A Mother's Day Murder (Mt. Abrams Mysteries Book 1) (10 page)

S
helly called
me first thing Saturday morning.

“How was your dinner? Viv and Maggie came over from your place last night, and we drank ourselves silly.”

“My date was terrific. Really. He is a lovely man, and we talked forever, and I had pasta and butter cookies. Pretty much the perfect night.”

“Great,” she said. “When are we going to talk to Carol?”

The library closed at one on Saturdays, so Shelly and I met up with Carol as she was locking up. She saw us and rolled her eyes.

“Are you here to torment me about the Friday Lacey Mitchell was in the library?”

We fell into step beside her. “Yes,” I said. “But first tell us about Leon.”

Her eyes lit up. “He’s nice,” she said. “Almost seventy, widowed for twelve years, golfs three times a week, and thinks John Updike is overrated. We had quite a bit in common and agreed to have a longer date next week. Possibly even dinner.” She glanced sideways at me. “And I hear you had some company?”

I nodded. “Yes. Sam Kinali and I are getting along very well, thank you very much, although we did not discuss Updike.”

Carol sighed. “Do find out what he reads, Ellie. How else will you know what kind of person he really is?”

“She will,” Shelly broke in. “Now what about Lacey?”

Carol lived on Sommerfield in a 1920s Craftsman with lots of beams and a deep porch. We climbed the steps and sat down on weathered teak chairs.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked, and when we nodded, she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. “She had reserved the Cleopatra biography that came out a number of years ago. I had it brought in from another branch. She checked out the book, and we were standing at the desk, talking about it, when suddenly Kate Fisher laughed very loudly about something; you know how she can be.” Carol frowned. “I think Kate and Lynn had been over by the computers in the back, and they were walking toward the front. Lynn was not, I don’t think, talking about those stupid pavers. It was something about Mother’s Day. The brunch.”

She sat up, and her face changed. “Yes. She wanted Kate to help with the brunch, and Kate said something about her own daughter living in California. She had a question about when the boathouse was going to open, and Lynn said next week. Kate started saying she always wanted to learn to sail, and then she was off about boats; you know how she always talks like she knows everything. And in seconds, Lacey turned white and broke into a cold sweat and practically ran out.” Carol sighed happily. “That was it. The brunch and the boathouse.”

Shelly and I looked at each other.

“What on earth,” Shelly said slowly, “could have scared Lacey about the boathouse opening up?”

“Or Mother’s Day?” I said. “Lacey was at the last Mother’s Day brunch. She sat at our table. My mother thought her little boys were adorable.”

Carol shrugged. “I have no idea. Then Kate and Lynn checked out their books, and Lynn made a comment about Lacey rushing off, and Kate asked about her, Lacey I mean, and if I knew her at all, and I told her that none of us knew her very well.” Carol shook her head. “I wonder where she is. If she ran away from Doug for some reason, surely she would have come back by now for her sons, no?”

“This hasn’t been very helpful,” I said. “But thanks anyway, Carol. And good for you and Leon.”

She smiled happily. “Yes. Leon. There may be something there. Are you sure I can’t get you ladies anything? I can make coffee.”

Shelly and I both shook our heads and left. We walked in silence until we turned up towards Davis Road.

“I wonder if Kate’s home?” I said, half to myself.

“She’s always home,” Shelly said. “She has no visible means of support that I know of. All she does is roam around in search someone to talk to.”

“Still. I think I’ll wander over. Talk to you later.” Shelly continued up the hill, and I walked toward Kate’s house.

There was something bothering me, but it was so far in the back of my mind I couldn’t quite reach it. I stepped onto her tiny porch and knocked.

She opened the door and smiled. “Hello, Ellie. What a surprise! She pushed open the screen door and stepped outside. “Where are your friends? I swear you girls are just like a pack of kittens, running all over town together. All alone? My, is everything all right?”

“I just wanted to ask you, Kate, did you know Lacey Mitchell before you moved here?”

That stopped her. Her mouth dropped open and nothing came out. Then she shook herself. “What a question! Why don’t you come on in. I’ll make us some tea.”

Her house was like a staged photo shoot. Lots of chintz and soft pastels, ferns, and small white candles everywhere. No family pictures. No shoes kicked to a corner or magazines spread open on a side table.

It looked just like the Mitchell house had looked.

Then I remembered something she’d said.

“Kate, how did you know about the money?”

She scooted right by me, off to the back of the house.

“I have this wonderful green leaf tea, so flavorful. I get it from a little specialty shop in Boston. Pricey, yes, but so worth it. I do love a good cup of tea, don’t you?”

I followed her into the kitchen. Again, clean and perfect. Even the towels, hanging on hooks, were spotless.

“At the Garden Club meeting, Kate, remember? You said something about all that money not being able to bring the parents back. How did you know about the money?”

“Because it should have been mine, dear. All mine. I was married to that man for years. I really did deserve
something
from that miserable son of a bitch. Why do you think I killed him in the first place?”

I took two steps back and felt my heart in my throat. Her blue eyes were perfectly calm, her smile sincere. But the air in the room had changed, and I was suddenly very afraid.

She took a long breath. “That was probably more information than you wanted to hear,” she said. “Honestly, Ellie, I have to tell you the strain of the past few weeks has really taken a toll on my nerves. Now, about that tea. Honey or sugar?”

There were two ways out of her kitchen, back the way we came, through the living room, or through the screened back door. The back door was closer, but I’d have to get past her. Running through the whole house would put her behind me, and I wasn’t sure that was a good idea.

I cleared my throat. “Honey. Please.”

She beamed. “I love honey too. Put it on everything, even my toast in the morning.” She turned away from me again, pulling two pink mugs from the cabinet and adjusting the kettle on the stove. I moved slowly toward the right. The back door was barely ten feet away. God bless old houses and their tiny rooms, I thought. I could easily make it to the door…

I took another step toward the door, and she hit me. It happened so fast I barely registered her lifting her arm as her hand became a fist. I tried to turn away, and I almost made it, but she hit me. Her knuckles went into my cheek, and the pain was incredible. I staggered back, holding my hand to my face. I could feel blood running from my nose, and my eye began to swell.

She shook her hand. Her knuckles were red. “Oh dear, I’m going to have to put some ice on my hand. Will you look at that? I’ll be sore for days.”

I was trying not to faint. I took a deep breath, counted to three, then exhaled slowly. Again. And again. She had hit me

“Are you crazy?” I blurted. “What did you do that for?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she rushed toward me, her face inches from mine. “Don’t call me that,” she said, very quietly. “I’m not crazy.”

“Then what do you call it?” I hollered, stepping back from her as far as I could. “Why else would you hit me?”

I watched as she carefully rearranged her face, stepped back from me and smoothed down the front of her dress with her hands.

“I’m sorry, Ellie. That was very…wrong of me. But I can’t let you leave.” She smiled at me, a brittle, frightening smile. No, she wasn’t going to let me leave. Ever.

I tried to think. I needed to put her at ease, get her to let her guard down. Right now I could see that she was still so tightly wound that one wrong move, and she’d probably be all over me again.

I pitched my voice down and tried to sound not completely terrified. “Why not, Kate?”

“Well, the whole town is buzzing about you and that very attractive policeman, Ellie. You know how small towns are, by ten this morning we all knew exactly how long he stayed last night. No lights on upstairs while he was there, good for you. Whoring around with a man you hardly know is not the way to conduct yourself, not with two daughters.”

The kettle whistled, and she turned and poured the steaming water into the teapot, picked up the teapot carefully, and swirled it gently. “I can’t have you telling him about me, can I? I mean, that would lead to all sorts of questions, and frankly, I’m not in the mood right now. Let’s give this a few minutes to steep, shall we?” She pulled out her chair and sat down, looking up at me expectantly. “Please, sit down, Ellie. And tell me, I hear your oldest daughter may be moving to France? I love France. Went there with Gerald years ago, when Lacey was in college. We had a wonderful time, although I must say Paris was not very friendly to us. I hear things have changed. I hope so for your daughter’s sake.”

I glanced at the doorway again. She was sitting, so if I ran, I might make it. Or not. If she caught me a second time, what could she do to me? I felt sure she would use more than her fist. She would try to kill me.

“I wouldn’t tell Sam anything, Kate. You can trust me.”

She tilted her head and looked very apologetic. “Oh, Ellie, if only I could be sure. But people are terrible liars. Lacey promised me she’d give me all the money that Gerald left her, but she didn’t. She said the boys’ money was in trust, but I didn’t care. She promised me. I don’t think she realized how serious I was, so I had to show her. Of course, I tried to get the boys, but I didn’t know where Doug’s sister lived. So I had to settle for Doug.” She lifted the lid of the teapot and leaned over to inhale the steam. “Oh, this smells lovely. Shall I pour?”

I felt sick to my stomach. The pain in my cheek was keeping me focused. I glanced at the table. There was nothing there I could use as a weapon, no carelessly placed paring knife or heavy iron doorstop. I smiled. I could not afford to panic. I needed to do something. But what?

“Oh, wait, I have these lovely scones I made yesterday. Do you bake? I love to. Cookies are my specialty.” She got up and moved, coming around the table and behind me. I instinctively hunched my shoulders. What if—

Something came down in front of my eyes and around my throat. I brought my hands up, but it was too late. It was one of the cotton towels, tightening around my neck. I could hear her behind me and feel her hands twisting the fabric. It was impossible to scream. I reached out, hoping for anything to use against her, and my fingers found the teapot. I grabbed the spout with one hand and the handle with the other, and swung my arms up and back, and the teapot smashed into her face. I felt the steaming tea splash against my hair and neck. She screamed, and in that second she broke her grip, and I lunged away from her, knocking over the table in front of me and tearing at my throat as I ran screaming through her living room and straight into Sam Kinali’s arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice shaking.

I stared at him in surprise, then nodded.

“Are you sure? My God, Ellie, what did she do?”

Her tiny living room was full of dark uniforms. There were loud noises everywhere, and I felt cold. He moved away from me, and now the noises seemed far away too, and a very young man in a blue uniform lead me outside and sat me down on one of Kate’s shiny white rocking chairs. He was asking me questions, I think, but I couldn’t hear very well. Then another young man took his place, and a woman—she looked very kind—was looking in my eyes, and the young man was taking my pulse, and then I stopped shaking, and I could hear everything.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” the woman asked.

“Ellie Rocca.”

“Good. Now, Ellie, can you tell me what day it is?” The young man put something against my cheek, a cold pack that felt wonderful.

I could hear Kate screaming. Her voice was hoarse, and her words were vile, filthy. She was being taken from the house. I looked down. I could not watch her. “It’s Saturday. May fifteenth.”

“Good.” Her fingers were against my neck, and the skin felt raw and burned. “What was this, a rope?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. I think she used a tea towel.” That suddenly struck me as very funny, and I started to laugh, and I was still laughing when Sam came up on the porch and pulled me up and against him.

Then I started to cry.

T
he paramedics determined
that I did not need to go to the hospital. They gave me a shot of something that took away the pain in my cheek and cleaned my bloody nose. Shelly appeared from nowhere, had a long talk with Sam, then sat with me in the back of the patrol car that took me home. I immediately lay down on the couch. I was aware of Cait, looking horrified, and Tessa starting to cry, and then I was dreaming, odd bits and pieces, Lacey Mitchell and her little boys, waving.

When I awoke, I could tell by the shadows that it was past dinnertime. And I could smell pizza. My mouth felt numb, as did my cheek and eyes. I sat up slowly. My eye was swollen almost shut. My throat felt raw, on the inside and the outside. And I was starving.

“Hey,” I called out. My voice sounded weak and strained.

Tessa came in first, running, but when she saw me, she stopped and started to cry. I held my arms out to her, and she crawled in.

Cait and Sam came in together, Cait sitting beside me, Sam across from us on the chair. I looked at Cait over Tessa’s head.

“You should be at work.”

She shook her head. “Mom, I should be here.”

“No. Go to work. Tessa can take care of me. And Sam. You need the tips. Paris is expensive, remember?”

Sam smiled. “I told you, Cait. Go ahead. I can stay.”

She looked at me, and her eyes filled with tears. “Are you going to be okay?”