A Sticky Situation (21 page)

Mountain View Food Mart was a madhouse when I stopped to pick up some food. With a storm moving in, the place was packed. If I were still at Greener Pastures I could have avoided the grocer during such a peak time. Grandma's pantry was so well stocked Grandpa joked we could withstand a six-month siege if need be.

But my supplies included a half a bag of butterscotch disks and a couple of plastic containers of leftovers Grandma had sent with me because she worried I would starve. I didn't even have enough toilet paper to last me until the morning.

I waved hello to Myra and managed to avoid Knowlton's eye as I added more and more items to my cart. I bumped into Theresa at the cantaloupe display where she was sniffing each melon in turn, looking for a ripe one.

“Hey, Dani, seeing you reminds me I've been racking
my brain about something to do with the festival and the banking. Something odd but I can't quite remember what it was. Something about the stopped payment on the checks.” Theresa shook her head as she put a melon in her cart.

“What kind of a something?”

“It feels like a negative thing. Like instead of something being where it shouldn't be that something was missing where it should be instead. If I think of it I'll give you a call.” Theresa moved on to the display of bananas and left me feeling restless.

I pushed my cart toward the bread aisle, took one look at the carnage, and decided I would stock up on pasta instead. Ten minutes later I was in the parking lot loading the groceries into the back of the family minivan when Knowlton appeared next to me.

“Want some help?” he asked. As much as getting out of interactions with Knowlton is my usual mode of operating, I noticed the snowflakes had turned from large friendly ones to those small mean ones that indicate you'd best get under cover and stay there. The forecast had been calling for twelve to eighteen inches and with the two that had built up on the ground since I had left for Dappled Oaks earlier, I could believe it. I'd be smart to take him up on his offer.

“Thanks, Knowlton. You look better.” I felt good saying so because he
did
look better than he had the last few times I'd seen him. He had remembered to wear a coat and he stood up straight instead of stooped over like an old man.

“That's because Mother's doing a lot better than she was. She actually drove over to the post office today,” he said as he piled a bag holding a gallon of milk onto my carton of eggs.

“I'm glad to hear it. What do you think is the reason for the improvement in her spirits?”

“She's started planning my wedding,” Knowlton said. My muscles all tensed and my body went rigid. If a stiff wind blew me over I knew I would shatter into thousands of little pieces and the street-sweeping machine would wipe me up in the spring. “Of course, Jade hasn't said yes yet but Mother is hopeful. I've been spending every spare minute over at the winery proving to Jade how good we are together.”

“I noticed you haven't been at Greener Pastures as much as usual.” Knowlton looked sheepishly at his feet then tossed a twelve-pack of toilet paper on top of a rosemary plant I had picked up to brighten my windowsill.

“I feel kind of bad about turning my back on you as soon as Jade came to town but I can't deny my true feelings.”

“I wouldn't expect you to.”

“Jade is the girl for me and as long as she's in Sugar Grove I consider myself to be her devoted love slave.”

An image of Knowlton dressed in not much more than a metal-studded dog collar flashed through my mind. Between the relief that he was dumping me for Jade and the trauma of the pictures in my mind I felt like I was suffering emotional whiplash. I also thought
about what Jade must be going through with her new business, her worries about Hazel, and life in general. It occurred to me I might do my cousin a good turn.

“You've got to follow your heart. And to show I've got no hard feelings I'd like to give you a piece of advice about Jade.”

“I'm all ears.” In Knowlton's case this was almost true. He did have a prizewinning set of head ornaments. Long, wide, and set onto his head at an angle that made his head look almost as broad as his shoulders, Knowlton's ears were one of his most memorable features.

“Jade likes what is rare. She likes things that are not so easy to obtain. I think the right strategy with her is to play a little hard to get.”

“Are you sure you're not just trying to get me to leave her alone?”

“I moved out of Greener Pastures as soon as Jade moved in. How likely do you think it is that I would try to help her out?” It wasn't a lie. Not exactly. Knowlton knew our history. How he determined it would influence my actions was his own business.

“Dani, I think it's sweet that you would stoop so low to try to ensnare my affections once more. Jade's my one true love and nothing is going to change my mind.” He stepped away from the back of the minivan just as I put the last bag into it. “I think it would be best if we didn't see much of each other for a while. You need some time to get me out of your system.” He turned his back on me and slipped off through the storm, leaving me to try to reach the minivan's tailgate all on my own.

Snow was falling hard and fast by the time I slid to a stop in the parking space behind Stems and Hems. Priscilla's car was still there and covered with at least three inches of snow. I wondered if anyone was likely to come into the shop to buy flowers during a storm but Priscilla was conscientious.

I'd never heard of her closing early for weather in the past. I hoped she'd be safe on her drive over to her lakefront house. It was a few miles out of town and the roads by the lake were mostly private and poorly maintained.

I'd been white-knuckling the wheel for the entire drive and was relieved when it was over even though my own trip was less than two miles. Sleet was mixing in with the snow and the town crews couldn't get the roads salted and sanded fast enough to keep the roads easily passable. I sent up a good thought for the guys
on the crew and added an item to my mental to-do list. In the morning I would take jugs of maple syrup over to the town barn to say thanks.

I noticed lights on in the first floor of the building and decided Priscilla really hadn't closed early. Better her than me, I thought as I climbed the stairs to the second floor and pushed open the door to the apartment. The apartment felt warm compared to the outdoors but I still felt damp and chilly.

I changed into some cozy pajama pants and a ratty fleece sweatshirt with a hood. After rounding up a flashlight, some candles and matches, and filling buckets with water in case the power went out I fixed myself a mug of chai and sweetened it with a dollop of maple syrup.

By the time the tea was cool enough to sip I'd settled myself on the comfy love seat with a quilt and a book. The wind howled outside and the sleet pinged against the windowpanes but I was safe and dry and grateful that as nasty as the weather was it was worse in the book I was reading.

It was strange to be so alone, to have no noises of the family filtering through the walls or up the stairs. It felt odd that no one was going to knock on the door and ask if I wanted to play a board game or to offer me a bowl of popcorn. But, no one was going to remind me it was my turn with the dishes either. I could surrender myself entirely to the story and that felt luxurious.

I was not pleased when only a few minutes later my phone rang. I thought seriously about not answering it.
After all, Lowell had said it was time to leave the investigating to him. Theresa's name on the screen was sure to mean she was calling about something to do with that instead of a personal call. I couldn't just let it go to voice mail though. I never can ignore a ringing phone.

I closed the Icelandic crime novel I had been reading and promised myself I'd keep the call short.

“I've been racking my brain and I finally thought of what I was trying to remember about the stopped checks,” Theresa said. I should have stopped her right there and told her to call Lowell. But it seemed like it would be faster to just hear her out and then report any information to Lowell myself later. I would get back to reading about the wilds of Scandinavia faster that way.

“I'm all ears.”

“It was Frances. For about a month after the festival money was stolen she would ask me every day when she got back from lunch if a certain someone had called or come in to put a stop payment on one of the checks that had gone missing.”

“Who was she asking about?”

“Priscilla. Every day she asked me if Priscilla had put a stop payment on her raffle ticket check. Finally one day she didn't ask and I teased her about it a bit. I asked her why she didn't ask me and she said to forget about the whole thing.”

“Did she seem upset?”

“She did, kinda. Frances was always nice to work with. A little fussy and just so about everything but then, that's a plus in the banking business. But when I teased
her about her obsession with Priscilla's check she got really flustered and then very snippy. She cut me off and never mentioned it again.”

*   *   *

I hung up with Theresa and opened my book. I snuggled deep under the quilt and focused my eyes on the pages in front of me. Unfortunately, I couldn't concentrate on the words. My mind kept returning to the conversation with Theresa. Why would Frances have been concerned with Priscilla's checking account? Priscilla was so careful with her record keeping I couldn't imagine there was really cause to worry.

But as I thought about it some more I considered Frances's habits, too. She might be having some trouble with being paranoid as she had grown older but she had always been a reasonable enough person earlier in her life. I didn't think she would fixate on something like Priscilla's check without a reason. After all, they had been friends for years and if she was worried for her there must have been a reason.

And even stranger, what had convinced her to stop asking about the check and why had she been so flustered about it when Theresa had inquired? Was it the teasing way Theresa had asked or was there another reason for her attitude?

I kicked off the quilt and wondered if I should go downstairs to ask Priscilla about the whole thing. But maybe she didn't know anything about it. After all,
Frances had been asking Theresa about it but there was no mention of her speaking to Priscilla directly.

I thought about phoning Frances but her memory was so sketchy and if she did remember the incident she likely wouldn't welcome questions from me on the subject. I considered calling Lowell but there wasn't much to tell. Technically he was off duty that evening but with the weather being as bad as it was he was likely to get called out to at least one accident.

And if the power went out, as it so often did when ice and heavy snow coated the power lines, he'd have his hands full without me adding to his problems. This information could wait until morning.

I tried checking my e-mail instead of reading and even thought about cooking something but still couldn't get the conversation out of my mind. Then, with a wave of relief, I remembered Frances had left more boxes in the storage room and Priscilla kept all her old tax records there.

I tugged on my heavy-duty fleece-lined suede slippers, grabbed the flashlight from the coffee table, and crossed the narrow hallway to the storage room door. I yanked it open with a loud squeak and picked my way across the splintery floorboards.

The heat from the store below pulsed up to me through the floorboards and the air was warmer than I had expected. In a few spots the floorboards were missing and I could see the underside of the ceiling tiles that served the shop below. The overhead light was weak but
there was enough light to allow me to read the labeling on the storage boxes.

Besides the boxes with Frances's name on them there were many others labeled with dates. It was as though Priscilla had set things up to make snooping convenient. Even though the space was fairly warm I was glad the job might be an easy one. The wind whistled past and the building creaked and groaned. The light didn't shine back into the corners and I felt my imagination galloping off with me clinging to its back without a saddle. I turned on my flashlight and instantly felt braver.

In an effort to silence my curiosity I pried open the lid of the box marked with the year the festival money went missing. My stomach knotted up at the violation of trust I was committing. But I knew I couldn't just forget about it. I flicked through the musty file folders until I reached one labeled
SUGAR GROVE CREDIT
UNION
.

Inside it I found a bundle of canceled checks barely held together by a dried-out rubber band. I slipped off the elastic and thumbed through the stack of checks. There was nothing to see that seemed to clear up my questions.

I returned the lid to the box and the box to the stack, hoping Priscilla wouldn't notice my fingermarks dragged through the dust. I eyed the labels on the rest of the boxes but none of the dates lined up with the year in question. I flicked my flashlight around the room and noticed a pair of filing cabinets at the gabled end.

I squeezed through the narrow passage between boxes and odd bits of furniture to the window where the
filing cabinets sat silhouetted against the faint beam from the streetlight. I peered out the window at the storm.

Ice pellets skittered across the glass and the wind crept through unseen gaps between the frame and the panes. I shivered as the lights flickered. At Greener Pastures we had a generator as well as woodstoves, fireplaces, and Grampa's collection of oil lamps. I hadn't even thought to ask Priscilla if there was a generator for the store.

The responsible thing to do would be to leave off snooping and to trundle down the stairs to talk to Priscilla if she were still down in the shop. But there was no guarantee the power would go out and I was absolutely sure I wouldn't be able to settle back down with my book until I did all the poking around I could. I pulled open the top drawer of the nearest file cabinet with as little noise as possible.

The top three drawers contained nothing but warranty papers for old appliance purchases, vendor catalogs, and bridal and floral industry magazines. I knelt on the floor in front of the bottom drawer and pointed the flashlight into its depths. In the front of the drawer I found two shoe boxes full of photographic slides. I held a few up to the light and decided they were photos of wedding flowers and also before-and-after photos of Stems and Hems. I tucked the slides back into their boxes and squinted into the far reaches of the drawer. A bulging file marked
MISCELLANEOUS
took up most of the back of the drawer.

As I slid the file forward a zipper caught my eye. My heart thudded loudly in my chest as I realized what I was seeing. I reached into the folder and lifted out a bag. A Sugar Grove Credit Union bank bag. I tucked the flashlight under my arm with a trembling hand and pulled on the zipper. I wasn't sure if it was the age of the bag or the shaking of my hands but opening it proved to be harder than I would have expected.

I gave it a firmer tug and felt it budge. Little by little I eased the bag open. I adjusted the flashlight so it pointed into the bag and began rifling the contents. It was stuffed, simply stuffed, full of checks. I held my breath as I read them over and realized they were all made out to the Sugar Grove Maple Festival. And they were all dated for the weekend the money went missing. There was one last thing I wanted to know before I called Lowell.

I pulled the checks out and began to carefully inspect to whom they belonged. After I'd searched a stack at least an inch high I found what I was looking for but hoping not to find. Staring at me was a check written by Priscilla to the Sugar Grove Maple Festival. The reason Priscilla had not bothered to put a stop payment on her missing check was because she was the one who stole it.