The Wolfe Widow (A Book Collector Mystery) (7 page)

BOOK: The Wolfe Widow (A Book Collector Mystery)
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“I’m from Lawson and Loblaw. We’re a legal firm from Albany.”

She raised a white eyebrow. “My fat fanny, you are. And I’m the First Lady.”

“Really,” I said, with what I hoped was outraged innocence. “I am here to ensure that Ms. Delgado gets what’s coming to her.” That was true enough in a different sense.

“I think you better get out of here and leave folks alone or you’ll get what’s coming to you. Don’t come back neither. Or I will call the cops.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“B
Y ALL MEANS,
call them,” I said, nose in the air. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“We’ll see what the cops say about that.”

I had what I wanted and I raised my hands in mock surrender. I kept my spine straight as I walked to the car. I could feel her eyes on my back. As I got into the vehicle, I glanced around again at the side yard. There she was, on the phone. Police?

Mental note to self: Maybe the bright red wig didn’t mesh with the law firm gofer persona.

Oh well, I was committed to this cover now.

I wasn’t doing anything illegal, but I didn’t want to have to explain myself or my red wig to anyone I knew on the local police force. I’d met a lot of the officers since I started to see more of Tyler Dekker. Of course, that whole idea made my uncles feel faint, so I tended not to mention it. I made tracks back to Uncle Mick’s second garage, keeping an eye in the rearview mirror for anyone on my tail. I didn’t think anyone would be following me, but that was how I was raised.

*   *   *

BACK IN MY
bedroom I pondered exactly what I had learned. Carmen Delgado was Muriel’s mother. She was a widow or divorced, I supposed. She had been described as a “looker.” Muriel hadn’t gotten her features from her mother, in that case. Carmen had gradually moved her way up a bit to a better neighborhood, perhaps with Muriel’s help? But Muriel would have been a child when they’d moved from Willows Road.

The elderly woman had been immediately suspicious of me and my inquiry. Why was that? I had fooled Audra Bennacke. In fact, my track record for fooling people was so solid it was a good thing I’d decided to go straight. I would make an excellent criminal, but you know how kids are: always rebelling against the family.

The woman on Lilac Lane had said they weren’t going to turn on their neighbors. I’d been talking about a legacy. A small but nice inheritance, not a request to “turn on” their neighbors. She didn’t seem to have bought that for a minute. Perhaps she knew enough about Carmen Delgado and her family to realize that the legacy idea couldn’t be true. Some people have no relatives and that may have been the case. Even if Carmen had had relatives and this woman had known about their existence and financial state, that didn’t rule out an inheritance. A former employer, a friend, a benefactor could easily have left her a bequest. So why the hostility to me? And who had she been phoning? Would she really have phoned the police? I doubted that. I had a strong feeling that on Lilac Lane, no one encouraged a visit from the authorities. They were probably used to knocks on the door from bail bondsmen, repo men and bounty hunters. In lean times, those guys always had work, and they often employed the same methods I’d used. At least I was polite enough not to kick in any doors or tow away cars or pry Christmas gifts from the fingers of crying children.

Never mind. I had some of what I wanted. I knew that Muriel Delgado had lived in Harrison Falls as a child and that she was the daughter of Carmen Delgado, Carmie to some people. I knew Carmie had died.

I wasn’t sure where else this would get me, but it was a start. I’d set out to learn something about Muriel Delgado, and I had already found out quite a bit. Knowing where she’d grown up and some details about her family took her down a peg from the tower of swirling black garments, a malignant black widow. Let’s face it, this woman who seemed to want to ruin my life and who also seemed to have the power to control Vera Van Alst was one scary lady. What was the rest of Muriel’s story? What events had she lived through that created such a menacing personality? Whatever was in her background, I intended to ferret it out and use it to get back to my rightful place.

My cell phone vibrated.
Audra Bennacke
, it said. Uh-oh. What was my name again? Oh right.

“Lawson and Loblaw,” I chirped as I answered it. “Clarissa Montaine speaking.”

“Clarissa?” she said.

“Yes,” I purred.

“You remember me? Audra? From Maple Street? You were asking about who we bought the house from?”

“Yes, of course. Thanks so much for getting back to me. Was it Carmen Delgado?”

“No. My husband remembered the second I asked him. The previous owner was Bob Smith. It was rented out.”

“Really. Bob Smith?”

“Yes. Almost like a joke.”

“But an answer, anyway. He may have been a second owner or a relative. I appreciate your call.”

“Oh, and the other neighbors are back now. The Snows. I saw them pull in with their shopping a few minutes ago.”

I wigged up, left through the back and climbed into the black-cherry Accord again.

On the way, I decided to check out the third and earliest address for C. Delgado.

Willows Road sounds more picturesque than it was. Prior to the closing of the shoe factory during Vera’s father’s time, Harrison Falls was a pleasant and prosperous town, but every town has its seedy side and Willows Road seemed to be part of that. It was the closest thing to a row of tenements we had. I couldn’t imagine that there had ever been any willows. The “road” was narrow with no parking and shabby houses that came right up to the edge of the street. No gardens for this area. Not even a scrap of lawn. Every unit had peeling paint and most of the front steps had rotten boards I thought were ready to collapse. More than one window was boarded up. I saw no sign of life. Number 10B looked as though it would tumble to the ground if you blew on it. A half-starved feral cat scurried past.

I shivered.

Somewhere, someone had been cooking cabbage, and most people hadn’t picked up their garbage. A feeling of hopelessness hung in the air, as palpable as the odor of bad food. Whatever else I knew about Carmen and Muriel Delgado, their life couldn’t have been easy in the early days.

I knocked on every door, but although I could clearly hear television sets booming behind those doors, no one answered.

I tried not to be too discouraged. I figured I might find some answers on Maple Street. The wind picked up, pierced through the weave of my coat and reawakened that shiver, or maybe it was my Spidey Sense telling me to be wary. I scurried quickly to the Accord and drove back to see the Snows.

Here I got a bit lucky. The Snows, as Audra had mentioned, were indeed home. I parked midway between the two houses thinking I might like to say hello to Audra first and thank her for her call. I knocked on the door but got no answer. The stroller was gone so I figured she was off for a little ramble with the children. I headed for the house three doors down, getting into my legal assistant mode. Shortly after, Clarissa Montaine of Lawson and Loblaw walked up their immaculate front path and glanced with approval at the flags flapping in the breeze, the freshly painted yellow front door and shutters and the artfully displayed pumpkins with the cute wooden turkey (cuter than the real ones for sure) and the lovely sheaf of dried corn on the wall behind the display. I also admired the attractive wreath with fall leaves that decorated the yellow door. A tantalizing aroma was drifting from the slightly opened window to the left.

A row of burlap leaf bags sat in a precise row by the side of the road. The lawn was leaf-free. This did not come as a surprise.

When the door swung open, I held out my hand and introduced myself. Turned out their names were Tom and Mindy and please don’t call them Mr. and Mrs. Snow, and don’t blame this weather on them either. They were both round, white-haired and pink-cheeked. Behind their bifocals, their eyes twinkled. Hers were sharp and blue, his were warm brown. They had finished unpacking their groceries and were sitting down to a cup of hot tea and some cinnamon buns. The cinnamon buns must have been the source of the tantalizing aroma. Up close, I upgraded the scent of the fresh baking from tantalizing to intoxicating. I had already mentioned the law firm of Lawson and Loblaw, but I got the feeling that they would have been glad to see me no matter who I was.

“Mindy made these buns herself,” the husband told me, ignoring the talk of law firms. “They can’t be beat. Come in and have one with us. If we eat them all, we might put on some weight.” He patted his belly, indicating that he’d consumed a few cinnamon buns in his time.

No one needed to ask me twice. I wasn’t afraid to take sticky buns from strangers.

“Sure thing.”

I joined them in the small, cozy kitchen and squeezed into the corner bench at the compact pine table. A border of candy-colored hearts topped the walls and ran above the yellow painted cupboards. I found myself grinning. These people were so cute. I never knew my grandparents on either the Kelly or the Bingham side, but “Call me Tom” and “Call me Mindy” were like the perfect fantasy grandparents. With my luck, though, maybe they’d turn out to be featured on
American Justice
: “when octogenarians attack.” Never mind, I’d take my chances for another cinnamon bun.

Those cinnamon buns will live on in my memory forever. They were close to the most delicious thing I had ever tasted, from the fresh dough to the brown sugar, cinnamon and butter mingling inside the swirls, and the melting sugary glaze. Oh boy. Clarissa Montaine had pretty well died and gone to heaven.

As soon as one bun was finished, another one took its place on my plate.

“It’s a practice batch,” Mindy said, modestly. “I don’t bake quite so much anymore, but with Thanksgiving almost here, I have to get back at it.”

“Practice?” I laughed. “They’re perfect.”

After that we were friends for life. Still, remembering my reception from the couple on Lilac Lane, I finished my second cinnamon bun before I brought up the topic of Carmen and Muriel Delgado.

When I did, they both smiled. “Audra told us you were asking. A legacy for them? That’s something, isn’t it?”

I wondered what that meant.

“Yes. Assuming that I have the right person.”

“I wonder who the legacy is from?”

I shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I’m only a lowly assistant new to the firm. I’ve been sent out to try to find them. I don’t mind, though. It beats being in the office and I’ve met some very nice people, especially you two and Audra.” I beamed at my new fantasy grandparents.

Her sharp blue eyes grew slightly guarded. “You never know who you’re going to meet in these circumstances.”

“So you knew Carmen Delgado?”

They nodded together. “We did.”

“And Muriel?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been told that Carmen has, um, passed away.”

A shadow crossed Tom’s face. “She did, poor girl. Never was that strong.”

“Was Muriel the daughter? I didn’t get a good reception in their previous neighborhood and I wasn’t quite sure.”

“Yes, the daughter. So I suppose she’d get the legacy, would she?” Tom asked, his brown eyes bright with interest.

“I think she may be the one to get it. Mr. Lawson will know all about that. I’ve been tasked to bring back the information. It hasn’t been easy finding Carmen Delgado. I had to check the city directories here.” There was something to be said for old-school sleuthing.

“So Muriel lived on this street with her mother?”

“Not for that long, really,” Mindy said. “Does that matter?”

“And it was just the two of them?”

Tom said, “Muriel stayed on after she finished school. She was here until her mother died. We thought she’d leave when Carmie married. She was so hostile to Carmie’s new husband.”

I blinked. “Oh. She married again?”

They didn’t quite stop themselves in time. I caught the glances. So there was something there. Something about marrying again. But what?

“She married a nice man. He’d carried a torch for Carmie for a long time,” Mindy said.

“He did. Carmie was a beautiful woman,” Tom said. “Very beautiful.”

“Was she?” This was the second mention of Carmen’s attractiveness. I found it hard to picture her, especially after seeing Muriel. She was imposing. Grand. Mount Rushmore–like, yes. Beautiful, no.

“Oh yes,” Mindy said. “She was lovely to
look
at.” Ah, a bit of subtext there, I thought. Maybe not so lovely in other ways.

“And a good neighbor?” I said.

“Well . . .” Mindy said, turning away slightly.

“Poor thing was not a well woman, ever,” Tom said, in the late Carmen’s defense. “She had a lot of problems, you know, health. She wasn’t strong. In any way.”

I wasn’t sure what the subtext was to “in any way.” But there was something worth finding out.

“More of a taker than a giver,” Mindy said, a bit waspishly. Tom glowered. I figured he’d liked “Carmie” a lot more than she had.

“Life didn’t treat her that well,” he said.

I had nothing better to do than nudge them for more.

“I guess she didn’t have an easy life.”

Had I imagined that Mindy snorted? The temperature in the room had certainly dropped a degree or two.

I blundered on. No way to find out without digging a bit harder. “Did her first husband die? And leave her with the child? That would have been so hard for her back then.”

Tom shot Mindy another look. There was no missing the warning in it. This time Mindy stared up at the ceiling fan as if she’d noticed a long-lost treasure up there.

BOOK: The Wolfe Widow (A Book Collector Mystery)
5.1Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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