No Scone Unturned (10 page)

N
ans
, Ruth, Ida, and Helen talked Lexy into swinging by
the Cup and Cake
to pick up some pastries on their way to Mrs. Jensen’s. At the bakery, Cassie had things well under control. She’d put everything away from the Kingsleys’ event earlier that morning and had resupplied the bakery case out front with fresh baked goods.

A handful of customers sat at the café tables by the window, sipping coffee and eating blueberry scones and coffee cake. Lexy was both pleased and dismayed to discover that the bakery could run just fine without her.

Nans and the ladies stood in front of the glass bakery case, picking out various treats for Lexy to put in the box. When they were done, she tied it with pink-striped bakery twine, and they piled back into the car with Ida balancing the box on her lap in the back seat.

“I hope this lady gives us some good gossip,” Ruth said.

“Don’t let me forget to look for the drone while we’re there,” Ida said as she pushed the string to one side so she could pry up the top of the bakery box. “Oh look, there’s a broken cannoli in here. You don’t want to present this to Mrs. Jensen. Might make it look like you put out shoddy goods. I’ll just have to eat it.”

Lexy parked in front of Mrs. Jensen’s house, where the busybody was obviously staring out the window through the shade. And as they got out and started up the brick walkway, the shade snapped shut, and a few seconds later the door opened, giving them their first glimpse of the elderly woman. She wore a flowered housecoat. Her thinning gray hair was cut short, her hazel eyes were bright with excitement, and her cheeks were flushed. She seemed eager to have someone to talk to, especially people that were carrying a bakery box.

“I’ve seen you ladies here before, haven’t I?” Mrs. Jensen asked, her eyes flicking from Nans to the bakery box.

“Why yes, we’ve been coming around the neighborhood with these baked goods from my granddaughter’s bakery,
the Cup and Cake
.” Nans grabbed the box from Ida and held it up. “She recently catered a brunch over at the Kingsleys’.”

“Oh, I saw that going on.” Mrs. Jensen pushed the door open wider, inviting them in. “Not much happens in this neighborhood that gets by me.”

Nans, Ruth, Ida, and Helen exchanged excited looks as they followed the woman down a hallway past a grand set of stairs and into a sparkling-clean old-fashioned kitchen with hardwood floors and whitewashed cabinets. Mrs. Jensen set the bakery box down on her marble countertop, pulled out a crystal serving plate, and started arranging the pastries in a neat circle.

“Do you ladies like coffee or tea? Oh, where are my manners?” She wiped her fingers off on a kitchen towel and stuck out her right hand. “My name is Rita Jenkins.”

They all shook hands, put in their orders for coffee, and sat at the large wooden kitchen table while Rita boiled water, took out fancy napkins, and put little crystal plates on the table in front of them.

Rita sat down and picked a chocolate scone off the plate. The ladies had patiently waited for her to choose first, which Lexy found unusually patient of them, especially Ida, who usually couldn’t wait to dig in. Apparently eating the cannoli on the way over had given her some restraint.

“This is delicious,” Rita mumbled around a mouthful of scone.

Helen nodded knowingly and winked at Lexy, obviously proud that she’d come up with the suggestion for the chocolate scones in the first place.

“Thank you,” Lexy said. “Have you been to my bakery? It’s right downtown.”

Rita shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t get out much. But I’ll check it out the next time I’m in town.”

“This is a lovely home,” Helen said. “Do you live here alone?”

Rita’s face turned sad. “Yes. My Henry died a few years back, and it’s just me and Jake.”

“Jake?”

“My cat.” Rita nodded toward the corner, and Lexy turned to see an orange-and-white cat hunkered down, watching them curiously.

“I’ll bet Jake knows all the neighbors we should visit with our baked goods,” Nans said.

“I know all the neighbors,” Rita said. “You should go to the Harringtons’ next door, and then three doors down is Bert and Iona Reynolds. They have a lot of parties. You should check them.”

“What about the Pendletons?” Nans asked.

Rita frowned. “They do have parties, but they’re a little odd.”

“That’s what I heard,” Ruth said. “But she’s an author, and they are known to be eccentric.”

Rita pursed her lips. “Hmmm.”

“I take it you don’t approve,” Ida said.

“It’s just that there are some strange goings-on over there. And there’s a gaggle of old ladies that hang around watching the place. At first I thought they were casing the joint. I almost called the police.”

“The fan club,” Nans said.

Rita nodded. “That’s right. I found that out later. And then there was the strange device flying around in the yard the other day.”

Ida sat up straight in her seat. “You saw a strange device? What happened to it?”

“I don’t know. I saw it fly down the street, but I can only see so much from here.” Rita looked at the cat. “Jake went crazy.”

“Why, that was—” Helen started, but Nans kicked her under the table. Judging by the gleam in Nans' eye, Lexy figured she’d had a brainstorm.

“I think I heard about that … that was Saturday, right? The morning the cleaning people come. I have the same cleaning lady that Olive does, and I think she mentioned it, as she was there that morning.”

Rita’s forehead creased. “No, not that day. I mean, the cleaning lady
does
usually come on Saturday, but every other week. That was her off week. She wasn’t there the morning I saw the drone. Olive’s sister, Susan, was there—she’d come very early that day and brought the little black dog…and then the assistant came.”

Nans leaned forward. “Olive’s assistant? She was there the morning you saw the drone? Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course. Her name is Connie Davis. She lives right on the street behind me, and I’m positive she was there that morning.”

T
hey’d bowed
out of Rita Jensen’s kitchen as soon as she’d dropped the bomb about Connie. They left the pastries behind, much to Ida’s dismay, and drove one street over. Connie lived on the street that was the border between the wealthy neighborhood and the section of town where the older homes had been all turned into apartments. Her house was a modest 1940s style. They parked in front of it and bustled up the walkway onto the porch.

“Look!” Nans pointed to several days’ worth of newspapers piled up on the welcome mat. “She hasn’t been here in days!”

“Do you think she’s the murder victim?” Ruth asked.

“But what about the maid? I thought they made up the thing about her going on a trip so no one would miss her,” Helen said.

“Maybe they sent the maid on a trip so she wouldn’t see them murder Connie,” Ida suggested.

“But why would they need to do that? She didn’t come on Saturday—that was her off day,” Lexy said.

“Good point,” Nans said.

Ida looked at the mailbox. “Maybe they got the weeks confused. That happens to me sometimes.”

“Either way, we’ve got to look into Connie’s finances and see if she had any big deposits. If she did, then that means she’s the blackmailer, and—”

“Aren’t you the nosy ladies that were in my pond?”

They whirled around to see Olive Pendleton standing at the bottom of the steps, her brows quirked up. “What are you people doing here?”

“Umm…we came to visit Connie,” Nans stuttered.

“You know Connie?” Olive looked like she didn’t believe them.

“Yes. Well, sort of. We met her at a writers’ conference,” Ida said.

“Oh really? Which one?”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter. There’s been so many I can hardly remember. We’re huge fans of your writing.” Lexy figured she might as well try to butter Olive up.

Olive blushed. “Oh, you are? How lovely. Then you know Connie is my assistant.”

“We do. We actually thought she was you at the convention,” Ruth said.

Olive leaned toward them and lowered her voice. “Truth is, I send her as me sometimes. I don’t like to go to them very much, and she just makes an appearance and people think I’m there. In fact, that’s where she is right now. At Murder-Con. I just came by to pick up newspapers and mail.”

“Oh, I see. So she’s not home then?” Ida asked.

“No. As I just explained she’s at a convention.” Olive looked at Ida as if she were dim witted, then recognition bloomed on her face and she leaned forward toward Nans. “Oh, is that the senile one Rupert told me about?”

“Yes. Poor thing,” Nans said, ignoring Ida’s glare.

“So you’ve talked to Connie at the convention then?” Helen asked.

“Talked to her? A little bit. We don’t usually talk much. She just goes off and pretends to be me a few times, and then she’s free to do as she wishes.”

“Sounds like a pretty good gig,” Ruth said.

Olive laughed. “Yes, I guess it is.” Olive stepped up on the porch, bent over, and started picking up the newspapers. A red leather notebook fell out of her pocket, a green pamphlet sticking out of the top. Lexy noticed the Happy House Cleaner logo on top of the pamphlet.

“Is that from the cleaning service that everyone here uses?” Lexy asked. “I was thinking about using them.”

“What?” Olive looked down at the pamphlet. “Oh, yes. This is my writer’s journal. I carry it with me at all times. Sometimes I shove pamphlets and notes in there. I was going to call them to get a new cleaner. Rupert is unhappy with the girl we use now.”

Nans' brows shot up. “Oh really? Who is it? I daresay we wouldn’t want to use her if she is no good.”

Olive’s expression turned guarded. “I don’t really want to name names. She did a fine job…and it’s just that Rupert… Well, I don’t feel right talking bad about her.”

“Oh, sure. We understand.” Lexy eyed Nans and the ladies.

Olive smiled then opened up the little mailbox beside the door and pulled out four envelopes. One was a pretty robin’s-egg blue, while the others looked like random bills. One might’ve even been a bank statement, and Lexy could see Ida eyeing it enviously, probably wishing she’d gotten the chance to open the mailbox before Olive had appeared on the scene.

“I heard you were in Paris this past week.” Helen gave Olive a sly wink. “Or was that Connie?”

“No, that one I went to on my own. With my sister, of course.”

“Of course. Do you take your sister on a lot of trips?”

“Sometimes. She’s a little shy and doesn’t like to travel much though.”

“It’s nice that you and Rupert take care of her like that,” Nans said.

Olive’s forehead creased. “Well, she is my sister.”

“How is your gazebo project coming?” Ruth asked. “Will you be cleaning out the pond once that’s done?”

“Rupert is working on the gazebo.” Olive’s lips pressed together. “He seems averse to cleaning out the pond. You seem to be awfully interested in it. Why is that?”

“Oh, I’m somewhat of an environmentalist, and I hate to see the local waterways choked off. You know, if you keep letting that pond grow over like that, it will dry up completely. It’s home to millions of frogs, salamanders, and fish. I’d hate to think of what would happen to them.” Ruth shook her head. “You know, I could get my suit on and go in there and clean out some of the vegetation.”

Olive’s face puckered as if she were picturing Ruth in her wetsuit. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but to tell you the truth, I haven’t really thought about the impact of having the pond so overgrown. Maybe I should consider having it cleaned out…by a
professional
.” Olive shrugged. “I’m a big lover of animals, you know. Of course I have my beloved Peekapoos, but I love all creatures, even the frogs in the pond. I wouldn’t want them to come to harm. It’s expensive having a big property like that, but with my new book release, I may just have the money to do it.”

Olive turned toward the steps and then looked at them expectantly. “Well, now you know that Connie’s not here, so…”

“Right.” Nans started down the steps. “We’ll be seeing you later then.”

“Alrighty.” Olive watched them all the way to the sidewalk, and then she walked down the steps, crossed the street, and headed toward her house.

“Looks like she’s on foot,” Ruth said.

“Yeah, I wonder where her red Cadillac is. Is it somewhere in a remote spot in the woods? You don’t think Rupert is still planning on doing something to her, do you?” Lexy asked.

“I don’t know, but it seems like the poor thing is clueless. Obviously she has no idea Rupert and her sister are fooling around behind her back,” Helen said.

“Nor any idea that there is a dead body in her pond,” Ida added. “I mean, you saw the look on her face when she thought about cleaning it out. She seemed genuinely concerned about the frogs and salamanders. Clearly she was not averse to the idea.”

Helen glanced back at Connie’s empty house. “Do you think Connie is really at the convention?”

“I’m not sure. Apparently Olive thinks she is, but if Rupert did away with her…” Ida’s voice trailed off.

“I’m not sure Connie was the victim. Did you see that pamphlet for the cleaning service? Rupert might have been pretending that Amelia’s cleaning wasn’t up to par so that Olive wouldn’t ask any questions when Amelia didn’t show up again. He’s cleverly covering all his tracks,” Lexy said.

“I just wish you would stop telling everyone I’m senile. I am not senile,” Ida said.

“Sorry, Ida, but you know, that actually would come in handy. It would give us excuses for you to do all kinds of things that might help us on the cases. You can act senile pretty easily, can’t you?” Nans asked, and Ruth and Helen laughed.

Ida scowled at them. “You think you’re so smart. You tell me, now
who
is our victim? The maid is missing
and
Connie is missing.”

“Olive said Connie was at a convention. That should be easy enough to check,” Helen said.

“Really? She’s at the convention as Olive. Would she be registered as Olive or Connie or someone else entirely?”

“And even if she is? Can we be assured that she’s really actually there?” Ruth asked. “Rupert could have gone out and registered her to make it
seem
like she was there and then driven back here.”

“All the more reason to look into Connie’s finances,” Nans said.

“Yeah, too bad I didn’t get to the mailbox before Olive did.” Ida glanced back at the house, a scowl on her face.

“How are we going to look at her finances without official access?” Helen asked.

They all turned to Lexy.

“Oh no. I don’t think Jack can get police resources involved on this. He’s probably already a little upset with us that we led him on the wild goose chase of Olive Pendleton’s murder. We need to tread carefully now,” Lexy said.

“Okay. If we can’t look into her finances that way, then how about we attack it from a different angle?” Ruth asked.

“What do you mean?” Helen asked.

“Well, we certainly can’t ask Rupert or Susan, but there’s one person who might know something about what’s going on,” Ruth said. “We saw that letter in Susan’s mailbox addressed to her son. If she was trying to reconcile with him, she might’ve let something slip.”

“I don’t see that we have many other options, so I guess it’s worth a phone call,” Nans said.

“In the meantime, I’ll look into this convention to see if I can find evidence that Connie really was there,” Ruth said.

“Good idea.” Nans looked in the direction of the Pendleton house, her forehead creased in worry. “I just hope the person we saw fall from the balcony is the
only
murder victim. We have two people that are missing.”

“Once you’ve killed one time, it’s easier to do it a second,” Ruth said. “And there could be a lot of evidence at the Pendleton house from the first murder. What if Connie or the maid stumbled across some of it and Rupert had to silence her?”

“Worse yet,” Ida said, “what if
Olive
stumbles across that evidence or asks too many questions? Rupert could get anxious. And if he gets too anxious, Olive could be his next victim.”