Lemon Pies and Little White Lies (6 page)

“Someone’s in here, but it’s not Mrs. Drever,” she said. “And the poor thing isn’t a pretty sight. I’d say this lady’s been in the tub for quite a while.”

Thinking of the uneaten toast in the kitchen, Ella Mae hesitated. “Do you recognize her?”

“No,” Reba said.

“Maybe I will.” Steeling herself, Ella Mae took Reba’s
place and stared down at the figure in the water. It was difficult to look at the naked, submerged flesh without flinching, and Ella Mae’s initial reaction was one of shame. This person, whoever she was, didn’t deserve to be gawked at, but Ella Mae forced her gaze to travel up the woman’s doughy body and until it came to rest on her bloated face.

“I think I’ve seen her before,” Ella Mae said, taking in the curls of dark gray hair floating around the woman’s head like a tarnished halo. She studied the thin lips, the mole above the left eyebrow, and the flaccid skin of her cheeks and chin, which was as colorless as bread dough.

“She takes care of her nails,” Reba said quietly. “A French manicure on her fingers and fuchsia on her toes.”

Ella Mae backed away and closed the shower curtain. “I’m guessing that’s her car out in the driveway and her suitcase in the second bedroom. If so, she must have a handbag somewhere in the house.”

Ella Mae was ready to get out of the bathroom. The woman’s bloated visage was terrible to behold, and though Ella Mae was tempted to release the drain plug and let the water disappear down the pipes so she could cover the stranger with a towel, she knew she had to leave her be.

“I’ll call for help,” Reba said as Ella Mae headed into the second bedroom.

It didn’t take her long to locate the woman’s floral handbag. Inside was a matching wallet containing three credit cards, a library card, a blood donor card, forty-four dollars in cash, a photograph of a handsome, sandy-haired man in his thirties, and a Georgia driver’s license.

“Her name is Joyce Mercer,” Ella Mae told Reba after Reba had placed the call to emergency services. “I recently saw her at Canine to Five. She was picking up her dog, a Shih Tzu, from the groomer’s. I remember because the hot pink
ribbons in the dog’s fur were the same shade as Mrs. Mercer’s toenails.”

“So why is she taking a bath in Mrs. Drever’s house?” Reba wanted to know.

“I can’t even begin to imagine.” Ella Mae shook her head. “And where is Fiona Drever?”

The women retreated to the kitchen, where the remains of Joyce Mercer’s breakfast sat on the table.

“Looks like she was about to fix herself some tea,” Reba said. “Maybe she planned to have another piece of toast with her tea and that’s why she didn’t put the jam away.”

Using the dish towel, she picked up the kettle by its handle and gave it a little shake. It was almost empty.

“She must have gone back into the sunroom to read while waiting for the kettle to boil,” Ella Mae said. “It would have whistled when it was ready. Mom has one just like this.”

“So Mrs. Mercer returns to her book and her cozy couch,” Reba continued the narrative. “The fire’s been on for a while because the sunroom’s on the chilly side, but not long after she gets all comfy and starts readin’, Mrs. Mercer feels the need to close her eyes for a spell.”

“The chimney vent isn’t open, so the gas from the logs must have made her very sleepy. But then the whistle from the kettle roused her.” Ella Mae abruptly shook her head. “No, this reconstruction doesn’t work. If Mrs. Mercer got up to return to the kitchen, why didn’t she make her tea? Why suddenly decide to take a bath?”

Reba pursed her lips in thought. “She must have been pretty far gone when she got in that tub. She filled it all the way up, and then it looks like she settled into the water and blacked out. Slid under the surface and wasn’t even aware of it.”

“You think she lost consciousness because of the gas fumes and then came in here and drowned?”

“The whole thing seems crazy, but the cops will come and do their thing and then we’ll have a clearer picture,” Reba said.

Ella Mae glanced around the kitchen again. “Before they arrive, we should search for a clue as to where Mrs. Drever’s gone. If I was worried about her before, it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling now. She’s missing, and there’s a dead woman in her bathtub.”

“We can dig around, but we’d better not touch anythin’. You never know what the cops will look at.” Using the dish towel again, Reba began opening drawers and cabinets while Ella Mae entered Fiona’s bedroom.

The room had been done in shades of lavender and moss green. Like the living room, it was filled with keepsakes, but there was an order to the objects Fiona Drever had collected over the years and there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. Framed photographs covered the dresser, books and several porcelain figurines of barn animals occupied the nightstand, and a tartan blanket was folded across the end of the bed. Ella Mae opened the closet, feeling a prick of guilt for invading Mrs. Drever’s privacy, and saw gaps in between the clothes where items had been removed and empty hangers left to hold their place.

“Your car and purse are gone. Some of your clothes are missing, and another woman is staying in your house. What’s going on?” Not finding any obvious answers, Ella Mae took a moment to study the photographs. She’d never been to Scotland, but she guessed that the images were from the Orkney Islands. There were weather-hardened men posing by their fishing boats, school-age children standing on rocks overlooking the sea, and a lovely young woman waving from the doorway of a whitewashed cottage. Ella Mae recognized the woman as Mrs. Drever’s daughter, Carol.
She was in her forties now, but her face hadn’t changed much since the picture had been taken.

“Any luck?” Reba asked from the hall.

Ella Mae joined her in the living room. “I wish we could find an address book or a day planner. Maybe she’s gone on a trip. Some of her clothes are missing, but I didn’t rifle through the drawers. Someone must know why Joyce Mercer is here. If we can discover that, we’ll know where Mrs. Drever went.”

At the sound of car tires crunching over gravel, Ella Mae and Reba moved to the front door, which Reba had propped open to allow more fresh air into the house.

Officer Jon Hardy passed through the doorway and raised his cap in greeting. “Are you ladies all right?”

“We are,” Ella Mae said, and stood aside to allow room for Officer Wallace to enter. The pretty policewoman, who had thick brown hair and a round, freckled face, smiled briefly at both women.

“Mrs. Mercer is in the bathroom,” Ella Mae said in a quiet voice, and pointed down the hall. “We opened a bunch of windows and turned off the gas logs.”

“Good,” Hardy said, and strode off.

Wallace lingered behind. When Hardy was out of earshot, she asked, “Is she one of us?”

Ella Mae shook her head. “No. Neither is Mrs. Drever. I think this is just an accident. A tragic accident. It doesn’t really make sense to me, but I’m not sure exactly how carbon monoxide poisoning effects people’s behavior.”

Taking out a notebook, Officer Wallace led them into the kitchen and invited them to sit.

“I know a bit about the symptoms,” she said. “A person can start off with a headache or dizziness. Next, they feel nauseated. If the exposure continues, they become weak and confused, have blurred vision, and finally lose consciousness.”

Ella Mae gestured at the teapot and glanced at Reba. “Maybe that’s why Mrs. Mercer never made her tea. She no longer felt like eating or drinking.”

“But why soak in the tub?” Reba asked. “Why not just curl up in bed?”

“If she was feeling foggy, maybe she thought a bath would clear her head,” Ella Mae said. “If she felt dizzy, she wouldn’t risk standing in the shower, so it would make sense that she’d take a bath instead.”

Officer Wallace interrupted their speculations by having them recount their movements from the time they arrived at the house. While they were relaying their statements, an ambulance pulled in behind the police cruiser. Two EMTs jumped out and pushed a gurney to the base of the front steps.

Leaving Ella Mae and Reba in the kitchen, Wallace led the men to the bathroom. A short while later, the body of Joyce Mercer, covered by a damp white sheet and strapped securely to the gurney, was wheeled out of the house.

“Poor thing,” Ella Mae said.

Officer Hardy, who’d been holding the door open for the EMTs, turned to her. “Did you know Mrs. Mercer?”

“No, but I feel terribly sorry for her family. This could have been avoided, right?”

Hardy nodded. “The vent was closed tight, leaving no place for the gas to go but into the room. Modern gas logs have an oxygen sensor and will cut off if there isn’t enough oxygen, but these logs were made before the sensors became a requirement. There’s a warning label near the power switch cautioning not to use the logs for more than four hours, but it’s partially covered in soot and the print is quite small. It’s likely Mrs. Mercer never saw the warning.”

“It was probably chilly in the sunroom early this morning,” Ella Mae said. “If Mrs. Mercer was reading there
before breakfast, she could have been breathing carbon monoxide for hours.”

Hardy jerked his head toward the bathroom. “I found preloaded insulin pens inside Mrs. Mercer’s medicine kit. The EMTs believe she may have suffered a diabetic seizure while in the bathtub. It was probably that, or the carbon monoxide poisoning, that led to her drowning. We won’t know until the ME sees her, but it appears that Mrs. Mercer’s death was an unfortunate accident.” He looked grim. “I have to inform her family as soon as I locate them.”

Ella Mae couldn’t imagine how difficult that conversation would be. She’d been involved in Hardy’s investigations before, both voluntarily and involuntarily, and she held him in high esteem. He was a dogged police officer and a good man, and even though she’d been under suspicion of murder when they’d first met, he’d never failed to treat her with fairness and respect.

“This might sound silly, but if her family lives in town, would you give them the pie I made for Mrs. Drever? It was meant to be a gesture of comfort,” she added when he gave her a curious look. “I thought Mrs. Drever might need it because an enormous storm is about to hit her hometown in Scotland. Her daughter still lives there, though I hope she evacuated days ago.”

“I saw the storm footage earlier today,” Hardy said. “A nasty beast. Reminds me of Hurricane Sandy. I have cousins in New Jersey who lost everything because of flooding. They could have used one of your special pies.” He took the pie from her and wished her a good evening.

The ambulance drove away, and Ella Mae and Reba followed shortly afterward.

“Where to now?” Reba asked as they headed back down the mountain.

“Canine to Five,” Ella Mae said. “I want to see Chewy.”

Ella Mae wasn’t the only dog owner waiting to collect a four-legged family member from daycare. There was a long line at the reception desk, and handlers were appearing from the back, leashed dogs in tow, at a steady clip.

Ella Mae never grew tired of seeing the daily reunions between humans and their dogs. As Ella Mae watched, a smiling yellow Lab strained at his leash, whining in anticipation as he drew near to a slim woman in a tailored suit. The moment he was close enough, he stood on his hind legs and licked her chin, nearly knocking her over in the process. Laughing, she scolded him and then knelt down to give him a big hug. Clumps of yellow fur clung to her navy jacket and pants, but she didn’t seem to care.

Chewy’s favorite handler, a young man named Max, waved to Ella Mae and hurried over. “Hi, Ms. LeFaye. Sorry about the wait. We should have Chewy out any minute now.”

“I’m not in a rush. Just standing here puts me in a better mood,” she said. “This is always one of the highlights of my day.”

“Mine too,” Max said, and headed to the back.

When he returned with Chewy, Ella Mae scooped her terrier off the ground and buried her face in his neck. “Hello, my sweet boy! Hello!” Chewy wriggled in her arms until he was able to bathe her cheeks with his tongue. Finally, she set him on the floor and reached out to grab Max by the shirtsleeve. “Could I talk to you for a quick sec?”

Max darted a nervous glance at Chewy. “Is this about Chewy’s behavior report? Because we’re still working on his—”

Ella Mae grinned. “It has nothing to do with that, though if Chewy lost any gold stars, I’m sure he deserved it. Actually, I was wondering if you knew a woman named Joyce Mercer. She owns a Shih Tzu.”

Max nodded. “Coco Chanel. That’s her dog’s name. We all call her Coco for short.”

“Have you seen Coco lately?” When Max didn’t respond right away, Ella Mae added, “I’m not trying to be nosy. I just need to make sure that someone’s looking after her. Mrs. Mercer is, um, not going to able to do that anymore.”

“Really?” Max frowned in concern. “Because Coco’s here. Mrs. Mercer is having her kitchen redone, and she told us the noise was bothering her dog. She paid for two weeks’ worth of daycare and said she’d be staying at a friend’s house. Her friend is allergic to pet hair, so that’s why Coco’s with us.”

“I’m going to need to speak with Leslie about Coco. Is she in?”

“She’s in her office. Go on back.”

Ella Mae hadn’t been in Hugh’s office in over a month, and it was surreal to find Leslie Conrad sitting behind his desk. Stranger still were the feminine touches in what had once been a masculine space. Ella Mae glanced from the scented candles, potted fern, and floral cup holder and matching desk blotter to the wall calendar featuring puppies in the countryside.

Leslie looked up from her computer screen and, seeing Ella Mae, pretended to be upset. “What? You’ve come empty-handed? I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you double this week.”

Ella Mae laughed. “You wouldn’t have wanted my Leprechaun Pie. Didn’t you once tell me that you weren’t fond of mint?”

Leslie grimaced. “No, I’m not. Mint makes food taste like chewing gum. And you know I’m just teasing. You’ve spoiled us rotten for months now.” She pointed at the computer screen. “I just got an e-mail from Hugh. He left Scotland, thank goodness, and has arrived safely in Ireland. It
sounds like he’s having quite an adventure.” She gazed at Ella Mae sympathetically. “You must miss him.”