Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1) (8 page)

It was never satisfying giving her brother a hard time. No one could be harder on him, than he was on himself. Jamie let out a long breath and gave him a closer look. He’d aged in the two years since she’d seen him last, and he was thinner, too. She knew his lifestyle was crap. He never ate properly or got enough sleep. Chances were he was drinking too much, as well.

“You look like shit.”

That elicited a smile. “Gee, thanks, Sis.”

“I guess I should thank you for at least showing up for my wedding. Though a little warning would have been nice.”

“About your wedding...”

Her back tensed again at the tone of his voice. She studied his face. Seeing his miserable expression, her heart grew heavy.

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? Marrying Kyle?”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. “Seriously?”

He didn’t flinch from her gaze. “Damn it, Dougal. My wedding is in one week. Of course I’m sure. Why would you even ask me something like that?”

“I know you don’t want to hear this. But Kyle is not the great guy he seems to be.”

“You have a lot of nerve.” Her half-eaten sandwich fell to the ground as she scrambled to her feet. Glaring down at her brother, she wondered when he would ever be there for her. Supportive. Helpful. Caring.

The way a real brother ought to be.

“And I thought you were here to walk me down the aisle.”

He blinked. “I’m telling you, Kyle is not a man you can trust.”

“You haven’t seen him in fourteen years and you think you know him better than I do?” Kyle was right. Her brother was insanely jealous. How else to explain this strange attack?

“He doesn’t treat women well, Jamie. He used to cheat on Daisy all the time when we were in high school.”

He was going way too far, now. “Don’t talk to me about Daisy. She is long gone from here. And you can’t possibly paint Kyle as the bad guy in that. Kyle was a
saint
with Daisy. She went totally crazy after the twins were born. Kyle did everything he could to help her. He cared for the kids, did all the cooking, took Daisy to a bunch of doctors and followed all of their advice. And in the end, what did she do? She left him. And her kids, too. Do you know that she never calls or writes? Her
own kids
, Dougal. She hasn’t seen Chester or Cory since they were toddlers.”

“Maybe there’s more to that story than you know.”

“Give me a break. You haven’t lived here. I have. Kyle is a terrific father and I love him.”

Her brother let his hands drop. He looked defeated, suddenly.

She had an urge to tell him not to worry, she was going to be fine. But she was still too angry with him for that. Just two days ago she had been happy. Blissfully, joyfully, innocently happy. And now, even though nothing had changed, nothing real anyway, she knew she wasn’t ever going to get back that feeling.

* * *

Charlotte sat at her desk while eating her chicken salad sandwich. She never went out for lunch, because they didn’t have enough staff. Twisted Cedars Library had been running on a shoe-string budget ever since its inception. Sometimes she dreamed about what she could do for the community if she only had more resources.

But whenever she went to the board with her ideas, they were never able to see past the bottom line.

Charlotte was partway through her sandwich, when thirteen-year-old Laila Gill came in with a backpack full of books. Laila never dropped her books into the return chute out on the street. She always delivered them personally to Charlotte, thanked her politely, and then asked for more.

Laila was probably the library’s best customer. The girl reminded Charlotte of herself as a young teenager. Books had been her lifeline then, as she suspected they were for Laila.

Charlotte put her hand on a stack she’d been collecting since Laila’s last visit. “I managed to find the next three in the series. Want to look at them?”

“I’ll just take them all.” Laila pulled out her library card, which, despite being laminated, was tattered at the corners.

Charlotte was helping Laila pile the books into her pack, when Dougal returned from his break. She wondered how his conversation with his sister had gone. Not well, judging by Dougal’s scowl.

Charlotte slipped the hardcover of
Smokescreen
into Laila’s pack. “See you soon, honey. Say hi to your mom for me.”

The words were for Laila, but her eyes were on Dougal. He brought a certain energy to the library. It was exciting having a real, published author doing his research here. Was it crazy of her to hope he might decide to move back home and do all his writing from Twisted Cedars? An author could live anywhere, after all. And she would find it so interesting to help him with his research.

He gave her a nod before returning to the table where he’d left copies of the local paper and the library quarterlies.

An hour later, she couldn’t resist asking him how things were going.

“Well,” he said. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” She slipped into the chair next to his.

“Tell me more about your Aunt Shirley.”

This was the last subject she’d expected him to bring up. “What do you mean? About her involvement with the library?”

“Everything. Her work life. Her personal life.” His dark eyes were intense as he leaned closer. “Let’s start with this—was she married?”

“No. She lived with my parents for a while, and then moved to a little cottage off the Old Forestry Road. Maybe you’ve seen it. Wade calls it the Librarian Cottage. He checks on it from time to time. It’s about five miles from town. My father didn’t like her being so isolated, but she said it suited her.”

“I do remember that place. We used to party there sometimes.”

“So Daisy had a key? I always wondered if she had. I noticed one was missing when I was settling my parents’ affairs.”

“Yeah. She and Kyle used to go there a lot, as well. Just the two of them.”

“Oh.”

“So that’s where your aunt lived? On her own?”

“Yes. Until she...died.”

“Do you know the circumstances of her death?”

Last night her mind had gone to just this subject. She thought back to a family gathering when she was pre-school age. Her sister had invited her into her bedroom—a rare occurrence—then told her she was old enough to know the family secret.

“What is it?” Charlotte had been beside herself with curiosity.

“Aunt Shirley killed herself. But we aren’t supposed to tell anyone.”

Not until she was much older, an adult, had Charlotte confirmed the facts with her mother. Not that her mother had been able to explain much. Apparently the suicide had come as a complete shock to the family.

Charlotte couldn’t help but feel defensive. “Why all these questions about my aunt?”

“Shirley Hammond was listed as a board member and president in the OLA Quarterly from 1972 until 1976. Suddenly in 1977 there was no mention of her. Most former board members get a special write up if they retire or pass away. Which made me wonder if there was something—unusual—about the way your aunt died.”

“If you’re thinking my aunt was strangled like those other cases you’re investigating, I can assure you that was not the case.”

Dougal looked at her steadily for a long time. Then he asked another question she wasn’t expecting. “What happened to your aunt’s cottage? Did your family sell it?”

“No. We still own it.” Since her parents’ death, Charlotte managed all of the family’s assets, but she never thought of them as hers. Her parents had been quite wealthy and if—when—her sister returned, Charlotte would be all too happy to relinquish Daisy’s share of the inheritance. In the meantime, it was her responsibility to pay the property taxes for the cabin. Occasionally she drove by to reassure herself the building was still standing, but she never went inside.

Too spooky.

“Do you rent it out?”

“We never have. Who would want it?” The little A-frame was small, not worth much, tucked so deep into the forest that it could hardly be seen from the road.

Dougal leaned his elbows on her desk. “Would you
consider
renting it out?”

“I suppose. But it’s very isolated.”

“Which makes it perfect for me. I’ve been thinking about staying in Twisted Cedars to continue my research.”

It was what she’d hoped for earlier, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. Dougal wasn’t just probing into a long forgotten mystery. He was digging into
her
family history, which was not comfortable territory, at all. “I’m not sure the cottage is even habitable.”

“I’m not fussy. And it would be better than staying at the motel.”

He had other options. Like the home where he’d grown up. After the wedding, Jamie would be moving in with Kyle and the trailer would be vacant.

“I could show you the cottage after work. If you still want the place after you see it, I’d have to get the electricity turned back on. There’s a well and septic tank—not sure what shape they’ll be after all these years.”

“I can get all that sorted out.”

She frowned, trying to imagine what the place would look like inside after being vacant for so long. “We’ll also need to book a cleaner.”

“Is Stella Ward still working?”

“Yes. You remember her?”

He paused a second then said, “She and my mother were partners.”

“Of course.” Charlotte had forgotten Dougal’s mother had cleaned houses for a living. In fact, Kate Lachlan had cleaned for her parents, for decades.

“How about we grab a bite after you’ve closed the library, then head out to the cottage to take a look around?”

It was a casual suggestion, and Dougal knew she was seeing Wade. But Charlotte still felt a little excited, and a little guilty, as she accepted.

when Dougal and Jamie
were kids, they spent a lot of time at Stella and Ward Amos’s house. Stella had been his mom’s partner and best friend, and the Amos’s were like family. Now, standing by their front door, Dougal was struck by how small the three-bedroom bungalow seemed. He knocked, and heard a shuffling sound from inside. After what seemed like a long time, Stella opened the door.

She looked older, grayer, and she peered at him with first suspicion, and then dread.

“Ed?”

Hearing his father’s name hit Dougal like a slap. Involuntarily he took a step backward, but Stella was already correcting herself.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, you must think I’m losing my mind. Of course your father must be in his sixties by now. You’ve just grown to look so much like him. Come in Dougal, come in. It’s so nice to see you.”

“Hi, Stella. How are you?” He hated that he sounded stiff and polite, like a stranger. But her reference to his father had really unnerved him.

“I’m just great, Dougal. Though my arthritis is slowing me down, I can’t deny. And how about you? I see your books every time I go shopping in the city. Bestsellers now, aren’t they?”

She’d been leading him to the kitchen as they talked, every now and then throwing him curious looks.

“I’ve had some good luck with my writing,” he allowed.

She chuckled. “Your humility is
not
something you inherited from your father. Tell me, are you hungry? I was just about to make an egg and some toast.”

“You go ahead. I’m eating later.” As Stella puttered around the kitchen, Dougal checked out the view to the backyard.

“You still have the tree house.”

She smiled, opened the fridge, pulled out two beers and handed him one. “Amos keeps saying he’s going to tear it down, but he never does.”

Amos had often played with them out in that yard. He’d been the one to show Dougal how to throw a football, properly. How to fish and ride a bike. Dougal remembered his mom telling them that Stella and Amos had been unable to have children of their own. It was too bad. They would have made great parents.

“I suppose you’re in town for Jamie’s wedding?”

He avoided the question by countering it. “What do you think of Kyle?”

“I clean his house every second week, but I don’t see that much of him. I come when he’s at work and the kids are at school. I have a key.”

“Mom used to clean for Mr. and Mrs. Quinpool when I was a kid. She didn’t care for them much.
Not like the Hammonds
, she used to tell me.
Now those people have class.”
He straddled a chair and folded his arms on the table. “I don’t think she’d be happy about Jamie marrying Kyle.”

“A lot of people around here would say he’s a great catch. Myself, I share your reservations. But, like your mother, Jamie has a stubborn streak. If she thinks she loves Kyle, then that’s it.”

“You’re smarter than I am, Stella. I’ve been in town about twenty-four hours and already I’ve managed to have two fights with my sister.”

“You better patch things up. She’s your only family now.”

He looked down at the table. “Did Mom suffer a lot?”

“The doctors did as much as they could for her pain. And she was never alone. Jamie and I kept a twenty-four hour watch for the last few days.”

He should have been there. Stella didn’t say it, but of course she was thinking it.

“I still have trouble believing she’s gone, sometimes. Your mother was so vibrant. I have to say, I miss her terribly.”

Dougal’s gaze was still on the table. “Thank you for being there for her.”

“She was my friend even longer than she was your mother,” Stella pointed out.

Dougal glanced around the kitchen. “We had a lot of great meals here when we were kids.”

“I used to enjoy cooking back then. Now I don’t bother, much. Amos eats mostly at the pub, anyway.” She turned her back to him, added an egg to the frying pan.

Was something wrong between the two of them? “I saw Amos at the Ocean View. He was fixing the front steps.”

She shrugged. “He keeps busy enough. But what’s new with you? Any chance you’ll be having your own wedding one day soon?”

“Me? No way.”

“You sound pretty sure about that.” She turned from the stove to look at him. “The right partner could be a real blessing, son. Trust me, when you get to be my age, being alone isn’t that much fun.”