1 Depth of Field (19 page)

Chapter Twenty

The scandal of Peony’s affair with Alvin Aston hit the town, and no one was more outraged than Susan and Louisa. Neither lady could believe Alvin would love someone as plain and unassuming as Peony Trevor. Yet, it appeared he had done just that. Peony had already confirmed with Spencer that she was in possession of the last piece of jewelry Alvin had made, and that all the pieces had been made to try to convince her to leave Frank for him.

Peony told me this much when she returned to my shop, which I had happily moved back into. To keep me from breaking my lease, the landlord had even footed the bill for installing a security system and cameras. Oh, yes, my dear, I demanded the works. This might be small town, North Carolina and my choices overkill, but I was a New Yorker, and one couldn’t be too careful.

When next Peony Trevor entered my shop, I saw her coming on the monitor in the darkroom. Okay, I was having a little too much fun having it in the darkroom, especially since I had no intention of letting the light from the monitor ruin any photos I developed. I wasn’t in the process at that moment but rather taking inventory of my stock.

At Peony’s entrance, I walked out to the front to greet her. Outfitted in a mustard yellow and black striped minidress with a long-sleeved mustard jacket over it, she looked cute and refreshed, even rested. Her baby, in a stroller this time, had been dressed in a little yellow ensemble with a silk ribbon tied around her dark curls.

“Don’t feel you have enough pictures, huh Peony?” I teased.

Her cheeks pinked. “I just want the two of us, since that’s how it will be from now on.”

“I understand.”

Peony twisted her hands together, and I wondered if there was more. We had both given our testimony to the police about what Frank had admitted in my apartment, how he had confessed to Alvin’s murder. With the murder weapon and the testimony, the case was likely open and shut. Spencer had also told me he didn’t believe Peony had known of her husband’s actions until much later, and then she feared to come forward with the truth.

“Makayla, I was wondering if I could order a copy of every picture you have of Alvin.”

I gasped. “Um, technically, they belong to Susan.”

Peony’s face fell. She pressed her lips together in a straight line. “She’s already trying to pressure me into giving her the ring and threatening to sue me.”

Her words didn’t surprise me. Susan would do such a thing. “Alvin did sign a waiver for his photos to be used in a collage I was doing entitled ‘The Look of Briney Creek.’ I had every intention of sharing that collection with the public, so I don’t see why you can’t get a copy.”

Her face brightened. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

Peony had never been this expressive from the time I had first met her. She truly seemed to have been let out of a prison. I couldn’t help my curiosity. “Peony, if you loved Alvin, why didn’t you leave Frank for him? He was obviously willing to hand over a great deal of his money just to win you.”

She sighed and stooped to unbuckle the baby from the stroller. “Guilt, I guess, and I was scared to leave Frank. I know he seemed like the perfect, attentive husband to everyone else, but…”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, he stifled me. I knew he wouldn’t let go, and I was right. My time with Alvin was wonderful. I felt flattered because he was a loan officer and he had money. Meanwhile, Frank smelled of grease and donuts.”

I had no reply to this observation.

“Alvin was sophisticated and cultured. I was…me. I loved him very much, but I couldn’t believe it would last. I was terrified I would end up like Susan, and my baby unloved. At least Frank would be there for us. I knew that. So I stayed, and Alvin tried the only way he knew how to win me—with his money, which meant nothing. He ended up dead.”

“You might not have made the best choices,” I said, “but don’t blame yourself. Frank’s actions were his alone, and he has to pay for them.”

“Now my baby doesn’t have a daddy at all.”

“She has a mommy that loves her. That’s a lot more than some have. Just love her enough for both of you.”

“I will,” she promised. “And one day, I will tell her about her real daddy and how much he loved her.”

“Perfect,” I chirped. “Now, let’s create some good memories.”

* * * *

Talia beckoned me up the stairs, a perpetual frown on her face. Edna stood beside her, sweet smile. So much in contrast, I wondered about the two of them, but I had noticed they weren’t like the much younger Susan and Pattie. For one thing, Edna gave as much as she got when Talia sassed her, prompting me to silently cheer her on. Now, a couple days after Frank Trevor’s arrest, when I arrived home from the studio, Talia wanted me to go up to her place. I have to admit my curiosity made me want to run up the stairs and burst through the door. She had received another package the day before.

“What are you two ladies up to?” I asked, and I traversed the last step.

Talia blew out an exasperated breath. She jerked a thumb in Edna’s direction. “This one wants to invite you to have sweet tea and cake. I told her it wasn’t necessary. So what, you solved a murder.”

I chuckled. “I hardly
solved
it, Talia. Peony kind of broke down, and Frank came tumbling after her. Besides, Spencer had figured it out.”

Talia waved a hand. “Are you coming in here, or not? I give you a compliment, the least you can do is say thank you.”

I’m still waiting for the compliment!

Rather than saying this aloud, I stood there in silence, fighting with myself to keep my lips together. If I made her mad, she might change her mind about the invite. While I looked at Talia, she blinked at me, a tiny crooked smile on her face. The manipulative little thing knew I was having a hard time. Honestly!

“Oh stop it, the two of you,” Edna said, and she linked her arm with mine to drag me forward.

Sweet Edna swept by Talia, carrying me along, and that’s when I got my first exposure how an old lady could obsess over anime figurines. Every shelf, every nook and cranny, on tables and in half unpacked boxes, they were everywhere. This was Talia’s secret obsession. I couldn’t find words to say.

Edna still at my side tittered. “That’s our Talia. She can’t get enough of them, and when each of us finds one, we get it for her to add to her collection.” Edna lowered her voice to whisper in my ear. I got the chance to experience firsthand her pretense of being hard of hearing. She shouted, “It’s how we soothe the savage beast.”

“I heard that,” Talia bellowed right back.

Talia stomped past us, crossing the living room. Her slippered feet disturbed the disordered pile of DVD boxes on the floor as she moved. What an interesting character she was.

While I watched Talia pop into the kitchen with movements of a woman twenty years her junior at least, Edna patted my arm. “Come and sit down in the dining room, dear. While you eat the cake I made”—she clutched her wrinkly neck with both liver-spotted hands and made a gagging noise then thumbed in Talia’s direction—“you can tell us all about your sheriff.”

By Edna’s antics, I knew she meant eat her dessert and not Talia’s or risk death. Good to note.

“Yes, tell us,” Talia called from the kitchen. “I need to have something that darn Ollie doesn’t know and put him in his place for once.”

Shaking my head in amusement, I felt bound to point out, “He’s not
my
sheriff.”

“Fiddle faddle!” Talia strode to the table and set two plates of thickly sliced cake in front of me along with a glass of iced tea. “He’s been here every night, all night since he arrived in Briney Creek.”

“I think that’s an exag—”

“Eat up.” Edna slid one of the plates closer to me, while at the same time Talie slid the other nearer. Edna’s cake appeared moist and plump, Talia’s a bit dry with scorch marks on the base. I suppressed a moan and lamented my favorite donut maker being a murderer. I found myself wondering what other mysteries in town I could uncover just to get me away from a situation such as this.

I picked up one slice of cake, bit into taste heaven, chewed, and then tried the other. A sip of tea washed it all down. “Well, ladies, where shall I start…?”

The End

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