Home For the Homicide (A Do-It-Yourself Mystery) (21 page)

I didn’t hold it against her that those were her criteria. From what Derek had told me, she came from a very different background than the one she aspired to. And rather than let her know that I knew, I just said, “So what happened?”

She hesitated, and it struck me that we were having an almost normal conversation for the first time ever. Two girlfriends gossiping about a guy. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that.

“Nothing happened,” Melissa said. “We just didn’t click.”

“So you clicked with Tony instead?”

She shrugged. Elegantly, the way she did everything. “Maybe I should stop by and offer my condolences.”

It couldn’t hurt. Especially now that Tony was gone. “Sure. Why not?”

“I should probably stop by the Green sisters’ house, too. And see . . .”

I waited for her to say “Derek,” but she didn’t. “It,” she said instead.

“Of course.” Not like I could really refuse, was it? And besides, he was my husband now, and not hers. If she wanted to torture herself with what she’d lost, that was her business. She wasn’t getting him back.

“Why don’t you let Derek know to expect me in an hour.”

I told her I would, and watched her undulate up the sidewalk toward Waterfield Realty before ducking into the parking lot myself.

“Couldn’t you have headed her off?” Derek asked when I told him what had happened, which went a long way toward making me feel better about the impending visit.

“Not really, no. She just informed me she’d be stopping by to see the place. I guess she thinks we’ll be giving it to her to list when it’s finished.”

“Who else do you want to give it to?”

“I don’t know,” I said since I didn’t really have another Realtor in mind. “I just thought we were rid of Melissa when she moved.”

“Portland’s only forty-five minutes away.”

“That’s what Melissa said, too. I just thought I wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore.”

“She did sell the house on Rowanberry Island eventually.”

No thanks to her own efforts. “That was luck,” I said. “If you and I hadn’t decided to get married, and Philippe hadn’t decided to crash the wedding with Laura Lee, he wouldn’t have come up with the idea of buying a house in Maine.”

“She still got rid of it.”

Whatever. “She said she and Darren dated.”

I don’t know what I had expected, but Derek didn’t react beyond the lifting of an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“After Ray dropped out of the picture and before she took up with Tony. She said they didn’t click.”

“I’m not surprised.”

I lifted my own brows. “Why is that?” I would have thought they’d be perfect for each other. Darren was tall, dark, and wealthy, and Melissa was gorgeous.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” Derek told me, “and you’re wrong.”

“About what?”

“She isn’t that bad. I know I told you she wanted to marry a doctor, and when I stopped being a doctor, she left me. But that wasn’t the only reason we got married.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.” And if he didn’t mind, I’d just as soon not hear any of the details.

“We did get along well, too. At first. She wouldn’t date Darren—or anyone—just because of money. She must have liked Ray. And Tony.”

“I’m sure she did.” As Marilyn Monroe said in
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
, it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one. “Anyway, she might not get around to stopping by. She said she’d go see him and offer her condolences. If we’re lucky, maybe she’ll stay there.”

“That’d be fine, too,” Derek said. “In the meantime, let’s get back to work. We still have a little time before we have to knock off for the day. I’d like to finish this wall, at least.”

Sure. I left him to his tiling and dropped my supplies off in the kitchen before heading out to the Dumpster to dig for Mason jars.

Of course, Melissa showed up while I was crawling over and around the debris, trying to find two Mason jars that hadn’t shattered on impact. I guess her meeting at Waterfield Realty hadn’t taken as long as she’d thought. Or maybe she’d decided that seeing Derek trumped her need to see her former boss. It certainly must have trumped her need to see Kate and/or Darren.

At any rate, I heard the purr as an expensive car pulled up to the curb, and when I peeked over the edge of the Dumpster, I recognized Melissa’s Mercedes, so I quickly ducked back down. Then came the sound of the door opening and closing, and the clicking of her heels on the snow and ice. She was muttering in annoyance as she moved past, whether because the snow was ruining her suede boots or because she was afraid the outside of the Dumpster would soil her cashmere coat.

I stayed where I was until she’d let herself into the house and I’d heard the door close behind her, and then I made my own way out of the Dumpster and up onto the porch.

I looked like hell, of course, with wet spots on my knees and drywall dust on my hands and coat. I’m sure my hair was a snarled mess, and my face was probably dirty. And because I was holding two Mason jars, I couldn’t even do anything to remedy the situation. But I squared my shoulders and reminded myself that Derek was my husband now, not Melissa’s, and he had married me after six years of singlehood, because I was the first woman he’d met who made him want to risk marriage again . . . so I had nothing to worry about.

I marched into the house with my dirt and my Mason jars, to find Melissa leaning on the bathroom doorjamb ogling my husband.

In fairness, all I saw was her back, so I can’t say with certainty that she was ogling, but part of me wanted to think so. He’s just so ogleable, especially when he’s on his knees bending over the tub. So I slammed the front door a little extra hard and made Melissa jump. Derek straightened up and grinned, probably because he knew what I was thinking. “Hiya, Tink. Did you find what you were looking for?”

I brandished my jars and he nodded.

Melissa wrinkled her perfect nose, possibly at the state of my clothes and hair. “Canning?”

“Crafting,” I said. “Sconces for the living room.”

“Out of canning jars?”

I shrugged.

“Everything Avery makes ends up looking great,” Derek said, which was nice of him, even if I might have taken issue with the “ends up,” as if my projects didn’t start out that way. Then again, maybe they don’t. Some of my ideas have taken some getting used to, as far as Derek is concerned. He’s always supportive of what I want to try, but not always confident that the result will match my expectations. So far I’ve managed to make him pleasantly surprised.

Melissa smiled politely and turned her attention back to Derek. “The place looks good.”

I have no idea how she could tell, when we hadn’t really started on any of the purely cosmetic fixes yet, but maybe she was just flattering him.

“Thanks.” He went back to tiling, the muscles in his arms moving smoothly under the sleeves of the T-shirt.

“So did you see Darren?” I asked Melissa, as much to take her attention off Derek as because I wanted to know.

She shook her head. “I called. He said he was still with his family. We’re going to catch dinner together later.”

“I thought you didn’t click,” Derek said without looking up. I could hear the amusement in his voice, though, and I bet Melissa could, too. I’m sure she recognized it, after five years of marriage, even if that had been almost seven years ago.

She rolled those gorgeous Elizabeth Taylor eyes. “It’s just dinner.”

“No such thing as ‘just dinner,’” Derek informed her.

She shrugged. Elegantly, of course.

“You settling in OK in Portland?”

We spent a few minutes talking about Melissa’s new life in Portland—which sounded like it was going well, unless she was making things sound better than they were, and I wouldn’t put it past her—and then she started making noises about leaving again. “I should stop by Kate’s, too, before dinner, to see how the home tour went.”

I could just imagine Kate’s reaction to that, especially after getting the home tour dumped in her lap at the last minute. She’d liked Melissa about as well as I did before that—which is to say not at all—and I couldn’t imagine she liked her any better now.

“Let me walk you out,” I said, although she hadn’t actually made a move toward the door. She smiled, or more accurately smirked, but pushed off from the doorjamb.

“See you later, Derek.”

“Sure,” Derek said without looking up.

She stopped just outside the front door. “How are you enjoying married life, Avery?”

“Very well,” I said.

“Does Derek still snore like a buzz saw?” The question was accompanied by a fond smile, and the reminder that she’d shared his bed for five years or more, while I’d been married to him for only a couple of months.

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

The look she gave me implied that she thought I was lying. I wasn’t. If Derek had a snoring problem, it hadn’t bothered me yet.

“Have a good time with Darren,” I said and closed the door.

I stood and watched her mince back past the Dumpster to her car, and then I watched her get in before I left the window and headed back to the bathroom. “It smells like sulfur in here.”

“It isn’t me,” Derek said.

I rolled my eyes. “I know that. Do you snore?”

He turned his head to look at me. “Wouldn’t you know?”

I should. “You snuffle once in a while, but I wouldn’t say you snore like a buzz saw.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, “I would hope not.”

After a moment he added, “Did someone else say I snored like a buzz saw?”

I shrugged.

“That witch.”

“She’s just trying to cause trouble,” I said. “Reminding me that she shared your bed for a lot of years before I did.”

“Yes,” Derek answered, “but I was married to Melissa for only five years before I’d had enough. I plan to be married to you for at least fifty.”

Awww. “You’ll be eighty-five in fifty years.”

“So? My grandfather’s past that, and he’s still going strong. We can play golf and ride dune buggies together in Florida when we’re in our eighties.”

I smiled. “I’ll take it.”

“It’s a date.” He winked and went back to the tile laying. I stood for a moment and watched his fingers deftly position and space the tiles.

“I’d really like to go visit Ruth.”

He sighed. “Fine. Take the truck.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you here. I meant afterwards. After we’re done.”

“It’ll be too late,” Derek said. “I have another hour of work left, at least. Just take the truck and go out there. If you’re not back by the time I’m done, I’ll either walk home or go to Dad’s. I’m sure Cora’s cooking something edible.”

No doubt. Derek’s stepmother is a much better cook than I can ever hope to be.

“Maybe I should come with you.”

He grinned. “I’ll tell her to save you a plate. It’ll be motivation for you to hurry back.”

It would, at that. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait so you can come along?”

“I’m sure,” Derek said. “You’re not going to give up until you get what you want, and I’d rather just have you go than stand here looking over my shoulder and pecking at me.”

“I’m not pecking!”

He looked at me. “Yes, you are. You want what you want, and you won’t stop until you get it.”

I pouted, and he smiled. “Just go, Avery. It’s fine. I know you want to make sure she’s all right. And I know you’re curious. I am, too. But I want to stay here and finish what I’m doing. So just take the truck and get out of here. I’ll see you at Dad’s and Cora’s later.”

“I’ll hurry,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, this’ll take at least another hour. Just enjoy yourself.” He turned back to the wall. I grabbed my coat from the dining room window seat and headed out.

• • • 

The truck was parked at the curb where I’d left it, and still warm from when I’d taken it out earlier. I slid into the seat and cranked the engine over, and away I went. It took only ten minutes to get to the nursing home where Ruth lived, and I parked in the lot and headed inside.

Like last time I’d been there, Derek’s friend Wanda was manning the desk, and she dimpled when she saw me. “Good evening, Mrs. Ellis.”

“Call me Avery,” I said, even though I must admit it gave me a little thrill every time someone called me Mrs. Ellis. But I didn’t know Wanda’s last name, and if she called me Avery, I could get away with calling her Wanda.

“Are you here for Miss Green again?”

I nodded. “I’m just checking to see how she is. It’s been a tough few days.”

Wanda nodded, dimples disappearing. “Horrible about Miss Mamie.”

Bad enough about Mamie, on top of the baby skeleton, but now there was Henrietta, too. Other than Henry, who was ten years younger, there was no one of Ruth’s generation left in the family.

“Is she all right?” I asked.

Wanda moved her hand up and down in a rocking motion, like a ship on the sea.

“Is it OK for me to go back there?”

“Of course,” Wanda said. “She’s had time to rest up from the funeral this morning. Her cousin sat with her for a while, but he left a couple of hours ago. She might like some company.”

Or she might not, especially from someone she didn’t really know, and who had—to add insult to injury—discovered the remains of not only her baby brother, but her deceased sister, as well.