Much Ado About Muffin (20 page)

I
t was time
to figure things out—no more lollygagging, as my grandmother used to call it. If Crystal had murdered Minnie and run me off the road, she needed to be arrested before she hurt Em or Lizzie. If she hadn't, then I needed to take her down some other way, or Emerald was going to suffer for, at the very least, being a part of the woman's scam. I'd put things in motion by ratting Crystal out to Consciousness Calling, but who knew how long they would take to bring the hammer down on her and enforce their copyright?

Who'd murdered Minnie Urquhart? The FBI agents were working diligently, I had no doubt, but this was my town now, and I'd help if I could. I was reminded that Minnie had reportedly talked to a drug dealer in Ridley Ridge in the weeks before she was murdered. That was a possible lead, but not one that I could likely follow. Unless . . . I did have one friend in that sad town: Susan, a waitress at the café, who had, a year ago, roused herself out of her Ridley Ridge
stupor and called the police, saving my life. I'd pay her a visit and see what she could tell me about the local dealers.

Karl's tale concerned me. He wasn't averse to taking Minnie's car whenever he felt like it, and who knew whether he'd had extra keys made? Though when I thought about it, he probably had access to Gordy's car. Something else to follow up.

Pete, the laconic Turner Construction newbie, was taking down the last of the scaffolding around the porch, which was newly built and sturdy-looking. There was another guy there, one I didn't recognize, and he had canvas drop cloths below one section of the porch, ready to paint the spindles and railing. He knelt on the ground, stirring a can of white exterior latex. Dewayne was nowhere in sight; perhaps he had given up the pretense of being a handyman now that the reason for it was done. The new guy was skinny and dark-haired, and bent to his work with zeal. One incongruity was his flashy boots: yellow snakeskin.

I caught a glimpse of Shilo through the window; she was staring out at the new guy with an odd look, speculative and worried. The conversation a few days before with Doc came back to me, about seeing Shilo talking to a skinny dark fellow wearing city clothes and flashy boots. Was this the mystery man? And what was he to Shilo? I wasn't leaving the house until I found out. I nodded to Pete as I passed, and examined the other fellow.

He looked up and smiled. “Ma'am,” he said, in a soft Southern voice, and nodded a greeting.

“You're new in town,” I said.

“Sure am.”

“What brings you to Autumn Vale?”

“Family, ma'am.”

“Let's get working, Lido!” Pete yelped, eyeing me with disfavor.

The fellow hustled to do his bidding. Pete must have
loved that Dewayne was no longer his partner. It would be easier to push around this soft-spoken stranger than brawny, self-assured Dewayne.

I just reached the door when Shilo, dressed in her boho best, a billowy patchwork skirt and tank top, her dark hair in waves over her shoulders, opened it and tugged me in by the arm. She wrapped me in a hug in the dim hallway. I let her cling for a long minute then held her away from me. “How are you, honey? I miss seeing you all the time, even though I know you're happy with Jack.”

“He's the best,” she said, taking my arm and leading me back to the sunny kitchen.

She had begun her redecorating, and I was stunned. The walls had been a plain canvas of white, but now Shilo was meticulously painting a brilliant tapestry of vines and flowers. “This is beautiful!” Every color of the rainbow and many more were used in her work, which flowed out from anchor points along window and door frames. “I knew you drew, but I have never seen
anything
like this!”

“I'm painting a big mandala on the living room wall, right where the sunlight will hit it,” she said.

For a while I let her talk about the house, and Jack, and Jack's mother, who was recovering from a nasty summer cold. Jack's mother had taken to Shilo as if she were her own daughter, something I was thrilled to see. But even as we talked I was struck by how wistful Shilo seemed, underneath it all.

I reached across the table and took her hand. “Shilo, I know I keep hammering away at it, but I'm not the only one who thinks there's something wrong, something you're not telling us. Please, honey, you've got us all worried.”

To my horror and surprise, she burst into tears. I circled the table and held her against my body, rocking her and stroking her hair. It took a while to calm her down, but
finally she was able to talk. I moved my chair around the table and sat facing her while she sipped herbal tea.

“You know how I never talk about my family,” she said, eyeing me from under her lashes. It was a shy yet captivating expression she had used to good effect in her modeling career.

“I never wanted to intrude because it seemed like something you felt uncomfortable with. But I'm your oldest friend, honey; you can tell me
anything
.”

She sniffed, wiped her nose on a tissue I had retrieved from the half bath off the kitchen, then started her tale with running away from home at sixteen and living on the streets in New York, begging and shoplifting. As does happen on occasion—not often, but often enough—a modeling scout spotted her and saw something special. He gave her his card and fortunately he was legit, not a scam artist or lothario. She got an agency, and they put her up in an apartment with a half dozen other girls.

I remembered it well, the ratty, crappy apartment where she was crammed in with six other half-starved teenage waifs. I picked her up for a shoot I was styling and was appalled at the living conditions, but she chattered happily all the way about how awesome it was, and how nice the girls were.

But that was all so far in the past. How was it connected to her current unhappiness? “Why did you run away from your family?” I asked.

She shredded the tissue and cast me another covert look. “I've always told you I'm half-gypsy, half-Traveler.”

I nodded.

“That's true, you know, at least that my family is Traveler. It's a group, kind of like gypsies. My ancestors came over here from Ireland a long time ago. Travelers stick together no matter what; you marry another Traveler or not at all.
Anyway, I grew up in West Virginia. When my momma died, I lived with my granny for a while, but when I was sixteen my daddy decided it was time for me to get married, and he set it up with my cousin Nattie Dinnegan.”

“At sixteen? Why didn't you say no?”

She cast me a haunted look. “Only time I said no to my daddy I ended up with a broken shoulder that never did set quite right.”

Horrified, I bolted out of my seat and took her in my arms again, bending over her as she sat. “Shi, why didn't you ever tell me any of this? Oh, honey, I didn't know. I mean, I knew there must be something, but I never knew what.”

She nodded and sniffed, clinging to my arms. “I wanted to forget it all for a long time,” she said, her voice muffled. “I hated Nattie. He was pure evil; used to peep at me while I undressed and try to get me alone. He hit the little kids and told me I was so skinny and ugly he was the only one who would ever marry me.”

I gasped and sat back down opposite her. “How could anyone want you to marry someone like that? Especially your father!”

“Granny agreed that I shouldn't marry him; he's my first cousin. That's not even legal in West Virginia, Granny told him. But Daddy insisted. Said he'd take us to Virginia, where it's legal. Anyway, he took me to Welch to get my dress, and I slipped away, hitched to New York, and . . .” She shrugged. “That was it.”

“And you've never seen any of your family since then?” I asked.

She shook her head, tears springing up in her eyes. “I got a message to my granny that I was okay, but nothing after that. I was that afraid Daddy would find me and take me back.”

“But it's been so long! Surely you could . . .” I trailed off. The fear in her was so ingrained she was shaking even now.
It was not up to me, who had never been abused in my whole life, to decide how she should feel or how she should handle it. My mind was reeling, but as I settled, I realized it still didn't explain what was wrong. “Shi, what's up now, though? Why are you upset?”

“My b-brother told me Granny is sick and wants to see me, but I'm scared!”

My heart caught in my chest, and I felt like I was choking. “Oh, baby, darling, Shilo!” I scooted my chair closer to her and pulled her to me, hugging her tight again. She needed it to still her trembling. My face muffled in her hair, I said, “Don't be afraid.
Never
be afraid! You have people who love you and will protect you from anything and anyone.” I let her go. “You say you've seen your brother?”

She nodded.

“Oh!” I exclaimed as it dawned on me who she was talking about. “That's the skinny dark fellow Doc saw you talking to. The fellow who is outside now, working on your house!”

She nodded. “That's Lido. I don't know what to do. Lido swears Daddy don't care that I run off,” she said, her language reverting to the youthful twang she had when I first met her. “He wants me to go see Granny. And she sent me a letter, now that Lido told her where I am, begging me to come see her. What am I gonna do?” She broke down then, sobbing, face in her hands, her long dark hair hanging in a curtain over her shoulder.

That explained the letter she had received and wouldn't explain or let Jack see. “The first thing you're going to do is tell Jack. He's so worried, Shi.”

She looked up, eyes wide with alarm. “Nuh-uh, I can't tell him what a screwed-up life I've had. I can't let him meet my family! He grew up nice and normal. His mama is so sweet, calls me her daughter.”

I didn't answer. The fear emanating from her was
palpable, and I wasn't sure how to reassure her. After a year I knew Jack well. He was a wonderful man who loved Shilo so much he'd walk through fire for her. But I couldn't be sure how her revelations would affect him. Some guys don't deal well with crazy, and her family sounded crazy.

“Lido says he won't let Daddy hurt me, but I don't know if I believe him.”

“Shilo, we need to resolve this. Either you'll go to your granny or say no, but you can't continue to be so worried and upset. We've all been concerned.”

She took my hand and pressed it to her cheek. “I don't know what to do.”

I made a snap decision. “Let me talk to Lido; I'll put up my bull-crap radar and see what I think. But this truly isn't something you can keep from Jack. He either loves you, warts and all, or he doesn't love you enough.”

She nodded slowly. “I never thought of it like that. Is this a test, then?”

“No, honey, love doesn't set tests. But he's your husband and he adores you. He's going to be hurt you didn't tell him this before, but make sure he knows how scared you are of losing him. He needs to
know
.”

She fetched her cell phone and texted Jack, then looked up at me with shining eyes, more the Shilo I've always known and loved. “You're right. If I can't tell him, what do I have?” Taking a shaky breath, she watched me for a moment. “Will you really talk to Lido? I want to believe him, but . . .” She shrugged. “Will you figure out if he's telling the truth?”

“I'll try.” I felt some trepidation, but no wavering in my intention.

I heated up some soup and she ate quickly, hungrily, while finally, at long last, telling me about her family. And, wow, it's a big one. She has two brothers, Lido and Galveston, and six sisters, starting with Shenandoah, who is older, and Brandy, Aubrey, Candida, Cecilia, and Celeste, all younger,
the last three fraternal triplets. Lido had filled her in on much that had happened: marriages, babies, sicknesses, and deaths. After an absence of so many years, Shilo was pining for them all. She had shut that part of her heart down over the ten or so years I had known her, but now it was full, flooded with familial longing.

Jack texted back that he was on his way home, and I knew I needed to give them privacy. But I was certainly going to talk to Lido before I left. I hugged Shilo hard, and she let me out the front door, retreating to give me time to talk to her brother. He was sitting in the shade of one of the big trees on the property eating a bag lunch while Pete sat in the pickup parked by the curb with the radio on and his feet up on the dash.

I approached and plunked down on the grass nearby. “So you're Lido Dinnegan,” I said. “I'm Merry Wynter. Shilo and I have been friends for over ten years.”

He nodded, watchful. “She's told me. Said you've been right good to her, ma'am, taking care of her from the moment y'all met.”

“Is it true that your grandmother is ill?”

He nodded, never taking his gaze from mine. “She's got the cancer. Lady parts. She's old, but tough as nails. Sent me to find Shilo.”