Going Through the Notions (A Deadly Notions Mystery) (21 page)
Read Going Through the Notions (A Deadly Notions Mystery) Online
Authors: Cate Price
I swerved to avoid her and crashed into a recycle container at the end of the row of garbage cans outside the barn. It fell over, spilling its contents onto the ground. I jammed the car in park and got out to start picking up the empty milk jugs, beer bottles, empty peanut butter container, and soda cans.
“Oh my God! Look what you’ve done! Oh my
God!
” Reenie jumped out of the truck and ran her fingers through her baby fine hair, skewing it into short tufts.
“I’m sorry, Reenie, I’ll put everything back. It’s okay.”
Her distress seemed a bit out of proportion to the situation, seeing as it was only a few recyclables that spilled, but who could blame her? She’d had a lot to deal with lately.
“Why are you poking around here?”
I cringed inside at my arrogant interference. She was right. Why
was
I trespassing on someone’s private property? I’d definitely gone too far this time.
“I just thought that maybe I could find some kind of clue or—”
She flung her hands out in front of her. “Oh, Daisy, Jimmy’s
dead
. Nothing will bring him back. I’m trying to forget he was murdered and put it behind me, but you keep bringing it up again!”
The two kids were sitting in the front seat of the truck, their eyes wide. Neither was wearing a seat belt.
She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I know you’re trying to help us with the country fair and all and I appreciate it—I really do—but I can’t take much more. I want to move on with my life.”
“I’m sorry, too, Reenie. The last thing I want to do is upset you.”
She sniffed and stared past me for a moment at the barn. “You know, I didn’t say nothing to the police, and I didn’t want to tell you this before, seeing as you and Angus are good friends, but I
did
hear a car pulling up outside our house early that morning. I can’t be sure, but I think what happened is Angus slept off his drunk, found the pens missing, and then came back here and whacked Jimmy.”
“No, you see, I checked the odometer and—”
The little boy started wailing inside the truck.
Reenie turned around. “Please. No more, Daisy. Just go. Please.”
She seemed so upset that I hurriedly got back in the Subaru and bumped back out to the main road as fast as I could over the potholes.
Fat raindrops splattered the windshield, and a bright finger of lightning raked the sky.
Jasper slumped down on his seat, his eyes fixed on me. I reached over and stroked his narrow back with one hand as I drove, the thunk of the wipers an uneasy rhythm punctuated by distant rumbles of thunder.
I wondered if there were any fingerprints left on the pen, although between the wet mud, Jasper’s slobber, and me wiping the dirt off, I seriously doubted it. I should take it to the police, but I didn’t trust Ramsbottom. I was getting to be like Reenie with my mistrust of authority.
I could go over Ramsbottom’s head and contact his supervisor, but I didn’t want to make things worse for Angus. And if I
did
give it to the police, it didn’t prove anything anyway. It wouldn’t get Angus out of jail.
Jasper fell asleep before we got to River Road and I kept stroking his back in a gentle massage, the skin loose on his skinny body.
I’d ask Joe and see what he thought I should do. Although then I’d have to admit I’d been on Reenie’s property without her permission.
Crap
.
But when Jasper and I arrived home, the house was deserted. There was a note on the table in the ripped-apart kitchen that said Joe and Sarah had gone to the movies and would catch dinner in Sheepville afterward.
I glanced at my cell phone. No messages. Guess no one had bothered to see if I’d wanted to go.
What a darkly serious day.
“Oh, stop being such a baby, Daisy Buchanan. You should be able to make dinner for yourself once in a while,” I said out loud.
Jasper’s tail instantly began wagging at the sound of my voice.
“Guess they abandoned you, too, huh? Never mind, we’ll manage.” I fed him a scoop of his dry puppy food, and then opened the fridge and stared inside, not knowing what I wanted.
I shut the door again and then, in defiance, went down into the wine cellar and picked out a very nice bottle of Shiraz. It was another of those special-occasion wines that Joe and I had purchased in the wine store in Lambertville.
Maybe I’d give the pen to Fiona, I mused as I cut the foil seal around the top of the bottle. Or maybe I’d do nothing with it until I figured things out.
I spied some juice glasses teetering at the top of a nearby pile of dishes. I grabbed one, rinsed the dust out of it, and poured in a couple of inches of the crimson elixir. I took a fortifying swallow and sighed in satisfaction as the essence of crushed raspberries swirled over my tongue.
“I know. A grilled cheese sandwich.
If
I can find a frying pan,” I said to Jasper. “How does that sound?”
Thunder boomed outside, getting closer now. He rolled his eyes anxiously toward the window.
“It’s okay, buddy.” I set the bottle down and smoothed out the worried wrinkles on his forehead.
I maneuvered a few feet into the sunporch, through the stacks of new hardwood flooring and kitchen paraphernalia, and was searching for a pan when the phone rang. I hurried back out to the kitchen and grabbed the cordless receiver. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Buchanan?”
I recognized the same pleasant-sounding voice from the other evening. “Yes,” I said, gratified he got my name right. Obviously the type who paid attention. “You must be Peter.”
“I hope you don’t mind me calling this number again but I’ve been trying Sarah’s cell all day and she doesn’t answer.”
I retraced my steps into the sunporch, stepping over a mound of dinner plates and cereal bowls. “She went out with her father to the movies.”
“Oh.” The disappointment in his voice was evident in that one simple syllable.
I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder and, balancing on my left leg, took a huge stride with my right toward an open space. I thought I saw the edge of my red frying pan in a heap against the back wall.
“I’ll tell her you called.” I knew Sarah would be pissed off that I was talking to him, but I wasn’t going to live in fear of her reactions anymore. Sarah was obviously in pain, too. She needed to face up to reality and try to work things out with this guy. Or if they couldn’t, at least they’d both be able to move on.
“Um—I don’t want to put you in the middle of anything,” he said, “but I’d really appreciate it. I need to talk to her.”
I was tempted to encourage him to spill the beans, but I’d overstepped enough.
And then he bared his soul to me anyway.
While I listened patiently, I stretched as far as I could and hooked my finger in the hole at the end of the pan’s handle. My heart went out to him. I knew how hard Sarah could be to deal with at times. I murmured that I hoped they’d be able to connect soon.
Peter cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to unload on you like this. Could you give me your address there, please?”
“It’s 327 Main Street, Millbury, Pennsylvania.” I eased the pan slowly close enough to grab, hoping the pile didn’t collapse with an almighty crash. He was probably planning to send Sarah flowers or something.
“Well, I’d better let you go,” he said. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Nice talking to you, Peter.”
“You, too.”
Clutching the prized pan, I hung up the phone and made my way back into the kitchen that had no cabinets, or countertops, or floor.
I poured some more wine and filled the dog’s water bowl. A few minutes later, the smell of bread frying in butter went a long way toward soothing my frazzled nerves.
As the storm pounded the windows outside, I curled up on the couch, gave Jasper a corner of my sandwich, and discovered that a forty-five-dollar 2006 Sonoma Valley Syrah actually went quite well with grilled cheese.
I
got up early the next morning and took Jasper for a walk.
It was a clear, sunny morning, as if the storm had washed the world and left it fresh and clean again.
At the intersection of Main Street and Grist Mill Road, next to the Historical Society in its one-room schoolhouse, Jasper sniffed intently at the massive oak tree. Sort of like a message board for dogs.
I couldn’t bear the thought of him shut up in a New York apartment all day. Would Sarah make the proper arrangements for him while she worked late, or would he be sitting there in the dark, patiently waiting while his bladder was fit to burst?
Damn it.
Sarah and Joe had come in last night around 10 p.m., full of tales about the movie and the neighbors they’d seen having dinner at the Bridgewater Inn. Sounded like she and Debby had had fun at the concert, too. They’d met Robin Tague at the reception afterward and he’d signed autographs for them. I’d asked if he had used a fountain pen, but it was only a regular ballpoint.
Two kids were throwing a football to each other in the middle of the street. As I waited for Jasper to finish his business, I remembered the old photos of Ramsbottom in his football uniform standing proudly next to his father. Had Angus’s actions ruined his character? How would he have turned out otherwise?
You’d like to think life would get clearer as you got older, but it never did.
Friday was another busy day at the store. I’d definitely decided to give the dollhouse to Claire for her birthday at the end of October. It was rather an expensive present for a child, but Patsy couldn’t afford to buy her much, and I knew Claire would treasure it. It would be a fun project to fix up, and I made a list of the items I’d need to keep an eye out for. There was some furniture already inside, but it needed a dining table and chairs and accessories for the bedrooms, such as bedspreads and lamps.
I scanned the local paper for upcoming auctions. The ads often listed the types of items that would be up for bid, and even specific descriptions of particularly nice pieces. There were a couple that looked promising. There should be plenty of yard sales going on tomorrow, too.
Patsy came flying in around 3 p.m.
“Hey, Daisy, I have a huge favor to ask you! Sarah and I want to go to the pub tonight, and I thought my sister could babysit, but it turns out she has plans. Would you mind watching Claire for a couple of hours?”
Sarah certainly has an active social life all of a sudden.
“Sure, no problem. I’ll come over to your sister’s house, though. Our place is a disaster right now with the kitchen remodel.”
Patsy’s sister lived in a nice end-unit townhome in a development called Quarry Ridge. She was the one who watched Claire in the mornings before school when Patsy had to be at the diner by 6 a.m.
“Thanks, Daisy. And guess what? Betty asked me to do an auction with her on Sunday at a house on Swamp Pike.”
I raised an eyebrow. Betty hadn’t even asked for my help this time. She must really be taking over the reins of the business.
I’d been to a few whole house auctions with Angus. I liked them, often more so than the regular ones. The auctioneer would bring everything necessary with him to the house—tables to display the items, a microphone, cash register, and even a snack trailer and Porta-Potties for the larger auctions. Some had quite the party atmosphere going on.
After Patsy left, I called Joe to let him know about the babysitting.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be busy working on the kitchen anyway.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“You know I don’t, but . . .”
“Yes?”
“Well, you always do whatever you want to do anyway, Daisy. See you later.”
And he hung up.
I sucked in a breath as I stared at the phone, the dial tone humming. I’d thought Joe was always so easygoing, proud of my independence, and content to let me have my moments in the sun. It never occurred to me he might resent it.
*
“C
laire was sitting coloring at the farmhouse table in the dining room when I arrived. The townhouse had a great open plan kitchen, dining and living room with vaulted ceilings, and a fireplace. The spacious kitchen had pickled oak cabinets and a tile backsplash dotted with pictures of herbs. Some of Claire’s framed artwork hung on the khaki-painted walls, and the refrigerator was covered in magnets and notes. A tabby cat lounged near the sliding doors leading out to the wooded backyard. Patsy had picked Sarah up and they were doing their makeup together in the powder room. I’d said I’d give her a ride home with me later, so she could enjoy herself and not worry about drinking and driving.
“Look at this!” I said to Claire. “A real kitchen with cabinets and a countertop and everything!”
She giggled. “Daisy, you’re funny.”
Patsy had wanted her to call me Mrs. Buchanan when we first met, but I preferred plain old Daisy. I set a paper bag on the table. I’d bought cheese curls, Swedish Fish candy, and lemonade at the convenience store attached to the post office.
“Ooh, what’s in there?” Claire grinned at me, dark eyes flashing. She knew what was in the bag. I got her same favorites every time.
I sat in one of the white Windsor dining chairs as she pushed a coloring book toward me. “Pick a page for you to color.”
Obediently, I selected an ocean scene and a variety of blue crayons.
The brick townhouse had a finished basement that ran the whole length of the house, where Patsy and Claire spent most of their time. It was carpeted with a big-screen TV, a huge sectional sofa, and a desk for Claire to do her homework. There were two beds at one end behind a screen, a second bathroom, and built-in closets under the stairs. It was close to a thousand square feet, and quite a nice space, but still, I knew what Patsy meant about wanting her own place someday.
Patsy came out of the powder room and sat next to her daughter. She never talked about Claire’s father. It was as if he’d never existed. All I knew was that when Patsy’s mother died in a car crash, she went a little wild and crazy, got pregnant, and had to drop out of school. Her older sister had taken her in and basically raised her.
Patsy didn’t have a high opinion of men, to say the least, and I wondered how that would influence Claire. I still wanted her to be a kid, to dream and be innocent for as long as possible, but unsentimental Patsy with her hard-core common sense was determined to teach her about the ugly side of human nature. I myself was an innocent compared to Patsy. When I was teaching in the early days, a kid brought in a bag of weed that he’d found in his dad’s sock drawer. I thought it was parsley.
After Patsy and Sarah left, Claire and I went downstairs with our snacks. She lay on her stomach on the floor, watching a fashion designer reality show on television. The tabby cat sat at her side, on guard for any dropped cheese curl crumbs.
My cell rang. It was Martha, in full commander-in-chief mode. “I’ve planned an organizational meeting for the country fair,” she announced. “Tomorrow at my house. It’s a working lunch.” She said it like we would be at a Fortune 500 company boardroom meeting.
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
“Oh, and Betty’s volunteered to be on the committee, too.”
There was a slight pause.
I smiled to myself. “You want me to give her a ride to your house, right?”
I could almost feel Martha smile back at the other end of the phone. She loved it when a plan came together.
“No problem,” I said. “Betty’s being nice enough to let us use the auction grounds. It’s the least I can do.”
Claire was shuffling around now in a pair of Patsy’s shoes, hands out at her sides, acting like a model sashaying down the runway.
“It’s okay, Daisy,” Claire whispered as she caught me watching her. “Mommy’s giving this stuff to the Salvation Army anyway.” Her little feet slipped around in the high-heeled pumps.
Jeez. Patsy must have really big feet. Just like Angus
.
A tiny bell dinged in the back of my mind, but with the angst on television and Martha’s monologue, I couldn’t concentrate.
“Don’t trip on the carpet,” I whispered back, seeing the slight indentations she made in the smooth pile as she paraded around.
After I hung up with Martha, I called Betty to offer her a ride. I also made a few calls to some other store owners I knew in Millbury and Sheepville to ask for their help with the country fair.
After the show ended, we played games for a while until Claire yawned and rubbed her eyes, so I told her to put on her pajamas and brush her teeth. I lay down on the twin bed with its purple butterfly comforter next to her and read our favorite stories until I almost fell asleep myself. I glanced over at the other twin bed, Patsy’s, and again thought how much she would appreciate having her own bedroom someday. I hoped the Backsteads could find a way to keep her on at the auction house, even when Angus came home.
As Claire’s breathing evened, I crept upstairs and took a mystery novel out of my tote bag and settled down to read.
Around 11:30 p.m., Patsy and Sarah returned, pink-cheeked and laughing.
“So I gather you guys had a good time?” I asked them.
“Hell, yeah!” They both said it at the same time and collapsed in laughter again. It was a good thing Claire was sound asleep in the basement.
On the way home in the car, Sarah chatted to me nonstop. “Wow. I haven’t danced that much in a long time. It was a great band, Mom. I couldn’t believe it.”
I smiled. She sounded like a teenager again, full of bubbling enthusiasm.
“But, man, that other diner waitress that Patsy works with—Carla? She’s going to get herself in trouble one day with the way she carries on. Patsy’s no angel either, but I mean, this girl’s
really
crazy.”
I gripped the wheel. Pregnant and drinking? I’d need to have a little chat with Carla.
“Her jealous ex-boyfriend showed up while she was literally dancing on the bar. He was freaking out. It was like free entertainment in addition to the band.”
My cell rang.
“Hi, babe.” It was Joe. He hadn’t called me that in a while.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, let’s see, there’s a nice young man here who showed up looking for Sarah. Says you gave him the address?”
Oh, boy.
Here we go again. One step forward, two steps back in my relationship with my daughter.
“Okay,” I said as casually as I could, “thanks for letting me know.”
“What’s the matter, Mom?”
“Nothing,” I said as we pulled up in front of the house. She jumped out and I trailed after her toward the front door. Toward my doom.
At the end of the wide entry hallway, behind the plastic sheet hanging over the kitchen archway, came the unmistakable murmur of male voices.
“Do you know anything about cabinet installation, young man?”
“Not really, sir.”
“Well, get ready for a lesson.”
“What the—” Sarah ran toward the sound and whipped back the plastic to reveal Joe standing next to an extremely good-looking man with dark hair and blue eyes.
“Hi, Sarah,” he said.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” I managed to choke out. I hadn’t taken a full breath since I’d walked into the house and my chest was on fire. “I just thought he needed our address to send flowers.”
She turned and stared at me. I turned and glared at Peter, who spread his hands wide.
“I apologize, Mrs. Buchanan, but I
had
to see her. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
There was a moment of silence where we held our collective breath.
Suddenly Sarah burst out laughing. “This is so surreal.”
I exhaled slowly.
Joe stepped forward. “How about you take this nice young fella down to the basement and pick out a bottle of wine, daughter? Think we could all use a drink.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She led a willing Peter downstairs.
Joe grinned at me. “Come here, Judas.” He put an arm around my shoulders and I leaned into the embrace, grateful for his calm strength.