False Impressions (22 page)

“I tried calling the hospital, the morgue, the state police. No one will tell me where he is.”

April could understand the need for closure. “I’m not your best ambassador right now,” April said. “Mary Lou is practically blaming me for his death. It’s going to break her heart when she learns he was living here with you for the last year.”

Tina’s brow furrowed. She sat up straighter. “She told him to never come back. It’s her own fault.”

April didn’t want to argue with her. She wanted the tape player and to get out of here. She looked around to see if Tina had found it and set it down somewhere. The coffee table was covered with baby books. No sign of what she’d come for.

She stood to get a better look into the kitchen. It was yellow with a daisy theme. She could see a sink full of dishes and a crumb-laden Formica counter. Tina was having a hard time dealing.

“Mind if I look for the recorder?” April said, inching toward a hallway. She could see three doors. Two bedrooms and a bath perhaps. Maybe one was an office.

Tina shrugged and grabbed a pillow and hugged it. She wanted to say more about Mary Lou, it was obvious, but April had heard it before.

The hall was lined with school photos. April realized as the child in the pictures got older that it was Tina herself. She glanced back to see her lying prone on the couch. There had been no pictures of J.B. anywhere.

She peeked into the master bedroom. There was no sign that a man had been living here. No clunky watch on the nightstand, no
Popular Mechanics
. She thought about the way Mitch had spread himself all over his house. His presence was everywhere.

J.B. had lived a very small life, even after he found sanctuary.

The small second bedroom was set up as an office, with the kind of white gilded furniture that April had lusted after when she was a young girl. A computer was set up and the doors had been removed from the closet, which housed filing cabinets and shelves with technical magazines and college texts.

April opened drawers, rifling through the contents. She pushed aside current bills, staples, rubber bands, feeling for the sharp edge of a recorder. Her fingers felt something about the right size that turned out to be a box of checks.

She fingered the tiny tape in her pocket. She should tell Tina about it. Maybe she knew more about what J.B. did. She looked around the room one more time. Nothing.

So far all she’d found that belonged to J.B. was a guitar pick. No guitar, just the old pick. The recorder was probably in his pocket when he went off the road and died. He seemed like a guy who’d gotten used to taking up very little space in the world.

Tina’d said they’d been happy, but really who knew? He’d gotten sober. His infatuation with Tina might have been over. She’d rescued him and he felt grateful. April had only her word that it had blossomed into something more.

April thought back to the night he’d come to Kit’s. He’d been nervous, jittery. Was he worried about being picked up by the police? Or was he a man about to leave his girlfriend?

Maybe his trip back to Aldenville had been an attempt to reconcile with his family and move back.

The phone rang, startling April. It was on the desk in the
office. Tina didn’t answer and the answering machine kicked in.

“Tina? Are you there? There’s someone here trying to buy cold meds. I got a quick glimpse of the license. It had an Aldenville address.”

Gloria, Tina’s coworker at the drug store. She hung up when Tina didn’t pick up.

Jeanie Justice was right after all. Someone was making meth, or at least trying to, in Aldenville.

April went back out to the living room. Tina was snoring gently. She let herself out and raced to the pharmacy. This could be lead her to people who knew about J.B.

Gloria was working the counter. There were no customers in the store. April walked right up.

“I was just at Tina’s,” she said. “I heard your message. Is the person still here?”

Gloria shook her head. “She took off as soon as I tried to take her license and scan it.”

“Darn it,” April said. “What did she look like?”

“Kind of ordinary. Medium height, brownish hair. She said her kids were real sick and she needed several packs. I believed her until she got so skittish about her ID.”

“You didn’t see her name?”

“No, just caught the Aldenville on the address.”

April banged her hands on the counter. “Too bad.”

“You just came from Tina’s?” Gloria asked. “How is she today?”

“Not great. Sleeping on the couch.”

Gloria nodded. “I’ve been over there every day but she barely knows I’m there.”

“Did you ever meet J.B.?” April asked.

“Never. She never even mentioned him until her pregnancy got too noticeable. She hasn’t had many boyfriends, so she knew she had to explain that.”

That made sense as J.B. was trying to keep his identity a secret. April wondered what J.B. had thought about going public once his girlfriend was pregnant. Was he happy or scared?

April thanked Gloria and went back home. She had more questions than answers now.

 

The morning of the Ice Festival, the sun was making a weak
appearance. The rays were threaded through gauzy clouds that covered the sky like a layer of tulle. But the forecast was for sun that afternoon. No precipitation on the radar. And that meant the Campbells would be gone for the weekend. April jumped out of bed, wanting to wish them farewell. She didn’t want to sleep through any part of having the barn to herself.

Grizz was already outside, warming up the car for their trip to Scranton. Charlotte had laid out ham sandwiches, homemade cookies, dried apples and bananas. A thermos of coffee was topped off with half-and-half. There was enough food to feed a family of six traveling by horse and buggy rather than two people driving an hour and a half. Even if Grizz never topped thirty miles an hour the entire trip, they’d be there before lunch. If they got caught in a blizzard, they’d be able to survive for a week.

She gave Charlotte a hug. “Have a nice time,” she said.

“We will,” Charlotte said. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen Maisie and Don. I’m sorry we won’t get to see you win the Ice Festival trophy, though.” Charlotte packed their sandwiches into an old-fashioned plaid cooler.

April laughed. “You’ve got such high expectations. I’ll be glad just to get through the day.”

Charlotte grabbed her face. “You’re going to do just fine. I saved you a sandwich,” she said, closing the lid, eyes sliding to the refrigerator. April wriggled free, grabbed the handle and walked Charlotte out to the driveway. Grizz was tapping the wheel impatiently.

April waved to them out until they were out of sight and skipped back into the house. She had sheets to wash and piles of newspapers to recycle. She thought for a moment about leaving the barn doors open, to give the place a good airing. Having three people in this space in the dead of winter was good for no one. She shivered and decided against it.

April had worked at Mirabella all day yesterday. She was ready for some fun.

She was waiting outside when Mitch came to pick her up around noon. The sun was out fully now, and the steady drip of melting snow cheered her.

“Ready, Freddy?” she asked, getting into his Jeep almost before he came to a complete stop.

“You’re in a good mood,” he said, leaning over for a kiss. “I like it.”

“This is going to be fun,” she said. “I can feel it.”

Aldenville was a small town made up of a small commercial area and miles of surrounding land. Main Street was a two-mile stretch bookmarked by six churches and the VFW hall. Several small businesses, a tea shop, the bank and the Brass Buckle Inn still dotted the street, but many had moved out to the busy highway that ran mostly parallel. Main Street had been left to return to its roots of sleepy small-town thoroughfare, with one traffic light to break up the drive.

The Whispering Willows Park was in the middle of town. It had a community pool with a locker room, one park for little kids and another for bigger ones. A Little League and Babe Ruth field took up the rest of the acreage.

Today, it had been transformed. Gaily roofed booths had been set up along what were usually the first- and third-base lines of the Little League field. That was a testament to how frozen solid the ground was. The baseball league was particular about their field and usually allowed no one on it during the off-season.

Fake snowflakes, as big around as a tire, hung everywhere. Kids dueled with plastic icicles while their parents sipped from cups shaped like glaciers. A snow machine made redundantly abundant snow, better for the snow-person-making contest. April laughed when she saw the gender-neutral title.

The festival had already begun. At the far end of the park, an ice rink was crowded with skaters. Mitch and April jumped out of the way of an overzealous roller making his snow-person’s head. He had a Dowling Nursery hat on. Suzi waved a carrot as she urged him on. Mitch scooped up loose snow and tossed a snowball her way. She easily ducked it.

Tantalizing smells were emanating from a food tent. Next to it, a twenty-one-and-over beer garden was drawing a crowd already. In the tents, large heaters were working hard to provide some level of comfort to the outdoor revelers.

In the middle of the park were blocks of ice, as tall as April, waiting to be carved. Mitch took his huge duffel of tools over to their station. The contest didn’t begin for an hour or so, but he would set up. April had one stop to make first.

She carried her portfolio over to Rocky’s Stamping Sisters booth. She had finished one more collage late last night. She was happy with the icy scene and wanted to make sure Rocky gave it a prominent place.

Rocky’s little booth was warm. She had a propane heater on full blast. April reached down and felt the rays toast her fingers.

“Is that thing safe?” April asked.

“Sure it is. Just be careful and don’t knock it over.”

April edged into the booth, avoiding the little heater.

Rocky tossed her hair back and examined April’s creation. “Oh, this is good.” Rocky said, “How do you like this idea?
Guinness Book of World Records
. We’re going to make the largest card ever.”

Now April understood the enormous roll of craft paper that covered the front counter and trailed down, ending in a plastic storage box. Rocky had laid out stamps and inks and made up a sign that read, “Be a part of history. Put your mark on the world’s largest greeting card.”

April smiled. Rocky had a flair for the dramatic, but drama alone didn’t amount to sales. “You’re going for a record?”

“
Guinness Book
, here we come. Why not? I’m going to put Stamping Sisters on the map—one way or the other.”

“Good luck,” April said. She backpedaled before Rocky could involve her. The success of Stamping Sisters was important to her, too, but she wanted to focus on Mitch’s project today. The ice-sculpting contest was due to begin at one. The artists had three hours to complete their piece before the judging.

Mitch walked by, pulling a wheeled cart with their tools behind him. “Let’s go, Buchert. Time to make the donuts,” he called.

“Here goes nothing,” April said.

Rocky shoved her out of the booth. “Just coo admiringly every once in a while. That’s all men need.”

“Got that figured out, do you?” April said.

Rocky smiled enigmatically. Her love life was a well-kept secret. “Stay warm,” she said. “You know the first signs of frostbite, don’t you?”

April shook her head. She felt a small spark of panic. She was going to be standing in the middle of all that ice for hours. Of course, there would be no propane heaters in the sculpting area. “What are they?”

“How should I know?” Rocky laughed.

April waved Rocky’s joke away and followed Mitch. She joined him just as the rules were being explained over a loudspeaker. The contestants were to work in teams of two with each person contributing something to the design. The finished pieces would be judged on workmanship and “wow” factor.

The judges were introduced. There were several familiar faces. Mary Lou’s husband, Councilman Peter Rosen, stood with hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing a gray wool overcoat with a velvet collar and a blue scarf Mary Lou had knit tucked in the lapel. April recognized the guy who owned the local supermarket and a woman from her mother’s church. And Officer Henry Yost.

April leaned into Mitch’s shoulder to avoid being overheard. “That blows any shot we had. We don’t stand a chance with Yost judging,” April said. It was unfair how often Yost popped up to ruin her day.

The judges moved off into a heated tent to wait out the contest.

Mitch shrugged off her worry. “We’re going to be so head and shoulders above the rest, that he won’t have any choice, even if he chooses to be the Russian judge. Besides, your design is going to knock ’em dead. We’ve got wow factor up the wazoo.”