The Devil's Puzzle (30 page)

“I have several copies on that bookcase behind you.”

I walked over and searched for the book, finding a half-dozen slender red-leather copies with gold embossed lettering. “Why did he write this?”

“He wanted to make sure that the history of our town was recorded for all future generations,” Glad said.

“And when he retired, he was bored,” added Mary. “It’s mostly hearsay and the like. John Archer hadn’t lived the kind of life that made it into the history books. Much of what my father says is his interpretation of rumor.”

“Except for the fact that Archer founded the town.” Glad sounded proud. “We know he did that.”

“What pages went missing?”

“I believe the pages about his worshipping the devil,” Mary said, amused.

“We seem unable to escape that nonsense,” Glad said.

“Or capitalize on it.” I grabbed a copy of the book and put it next to me as I sat back down on the couch. “I’m surprised the mayor hasn’t used this information to turn us into the new Salem.”

“I wouldn’t stand for it,” Glad said.

“And you make the rules?”

I could see Mary put her hand across her sister, as if to stop her from striking me. Not that Glad looked ready to. She seemed more shocked than angry at my challenge.

“My sister,” Mary said, “like your grandmother, is someone who has earned influence and respect. And like your grandmother, Glad may have occasional cause for regret, but I don’t judge an entire life on a few unfortunate choices.”

“Meaning?”

“Whatever you would like it to mean.”

I stood up. “Please stop talking in riddles. Everyone I talk to hints at something but won’t directly come out and say what they mean. Someone killed Winston Roemer. I don’t know if either of you did it or know who did it.”

“We didn’t, and we don’t know who did,” Glad answered.

“And someone has been running around town breaking into buildings, tearing up books, mugging people, and stabbing photos . . .”

“I’m the victim of that,” Glad said.

“Or you want people to think you’re the victim of it,” I said. “Or your sister does.”

“You’re working yourself up, dear,” Mary told me.

“I’m fed up. What do you know, Mary? Just tell me.”

My voice was at a near shout, and I was, as she had pointed out, working myself up, but I was at the end of my patience with Mary, Glad, and even Eleanor.

Mary sighed and watched me for a moment before directing me to sit down again. “What I know,” Mary said calmly, “is that Eleanor feels responsible for Winston’s death.”

“Why?”

“He had been scheduled to leave town in June but stayed at her request.”

“Why did she ask him to stay?”

“I believe it had to do with Grace.”

“If she asked him to stay because his mother was sick, was dying, why should she feel guilty about that? Anyone would make the same request.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Glad said. “Ed and Winston had a fight about your mother in the bank, just before he was killed.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was there,” Glad said. “Mary and I were both there, visiting Daddy.”

“What did you hear?” I asked.

“Winston was there, going over Grace’s account with Daddy. Ed came in, already angry, looking for Winston,” Glad said. “They exchanged some words. I didn’t hear everything, but I did hear Ed say that people like Winston thought they could buy and sell anyone they liked, but that Eleanor wasn’t for sale. Winston said that he was the one that had been bought and paid for.”

“‘He,’ meaning Ed?”

“No. Winston was talking about himself. He said, ‘I’m the one who’s been bought,’ ” Mary told me. “I guess someone had bribed him.”

“Blackmailed him,” I said, more to myself than to the women.

“Blackmailed him about what?” Glad was sitting up straight, caught up in the conversation.

“I don’t know. But I know Ed lied. He said the fight was about comments Winston had made about the town,” I told her.

“He was just trying to protect your grandmother’s reputation. I think Winston paid her off, got her to take Grace away so he could steal Grace’s money,” Glad said. “Daddy told me once that nearly thirty thousand dollars was missing from Grace’s account, but Grace was too sick to do anything about it.”

“And you think Winston took the money?” I asked.

“Who else would?” Glad asked. “The only other person who was authorized to draw funds from the account was your grandmother.”

CHAPTER 48

I
walked to my car, put the key in the ignition, switched it into gear, and began driving. At least I assume I did, because by the time I was fully aware again, I was driving away from town, going toward the road to New York and away from everything that was familiar to me. My conversation with Glad and Mary kept playing in my head, over and over.

Someone was stealing money from Grace. Eleanor had access to the account. Winston found out. His body ended up in Eleanor’s rose garden and his belongings disappeared. If the participants were anyone else, the killer’s identity would be obvious. But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Eleanor. And Eleanor as a killer was unthinkable.

Suddenly a beeping sound came from the passenger seat, and I almost jumped out of the car before I calmed down enough to realize it was only my phone.

“Have you seen Molly?” Jesse sounded annoyed.

“She’s at the house,” I said.

“I had one of my guys go over to the house. He rang the bell several times and no answer.”

“She’s probably sleeping.”

“That’s what I thought, but Eleanor came home while he was there and they searched the place together. She’s nowhere.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

I had enough trouble keeping track of the quilts, the murder, the vandalism, and Oliver’s plans—I didn’t really need to add an eighteenyear-old supersleuth to the mix. And judging by the tone in his voice, I could tell Jesse felt the same way.

“She’s not under house arrest,” I said. “You warned her to stay put, but if she doesn’t listen to you, that’s not your problem.”

“It is if she gets into trouble.”

I turned the car around and started back toward the center of town. “I’ll check the shop, Jitters, and the library,” I said.

“Thanks.” He hung up without another word.

Natalie hadn’t seen Molly, nor had Carrie. Though Carrie did have some interesting news.

“Ed was in here about an hour ago, and just as he was leaving, Glad pulled up in her car, got out, and practically hit him,” Carrie said. “Ed’s got to be a foot taller than Glad, and I swear, he looked like a child being yelled at by his mother.”

“For what?”

“I couldn’t really hear. The coffee machines are extremely loud.” She looked back at her espresso maker with disdain. “So as soon as I could, I snuck over to the door and caught the end of their conversation.”

Just as she was about to tell me what it was, a customer ordered a half-decaf cappuccino, no whip. I’ve always thought Carrie made those drinks quickly, but standing there waiting for her to finish up with the customer, it felt as though a year had gone by.

“So what did you hear?” I asked as soon as the customer left.

“Glad said that Ed was responsible, and he’d have to pay for the damage he caused,” she said. “What I don’t understand is if Glad knows that Ed is the one doing the vandalism, then why go to him and not Jesse?”

“Maybe she’s not talking about the vandalism.”

“Maybe. As soon as she was done yelling, she got in her car and drove away. I’ve no idea where she went, but she was pretty angry.”

“She went to her sister’s house to pretend that she was afraid someone was trying to kill her.”

Carrie had stopped listening. Something had drawn her attention to the front door of her shop. I turned around and saw Molly walking Barney. It wouldn’t have drawn any attention except Molly, a bandage still on the back of her head, was dragging a large, dirty suitcase.

I ran out of the shop and grabbed her.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to stay at the house,” I yelled.

“I’m going to talk to Jesse.”

“You could have called him. He’s been looking for you all over town.”

“I found this. And I wanted to bring it to him. I wasn’t going to stay in that house knowing a killer was there.” She pointed toward the case. “It’s Winston’s suitcase.”

“Are you sure?”

She pointed toward the initials WLR embossed in faded gold lettering on the top of the case. “I can’t open it, but those were his initials : Winston Lawrence Roemer.”

I grabbed the case from her and brought her into Jitters. “Sit down,” I said, “and I’ll call Jesse.”

Within minutes he was there. Molly looked as if she were about to collapse from the effort, and I was worn out from trying to open the rusted lock.

“Where did you find this?” Jesse’s voice was gentle. He knelt in front of Molly, who was shaking, trying not to cry. “What happened?”

“I went out for a walk in the woods. Barney wanted to go out, so I took him, and we walked down by the river. We found the case half-buried by a tree. Barney’s the one that dug it up.”

“By what tree?” Jesse asked.

“I don’t know. A big one by the river.”

“I’ve walked those woods a thousand times,” I said. “I’ve never seen a suitcase.”

“Maybe you missed it,” she said.

“Maybe it wasn’t there.”

Jesse stood up and nodded at me. “Maybe it was put there.”

“Obviously.” Molly stood up to go toe-to-toe with him. Since she was barely five-three and Jesse was over six feet, it was more comical than threatening.

“I think he means maybe it was put there recently,” I told her.

“Who would do that?”

“Someone looking to implicate my grandmother.”

“Oh.” She sat down again. “But how would they know someone would find it?”

“Because Barney walks those woods every day.”

“And the townspeople know your dog’s habits?”

“Oddly, they do,” Jesse answered for me. “Barney’s quite loved in this town.”

Jesse patted the old dog, who seemed pleased to be in the center of the action but completely confused as to why.

“If Eleanor had that suitcase all these years, she’d find a better place for it than in the mud by the river.”

“I think we should ask her,” Molly said. “Or at least we should open it. I couldn’t find any tools in your grandmother’s house.”

“That’s because she keeps them in the garage,” I said.

“Well, let’s open it now.” She reached for the case, but Jesse stopped her.

“I think you should go back to Eleanor’s house and get some rest,” Jesse told her. “And this time I’m positioning my guy inside the house.”

One of Jesse’s deputies came to Jitters and drove Barney and Molly back to the house, but only after Jesse got a promise from Molly that she wouldn’t snoop in any of the rooms or stray past the front door. I wasn’t entirely satisfied with her assurances, but there was nothing I could do.

Once she was gone, Jesse bought me a cup of herbal tea and we sat on the purple couch, quietly staring at Someday Quilts across the street. Finally, our eyes both went to the suitcase, still sitting where Molly had left it.

“I’ll bet Carrie has a screwdriver,” I said.

“Get it.”

It took twenty minutes and more than a few curse words from Jesse, but he finally got it open. I don’t know what I was expecting, but all there was inside were some men’s clothes that looked as though they had gotten wet over the years, a fading passport with Winston’s name on it, and a gold ring.

“Was he planning to get engaged?” I asked when I saw the ring.

Jesse held it up. “This is a man’s ring.”

“I thought he wasn’t married.”

“Maybe he was about to get married.”