rowe.”
Donovan narrowed his eyes. “But Paulette’s last name is Martine. Why are her kids Martins?”
Milla snorted. “Because of marketing. My sister’s real name was Patricia Rowe. Growing up, everybody called her Patty. She married Chase Martin Senior and kept his name after their divorce. She also Frenchified herself. Probably because she went to cooking school in Paris before she was married.”
“Any idea where the ex-husband is at the moment?” Donovan’s eyes gleamed.
“He’s a chef in Hong Kong. He and Patty have been divorced since the kids were in grade school. Chase Senior has lived in Asia ever since.” Milla pointed the sharp end of her needle at Donovan. “Can I ask a question now, or is this a one-sided conversation?”
Lucy looked apologetic. “In a minute, if that’s okay. Could you tell us about your family lunch?”
Balling the yarn in her fist, Milla fell quiet. Donovan opened his mouth, undoubtedly to prod Milla, but Lucy placed a restraining hand on his arm and held her finger to her lips. James felt a rush of gratitude for the consideration Lucy was showing Milla.
“It wasn’t the warm and fuzzy reunion I’d hoped for,” Milla said reluctantly. “Paulette was delighted to see Chase. Even though they live in the same city, they’re both so busy that they rarely have face-to-face contact. They get along well, as they’re very similar. Chase is a successful lawyer, and Paulette is real proud of him. She heaped praises on him from the moment we sat down.” She sighed. “I only wish she’d been half as kind to Chloe.”
“The daughter?” Donovan leaned in hungrily. “So Mom and daughter didn’t get along? What’s Chloe’s story?”
“She’s part of an organization that rescues manatees in Florida. She’s also a widow. Her husband died in a boating accident five years ago,” Milla said. “She and my sister were total opposites. Chloe’s a bit of a hippie. She lives near the beach, has super-long hair, and is passionate about animal rights.”
“Bet she wasn’t happy to see her mama’s fur coat,” Jackson murmured.
Donovan overheard and exchanged a quick glance with Lucy.
“Luckily, she wasn’t wearing it.” Milla briefly looked at Jackson before continuing. “Louise, who goes by Wheezie, is our oldest sister. She lives in Natchez, Mississippi. That’s our hometown. She and Paulette haven’t seen each other for a really long time, so things were a little strained between them.” Milla held out her hands plaintively. “You know how that can be.”
“It sounds like the reunion was a bit uncomfortable,” Lucy said.
Milla nodded in agreement. “Paulette started nagging Chloe about spending all her money on useless sea cows, and the poor girl started crying. Wheezie tried to stick up for Chloe, and Chase told her to mind her own business. Considering Wheezie’s his aunt, he should have shown more respect.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s when I joined the ruckus. Wheezie deserves better than to hear fresh talk from that arrogant boy.”
“Were any threats made at this time?” Donovan asked. “You might as well tell me now, because we’re going to the Holiday Inn after we’re done here.”
Milla’s face grew stormy. “There were arguments—the kind that happen in families all the time. I doubt anyone went back to their hotel room and started plotting murder!” She threw her yarn into a basket near her feet. “Now, I want to know what killed my sister, and I refuse to say another word until you answer me.”
“We don’t know,” Lucy replied in a soft voice. “The test results won’t be—”
“Don’t you give me the runaround, Lucy Hanover!” Milla pointed an angry finger at her. “Patty didn’t just lie down, close her eyes, and die. If so, you wouldn’t be asking the questions you’ve been asking. What did you see when you found her? Tell me! Please!” Milla’s voice broke and she pressed a tissue over her eyes.
It pained James to hear Milla’s pain. He stared at Lucy, willing her to respond, but she avoided eye contact.
“You’re not going to answer me, are you? In that case, I guess I’ll call Chase and tell him to have a hotshot lawyer from his firm fly down here.” Milla rose to her feet. “I don’t see why we should spill our guts and get nothing in return.”
“It’s possible that we’re dealing with a case of poisoning,” Lucy said very quietly.
Donovan hissed, “Shut your mouth, Hanover.”
“We won’t know anything for sure until the medical examiner’s report is complete. Even then, we need to wait for the lab results,” Lucy continued as if she hadn’t heard her partner. “You need to give me your word that you won’t mention this conversation to anyone outside this room.” She looked at each of them in turn. As Donovan spluttered in indignation, James, Jackson, and Milla promised to keep the information to themselves.
“I guess I can’t lay her to rest,” Milla said sadly, and Lucy shook her head, her blue eyes filled with sympathy.
James walked the deputies to the door, noting that the sky had turned an ominous gray and a strong wind shook the barren trees. As Lucy pulled on her leather gloves, it began to rain. She gestured for Donovan to go ahead of her. Still avoiding eye contact, she said, “Maybe we shouldn’t think about dating until this case is done.”
Stung by the suggestion, James said, “I remember how you acted when Gillian was under suspicion at the barbecue festival. You were loyal to your job first and your friends second. Is this going to be a repeat of that experience? Now that Milla and her family are on your radar, are all your other relationships less important?”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.” Lucy reached for his arm, but James backed away. “I took an oath to uphold the law. Would you respect me if I wasn’t true to my word?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’ll always come second with you. The law will be the forefront of your life. Before a husband or children. Isn’t that right?”
“Who said anything about children?” Lucy folded her arms across her chest, squinting as rain ricocheted off the open screen door and onto her cheeks. “Can we talk about this later? It’s cold and Donovan’s going to filet me when I get in the car.”
Feeling that there wasn’t much else to say, James nodded. “Sure. We’ll talk later.”
After closing the door, James walked into the dining room, parted the curtains, and watched the cruiser motor down the gravel drive. He stood there for a long time, a familiar ache of loss blooming in his chest. Finally, when the rain turned into a downpour, obscuring his view of the ridged pine trunks surrounding the house, he headed upstairs. As he had done so often in his life, he searched for solace in the one place he knew he’d find it: in a book.
• • •
The rain persisted throughout the night. In the morning, James woke to sodden, frost-tipped ground and a cold mist that crept high around the tree trunks.
The weather fit James’s mood. Over a breakfast casserole, Milla informed him that it had taken so long to interview the rest of her family that they’d canceled their dinner at Dolly’s. Instead, Milla’s relatives retreated to their hotel rooms with Chinese takeout.
James headed to work, where Scott and Francis, bundled up against the cold in bright orange ski parkas, were waiting for him at the front door. Scott had a newspaper tucked under his arm.
“Is that today’s Star?” James asked.
Scott nodded. “We’re sorry to hear about the Diva of Dough, Professor.”
Glancing over the cover story, James realized that Murphy had no idea that Paulette’s death was being viewed as suspicious by the sheriff’s department. The article focused on the Diva’s celebrity status, hinting that additional information would be forthcoming following interviews with the late cake maker’s family members and New York staff.
“Thank you.” James returned the paper to his employee.
“I hope Milla’s holding up okay. She’s one of the nicest people we know. If Scott and I . . .” Francis stopped and began again, “I couldn’t imagine not having my brother around.” Embarrassed, he tapped the newspaper with his right finger. “Ms. Alistair dropped the ball. I’m sure she was busy with her lead story, but she didn’t print a word about Glowstar’s ransom note.”
James froze in the act of unlocking the front door. “How did you know about that? Lucy said that they thought it was a hoax and shredded it.”
“Lottie told me,” Scott replied proudly. “I think Deputy Truett has a crush on her. He tells her everything that’s going on at the sheriff’s department. Guess he doesn’t know she’s my girlfriend.”
“You find all kinds of excuses to say that word, don’t you? And what good has she done us? She didn’t consider the note newsworthy either!” Francis stomped inside. He flicked the lights on with violent motions before rounding on his brother. “Do you even care about Glowstar or this job or anything besides your girlfriend? You’ve totally left me hanging on Age of Conan, and you never read anymore!”
“What’s Age of Conan?” James glanced at Scott. “And is that true? About the reading?”
Scott looked glum. “It’s a video game. Francis and I used to play online as a team. I was an assassin and Francis was a necromancer. His character got killed last night because I wasn’t there to protect him.” He watched his brother enter the break room. “I still love books, Professor. I just don’t have as much free time as I used to.” He lowered his voice. “If Francis had a girlfriend, this wouldn’t be so hard. I know he wants me to be happy, but he’s feeling left out.”
“You could always conduct a stakeout of the book return bin on Christmas Eve,” James joked. “Bring some of your high-tech gear and trap Glowstar’s kidnapper. That would perk Francis up.”
Scott’s eyes widened. “Awesome idea, Professor! The note said midnight, right?” He darted into the break room shouting, “Bro! Let’s powwow!”
The morning passed quietly. With school closed until after New Year’s, several mothers towed grade school children into the library to check out books and videos, but they were the only patrons. There were very few hold or transfer requests, and since the Fitzgerald brothers had already repaired three broken hardcover spines, emptied the shelving cart, cleaned the computer screens, and dusted the shelves, James had no qualms about leaving them in charge while he stayed in his office to answer emails.
At three o’clock, James decided to have a cup of coffee. He was just heading for the break room when Willow entered the library carrying a covered cake plate.
“I baked you something,” she whispered.
James smiled. “There’s no one here, so you don’t have to whisper. I was going to brew a pot of coffee. Would you like some?”
Nodding, Willow followed him into the break room and sat down at the table. “I didn’t know what to do today, so I baked one of Paulette’s recipes. I think she was planning to make it on Friday, actually. Lots of people have served it at their weddings, but it’s a bit too sweet for me.”
“You look tired,” James said gently. “How are you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected, considering I’m out of a job and will probably be arrested.”
James’s hand jerked in the act of scooping grounds into the brew basket. “What makes you say that?”
“I hated her. And I was at the inn most of the day,” Willow said. “The cops wouldn’t have questioned us so closely unless foul play was involved.”
James studied Willow carefully. “Did you kill her?”
Willow shook her head. “I’ve been tempted to more times than I can count, but I wouldn’t gain anything by it. I can hardly be an assistant to a dead woman.”
“True,” James agreed. “But weren’t you going to ask her for a raise this week?”
“You have a good memory,” she said with a thin smile. “I asked her on Thursday and was told to forget it.”
“Weren’t you angry?” James asked casually.
“Of course! I smoked six packs of cigarettes between then and Saturday night!” she exclaimed. “I’m still mad.”
James pointed at the cake plate. “To cheer you up, I’m going to show you a magic trick. I’m going to lift the dome off this cake plate and in less than a minute, a pair of twenty-four-year-old men, who also happen to be identical twins as well as first-rate librarians, will appear in this room.”
Removing the lid with care, so as not to smudge the frosting, James glanced at his watch. “Time starts now. What is this marvel, anyway?”
“Lemon-strawberry layer cake,” Willow answered proudly. “I made the jam in New York and brought a few jars with us.”
“So you’re an accomplished cook as well?” James moved the cake to the counter and rifled through the drawers for a knife.
Blushing prettily, Willow nodded. “My mom was an excellent cook, and she taught me how to cook and preserve fresh foods. Every summer, we made tons of jams, pies, fruit tarts. Even homemade ice cream. Paulette hired me because I can make anything she can. But the food I love to create is candy. Truffles, caramels, chocolates filled with fruit purees.”
“Did someone say chocolate?” Scott poked his head into the break room. “I smell only coffee.”
Francis lifted his nose and inhaled. “No, there’s something else. Something sweet.”
“May I present Scott and Francis Fitzgerald?” James pointed at his employees with paternal pride. “Gentlemen, this is Willow.”
“Your boss is a magician,” Willow said to Francis, who stared at her with undisguised interest.
Scott, on the other hand, only had eyes for the cake.
“Did you make that?” he asked Willow.
When she bowed slightly in assent, Francis took the knife from James’s hand, quickly cut himself a slice, and stuffed a bite into his mouth. “You’re the magical one!” he declared enthusiastically. “A cake enchantress!”
Scott rolled his eyes in mock disgust, but Willow’s face glowed with pleasure.
“This is delicious.” Francis sat down at the table. “You should open a candy shop in Quincy’s Gap. If your chocolates are as amazing as this cake, you’d be a big hit.”
“It’s true.” Scott pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “There’s not much to do during the winter except read and eat. You’d be an instant success.”
“That’s really sweet,” Willow replied, her bright smile directed solely at Francis. “I’ll have to move since I can’t afford the rent on my studio apartment in Brooklyn without no job, but I may go back to Vermont. That’s where I’m from.” She caressed the mountain ridge on her Shenandoah County Library cup. “Though I really love it here. It reminds me of home, but I bet it’s warmer in Quincy’s Gap during the winter.”
As Willow chatted with the twins, the young woman cast off her downtrodden air. The more she talked, the more James felt that this quiet, overlooked person could bloom in a town like Quincy’s Gap.
This girl’s no murderer, James thought as he heard Willow laugh at one of Scott’s jokes.
He was suddenly struck by an idea. “Willow? Are you planning to go to Vermont for Christmas?”
