Bone Is Where the Heart Is Page 7

  “Mrs. Colby, how are you? I didn’t know you owned this place.” It made perfect sense. When her husband was alive, he worked for the county so any work she did was because she wanted to and not because she needed to. Yet for as long as I could remember, she was never preoccupied with appearances. You took her as you saw her. Many tongues wagged at church when she showed up in jeans and work boots but she didn’t seem to care.

  “Yeah. I couldn’t do anything without your sister, though.” Belinda hugged Sarah. “She’s my right arm.”

  “So, what did they say? I’m dying here,” Sarah said.

  “They said they’d review the application.” Belinda sighed heavily. “I think Violet managed to poison the well with them.”

  “Application?” I really hated not being in the know of a conversation.

  “Belinda applied to become a member of the Women’s League. Mrs. Pickering was blocking it.”

  “Why?” I went back to the table to retrieve my cooling coffee.

  “Because she was Mrs. Pickering,” Sarah said.

  “Oh,” Belinda waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Even I could see it was a huge deal, just by her expression. She went behind the display case to look at her donuts. “So, I was hoping...goodness, it sounds so bad now that I say it out loud.”

  “That you could get them to reconsider your application now that she’s dead?”

  ‘Naomi!’ Sarah mouthed.

  I mouthed back, ‘What?’

  “Well, yes.” Belinda popped up again, holding an empty tray. “Taking advantage of a tragic situation. It’s poor form. I’ll be right back.”

  And a perfect motive to see Violet dead.

  Sarah gave me a face over the top of the counter.

  “What?”

  “I hope you’re not thinking that Belinda is a killer,” she hissed.

  “It’s not my place to say,” I said in defense. “But you have to admit...it’s a good reason.”

  “Oh my God.” Sarah sighed dramatically. “She couldn’t have killed Violet. She was here all afternoon while Violet was getting killed and you were getting struck by lightning.”

  “All day?”

  “Most of it.”

  “Most isn’t all, Sarah. Did she leave at all? For any reason?”

  Sarah bit her lip and glanced guiltily towards the back of the shop. She leaned forward to whisper, “I think she’s seeing someone, okay?”

  “Why are we whispering? There’s nothing wrong with that, if it’s the truth.”

  “I get the impression she’s hiding it.”

  “Do you know who?”

  “None. But she texts whoever it is all the time when it’s slow and then hides her phone when I’m near.”

  “Is she married?” Is that why it was so scandalous?

  “No, but really, Nomi, this town gossips. She’s had a hard time of it, you know?”

  “No, actually. What’s...going on?”

  “She has bad taste in men. Such bad luck after her husband died. The last guy she dated was online and he took her for like...$25,000. That was her entire savings. The rumor mill had a field day at her expense.”

  “Oof.” Broke and scandalized, not a good combination.

  “She probably wants to keep it quiet. Please. Just don’t...you know, go spreading stuff around.”

  Quiet enough to kill? The chief really did need to hear about this, if he hadn’t already.

  I needed to talk to Jolene. Darn her and her need to actually make a living.

  I wish I had brought Winston with me.

  Chapter Seven

  Until Jolene could get off work, I had to wait to talk to her about Belinda and her plight. In the meantime, I had things to do in town. The Hole in One was just across the street from the Old Courthouse Museum. I hoped to catch Harry there to talk about the dog show plans with flyers in hand.

  Small tourist town, smaller museum didn’t add up to a whole lot of people banging down the doors to see a little piece of Harmony Grove history. The contrast from bright and sunny day to the darker interior of the museum was a little blinding. All I could see were dark gray shapes as my eyes adjusted.

  “How are you this afternoon, Miss Cooper?” Harry’s voice startled me and I gave a little ‘eep’ as he snuck up on me.

  “Mr. Stillwell, hi. I just, uh, wanted to come see the museum. The last time I was here was gosh, grade school.”

  “Would you like a tour? We just finished that exhibit about the Prohibition Era and how it impacted the winery production here in the state.”

  Wow...so exciting. Luckily, I was saved by a good reason to be there. “Actually,” I said before he started his historical lecture, “Sarah and Robbie finished some flyers to put up to advertise the dog show along with the craft fair.”

  “Oh, splendid. Louisa called me earlier and told me about your plan to save the animal shelter. Wonderful idea. I will present it to the organizing committee when we meet today. I’m sure they’ll say yes, though. Very exciting, having our very own dog show celebrity as the organizer.”

  “Well, I’m not really a cele—”

  “And I told Louisa that I’d be more than happy to judge the contest. I know a thing or two about dogs—”

  “Well, I doubt we’ll have any dogs bred to standards or at show quality. It would probably be more like a beauty pageant. It’s more in good fun than any sort of real competition.”

  I really didn’t want this to turn into a disaster with people thinking their dogs were show worthy. People were so particular about their pets and got tense if they were told their dogs weren’t up to show standards.

  “Oh, of course. It’s a craft show, after all. It’s all in good fun. I was thinking of categories such as funniest costume and best hat. Which owner looks most like their dog.”

  Those were actually cute ideas. “Perfect. Can I leave a few flyers with you here? I’ll start putting them up in town when I hear the final word from you. Mr. Stillwell, can I ask you a question?”

  Harry grew very still. After a moment, he answered very slowly. “I suppose.”

  “What were you doing at Violet’s house when Jolene and I saw you?”

  “Nothing.” That answer came very quickly. Almost defensively.

  “Mr. Stillwell, really.”

  “What were you doing there?” he asked.

  “Honestly, I was looking at the place where I got struck by lightning. That’s never happened to me before.”

  “I was as well,” he said with a suspiciously wide smile. “And that magnolia tree is quite old, you know. One of the oldest in the city. I’d hate to think it would have to be cut down due to the lightning damage. I was assaying the damage to take to the city hall meeting later this month.” He glanced at his wrist for the time. “Well, I must head to a meeting.”

  There was no watch there. He tugged at his shirt sleeve to cover it.

  It didn’t need to be said that he wanted to get rid of me. With a gentle hand on my shoulder, he guided me to the door.

  Alright. Getting the bum’s rush was a bit obvious. I didn’t fight him. “Okay, Mr. Stillwell, I will talk to you later?”

  “I will tell Louisa the decision when I have one.” He shut the door right behind me when I stepped out.

  Lunch with Gramma.

  The old girl’s still got it.

  And Harry was obviously hiding something.

  Jolene stopped for the fifth time since we left her car on a forest access road. “I’m not so sure this is one of our better ideas,” she said between huffing and puffing. “And can you please slow down?”

  “The sun’s setting and soon we won’t see anything.” I doubled back, shifted the kitchen stepladder to my off hand and hooked her by the arm to drag her along.

  “At least they’ll feed us a meal when they arrest us.”

  “We won’t get arrested if you will just hurry up.” Navigating by Google Maps wasn’t optimum, especially since we weren’t on a road. I could onl
y hope that we didn’t meet any obstacles like barbed wire fence or small creek.

  It worked because at least we were heading in the right direction.

  “Why are we doing this again?”

  “The official reason is to get Winston’s stuff.”

  “Didn’t you buy him some new stuff?”

  “Yes, but it’s not his stuff.”

  “Does it matter to a dog?”

  “Does it matter?” I stopped suddenly and Jolene ran into me.

  “Hey—”

  “Does it matter? How can you ask that? The poor little guy just lost his owner and he’s in a new place with new stuff that isn’t his stuff. How would you feel?”

  “Okay, fine. He needs this. You’re a good owner for risking jail time to get his squeaks.” Jolene held her phone up, using the flashlight app to help us see our way through the dense woods.

  Up ahead was the wooden fence that bordered Violet’s property. A small hut sat nestled in a small clearing just beyond the fence.

  Jolene stopped and pointed. “What’s that? A guard hut this far in the woods?”

  I considered it a moment before shaking my head. “Hunting shack by the looks of it.”

  “Violet Pickering, a hunter. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  We continued on for a few minutes. In fading light, we could see the back of the house.

  “Uh-huh, so what is the unofficial reason why we’re breaking in?” she asked again.

  “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

  “You think the chief still considers you a suspect.”

  “Mostly. He hasn’t said anything officially but it’s just a matter of time.”

  I lowered the stepladder on the other side of the fence, then climbed over it with less clown routine this time. Jolene gave me her phone to hold the light as she climbed next. “So you’re being proactive.”

  “And getting Winston’s stuff.”

  “Right.”

  Staying low, we approached the back of the house. The window was still cracked. I set up the step ladder and Jolene motioned for me to go. “I’ll take watch.”

  With an exasperated sigh, I stepped up and fiddled with the screen for a moment before it came loose, passing it back to be set aside. With a small jump, I levered into the window to start off our life of crime.

  The window opened into a small room. I switched my phone from GPS to flashlight and looked around. It was a large pantry. There was a table at window height right in front of me with jars of peaches and figs, a clay bowl, and a glass serving dish.

  Balanced there at the window sill, I pushed stuff out of the way so I didn’t create a disaster when I finally got in.

  “What’s taking so long?” she whispered loudly.

  “Hold on, almost there,” I said.

  One thing was for certain; I’d never make a good thief.

  Finally able to get into the window, I glanced around. All the shelves that lined the walls were jammed with mason jars of preserved fruit. Some of the dates on the labels were so faint I could barely make out the dates. They were decades old. I couldn’t believe many of them were still good.

  Luckily the pantry door wasn’t locked on the other side and opened for me. The house beyond was dark, and spookily quiet.

  “I won’t be long,” I said out the window.

  “You have ten minutes and I’m leaving without you.”

  She wouldn’t leave me. Jolene was the kind of friend who would be sitting in the jail cell with me saying “we need to do that again”.

  It didn’t take long for me to locate Winston’s sweaters. His squeaky toys were piled on the dog bed. I gathered them up and stuffed them into a plastic bag I had brought with me. The bowls and food weren’t needed, especially since Violet didn’t feed him any gourmet food.

  Creeping back towards the pantry, Violet’s desk was right on the way.

  Funny, she didn’t strike me as the kind of woman to have a desk but there it was, plain as day.

  And well...I was there and all, it seemed a shame to not have a look-see.

  Several papers were strewn around on the surface. Bills, mostly, and the meeting minutes of the Women of Harmony Grove Historical Group executive board talking about board business. Namely about putting pressure on the committee to remove the serving committee member of the Harmony Grove Craft Fair.

  Did that mean she was going to have Harry Stillwell fired from the committee?

  A small silver picture frame sat to the side. Winston posed for the camera, his collar twinkling beneath the lights. In fact, the entire wall above the desk was filled with pictures. Many of Violet Pickering as a younger woman posed with a man about her age.

  That must be Mr. Pickering.

  There was an image of two extremely similar women sitting back to back in the velvet wraps of high school senior pictures. Violet must have been a twin. Tucked in the corner of the frame was an image of a very young Violet and an equally young Harry Stillwell in front of the Old Courthouse in a couple’s embrace.

  Well well well. Who had a fancy for Mrs. Pickering?

  Was that why Harry was here and lingering at the window?

  I took the picture down to look at the back. The only thing written was a date: 1958. Struck with the sudden compulsion to keep it, I tucked that into the bag as well and kept looking.

  Sprinkled among them were more images of Winston, from puppyhood into his adult stage. A few images were probably family from decades ago with Violet and her twin sister in various settings. Beehive hairdos hadn’t been in fashion in forever.

  My fingers brushed a few pens standing up in a pen holder, sending the contents scattering on the surface of the desk. When I tried to right it, I was able to get a better look at the beautiful silver filigree design of the pen holder. It was very lovely, not some department store knockoff. The workmanship was intricate and most likely real silver.

  When nothing else of interest turned up, I headed for the kitchen to make sure I didn’t miss any medication for Winston or any hidden special foods for him.

  In her junk drawer, a pink folder was almost hidden beneath various take-out menus.

  Violet Pickering ordered takeout? Interesting. I figured her for someone who insisted on hand making all her own food. Especially with all that canned and jarred food in the pantry.

  I teased the folder out and opened it. There were a few personal letters on official letterhead from a lawyer (now there’s a name for a lawyer—Franklin Crook) discussing the estate of her deceased husband and a notice of a small claims complaint against her by Spencer Landscaping for almost a thousand dollars.

  Ouch, that’s a chunk of change. Was it enough to kill for?

  Stapled to that was a handwritten letter on lined notebook paper with some pretty strong wording on being paid or she’d regret it.

  It was signed Kevin Spencer.

  According to my phone, my ten minutes were almost up. I didn’t want to take the chance that Jolene would actually make good on her threat. Tucking the folder into the bag as well, I headed out the way I came, making sure to shut the pantry door. Jolene caught the bag and I climbed out of the window, making sure to move the jars back into position and lower the window closed again.

  “What’s all this?” Jolene asked as she helped me back on the ground.

  Now it was completely dark outside. Being this far in the country there were no streetlights and Violet had no security lights installed. We were in the total dark with only the stars above us as light.

  “Winston’s gear, and something I need to get a better look at in the light.”

  “You took something else?”

  “Yes, a folder of stuff I found in a kitchen drawer.”

  “God...stealing on top of breaking and entering. Can we leave now?”

  “Yes, please.”

  As she folded the stepladder, crunching grass signaled someone was there. Bouncing light reflected off the ground to the side of the house and it grew
brighter.

  Someone was coming.

  Jolene grabbed my arm and dragged me to the opposite corner. We ducked out of sight and killed the lights on our cell phones.

  Risking a peek around the corner, a man crept low, hugging the back of the house until he was under the window. Obviously he was younger and in better shape than I was because he was able to make the leap up to the window and, braced on one arm on the outer window sill, pushed it open with one hand to climb in. He didn’t anticipate anything being on the other side and there was a crash and some colorful cursing.

  While that commotion was going on, I grabbed the other end of the stepladder and we made all speed to the back wood line of the property. We didn’t stop running until we got to the car.

  Jolene cranked the engine and tore out of there like she was on fire. The white-knuckled grip she had on the steering wheel didn’t relax until we got back home.

  We sat in the driveway, waiting for our heartbeats to return to normal.

  “Who was that?” she finally asked.

  “No clue.”

  “So are you going to share your spoils with me or do I have to wait until the police report?”

  Jolene clicked on the overhead light as I shared the contents of my bag. She cooed over the cute sweaters and the tired looking squeak toys. The toys were definitely well-loved. His bed would need washing but it was fairly new.

  She glanced through the folder.

  “So, Kevin Spencer, hmm?” Jolene squinted at the handwritten letter.

  “Do you know him?”

  “His family moved here about eight years ago. They were from Chicago and wanted to live the slower life of the south.”

  “Can’t get much slower than Harmony Grove,” I remarked.

  “Ha! The mother and father loved it here but Kevin didn’t adjust to small-town living very well. He stayed in trouble most of the time, getting quite the reputation for bad choices. It made his father really sad. We used to fill his heart med scrip at the pharmacy.”

  “Used to?”

  “He died three years ago, right after Kevin graduated from high school. Kevin lives with his mother in the Rolling Hills trailer park. He managed to get his life turned around, started cutting grass. He’s got a lot of work now and a brand-new truck. I think he’s even hired a couple of guys to help out.”