Raisin the Dead (9 page)

She got up again and stood behind her chair. “What really doesn't make sense is Philip not calling the police, or confronting me. If someone texted messages threatening to kill you, wouldn't you run screaming to the police immediately? Maybe mention it to the person in passing? Or maybe avoid that person?”

“Makes sense to me. Did Sean believe you?”

She stared out the window and squeezed the chair back until her knuckles turned white. “I'm not sure. He was polite, but dead serious. Well, dead may be a bad word choice, but you know what I mean. He thanked me for my time and said if he had more questions, he'd be back.” She turned her head to look at me again. “Naturally, I told him I had nothing to do with the poor man's death. He didn't respond. I get why he had to question me, his job and what not, but really, how could he think I killed Philip Baldelli?”

“I'll talk to him,” I assured her as if I had any influence on how he did his job and whom he suspected of murder, or had any inkling of other clues he may be sifting through. “Did you tell Daddy?”

“Yes. I called him as soon as Sean left. Sheesh. I don't know whether to call him Detective Corsino or Sean. Your father told me not to worry, too, that no one in town is going to think I killed anyone. He assured me that Sean is doing what he's paid to do. He then asked me if he should sleep with a light on and one eye open.” She scowled. “Such a comedian, your father.”

I tried hard not to smile; I could definitely picture my father saying that. It takes a lot more than the police questioning your wife in a possible murder case to upset my father.

***

Before I left the building, I thought I'd look on one of the research computers to see if I could dig up anything juicy on the Oleandra County Preservation Society or the Destiny Trust for Historic Preservation that might point to murder.

I searched for the preservation group first. Several articles came up, not just from
The Destiny Trumpet
, but from some of the papers from larger surrounding cities. I read through a few of them. They were all mild and pretty much the same, mostly about the society squabbling with the library board of trustees and the advisory board about the Yellow Spikey Tree Frog. They wanted to halt any construction the library had planned, which was what my mother had told me, until the frogs were taken care of. Supposedly, there's a court order dating back to 1984 protecting the frogs for fifty years, but no one can locate it, or any copies of it.

I went on to search the Destiny Trust. Again, I found several articles from a couple of years ago, when the expansion plans were in their infancy. They confirmed what my mother said. What she hadn't mentioned was that Daniel Bixby, who was on the board of directors of the Destiny Trust for Historic Preservation, had stood outside the Westley House with a few other volunteers for several days to maintain a presence against the destruction of the house when the library was awarded a demolition permit.

The library advisory board argued that the permit allowed them to remove the large addition to the house and a couple of smaller buildings since the injunction only applied to the main house. I read a small quote from Daniel.

Although I am a librarian, I do not support the violation of this historic building. Where does it end? Soon, our history as a country will be eradicated by greediness and total disregard for our past. This is a part of Destiny history. It's part of my own history. The library has other options if it wants to expand.

I will do whatever I can, by whatever means I can, to stop the demolition of such a sacred space in our town. Everyone at
the Destiny Trust for Historic Preservation
feels the same way. Philip Baldelli and the rest of the Library Advisory Board, including Anne Tyler, will soon learn that our principles and dedication to the Westley House are not for sale. As director, Anne Tyler is not God.

Wow. There was no love lost in Daniel Bixby for my mother, that's for sure. I logged off the computer. I wanted to share what was happening to my mother with Olivia and Emily. They would keep it to themselves, while being my support system. Kendra was in helping Olivia, so it would be okay if Liv escaped for a little while.

I parked my Prius in the back of the bakery and jumped out. I went into Barking Mad Books first. Emily was behind the counter, her eyes on several customers who were browsing the latest bestsellers.

She smiled when she saw me. “Hi, Moll, what's up? I've got the new Tatiana Riverton book in if you're interested.”

“I am, but I need to talk to you and Livvy. Are you the only one working?”

“No, Jane Addair's here. I think she'll be okay for a bit. I'll tell you what, go see if Livvy can come on over and we can go in my office. Jane's great, but I don't want to leave her alone too long.”

“I understand. I'll go ask.” I headed to Bread and Batter. I thought it was good of Emily to let Jane work in the bookstore three days a week. The effect working had on Jane's happiness and health was remarkable, but I understood Emily not wanting to leave her alone. I wasn't sure Jane could operate the cash register or help multiple customers, although almost everyone in town knew Jane, loved her, and would be unfailingly patient with her.

I pushed the door to Bread and Batter open. Kendra was waiting on two customers, which gladdened my heart. I said hello to all and made my way to the back. Olivia was on the computer. “Hi.”

“Hi, there.” She laughed. “I think you spend more time here when you're off then when you're working.”

“Seems like it sometimes. I need to talk to you and Emily. She said we could use her office. Do you have time?”

“Sure. Kendra will be fine.”

Olivia assured Kendra she wouldn't be gone long and we traipsed over to Barking Mad Books. Once in Emily's office, I spilled my story after having them promise, multiple times—to the point of annoyance, may I add—that they wouldn't breathe a word of what I was telling them to anybody. Even to any of the other Destiny Divas, and we've dished about a lot of things that will go unmentioned here. Or, anywhere else.

“Who would want to frame Annie for a murder?” Emily stared at me, wide-eyed.

“I can't believe it, either,” agreed Olivia. “I certainly hope Sean gets to the bottom of who sent those texts and letters. I can't picture your mom killing anyone. Any of us could be driven to kill, I suppose, but I can't picture her doing such a thing. I don't know her as well as you do, though.”

“Really?” I responded, a little testily. “You've known her since you could talk. It's almost as if the person is trying too hard to frame my mother. Something's not right.”

“I'll say. What happens now?” asked Emily.

“I'm not sure.”

“She can't be the only suspect,” replied Emily.

“I don't know. He questioned Serafina about something. Unfortunately, he doesn't come home and review with me what he's been up to all day.”

“I'm glad you haven't lost your sense of humor,” Emily said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Don't worry, he'll find the killer, if indeed Mr. Baldelli was killed, and life will return to normal. No one would believe for a second that your mom killed anyone. Sean will get to the bottom of it. You know we're here for you at all times.”

“Ditto to what Emily said,” put in Olivia.

“Thanks. I feel better talking about it. I've never been in this situation: dating a man who's questioning my mother about a dead man.”

“Oh!” Olivia cried. “Not to change the subject, but did you tell Emily yet what Sean said to you? You know, yesterday.”

“We told each other ‘I love you' for the first time last night.” I couldn't help but grin like a fool.

Emily jumped up from the little sofa in her office and hugged me. “That's fantastic! I am so happy for you. I'm glad you've moved on from Brian. It was time.”

“My friends seemed to have figured that out before I did. I better let you both get back to work. Thanks for listening.” I gave them both a hug.

“Make sure you keep us posted,” whispered Emily on our way out of her office. “About everything.”

“She's my mother. I can't help but feel protective.” Sean and I were seated at his dining room table. He'd just handed me a cup of tea. I drew one knee up and leaned my chin on it.

He joined me with his coffee. “It's normal to feel that way. I know this is tough for you.” He reached his hand across the table and covered mine.

“It's obvious someone wants to frame her. I know the people in this town. Let me help. Who have you talked to so far?”

“I know you want to help, but you're not on the force. Besides, you're biased.”

He was right, naturally. “Aren't you biased? You like my mother.”

“I do. That's personal. Professionally, I have to go by the book. Babe, we'll have to come to an understanding. You'll have to separate the man you're involved with from the man who is investigating a possible murder.”

He was right, again. It was so hard to do. I'd loved my mom my entire life. I'd loved Sean for a month, give or take. Men are replaceable, mothers, not so much. “You aren't going to drop my mother as a person of interest? Even though you know there's no way she committed murder?”

He withdrew his hand and took a drink of his coffee. “I know you don't want to hear this, but you can't know that one hundred percent. I want to clear her name as much as you want it cleared. That's why I have to do my job, and you need to let me do my job.”

I opened my mouth to protest that I most certainly did know my mother didn't kill anyone, but he held his hand up to stop me. With much difficulty, I closed my mouth. For half a second. “Have you talked to Peter Delaney at the Destiny Trust for Historic Preservation? Or Abigail Smith-Blanton at the Oleandra County Preservation Society?”

“Believe it or not, I've talked to a few people. Let me tell you a story. When I was a new detective in the city, a forty-five-year-old woman was stabbed to death in the master bedroom of her ritzy condominium on the Upper East Side in Manhattan. The logical suspect was her husband. They'd been having marital problems, he'd accused his wife of having an affair, the neighbors had heard them fighting multiple times, they had financial problems, and the police had been to their residence more than once for domestic violence. Sounds like an open-and-shut case, had to be the husband, right?”

“It makes sense.”

“I thought so, too. Except, it wasn't the husband. The killer turned out to be the wife's seventy-year-old aunt, Sister Margaret Elizabeth, a Catholic nun. She thought she was saving her niece from the fires of hell she would surely experience if she divorced her husband. She decided to give her niece a one-way ticket to heaven, early. The Sister was mentally ill, obviously, but managed to hide it behind the convent wall for God knows how many years. Point being, anyone can murder.”

I inhaled sharply. “The poor woman! How horrible. How could she have killed her own niece?” I thought about what Olivia had said earlier, “I'm sure any of us could be driven to kill.” Nevertheless, I knew in my heart that my mother hadn't killed anyone, despite Sean's story.

“Yes, it was. I learned right then not to make assumptions, not to have tunnel vision when it comes to murder, and not to eliminate people as suspects because they feed the poor.”

“I see your point,” I allowed. “But, really, my mother?”

Sean gulped down the rest of his coffee and got up. “Don't worry, everything will work out. I promise. I've got to run. You want me to take Beau down to Dottie's, or will you do it?”

I sighed as loudly as possible, so he'd feel my displeasure. He ignored it. “I'll do it when I drop off Noelle.” I glanced over at Beau. He was sleeping next to Noelle. They never failed to cheer me up when I looked at them.

“Thanks. Come here.”

I went over to him. He enveloped me in a hug. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hugged him back, running my hand down the back of his head and inhaling his freshly showered male smell.

“You want to eat out tonight?”

I nodded. “That sounds like a plan. Have an awesome day.” I gave him a kiss and sent him on his way.

I woke up the dogs, grabbed Beau's leash, locked up—Sean and I had exchanged keys a month ago—and we went upstairs for Noelle's leash. Sean saying he wanted to clear my mother's name didn't exactly sit well with me. She hadn't been formally accused of anything, so what was there to clear? I tried consoling myself with that fact.

“If he thought she'd killed him, then he would've arrested her already, right?” I asked the dogs as I unlocked my apartment.

They looked up at me, seemingly as baffled as I at the predicament my mother was in, and refrained from answering. I had an hour before I had to be at the bakery, so the three of us went on a long walk. The perfect way to clear one's head.

***

Three days later, I was in Bread and Batter Bakery's office. It was the bakery's anniversary. Olivia and I were hosting an open house and Kendra was helping as well. The three of us had been up almost the entire night baking and decorating with balloons, banners, and streamers. We had plates of cupcakes, bagels and cream cheese, and doughnuts ready to give away. In addition, we were giving away five Bread and Batter gift certificates.

I hadn't taken the time to eat breakfast this morning, choosing instead to opt for a half hour of extra sleep. Our open house was from ten this morning until one in the afternoon. It was nine now. I'd taken a little break and had
The Destiny Trumpet
spread before me. Our little paper was full of stimulating and salacious headlines today.

The first read
MURDER REVISITS DESTINY!
:

Residents, start locking your door, again! The police have ruled the death of Destiny resident Philip Baldelli a homicide.
Further toxicology testing confirmed that his death was indeed the result of ingesting glycol ethanol. When ingested, large quantities of ethylene glycol form chemicals that crystallize and can affect kidney function, change the body's acid/base balance, and affect the nervous system, lungs, and heart
.
According to the comments from his close friend Doctor Melvin Worniak, who also happens to be the county coroner, Mr. Baldelli would not kill himself. He had everything to live for. Based on that, Doctor Worniak ordered the additional testing, which has confirmed his death a homicide. The Destiny Police Department refused to comment except to say an investigation was under way.

I wondered if this investigation included other persons of interest besides my mother. I read further and got my answer in the form of the second headline, which left me almost choking on my chai latte.

WHAT DO A SEXY PERFUME EXECUTIVE AND OUR BEAUTIFUL LIBRARY DIRECTOR HAVE IN COMMON? COULD THEY BE PEOPLE OF INTEREST IN PHILIP BALDELLI'S MURDER
?

A confidential source has confirmed that Detective Sean Corsino interviewed our lovely library director, Anne Tyler, with regard to the murder of Philip Baldelli. Does Mrs. Tyler have information regarding who murdered Mr. Baldelli? What can be made of the argument she herself had with Mr. Baldelli in the parking lot of Mia's, where a waiter heard her threaten Mr. Baldelli with death?

Detective Corsino also interviewed perfume maven Serafina Alessi. My confidential source says a certain hairdresser in town heard Ms. Alessi assert she would kill anyone who stood in her way from finding a mysterious formula. Mrs. Tyler and Ms. Alessi declined interviews for this article.

Confidential source? Who was this confidential source? Was someone in the Destiny Police Department feeding Bobby information? I knew it wasn't Emily or Olivia. Bobby wasn't stupid. He knew there would be some serious backlash for reporting people as murder suspects if the person, or persons, are not charged. I realize he didn't call them suspects as it were, and “person of interest,” according to Sean, was a catchall phrase that actually doesn't mean much, but Bobby Crandall was too close to crossing the line for my taste. I decided it was time to pay Bobby a visit. I put the paper down and left my office.

“Kendra, I have to go out for a while. Will you be okay? I promise I'll be back for our open house. Olivia will be here any moment.”

“Sure. The breakfast crowd is gone, so it shouldn't be too busy before the open house actually starts. So who do you think killed that poor man?”

“No idea. I'm sure the police will figure it out.”

She gave me a sly grin. “You mean your Detective Corsino. He's in charge, isn't he?”

I didn't want to get into a conversation about it. “Yes, but that's all I know. I'll be back.” I ran out before she could ask me anything else.

Fifteen minutes later, I was cruising through the front door of Crandall Ford.

“Good morning, Molly,” the receptionist sang out. “Change your mind about the Mustang?”

I slowed enough to smile at her. “No, I need to see Bobby. Is he in?” Too late, I realized I should've called before coming over. Lady Luck, however, was on my side. I saw him through the window in his office, which looked out over the showroom floor. The better to see potential sales, probably. “Never mind, I see him.”

“Have a wonderful day,” the receptionist called to my back.

“You too,” I replied, taking off for Bobby's office. I knocked on his doorsill. He appeared to be deep into something on his computer screen. Probably the next headline for
The Destiny Trumpet.

He looked up, then, seeing it was me, almost knocked his chair over jumping up. “Hiya, Molly,” he burst out, car salesperson joviality oozing from his pores. “You picked a good day to car shop. I still have—”

I help my hand up to stop him. “I'm not here to car shop.” I didn't meant to be rude, but I had business to discuss. “May I?” I indicated I wanted to close the door.

He came around to the front of his desk. “I'll get it. Please, sit down.”

“I'm here about the headlines in today's paper. I'm curious to know who this confidential source of yours is, and why you printed that story about my mother and Serafina.”

His joviality melted away and his brow puckered right up. “You know I can't reveal my confidential source. I'm sorry your mother's involved in a murder, but I didn't say anything that wasn't true.”

“My mother is not involved in Philip's murder.”

He shrugged. “She did threaten to kill him, after all. There were witnesses. My source said she was questioned by Detective Corsino.”

I leaned forward. “It was one waiter, not ‘witnesses.' If it's someone on the police department feeding you this information, I can assure you, Chief Carly will take action.” I didn't know if he would or not, but I didn't think he'd take kindly to one of our finest feeding information to the press, even if I do use the term “press” loosely.

He puffed out his chest. “I am a professional journalist, Molly. I'm offended you would think I'd do anything illegal. I don't necessarily think either your mom or Serafina killed Philip, but what I think doesn't matter. I take my journalistic duty seriously.”

I stood up before I told him what he could do with his duty. “Fine. I'm asking you as a friend to stop printing anything about my mother.”

“I can't promise that. The people have a right to know. I can promise you won't be sorry if you buy that Mustang.”

“I hope your so-called journalistic ethics will lead you to do the right thing.” Not waiting for an answer, I threw open his door then closed it behind me a little louder than necessary. I hope he got my point.

I got into my Prius, assured her she would not be traded anytime soon, and returned to the bakery.

I was glad to see a decent crowd gathered inside. I weaved my way through the throng, most of whom, I was pleased to note, had a bagel or cupcake and coffee in hand. We'd expanded our coffee and tea lines recently. So far, it had been an excellent idea.

“Molly!” Vanessa Dexter, one of my mother's best friends came towards me, holding a cup above her head as she gently elbowed people aside so she could reach me. “I cannot believe Annie was questioned by the police about Philip Baldelli's murder. Appalling! How could the paper publish such a thing? Absolutely ridiculous! I bet it was that Alessi woman. I mean, she's never come to town before. As soon as she does arrive, her great-uncle is dead. Why aren't the police looking at her more closely?”

“I'm sure the police—”

I couldn't finish telling her that I was sure the police had everything under control, because several other customers had unfortunately heard Vanessa's comment. Not that they could have helped it. They formed a circle around me, all murmuring their support of my mother.

I didn't want our open house turned into a Support Your Library Director rally, and I didn't want everyone gossiping about Baldelli's murder. I wanted it to be a festive affair, focused on Bread and Batter, our products, and our future. Nothing brings down a festive affair faster than talk about murder.

“The esteemed Director Tyler could have killed poor Baldelli if he wasn't going to support the library expansion,” a voice boomed forth. “That's her baby. God forbid anything stands in Director Tyler's way. Come on, people. Is it really so hard to imagine the wonderful Annie Tyler killing someone? I believe she's a legitimate suspect. She had a motive. In addition, the paper today mentions she threatened to kill him. Sometimes a little perceived power goes to one's head. She couldn't stand anyone opposing her little expansion plan. Moral of the story? Don't get in our director's way or you'll wind up laid out at the Addair Funeral Home.”