Skeletons in the Attic (A Marketville Mystery Book 1) (20 page)

Any conversation was quickly silenced when I sauntered back into the sunroom, printout in hand. Maggie went and stood behind Reid, ending any indecision on my part as to who to show it to first.

“You can see my mother is in the foreground,” I said, pointing to her. “There are four other volunteers in the photograph. There you are, Reid, and the striking redhead would be you, Maggie. I’m not sure who the other two are. The man with a beard and a small crescent-shaped scar above his left eyebrow, and the woman with dark eyes and curly brown hair.”

“I really was striking, wasn’t I?” Maggie said, without a trace of humility. “So were you, Reid. I’d forgotten how handsome you were.”

“Were? Are you saying I’ve lost my looks, Maggs? Because that might be a bit like the pot calling the kettle black.” Reid softened his words with a smile, but I could tell by Maggie’s quick flinch and tightened grip on the back of Reid’s chair that the words stung.

“The years have been kind to both of you,” I said, determined to keep the peace. “How else would I have recognized you from a thirty-year-old photograph?”

That seemed to mollify Maggie. Her fingers relaxed and her face lost its painfully pinched expression. A brief smile played at the corners of Reid’s mouth, and he gave me an almost imperceptible nod. I was left with the feeling that I’d passed some sort of litmus test.

“What about the other two?” I asked again.

“The woman with the unbecoming perm is Misty Rivers,” Maggie said. “She claimed to be a psychic, used to do tarot card readings for those of us at the food bank. A lot of hogwash if you ask me, but as I recall, your mom used to ask her questions about tarot.”

“What sort of questions?”

Maggie shrugged. “You’re asking me after all these years as if I might actually remember? I suppose something along the line of what does this or that card mean, that sort of thing.”

“What about Misty Rivers? Have you kept in touch?”

“You’re kidding, right? I had less than zero in common with her.”

“So the answer is no.”

“You catch on fast,” Maggie said, attacking another pimento. “I haven’t seen or heard from Misty Rivers in years. Do you remember her, Reid?”

Reid shook his head. “Can’t say as I do, but then again my contribution came from trying to solicit corporate donations, either in the form of food or cash. Most of my dealings with Abby fell outside of the food bank hours, when everyone else had left. She liked to keep the financial aspect of things on a need to know basis. Besides, at the time I was working on Bay Street in the city. I don’t even remember this photo being taken.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him about not remembering the photo shoot, but his admission that he met with my mother outside of food bank hours to discuss finances certainly provided the opportunity to carry on an affair.

“What about the man? Do you recognize him?”

Reid gave the photo another cursory glance. “Sorry, he doesn’t look familiar.”

“Maggie?”

“He was only there a couple of times when I was there and I don’t remember his name.” Maggie scrunched up her face in concentration. “Might have been William, Warren, Wade.
Something with a W. Maybe Mellie can ID him. She’s great with names and faces, and she was always doing some sort of charity drive or another. It’s possible she ran into him.”

“I’m certainly willing to take a look,” Melanie said.

I wandered over to Melanie’s wicker chair and had just handed her the photo when Maggie piped up again.

“Wayne, that was it. His name was Wayne. I still can’t remember his last name.”

Melanie looked up from the photo, her face pale beneath her tan. “Not Wayne,” she said, “Dwayne. His name is Dwayne Shuter.”

It wasn’t so much what she said, but how she said it. That’s when I realized Reid wasn’t the only Ashford who’d had an affair back in 1985.

“Dwayne Shuter,” I said, as if I’d never heard the name before.

Porsche leaned over to take a look at the picture. “He looks very handsome and that scar over his eye lends a hint of mystery. However, did you meet him, mommy?”

“Yes, do tell, Mellie,” Maggie said, toying with the pimentos she’d placed on her napkin. I noticed her hands had the slightest tremor and realized she’d known who Dwayne Shuter was all along. Had she been trying to protect her sister-in-law, or put her on the spot? I glanced at Reid, but his face was an impenetrable mask. This was a man used to hiding his emotions.

Melanie handed the printout back to me, the color back in her face. She’d had time to recover. “I’m afraid it’s rather a dull story. I met him while I was getting things ready for the school library fundraiser. There were a bunch of tables and folding chairs in the basement, and he was down there doing something with the ductwork.” She smiled at the memory. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be down there, and certainly not a guy in coveralls and a hard hat. He gave me quite a scare. Anyway, he was kind enough to help me take the tables and chairs upstairs.”

“Probably paid by the hour,” Reid said, getting up to pour another scotch. “Kindness likely never factored into it. Any excuse to bill the school and its taxpayers for more time. I know the type.”

Melanie flushed and I could tell she was trying to formulate a response when Royce spoke up.

“What type is that, father? The contractor type?” Royce said it quietly, but the underlying anger was unmistakable. What was it he’d said? That his father had never considered Royce’s line of work dignified enough to be worthy of the Ashford name. I thought he’d been exaggerating at the time. Now I realized he’d been dead serious.

“Everything isn’t always about you, son,” Reid said. “I was merely stating an opinion. Most of these construction workers overcharge and underwork. I’m sure this Dwayne person was no exception.”

I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. After all, I was a guest in Reid’s cottage, and I wanted to find out more about Dwayne Shuter. But I couldn’t let it go.

“My father was a construction worker, Mr. Ashford, and to the best of my knowledge, he was as honest as the day is long, as were, I’m sure, the majority of his co-workers. The same cannot be said for your former profession, as history has told us on more than one occasion, the recent economic crisis being a notable example.”

To my surprise, Reid clapped. “You’ve found yourself a feisty one here, Royce. I like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind.”

“I didn’t
find
, Callie, father. She’s not some stray dog or cat. She’s my next-door neighbor, and we’re becoming friends. I brought her to the cottage so she could learn a little bit more about her mother, and by extension, possibly some of the people who might have known her. I’d rather hoped we could avoid playing dysfunctional family just this once.”

“Honestly, bro, why do you let daddy bait you like that? You know he’s just trying to get to you.” Porsche got up and poured another martini, took a long, generous swig, then topped up her glass. “Callie, on behalf of the entire Ashford clan, let me apologize for our poor behavior.”

“There’s no need, Porsche, but thank you.” I probably should have uttered some sort of apology back, but it would have been insincere, and I don’t do insincere well. What I really wanted was to know more about Melanie’s version of Dwayne Shuter, though I knew this wasn’t the time or place for it. Whatever Melanie knew or didn’t know, she wasn’t about to say it around her husband, children, or sister-in-law. I was thinking of ways to get her alone when Royce came to the rescue.

“Mom, Callie’s also a runner. Do you think she could join you tomorrow morning for your Sunday run?”

Melanie smiled gratefully at Royce, the tension draining from her neck and shoulders. “It would be lovely to have company for a change. Did you bring your running gear, Callie?”

“I did. I wasn’t sure if I’d get a run in, but I packed with the idea it might be possible. I’m not especially fast though.”

“Neither is Melanie,” Reid said.

Melanie glared at him. “As if you’d know. The only exercise you get is getting in and out of a golf cart.”

“I’m only basing my observations on how long it takes you to get back to the cottage, darling.”

This time, Melanie ignored the barb. “I have a lovely five-mile route, Callie, very scenic. Most of it’s along the trail behind the golf course, which sometimes slows the pacing down to an absolute crawl. Have to be mindful of rocks and roots and the inclines are as steep as stepladders. I usually have a bowl of oatmeal and then head out at eight o’clock. I stop and have coffee at the local café when I’m finished.”

“A very long coffee,” Reid said.

“It sounds great, the run and the coffee after,” I said, hoping to put an end to the bickering. “I would love to join you.”

“It will be nice to have someone to talk to.” She looked pointedly at Reid and her blatant hostility chilled the room.

“Mommy, shouldn’t we be getting ready for supper? You know how Bianca hates it when we’re late,” Porsche said, trying to play peacekeeper.

“You’re right, Porsche, and besides, we’re being rude to our guest.” Melanie summoned up a smile. “Bianca’s our cook and she most definitely does not like to be kept waiting. Dinner’s at seven o’clock sharp.”

Melanie got up and strolled out of the sunroom. Reid, Maggie, and Porsche followed close behind. No one spoke.

“I tried to warn you,” Royce said after they’d left. “Cat and mouse. You should be able to find out more about Dwayne Shuter tomorrow. Based on father’s behavior—worse than usual—I’m fairly certain there’s more to that story than some tables and chairs in the school basement.”

So he had the same impression as I did. I wondered what else he knew or suspected. I had the feeling it was more than the vague memory of a kind cookie lady.

How much more, I was about to find out.

We were about three miles into our run, the terrain as rugged and scenic as Melanie promised, when she took the pace down to an easy jog. I didn’t see anything treacherous about this particular stretch of trail, but I was willing to follow her lead. After all, I didn’t know what lay ahead.

“Look, Callie,” Melanie said, slowing down even more. “You came here looking for the truth. I think after thirty years of living without a mother, you deserve that much.” She attempted a smile, failed miserably. “Reid disagrees with me. We’ve had more than a few harsh words since Royce called asking if he could bring you here.”

“I’m sorry. I never meant to cause you any grief.” By now we were walking and our stride was anything but brisk.

She waved her hands in dismissal. “If we weren’t arguing about you, we’d be arguing about something else. That’s just who we are, or at least, who we’ve become.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything.

“Your father seems to have done a fine job of raising you.”

Not the direction I was expecting, but once again my call center training kicked in. Let people tell the story in their own way.

“He was a good man. Sometimes a little lost when it came to girly things, but he did his best. I still can’t believe he’s dead.”

“You must miss him very much.”

“I do. That’s one of the reasons I want to find out what really happened to my mother in 1986. My father was convinced she came to a bad end, that she didn’t leave voluntarily.”

Melanie stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face me, her brown eyes serious. “Can I trust you, Callie?”

“I suppose that depends on what you want to tell me. And why.”

Melanie didn’t answer. Instead she started jogging, her steps getting faster and less cautious. Once again, I followed her lead. We’d covered about a mile when she stopped dead in her tracks. If I hadn’t been paying attention I would have fallen ass over teakettle, but I didn’t complain. Instead, I waited for what she had to say. I didn’t have to wait long.

“You’re a smart girl, Callie, and so I think you know that Dwayne Shuter was more than some guy I met at the library.”

“I didn’t know when I came here.”

“But now?”

“Let’s just say I suspected.”

Melanie nodded and started walking again. I tagged along.

“We had an affair. I was lonely. Reid was working long hours. Royce was a restless child, so we’d put him in every available activity. Swimming, Boy Scouts, soccer, baseball, hockey. You name it, he was in it. Porsche was only in Junior Kindergarten, but we had her in swimming, tap, and ballet. I would have loved to organize it all, but Reid insisted we hire a nanny. Appearances were—are—important to him. Having a live-in nanny fit the image he wanted to project.”

Just like having a cook at a summer cottage, I thought. Other folks barbecued hamburgers and had wienie roasts over a fire pit. We’d feasted on prime rib, Yorkshire pudding, green beans with toasted almonds, asparagus with hollandaise, and wild blueberry pie with homemade vanilla bourbon ice cream for dessert. An aperitif before dinner, wine with, cognac and espresso after.

“I’m sure you’re thinking, ‘Poor little rich wife,’ and I wouldn’t blame you,” Melanie said. “Maybe I should have asked Reid for a divorce and left when Dwayne begged me to. I told myself I stayed for the sake of the kids, but…but there was something so delightfully sordid about sneaking around, and if I’m being perfectly honest, I’d gotten used to the luxury lifestyle, something Dwayne would never be able to supply. Long story short, I wouldn’t leave and Dwayne wasn’t satisfied with being the other man. He left me on the same day as your mother left you.”

“The same day?”

“The same day. Valentine’s Day 1986. How’s that for a coincidence?”