Devil's Food Cake (29 page)

“Well, maybe,” Sadie said. “I needed to ask some questions about your mom.”

The woman’s expression became even more guarded, and she closed the door an inch.

“No, no, please don’t shut the door,” Sadie said, putting out her good hand, her fingers beginning to tingle from the cold. “I’m afraid some questions have been raised tonight that only Diane may have known the answer to. My name’s Sadie Hoffmiller, and I was a friend of Diane’s. Can I please ask you a few questions?”

The woman hesitated, and then opened the door. A hallelujah chorus sang in Sadie’s mind as she hurried over the threshold. How on earth had Jane survived outside for so long?

She stepped inside and immediately noticed several boxes in the otherwise beautifully decorated living room. Some empty boxes were stacked at one end of the room, but several opened boxes were lined up in the middle of the floor. The woman had said the new Mrs. Veeter was moving in—was this her stuff?

“Thank you,” Sadie said, smiling gratefully as the woman shut the front door behind her.

“Who are you again?” she asked as she walked further into the house and faced Sadie again.

“Sorry, my name is Sadie Hoffmiller,” she said. “I was a teacher too.”

“You taught with Mom?”

“Well, no, not really,” Sadie offered with a smile she hoped would help convince this woman to give her the benefit of the doubt. “But we taught some of the same students, and we knew one another through district events and things.” But not well enough that Sadie knew the names of Diane’s children. And right now she sure wished she did. Based on Diane’s age, and the age of the woman standing in front of Sadie now, she took a chance. “You’re Diane’s youngest daughter, right?”

“Tina,” the girl answered, nodding carefully.

Sadie smiled. “Right,” she said, relieved to have guessed correctly. They both looked at each other for a few more seconds before Sadie realized she should be the one doing the talking. She looked at the boxes again, but forced herself not to ask about them. It wasn’t her business. “I’m here in hopes that maybe your mother kept some of her students’ papers—favorite students.”

This time it was Tina who looked at the boxes, then back to Sadie. “You came here at midnight to ask about old student papers? After all these years?”

Couldn’t anyone just smile and give her what she needed? Sadie tried to come up with an answer that would be quick and yet to the point. She glanced at the boxes and then did a double, or rather a triple, take. She squinted in order to read the words written in magic marker on one of the boxes closest to her.

Diane—clothes

She looked up at Tina, who was watching her. “You’re going through your mother’s things?” What strange timing.

Tina took a breath and sighed. “Dad told us about the wedding two weeks ago, then he hauled up these boxes. He was going to throw them out. I asked if I could go through them first. He agreed, but he wants it all gone by the time he and Cat get home.”

“Cat?” Sadie asked.

Tina’s eyes narrowed. “Yep.” She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to.

“I’m sorry,” Sadie said again, forcing her mind to slow down.
“I can only imagine what this has been like for you.”

Tina shrugged, looking tired. “So, what is it you need?” she asked. “Why are student papers important after all these years?”

Sadie glanced at the boxes again. Some of them looked like they held files. She looked back at Tina and decided against getting to her point in a roundabout way. “I’m looking for anything that might be related to Damon Mortenson.”

Tina furrowed her brow. “Why?”

Another quick glance at the files—right there in front of her—helped her decide to be as honest as possible. “Before your mother died she sent a letter to a reporter at the
Denver Post
that claimed she had proof Thom Mortenson didn’t write the book
Devilish Details,
which had come out a few weeks earlier.”

Tina’s eyes went wide. “Mom said that?”

Sadie nodded. “Unfortunately, the letter was lost until just recently. Now that we have it, we’re trying to find her proof.”

“We?” Tina asked. “Who’s we?”

Shoot, why hadn’t Sadie watched her pronouns a little better? “A friend of mine,” she finally said. It was the second time that night she’d called Jane a “friend,” and she wasn’t entirely comfortable with that label. “She works at the
Post.
”

“She’s the one harassing my father!” Tina’s voice rose in pitch and her tired face was instantly animated—but not in a good way. “She called him twelve times in one day, demanding that he meet with her to talk about Mom. If you ask me and my sisters, she’s the
exact
reason my dad decided to marry that bimbo.” She stopped for a breath, and Sadie tried not to show her fear at the intensity of Tina’s reaction. “My dad had a very difficult time coming to terms with my mother’s death. We were all relieved when he finally started dating again. We didn’t want him to be alone for the rest of his life. But then he got involved with that girl online and we knew it was a disaster. We were able to convince him to take things slow and not rush in to anything. Then that reporter starts harassing him, bringing all the emotions he felt after Mom died back to the forefront. He’s tired of hurting so much, but this
friend
of yours wouldn’t let up. Lo and behold a week later he announces he’s getting married. He’s starting a new life and he wants Mom’s stuff gone—no more reminders. Your
friend
has no idea what she’s done.”

Sadie put up her one hand, hoping to ease the tension that had suddenly filled the vaulted foyer of the home. “I’m not like the reporter and I completely agree that she pushes too hard,” she said quickly. “I’m also very sorry about your father’s marriage. I can imagine it’s very difficult, and I can see why you’re angry.” Sadie thought it was a bit much to blame the wedding on Jane, though. “I’m here because I know Diane wouldn’t have made that kind of accusation against Thom Mortenson without good reason.”

Tina shook her head. “Mom was a teacher. I don’t know why she would send that letter to the newspaper, and I’m not convinced she really did. She never said anything about Thom Mortenson’s book to anyone else and reporters lie about stuff like that all the time.”

Sadie could feel herself running out of rope and decided it was time to compact her information. “Your mother showed a special interest in Damon Mortenson, and I think it might be because
he
wrote
Devilish Details,
not his father. I think the proof she mentioned in her letter might very well be right here.” She waved toward the boxes of files.

Tina looked at the boxes and then back at Sadie.

“Please,” Sadie said, trying not to beg, but finding it nearly impossible not to. “I’m not trying to add more heartache to your plate, I swear.”

Tina didn’t look convinced, and Sadie wished she hadn’t brought Jane up at all.

Sadie made one more plea. “Your mother knew something important. Please.”

Tina watched her for a few more seconds, then looked around the room as if searching for something. “I have to ask my dad. Hold on and I’ll call him.” She made a face, obviously not looking forward to it.

Sadie forced a polite smile. It wasn’t a no—not yet—and that was a good thing. Tina exited through a doorway, probably heading for the phone. Sadie’s attention immediately locked on the boxes of files, and she carefully glanced back and forth between the boxes and the doorway Tina had disappeared through. After a few moments she could hear Tina’s muted voice on the phone.

With Tina occupied, Sadie took a closer look at the multicolored files in the boxes. They were organized alphabetically; the first box she looked at was marked A-F. She looked past it to the next box—G-L. There was a stack of files—a dozen at least—on the couch. Sadie assumed they were the ones Tina had decided to keep.

Glancing at the doorway, Sadie took a few steps closer to the couch and looked through the stacked files. Nothing stood out to her, so she crouched down and thumbed through the files still in the boxes, trying to get a feel for what they contained. Adams, Melissa. Arrington, Dallon.

Sadie knew Dallon Arrington—he’d been one of her third-grade students many years ago. Good kid. She pulled out his file and flipped through it, smiling at Diane’s sprawling handwriting and her notes like “Great characterization!” and “You made me run for the Kleenex, Dallon. Well done! I’d love to keep this for my files.”

Mixed in with the student files were files for things like allocution exercises—whatever that meant—and Beetzer Phonics programs. But mostly the files were names of students, which meant the possibility of Damon Mortenson having a file of his own was a very real possibility. But where were the rest of the boxes? These ended at L.

“What are you doing?”

Sadie jumped to her feet before realizing she still had Dallon Arrington’s file in her hand. She felt her face heat up as she stammered an apology and quickly returned the file. When she stood again she was unable to meet Tina’s eyes and didn’t know how to explain herself.

“My dad said no,” Tina said after a few intolerable seconds. She pointed to the front door. “Get out now before I call the police.” Whatever benefit of the doubt she’d given Sadie was gone.

Sadie was so embarrassed she couldn’t bring herself to argue. “I-I’m so sorry,” she said, turning toward the door. “I guess I got carried away.” Wasn’t that exactly what Jane had said after apologizing for sneaking into the hotel and getting Sadie in trouble?

“Go now,” Tina said menacingly.

Sadie moved as fast as she could out the door and down the steps. First she vented like an idiot at the hotel, and now she got caught peeking at private files in someone else’s home? What was happening to her? She got back in the car and shifted into reverse.

“So?” Jane asked. She had the blanket pulled up to her chin, but was still shivering despite the fact that the car had to be ninety degrees.

Sadie couldn’t even put the experience into words. She just shook her head and looked in her rearview mirror, anxious to leave. However, just as she was about to put her foot on the gas, she caught a glance of the Veeters’ big, black garbage can tucked under the eaves of the double car garage. The lid wasn’t closed all the way.

She narrowed her eyes, finding it difficult to make out details through the snow. Then she turned on the headlights and recognized a rainbow of files sticking out over the side of the stuffed garbage can.

The intense evaluation of her morality would have to wait at least another fifteen minutes.

Chapter 37

Jane was quiet as they drove back to Eric’s house. Sadie couldn’t blame her for being annoyed. If Sadie could have done it herself, she’d have dug out a backseat worth of files from the garbage can alone. Unfortunately, in her disabled state, she had no choice but to ask for Jane’s help. Dumpster diving soured her dramatically—no pun intended.

The interior of the car was smelling rather sour as well—those files hadn’t been the only things in the can. Sadie was definitely going to have to get the Jeep detailed after this. She hoped Eric would understand.

“I appreciate your help,” Sadie said for the sixth time.

Jane snorted for the sixth time.

They remained silent for a little longer and Sadie wondered what would happen from here on out. She was bringing a surly reporter back to what was basically their headquarters. Was that such a good idea? She’d learned that while Jane could be soft and charming, she had an edge to her. That edge made it difficult for Sadie to trust her fully, and yet Jane had given her so much information. It was very confusing trying to figure people out sometimes.

“There’s something else we ought to talk about before we get to Eric’s,” Sadie said, shifting in her seat in preparation for a difficult conversation. “I know you’re used to being the one who calls the shots, and while I have no problem taking you with me, I need two things from you in exchange.”

“I already told you about Diane Veeter’s letter, that Thom didn’t write the book,
and
I dumpster dived for those files. What more do you want from me?”

Sadie stopped the car in the middle of the road and turned to face her companion. “I want you to take a step back and not try to dominate the situation.” Sadie kept her expression tight, but inside she wriggled. She didn’t like strong-arming people any more than she liked it when other people strong-armed her. And yet, it had to be done.