Weave of Absence Page 8

  “I hope you’re right,” Margaret said, looking doubtful. “But what if he did? Shouldn’t we do something? Say something to Marnie?”

  “Tell her what? We have no idea what he and Helen were arguing about. As for him being her murderer, that’s pure conjecture.”

  And then she repeated the same words I’d been saying over and over. “Poor Marnie. He’s going to break her heart. I just know it.”

  “That’s my biggest fear too,” I said. “If only I could find out what he and Melinda were talking about—to find out if they were really flirting.”

  “That’s easy. Ask her,” she said, as if it was the most natural suggestion in the world. And then, sensing my incredulity, she added, “Even if she lies, you should be able to read the body language.”

  “You’re right. Go straight to the source.” I snatched my purse and rummaged through it for my car keys while talking to myself. “I’ll remind her that she owes Marnie. Without her, her bakery would have gone under. Maybe she’ll fess up.”

  Margaret looked surprised. “You mean you’re going there right this minute?”

  “No better time than the present,” I said. “Bakeries open early. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Chapter 8

  I drove slowly. I’d left without a plan, without any idea how I was going to broach the subject.

  Hey, there, Melinda, inquiring minds want to know. Were you flirting with Bruce Doherty? You do realize, don’t you, that he’s the man who’s engaged to your good friend Marnie, the same good friend who taught you everything you know about baking?

  The closer I got to Belmont, the crazier my spontaneous decision to just drop by felt. I’ve come this far, I thought, crossing the city lines. I might as well go through with it. I drove by the first few stores and craned my neck, trying to spot a bakery. In my rush to get here, I had left without the address or even the name of the store. All I knew was that it was situated somewhere along Main Street. I was halfway into my second drive-through when I spotted it. I parked across the street and made my way over.

  It was a tiny shop, squeezed between a butcher and a green grocer. The sign read MELINDA’S and underneath, in smaller letters, FRESH FROM THE OVEN. In the window was a display of breads, cookies, and pies. I walked in and was instantly enveloped in a blend of mouthwatering aromas—vanilla, apples and cinnamon, lemon. For a moment I almost forgot why I was here. Behind the counter a freckled-faced teenage boy with a head of red hair and a gap-toothed smile was transferring a tray of muffins to the display counter.

  “Good morning. How can I help you?” he asked, straightening his lanky frame.

  “I’m here to see Melinda. Is she in?”

  He bobbed his head toward a doorway behind the cash register. “She’s in the middle of icing a batch of coffee cakes right now. I can tell her you’re here if you like.”

  “That would be great.” I gave him my name and he disappeared into the back room, returning a moment later.

  “She’ll be right out.”

  A few minutes went by. I studied the display cases. My stomach rumbled, and I was about to give in and order a piece of scrumptious-looking walnut torte when Melinda appeared. Her blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail under a hairnet. She came forward, untying her apron.

  “Della. What a pleasant surprise.” She grinned. “Tommy gave your name as Mrs. Wright. I had no idea it was you. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  “I wanted to stop by and thank you personally for the lovely spread you prepared for Marnie’s party. Your food was a huge hit. Everybody was talking about it. I must have gotten a dozen phone calls about it yesterday.” Okay, so that was a lie, but it wouldn’t hurt to butter her up. “You are a wonderful baker,” I continued. “I’ve always been partial to Marnie’s, but yours is every bit as good.” I silently begged Marnie’s forgiveness.

  “What a nice thing to say. I’m glad you’re happy. You paid for it. I have to say, if I’m any good, it’s all thanks to Marnie. She taught me well, but I think I still have a ways to go before I can say I’m as good as she is.” She paused. “You didn’t come all the way out here just for that, did you?”

  “I had an errand in town and thought I’d stop by,” I said, trying vainly to think of some way to bring the conversation around to Bruce. “Also, I do have an ulterior motive. There was one kind of cookie you brought over, with butterscotch chips and nuts. They were so delicious. I’ve been dying to ask Marnie to make them, but I don’t know what they’re called.”

  “You must be talking about my pecan rolls.”

  “Whatever they were, I loved them.”

  “The only other cookies I brought were chocolate chip. If you give me a sec, I’ll write down the recipe for you in case Marnie doesn’t have it.” She went behind the counter, got a pad and pencil and returned. As she jotted down the ingredients, I cleared my throat.

  “I suppose you heard about Helen Dubois. Such a tragedy.”

  She gave me a blank look. “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t know? Helen is dead.” I decided not to mention I was the person who had found her body.

  She covered her mouth in horror. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “How did she die?”

  “It’s not official yet, but the word is that she was strangled. The police have declared her death suspicious.”

  “You mean she was murdered? How awful. Do the police have any suspects?”

  I shook my head. “They asked me if I noticed anything at the party. But I was so busy playing hostess, I didn’t. Were you and Helen close?”

  “I hardly knew her,” she said.

  “I’ve heard that she and Bruce Doherty argued that night. Did you witness that?”

  “No.”

  “Did he say anything to you that night about Helen?”

  She stopped and stared at me. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you two having a long conversation near the food table. I was wondering what you were talking about.”

  “He and I shared a few words—hello, nice to meet you, that sort of thing. But I wouldn’t say we chatted for any length of time.” She gave me a wary look as if she were trying to assess whether I believed her. I did not.

  “Really? How strange. I could have sworn you were carrying on quite a long conversation.”

  Her mouth tightened. “I don’t even know the man. I can’t imagine what I would want to talk to him about.” She picked up her pencil and resumed writing. “Let’s see. One cup of golden raisins. One cup of pecans.”

  “I’d never met her fiancé before that party. What was your impression of him?”

  “Can’t say that I got any impression one way or another,” she said curtly. “Why all the questions? Are you working for the police now?”

  I felt the blood rise to my face.

  “Of course not. It’s just that Marnie is my friend, and I have a bad feeling about this man. I want to know whether she’s making a huge mistake marrying him. Melinda, if there’s anything you know about him, please tell me. Marnie was good to you. Don’t you think you owe her the truth?”

  She seemed to debate with herself. Then suddenly she said. “I didn’t want to say anything, but . . . he and I did talk. At first it was just polite conversation, at least on my part. But he became very rude, making comments about my figure and suggesting that we get together. That’s when I walked away. If it had been anybody but Marnie’s fiancé, I would have slapped him in the face, but I didn’t want to make a scene at her engagement party.”

  My mouth dropped. Now that I had the information, I felt sick. I’d never felt so sorry to be right.

  She tore the recipe from the pad and handed it to me.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate your honesty.”<
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  “No worries. If there’s anything else I can do for you, drop by anytime. Hope you enjoy the pecan rolls.”

  I nodded to her employee and left. It wasn’t until I was in the car that it occurred to me that if what she’d told me was the truth, the misbehavior was on his part, not hers. So why had she tried to convince me that they weren’t talking? Unless Melinda wasn’t as innocent as she wanted me to believe. I sat in my Jeep for a full minute. When I glanced at the shop, I spotted her staring at me. I turned the key in the ignition. I felt her eyes boring into me until I drove away. I returned to Briar Hollow, feeling like a cat that had been outsmarted by a mouse.

  • • •

  Winston came bounding over as I walked in. “Yes, I love you too, big boy.” He jumped up, hoping for a treat, no doubt. “No, Winnie. Down.” I disengaged myself and he slunk off, his eyes full of hurt. “Don’t look at me like that. You know you’re not supposed to jump on people.” Feeling guilty, I fished a dog treat from my pocket and held it up for him. He galloped back, snatched it, and we were friends again.

  “You just missed Matthew,” Marnie said from behind her loom. She rose and came to the counter. “He said he’d pick up Winston around five. He had his tool kit with him, said he promised to repair your dining room table?” She gave me a crooked smile. “What exactly have you been doing on that dining room table?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped.

  “I gave him your apartment key. I hope you don’t mind. He brought it back a few minutes later. He said the table was good as new.”

  “Great. Did Jenny give you a good reading?” I asked, taking off my jacket.

  “She always gives good readings. Not that I always like what she has to say.”

  “Why? What did she say?”

  “I bought myself a gorgeous dress in Charlotte last week—my wedding dress.” She smiled shyly as she said this, and then she became serious. “Jenny said that I wouldn’t get to wear my wedding dress.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? You won’t get married?”

  She looked horrified. “Don’t even say such a thing. I bought my wedding dress one size smaller, and I’m on a diet. I think it means I won’t lose the weight before the wedding.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. I’d better find another dress in the right size.”

  “What else did Jenny say?”

  She shrugged. “Not much. She said a man close to me is surrounded by danger. I don’t know who she could be talking about. The only man close to me is Bruce, unless she was talking about my next-door neighbor. That’s it—she must have meant Barney. He has a bad heart.” Just as I’d feared. Jenny had been too vague. Now Marnie was giving the prediction her own spin.

  “Anything else?”

  “I should watch out for somebody who wishes me harm.”

  “Uh-oh. I hope his initials aren’t B.D.”

  She looked puzzled for a second, and then guffawed. “You mean Bruce? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “How sure are you that you can trust him?” I asked. “It’s not as if you’ve known him for very long.”

  “I wouldn’t be marrying the man if I didn’t trust him. Besides, she didn’t tell me the person I shouldn’t trust is a man. The only man she mentioned was the one who is in danger.” Her face clouded over. “Uh-oh. You don’t think it’s Bruce, not Barney, who’s in danger, do you?”

  “Are you sure you didn’t misinterpret what she told you? Maybe she said the man close to you is dangerous.”

  She stared at me. “What are you talking about? You’re trying to hint at something, aren’t you?”

  “No. I’m just wondering. Sometimes when we’re in love, we don’t want to see what’s right in front of us. Remember? You were married once. You trusted your husband. And then years into your marriage, you found out that he had been having affairs all along.”

  “I was young when we got married. I was nineteen years old, going on sixteen. I’m a little older and wiser now.” Older, yes, but I had my doubts about her being wiser. She continued. “When a man wants to hide something, he can hide it pretty good.” That was my point exactly. I said nothing. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you getting at? You think Bruce is seeing other women?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just wondered how much you trust him. You only met the man a month ago. How can you trust someone enough to want to marry them in such a short time?” Color rose to her face, and I realized I’d been too insistent. “I’ve never been married,” I added quickly, hoping she would think all I was voicing was my own insecurity. “I’ve never even lived with anyone. Just the thought of trusting someone completely would scare me to death.”

  “Ah, so that’s what this is all about. Honey pie, when the right man comes along, you just know.”

  That was such hogwash. I had to turn around so she wouldn’t see the expression in my eyes. I changed the subject. “By the way, did you hear anything about the funeral service for Helen?”

  “I called the police this morning. I wanted to find out who’s in charge of making the arrangements. They still haven’t been able to locate any relatives.”

  “You mean she had nobody in the world? That’s so sad.”

  “She never married. The only family she had was a sister—Sybille. She was about ten years younger. Their parents died when Helen was nineteen, and she became a sort of surrogate mother to Sybille, until she just—poof—vanished one day.”

  I looked at her skeptically. “Vanished?”

  She nodded. “Nobody knows what happened. It’s a mystery. Sybille was living in Chicago at the time. She was very successful, only in her early twenties and already head of human resources at the Art Institute of Chicago. And then one day she just didn’t come home from work. Helen spent years looking for her. She hired private investigators. She put up a reward. She spent every dime she ever made on the case. Then about six or seven years ago she just gave up. I guess she came to accept what everybody else already knew. Sybille was dead. Helen went to court and had her declared legally dead.”

  “Was the case ever solved?”

  “There are plenty of theories, but as far as I know, the police never found out. Helen and I didn’t discuss it. This all happened back when I was married and living in Charlotte, so I never heard all the details. When I moved back here and Helen and I renewed our friendship, I tried to bring up the subject a couple of times, but she became so distraught—cried and cried. I thought it best to leave it alone. If she wanted to talk about it, fine. But I wasn’t about to risk upsetting her again.”

  The story left me feeling sad for Helen.

  Marnie’s voice brought me back. “I was thinking,” she said. “If nobody steps up, I might make the funeral arrangements myself.”

  “That would be really nice of you. If you need any help, I’m here.”

  She squared her shoulders. “I’ll call the police again. Maybe they’ve located a relative by now.” She picked up the landline and punched in the number.

  Chapter 9

  The door swung open and Liz Carter walked in, wringing her hands. “Oh, Della. I just heard about poor Helen. It’s so, so terrible.”

  “I know. It’s an awful tragedy.”

  “I don’t know what to do about the library. I was volunteering a few hours a week, giving Helen a hand. There was way too much work for one employee. But that’s all the town budget would allow, one employee. Somebody’s got to be there, but I have no idea if I should call a locksmith and take over until a new librarian is hired.” She looked at me as if she expected me to offer her a solution.

  Marnie ended her phone call and hung up. “Hi, Liz,” she said, coming around the counter. “How are you?”

  Liz repeated what she had just told me. “I know how much Helen cared about that library. She was even organizing a special event to raise funds.” The d
oorbell jingled as a messenger strode in, carrying a flat parcel.

  He looked from me to Liz to Marnie. “I have a package for Marnie Potter.”

  “That’s me,” Marnie said. The young man handed her a pen and she signed the receipt. “I wonder what this is,” she said, trying to read the label.

  “It’s from the Charlotte Museum of History,” he said, stashing the pen behind his ear. He headed for the door, leaving Marnie staring at the box.

  “It must be my flag.” She snatched a pair of scissors and slid the blades along the tape.

  Something Liz said just hit me. I turned to her and asked, “How could you have just heard about Helen? She was killed two days ago. That’s all anybody around here has been talking about.”

  “I left town right after the party. I’ve been in Charlotte ever since. I just got back. I must have chosen the worst time to leave. Not that anybody could have foreseen this, but still, if I’d been here, I would already have figured out what to do about the library. Now it’s been closed for two days, and as far as the exhibit she was working on, it’s as good as dead.” And then, realizing what she’d just said, she covered her mouth. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “Why don’t you call the mayor? He’ll tell you what to do. I bet he’ll be relieved when you tell him you’re willing to take over until they hire someone. He might even offer you the job, since you’re already familiar with the place.”

  She shook her head, taken aback. “Oh, I could never take Helen’s job. It would feel so wrong. Besides I don’t want to work full-time. Nine to five, five days a week? That’s not for me.” I remembered how much of her time Liz spent traveling. A full-time job would curtail her freedom. She continued. “But I don’t mind helping out until they find somebody else.” She glanced around. “Wow. This place sure looks different once you get all the party stuff out.” She wandered over to the armoire and looked at the display of towels. There were small linen hand towels, regular-sized linen bath towels, and great big Turkish towels with fringed ends. “Everything you sell is so beautiful. One of these days I’ll have to come by and pick something nice for myself.” Her eyes fell onto the Betsy Ross flag Marnie was taking out of the box. She walked over to the counter. “What’s that?”