Raisin the Dead (4 page)

“Ick. I don't want to see them, thank you. Why don't they corral them into a small section of the land, build an escape-proof wall, and let you have the rest of the property?”

“That idea has been voiced. We'll have to wait and see.”

“Is there a specific person at the Oleandra County Preservation Society that you've spoken to?”

“A woman named Abigail Smith-Blanton.”

“So it's possible she called Philip if she thought he was going to fund the expansion.”

“I suppose, but I can't picture her doing that. She's rather prim and proper.”

“What about the Westley House?” I continued. “Why are they giving the expansion a hard time? I thought everything was set for it.”

“Yes, well, we thought so, too. You know what they say, stuff happens. Lots of it. The Destiny Community Center owned the Westley House, too, until we bought it with part of our expansion money. Most of it, unfortunately. That's why Philip's money meant so much to the expansion. We were running low.

“We had plans to demolish the house. That was before the Destiny Trust for Historic Preservation stepped in and had the Morrison Superior Court issue a temporary injunction barring us from doing so. I'm sure Daniel had something to do with that.”

“Why did they do that?” I asked.

“They don't want it destroyed. It belonged to Samuel Westley, former Civil War hero and former New York state lieutenant governor. He was a prominent citizen in Destiny. Daniel is a descendent of his. Westley also wrote a novel called
Honor and Truth Above All Else
in that house. The Destiny Trust for Historic Preservation found a trunk full of his papers in the attic. The library has agreed to do a presentation on them, along with a display.”

“Okay, then. Can't you leave the house standing?”

She shook her head. “No. That would be ideal, but it's in the middle of the property. In addition, it's crumbling, dark, and dank. We were going to renovate it and see if we could incorporate it into our new building, maybe turn it into a museum, but that's not going to work.

“Renovations would be too expensive for us, even with Philip's money, which now we don't have, anyway. We were going to use the land it stands on to expand the parking lot, and link it to our current lot, which we've also outgrown.”

“Who's your go-to contact there?”

“A gentleman named Peter Delaney.”

I made a note of the two names. “Have you thought of abandoning the expansion?”

“Absolutely not. It's something this town needs. Everyone is looking forward to it. The feedback and enthusiasm have been so gratifying. Our population is growing fast, and many other libraries copy our innovative programs, so the expansion will happen. How, I don't know now.”

“You've really got a full plate. It doesn't sound like everyone is in favor of your expansion project.” I tore out the page with my notes on it and read it over. Nothing jumped out at me.

“I have faith it will all come together; I just wish I knew how,” my mother replied.

My fathered wandered out of the den. “I'm heading upstairs to take a shower. I'll say goodbye now, Molly. Annie, you want to come up and watch TV in bed soon?”

My heart warmed at their still-romantic relationship. My CPA father is the stereotypical strong, silent type. My mom's the talker. I take right after her, and he adores both of us.

“I'll be right up, hon. Molly and I are still chatting.”

I jumped up, then went over and hugged him. “That's okay. My book club is tomorrow night. I'm hosting, which means I need to go grocery shopping. Then, I need to actually read the book.”

My mother laughed. “Good thing you're a fast reader. What are you and the rest of the Destiny Divas reading?”

“It's a romantic suspense.
The Reception
.”

“That's a popular one. I haven't read it yet, but I will. Let me know what you think of it. Take some macaroni and cake home with you. Give some to Sean. Unless he's going to arrest me for murder, then don't give him a thing.”

“He's not going to arrest you. He'd be run out of town. Won't Daddy want the cake?”

“Please. He'll be fine. I keep him well fed. I'll make him another and there's plenty of this left. It's not like either of us really needs all this cake.”

I waited while she put everything in plastic containers, then gave her a hug and headed out the door.

I had a pork roast in the oven for my meat-eating friends, garlic mashed potatoes on the stove, a pitcher of margaritas on the counter keeping a platter of hors d'oeuvres company, salad in the refrigerator, and a small vegetarian meatloaf to heat up for the vegetarians, which consisted of yours truly. For dessert, lemon-glazed shortbread cupcakes from Bread and Batter decorated with tiny marzipan flowers. I was ready for the Destiny Divas. Our former name was Destiny Women's Book Club, but we decided that Destiny Divas sounded more exciting, and fit our personalities better.

There are fifteen of us Divas. Tonight, I was expecting ten. Occasionally, we all make it to a meeting. We meet once a month and we all take turns hosting. Other than Emily and Olivia, I rarely hang out with these women outside of our book club. We're a diverse group of strong women who have no problem speaking our minds. We run the gamut from attorney to stay-at-home mom. I love getting us all in a room at the same time. The energy and fellowship is wonderful. Even our disagreements are exhilarating. I think I value our friendship even more because we only see each other monthly.

Of course, it's even better when you've actually read the assigned book and can jump in the fray. I hoped my hostess duties would keep me so occupied that no one would notice that I had no idea why the fictional Madelyn Spencer had returned to her hometown after mysteriously disappearing twenty years ago.

Turns out, I didn't have to worry. It seemed Serafina's arrival and Philip's murder were more interesting to the group than Ms. Spencer's return. I was relieved. Nothing worse than being in a book club with members who didn't read the book and can't add anything to the discussion.

Once I got everyone settled at the dining room table with food, margaritas, and glasses for water in front of them, it wasn't long before we'd caught up on each other's lives during the last month: who was in love, who was out of love, who wanted to be in love, and so forth. Then, the buzz started about Serafina coming to town, followed by Philip's death.

Usually, the hostess is responsible for leading the discussion on the book we've read and keeping the Divas on track discussing said book, but tonight was an exception. I really did feel badly that I hadn't read the book. I vowed to read the next book we chose.

“Detective Corsino questioned my mother about Philip's death,” I volunteered as I speared a slice of meatloaf.

“Why on Earth did he do that?” Laura, the above-mentioned attorney, looked stunned.

“My mom and Philip had dinner at Mia's, and according to her; afterwards, while they were in the parking lot, she told him if he stopped backing the library expansion, she'd kill him. A waiter heard her, and since Philip was dead soon after, the waiter called the police.”

“That's the craziest thing I've ever heard!” exclaimed Mary Sue, owner of Mary Sue's House of Beauty. She's been cutting hair in Destiny for ages and I'm convinced she's the main reason no psychiatrist puts down roots in our town. No one fixes problems and dishes advice like Mary Sue. She has a doctorate in life, love, and heartbreak.

“People need to mind their own business,” Mary Sue continued. She turned and wiggled her eyebrows at me. “P.S. Molly, we all know you're seeing him, so you don't need to keep calling that fine-looking man Detective Corsino. Anyway, if the detective thinks your mom killed him, I hope you set him straight. Aside from myself, I can't think of anybody more unlikely to kill someone than Anne.”

“I guess that leaves the rest of us as possible suspects,” drawled Emmaline. An Alabama native, she was Doctor Edwards' dental hygienist. He's the only dentist in town, so we all go to him. We asked her to join our group based on her charming Southern accent. We didn't even care if she could read. Luckily, she could.

“I didn't mean it that way,” Mary Sue protested.

Emmaline laughed. “I know. It just sounded funny.”

“I haven't seen him to talk about it yet, but don't worry, I intend to,” I assured Mary Sue.

“Good. You guys won't believe this, but Serafina,” Mary Sue went on, “or, as I like to call her now, Her Highness . . .”

The rest of us interrupted her by breaking out in giggles more appropriate for the kindergarten set as she lifted her nose in the air.

“. . . came into my shop,” she finished, after we'd all composed ourselves.

“She came into your shop?” I repeated.

Mary Sue nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Only a day before that poor man died. She asked for a trim. I wish all of you could have seen the look on her face! It was as if she'd walked into a barn full of pigs instead of my cute little hair salon. It's not as if I don't keep up on the latest styles, and you all know it's so clean, you could eat off the floors.

“I thought to myself, who's this snotty little thing? I could tell she wasn't interested in any small talk. I can read a client's mood right off the bat.” She snapped her fingers. “I found out who she was when she handed me her credit card. You know,” she lowered her voice, “I think she may have killed Baldelli.”

“Have you been breathing in too many hair color fumes?” asked Gudrun. She's one of the nurses who took care of Dottie when she was in the hospital. We'd become friendly, so I'd invited her to join our group. “Why would she kill him?”

Mary Sue put her margarita down and leaned forward. “She was on the phone while she sat in the waiting room. People nowadays talk about anything on their cell phones. They don't care who hears them. You know what I mean? I know more about my customers' private lives than I do about my own. I wasn't eavesdropping on purpose, you understand.”

We all nodded our agreement, wanting her to continue.

“I was cleaning up after my last customer before I took Serafina, and I heard her say . . . and mind you, this is verbalbatim.” She paused.

“Well, come on, what'd she say?” blurted Elizabeth. “And it's ‘verbatim,' Mary Sue, not verbal whatever.”

Mary Sue dismissed Elizabeth's comment with a hand wave. “You know what I mean. She said, ‘Don't worry. I'll get the formula before anyone at Alessi does. I don't care who I have to kill.'”

“That's it?” I asked. “What does that have to do with Philip Baldelli's death?”

Mary Sue drummed her dark cherry–colored nails on my dining room table. “Hello! ‘I don't care who I have to kill?'
Kill
, as in murder. It has everything to do with it, Molly. Don't be dense. I bet she was talking about him! He wouldn't give her the formula, so she killed him.”

“That's ridiculous,” interjected Nikki. “Stick to styling hair, Mary Sue.”

“What formula?” asked Olivia.

“That, I don't know,” replied Mary Sue. “But I'm sure it's not baby formula. It makes sense. Alessi is her family's perfume company, right?”

“Yes,” I joined in. “But why would her great-uncle have a formula Serafina needs? They barely know each other. Why would she kill him for it? Are you sure that's what she said?” This conversation was going nowhere, but if it kept us from discussing the book I hadn't read, I was all for it.

“How should I know? I'm just repeating a conversation. And yes,” Mary Sue huffed. “I am positive. Those were her words, verba . . . exactly.”

“Still, as Molly said, why would she need to kill him?” asked Fiona.

“Because,” explained Mary Sue, sounding as if she were talking to a room of imbeciles. “He didn't give her the formula. Maybe he threatened to call the police to report she was harassing him, or trying to steal from him.”

“I see now. Killing him isn't going to involve the police at all. That would be the logical thing to do then, on her part,” scoffed Nikki.

“I'm still stuck on this formula. It makes him sound like some kind of mad scientist,” I put in, trying to lighten the mood.

“I think it's awesome that Serafina is in our town,” said Emily, our peacekeeper. “I don't think she killed anyone. If she did, why would she still be here?”

“You're asking us to get inside the head of a killer?” Mary Sue's eyebrows shot up. “No, thanks. But, I think I need to at least mention to the police what I heard.”

Emily refilled her water glass. “Maybe you should mention it to them then. I'm confident none of us killed the man. How did we go from a man dying to two people with reasons to murder him? Can we get to our book discussion, girls?”

Uh-oh.

“A perfectly logical suggestion amid a totally illogical conversation,” agreed Laura. “Yes, let's move on. We have a book to talk about. I don't know about the rest of you, but I couldn't put it down. Molly, this dinner was outrageous, as usual. Thank you so much. You make the rest of us look bad.”

“Thanks. It was no big deal. Everyone ready for dessert?”

“You mean there's more?” groaned Fiona. “Bring it on, woman.”

***

We exited our vehicles at the same time. My heart thumped a little harder, as it always did in Sean's presence, despite my annoyance at him for questioning my mother. I took in his jeans, navy blue t-shirt with the Destiny P.D. logo that fit him to perfection, his three-day dark stubble, and tried not to salivate. His short brown hair was even lighter than normal from all the sun. I knew his gun was strapped around his ankle.

“Hi there. Who are you again? Have we met?” He brushed a kiss on my lips and I fought the urge to prolong it. That wasn't outside activity. Plus, you never knew when Bobby would be roaming around with his camera. Nothing was off-limits to his lens.

“Stick to police work, you're not that funny. Hi there, yourself,” I responded. “Want to take Noelle and Beau for a walk?”

He grinned at me. “Sure. Let's get the dogs.”

Noelle was ecstatic to see Sean and Beau. Beau and I exchanged exuberant kisses and hugs, the slobbery kissing part all being on his end. We all walked in companionable silence for a few minutes. “You questioned my mom about Philip's death.”

“I know. I was there.”

Normally, Sean is outgoing and talkative, but question him about police business and he shuts right up. “Why?”

“Made more sense than texting her.” He winked at me. “I don't even know her number.”

I usually melt when he does that—he has a devastatingly sexy wink—but I was determined to get some answers. “I'm serious. You think she killed Philip Baldelli?”

“I didn't say that. Who said anyone killed the man?”

“My mother was upset; she was distraught that you would consider her a suspect in this man's death.”

“Really?” He pinned me with a skeptical look. “You're not exaggerating are you? She offered to make me French toast for breakfast. I was sorry I'd already eaten at the station. She gave me a vanilla hazelnut coffee to go. It was delicious.”

I ignored his comments. “Do you think she killed him?”

“I don't recall saying anyone killed him, or anything about suspects. You have the best imagination of anyone I've ever met. Your hair looks gorgeous. You should leave it loose more often. It's getting really long.”

Compliments were not going to distract me. I stopped grinning like a fool and switched tactics. “Was he murdered? I know you didn't say he was, but that doesn't mean he wasn't.”

Sean looked down at me with an amused look on his face, which I took a little umbrage at, then draped an arm around my shoulder, and squeezed. He kissed the top of my head. “Tell me again why I've missed you. Ms. Alessi requested an autopsy. That should clear up any talk of murder. You already know we aren't going to discuss this, right? I'm not saying any more.”

“So Serafina probably didn't kill him.” I mused. “If you kill someone, you don't want an autopsy done, right? Unless you do,” my voice rose, “because not wanting one is more suspicious.”

“Molly, I'm not going to talk about it,” he warned.

“Did you interview Serafina?” I was used to his detective voice; it didn't deter me from pressing on.

“No. Was I supposed to?”

I ignored the sarcasm. “She's rich, she's famous. What's in Destiny? I mean besides her great-uncle. What's she doing here? If I wanted to get away, I'd go to Paris, or a tropical island. Isn't it strange that she shows up and suddenly he's dead?”

“According to the paper, she wanted to take a break from a relationship and forget about business for a while, and she had family business with Philip. Castle Shore isn't exactly a dump. Neither is Destiny. I've only been here a few months and I love it. Weren't Brangelina and their brood at Castle Shore last month?”

Sean was a master at redirecting conversation in which he didn't want to participate. I indulged him for a few seconds. “That was the rumor. I never saw them. Even Bobby never saw them. He knows everything that goes on in town, and if someone is here, he'll find them and put them on the front page. If you ask me, Serafina isn't here because of some guy, or to forget about business. I bet it's something deeper. Sinister.”

He snickered. “‘Sinister'? I thought only Nancy Drew used that word. Anyway, babe, if you read the paper, you know everything I do.”

I doubted that I knew everything Sean knew. I also knew him well enough to know I could push him only so far. I understood that he wasn't at liberty to talk about the details of Philip's death. I did notice though, that he still hadn't flat-out said that Philip hadn't been murdered. Nor had he assured me that my mother wasn't a suspect, the French toast offer notwithstanding. I sighed. I was being ridiculous. I needed to concentrate on cupcakes.

We walked towards the center of town, past pastel row houses that wealthy Destiny citizens once occupied. Now, college students thundered up and down the stairs and roamed the narrow hallways of each home. The sun sparkled off the blue water of Destiny Lake in the background.